After assuring herself that no immediate attempt would be made to break into her retreat, she entered a large closet, which was connected with her room by a door and in which were stored her clothing and jewels. It was a long, narrow room. At one end was a window guarded by brazen lattice-work and by shutters of the same metal. The shutter was hinged to the sills and commonly stood open to admit air into the closet. The lattice-work was also hung on hinges but was secured by a massive lock on the inside. Athura took a key from a convenient hook, cautiously inserted it into the lock in the lattice, and found that it would readily turn. She looked out across the roof of a lower portion of the palace into the park at the western side and saw no guards. Satisfied that the way was yet clear, she quickly opened a chest at one corner of the closet and took from it a short ladder of rope, a suit of clothes of a sort commonly worn by young men, and a jeweled belt from which hung a short sword. It had been years since she had used these. She sighed as she remembered how she and her brother Bardya, without the knowledge of the Great King, her father, had sometimes disguised themselves and wandered forth at night to observe the common people, to take part in their sports and entertainments, and to mingle with those who came and went on the streets of the city. How long ago that seemed! As she knelt by the chest and laid out the clothes, she recalled how the Prince of Iran, having been admitted to the secrets of her escapades, had gravely rebuked her, but had nevertheless disguised himself and accompanied her and Bardya, as he said, to protect them. The danger of her situation allowed her to think but a moment of those happy days. From another chest, bound with silver bands, she took a long necklace of precious stones, and a belt of beautifully embossed leather to which were fastened purselike compartments full of gold coins. She undressed and fastened the money-belt around her waist. Then she put on the suit of men’s clothing and stowed away the jewels in its pockets. She then cut her hair to a length just sufficient to touch the collar of her tunic. Upon her head she set a round felt cap. Critically surveying her appearance in a mirror, she saw that she resembled a well-dressed youth of the nobler class of Medes, but one whose face was far too beautiful and feminine to pass for that of a man. Taking from a cabinet a box of unguents and powders, she skillfully deepened the color of her eyebrows and darkened her complexion, until she resembled a young Mede of mixed Semitic and Aryan blood.
These preparations consumed much time. Darkness fell upon the earth. Then a heavy knocking sounded upon the door of the bedroom and a rough voice said: “May you live forever, O Great Princess! I have a message from my royal Master, the King of Kings!”
She made no answer and, after a moment, the voice continued: “Once more does the King of Kings offer you peace and a place of honor as his wife. Otherwise his sentence is that you have neither food nor water until you submit to his royal will.”
Then Athura answered, “Tell your Lord and Master that I will take until the morning to consider.”
“I am your slave!” responded the voice.
“Well, well!” exclaimed the King, when he received Athura’s message. “Our proud-spirited sister may submit, since she sends me back so mild an answer. It is well! The word of the King must prevail. A day or two of solitude will not harm her. We shall yet be a happy family!”
He laughed loud and long and drank deeply of soma. Artistone, who sat with him at dinner, made no answer, but her eyes, red with weeping, gave evidence of her woe.
As soon as darkness came fully over the palace, Athura went forth cautiously upon the roof of the portico, descended to the ground by means of her rope ladder, and stole away through the gloom among the trees and shrubbery in the park. Knowing every path, every bush and tree, it was not difficult for her to find a way and to avoid the points where the guards sauntered listlessly to and fro, keeping careless ward. The King had not remembered her avenue of escape, or the guards were careless. She climbed over the stone walls surrounding the park, with the aid of her rope ladder, and, making a détour to avoid the guards, walked rapidly and boldly into the city. She went straight to a horse-market and roused a sleepy servant, who, though at first disposed to grumble at so late a visitor, speedily turned obsequious when a coin was pressed into his hand. He forthwith brought out one of the dealers in horses.
“A pretty time to come buying horses!” grumbled the latter, yawning and stretching his limbs. “Think you, my young sprig, that I work day and night?”
“Peace, grumbler!” retorted Athura, speaking hoarsely. “If I come to buy a Nicæan steed by lamplight, what is that to you, seeing that I have the coin? I must go on a journey to-night many miles to the northward and need to hire a horse. But lest you deem me a robber, I will deposit the full price of the animal, to be returned when I return the horse. One condition only I exact—he must have speed and go comfortably without fright or stumble. Fool me in this and I will bring down the wrath of a mighty man upon you! Have you a good horse?”