Athura cantered rapidly along the principal street of the city going north. Night watchmen threw upon her the rays of their lanterns. She passed a squad of soldiers in front of a public house, where, under the influence of wine, they were singing and making merry. To their gibes, she waved her hand, but declined their invitation to alight and join them. She came to the outer boundaries of the city on the road to Rhages. There the guards sat carelessly playing dice in their shelter at the roadside. They heard the rapid hoof-beats of a horse approaching from the city, but before they could come forth to challenge, the horse with its rider flashed by at full speed. In a second, the twain disappeared in a cloud of dust and darkness. Grumbling that their ease should be thus broken, the guards returned to their game. Had they known who had passed and that on the morrow they would be flayed alive and quartered by an infuriated King, they would not have been so careless. This was not their first omission of duty, but it was the first in which the King was directly concerned; and it was their last. They met their fate at sundown on the morrow in the market-place after a short interrogation by the King himself, as an exhibition to all men of the King’s justice upon those who neglected duty.
It must be said of Cambyses that although to his own passions and desires he gave loose rein and was brutal to those who interfered therewith, yet to his subjects he was just, and was strict in the enforcement of law. Because he regarded himself as the lawgiver, he regarded a breach of the law as an insult to himself. He caused one corrupt judge to be flayed alive in the market-place. Other evil-doers were maimed or strangled. Not only did the guards of the road whose orders compelled them to exact a pass of any one passing in or out of the city after nightfall suffer, but several palace-guards whose duty it was to watch the palace walls, were strangled with the bowstring. His fury even threatened Prexaspes, but that astute official was able to prove that he had gone on a mission to a neighboring city and could not be involved in Athura’s sudden disappearance. Spies soon learned of the flight of the steed and its rider on the northern road. They found the horse-dealer, whose description of the rider indicated that it was Athura in disguise who had hired the horse. Bands of troopers were sent out on every road and into the fields and mountains around the city. None knew except the captains in charge of the bands for whom the search was being made. It was reported generally that a robber had broken into the palace and carried away some of the King’s jewels.
Athura rode northward for half an hour, then turning sharply to the right and following a road which was little better than a path, but which led to one of the King’s desert gardens, she came to a well-beaten caravan-route leading southward towards what is now the city of Isfahan. Taking this road, she followed it southward until she entered a road branching southwestward to Adrapan, the winter palace of Cyrus. By this circuitous way she hoped to deceive those who might pursue into the belief that she was fleeing to Bactra by way of Rhages. She did not dare take the road to Persia direct, but planned to ride by way of Susa, or, perhaps, if her intention should change upon reflection, she would flee to Damascus and thence to her Prince at Sardis. As she rode, her active brain elaborated her plans.
The night was cool and clear. The brilliant stars scintillated in the autumn sky. A quarter-moon gave down a subdued light. A breeze swept down from Mount Elwend, whose rugged heights lay darkly against the western sky. The road to Adrapan followed the base of a promontory of the Zagros range, which here jutted out into the plain. Here and there near the highway were the cottages of gardeners, who by irrigating their crops with the precious waters of Elwend, caused the fertile soil to yield the vegetable supply for the capital city. The odor of flowers and fruits permeated the air. The strong, spirited horse, glorying in his strength and scarce feeling the weight of his rider, galloped onward with long, even strides. No one interrupted their progress. The cottagers, if partially aroused by the rapid beat of hoofs and the barking of dogs, sleepily muttered, “A King’s messenger!” turned over on their pallets, and again slumbered.
Adrapan lay on the southern slopes of Mount Elwend. Here the snows, which annually fell over Hamadan, seldom came; and, if they did, the southern exposure to the sun caused them quickly to melt away. To the right of the highway which passed westward through the village was the palace, in a great park of noble trees. On the left were several houses occupied by those who made their livelihood trading with the thousands of nobles and retainers who honored the King as his guests or served him as retainers. Here caravans from Damascus and the west coming by way of Nineveh, or from the south, coming by way of Babylon and Susa, stopped to enjoy the salubrious climate and recuperate after enduring the hot districts along the Tigris and the difficult roads across the Zagros Mountains. At this time the palace and its park were in the care of keepers and Adrapan was deserted, save by inn-keepers and traders.
Athura sighed as she came in sight of the village. She remembered the pleasant days when, a child, she had wandered in the park with her father, or played there with Bardya and the young Prince of Iran. How long ago those days seemed! Her noble, erect, keen-eyed, kind-hearted, and loving father; her joyous, laughter-loving, and boisterous brother; and the tall youth, whose calm demeanor, royal bearing, and worshipful eyes were ever in her mind—all appeared in her memory. Tears came into her eyes, and her lips trembled with emotion. She brought her panting steed to a stop within the deep shadows of the trees and halted a moment to consider her course. If she should pass through the village, she might be seen and accosted. If she should enter the park, she would incur danger from wild beasts which sometimes came down from the mountains. Bears, wolves, a leopard, a tiger, and even a lion had been seen in the park. She knew all the paths through the woodland and that, by going a roundabout way, she might avoid the palace and the village, but it would lead through wild, dark places. Though she had fear of wild beasts, she feared more to be overtaken by the pursuers that her brother might send after her. She decided to follow the dark paths of the forest and defy the dangers from wild beasts. Turning her horse, she plunged boldly into the woodland.
The turf deadened the hoof-beats of the horse. No sound was heard save the cry of an owl, the song of a bulbul, and the chirp of insects. Gathering the bridle reins in one hand, she drew the short sword from its sheath at her belt with the other and carried it ready to meet any danger that might assail her. Once she raised the sword high towards heaven and prayed in a whisper, “Thou, Ahura-Mazda, Good Spirit and Protector, send Sraosha, victorious leader of the hosts of heaven, to guard me from Angro-mainyus and the Devas!”
She went slowly and warily. A dim light from the declining moon and the stars enabled her to recognize the pathways. Her horse, tossing his noble head and pricking forward his slender ears, followed the paths with certain step, unafraid of the sounds of the night. If a bear or wolf, sniffing the breeze on the heights above, became aware of their presence, it did not descend to investigate, nor did any leopard, tiger, or lion molest her. For an hour she slowly followed the devious ways, but at length returned to the highway a parasang west of the village. That she had acted wisely appeared on the following day, when a squad of the King’s horsemen rode into Adrapan and made inquiry. The villagers and the palace watchmen swore that no one had passed through during the preceding night, although careful vigil had been maintained on account of a report that a band of robbers had been seen in the neighboring mountains.
On the highway again, horse and rider, somewhat rested by the leisurely progress through the woodland, sped away westward at a gallop. The highway was smooth for several miles, until it plunged into the defiles of the Zagros Mountains, through which flowed the headwater streams of the river Choaspes. Then it became more difficult, with steep grades, crossing on stone bridges over deep gorges, the beds of roaring streams, and winding about steep bluffs and over sharp ridges. Morning found the fugitive many miles from Hamadan in the midst of mountains; and her weariness and that of her steed warned her that she must find a resting-place. Twice she fruitlessly turned from the road to follow paths leading up narrow canyons, hoping to find a suitable hiding-place. The third time she followed a narrow pass leading into a small valley and there found a sheepfold and a shepherd’s cabin. The shepherd and his flock were in the hills, where the warm rays of the sun and the waters of many springs kept the grass sweet and tender.
Finding the hut empty and no one near, Athura descended stiffly from her horse and searched for food. She found a large jar of barley in the hut and gave her horse a generous feed from it. Then, having tied him to a tree, she searched the cabin for food that she might eat. The long ride had made her tired and faint. Hunger reminded her that she had eaten nothing since the previous noon. She opened cupboards and chests and presently found a box in which the shepherd had left a piece of roasted mutton and some round flat cakes of bread, made of coarse barley flour. The fare satisfied her hunger. Then she shut and barred the stout cabin-door and threw herself upon a bundle of sheep-skins which lay on the floor, and slept several hours. When the day was half gone, after another hasty meal she went on her way.