Creation (85 page)

“How do I know what she said?” Xerxes smiled. “I always know. I wish I didn’t. But I have no choice. Atossa is something like the weather here at Susa—either too hot or too cold.” Xerxes poured me a cup of wine from a new bottle. As I gulped it down, I wondered if it was poisoned. “Yes, I’m in love with a certain lady who happens to be my brother’s wife, which is why I may not command her to love me. But I think I can win her. I’ve arranged for my son Darius to marry her daughter. The boy’s very handsome, by the way. I haven’t seen the wife-to-be. But she’s in luck. One day she’ll be queen of Persia. More important, in spite of what Atossa says, gratitude will oblige her mother to join me in this bed. Next week, I should think. The day after the wedding.”

I spent an hour with my old friend. My first impression was that he had changed hardly at all. But when I left him, I realized that something very odd had happened or, rather, had not happened. Xerxes never once asked me about India or Cathay. In fact, during the fourteen years that were still left him, he almost never alluded to my embassies. He had lost all curiosity about the world. He had turned in upon himself. He cared for nothing but the harem and the completion of those buildings that he had begun in his youth.

When the suspicious Spartans quite rightly put Pausanias to death for being a Persian agent, Xerxes hardly noticed that he had lost his chief ally in the Greek world. But by then he had convinced himself that, as a dutiful son, he had fought the war which his father had intended to fight. Lacking Darius’ luck, Xerxes had failed to hold for any length of time the mainland of Greece. But he had the pleasure of twice burning Athens to the ground. He had avenged Troy and Sardis and, all in all, he was well pleased with the outcome of the Greek war.

Democritus reminds me of Aeschylus’ play
The Persians
,
which someone read to me when I first came to Athens. The play is perfect nonsense. For one thing, I can promise you that I never once heard Xerxes praise the Athenians—or any Greeks. Certainly, he would never have called them bold and daring. And—how does the ridiculous line go?—“These sad eyes saw their violent and splendid deeds.” Read me that speech I laughed at How ... Yes, due to “wretched fortune, I was born to crush, to ruin my own native land.”

Practically speaking, not only did Xerxes not ruin his native land but he thought that he had done quite well by his patrimony. He had wanted to teach the Greeks a lesson, and he had. He had only one complaint: the cost of the war. “Every bit of gold that I got from Babylon was spent in Greece. So the lesson is plain: Never go to war against a poor country, because no matter how it turns out, you lose.”

I doubt that this sentiment would have appealed very much to Aeschylus because it is hard for a Greek to realize that Greece is small, and poor; that Persia is large, and rich. That life is short. Short.

I attended the wedding between Crown Prince Darius and Masistes’ daughter. Two thirds of those in attendance at court were unknown to me. But since most were descendants of The Six, I recognized the names if not the faces of the new generation. The marriage was also the occasion for me to take once again my place at the court of the Great King—this time as an elder! Although I was treated with the respect that is owed the lifelong friend of a middle-aged sovereign, I myself was of no real interest to anyone. The court was as inward-looking as the Great King. More to the point, I had been away too long. I also lacked money. It took me ten years to get back my various properties from the treasury, not to mention from Lais, who was not as pleased as she ought to have been to see her only son again. But then, I have noticed that many parents are more thrilled than not to outlive grown children.

Since Lais had been living in
my
rooms in my house, it was with numerous and unbecoming complaints that she moved back into the women’s quarters. Although Lais was not ill pleased to see me alive, she kept within seemly bounds a mother’s natural joy. “We really had no way of knowing.” Sadly she watched her chests and divans leave my bedroom for the somewhat cramped women’s quarters. “Besides, the law says that after three years’ absence, you’re supposed to be quite dead.”

Lais had changed hardly at all. If anything, a slight increase of weight now made soft and youthful a face that had begun to look, in her early middle age, over-hard and determined.

“I’d planned to receive guests this evening.” This was the day after the last of the wedding ceremonies.

“Go right ahead.” I was amiable. We were more like old acquaintances than mother and son. “Shall I join them?”

“You won’t be disagreeable?” She sounded apprehensive.

“Greeks.” No one ever changes, I thought to myself. “You’re not still conspiring?”

“More than ever.” Lais held her head high, doubtless reminding herself of the goddess Athena. “This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Our fortunes have never looked brighter.”

“Brighter? Oh, yes! Glorious, in fact.” I could not restrain myself. “We’ve lost two of our six army corps, half the fleet, and the treasury is empty. So what makes you think that
our
fortunes have never looked brighter?”

I was told. At length. By Lais. Later, by Demaratus. He was still a handsome man, if somewhat gnawed by time. He was now comfortable in his Persian clothes, and though decent Persian shoes covered his feet, I assumed that he’d learned to wash. Among the Greek émigrés at dinner was, a beautiful young man from Cos named Apollonides. Xerxes had taken a fancy to him. No, Democritus, not because of his beauty but because of his skill as a physician. Needless to say, on account of his looks, he was allowed nowhere near the harem. Ordinarily, physicians are the only men who can come and go in that part of the palace but, traditionally, they must be very old like Democedes or very ill-favored or both. Although physicians are carefully watched by eunuchs, everyone agreed that with someone like Apollonides, fate must not be tempted.

“My cousin Pausanias has already shown his good faith. He sent back five of the Great King’s glorious relatives.” Demaratus had learned to speak a flowery, rather disagreeable Persian. In fact, his manners were now more Persian than Spartan, and I was not sure that I didn’t prefer his old crude self. Spartans are used neither to luxury nor to relative freedom. When these two things coincide, as they do at the Persian court, the Spartan is demoralized.

“But surely the Spartans won’t let Pausanias make an alliance with us.” From the first, I was certain that Pausanias was doomed. He was arrogant; he was greedy; he was stupid. These attributes tend to attract the joyous attention of those goddesses whom the Greeks nervously refer to as the kindly ones. Actually, they are the furies.

“You don’t know Sparta.” Sparta’s former long was serenely condescending. “Pausanias is regent. He can do as he likes as long as the ephors are in his pocket. That is, as long as he sees to it that there is gold in
their
pockets. Oh, he’ll be master of all Greece, in the Great King’s name, of course.”

Lais was thrilled—as always. There is nothing like a Greek conspiracy to bring a youthful gleam to her eye. On the subject of Greek politics, she is, very simply, demented.

After dinner the conspirators were joined by a very important man indeed. I had known Megabyzus slightly when we were young. He was a son of Zopyrus, the mutilated satrap of Babel whom Xerxes and I had managed to avoid on our first trip to Babylon. During my years in the east, Megabyzus had so distinguished himself militarily that Xerxes had given him his daughter Amystis for a wife. Incidentally, by an earlier marriage, Megabyzus had a son named for his grandfather Zopyrus. This is the same Zopyrus who was recently in Athens making trouble for his native land. Although it is true that the young man has a legitimate grudge against our royal house, that is no reason for him to act like a Greek.

Physically, Megabyzus was a giant—is a giant, I assume: he has a knack for survival. Not long ago, during a royal hunt, he saved the Great King Artaxerxes from a lion. Unfortunately, no subject may kill an animal before the Great King has made the first kill. Although Artaxerxes was grateful to Megabyzus for saving his life, he was outraged that an ancient custom had been flouted. Megabyzus was sentenced to death. But Amystis joined forces with Queen Mother Amestris, and together they persuaded the Great King to send Megabyzus into exile. It is said that he is now a leper. But all this was in the future when we first met under Lais’ watchful eye.

There was the usual—that is, endless—discussion of Greek affairs. I noticed that Megabyzus was noncommittal. I also noticed that he kept looking at me, as if for some sort of signal. I was mystified. Finally, as the Greeks were beginning to grow drunk, I motioned to Megabyzus to join me in my workroom, which is just off the dining hall. As we left the room Lais gave me a furious look—in my own house!

“I am interested in the east,” said Megabyzus. Needless to say, not even a Lydian orchestra could have ravished my ear more than that single phrase.

For an hour we talked of India and Cathay. The conversation that I was never to have with Xerxes, I had with his general. There was no doubt at all in Megabyzus’ mind where our future lies. “There’s no money now, of course.” But the giant head nodded yes instead of shaking no. “It will be several years before we can mount an invasion.”

“But you want that?”

“As much as you do.” We looked at each other. Then we shook hands. We were allies. In the next room the Greeks were singing Milesian love songs.

“What do you think of Pausanias?” I asked.

“What can you think of last year’s savior of Greece who is now offering to sell us Greece in exchange for a royal wife and a silken robe? He is a passing cloud.”

“But when the cloud passes ...”

“We shall cross the Indus River.”

“Darius dreamt of cows.”

“Then,” said Megabyzus, “you and I will herd them for his son.”

Unfortunately for Persia, Xerxes preferred herding women. Also, as he got older, he was more and more interested in what he could not or ought not to have. Even as we were talking excitedly of the eastern policy, Xerxes had fallen in love with his son’s new wife. Unable to seduce the mother, he now set about seducing the daughter.

Since Amestris—the present queen mother—has been for so long a power at the Persian court, I should try to correct the false impression of her that currently obtains in the Greek world. Like her predecessor and model Queen Atossa, Amestris is highly political. As Otanes’ daughter, she has her own private revenues, which means that she is not dependent financially on the Great King. In fact, I suspect that there are times when it is the other way around. Although Amestris receives men as if she herself were a man, there has never been the slightest hint of scandal—with a man. Eunuchs are another matter. In any case, she is much too formidable for love affairs. Like Atossa, she has always been dedicated to her sons. Like Atossa, she was able to force an unwilling Great King to grant the title crown prince to her eldest son. It appears to be a royal rule everywhere on earth that the sovereign is always reluctant to name his heir for a number of reasons that are perfectly obvious if not always sensible.

At Susa, Amestris occupies the so-called third house of the harem. When Xerxes enlarged the palace, he added considerably to the queen’s apartments. As a result, she now has her own chancellery, as well as numerous apartments for ladies-in-waiting, eunuchs, and so on. Traditionally, at the Persian court, the queen mother takes precedence over the queen consort. In theory, when Xerxes became Great King, the third house should have remained in the control of his mother. But Atossa preferred her old apartments. “It doesn’t make much difference
where
I am,” she said to me, with a sly smile, “as long as I am. Amestris is welcome to the third house.”

Surprisingly, relations between the two ladies were good. Amestris never forgot that it was Atossa who had made her queen, and unlike most people, Amestris does not hate those who have helped her. She was also aware that the old queen still controlled the chancellery. It is said that no satrapal appointment was ever made without Atossa’s consent. She also had a good deal to say about which army commander would be posted to what satrapy to keep an eye on the local administration. The matching of satraps, who are relatively independent, with army commanders, who are directly subject to the Great King, is a subtle art. One mistake, and you will have civil war on your hands.

At least once a day Amestris would visit Atossa in her apartments, and they would compare notes on matters of state. The two ladies were often attended by the court chamberlain Aspamitres. He was sufficiently shrewd to serve each woman loyally.

Although I was disappointed that, once again, the eastern policy came to nothing, the actual day-to-day life of the court was very pleasant indeed. With the seasons, we made our rounds from Persepolis to Susa to Ecbatana and back again. Life was serene, and splendid; happy, too. I was still ambitious. I wanted glory for myself. I wanted glory for Xerxes. But the Great King preferred to conduct his campaigns not in the Gangetic plain or on the banks of the Yellow River but in the houses of the harem. As a result, the hegemony of the whole world is still a dream.

A month after the wedding of Darius to Masistes’ daughter, I met Queen Amestris on the day that followed upon the unlucky night that Xerxes first seduced his new daughter-in-law. I was alone with Queen Atossa. The aged Atossa no longer made any pretense that a chaperone was needed. On the other hand, the relatively young Amestris comported herself as freely as a man. During those golden years, our palace women were the freest that they have ever been. Naturally, if a harem lady was caught alone with a man, she would be strangled to death, and the man would be buried alive, a fate rather worse than what befalls the Athenian adulterer, who is forced to receive in his anus a large radish, something as apt to give pleasure as discomfort hereabouts.

Amestris is a tall, slender, fragile woman. She has a melodious voice, dark eyes, fair skin; she blushes easily; she is gentle and hesitant in manner. Although she appears to be quite unlike her predecessor, she is every bit as formidable as Atossa was. I suspect that Atossa—whom I knew better—was the more intelligent of the two. On the other hand, Amestris has now governed Persia for a longer time than Atossa ever did. Also, Atossa was obliged to share power with Darius, while Amestris has never shared power with anyone. She governs her son Artaxerxes as she governed his father Xerxes; and she governs well. Certainly, she must be given a good deal of credit for Persia’s long peace, whose decrepit symbol I am, shivering with cold in this drafty house.