CYRUS

By

Theseustoo

As the guest of honour at the king’s banquet, Harpagus seated himself in the traditional position of honour at the king’s right hand, as many acrobats, jugglers, musicians and dancers competed with each other to entertain the king and his guests. The king’s own cup-bearer stood behind them and beside his normal duties kept Harpagus’ wine-cup filled as he enjoyed the spectacle which unfolded before his eyes, which were bedazzled by the brightness and colours of the gaudy costumes of the entertainers who had been hired to provide the evening’s entertainment. And all the while, many and various delicious aromas arose from the palace kitchens to tantalize the king’s guests; making their mouths water in anticipation as they watched the entertainment and chatted quietly amongst themselves.

Presently a line of a dozen servants trouped in, carrying large platters on which were laid all kinds of meats and other delicacies, which they placed on the tables in front of the guests, who then helped themselves to the feast that had been laid before them. Harpagus’ curiosity was piqued when he noticed a curious anomaly in the evening’s proceedings however; usually, the king’s table was served first; but for this evening’s feast the king’s table was left unserved until after everyone else had been served.

He could not help but wonder what this novelty meant; perhaps, he thought, it was some peculiar new protocol the king’s master of ceremonies had dreamed up to honour the king and his guest on this very special occasion. Serving the least important guests first and leaving the king and his guest of honour to be served last, emphasized, he could only suppose, the role of the king and his guest as the provider of and the reason for the feast.

Harpagus ignored the anomaly, however, as having no consequence. Indeed, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all; but he had not eaten anything since midday and his stomach was beginning to growl. He looked at the king, but the king acted as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary; so Harpagus could only pin his faith that he would soon be fed on his status as the king’s guest of honour. Finally, when all the other tables had been served, the kitchen servants laid several large silver platters in front of Astyages.

“Harpagus!” the king said, helping himself to several slices of meat from one of the platters in front of him as he smiled broadly at the minister, “I’m so glad you could join us this evening; I have a very special treat for you; I do hope you are hungry?”

“That I am sire!” Harpagus answered enthusiastically as the king clapped his hands together. Immediately servants brought in more silver platters, from which arose the most delectable and tantalising aromas yet, and placed them on the table in front of Harpagus.

“Excellent!” the king replied jovially, “These dishes have been specially prepared for you alone; please eat your fill… Whatever you cannot eat tonight you may take home with you…”

“Your majesty is most generous…” Harpagus said as he helped himself to the delicacies on the platters which had been laid in front of him.

“Not at all…” the king said graciously, “it’s the least I could do!”

Harpagus set to with a will, politeness dictating that he demonstrate his gratitude for the king’s generosity by his evident enjoyment. Though he could not possibly manage to finish all of the dishes that were set in front of him, at least, he thought to himself, he would manage to sample them all; thus the king would not feel slighted by any omission. After all, thought Harpagus, Astyages had quite evidently gone to considerable trouble to have all these recipes prepared for him alone; sampling them all was the least he could do.

Finally he could eat no more; he pushed the platter away from him, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and burped loudly in evident satisfaction to demonstrate his pleasure.

Hearing this, Astyages turned to him and enquired jovially, “Harpagus, did you enjoy your meal?”

“Indeed sire!” Harpagus exclaimed enthusiastically, “Such delicious spices; and such tender meat! I really can’t say which dish I enjoyed the most!”

Once again Astyages clapped his hands together and a slave brought in a large covered basket, which he placed on the table in front of Harpagus.

“This basket is also for you.” Astyages said, nodding to the servant, who raised the lid to reveal the basket’s contents. Inside were the severed head, hands and feet of Harpagus’ only son. Harpagus was shocked to the core as he instantly realised what this meant. Yet in spite of his shock, somehow he managed to maintain his composure as Astyages coolly asked him, “Do you know what kind of meat it is that you have been enjoying so much?”

“I do Lord…” Harpagus replied with some difficulty, as he struggled to keep down both his fast-rising anger and the contents of his stomach, “Whatever your majesty does is agreeable to me…”

Since ancient times the law said that the king can do no wrong. As the king’s servant, Harpagus knew better than to allow himself to lose control of his feelings; to do so would be to invite a spear through the heart from one of the guards who adorned the Great Hall at regular intervals. He must act as if this were a feast like any other. He collected together whatever scraps of meat still remained on the table and put them into the basket, which he then took up and, with a silent but deeply respectful farewell bow to the king, he left the feasting and the revelries to return home to bury what little now remained of his son, wondering desperately how he was going to explain this latest turn of events to his wife.

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Early the next morning Astyages summoned his advisors to his throne-room to hear their opinion on this unexpected reversal of his plans. After explaining how he had discovered that his grandson was still alive, he asked the Magi if they thought he was still in any danger from the youth. The three Magi conferred among themselves for several minutes, until eventually Astyages impatiently interrupted their discussions, “Well, what do you make of it?” he demanded.

The Magister stepped forward and with a rather nervous smile, which he hoped looked reassuring rather than sickly, he hesitantly replied, “Majesty, if the boy survives, and has already ruled as a king without any craft or contrivance then you may cheer up… You need feel no more alarm on his account. He will not reign a second time. We have found that even oracles are sometimes fulfilled in an unimportant way; and dreams, even more often, may have wondrously mean accomplishments.”

“That is what I too, am most inclined to think…” Astyages said slowly, “The boy, having already been king, the dream is out, and I have nothing more to fear from him. But take good heed and give me the best counsel you can for the safety of my house… and also for your own interests.”

“Truly,” the Magister began reassuringly, “it is very much in our interests that your kingdom should be most firmly established for if it went to this boy it would pass into foreign hands, since he is a Persian. Then we Medes would lose our freedom and be quite despised by the Persians. But as our fellow-countryman, so long as you are on the throne all manner of honours are ours; we even have some share in the government. So we have every reason to forecast well for you and your sovereignty. If we saw any present cause for fear, you may be sure we would tell you. But truly we are persuaded that the dream has been accomplished in this harmless way; we recommend you to banish your fears. As for the boy, our advice is that you send him to Persia, to be with his father and mother.”

“Very well…” Astyages said. Then, turning to his guards at the door, he said, “Guards! Bring in the boy.”

The guards brought in ‘Ambares’, who had been waiting in the ante-chamber until the king decided what to do with him. In an unusually gentle voice, Astyages now addressed the still-astonished young boy, “My child, I was led to do you wrong by a dream which has come to nothing: from that wrong you were saved by your own good fortune. Go now to Persia; I will provide your escort. When you get to your journey’s end, you will find your real father and mother.”

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(To be continued)