The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate

XIX – The Palace of the King

On the afternoon of the sixteenth of Abu, in the twenty-first year of Xerxes' reign, a summer sun blazed in the clear blue Persian sky. The chief eunuch, Aspamitres, went in haste to the palace of Darius, where his master was closeted with the wizard Ostanas.

"Great King!" said Aspamitres. "A band of Arabs on camels has arrived, praying to see Your Majesty forthwith. They bring with them a curious beast, which they say is a gift."

Xerxes and Ostanas exchanged a stare of surmise. The king said: "By the God of the Aryans! Can this be that ruffian of Zariaspa? When the time limit passed without a word, I thought he had perished or fled. But better late than never. I will see these men."

"Will the King of All Kings receive the men inside the Apadana?" asked the eunuch.

"Nay; it is the beast that concerns me the most. Prepare a reception on the steps before the Apadana."

Half an hour later, trumpets cried out before the great audience hall. Lines of spearmen snapped to attention. Behind the Immortals churned a crowd as colorful as a Persian flower garden in bloom. Courtiers and officials and their wives had gathered to see the sight. The sun sparkled on jewels and gleamed on gilded armor.

On the pave below stood a score of men in Arabian garb, dusty from travel. Their sun-darkened faces were lean and weary. A pock-marked giant towered over the rest. In the rear stood three small brown men, in Arab children's garb, holding the bridle of an exotic beast.

Painted and scented, King Xerxes strode out upon the portico of the Apadana. Down went the courtiers, the officials, and the Arabs, to touch the ground with their foreheads.

"Rise," said the king.

An usher struck the stones with his staff and cried: "My lord King! Bessas of Zariaspa has returned from the mission on which you dispatched him!" He led the giant forward.

"Are you truly Bessas son of Phraates?" asked Xerxes, peering nearsightedly.

"Aye, sire." Bessas tucked his arms into his sleeves and bowed from the waist.

"As Auramazda lives, I had never known you! How fared your mission?"

"May it please the Great King, your slave has been to the headwaters of the Nile, even as you commanded, and I—"

"That is no sirrush," said Xerxes sharply, gesturing towards the okapi.

Ostanas whispered: "May your slave venture to suggest that the Great King let the young man finish?"

"Go on," said Xerxes.

"Your slave," Bessas resumed, "has attained the region of the great lakes, whence flows the Nile. There I diligently inquired amongst the peasants and hunters and fishermen, but all agreed that no such beast as the sirrush exists in those parts, or in any other region so far as I can tell. When Your Majesty commands, I can tell you somewhat of how the story of this beast began.

"Now, your slave begs leave to present those things that he did obtain. First, here is the ear-of an authentic king. In Egypt I sliced it from King Siptah's mummy."

Bessas handed the ear to a eunuch, who passed it on to the king. Xerxes fingered it with an expression of distaste and handed it to Ostanas.

"Next, I present to the King of All Kings the chief of a hunting tribe of the region whence flows the Nile, who prays you to enroll him as one of your tributary rulers and extend to him your protection. This is Dzaka, chief of the eastern Tikki-Tikki. With Dzaka are two of his subjects, Tshabi and Begendwé, bearing gifts, which they hope Your Majesty will graciously condescend to accept. Stand forth, O Dzaka!"

With great dignity, Dzaka limped forward, holding up his pot of honey. Behind him came Tshabi with the tusk and Begendwé leading the okapi. An usher fell in before them and led them up the steps until Dzaka confronted the king. In broken Persian he said:

"This for you, King."

Xerxes smiled broadly, showing his bad teeth. "I am delighted, Master Dzaka! I welcome you to the noble company of tributary kings of the Empire. You shall have my protection henceforth, and here is my hand on it."

After the king had gravely clasped hands with the solemn Dzaka, Tshabi muttered in his native tongue and handed the tusk to Xerxes, who passed it to Aspamitres. Begendwé then pressed the okapi's halter into the king's hand.

"What call you this?" said Xerxes, looking uneasily into the animal's large liquid eyes.

"Okapi," said Dzaka. "Live in wood."

"My Majesty is grateful," said Xerxes; then to Bessas: "Well, young man, although you have overrun your limit of time and failed to capture a sirrush, I cannot deny that you have exerted yourself on my behalf more effectively than the late Sataspes. I am charmed by my new subjects and the curious beast they have brought me. In fact, I have a thought for rendering this moment immortal.

"As you see, on the walls of the northern and eastern stairways, my artists have carved the bearers of tribute from all the lands whereof I am king. Two spaces alone remain blank. I had intended these for the European Greeks, but—ah—there has been a slight delay in reducing these brigands to obedience. Therefore, these reliefs shall depict, instead, my new African subjects and their gifts. Aspamitres, see you to it. Fetch hither the artists and have the sketches executed forthwith.

"Now, O Bessas, what befell the other man who went with you—that Milesian tutor of my sons—ah"—Xerxes snapped his fingers—"Myron, was that not his name?"

"Here he is, sire. He has kept a record of our explorations."

"Good! I am glad, Master Myron, that you have survived this perilous journey. You shall be lodged at my expense whilst you prepare your report. And both of you shall dine with me this evening, together with the small chieftain."

Myron and Bessas bowed together, murmuring: "Your slaves are honored, sire."

At this there was a buzz among the crowding courtiers, for rarely indeed did the king dine with persons outside his own family, save on certain festivals. For the most part he lived in godlike seclusion that became the more remote as he grew older. The king turned to his commander in chief.

"Artabanus, find lodging for these men in the barracks: the Arabs among the enlisted men and Masters Myron and Bessas in the officers' quarters. Give an officer's room to the Africans and assign slaves to care for all these people. Guard them well.

"Find also a place for this whatever-you-call-it, this beast, and remove it thither when the artists have done their work. Find out what it eats and arrange for a supply until it can be taken to my menagerie at Hagmatana. Do not tether it where Rustam can come upon it. That is all."

The king turned to re-enter the Apadana, but Bessas called out tensely: "Great King! Before you withdraw, may I ask ..."

The king turned back, his bushy black brows drawn together in a frown. "Well? Speak."

"What of your slave's mother, sire?"

"Oh. I am sorry to inform you that the Lady Zarina died of natural causes, several months ago, despite the ministrations of my own physician. Her possessions are in the custody of Chamberlain Aspamitres, who will turn them over to you. Until later, then!"

When Myron and Bessas reached the room to which General Artabanus conveyed them, Bessas burst into a torrent of weeping. He sank down upon his knees, beating the floor with his fists while tears poured down into his beard. Norax, the slave he had left behind to care for his mother, came in and threw himself down to kiss the hem of Bessas' robe and join in the lamentation.

"How did the mistress die?" sobbed Bessas. "If that long-nosed devil slew her, I'll—I'll—"

"Nay, master," said Norax. "She was kept in comfort. She had a sickness that pained her, inside. Little by little it grew worse, though your noble mother was never one to complain. The king sent his own physician, the learned Apollonides of Kos, but even he knew no cure. And at last she died, on the second day of Shabatu."

"Are you sure she was not poisoned?"

"I have no reason to think she was, sir. Her last words were a prayer for your safety."

At last Bessas mastered himself and dried his tears. He muttered a prayer for his mother's soul and asked the slave:

"What befell my cousin Sataspes, who was sent to sail around Africa?"

"He returned three months ago, with some story that he had sailed a hundred leagues or so down the west coast, but there the winds and currents stopped him. The king thought it a case of simple cowardice, so Sataspes paid the original penalty imposed upon him."

"I mourn him not, considering all the trouble he caused me," said Bessas grimly. He turned to Myron. "This gracious reception would seem to bode well for us, but I know better than to trust any king too far. If someone is fattening you, be sure he will soon slaughter you. How think you we fare? Is Xerxes likely to seat me, too, on the stake?"

"I think not. This inviting us to dine is an auspicious sign. After all, some men would cheerfully cut off their noses for the privilege."

Meanwhile, Xerxes had again retired to Ostanas' chamber, where he spoke: "My good Ostanas, is this then the end of our hopes of defeating the demon Death?"

Ostanas, who rested his elbows on the table and his mouth on his bony clasped fists, raised his head.

"Gracious lord, I have been thinking hard. Whether or no the sirrush exists, I doubt not that Master Bessas did indeed perform a deed of dought. Of this, the small black men and the beast that resembles an antelope crossed with an ass are living proof.

"It may be that the sirrush lives, but that the priests of the false god Marduk, because of their hatred of Your Majesty, lied to you as to its provenance. It might exist in some other quarter. But to track it down were a life's task in itself, and neither of us—be it as you wish—grows younger by the day."

"What then?"

"I fear we shall have to give up the blood of the sir-rush as one of the ingredients of our elixir. Howsomever, as we possess the other two items, it were a shame not to use them. So let us see what we can substitute.

"Of the beasts whereof we know, the one whose blood most nearly approaches the dragon's in ardor is the gryphon, which dwells in the land of the one-eyed Arimaspians, beyond Suguda in the far Northeast."

"Ask me not to send another expedition forth and wait another year!"

"Nay, nay, sire. I did but mention it in passing. Now, the beast of rank that is nearest to that of the gryphon is the lion."

"Lion, eh? I can send to Hagmatana for a lion from my menagerie."

"May it please the Great King, but methinks even that were too slow. The king's ear will keep, but what of the heart of the hero?"

"What mean you?"

"Your slave means that we now have Bessas within our grasp; but will he so remain whilst you send to Hagmatana?"

"Guards watch him now, and I can have him shackled so securely that not even the demon Azi Dahaka could escape."

"But consider, Great King! A true hero will fight like a demon ere letting himself be taken, and either escape or perish trying. And for our elixir we need the heart cut from a living hero."

"What, then, do you purpose?"

"That we take him forthwith, by a means that I shall discover to you. Then, for the blood of our lion, we must sacrifice your pet."

"Poor old Rustam? Never! I love the mangy monster."

"There is no help for it, sire. We must work with dispatch, whilst the Good God has provided us with the materials.

"Understand, my master, this elixir will be less effective than that made with dragon's blood. Instead of giving you eternal life, it can at best prolong your life—let us say—a thousand years. But if we can accomplish this much, further researches may solve our problem ere the effect of this draft subside."

"At the moment, a thousand years' respite seems like a plenty." The king sighed. "I sometimes wonder why I strive to prolong this life of dole and disappointment."

"Courage, sire! Think of all the great works you have set in motion, which need your guiding hand to complete!"

"You are right, of course, my friend. Forget my melancholy words. The world needs me, so I must be worthy of the world, whatever my private feelings. And—by the Holy Ox Soul, you are a clever rascal! It is plain that you, too, must needs partake of this cordial if you are to conduct the researches whereof you speak, eh?" Xerxes smiled sardonically.

"Now that Your Highness mentions it, I do perceive that such is indeed the case. Well, sire, shall we to our task?"

The royal repast was served in one of the larger rooms of the palace of Darius. Flickering torches in wall brackets and wavering oil lamps suspended from the ceiling strove to take the place of departing day.

Myron, eating breast of pheasant from a plate of lapis lazuli, thought that a private dinner with the king would be classed as highly public elsewhere. Besides the king, the commander in chief Artabanus, the chamberlain Aspamitres, the wizard Ostanas, and the royal physician Apollonides, several other officials sat at the table. The lower end was occupied by Myron, Bessas, and Dzaka. A score of Immortals stood at attention around the walls. These were men from one of the Persian battalions, in long-sleeved, pleated, ankle-length robes, bearing spears and battle-axes, with bow cases slung over their shoulders.

Bessas, once more clad in Aryan coat and trousers, talked and ate and talked again. One of the officials took notes. Xerxes, picking his teeth with a golden toothpick, asked searching questions: What was the wealth of these newly discovered African lands? What the military strength of their peoples? Were they friendly or hostile? How practical was Dzaka's proposal to extend the Empire's protection to the Tikki-Tikki? How about the kingdom of Kush? What had been learnt of the strengths and weaknesses of its government?

The hours passed; torches sputtered. The calls of sentries, pacing the walls of the palatial platform with partisans on their shoulders, rang through the moonlit night. Strains of music wafted from the king's harem. But ever the king probed and pried, as if to wring every drop of information from Bessas while he was still to hand.

At last the king clapped his hands. "Enough of business; pour the wine and send in the musicians ... To your heroic journey, Captain Bessas!"

"I thank Your Majesty," said Bessas.

Slaves poured wine of Halpa from alabaster pitchers into crystal goblets. Conversation became general. Myron found himself in a warm discussion of the shape of the earth with his neighbor, an official named Pharnuchus.

Pharnuchus wagged a finger at Myron. "I am a plain, blunt Persian, Master Myron, with none of your Greek subtleties. And I am sure that your theory somehow contradicts the words of the inspired Zoroaster, although I cannot cite the precise gatha."

Myron recited some of his arguments for the earth's sphericity. Pharnuchus toyed with the curls of his beard and said:

"So, so, I can see some advantage, not to have to fear falling off the edge. Then the great Persian Empire, in extending its benevolent sway over the peoples of the earth, will some day meet itself on the farther side, will it not? By Auramazda, I should like to be there! The next expedition we send out should essay to circumnavigate, not Africa only, but the entire earth! What think you—why, what ails Captain Bessas?"

Myron whirled in his seat. Bessas was slumped against the back of his chair, breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his pockmarked face. Myron, his heart pounding with sudden terror, leaned over his friend, who looked at him with a curiously blank stare out of eyes whose pupils were contracted to pin points.

"Tell the king I'm sick," muttered Bessas. "Some damned villain has fed me poppy juice! Take Anthrax."

"Is our hero unwell?" asked Xerxes from the head of the table. "One goblet of wine should not afflict so famous a tosspot as Master Bessas!"

The music of lyre and flute fell silent.

"He is ill, Your Majesty," said Myron, slipping the chain that held the great red jewel over Bessas' head and hoping that Xerxes' nearsightedness would conceal this move from the king. "For over a year he has carried the burden of three men, and now his resources have failed him."

"This is indeed unfortunate." The king snapped his fingers. "Guards! Carry Captain Bessas away."

Four guards stepped forward, as if they had been awaiting a signal, and bore off the now unconscious Bessas.

"Gentlemen," said Xerxes smoothly, "alas that our pleasant party should be thus interrupted! Let us hope that Master Bessas will soon recover. I, too, shall now retire, for the cares of state bear heavily upon me. The rest of you remain where you are and drink your fill."

The king stood up; all, rose and bowed. As he swept out, surrounded by Immortals, all the others sat down except Ostanas, who followed Xerxes.

A flash of understanding struck Myron. Without a word to his companions, he leaped up and hurried after the king.

"Great King! Your Majesty! Your slave begs a word!"

Xerxes, striding down the corridor with Ostanas, turned. The bodyguards whirled and barred the way with their weapons, but the king waved them aside.

Myron fumbled for the Anthrax. "Sire, I have here a gift, which I have not had a chance to present." He held out the great red gem. "It is a magical ruby called the True Anthrax. Besides its intrinsic value, I am told that it is unique among jewels, in that it protects its owner."

"How?" said the king.

"It darkens when its wearer is in danger."

"Know you aught of this, Ostanas?"

The wizard squinted in the unsteady light. "I have heard of such a thing, and this may forsooth be the jewel in question. If so, then Master Myron has made Your Majesty a handsome present indeed. Where did you get it, sir?"

"At the sources of the Nile, where an exiled king of Kush had hidden it."

"Your king is truly grateful, Master Myron," said Xerxes. "Now what would you of me?"

"Sire, may your slave speak to you, not as a humble subject to the king of the world, but as man to man?"

"Speak. I have never yet punished the bearer of ill tidings or the purveyor of unwelcome advice, as lesser kings have been known to do."

"Sire, Bessas has accomplished more for your realm than ten other men could have done. He has carried the name and fame of the great Xerxes into the demon-haunted jungles of Farther Africa, where no civilized man had gone before him. He has gained you new subjects, not by violence but by moral authority.

"Now, I know that Bessas did not lose consciousness just now from some ordinary ague or phthisic, but as a result of the action of Your Majesty's servants." Myron realized that he had, by these words, taken his life in his hands, but he plunged on: "I think you mean to kill him. Great King, he deserves better. Spare him."

Myron held his breath, awaiting his doom. But the king only smiled sadly, saying:

"I could put you off with a quibble. But, as you have been frank with me, I will do the like. What you ask is impossible. Know, however, that your friend is condemned by no petty spite of mine, and not even for his part in the death of my servant Datas. He is doomed by weighty reasons of state, to which all private claims must yield.

"Still, I am grateful for this gem. Come to me tomorrow and ask a boon. I say not that I will give you whatever you ask—I have had unhappy results from such impulsive offers—but I will grant any reasonable request. God befriend you!"

King and wizard, followed by the guardsmen, vanished down the hall.

With a splitting headache and an evil taste in his mouth, Bessas awoke. Stripped to his loincloth, he lay spread-eagled and supine on a large wooden table. He flexed his muscles and found that his wrists and ankles were firmly strapped to the corners of the table.

Craning his neck, Bessas saw that he was in a long chamber of considerable size, littered with manuscripts and with apparatus of whose meaning he was ignorant. In one corner stood a cage in which there paced a striped hyena. A small fire burnt upon a hearth; an open door led into a smaller chamber. Another door—heavy, wooden, and copper-studded—presumably led outside.

Bessas tested his bonds. He strained his bulging muscles until they cracked, without making the least impression on the straps. He tried to reach strap or buckle with fingers, toes, and teeth, to no avail. He threw his body from side to side in hope of oversetting the table, but it stood firm.

At last he gave a hoarse yell: "Help! Help!"

Nobody came. With a snarl of frustration, Bessas resigned himself to a study of Ostanas' apartment. Most of the objects therein meant little to him, but he at least entertained himself with imagining to what lethal uses he could put them. That stuffed crocodile, for instance, could be rammed up Xerxes'—

The copper-studded door swung silently open. Two men crowded in, carrying a kind of stretcher. Two other men followed, holding the other end of the structure. Bessas could not at first see clearly what was on the stretcher; but, as the men neared to the table on which he lay, he caught a glimpse of black mane and tawny hide. This must be Rustam, the king's pet lion!

Following the second pair of men, Xerxes and Ostanas entered the room. The men with the stretcher put down their burden and went away. Ostanas came close to Bessas.

"He is awake."

Prudence struggled with red rage in Bessas' soul, and prudence did not have the better of it. "What is this? What are you doing? What have I done to you?" he shouted at Xerxes.

The king merely glanced at him and said to Ostanas: "Is all prepared?"

"Aye, my master. The lion, as you see, still lives, though I drugged him heavily enough so that I need not fear his sudden awakening whilst I drain his blood. With the man, it matters not whether he sleeps or wakes."

"Do you not need a younger man to help you?" said Xerxes anxiously.

"Not yet, sire. The supernatural influences invoked in this art are so fell that an unskilled apprentice were worse than none." ?

The king bent over the unconscious lion. "Farewell, old Rustam! I shall miss you." He stroked the animal's mane.

Ostanas pottered with vessels and instruments. He fed the small fire and hung a pot of water over it to boil. He sharpened a knife and tested it with his thumb.

"Your slave is now ready to begin the great work," he said.

"Then I shall depart," said Xerxes.

"What in demon land are you up to?" yelled Bessas. "What kind of king are you, who gives his faithful servants to witches to carve up for potions?"

"Would Your Majesty not prefer to remain?" said Ostanas. "This work will make history in the occult sciences."

Xerxes smiled. "Dear old Ostanas, how little you understand me, after all these years! I hate bloodshed and death. I know that my commands have sent many thousands to their doom—not all, belike, so justly as I might have wished. But in my heart"—he slapped his bosom—"I love life and peace for all, even for the humblest. I have fostered your researches in hopes of winning a final victory over the demon Death, not only for me, Xerxes, but perchance for all mankind. So I will not stay to watch you take the heart of this young man—who dies, if it be any comfort to him, in a worthy cause. Oh, remind me later to deal with those lying priests of Marduk. By the Good God, they shall rue their mendacity! I will make them long for death!"

The king went out. Bessas spat at him, although he was out of range.

Whistling through his remaining teeth, Ostanas resumed his work. Although Bessas could not see what he did with the lion, a trickling sound came to Bessas' ears.

Time passed. The trickling dwindled away to individual drops. Ostanas prayed, then took King Siptah's ear off a shelf, dropped it into a mortar, and brayed it vigorously with the pestle.

When the ear had been reduced to powder, the wizard knelt and uttered more prayers. Although Bessas could plainly hear the words, the gods or other spirits appealed to were none that he knew.

Ostanas drew a diagram on the floor with a piece of charcoal, stood in it, and went through a long rigmarole with a wand, facing this way and that and mumbling a rhythmic chant.

Then he stepped out of the diagram and sharpened his knife some more with a wheet-wheet sound.

"You lousy old catamite!" snarled Bessas. "You are no magician. You are nought but a dirty old mountebank, who had cozened the silly king into thinking a potion can prolong his life. Well, it will not work. I know magicians in Egypt and Kush who would make six of you, you lying snake! You will die, and the king will die, and nobody will even remember you! You shall be a kinless, wandering ghost! In Mithra's name, may you be dipped in dung! May dogs eat your privates! May you be flayed alive with a dull knife! May you fall from the Bridge of the Separator and dwell in eternal torment in the House of the Lie!" Wheet-wheet went the knife.

Bessas cursed Ostanas unto the tenth generation of his ancestry, but the wizard answered never a word. Ostanas set down his whetstone and came forward, his eyes gleaming under his bushy white brows. The knife blade flashed yellow in the light of the golden lamps.

Ostanas suddenly halted, frozen to immobility with his mouth half open and his eyeballs rolled sidewise. He turned towards the door, through which wafted a rising murmur of sound. There came a noise of shouting and running and the metallic clash of arms.

With a curse, Ostanas laid down the knife and hastened to the door. Grasping the bronzen knob, he opened the door a crack, then wider. He slipped out while, in its cage, the hyena laughed.

In his bedchamber, King Xerxes suffered his eunuchs to disrobe him and help him into his dressing gown. He said to Aspamitres:

"Did not Master Myron say something this evening about a custom of the Africans, to chew a twig every night until it is frayed and then brush their teeth with it? Get me some twigs and we will try it. Nay, not now! In the next few days, I meant. Nay, I want no women tonight. Now out, all of you. Leave one light on. Good night!"

The eunuchs filed out, bearing the royal ewer, wash basin, towel, drinking cup, and chamber pot. Xerxes raised his hands and prayed:

"As Auramazda is the best lord, so is Zoroaster the judge according to holy righteousness, he who brings life's deed of good thought to Mazdah and the Kingdom to Ahura, he whom they have established as herder to the poor.

"Righteousness is the best good. According to our desire may it be, as we wish it shall be to us, righteousness for salvation.

"Let the beloved brotherhood come to the support of Zoroaster's men and women, to the support of good thought. Whatever self deserves the precious reward, for him I beg the coveted prize of righteousness, which Auramazda will bestow."

The king tossed off his dressing gown. For half an ush he stood, naked but for the scented purple bags that covered his hair and beard, looking down with displeasure at his potbelly. He sighed, kicked off his slippers, and sat down on the bed.

Xerxes took a long look at the True Anthrax, which hung around his neck, and slipped under the covers.

Scarcely had the king settled himself to sleep when his private knock sounded. "Enter!" he called.

Artabanus' darkly darting eyes appeared in the crack of the door.

"O King!" said the commander in chief in a low, tense tone. "Something of the utmost moment has occurred!"

"What in the name of Auramazda is it? Do not stand in the doorway, mumbling like a crone, but come hither and speak up!"

"You are in danger, sire!" said the Hyrkanian, coming forward. "So great is this peril that I have brought my sons to help me guard you. Come on in, boys. Hurry!"

Seven young Aryans filed into the room.

"Well, now," said Xerxes, peering at his ruby. "You must be mistaken. See the bright red of this magical gem—uk!"

The tallest of Artabanus' sons had shot out two long arms and gripped Xerxes by the throat, digging his powerful thumbs beneath the purple bag that held Xerxes' beard and choking off the royal windpipe. At the same instant four of the other sons threw themselves on Xerxes' limbs, each seizing one.

Xerxes' eyes bulged. His mouth opened, but only a wheezy rasp came forth. He thrashed and struggled, his face turning blue.

Artabanus drew a short court sword from under his garments and leaned over the king's writhing form. He drove the blade again and again into Xerxes' hairy chest, saying in a low tone:

"This is for your brother Masistes ... And this is for all the daily slights and insults I have taken from you ... And this is for the pigheaded stupidity that lost us Salamis ... And this—"

"He is dead," said one of the sons.

"Why, so he is!" said Artabanus, wiping his blade on the king's scented beard bag. "To our business, lads."

Thus died Xerxes son of Darius—a great reformer, a great administrator, and a great builder; but, because of basic flaws of character, not quite a great king.

Myron dashed into Ostanas' chamber. "Bessas! I have hunted through this whole polluted palace. Are you still alive?"

"I suspect so. What in the seven Babylonian hells goes on?"

"Xerxes has been murdered!"

"Good! Who did it?"

Myron sawed with his knife at the straps that held Bessas' wrists. "I know not. Some say Aspamitres, some—ea! What's that lion doing here?"

Bessas' low laugh rumbled. "Fear not. 'Tis old Rustam, dead. Here, give me the knife."

His wrists free, Bessas sat up and with two slashes severed the straps that bound his ankles. He rubbed his swollen hands and feet. "My members are full of ants, from the tightness of the straps. Let's get out, ere the Immortals run wild and start shooting and spearing everyone in sight."

Outside in the halls, utter confusion reigned. People ran shrieking. Some tried to stop others, clutching at their garments and shouting questions. Those clutched at only ran the harder and shrieked the louder.

A fat old eunuch went puffing past, helping himself along with an ebony, gold-tipped staff of office. Bessas snatched away the staff, saying:

"I need it more sorely than you, grandfather. To the barracks!"

The Bactrian set off with great strides through the halls, familiar to him from his service in the Immortals. Myron trotted after.

"Oh, there you are!" cried a powerful voice.

Myron and Bessas whirled. Coming towards them, sword out, was Zopyrus son of Bagabyxas.

"You escaped my men, but you shall not escape me!" snarled the nobleman. "Suborn the rape of my little daughter, will you?"

"Well, drown me in the Bitter River!" cried Bessas. "Are you still seeking my head, Zopyrus? Here it is!"

Zopyrus came on with a whirl of steel. Myron, unarmed except for his little table knife, gave back helplessly. As he looked around for something to throw or use as a club, Zopyrus was upon Bessas.

The Bactrian, nearly naked and unarmed but for the eunuch's staff, gripped the staff as he had seen the Egyptians of Siout do: one hand at the center of the staff, the other a foot behind it. Thus Bessas had two ends, a longer and a shorter, to strike with.

He parried Zopyrus' first slash, and his second. Zopyrus lunged; Bessas knocked the point aside.

Bessas feinted and struck the Persian a sharp rap over the head. Zopyrus shook his head and blinked. Bessas feinted again. As Zopyrus parried Bessas drove the end of the staff into the pit of Zopyrus' stomach.

The Persian doubled over, coughing. Bessas swung mightily. The staff swished through the air and broke with a crash against Zopyrus' head. The Daduchid tumbled to the floor. His sword fell with a clang and slithered across the marble.

"I'll just take this knave's head—" began Bessas, picking up the sword.

"In the name of Zeus, no!" cried Myron. "You cannot kill all the Daduchids, and to kill one were to worsen our plight! Come on!"

"Oh, very well. But I warn you, old man, this soft-heartedness of yours will be the death of you yet!"

A fortnight later, Myron and Bessas sat at the board of Myron's friend Uni, the Egyptian priest, in Shushan. Winecups stood on the table before them. Bessas was speaking:

"So, you see, my dream was fulfilled after all. 'O man, who seeketh what is sought in vain,' and 'that which dwelleth far above the flood,' refer to the sirrush, which exists not. 'Red shall engender red, blood call to blood,' no doubt means the True Anthrax and Xerxes' blood. 'That to trust which were to grasp a wraith' means the magical powers falsely ascribed to the gem, which may have played a part in saving my gore. Methinks it gave Xerxes—a superstitious wight, though in many ways intelligent—a false sense of security, so that he gazed upon the gem to see if it had darkened when he should have been looking to make sure that his guards were at their posts."

Myron interjected: "I knew the thing didn't work, when I saw Kothar looking at it unperturbed at the moment when Bessas was stealing up to shoot him."

Bessas concluded: "And 'a dreadful deed within a narrow room' is of course Xerxes' murder."

"I wouldn't call Xerxes' bedchamber exactly narrow," said Myron.

"Belike not. But it may be that the spirit of Artagnes had to use that word to make the rhyme come out right. That's a difficulty which we poets know all too well."

"Pray do not digress, my sons," said Uni. "I am all a-twitter to know what happened next."

Bessas took up the tale again. "Well, when Xerxes was dead, Artabanus and his sons ran to the quarters of Prince Artaxerxes. Him they awoke, and Artabanus told the lad that his brother Darius had just murdered the king, and he must needs avenge his sire.

"So Artaxerxes, being young and confused with sleep, armed himself and gathered his bodyguards. He did not doubt Artabanus' words, for it was notorious that young Darius hated his father, the king, for seducing his wife. So Artaxerxes went to his brother's apartment, dragged him out of bed, and butchered him."

"What a night of knives!" said Uni. "I am glad I was not there when such dreadful deeds were done. Then what happened?"

"Seeing that things were going so well, Artabanus, thinking to seize the throne for himself, called upon his sons: 'Strike for empire, boys!' They all attacked Artaxerxes and dealt him a wound, so that for half an ush the fate of the dynasty hung in the balance."

While Bessas drank a swallow of wine, Myron took up the tale: "Both Aspamitres the chamberlain and Lord Bagabyxas, I hear, were involved in the plot, though just how I am not informed. No doubt the chamberlain shuffled the palace guards so that none was within call of the king when Artabanus struck.

"Bagabyxas, too, had a grudge against Xerxes. You recall that he had wed Xerxes' daughter Amytis. Later, when he accused her to the king of adultery, Xerxes let her off with a scolding.

"Yet Bagabyxas, they say, had no desire to see the whole dynasty supplanted and the realm rent by civil war. So he came to the aid of young Artaxerxes. The two fought off the attackers for the instant needed until the guards came running and cut down Artabanus and his sons. Bagabyxas sustained a grave wound in the struggle but may recover. The new king sentenced the chamberlain Aspamitres to the boats. The wizard Ostanas, they say, has fled to Egypt."

"Ambition must have addled Artabanus' wits," said Uni. "Even had he slain Artaxerxes, Xerxes had another legitimate son, Hystaspes, in Bactria. To him the great nobles would have rallied."

Myron: "And even if he had disposed of Hystaspes, the pretender Orontes would have popped up to claim the throne."

"Not that," said Uni. "Orontes is dead."

"Indeed?"

"Whilst you were struggling through the African jungles, Orontes raised the standard of revolt in Syria. The sub-governor of Phoenicia gathered the local levies and marched up the valley of the River of Freedom to oppose him. To get his army—mostly Arab mercenaries—across the Serpentine, Orontes built a floating bridge. But at the first shock of battle his Arabs broke and fled. In his retreat, finding his bridge obstructed by fugitives, Orontes tried to swim his horse across the Serpentine and drowned."

"Strange that we heard no gossip of this revolt," said Bessas.

"Not so strange," said Myron. "You jounced us across endless deserts, avoiding towns and seldom stopping long enough to exchange six words with the local people."

Uni: "But what befell you two on this night of noble carnage?"

Bessas resumed: "We won back to the barracks, where we gathered our Arabs and Pygmies and barricaded a section of the building. We were prepared to fight if need be, for we could not get our camels out of the stables to flee. Luckily I had friends amongst the Immortals, who kept their excited troopers in order. Artaxerxes had nought against us; and the Daduchids, what of Bagabyxas' wound and the lump on Zopyrus' pate, had other things to think of than making more mischief for us. So here we are."

Uni asked the Bactrian: "What are your plans, my son?"

"I shall wend my way to Thadamora, to buy camels from Shaykh Alman. Thence I go to my Fifty-League Oasis to take up the headship of my clan—if the Banu Khalaf have not risen in my absence and chosen another shaykh. I must also return Dzaka and his comrades—who are, I fear, somewhat disillusioned with civilization—to their ancestral jungle.

"Thereafter I shall carry on Zayd's work of building up the desert trade routes south of Egypt. As we have the camel and no other traders in those parts do, we should make a good thing of it."

"Provided," said Uni, "that these competitors whom you will ruin do not combine to make trouble for you."

"True; and also provided that I can restrain my Arabs' love of pillage and murder. It shows how one learns. A few years past I should have happily joined my sand thieves in their forays. But now I have come to see that true wealth is not the loot of a raid, nor even the trove of a treasure like that of Takarta—from which the king's tax gatherers will speedily separate you if they catch you. It is, rather, a network of established trade routes and connections and satisfied customers, which if carefully fostered will yield a profit for aye."

He uttered a deep, rumbling laugh. "Two years ago I had contemned such thoughts as base commercialism, and averred that the only gentlemanly trades were fighting, piracy, and horse breeding. Now, by Mithra, I am as crassly mercenary as any Tyrian!"

Myron asked: "How about your estate in Bactria?"

"To the afterworld with that! I have an estate—my clan of Arabian cutthroats—and why should I give that up to grasp at a shadow? Didn't some Greek storyteller compose a fable about a dog with a bone, who saw his image in the water?" Bessas shook his head. "It is sinful to say so, but ever since I learnt of my mother's death I see things more clearly."

"What of your future, Myron?" asked Uni.

"My plans are as follows: Alpha, I shall deposit my share of the treasure of Takarta in your temple for safekeeping. Beta, I shall buy a couple of horses or mules to take me to the city of my birth."

"Will you not need a slave to fetch and carry?" asked Uni.

"Bessas has already given me Norax."

"Who," said Bessas, "will no doubt soon cajole our tenderhearted Myron into freeing him."

"Gamma, I shall betake me to Miletos, purchase a house, settle down, and try to locate some of the friends of my youth, if any now reside in those parts. Delta, I shall write two books, for which I have already selected the titles. One shall be called Aithiopika, telling of my observations in Africa. The other shall be Peri tês morphes tês oikoumenês or 'About the Shape of the Earth.' You shall yet hear of my fame as a discoverer. As for epsilon—we shall see. Perhaps I shall try my luck in the West, where I hear that Pythagoras of Samos established a whole brotherhood of philosophers."

Uni said: "Why not stay in Shushan to write your books?"

"Remain in this brick kiln of a town throughout the summer's heat? My dear Uni, the only comfortable place in the city is the deepest dungeon beneath the citadel, and its appointments leave much to be desired in other respects. But I shall be back here from time to time to draw upon my deposit."

Bessas said: "Why not come back to Egypt with me? I could use you in my new business, for you are shrewder at bargaining and quicker at reckoning than I shall ever be."

"Thank you, old boy, but my writings are the more compelling task. Besides, I have had my fill of travel, and I'm getting a trifle old for such exertions. I have had my adventure. I have seen the Mountains of the Moon and fought the great black man-ape, and I have returned hale and whole. But let us not carry this antique pitcher to the well too often."

"Well, any time you are in Upper Egypt, there'll be a place for you in the tents of the Banu Khalaf. By Ishtar's navel, dawn brightens the sky! We have talked the whole night through. Now I must go."

Uni yawned. "Had you not better snatch some sleep?"

"Not III can doze on a camel's back."

"Take care that you fall not off in your sleep, for it is a long way down."

"Fear not—"

A knock on Uni's door resounded, followed by shouts of "Ya Shaykh! Yalla!"

"There are my sand thieves now," said Bessas. "Excuse me; I must awaken my brown imps." Bessas left the room.

Uni looked at Myron. "I still think you need a wife."

"The same old Uni, ever trying to marry me off! When I am doing so well without one, why change?"

"I wonder that you did not wed the Macedonian girl."

"I thought of it;' in fact I believed at one time that I was in love with her. But she had little to say of interest. Nor would she have brought me either property or standing, which to a Greek are the principal reasons for marrying.

"Moreover, she was less than half my age; so it would have been the mournful tale of old Bagabyxas and his young princess Amytis over again. If I could find some good-natured widow, now—but for the present, my true love is Gaia, goddess of the earth, whose lovely shape I must make known to all mankind."

They went to the door to bid farewell to the Bactrian and his Arabs. Bessas adjusted his kaffiyya, touched noses with Uni, seized Myron in a hug that almost cracked the Hellene's ribs, and kissed his friend soundly. Then he threw a leg over the back of his kneeling camel.

"The gods befriend you!" he cried.

Belike the friend whom for an hour we leave,

Is gone forever, sadly though we grieve;

Whilst him to whom we bid farewell for aye,

We may yet meet again, by Fate's reprieve!

After a last look at his old tutor, he bellowed, "Yâ ahî!" His camel rose by jerks, stern first; so did those bearing the Pygmies. With a rattle of gear and a flutter of head shawls, the company jounced away at a trot towards the bridge across the Khavaspa. The rising sun, striking slantwise down the narrow street, splashed the robes of the men and the rumps of the camels with crimson.