CHAPTER 2:  Born to Die

“Curse you all for fools!” Astyages bellowed furiously. His advisors cowered fearfully as he berated the Magi from the throne, “Less than a year since you advised me to marry my daughter to Cambyses and the gods have sent me another dream; and this one is even more worrying than the first… Now you’d better tell me what it means and be sure you tell me the truth or, by all the gods, I’ll make sure none of you is troubled by dreams ever again!”

The Magister paled visibly as the blood instantly drained from his face in fear; he bowed deeply as he fearfully replied, “Your majesty, we will do our utmost; tell us, what is the nature of this new dream?”

Calming down only slightly, Astyages said, “I dreamt that from Mandane’s womb there grew a huge vine, which first filled the whole city and then grew to over-shadow the whole of Asia. Now, tell me what you think this dream means?”

Terrified, the Magus answered, “Lord, this dream is very similar to your first dream; if your daughter should give birth to a child, that child would grow strong enough to rule over all Asia…”

“As I thought…” Astyages mused darkly, the furrows of his forehead deepening as he frowned and finally asked, “And is there nothing I can do to prevent this?”

The Magi looked at each other desperately; each hoping to find some kind of inspiration in the others’ eyes; only to discover there was nothing there but the reflection of their own terror of what their king might do to them should they fail to find a satisfactory answer. Although they said nothing of it, the Magi had to a man instantly realized that this new dream suggested Mandane was already pregnant; just as quickly, they had also realized that the only way to avoid the future which now threatened them would be to either kill Mandane before she gave birth, or else to kill the baby as soon as it was born.

None of the Magi dared to even remotely suggest either of these desperate courses of action; yet they knew they must find an appropriate response; Astyages was already looking at them impatiently. The Magister took his courage in both hands and looked his king in the eyes, frankly revealing to the monarch the terror that was in his own, as he answered, “Sire, it is not for us, nor for any man, to tell you what you must do with your own family; this must be for you alone to decide…”

As the Magister had hoped, Astyages was astute enough to understand what this reluctance to answer him signified; indeed, it was much as Astyages himself had expected. His expression turned from anger to misery and then finally to determination, as he finally turned to his servant, Harpagus, who was standing beside the throne, and said quietly to him, “Harpagus, send a herald to Persia to fetch Mandane!”

The servant bowed respectfully as Astyages continued, “She is to come home at once! Say nothing of why; no-one is to hear about this dream. Is that understood?”

Harpagus bowed again deeply and said, “Of course, your majesty; at once, your majesty!” With an obedient bow, Harpagus quickly left the room.

Once he had gone, Astyages turned once more to the Magi and barked at them, “Now get out of my sight before I have your useless heads removed from your bodies and displayed on spikes at the city gates!”

As the Magi backed out of the throne-room, bowing and scraping even more deeply than Harpagus had as they went, they each said silent prayers of thanks to the gods that they still lived; to suggest that a man sacrifice his own grandchild is a very delicate thing; to suggest that a king should do so, unthinkable!

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Astyages realized that he would not have been sent this second dream if Mandane were not already pregnant. Even so, he felt the need to observe his daughter’s condition for himself, but he feared that if he were to meet her, his face might reveal the darkness of his intentions. He decided that it would be wiser not to greet her in person; he instructed a slave to greet the couple for him, with apologies that the king could not personally attend their arrival due to the pressures of state business. As soon as these slaves informed him that his daughter’s carriage had been sighted in the distance, Astyages climbed up onto the battlements which overlooked the gatehouse with Harpagus and the Magister so they could observe her arrival unseen.

The same enormous wagon, drawn by its team of a dozen oxen, which had taken them to Persia less than a year ago, now brought them back; pulling up noisily just inside the city gates. As her maids helped Mandane to descend, Astyages observed that she was indeed heavily pregnant. With a woeful expression which reflected the utter misery he now felt, Astyages turned to the Magister as, grasping the latter’s shoulder in a strong grip with his right hand and shaking him roughly, he said,

“Pregnant! By the gods, this news should fill me with joy, but all I feel is dread! Well Magus, what do you advise now?”

The Magister’s’ response was darkly enigmatic, “My Lord,” he said softly, “it is not for me, nor for any man to advise you how best to manage your own family affairs; if there is still some way to avoid the disaster foretold by your dreams, you alone must find that path…”

The consistency with which the Magister had insisted on refusing to answer this question, merely repeating his earlier response, underlined for Astyages that there was no way to escape the horror that appeared to be the only way he might possibly avoid catastrophe; yet the alternative horrified him even more. But whatever it cost him; regardless of what, or even whom he must sacrifice to do so, he was absolutely determined that his sovereignty must be preserved.

“Well then, now I know what I must do! Out of my sight, worthless dog!” he said, dismissing the Magister and waiting for him to go, before he turned to address his minister,

“Harpagus, escort Mandane to the women’s quarters; she is to stay there until she delivers her child; if it’s a boy, you are to bring it to me as soon as it is born.”

(to be continued…)