Lydian Softies

As Cyrus and his escort pulled up at a staging post just outside Suza, a rider approached them from their rear at a gallop. As he reached them he quickly dismounted in front of Cyrus. Harpagus and Croesus were alarmed by the speed with which the rider had caught up with them, but Cyrus seemed unsurprised, and even unconcerned, as the man quickly and breathlessly gave his report.

“My Lord, I have just come from Sardis; the Lydians are in revolt; Pactyas has stolen your treasure and used it to hire mercenaries; Tabalus is besieged within the citadel!”

When he heard this, Cyrus turned to Croesus and, with great sadness in his voice, said, “Croesus where do you think this will end? It seems that these Lydians will not cease causing trouble to themselves and others! I wonder if it isn’t best to sell them all for slaves! I think what I have done is as if I’d ‘killed the father and then spared the child.’ You, who were something more than a father to your people, I have seized and carried off, and to those same people I have entrusted their city. Can I then feel surprised at their rebellion?”

Croesus lowered his eyes for a few moments, in shame for the treachery of his people. Then he looked up, gazing straight into Cyrus’ eyes as he pleaded, “Oh! My king, your words are reasonable; but, I beseech you, please do not give full vent to your anger, nor doom to destruction an ancient city, guiltless of both the past and the present trouble.”

Cyrus raised his eyebrows in surprise at this claim, but Croesus rapidly continued, explaining to him, “I caused the one, and in my own person I now pay the penalty. Pactyas has caused the other; let him bear the punishment. Grant forgiveness to the Lydians then, and to make sure that they never rebel against you, or cause you any further alarm, forbid them to keep any weapons of war; command them to wear tunics under their cloaks and to put buskins upon their feet; make them bring up their sons to play the lyre and the harp, and to keep shop. Soon you will see them become women instead of men and there will be no more fear of their rebelling against you.”

Once again Croesus had managed to surprise Cyrus with the wisdom of his plan.

“Croesus,” he said, “again I am impressed by your great wisdom; I shall do as you suggest.”

Cyrus then turned to the rider and asked, “You heard these words herald?”

The herald nodded once.

“Good!” Cyrus exclaimed, “Now take a fresh mount from the staging post and ride to my general, Mazares in Sinope: he is to take a detachment immediately to relieve Sardis; when he has taken the city from the rebels he is to issue orders to the Lydians exactly according to the terms that Croesus’ has suggested… you remember them all?” The rider nodded again, “Good!” Cyrus continued, “Further, he is to sell for slaves all those who joined the Lydians in their attack upon Sardis. And above all he is to make sure that he brings Pactyas with him alive on his return to Agbatana.”

“As you command Sire!” The rider said obediently, as he snapped a smart salute to his king before he took the saddle off the exhausted mount he had ridden in on, and put it on a fresh mount from the station’s corral. Then he mounted the fresh horse and rode off at an even faster gallop to find Mazares; whom Cyrus had left in charge in Sinope, with a large force of both cavalrymen and infantry. He had also privately forewarned him that he may be called upon to suppress a rebellion in Sardis. From this position, Cyrus had anticipated, he will have little trouble doing so, especially as Sardis would not now be able to expect any help from her strongest allies.

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Cyrus was in a staff conference with Croesus, Harpagus and Hystaspes, the Prince of the Arizanti, when the door of the war-room suddenly burst open loudly and a messenger entered; closely escorted by two guards who manhandled another, rather dishevelled figure wearing heavy iron fetters on his wrists and ankles. As they approached the monarch they threw their prisoner to his knees in front of him. Before the guards could properly announce them, the herald bowed and proudly said to Cyrus,

“Your majesty I have brought you the captive rebel leader, Pactyas. I also bring you news of Mazares; he successfully put down the revolt in Sardis and then sold the rebellious inhabitants of Priene into slavery; he also conquered the whole plain of the Maeander and the district of Magnesia! But my lord, after doing all this he suddenly fell sick and died.”

Cyrus was very pleased at the capture of the rebel leader, Pactyas, and also at Mazares’ successful suppression of the rebellion in Sardis. He was even more pleased at the bonus of his newly acquired territory in Magnesia, and the broad valley of the Maeander, but Cyrus’ face fell instantly when he heard of the final sad demise of the faithful Mazares. Turning to Harpagus, in a low voice which reflected his deep sorrow, he said, “Harpagus, you must go to the coast at once and replace Mazares; I want no trouble from that quarter while my forces concentrate on taking Babylon. Take Phocaea and use it as a base to subdue Ionia and Aeolia.”

Harpagus nodded obediently and was just about to leave to carry out his king’s orders when Cyrus caught him by the elbow and spoke again, his tone gentle and more intimate than he had ever heard him using before, “You are my most trusted officer;” he said quietly, “you put me on the throne when you were in a position to claim it for yourself; with you to guard my rear, at least I know that my back is safe!”

Harpagus felt deeply honoured by his king’s confidence in him, and he could not help but smile darkly at the similarity between Cyrus’ manner of thinking and his own; as the monarch added, in darker tones, “But make sure you take your own cook…”

Harpagus laughed; Cyrus, he knew, was suspicious about Mazares’ sudden demise; but the advice was unnecessary; for Harpagus had personally cooked all his own meals ever since the fateful supper when Astyages had tricked him into eating his only son. He bowed deeply, then turned on his heels and left immediately to make arrangements for moving to his new post; as Cyrus turned now to the dejected rebel leader, Pactyas and said, “Pactyas! When we first met, I was assured that you were an honest man. And although you are a Lydian, I entrusted you with all the wealth of my captured city of Sardis, whose people, instead of putting them to the sword or selling them off for slaves, I treated fairly; and whose king I have taken into my own household as my honoured guest and friend; yet you rebelled against me… And I hear you led my officers a merry chase among the islands when they attempted to bring you to me…”

Pactyas however, was unrepentant; angrily he stared at Cyrus right in the eyes, as he snarled his response, “Everything I have done was in loyalty to my country and my king. If you see that as a crime then here I am; ready to endure whatever punishment you deem fit…”

Cyrus was strangely affected by the similarity of this man’s speech to his own words on that fateful day that he had been arrested and taken to be interviewed by Astyages and when his real identity had been discovered. Some instinct he could not explain told him that it would be wrong to kill this man; Cyrus’ sense of balance, as much perhaps as his sense of justice warned him against such a vindictive response. The man’s actions had been noble and daringly executed; and he had believed himself to be acting on behalf of his king. Cyrus thoughtfully regarded the still impenitent Pactyas for several long and very intense moments; eventually he said, “Your country is now mine, Pactyas; and your king is now my friend and servant; if you were truly loyal to him you would do as he wishes, wouldn’t you? Yet Croesus is here, and if I were to ask him what I should do with you he would undoubtedly say, ‘Slay him’!”

At this point Cyrus paused and looked towards Croesus for confirmation; Croesus gravely nodded assent to what Cyrus had just said, and Pactyas lowered his gaze to the floor to hide the blush of shame which this, his former king’s condemnation, brought to his face, as Cyrus continued, “Yet I am moved with admiration for your courage; so I offer you one last chance to live. I have need of brave and clever officers for my assault on Babylon. Will you help me and live?”

Instantly realizing that his life was being given back to him, Pactyas pulled himself up to his full height so he could look Cyrus in the eyes; his own eyes now no longer dull, lifeless and emptied by defeat, but bright and full of a quick and lively intelligence. In these eyes too, Cyrus saw gratitude and admiration for their benefactor as he replied, “Aye, my lord! That I will! When I rebelled in Sardis, I did not know that Croesus was now your friend; nor did I realise how irresistible your forces truly are! Truly, you are the Son of Heaven and all your enemies will fall before you! I swear by the all-seeing Zeus, that from this day forwards I am your faithful servant!”

With that Pactyas seized hold of Cyrus’ hand and, holding it up to his lips, kissed it to seal his pledge.

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