“It is. But have no fear of the result. We shall scatter the enemy like sand before a desert wind.”
“I have no fear. I would go out and watch the battle if I were permitted. Know you aught of Athura?”
“Nothing, except that the King said she had escaped. Can you tell me of her?”
Tears filled the Queen’s eyes and wet her cheeks. “Alas!” she said, “I fear she is dead. She locked herself in her room after attempting to stab the King with her dagger when he came and announced to us his decree of marriage. The palace-guards were set to watch at the door. I was taken away and never saw her more. Sometimes, when the King is savage and drunken or is displeased and desires to cause me grief, he says that he had her tortured to death. But at other times he says that she escaped. I hoped that she had communicated with you. Surely she must be dead or she would have done so!”
“She attempted to slay him?”
“Yes. Her fury was terrible. The King would have been killed had he not fled. He came to our sitting-room, the room in the palace where we so often played when we were children, and announced that he would make us his wives. After some words, Athura drew a dagger and sprang upon him. He leaped back out of the room and ran. He shouted to the guards. They came. She retreated to her bedroom and barred the door. Then the King dragged me away and—I am the most unhappy woman living! Ah! how often I think of those pleasant days of our childhood when our mother loved and played with us and our father smiled upon us so graciously! Do you not remember them? Will happiness never return to me again? Should I die by my own hand as I am tempted?”
The Prince was deeply affected. His voice shook with emotion, as he answered: “Child, it may be the day of deliverance will come, perhaps to-morrow. Who knows? I know not what to advise. Death is but a step into a better existence. Did not Zoroaster, the divine, so teach? What said Belteshazzer, the Hebrew? He, the wisest of men, who talks with spirits, who reads all dreams and riddles, who prophesies of the future—he says that death is a blessed relief, in that we drop a body which suffers and is weak, while the spirit life is one of great glory and peace. I do not advise death. I do not think Athura is dead. It may be she has gone to Prince Bardya or to my father in Bactra. It is a long way to Bactra, and it has been difficult to send messengers. There are many reasons why she should not communicate.”
Artistone shuddered and leaned nearer to him as she whispered in a frightened manner: “But she could not go to Bardya! I am sure that the King has murdered him. Oh, I saw him as one slain! On the night of the farewell feast, long after he had left the room, the Magi were performing wonders and producing specters and awful forms. At the last there came the pale face of Bardya, floating in the air above them, fierce, blood-stained, with a horrible wound in the forehead as if made by a sword! I have heard the King mutter in his sleep, as he lay half-drunken in the night, about the murder of Bardya. He talks in his sleep and sees fearful visions! He wakes trembling and shrieking with fear. Ah, my brother, I know that Bardya is dead!”
The Prince believed her and smote his knee with his clenched fist, as he exclaimed: “The day will come when the devil-worshipers, with their black lies and conjuring, will be put down with a mighty hand! And thou,” he cried, raising his face and one hand to heaven, “O Ahura-Mazda, the only God, grant to me the opportunity to avenge the death of Bardya, to avenge the insults to your altars, upon that whole evil caste; and I will declare your glory upon all the hills!”
“May your prayer be granted!” said the Queen, fervently. “How the world would be blessed if some day you should lead the hosts of truth against these evil and idolatrous men! The nations would rejoice if you were monarch of the world instead of this monster!”