Greeks. They are bad men, and very persuasive. Since your mother is Greek ...” Hystaspes left that sentence unfinished, too. He disliked my mother because she was not Persian, and he would have disliked her son had not the hybrid child been chosen to hear the words of the Wise Lord himself. This must have mystified Hystaspes. A half-Greek boy had been chosen to hear the voice of the Wise Lord. Plainly the ways of divinity are not easily understood. This is a point that everyone agrees on.
“You will have the run of the harem until you are old enough for school. Be alert. Study the wives. Three of the wives are important. The eldest wife is a daughter of Gobryas. Darius married her when he was sixteen. They have three sons. The eldest is Artobazanes. He is now a grown man. He is expected to succeed Darius. But the Great King is under the spell of Atossa, the second wife, who is queen because she is the daughter of Cyrus the Great. Since she bore Darius three sons after he became Great King, she claims that the eldest of the three sons is the only legitimate heir. Also, as Cyrus’ grandson, the boy is truly royal. He is called Xerxes.” Thus did I hear for the first time the name of the man who was to be my lifelong—as long as his life, that is—friend.
Hystaspes gazed at me gravely. I fought off sleep; did my best to look alert. “Atossa is the one that you must please,” said Hystaspes, having just warned me to avoid all the wives and factions. “But do not make enemies of the other wives or of their eunuchs. You must be sly as the serpent. For the sake of the Wise Lord, you must survive. It won’t be easy. The harem is an unholy place. Astrologers, witches, devil-worshipers, every kind of wickedness is popular among the women. And the worst of the lot is Atossa. She believes that she ought to have been born a man so that she could have been Great King like her father, Cyrus. But since she’s not a man, she tries to compensate through magic. She has a private chapel where she prays to the devil-goddess Anahita. Between Atossa on the one hand and the Magians on the other, your life won’t be easy. The Magians will try to convert you to the Lie. But never give way. Never forget that you are the agent on earth of the Wise Lord, that you have been sent by him to pursue at Susa the way of Truth, to continue the work of Zoroaster, the holiest man that ever lived.”
This was all somewhat overwhelming for a sleepy child who wanted to grow up to be a soldier because soldiers did not have to spend as much time in school as Magians and priests—or sophists.
2
IN FREEZING WEATHER WE WENT UP TO Susa. Wrapped in wool, I rode beside my mother atop a camel, the one form of transportation that I have never learned to like. The camel is a disagreeable creature whose motion can make one every bit as sick as the tossing of a ship. As we approached the city, my mother kept muttering Greek spells to herself.
Incidentally, Lais is a witch. She admitted this to me some years after our arrival at court. “A Thracian witch. We are the most powerful on earth.” At first I thought that she was joking. But she was not. “After all,” she used to say, “if I hadn’t been a witch, we’d never have survived at Susa.” She may have a point there. Yet all the time that she was secretly indulging herself in Thracian mysteries, she was piously advancing her son as the true heir to the unique prophet of the Wise Lord who had been, of course, the sworn enemy of all those devils that she secretly worshiped. Lais is a clever woman.
It was dawn when we came to the Karun River. In slow single file the caravan crossed a wooden bridge, whose planks sagged and groaned. Beneath us the water of the river was solid ice while just ahead of us was Susa, sparkling in the sun. I had no idea that a city could be so large. All of Bactra could have fitted into one of the marketplaces. It is true that most Susan houses are ramshackle affairs, built of
“You will have the run of the harem until you are old enough for school. Be alert. Study the wives. Three of the wives are important. The eldest wife is a daughter of Gobryas. Darius married her when he was sixteen. They have three sons. The eldest is Artobazanes. He is now a grown man. He is expected to succeed Darius. But the Great King is under the spell of Atossa, the second wife, who is queen because she is the daughter of Cyrus the Great. Since she bore Darius three sons after he became Great King, she claims that the eldest of the three sons is the only legitimate heir. Also, as Cyrus’ grandson, the boy is truly royal. He is called Xerxes.” Thus did I hear for the first time the name of the man who was to be my lifelong—as long as his life, that is—friend.
Hystaspes gazed at me gravely. I fought off sleep; did my best to look alert. “Atossa is the one that you must please,” said Hystaspes, having just warned me to avoid all the wives and factions. “But do not make enemies of the other wives or of their eunuchs. You must be sly as the serpent. For the sake of the Wise Lord, you must survive. It won’t be easy. The harem is an unholy place. Astrologers, witches, devil-worshipers, every kind of wickedness is popular among the women. And the worst of the lot is Atossa. She believes that she ought to have been born a man so that she could have been Great King like her father, Cyrus. But since she’s not a man, she tries to compensate through magic. She has a private chapel where she prays to the devil-goddess Anahita. Between Atossa on the one hand and the Magians on the other, your life won’t be easy. The Magians will try to convert you to the Lie. But never give way. Never forget that you are the agent on earth of the Wise Lord, that you have been sent by him to pursue at Susa the way of Truth, to continue the work of Zoroaster, the holiest man that ever lived.”
This was all somewhat overwhelming for a sleepy child who wanted to grow up to be a soldier because soldiers did not have to spend as much time in school as Magians and priests—or sophists.
2
IN FREEZING WEATHER WE WENT UP TO Susa. Wrapped in wool, I rode beside my mother atop a camel, the one form of transportation that I have never learned to like. The camel is a disagreeable creature whose motion can make one every bit as sick as the tossing of a ship. As we approached the city, my mother kept muttering Greek spells to herself.
Incidentally, Lais is a witch. She admitted this to me some years after our arrival at court. “A Thracian witch. We are the most powerful on earth.” At first I thought that she was joking. But she was not. “After all,” she used to say, “if I hadn’t been a witch, we’d never have survived at Susa.” She may have a point there. Yet all the time that she was secretly indulging herself in Thracian mysteries, she was piously advancing her son as the true heir to the unique prophet of the Wise Lord who had been, of course, the sworn enemy of all those devils that she secretly worshiped. Lais is a clever woman.
It was dawn when we came to the Karun River. In slow single file the caravan crossed a wooden bridge, whose planks sagged and groaned. Beneath us the water of the river was solid ice while just ahead of us was Susa, sparkling in the sun. I had no idea that a city could be so large. All of Bactra could have fitted into one of the marketplaces. It is true that most Susan houses are ramshackle affairs, built of
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