Showing posts with label Persian Empire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Persian Empire. Show all posts

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

The Madness of Cambyses

Never forgetting the valuable lesson he had learned that day he had befriended the fallen Croesus (for the the story click please here), the Persian King of Kings ruled wisely and fairly for all. The Persian Empire ever after became a deeply admired nation, where the vast array of cultures within its endless borders coexisted peacefully as equals. The Empire flourished, Iran became a model of religious freedom and cultural tolerance, and the first laws of human rights were written, and it was one of the earliest nations to deplore slavery. Many nations willingly flocked to the Great King’s court, and many willingly handed over their sovereignty to him. At his death, Cyrus the Great had achieved astonishing things.


King Cambyses
Artist unknown
Cyrus had, in twenty years, transformed an obscure Eurasian tribe into a world superpower. The realm inherited by his son Cambyses was breathtaking in its size. Many great kingdoms and empires had risen and fallen in the Middle East. The Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Medians, the Lydians, the Akkadians, Sumerians and Elamites had all been great powers in their day. The domains of the Persian King included all of them, and were larger than all of them put together. It was so vast that it had not one but four capital cities; Pasargadae, Susa, Babylon and Ecbatana. Still, the Persian Empire was far from its greatest extent. To take up the crown and sceptre left by Cyrus was a formidable challenge indeed. Cambyses, though a little short tempered, seemed worthy of such a challenge. Some years earlier, Cyrus asked the Pharaoh of Egypt, Amasis, for the services of the most skilled oculist in Egypt. Amasis agreed, and sent the man to Persia. But the doctor, furious with the Pharaoh for tearing him away from his family and country, decided to sow the seeds of Egypt’s ruin. Scheming, the doctor approached young Cambyses, and persuaded him to ask Amasis for the hand of his daughter in marriage. The plan was an ingenious one. If Amasis agreed, he would be wracked with personal distress, for alarming were the rumours that reached his ears of the sadistic tendencies of Cambyses. If he refused, it would be tantamount to a declaration of war, and terrifying was the power of Persia. A sleepless night the Pharaoh endured, for the decision all Kings dread was now his. A choice between his Kingdom, and his conscience.


The next morning, he formed a plan. It seemed to him ingenious, for it would benefit both. Many years earlier, he had overthrown his predecessor, Pharaoh Apries, in a rebellion. The last surviving member of his household was his daughter, and Amasis decided to grant her the identity of his daughter, and dress her as a princess of Egypt, and duly she was sent to the Persian court. Cambyses was overjoyed with his splendid bride, and all seemed well. Amasis died of old age, confident that he had honoured his daughter and preserved Egypt. There came a time, however, when Cambyses addressed her by the name of Amasis her father. The girl, unable to tolerate the shame any longer, confessed to the Great King the deception Amasis had woven upon him, and her true identity. It was this simple revelation which brought down the wrath of Cambyses upon Egypt.


All of Persia prepared for war. The legions of Asia marched forth, and the world trembled. All Egypt, and the newly crowned Pharaoh Psammenitus, lamented, for a fresh blow struck. Long had the Pharoahs of Egypt and the Greek cities been friends. But now, lured by riches and power, the Greeks betrayed Egypt, and went over to Cambyses. One such traitor told the Great King all he knew from his years of service, and showed him the path by which a strike would be sure to succeed. A valiant stand did Egypt undertake, but the glory days of old were long gone. A new power was rising. The Egyptians were beaten, and fled in disarray, barricading themselves in their capital, Memphis. Cambyses, holding the peoples and culture of Egypt in contempt, sent a herald to Memphis to demand the surrender of Egypt. In one last act of defiance, the Egyptians slew the ambassador and his entourage, accepting their fate. After a gruelling siege, Memphis fell, and with it, after two and a half thousand years of greatness, Ancient Egypt came to an end. The last great nation in the region had now fallen to Persia. There was no other power left which could oppose her. Cambyses, stunning himself at the height his nation had reached, was fired with patriotic fervour, and things more sinister. What could he lose now? The Great King decided to humiliate Psammenitus, and test his resolve.

 
The Persian Empire under Cambyses
Map created by the author
So great was the fear of the increasingly unstable Cambyses, Libya and Cyrenaica surrendered to the Great King without a fight. Not ten days passed before the new Pharaoh, Cambyses, forced Psammenitus and all the nobles of Egypt to bear witness to a cruel spectacle. First, he had Psammenitus’ daughter, and those of the other nobles, dress as slaves and sent them to fetch water out under the burning African Sun. The girls wept bitterly in their humiliation, but greater still did their fathers. Only Psammenitus himself stayed his tears, mingled with frustration and fury as they were, for well did he know the Great King’s ploy. The former Pharaoh merely lowered his head in silence, eyeing the floor. Cruel Cambyses, seeing this, ordered the guards to force his head high. Next came Psammenitus’ only son, mouth bridled and neck tied in rope. In his wake followed two thousand others of the sons of Egypt’s nobility, for the Royal Judges of the Great King had decreed that for each emissary that had been slain by the defenders of Memphis, ten Egyptians would die. Though the other noblemen clasped their heads in their hands, spirits broken, Psammenitus battled for control of his emotion. Once a king, always a king. Never can a king allow his emotion to rule his head. But then, in the wake of the boys, there came an old man, bent with age no less than by the weight of his shackles. Psammenitus saw the man, and recognised him at once, for he had once been his good friend, and many a time had the two dined together, in the days before the coming of Persia. Now the man, stripped of his earthly possessions, wandered the streets as a hapless beggar, trying to get what he could from Persian soldiers. Now at last Psammenitus was moved to tears. The Great King, amazed at this newfound emotion, asked him why he now shed tears for a beggar when he did for his own kin. “Son of Cyrus,” he replied, “my own suffering was too great for tears, but I could not but weep for the trouble of a friend, who has fallen from great wealth and good fortune and has been reduced to beggary on the threshold of old age”. The bold man’s response struck deep in the hearts of all present, Egyptian and Persian alike. Even the Great King himself knew pity for but a moment, and gave orders that the son of Psammenitus be spared his fate.


But ever since Cambyses had set foot in Egyptian lands, a curse had swollen within him, for some force, natural, or supernatural, had begun to unhinge his mind. The Great King, remembering why he had struck against Egypt, advanced on Sais, to the royal tomb of Amasis. There he defiled the sacred dignity of the fallen Pharaoh’s corpse, ordering it lashed and scourged and subjecting it to hideous treatment. Then at last, when he had fulfilled his rage, he ordered it burned. Cremation was a thing deplorable to the people of Ancient Egypt, but so too for the people of Ancient Persia. So did Cambyses defile the customs of his own people, and another. Deeper drove the splinter in his mind. His affliction grew day by day. Soon thirst for glory, sated by his conquest of Egypt, grew strong again. To the South lay the land of the long lived Ethiopians, and great was the lure of their lands, and the end of the known world, to Cambyses. To the King of their people Cambyses sent heralds bearing gifts, offering his ‘friendship’ to Ethiopia. Making the arduous journey through the desert dunes, the ambassadors came. Bowing before the Ethiopian King, they presented their gifts, and request. But the King, a shrewd man, knew they were spies, sent in truth to scout out his lands. The King issued a dire warning to the Great King:


        “ Had he any respect for what is right, he would not have coveted any other
          kingdom than his own, nor made slaves of a people who have done him no
          wrong. So take him this bow, and tell him that the King of Ethiopia has
          some advice to give him: when the Persians can draw a bow of this size thus easily,
          then let him raise an army of greater strength and invade the country of the
          long lived Ethiopians. Till then, let him thank the gods for turning the thoughts
          of the children of Ethiopia to foreign conquest...”
               - THE WARNING OF THE ETHIOPIAN KING


Whereupon the King unstrung the mighty bow and presented it to the ambassadors. With great haste the emissaries returned to Cambyses, and the Ethiopian King’s defiance. Terrible was the rage of the Great King, and closer to the edge of the abyss edged his sanity. Without delay, a declaration of war followed, and with it, one upon Carthage and the people of Siwah for good measure. In his madness, not a thought to the fact that he would be leading his men to the ends of the Earth, he lead fifty thousand men into the desert. Fifty thousand more detached from the host and bore down on Siwah. The force against Carthage, however, stalled. For the Phoenicians, who formed the entire naval force of the Persian Empire, refused to make war upon their own colony, and would not pollute the sacred bond by making war on their own children. So by a hair’s breadth was the great nation of Carthage spared Persian wrath.


The Creeping Death of the Desert
Artist unknown
Not a fifth of the distance to the faraway lands of the Ethiopians had the Great King covered, when the last of the provisions ran dry. The Sun bore down upon their necks. Sweat dripped from their brow. Parched grew their throats.  The Sahara welcomes all, but does not readily bid goodbye. Deeper grew the sand. Each step taken, was a towering effort, as the ground fell away beneath their feet. Hours would it take to reach the crest of the next dune, only then to see the Sahara go ever on, as far as the eye could see. If you have ever been deep into a desert, well will you know the deceptive influences that play havoc upon your judgement. At last, a lake ahead? Forever can you chase it, and never will you reach it. Such is the danger of mirages. This was the danger now which sapped the very life force from the men of Persia. The day came when the first horse collapsed into the sand, spent of its final ounce of energy. Men would kill for but a single droplet of water, others reduced to drinking the blood of their horses. As long as they were able, men ate whatever grass they could find. But then they reached the open desert, and terrible deeds this caused. Days passed, and man and beast alike fell lifeless into the sand. Men drew lots between them. One in ten was chosen, and cannibalism ran rampant throughout the army. There came a time when Cambyses saw his men slaying each other, desperate to stay alive, and at last, even the Great King saw it was useless to keep on. The few stragglers that returned to Thebes were a shadow of the vanguard which had left it. News came of the army which had marched on Siwah. West into the Sahara had they gone, seeking destruction upon the Oracle at Siwah (the very same which would proclaim Alexander the Great as the son of Zeus some two hundred years later). Reports had arrived that they had left the Oasis and marched to the West, but never again were they heard from again. For a sandstorm of terrible ferocity had struck the beleaguered men one day, and the whole army was swallowed by the desert.


The Apis Bull
Image taken from a 21st Dynasty Coffin, Egypt
The terrible heat of the desert, and the horrifying visions it had caused, had now at last shattered the Great King’s sanity, and his madness was absolute. There came not longer after his return to Memphis the time for the festival of Ptah, the creator god and patron deity of Memphis. The people donned their finest clothing, and prepared to receive the Apis bull, a noble beast sacred to Ptah, revered as a god in its own right. The people rejoiced, as the elegant animal was paraded through the street, and they gave thanks to Ptah. When Cambyses saw these things, he asked the priests what the fuss was about. “A god has appeared amongst us!” they joyfully replied. Cruel Cambyses declared them liars and had them dragged away and executed. Given over to insanity, he walked up to Apis, his dagger drawn. With a shout of laughter and a flash of steel, he drove the blade into the beast. Missing its side, he struck its thigh. The Bull roared with pain, before crashing to the ground, blood pouring from its wounded flank. Cambyses, turning to the crowd, laughing maniacally, declared:


              “ Do you call that a god, you poor creatures? Are your gods flesh and blood?
                Do they feel the cut of steel? No doubt a god like that is good enough for the
                Egyptians; but you won’t get away with trying to make a fool of me!”
                          - THE INSANE CAMBYSES TAUNTS THE GODS


The Great King abolished the festival, and any caught honouring the fallen bull was put to death, and the priests were whipped so savagely that their blood drenched the streets. The distraught Egyptians, enraged yet stricken with grief, obeyed by day but resisted by night. When darkness fell, Some brave priests broke free of their captors and gave the Bull a tender funeral, though well they knew they faced Death should they be caught. Cambyses’ insanity grew stronger yet, and hand in hand marched that most fatal scourge of rulers – paranoia. When it transpired that his brother, Smerdis , had been able to string the bow of the Ethiopian King, Cambyses had banished him back to Susa. Then, one night, the Great King had a dream, in which he saw before him a vision of Smerdis seated upon the royal throne, sceptre in hand, and his head touching the sky. His suspicions as to what this could mean tortured him, and ordered his murder in secret. Not only had he committed the atrocity if the slaying of a son of Cyrus, but he had killed his own brother. Next he turned to his sister. Taking  an unnatural attraction to her, the Great King, his mind by now truly lost, resolved to marry her. Summoning his royal judges, he demanded to know if there was any reason why he could not do so. The judges, torn between revulsion, and fear of the unstable King, replied that whilst they could find no written law that allowed brother and sister to wed, there was undoubtedly a law which permitted the King of Persia to do as he pleased. Thus Cambyses violated another law of nature. When brother and sister sat down to eat at the table one day, the woman picked up a lettuce, and began pulling off its leaves. Turning to her new husband, she asked whether he thought it looked better with or without its leaves. The Great King replied that he preferred it before it was stripped. The sister, who knew well the fate of her other brother, replied that Cambyses had treated the House of Cyrus just as she had treated the lettuce. In a maddened rage, the broken King added to his crimes the murder of his sister too.


The Sahara Swallows the Persian Army
Engraving by Alfredo Y Angelo Castiglioni
All Egypt was turned on its head. On Cambyses’ orders, temples were thrown open, and ancient tombs broken asunder, as the crazed machinations of the Great King slowly tore asunder all taboos and customs. Many times could the Great King be found jeering at the statues of gods in the temples, an act no other mortal would dare to do. His moods would swing from uncommon kindness to savage malice. One moment he would order a man executed, then hours later ask to see him, oblivious to his former act. Soon, as the ethical codes of both Egypt and Persia lay in ruins, plots began to form against the insane King. Far away in Persia, the two of the Magi staged a rebellion. One of them also held the name of Smerdis, and even bore a strong resemblance to the Great King’s slain brother. Seizing this chance, he adopted the identity of the fallen brother, knowing well that the name of the House of Cyrus would strike a chord with all. Since the murder of Smerdis was conducted in secret, no one would question his identity.


When news reached Cambyses, the follies of his designs was at last laid bare before him. At last, the truth of his dream was clear. He had polluted his soul with the murder of his brother, all to no avail, and in that moment, the Great King felt a hideous remorse. The pain was so terrible that he lamented his miserable state, and felt his brother and sister’s death with remarkable empathy. Those present, appalled at the Great King’s transgressions against god and nature, could not fail to be moved at the sad sight. For Cambyses, only half aware of what he was doing and where he was, cried as though an infant. Oblivious to the full extent of his crimes, even for the few he was aware of he wept bitter and furious tears, fury for the tortures his mind had been subjected to ever since his arrival in Egypt. Battling for control of his own mind, the Great King leaped onto his horse, his human side desperate to put right all the wrongs. But in that moment, with a scream from Cambyses, came the ominous retribution. For the leather scabbard at the Great King’s side split, and his sword point plunged into his thigh – in the very spot where his dagger had struck the Apis Bull. The Egyptian gods, it seemed, had struck back with the ultimate vengeance. The wound grew gangrenous, and the Great King knew his time drew near. For though the wound would spell his doom, he felt the terrible burden upon his mind lift. Control returned to Cambyses, and there, at the end, it seemed the true son of Cyrus had returned. As the darkness began to fall on his eyes, he turned to his entourage, both Persian and Egyptian alike. “I murdered my brother for nothing, and have lost my kingdom just the same… For now I realise that it is not in human power to avert what is destined to be.” Tears fell down his cheek, and down those of Persian and Egyptian alike, as they saw the dignity of a true Persian King, and saw that the man had endured a terrible fate – ever to be polluted by the savagery of crimes he knew not that he had done. “I pray that the earth may be fruitful for you, your wives bear you children, your flocks multiply and freedom be yours forever…” were among the last words heard to leave Cambyses’ lips. So at last, the tragic son of Cyrus found peace…

Cambyses, son of Cyrus the Great, King of Persia, passed away in 522 BC, after a reign of seven years. He left behind him a kingdom larger than the one he had inherited, but at a terrible personal cost. What caused his madness is to this day unknown. Perhaps schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or porphyria. Perhaps the heat of the desert, and the trauma of it, permanently shattered his mind. Maybe it really was the punishment for Cambyses, the vengeance of the gods of the conquered Egypt. Whatever the cause, one thing was certain. The fate of superpowers had changed forever. One destroyed, one stronger than ever, and one soul a casualty of the ordeal - an unwilling tyrant who lived long enough to know remorse and redemption...

United Kingdom

The Histories of Herodotus:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(The grand story of the rivalry between the East and the West, with a pretty eclectic mix of the most fabulous stories from a plethora of cultures - to read it is a rite of passage!)

United States

The Histories of Herodotus:
The Histories, Revised (Penguin Classics)
(The grand story of the rivalry between the East and the West, with a pretty eclectic mix of the most fabulous stories from a plethora of cultures - to read it is a rite of passage!)

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

The Fall of Croesus

Today we return to the story of Croesus, King of Lydia, paragon of wealth and eager for greatness (for the first part of the story, please click here). "No man may know if he has had a happy life until it is over", came the warning from Solon, but it had fallen upon deaf ears. Croesus had it all, how could it possibly go wrong?


The Summit of Mount Olympus
Photograph taken by 'Jkelly'
However, no man or woman could become too powerful or too beautiful without disaster befalling them. For it was always upon the tallest trees that the old gods hurled their thunderbolts. One night, soon after Solon departed, the gods sent a dream to Croesus, a dream with a dire prophecy, that his own son Atys would be slain by an iron spear. Roused, shaken, from his slumber, Croesus was afraid. Croesus had two sons, one deaf and dumb since birth, and Atys, the pride of the Kingdom. Desperate to ensure the dream would never come to pass, Croesus ordered all spears, swords, javelins and all manner of weapons removed from the men's quarters, and forbade his son to leave the Royal Palace. One day soon after, a delegation arrived from Mysia in Greece. They bowed before the King and pleaded with him to send Atys and his finest men to help them, for a monstrous boar had descended from Mount Olympus, spreading carnage wherever it went. Fearful of the dream, Croesus replied that Atys would have to remain behind, but he would send his finest warriors in his stead. The Mysians were disappointed, but gratefully accepted. Seeing the disheartened delegates, Atys implored his father, begging to be allowed with them. Seeing no way to delay so any longer, Croesus reluctantly told to his son the story of his vision, and how he could never let it come to pass. "What a dream!", Atys exclaimed. Though humble before the gods, Atys was a brave man, and he tried to console his father, explaining that the dream had referred to an iron spear, not a tusk, and he would march against boar, not man, and so he was quite safe. As the commander of the Lydian army, it was his duty to prove himself a man before it too. Delighted at this line of thought, Croesus, relented, and bade his son farewell.


Days passed, and then, a messenger appeared in Sardis, burdened and torn with grief. Atys, the man told Croesus, had been killed. "But how can this be?!" the enraged King shouted. Relating his tragic story, the man told the King that the party had tracked the boar to the very slopes of Olympus, after a long and gruelling chase. As their victory drew near, the boar made to gore the King's son, and, meaning to save him, one of the men had hurled his spear at the creature. But in the thrashing and chaos, the iron point flew far of its target, and transfixed Atys where he stood. Croesus, and Lydians far and wide mourned their heroic prince, and an ominous sense of foreboding gripped the land.



The Persian Empire under Cyrus the Great
Map created by the author
For two whole years, Croesus mourned his son, until news was borne to Sardis that events in the East were moving fast. Far away in Asia, the once great land of the Medes had been overturned in a bloody rebellion, lead by a new man, spoken of far and wide as a divine prodigy. This man's name was Cyrus, and it would not be long before he would take the title of 'the Great'. The new nation that rose in his wake would one day become one of the world's greatest powers - the Persian Empire. Jarred from his grief, Croesus awoke to this new danger. Hearing rumours of Oracles around the world which could bear word of the future, Croesus resolved to send envoys to each, and find for himself which one was truly the greatest conduit to the gods. To the Oasis of Ammon in Libya, to the Sanctuary of Zeus at Dodona, to the Abae in Phocis, to the Pythia at Delphi, and to countless others Croesus sent messengers. Deciding upon a test for each, Croesus sent his men to ask each Oracle exactly what he was doing at that moment in time. Carefully working out on which day his messengers would arrive at the Oracles, Croesus lay in wait. Soon after, the answers of the Oracles began to flood in, and Croesus was disappointed. Just then, the messenger who had been sent to Delphi burst into the Palace with the Pythia's reply:


             " I know the number of grains of sand and the extent of the sea;
               I understand the deaf-mute and hear the words of the dumb.
               My senses detect the smell of tough-shelled tortoise
               Cooked in bronze together with the flesh of lambs;
               Beneath it lies bronze, and bronze covers it "
                                  - THE ORACLE ON CROESUS


Many in the court were deeply puzzled, but Croesus was stunned. For, as a test of the gods, on the day that his messengers came before the Oracle, Croesus decided to do something no person could predict. Going to the beach, he had cut up a tortoise ad a lamb and boiled them inside a bronze pot. The eyes of the Oracle were omniscient indeed if she had seen this. Delphi was declared the greatest Oracle under Heaven, and Croesus showered the sanctuary in his riches, with countless ingots of gold towering high in the treasuries of the Oracle. Croesus sent to the Oracle one last time. Sensing the time had come to face Cyrus at last, the King asked the Oracle whether, if there be war between Lydian and Persian, he would emerge triumphant. In one of the most famous prophecies ever to come from Delphi, the Pythia replied "If you make war on the Persians, you will destroy a great empire". Overjoyed, jubilant and relishing his coming victory, Croesus immediately made preparations for the coming storm. Soon Solon would surely have to concede he was the happiest man alive?


Marching with all haste towards the Halys River, the boundary between Lydia and Persia, Croesus sent gifts and an offer of alliance to the Spartans of Laconia, since the Oracle had advised him to march with the strongest nation in Greece. Sure that he needed no help, Croesus did not wait for assistance, but pressed on, eager for glory. One man who marched with the King, however, had a bad feeling. Speaking the words of the gods, Sandanis, as he was called, urged Croesus to turn back:


             " Their food consists of what they can get, not what they might want,
                because of the ruggedness of their land. They drink no wine, just water,
                and figs are the only good thing they have to eat. They have nothing!
                So if you win, what will you gain from them? But if you are defeated,
                think of all the good things you will lose!... "
                                      - SANDANIS URGES CROESUS TO WITHDRAW


Cyrus the Great
Image taken from a modern sculpture,
currently in Sydney
But Croesus was deaf to all warning. Bridging the Halys in haste, the Lydians and the might of Asia clashed. For a whole day the two powers fought, and thousands fell, both Lydian and Persian alike. As night fell, both sides withdrew to lick their wounds. Croesus, putting the stalemate down to lack of numbers, decided to withdraw to Sardis and await his allies there, assuming that Cyrus' losses were too great to pursue him. But the legions of Asia were without number, and the charisma of their leader was great. A spy in the Lydian camp informed the Persian Great King of Croesus' designs, and he set off in close pursuit. Before the very walls of Sardis, Croesus turned to fight once more, certain that whatever transpired, he would be victorious. The Lydian horseman charged, but were soon thrown into disarray. For as yet a Western horse had never before encountered a camel, and the sight and smell of the strange beasts struck panic into the hearts of the Lydian mounts. Scattering to and fro, the Lydians were thrown behind their walls, and the siege began.


Expecting the siege to be long and his allies to arrive soon, Croesus sat back, still confident of victory. For the great city of Sardis sat atop a dramatic plateau, surrounded by a vast wall but for the short stretch of near vertical cliff at the acropolis where the Palace stood. But, fourteen days later, Cyrus witnessed an opening. A Lydian soldier, who dropped his helmet, scrambled down the escarpment to reclaim it, and quickly climbed back up. Realising it was not as impregnable as it first seemed, Cyrus waited for nightfall, then offered a reward for the first man to reach the top. After an exhausting climb, chaos reigned, and Persian troops rampaged through the city, burning all in their path. Croesus lamented over the darkness of war, for "in peace sons bury their fathers and in war fathers bury their sons". As Persian soldiers bore down upon him within his towering, glittering and golden halls, the terrible truth was at last revealed to Croesus. The Oracle had said that he would destroy a great empire if he marched on Cyrus. She had meant his own.


Croesus on the Pyre
Image taken from a 6th century BC Attic Vase
Croesus was hurled to the floor before the Great King, and the two most powerful lords of Asia met at last. Resolving that he would leave the fate of the former Lydian King to the gods, Cyrus ordered that Croesus be bound atop a vast funeral pyre. If he was truly favoured, the gods would spare him. At the command of the Great King, torches were cast into the timbers, and the flames kindled. As the crackle of burning reached his ears, and sparks began to rise before his eyes, Croesus remembered the words of Solon. The old man had been right, fortune is fickle and only at his death does a man know that his life has been fortunate. Seeing the divine inspiration behind these words, Croesus sighed, and simply repeated the name "Solon" to the Heavens. Far below, Cyrus looked on, curious, and eager to know who it was this man called upon in his last moments. Cyrus's translators called up to him, asking him who Solon was. "Someone whom I would give a fortune to have every ruler in the world meet", Croesus solemnly replied. Stunned, Cyrus begged to know more, as the flames began to rise higher and higher. Accepting his fate, Croesus told Cyrus the story of Solon's lesson, of how he had dismissed all his wealth as meaningless, and how everything had transpired as it had been foretold. As the fire licked the soles of Croesus' feet, Cyrus took pity on him, seeing before him not a foe to be conquered, but another human being, who could just as easily be him. Desperately calling out, Cyrus ordered his men to douse the flames, but it was too late, and the conflagration roared. Embracing his end, Croesus raised his head to the skies, prepared to die. But Apollo, lord of prophecy, remembering Croesus' generosity toward his sanctuary of Delphi, took pity on him, and sent a cloud of rain to douse the fire.


Awed at the sight before him, Cyrus took the broken old man down, weeping that he had tried to destroy a man who was good at heart. "Who was it that persuaded you to invade my country, and be my enemy over my friend?" the Great King asked of him. "It was the god of the Greeks", he replied. So would be sown the first seeds of conflict between the East and the West...

United Kingdom

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
( I can not recommend this enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside is formidable)

United States

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside is formidable)