An Egyptian Princess — Complete by Georg Ebers (amazing books to read txt) 📖
- Author: Georg Ebers
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Cambyses knew well that all this love, so freely given to Bartja, was not to be bought. He did not hate his younger brother, but he felt annoyed that a youth who had as yet done nothing to distinguish himself, should be honored and revered as if he were already a hero and public benefactor. Whatever annoyed or displeased him he considered must be wrong; where he disapproved he did not spare his censures, and from his very childhood, Cambyses’ reproofs had been dreaded even by the mighty.
The enthusiastic shouts of the populace, the overflowing love of his mother and sister, and above all, the warm encomiums expressed by Nitetis, had excited a jealousy which his pride had never allowed hitherto. Nitetis had taken his fancy in a remarkable degree. This daughter of a powerful monarch, like himself disdaining everything mean and inferior, had yet acknowledged him to be her superior, and to win his favor had not shrunk from the laborious task of mastering his native language. These qualities, added to her peculiar style of beauty, which excited his admiration from its rare novelty, half Egyptian half Greek, (her mother having been a Greek), had not failed to make a deep impression on him. But she had been liberal in her praise of Bartja; that was enough to disturb Cambyses’ mind and prepare the way for jealousy.
As he and his brother were leaving the women’s apartments, Cambyses adopted a hasty resolution and exclaimed: “You asked me just now for an opportunity of proving your courage. I will not refuse. The Tapuri have risen; I have sent troops to the frontier. Go to Rhagae, take the command and show what you are worth.”
“Thanks, brother,” cried Bartja. “May I take my friends, Darius, Gyges and Zopyrus with me?”
“That favor shall be granted too. I hope you will all do your duty bravely and promptly, that you may be back in three months to join the main army in the expedition of revenge on the Massagetae. It will take place in spring.”
“I will start to-morrow.”
“Then farewell.”
“If Auramazda should spare my life and I should return victorious, will you promise to grant me one favor?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Now, then, I feel confident of victory, even if I should have to stand with a thousand men against ten thousand of the enemy.” Bartja’s eyes sparkled, he was thinking of Sappho.
“Well,” answered his brother, “I shall be very glad if your actions bear out these glowing words. But stop; I have something more to say. You are now twenty years of age; you must marry. Roxana, daughter of the noble Hydarnes, is marriageable, and is said to be beautiful. Her birth makes her a fitting bride for you.”
“Oh! brother, do not speak of marriage; I...” “You must marry, for I have no children.”
“But you are still young; you will not remain childless. Besides, I do not say that I will never marry. Do not be angry, but just now, when I am to prove my courage, I would rather hear nothing about women.”
“Well, then, you must marry Roxana when you return from the North. But I should advise you to take her with you to the field. A Persian generally fights better if he knows that, beside his most precious treasures, he has a beautiful woman in his tent to defend.”
“Spare me this one command, my brother. I conjure thee, by the soul of our father, not to inflict on me a wife of whom I know nothing, and never wish to know. Give Roxana to Zopyrus, who is so fond of women, or to Darius or Bessus, who are related to her father Hydarnes. I cannot love her, and should be miserable...”
Cambyses interrupted him with a laugh, exclaiming: “Did you learn these notions in Egypt, where it is the custom to be contented with one wife? In truth, I have long repented having sent a boy like you abroad. I am not accustomed to bear contradiction, and shall listen to no excuses after the war. This once I will allow you to go to the field without a wife. I will not force you to do what, in your opinion, might endanger your valor. But it seems to me that you have other and more secret reasons for refusing my brotherly proposal. If that is the case, I am sorry for you. However, for the present, you can depart, but after the war I will hear no remonstrances. You know me.”
“Perhaps after the war I may ask for the very thing, which I am refusing now—but never for Roxana! It is just as unwise to try to make a man happy by force as it is wicked to compel him to be unhappy, and I thank you for granting my request.”
“Don’t try my powers of yielding too often!—How happy you look! I really believe you are in love with some one woman by whose side all the others have lost their charms.”
Bartja blushed to his temples, and seizing his brother’s hand, exclaimed: “Ask no further now, accept my thanks once more, and farewell. May I bid Nitetis farewell too, when I have taken leave of our mother and Atossa?”
Cambyses bit his lip, looked searchingly into Bartja’s face, and finding that the boy grew uneasy under his glance, exclaimed abruptly and angrily: “Your first business is to hasten to the Tapuri. My wife needs your care no longer; she has other protectors now.” So saying he turned his back on his brother and passed on into the great hall, blazing with gold, purple and jewels, where the chiefs of the army, satraps, judges, treasurers, secretaries, counsellors, eunuchs, door-keepers, introducers of strangers, chamberlains, keepers of the wardrobe, dressers, cup-bearers, equerries, masters of the chase, physicians, eyes and ears of the king, ambassadors and plenipotentiaries of all descriptions—were in waiting for him.
[The “eyes and ears” of the king may be compared to our police- ministers. Darius may have borrowed the name from Egypt, where such titles as “the 2 eyes of the king for Upper Egypt, the 2 ears of the king for Lower Egypt” are to be found on the earlier monuments, for instance in the tomb of Amen en, heb at Abd el Qurnah. And in Herodotus II. 114. the boy Cyrus calls one of his playfellows “the eye of the king,” Herod. (I, 100.)]The king was preceded by heralds bearing staves, and followed by a host of fan, sedan and footstool-bearers, men carrying carpets, and secretaries who the moment he uttered a command, or even indicated a concession, a punishment or a reward, hastened to note it down and at once hand it over to the officials empowered to execute his decrees.
In the middle of the brilliantly-lighted hall stood a gilded table, which looked as if it must give way beneath the mass of gold and
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