

And God Requireth That which is Past

### The Invincible Empire

### By Tsira Gelen

### Copyright 2018 Tsira Gelenava - Volobueva

### Smashwords Edition

### Tbilisi, Georgia

### Smashwords License Statement

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

"That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past."

Ecclesiastes 3:1

### Dedicated to my beloved husband and our daughters, without the support and help of whom this book would not have seen the light of day.

#  Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: Nativity

Chapter 2: Prophecy

Chapter 3: Wedding

Chapter 4: Pit

Chapter 5: On the Way to Ionia

Chapter 6: Sardis, Upraising of Ionia

Chapter 7: Capital of the Sun, Aia

Chapter 8: Engagement

Chapter 9: Clash with Amisiri

Chapter 10: Tribute

Chapter 11: Babylon

Chapter 12: The First meeting

Chapter 13: Hunting in Ecbatana

Chapter 14: The Cage of Sippar

Chapter 15: The Prince's Children

Chapter 16: Denial

Chapter 17: The Invincible Fortress

An Index of Names

Geographical Places

An Index of Words and Phrases

Calendar

About Tsira Gelen

Connect with Tsira Gelen

Other books by Tsira Gelen

# Introduction

"As far as we are familiar with fiction related to Achaemenid Iran, the artistic work of such volume, depth and one so close to reality, has not yet been created ... We are overwhelmed by the feeling that Tsira Gelenava-Volobueva in order to restore the moral and historical truth about the Achaemenid Iran in the minds of the West, has made one great revolution."- Nomadi Bartaia - orientalist, Doctor of Philology, Prof., Head of the Department of Iranian Studies at Ivane Javakhishvili Tbilisi State University, writer, translator of Iranian literature

"In addition to artistic value, the novel by Tsira Gelenava-Volobaueva And God Requireth That Which is Past is so interesting from a scientific point of view too, that I would add it to the list of necessary extracurricular literary readings for students of the Faculty of Oriental Studies." \- Maya Sakhokia - orientalist, Doctor of Philology, Prof., Head of the Department of Indo-Iranian language at Ilia State University, scientific researcher, writer, translator of Achaemenid inscriptions

#  Chapter 1

Nativity

A quiet stillness settled over the semi-darkened hall. Only the impatient pacing of the burly middle-aged man disturbed the total silence. From time to time he glanced uneasily at the dark winding wooden stairs from beneath his creased brow. The man's deeply wrinkled forehead crumpled even further and he clenched his teeth so tightly that the already thin lips under his graying beard were scarcely visible. The creak of a door echoed nearby. He listened. Somebody was climbing the stairs leading from the yard to the kitchen. The man looked in that direction. He was unable to see what was happening behind the old oak door, but he could hear it.

"Khongul, have you told the boy to bring firewood?" a woman's voice demanded.

"Yes, he will bring it," the man mumbled back.

Then footsteps rang toward the hall which were followed once more by the creaking of a door and a worn, hardened man donning a sheep skin vest walked in. The strong scent of smoke and burning dried dung wafted in with him. It was apparent that he had come directly from his flock.

"Any news yet, Saurmag?"

"No, Khongul, nothing yet."

The newly arrived man sank down next to the mahvsh's armchair and started playing with his felt hat. The final days of the short mountain summer were coming to an end. Normally, Khongul would have been with his herd at this time, getting the sheep from the summer pasture to the lowlands, but he was the host's cousin and he considered it his responsibility to be with him in his time of need. And this was quite a difficult time for the Svan chief, Saurmag indeed. His young wife had been struggling with labor pains for three days now, and still couldn't deliver. The Mahvsh's family tower was seized by such tension, as if an invisible enemy had come to the Svan valley and the inhabitants of these moss covered walls were awaiting a messenger from the battle field any minute now.

Outside it was bright and clear, but inside it was still rather dark. This was no surprise. The Svans built their towers so that these forebodingly elevated stone giants would serve as living quarters as well as fortresses. The middle level was where the family's main hall was situated, which was separated from the kitchen by a solid wall, thought the remaining three walls were built with such narrow peeping slits that a warrior would barely be able to fit one shoulder through to shoot an arrow at his enemy.

The scarce light that drifted in from outside stretched in straight lines on the bumpy old floor, lighting only a small portion of the hall. The rest of the place was covered in a shady haze. The only way into this formidable tower was up the wooden ladder coming down from the kitchen, but during times of war, even that would be pulled up or burned and the only door, now hanging at an unreachable height, would be barred from the inside. Then the Svan's peaceful home would truly become an impenetrable fortress.

If I don't do something about this floor someone will undoubtedly break a leg. Khongul peered into the hole in front of him as he knelt to tie up the loose straps of his leather shoes, but he couldn't make anything out in the dark crack. The huge store room beneath the hall and kitchen had no doors or windows at all. One could only get there through the little entrance in the floor of the kitchen. At the moment the place was empty, but during heavy snows, the chief's family would keep their small livestock in this storage for months. This was why the warm, homey smell of sheep, hay, and manure would still be strong even in the late summer.

Khongul quit inspecting the crack and looked about in order to entertain himself in the silence. His wife, Darsia hadn't lit the lanterns; only one torch was fastened at the top of the winding stairs. The man knew that they had a full supply of oil and Persian radanake in the tower, but the thrifty woman was saving this fuel, bought from Babylonian merchants at the price of blood, for the cold winter days.

What a stingy woman. She couldn't even light the Mahvsh's hearth at such a special time? the man thought and glanced toward the winding stairs again.

Upstairs was Saurmag's tiny bedroom, as well as a spacious room for his daughters. The Chief's sons, along with the guards slept right there, in the main hall. Piles of flattened hay, covered with felt cloaks were still scattered about in every corner. If he didn't count the Mahvsh's heavy Oaken armchair, one long, low dining table against the wall, and the stool on which he sat himself as too much comfort, there were only two large wooden chests in the room to hold weapons and nothing else. A Svan man needed no other belongings. The clothes he had, he wore on his back, as for food, the buzzing women in the kitchen would worry about that. However, little scraps, knittings, and jewelry, all dear to the women's hearts, were kept in the girls' chamber.

Khongul was brought back from his thoughts by his cousin's heavy sigh.

"Don't worry, brother, my wife here tells me this happens a lot down in the valley. It will be a little hard for the lady at first, but it will turn out alright."

Saurmag glanced thankfully over at his reassuring friend. The Svan chief was a brave man. He had proved his right to being the lord of the mountains in endless battles by shedding blood and sweat, but now fear had crept into his hard gaze.

Dressed in dark, dull colors, there wasn't much that set the chief apart from the other valley folk. Saurmag's clothes spoke for that fact that he wasn't wealthy, but no one could say he was poor either. Over his patched up, canvas shirt and worn leather pants, the chief wore a sleeveless, colorful wool vest that his first wife had woven for him which was fastened at his waist by a wide leather belt. He wore nothing on his head, and kept his graying hair and thick beard short. Still, one thing stood out from his modest attire. Saurmag's legs were covered by high necked pig skin boots. No one had seen such a wonder in the mountains yet. The chief had acquired it from a Parthian merchant during his visit to the lowlands and brought a pair exactly like his for Khongul as well. His cousin had been so thrilled by this foreign gift that he knelt to the ground and untied his straps to try them on right away.

"Khongul, brother, the merchant warned me to wrap my feet before putting them on."

"Yeah, right... they're not shoes that Khonchua's made." Khongul pulled the boots over his calloused feet.

He regretted his own negligence that very day. By evening, when the hobbling, stubborn man took his gift off, his feet were covered in bloody injuries and blisters. Never mind the boots, he had a hard time putting on even his own worn out shoes for days after. Ah, what good can you expect from those damned lowlands! The mountaineer concluded and never looked to his shiny boots, tossed in the corner, ever again.

No one knows for sure when the Svans first settled in the formidable Caucasian mountain range. Only one thing can be said for sure, it was maddening demands of the Kolchis kings that drove this independent tribe to the domain of Amiran, the mythical hero, who was chained by angry gods to the steep slopes of the double headed Elbrus for giving fire to mankind. Here, in the high mountains, every clan was equal. Every family lived in their own inaccessible towers. Each clan had their own head, the white bearded wise mahvsh, and the entire mountain was ruled by the Council of Elders. From the valleys to the mountain tops, the Mahvshs reined all. The chief, who was the head of the army, was also chosen by them.

Instead of trying to chase the Svans down their mountains in vain, the wise Kolchis kings decided to remain friendly neighbors.

Although Svans were not dependent on anyone, they would fight on their kin Kolchian tribes' side. A Svan always fought: fought in the mountains, fought in the valleys. He was a defender against their impudent northern neighbors' attacks, he wouldn't hesitate to raid the neighboring Sarmathian and Zykhian lands either; he defended Kolchis' northern borders; if needed, he would go as far south as to Moschi and Trapezos. A Svan knew no boundaries. For his country and honor, he would lay down his life without a second thought. One could say the only reason for a Svan's existence was to fight.

A proud mountaineer knew love as much as hate, valued hostility and friendship equally. He respected his family and loved his woman passionately. Once married, a Svan man would never look aside, he would never speak to another's wife, nor would he allow a single disrespectful glance toward a female family member go without bloodshed. A man would never cheat on his wife nor divorce her. Only in the case of death could he remarry, and even this was rare. The loyalty of a Svan father or a husband went beyond the human realm of understanding.

By strength, a woman did not fall short of a man. Hardened by the thin mountain air and harsh labor, a Svan woman, by stamina and endurance, could probably beat out any lowlander. A woman gave birth, took care of her family, wove thread and knitted. Occasionally, if the father of the family was away at war, she hunted and herded as well. If widowed, she would take the burden of both the man and the woman on her capable shoulders. The village took care of the orphans. When an enemy, knowing the men were away at war, raided a Svan village to steal the livestock (Who would even consider kidnapping a Svan woman!), the women would take up their swords and often times chase them away.

Assailed by the harsh winds and even harsher living conditions, one couldn't blame beauty on a Svan woman, but there was nothing more cherished than her in the mountains. A Svan man rarely ever married a lowlander beauty and only if he was madly in love. The villages never approved of these marriages. They knew from experience, in such families, the woman would suffer as would the man. A pretty, delicate woman would not last long in the mountain life.

A year ago, Saurmag committed just such a crime: he fell in love with a beautiful lowlander.

Last summer the Kolchis king sent rich gifts to the Svan chief and asked for a favor. This was the deal: The impudent Zykhians continued to pillage the valley Svans and Apshils, living near the northern border. They didn't spare the Greeks either. The last insult went so far that they even reached Dioscurias. The king sent his troops from Aia and Phasis but when they arrived, there was no sign of the assailants.

As usual, the Svans took the attack on their Kolchis counterparts as a personal insult and immediately gathered an army. Saurmag assigned his spies to every village in northern Kolchis, while he himself camped in a hidden valley. This tactic worked.

The Zykhians, bold from their previous successes, soon appeared in Kolchis. The chief let them go in deeper and deeper, then cut them off to the north and on a narrow path near the Greek city Pityos, he massacred them all. Then, the blood drunken Svans crossed the border and raided the enemy's nearby villages. During this raid, they landed a lot of spoils, including a rich caravan among them. They freed the merchants at the Greek city Naessos.

"Your precious lives for your useless goods!" the chief mocked the foreign merchants.

Saurmag freed all the caravan slaves without any cost. Slavery was unacceptable to the freedom loving Svans. They must either kill or release their enemy, there was no other way, but they rarely ever spared them.

Among the caravan slaves there were a few beauties. Hoping for big profit, the merchants had them well taken care of. They planned to take them to Persia for sale, but they never made it. Except for one, Saurmag left these beautiful women in the charge of his distant relative. The chief knew that such pretty girls wouldn't burden their kind host for long. The beauty worshiping Kolchian Zans would surely kidnap the lovely foreign girls.

One such maiden captured even Saurmag's heart. To be exact, it was she, the green eyed, flame haired young lady who had set her eyes on the formidable mountain chief first. The poor frightened captive shied away from everyone except the Svan chief, as if expecting protection only from him.

The young woman's behavior melted Saurmag's heart. It had been three years since the chief had become a widower. His family didn't burden the father of two daughters and seven sons, even the death of his wife changed little to nothing in his life. The children just sprang up on their own like mushrooms. Khongul's wife, Darsia took care of his home. Everything remained as it always did: Saurmag battled endlessly, and the house sat, forever waiting for his return.

To this day the chief hadn't even considered remarrying. Now everything was different. Suddenly Saurmag discovered that all these years he had been lusting for the warmth and love of a woman. A single shy glance from the green eyed foreigner aroused almost forgotten desires. Saurmag reached a decision: the Svan chief would marry the lowlander maiden.

The wedding was held that very summer. They had many guests from the mountains as well as the valleys. Even the Kolchis' king sent his oldest son, Prince Amiran, on behalf of Aia to honor the Svans.

Saurmag, tired of pacing, took a seat in his deceased father's chair. Closing his eyes, he submerged himself in old memories. Khongul secretly took a peek at the chief, wondering what was hidden behind his wrinkled forehead. At times, Saurmag would smile quietly; at times he furrowed his brows.

Over the past year many things happened, worthy of recollection. His wedding night protruded from a sea of memories. How he tiptoed to the heavy wooden door of their bedchamber, knowing that, she, his beautiful young bride was ready, waiting for him. Although heavily drunk, the bridegroom still couldn't calm his thrashing heart. Mustering his courage, he pushed the heavy door aside and entered the room...

Memories of that night still made him blush. The next morning, the exhausted yet cheerful groom left the room and bounded down the stairs, feeling young again. Many of the guests sat around the table of the wedding feast, still celebrating. A little distance from the table, The women were boiling lamb and its innards in a pot set on three legs. Only two paces from them, a ram was roasting whole on a spit. Beside the scorching clay plates, bakers, brought up from the lowlands, were bustling around. Young boys and girls were hurrying the already cooked food to the table on large trays. Saurmags oldest sons kept up the steady supply of wine for their guests themselves. The smell of wine and excitement still hung in the morning air.

"Here's our groom!" thundered the Tamada upon seeing the chief, dressed in red and white attire with a cross-embroidered felt hat.

Everyone sprang to their feet, congratulating him once more, hugging him, blessing him.

"Saurmag my Lord, look what we've come to! Here we are, in Svaneti, so many drunken fellows, and lo: no swords have been drawn, no blood has been shed!" the overjoyed chief of the lowlander Svans smiled naughtily.

"Hey! Who said no blood has been shed? It has, I know it for sure!" the Zan chief sprang to his feet like a forest imp.

With his hand on his silver sword, the flushed mountaineer didn't know where to avert his eyes. The whole table was shaking with laughter.

That day Saurmag couldn't even look toward the women's quarters. When evening fell, the guests dispersed at last. The host finally managed to reach what he most desired. Standing in front of the bedchamber, the chief smiled to himself shyly. Just as he reached for the door, it sprang open on its own and Darsia towered over him. Saurmag froze in surprise. The woman shoved the baffled man, making him stumble back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Khongul's wife glared threateningly. "What, do you think, you're some kind of wolf and this poor woman your prey? Now, get out of here, and don't show your face till you're called!"

The bewildered chief went down to the hall and stopped in the middle of the room, dazed. Khongul's shadow moved from the wall. Wordlessly, he took his cousin's hand and like a child, drew him away.

Saurmag was only called to that tower two weeks later...

A woman's voice brought the Svan chief back to the present.

"Darsia, Darsia, bring water! Quickly!" At the top of the winding stairs, the midwife's tiny form darted into sight and immediately disappeared.

Both men sprang to their feet. Darsia rushed from the kitchen with an old faded cloth tying her damp hair back.

"Khongul, help me bring up the water! Hurry, hurry!"

The alarmed Svan hastily followed his wife. Soon they both reemerged. Khongul was carrying a boiling pot of water. Darsia hurried after him with a smaller cold one.

"Let me help you, brother," the chief extended his hands.

"No, no!" his cousin called, already darting up the stairs.

Saurmag started to pace again restlessly. Shortly Khongul joined him.

"How is everything?" the chief asked anxiously.

"How should I know? They wouldn't let me in." Khongul responded honestly, but seeing his friend's disappointment, added: "Well, since they asked for water, it should be soon now, Saurmag. It's always like this. The midwife's there, so is Darsia and the girls are helping too. Don't worry, brother, who hasn't given birth to a babe!"

No living thing on this earth had ever scared the Svan chief. Saurmag had looked death in the eye many times before and never even flinched. The loss of his first wife pierced the heart of the fearless chief. Distress, anger, helplessness, pain, they all took turns on him. But it was not fear.

This day, Saurmag felt something he never felt before. This new feeling crept into the body of the invincible Svan, and gnawed at him from the inside. Khongul was right, fear emanated from his eyes.

Soon the entire tower was filled with scurrying woman. The red and green high stockings of the girls, constantly running up and down the stairs, whirled past right before the two cousins' eyes. Then all went quiet, silence hung in the air. From time to time only a woman's screams rang through the still rooms. Soon this stopped too. The quiet weighed heavily on Saurmag's shoulders. Suddenly the cry of a child rang through the air, bringing everything back to life.

The men felt immediate relief. The chief headed for the stairs, but his cousin pulled him back.

"No Saurmag, don't. They will call you when it's time."

Time went by. Saurmag sat at the edge of the armchair. He couldn't understand why they hadn't called him yet.

"Do you think they forgot us?" Saurmag looked at his friend, puzzled.

"How could that be, my Lord? You know women. They're probably prettying up the mother and her babe to meet the father."

Finally, Darsia appeared at the top of the stairs. She motioned Saurmag to follow and disappeared. Saurmag took the stairs three at a time and approached the bedchamber. Darsia was already waiting for him. Head bowed, the woman led him in.

Chilling silence stirred in the grey room. Here, even the clear mountain air seemed to be wrapped in a dismal shroud. The only bright spot in the room was the fiery red locks scattered over the bed. Only the newborn's quiet breathing could be heard.

The familiar, nauseating smell of blood hit Saurmag hard upon entering the room. The father didn't even look in the baby's direction. Moving past the spinning wheel set in the center of the room, he headed straight for the bed, kneeled next to his wife and cautiously took her withered hand. The woman didn't move. A faint smile was frozen on her pale face as if glad to be free of all earthly matters.

"Sorry, my Lord. We did all we could. The poor thing was drained of blood," the midwife's trembling voice cried as she wiped her toothless mouth.

Darsia shot a quick angry glance at the old woman making her cease. Then Khongul's wife motioned something at the chief's eldest daughter standing by the wall. The girl approached her father, holding the newborn out for him. The chief didn't move.

"There will be time to grieve, Saurmag, for now the child needs to be taken care of." Darsia encouraged the chief.

"You know better than I, what to do." the devastated father looked away.

The chief's Daughter obediently drew back, but one glance from Darsia made her freeze. The Svan woman rested a hand on the kneeling man's shoulder and spoke in an unusually soothing voice.

"Where to find a nanny and how to take care of her, is of course on me, Saurmag. That's not what I'm talking about. You've lost your wife, she - her mother. Don't leave this little girl without a father's love as well. Hold her!"

His eldest daughter held out the newborn once more. The father looked down at his child with empty eyes. Tossing discontentedly in her older sister's arms, the little girl, with fuzzy red tufts of hair, was glaring about blindly with her emerald eyes.

Just like her poor mother. Struck by the similarities, Saurmag unconsciously reached for the child and carefully clutched her to his chest. Apparently the child felt the closeness of her parent. The little one yawned sweetly and started suckling on her fingers. Tears rolled down Saurmag's tan cheeks. Darsia motioned to the onlookers. They all silently crept from the room. Left alone, the formidable mountain chief sat on the floor, placed the baby in his lap and wept bitterly.

# Chapter 2

Prophecy

Kshayarsha stood behind the king's chair fidgeting impatiently. The elders, as always, were discussing something of great importance, but for some reason, the prince had no desire to listen to their argument today more than ever. Some strange longing beckoned him to the open meadows outside with undeniable force. The prince blamed his unusual mood on the upcoming wedding he'd been wrapped up in.

What a lucky star Bagha was born on. He lives no worse off than me, and in return, no one's forcing him to marry an old spinster! The prince envied the boy roaming about freely outside.

He knew his father well; the Great Darayawahush would never break the law. When the time came, the camp of Ten Thousand Immortals would kneel and offer their prayers to Ahura-Mazda and finally be allowed to rest. The exhausted warriors would settle down around their bon-fires and drift into well deserved slumber.

Midnight was slowly approaching yet the crotchety elders hadn't even rightly started their debate. Strained silence settled into the king's roughly set tent.

It was here, amongst the Ten Thousand Immortals, that the sovereign's sons were trained; it was here, that future kings and generals were crafted. One torch, fastened to the central post and a copper lamp hanging from a chain above the table lit the room. One end of the tent was sectioned off by a pomegranate embroidered drape, behind which the king's bed was set. The sovereign's Parthian bow and Egyptian double edged sword were lain on a chest at the foot of the bed, while his Anshanian spear was stuck in the ground so that the gold lion head wouldn't be damaged. The rest of the space on the other side of the drape was almost entirely taken by the Ionian map covered table, around which eight people sat.

Kshayarsha had known each of them from his childhood. The oldest among them, the nearly seventy year old Satrap of Elam, the worthy Gauparuva, was the father of one of the prince's closest friend, Mardunaya. He always took his place at the king's right hand. The elderly man was known for his austerity and even now he glared so menacingly at the three men in front of him as if he doubted their words before they even said them. This stern browed, weathered noble, despite his respectable age, served as the King's Lance Carrier, the arshtibara and by strength and influence, only the red headed Utana, who sat at the king's left, could compare. This was exactly the same Utana who's daughter Kshayarsha would be taking as his wife.

If my bride looks anything like her father, I'm done for, and that's that. The youth tore his frightened gaze from his unsightly father-in-law to be and began secretly observing the noble beside him. Next to Utana sat the renounced Satrap of Media, Vidarna, clad in a shiny brocade robe. Among the king's companions, he was the most pleasant looking and if anybody were to ask Kshayarsha's opinion, upon being forced to marry a woman without seeing her first, he would much rather have Vidarna's daughter, than Utana's hideous spinster. But unfortunately it seemed that the elders were not at all interested in Kshayarsha's opinion in this matter.

The prince scanned the Median satrap's faultlessly chiseled face once more. Vidarna was only about sixty, but despite his relatively "modest" age, he had taken part in every one of Darayawahush's battles and was considered one of the most experienced supreme commanders in all of Persia. However, there was another elderly noble in the tent, Abar-Nahara's formidable satrap, Baghabagsha, who's strict appraisal the young courtiers feared above all. He had taken his respectable place beside the satrap of Elam. Kshayarsha turned his head that way. This grumpy, average height old man, covered with scars, was truly Bagha's grandfather, but the youngsters had never had the opportunity to speak with him. On the other hand, Bagha's father, the red cheeked Zopyrush, who sat across from the satrap of Elam, was the prince's mentor and had invested a lot of time in the young men's training.

Among his father's friends Zopyrush was the only one who Kshayarsha sincerely loved. He was far younger than all the others, about forty-five to forty-seven years old, but he still managed to put a lion's share into the suppression of Babylon's uprising at the beginning of Darayawahush's reign. For this, the sovereign especially valued him. Zopyrush was the only chubby noble at the Persian court and, as it seemed, had not yet finished blowing up. Khayarsha looked over the Garnet tunic stretched over his robust belly with a hidden smile. If not for golden brocade belt tightly wrapped around him, the noble's embroidered garment would fall open before everyone's eyes. Zopyrush perfectly combined his title of the man with the biggest appetite with being the cleverest. This was why the youth called him an old fox behind his back. At a single glance, the red cheeked, average height, chubby, middle aged man, left a kind and harmless impression, but everyone at the Persian court knew: Darayawahush's friend and personal advisor, set apart by his exceptional shrewdness and cunning, was one of the most influential and dangerous people in the Empire.

Beside Bagha's chubby father, sat Khayarsha's uncle, Darayawahush's youngest brother, Irdabanush. This straight featured, weathered man, with the sovereign's hazel eyes, was only forty, but thanks to his solemn and balanced nature, he had rightfully earned the position of a wise advisor at court.

The last member of this council, prince Irdabrdna, was Darayawahush's eldest son. From his mother's side, the prince's grandfather was the satrap of Elam, Gauparuva. Despite all of these advantages, this brown eyed, sparse bearded, big foreheaded half-brother of Kshayarsha left only pity in the heart of his younger brother, standing beside the king, in place of rivalry. Even now, instead of showing his worth to the elders, Irdabrdna was doing everything to remain invisible.

If one would have asked Khayarsha what these eight men had in common appearance-wise, he would certainly have said their beards. Thick beards, arranged in layered curls, reaching down to the chest were the pride of every Persian man. Kshayarsha himself impatiently yearned for his own newly sprouted, soft beard to grow to its full glory.

The four nobles sitting to the left and right of the sovereign were invited to the tent just to listen. Telling the news in detail was up to the three younger courtiers sitting on the other side of the table. Wrapped in a long Median fur robe, Darayawahush leaned against the high back of his chair, waiting patiently for the answer. There was no crown on the king's gray hair. In his circle of friends, he never weighed himself down with this precious adornment. From the royal objects, he only had the golden scepter, and even this he used as a simple pointer stick for the map. From time to time, the sovereign's narrowed eyes would shift from his younger brother, to his eldest son, and flicker over to his own loyal friend. Zopyrush, The King's Eyes in Babylon, already had the answer at the tip of his tongue, but the experienced courtier knew that to respond before the sovereign's own kin, Irdabanush, would be a grave mistake. The general impatiently dabbed at his chubby face with his sleeve and fixed his questioning eyes upon the young man as well. Irdabanush didn't rush his reply.

The question everyone eagerly awaited the answer to regarded the western satrapies and Ionian cities. Two years earlier in the city of Sardis, Athenian envoys had visited the king's older brother, the satrap of Lydia, Irdapirna, and had asked for protection from unfriendly Greek neighbors in turn for "earth and water". The fact that by giving this Attica was admitting a vassal dependence to the Great King of Kings probably evaded the emissaries. Of course, then Persia had gladly accepted the proposal.

After that, two summers had passed and the situation at the Empire's western boarders had changed entirely. Now their spies were already bringing alarming news from the Greek colonies and still free Hellenic settlements in Europe to the capitals.

It wasn't a coincidence that the king called together a secret council at the camp. Darayawahush fully trusted no one, and in the palace, even the walls had ears. The Great King wouldn't like to draw too much attention to the West Coast, but on the other hand, he couldn't leave the restless boarders without attention either. The wise king sensed that trouble was beginning to arise in the Aegean Sea.

It was not unusual for the sixteen year old Kshayarsha to be present at the secret councils. From the age of twelve, he had been following his father everywhere, but after reaching fifteen, at which time he was awarded the golden belt, symbolizing his adulthood, forever standing behind the throne became his honorable duty.

Kshayarsha already had opinions on many crucial matters, but he never took part in the discussions. Even the princes were allowed to speak only with the king's invitation. But when Darayawahush the Great would let his young son take part in national matters, was only known to him.

When the sovereign realize that his cautious brother would not give a straight-forward answer, he rephrased the question.

"Still, who are these Athenians? And what's going on, even amongst the Yaunas on our own land?"

For a long time Irdabanush had served as the King's Eyes in Lydia so he knew everything about his older brother, Irdapirna's surroundings. Ever since he came to the capital cities, the duty of spying on the foreign guests, as well as guarding the royal family fell upon him.

It was impossible to delay the answer any longer.

"O, Great Sunki," Irdabanush rose to his feet, "you know the whole western part of Asia has long belonged to us thanks to Ahura-Mazda. Even on Europe, across the sea, we have a strong hold. Most of the islands either pay tribute or already belong to us. Although, it is true that some islands still resist, Naxos and Delos, for example," the king's brother knelt over the map on the table and traced the places with his ringed finger, "but it's all a matter of time."

Kshayarsha stared with curiosity at the map on the table from over his father's shoulder, which wasn't hard, thanks to the boy's unusual height. All the rest, apart from Prince Irdabrdna, also started studying the brightly painted ox skin map with much interest.

"How much trust can one put in these paintings?" Baghabagsha asked doubtfully.

"This map was drawn by Hecataeos of Miletos. No one's better than him at this," Zopyrush replied to his father.

"I don't know..." The elderly man still shook his head uncertainly.

"The fact that those islanders have been looking across the sea is no news, we've known that for some time," Gauparuva grumbled.

Irdabanush glared discontentedly at the satrap of Elam from under his brows, but didn't dare say anything. The member of the renowned seven nobles of Persia could interrupt even the king, himself, this was why the young man swallowed his anger and continued his speech.

"Our brother, the noble Irdapirna informs us, that the islanders are frequently asking for our help themselves. Their nobles, if we can even call them that," Irdabanush smiled wryly, "wouldn't last two months on their little thrones without us. Yaunas, my dear Lord, are an unorganized and disobedient people. They don't honor their own government, never mind anyone else's. They live in the moment. They worship many gods, and like them, lead meaningless and shallow lives."

"A lot of people have many gods. We never interfere with the beliefs of our vassals. I don't quite follow where you are taking this discussion, Irdabanush," Utana noted calmly.

"What I want to say, worthy, Utana, is that there is no power in Hellas which can unify those brainless people. If the Great King wills it, we can easily conquer these Yaunas one by one. But we must also consider that controlling numerous islands and the European coast will be difficult even for us. It is not one country, Great Darayawahush," the young general turned once more to his brother. "They do not even have one king with whom you can make peace after conquering it."

Kshayarsha swept his gaze over the little islands scattered across the blue painted sea. He knew many of them by name. He even remembered what riches could be found on each. The islands that already belonged to or paid tribute to the Empire were marked with golden lion-headed pins. A few of the islands, rich with silver mines, still didn't belong to the Empire, but for some reason Irdabanush was not drawing attention to them. This surprised Kshayarsha. Then the biggest peninsula caught his attention: "Pelloponnisos". Not counting Argos, which he had heard about somewhere, the prince knew nothing about these lands.

"As far as I know, such an odd thing is only happening in Athens. If not kings, the islanders at least have tyrants," Gauparuva scratched his beard.

Kshayarsha immediately shifted his eyes over to the peninsula of Attica. Suddenly something splattered as a large blotch on the map. Everyone looked up. Oil was slowly seeping from the blazing copper lamp. Darayawahush's eyes froze for a second.

Someone's going to get a flogging tonight, Kshayarsha thought.

To bring the elders' attention back to the matter, the king's brother gave a quite cough.

"You speak the truth, my Lord Gauparuva. Among the Greeks, Athenians are the worst. They keep rambling on about this repulsive idea of people governing people!"

"What one doesn't hear at this old age!" Vidarna, who was the youngest among the old men, and even dyed his beard to appear younger, shook his head, sourly.

"The Aegean Sea is a bee hive, Great Darayawahush. In my opinion, to start any serious affairs with the Greeks would be a great mistake." The king's brother bowed respectfully and resumed his seat.

The words of his young uncle had a great impact on Kshayarsha.

How can a country exist without a king? The astounded prince reasoned to himself.

The king sat, thinking deeply for awhile, and then wordlessly shifted his gaze to Zopyrush.

"Great Sunki, you well know how much respect I put in honorable Irdabanush's wise words!"

At hearing this Kshayarsha smiled to himself. He knew the old fox's tricks like the back of his own hand. When the first words out of his mouth were compliments, the last, no doubt were insults. The only exception to this was the king himself. For Darayawahush, Zopyrush could only offer praise. Even if waken suddenly in the middle of the night, his startled cry would probably be "Hail Darayawahush!" From the lips of this man, never had a word of censure escaped. This degree of loyalty deserved even the Great Darayawahush's trust, and the king trusted almost no one.

"Honorable Irdabanush's words, of course, we never dare to doubt. They clearly reveal his deep knowledge and incomparable wisdom." With devilish sparks in his small, lively eyes, the noble praised the king's brother with a flattering smile and immediately went on to obliterate his advice. "Among the Yaunas there is much chaos, that's true, but isn't that in our favor? How many divided and disorderly nations have we already conquered? Have you yourself not traveled through their lands during the Scythian battles? You have already conquered many of their tribes. You and my father, the noble Baghabaksha, have even reached the 'Yaunas with sun hats."

At these words, Zopyrush shot a quick glance to the satrap of Abar-Nahara. God forbid the old man count the mention of this campaign as my way of flattery. Thankfully his father sat peacefully in his place, listening attentively to his son's argument. The words of the red-cheeked noble irritated someone else entirely.

"Fighting on land and fighting on islands or on the narrow sea shores aren't the same thing, Zopyrush!" Irdabanush broke in impatiently. "We can't even use our chariots properly over there!"

"But we can't leave the Yaunas unattended!" Zopyrush's temper flared. "They bring chaos to our lands! I've learned from a Babylonian Jew that Ephesos and Miletos are always looking beyond the sea. We are not getting better news from Byzantion either."

The cities which Zopyrush had named and the lands attached to them covered almost half of the Empire's western coast.

How can this be true? The astounded Kshayarsha mused.

As if guessing his thought the elderly Gauparuva narrowed his eyes with suspicion:

"Isn't your fear a bit exaggerated, Zopirush?"

"I don't think I am exaggerating anything, worthy Satrap. Irdabanush spoke the truth, the Athenians are the worst. They came up with this idea of democracy! Never mind others, they don't give their own nobles peace. Persia is full of their runaway rulers. Even as we speak, their rabid ideas are poisoning our Greek cities. The islanders truly do look like a bee hive and bees are known to attack and sting dreadfully!"

"No, not unless you provoke them first, Zopyrush!" Irdabanush shot back.

Darayawahush's son, Irdabrdna had been sitting silently beside his uncle the whole time, obviously not eager to partake in the discussion. The sovereign gazed carefully at his eldest offspring, given to him by a Satrap's daughter. The King of Kings didn't like the prince's dormant character.

Kshayarsha knew beforehand that this secret council would probably yield no results. His father wouldn't even state his own opinion. King Darayawahush was looking at his oldest son with narrowed eyes and appeared to be deep in thought.

Suddenly at the tents entrance a young boy's messy head popped in and immediately disappeared. Kshayarsha shot a pleading glance over at his father. The king nodded his dismissal. The gleeful boy swiftly scuffled out. The guard bowed respectfully to the prince as he emerged from the tent.

The youngster was well respected among the warriors as well as in the palace. At the camp he was liked because of his amazing strength and bravery, and the palace was charmed by his even more amazing beauty. Kshayarsha's appearance could be summed up in one word: incomparable. The boy had already outgrown many of the best warriors, yet his red, childishly plump lips exposed his true age. Kshayarsha always dressed flawlessly. Today he clothed his long legs with silk garnet-colored wide pants, golden fish-scaled chainmail covered the Punjabian linen draping his wide shoulders, and on his feet he wore shoes brought especially for him from the Egyptian town, Anthylla. His soft, shoulder length raven curls were tied at the nape of his neck with a golden purl, and on his forehead sat a prince's crown. Refined in every aspect, he may have even left a soft impression, but from his beautiful almond shaped, almost black eyes, set against his bronze skin, emanated such a fierce predator-like essence that even many of the stern generals felt strange shivers in the presence of this boy.

My son has such a spirit within him; no one can deny him the throne! Queen Hutaosha had concluded with a pleased smile long before.

The noblemen half jokingly called this slim, curly haired boy Little Sunki – Little King, which made the other princes resent him deeply.

The beautiful Hutaosha, Kourosh the Great's oldest daughter, was not the king's favorite wife. Darayawahush' heart was conquered by the lovely Irtashduna, the queen's youngest sister, but among the king's wives, Hutaosha was the wisest and the most cunning. The cold and reserved queen didn't engulf Kshayarsha in motherly love; instead she gave him an enviable education.

The sixteen year old prince fluently spoke Arian, Aramaic, Babylonian and Elamite. Surrounded by Hellen slaves and healers, the boy took to Greek as well. The prince learned stars and ground measurments from Chaldean wise men. Hutaosha paid particular attention to her son's religious upbringing. Under his mother's guidance, Kshayarsha became a most sincere follower of the Arians' beloved prophet Zarathustra.

Even though Kshayarsha wasn't the firstborn of Darayawahush, thanks to his personal qualities and the blood of Kourosh the Great from his mother's side, among the princes he was undoubtedly the best candidate to become the heir to the throne.

The immortals' camp was set at the foot of the Zagor mountain range, because of which the heat broke off sooner there, making the nights pleasantly cool.

Emerging from the stuffy tent, the prince greedily breathed in the fresh Medean air and looked around. Bagha was nowhere in sight.

"Where has this useless pike disappeared to in the blink of an eye?" Khsayarsha quietly swore to his friend and called to a nearby immortal: "Datia, have you seen Bagha?"

"He was just here a moment ago." The warrior stopped sharpening his saber and headed for the young man. "Hold on, I'll find him right away."

"No, I'll find him myself."

Although it was late at night, the fires scattered about the field allowed the prince to see clearly. No one was sleeping in the camp; they were all scurrying about busily. Beneath the copper pots sitting atop dried brick, embers crackled cheerfully. Most of the warriors had already finished their suppers, although some were still eating heartily. Some were laughing, some arguing, in some places singing could be heard. Others were dancing and playing around. There were even those who managed to get some alone time behind some bushes with the jahikas, who permanently lived in the camps. The most prudent ones sat about fixing their armor and sorting their things. In short, everyone entertained themselves in whatever way they could.

When the smell of meat roasting on the spit was too much for the prince, walking between the fires, the boy felt his stomach burn. His supper would probably have been set by then, but Kshayarsha decided to look for Baghabagsha rather than go eat. Asking around, he finally ran into him by the blacksmith's. Crouched beside the immortals, stretched across the trampled grass, the young boy was arguing loudly with a man three times his size.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to it!" The boy was waving his silver belt, broken at the buckle, in front of the man's soot-covered face.

"That may be so, but it is not my job. Go bring it to the goldsmith."

"I'm telling you to fix it!" Zopyrush's son moved threateningly toward the smith.

At seeing this, the prince sternly called to his arrogant friend.

"Bagha!"

Hearing the familiar voice, the lad immediately sprang to his feet and darted toward Kshayarsha.

"So, they let you out, my Prince?" he said, bowing with mock respect.

One would never believe, when looking at this skinny, disheveled and always joking boy that he was the only heir of the clever, plump Zopyrush, nor especially the ever frowning grandfather after whom he was named. Zopyrush didn't approve of his son's frivolous character and gave strict instructions:

"Baghabaksha, yes, the prince is your friend but keep in mind, one day he may become the ruler of all Persia. And a king deserves the highest respect. Never forget that!"

And now the mischievous boy fulfilled his father's orders in his own frivolous way.

"Bagha, come to your senses or I'll have your head!" Kshayarsha clapped his friend lightly on the shoulder but was unable to measure his own strength, and bore the boy to the ground.

The immortals lying about around them broke into a fit of laughter at the scene.

"What are you laughing at? You'd better get on with your own work!" Zopyrush's son sprang to his feet again and growled menacingly at the cheerful immortals.

"Will you look at that! He had a walloping and he's still at it!" The lanky boy's cockiness astonished the ox of a man.

"Are you surprised? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," mumbled the immortal next to him.

"Instead of that useless talk, how about you roast us a couple of rabbits, I'm as hungry as a wolf! You're hungry too, right, Kshayarsha?"

"We're not your cooks, boy. But if the Prince wills it, we'd be happy to prepare his meal." One of the men laughed provokingly.

The prince shook his head no.

"What are you saying, Kshayarsha?" Bagha was appalled. "My stomach has all but shriveled up waiting for you, and you won't even order them to roast some rabbits?"

"Yeah, I can see that, glutton," the prince laughed and turned down the path leading to the outskirts of camp.

"Having a little here and there with the skauthi doesn't count as super!" Caught in a lie, the liar wiped his greasy mouth and ran after his long legged friend.

Zopyrush's empty-headed son was one quirky imp. Dressed in the finest clothes, due to his nobility, he still managed to always look a mess. Even now, the sleeve of his maroon brocade tunic was coming apart at the seams, half of it hanging already, and a huge grease stain soiled his bright green pants, but he couldn't care less. Pimply faced and bug-eyed, the youngster's tight curls were also forever standing on-end. Thankfully his beard hadn't grown in yet, for it too, would have probably been polluted with food remains and God knows what else. Bagha's caretakers selflessly fought his harmful habits with floggings and beatings, but there was no use battering a stone wall. He was completely hopeless.

Bagha was two years younger than Kshayarsha and had spent his entire life with the prince. The reason for this was quite simple: Zopyrush, the brother-in-law and loyal friend to Darayawahush, earned Queen Hutaosha's trust as well. This is why his son grew up in the palace. The prince had many other companions, but they were all the flesh and blood of Darayawahush, which meant certain rivalry in the future. For this reason the queen brought this joyful boy for her son. True, through the veins of Baghabaksha also ran the Achaemenid blood, his mother was Darayawahush's full sister, but they couldn't bring a nobody from the streets, could they? The king's proud wife only regarded the members of the seven noble families as their equals.

"Where are we going, Kshayarsha?"

"To the horses."

"I thought I wouldn't see you until prayer time. What are our elders doing?"

"They are debating, and will debate some more. Your father as usual, cannot rest. If only you could see how mad our uncle is!" the prince grinned wolfishly. "But he won't show it because of my father. He knows how much the king loves that old fox!"

The friends turned down another path leading to the stream.

It was a beautiful warm autumn night. The moon shone brightly, set against the dark, star studded sky. At a nearby bush, the nobles' horses grazed lazily, occasionally whinnying in undertones as if afraid to disturb the serene ambiance. A little distance away, within a wooden fence, hundreds of horses were housed for the immortals. This was why the smell of manure was so strong in this part of the camp. From time to time, the stifled snickering of the warriors could be heard. No one was asleep here either. The guards and stablemen were also waiting for the nightly prayer.

Kshayarsha found his horse and lovingly began to stroke his steed. The thankful four legged friend playfully snorted at his master.

"Let's go for a ride, Bagha. We still have time before midnight." The prince untied the beast and fluidly swung onto its back.

"On an empty stomach? It would be better if we filled our bellies first," Bagha scowled but did as his friend.

As soon as the youngsters silently crossed the brook and kicked their horses into a gallop, one of the warriors sitting by the fire stood and called with a jackal's cry to the hidden bodyguard on the other bank that the prince was headed in their direction. Kshayarsha was never left alone even amongst the loyal immortals.

After a while, the prince slowed his steed and let him move at his own pace. As if understanding the rider's desire the smart beast looked back and resumed walking with slower steps.

Kshayarsha was feeling strangely restless that night, so restless that, although he had been hungry since the day before, he had no desire for food.

What's wrong with me? This matter confused the boy himself.

The friends rode silently for a while. Far to the east, where the bright, star-studded sky enwrapped the earth in a lovers embrace, the highest peak of the mountains of Media, Alvand, stood like a sleeping black giant. The life-giving north wind was blowing in the direction of the camp, holding the bustling noise at bay, so that it barely disturbed the calm of the night. The horses carefully stepped through the tall, lush, but already bowing, late summer grass. There were low bushes here and there, but the fields at the foot of Alvand were mostly grazing lands. The dizzying scent of wild flowers stirred there in the early spring, but now the familiar, lazy smell of hay snuck even into the fields. The king's palace in the capital of Media was counting down its last days of summer. Darayawahush would wait for one more new moon to be half filled; meanwhile on the fifteenth day, dedicated to the god Attar, they would celebrate Kshayarsha's wedding, after which the king's court would leave Ecbatana and move to the capital of Elam, Susa, for the winter.

"They say Amisiri is a real beauty," Bagha broke the silence first.

"They're probably lying. How can Utana's daughter be good looking?"

"What are you talking about, Kshayarsha? If she were ugly, why would the king wed her to you?"

"Because my father and her father have some old scores to settle."

"Yeah, I've heard that too, but your father repaid Utana a long time ago."

"What are you rambling about, Bagha?"

"I'm not rambling. You remember the old tale of how our Elders snapped that so called Bardia's neck. Don't you?"

"Yeah. That's when the seven nobles of Persia arose. Your grandfather received Abar-Nahara as a reward. Vidarna became the satrap of Media. Utana gained strength in Lydia. And our Mardunaya's old man became the Lord of Elam, the heart of the Empire. Ardunamush would have gotten a Satrapy as a gift as well, had he not journeyed to the world of the deceased. Only Vindafrana was cheated by fate. That wretched man got himself killed by the King for no reason."

"Your father still benefited the most. He got the whole Empire."

"The seven chose father as King themselves!" Kshayarsha stiffened.

"The wicked say that Utana deserved the throne more. That is why your future father-in-law's family is the only one in the Empire who doesn't pay a tribute to the king. They say that this is how Darayawahush gave him his thanks."

"If you don't learn how to hold your tongue, it will undoubtedly be your doom, Bagha!"

"For what? I'm only saying that your father has already paid his debt to Utana. There is no need for you to marry his hideous and old spinster of a daughter," Bagha didn't withdraw.

At remembering his future wedding, Kshayarsha sighed heavily, cast his sad gaze over the moon-lit meadow, then looked to the sky and, in order to deprive Bagha of the opportunity to ramble on, began surveying the stars. Knowing how much his friend loved to gaze for hours at the celestial bodies, Zopyrush's son was forced to keep shut for a time.

Studying the writings of Chaldean wisemen always filled Kshayarsha's soul with uncommon pleasure. He knew "Enuma Anu Enlil" almost by heart. Bagha, of course, considered all of this entirely useless stupidity for a soldier and always slept soundly during lessons with the Chaldian wisemen. Even now, as if mocking him, the cerulean sky was filled with glittering stars. This meant that Kshayarsha would be lost to him for a good while. On the other hand, the prince himself looked rather pleased. The blissful fireflies seemed as if they were playing with the somber prince: they laughed, winking and hiding childishly and then appearing again on that vast stretch of darkness. Kshayarsha knew the stars' arrangements by heart. On a clear night he could easily find the ox, the lion and all other constellations, but tonight's sky was completely different. It looked more like a magical world of dancing fireflies. The boy could even have sworn that he could hear the distant song of the stars. This astonishing sight entertained Kshayarsha at first, then slowly reeled him in, and finally, invited him into its twinkling wonder world. The prince, enchanted by the stars, watched them play their strange games. Suddenly a new starlet appeared as a bright dot to the north, then as if ignited by a life-giving breath, it flickered and burst into a brilliant star.

"Look, Bagha, look!" the price burst out pointing up.

"Where, where?" His companion stared up at the sky with widened eyes.

"Over there, how can you miss it? In the sky, to the right!" The astounded boy was frantically waving his arms in the air.

Baghabaksha tried to focus his gaze to where the prince was pointing. Next to Kshayarsha's star another suddenly appeared, it flared with all its might and as if yanked from its place, streamed across the sky beyond the horizon.

"There, I see it!" the exited boy shouted. "What do you think this could mean? They say it means war is coming!"

"No, Bagha, you didn't see anything!"

"What do you mean I didn't see anything?" he was astonished.

"My star was just born, my friend!" the prince cried out wildly, filled with new happiness out of nowhere.

"You probably imagined it. How could you possibly have seen the birth of one tiny little star in the vast sky?" Baghabagsha doubted but at seeing Kshayarsha's angrily furrowed brows, rephrased his disbelief: "How do you know it's your star?"

"I know. I feel it in my heart," the prince smiled.

"What a great treasure! What use can a little light in the sky be to a man? It would be even better if you found us a tasty rabbit in the grass somewhere," the boy retorted coolly.

"How hopelessly stupid you are, pike. Something exceedingly important to me has taken place tonight, but why do I bother explaining it to you? Your feeble mind won't understand anyway."

"Right, it won't understand! I understand everything that is necessary and important perfectly." Bagha laughed cheerfully.

# Chapter 3

Wedding

Amisiri leaned against the high back of an armchair, observing the beautiful view of the landscape through the narrow window. From where she sat she could clearly see the striking scene of an enormous mountain range, covered with thick forests and the glacial peak of Alvand, shimmering like diamonds as the sun reflected off its shiny surface. Utana's youngest daughter grew up in Lydia and had often spent the winter in Susa and Persepolis, but it was for the first time that she visited Ecbatana. Amisiri had heard much about the fascinating wealth of the capital of Media, but what lay stretched out before her surpassed all expectations.

The seven sided wall surrounding the city charmed her eyes with its golden figures dancing against the stone, glistening so brightly that they could be seen even from a distance. From above Ecbatana resembled some sort of paradise wrapped in autumn colors where many buildings, large and small, were scattered about like beautiful jewels. The glittering royal blue palace of the legendary Queen Semiramis was separated from Darayawahush's newly built colorful summer residence by fruitful gardens, from which was wafted such an aroma that even Amisiri, who wasn't known for a good appetite, wanted to drink a bit of nectar. The jug was sitting on the table right in front of her but the glorious lady was unused to serving herself.

"Uparmaya, pour me some wine."

The girl of about fourteen stepped from the meadow colored wall with white lilies and obediently filled her crystal glass. Amisiri quietly watched every movement of the maid, all the while thinking of the gossip she'd overheard:

Is it possible that this girl is really the sunki's illegitimate child? That would mean they have brought my own husband's half-sister as my personal maid. It does have the ring of truth to it. She has the sunki's squinting hazel eyes.

As soon as Amisiri tasted the water diluted nectar, she poured in out onto the floor.

"It's too warm. I want cold wine!"

There was no look of insult or annoyance in the servant's snaky, reticent eyes. The servant had already grown used to such behavior from the lady. The girl bowed her head modestly and silently slid from the room, carrying the jug away.

No, it must be a lie. If this bimbo were really the sunki's daughter, thanks to her baleful character she would reveal some kind of conceit by now.

At Uparmaya's departure, an elderly slave came into the room and briskly cleaned the mess off the floor, but Amisiri didn't even notice. She resumed observing the city through the window. Aiming to have a better look at the tower of the wall, she rose ever so slightly in her seat. Amisiri knew the tower had been erected by King Daiukku, the founder of Media, safeguarding Ecbatana from invaders.

Are all seven towers really covered with gold?

Utana's daughter had heard about the wealth of the kings of Media, and also of their aspiration for glory and magnificence, but she never imagined that so much gold could be spared for purely ornamental purposes.

Hmm. The king was clever; he might have foreseen that one day, here at these walls, the last crown prince of Media would meet the end of his miserable life. So he had it decorated suitably. The lady smiled maliciously.

The tale went that eighteen years ago, Frada, the son of Upadaranma, the last king of Media, announced himself to be king and renamed Kshastrita. The seven famous noblemen of Persia suppressed this uprising with the utmost severity. Without even a thought, Darayawahush put out the eyes of the usurper with his own hands, cut off his ears, nose and lips, pulled his tongue out at the seams and crucified him at the wall of Ecbatana. His fate of his allies was no better. Under his orders, all of the noblemen participating in the upraising were sought out and as punishment, skinned alive. Then he had their skins packed with hay and hung next to the impostor over the great wall.

It was not in the least bit painful for the Persian maiden to remember the cruel, bloody day. On the contrary, Amisiri was very proud that her father, Utana, participated in the repression of the revolts in the first years of Darayawahush's rule. She considered that the deeds of her glorious father would secure the future of his daughter. Although, even at first glance anyone would see that for such a beautiful woman, a place in the royal palace of Persia was ensured even without the aid of her parents.

Amisiri was of average height. She somewhat resembled a flawless statue with a face that shined a stunning, icy beauty. From her pale complexion sparkled wide dark eyes, full of such vigor that one would swear that the spirit of some ancient sovereign had inhabited her body. If only Amisiri knew how to smile, her ruby lips, and teeth that could be mistaken for pearls, would probably have given her an unfeigned womanly charm and delicacy. But Utana's daughter hardly ever smiled. Actually, she knew how, but her smile evoked not affection, but a strange sense of anxiety in the hearts of those who beheld it. Her long curly raven hair fell to the lady's knees, but even this truly feminine ornament couldn't soften her stately appearance.

Amisiri took great care of her beauty, but today was a special occasion on which Amisiri was to be garbed as a bride. Her majesty, Queen Hutaosha herself, directed the dressing ceremony. Amisiri was washed in a scented bath and dressed in a gold embroidered light blue dress. Over that they placed a long sleeved garnet brocade tunic. Her hair was polished with Arabic rose oils and plaited in the Anshan custom of eight braid. After that her chest and arms were decorated with adamant and ruby studded necklaces and bracelets. Her fingers were painted with colorful magical triangles, while her eyes and brows were painted black. And finally a refined golden diadem with dangling temple plates was placed on her head, a translucent gold philet was placed over her, and at last, the satisfied queen announced the beautifying of the bride complete. This long preparation left the physically feeble Amisiri so exhausted the she requested to be left alone in her room for a while. Now she was sitting in her armchair waiting for the noble ladies to return.

The snaky-eyed Uparmaya glided into the room with a new jug in her hands and poured cold wine into the lady's cup. Darayawahush's youngest daughter, Ardushnamuya and Amisiri's mother followed the servant in.

"Oh, heavens! There's no one more beautiful than my brother's bride! Am I right, auntie? Amisiri looks like a star plucked right from the sky," cooed the youngest daughter of Darayawahush, quite unable to withhold her admiration.

The princess was around ten or twelve years old. While she didn't shine with beauty like Amisiri, she was the most sincere one of the royal family, because of which, some considered her not as clever as the others. But fate hadn't punished her because of this. The most desirable young man in Persia, the king's nephew, Mardunaya, had set his eyes on her.

Darayawahush's older sister, Amisiri's mother considered her daughter as the most beautiful Lady in the Empire. She contentedly scanned the bride once more and unable to find a flaw, cried cheerfully:

"It's time Amisiri, the Prince is waiting for us!"

I don't care, he will wait! I had to wait for ten years! The bride thought spitefully, but didn't say a word aloud, wary of her cousin's innocent ears.

Amisiri saw Kshayarsha for the first time in Pasargadae Ten years ago. The six year old prince, along with his elder brothers had stood beside the throne of his father, receiving valuable presents sent from distant satrapies with royal dignity.

"Look, what a charming boy he is. He will become a striking young man one day and your Lord, Amisiri." The lady had whispered to her daughter.

The proud girl had intently watched the boy, standing next to Darayawahush, and saw nothing but a child covered with gold.

"Is this to be my husband?" Amisiri turned in indignation to her mother.

The king's sister looked around uneasily and pinched her daughter on the arm.

"Hush you fool, hush!"

That day, Amisiri was completely heartbroken. So many brave, handsome young men were there, but for some reason, fortune had presented her with this skinny little boy. Amisiri didn't intend to fall in love with this ornamented little puppet. Before, the future had seemed very desirable to her, for she wanted to be queen, but the image of this infant humiliated her. From that day she hated her little bridegroom from the bottom of her heart. Presented with many opportunities to meet her husband to be, Amisiri declined them all.

Time passed. Amisiri knew that today not an infant, but a tall, well-shaped, handsome young man would stand beside her. She glanced at the prince several times from the window, but the feelings of the proud maiden which had been strengthened over many years, couldn't change so easily.

Losing her appetite from the unpleasant thoughts, the bride glanced at the wine filled cup and headed to the exit. Both noble women followed the beauty.

The enormous verandah was already full of Persian and Median nobility, waiting for the ladies. Baghabaksha, hair greased and dressed in a bright lizard-green tunic, the attractive Marduniya, wrapped in a sable robe, and some other fancy young nobles were chatting cheerfully with Amisiri's brothers: Smirdamna, Anapa and Patirampa. All of the groom's eleven brothers were also nearby. Although all of the young men gathered were pleasing to the eye, none could compare with Kshayarsha, standing a head taller than the rest. And the reason for this was not only because of his unusual height and striking face. As though the advantages given to him by nature were not enough, his clothes also stood out. In a swarm of bright, cheerful colors, his silver attire, even in its monotonous shade, overpowered all the others. The sword and belt attached to his hip were also silver and the ankle-length white-lily embroidered tunic with adamant studded shoulders, the prince's crown upon his brow, and the pearls woven into his hair with hidden strings, also all gleamed silver. Today, as a future husband, he represented the moon and stood out from the other youths, as the moon among the stars. The groom was entirely ready to meet his sun-bride. The fact that he was spreading the scent of jasmine in a world of rose and poppy was also one of the ways that he demonstrated his aspiration of exceptionality. Engaged in a conversation with his friends, Kshayarsha glanced every now and then at the palace entrance.

This giant thinks that he deserves the best of everything from birth. Let's see how his proud spirit accepts having Utana's old daughter for a wife. Prince Ariabirna tore his venomous gaze from his older brother's adamant studded slippers and looked to the palace himself.

Kshayarsha and his envious younger brother were not the only ones who were using up the last of their patience. With his hands clasped tightly behind his back, Darayawahush, clad in a golden brocade robe had his head bowed under the weight of his crown, pacing impatiently across the terrace. Zopyrush was trying to keep pace with the king, but couldn't quite keep up. The nobleman was dapping at his moist face with the hem of his sleeve, while quietly whispering of some important business.

"They better not be late!" the king growled threateningly and looked up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day in Ecbatana. The warm autumn sun was already reaching zenith. The magians were beginning to worry.

Since Darayawahush had inherited the Persian throne, he had tried his best to strengthen the belief in Ahura-Mazda, at least at the Royal Palace if not the whole Empire. Among the gods worshiped by the people of Persia, the king had chosen this god as the protector of his royal family and the Empire. Up to this point in time, nobody at the Anshan palace had paid much attention to any spiritual ceremonies. But Darayawahush had changed everything. It was true that the king himself didn't know too much about religion, but his sharp mind easily acknowledged that well thought out sacred rituals would serve to extend his power.

According to the Anshanian decree, the wedding ceremony was to start before midday, yet for some reason, the women were tardy. Darayawahush was slowly losing his temper.

Finally, at the entrance of the palace, a group of noble ladies appeared, led by Queen Hutaosha. Amisiri followed the queen with her head bowed, and the ladies, with Queen Irtashduna trailed behind at a distance.

"Oh, it was worth the wait!" the sovereign glanced at Amisiri with admiration and motioned Utana to join him.

I think this woman might not be ugly after all. Kshayarsha's heart fluttered with hope at seeing his bride.

The prince tried to observe Amisiri beneath the phillet, but couldn't make anything out clearly.

"I'm handing you, my son, the worthy Utana's respectable daughter Amisiri." The sovereign's gruff voice broke him from his reverie. "From this moment you are her Lord and master. Let almighty Ahura-Mazda bless you and the generous Anahita grant you many children!" Darayawahush took the bride's hand and the two fathers escorted the maiden to her groom.

As instructed by the magians, Kshayarsha gently kissed the palms of his beautiful bride.

The owner of such delicate fingers truly cannot be ugly. The young man's sensitive lips enjoyed the touch of his bride's velvety skin.

Amisiri quietly took her place next to him. The main part of the ceremony was about to begin. The head magian of Ragae, Memucan, wrapped in a blue and green robe and white turban, separated himself from the attending people and lead the bride-groom to the blazing fire set atop a bronze alter in the center of the pink tile covered terrace of the apadana.

"Let us forfeit our sincere devotion to the merciful Attar and ask the son of the Almighty to purify the newly born family in his sacred flames."

Meanwhile the sun reached its pinnacle and the entire procession fell to their knees, sending a worshiping prayer to Ahura-Mazda. Unexpectedly the conversation Kshayarsha had with an old eunuch that morning while he was being dressed resurfaced in his mind.

"I thank Great Marduk that I, an unworthy slave, have lived to see your wedding day. I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday, our glorious Mar Biti," the old man's eyes watered at his overwhelming emotions. "I knew from the very beginning that you were different from all the others."

"You only thought that because you had to take care of me, Banija. Every caretaker loves their charge particularly." The prince, standing before a sliver glass, smiled down at the servant from over his shoulder.

"Not only because of that," the eunuch waved his hands no and wrapped a silver belt around his deified prince. "When you were born, the fifteenth day was dawning after the birth of the moon. Do you know what this omen meant?"

"Of course I know, Banija." Kshayarsha adjusted the belt and appraised himself in the mirror with satisfaction. "Every fifteenth day of the month is dedicated to Attar. So my element is holy fire."

"You are right, oh wise Mar Biti. But if you will allow, I'll share another secret with you."

"What secret?"

Baghabagsha, who had been lying about lazily on the pillows scattered across a rug up until now, perked up with interest.

"In Babylon we say that a man's life is like a full moon. It must be full. When you were born, a half moon was shining in the night."

"What are you rambling on about, you wicked old sorcerer?" Zopyrush's short tempered son growled at hearing this.

"What are you trying to say, Banija? Do you mean that I'll only have half a life?" Kshayarsha was also taken aback.

"What ..? May both our gods protect you from such an ill fate! That is not what I meant!" the old man defended. "The Chaldian wise men say that however much of the moon is missing on the night of a man's birth will be filled by his other half, as in his wife. If a man is born on a new moon, in order to keep nature's balance, the god's will grant him a much smarter and more beautiful wife. If he is born on a full moon, he will be given a stupid or ugly wife. If this is true, my handsome Mar Biti, then you will have a wife fully your match."

Kshayarsha was relieved and motioned to the maid servants frozen nearby to begin fixing his hair. The servants immediately grabbed the stools brought especially for this purpose and circling around the prince, climbed up, and began their task. Watching this, Zopyrush's son burst into laughter:

"What are you talking about, Banija? Where are we supposed to find a woman like Kshayarsha? Don't you see the size of this giant? And his head is bursting with so much useless knowledge," Bagha was snickering mockingly. "Besides, you forgot the main point: one fine day, Kshayarsha will become king, and like his father, have many wives. So instead of one brainy beauty, countless dim-witted pretty girls will fill the empty half of his moon."

"You're the one mistaken, my boy, not me. A man may take many wives, but there is only one other half for him."

The words of the elderly servant cheered Bagha even more, but for some reason, they stayed in Kshayarsha's mind.

"How am I supposed to recognize the one among all of these beautiful women, Banja?"

"Oh, you won't have to do that, Mar Biti. Your heart will know when you see her. What's most important is that you realize this in time, because it turns out that most people run through their whole lives so that, entertained by other unimportant matters, they never manage to recognize their other halves."

The prince fell into thought.

"How can you listen to Banija's mumbling, Kshayarsha? How does he know of these matters? If he were at least a man. He's a eunuch!" Bagha was indignant.

Although Zopyrush's frivolous son spoke the truth, the kind servant's words took root in Kshayarsha's mind so that, instead of listening to Memucan's heated prayers, he was listening to his own heart, thinking, 'God forbid I don't miss recognizing my other half.' Not when the king was loudly blessing the young couple, nor during Memucan's long hymn did the prince feel anything special. Instead, when he caught sight of Bagha, who had sprung up beside the chief magian, his heart filled with anger.

Didn't I warn him to leave this honorable duty to Mardunaya? Kshayarsha grinded his teeth, but his quite outrage and occasional angry glances couldn't worry his arrogant friend less.

When the sacrifice to the holy fire began, Bagha, glowing with pride, first passed a bewitched wooden twig to Memucan. While this magical offering was crackling in the fire, spreading a pleasant scent, the curious boy began inspecting the next sacrifice. This time they were giving the fat of a sacred animal to Attar. Which animal had be chosen for this purpose, or how the melted fat was prepared was a Ragaean secret and not even Kshayarsha himself knew anything about it, but this didn't prevent Bagha from lifting the top of the jar, sticking his wide nose in it and taking a sniff. All of this enraged the groom so much that, never mind peeking at his wife or listening to his heart, he barely even managed to stand modestly in his place. When Memucan turned to Baghabagsha for the next sacrifice, caught red handed, the boy let the alabaster jar slip through his fingers. Thankfully, Mardunaya was standing right beside him. With a miracle, he managed to catch the precious container in his swift hands and immediately handed it over to the chief magian. All of this happened so quickly that most of the onlookers hadn't noticed a thing, although those who needed to see it saw everything. Steam rose from Zopyrush's ruddy cheeks.

"I'll skin that wretched boy alive!" grumbled the noble, puffed up even more from anger.

"Trust me, Zopyrush, when the time comes, your feather brained boy will turn into a brilliant general," Darayawahush smiled, "but still take nine layers off his back tonight. It'll help him wisen up."

As a third gift, Memucan fed Attar the most precious incense. With this the the fire worshiping was done and everyone moved to the gushing fountain in the palace garden. Walking down the wide stairs of the apadana and going through the sweet smelling walkway lined with apple-laden trees pleased Kshayarsha.

If it were spring, pinkish- white flowers would be scattered all over this place, the thought crossed the prince's mind, though he didn't know why. He couldn't manage to keep his attention on his wedding today, and this disappointed him greatly.

Zarathustra's followers always worshiped Apo, the element of water, after Attar.

Here Memucan offered two fresh cypress leaves and a bowl of milk to the holy spring of Apo. This time, they didn't let the restless Bagha anywhere near the magians. On behalf of the groom, Mardunaya served as Memucan's helper, but Kshayarsha was still strangely alert and instead of plunging entirely into the wedding secret, he felt more like an accidental witness, watching from the side.

Everything is that brainless Bagha's fault! This pike is messing up my mind too! the prince thought, but he was angrier at himself than at his young friend.

When the fire and water worshipping was over, the emotionally exhausted Kshayarsha felt relieved. After this the king and queens, the recently married couple and the whole suite of nobility moved back to the apadana of the palace.

The brightly lit hall, adorned with tall, vibrant columns, beautiful cloths and exotic plants, was a magnificent sight to behold. The wedding tables were overflowing with exquisite foods and rare delicacies. The place was full of guests. The festively dressed guards were standing along the walls. Covered with gold and silver, it was difficult to distinguish the immortals from the guests, though they didn't participate in the feast and were always ready to defend the royal family from any danger with their own lives.

Darayawahush approached the head of the table and together with his queens and the newly married couple took a seat. The young groom was a little tense. Before he completed all the necessary ceremonial rites he knew that all eyes would remain on him. Seeking some comfort, the prince took a quick peek at his friends, but Bagha, instead of offering a reassuring smile, stuck out his insolent tongue.

What else could I expect from this fool? Kshayarsha sighed deeply and turned to Amisiri. He was supposed to see his wife's face for the first time today so he was noticeably worried.

Oh god, just don't let her have a long nose! He finally gathered his courage and pulled the veil from the lady's face.

Kshayarsha momentarily lost his voice from astonishment. He had seen many beautiful women, but he couldn't imagine that such perfection even existed. A barely noticeable haughty smile had snuck into the corners or Amisiri's mouth. Otherwise she appeared absolutely calm.

I probably imagined it.

To conceal his bewilderment, Kshayarsha quickly reached for a loaf of bread, broke it and handed a half to his beautiful wife. Then the prince, slicing a piece of roast meat, tentatively placed it on their shared wedding platter. Kshayarsha bit off a piece and offered the rest to his wife. Amisiri wordlessly took the offering from her husband. Taking a sip of wine from the golden bowl, he let his wife drink the rest. Head bowed, the lady emptied it.

The old Anshan wedding ceremony of eating from a common dish was complete. The guests congratulated the young couple with joyful shouts and the feast began.

"What a beautiful bride, really worthy of a Sunki!" the people were murmuring amongst themselves.

Soon the guests were getting tipsy; the hall was filled with merry calls and laughter. Some drank, some ate, and others discussed business matters as always. The servants slipped among the guests silently and from time to time, a guard would carry away an absurdly drunk man or two.

Smiling quietly, Darayawahush surveyed the hall with his piercing eyes. The sovereign seemed satisfied. As soon as he got the chance, Kshayarsha furtively started studying his wife.

They told me the truth. She is like a flawless goddess, and doesn't even look old! the prince noted with satisfaction.

"Treat yourself, my Lady," Kshayarsha pushed a silver bowl of fruit to Amisiri.

"Thank you," she took a ripe pear without looking.

She's being timid. Kshayarsha smiled to himself.

"You must be tired; it has been a long day."

"Not so much, no," Amisiri replied curtly.

"My friends are sitting over there, where are yours?" the prince didn't want to give up.

"I don't have any," the same odd smile played across the maiden's lips.

Kshayarsha was surprised, but said nothing. He was even a little bit disappointed. He had imagined his own wedding much differently. The baffled prince's eyes wondered over to his friends. Zopyrush's son was arguing with the rest of his friends, his arms waving about.

I wonder what they're talking about. The young groom wished to be with them.

"Oh, what a delightful night is awaiting our prince," Bagha burped enviously.

"And how would you know?" Marduniya teased.

Among Kshayarsha's close companions, he was the eldest, almost nineteen. Tall, well built and broad shouldered, with straight features, hazel eyes, and a soft beard, the only son of the powerful Satrap Gauparuva, and more importantly, the most promising commander of the Persian army, he easily charmed the beauties at court, but Marduniya had paid no heed to the ladies. He was already engaged to Darayawahush's youngest daughter.

"Gauparuva's son only loves Ardushnamuya because she is the king's daughter," the bitter ladies gossiped. It was a lie though; Achaemenid from his mother's side and the only son of the powerful Gauparuva, his future was already guaranteed at the Persian court without the help of his future wife.

The harsh snap from his older friend made Baghabaksha flush in anger. The flustered boy ruffled up with discomfort.

"Yes, yes, I'm talking to you. What do you know?" the tipsy Vidarna Jr. went along with Marduniya's joke.

"I do know!" the boy replied with dignity, almost in tears.

The drunken young men neighed like horses and banged their fists on the table.

"Don't tell me you've already seen a woman," the Armenian Tigran stretched before the boy.

"Right, I have!"

"Where, in the bed of the old fox?" one of the youngsters exclaimed impudently.

"No, in the bed of Kshayarsha!" the offended boy jumped to his feet.

Mardunaya caught him by the arm and quickly made him sit back down.

"Hush up you fool!" he whispered. "Do you want to make the married couple quarrel on their wedding night?" Marduniya was already regretting having unwittingly started this senseless joke.

"Confess, Bagha, has Kshayarsha already introduced you to a woman, or are you just boasting?" The elder son of the satrap of Media narrowed his eyes.

"Why would I lie, Vidarna? You know the house in the Greek suburbs in Shushan, don't you? Well, you should know that the prince never goes there without me," boasted the boy.

The young men looked at each other, surprised. They were all well aware of the Greeks' house. It was called Greeks', but actually one could meet beautiful women of all races there. The question was how could the inexperienced Baghabaksha know that? The prince already had his own women. The fact that Kshayarsha quietly and shamelessly visited the noble ladies' beds as well wasn't news either. But visiting the city brothels was really something.

Astonishment soon turned to admiration. Quickly believing what they had heard, they clapped Baghabaksha on his back as a sign of approval. Thoroughly delighted by the praise of his older friends, Bagha almost jumped from his skin with joy. Only Marduniya seemed troubled by what he had just learned.

The prince, noticing his friends' laughter, was completely taken by jealousy.

"Look how happy they are," he turned to Amisiri.

"Sure they are. What else can they do but entertain themselves and have a bit of fun?"

The prince straightened up right away. His newlywed wife astonished him more and more.

"What about us, my Lady? How are we to amuse ourselves?"

"Power is our amusement," Amisiri cut him short.

Confused, Kshayarsha swallowed quietly.

When the prince finally entered his bride's bedchamber, it was well after midnight. At seeing Kshayarsha the noble women lounging in the room with Amisiri scurried out at once, and the eunuch closed the heavy doors behind them.

The room shone with splendor. A golden sun embroidered grass-colored carpet was sprawled across the ruby floor. Sky blue and white silk covered the walls adding to the magnificence of the bedchamber. On a low marble table, there stood a golden bowl of fruit, a rhyton studded with precious stones and a jug filled with Kolchian wine. Over the narrow window pane, colorful netting was drawn. The bed, elegantly decorated with myrtle flowers, stood in the middle of the room, warmly inviting the bridegroom. The servant girls had scattered red rose petals and ripe, bursting pomegranates around the room. The only torch, hanging on a wall at the farthest corner of the room, danced cheerfully with every breath of the playful breeze, adding a fairy tale mystery to the nest prepared for the sweethearts.

Here every detail had its hidden meaning and Kshayarsha knew how to read this secret language. The myrtle represented the maiden's purity. The pomegranate was for the groom's versatile love experience. The rose meant passion. The wine and fruit - fertility. As for the fire and wind, these were Kshayarsha's elmements, himself.

He had already forgotten the unpleasant feeling that had been evoked at the wedding table. Tenderness burst its way into Kshayarsha's chest at the sight of his lovely wife. Young, but quite experienced in Anahita's worshipping affairs, the bridegroom was ready to engulf his wife in the fire of passion.

Kshayarsha approached the bed, drew the curtains aside and... was left incredulous. His wife dressed in splendid Median white silk, embroidered in red and gold, was sitting on the bed, poorly hiding her spite toward her husband.

Don't forget, Amisiri, he is your Lord now and you must fulfill all of his desires, her mother's voice buzzed in her head.

No, Amisiri didn't think to refuse her obligations to her husband. The main duty of a queen was to give the Achaemenid dynasty heirs. Without that, neither her kinship nor great beauty would help the lady achieve anything. But she couldn't forgive her young husband those endless lost years of virginity.

Remember, a beautiful woman's weapons are charm and tenderness, curbing even the fiercest of sovereigns into inoffensive puppies, continued her mother's voice.

No! Amisiri obstinately shook her head.

There were other means than love and endearment to get what one wanted. The prince possessed quite a number of concubines for entertainment. Utana's proud daughter didn't intend to degrade herself by joining them.

I can handle my towering, beardless young husband! A disgusted smile twisted the lips of the self confident woman.

Kshayarsha leaned in for a kiss but was confused when he met Amisiri's cold and mocking eyes. What was that? A new way to show a virgin's coyness? While the youth was considering this, the woman lay back on the bed and revealed her naked body. This confused the young groom even more. He had never met such a strange creature. The breathless young man plucked up his courage and endeavored to kiss his wife once more, but she turned her face away. Kshayarsha straightened abruptly. There was no doubt about it: Amisiri wasn't interested in the prince's affection for her even a bit. Kshayarsha's desire for her vanished without a trace. All he wanted now was to get out of this place.

Come, if you dare! His wife's shameless eyes seemed to be mocking him.

Kshayarsha was just as stubborn as the young lady, but as spoiled by the ladies' as he was, the prince was unused to such a welcome in bed. The stone faced Kshayarsha rushed from the room and left the place with quick steps.

He had never felt so insulted before this. Furious, the prince almost ran to his room, biting his lips and bitterly scolding his new spouse.

Meanwhile, Amisiri sat on the bed, smiling cruelly. Utana's proud daughter seemed satisfied with her revenge on the blameless young man.

Queen Hutaosha was quickly informed of the prince's hasty departure from Amisiri's chamber the very next day. Troubled, she wanted to speak with her son immediately, but Kshayarsha had managed to go hunting with his friends in time.

The prince's behavior baffled the young noblemen as well, but even the bold Baghabaksha didn't dare to openly ask him anything. Behind Kshayarsha's back the young men gossiped worse than women, digging up different versions in order to explain his strange actions and finally came to a conclusion:

"Yes, Amisiri is very beautiful, but look at her eyes...Oh, how they shine! She is not a woman, I say! Poor Kshayarsha doesn't want to admit it, but he cannot lay with her. You'll see, he will marry a new wife soon enough and everything will be all right," the young noblemen agreed wisely amongst themselves.

Ten days later the queen had tried to meet with the prince once more, but in vain. Kshayarsha didn't intend to discuss these matters with his mother. Hutaosha, now seriously disturbed, appealed to the king for help.

At first, Darayawahush was astonished by Kshayarsha's actions, and then thrown into a state of alarm. The prince's untimely fancy could seriously harm the Empire's interests. Darayawahush wasn't about to offend Utana over such foolishness, nor did he plan to leave Kshayarsha without a worthy heir. The angry father immediately summoned his wayward son.

"You know why the sunki needs a queen, don't you?" Darayawahush attacked, not even letting his son fully enter the room. "To provide heirs and strengthen the country!" the sovereign answered his own question.

"You can have a whole army of mistresses for your fun and entertainment! I have not yet announced the heir. Beware, Kshayarsha! If you dream of becoming the sunki, give up this foolishness! I will not even ask you why you dislike Utana's worthy daughter, but who could be a better wife than her to you? Now leave and behave like a man! First you give me a worthy heir and only then can we speak of Masishta!"

The will of the king was clear. The Empire demanded total submission from the prince. Kshayarsha was very proud, but not even his injured self-respect could force him to say no to becoming Masishta, the heir. What other choice did he have? Pale from anger, the young man swallowed the insult. The very same evening, he appeared in his wife's bedchamber unannounced and dismissed everyone with a fluid motion of his hand. After this, the young husband grabbed her hand, cautiously but steadily led Amisiri to the bed, lay her down and swiftly lifted her skirts. The dazed woman became one with her husband before she could even make a sound. Kshayarsha quickly fulfilled his obligations, politely bowed his head and left the room without a word.

Astonished and breathless with pain, Amisiri lay there silently for quite a while. Then coming to her senses, a smile of pure satisfaction ran across her face.

I have won the first battle, future Sunki! A self satisfied smile played across the lady's lips.

The strange couple soon realized that such relations were equally beneficial for both sides. Kshayarsha would visit his spouse from time to time. They even resumed short polite conversations. The young prince, cured of any romantic feelings toward women for quite a time, concluded bitterly that all those love songs, played on the tayra during the feast were only fairy tales meant to fool the naive and returned to the familiar turmoil of his previous joyful life without any regret.

Amisiri wasn't wasting time either. She entangled herself in the affairs at court, full of intrigue and underhanded hostility so eagerly that soon she learned all the dark secrets of the Palace. Thanks to her cleverness and cunning, she became the most influential lady in the Empire, after Queen Hutaosha. To the joy of the royal family, the prince's beautiful wife became pregnant and in nine months gave birth to a son named Darayawahush. Kshayarsha already had his first born from a concubine, but he couldn't become the heir, so they named him Irdabanush after the king's youngest brother. After the birth all foolish gossip around Amisiri stopped and the couple's odd relationship was temporarily forgotten in the palace.

Meanwhile the king felt that the now settled Kshayarsha was ready for state affairs. As soon as the time was right, the young prince was assigned an exceedingly serious duty. Darayawahush sent his son to Armina to control the Northern satrapies. The prince began fulfilling his father's orders with such eagerness that he soon earned the respect and approval of the sovereign and his experienced courtiers.

The goddess Anahita also favored the glorious prince of Persia. Amisiri gave Kshayarsha two more children, a son, Vishtaspa and a beautiful daughter, Umati.

Time passed quickly. Peace settled upon Northern Persia, but to the West, clouds were gathering in the sky over the Aegean.

# Chapter 4

Pit

Shouts of "Mzysia, Mzysia!" where heard from every direction.

The villagers, both young and old, had been searching the gorge and the nearby mountain since the evening before, but not a trace of the little miss had been found. The father, pale with worry, didn't know what to think. Where could the child have gone? No strangers had been seen lately in the gorge and the dogs hadn't sounded an alarm even once. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened either.

Only when Saurmag's son Bardia had returned from hunting and Mzysia wasn't there to greet him with a hug, did they notice that she was gone.

"Where's the kid?" the suspicious young man asked the women, sitting outside, beating piles of fleece with canes.

"What, you didn't see her in the village?" Darsia's cane came to a stop in mid air.

"No."

The worried woman stood to her feet right away, handed her stick to the old maid beside her and started searching for the child. She looked through the whole tower with the chief's eldest daughter. They looked everywhere, sent servants to ask the neighbor's children, but with no luck.

"Saurmag must have taken her," Darsia was murmuring to reassure herself.

"Where is Father?"

"Gone with my man to Mardon's place."

Bardia brought the ram he had hunted up to the kitchen, then dashed from the tower, and jumped on his horse.

The loud banging of a hammer on an anvil rang from Mardon's smithy. Avoiding the smithy's heat and heavy steam, Saurmag, sitting in the doorway, was sharpening pickets with a newly forged ax. By doing this, he was killing two birds with one stone: testing the weight and sharpness of the ax, while helping Mardon get ahead with his piled up work. This was the only blacksmith's place in the whole valley, so during the winter, its owner barely had the time to scratch his own head. The entire mountain was trying to finish all outdoor business before the roads were snowed over.

Mardon's smithy stood on a raised slope on the outskirts of the village; because of this the whole valley could be seen like the back of one's hand. Overpopulation was never a problem, especially now, when most of the youth were gone to the lowlands to keep the livestock for the winter. As for the women, they always avoided roaming about outside without any reason. Only one or two white bearded men sat outside along the road, warming themselves in the sun. In the distance, down by the river, young girls were drying newly washed fleece. A short distance from there, their father, the lame Khonchua was herding a small flock of sheep, kept in the mountain for the winter, while keeping an eye on his family so that no stranger would go near them by any chance. Near the center of the village, a five, or six years old boy was leading some goats to his father's tower.

When a lone rider appeared on the desolate rocky road, Saurmag immediately recognized his son in him. Alarmed by Bardia's clouded face, he stood to his feet, came out to the sheep dung covered path and called to his son:

"What brings you here, son?"

At hearing the chief's voice, the sooty Khongul emerged from the smithy. He wiped his hands on his open shirt and looked to the rider himself.

"What's going on? Did something happen?"

As soon as Bardia reached the elders, he jumped from his horse and began looking about uneasily.

"Did you bring Mzysia with you, father?"

"She's probably in the village somewhere."

"The women already looked for her everywhere."

The chief knotted his brows, displeased. This wasn't the first time that the father was bothered for his little girl's naughty behavior. The brother's concern for her pleased him deep down inside, but he didn't share his fear.

"Where would she go? She was probably out on the mountainside, playing with all the other little rascals."

"Yes, that's most likely it. The imps are probably climbing around on the cliffs nearby. She'll be waiting for us no doubt by the time we get back," Khongul agreed.

Bardia still stood frozen before his elders, asking for his father's help with a silent, persistent gaze. The chief turned to Khongul:

"Is there much work left?"

"No. The chains are all ready and Mardon can cut the nails without me."

"If something has come up, don't dally because of this," the blacksmith's sweaty, rust colored face appeared in the doorway. "I'll be finished with all this by nightfall and have a boy bring it up to your tower."

The displeased Saurmag mounted his steed and rode home with Khongul and Bardia. While heading back, they kept an eye on the hillsides in case the child had ventured this far. Seeing Darsia's tall figure in the tower's narrow doorway made Saurmag shiver unpleasantly. It was already evening. This was a bad sign. Nighttime usually came quick and was pitch dark in the mountains.

"Go, gather the men!" he shot at his son then turned to Khongul, "And you, prepare the torches."

Soon the meadow in front of the tower was filled with people. Women and the elderly also joined the horsemen. The chief divided the searchers into three groups. He put Bardia in charge of one, Khongul the other and sent them to rummage around the upper and lower parts of the gorge. The chief himself covered the right slope of the mountain. Everyone spread out in different directions. Some brought their dogs. Armed with torches, the villagers looked for the girl until midnight with no find. The horsemen also returned empty handed. It seemed as if the earth itself had swallowed Mzysia.

No one slept in the tower that night. At dawn they resumed the search. By the time the people gathered in the meadow once more it was already midday.

"We looked under every rock, Saurmag. If anything happened to her we would've found some remains. I don't know what to think," head bowed, Khongul stood laden with guilt before the heartbroken father.

Bardia was almost in tears. Mzysia's wet nurse beat her chest with her fist and cried like a wounded animal. Darsia could hardly contain the woman. The rest avoided the chief's gaze in order to hide their own hopelessness.

Saurmag thought for a moment on his cousin's words, then pointed to the left silently. Khongul looked at him, surprised.

The steep mountain side protected the Svan village from the right, while the riotous river roared threateningly on the left. The shores were connected by only two bridges: one was torn away by the spring flood, and the other was located far to the north. But there was also a third: an old rope bridge which hadn't been used in ages. Their wise ancestors had hung it so high that no flood could touch it. But the bridge was so rotten from old age, that no one in their right mind would set foot on it.

Saurmag mounted his horse signaled to Mzysia's loyal sheep dog and headed for the upper bridge. The animal bounded after his master. Bardia and Khongul, with the other horsemen fallowed as well.

After riding for a while they crossed the upper bridge, followed the river back and when the settlement was in sight once more, they dismounted. Villagers were already gathered on the right bank of the river, waiting for their arrival and shouting their supports. The bellowing river drowned out their voices. There was no time to lose. The men immediately began their search.

"Mzysia, Mzysia!" their voices echoed through the forest, striking their small round shields with long swords.

Soon the searchers' efforts were rewarded. When the happy bark of Mzysia's dog reached his ears, it made the poor father's heart turn with hope. The disheveled animal, circling something, was barking impatiently and cheerfully wagging his tail. When he reached the spot an astonishing sight greeted the breathless man. The gaping mouth of an enormous pit lay before him. Saurmag lowered his torch into the pit and cried from joy: A pair of luminous emerald eyes beamed from below. Meanwhile the others had gathered around. The scene made them quiver in fear: enormous spikes jutted out from the pit frighteningly. It was apparent that someone had laid a deadly trap for a massive beast. With God's help, the small child had missed the sharp spikes and landed unharmed in the corner.

Bardia instantly leapt in and covered his little sister with relentless kisses. Satisfied that she was well, he passed Mzysia up to their father. Overjoyed, Saurmag swung her into the air. Then as if coming to his senses, the chief sat her down and anxiously inspected the child. From the fall, the four year old's arm was badly scratched but the blood on the wound had already dried. Her knees were scraped and her right thigh badly bruised. Thankfully, nothing was broken. The girl's dress was torn, fiery red hair tousled, face and tiny body completely covered with mud and rotting leaves. But even a whole day of hunger couldn't bring her spirits down. Mzysia's bright green eyes shone gleefully.

The scruffy dog lovingly licked the little rogue's grimy face. Throwing her arms around his neck, the girl buried her face in her faithful companion's furry ears then snuck a peek up at her father.

"Daddy, dad, I knew you'd find me!" the girl moved toward Saurmag, but froze under his stern gaze.

"How did you dare sneak across the rope bridge, little lady?"

Knowing that at home, inevitable punishment was awaiting her, Mzysia tried to warm up to her father.

"Please, father, don't be mad! I promise to be very, very careful next time!" she shut her eyes tight, balling her little fists up together in order to assure her parent of her sincerity.

In the meantime, with the help of his friends, Bardia had climbed out of the ghastly pit. Ignoring his father's disgruntled face, the older brother grabbed the child and ran for the river. The others followed. When the loud group of youth cleared from the place, only Saurmag and Khongul remained. Looking down at the pit once more, the horrified cousins threw their arms around each other.

"Goddess of the woods and mountains and patron of hunters, beautiful Dali, thank you for forgiving my disobedient, redheaded – like yourself daughter's insolence and for returning her to me alive and well. I promise, by sunrise tomorrow, I will sacrifice a flawless calf at your holy alter." Filled with gratefulness, the father knelt before the unseen goddess then stood and with his cousin, ran to the river.

"Did you hear what she said, Khongul? She didn't say 'I won't do it again,'! Oh no! Instead she promised to be more careful next time," the chief started without turning his head. "How did she even cross that rotten bridge? How could she not have been afraid of falling into the river? And how did she survive the cold night? Or how did the darkness not frighten her?"

"She's a true Svan, my brother! Our blood stirs in her veins. 'I'd rather herd ten boys than look after this one little devil,' my woman always complains," Khongul smiled.

"If you were to ask Hadassah, her charge is an angel. This Jewish woman won't let anyone scold that redheaded rascal. She completely spoiled her!" the father complained in indignation.

"Alright now, Saurmag, we're no better than her. Mzysia is everyone's pet. Look at Bardia; he's out of his mind. Rati and Khonchua are just as bad. Just you wait, when they return from the valley, you'll see how much gifts they'll bring her! A while ago I saw Budu make a wooden sword for her and teach her to fight with the rest of his younger siblings. Everyone in the village worships her."

"I know, brother, I know. I'd die for her too, but still she is a troublesome little devil, that apple of your eye is," the father smiled.

"She's not troublesome, she's a Svan! Why don't you get it?"

With fiery red hair, snowy white skin and emerald eyes, she looked nothing like a Svan. But instead, she inherited a real mountaineer spirit from her Father. Fearless and bold, among other charms, Mzysia was also granted with incredible stubbornness. She rarely listened to her elders. If something was stuck in her pretty little head, nothing could dislodge it.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Darsia would blame the chief in anger.

Overhearing this, the mischievous little one immediately turned it to her advantage. From that day forth when accused of being obstinate, "I'm like my father!" she would instantly shoot back.

The words of his youngest would often make Saurmag laugh inside, but openly, he would always scold her.

"You're a young lady and should behave likewise!" the chief chastised his daughter. But the look in her eyes gave her away. Mzysia was not about to take his advice in this either.

One chilly night, curled up in her nanny's lap, the girl questioned the Jewish Hadassah:

"Nurse, how is the neighbor's boy better than me?"

"Better? Who told you that? A boy's a boy and a girl's a girl. That's it. A virtuous and compliant character suits a lady best," the nurse kissed her charge on the forehead with a smile.

"Darsia is a woman too, but she's not virtuous or compliant! Look how she talks to uncle Khongul!"

Darsia's also a Svan, the Jewish woman thought, but didn't reply out loud.

Everyone was already mounted when Saurmag and Khongul reached the river. Bardia perched his little sister up in front of him on the horse. The villagers on the other bank, knowing the child was found, sluggishly made their way to their homes.

"Did you bring me a meat pie, Bardia?" Mzysia turned her hungry eyes to her brother.

"No, little one, I forgot. Can you wait till we get home?"

"Aha," the girl nodded in disappointment. Then, peeking back at the rope bridge, she wished she were alone: if it weren't for the adults, she would sneak back across and be home in no time, eating Darsia's hot meat pies fresh out of the oven. Afterwards, filled with hot milk and Iakin's mind boggling tales, she would run to Hadassah, cuddle up in her lap and go to sleep.

Never before had a Jew been seen among the Svans.

Ten years or so before, in late spring, someone knocked on the tower door in the middle of the night. Saurmag's sons sprang from their slumber immediately. Rati had grabbed his sword, dashed down the stairs and bravely demanded who was at the door. The visitor turned out to be the host's cousin, a lowlander Svan, Omyane. The guest had brought his entire family, the Jewish Iakin and his wife with him. Rati invited them up to the main hall. Saurmag, already waiting for them, embraced his cousin and sent his youngest son to fetch Khongul.

Soon the hosts learned the reason behind their visit. Omyane had accidentally killed somebody, the worst part being that the victim was innocent. Neither Saurmag nor Khongul understood how the red-bearded Iakin had managed to get involved in the mess.

"I had nothing to do with this matter!" the poor Jew repeatedly swore on Moses' beard.

But Saurmag knew, since Iakin had gotten caught up in this turmoil with the Svans, guilty or not, the relatives of the dead man would never spare him or any other male in his family. Both the Upper and Lower Svans obeyed the blood feud laws unquestionably. The men discussed the issue and decided: not even the devil, himself would venture to harm a guest on Saurmag's land. The Svans would harbor the murderer and his companions as long as needed.

By the time fall came around, the restless Omyane couldn't bear staying in the mountains any longer. He began taking secret visits to the valley. This didn't go unnoticed by the enemy. One dark night, in the Corax valley, they ambushed him, slitting his throat like a pig.

The bloody feud went wild. A month couldn't go by without an innocent life being taken on either side. Seeing this madness, the terrified Jew sent his children, Rishona and Itaya, to his in-laws in Babylon with a caravan. He himself, along with his wife decided to stay with Saurmag. Soon a job presented itself to Iakin. He was the only man on the mountain who couldn't wield a sword properly. Instead, only he knew how to read and write and he was pretty good at counting too.

The honest and loyal Jew turned out to be a true gift from God to Saurmag. The brave and smart, but still utterly uneducated chief handed all important matters over to Iakin. Soon the entire mountain came to the Jew with all matters to do with reading, writing, counting or bringing goods from the lowlands. The foreigner, thankful to his host, readily served the Svans, never forgetting himself either.

About four years earlier Iakin's wife Hadassah had given birth to a baby boy, but the infant had turned out too weak and died soon after. The poor couple was heartbroken. Two days later another tragedy occurred: the chief's young wife died during labor, leaving behind a beautiful baby girl. There were plenty of young mother's in the mountain. None of them would have refused to take care of the helpless infant, but among them Darsia chose Hadassah. First of all she pitied the unfortunate woman, but more importantly, she saw the will of the gods in those events and handed the child over to Iakin's wife without hesitation.

Thus Hadassah, the Jew, became the one and only caretaker of the Svan chief and the mysterious woman's only daughter.

They named the child Mzysia, which meant 'belonging to the sun,' for her flaming red hair and white face wouldn't allow anything else.

The chief's youngest offspring was growing freely and happily in the mountains. Blinded by love, Hadassah was spoiling the child awfully. Saurmag's older daughters married in a few years. Little Mzysia was the only joy left for her father's heart. Surrounded by seven brothers, it was no wonder the little girl grew up as a boy. She spent all her time playing outside. Soon, her white skin turned gold in the sun. Red haired, like the Svans' beloved goddess Dali, the scruffy girl found pleasure fighting the village boys and often beating them. She climbed trees, crafted traps for birds, caught yellow bellied lizards and river snakes with her bare hands. Bathing in the brooks was Mzysia's favorite pastime during the summer. The children of the mountain splashed around in the water all day, competing in swimming and diving, catching trout and chasing bull frogs. Boys who were old enough got to tag along on hunting trips with their fathers and older brothers. Girls helped the women around the house...

Mzysia's life had one major difference from the other village children. Iakin considered the girl as a gift from God, and seeing himself as almost a father to her, he was very involved in her upbringing. In the chief's house, they spoke Svan; in her caretaker's, Hebrew. Thus the child took to both as mother's milk. Even this didn't appear to be good enough for Iakin.

"All the nations in the Persian Empire write in Aramaic. Many Kolchians and Kortus from across the mountain range know it as well. It would be wise to teach your children Aramaic too, my Lord," Iakin offered Saurmag.

Greek and the Zan languages were widespread across the coast. Only the king's courtiers and caravan merchants spoke Aramaic.

"How can reading and writing suit a true man?! A true Svan boy should train himself only in the butchering of enemies and hunting of mountain rams!" the chief refused to even consider this profanity.

"Mzysia's no boy, my Lord. Can I at least teach her?" the persistent Jew wouldn't let up.

Fortunately for the father figure, Saurmag thought it less harmful for the girl to be educated and didn't stand in the way of Iakin's odd new obsession.

So it started. During the day the Jew taught her Greek and Aramaic. Nightly, his wife would tell the child amazing stories of her people and their almighty God, the creator of heaven and earth. Hadassah's stories were quite different from the ones she's heard before: of the beautiful goddess Dali, who gave up her immortality for the love of a mortal, the rebellious Amiran, chained to the Caucasian mountains by the jealous gods for stealing their fire and giving it to mankind, and of hideous seven headed daivas, who were eternally enslaved by their love for the daughters of men. Thanks to the girl's boundless imagination, it all came together so unusually in her mind, that her naïve, childish world became filled with completely unimaginable wonders. When Mzysia couldn't understand something she would assail the old Jewish woman with never ending questions.

"How could it be true, nanny? How could God, out of Adam's one little rib carve a whole Eve?"

"God can do anything, Mzysia! If he could create the whole world out of nothing, why would making one small woman out of a rib be a problem?" Hadassah replied sagely.

"So is every woman made out of her husband's rib?" curious, she continued to interrogate.

"Aha," her caretaker nodded in agreement.

"When they took out your rib, did it hurt very much, Iakin?" Mzysia now turned to the man.

"It still hurts," the Jew rubbed his side, laughing.

Now eight years old, Mzysia shone with incredible beauty. The girl herself couldn't care less, but the others saw it and appraised it as well.

As before, Mzysia still spent her days roaming the woods and wilderness with Saurmag's younger sons, although, their variety of entertainment had altered. The chief's eldest sons, Rati and Khonchua had already married and lived separately. In the tower, Bardia was now second in command after his father. He was rarely, if ever, seen at home. Bardia was either lost in the mountains hunting or off battling alongside the chief.

"When will father take us fighting too?" the youngsters dreamt aloud. "How are we any less than the others? What, we don't know how to ride or wield a sword? Who can beat our Mzysia at archery? So what she's a girl, she can beat anyone!"

Their bragging amused the older brothers, but they didn't discourage the little ones. "Of course, that's right!" they, Budu especially, humored the excited children. He playfully trained and polished the skills of the future warriors. He didn't leave Mzysia out either. No one took women to war but every Svan woman knew how to defend herself and ward off unexpected enemies. So Saurmag didn't interfere with Budu teaching his sister.

"Mzysia, duck quickly now! That's right. No, girl, you strike from here!" the eager young man lacked no fervor in training his youngest sister. "Mzysia, you can't beat them in strength! You're too small; you have to use your skills!"

"I'm not small!"

"Look at her! If you don't listen to me, I won't teach you at all!" the boy grew irritated. "When I say you're small, I don't mean to hurt you, foolish one! When you grow up to be a big woman, you'll still be small!" explained the older brother. "Strength isn't the only thing that can win a battle. Your foe can be stronger than you, but you can still win. Skill and speed, darling, skill and speed."

With that, Budu showed Mzysia a new trick.

"Maha would try to stop a blow like this with his sword because he's a boy and has the strength to do so. What you need to do is duck behind your shield and veer to the side. Your foe won't expect this. His own weight will pull him forward, throwing him off balance. And that's when you sheave him in the side. Yeah, just like that, good job!"

With such encouragement and daily training, the girl became so skilled, that even her father was charmed by her agility and cunning. Watching his daughter train alongside her brothers amused him. Iakin, on the other hand, couldn't tolerate such behavior.

Sitting by the fire one day, the Jew turned to his wife:

"Hadassah, we have to do something with this girl."

"What do you have in mind, Iakin?"

She knew her husband's habits well. The Jew wouldn't have started the conversation without a cause. It seemed he had something at heart.

"Look, the young lady does nothing but ride around on her horse and wave her sword. Is this right? I die inside every time she goes to that dreadful river, afraid she will drown. Her father and brothers are just as mad as the girl, letting her do such things. No, we have to do something about this, Hadassah. Look at what a woman she is growing up to be, simply gorgeous! Saurmag married his other two daughters in Svaneti and did the right thing too. But our girl, she's different. Our Mzysia, if not for a queen, is born to at least marry a nobleman. She can't be stuck here in these woods all her life, can she? Here no one can appreciate our angel!"

"So? What can we do? Do you have some noble cousin that you've been hiding from me?" Hadassah teased.

"We have to send her down to the lowlands," Iakin continued, ignoring his wife's joke.

"Perhaps we can send her to Guenos where your cousin Sarah married. Her husband's a rich merchant. They would take good care of our Mzysia there. But there is no way Saurmag will let her go. He's too afraid someone will steal her away," Hadassah sighed, disheartened.

"Hmm, in Guenos with Sarah," Iakin smirked. "Saurmag may not be rich and may not have gathered silver like Sarah's husband, but he's a Svan chief, woman! And everyone needs the Svan army! Who does the Kolchis king turn to during battles with the Sarmathians and Zykhians? That's where we need to send her, Aia! And Saurmag will help us with this."

The kingdom of Kolchis was situated by the east coast of the Ponto Euxine Sea. To the north, the Greater Caucasian mountain range separated it from the Asiatic Sarmathian lands. Iberian tribes neighbored it from the east. From the south, the vast Persian Empire bordered the kingdom.

The rich and fruitful Kolchis had long been known to the Hellens. This was where the Argonaut hero Jason had stolen the Golden Fleece as well as Medea, the daughter of the legendary King Aeetes. Since then the Greeks had loved the bountiful lands and settled along its sea shores. Thus Hellenic cities were established in Kolchis: Pityos, Dioscurias, Guenos, Phasis, Apsaros, Rhizos and Trapezos. In the beginning, they were mostly filled with Miletian Greeks. But after a while, many people of different nations arrived in Kolchis. Who couldn't one meet in its markets: Jews or Cappadocians, Ethiopians or Assyrians, Egyptians or Persians. The main population consisted of native tribes: Lazi, Zan, Tibareni, Moschi, Marres, Apsilae, Sanigae, Coraxi, Geloni, Soani and many others.

The capital of Kolchis, Aia, was located along the Phasis River. Overflowing with beautiful castles, protected by a massive stone wall, it was not only an administrative center, but the heart of cultural life as well. Aeetes' descendants, the Kolchis kings, being great admirers of beauty, spent a huge amount of their wealth on the building of splendid palaces and castles. In the kingdom of Kolchis, art and craftsmanship flourished equally. Artists and architects, goldsmiths and bricklayers where much appreciated at the king's court. As if competing with one another, their nobleman built more and more residences for themselves. The entire kingdom was filled with settlements surrounding these castles.

With its mild and balanced climate, rich soil and life giving rivers, anything could be grown in this country. Many important Caravan routs also passed through Kolchis. All of this made the kingdom exceedingly wealthy and powerful. The silver coins cut there were highly valued in the entire Persian Empire and even beyond its borders.

It was no surprise that a country as rich as Kolchis gained many enemies. The southern part of the kingdom: Macronia, Taokhia, Genyokhia, and Khatarsia were already swallowed up by the vast Persian Empire. In order to save his country, the Kolchis king was forced to hand over a tribute and once every five years send a hundred girls and a hundred boys as a gift to the Great Sunki. Unstable peace hung over Kolchis. In such a situation, the support of the Svan warriors was vital to the king.

Iakin began putting his plans into action. He sent a thoughtfully written letter to a distant relative named Nathanial, in Surium. This relative was a barber to a local nobleman, Dedalos. Thanks to his occupation, the Jew often had the opportunity to speak with the courtier. On one of these occasions, while trimming the nobleman's beard, the barber started a conversation about the Svans and happened to mention Saurmag's beautiful daughter, Mzysia. The cunning Nathanial didn't forget to include that the child's caretakers had given her a good education. At the end, he conveyed his regret that such a jewel was kept hidden away in the secluded mountains.

The nobleman was quite intrigued by this story. Dedalos had been trying to improve his position in Court for some time now and decided to use this to his advantage. Upon arriving in Aia, the courtier relayed to the sovereign:

"Your Majesty, I have heard news that the Svan Chief, Saurmag, has a daughter, beautiful in appearance as a wild flower and as kind at heart as a dove. The child lost her mother at a young age. I think that it would be a great respect to the Svan chief if the child were raised at the Kolchis court. Mighty King, if Saurmag's daughter stayed in Aia, it would be very beneficial for you as well. If the child stays with us, the Svan's attention to Aian affairs will double."

The king loved this clever idea. He praised the courtier and placed him as the head of this assignment.

# Chapter 5

On the Way to Ionia

For three years now, the events taking place on the Aegean Sea had been drawing the Empire's meticulous attention. Darayawahush's new decree found Kshayarsha in the Armina Satrapy. The great king ordered his son to move a part of the local force to the western coast immediately.

The Erebuni fortress was hastily getting ready to send its martial detachments to Sardis. Under the guidance of Satrap Tigran and general Gauparuva, the garrison itself and a great part of the northern army were staying in Armina. As for Tigran-Junior, along with Kshayarsha, he was to go to Satrap Irdapirna in Sardis to strengthen the Lydian armed forces. Whilst in Cappadocia, Marduniya would join them.

Often times the king of Persia had used the faithful Armina to subjugate rebellious satrapies, but since the Empire had lived peacefully for twenty years now, the Haiks' army had no need to leave their borders for a long time. The satrap of Armina resided in the Erebuni palace. His subordinate garrison was also encamped there in the fortress with him. As for the Persian army itself, it did not follow the satrap; it was always headed by a Persian commander.

Erebuni was one of the oldest and most powerful strongholds in the northern part of the Empire. Built by the Urartuan King Argishti three hundred years before, it defended the country from its hostile northern neighbors dwelling beyond the Caucasian mountains. Almost half a plethron high, the walls of the unusual triangular citadel rose from the peak of Arin Berd. Their square battlements and observation posts caused both well deserved dread and respect in the hearts of enemies and friends alike. While the Erebuni fortress left the impression of an almost unconquerable stronghold, the main entrance of it was cut from a rather easily accessible south- eastern slope. A six-column doorway on the left-side of the gate, with its colorful frescos and human headed and falcon winged bronze oxen, resting on its staircases, slightly softened the frightening image of the fortress.

In the south-western part of the inner court, the temple of Khaldi was erected, while in the north-eastern side of the yard the Susi temple and a most beautiful peristylar, all faintly flushed in blue. Two altars, one in the center of the garden, and the other inside the temple, stood as everlasting reminders of human life's dependency on the will of fretful gods, although the wine-cellars nearby with barrels full of exquisite drinks, notified the curious onlookers that along with sacrificing for the Devine immortals, mankind never forgot to take care of itself.

The residence of the earlier kings of Armina, was situated to the east of the peristylar and with its embellishment and ornamentation, it overcame the rest of the palace in beauty. The walls were decorated with beautiful rugs, hung on bronze rings. The front of the hall had five elegant wooden columns while the walls were painted with scenes of leopard hunts and kings receiving gifts.

Persian satraps had made significant changes in the ancient Urartuan stronghold. The temple of Khaldi had been turned into a thirty column apadana. Fallowing the great kings' examples, the local authorities received honorable guests as well as humble petitioners in this very place. Here, the affairs of state were discussed and reports to the Great King of Kings were sent. The Susi temple had also lost its initial function. It now served as a fire worshipping alter.

Kshayarsha liked the Erebuni fortress, steeped in poppies. All of Armina and Cappadocia could easily be controlled from here. The prince was a blood-relation of the Satrap's family and was on friendly terms with Tigran-Junior. The inseparable Baghabaksha and two of his favorite Mistresses from Susa also accompanied Kshayarsha. He had made another beautiful addition to his women in Erebuni as well. The prince had planned to stay there for some time, but the king's orders changed everything.

Kshayarsha, leaning on his elbow, lay on an ornate wooden ottoman, one foot on the floor absently stroking the ash colored cat sitting near him with his toes. The kitty purred softly, pleased. The prince gently placed his free hand on the bosom of his Chinese mistress, sitting comfortably on the carpet before him, and tenderly rubbed the girl's small breast. The young man, his dark almond eyes half closed with passion, caressed her black, remarkably straight, shining hair with his cheek.

All of the Empire's nobility were well aware of Kshayarsha's love for women and to gain his favor the clever ones often sent him attractive mistresses. The Chinese beauty had been presented to him by the prudent satrap of Sogdiana two months before and the satrap of Armina had also sent him a young girl, a virgin, a week before to make the nights he spent in Erebuni pleasurable.

Kshayarsha was lounging on the ottoman, debating whether or not to invite the Armenian beauty to share his bed that night. He had spent the previous one with the Chinese girl and didn't wish to call her again. Spoiled by beauty, he easily became bored with women. He showed much more devotion to his horses. If Kshayarsha took a likening to a particular beast, he would not part with it. Women were another story. Once conquered, he would quickly lose interest toward the mistress, he would laden her with rich presents and forget her forever.

It turned out to be difficult for him to decide which woman he would have for the night, the Ethiopian or the Armenian, and therefore he made up his mind: he would have them both. But now he wanted to please the Chinese girl. He slid his hand, swathed in golden bracelets, under her silk dress and was ready to invite her to the ottoman, when the carpet over the door slowly moved aside and a young eunuch, head bowed, entered the room.

"Tigran's army is approaching, my Prince," the eunuch said in a quiet voice.

Kshayarsha released the girl immediately. "Next time, my beauty", he whispered in her ear, kissing her hair gently and left the room hastily. The girl looked after the stalwart faultless figure of the young man with lament in her dark slanted eyes.

The prince, passing the half-darkened hallway, ran down the horse headed winding stairs, quickly crossed the columned apadana and went out into the courtyard of the fortress.

The place was already packed with warriors. As soon as Tigran, surrounded by subordinates, caught sight of the prince, he hurried towards him, bowing his head respectfully. Kshayarsha embraced his old friend cheerfully.

"Your father and I expected you in the evening. How did you manage to get here from the Lake Region so soon?" the prince set his hand on the young Haik's shoulder, looking down at him.

Tigran was a fairly tall man, but he only reached Kshayarsha's jaw.

"As soon as we received Great Darayawahush's order, I started out with the army at once."

Both men headed for the satrap's residence, but Tigran the Senior met them half-way with a fatherly greeting and then led them to the council hall.

The second center of the Armina Satrapy was located in the main fortress of the lake region, Rushahinili. Only after thoroughly questioning his son about the situation there did Tigran get to the main topic.

"Great Darayawahush has not moved the Arminian troops from the place of their dislocation for over twenty years. The Sunki seems to have a serious reason for it if he is sending the two of you to Sardis."

Kshayarsha and Tigran the Junior had not yet even seen real battles. Neither had they been witness to bloody insurrections. The appearance of any serious problems in the Empire seemed impossible to the young, inexperienced men. Being nineteen years old, Kshayarsha's high position could only be explained by his being a prince. Tigran-Junior was not much older either. Marduniya, whose army was deployed in Cappadocia, also owed his high rank to being the king's nephew. It was no surprise to the satrap that the young commanders were sent to the western frontiers. It was necessary for them to take part in battles under the leadership of the knowledgeable Irdapirna. The clever king would not miss the slightest opportunity to give his favorite son and his friends a chance to partake in the war. The satrap of Armina was more worried about Baghabaksha the Senior being mentioned in the king's letter. Darayawahush would not bother his aging old friend by sending him to Lydia only to suppress an insignificant misunderstanding. Baghabaksha had accompanied Great Darayawahush during the Scythian war. This was why it was no surprise that no one understood the circumstances in Macedonia, Thrace and Phrygia among the Persian nobles better than Baghabaksha and Utana. Although, there was one other among the king's courtiers, the Greek counselor, Histiaeos by name, who knew the west coast like the back of his hand, but the satrap of Armina did not trust the king's Milertian advisor.

The prince and Tigran-Junior were looking forward joyfully to going to Sardis and getting this rare chance to fight as any young person would, but they did not take the situation created there seriously.

"My uncle, after his defeat at Naxos, has taken such a beating to his pride, that until he takes revenge on the Yaunas, his restless soul will have no peace." Kshayarsha was lightly drumming his long, slender fingers, nails polished, on the table.

The satrap secretly surveyed the young man. The almond-eyed prince, with soft shining black curls falling to his shoulders, was wrapped in a white silk robe. He wore no tunic, instead his neck, arms and hips were swathed in precious jewels. His long muscled calves, wrapped in Egyptian sandals showed through the slits in the side of his robe. Tigran's stolen glance caused Kshayarsha to smile inside. He was well aware of his rare beauty and took great care of retaining his name as the most striking man in all of Persia.

The handsome prince's stealthy, almost femininely enticing and refined movements left an impression of a flamboyant youth, born only for love and tenderness; but that could not have been farther from the truth. Tigran was not so easily fooled. In his poised fingers, dancing on the table, the satrap rather saw a leopard on a hunt, getting ready for a deadly leap, then a womanly gentle, spoiled softy-man.

"The worthy Irdapirna has a powerful garrison of Sardis and all the army of Lydia. If he needs any help, he can summon the troops of Phrygia in the sunki's name. If this is the case, why did the Great Darayawahush decide to send the detachments of Cappadocia and Armina to Sardis?" the Satrap of Armina asked more to himself than the young commanders in front of him.

"Perhaps it was Histiaeos who advised the king to start some new foolishness," smirked the prince.

This boy knows more about state matters than one would expect, the satrap thought to himself.

It was Histiaeos and his brother-in-law, the tyrant of Miletos, Aristagoras, who two years ago encouraged Darayawahush to send two hundred triremes, headed by Meyashdnish, to the island of Naxos. Aristagoras himself stood at the head of this battle. The Persian and Ionian alliance was suddenly and unexpectedly defeated. Most courtiers blamed the Greeks, although rumor had it in the palace that Meyashdnish was also somehow involved in these dark affairs.

So many strange and contradictory rumors came to the capitals of the Empire from the west, that it became increasingly difficult to distinguish the truth from dirty insinuations. But one thing was clear: fearing severe punishment for his defeat in Naxos, Aristagoras had betrayed Persia and Miletos had declared democracy on his lands the previous summer. This was all very important to the satrapy of Lydia, but from the Empire's point of view, it was no more than a local problem that needed to be solved locally. The prince wouldn't even have been informed of it, but it so happened that Marduniya had arrived in Susa to visit his wife to be and heard the news. He had intended to stay in the capital for some time, but the Great Darayawahush had other plans. The king, worried by the events in Ionia, sent his future son-in-law back to Cappadocia. Marduniya had no choice but to obey the king's order and went northwards. On the way he called on Kshayarsha, encamped in Melitene, and told him of the news on the Aegean coast.

"I don't expect anything good for Persia from that Yauna counselor either," the satrap unintentionally smiled at the words of the prince, "but I don't think that Great Darayawahush would act on other's biddings. The Sunki must feel danger himself since he is sending forces to the west from other satrapies."

"Who are the Greeks, when even we, Haiks, are afraid of the mighty Persian army? What would the Ionians dare do? You have had many chances to show your bravery, Father, now our turn has come. It seems Great Darayawahush wants to test our swords in battle. That is that!" young Tigran exclaimed.

The satrap of Armina was alarmed by his son's joke. As for Kshayarsha, his white teeth flashed in a smile on his bronze face. The prince knew every joke contained some truth, and it was true that the Persian Empire was standing on the savage fear of its vassals not ephemeral friendships.

"We will start for Lydia tomorrow; Marduniya will join us on the way, and in a month or two, we ourselves will see whether there is any reason for fear in Ionia," Kshayarsha rose to his feet. "You need rest, Tigran, and I too have my own affairs to settle."

The young commanders took leave of the satrap and went out into the courtyard.

"Why don't I see Baghabaksha, my Prince?" Tigran looked around curiously.

"He has been looking for Anahita's temple for two days," Kshayarsha laughed. "Your people have told him that here, they worship the goddess of fertility in such a manner, that we would not have dreamed of it in our Anshan and Mada. What more would that crazy Bagha need? It's the second day now that he's been searching for that astounding temple, but he hasn't found any trace so far."

"We do have a temple of Anahit here, but the one that Zopyrush's son is looking for is in Sophene. I myself visited the mountain temple there two years ago. Words can't describe to you what it's like! Ask Marduniya, he must know it better."

Smiling, Tigran bid the prince goodnight, bringing the palm of his hand to his lips as a sign of respect. Kshayarsha also made for his quarters.

At dawn, Kshayarsha and Tigran's troops started for the town of Hatushash in Cappadocia. The road passed through Sophene. The local Arminians called this place Tsopka. Long ago, this wide highway, reaching from Erebuni to Melitene had been laid down by Assyrian kings. The Persians supplied it with water and places for rest called pirradazish. In case of an emergency, a skilled rider could pass this distance in two days' time, if he made use of the pirradazishes. Messengers of the kings and satraps would always find fresh horses there. In order to deliver urgent orders, riders on duty replaced one another at the Pirradazishes, riding day and night. Neither snow nor frost, heat nor drought could prevent them from doing their duty.

Kshayarsha and Tigran's troops moved much slower. It took them ten days to reach Melitene. The rainy spring weather was upon them, so the prince decided to give his army a two days rest on the shore of the Euphrates River. They set up camp to the southeast of the town. Fortunately, the weather had cleared up. The warriors built fires, dried their clothes, had supper and readied themselves for the night.

A full moon was shining so brightly in the star studded sky that, beside the cold, there was no need for the fires. The prince, wrapped in furs, popped his head out of the tent and peered around. Nearby, Tigran and Baghabaksha, also wrapped in furs, sat by a fire together with the other young commanders, warming their hands and arguing loudly amongst themselves.

Now Kshayarsha regretted having sent all three of his mistresses to Susa so early. He had no desire of sitting under the open sky with commoners, but growing bored in the tent all alone, he went out and headed for the nearby warriors who warmed themselves by the fire. Spotting the prince approaching, the men leapt to their feet, but Kshayarsha motioned for them to sit and found a place among them.

"How cold it is in these parts," the prince said, rubbing his hands. "Who would even think of warming himself by the fire in Shushan at this time of year?"

"It is an uncommonly cold spring. Usually it is not so cold here," one of the warriors explained.

He was the oldest among the present there, though this man was no match for the young commanders by rank or descent.

"Wait, I'll warm you up so that you'll forget you were ever cold," the grey-haired man lifted the big pot sitting in the fire and poured out steaming hot black wine into Phialaes and handed them to the cohort.

The semi-sweet drink filled the prince's entire body as if it had been poured into his veins. The feeling of cold soon disappeared. One phialae was followed by another, then another. . . Soon the slightly tipsy warriors forgot they were in the prince's company and resumed their bold argument.

"Anahita is our goddess," the heated Baghabaksha bickered with the youngster sitting beside him. "You Armenians stole her from us. We, all of Persia, worship her, the goddess of fertility, for good crops and many children. And you here, tell me tales. We have passed through all of Sophene already and I haven't noticed anything extraordinary."

"What should you have seen? And where should you have seen it?" the lanky Armenian warrior would not surrender. "I haven't told you that people offer sacrifices to the Great Goddess on roadsides or in the streets of towns!" the young man's eyes were twinkling impishly. "There is one ancient temple in these mountains. The locals believe that if a virgin offers her chastity to the goddess of fertility in this temple, Anahit will reward her handsomely. She will be granted many children and her husband will be the most blissful man. You would not find a better wife and mother than such a woman in the whole country!"

"For the mother, I can't vouch, but as for the wife, you are right!" the grey-haired warrior agreed with a smirk. "After all the experience from the temple, she will serve her husband splendidly!"

At hearing this, the men sitting around the fire burst into merry laughter.

"Tigran, is what they speak of true?" Kshayarsha asked in bewilderment.

"I myself have also been in that temple. The women serving there are true enchantresses. They have men-servants also, to offer Anahit the girls' chastity as a sacrifice," Tigran laughed.

"Come again?" the prince remained astonished. "Is it not possible for you to offer the chastity of your wives and mistresses as a sacrifice to the great goddess yourself?"

"I always serve my women myself," Tigran answered, grinning.

"Are the servants of the temple the only ones who take the virgins' chastity in this place?" Kshayarsha grew curious.

"No, many virgins are there for the worshippers. However, the men who request their service must pay a great deal of money to the temple treasury."

"What a great way of earning money the temple servants have thought of," the prince smiled.

"My father is deeply against such temples. He says that the Haiks never had such a custom till now. All this was brought by the wanderers from beyond the Hindu River. They founded this custom. He even sought to use the Empire's forces against them, but you know Persia does not interfere in the religious affairs of satrapies. Here, around Erebuni, we serve Anahit as you do in Shushan."

"What a remarkable story!" Kshayarsha's eyes grew wide. "Is there a temple of this kind nearby?" The prince looked at the cohort sitting around the fire curiously.

"Of course, there is. It's in the mountains. On the night of the full moon, special ritual sacrifices take place in the temple, but venturing there on these days is quite expensive," a young Armenian, sitting beside Baghabaksha, answered anxious.

"Then what are we sitting here for? We shall depart at once, all of us!" The prince sprang to his feet, heading for the horses, slightly swaying side to side.

"Come on, Kshayarsha. Where shall we go? We don't even know the way to the temple!" Tigran blocked the drunken prince's path.

"How dare you argue with the future Sunki!" The enraged Baghabaksha attacked Tigran in his usual way. "As for the directions, this gawk here knows them!" he said, catching hold of the young Armenian's arm, sitting beside him; then barely rose to his feet and followed Kshayarsha, staggering together with the baffled Haik warrior.

"The prince said all of us should go!" the graying Persian man murmured and followed the youngsters.

Their camp site was not too far from the temple, but going on horseback was possible for only a short distance; after that point they had to make it up a steep mountain path on foot. The biting cold and all the rock climbing sobered up the adventure seekers. Kshayarsha, already regretted his decision, but being unaccustomed to breaking his word, continued dragging himself up the steep slopes of the mountain valiantly. As for Baghabaksha, he was climbing hurriedly and with growing enthusiasm, ready to see the renowned temple. Tigran had spotted the Immortal guards following them some time ago. He knew the king would be told of this little adventure and sooner or later reach the satrap of Armina's ears. The young Haik felt a pang of guilt for going there.

At last the ascent was over, and the noblemen, drenched in mud, found themselves in an open meadow. The full moon illuminated everything, making the surroundings clear to the newcomers. Another precipitous rock rose before them. If it had not been for the steps engraved in it, climbing would have been impossible. They noticed several strangers in the meadow as well, two rather unattractive girls among them.

"Bagha, if I, the prince of Persia, climbed up to this height, to serve these girls, mind, you will not survive!" Kshayarsha uttered a threat, looking at his muddy clothes with disgust. "The temple should pay me, and in gold talents at that."

Upon hearing mention of money, Baghabaksha's spirits were crushed.

"Kshayarsha, I haven't brought my handbag."

"I did not tear my way through rock and mud for nothing! It does not matter, we will pay somehow!" the prince responded.

At last they reached the top of the mountain. At the entrance they were greeted by beautifully dressed servant-girls. Their pleasant looks lightened the prince's mood a bit. The girls bowed their heads to the ground, and handed a silver tray to them.

"Five gold darics per person, noble guests."

The sum astonished even Kshayarsha. One gold daric could buy a big ox and here five men were asked to pay twenty-five darics. The prince never had any money on him. Baghabaksha already admitted that he had forgotten to take his handbag, and Tigran did not have a habit of carrying purses full of gold in the skirts of his army attire either. As for the other two warriors, it would be a waste of time to even ask. After some hesitation, Kshayarsha took off a gold necklace and placed it on the tray. Seeing the ornament studded with precious stones, the girls looked at one another in astonishment. A bull's head was chased on the medallion and a winged disc of the sun looked down at the ox from above.

The girls led the late visitors into the temple. Prayers were already over the large hall darkened. The intoxicating scent of incense, offered to Anahita as a sacrifice, caused giddiness in the weary travelers who had come in from the cool spring night of the mountain. The walls of the hall were painted with fruit orchards and flowers. Bronze maidens were holding blazing torches along the walls. I have never seen such beautiful candelabrum. Kshayarsha was charmed by the statues. At the end of the hall an even more beautiful gold statue of the goddess, arms widespread, stood on a pedestal. Water streamed from her fingers and fell into a gold fountain, creating a soft musical sound. In front of it, on a silver alter, precious incense, brought from the distant Punjab, was burning slowly. The place was overrun with Anahita's worshippers.

Kshayarsha examined the place with curiosity. In this richly decorated temple he did not set his eyes on anything that resembled the stories he had heard sitting by the fire. Baghabaksha's face expressed obvious discontent, and he was frowning at the lanky Haik warrior who had led them here from afar. Seeing this, Tigran was smiling to himself.

Some time later, the servant girls took their late guests in different directions. Kshayarsha found himself in a comparatively small room after the stuffy hall. A slight wind began to blow from somewhere, and the prince was finally able to take a breath. In one corner, sitting on a decorative sofa, there was a woman of about thirty, half-naked and with painted eyes. At the other end of the room, on a raised pedestal, sat a naked maiden of extraordinary beauty. Adorned with jewels, she watched the handsome giant, eyes filled with wonder and admiration but Kshayarsha's attention was conquered more by the bright coloring of the wall, than the women. Various strange scenes of human copulation were depicted on the wall.

And this is a temple! The prince was incredulous.

The servant brought Kshayarsha to the older one. The beautiful woman, impressed at the man's height, was unable to utter a word for some time. Then coming to her senses at last, she asked quite an unexpected question of the prince:

"My handsome giant, is it the first night for you, glorifying Anahit's deeds?"

Kshayarsha who already had a wife, about fifty mistresses, three legitimate children and about a hundred illegitimate ones had never been openly called a giant by anyone but Bagha before. But the woman was smiling so sweetly that the prince felt no anger and answered:

"No, my beauty."

"I was afraid it would be so," the woman said sadly. "Why have you come here tonight? Would you like to have a virgin, to share your experience with the servant girls here, or would you like to learn something from the magnificent Anahit yourself?"

Kshayarsha thought to himself, Who can teach me anything on this matter?

Remembering the girls he had met outside, he was afraid to ask for a virgin. He did not want to share his experience with the servant girls either, and in general, he preferred to wrap himself in his furs in his cold nomadic tent, but he had no way out, he had to make his choice.

"I want this one," the prince pointed at the girl awkwardly ensconced on the pedestal.

The woman laughed.

"Unfortunately, we cannot grant you this one, My Lord. This girl is to become a chief servant of the temple. Therefore she should remain chaste till her time comes."

The man was surprised by her answer.

"How long has this girl been here?"

"Soon it will be a year."

"And how long should she sit on that pedestal?"

"As long as it is necessary."

"Who decides how long is necessary?"

"Goddess Anahit herself."

"I wonder how the great goddess will let you know her decision."

"That is our business, My Lord!" The handsome giant's curiosity began to irritate the woman.

Suddenly a male, naked waist up, entered the room, and whispered in the servant's ear. The woman's expression swiftly changed.

The appearance of the strange man worsened the prince's already bad mood. He was ready to leave the place at once. Fortunately, the man disappeared soon. The pretty woman stood and approached the prince.

"Would you mind if I choose a virgin for you myself?" Almost frosty two minutes before, the servant's tone became as sweet as honey.

The young man noticed the change in the woman's behavior at once, and nodded his head in agreement.

"Will the presence of the future servant of the temple be a bother, handsome one?"

Even a whole army of beautiful women could not prevent Kshayarsha from making love. Therefore, the girl, ensconced on the pedestal, remained in her place and the elder one left the room swaying her hips playfully.

Some time later a pretty, fair haired girl, noiselessly slid into the chamber and sat down at the young man's feet. The prince liked her and easily sacrificed the girl's chastity to Anahita. Kshayarsha, being in the mood, was about to take the girl again, when unexpectedly two boys entered and whisked the young woman out of the room. Astounded and disappointed, the prince turned to the witness on the pedestal with a questioning face.

"You yourself wished to have a virgin, and one who is not a virgin anymore does not belong to you," the girl explained to him, laughing.

Soon a new virgin was brought in, followed by another and another.

"How well Anahita's servants have arranged their business! I better teach my eunuchs this too," the prince thought, heated with excitement, and embraced the third girl gently.

He wondered how long he would be able to cope with the invasion of Great Anahita's virgins. Suddenly, something unexpected happened: he had not even rightly begun his usual activities with the third girl, when she shrieked desperately. The experienced prince was used to virgins' screams, but this shrill sound still frightened him. The man released the maiden for a time, and then attempted to resume what he had started. Screaming once more, the girl made an effort to struggle and fell unconscious. The servants, appearing from nowhere, rushed in at once and removed the victim from under the prince, struck with astonishment.

What was that? The prince sat up on the mat.

A moment or two later the older woman with painted eyes reentered the room.

"Would you like to have another girl brought to you?" The beauty inquired softly.

"What happened, what's wrong with the girl?" he answered her question with another.

"Oh, don't worry about it, such things don't happen very often, but they sometimes do. This girl seems to be too fragile for a giant like you," the voluptuous servant shamelessly stroked the muscular prince's thigh. Kshayarsha, accustomed to seeing women interested in his body, did not pay attention to the servants' touch and went on asking about the girl.

"What will happen to her now, will she remain a virgin forever?"

"How would she be a virgin after you," laughed the woman, "but I can't lie and tell you that you have prepared her for love either. Don't worry about it. We have Anahita's man servant, who is so skilled that he will arrange everything. First he will prepare this delicate girl properly, than teach her things that will make her a real witch of love. Such women are a great rarity and she will be accordingly appreciated in the temple. Had we left her with you, you might have even killed her. Unfortunately that has happened too."

The woman, familiar in the affairs of the temple, returned to her question:

"Shall we bring you another virgin?"

Kshayarsha was unwilling to admit it, but he had no other way out. Therefore he answered her frankly:

"No, my pretty one, I'm afraid I don't want anything more today." The shamed young man hung his head in embarrassment.

"Oh, you know your abilities so poorly, my handsome Prince!"

"You know who I am?" The prince was surprised.

"Princes of Persia don't visit the temple of Love often, my handsome young giant! We couldn't have missed it," the woman smiled seductively at him then added. "Would you like me to show you your true aptitude?"

I was mistaken, I should have requested for a servant woman first! Kshayarsha thought to himself, and surrendered his person to the woman.

The girl, sitting on the pedestal, watched everything with great interest.

That night the servant of love taught the prince so many things, and revealed such secrets of his abilities that, at daybreak, Kshayarsha was barely able to drag himself down the hill again and, at its foot, could scarcely mount his horse. The guards, hidden nearby, were compelled to leave their hiding place and carry the prince's limp body back to camp.

Kshayarsha slept like a log in his tent till the next morning. At dawn the camp broke up, passed through the heavily guarded gate of Melitene, crossed the Euphrates River and headed for Cappadocia.

As for the temple of Love, its future chief servant unexpectedly disappeared.

The Haiks had been moving swiftly west for several days now. It was evening. The bright rays of the setting sun shone in the eyes of the warriors, blinding them, then hiding behind the horizon cravenly. A little more and darkness would wash over the land but the commanders gave no orders to set up camp yet. Soon Hatushash would appear and they would spend the night under the roof of the ever so hospitable Marduniya.

Tired from the long day's ride, Baghabaksha and Tigran were swaying atop their horses on either side of Kshayarsha. The Persian nobleman pulled his turban over his eyes, crinkling his wide nose in an attempt of avoiding the sun, and the young Arminian shaded his handsome face with his hand. As for the prince, he hid behind his thick lashes and let his horse move as it liked, not bothering to watch the road.

"Could you tell me what you didn't like in Anahita's temple? The way you were honored... We received nothing of that kind, and still we were greatly pleased," Bagha would not leave the prince alone.

"What was there to like? Judge for yourself," Kshayarsha thought for some time, and then went on. "It is like this: you attack a country, wage war, win a victory, and then you don't levy contribution on the defeated, don't take anything with you, don't leave a satrap loyal to you and go back at once."

"What has that got to do with it?" Zopyrush's son spread his arms as a sign of protest. "Three virgins, doesn't mean anything? And the temple servant on top of it all!"

"What do you need three virgins for, if you only gave and got nothing in return? Their chastity belongs to Anahita," Kshayarsha waved his hand. "Everything begins afterwards! When you please the woman and she returns the same kindness - that is quite different! What do you know about love, you gawk. You're as inexperienced as a virgin," he smacked his friend's turban jokingly. "The servant woman! The servant woman belongs to everybody, and a mistress must belong only to you!"

"And how will you please the conquered countries, future Sunki?" Tigran, who had not yet taken part in the conversation, asked the prince, bowing so low, he nearly fell off his horse.

For a second, sinister sparks flashed through Kshayarsha's eyes, but it lasted only a second. Smiling once more, the prince, spread his arms merrily, presenting the surrounding country.

"Look, this is Cappadocia, once the powerful country of Hittite. We have already passed through the former Urartu; Assyria is over there. Ahead of us – are Lydia and many more countries, large and small. They all fought with each other before, demolishing and destroying everything. We, Persians, put an end to all that, stopped bloodshed and evil, built roads, made the countries prosperous. Haven't you read my Father's wise inscriptions? When you travel from Babylon to Ecbatana, make sure you pay attention to Great Darayawahush's words engraved in the cliffs! If you haven't understood anything yet, maybe then your eyes will be opened!" The prince raised his head proudly.

"Don't you two confuse women and countries!" Baghabaksha shouted.

"Why not? Women and foreign countries are very much alike; both need to be conquered first," Kshayarsha smirked.

"The palace is overflowing with those beautiful women of yours, and I doubt that you even remember most of their names! Is it not better to have a good time at Anahita's temple? Then the girl will become somebody's wife. The woman won't be wasted, and her husband will be grateful to you all his life, and you're not responsible for anything!" Baghabaksha sniggered roguishly.

Kshayarsha frowned at this. The prince wouldn't even like to consider giving somebody the mistresses he was already bored of.

"If a man is a man, he should take care of his women himself! Spending one night with me and then waiting all her life for that night to be repeated is better than lying in bed with some other man every night!"

"Boooo," Baghabaksha and Tigran howled in unison.

"What will you say of the temple servant, is she really different from other women?" the Armenian asked.

It was no secret to his friends that Kshayarsha had not waited for Anahita's permission and spent every night with the stolen girl since Melitene.

"Shazana is innocent like a child, and experienced like her temple," said Kshayarsha in a sing-song voice.

"How is that?" Baghabaksha was curious.

"Just so!" the prince smiled.

"I must also carry away a servant from one of Anahita's temples," concluded Baghabaksha.

The friends laughed at the envious words of the young man.

Far off to the west, the parasang long massive stone wall surrounding Hatushash slowly appeared. The riders spurred their horses and galloped in its direction. The troops also began to move faster.

The last rays of the sun caressed the tired earth warmly and the whole place was slowly embraced in the cool night blue. It would have been hard to make out the road in the dark, but it seemed the guards had noticed the army approaching in time and lit a signal fire on the watch tower.

Hatushash was one of the strongholds of Cappadocia. The wall of the city had three impenetrable gates: the Lions', the Sphinxes', and the Kings'. There was also a more than two plethron long secret tunnel under it. To enter Hatushash, the riders passed through the Sphinxes. Marduniya met them at the gate of the city. Gauparuva's son was a relative to all three young men and childhood friendship tied him to Kshayarsha and Bagha as well.

"Where have you been so long? I have been waiting for you for two days," Marduniya embraced the prince. Among Darayawahush's children, the young general loved Kshayarsha best. He did not hide this either, causing the irritation of the other princes. Mardynaya warmly greeted Baghabaksha and Tigran too.

"Is there any news from Sardis?" Kshayarsha asked.

"Yes, I'll tell you everything in detail over supper." Marduniya led the exhausted riders to his palace.

The young men mounted their horses again and rode along the dark streets of the city.

The shortest way to the residence of Cappadocia's commander-in-chief passed through ominous old ruins. The remaining temple walls of the god of thunder, built in a time long forgotten and destroyed about seven hundred years ago, silently spoke of the past grandeur of Hatushash. The building was so big that it itself looked like a small town. The riders left the old ruins behind and headed for the palace the small hill.

"We have news from both Sardis and Parsa. Your grandfather has been here for two days now," Marduniya glanced at Baghabaksha. "So along with your nourishing meal, the grumblings of an old lion await you."

Darayawahush's old companion-in-arms, the hero of many battles, the most appreciated man in the entire Persian Empire, victorious Baghabaksha was sitting at the table alone. The warrior, of about seventy, had lowered his grey head, lost in thought. At seeing the young men enter the room, the old man did not move. A worthy member of the famous Seven of the Empire, he only rose to his feet for the king. Even the experienced generals of the Persian army treated him with respect. The young noblemen, entering the hall, understood at once that although they were commanders of their own detachments, it would be the sturdy old man who would lead the Persian army from that day on. Kshayarsha and his companions approached the Senior Baghabaksha and greeted him respectfully with their heads bowed but the old man didn't return it quite so warmly.

"What has delayed you so long?"

"It had been raining without end till we reached Cappadocia, and I allowed the spada to rest at Melitene for two days," Kshayarsha seemed irritated by the old man's rudeness.

Baghabaksha motioned to the women serving at the table. They crept out of the room noiselessly.

"Two days is a lot in times of war," said the old man, furrowing his brows.

"But where is the war? Does it really matter whether we teach one island a lesson two days earlier or not?" Kshayarsha had the Island of Naxos in mind.

The prince knew that the old general was right, but he was not going to yield his Achaemenid supreme rights so easily. Kshayarsha would not allow anyone to scold him like a little child either. His dark eyes stared boldly at his father's companion-in-arms, but the veteran nobleman had not come there to argue with the youth, so he got to the point at once.

"A messenger has come from Irdapirna. Things are a mess in Ionia," Baghabaksha looked at the young men. "No doubt you've heard of the fruitless warfare of the Miletian tyrant Aristagoras and the head of our fleet Meyashdnish on Naxos. This ungrateful Yauna who ruled over Miletos, all thanks to us, was not satisfied with the martial damage he inflicted on us, and now he openly betrayed us! Aristagoras renounced the title of a tyrant. The unthankful Yauna does not recognize the rights of Persia anymore and encourages others to rise against it!"

The young commanders were not greatly surprised at what they had heard. They knew it all without Baghabaksha's confirmation, and did not see real danger in the tyrant's insurrection either. Marduniya noticed that the prince did not want to join the conversation yet, and therefore expressed his opinions before Kshayarsha:

"Worthy Spadapatish, true, Miletos is a strong city, but it cannot be compared with Lydia's forces. As for the rest of the despoties, I don't think they'll dare to rise openly! Besides, they don't have any reason to do such a foolish thing."

"Don't be so sure, Marduniya. Many Greek towns have already gathered a large sum of dept to us. The seashore tyrannies each pay four hundred talents a year alongside Caria, Lydia and Pamphylia and they don't like it. They won't miss an opportunity to evade paying the tribute, even if only temporarily. Apart from that, the Greeks don't like the one-man rule of tyrannies; they dream of democracy! Aristagoras is a cunning man. He did not abdicate his tyrant's power for no reason. By this act of his he wants to make other towns go down the wrong path and engage them in his evil deeds! Some of them have already followed Miletos. Our spies have brought us disturbing news: the islanders in Mytilene of Lesbos stoned their tyrant, our loyal servant Coes. This can't be left unpunished! We must take urgent measures before it is too late! Irdapirna intends to attack Miletos and asks for backup forces. Great Darayawahush is sending the Phrygians. Sending you there is the Sunki's order as well. It's time you knew the taste of a real battle!" The old man smiled, ripped the leg off a roast fowl and began tearing the meat with his sparse yellow teeth so that he didn't even remember the silver plate in front of him.

"When are we heading for Lydia?" the young Baghabaksha spoke up at last.

"Tomorrow morning, if your friend does not order us otherwise - that is! He is in charge here!"

Kshayarsha didn't even arch a brow at the old man's insulting words. He sliced a piece of roast meat from his silver platter with a dagger and stabbing it up with his weapon, drove it to his mouth full of straight pearly white teeth. He washed the meat down with wine. All this time he had not taken his eyes off the old man. The silence stirring in the hall fell heavily upon their companion's shoulders. After a while, the clever host approached the prince, offering to take him to the room where he could rest. Kshayarsha rose calmly. Tigran followed them at once.

"You can congratulate me, Kshayarsha. The Sunki appointed the wedding day of Ardushnamuya and I!" Marduniya, who usually couldn't be blamed for being blunt, shared his happiness with his friend with a shy smile.

"You won't get through this without a proper feast, Spadapatish!" The prince embraced the blushing friend and hugged him warmly.

Fierce and bold in all other matters, how Marduniya managed to retain such innocence in love affairs was unfathomable to Kshayarsha. Still, the prince could not wish for a better husband to his little sister.

Marduniya and Tigran walked down the labyrinths of dark passageways, talking in undertones, while Kshayarsha went into his bedroom, where the servant-girl of Anahita's temple was already waiting for the prince in bed.

Baghabaksha, left alone with his grandson, stared at Kshayarsha's empty seat.

Is this dolled up, careless boy to be our future Sunki? the old man thought, pained. Then glancing at his disheveled grandson his spirits drooped still more.

No, Darayawahush and I were never like them. The old commander hung his head regretfully.

# Chapter 6

Sardis, Upraising of Ionia

By the time the Haik detachment arrived in Phrygia, the satrapy's army under Artavazda's leadership had already left for Sardis. Only the satrap had stayed with his powerful garrison. He was the one who informed Kshayarsha, Baghabaksha and Marduniya of the state of affairs when they came to his palace. Tigran and Baghabaksha Junior stayed with the army in the suburbs of the city.

"Irdapirna is in a hurry. He has requested our aid. Artavazda had headed out to Sardis two days ago." The Phrygian swept his small lively eyes over the commanders at the table.

"I have long known the satrap of Lydia. Irdapirna does naught without reason! Do you know something?" Old Baghabaksha shifted his piercing gaze from his hands to the satrap.

"Our spies have brought news. Aristagoras has visited Sparta this past summer, then he left for Athens. Now he is in Miletos. This we know for certain. Irdapirna wants to be one step ahead of the Greeks and punish Miletos and its ringleader before things get out of hand. The satrap fears that if we do not act in time, things will worsen until a great war will be inevitable!" the Phrygian replied but Marduniya was not convinced.

"Out of the two Spartan kings, at least one is faithful to us. As for Athens, she herself has offered 'Earth and Water' to Persia. I don't think they would dare oppose the Empire."

"Many years have passed since then. The ruler of Athens has changed three times. Their noblemen, when going to bed, don't know where they will awake the next day. How can we trust such people?" Baghabaksha didn't agree with the young general.

"There must be something else pressing my uncle to hurry so," Kshayarsha thought out loud.

"That is all they told me. Soon you will be in Lydia and will learn everything for yourself," the satrap of Phrygia made it clear that he had nothing more to add.

"Then we shall start at dawn," the old Baghabaksha concluded.

"No, we leave now! It is a long way to Sardis. Since my uncle is in such a rush, we must be swift as well. The sun is directly above us. We should be able to cover a long distance before nightfall. From now on, we shall avoid the cities, and not waste time on tenting. Those among the Immortals who have brought their servants and paramours must leave them here! The commanders must always stay with their detachment. Baghabaksha, you will accompany me! Well, let's go!" Kshayarsha stood and quickly left the hall.

The old courtier stood with his withered mouth agape. He didn't expect the young prince to reveal such steadiness and self confidence.

Marduniya smiled to himself. Unlike old Baghabagsha he was well aware of his friend's character. The prince was raised in the camp of the Immortals after all and would surely never surrender his superiority to the veteran his father sent as just an advisor.

With no rest the troops were driven to the west. The old commander, riding beside the prince, couldn't hold it in much longer and asked:

"Still, what made you come to such a prompt decision? What news did the satrap bring that made you hurry so?"

"Nothing," the prince paused, "the satrap said nothing, almost nothing, honorable Baghabaksha. And yet, have you observed the people in the city? They don't look anything like the careless inhabitants of Hatushash or Melitene at all! Here even the air weighs upon your shoulders. My instincts have never betrayed me, Spadapatish, we must hurry!" Kshayarsha spurred his horse forward to the head of the cavalry.

Baghabaksha's gaze followed the young prince. There were no signs left of the spoiled child he was last night. One could only distinguish Kshayarsha from the Immortals due to his unusual height. The prince wore his chainmail on over the rough martial uniform. His soft, gleaming raven hair was hidden under a hat, his bow and arrows hung on his back as well as his shield, his sword, studded with precious stones, and a short spear, heavy-laden with a carved golden apple, were fixed in the belt at his back as well. Kshayarsha rode with unexpected agility for his huge size.

Marduniya passed the old man, catching his eye.

"Our prince is a true warrior, Spadapatish!" the young commander declared proudly.

"I think you are right!" Baghabaksha agreed.

Meanwhile, in Lydia major events were taking place. Aristagoras of Miletos had failed to persuade King Cleomenes of Sparta to wage war against Persia. Lacedaemon was buried in domestic conflicts with Peloponnesian neighbors and simply had no time left for anyone else. Aristagoras was luckier in Athens. Acquiring twenty five fighting ships from them, he sailed for Ionia. Though not great, these forces were enough to start an uprising.

The Greeks gathered for a counsel in Panionion. It was the first time the Hellens tried to unite and act coordinately. They even introduced a new monetary standard to make it easier to pay the troops and cover all the war expenses. The basis of the revolt was well prepared.

Aristagoras himself stayed in Miletos leaving his brother Charopinos and a respectable citizen, Hermophantos, as troop commanders. Soon the ships, full of Athenian and Miletian warriors reached Ephesos. By size and strength, Ephesos was second after Miletos among the Ionian cities. The rebels left the ships in Coresos and continued their way to Sardis on land. Their Ephesian allies served as guides. The Greeks followed the river Caister, crossed the Tmolos mountain range and at dawn sprung a surprise attack on Sardis.

The satrapy's capital was utterly unprepared for the strike. The troops of Lydia and Phrygia had already been sent by Irdapirna to wage war against Miletos. Sardis was left with a rather scanty garrison as its defense. When informed of the Hellens attack, the experienced satrap weighed his chances, and locked himself in the citadel along with the soldiers, without even considering defenses for the suburbs. Sending messengers to his troops on the way to Miletos, ordering their immediate return was the only action he took.

While Irdapirna was planning to hide behind the citadel walls, the Greek commanders were hoping to take it by storm. Unfortunately for both parties, things did not play out as they had expected.

Seeing the defenseless city, the war hungry Hellens fell upon their prey. Instead of focusing on the garrison, the assailants sacked the city. Sardis, the capital of the Lydian satrapy, was famous for its wealth, being the center of many nations. Lydians, Syrians, Greeks, Persians, Hebrews, they all found it a place they could call home. The Hellens, blinded by greed, forgot their cause entirely and turned into marauders, sparing no one. The blood of innocent civilians flowed through the streets of Sardis. Most of the men were killed and the women and children fell victim to the senseless, unruly violence.

The situation worsened for the fated inhabitants when the pillagers set fire to buildings across the city. Most of the houses in Sardis were roofed with wicker, thus the tongues of flame easily burst out from one house to another, soon consuming the entire city.

Some of the Greeks started an attack on the citadel, but their efforts were in vain. Seeing his capital in flames, the enraged Irdapirna made a nearly suicidal decision: The Persians opened the citadel gates and a fairly large detachment of Lydians and Persians under the command of Daurish, the young son-in-law of King Darayawahush flooded the streets, barely making it in time to the center of the city.

The only place where man could still be found breathing was the heart of Sardis, the market place on the banks of the river Pactolos. A handful of miraculously surviving citizens huddled there. Some even jumped in the river and drowned, unable to think clearly with death looming over them. The Lydian and Persian warriors had nothing to lose. They attacked with such selflessness that the packs of pillagers scattering throughout the flaming city were taken aback. Soon rumors that Persian troops were drawing nearer from the east spread and the invaders, panic-stricken, fled towards the southern threshold of Sardis.

First seeing the smoke, then the flames lapping at the sky, the Cappadocian and Arminian troops hastily pressed on to the city. When they reached Sardis, the flames were already dying down. News of the coming reinforcements had reached the citadel. Leaning over the battlements, Irdapirna was straining to see the standards of the approaching army through the thick smoke.

"These must be the troops from Cappadocia and Armina! Almighty Ahura-Mazda must have hindered Kshayarsha and Marduniya just for this day!" Irdapirna cried joyfully.

Two days ago the satrap had been very angry with his nephew for being delayed.

"They scarcely have the opportunity to take part in battles and instead of flying to the scene, they rest on the way and dry their clothes!" Irdapirna's blood boiled as he read Baghabaksha's letter from Hatushash over and over again, still not believing his eyes. His old friend apologized for being overdue: the prince and the troops had gotten caught in the rain, so, they camped at the River Euphrates to dry off and rest – the letter explained. The news infuriated Irdapirna.

"What kind of warriors are they?!"

Ignoring King Darayawahush's request to send the prince to Miletos, the satrap decided not to wait for the tardy Kshayarsha and sent the troops of Lydia and Phrygia to punish Aristagoras without him.

Now Irdapirna viewed this incident differently. The satrap saw the hand of Ahura-Mazda in Kshayarsha's delay and thanked the Supreme God cordially.

"Blow the trumpets and fly my standards over the tower!" the heartened Irdapirna's cry rang through the citadel.

The warriors stationed on the wall ran to fulfill his orders at once.

"Ready yourselves for battle. We are leaving the citadel!" The satrap turned to the commanders.

The troops approaching Sardis heard the Persian battle trumpets blare.

"Irdapirna is in the citadel!" Baghabaksha shouted pointing to the flags flying over the stronghold. From time to time, the wind would blow the smoke away, revealing the citadel.

"Marduniya, take your horsemen around and attack from the south!" Kshayarsha ordered.

"Bagha, you advance from the north! Tigran and I will attack from here. We don't know what is happening inside yet. Someone will stumble upon the enemy and inform the rest of us by trumpet!" Then the prince turned to Baghabaksha the Elder and said, "Spadapatish, try to find a way to Irdapirna! If you succeed, lead us from there. Archers! Surround the city, let none escape alive! Everyone else, charge!" The prince drew his sword and disappeared into the smoking city.

In Sardis the nauseating smell of blood, smoke and burnt flesh filled the air. There was no way to keep a battle formation in such chaos. Units of five fighters, Persian pascadasapati, came in very handy. Small isolated fights continued until midnight. The overwhelmed Greeks ran to Ephesos. Some Athenians and Miletians managed to escape Sardis. The rest were cut off by Marduniya and Daurish and slaughtered.

The enemy was defeated, but nothing was left of Sardis aside from the citadel. The Greeks had even burnt the ancient temple of the goddess Kybebe. By nightfall the commanders gathered. The Persians had reached their boiling point.

"I have never witnessed such treachery!" sparks flew from Irdapirna's passionate eyes. "They couldn't reach the warriors so they nearly annihilate the civilians instead! They didn't even spear the Yaunas. They burned the whole city, even the Great Temple. This cannot be tolerated! We must retaliate immediately! I have already sent out messengers to the troops! I have ordered them to march straight to Ephesos without a backward glance!"

"And we must follow them immediately!" The wounded Kshayarsha sprang to his feet.

Marduniya immediately jumped to support his injured friend. The soot and blood stained commanders were a horrific sight to behold.

"No, I am in charge here, Kshayarsha! You obey my orders!" Irdapirna motioned his nephew to sit. "In such darkness no one can find the way to Tmolos, not even the Lydians. Besides, you could run into a trap. You are young; your blood boils hot in your veins, blinding you with rage. But I cannot give your life up so easily! The Yaunas won't get too far at night either. As we speak, they probably lay in wait for their pursuers. Let them wait. They will not have to wait for long. Tomorrow morning I shall lead you myself and we'll make those cowards wish they were never born! The garrison will stay here. As for you, Kshayarsha I shall send you my healer. Show him your wounds. You'll be needing that arm soon!" Irdapirna put his hands on his nephew's broad shoulders. "Now introduce your companions to me."

"You've already met Marduniya, uncle. This is Baghabaksha, the son of Zopyrush."

Bagha stepped forward, greeting the satrap of Lydia by bringing his hand to his lips.

"This is Tigran, your nephew, the satrap of Armina's son."

Tigran greeted his renowned uncle for the first time.

"This turned out to be a dreadful day for Sardis, but the perfect introduction to war! Mighty Ahura –Mazda has shown us manifestly that he is truly your protector! Now go and rest. Tomorrow morning we shall hunt down the traitors and slay them all! We'll take no prisoners!"

The fifty thousand Persian troops reached Ephesos in three days. Only twelve thousand Ionian, Athenian and Eretrian fighters gathered for the Greeks. The devastating Hellens, in hopes of saving the city, met their enemies outside its walls. The Persians were led by Irdapirna himself, the Greeks -- by Charopinos and Eualcides. On this bloody day, eight thousand Hellens and eighteen hundred Persians fell heroically on the battle field.

Irdapirna didn't burn the city, but the Persians didn't fall short of the Greeks in brutality. They were merciless. The terrible scene that lay before the young generals as they entered the city was overwhelming. The streets were covered with the dead and mutilated corpses. The conquering warriors were looting the homes. Like the Geeks, the Persians couldn't care less of their victim's origin; they brutally raped and murdered the women and children. When the defeaters were sated with the bloodshed, they herded young boys and girls at the city square to take as slaves.

Kshayarsha had never seen anything like this before. The prince wasn't known for being the sensitive type. The butchering of enemies on the battle field even evoked a heightened sense of ecstasy in the befitting heir of the bloodthirsty Darayawahush, but this senseless devastation was an entirely different matter. The overcast commander kept his eyes straight ahead as he swiftly rode to the citadel.

"This is war, Kshayarsha," Marduniya glanced sideways at his gloomy friend.

"I know," the prince said through clenched teeth.

According to an unwritten law, the city was given to the troops to plunder for three days and even Kshayarsha couldn't change that.

Suddenly a loud high-pitched piercing cry bustled from the side. Both riders instinctively turned their heads. They saw a small group of Lydians, one of them assaulting a howling Athenian boy from behind, while the others were waiting their turns, exchanging dirty smiles. The prince looked severely at the oppressors.

"The Athenians are so fond of such things!" the assailant laughed to Kshayarsha.

"They can't be compared to you, Lydians," the prince said to himself and spurred his horse onward.

The whole Empire was aware of the Lydians' love for boys.

"Local noblemen fill their palaces with handsome young men instead of beautiful women," Irdapirna spat.

"And their fat old men have set their oily eyes upon our boys," added Artavazda, head of the Phrygian troops.

Hearing such things nauseated Kshayarsha, but the chaos and horrors he beheld in Ephesos, surpassed all expectations...

Marduniya was barely able to keep up with the prince, riding full speed ahead. Suddenly, near the left battlement of the city, they saw a girl of roughly fourteen years running up the steps, pursued by three warriors. At the top of the wall, a fourth oppressor was squatting, waiting for his prey to appear. The poor girl hadn't noticed the enemy lying in wait and was running straight at him.

"I'll save her at least!" Kshayarsha decided firmly, jumping from his horse. He took the steps three at a time, pushed the pursuers aside with one sweep of his hand and was just about to grab the child when she turned back and saw the giant running at her. The poor victim cried desperately and jumped from the stairs. In the blink of an eye, before the prince could realize what had just happened, the child landed in front of Marduniya's horse, struck her head against a rock and died immediately. The gracious stallion shunned the bloody mess of the girl's brains and hair in disgust. The victim's frozen blue eyes stared at Kshayarsha with blame. The warrior from above looked down, shaking his head in discontent.

"You failed to catch her and made us loose too!" he growled and moved on in search for his next prey.

The prince felt suddenly ill.

Soon the king summoned Kshayarsha to Persepolis. The prince left Ionia, without even a backwards glance for eighteen years. Though, the events that took place on the shore of the Aegean did not pass without leaving scars on his incisive soul. After Ephesos, the same dream haunted him many nights: Kshayarsha stood in an unknown, misty mountain path, armed to the teeth. Ahead in the distance, as if wrapped in the sun's warm rays, a bright glow shimmered like an emerald. What was it? A sea or a green meadow spread across a mountainside? The prince was so enchanted by the vision, he wanted to leap right into the picture, but something held him there. He looked down and froze in a cold sweat at the ghastly sight: Kshayarsha stood knee deep in boiling blood, unable to take even one step...

There was nothing Kshayarsha didn't try. He asked the Magians to read sacred prayers and wore many talismans, but still couldn't do anything about it. The bloodcurdling vision troubled him from time to time for the rest of his life.

Heavily wounded in one of the battles, Marduniya was also soon sent to the Empire's capital. Ardushnamuya, fearful for her husband to be, met him halfway along with her future mother-in-law, Radushdukda. Near Besitme, the king's Arshtibara, Gauparuva, joined them as well. Marduniya was overjoyed at seeing his parents and his darling bride. He stayed in the Capital for quite some time, returning to the Aegean only after the suppression of the revolt.

After the collapse of Ephesos, the Athenians and Eretrians refused to support the upraising of Ionia any further and returned to their native lands. But that didn't save Athens from Great Darayawahush's rage. When informed of the burning of Sardis, the King of Kings was livid. Set on revenge, he ordered his servants to remind him three times a day of the burning of Sardis, in order for him not to let the ungrateful Hellens escape unpunished.

Meanwhile, left without confederates, the Ionians first sent their fleet North and spread the flames of revolt to Hellespont and Byzantion. Then they liberated the Thracian tribes, banished by the Persians to Asia and restored them back to their Motherland, causing serious problems for the Empire in the Thrace province too. Even this was not enough for them; they dragged the Carians in as well. Now danger hung over Egypt and Phoenicia. The conflict between the Greeks and Ionia could be transformed into a multi-ethnic war. The Persian Empire had to act quickly. King Darayawahush didn't hesitate.

The powerful and highly respected Aryanda, the satrap of Egypt was assassinated under the order of the king and replaced with a more trustworthy and less independent Pherendata. When their position in Egypt was strengthened, the Persians turned to the Greeks.

The Cilician commander Aritba attacked the island of Cypros first and restored the Persian power once more.

The hero of Sardis - Daurish, easily won back Hellespont, which had no desire to revolt to begin with. After the great battle on the banks of Marsias, he defeated Carians too, but unfortunately this victory came at the price of young Daurish's life.

The Ionian Greeks fought courageously but they lacked unity and discipline, suffering defeat after defeat. As soon as Aristagoras of Miletos saw that things were going badly, he fled to Thrace and there he met his death, but that didn't save his city. Miletos was the one punished with the most severity. After its defeat at Lade, the Persians ravaged the city mercilessly; the surviving inhabitants were imprisoned and exiled to Elam.

The former Tyrant of Miletos, Histiaeos ended his life badly like his son-in-law, Aristagoras, as well. He was sent to Ionia as a counselor, but was accused of betrayal by Irdapirna after which, Histiaeos escaped to the sea and started pirating. The Persians' opinion of him was much divided. Some considered Histiaeos to be a faithful and worthy ally, while others, like Irdapirna, regarded him as a traitor. After the downfall of Miletos, the Persian general Arbaku captured Histiaeos. The satrap of Lidia, certain that his royal brother would set his friend free, took all responsibility as usual and executed the Greek traitor, then sent the embalmed head of Histiaeos to the king in Susa.

Darayawahush became furious. He didn't believe Histiaeos' betrayal and buried his head in Susa with great respect. The spiteful Sunki didn't make a big fuss of it but kept his resentment for his insolent brother deep in his heart.

Three years passed after the burning of Sardis. That spring, when Marduniya had recovered from his old wounds, he finally married his beloved Ardushnamuya and settled in his father's satrapy in Elam. The famous son of Radushdukda, the king's sister, and Gauparuva, the influential arshtibara of Darayawahush, now he had become the son-in-law of the king as well. In importance and power, among the young nobles, none could compare to Marduniya. Beside his noble kinship, God had also gifted him with outstanding talent and skill as a fighter. Peaceful and kind by nature, Marduniya, as fate would have it, became a Spadapatish of the powerful Persian army. King Darayawahush highly valued his son-in-law's rare qualities and instead of allowing him to stay with his beloved wife, sent the scarcely recovered Marduniya to Ionia once more.

This time, the supreme commander of Persia's western forces chose the shortest way to Ionia: first from Susa to Babylon, then to Tarsos, the capitol of Cilicia, and finally straight to Sardis. On the way to Babylon Marduniya visited Kshayarsha whom he hadn't seen for ages.

The prince was delighted to see his old friend. Marduniya was still moping about his fate. He didn't want to leave his young wife in Susa, but he couldn't bring her along either. Ardushnamuya was already with child and it was better for her to stay in the capital.

"You know, Mardone, I envy you a little," Kshayarsha confessed, "Thanks to your family and looks, beautiful women are always after you. But since my sister has grown up, you constantly try to be near her. I thought after you married her you would be cured, but you became even more attached. Tell me please, what is the secret with Ardushnamuya? She cannot come close to Amisiri in beauty and is not very clever either!" the prince smiled sadly. "What is your secret, can you let me in on it?"

Marduniya blushed and didn't know what to say. This tall, broad shouldered young man with light brown hair and soft hazel eyes was pleasing to look at. He was highly appreciated among the noble maidens of Persia. And the parents of those noble young ladies saw Marduniya as the perfect suitor for their daughters thanks to his noble descent as well. But he remained distant from everyone, blind to all except Ardushnamuya. This odd fellow didn't even keep his concubines around for too long. There was no secret to it, he simply loved his wife wholeheartedly and wasn't interested in anyone else. How could he explain this to the concubine loving Kshayarsha?

"You see, my friend, you are the prince of Persia and your heart is tremendous, truly worthy of your stature," he turned it into a joke. "So your heart can contain love for all women of the world. As for me," Marduniya put his hand on his breast, "here, I have room for only one, and Ardushnamuya has already occupied it!"

"Heart! No, not tremendous. I don't think I have a heart at all!" Kshayarsha thought to himself.

Beside physical pleasure, nothing bound him to his women. For this reason he replaced them often, still unable to fill the emptiness inside.

"With what mission is my father sending you off to Irdapirna?" the prince changed the subject.

"The Great Sunki wants me to find out how things are going in the cities of Ionia and strengthen our positions there," Marduniya answered.

Kshayarsha raised his eyebrows, "Does he send you as my uncle's advisor?"

"No! I am given the power to investigate everything myself and act on my own judgment!" The spadapatish extended his right hand to Kshayarsha. The king's seal shone on his forefinger.

"Yes, I knew it! Father cannot forgive my uncle for the death of his beloved friend! Nor would I! The beheading of Histiaeos may very well cause Irdapirna the loss of Lydia. During the rebellion, his willful elder brother was as vital as the air we breathe to father. Now I'm sure he will replace him with Irdapirna the Junior. There will be many dangerous undercurrents in Sardis. Be careful! Don't let yourself be caught in the middle of it! Irdapirna is one difficult old man to handle, even for me. Mardone, be wary! Don't let my uncle drag you down with him!"

"You are here with me, aren't you? You will help. I hope my little wife puts in a good word for me too!" Marduniya smiled at the prince hopefully.

Despite the near past, life stirred in Sardis even more so than before. When Marduniya arrived in Lydia, he found Irdapirna neck deep in state affairs. Following the advice of the Miletian historian and geographer Hecataeos, the satrap showed uncustomary mercy and forgave his former enemies. He called the surviving tyrants to his palace and warned:

"No more waging war against one another! From now on, all conflicts will be resolved through negotiation."

The satrap of Lydia also determined precisely the amount of tribute each town would pay.

The upraising of the Ionian cities was finally suppressed by the skillful and adroit Irdapirna. But ironically, after such a glorious victory the satrap of Lydia received a well prepared slap in the face by King Darayawahush. Young and full of energy, Marduniya was granted unlimited power over the Aegean. The newly appointed chief commander blew through Ionia like a morning breeze and committed unimaginable deed, establishing Democracy in the Greek cities. No one expected such an odd decision from a Persian man. Marduniya's brave and brilliantly calculated step stole the very reason for rebellion in the Ionian cities and peacefully reconciled the Greeks of Asia with the Empire for a long time to come. The era of tyrants was over.

After that, Marduniya travelled through Ionia, visiting every city. He observed all, studying it carefully, then ordered his servants to record the names of those with well cared for lands and after returning to Sardis replaced the local rulers with them. He dismissed the old nobility, appointing perhaps less noble but more efficient landowners. This event caused great turmoil in Sardis.

"Who does Marduniya think he is? A spadapatish or the overseer of Ionia? Has he got something mixed up?" The angered nobles ran to the Satrap of Lydia. But Marduniya still had his way.

"If these people can look after their lands so well, they would do a much better job looking after the cities," the young man insisted.

Even the very beacon of the old generation, Irdapirna, couldn't quite assess these innovations properly, or, maybe he had just grown irritated by the ever increasing power of the young spadapatish. Either way, the satrap of Lydia buried a grudge deep in his heart against Marduniya.

After abolishing the tyrants, the new head of the western armies sailed to Hellespont with three hundred triremes. There he was joined by twenty thousand warriors. Their first prey was Thasos isle, famous for its gold mines. Marduniya bound it to the Empire. Then he attacked Macedonia, reattaching it to Persia almost without a fight. Like this, Marduniya reached the banks of the river Danube. His victorious battles noticeably strengthened Persia's positions along the European coast. Such success earned the young commander a glorious name as well as many new powerful enemies.

But fate was not always kind to Marduniya. On their way back, near the mountain Athos, a northern storm inflicted such damage to his fleet that the commander himself barely survived the disaster. Lying in wait, Irdapirna wasted no time: the satrap of Lydia held the young commander fully responsible for the damage caused by the storm. As a consequence, Marduniya was called back to Susa. The guiltless general took this injustice very badly, though the saying 'there are two sides to a coin' held true in this case as well; Marduniya was finally given the rare opportunity to see his beloved family and live in peace for some time.

Datiya of Media and Irdapirna Junior were the new commanders of the western armies now. At last the Persians were able to conquer the Naxos Island, creating a buffer zone between Ionia and the European Greeks. They subjugated Euboea along with its capital Eretria as well.

There was one more task the Persians wished to fulfill: to return Hippias, the former tyrant of Athens to his old position, but proud Attica unexpectedly rejected this idea. The Greek army laid in wait at Marathon and utterly crushed The Persians. Spadapatish Datiya was killed in this battle.

King Darayawahush, already furious with the Athenians, was maddened by this defeat in Marathon. Despite the fact that Datiya and Irdapirna's campaign was rather successful, the king was displeased with the outcome and started preparations for the Great War against the Greeks.

Although, Macedonia, Thrace and the Aegean islands had already been conquered by the Empire, the Commanders who had been in Ionia knew that the upcoming war would be difficult to win. The Greeks' weapons and fighting ability were evidently superior to that of the Persians'. The only things the Greeks lacked were unity, discipline and experienced leadership, but that could easily be improved upon. The Hellens were getting stronger day by day. The impending war would be a hard one.

# Chapter 7

Capital of the Sun, Aia

Laden with luxurious presents, Dedalos himself visited Saurmag to fulfill the Kolchian king's request. The spoiled lowlander noblemen seldom visited the Svans, hence the attention shown by the king greatly pleased the chief. The eloquent courtier easily talked Saurmag into sending Mzysia to the royal palace.

The father knew that growing up at court would be very beneficial to his little girl. He was not worried about her safety. Even the king wouldn't dare look disrespectfully at the Svan chief's daughter. Besides, Aia wasn't very far and her family could visit Mzysia often.

The girl didn't take the news too well. Her brothers were also heart-broken, but what could they do? No one could make the chief go back on his word. Within a couple of days, Mzysia was sent off to Aia under Hadassah's care. Her father ordered a small detachment of armed horsemen to escort her.

Oh, what a beautiful sight befell the little mountaineer when she reached the lowlands. Never in her wildest dreams could Mzysia have ever imagined such open meadows, clad in fresh green grass and patches of flowers. The delighted child didn't know where to look, drowning Dedalos and Hadassah with her never-ending questions.

"What flower is this? What kind of fruit is that? Why does this bird jump and not fly?"

Most of all, the child was astonished by the people. What strange and beautiful clothing these women wore! And the men looked entirely different too. The sheer number of people astounded the daughter of the mountains. Tiny villages ran alongside the wide roads. One settlement ended and beyond the fields another appeared. Flocks of sheep were met at every step. From time to time, they even saw huge herds of cattle crossing the roads.

Evening fell, but the little girl wasn't the least bit tired. At night they sheltered themselves at a local nobleman's castle, continuing on their way at dawn. By midday, the heaving sea appeared on the horizon as a glittering line. Mzysia couldn't contain herself.

"So much water and of such an emerald green!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

Far to the south, some settlement appeared, slowly growing closer, and soon the pride of Kolchis, Dioskurias, flamboyantly spread out before the horsemen.

How charming the seaside cities were. And even among them, Dioskurias shone with a kinglike aura. It's tiny, splendidly decorated Palaces were interchanged by rows of shabby huts. Wide roadways were joined by narrow streets. In the sea, boats and larger ships swayed pleasantly among the waves. An astonishing scent hung in the air. Drunken with pleasure Mzysia greedily breathed it all in.

"It's the sea you smell," Dedalos guessed the reason behind her marvel.

"Who owns this village?" the girl asked naively.

"It's not a village, it's the city Dioskurias and it belongs to the Kolchis Kingdom and the Greeks."

"So it belongs to the king," the child concluded.

"Yes," the nobleman chuckled.

"Where did all these people come from?"

The city was overflowing with people. What race or nationalities could not be found there? Some on foot, some riding a horse or a donkey, some in carts, all were shouting their way through the crowded streets. When Mzysia caught sight of men painted black, the girl was utterly awe-struck...

"Look, nanny! Those creatures have taken that woman with her bed, and are carrying her off!" the girl was outraged.

"No, it's not a bed and no one's stealing her. Her father or husband must have made it especially for her. They don't want the lady to be tired. In order to shield her from the sun, they covered it and they hung curtains on all sides to protect her from wondering eyes," Dedalos explained with a smile.

"But, isn't it much better to ride a horse if you want to go somewhere?"

"You will grow up and enjoy such things too."

"No, I'll ride my horse!"

Dedalos didn't argue with the little lady.

"Where are we going?" Hadaassah asked.

"To a friend of mine, the richest man on this coast, Parmenides the Hellen."

The horsemen could hardly force their way through the streets to Parmenides' residence. The palace belonging to the head of the Greek Diaspora was gracefully raised upon the slope of a small hill. It was separated from the pebbled sea shore by a wide roadway. Steep, white marble stairs warmly lead the guests to the entrance, decorated by four gleaming Ionic columns. Beneath the heavy, refined door, the tremendous hall mesmerized the visitors with its elegant simplicity. Mzysia stepped cautiously on the polished floor, afraid to slip. The hall was lit with torches fixed on the walls. Along the sides, various man sized statues alternated with white columns reaching to the ceiling.

At the end of the hall, the graying host, dressed in blue chiton, ran down the stairs with golden banisters, and welcomed his visitors with a friendly smile.

"Worthy Dedalos, your presence at Dioskurias is always a great honor! To say the truth, we didn't expect you so soon. What hastened your visit to our domain?"

"I was sent to the Svans. I am honored by the task of bringing this little mountaineer Lady, Mzysia, to the Kolchis king. On the way, I decided to pay my old friend a visit. Besides, who would serve as a better host to weary travelers than you?" Dedalos responded, laughing.

The hospitality of Parmenides was renowned throughout the country. But this was not the only reason for the Surium nobleman's visit to Dioskurias and they both knew it. The Greek showed his guests the way to the inner rooms.

The servants set a regal feast without delay. The guests dined heartily and then Parmenides and Dedalos moved to the inner garden while Mzysia, Hadassah and the Greek servants went for a walk on the sea shore.

The Kolchis Kingdom was bound to the Hellenic seaside cities with a special relationship. These widely recognized trade centers, settled on the lands of Aia, practically existed independently. The city paid part of their profits in return for the king's guarantee of peaceful trade. From time to time both parties had some complaints, but as a rule, everything was resolved through negotiations. The noblemen often had private business in the Greek cities. Exactly such a private affair brought Dedalos to the palace of Parmenides that day.

Although most of Dedalos' income came from his vast lands, his partnership with Miletos added a fair share to his already immense wealth. At the royal palace of Aia, the Surium noble was one of the richest courtiers and felt no shame in investing in trade. For the last four years, due to the circumstances in Ionia, the majority of Kolchis merchants turned their backs to the Hellens, and directed their caravans to Susa and Babylon instead. The Greek sailors were at a great loss. No one wanted to do business with them. Dedalos had waited a whole year for two ships from Miletos, loaded with Egyptian papyrus in vain.

"The Persians razed Miletos to the ground. Some Byzantion merchants told us that any who survived were taken as slaves by those barbarians!" Parmenides wiped the sweat from his face. "Our merchants had turned the ships to Byblos and sold everything for mere trifles to the Phoenicians. In better times they would have tried to send a caravan to us by land, but nowadays, crossing through the Empire is very dangerous for Miletians. We are at a loss, but we are not completely ruined yet. The merchants are honest people. They will wait for a while in Phoenicia and think of something later. It cannot last forever. They say, in Ionia the war is coming to an end."

Dedalos greatly regretted having invested in such a risky business, but he could do nothing except wait for the next year and lay his hopes on the wisdom of the honest Miletian merchants.

The next day an unexpected surprise was waiting for Mzysia: A light two wheeled carriage was sent for the chief's daughter. Cappadocian stallions, with high shanks, were neighing impatiently. Mzysia didn't like the idea of traveling by carriage, but Dedalos had his way.

"You are already a member of the royal court, my little lady, and you must behave suitably!" the nobleman instructed the little mountaineer with a stern yet gentle voice.

Accompanied by Hadassah, Mzysia obediently took the carriage. She soon discovered the advantages of this new means of travel. The girl was spinning in her seat the whole way, constantly looking left and right. She could even turn back and watch everything behind them. The two day journey to Aia appeared to be pleasant and rewarding to Mzysia. The girl grew somewhat used to life in the lowlands and absorbed everything more calmly.

It was a warm summer evening, and the sun had long passed its zenith, when the small Svan detachment entered the capital through its Western gate. The streets of Aia were wrapped in a grey fog. Upon seeing the horsemen, the pedestrians scooted tightly against the walls, and the other horsemen they encountered in the streets shifted aside, politely giving the way to the guests. After the overcrowded, noisy and variegated Dioskurias, the Svans found Aia to be a calm and rather dull city. The open hearted politeness of the locals didn't go unnoticed by the grim mountaineers. The travelers passed the king's tremendous grey palace erected on the hill and headed to Dedalos' nephew, Rati's place. On the way, they crossed a stone bridge over the river Phasis. Mzysia had never seen such a bridge before. She liked it so much that she even asked to be allowed to cross it on foot.

The sun had long set by the time they approached the gate of Rati's house. A servant boy opened the door, inviting the guests in. The host and his wife greeted the company and kissed Dedalos. The young mistress warmly embraced Mzysia as well. The Svans dismounted, and the horses were taken to the stables along with the warriors by Rati's orders. The hosts led Dedalos, Mzysia and Hadassah to the hall.

"We have been waiting for you since morning, my uncle. What has delayed you?"

"We weren't in a hurry. I wanted Mzysia to get a good look at our lands. Didn't you like it Mzysia?"

The girl nodded smiling.

"We'll serve the supper right away," the hostess signaled to her servants.

"Thank you, Tatuli. Now I would like to talk to you, my nephew," Dedalos turned to Rati.

"Your wish is my command, uncle."

"You know the reason why I visited the Svans."

His nephew nodded.

"The chief accepted our proposal and sent his daughter with us. I'll have to introduce her to the king soon, but I don't want to rush it. Rati, let the child stay here with you for a while. Let her get used to this place. Then we can take her to the palace."

"We have already thought it through, my Lord," Rati's wife politely cut in. "We sent a man to Surium. We are awaiting Guranduht's arrival tomorrow. Mzysia needs someone her own age, doesn't she? Well, now she will have a friend in Aia."

At hearing this, Mzysia became all ears. Of course she needed a friend! She wanted nothing more than to play with a little girl her age. She had grown weary of being with adults for so long. Up to this minute, Mzysia's thoughts had been somewhere else. Now she paid close attention to the conversation.

"Yes, my Lord, my little sister will be here tomorrow. Tatuli will take the children to the city, buy them cloths, sew them new dresses, prepare them for the palace and only then will the little Svan lady be introduced to the king."

Mzysia looked cheerfully at Hadassah. A Smile lit the face of her caretaker as well.

Meanwhile, the servants laid the table. The guests dined with their hosts, and then Mzysia and Hadassah were shown to their separate quarters to rest. Rati and Dedalos continued discussing their affairs long into the night.

Mzysia tossed in her bed for a while, unable to sleep. Then she got up, tip-toed to her nanny's room and slipped into bed beside her. The excited child prattled to Hadassah about her future friend, new garments, the king's palace... The tired Hebrew woman tenderly stroked the child's hair continuously, absently answering, "Yes, my love, yes." And so, Mzysia grew sleepy and soon, both were dreaming peacefully.

Before sunrise, Mzysia's eyes shot open. She stole away from her nanny's room, found her clothes in the dark, clumsily dressed and went into the hallway. Remembering the stairs were to the right, she turned in that direction.

The sky was beginning to lighten, but it was still dark inside. The servants had already doused the torches. The whole house was still enjoying sweet morning sleep, when suddenly a terrible rumble shook the air. Everyone jumped to their feet, several doors flying open simultaneously.

"Who's there?" Rati boomed menacingly.

Someone from downstairs brought a torch and everyone froze in surprise. Half naked, Rati stood over the wooden stairs with a sword in his hand. Next to him the poor frightened Mzysia was pressed up against the wall. Tatuli was poking her head out from her room, while white with fear, Hadassah was grasping the door. At the end of the hallway, Dedalos, in his night-shirt, was trying to unsheathe his blade. The hall below was soon crowded with armed guards. At the foot of the stairs an enormous bronze pot was still rolling.

Rati, surveying this scene, burst into laughter.

"What was that noise, what's happening?" Dedalos rushed over.

"A Svan's visit is not an easy matter, my uncle, even if it's just a little girl!" the host couldn't stop laughing.

Heartened by their leader's mirth, the guards downstairs joined in too. Mzysia's fear immediately turned to rage. Now the girl's emerald eyes glared ferociously at Rati.

"The pot fell over, so what. And you raise your swords against this poor child!" Tatuli called out from behind the door. The lady wouldn't come out in her night dress. "Hadassah, look after the child, I'll be out soon! And all of you downstairs, what are you looking at? Get lost!"

Everyone obeyed the lady's orders without a sound. Even Rati returned to his room sniggering.

In the morning the women had their breakfast together. No one even mention the earlier incident, until the men joined them later.

"Good morning, little lady," Dedalos greeted the girl.

"Good morning," Mzysia answered.

Rati bowed to the ladies.

"I hope all of you rested well," The hostess smiled politely at her guests.

"Very well! Especially the first half of the night!" Rati couldn't contain himself and answered for the guests.

"That's enough of that, my nephew! "Dedalos exclaimed with false austerity.

"Still, why did you get up so early?" the young nobleman wouldn't let up.

The girl kept silent.

"I know why! Where you live, the sun rises early because you live up in the clouds, almost!" the host ignored his wife's stern glance and continued joking.

The girl raised her head, looked him right in the eye and quietly asked:

"Why did you mention a Svan's visit, Rati?"

Caught by surprise, the smile froze on the young man's face.

Awkward silence hung over the room.

"If I offended you, please forgive me! That was not my intention," the host suddenly turned serious.

The girl didn't respond. The remainder of the breakfast passed in silence.

Soon Dedalos and Rati departed to the king's palace. The women were left alone in the room.

"He really didn't want to hurt you, Mzysia," Tatuli stood up for her husband. "He has a heart of gold, but his tongue is harsh at times."

"I know," the girl answered.

"How?" Tatuli was surprised.

"He is like my brother, Budu," the child sighed.

Meanwhile, Dedalos and Rati rode along the way to the palace, discussing the same matter.

"Look what a spirit this tiny girl has! She is a true Svan!" Rati broke the silence.

"What is worse, she is only half Svan," Dedalos responded meaningfully.

Waiting for her promised friend, Mzysia sat at her window pane, deep in thought. She liked the lowlands; she liked it very, very much. Just seeing the sea was such a treat. Meadows of waving grass, splendid palaces, finely dressed ladies, all these things she saw here, in the lowlands, for the first time. But her tiny heart was still weighed down. She longed for the mountains, with their wild rivers, icy peaks, and towers raised up to the sky. The girl craved her father and brothers' embrace. Mzysia liked the lowlands but she loved the mountains.

In such a short time, the little lady learned so many new and unfamiliar things, but she had yet much to conquer. One thing though, her bright mind grasped well: the polite and refined lowlands looked down on the highlands with superiority and with due reason too.

"I won't let them look down on me!" The proud little Svan angrily clenched her fists and pressed her lips together.

Tatuli had been married for six years already but wasn't yet given a child. Rati suffered silently over this, but his woman often burst into tears, cursing her fate. Seeing this, Rati's mother used her younger child, Guranduht, to comfort her daughter-in-law. The little girl was raised half of the time in Aia, filling the young married couple with joy. At first, the arrival of Guranduht worsened Tatuli's state. The woman just cried more, saying, "Look, even elderly women can bear children! What is wrong with me?" But soon, she got so caught up in taking care of the child that she forgot about weeping, although returning the girl to her real parents was always very painful for the noble lady. Now, as soon as Tatuli heard about the little Svan lady's arrival, she started pestering Rati.

"We must bring Guranduht back here and keep both girls with us," she pressed her husband.

"What are you talking about, woman? We have just sent my sister to Surium, haven't we? What will my mother say? She may not let her go."

"What do you mean 'she won't let her go'? Ask well and she will let her go! Or, maybe you'd better tell her that it's the king's order and your mother won't have a choice," the woman wasn't even ashamed of lying.

"All right, all right. Let it be so," Rati agreed with a smile.

As soon as the plump, red cheeked Guranduht entered the hall, she hid behind Tatuli's dress. She had already been warned that in Aia, someone would be waiting for her and, shy by nature, the child dreaded the meeting with the stranger.

The mistress of the house was well aware of her precious girl's nature and wanted to introduce the children herself, but nobody gave her the chance for that. The chief's daughter flew downstairs and jumped at the newly arrived guest.

"My name is Mzysia. You must be Guranduht, right?" the child's emerald eyes sparkled with joy. "I have been waiting for you for so long. Let's go, the women are baking meat pies, they smell really good."

Mzysia grasped Guranduht's hand and ran to the kitchen.

Guranduht's arrival completely changed the Svan child's stay in Aia. Tatuli lodged both children in the same room. She charged them to Hadassah, but their education and upbringing the lady took upon herself.

Mzysia was washed in scented water, combed, and dressed in new garments, custom made for her. The girl was so greatly altered that even Hadassah barely recognized her. A light green dress reaching her ankles made her slender body appear even taller. But there was no sign of any breasts yet. Fiery red plaits fell on her thin shoulders. Her radiant cat-like eyes shone a stunning green. A small, slightly upturned nose and rosy pouting lips added an amazing charm to her childish face.

"Oh, she will grow into a stunning lady one day!" Rati delightedly exclaimed, kissing her on the cheek.

The girl smiled at him cheerfully.

"Look, Dedalos, she's not the least bit shy! You can just bring her to the Kolchis king tomorrow!"

"No, no, it's much too early!" Tatuli embraced the child tenderly.

But, as was Rati's wish, she began fervently preparing the girl for the royal court. It was the first time Mzysia had worn a long dress and it interfered with her walking very much.

"You walk like this," Guranduht tried her best but ended up looking like a plump pheasant, making the elders laugh.

Mzysia paid great attention to Tatuli's lessons. The girl tried to hold rein on her mountaineer headstrong character and obeyed her kind hostess in everything. She spent hours walking alongside Guranduht, perfecting her graceful womanly steps. She learned how to adorn her fiery locks with beautiful hair-pins, how to sit and stand with poise, lower her gaze, politely bow her head, make calm, quiet conversation.

"Mzysia, never speak first to your elders. Wait, and when you are addressed, only then may you answer. And don't talk too much," Tatuli instructed the girl.

The little lady liked some of the lowland rules, but some she couldn't fathom. For instance, she couldn't understand why she was to lower her gaze while talking, when one's eyes said so much more than mere words. She wondered how she could see the thoughts of a man, without looking into his eyes.

"No matter, here I'll behave the way Tatuli wishes, but at home, I'll do as I like," Mzysia reassured herself.

Meanwhile, it came time to introduce her to the king. The child was dressed accordingly and taken to the palace by carriage. Dedalos, Rati and Tatuli accompanied her. Mzysia wished Guranduht could be with her, but the frightened little girl much preferred to stay at home. Dedalos also explained that visiting the king's palace was a great honor, and none dared to appear without invitation.

The sovereign's sunbathed castle looked quite different to Mzysia this time. The melancholy grey had somehow been replaced by dazzling blues and golds. The palace included many different buildings of varying shape and size. Inside, they walked through so many great halls and labyrinth like passages that Mzysia felt she would never find her way back alone. While some rooms were empty, others were swarming with richly clad guests. Along the way, Dedalos and Rati chatted up courtiers, leaving Mzysia to explore the scenery. The great halls shimmered with color, some white, some rosy and some in light blues. The marble floors were also variously hued. Glorious bas-relief images veined their way across the walls and ceilings of the exhilarating palace. There were painted, human sized statues at nearly every entrance. Lighting the palace were torches fixed to the walls and columns.

At last Mzysia and her guides found themselves on an open verandah. What she saw there took her breath away. The floor was covered with wide black and red square tiles. There were red figurines of different shapes on the black squares, while black figurines covered the red squares.

At one end of the verandah, a group of nobles were merrily whispering amongst themselves. The king was comfortably plopped on an ottoman, sprayed with colorful pillows. The sovereign wore a blue tunic embroidered in gold over a white linen shirt. On his chest rested a precious stone-studded necklace. A small golden circlet lay askew on top of his head. He sat fiddling with his beard, consulting with a nearby courtier.

On the other end of the verandah, a group of noble ladies sat about the marble stairs, giggling artfully.

"That must be the Queen," Mzysia thought to herself, stealing a glance at a lovely middle aged lady with a crown.

"The queen is winning," Rati whispered to Dedalos with a smile.

"I see," the courtier replied, looking displeased.

The king motioned to a nearby servant, standing to the side. The boy darted to a red statue, dragging it to another black tile.

Now it was the ladies turn to whisper amongst themselves. Soon the queen pointed and a black statue was shifted to another red tile.

"Now the king will surely lose," Rati whispered again.

The sovereign shifted uneasily in his cushions, looking around and spotted Dedalos and his companions.

"Oh, Dedalos, come here!" The king waved cordially to the new comers.

The women murmured in displeasure. The game was over. Dedalos, Rati, Tatuli and Mzysia approached the king and bowed respectfully.

"I was told that you had arrived from the Svans a while ago, yet you haven't visited until now; show me our guest!" The king smiled as his eyes rested on Mzysia.

"I, your faithful servant, just wished to fulfill your command thoroughly, my Lord! We only gave the child a chance to rest for a while and brought her here immediately thereafter."

The queen swiftly approached her husband.

"Next time you will not escape my clutches so easily, my Lord!" she whispered half jokingly to her spouse and took a seat beside him.

Dedalos presented Mzysia to the royal couple.

"We welcome you to our palace, little Svan!" the king addressed the girl in the Zan language.

Mzysia understood Zan a little, but couldn't quite speak it, so she answered in Aramaic:

"Thank you, my Lord!"

The royals looked at one another in surprise.

"Do you Svans speak Aramaic?" the sovereign asked.

"No, my Lord, just me."

"Can you read and write as well?"

"Yes, my Liege."

Mzysia followed Tatuli's instructions precisely; she gave short answers and never once raised her eyes.

"What's your name, my child?" the queen cut in.

"Mzysia, my Lady!"

"Are all Svan women as beautiful as you are?" she continued.

Mzysia considered for a second and answered:

"They say I'm special, your Majesty."

"Are you always so sincere?" the king couldn't hold in his laughter.

"My father tells me to never lie." Mzysia cast her green gaze upon the royal couple for the first time.

"I'll kidnap this marvel!" the queen exclaimed cheerfully, embracing the girl.

Then the lady bowed to her king and the nobles, motioned Tatuli to join her, and departed to her quarters. The flock of women followed.

In the queen's beautiful dwelling the women ate their meal and tasted many exotic fruits and drinks. Young maidens charmed the ears of the noble ladies with their soothing melancholy songs.

The lady questioned Mzysia about her life in detail, and then asked where the girl would prefer to stay, at the king's palace or at Rati and Tatuli's place. Mzysia chose to stay with Rati.

"All right then, as you wish," the queen agreed, but the royal lady laid down her own terms: the child had to be taught knitting and embroidering, sewing, dancing, singing, reading and writing in Greek and the art of making proper conversation. Also, she was to visit the palace often and master the customs of the court.

Tatuli undertook this task with great pleasure.

# Chapter 8

Engagement

What can stand up against the ceaseless progression of time in this world? Nothing. It cannot be rushed along by the impatience of a restless youth nor will the mournful groans of the elderly slow its flow. Time is deaf and mute to the pleading. Its invisible waves roll along with the same staidness and whisk away with them the troubles of some and the happiness of others, someone's pain and someone's hope. It brings many new things too. It endows some with flour and spares some bran for others. What tomorrow brings, no one knows for sure. In all likelihood, time itself may not know. It is blind after all.

The descendants of Adam discovered the insensate nature of time in the very beginning and have been trying to fight it since the dawn. The most fearful of men run from battling the unknown and are contented with what they are blindly given. The witless are always whining with dissatisfaction, but this does not change their fate. The most daring dive right into the stir and, trusting in their own abilities, hunt the richest game. Such men are sometimes lucky and sometimes left empty-handed. The smartest mortals secure their futures by buying the favor of different gods with abundant sacrifices. The most cunning mix cleverness with daring. These men conciliate the gods but, in order to protect themselves against their treachery, try to get their affairs in order through their own powers as well. There are those among men who stand out with otherworldly insight. And they are the wise in this world, but how they combat time, no one knows but the wise and the immortals...

Time flowed with its usual indifference in the Kingdom of Kolchis. Along with it Mzysia, Surrounded by love and tender care, slowly grew up, gaining wisdom in accordance with her age. Within four years, she had already learned everything that was proper for a lady of noble descent. Many things changed in the life of the little mountaineer, but the most important thing she gained in the lowlands was her new elder friend and tutor.

It was an Athenian man by the name of Simonides who was charged with Mzysia's education in the Greek language arts. This tall, thin, and somewhat strange foreigner was very popular among the noble families of Kolchis. The outlandish Hellen had his own unique opinions on almost everything. His language was so complicated, and mind so tangled, that very few could really understand him. As it often happened, the less one understood, the more charmed one became by the mysterious person. The Athenians must have grown tired of guessing at Simonides' charades and one fine day, had banished the poor philosopher from his beloved city. In Kolchis the gods were more merciful towards the odd thinker. Though even there he couldn't obtain any true followers, he still felt indispensable. Owing to his superb knowledge in languages, this Hellen man became mentor to the youth at the royal palace and easily supported himself through teaching.

Simonides liked being with children very much. His pupils listened to him, believed in him, and what is more, they often loved him. Despite his unjust expulsion from Athens, the Greek man loved his motherland above all, forever praising the Hellens. Who were the best warriors? The Spartans! Who were the best thinkers? The Athenians! Who were the best sailors, sculptors, writers? Why, the Greeks of course! Who else would they be?

Simonides loved all his pupils, but his heart had a special place for the Svan chief's daughter.

"If you Hellens are so great, why did you steal the Golden Fleece from Aeetes, our king's ancestor?" Mzysia questioned her teacher suspiciously.

"We didn't steal it. Medea gave it to Jason herself!" Simonides answered simply.

"Why did Jason leave his wife, especially since she had done so much for the Argonauts?" the girl wouldn't give up.

"You know, Mzysia, sometimes I regret that I taught you so much!" Simonides laughed, defeated.

Arguing with the little Svan lady amused the Greek philosopher. It was never easy to convince the girl. She always searched for hidden meanings behind the words. Soon the pupil and her teacher became very close friends, hardly able to endure without one another. The girl and her mentor had much in common: both were involuntarily banished by fate to the Kolchian doorstep, both were hopeless dreamers and both never ever surrendered to hardships, struggling valiantly to the end.

"Teacher, why did the Athenians drive you out of the city? You didn't harm them, did you?" Mzysia wondered, full of indignation for the Greeks' injustice.

"And why did the great Svan chief send you to Aia?" the teacher responded with a contra question.

"My father loves me, he wants me to learn everything and grow into a better lady."

"Then, perhaps Athens loves me too, in its own way, and wants me to become a better man!" the Greek answered.

Time passed peacefully and happily for Saurmag's daughter. She still lived with Rati's family, but the Svan girl often visited the mountains. Sometimes, relatives from the highlands would come to see her in Aia. In these four years, Rati and Bardia became quite close friends as well. Thanks to her brother's influence, Mzysia continued horseback riding and swordplay lessons with Rati. She often ran to the river to swim as well; none could beat her in a race. The Svan girl surpassed all of the local boys in skill. Tatuli didn't like the young lady's odd fascinations, but Rati found her mountaineer lifestyle very useful and even put his little Guranduht to work alongside Mzysia...

What a magnificent woman the Kolchis king had for a wife. The man simply adored her. Tsitsino, the queen, shone like a celestial star in her day, but beauty was not her main weapon. Though the king was known for his love for beautiful women, none could take her place in his heart.

The witty lady, full of energy and life, brought the king so much love and joy, that he couldn't imagine life without her. But, the often obstinate and jealous woman never gave the king a moment's peace.

Tsitsino of Kolchis loved to make changes and innovations frequently. Thanks to her, the royal court always spent the summers at the seashore near Phasis where the king had built a splendid palace for his beloved wife. The means of travel, chosen by the ever restless lady was as unusual as it was fascinating. Every spring, under Tsitsino's order, a remarkable show was held on the banks of the river Phasis. The best craftsmen of the country were gathered to make a tremendous raft and to pitch the royal tent on it. Fifty giant oars were fixed on either side of the raft. The tent itself was filled with all sorts of wonderful things. Beautiful carpets and feathery pillows, embroidered curtains and exquisitely carved little tables, golden and silver dished and precious stone studded cups; all this created the luxurious atmosphere of the king's palace.

As soon as the preparations were finished, the royal court would begin their move to the summer residence. The raft was especially designed for the queen and her ladies, which was manned by oarsmen, who served as guards as well. The king himself and his attendants rode along the river bank. Some noblemen would launch their own boats and follow behind the floating palace. It didn't take long to get to Phasis from Aia, but the king's suite was in no hurry. The voyagers often stopped to rest. Sometimes the king visited the queen on her raft for supper, but the ladies were eager to land on the picturesque bank as well. The royal court had a wonderful time during the voyages.

It was a cool late spring evening. The court had been traveling for two days for Phasis when the king visited his queen.

"I told you, my Lady, that nobody can cook a pheasant like Mindya, haven't I?" The king reclined on the soft cushions, eating a piece of roast pheasant from a silver plate.

"What are you talking about, my Lord? He cannot even compare to Khoreshan!" Tsitsino rejected.

"Khoreshan is a Hellen from her father's side. What do the Greeks know of cooking delicious food?" The king teased his spouse for fun, though he always ate the food prepared by the court cook with great pleasure.

"Her father doesn't matter. The main thing is that her mother is Kolchian and nobody can roast chicken better than a Kolchian woman!"

"Chicken is one thing and pheasant is another! A hunter's hand suits the game bird better!" The king finished the roast meat, wiped his greasy hands on his brocade gown and reached for the pie.

The queen grimaced in disgust.

Mzysia and Guranduht sat behind the curtain, involuntarily listening in on the royals' conversation. It was the first time the Surium girl was traveling by the queen's famous tent raft, and so, she felt a bit awkward.

"They often argue like this during their meals. The king provokes our lady first, then he presents her with a precious gift as reconciliation," Mzysia whispered to her friend.

"What gift?"

"How do I know?" the girl smiled. "Today, they are arguing about pheasant, so he may order the gold-smith to carve a golden pheasant, or maybe he'll think of something else. Our lord likes to dote upon the queen," Mzysia stated approvingly.

Tsitsino's cook always prepared the dinners for the royal family. If it hadn't been for the noble Mindya's bizarre request, it would have never even occurred to the king to involve himself in the kitchen affairs.

It had been over twenty years since the Moschi nobleman had settled near the city of Apsaros, during which, he served the king with particular devotion. The Moschi, Macronian and Maresian rebels, insubordinate to Persia, sought shelter in the Kolchis Kingdom. Despite the great risk, the king helped and protected them. The sovereign never lost hope that the Kolchis Kingdom would one day take back her stolen lands. The noble Mindya had secret alliances with his brothers-in-arms who remained in the vast Empire of Persia. They were always ready to jump at the first opportunity to tear away from Persia and reunite with Kolchis.

The king highly appreciated the Moschi nobleman's service. Just the day before, when the tipsy Mindya unexpectedly offered to prepare a pheasant for the royal family, the king, quite drunk himself, accepted with great enthusiasm. The next day, he had forgotten all about it, but when he caught glimpse of Mindya, bustling about the bonfire next to the queen's tent, on the raft itself, their previous conversation came flooding back. The king knew he was in for it, but there was nothing he could do, for he was a man of his word.

"I will cook such a juicy pheasant, that you and your Queen will bite off your own fingers," the excited Moschi boasted beforehand.

"We'll taste your pheasant and see if you are as good in cooking, as you are in drinking wine!" the king cheerfully called to the nobleman from the bank, then turned to Rati and whispered:

"I am doomed! Today, my Queen will eat me instead of the pheasant!"

His prophecy soon came true.

"If you prefer the calloused paws of your servants over the delicate, capable hands of my women, you have enough warriors on the bank; let them spread your bed tonight!" the queen declared severely.

That's it. It was over. The king had lost any chance of enjoying the queen's warm bed that night, but he was used to such treatment. He found his wife's harsh words offensive, but it didn't spoil his appetite. The sovereign finished his pie with pleasure, drank his wine and ate a whole bowl of cherries too. Then, as if not even wishing to stay, he went along crooning toward the bank. On his way, the king shot a displeased glance at Mindya and Dedalos, sitting by the fire.

"What's the matter, my Lord? Didn't you like my roast pheasant?" the Moschian worriedly voiced his suspicion.

"No, no, my good man, I have never tasted better game," smiled the king and quickly leapt to the bank like a young man.

At dawn, the guards, lined up on either side of the river, heard a strange noise from the raft and strained to see in the fading black of the night. Then they clearly heard a man's voice crying:

"Over here! Help!"

Some disheveled man, standing near the edge of the raft, was frantically waving his hands and crying out in desperation. It was Dedalos. Two armed guards standing nearby were reaching for something in the water with their oars. The noise woke the women in the tent too. Mzysia was the first to come to her senses. She wrapped herself in a shawl and came rushing out. Guranduht and some of the other women filed out as well. The young Svan ran toward Dedalos immediately. The Suriumian nobleman, crying, "This way, over here! Help!" was waving to the guards on the shore while keeping an eye on the surface of the water. There was no other man beside Dedalos and the two oarsmen on the raft.

"What are you waiting for? Jump in!" cried Mzysia.

"We'll drown, my Lady."

"Oarsmen who can't swim!" the girl was astonished.

Mzysia looked toward the bank. On the slope, the half dressed king was running. Rati and armed guards were two strides in front of him. Then something black flashed in mid-river and disappeared beneath the waves once more.

No, they won't make it, they are too far! the girl's instincts kicked in.

Suddenly, Mzysia moved to the middle of the raft, threw her shawl to her feet and leaped like an arrow into the river. She swam to the spot where she had seen something and, taking a deep breath, dove under the surface. With eyes wide open, Mzysia tried to distinguish anything in the dark depths of the river, but everything was swallowed in blackness. The girl resurfaced, looking around frantically. The river's currents carried her farther and farther from the raft. Suddenly something flashed in front of Mzysia again. With powerful strokes, the swimmer covered the distance in the blink of an eye and disappeared into the depths. It was impossible to see anything in the freezing water. Mzysia was sinking further and further down. Suddenly she bumped into something. The girl grasped the strange body with all her might. Mzysia could swim like a fish and was quite strong for her age, but it was difficult for her to resurface with such a weight in tow. The time spent under water seemed like an eternity to her. When the girl finally reached the surface, she gasped for air and struggled toward the river bank. While the strong current carried them both like little twigs, the weight of the unconscious man was dragging the girl down to the river bed. It was clear to Mzysia that she wouldn't make it with the man, but she could still save her own life. Her stubborn Svan blood boiled in the girls veins. The child of the mountains could never leave a man in danger! Mzysia left her life in the hands of fate and now she struggled only to keep the man on the water's surface.

Meanwhile Rati, all eyes, was surveying the river frantically. Sunup was nearly upon them, making the searchers' job much easier.

"The water is carrying them away! Hurry! Go downriver!" The captain of the guards cried to the horsemen on the slope, running to his stallion himself.

The horsemen instantly understood their captain's thoughts and galloped down the bank. The Phasis River had trapped its prey in mid-stream, treacherously whirling its turbulent waves further down toward the sea. Some brave men, having gone far enough, jumped into the river. The God of the waters took offence at the warriors' impudence.

"This sacrifice is mine!" roared the raging river to the daring men.

But it had been long since the defiant Kolchians had offered a human's life to the river Phasis. Soon the guards dragged the unconscious Mindya and the drained Mzysia to the river bank. No one waited for the palace healer. By pressing his chest and turning him to the side, they were able to get the Moschi noble to spit up the swallowed water. In no time, Mindya had regained consciousness.

"What's going on? What's happening?" the dazed nobleman's eyes darted around, wondering why so many were gathered about him.

"What happened is that you chose a bad time to go for a swim, my Lord," Rati joked at the older man's expense.

"What, did I fall in the water?" the nobleman was still bemused.

"No, Dedalos pushed you!" the king, who had just arrived at the scene, mocked the Moschian, pointing to the herd of people trotting their way.

The Suriumian nobleman had out run all and was hurrying to see his poor, ill-fated friend.

"And where is your savior?" the sovereign asked.

Everyone turned to Mzysia. The soaked girl was standing nearby, shivering with the cold.

"I wonder how you, such a young and delicate girl, could find such strength! How could such a huge man not drag you down?" the king exclaimed with excitement and took the girl in a fatherly embrace, kissing her on the forehead.

"He didn't drown her because he was unconscious," the healer judged wisely.

"An unconscious body is even heavier," the argumentative Simonides objected.

The girl stood, head bowed, not saying a word. The wave of fear and confusion had all but washed away, and now the onlookers, some in secret and some openly, admired the young Svan's beauty. The king didn't miss the stolen glances. He smiled cunningly, wanting to say something, but the chance wasn't given to him. One of the riders tore the wrap from the healer's shoulders, covered Mzysia with it, and then turned to the king.

"My Lord, I'll escort the girl to the Queen, with your permission!"

The sovereign agreed immediately.

The young man mounted his horse, helped Mzysia up to the seat in front of him and galloped toward the raft.

"Look at him! What do you think of it?" exclaimed one of the courtiers with displeasure, but the king shot such a cold glare at him that the imprudent nobleman immediately bit his tongue.

Mzysia instantly recognized the handsome fellow as the one who helped her from the river. The young man wound his arms round her waist and slowly rode to the raft. They passed a little distance in silence. At the queen's tent, the rider stopped, dismounted and helped Mzysia down.

"Thank you, my Lady," the young man bowed respectfully.

"No, I thank you. You are the one who helped me out, my Lord," Mzysia responded.

"You have saved my father's life today, my dear Svan." A smile lit up the young man's blue eyes as they gazed at Mzysia with gratitude.

The queen and her suite were standing on the raft and observing the bank watchfully. When Mzysia finally came, the women showered her with questions. The queen raised her hand, silencing them all.

"What is the name of the fellow who brought you here?" the inquisitive royal asked.

"I don't know, my Lady."

"Hmm, it doesn't matter! We'll find out," Tsitsino murmured to herself.

"What are you talking about, woman? Now is not the time for young men! The child almost drowned!" the queen's elder sister, Lady Dali bustled.

"She hasn't drowned, she is safe and here she stands, healthy and well," the queen impatiently waved her hand, then motioned Mzysia to follow. Possessed by a new idea, the lady entered her tent.

The king's court reached Phasis without any further misadventures. Soon everybody settled into the summer residence and the Kolchian court resumed living a habitual and luxurious life. The queen spent entire days walking, sometimes wetting her feet in the sea and amusing herself by watching young maidens swim and the children splashing around in the water, but at times she also accompanied her husband on his hunting trips.

The king didn't lack in his fun either. Arranging orgies worshipping Dionysos with the native Phasisian Greeks especially amused the sovereign. The intoxicated Kolchian noblemen spent entire nights preying on the beautiful nymphs in the nearby forests.

The queen didn't favor Dionysos, and she liked the nymphs even less, so none of her ladies ever attended these parties. That was just what the king desired: a break from the queen's ever watchful eye, where he spent the nights horsing around like a young man.

Mzysia, who was raised by the simple yet severe Svan customs, found all these amusements wicked and unacceptable.

"Tell me mentor," the girl asked Simonides, "the whole kingdom knows that the king loves our queen very much. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are right, my little Lady," the Greek answered, smiling.

"If so, why does the king partake in these orgies for Dionysos and pursues the nymphs?"

"Because Dionysos is the god of wine and merrymaking and the king must show proper respect!"

"Come on, Simone, since when do you believe in such things? Wasn't it you who taught me that the stories of the gods are but beautiful fairy tales, and that the Universe is ruled by the Absolute," Mzysia couldn't be suppressed.

"That is my point of view as well as a few other Greek philosophers. All the rest, whether they are believers or not, worship the beautifully painted gods!"

"It must be only you, Greeks, who worship your gods with such unrestrained passion!" the young Svan flared up.

"Don't even go there, my Lady! Not too long ago your people sacrificed their first born children to their Great Oak Tree! I think drinking wine and pursuing nymphs are better than that!"

"Forgive me, teacher," the girl apologized sincerely and continued, "but if somebody behaved so badly in the past, that doesn't make any lesser evil a good deed now, does it? As for the Absolute, the numbers of people who think as you do aren't as few as you believe."

"What do you mean?" Simonides was taken aback.

"I mean Hadassah's people. It is called Israel. The Hebrews all think as you do."

"Oh, it's a little different, Mzysia. The Hebrews have a god, who gave them law through Moses. By the way, they sacrifice animals to their god as well!"

"Hadassah says that their God governs everything, everywhere. That means that this God is your Absolute!"

Simonides waved his hands in protest and, growing heated from argument, wanted to add something else but was interrupted by Guranduht's entrance:

"The Queen summons Mzysia to her quarters."

The girl stood and followed her friend.

"We shall continue our discussion!" the disappointed Greek shouted after her.

In the palace garden, near the fountain, the maidservants had set out the queen's favorite silver dishes on a white marble table low to the ground. The little spread was overflowing with ripe, sweet-smelling fruits and exquisite drinks. Delicious khadas and golden khachapuri, cheese filled bread, looked so appetizing that Mzysia immediately felt hunger upon entering the garden.

The queen, on a narrow ottoman, covered in bright pillows, snacked on the fruit. A loose white gown with azure stripes, highly complimented Tsitsino's hazel eyes and graying hair. She dangled her delicate little foot from the ottoman, wagging it restlessly.

"Did you call me, my Lady?" Mzysia approached the table.

"Hmm, if I hadn't seen you jump on a flying stallion, I would have believed that you were tender and gentle indeed."

Mzysia smiled without saying a word.

"Sit down and join me! Taste this mulberry, it is as sweet as honey," Tsitsino pushed the silver bowl, filled with fruit, toward Mzysia.

The girl sat down on the edge of a free ottoman, opposite of the queen's. Suddenly the door to the private paradise flew wide open and Lady Dali swept in like a breeze. She didn't look like her tall and snow-white younger sister at all. A set of expressive wide green eyes and thin lips decorated the tiny woman's dark face. Dali was wearing a ruby peplos. The Greek dress suited the noble lady beautifully. The middle aged woman had already gone through three husbands and even now didn't lack admirers.

As soon as Dali caught sight of the queen, she rushed over to her sister with lively steps. Mzysia jumped to her feet to let the noble lady sit, but Dali motioned for her to stay. A maidservant standing nearby quickly fetched a wicker chair for the queen's sister. The lady sat impatiently and turned to the royal:

"Did you dare to speak to the girl without me?" Dali's green eyes sparkled.

"What are you talking about, sister? I was just about to send a maiden for you!" the queen turned her astonished, innocent eyes to her accuser.

The elder woman shook her head distrustfully.

"Have you revealed our plans to Mzysia?"

"Didn't I just tell you I was waiting for you?" the queen raised her voice.

The noblewoman paid no heed to the queen's irritation. Instead, she turned to Mzysia.

"Why have you been avoiding us, my dear? We missed you," the hot-tempered woman's voice suddenly sweetened. "Is anything troubling you? Is there something on your mind?"

The queen rolled her beautiful eyes impatiently and interrupted her sister.

"Do thoughts of the Moschi noble youth keep you up at night? That's what my sister means!" the queen went straight to the point.

"Mindya's son is very handsome. It wouldn't be a surprise if the little Lady liked him," Dali arched her eyebrows.

Mzysia looked from the queen to her sister, not knowing what to do. It was impossible not to like Miryan. A strange feeling arose in Mzysia at remembering the young Moschian's gaze. The girl was used to the look of admiration or desire in the eyes of men, but in Miryan she caught sight of something new, unfamiliar to her innocent mind. But Mzysia hadn't even spoken to Guranduht about this discovery. How would the highest ladies of Kolchis know her secret?

"Mzysia, dear! Do you or do you not like Mindya's son? Tell us the truth, don't hide anything. Don't be shy," the queen sweetened her voice.

"There is nothing to dislike about the Moschi." Mzysia lowered her eyes.

"I told you, didn't I?" the royal clapped merrily.

The green eyed Dali also seemed satisfied.

"Go, my darling and rest. We'll take care of everything else!" the queen dismissed Mzysia with a wave of her hand.

The girl stood, took a slice of khachapuri and bowing respectfully, retreated to Hadassah's room munching all the way.

"She is still a child," the queen smiled to herself watching the girl leave with loving eyes.

"What did the queen mean by saying 'We'll take care of everything else'?" the girl wondered.

Midday had already passed. The king was still resting from the previous night's feast when Prince Amiran stepped into his bedchamber. The heir was holding his only daughter, playing in her curls with his face.

"Good morning, my Father!" The son approached the king, now propped up in his bed and gave him a good morning kiss. "How do you feel, your Majesty?"

The child reached out to her grandfather. The prince let her onto the bed. The little girl crawled to the king, grasping his necklace with her tiny hands.

"I'm feeling great now!" the sovereign exclaimed, happy to see his granddaughter and playfully smothered the girl with kisses. "We have been waiting on you for so long! When did you arrive?"

Amiran avoided the king's orgies, spending most of his time at his palace with his young wife. He had taken a Kortu nobleman's daughter as his bride and that was why he chose the eastern fortress as his home. The future king of Kolchis often visited his in-laws also. The jealous queen was angry with her son, running to her husband every now and again to complain:

"Instead of listening to his wife, it would be more useful for the prince to look after state affairs."

But the Kolchian king didn't intend to obey his wife's command either. The sovereign considered the tight bond with the eastern neighbors of great importance and approved of his son's behavior.

"We arrived last night, Father, but you were so busy, we dared not disturb you," the prince responded. "Even now the courtiers are waiting for you outside."

"Who has come to visit so early?"

"The Suriumian nobleman Dedalos and Mindya have been waiting on your arousal for some time now."

The king slipped his skinny legs out from under the covers and took his silk robe from a servant, throwing it on. He quickly washed his hands in a copper bowl of warm water, silently laid out for him, and headed for the waiting room.

Sitting in the richly decorated hall, the two noblemen were whispering among themselves. At the king's appearance, the courtiers stopped talking and bowed their respects. The sovereign didn't even look toward the audience hall and headed for the garden. They all went after him.

"How humid it is! It will probably rain," the king broke the silence first.

"That's true," Dedalos agreed immediately.

"I wish it would rain! Miryan and I are going to Apsaros; maybe we'll cool off on the way."

The king bowed his approval and continued to look at him with question.

The royal remembered the previous day's conversation very well and thought the Moschi nobleman had already left in the morning. The king himself intended to journey to Apsaros soon for a hunting trip. Mindya was appointed with the task of preparations. Hunting was just an excuse for the king to approach the Persian border. The sovereign had arranged a secret meeting with their compatriots remaining beyond the Kolchis borders. It was impossible to hold the meeting in Aia or anywhere else. The Persians surely wouldn't miss the absence of the Moschi, Macronian and Maresian noblemen for a long period of time. Kolchis was full of imperial spies as well. The meeting could only take place near the border. The king had to act with the utmost care and prudence in order to keep himself and the country from danger. The appearance of the fun-loving king near the border for a hunt would not surprise anyone, but keeping everything in strict secrecy was a must. On either side of the border, only the immediate participants were aware of the confidential meeting. Most of the court nobility along with the queen herself had no knowledge of this plan.

"We were waiting for your arrival, Your Majesty! I wanted to speak to you about our upcoming hunting trip once more," the Moschi nobleman began uneasily. "Maybe our beloved Queen would change her mind and accompany us with her suite? It would be a great honor for my humble family."

The king was very much astounded, for the queen openly abhorred the Dionysos loving Moschi nobleman and nobody could make the prudent lady visit him. The arrival of the queen's suite to Apsaros would greatly aid their cause, but the king didn't wish to uselessly quarrel with his spouse. Letting him roast a pheasant was bad enough, but visiting his house was absolutely out of the question!

"It's true, the fair faced Queen doesn't favor me, but I think she likes my son Miryan! And it appears that Miryan has set his heart on our little Svan lady. Last night he confessed to me and asked me to talk to you about this matter." The Moschi noble wiped the sweat off his face and stared at the king with imploring eyes.

The royal and the Surium noblemen looked at each other with surprise.

"If I have it right, Mindya, you want to establish close ties with the Svans and intend on dragging my Queen and I into this affair!" the king smiled cunningly, tearing at his beard. "Well, my man, what will be your advice?" he turned to Dedalos.

"How can we let down the young man's hopes, my Lord?" the shrewd courtier smiled.

The king didn't need any advice, really. Clever enough to save his country on many occasions, surely he could handle this small matter. It was thanks to the king's wisdom that Kolchis escaped from fading away into the vast Empire, while much greater and stronger countries were easily swallowed by Persia.

The sovereign's intuitive mind weighed the pros and cons of this unexpected chance with lightning speed, seeing its worth. Through this possible arrangement, the king could please the Moschi noblemen, draw the Svans' attention to the Southern boarders and maybe even land the queen's suit to distract the enemy's eye. The latter part of the plan appeared to be the most difficult to accomplish to the king.

"I cannot promise you anything for sure, Mindya. We are not Persians to resolve this without speaking to the young lady and her parents first, are we? Tell Miryan he has my full support."

Pleased, Mindya and the Suriumian nobleman bid the king and his son good-bye and went along with their business. Only the king and his heir remained alone in the garden.

"My Father, Mzysia is still a child. Isn't it a little too early to discuss her marriage?"

"Who says she must marry immediately? If Mzysia agrees, I don't think Saurmag will refuse Miryan. In two or three years the girl will grow up and we'll hold the wedding then. Let's go see your mother and test the grounds! You will help me too," the king declared, crossing the garden to the queen's quarters. The prince followed.

They found Tsitsino in the garden, speaking with her sister, and apparently in a fine mood. The king was a bit surprised. Usually, during the feasts celebrated in honor of Dionysos, the queen was in an awful temper. In such times even the tricky king found it difficult to talk to her.

"Look Dali, King Aeetes himself walked, just like that, in front of the whole Palace!" The queen looked at her barefoot spouse in his night robe with indignation, giving the prince her cheek to kiss.

The king didn't pay much attention to his wife's insulting words, instead, finding a convenient moment, bent down for a kiss only to be rejected. He stepped aside like a scolded child, but the queen didn't plan on scoffing at him today, so, the lady softened her character.

"It will be dinner soon. I'm quite sure you haven't even had breakfast yet. Join us, my Lord."

The king was pleased by winning his wife's attention. Besides, he's stomach grumbled in hunger. He immediately perched on the stone bench. The prince, refusing the meal, instead grabbed a bowl of mulberries, and sat down on the marble stairs near the fountain gobbling up the sweets. Meanwhile, Dali laid claim on Amiran's little girl. She was so amused with the child that she didn't even listen to the royals' discussion.

"Look, my Lord, they have made my child loose his apatite in those mountains and dense forests! How many times must I ask you to move the prince to Aia?" the queen's eyes filled with tears for she loved her son.

The bearded "child" smiled happily as he shoved fistfuls of the sweet berry into his mouth.

"We'll stay with you till next summer, Mother; Manana is pregnant."

"Did you hear that, Dali?" Tsitsino cried.

Both women clapped their hands over their hearts with joy.

"Maybe we'll get an heir to the throne this time!" the queen wished aloud.

While the nobles thus chatted, the servants silently laid all sorts of delicious foods on the table. The king piled his silver plate with all sorts of meat and fruit, and feasted heartily.

"You'll accompany me to Apsaros, my son! Mindya promises us an unforgettable hunt. The ladies will stay here with the queen, but you and your wife shall join us! We'll have a splendid time together!"

"As you wish, my King," The prince answered.

"Who told you that I'm not coming to Apsaros?" Tsitsino was taken aback.

"My Lady, everyone knows you don't favor the Moschi nobleman."

"Nonsense! I don't favor drunkards, but I like hunting very much! Besides, I have private matters to attend to in Apsaros!"

"What matters?" the king was alerted.

"Tsitsino thinks she has found a promising husband-to-be for Mzysia," Dali cut in.

"Who did you cast your eye on, my Queen?" the king asked surprised.

"Your inseparatable Mindya's son, Miryan! And don't even think of getting in my way!" the lady said decisively, staring her husband square in the eye.

"How could you say such a thing, my dear? How can I compare to you in such affairs? In such matters your wish is always my command. Isn't it so, my son?" the king turned to the prince.

"Certainly, Father!" Amiran backed the sovereign.

The queen suspiciously eyed her eldest son, then her spouse.

"What are you plotting, my Lord?" Tsitsino demanded threateningly.

"First we must clarify one delicate matter," the sovereign started.

"I knew you would get in my way!" the queen blazed.

"No, my love, how can you say such a thing? But we should ask the girl first, shouldn't we?"

"We already have. She likes our Miryan. The rest is up to you, your Majesty!" the queen demanded resolutely.

"As you wish, my Queen! Tomorrow I'll send a man to Saurmag and invite him to Apsaros!" the king sweet-talked his wife.

Tsitsino was so delighted by the king's unusual compliance that she even invited him to supper.

Seeing the Moschi nobleman's palace was really something.

About twenty years before, on the bank of the river Lycos, near Apsaros, Mindya had bought the house with its lands from a rich Greek merchant. Decorated with graceful columns and marble stairs, his new home was really a small palace built in the Hellenic style. During two decades it underwent great changes. "We are not Greeks!" declared the new owner and started redecorating the place to his own taste. First, the human sized marble statues left their pedestals and moved to the garden. Most of the amphora's followed the statues, the marble tables and low benches shared the same fate...

Mindya's late wife didn't like her husband's queer actions, but could not save much of the old effects of the house. "Don't throw them away, at least leave them in the garden," the lady begged, barely getting him to agree. On her command, the servants placed the statues along the wall. As for the amphoras, the thrifty woman had them half buried for storage purposes at the grounds of the marble stable, built near the palace. The Moschi lady kept their grains and homemade wine there. For the uprooted horses, a wooden stable was built, which would surely be enough for them.

Turning the empty palace back into its livable state was no small matter. Except one tiny statue of Dionysos, all things Hellenic were turned out of the house. The Moschi noble wouldn't allow the exquisite Persian rugs and refined low tables near his domain either, but his spouse persuaded him that they were not Persian, but Assyrian. Assyrian things were followed by Egyptian ones, Egyptian by Chinese, Chinese by Ethiopian. Fortunately for the noble lady, Apsaros was not very far, so she could easily acquire what she needed. Soon enough, within the Greek walls of their little palace, she turned their home into a colorful display of various lovely ornamental trinkets, as well as ordinary household items from around the World. The skillful lady was proud of her creation till the end of her days. Mindya didn't care how the house looked as long as it didn't look like it had been conquered by the enemy, even in its loveliness.

It was not easy to amaze the Kolchian king's court, but as for the Svans, Mindya's strange house left an inerasable impression.

So, is my youngest daughter to live here? Saurmag thought, observing the bedroom allotted to him, with secret contempt.

It was the Mountaineer's second night spent in this soft, cozy bed, but he had not yet gotten proper rest.

Why were so many cushioned bed pallets needed? And why are those stupid bird heads carved into the bed's posts? Saurmag tossed and turned, but couldn't get comfortable.

After his audience with the king, the Svan was ill at peace. The chief always knew that sooner or later, this day would come. He found the king's proposal very much beneficial to his daughter. The young man in question seemed to be a brave fellow and what was more, he too was of the mountains, although he lived in the lowland. But a dull pain in his stomach gnawed at the father from the inside. Saurmag had already given two daughters away in marriage but had never been as worried as he was now.

It must be because I have married them off nearby, the man thought.

Or maybe it was because he had raised the motherless child himself and his wounded heart ached differently for her.

Look how she has grown up, how beautiful she has become! No, I can't lock her away in those mountains, but she is yet too young for marriage! The king demands an arrangement by autumn and a wedding in two or three years.

Saurmag hadn't given an answer yet. He promised the king a decision by the end of the hunt. Bardia liked Miryan and even Saurmag himself couldn't find a good reason to reject the boy.

Then why does my heart ache so? the sleepless Saurmag clutched his chest.

Earlier that night, the Svan chief had desired to consult with Dedalos. He searched for the Suriumian nobleman the whole evening, but couldn't find him anywhere. Saurmag didn't have much luck with his host either, and on top of that, the king had felt ill all of a sudden, and retired early. Even Bardia had gone off with the other young men of his age and spent the night with the riders in camp.

Restless, Saurmag decided to get some fresh air. He dressed quickly and went out into the dim hallway. On the way, he checked Dedalos' room with the hopes of catching him awake too, but found the door locked. At the left end of the corridor, was the queen's wing guarded by armed sentries. At the right end of the hall, a faint light drifted from the very last room. Saurmag was pleased that at least someone was awake and headed in that direction but found his way blocked by a strange statue. A figure of a tremendous bird-headed man took up more than half of the already narrow passageway. The Broad-shouldered Svan barely squeeze between the enormous statue and the wall, and cautiously knocked on the slightly open door. Miryan was sitting on the edge of his chair, polishing his sword. Upon seeing Saurmag, the young man jumped to his feet and invited the guest in.

"I didn't know this was your room. I saw the light and thought I could find somebody to talk to," the Svan chief said as an apology.

Saurmag surveyed the nearly empty room with surprise. In one corner stood a simple wooden bed and a large trunk in the other. At the narrow window pane there was a small wooden table with a chair, and the wall at the opposite side was decorated with various weaponry. The torch fixed near the door lit the room well. Saurmag felt that from the lavish palace, somehow, he had ended up in a mountain tower.

"This is my domain," the young man guessed the Svan guest's thoughts. "My mother left this wing for me to decorate how I like. Nobody climbs past the bird-man anyway," the young man smiled, showing a set of white teeth.

Miryan was about twenty years old. Tall and well-built, his broad shoulders and wide chest would probably make him look older, but his light brown hair, soft beard and big blue eyes revealed his true age. Always dressed as a rider, Miryan, unlike his friends, never wore luxurious or colorful clothing, even while visiting the king's palace. He never wore any kind of jewelry either. Such simplicity coming from the son of a rich nobleman irritated many, but Miryan couldn't care less.

"I was looking for Mindya. I wanted to speak to him, but he's probably asleep like everyone else. Except you and I, it seems that everybody is dead to the world."

"Most likely, my Lord," Miryan avoided his eyes.

The boy seems uncomfortable speaking to his possible father-in-law.

Saurmag liked the imposing appearance and restrained character of the young man more and more. Miryan really did feel awkward by the unexpected visit of Mzysia's father, but it had nothing to do with the future marriage. The truth of the matter was that Mindya visited his son at the hunter's camp in the evening and ordered him to stay at home for the night.

"I'll be back by dawn. Until then you are in charge. Take care of the guests. Don't let anyone disturb the sleeping king or let them know of my absence!"

His father's will was the law to him since childhood, for the fellow grew up as a warrior. He didn't even ask any questions, having already guessed the reason behind Mindia's disappearance. Now, having to lie to Mzysia's father disgruntled him. Miryan changed the topic.

"The heat down here must make you restless, my Lord."

"What can compare to our fresh, cool air? You must have gotten used to these humid nights, though I have heard you have another reason to loose sleep over," Saurmag glanced at the young man from under his thick furrowed brows.

Miryan blushed and lowered his head. Saurmag broke the awkward silence once more.

"We'll see how you'll impress us at tomorrow's hunt, our young host! Now we'd better have some rest, we have a long day ahead of us," The Svan chief clapped him on the back in a fatherly manner and left the room.

"You've been drinking again!" Queen Tsitsino, mounted on a white horse, was staring at the king with a piercing gaze.

"What are you talking about, my Lady? My head's been killing me all night. Since I went to bed after supper, I haven't gotten up till morning," the king assured her.

"That's why your eyes are as red as a rabbit's!?" the lady got angry.

"Tsitsino, my dear, I was ill... of course my eyes would be red, now wouldn't they?" the Kolchian sovereign tried to justify himself.

The king's suite had fallen back quite a distance; no one wanted to be dragged into the couple's argument. During the last three decades, they had grown accustomed to the odd pair's usual routine. The king's courtiers and the queen's ladies in waiting had a way of disappearing into thin air or popping up out of nowhere and appearing by their side as needed.

"My King, you are not a little boy anymore! You must take care of yourself!" the noble lady softened her voice.

"What can age me in the hands of such a queen? Indeed, I feel as young as ever!" the king bent toward his wife and whispered something in her ear.

"Get lost!" Tsitsino pushed the rogue king playfully.

"As you wish, my Lady," the king cheerfully turned his horse toward the nobles.

"Is everything ready, Mindya? I warn you, nothing had better cross the ladies path except rabbits and ducks!" the Royal commanded his host.

"The boys haven't left a rock unturned, my King. There is nothing dangerous out here. Over there, in that grove in the mountain, there are some hogs and one can find bucks as well. Bears live up there too, but they don't come down this time of year. Around here packs of wolves and jackals are common and sometimes even a tiger can be spotted. But this side of the river is absolutely safe. Only we, men, will go to the opposite bank." Mindya glanced over the surrounding people and said: "The queen and her suite will stay here watched over by the chief hunter."

The nobleman appointed as the chief hunter stepped out from the group.

"My boys are ready. We'll arrange a great entertainment for the ladies!"

At the king's signal, the deep sound of trumpets informed the eager noblemen that the hunt had begun. The women and their accompanying riders fanned out in their surroundings. The king, with his suite, crossed the bridge and headed for the mountain slope.

A Kolchian hunt greatly differed from that of the Svan's. For a Svan, hunting was a way of feeding his family. In the mountains, a man, often alone, but sometimes with a friend, would leave his house armed and ready and come back in two or three days with his prey. In the lowlands, they turned it into a game. The servants frightened the poor birds and small beasts by making noises and drove them straight towards the waiting hunters who slaughtered their helpless victims mercilessly. Mzysia didn't like this kind of hunt at all. The girl slowly fell back from the group, turned the horse around, crossed the bridge unseen and found shelter in the thick forest. In the distance, the twittering of the men and barking dogs slowly grew fainter. Soon, an intoxicating calm swept over her surroundings.

Mzysia liked to lose herself in the solitude of nature from childhood. Rolling in the dew covered grass and nestling among the wild flowers was simply irresistible. When the girl had enough of riding around in the forest, she turned the horse to the thicket. Nobody was hunting there. Only the sing-song of birds and the rustling of leaves broke the silence. Suddenly, Mzysia heard a startling sound from the woods. The girl turned quickly. Some beast was crashing toward her through the tall grass. In the blink of an eye, Mzysia brought out her bow and readied herself to meet it. In a few seconds, a great hog rushed from the grass, heading straight for the rider. The girl didn't falter, her shot struck the beast in the chest, but couldn't stop its advance. Before Mzysia could string another arrow, the frightened horse jumped aside. This turned out to be a fatal move for animal. The wounded beast rammed straight into the stallion's side, overturning him. Mzysia just barely escaped the blow and unsheathed her sword. The hog had already managed to turn and was running at the girl once more, when suddenly, popping up out of nowhere, the girl caught a glimpse of Miryan's pale face behind the beast. The horseman chased down the embittered beast and dealt one deathly blow with his spear. Miryan dismounted with lightning speed, ran to Mzysia's horse, and seeing that it couldn't be saved, put it out of its misery with one strike of his sword. Then, he turned back and embraced the pallid girl caringly. Mzysia started crying bitterly.

"Calm down, there's no more danger," Miryan tried to soothe the sobbing girl.

"It's my fault, I killed my horse!" Mzysia bawled like a child.

"Such casualties happen during hunts, how is it your fault?" he comforted the girl.

"Don't lie to me, it is my fault!" Mzysia only wailed louder.

"If we all started to weep like a child, nobody would go hunting!"

Miryan's trick worked. Mzysia quickly wiped her tears and stopped her blubbering. The young man turned to the hog and started inspecting his kill.

"It's a good shot," he whistled. "You aimed right at the heart. But an arrow cannot pierce the hog's skin. It will only scratch the beast a little and drive him mad! One must use a spear or a sword!"

"I know that! I didn't have a spear and I was going to use my sword, but you beat me to it," Mzysia unsheathed her weapon.

Miryan looked at the girl, astonished.

Imagining the wild hog running towards the girl, the young man waved his hands desperately.

"You know, Mzysia, forget what I just said! It's better for you to never show yourself to the hog!"

"What's that supposed to mean!" the girl, with her hands on her hips, scowled.

At seeing that, Miryan burst into laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Mzysia grew even angrier.

"Nothing! You are so grimy, my little Lady!" the man lied.

"I'm not a little lady to you!"

"But everyone calls you so!"

"Only the grownups refer to me that way!" the offense soon disappeared from her face. "I can't let the queen see me like this. I must clean up at once!" exclaimed the girl, running for the river.

Wadding into the river knee deep, Mzysia folded her hunting skirt up, revealing her snow-white, shapely legs and started washing the mud and leaves away. Her blazing red locks draped in a disorderly mess on her face and shoulders. From time to time, Mzysia's gleaming emerald eyes threw a friendly glance at Miryan.

"I didn't believe that wild hogs were such strong and dangerous beasts!" Mzysia Cheerfully chattered to the young man from the water. "Where I am from, women avoid bears, mainly. We don't have hogs up there!"

Miryan hadn't been listening to the girl for some time now. Enchanted, he couldn't take his eyes off of the girl jumping carelessly in the river, and as he stared, he had a shocking revelation: at that moment, there was no predator in the mountains, nor the lowlands that was more dangerous to Mzysia, than himself. Ashamed of his lust, Miryan called to the girl:

"Mzysia, it's time to go!"

The girl was surprised at his words. It wasn't even past midday yet. The hunt had just started. Mzysia would have stayed with Miryan at the river bank for a while longer with great pleasure, but it seemed that the young man had gotten bored of lingering with her and wanted to go hunting. At least that is what the girl thought with dismay, and so, came out of the river silently.

Miryan helped the girl mount the horse and followed on foot himself.

Hadassah noticed her charge riding the horse and their young host walking beside her from the distance. The Hebrew woman felt a chill run down her back.

"What happened, my love?" the caretaker met Mzysia as soon as she entered the camp.

"Nothing important, she just hunted a wild hog!" Miryan answered instead of her.

Meanwhile servants and some elderly nobles came out to meet the early comers. At hearing Miryan's words, Hadassah jumped with surprise.

"He killed the hog and my horse on top of it!"

Miryan glanced at the ungrateful girl, but didn't say a word. He called the servants and went back to the thicket to bring down the hog.

It hadn't darkened yet when the queen's suite came back. The lady was highly contented, for they had hunted an abundance of game. A few birds and two rabbits were the queen's personal prey. Cheered by her success, Tsitsino now was preoccupied with the fairy tales about her dexterity and cleverness, made-up by her ladies in waiting with brightened eyes, so that evening nobody mentioned Mzysia's hog, but the next day, the girl couldn't escape a scolding.

By midday when the king awoke, servants told him about the Svan lady's adventure while they dressed him. The royal liked to hear such stories from firsthand accounts, so he called Mzysia and Miryan to him. He summoned Saurmag and Mindya as well. Then he sent for the queen too.

They all came into the waiting hall with different feelings. Mindya, expecting a rebuke, seemed very fretful. Saurmag was angry with his daughter's behavior. Bardia, accompanying his father, was thinking up ways to save his little sister from punishment. Miryan, only troubled by one thought, wondered how this event would affect his future marriage. Mzysia, knowing she couldn't escape the unavoidable, was not anxious at all. Only the queen seemed to have come simply to hear the news.

After the usual greetings, the sovereign, comfortable in his chair, addressed Mzysia.

"Now, tell us little Lady, how you appeared on the left side of the river."

"Just like everyone else, my Lord; I crossed the bridge."

Nobody smiled except the queen and Bardia.

"Didn't you know that the right bank was prepared for the queen's suite to hunt in?"

"Yes, I did, Sire."

"Then why did you cross the bridge to hunt?"

"I didn't think of hunting, my Lord, I went for a ride."

"Was not this side enough for you to ride?"

"They were hunting on this side of the river, but at the other, there was nobody nearby. So I crossed the bridge."

This rascal must be the prey of sincere naivety, thought the king and turned to the young host.

"And you Miryan! How did you emerge in the thicket? You were to be with us in the mountains, weren't you?"

"Me...?" Miryan was somehow confused. "I decided to hunt the hog!"

The king smirked in his beard.

"What happened then?"

"Then, instead of the hog, I found Mzysia with bow and arrow at the ready, but I was a bit late. Mzysia had already wounded the hog and the hog managed to injure the horse! What is more, for the second round, the hog was heading for the girl! This time I was ready and slayed the beast with my spear. Mzysia's horse was badly injured, so I had to kill it too. Nothing else happened, I swear," the youth finished his story.

Nothing else happened? at hearing these words Saurmag went mad.

"What were you doing in that thicket, you disobedient and reckless child? When will you come to your senses? Why can't you learn to listen?" the enraged chief shifted toward his daughter.

"Hold on, Father!" Bardia grasped his father's arm.

Miryan jumped to shield Mzysia.

"You will not dare to lay a finger on this girl in my house, my Lord!" Miryan's eyes blazed threateningly.

The queen took a sharp breath in surprise. Mindya stood frozen in place as well.

"Silence! Don't you dare make a sound!" thundered the king, jumping to his feet. "What, have all of you gone mad, or does order mean nothing at all in my kingdom anymore?!"

Everyone in the hall was baffled, no one had expected such a turn in events.

"You two, instead of hunting, only the spirits know where and why you were sneaking around!" He glared at Mzysia and Miryan first.

Because of her disobedient nature, the Svan maiden had often earned herself a scolding from elders, but never before had she been this humiliated. Nor was Miryan in any better state. Any more and the culprits would have probably burst into tears, but suddenly the king left them alone now to unleash all his wrath upon the Moschian nobleman.

"All this is your fault, Mindya!"

"Mine?"

"Yes, yours! Who else? Where were your men looking? How could the little girl escape from right under their noses?"

"I am guilty. Forgive me, my merciful King," Mindya's spirits fell.

"Don't be angry at our kind host for my daughter's unruly deeds, my Lord. This little imp is so tricky; she could even escape the Persian guards," Saurmag came to Mindya's rescue.

"Speaking of Persia, I have a few words for you and your son as well!"

"Me and Bardia?" Saurmag was taken aback.

"Yes, you! Who was it that dared fire the first arrow at a buck meant for the king, claiming the honor of first kill? This impudent one!" the sovereign pointed to Bardia. "You are all lucky I am such a patient and merciful king! If this had been Persia, neither of you would have lived to see this morning!"

"That's enough, my Lord. It's not good to get so angry. You need to look after yourself," Tsitsino broke in.

"Now get out of my sight! And all of you must attend tonight's supper!.. Except these young ones. Don't let me see their shameless faces till I summon them!" the sovereign added and fell to his chair.

Everyone filed out of the room noiselessly. As soon as the last person closed the door behind them, the king burst into laughter:

"Did you hear what Saurmag said, my love?" he turned to his wife. "'You, disobedient and reckless child!' How could that savage mountaineer know that the disobedient and reckless ones are the most desirable women?" The king exclaimed cheerfully and, giggling, embraced the queen.

Only four were sitting round the table. Wordlessly they ate their supper, thinking of how to break the awkward silence. Neither the king nor queen intended to do it. Again, it was Saurmag who spoke first. The Svan noble had gotten over his anger, but was still hurt deep inside.

"I have never raised a hand to my daughter, even in her childhood, how would I now, when she is all grown up?" The sorrowful father started awkwardly in a deep voice.

"From the way you looked, nobody would have expected anything good from you, dear Saurmag," the Kolchian king replied.

"Besides Bardia, no one has ever dared come between me and my Mzysia till now."

"Because of his youth and great love for your daughter he dared, my Lord Saurmag. I want to apologize on behalf of my son and myself! Forgive my Miryan his imprudent behavior!" in a sign of deep regret, the host lowered his head.

"A true man must always answer for his actions himself! But Miryan has done nothing wrong and I have nothing to forgive! A man must defend his chosen one from all danger with exactly such zeal and selflessness, even if the danger were to come from her own father! If the presence of the king and myself couldn't even shake him, then no one can stop him if my daughter ever needs his help! I want just such a husband for my Mzysia! Maybe a man like that could teach her some sense!"

Gloomy before then, the Svan smiled. Everyone sighed in relief.

"Glorious King and my Lord, Mindya, I give my consent, but Mzysia is still very young! Don't let her height mislead you; she is only turning thirteen this summer. I know it will be hard for the bridegroom to wait too long, so let's arrange a wedding in two years, no earlier. Don't let your son breathe a word of this till then, Mindya!" Saurmag finished his speech and fixed his gaze on the Moschi nobleman.

# Chapter 9

Clash with Amisiri

As the bitter winter chill began to settle in, in the twenty-fourth year of King Darayawahush' reign, it met the prince in Pasargadae. This was where, in the Great Kourosh's city, the King of Kings desired to celebrate the Birthday of the Sun. In Zoroastrianism, this magnificent holiday, in its importance and grandeur was second only to the New Year.

The Persians believed that on this very day, Ahura-Mazda created the sun and shed light on the earth. They also believed that on this day the first humans, Mashya and Mashyane came into being.

Not surprisingly, the people of Anshan associated the name of the god Mithra with this celebration as well, since Mithra was the protector of honesty, friendship, and order in the Universe. Many followed him, especially among the young. For being the source of every light, the fifteenth day of each month was dedicated to Mithra by the Achaemenid kings.

Kshayarsha loved this holiday ever since he was a child. He had heard that it was most heartily celebrated in Sogdiana and Bactria. The prince had never before travelled that far to the east, but in Pasargadae the Persians rejoiced over this day so that Kshayarsha couldn't imagine how they might be outdone.

King Kourosh's capital greatly differed from Persia's other cities. It's hard to assume what made the founder of the Great Empire decide to build this marvel among this wilderness. The remains of the first King of Kings, who had died to the Far East during an unforeseen battle, lay here.

There was a beautiful garden at the heart of the city. This man-made heaven stretched almost eight plethron from north to south. In length, it reached more than a whole stade. They watered this garden so that by early summer it was already lush and green. Later, when everything was clad in gold, the sun-bathed capital looked even grander.

Two small castles, built of gaudy-colored stone, bordered the southern corners of the garden. Charming porticos gave the whole complex a simple yet elegant look. These castles served no other purpose than being an exquisite entrance to the garden.

At the south western side, a little ways from there, there stood a larger castle. The tall, tile covered columns topped with the heads of lions and bulls, and the fresco and bas-relief ornamented walls gave the palace a festive appearance. Its doorway, guarded by two towers added a fort like look to the flamboyant castle, although they were only symbolic. The wide gates on all four sides pointed out that this fine palace was a lovely entrance as well a gathering place when needed. According to Persian beliefs, the beasts guarding the gates kept the evil spirits away.

Another wonder of Pasargadae, a double gate, stood about seven plethron to the south of this castle. The two sides of the gate were connected by a columned passage. The south entrance of this gate was protected by a large sculpture of a boar. On the north side stood an odd winged figure. The beast's head was adorned by a pharaoh's crown and an Elamite robe covered its body. The inscription below: "I am Kourosh, Achaemenid," involuntarily associated this beast with the Great King, but it was a false impression. Similar carvings were placed in many areas in the palaces of Pasargadae, many of which were ordered by King Darayawahush to make the name of Kourosh everlasting.

The true jewel of this city was a grand palace situated to the north of the garden. The thirty columned majestic hall was decorated by brightly dressed statues. The gods and beasts carved into the walls looked down on the humans, striking fear into the naive onlookers. The portico attached to the westside, like in the southern castle, was guarded by two massive towers. On the garden side of the doorway a low stone bench was added. Similar benches were attached to all the castles on the garden side, which made the whole compound very efficient since the Pasargadae castles were mainly used for religious and festive purposes.

The court's living quarters were situated on the riverbank and formed a tangled labyrinth of splendid dwellings.

When the eunuch notified Kshayarsha of his wife's arrival, the prince was very surprised by Amisiri's early visit. He rose to meet his wife.

"What a pleasant surprise, my Lady. I wasn't hoping to see you until later tonight," he wasn't even trying to hide his astonishment.

The prince had a strange yet firm feeling of mutual respect for his spouse. He greatly valued the lady's intelligence and legerdemain. Kshayarsha never doubted his wife's loyalty, especially since her own well being depended on the prince's success. Their children made this odd state-family connection even sturdier. The couple rarely met. Each time Kshayarsha laid eyes upon his wife he was sincerely charmed by her beauty. He admitted that he had never met a better looking woman than Utana's daughter and probably never would. Despite this, as a woman, his wife didn't appeal to him at all. He regarded her more as a general of his army, therefore, every encounter in her bed made him feel increasingly uncomfortable and displeased.

The lady, dressed in jasmine tones embroidered with gold, was seated on a red wood bench near a low table. The prince sank down in front of her on the carpet.

"Day by day your beauty grows, my Lady. Now you must confess! Surely your Egyptian healer has made you some special elixir!" Kshayarsha gave his wife a friendly smile and a kiss on the cheek.

Amisiri knew Kshayarsha's compliments were sincere. The lady was pleased.

"I could say the same thing about you, my Prince,"she replied, surveying her husband with a smile.

The adolescence was everlastingly erased from Kshayarsha's manly face. Now in front of Amisiri sat a soft bearded, gorgeous young man.

"You wouldn't come to me without business." The prince, not spoiled by his spouse's attention, tried to figure out the reason behind her visit.

"You are right, my Lord," she started.

The man guessed that since the wife addressed him as 'my Lord' she had serious state matters on her mind.

"You know better than I that your half brother, Irdabrdna, seeks the position of Masishta and whoever gains this title among Darayawahush's sons will become his heir."

Utana's daughter's speech was calm and confident. Kshayarsha's temper flared.

"Irdabrdna is the son of a satrap's daughter! He's no match for me! The blood of sunkis flows through my veins from both sides!" the prince straightened and stared into his wife's eyes. "Why did you start this conversation, Amisiri? You have something else on your mind!"

The lady laughed heartily.

"We know each other too well, my Lord! Of course, Irdabrdna poses no threat to you. It's Ariuabrdna who I'm concerned about."

"My younger brother?"

"Yes, that's the one!" her face hardened. "He is Hutaosha's son as well. By blood, he is no less than you. This summer, Ariuabrdna married the daughter of a Median satrap. This woman, Phaidyme, is of Rhagae from her mother's side and is descendent from an ancient Zoroastrian Magian family. As a wedding present Ariuabrdna received the satrapy of Bactria. While you were away in Ionia, shedding blood for the Empire, your younger brother grew ten times stronger! I fear Hutaosha had a hand in this."

"My mother?!" Kshayarsha couldn't believe his ears.

"She is Ariuabrdna's mother as well," sang Utana's daughter.

"You are wrong, my Lady! My mother would never betray me!"

"I'm not trying to prove anything!" Amisiri stood coldly. "But I would do the same in her place. It's not betrayal, Kshayarsha. The queen is not Darayawahush's favorite wife. You know this. Hutaosha seeks power. She wants to be the mother of an heir. I think the queen will be loyal to you to the end. But just in case, she is preparing her other child as well. The fight for the throne isn't an innocent game, my Prince."

Kshayarsha knew well enough what fighting for the throne was without being reminded. To get the crown, a brother didn't spare a brother and a son didn't spare a father. The prince didn't like this at all but had to face the truth: if need be, he would rid himself of anyone. Kshayarsha was not about to surrender his rights. And Amisiri was the prince's greatest ally in the secret battle for the throne.

"Do you know anything else, Amisiri?" asked Kshayarsha, deep in thought.

"Yesterday, Sellibi, son of Niddin-Nabu, arrived in Pasargadae from Esagila. Since when did the Marduk's temple send its people to our celebrations?" the lady arched her brows in question.

His wife's words sent the prince further into thought.

What does Esagila want from the Great Darayawahush? Kshayarsha pondered.

"My sources inform me that Babylon desires to see Arshama, son of queen Irtashduna, as the king's viceroy in its capital. Do you know whose idea this was? The frivolous Irtashduna has nothing to do with this," she smirked.

The king's favorite wife's indifference toward state affairs was well known by the Persian court. Instead of worrying about the Empire, the exceedingly wealthy queen spent all of her time arranging feasts and celebrations. Her eldest son, Arshama, also partook a great deal in this. From Irtashduna's lands: Kukkannakan, Matannan, and Mirandu wine-makers, hirakurras, sent a huge amount of food and wine to the capitals. In the size of her lands, only the queen's close friend, the notorious Irdabama, could compare with Irtashduna.

This noble lady was the wife of Vindafrana, who was put to death by the king. As compensation for this inconvenience, Darayawahush took particular care of the widow. The wealth and independence of Irdabama, aroused jealousy in the courtiers, but for the fear of the king, who would dare open his mouth? In cleverness and cunning she was more than a match to any merchant. Beside her lands, she owned many slaves and servants. Thanks to her capable management, her wealth grew daily.

Amisiri regarded these kinds of dealings unfit for the royal family. She openly looked down upon the notorious widow and wasn't too thrilled by Irtashduna either. Still, the king loved this buoyant, fun loving queen much more than the intelligent and nationally involved, beautiful Hutaosha.

"This perfidious idea was born in Rhagae. The unrest in the Empire twenty years ago had also been started by these idolaters, remember? They still can't stop their treachery! They want to kill two birds with one stone," Amisiri held up her finger, almost touching the prince's nose, "first of all, they are preparing another heir. Second," the lady put up the next finger, "they seek to ruin your friendship with Marduniya. Ardushnamuya is his precious wife, Arshama - her beloved brother. The poor prince has no idea what a mess he's about to be involved in. Marduniya is a rising star in the Persian army. Because of your friendship and his own value, the son of Gauparuva has earned himself a lot of powerful enemies. To separate the two of you has become the sweet dream of many nobles." Amisiri clenched her fist, her eyes flashing menacingly. "But don't you worry about them, my Lord. I'll take care of it!"

The sight of his wife caused Khshayarsha to shiver. No doubt, Amisiri could take care of anyone or anything.

The lady turned back to her husband.

"You cannot return north, Khshayarsha! There is no reason for you to go to Armina and Cappadocia. You should move to Babylon. As for me, I will always be near the king," Amisiri sat back down. "You'll see; everything will turn out in our favor! But you must do one thing: beat everyone to it and ask the sunki for Babylon first. No one will expect this of you. They all think you're too occupied with your new mistress," the lady smiled slyly. "The sunki will be busy these days, attending feasts. This is the only celebration where he may act as a common man and enjoy himself as much as he pleases. Babylon, as well as Rhagae, put their hopes on this. But we will do it first. Make him promise you Babylon tonight. The Great Darayawahush will never break his word!"

"What an easy aim to reach!" the prince smiled sarcastically.

"For you – yes. Who would dare say no to you, my beautiful Masishta?" Amisiri tenderly kissed her husband.

The palaces of Pasargadae were prepared for the great festivities. The entire city celebrated the creation of the sun, truth, and mankind. Persia knew only two seasons: hama \- summer and zayana- winter. It was no coincidence that the holiday of truth, light, and friendship was celebrated at the very beginning of winter. Warmth was never needed or missed more than in the frigid winter nights. The sun's birth gave hope of overcoming the cold and the unbearable chill. Along with Mithra, the grateful people did not forget Atar, the god of Holly Fire. A Persian man knew that thanks to the sun during daytime, and a fire at night, he would survive the coldness and meet the New Year with rising hopes.

The esfand incense drifting through the streets made the worshipers dizzy, while the smell of cooking added an edge to the hunger of those who caught a whiff. On these days the Zoroastrians welcomed everyone; their religion didn't matter. The Persians handed out roast sheep and delicious meat pies to everyone, not forgetting their four legged friends. Stray dogs received delicious bones and large pieces of meat instead of stones and kicks. For the next five days, the entire city would be drowning in feasting and merriment.

On the king's orders, tables were brought to the gardens and all of Pasargadae was invited. This was the only time of year that the Empire treated slaves and nobles with the same hospitality. When the celebration was over, their lives would return to their strict and often brutal reality. But for those few days, a poor, miserable man would get the taste of mercy and superfluous wealth while a rich and arrogant noble could allow himself for a short time to be humane by letting those below, look up. Even the great king himself took part in the feast with everybody and often got publically drunk.

Everyone in the empire, Persian or not, Zoroastrian and those of other religions, loved this holiday. The king did not force his beliefs on others, but shared the festivities with anyone.

The prince spent half a day preparing himself for this holiday. They bathed him for a long time, rubbed scented oils into his skin and silken hair, painted his eyes and fingers, picked out clothes and jewels for him to wear.

Kshayarsha's new mistress, the beautiful Shazana, witnessed all this and childishly stuck her nose everywhere, much to the dismay of the eunuchs and servants.

"No, you don't want this attire, my Prince. It covers too much of your shoulders!" the girl waved her hands in discontent.

Kshayarsha immediately sent his servant to fetch another.

"No, no! This color is much too dark, my love!" the woman couldn't be pleased.

"This is a royal color, silly!" the young man smiled.

"That may be so, but the saffron tunic with the emerald studded belt suits you much better," the stubborn young lady wouldn't surrender.

To the servants' relief, the prince still managed to finish dressing by evening and turned before Shazana.

"Do you like me now?"

"You are always godlike, my Prince!" the older eunuch cut in before she could say anything.

Interrupting a conversation like this was completely unacceptable by the palace rules, but Kshayarsha had been raised by this eunuch, so the prince always treated him with particular kindness.

"Did this little bird tire you as well, Banija?" the prince smiled at the old man understandingly, wrapping his arms around the woman and kissing the top of her head. "What can we do? You must suffer her a bit longer. Shazana is now your charge. Mind you take good care of her. Make sure she doesn't come anywhere near me at the feast."

The girl, displeased at the prince's order, stuck her tongue out at the eunuch. The old man reddened from frustration. Kshayarsha had never had such a frivolous mistress before. As for the young man, he did not take her misbehavior seriously.

"Don't be sad, my love. No one has ever been bored on this celebration. Later on you'll come to me," the young man kissed her lips and fled the room.

Outside, Baghabagsha was waiting for Kshayarsha near his coach. Always scruffy, the young nobleman was combed and had even used scented oils on his curly hair out of respect for Mithra. The horsemen sitting on the ground near there jumped to their feet upon the prince's approach.

"What took you so long?" Zopyrush's son couldn't help but reprimand the prince. "Now we're late!"

"No we're not. Nothing will start there till nightfall anyway." Kshayarsha answered coolly and hopped onto the coach.

The youngster wanted to say something but changed his mind, swatting his hand, and took a seat next to his friend.

"How sad Marduniya is not with us," the prince sounded disappointed. "We'd have a good time together."

"That's fine; he's having a good time in Shushan with his wife anyway."

According to tradition, the king and his family went to Atar's temple by coach. The other nobles followed the sovereign on horseback. Commoners and slaves sped to the holiest temple of fire by foot. The roads were crowded with worshippers. Seeing the prince's coach, the people jumped left and right, making way for the king's son while shouting joyously. Famous for his beauty, Kshayarsha was mobbed by the people, trying to catch a glance.

"Look how they adore you!" Baghabagsha exclaimed happily.

"It'd be better if the king and his courtiers loved me like this!"

Amongst the shouts and laughter, the two youngsters could barely hear one another.

Slowly the Atar temple became visible in the distance. Called a temple, it was actually a tall tower raised in the middle of a field. It had long narrow openings on all four sides. The stairs inside led to a sacrificial alter on which the magians laid scented pieces of wood.

A sea of people swarmed around the temple. Aside from fire worshippers, many others were gathered there to witness the beautiful sight. Darayawahush's coach appeared last on the field. The king was accompanied by Ariuabrdna. The newly wed prince was leaving for the distant Bactria soon after the celebration, and so, not wanting to waste his time idly, he stayed at his father's side. Darayawahush's remaining children were already there. Once the king took his place, the priests began the prayer.

Memucan, garbed in white, stepped up on a stone pedestal, raised his hands to the heavens and started to honor Ahura-Mazda. Soon the other magians joined him. Shouts of praise for Ahura-Mazda, Mithra and Atar were heard from every direction. Ahura-Mazda, the creator of the world, the source of all wisdom and kindness, was the Persians' supreme god. The Zoroastrians considered the ancient Mithra under Ahura-Mazda's preeminence. Now he was understood as the source of light and truth. Strongest after Ahura-Mazda, Mithra helped mankind decipher good from evil, protecting righteous men from dark forces. Atar, the son of the supreme god, was acknowledged as undying Holy Fire and worshipped passionately.

Soon the flock joined their voices with those of the priests in song, and religious ecstasy dominated the field. Their simple songs, consisting of singular words, were understood by all. Ahura-Mazda, God, Earth, King – the lyrics of the primitive ritual songs, in the deep, low voices of men, sprang straight from the worshipper's hearts.

Hands raised, Kshayarsha also praised Ahura-Mazda ardently. The prayers continued until the sun hid behind the horizon. As darkness settled in, the servants of the divine fire brought out a flawless, year old lamb and wordlessly slit its throat beside the temple. Then, with the holy barsom on their hands, carried the sacrifice inside, where no one was allowed beside magians. Then the priests set the fire and placed the lamb on the sacrificial alter. The wind blew in from all four sides, feeding the embers. The fire grew and grew. When the magians disappeared in the tower, the field went deathly silent. The breathless worshipers froze in anticipation of the amazing sight. Soon great tongues of fire burst through the four openings, lapping at the sky, turning the tower into one enormous torch. Atar had accepted the offering.

The crowd roared in rapture. The field, now glowing from the bright fire, resembled an ocean of joy.

Many planned to spend the night there, but the king's court made their way for the Pasargadae palaces.

Passing the southern gate, the whole procession headed for the gardens. The tables for commoners were set here. As for the king, his feast was prepared in the great hall to the north. All of Pasargadae's poor inhabitants were gathered in the garden. The king's retinue could barely wind their way through them all. Shouts of praise for almighty Ahura-Mazda and the munificent King of Kings pleased Darayawahush's ears. The Persian sovereign had always wished to be known as a generous and kind ruler. For this very same reason, he made sure his subjects lacked no food or drink.

Darayawahush himself was growing very hungry. As soon as he reached the table, he dove for the delicious food. On one side of the king, the Queen Irtashduna was already seated, on the other, a place had been prepared for Queen Hutaosha, but the lady, entertained by a conversation, had been delayed.

"Great Sunki, this year your bigheartedness has gone beyond imagining," the stunning Amisiri stood beside the king.

Smoothing her red Babylonian bare shouldered dress with one hand the clever woman rested her other on the queen's empty armchair.

"I scarcely made it here! I nearly even lost my dress on the way. Bold from your generosity and overwhelming kindness, the skouthi followed me till the entrance."

"A beauty like you, if I were younger, I'd run after you myself!" the king joked with his beloved daughter-in-law. "Come, sit by me. Grace us with your loveliness and delightful company."

Irtashduna also invited Amisiri with a friendly smile. Utana's daughter hesitated awhile but still sank into the queen's armchair with great pleasure.

When Hutaosha came, she showed no discontent and sat between Memucan and Ariuabrdna's young wife, Phaidyme. Few could compare with Kourosh's daughter in ingenuity. The queen saw at once that her daughter-in-law had something very important in mind; otherwise the careful Amisiri wouldn't have dared to take her place; but what was it? Hutaosha was chatting pleasantly with her new relative while keeping her eyes and ears on the king's table. Amisiri was also quite anxious: For some unknown reason, Kshayarsha was late.

The prince, along with Baghabagsha, followed the king closely. As soon as they passed the double gates, it became clear to Kshayarsha that he would not be able to stand beside his father. Among Darayawahush's sons, he was the most beloved of the people. How could the poor town's folk let an opportunity like this slip? In the blink of an eye, the Prince found himself surrounded by skouthi. The blissful crowd was not about to let loose their prey. Some women's boldness even reached the point where they tried to extend their hands toward Kshayarsha's shiny locks. The guard, catching sight of this, immediately thought that no good could come from it and attacked the poor people. The prince could hardly contain the immortal's outbreak.

Kshayarsha stood at least a head taller than anyone there. He easily spotted the king's retinue passing the southern palace, turning right toward the pavilion and disappearing behind the gardens western entrance. The prince couldn't even take one step. Troubled, Kshayarsha looked around helplessly. Suddenly he noticed Banija and Shazana not too far off. The Eunuch, grabbing the woman's arm was desperately trying to pull her away, but the frivolous mistress, ignoring the old man's attempts, pushed her way to the prince. Upon seeing this, Kshayarsha went completely mad.

"Bagha, money!" he bellowed at his friend from above.

The startled Baghabagsha reached for his vest, bringing up a large sack and started opening it, but the prince snatched the bag, ripping it open and dumping the gold coins in his palm.

"My loyal skouthi, here's a present from me!" the prince shouted, graciously tossing the coins into the air.

The gold darics rained down on the mob. Overjoyed, the skouthi left the giant and fell to the ground in search of money. Seizing the opportunity, Kshayarsha jumped to Shazana's side, throwing her over his back and dashed to the southern garden entrance with all his might, Banija and Baghabagsha on his tail. The simple skouthi soon realized they had been tricked, but it was too late. The loyal guards had blocked all paths to the prince.

Kshayarsha found refuge in the southern palace, dumped Shazana on the floor and leaned against a column to catch his breath.

"Man, you're fast!" Bagha was dying from laughter. "Now the whole palace will be gossiping tomorrow on how Kshayarsha bought himself from the skouthi with gold darics, kidnapped some girl while he was at it and ran for his life!"

All this seemed to be entertaining Baghabagsha greatly, but the prince was in no laughing mood.

"What did I tell you, woman?" the young man glared at his dim-witted mistress.

Tears sprang from the frightened girl's eyes.

"How is it her fault? How can one take a simple girl off the streets, bring her to the palace and expect her to behave as a lady?" the old eunuch defended Shazana.

And he was right. Usually, women chosen to be the prince's mistresses were trained for a long time, and only after that could they be introduced to their lord, but no one had taught poor Shazana anything.

The tears of his woman melted Kshayarsha's heart.

"Fine, don't cry," he petted her like a child.

"Banija, bring this little bird to the feast table and keep a close eye on her, make sure she doesn't fly away and get into trouble!"

Then turning to Shazana, the prince warned, "Did you hear what I just said? Don't set one foot outside the palace! When I'm done with my business, I myself will bring you to my apartments. There you'll see what befalls you!" his threat made even Kshayarsha laugh.

"Let's go, Bagha," clapping his friend on the shoulder and passing the porch, the prince headed to the northern palace.

Entering the hall Kshayarsha immediately spotted Amisiri sitting beside the king.

"Great job, my Spadapatish!" he silently praised his wife and made his way to them.

"I thought you were hiding from us," Irtashduna smiled at her nephew.

"Don't say that, my beloved aunt. I've been rushing here with all my heart and soul, but skouthi mobs attacked me on the way. I was barely able to get here."

The prince's messy curls and wrinkled tunic proved his story.

"How's that? You've been attacked too? That's a true husband and wife! The same thing happened to Amisiri," Darayawahush chuckled.

"Great Sunki, with your permission, I'll hand the seat over to my Lord. Kshayarsha will tell his adventure in full detail. I'll join Queen Hutaosha and Phaidyme." Amisiri rose to her feet, heading for the other ladies while Kshayarsha took his wife's seat.

"I knew you had something in mind," the queen met her daughter-in-law with a sly smile. "What? Does my son have something to ask of his father? You should have asked openly and I would have helped with great pleasure."

"I don't know what you mean, my Lady." Amisiri played dumb.

"Well, well, if you do not wish to say, that's your choice, but both of my little in-laws should know, it's a bit too early to disregard me."

Amisiri didn't like the threat hidden behind Hutaosha's words. Fully appraising the queen's power and capabilities, the prince's wife had never even considered forgetting her mother-in-law.

"We always hope for your help, Mother. Perhaps Kshayarsha does have some business with his majesty, but I don't know anything about that. The Sunki himself invited me to sit by him, I didn't dare say no."

Amisiri looked about her. Everyone except Phaidyme nodded their support.

"There is no woman more beautiful than your wife in the entire Empire," Irtashduna threw a jealous glance at Amisiri.

"And smart too," Darayawahush added.

The king reached for some ripe grapes on the table.

"Where are these heavenly grapes from? I must find out. It would make wonderful wine for our ladies. Here, try some," the king extended a bunch to the prince.

The tiny fruit burst pleasantly on Kshayarsha's tongue. The prince savored the juice.

"What a strange taste. The insides are somewhat sour while the skin is incredibly sweet. You're right, Father, this could make a wonderful drink for the beauties."

Darayawahush was a great admirer of wine. Persepolis and Susa's storehouses were full of the best drinks. Still, the king, along with Irtashduna, was always trying to stock up on the newest varieties.

"You know, my son, the quality of grapes depends entirely on the sun. If they lack any warmth and light, they come out thin and sour. If they get too much sun, they dry up. The divergence in water, light, and soil, produce entirely different tastes in the same plant."

The prince was completely uninterested in wine-making. He considered it low and unsuitable for his position. That's what servants and hirakurras were for, but, his father was the king and he could talk about whatever he pleased.

"There are such places in Babylon, Great Sunki. There it is sunny, they have plenty of water and the soil is rich as well. That's probably where these grapes are from. Let's ask Parnaka, he has everything recorded."

"We'll see," the great Darayawahush pondered scratching his beard. "Oh, I just remembered. Speaking of Babylon, we have visitors from Esagila. Isn't that weird? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't, but Amisiri told me some things."

"What does Utana's daughter say?"

"Sellibi, son of Iddin-Nabu, has come here on business. It's no secret that a new satrap of the king is to be chosen for Babylonia and Esagila tries to help the man of his convenience."

"I wonder how Esagila thought of this," Darayawahush grinned.

"That mongrel Sellibi can't even dream of meeting with you. Perhaps they wish to plant the idea in one of your wives. Then everything will follow on its own. Since it is impossible to secretly meet with the sunki's wives, the sacred feast is the perfect time for such business."

"Hmm, the Babylonians have already sent presents to each of the queens," Darayawahush burst out laughing.

"Did Hutaosha ask anything for me? All I know is Babylon wouldn't like to have me there."

"No, your mother hasn't asked me anything, but I've been meaning to send you to a more important satrapy for a while now. At first I was thinking of Bactra, but I didn't want you to go so far. I'm saving Babylon for you, Kshayarsha. I need a strong hand there. Tell your smart wife that she's not the only one who knows everything!" Darayawahush glared at his son with narrowed eyes. "It is I who rules over Persia, and as long as there is breath in me, all will go as I desire!"

The king stopped for a while and looked over the hall. Many eyes secretly watched the father and son. The king smiled roguishly and turned back to Kshayarsha.

"I've been keeping an eye on the nobles of Babylon and Borsippa for a long time now. The Sipparians are no better, but the very worst are Esagila and her servants. Wealth is not enough for the priests, now they seek power!" Darayawahush slammed his fist down on the table. "It's a holiday now. There's no room for anger and wrath. Let's be merry," the king softened his voice. "Don't you worry. You'll be the ruler of Babylon, Kshayarsha!"

Amisiri, dying of curiosity, spied on the king and Kshayarsha from a distance. The woman wanted to know what was going on as soon as possible. So, escorted by her bodyguards, she left the feast early and headed for her husband's chambers. Entering the room, Amisiri lay down on the bed, drawing the curtains. After a while of waiting, she fell asleep. At midnight, the guards and eunuchs were replaced. The newly arrived servants didn't notice Amisiri sleeping behind the curtains.

Kshayarsha and Shazana headed back to the prince's bedchamber at nearly dawn. Amisiri awoke at the sound, lifting her head. Realizing that the prince was not alone, the woman quickly jumped from the bed and hid behind the rug hanging over the window.

"Didn't I promise to speak to you later? Now beware!" Kshayarsha leaned toward his lover, pretending to be angry.

Shazana, screaming, ran around the canopy bed. The young man tore down the curtains in the blink of an eye, promptly leapt over the bed and tossed his mistress in. Soon, instead of screaming and laughter, a whole different sound filled the room.

Amisiri, hiding behind the rug, was already regretting her actions greatly:

What was I thinking? Why did I hide? Since when does Kshayarsha go to his bedchambers without a woman?

Utana's proud daughter was very angry with herself. She desperately wanted to slip away. Amisiri carefully peeked out from her hiding place and abruptly drew back. It was too late.

"If I were to come out now, I'd look even more stupid!" the lady concluded and decided to stay where she was.

Kshayarsha had torn Shazana's dress, covering her with passionate kisses from head to toe. Amisiri was furious at the sight. The more she saw, the more the proud lady's anger grew. Her husband, the prince of the invincible Persian Empire, was drowning some whore in crazed love. The mistress's sweet moans were a blow to Amisiri's heart. Kshayarsha had never treated his rightful wife and future queen in such a way. The cold, brief visits of her always polite spouse never showed any sign of desire for her. The woman never even thought of blaming herself for this. She had begun feeling secret affection for the handsome prince for a while now, but didn't know how to change their awkward relationship. Everyone at the king's court worshipped the incomparable beauty of Utana's daughter. Although Kshayarsha often acknowledged his wife's charm, it was clearly not enough to turn the amorous prince back to her... The woman was choking on her tears and her heart filled with resentment.

This shameless slut was now herself caressing Amisiri's property. Anahita's servant's unbridled passion sometimes incited feeling of shame in the proud Persian woman's heart, which soon turned to the flooding emotion of desire for her husband.

Finally worn out, the lovers fell asleep.

Eyes red and lips swollen from biting them bitterly, Amisiri slid out from behind the rug, crept from the room on tip-toes, snuck by the sleeping eunuch at the door and ran for the hallway. Seeing Amisiri leaving the prince's bedchamber didn't surprise the guards outside. The woman reached her quarters without any complications, beckoned the servants and collapsed in her bed.

Overwhelmed by her feelings, Amisiri could barely breathe. What was that: love, jealousy or her injured self respect? Maybe it was the desire for the handsome prince. The woman couldn't label her feelings. But one thing Amisiri knew for certain: along with being queen, she intended to possess the king also, definitely not sharing her husband's bed with anyone.

Having risen late, Kshayarsha was ready for departure. A maidservant laid a golden necklace on the prince's chest, checked his curls once more and with a bow, left the room. Kshayarsha glanced over at Shazana.

Oh, great Anahita! Are all such beauties so feather-brained, or am I just unlucky? the prince sighed.

Kshayarsha didn't even count his wise wife as a woman.

"Banija!" the prince called.

The elderly eunuch appeared immediately.

"Look after this turtle-dove for me. We can't lock her in a cage; the poor thing will get bored. Take the guard with you. And don't bring her to me tonight. I'll be back late and I want to get some rest."

The old eunuch nodded in understanding. How could rest be possible with Shazana?

The prince was surprised that Amisiri hadn't visited to hear the news yet, but then assumed that the lady must have been tired as well and had been sleeping all day. Kshayarsha headed for his spouse's quarters.

Why hadn't Amisiri brought the children with her? She could have at least brought little Darayawahush. Last night's fire would have pleased the boy, Kshayarsha was thinking on the way.

The prince rarely got to see his children, so he didn't necessarily have strong feelings for them, but he remembered his own childhood very well. Seeing his father always meant a great deal to him. Hutaosha never spoiled him with affection either. The prince had never felt the warmth of a parent. As an infant, his wet-nurse used to pet and kiss him, but how would he remember that? For this reason, he would grant his warmth and love to his own children, but Amisiri acted by the palace rules. Kshayarsha had never even seen them as infants. When they had gotten a bit older, Amisiri brought them on visits a few times, but that was it. The Persian court never showed any weakness or soft-heartedness to anyone. The Royal children were no exception. The parents thought that through such an upbringing, the children would be better prepared for the harsh reality of palace life.

Entering the small chamber, Kshayarsha bowed cheerfully to Amisiri, plopped up on colorful cushions. The maidens surrounding the lady immediately left the room.

"How come you didn't call on me, my beautiful Lady? Are you not interested in how the conversation with my father ended?"

The prince lay down beside his spouse, leaning on his elbow. The fingers of his other hand were dancing on his bent knee, his eyes fixed on Amisiri. Kshayarsha's shining curls caressed her bare shoulders.

He is truly as handsome as Atar! Amisiri couldn't look at the prince's carelessly sprawled gorgeous body with indifference. The woman confessed to herself that she couldn't care less about state affairs at the moment.

"Did you manage to speak with Great Darayawahush?" she asked half-heartedly.

"Yes!"

"Well, what did the sunki tell you?"

"Could you believe it? He already knew everything. I didn't even have to ask for anything. Father had already decided to send me to Babylon himself."

"Hmm, really?" It was apparent that the lady's thoughts were flying elsewhere.

"What's the matter with you, Amisiri? You're not even listening to me! You're not acting like yourself. Did you sleep well?" Kshayarsha asked, staggered.

"I didn't sleep at all," his spouse confessed.

"That's very bad. I came to get you, we are already late."

"I'm not dressed."

"What do you mean you're not dressed? You always look spectacular."

The prince inspected his wife and was surprised to find that Amisiri, clad in a semi-see-through Hindu gown looked almost naked.

"Oh, you can't come like this, you must change," Kshayarsha smiled. "Hurry, my beauty!"

"No, I can't come. Maybe you could stay with me, if you like," the woman touched his hand.

Kshayarsha immediately freed his arm.

"Are you feeling ill? Is something bothering you?"

His wife shook her head in disagreement.

"Then why aren't you coming?"

"I'm tired. Besides, you said that Great Darayawahush already promised you Babylon. Then why is it necessary to go to the palace? There are so many princes in the Persian court that the sunki may not even notice your absence. Stay with me, will you?"

"You have really gone mad, Amisiri! My absence would not escape any servant, never mind my father! Fine, if you want to, you may stay, but I must go!" He quickly stood, pecked his wife on the cheek, and headed for the Pasargadae palaces.

What a marvel! Kshayarsha thought to himself. I wonder what bug has bitten Amisiri. Could she be pregnant?

The young man had heard that women acted strange sometimes when they were with child. The prince quickly counted in his head and came to a conclusion: even if Amisiri had been impregnated during his last visit, this child would be long born. Kshayarsha couldn't come up with a reason for his wife's strange behavior and soon dropped the matter.

This day, the palace was full of acrobats and dancers. The king's guests enjoyed their meal while taking pleasure in the skills of the magicians and charlatans from all corners of the Empire. Some breathed fire; some mesmerized venomous snakes brought in baskets with their magic flutes. One man even swallowed a sword and still lived. Kshayarsha wondered, If I give him my sword, will he dare swallow it? but then feared that the charlatan would really die, and so, didn't ask for anything. What the prince liked most were the trained elephants and monkeys out in the garden. Left without Amisiri, he was constantly looking about, hoping to spot Banija and Shazana. For having fun, the mistress really was an irreplaceable friend, but the woman was nowhere to be seen.

"The one time I hoped she would defy me and show her face, and can you believe it? Suddenly she turns into an obedient woman!" Kshayarsha complained to Zopyrush's son.

"You shouldn't be surprised. Somehow women always guess our desires and always do the exact opposite," Baghabagsha smiled.

"Shazana really does understand my desires and always does everything right in bed."

"I really should sneak into your room one night and find out what's so outstanding that this lady does for myself."

"Let's see you try. Even being Zopyrush's son won't help you then. They'd catch you instantly and turn you into a eunuch. Then you can look all you want and enjoy how others have fun in their beds."

The guests at the table around them burst into laughter at the prince's joke.

"What are you laughing at you fools? Don't you remember what happened to Vindafrana? The sunki's bow bearer almost barged right into Darayawahush's bedchamber while he was with a woman. Offended by not being let into Darayawahush's room, Vindafrana even cut the poor innocent guard's nose and ears off. The bow bearer's entire family was sacrificed for his foolish act," the noble Parnaka, sitting by the youngsters, finished his account.

Everyone at the king's court had heard this sorry tale. Downcast by Darayawahush's uncle's words, the young nobles looked at one another.

"The wife of the ill-fated Vindafrana, instead of asking to spare her husband, begged the king for her own brother's life!" Parnaka spat with disgust.

"Perhaps the Lady Irdabama figured that taking care of her sibling would cost her less than her spouse and made this wise decision," Zareh, the middle son of Armina's satrap, put in.

"Thank God, I don't have a wife yet, so she cannot trade me for her brother," Baghabagsha's eyes almost popped from their sockets, "but I don't like the idea of being castrated either. So, I won't sneak into your room. If you ever catch someone, you can be sure it won't be me."

Baghabagsha's words cheered the young nobles and the table was filled with laughter once again.

Left alone, Amisiri fell deep into thought. The lady had no doubt that the prince loved her in his own way. Kshayarsha was always concerned for her and paid great respect to her. Who was as loyal a friend and truer supporter to Kshayarsha than Amisiri? No woman in Persia even compared to Utana's daughter in beauty as well. Then what was the problem? She had seen a whole different side to Kshayarsha in Shazana's arms and this gave the lady no peace of mind.

I'm better than that slut in every way! the proud Amisiri thought to herself. Kshayarsha is my husband and he belongs to me!

Today, when Kshayarsha had visited his wife, he didn't even sneak a glance at Amisiri's full breasts or flirtatiously bare legs. Just the thought of it made her stomach twist painfully.

It's all that slut's fault! She must have put a spell on him, reading chants or brewing potions for the prince to not look at me. How else could it be explained that I offered myself up to my husband and he didn't even notice? No, I must get rid of this woman! Amisiri concluded with a malicious snarl setting on her lips.

The following morning, the prince woke up unusually early. He didn't wish to get out of bed. He had nothing to do, so he called his eunuch and ordered Shazana to be brought to him. Soon, the troubled youth returned empty handed.

"Forgive me, my Prince," the servant bowed low. "We couldn't find the woman anywhere."

"What do you mean you couldn't find her? Where is Banija?"

"We couldn't find him either," the youth was at a loss.

Kshayarsha immediately jumped to his feet, threw on some clothes and called for the captain of the guards.

"Where is my mistress's guard from the other day?"

"He wasn't at his post today."

"What?"

"It's not uncommon to stay out late during celebrations," the eunuch captain named Spamithra responded sheepishly.

"Search the entire palace right away! Find Shazana and Banija!" the prince ordered firmly. "If you can't find them there, look in the city. And if they're not even there, turn over every stone in the suburbs! If you don't find my mistress dead or alive, every guard in the palace shall loose his head!"

This was no mere threat. For three days and nights the one thousand immortals searched for the missing people. On the fourth day, quite a distance from Pasargadae, two bodies were carried to shore from the river. The horrified Kshayarsha was barely able to recognize Shazana and Banija in the bloated and deformed corpses.

"They didn't drown. Both were murdered. The eunuch has a wound on his chest, and the woman's neck had been crushed," Spamithra reported to Kshayarsha.

"And the guard?" the prince was visibly trembling with anger.

"He was also killed. The Immortal's body was dumped in a gorge. This is the worst part; it looks like an inside job, otherwise they would never have managed to get the bodies outside the city."

"How do you know he didn't go to the gorge himself?"

"We found his sword near the palace. The murderers must have forgotten it in their haste. Someone must have lured the guard, someone from whom he didn't expect an attack. He was struck on the head with something round. It looks like one of our apples," the captain pointed to the golden apple at the end of an immortal's lance. "There must have been one or two attackers. The guard was heavy and they couldn't have dragged him far and they were short on time. The lighter mistress and eunuch were first killed, and then dumped in the water. We cannot say exactly where they were killed, in the city or by the river. But by the time they hit the water, they were dead, that's for sure."

Hearing these horrifying details stunned the prince. Who would want to get rid of Shazana and the old eunuch? They were of no importance to state affairs whatsoever, and they never got in anyone's way either, they were not wealthy and didn't possess enemies. The only thing that could come to mind was the revenge of a jealous wife, but Amisiri never showed any interest in Kshayarsha's personal life. During their marriage, the prince had exchanged many concubines. The palace of Susa was full of women Kshayarsha had grown bored of, but Amisiri had never paid attention to any of them. Kshayarsha sincerely pitied the victims, but his own helplessness was what drove him mad.

"Whatever it may cost me, I will come to the bottom of this mystery!"

Spitting fire, the prince begged the almighty Ahura-Mazda and the righteous Mithra to help him find the offenders and bring them to justice all day. He didn't have to wait for long. That very night, the eunuch on duty asked permission to speak.

"Merciful Mar Biti, I don't know how to dare say this. Maybe my words won't mean anything..."

"Tell me everything quick and straightforward!" Kshayarsha cut in, irritated.

"On the first night of celebration, it was not my turn to work so I was sleeping in the eunuchs' room. Near dawn, I woke up for bodily needs and came out. I thought I saw our lady in the hall near the entrance. I dared to look in your bedchambers. You and Shazana were fast asleep. I was assured that there was nothing to worry about. I thought that the lady must have come to speak to you and that the servant had warned her you weren't alone so she left for her quarters."

The eunuch intentionally didn't mention that the guard had been sleeping outside the door. Kshayarsha was astonished by what he'd just heard. Amisiri never admitted that she had visited him that morning and found him busy. The prince summoned all his eunuchs.

"On the first night of celebration, did anyone see my wife come to my chambers?"

"I saw the lady, my Lord," one of the eunuchs came forward.

"Tell me everything."

"The lady came just before midnight. I led her to the room, served her a chilled drink and left. After this, my replacement came," the eunuch pointed to another servant, "and I went to go sleep."

"Did you see the lady?" Kshayarsha turned to the other eunuch.

"No, my Prince, I didn't see her."

"How's that?"

"The lady probably left before I arrived." the eunuch was baffled.

"I see. Take these two away. Two hundred lashes for each of them. The first because he didn't inform his replacement of the guest, the second because he didn't check the chamber properly, besides, he was napping in the morning and didn't see the lady leave! If they survive, don't bring them back to the palace. Send them to heavy labor!"

At hearing such a cruel punishment, the horrified eunuchs fell to their knees and begged for forgiveness. How could anyone survive two hundred lashes? But today, Kshayarsha was merciless. The memory of Shazana and Banija called for the punishment of the offenders. The prince was after bloody revenge.

"And your name?" Kshayarsha turned to the eunuch on duty.

"Ardaja of Nippur, my Lord," the young servant said in a barely audible voice.

"Pitiful bandaka, I forgive you once for not telling me everything truthfully. Don't you know that a eunuch must be completely honest with his master? I trust you with my life! Did you think I wouldn't figure out that this unworthy slave fell asleep at his post? Who I have mercy upon and who I punish is none of your business. You better worry about your own hide."

Horrified Ardaja fell on his face. The prince now turned to the rest of the servants:

"All of you get back to work! Do not breathe a word of this matter to anyone!"

Left alone, Kshayarsha sat down on the bed. Slowly everything clicked into place. Amisiri's strange behavior from before suddenly didn't seem so strange. It was clear that his wife's womanly desires for him had awoken, but for god's sake, why was the concubine and eunuch's death necessary? An ordinary woman would try to seduce her husband with feminine tricks, and if nothing worked, she would accept her fate and step aside, but Amisiri was not such a woman. She obviously disregarded Kshayarsha's will and planned to overtake him by force almost like a prey.

Who does Amisiri think she is, my wife or my master? Kshayarsha couldn't get over the fact that someone dared to challenge his divine rights. As a woman, Utana's beautiful daughter died to Kshayarsha five years ago on the first night of their wedding. And the proud, arrogant prince wasn't about to raise a distant ghost from the ashes. Kshayarsha had long forgiven Amisiri her ruthless insult and instead of revenge he chose to extend the hand of friendship, making her an inseparable ally. In the case of him becoming king, no woman could appose her place as queen. As a husband, Kshayarsha could give her nothing more, and didn't wish to either.

Kshayarsha could hardly contain his anger. For the death of some concubine and eunuch, the prince really couldn't do anything to his wife. True, the law demanded a cruel punishment for the killings, but accusing Amisiri would cause more harm to Kshayarsha than the culprit. The prince was a hostage to his own title and position. The terrible feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that he had suffered five years ago weighed as an unbearable load on his shoulders once more.

Kshayarsha was no longer an inexperienced sixteen-year-old and wouldn't give up as easily. The prince would certainly punish the offenders. The useless eunuchs had already gotten what they deserved. It was now the proud lady's turn. She couldn't have done it alone, someone must have helped her. Only the lady knew the murderers names. The infuriated Kshayarsha was ready to rip the truth from her lips by torture if need be, but he couldn't do that, could he? So Kshayarsha came up with a different plan.

When evening fell upon the palace, the prince, scented with jasmine oils and dressed in his finest attire, came to his wife. Amisiri was waiting for him, looking marvelous. It was the last day of celebration and the king's court was gathering at Darayawahush's hospitable table.

Kshayarsha secretly studied the lady. There were no signs of guilt or remorse in Amisiri. The woman turned herself before the silver-polished looking glass flirtatiously while telling her husband of the palace rumors as usual. The prince, also hiding his true feelings with an enchanting smile never took his eyes off of his spouse.

At the king's table, Kshayarsha wouldn't leave his wife's side. When midnight approached, the prince complained that he was tired and took his leave. The woman followed her husband. When he escorted Amisiri to her quarters, Kshayarsha half jokingly brought up her late invitation and asked if she still wished for his company that night.

How quickly he forgot his little lover! the woman smiled to herself and bid him to follow.

That night, Amisiri got everything that she had declined five years ago so thoughtlessly. Kshayarsha entrapped her in such waves of passion and love that the woman lost all track of time and space. A while later the tired and worn, Amisiri fell asleep in her husband's mighty arms.

The next morning, Utana's daughter woke with a scream of surprise: Dressed ready for a fight, Kshayarsha stood over the bed glaring at his wife with frozen eyes.

"What happened?"

"Last night was just your punishment, Amisiri, so you will know what you have lost and will never have again!"

The woman wanted to say thomething, but Kshayarsha stopped her with a threatening gaze.

"You will always be my wife and will always obey the orders of your husband. With Ahura-Mazda's blessing, one day you will be queen and I will share my power with you, but you will never share my bed and will never be able to harm my wives or paramours!"

Amisiri lay frozen in bed, afraid to move. Kshayarsha drew his sword and prepared to strike.

"Now, if you value your life, you had better tell me who you ordered to kill my mistress!"

The prince's eyes blazed so dangerously that Amisiri almost felt the heat on her face. The spirit of Atar stirred within Kshayarsha's soul. The woman realized that she had lost her husband forever. Now the merciless Kshayarsha demanded that she give up her self respect and hidden power. To trade her life for the life of her loyal conspirator today, meant her complete dependence and obedience to her husband in the future. But the proud daughter of Utana preferred death over such a life. Hence Amisiri sat up on her knees, swept her glossy curls to the side and exposed her neck to Kshayarsha.

His wife's response didn't surprise but instead infuriated the man. Amisiri was a true warrior at heart and behaved as such. Kshayarsha only felt insuppressible hate for his defeated offender. The prince brought the flat of his sword down on the woman's bare neck with a powerful blow. Crimson blood flowed from Amisiri's wound. The woman fell to the bed unconscious. Kshayarsha wiped his blade on the sheets in disgust and left the room.

"Bring the healer!" the prince yelled to the servants by the door without even looking their way and strode down the hall with swift steps.

Kshayarsha was displeased with the outcome. Although the proud lady received her rigorous and sadistically degrading punishment, he still didn't get the name of her plotter. This matter left Kshayarsha restless.

"Who might the wrongdoer be? Spamithra thinks we must search among the immortals, but how do this without drawing too much attention?It's impossible!"

But the arrogant prince was not accustomed to letting any insult slither down unpunished, hence in a short time he sent every last one of the guards to Ionia with secret orders for Irdapirna Junior demanding that the satrap shall use these one thousand immortals so that none of them would survive.

Nine months later, Amisiri gave birth to a baby boy. The proud lady, heart broken by her husband's cruelty, named the boy Artaxshasha, meaning 'the justice of Kshayarsha'.

# Chapter 10

Tribute

The king's suit returned from Phasis to Aia unusually early that year. After the secret meeting near Apsaros, the sovereign lost his sleep. The Kolchians were awaiting for the arrival of Armina's satrap, Tigran. There was nothing unusual about this. When the time came to send their tribute, the Kingdom of Kolchis always welcomed the governor of one of the neighboring satrapies or a direct representative of the Great Darayawahush from the Northern provinces.

The somewhat difficult relationship that the Haiks, as the Arminians called themselves, had with the Kolchian tribes couldn't exactly be pointed as a friendly one. Having once been powerful neighbors, they never let an opportunity slide to conquer the tiny quarrelling tribes of Kolchis and claimed their lands. Kokhia, Gogharena, Moschia, Taokhia, Macronia, even Tibareni often fell prey to the Haik raids. With swords drawn, the Kolchians always defended themselves against their bothersome neighbors and won back their stolen lands. Not so long ago, the unexpected rise of the Persian Empire consumed many powerful nations. The Haiks and some southern tribes of Kolchis fell in the Empire's clutches. That changed everything. Now the proud and freedom loving Arminians considered Kolchis as a secret ally.

The king kept a close eye on the events in the neighboring territories. He regarded Tigran as a carrier of the true Haik spirit, but was still cautious, never entirely forgetting their uneasy past days.

Back, during the reign of Great Kourosh, the Haik king, also called Tigran, tried to throw aside the Median's yoke as Media itself was conquered by Persia. He had refused to pay tribute to Kourosh, but was unsuccessful. Armina turned into a satrapy of Persia. Since that day, the Haiks were always on the ready. They waited for a convenient time and finally, such a day arose.

After the mysterious death of Great Kourosh' successor, King Kambujiyah of Persia, the Empire fell into chaos. Some Magian named Gaumata claimed to be the king's brother, Bardia-Smerdis and claimed the throne. The Haiks immediately took advantage of the situation and rebelled. Gaumata's reign only lasted for seven months. The famous Seven Nobles of Persia killed him and placed Darayawahush on the throne.

In front of the young Kolchian sovereign's very eyes, Persia went through three kings with lightning speed. The Kolchis ruler had to show great caution and effort so that the raging storm wouldn't sweep away his tiny country as well.

Meanwhile matters took a tragic turn in Armina once more. Haiks rebelled again. King Darayawahush sent two generals: the Haik Dadarshi and the Persian Vaumisha to suppress this upraising. After utter defeat many Haik warriors sought refuge in Kolchis. As for Dadarshi, he received the satrapy of Bactria as a reward for fighting against his own people. Around the same time, another Haik noble, Arakha, son of Haldita, claimed to be the successor of Babylon's last king, Nabunaid, and took on the name Nabucodonosor. His rebellion wasn't long-lived either. Darayawahush's loyal 'bow carrier', the notorious Vindafrana claimed the usurper's life.

The Kolchian king remembered the not too distant past very well and the present alarmed him. Disturbing news was coming from Persia. The west coast of the Empire was in a state of unrest. In suppressing other 'unruly' countries, the Haiks were always useful to Darayawahush, especially those who were tied to the Persian court though Marriage. Tigran himself had the king's very niece as a wife and his own daughter was married to a Persian noble. Despite this, the Kolchian king knew that a true freedom loving heart beat within Tigran's chest.

It was not the Arminian satrap's visit that worried the king. He had another problem. The Macronian noble that had snuck over the other night swore that Tigran's middle son, Zareh, would certainly accompany his father and Zareh was 'the King's Eyes'. This could only mean one thing: Darayawahush didn't entirely trust Tigran and sent his own son along as a spy. The Great Sunki didn't trust Kolchians either but he knew that the sovereign of that tiny country wouldn't jeopardize the relative freedom of his kingdom so easily.

The grand hall of the palace was full of people. Sitting on their gold plated thrones studded with precious stones, the king and queen looked down upon their subjects. Only the beauty of the noble ladies present could compare with that of the hall itself. The king could tell with just one glance where each guest was from. The diversity among the Kolchian tribes was best shown by their style of clothing and dialect. Some of the ladies were dressed in the Greek fashion. Some wore Persian tunics. But Zan beauties, in white gowns with gold and azure embroidery and colorful belts topped off with sheer mandilis, stood out most of all. Mzysia was the only Svan at the king's court and even she chose to wear a Kolchian dress. An emerald studded circlet, accenting her fiery curls, was her only jewelry.

The king, entertaining himself by looking about the hall, was informed of the arrival of their honored guests. The people parted making way for the large Persian envoy. The splendidly clad satrap of Armina greeted the royal couple by bringing his palm to his lips and presented the sovereign with a personal letter and a precious gift from Darayawahush. The royals accepted all this graciously, although both sides knew that it was Persia who expected the real present from the Kingdom of Kolchis.

Not intending to continue talking to the descendent of Haik kings from atop their throne, the royal couple stood up, stepped down, and invited their guests to the feast.

"How fares the Great Darayawahush?" the sovereign inquired after the Sunki.

A hardly noticeable cloud shadowed the satrap's forehead. It had been over a year since Tigran last saw the Persian king and wasn't keen on remembering their last encounter. Darayawahush had fallen like a storm upon the defeated generals who had retreated with their tails between their legs from Marathon. He was especially merciless towards the non-Persians. During the Greek campaign Tigran was not the commander of the main forces but still barely escaped losing his satrapy. The Arminian noble hid these unpleasant memories and answered with a smile.

"The Great Sunki is in splendid, health and as busy with state affairs as ever. He personally oversees the construction of Persepolis and he's planning to build a new fleet any day now..." Tigran spoke only of the Empire's successes.

The Kolchian sovereign wasn't about to aggravate the conversation, but his youngest son, Savlak, gave their guest the most unbelievable question:

"Is it true, my Lord, that a handful of Hellens badly defeated the mighty Persian army at Marathon?"

Everybody froze for a moment.

"Who told you such a lie?" the young Zareh fired back.

"The merchants speak of nothing else in Phasis," the boy answered naively.

The king and Tigran sighed with relief. Zareh also settled down.

"Last year Persia didn't send its mighty army to Yaunas, but two small detachments, young man. And even this wasn't led by a Persian, but a Median, Datiya. And the Greeks weren't just a handful either. This small misunderstanding will soon be resolved and the invincible Persia will put those insolent Hellens in their place."

The restless youth was about to open his mouth once more, but the look in his father and prince Amiran's eyes immediately shut him up and kept him quite for the rest of the feast.

After that, the conversation went rather pleasantly and without incident. No one spoke of anything but the delicious food and the latest palace gossip. The Persian guests filled their bellies merrily and drank plenty as well. Only Zareh stayed away from the wine.

Haik on his father's side and Persian on his mother's, the youth could have been considered handsome but some flaw, hard for the eye to detect, spoiled his appearance. Zareh's hazel eyes always looked about suspiciously. The corners of his thin lips constantly seemed to be turned down, giving him an ever displeased countenance. His thin, straight chestnut hair hung to his shoulders and his sharp movements added to the viewer's uneasy feeling. All in all, he looked nothing like his father and it was hard to believe that the tall, burly, dark, straightforward and reserved Tigran could be granted such a son by fate.

Prince Amiran followed the frozen stare of their young guest and found Mzysia's blazing locks. Perched between Manana and Tatuli, the girl, giggling carelessly, was chatting with Bardia, Rati, and Miryan who sat across from her. Amiran didn't like the look in Zareh's eyes. As if reading his mind, the Haik-Persian quickly tore his gaze from the girl, not looking back for the rest of the day.

The feast lasted well into the night. Mzysia was tired and was ready to leave. Bardia got up to see his sister off but Miryan grabbed his arm.

"I'll see her off, Bardia."

"Alright, but come back quickly, don't be late!" Bardia smiled.

Knowing the labyrinth of a palace by heart, passing through the narrow walkways, Mzysia headed straight for the garden.

"We'll run across the garden and we'll be in the queen's quarters in no time. I'm staying here tonight. Manana and I have to make our secret present for the queen's birthday tomorrow," the girl whispered. "This is the shortest way. You'll be back to the feast soon too, Miryan."

"I'm in no hurry."

"Maybe you're not, but they are," the girl jerked her head toward the palace.

"They're not going anywhere. They won't even leave the table till dawn."

Mzysia slowed down. When they reached the fountain, the young man gently touched her arm.

"Look how bright the sky is tonight! Let's sit here for a while, Mzysia," he led the girl to a bench covered in cushions.

"No, this is the queen's place. Let's sit on the stairs," the girl headed for the marble steps and the young man settled down next to her.

"I haven't been able to talk to you once since we arrived from Apsaros," Miryan started.

"It hasn't been that long," Mzysia giggled.

"Every second seems like an age to me!"

The girl lowered her head, then looked the young Moschi noble in the eyes and quietly asked:

"How did you end up in the thicket that day in Apsaros, Miryan?"

"I was spying on you," the young man confessed, smiling.

"That's what I thought."

"So did everyone else."

"Bardia never lets a stranger see me off."

"I'm not a stranger; I'm your husband to be." The young man allowed his fingers to touch the tip of hers. Mzysia carefully withdrew her hand.

"I went to a goldsmith in Aia the other day and found something for you," Miryan reached into the folds of his tunic.

Mzysia, inquisitive by nature, studied the strange piece of jewelry ardently. At a glance, Miryan's present looked like an extraordinarily beautiful emerald studded hair pin, but for some reason there was an awl the length of her palm attached to the bottom.

"What's this?" the girl asked, amazed.

"It's an Egyptian queen's hair pin. Look how lovely it is! It would suit your eyes and hair perfectly!"

Then the young man turned it over. The pretty piece of gold jewelry disappeared in Miryan's palm and a glistening, sharp awl protruded instead from between his middle and forefingers.

"Now it's a deadly weapon."

The young man touched the tip with his finger and blood immediately oozed from the cut.

"Gold is soft but this isn't, it's sharper and stronger than a sword. Do you like my present?"

"Very much!" Charmed by the gift, the girl swept her hair up, took the pin from Miryan and fastened it in her hair.

"How does it look?" the girl asked flirtatiously.

"As if it were made for you!" Miryan answered, breathtaken by Mzysia's graceful, swan-like neck. Then he scooted closer, wrapped his arm around her waist and attempted to kiss her.

"What are you doing?" The girl backed away.

"Trying to kiss you," Miryan smiled.

"How could you, what would Bardia say?"

"Bardia knows that I'll kiss you."

"How would he know, did you tell him?" Mzysia's eyes widened in disbelief.

"No, but he still knows, trust me," realizing that the girl would never stop with her questions, Miryan impatiently thrust his lips upon hers.

The long, passionate kiss made Mzysia dizzy.

"You know what, Miryan, I don't think you should behave this way," the agitated girl barely freed herself.

"You're right," hardly breathing, the young man forced himself to let go of the girl.

Mzysia stood quietly and disappeared into the queen's quarters. Miryan left the garden shortly after. When silence settled in, the shadow of a man detached from the palace wall. Zareh's hateful gaze followed the Moschi noble and then he himself crept after Miryan.

Sitting on a rug, Prince Amiran was playing with his little girl. The young father hung his wife's pearl necklace on a wooden doll dressed in brocade and waved the toy in front of the child. Teased, the girl suddenly grabbed the beads and sharply pulled it toward herself, scattering the pearls on the rug.

"Didn't I tell you she would break it?" Manana cried from the ottoman, displeased.

Shining in bliss, the little rascal crawled to the pearls.

"So what, look how happy she is!" The father was enjoying himself as much as the child.

"Don't let her put it in her mouth, Amiran, she will choke!" the woman screamed.

The prince grabbed the girl and swung her around in the air. Disappointed, the spoiled child wailed and grabbed Amiran's long locks.

The Kolchis heir was a handsome man. Born milky white, the sun's rays turned his skin a golden tan. The straight featured, blue eyed prince's golden waves fell to his broad shoulders. His neatly trimmed, soft beard didn't conceal his rosy lips. Everyone who had seen the queen in her youth swore that he was the spitting image of his mother.

"Look how she defies her father!" Instead of scolding his daughter, the blissful man kissed the child's plump cheeks.

"You completely spoil that little lady!" Manana glanced at her husband with blame.

"When you give me a son, I'll raise him with a firm hand," Amiran promised, smiling at his wife.

"What other choice do I have? Now I must bear for you only boys!" Manana put her embroidery aside, walked over to the father and child and hugged them both tenderly. Amiran gently kissed his wife on the lips.

The king emerged through the open door. He looked upset.

"You're already up, Father?" Amiran greeted him with a bow.

Manana took the child from Amiran and quietly crept out of the room.

The king was in a foul mood. This day was always difficult for the sovereign. Today, he had to present the Persians with the tribute. This was already the fifth time that he had to send a hundred girls and a hundred boys to Darayawahush. It would be a much desirable tribute for many other countries, because the rich Kingdom obviously paid only a symbolic homage to the Persians, but the Kolchian ruler would prefer paying silver talents to this disgrace.

"How did you rest, my Lord?"

"I wish my worst enemy had such rest!" the king waved his hand. "Tigran and Zareh are already waiting for us. 'The king's Eyes' has to inspect everything himself."

At the mention of Zareh's name, Amiran remembered the previous night's events.

"Father, I want to tell you something before we leave."

The king looked at his son attentively.

"Last night, at the feast, our young Persian guest was eyeing Mzysia suspiciously."

"I know... I was told... What is more, Zareh was spying on Mzysia and Miryan in the garden. I already gave an order: Mzysia is not to come to the palace until the Persians are gone."

"That's very good."

It always amazed the prince how this cheerful and often outwardly frivolous ruler managed to control his kingdom so strictly. He saw everything, heard everything and what could not be seen or heard, he knew by instinct. Long story short, a single bird couldn't fly through Kolchis without the king knowing.

"I have a task for you, Amiran, and it's not going to be easy. Zareh loves his daddy so much that he follows him everywhere. You must somehow entertain this jealous son so he forgets his duties for a while," the king winked at Amiran.

"I'll show him our swimming and diving team, no one else has anything like it."

"All right, show him. The Persian's won't be able to use it anyway. Ahura-Mazda and Anahita forbid them from swimming in the flowing waters."

"How strange."

"They have many other strange things, thank the gods," the king smirked.

The father and son left the room to meet their Persian guests. On the way, the captain of the guards, Rati, and the treasurer, Zosyme, joined them.

The Kolchian 'gift' was kept in a training camp near Aia. As soon as they arrived, Amiran left the group to mind his business while the rest went to inspect the tribute.

The hundred boys and hundred girls, dressed in Kolchian outfits, were ready to be introduced to the Persians. It was not easy to rip so many youngsters from their families. No one was willing to give up their child to be sent to Persia. While gathering their tribute, much tears and anger fell upon the king's court. There was no slavery in Kolchis. Most of the children were collected among the poor families for a decent price. But there were still few who would give up their children for money. Disturbed by all this, the king used his wit. He secretly contacted the neighboring Sarmathian chiefs. When the time came to pay the tribute, the king bought the young captives off of the Sarmathian warriors. At least half of the gift consisted of boys and girls bought from the north and dressed in Kolchian disguises. The Persian's who came to collect the tribute, never showed interest in the children's ethnicity as long as they were all healthy and good-looking.

The servants lined the boys and girls up in two rows. As soon as the inspectors required, the servants would bring the child forth, check their hands and teeth and turned them around. Tigran only glanced at the youngsters out of courtesy. He already knew that the Kolchians wouldn't offer any unworthy children. As for the other Persian nobles, they checked the gifts very carefully, nodding in approval. Zareh stopped before one blond girl, thoroughly looked her over and turned to the servant.

"Ask this girl what village she's from."

At first the servant was confused, then answered himself.

"She's probably a Zan, my lord. They have such golden hair."

"Ask her!" the Persian insisted.

The puzzled man turned to the girl.

"Where are you from, my child?"

The girl looked at the servant with astonished eyes and said nothing.

"Ask her again," Zareh wouldn't let it go.

The poor servant repeated the question. The child was even more confused and looked as if she were ready to cry.

How interesting, 'The King's Eyes' was lost in his thoughts.

Zareh left the girl alone and continues down the line. He often stopped before one of the youths and always asked the same question.

"Ask where the child is from."

Zareh soon found that most of the children didn't understand Kolchis. He didn't make a fuss, so the other Persians, who were more interested in the children's physical appearance, didn't even know what 'the King's Eyes' was asking the servants and children. After a while, Zareh left the children alone and turned to the nearby king and Tigran.

"How did you like our present, my noble guest?" The sovereign asked with a smile.

"Oh, the gift is marvelous, but not Kolchian," the young man answered, also smiling.

Tigran looked at his son with surprise.

"At least half of these children are not from Kolchis, my Lord," Zareh clarified.

"What does it matter Zareh? According to the agreement, Kolchis sends a hundred boys and a hundred girls to the sunki as a gift. There is no mention of ethnicity," Tigran was irritated.

"Yes there was! The Great Sunki wished to mix the blood of the beautiful Kolchians with the Persians, not some... strangers! We all know that the Kolchian tribute is only symbolic and shows the country's submission and loyalty. Replacing Kolchian children with those... may be seen as a way to avoid paying tribute to the Sunki," the young man answered calmly, yet with a firm voice.

The king and Tigran looked at one another, alarmed. Zareh bowed to both respectfully and headed for the approaching prince. Surrounded by Kolchian commanders, Amiran greeted him cordially.

"Our Zosyme has been preparing this gift for a long time. Hopefully, you like the youths he has chosen for you."

"It's hard to find a fault in them, but this gift is for the Great Sunki, not for us," Zareh stressed, "and you, my prince, had no part in this, I assume," the guest addressed him half jokingly.

"I must confess, you are right. I have martial duties to look after. As for the rest, my father takes care of everything with the help of his courtiers. If you are done examining our tribute, maybe you'd like to see the pride of our fleet, our swimmers."

"A fleet? Here?" Zareh was surprised.

"Oh, no! Our fleet is based in the Euxine, but our swimmers are trained in the fresh waters of the Phasis River."

"I have never heard of such a thing. I will certainly use this opportunity."

While they were chatting, the young men approached the other nobles.

"My King, would you like to join us in watching the divers' training? Zareh has already agreed to come with us."

"What do you say, my dear guests?" the sovereign turned to the Persians.

Everyone agreed with great pleasure except for Tigran.

"I better shelter myself in the palace shade and rest my old bones, my kind host."

"I'll stay with you then," said the king.

Hearing such an answer from his father, first surprised Zareh and then infuriated him, but what could he do? 'The King's Eyes' followed the prince and his generals along with the other Persian nobles.

A rare feast was waiting for those who returned to the palace. To Tigran's surprise, the servants had a low table set at the terrace of the royal pool. First the king and his guest bathed in the warm water, than, clad in bright robes, they rested on ottomans set beside the table across from one another.

From here, Aia, buried in gardens, lay spread out before them. The king loved to gaze out at the beautiful city after his baths. Enwrapped in the warm rays of an early autumn sun, Aia shimmered with a golden glow. Life in the city blazed like a scalding fire, boiling and bubbling like young wine.

"Your Aia's as charming as an innocent bride."

His guest's words pleased the king. He preferred nothing above lying next to delicious food, watching over his city and having a friendly chat but, there was no time for that. This beauty and serenity needed to be taken care of and protected. Since it was impossible to defend his kingdom from the immense Empire of Persia by the sword, the sovereign's wise mind had to predict every possible threat and danger beforehand and save his beloved country through his cleverness. During this hectic time, souring the relationship with his powerful southern neighbor was absolutely out of the question. The sovereign knew that he must somehow win Zareh's amity. The king didn't have a lot of time on his hands, so he went straight to business.

"My Noble Tigran, I know I can talk to you openly. We have known each other for a long time now. Zareh's words about the tribute today make me think. You know yourself that Darayawahush has no reason to doubt the sincerity of Kolchis. Avoiding payment of the Tribute hasn't even crossed our minds. If we bought some young from other people, it is only so that we could provide the best for the Great Sunki. Besides, Tigran, I don't think the weakening of Kolchis' independence would be beneficial for Armina today."

"I will answer your honesty with my own, my Lord. There is much tension in the Empire. After the Greek's treachery, the Great Darayawahush sees deception everywhere. What happened in Hellas was no small affair," the satrap of Armina looked about cautiously and lowered his voice. "The Hellens completely obliterated both of our armies. The defeat was severe and it showed not only others, but the Persians too that the Empire is not always invincible and that a much smaller nation can beat it in battle. Great Darayawahush is the wisest of rulers. He knows this well. That is why he is so furious. I, myself just barely escaped his wrath and only because I am married into his family. Besides, the Empire needs me to keep the peace in Armina. The Persian court is well aware that the Haik nobles, as well as your Moschi and Macrones, are waiting for a convenient time to rebel. But today is not such a time, my dear King! Kolchis and Armina are not in the same position as Hellas. Spread across the islands, the Hellens have a great ally, the sea. Their lands are barren. That is their weakness, and also their strength. Feeding the warriors is difficult over there. Besides, the Persian army is much stronger in the open rather than the narrow passes and cliff sides. In our lands, things are much different. It's true that the mountains protect us as well, but only partially. In the open there is no force that can defeat the Persian army."

The king was listening carefully and couldn't believe his ears. The satrap of Armina, a renowned commander of the Persian army, was telling him almost directly that he was ready to rebel, only it wasn't the right time yet. The king already knew that Tigran could have such thoughts, but thinking this and confessing it to your neighboring country's king were two different things. What was this, a great trust and friendship, or a treacherous trap? The king was having a hard time answering this question. Only time could reveal the satrap's true face.

"You know yourself, honorable Tigran, it would be unwise for Kolchis to show indocility to Persia. And I hope, over these thirty years, I have not shown myself to be such a stupid king. Then what do Zareh's words mean?"

"I won't hide it from you, my dear host; Zareh's words have a great influence at the Persian court for both of us. I'll try to find out what he has on his mind. I have no doubt in the loyalty of Kolchis and I'm quite sure I'll be able to convince my son."

Tigran's words calmed the king a bit, but it was too early to say that all the danger was gone.

When night fell, after returning from the training camp, Zareh came to see Tigran.

"Did you rest your tired bones, my Father?"

The irony in his son's words didn't escape Tigran but he chose to ignore it.

"I rested splendidly; I had a bath, ate well, and caught up with an old friend."

"Oh, I don't doubt that!" the young man chuckled anxiously.

"What the devil is with you today, Zareh? What, was the prince a bad host to you or what?"

"Amiran is very hospitable and their swimmers were really worth seeing. Too bad you didn't come with us. Even you have probably never seen anything like it."

"What could the Kolchian army possibly have that a spadapatish of the invincible Persian army hasn't seen?" Tigran waved his hand in disbelief.

"No, really. I'm not joking!" feeling in the mood for a chat, Zareh took a seat on an ornamented couch. "They have such oarsmen and archers that an onlooker would go mad. They all, as a whole, can swim like fish. You know how wide the Phasis River is. They can swim back and forth across it with no sweat. They can even swim against the current for a short distance. Their archers dive under the water and shoot from there. And they hit the targets! They move their little boats so fast. Then, bam, they flip it over and hide under the water. Two minutes later, Bam! The boat is back in its place and the archers are sitting inside, unharmed. Great to watch but, unfortunately, useless for us. You know, it wouldn't be bad if we reported this to the Sunki. Maybe the Great Darayawahush will forbid them from splashing around in the water too."

"The Persian kings don't shove their beliefs onto other people, so it would be a waste of time," Tigran looked over at his son.

His father's sarcastic glimpse irritated Zareh and put him back in a bad mood.

"Still, why didn't you come with us? You knew that I had already accepted the prince's invitation. By Darayawahush's orders, you and the Kolchian king weren't to be left alone." Darayawahush's distrust toward everyone was so widely known that Zareh didn't even think to hide the sunki's commands from his father.

"Then you should have followed his orders and come to the palace with us! After all, I am the Satrap of Armina and you, 'the King's Eyes'!"

Enraged, Zareh wanted to storm out of the room immediately, but he hadn't even mentioned the main reason for his visit. So he swallowed his grudge and stayed.

It wasn't good for the satrap of Armina to be on bad terms with his son either. He still had to clear the situation with the Kolchian tribute. Hence Tigran olso softened his voice and clapped his son on the shoulder as a sign of truce.

"Come on, my son. What's wrong with you today? Even earlier, when we were inspecting the tribute, you started picking on our hosts for no reason."

"It wasn't for no reason!" the infuriated young man cut his father off. "Most of the children don't even understand any Kolchian dialect. They aren't Kolchians and I don't consider the king to be very loyal to the Great Darayawahush either!" Zareh flew to his feet.

"I am certain you are mistaken, my son. Your report may cause great chaos and destruction here. The Kolchians fulfil the agreement perfectly. How else can Kolchis prove its loyalty to Persia?"

"By sending true Kolchians as a tribute to Persia!" the son instantly flung at him.

"Are you insane? We're leaving here in two days. Where do they have the time for that?" Tigran was slowly losing his patience.

"There is a very easy solution. The king should send one more girl, and a noble at that!" Zareh leaned toward his father, catching his eyes.

"I really think you've gone mad!" Tigran didn't know what to think.

"No father, I'm completely sane. Listen, I have a very good proposal for the king. Mixed marriages are an old tradition to strengthen loyalty and friendship. No Persian noble ladies are married into the Kolchian court. Neither has Aia given us her daughters. I am your son. There is no one among the Haiks stronger than our family. And from my mother's side, I'm related to the Great Darayawahush himself. They wouldn't be able to deny me even if I asked for the king's daughter. But I only ask for the Svan chief's girl!"

Tigran broke into hearty laughter.

"So it turns out that you like someone and because of this are ready to start a war for Persia. Zareh, you're right in one thing - no one can say no to you. I'll talk to the king and we'll arrange a time to come back for her."

"No, father, you didn't understand me. We need to take her now. Otherwise, no one will leave this girl for me. I know what I'm talking about. Tell the king that either the girl goes with me in two days or the Great Darayawahush will hear of all that is going on over here!"

"Alright, calm down. I'm sure the king won't deny your obstinate demands," Tigran shrugged.

The Persians had a lot of business to take care of on their last day in Aia, so they held mealtime earlier than usual. The entire Persian envoy and many native nobles attended the king's table. Some Kolchian merchants were there too. During his visits to Aia, the thrifty and hardworking Tigran always found time to meet with them. So, many people were eager to see the satrap on this day too.

After the cheerful and wholesome feast, Tigran asked to speak with the host in private.

"I don't even know how to begin, my dear King...The matter which I wish to discuss with you is both personal and national at the same time."

The host looked at him intently.

"Yesterdays unpleasant misunderstanding, for both of our countries, can easily be solved through reaching an agreement between us about one delicate matter."

"What delicate matter?"

" Zareh asks for the hand of the Svan chief's daughter in marriage, my Lord. This wedding would completely assure my son of Kolchis' loyalty. Zareh will forget yesterday's suspicions and won't even mention it to Great Darayawahush. And we'll become family. What do you say?"

Relieved, the king clapped his hand on the satrap's shoulder, smiling.

"My friend, what greater honor is there than to be related to you and the Great Sunki himself? Of course, I consent. Let's set a time and hold a great wedding!"

Tigran fidgeted uncomfortably.

"The thing is, Zareh demands to take the girl with us now."

Astounded, the king looked over at the satrap.

"Tigran, neither in your country nor mine is it a custom to take a woman like that!"

"I agree with you, my Lord. So let's do it like this: I'll take the girl with me to my place. She'll be a guest of mine till the time comes. Then, we'll hold the wedding. This way, Zareh won't be worried and the girl's family won't have anything to be offended over either."

"A wise idea, Satrap. Thankfully, the Svan chief is in Aia and a guest at my table. I'll speak with him and arrange a meeting for you two tonight."

They agreed upon this and returned to the palace. From the look on Tigran's face, Zareh read the king's answer and smiled in satisfaction.

The breakfast didn't last too long. Soon everyone went about their own business. When the king told Amiran the news, the heir's indignation reached beyond all limits.

"That snake! How dare he ask for the lady like that? Who does this Zareh think he is?"

"A blood relative of Darayawahush!" the king sharply cut him off, but then consoled him in a fatherly way. "This isn't that bad. To tell you the truth, it's even good for us. It's a huge honor for Saurmag too. My only concern right now is Mindya and Miryan."

"Still, what a devil this Zareh is!" Amiran wouldn't calm down.

"Not a devil, a fool! If he had a tenth of his father's wits, he would never do such a thing. What do you think the Great Darayawahush would do if he were to find out that his 'Eyes' betrayed Persia's interests for a pretty girl and hid the truth from the Invincible King himself? Oh, Amiran, Amiran. You have yet so much to learn...Do you think Tigran is helping Zareh out of fatherly love? You keep thinking that. This son of his is as dangerous as fire to the satrap. He's obviously trying to get his father's position, crossing his older brother. Today Tigran tied Zareh to him through this secret affair. If Zareh were to betray him, Tigran would drag his son down with him. Tigran will never let him live this down. We're also in on it," the king looked at the prince meaningfully.

Amiran was listening to his father, stunned. The strange turns of the king's tangled mind always amazed the straightforward and honest prince. How did the sovereign always manage to see an advantage in even the worst situations? The king's mind never rested, not during the day, or the night. Even now, he had difficult discussions awaiting him with the stern Saurmag and the loyal Mindya. As for Miryan, Amiran didn't even want to think about it.

Mzysia was the only one whose thoughts and feelings no one took into consideration.

Aia's palace library was always dimly lit. The fire from thirty years ago frightened the queen so much that she strictly forbade torches from being fastened to the walls there. The lady herself never visited it, but the others who wished to go had to bring their own candles. Tsitsino firmly believed that she was protecting the palace from another disaster. His spouse's naïve caution always irritated the king but, today, the darkness hanging in the papyrus scroll and clay tablet filled archive suited him.

The only candle was sitting on the far end of the marble table, barely glowing. The sovereign was carefully examining the people sitting about the table while he himself hid in the shadows. Mindya was as dark as a raincloud. Saurmag was staring at his own callused paws, resting on the table.

"I have never broken my word and I won't do it now!" the Svan chief growled through his teeth.

The king and prince turned to Mindya.

"Trying to avoid paying the tribute is a great crime in the Persians' eyes. If they accuse us of this, the consequences will be sorrowful for all of us," the king addressed the gathered.

"War has never scared us!" Saurmag raised his head.

"Retreat is not Aia's way either!" Amiran's blue eyes shifted from his father to the Svan chief.

"Defending his own land with the sword is every man's duty, but avoiding bloodshed falls only upon the king!" the sovereign placed his fists on the table. "What do you want me to do? Tell the sunki's nephew that the thirteen-year-old child is already betrothed and in doing so jeopardize the whole country? My whole heart is with you, Mindya, but the Kolchian king's power has limits. I'm awaiting an answer from you."

Everyone stared at Mindya.

"What can I say? My enemy is not here and there is nothing more that I can do. I understand that. I release you from your word, Saurmag, my Lord. I take back my request for your daughter to wed my son."

"Thank you Mindya. I shall never forget this; you have the king's word on it," the sovereign sighed in relief.

"What do you say, Lord Saurmag?"

"Let's talk to the Haiks first. Then we'll see," so was the Svan's answer.

"What shall we do with Miryan?" Concerned with his friend's fate, Amiran couldn't hold it in.

The king realized that his wit and cleverness were worthless now. In the sovereign's mind the best thing to do would be to bind Miryan's hands and feet and chain him to the mountainside like the mythical Amiran, but how would he say that out laud?

"I'll talk to Miryan," Mindya murmured, lowering his head.

The news spread through the palace with lightning speed. Only Mzysia, locked in Rati's secluded home, had no knowledge of the danger that befell her.

It was already past midday.

"Do you love Miryan, Mzysia?" Guranduht rolled over on her friend's bed and smiled playfully.

Sprawled beside her, Mzysia was staring at the ceiling.

"I don't know."

"Why are you lying to me? Tell me the truth, don't you love Miryan? He's so handsome and kind!"

Mzysia took the golden pin out of her hair, flipped over on her stomach and carefully examined the precious gift. Miryan was a very good young man indeed. What better could a girl's eyes find, what more could her heart desire? Mzysia liked to talk to him, to be close to him. She trusted him with everything. She knew Miryan would always protect her and like Bardia, always stand beside her whether she was right or wrong. Despite this, Mzysia never yearned for his touch, never desired his arms around her and the kiss that lingered upon her lips to this day, she did not miss.

The daughter of the Svan chief had heard many things about love. Girls of her age always shared their thoughts and feelings with one another openly. Simonides also used to tell her such tales of the gods' and heroes' love affairs. Maybe Miryan adored her like Paris, but the girl herself couldn't find the passion of the beautiful Helen toward her betrothed. Even his fervent kiss couldn't plant the seed of the fleshly desire within her untried heart.

Growing up in the king's palace, the girl discovered a whole other side of love much too early. Remembering the silly incident from two years ago still brought a blush to Mzysia's cheeks.

That night, unable to rest, the girl had snuck into her nanny's room. Hadassah had been fast asleep. Coming back out into the hall, she had looked toward Tatuli's bedchamber, but Rati was home so she didn't even consider going in there. Instead, the girl had tiptoed down the stairs, and passing the kitchen, had gone into the yard.

Two guards had been pacing beside the gate. Waiting till they had turned their backs, the girl had darted for the stable. She had had her heart set on two puppies in there and planned on sneaking them up into her room.

Upon entering the stable, instead of the yapping of puppies in the hay, Mzysia had heard an entirely different sound. The child had pressed against the wall, frozen in place. The woman's low moaning and the man's heavy panting had chilled the very blood in the terrified girl's veins. Mzysia was about to raise the alarm when her ears had caught a familiar name. Some woman softly moaned her brother's name a few times. The girl had been stunned. Bardia would never harm a woman! Then what was going on here? The child's innocent mind couldn't fathom this. Slowly Mzysia's eyes had adjusted to the dark and clearly made out her brother's body lying in the hay. Bardia had been lying upon some strange woman, rocking like the ocean waves. Apparently, the woman had not been bothered by such a weight. Her hands had been caressing the young man's bare shoulders and neck, moaning in pleasure.

Up till then, Mzysia had never seen a naked man and she quickly covered her eyes. The girl had completely forgotten about the puppies, crept out of the stable with her eyes shut and sprinted inside.

That night, having much to think about, the child had not gotten a wink of sleep. Curiosity was killing her. What had the naked Bardia been doing in the hay with that woman? Mzysia had been certain that her brother would never do anything wrong but the mystery wrapped in the dark night had still planted a seed of doubt in her innocent mind. The girl had wanted to discover the truth but couldn't ask anyone. No one in the world could help her in this. In the end, it had been a blind coincidence that solved this issue. One day, Mzysia had overheard the servants talking.

"Our Svan guest is having an affair with the neighboring widow," the women had gossiped.

Another time she had heard her father and Bardia talking.

"The lowlands have completely spoiled you, a Svan man!" the chief had been furious. "What, you cannot find a suitable wife in the mountains? You're ruining the woman's reputation and it doesn't bring you pride either!"

Upon seeing Mzysia in the doorway, Saurmag had abruptly stopped the conversation and quickly left the room. The curious girl had decided that what she had seen that night in the stable was love, and firmly concluded: Love is bad! There, father isn't angry for no reason too.

Mzysia had cast an accusing look at Bardia and fallowed her father out.

Someone knocked on the door gently. Bardia stuck his head in the room.

"Mzysia, follow me, quick!" grabbing his sister's arm, he almost ran her down the stairs.

"What's going on, Bardia?"

"Shsh!" The young man put his finger to her lips.

They were about to open the front door when Miryan burst in through it.

"Rati's coming with the guards!" he whispered to Bardia and the three of them darted for the back door.

"We won't be able to get her out, Miryan! Rati would have already circled the wall!"

The desperate Moschi turned to the dazed girl.

"Don't worry Mzysia! We won't leave you alone no matter what! No matter what happens I will always be with you! My men know those territories well. We'll attack them on the road... We'll get to Apsaros somehow. I'll prepare the ship ahead of time and we'll sail for Dioscurias. From there, Svaneti is two steps away. Your father will not turn us away. Especially since you'll already be my wife."

"Hurry, Miryan!" Bardia looked around impatiently.

The young man hugged his bride so hard that her bones started to creak.

"I will never, ever leave you!" He whispered in her ear, pecked her on the lips, then turning around, leapt through the open window. Bardia followed. Mzysia ran to the window and barely caught a glimpse of the two men flying over the wall.

The front door creaked open once more. Rati marched in with the guards. Mzysia ran to meet him.

"What's going on, Rati?"

"Where Miryan and Bardia just here?" he demanded instead of answering her.

The girl nodded. Tatuli and Guranduht appeared upon hearing the noise.

"What has happened, Rati?" the young mistress of the house cried.

Without answering his wife, Rati turned to the girl.

"Your father will be here soon, Mzysia. Until then stay in your bedchamber and don't talk to anyone."

They took the astounded girl to her room and stationed a guard at her door. People were running up and down the hall. Tatuli's crying could be heard from outside. Mzysia put her ear to the door but couldn't make anything out. In a little while the guard brought in some food and sweet wine. She was overexcited but had not lost her appetite. Eating her meal, the girl started thinking.

Miryan and Bardia were together. They were obviously hiding from Rati. Father must be against them too. I wonder what's going on, the girl thought it over.

Mzysia recalled Miryan's every word.

They're going to take me somewhere. Somewhere that Miryan's men are familiar with. From there, we're to go to Apsaros. Then Dioscurias. From there to Svaneti. Where father may or may not accept us. What is going on? The day before yesterday the Persians came to collect their tribute. I've been trapped here at Rati's place from yesterday. Today they set a guard at my door. The picture slowly came together. At last she concluded: They're sending me to Persia along with the tribute. The Moschi know that area well. Miryan plans to attack the caravan and kidnap me. Then Apsaros, then Dioscurias, finally Svaneti. Oh and one more thing: On the way, Miryan plans to become my husband, because of which, my father won't kick us out of the mountains! The girl's Svan blood boiled over with rage and pounded at her temple.

Everything fit together perfectly, except one thing. How did Saurmag agree to all this? Her Father wasn't with Miryan and Bardia. This could only mean one thing; The Svan chief was in agreement with having his youngest daughter banished to Persia! Mzysia wanted to cry, but her tears seemed to have disappeared.

At sundown, Saurmag crossed the bridge over the Phasis River with his men and headed for Rati's house. Upon his entrance, the entire household came into the hall, but none dared to ask the chief anything. The Svan marched wordlessly to Mzysia's room. At seeing the guards stationed at her door, the heartbroken father felt a pang. The guard immediately swung the door open and respectfully stepped aside.

At the sight of her father, Mzysia's anger suddenly melted away. Strong as a rock before, when he entered the room, his knees betrayed him. Saurmag fell to the couch, clutched Mzysia to his chest and started sobbing silently. A single tear hadn't escaped the proud Svan's eyes since the day of Mzysia's birth. Now Saurmag cradled the girl curled up in his lap and howled quietly. Hearing the beating of his broken heart against her ear burned the child inside. Mzysia felt ashamed of her previous doubts and hid her face in the chief's shoulder.

How could I have thought such a thing of my father? the girl scolded herself. Whatever is going on, my father has a reason for making such a decision. Mzysia prepared to listen.

Slowly the chief calmed his racing heart, set his daughter down beside him, wiped his tears with the palms of his hands and finally spoke.

"My child, you must have guessed that much has changed in the past two days."

Mzysia wanted to say something, but Saurmag motioned for her to not interrupt and went on.

"The Satrap of Armina asked the king for your hand in marriage to his son, Zareh. This young man is a blood relative to the Great Darayawahush himself and it is a great honor for anyone to become a part of his family. Mindya has taken back the previous proposal and I was left with no other choice, so I agreed. You are still so young and naïve," the chief sighed heavily. "I don't know how you will bear all that I'm about to tell you. What I have told you before was the order of the king and the request of the country. Now you will listen to my own words."

Saurmag sat silently for a while then resumed.

"If I were an ordinary Svan father, I won't lie to you, I would never approve of this marriage. Darayawahush and all the kings of the world do not concern me. I don't like the groom. What is more, if I could, I would slit his throat myself!" the chief angrily grabbed the hilt of his sword. "But I am the Svan chief and the enemy left me no choice. Yes, this man is my enemy and your marriage won't change a thing! I am a Svan, not blind!" Saurmag huffed with pain. "This marriage is no honor; it is a show of brute force. Had the king not given him his word, Zareh would not have accepted the tribute and the whole kingdom would have fallen into havoc. No true man would ever do such a thing! Not in Kolchis or Persia! I am your father and I love you more than my own life." Tears were choking Saurmag. "I must tell you, your future husband is a fiend, but everything is in the gods' hands. Bardia and Miryan, along with their men are outlaws in the woods now. Rati's people are scouring for them. If they are caught, no good will come of it. But if they get their way and make it to Svaneti, I swear to you, Mzysia, no one could take you away from me, not even if we all die over it!" Saurmag pulled his daughter into another hug and resumed once more. "The Svan detachment, along with others will see you to the border. Only Simonides and Hadassah will accompany you all the way. You will be Tigran's guest and he will protect you from everyone. The Persian satrap is an honest man and doesn't break his word. Zareh won't be able to even come close to you until the wedding. I ask of you only one thing, my child: Don't ever forget who you are!"

The palace in Aia was bustling like a bee hive. The king's entire family came outside to bid the Persian guests farewell. Saurmag brought Mzysia to the palace from Rati's place himself. The girl stood before the king and queen to say her final goodbye. Tsitsino couldn't conceal her tears.

"My love goes with you, my child," embracing the girl fondly, the queen whispered in her ear.

Knowing the lady's soft heartedness, Mzysia only bowed her head. The king also wanted to say something but at seeing her frozen gaze, he changed his mind and silently kissed her on the forehead instead. The young Svan bid prince Amiran, Manana, Dali and the queen's ladies all farewell one after another and got into the carriage. Guranduht and Tatuli were not present. Wishing to avoid tears, the insightful Rati left them at home.

Saurmag stood alongside the Kolchian courtiers, never once coming close to Mzysia. Such coldness from the father deeply touched the queen's ladies bringing more tears. The Svan chief's heartlessness and the motherless child's bitter fate were the topic of gossip in Kolchis for a long time to come.

The satrap of Armina, Zareh and the Persian nobles bid the royal couple farewell, mounted their horses and started on their road back to the Empire.

When they had gone a little ways from the palace, Mzysia turned around, propped up on her knees and stared at the group of people off in the distance. Saurmag's sharp eyes immediately caught the girl's movement and thrust his sword to the sky.

Mzysia understood that through this gesture, the Svan chief was saying his final goodbyes to his beloved daughter.

Rati was standing silently beside Saurmag. The king waved him over.

"What news do you have?" he asked quietly.

"We found no trace of Bardia, my King. As for Miryan, his men are circling the caravan from the west."

"Damn Svans!" the sovereign swore. "Get Miryan before he does something stupid, Rati and tell him from me to not touch the Persians on our territory. Beyond that, he and Bardia are free to do what they like."

"Yes, my Lord!" Rati, face all lit up, ran for his horsemen.

Left alone, the king sent a hidden glance toward Saurmag. The Svan chief was staring into the distance. At moments like this, the burden of the Kolchian crown especially weighed heavily on the old sovereign's head.

The road from Aia to the Arminian fortress of Erebuni was long and fraught with peril. After passing the mountain range in the east of the Kolchian Kingdom, the caravan had to pass through the lands of the unfriendly Iberian tribes.

So this is where Manana is from, sitting upon a horse, Mzysia thought to herself, looking about and studying everything carefully.

The road followed the wide, abundant waters of the Kourosh River. Their surroundings had looked nothing like the graceful Kolchis for a few days now. The language and style of clothing of these tribes were also very different.

The caravan slowly followed its course.

"Even Athens didn't toss me from her borders so rapidly. What was the point of making this long journey so quickly?" Simonides complained for the hundredth time to Hadassah, who was riding alone in the carriage.

"Oh, Simone, Simone, if I knew all this would happen, I would never have stepped foot from those mountains and would certainly never have sent my Mzysia down here. But who asks us anything now," Hadassah joined his grumbles. "But we couldn't send the little one by herself, could we?"

The nanny eyed the man doubtfully.

"What are you saying, Hadassah? If the girl needed it, I would go to the end of the word!" the Greek assured the woman. "Although, I'd much rather head toward home than this way. Oh, if only we were going to Attica instead of Persia!" the homesick cast away fell into sweet dreaming. "You know, Hadassah, ten years have long gone by. Athens would probably take me back. Mzysia, we have such men in Hellas! I'd find such a husband for you that this Persian wouldn't even hold a candle to him!" the teacher joked with the girl.

"That's Enough Simone! Why are you tossing salt in her wound?" Hadassah glared at the Greek.

Simonides realized that he had crossed a line and fell silent.

"If need be, would you really follow me to the end of the world, teacher?" Mzysia asked as though she hadn't even heard her companion's comment.

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I would!" the man stated certainly.

"You know, Simone, I'd rather go to Hellas than Persia myself," the girl said to Simonides with a smile.

Simonides took pride in the girl's words and positively glowed.

"Simone, why is this river called Kourosh?"

"They named it Kourosh in honor of the Great Persian Basileos. But the natives still call it Mtkvari. In their language it means a 'gently flowing river'," Simonides showed off his knowledge.

"Gently flowing! Yeah right! Go swim to the center, then see how gentle it is," already experienced in this field, Mzysia stated her opinion. "I don't think there's such a thing as a gentle river. There is the honest, straightforward mountain water that openly shows its true colors. Then there is the deceitful creeping river of the lowlands which first lies to you then attacks treacherously."

"Look at that!" Simonides cried. "As for me, I prefer crystal clear spring water above all. It is so refreshing and pleasant to drink. I would gladly have it now."

The thirsty man licked his dry lips and wistfully looked over at his wineskin, half filled with warm water. Nobody noticed how Zareh crept up from behind until they heard his voice.

"You know, we have a lot of lakes and rivers too."

At the Persian's signal, the carriage driver sped up, carrying Hadassah away. Simonides followed the nanny.

"In the palaces we have gardens and pools as well." Zareh was looking the girl over shamelessly, his eyes gleaming with lust.

High upon a horse, the Svan resembled the goddess of the hunt, Dali, more than a mere mortal. Mzysia was used to getting admiring looks, but Zareh's impudent self-assurance especially irritated her. The girl lowered her head more to conceal her rage than out of timidity.

"My fair Lady, we've been on the road for so long and you've been avoiding me this whole time. What, are you mad at me?"

"It's not accustomed for the bride and groom to talk before the wedding among my people, my Lord," Mzysia lied.

"Humph, you were more merciful to your previous husband-to-be," Zareh smiled at the girl strangely.

The young man's word's confused Mzysia for a moment, then she blamed it on his poor Greek and went to Aramaic. Aggravating the man didn't suit the girl so she used a well approved trick of flattery.

"This is such an unexpected honor for us. It's not easy to make a decision in one day and travel so far. If I'd stayed home until the wedding, it would have been better for me."

"And could I leave your innocence in Kolchis without worries?"

The irony in the voice of her husband-to-be didn't escape Mzysia. In Greek or Aramaic, Zareh was clearly getting at something. The young man's insolent persistence made her loose composure.

"If you have something to tell me, say it openly, my Lord!" Mzysia's upper lip quivered with anger.

How anger suits her! Zareh thought to himself.

"If my memory doesn't betray me, you exchanged more than just sweet words with your previous suitor, my untouchable one!" The man leaned over to Mzysia decisively.

The girl jumped her horse aside. The Svan's emerald eyes blazed menacingly from her scorching face. She clutched the hilt of her sword and sent a murderous glare, full of hate, toward the Persian.

"It's alright, my little bride. You're even more desirable this way! I can wait," Zareh smirked.

The Persian looked the girl over with a lustful glance once more and spurred the stallion on.

After that incident, Mzysia avoided travelling by horse, never parting from Hadassah and only stepping from the carriage to rest at night.

Following Persian tradition, Tigran had only one meal a day. During this time, he always invited the young lady to join him and hosted her cordially. The Persian nobles as well as Zareh were indispensable companions at his table. In Tigran's presence, Zareh treated Mzysia warmly and with utmost reserve all the time, but the girl always answered him with cold pride. Tigran immediately noted his future daughter-in-law's outright disgust, but Armina's satrap was a practical man and was not too caring in matters of passion. He couldn't decipher a marriage from state affairs and the feelings of a woman were the last of his concerns. This was why Mzysia's hostility toward Zareh didn't trouble him. The satrap cared for her no less than a father would and the rest, he knew from experience, would come with time.

Mzysia didn't change her cheerfulness because of her betrothed. Curious by nature, the girl conversed with Tigran and his fellow nobles with undying enthusiasm, always trying to find the answer to everything that she came upon and in return, replying to questions herself with great pleasure. Merry and full of life, witty and cunning, and as beautiful as the goddess of love herself, the young lady easily won the Persians' hearts. She lightened the men's tiresome journey, often making them laugh with her childish ways.

"They say where I'm from that your country is beyond enormous. They say that Kolchis is a drop in the ocean compared to the vast Persian Empire. Is this true, my Lord?" Sitting on a bright cushion, Mzysia was gobbling down a thigh of roasted game.

"There was never a country bigger than Persia on the face of this earth," the grey bearded noble answered proudly.

"Then it must be wealthy too!" the girl narrowed her eyes in doubt.

"Our treasury is overflowing. Its legendary wealth is known everywhere," Tigran smiled to Mzysia.

"If you are so rich, then why do you eat only once a day, killing yourselves from hunger?" Puzzlement was written on the girl's face. "In Aia, we eat three times a day at least and have snacks in between if we wish."

"That's why you are the spoiled Kolchians, and we, the invincible Persians. A man with a full stomach is no use in battle and wouldn't do any good in any other field either. Gluttony is as bad for the flesh as it is for the soul," an elderly Persian stated assertively.

The Svans didn't indulge in too much food either, but Mzysia really liked the amiable feasts and endless suppers of the palace of Aia, hence the Persian's words obviously didn't convince the girl. Mzysia had already finished the leg and was eagerly surveying the table for what she would like next.

"Eat, my fair Lady. We don't mean to starve you in Persia."

With a concealed smile, Zareh passed a piece of roast lamb on a stick to his young bride. The girl cast him an unfriendly glare but took the offering and ate with great pleasure.

After that supper, the Persians sent Mzysia many delicious goods to please her appetite throughout the journey, thus, not only the girl, but Hadassah and Simonides never lacked any nourishment.

"I think our girl has already accepted her fate. Look how she giggles with the Persians," sitting under the shade of the tree, Simonides took a loaf of bread from Hadassah and pointed to the table set nearby.

"Oh, Simone, you must not know my charge very well," the Jewish woman took a seat in the grass beside the Greek teacher and started eating.

"I thought your God forbade the Jews from eating with gentiles," Simonides goaded Hadassah.

"Get lost! Our God orders us to be wise and not become lewd like you lot, not to kill ourselves from starvation!"

His spirits cheered, Simonides looked to Mzysia once more.

"Who knows what will come to the head of this stubborn Svan, especially since she's been raised by the clever king! Does she tell you anything at least?"

"She said that she'll never become Zareh's wife," the troubled woman sighed heavily. "I don't know what will become of us, Simone. This child is as obstinate as her father. If she has set her heart on something, nothing can change her mind. She's been like this since birth. Here she sits giggling heartily, just because she's a child and wants to laugh. This can deceive you and those Persians, but it can't fool me. Mzysia is always waiting for something. She's taken the sacks of gold from the chest the king has given to her and has been keeping them with her for a while now. Simone, I'm telling you, she has something up her sleeve."

"We'll already be at the satrap's palace by tomorrow night. What could possibly happen now? If she was planning on escaping, she would have done so closer to home. Besides, she would have told me something. Mzysia knows how loyal I am to her," the Greek teacher mumbled, somewhat insulted.

The caravan left the Gokcha-Gegham Sea, full of ducks, white chested geese and black headed gulls, on the left side and set up camp near the ruins of an ancient fortress. The servants were busy setting up the tents. Mzysia stood beside the carriage looking at the ruins.

"Just one more night and you'll be resting on the soft sheets of the Erebuni palace, my beauty," Zareh jumped from his horse and stood beside the girl.

Mzysia paid no attention to his words. Instead, she pointed to the fortress and asked.

"Did you destroy that?"

The young man regarded the girl, surprised, wondering what she meant.

"Did you, Persians, destroy it while conquering the Haiks?" Mzysia specified.

"This is the ancient Teishebaini. It was destroyed a hundred years ago by the Scythians," Zareh replied. "You know, we Persians are more known for building things than destroying them."

Mzysia turned to her undesired husband-to-be with disbelief. Then she apologized, said she was tired, wanted to rest, and headed for her tent.

It was past midnight when the commotion coming from outside awoke Mzysia. The girl stuck her head out and asked what was going on, but the guards wouldn't let her out. The girl realized everything immediately. Mzysia quickly threw on her hunting clothes that she had prepared beforehand, stuffed her hidden sacks into the folds of her tunic and listened in. The noise slowly grew louder. Suddenly the red eyed, disgruntled Simonides flew into the tent.

"The caravan is under attack! There's a real battle raging up there!" Winded from running, the Greek could barely breathe.

"It's Bardia and Mindya!" Mzysia exclaimed. "We must go right now!"

"What are you saying? They let me in here, but who's going to let you out?" the teacher frantically shook his hands.

The Svan girl went for her sword.

"They won't stop me, Simone! What happened to you, aren't you a Hellen? Now is the time to run! Didn't you promise you'd follow me to the ends of the world?" the girl was whispering to her teacher.

Emerging from behind the curtain, when Hadassah laid eyes upon her charge with sword in hand, she shrieked and wrapped her arms around the girl.

"What are you doing, my child? We won't even get past the door!" the nanny wept.

Mzysia barely freed herself from her caretaker's clutches.

"We don't have that much time. You can stay if you want, but I'm leaving."

The girl cut the tent wall with her sword and ran off into the dark. Coming to his senses, Simonides dashed after her. The terrified Hadassah followed.

The sounds of furious battle drifted from the upper part of the camp. Chaos was already stirring here too. The half dressed Persians were rushing to aid the guards. Suddenly a warrior jumped in front of Mzysia, blocking her path. The girl had no time to hesitate. A quick strike from her sword to his chest bore the Persian to the ground. The girl froze in place. Until now, she had never killed anything besides rabbits and pheasants during a hunt. Seeing this, Simonides grabbed the slain Persian's weapon. "Follow me," he whispered to the women and ran for the gully.

Awaking from her daze, the girl looked back to make sure no one had seen them and ran after her teacher. There were no pursuers. The three escapees skidded down the steep slope and disappeared into the darkness.

Meanwhile a vicious battle took place near the tents. Another band of assailants circled the caravan and were now attacking from behind. The majority of the Persian warriors were busy defending the upper part of the caravan. Along with the tribute of Kolchian children, all their provisions and riches were stashed over there. The assailants wiped out the meager number of Persian guards in the lower part of the camp with no difficulty and stormed the tents. Miryan easily recognized Mzysia's abode. The girl's clothing and jewelry were lying untouched beside her bed, and the tent wall was cut in half on one side. There was no sign of Mzysia and her companions.

In the meantime, the Persians, coming around, quickly reorganized, dividing into two parts. Zareh's men furiously attacked their foes. There was no point for the Moschians to remain there any longer so they fought their way back and faded into the darkness. At the signal of their horns, Bardia's detachment also retreated. Soon the assault was deflected by the Persians.

When he returned to camp, Zareh lunged for Mzysia's tent. His suspicions were immediately confirmed. The attackers had stolen the girl along with her companions. Infuriated, Zareh ran to the satrap.

"Father, these were no thieves! They didn't steal anything, they only kidnapped the girl!" 'the King's Eyes'' roared like a wounded lion.

Tigran shared his son's suspicions, but he didn't send any pursuers after the assailants right away. His priority was to get the caravan home safely. Tigran first reached Erebuni, and then started the search for Mzysia. The Haik man had his people rummage through the northern part of the satrapy, but found no trace of the Kolchian detachment or Mzysia.

Miryan and Bardia crossed into Iberian territory separately and met each other in the appointed place in two days' time. The Moschian was severely wounded in his side while the Svan escaped with only a few scratches.

"That was definitely her tent, Bardia!" sprawled across rocks, Miryan groaned. "How could I not recognize Mzysia's dress and jewelry? The tent side was cut with a blade. Perhaps she escaped."

"Mzysia is the daughter of the mountains, Miryan. If she did escape, she wouldn't have gotten lost. She'll manage to cross the border. And we'll find her here. We'll warn everyone and post our people. If she doesn't show up here, that means the Persians have hidden her away and we'll find that out soon enough too."

Mzysia's husband-to-be and brother waited for two weeks with no outcome. Finally Bardia journeyed to Svaneti to bring the news to his father. As for the injured Miryan, he stayed there and tried to find out what he could about his bride.

At the dawn of winter, Saurmag approached the satrap of Armina.

"Where is my daughter, Tigran, my Lord?" the blanched chief inquired.

"I thought she escaped to you," the Haik answered, paling himself.

The Kolchians haven't taken Mzysia. Then where has Zareh's bride gone? The satrap of Armina wondered, in a daze, but the answer to his question evaded him.

# Chapter 11

Babylon

"Zababa, I swear on Atar, nothing will make me stay here long!"

The irritated prince threatened for the hundredth time that he'd move his residence from Babylon to Sippar.

"As you wish, glorious Mar Biti," Zababa-Sharra-Usur answered submissively.

"Ustarbarus here, in the capital, and in Sippar are loyal and trustworthy people, my Lord."

Kshayarsha was not questioning Zababa's loyalty. His family has been serving the kings of Persia since Great Kourosh and never was a disappointment. Almost forty, this servant was Hutaosha's favorite and Amisiri also counted on him. Although, the queen had another favorite as well, a nobleman by the name of Labash. From her mother's side Hutaosha was Babylonian herself. Before the last monarch, Nabunaid's reign, Labash-Marduk sat on the throne for a short time. The local nobles, under the command of Nabunaid's son, Prince Belshazzar, overthrew Labash and replaced him with Nabunaid. This Labash-Marduk's very daughter, Umati, was Hutaosha's mother. Her new favorite, the young Labash was the queen's distant relative.

Hutaosha heard of Kshayarsha's appointment as viceroy of Babylon the very next day and immediately dove into the intrigues of the king's court to help her son with her usual zeal. When one day, Kshayarsha caught sight of his mother's palanquin at the construction site of the new palace, he was very surprised. At another time, the prince would have been irritated by Hutaosha's active participation, but now, when he almost never spoke to Amisiri, Marduniya was still recovering from his injuries and Darayawahush was expecting his son to do so much in order to settle the uneasy political and religious circumstances in Babylon, being left alone, he was even glad to accept his mother's helping hand. The queen had her relative from Kish, the young Labash, called upon and brought to the construction area.

Kshayarsha smiled, remembering that day. Now his life had completely changed. Now he was called Mar Biti, the prince in Babylonian, and everyone else around, from the highest nobles down, were bandakas, slaves to the great king and to his viceroy, glorious prince Kshayarsha. Ustarbarus, or stewards, ran his wealthy estates. Shatammus were heads of the temple affairs. The post of mashennus, the district governors, usually belonged to the local nobles. Kshayarsha soon grew used to the Babylonian servants and their strange titles, but he brought many Persian officials with him too.

The prince turned to Zababa-Sharra-Usur again.

"Are you acquainted with Labash of Kish?"

"No, glorious Mar Biti. I don't know him. But I have heard that he came here from Susa with you. The family of Nabu-Ushallim is the most powerful in Kish. I know them," the steward bowed obediently, waiting for more orders.

Kshayarsha was very interested in learning about Kish and the other cities of Babylon. Zababa knew every wealthy merchant and the governors of the cities. The satrapy's very income depended on the efforts of these people and all this was the direct responsibility of the new viceroy of Babylon, but first he had to deal with the nobles. The capital was his main priority.

"Zababa, use Labash in running of my estates. I want to keep him near the capital. And tell Bel-Rushua to prepare a detailed report. I want to know what's going on in the temples."

The noble Bel-Rushua was the sha-resh-sharri, the king's personal representative in the Babylonian temples. Among his many responsibilities was to make sure that the enormously wealthy priesthood didn't accidentally forget to contribute part of their harvest and cattle to the royal table, called Naptan Sharri. And the shrewd Kshayarsha was not one to allow this to happen.

Beside sha-resh-sharri, the Persian king's court had many servants to take care of business with the endless Akkadian temples. The prince had to study each report carefully and elucidate every question thoroughly.

"I've only been here for just a year and I already reek of onions and dates," Kshayarsha complained to Marduniya in a letter.

The huge income of the wealthiest satrapy was crucial for the Empire. There were many taxes which Kshayarsha was responsible for. For example: 'ilku' went to the state, 'rikis qabli' was for the army, 'miksu' supported the canals, and 'Gimru' was taken for the roads. During the time of Great Kourosh, Babylon had been governed by Satrap Gauparuva. At the very beginning of his reign, Darayawahush appointed noble Ushtanu to this imperative position. Dizzy from the never-ending workload, the former viceroys passed their responsibilities on to the head of the capital city, shakin-temi, and the governors of smaller districts, mashennu and mar abarakku. The higher authority would quickly write special letters, called shipirtu, to his subordinates, giving them almost unlimited power, and considered the job done.

Kshayarsha was certainly not about to handle things this way. The prince kept a close eye on his courtiers and civil servants and knew everything under his dominion.

No, Esagila was not happy with having Darayawahush's favorite son in Babylon!

"Zababa, don't forget to arrange my meeting with the shatammu of the Lugal-Marada temple, the honorable Nergal-Ina-Teshi-Etir."

The steward bowed, thinking to himself.

When is he supposed to rest? Does he ever sleep?

Kshayarsha stood and approached the window. The Ziggurat of Etemenanki was clearly visible from there. A foreboding greatness and at the same time some unreachable desire of mankind emanated from the seven variously sized floors of this ever unfinished building. The main god of the Babylonians, Marduk, Meri-Baal, 'the lord of rebellion', seemed to be glaring down at the world threateningly from the sanctuary nestled on the top of the Ziggurat, either for the incompletion of his palace or for the hopelessness of his godly desires.

Kshayarsha didn't like this eternally ominous temple-pyramid. No one knew exactly who built this Ziggurat and when. In some opinions, it was built by the first King of Kings, the incomparable hunter, Nimrod, to glorify himself. Others accredited Nimrod's wife, the magnificent queen Semiramis. Whoever may have began this grand construction, it was for some reason doomed to go forever unfinished. By the will of the heavens, the Ziggurat, along with the city was always destroyed by something or someone. The latest attempt to rebuild the Ziggurat was by the Babylonian kings, Nabopolasar and his son, Nebuchadnezzar. They spent eighty eight years on this project. The kings' very inscriptions spoke of this. "Etemenanki, Ziggurat of Babibli, I built it, the wonder of nations..."

The tower of Babylon, even unfinished, reached seven stocks. Its square base was also seven stocks size from every side. The eastern gate of the Ziggurat led to the sacred Procession Road. Along the entire south side ran an enormous stairway and the three layered gates connected it to the Esagila temple.

The priests of Esagila, the main temple of Marduk, possessed great power and wealth. In importance, they had often exceeded Babylonian kings. The Persian court had a varying relationship with Esagila's high priests, the sheshgallus.

The seventeen year reign of Babylon's last sovereign, Nabunaid, many considered as an icon of irresponsible government. The royal was rarely ever present in the capital; he paid little attention to religious ceremonies and mainly occupied himself with building and commerce. Even the celebration of Akitu, Resh-Shattimi, the New Year's festival, was often cancelled on account of the king's absence. The people and priests were highly displeased with Nabunaid. This was why, when king Kourosh approached the city, they threw open their gates and the capital was conquered by the Persians without a fight.

At this time, the commander of the armies of Akkad, Mar Biti Belshazzar, was busy feasting. Although he was only a prince, Belshazzar was the actual ruler of Babylon and decided he could do whatever he pleased. So he ordered his servants to bring forth the gold and silver goblets conquered by his predecessor, Nebuchadnezzar, from the temple of Jerusalem.

"I, my wives, my concubines, and my nobles will drink from these sacred cups of the Jews to hail our gods," he smiled.

In the middle of the feast, an unheard of miracle took place: before everyone's eyes, a hand appeared as if from nowhere and a four word message was written on the wall. At seeing this, Belshazzar was deeply disturbed and immediately demanded the writing be read and explained.

"The one who fulfills my demand will become the third in command of Babylon," Belshazzar promised, but none could accomplish the task.

Then the queen arrived at the table and advised the confused prince to call on their Jewish servant, Daniel. This was the very same Daniel that Nebuchadnezzar brought over from the conquered Israel. The elderly Jewish prophet easily read the inscription but declined the gifts and honor.

"Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin. Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided," the wise elder read and then explained to the prince that if Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar's ancestor, was driven mad, chained with the donkeys and ate the grass for four years as punishment for his pride and arrogance, then Jehovah had another punishment in store for Belshazzar himself.

" _Thou art weighed in the balance and art found wanting. Your days are numbered!"_

Even this horrible prophecy couldn't bring Belshazzar to his senses. The mar biti handsomely rewarded the wise Daniel as promised, naming him as the third ruler of Babylon, and continued to feast. That very night, the drunken Belshazzar, captured by the Persians, probably didn't even realize how he journeyed to the afterworld to his forefathers. This happened in the seventeenth year of king Nabunaid's reign.

In all these events the Great Kourosh saw the hand of Babylon's main god, Bel-Marduk, and felt nothing but respect for this god and his servants. This was no surprise. A rebel himself, King Kourosh, who overthrew his grandfather, the Median king, Ishtovagu, and established the new Persian Empire, probably even regarded the lord of rebellion, Bel-Marduk, as his guardian. He immortalized his thoughts by inscribing it on a clay cylinder:

" _Nabunaid was heretical; he changed the details of worship. He was also an oppressor... but Bel-Marduk cast his eye over the countries, seeking for a righteous ruler...Then he called by name Kourosh, King of Anshan and pronounced him ruler of the Lands."_

After one year, on the fourth day of Nissanu, Kambujiyah, the son of Kourosh, went through the New Year ritual of paying homage to Bel-Marduk and became the king of Babylon.

Kshayarsha had no desire to repeat the events of forty years past. During Darayawahush's reign, Zoroastrianism had flourished all over the Empire. Now, in the eyes of the Persian prince, standing firm on his feet, rebellion represented only evil and wrongdoings. Instead of a guardian, Kshayarsha sensed an enemy of Ahura-Mazda in competitive Bel-Marduk. The prince looked upon the rebellion of Marduk and his followers against the older gods with much distrust. In his beliefs, the whole world was created by Ahura-Mazda. Anahita, Verethraghna, Mithra, Tishtrya, Atar, and all the other gods were far below Ahura-Mazda and only served him.

Then who where the old gods who Bel-Marduk rebelled against? This question gave the ruler of Babylon no rest. Kshayarsha acted in the king's name and if he planned to become the sovereign in the future, he must show wisdom and caution. The prince couldn't irritate ancient Akkad; on the contrary, he had to strengthen Babylon's loyalty to the Persian king. This was no easy task for the jealous Zoroastrian man.

The rich and powerful Babylon, or Akkad, as the local nobles called their motherland, was divided up into rival parties. It's true, they all swore their allegiance to King Darayawahush, but Kshayarsha didn't trust the sheshgallu of Esagila, and Prince Belshazzar's sons, Bel-Shimanni and Shamash-Eriba, couldn't leave a better impression either. In such difficult times having a loyal friend by his side meant a lot to Kshayarsha, but Marduniya was still recovering from his injuries, the prince himself wouldn't allow Amisiri anywhere near Babylon, and Baghabagsha was much too young and inexperienced. Although Zopyrush was in Borsippa, Kshayarsha didn't wish to call upon Darayawahush's old companion. He wanted to figure things out for himself and take firm hold of Babylon in his sure hands from the very start. His steward was not a serious state figure, but Zababa-Sharra-Usur knew the surroundings like the back of his own hand and Kshayarsha obtained much valuable information from him.

"The sheshgallu of Esagila still hopes that I'll attend the Akitu festival."

The prince glanced over at the steward without parting from the window.

"I don't blame him. Formidable Kambujiyah took part in our New Year's celebration although he was a Persian prince, as you are, glorious Mar Biti," the Babylonian servant answered a bit stung.

"Yes, but Kambujiyah was at the same time a Sharri of Babylon, and it was his duty."

"Not every king takes his responsibility seriously. Nabunaid also was our sharri, and he was Babylonian, not Persian, but he didn't pay too much heed to his duties. That is why his people hated him. Even his own courtiers betrayed him."

The steward knew that his words displeased Kshayarsha, but telling the truth was part of being a good servant in his opinion so he continued:

"King Kourosh slayed many Babylonian braves near Opis, then captured Sippar without a fight, but he worshipped our god, Shamash, there. Seeing this, the Babylonians forgot the bloodshed in Opis and opened the city gates to the conqueror. Thanks to his cleverness, the Great Kourosh appeared as a savior, not a subjugator to our people. The Persian sharri also freed the Jews enslaved by the Akkadian's and promised to rebuild the Temple of Jehovah in Jerusalem. The result soon followed. The Judeans still recall Great Kourosh and all of Persia with much respect to this day."

Kshayarsha knew the deeds of Darayawahush's predecessor better than the steward. He highly prized the wise decisions of the Empire's founding father and his own grandfather, but Kshayarsha was not him. To Kourosh, raised on the open steppes of Anshan, any gods were acceptable as long as it benefited the Empire. His grandson looked upon such matters from a completely different prospective. The fear of the almighty Ahura-Mazda was firmly set in Kshayarsha's very bones.

The viceroy had never attended the Akitu festival, but he had a vague idea of what it was like. The New Year's celebration began on the fourth day of the month Nisannu.

"Resh Shattimi starts with the king's arrival in the Nabu Temple, doesn't it, Zababa?" the prince inquired.

"No," the steward snapped to with new hope. "First, the sheshgallu from Esagila announces the arrival of the New Year to the people. Only after this, the sharri goes to the Nabu temple." Zababa approached the window and pointed to the small building between the Ziggurat and themselves. "Here, the sheshgallu gives him the king's scepter and the king will head south toward Borsippa. That's where Nabu's main temple, Ezida stands. Meanwhile, the sheshgallu reads 'Enuma Elish' - the creation of the world."

"Does the sharri return the same day?"

"No, the next day. And he brings Nabu with him."

"You mean the statue of Nabu."

"That's the same.The king will leave Nabu near the Urash gate and he himself will come to Esagila to worship Bel-Marduk."

"How?"

"The sovereign must place his weapons, royal scepter and crown on the ground and approach the god thus. Then the sheshgallu will ask the sharri if he has ever wronged Bel-Marduk."

"And then?"

"After the confession, the priest will deal such a blow to the sharri as to draw tears."

Kshayarsha involuntarily cradled his cheek. If he had any doubts before, now they were all gone. It would be impossible for him to come before Bel-Marduk, especially since it would be such a crime against Almighty Ahura-Mazda.

Poor Zababa didn't notice his master's frustration. The cheerful servant went on describing the Babylonian New Year's festival.

"The sovereign will kneel before Bel-Marduk and hear a divination. Then the sharri will retrieve his weapons, scepter and crown. Then the sheshgallu will perform the ritual of the White Bull."

"What happens on the third day?" the prince asked.

"The statue of Nabu goes to the Ninurta temple. Here he will battle his two vital enemies and defeat them."

The battle among golden statues, Kshayarsha smiled to himself but didn't say anything.

"After this, they bring Nabu to Esagila to worship his father, Bel-Marduk. On this day, they will bring the gods from all over the Babylonian cities. Each will be dressed in new attire and on the seventh day of Nisannu, all our gods will be positioned on the sacred Procession Road for all to see. Here the New Year prophecy will be announced after which all the gods will head for the river."

"Why for the river?" the prince asked, surprised. "Doesn't the celebration continue at the Resh Shattimi house? And it's to the north. It's easiest to get there through the gate of Ishtar."

"That's true, but they never go that way. They always use the river."

"Why?"

"I'm not certain. Perhaps because Bel-Marduk's father was the god of the sea." Zababa assumed.

"You're probably right." the prince agreed. "What's next?"

"There will be a small fleet awaiting the gods at Semiramis' bridge. The king himself brings Bel-Marduk along with the god's dragon there. The end of the trip is the most fascinating. They'll put the gods with their boats on chariots. That's how they'll reach the Resh Shattimi house."

"With their ships on the land?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's a secret ritual of the priests."

"What other secrets does Esagila keep?"

"No one knows what happens in the New Year house on the ninth and tenth days of Nisannu except the king himself and the priests. Perhaps, the sharri offers a sacrifice to the gods. If you go through the ceremony, you'll know the secret too."

I prefer to never find out, the prince thought to himself.

"The most cheerful and loud things take place in the street. The crowds gather before the New Year house. The young sing hymns to the goddess of love and passion, the most marvelous Ishtar. Youngsters also make fun of Bel-Marduk's father, the old god, Enlil. On the eleventh, the gods return to Esagila. From here, Nabu and the other gods return to their own temples in the different cities of Babylon. Isn't our Resh Shattimi splendid?" the enthralled Zababa's hopeful eyes were fixed on the prince.

Kshayarsha didn't wish to hurt the kind and loyal steward but he could not lie.

"You know, Zababa, if I could take part in Resh Shattimi, I would, just for you, but I cannot. I'm the viceroy of Babylon, not the sharri. Besides, Almighty Ahura-Mazda would not approve if I worshipped a god who does not acknowledge him as the supreme god."

At hearing the prince's words, the steward's spirits dampened and he silently headed for the exit.

"Zababa!" Kshayarsha called him.

The servant stopped in the doorway and turned to the prince.

"Zababa, do you want me to tell you the Persian kings' New Year secret?"

The steward's eyes widened with surprise.

"On the day of the New Year, they'll bring a beautiful young maiden to the sunki and he'll bed her."

"And?"

The king never lacked young virgins, so the steward didn't get the meaning of the secret.

"If the maiden becomes pregnant, they will offer the child to the temple, and when he grows up, he will become a Magu. You see Zababa, even our temple servants are the king's children. You know what else, Zababa? We, Persians, don't really have temples."

When Kshayarsha caught sight of the steward's astounded face, he broke out in laughter.

"Where do you worship your gods?"

"Out in the open air, Zababa, the open air."

Zopyrush was sitting in the library of the Borsippa palace, reading a letter from Parnaka. The king's uncle had stamped the list of provisions sent to the Persian families, settled in Babylon with the seal of the vacabara, the chief fiscal official of the Empire, in his usual precise fashion. Zopyrush carefully examined Parnaka's seal. It must have been new. The handwriting definitely belonged to Parnaka's subordinate, Zishawish, but the imprint of the seal at the bottom right hand corner of the list, Zopyrush didn't recognize. In the center of the ring, there was a small figure of a man. On either side, whoever had made the seal, had added the figures of livestock.

"The noble Parnaka chose a very suitable mark for himself," Zopyrush smiled at his own joke.

The king's uncle, the youngest brother of Darayawahush's father, possessed enormous power in the Empire. He had the authority to assign and dismiss judges, give permission to travel, collect tribute, and pay depts. Without Parnaka's acquiescence, the ganzabara- the royal treasurer, couldn't even give one golden daric to anyone. The roles of officials were always changing hands, but the king's old uncle always remained in his place. Under his control, two ganzabaras had to kiss their comfortable positions goodbye, first Shutayanda replaced Karkish, then he was succeeded by Baratkama. The vacabara rarely ever involved himself in martial or court affairs. His only concern was making the rich Empire even richer. And Parnaka managed this job superbly. In his capable hands, Persia's treasure grew beyond belief. The old uncle's own wealth rose constantly as well. Only Marduniya's father, Darayawahush's 'Lance Carrier', the honorable Gauparuva profited more than Parnaka. The family of the vacabara received about two and half artaba of flower, almost two artaba of the finest wines, and two large livestock to eat on a daily basis. This was much more than any other courtier ever got, causing the envy of many nobles.

"The greedy Parnaka sells all the spare supplies on the side, adding gold darics to his enormous wealth," they gossiped.

The king's uncle had acquired a lot of land in Hellespont of Phrygia and was considering moving his family there.

Zopyrush was staring at Parnaka's seal, all the while fingering his own ring with the pride of a warrior.

"Noble Parnaka, perhaps you are much wealthier than I, but I would never exchange my roaring bear with your goats and cows," the chubby general chuckled with pleasure and continued to read.

The Persian noble had almost finished the letter when a servant entered the room and informed him of the Babylonian official, Sellibi's arrival. Zopyrush was not expecting a visit from Iddin-Nabu's oldest son.

What would a representative of Esagila want on my land? Zopyrush thought for a moment, then stood and went to meet his guest.

At his host's appearance, Sellibi bowed respectfully. After the usual polite greetings, Zopyrush inquired of the reason behind the visit of Niddin-Nabu's son.

"My good man, it's true that we're only a half a day from the capital, but I doubt you just came to check up on my health."

The Babylonian appreciated Zopyrush's straightforwardness. Sellibi was planning to return to Esagila the same day so the sooner he talked to the Persian noble, the better it would be for him.

"My Lord, your merit before Great Darayawahush in Babylon is boundless. The Sharri and the rest of the Empire will never forget this."

Hearing these words from Sellibi could have even sounded cynical. In the first years of Darayawahush's reign, Babylon rebelled twice and Zopyrush had a lot to do with its repression, especially in the first one. The usurper Nidintu-Bel, the son of noble Zin-Zeri, claimed to be Nebuchadnezzar the third. After a long siege, the Great Darayawahush put an end to the resistance and took the capital by storm. The Persians suppressed this rebellion with much brutality and Nidintu-Bel along with his followers was crucified on the walls of the city for everyone to see.

Over the next twenty years, many rumors were spread about this rebellion. To save food, it was said that the Babylonians strangled all the women besides their own mothers and a few bread makers. They even spread a good many rumors about Zopyrush himself. They said that Zopyrush cut off his own ears, nose and lips, making the Babylonians believe that he was punished by Darayawahush in order to get into the city and open the gates to the Great King, which he was apparently able to fulfill.

The truth and lies were so muddled together that beside the eye witnesses and the direct participants, none could tell what actually happened in there. Zopyrush knew that many women died in Babylon, but not by the hands of Babylonians. He himself had managed to open the gates from inside, but not at the cost of his own mutilation.

In the Persian court they joked darkly:

"During his first two years in power, Darayawahush spilled so much royal blood and committed so many coldblooded murders with his own hands that the Great King will have to spend the rest of his life justifying it all."

Indeed, Darayawahush had filled the Empire with monuments and inscriptions where he assured everyone of his justice and good will, always naming the supreme god Ahura-Mazda as his witness, probably since no one else would dare be witness to that. Where the truth about the actions of Darayawahush's first two years was buried, only a few knew for sure, but they would most likely never break the silence.

The six families that supported the king had grown immensely in power. Utana gained the satrapy of Lydia. Gauparuva took the possession of Elam and Vidarna became the satrap of Media. As a result of these bloody rebellions, Zopyrush's father, Baghabagsha, got Syria as his share. Zopyrush himself strengthened his position in Babylon. Ardumanish died early. Among the dominant Seven, only Vindafrana, drunk with power, overstepped himself and sacrificed his own life and that of his family to Darayawahush's anger.

The mention of Zopyrush's past accomplishments by the Babylonian Sellibi was neither cynicism, nor shameless flattery. This meant only one thing: Akkad desperately needed to smooth things over with Persia. And of course, the matter had to do with Kshayarsha. Being sent to Babylon as the king's viceroy significantly strengthened the prince's position as the possible heir. The servants of Esagila probably preferred to see anyone else in his place, but Darayawahush had already made up his mind. Now Esagila was trying to find at least something useful from this situation.

"There has been mutual respect and complete understanding between Akkad and Anshan since the days of Great Kourosh. Babylon recognizes the superiority of the Persian king over our lands without question. The misunderstandings that took place in the early years of the great Darayawahush's reign were completely the fault of Gaumata and the nobles he spurred onward. The sharri knows the loyalty of Babylon, especially Esagila. Sending Kshayarsha as the ruler of Akkad is a great honor for us. This is exactly what Great Kourosh did when he ordained his heir, Kambujiyah, as the sharri of Babylon. We all see Great Darayawahush's distant plans. The Persian ruler clearly indicates who he wishes to see on the throne of Anshan in the future. The arrival of the Empire's heir is a good sign for Esagila. If Great Darayawahush makes the prince our Sharri, it would be very beneficial for Kshayarsha and Babylon as well."

Zopyrush rubbed his fat chin, deep in thought. This was no laughing matter. It seemed that Esagila had started a dangerous game of getting the pleasure of having its own king once again and was for some reason counting on Zopyrush's help. But why? Wouldn't it be far easier to talk directly with the prince? The furtive battle for their father's throne had already begun between Darayawahush's sons. Everyone knew this. The sharri's crown of Babylon would prove to be a strong foundation for Kshayarsha in the future. In the experienced courtier's opinion, the prince should certainly accept the proposition. King Darayawahush would also agree willingly enough, since the King of Kings considered following in the Great Kourosh's footsteps highly honorable.

"To tell you the truth, my good Sellibi, hearing these words from you greatly surprise me. I'll confess, I like what I just heard, but these matters are none of my business, or yours for that matter. I believe that the sheshgallu of Esagila needs to speak with Kshayarsha himself."

"The truth is, my Lord," the Babylonian coughed uneasily, "the sheshgallu doesn't feel too much interest from the prince in this vital matter. Besides, the Chaldean astronomical diaries, 'Enuma Anu Enlil' advise the priest's of Esagila not to get directly involved in this subject. So, instead, the sheshgallu sent me. The prince is young and inexperienced. And Kshayarsha will most likely listen to the advice of an old friend rather than the humble offer of Babylonian priests."

Restoring the throne of Akkad was no humble offer, but Zopyrush turned a blind eye to this. The noble went into thought.

So, the sheshgallu already got a taste of our prince's stern character, Zopyrush smiled inside.

Among Darayawahush's sons, Kshayarsha was the closest to his father. It was well known throughout the Persian court that the opinion of others, beside the king himself, meant nothing to the arrogant prince. His great uncle, Parnaka was constantly unhappy with Kshayarsha's immeasurable spendings and was often complained to the sovereign.

"If it was up to Kshayarsha, he'd blow the entirety of Persia's treasure on his women."

"What are you saying, my uncle? My son doesn't know how to treat women?" the King of Kings asked in mock surprise.

"On the contrary, Great Sunki, he knows all too well!" the greedy Parnaka huffed.

"It's all right, uncle," the sovereign was laughing heartily. "Kshayarsha is young; I was just like that at his age."

Darayawahush's youngest brother, the honorable Irdabanush, was also displeased with the prince, but for an entirely different reason.

"Tell me my brother, how am I to insure his security? Kshayarsha keeps sneaking out of the palace, losing himself along with his drunkard friends for weeks on end! He doesn't listen to anyone beside you."

"Precisely as it should be! He'll make a fine Sunki!" the king approved of his son's behavior.

It was hard to find anybody who hadn't at one point gone before the king to complain about Kshayarsha. Everyone, including Queen Hutaosha, the physicians, and the magus were on the ongoing list. It was only Amisiri who never grumbled about her husband.

"What a wife!" the sovereign praised his daughter-in-law. "Truly worthy to be Queen! If she can deal with that crazy Kshayarsha, she can surely handle our orderly Persia."

The long list of those who were unhappy with Kshayarsha was now also graced with the name of the sheshgallu of Esagila.

Zopyrush wished for Kshayarsha to become king with all his heart. His own son, Baghabagsha's fate depended on this. Being Darayawahush's close friend, he even had a soft spot for the boy who had grown up before his eyes.

"All right. Tell the sheshgallu that I'll visit the prince in a few days and I'll see what I can do."

Highly satisfied with the meeting, Sellibi bid his host goodbye and headed back to Babylon. In a short time, Zopyrush sought out the viceroy in Sippar, and as suspected, didn't find Kshayarsha there.

"The glorious Mar Biti has gone out hunting with his noble friends," Zababa-Sharra-Usur informed the guest.

"Zababa, do you know which way the youngsters went?"

"Of course, my Lord. We must always know the whereabouts of Babylon's ruler."

"Very good. I'll rest now and tomorrow give me a guide and I'll find the prince."

Night was upon them. The hunters, camped at the mouth of the spring, were chatting among themselves cheerfully when they spotted the Borsippian noble.

"What news, Zopyrush? Is my father well?" the worried Kshayarsha approached the courtier.

"Everything's well, my Prince."

Hopping from his horse, the old fox gave Kshayarsha a fatherly embrace.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Father," Baghabagsha also drew near.

"Why? Have I gotten that old?"

"What are you talking about, Zopyrush? Nothing can ever age you and my father," Kshayarsha laughed and invited their guest to sit by the fire beside the spring.

Nearby, a few hunters were roasting a small buck on a stick. The prince's cook was busily scurrying around the fire, giving different orders.

"You must be Patirampa," Zopyrush moved to the red headed young man.

"Yes, that's me. How do you know me?" Utana's youngest son seemed surprised.

"One doesn't see your grandfather's red hair too often. We didn't call that rascal Thukhra for no reason," Zopyrush clapped the youth on the shoulder and sat by the fire. "Back then we never hunted like this." The old fox cast a sideways glance at the colorful tent set up a short distance away.

The giggling and chatter of women could be heard coming from within.

"It's all Bagha's fault. He insisted that paramours would cheer us up," the prince immediately put the blame on his friend.

"Why would he need a mistress now, Kshayarsha? Don't you see? He can barely crawl onto his horse," Patirampa broke into laughter.

Zopyrush stared at his son, confused. Baghabagsha glared at his impudent friend.

"If I can barely get on my horse, it's all thanks to a certain beauty! Mind your own business, red head! You're just envious because no woman will go near you and we can't stock you up on boys here. We're not in Lydia!"

The enraged Patirampa jumped to his feet. The young Persian, who was raised in Lydia, didn't like boys at all, but the sharp tongued Baghabagsha couldn't care less.

The prince motioned his brother-in-law who looked just like an angered lion with his mane standing on end to sit down.

"He better shut up, Kshayarsha, or whatever damage that whore didn't finish, my fists will. Then he truly won't be able to get on that horse for a long time!" the furious man sat back down.

Baghabagsha paid his friend's threat no heed, grinning arrogantly.

"What's going on here?" Zopyrush asked, completely lost.

"Nothing really. Your son just honored some skouthi woman with his attention. And she 'rewarded' him so that he's been moaning and whining non-stop."

"It's easy for you to say, but it's been crippling me for days now. I don't know what's worse, this unbearable itching, or my Egyptian healer's scorching ointment," the unfortunate young man complained.

"I'm telling you, no one's a better healer than Manushtanu. Why are you stuck with those Egyptians? I was worse than you and my Persian physician healed me in a matter of days," Kshayarsha cast a mocking smile at his friend.

"Why don't we have any female healers? It's degrading to show another man your assets," Baghabagsha groaned.

"Well, if you show one that is your size, than it really must be degrading!" Patirampa got him back for his insult.

"Don't you worry, red head! My mistresses aren't complaining. First, find yourself a woman and test out your own," the witty Baghabagsha shot back immediately.

The Lydian noble growled. Patirampa looked nothing like his gorgeous sister. The hazel eyed red headed man was kind of ugly. But in size and strength, he only fell short of Kshayarsha. Women still didn't like the Lydian. This was why Bagha's words stung him.

Meanwhile, the mouthwatering smell of roast meat stirred in the air.

"That buck is long done," Baghabagsha was losing his patience. "What spells is this stupid cook casting over our food? Order him to serve us already!"

"Haldita knows what he's doing. Don't ever stick your nose in the cook's business. And remember, the longer you wait, the more you'll enjoy it!" the prince, sprawled in the grass, scolded wisely.

"Of course, unless you die of hunger!" Baghabagsha wouldn't let up.

Zopyrush listened to the youths' carefree banter and remembered his own past. It was just like this, during hunts and good times, that the famous Seven Nobles of Persia had established their fast bond which later enabled them to bring Darayawahush the throne. Now it was Kshayarsha's turn. Zopyrush knew very well that somewhere else, in the distant reaches of the Empire, Ariuabrdna, Hakhamanish, Irdabrdna, and who knows which other prince, were all strengthening their own campaigns. The Great Darayawahush was steadily growing older and his sons were growing as well, turning one by one into young men. Zopyrush feared that on the most ill-timed day, the Empire would be caught up in the flames of Rebellion all over again. To avoid that, Kshayarsha needed the help of the older cohort. Many wise steps had already been taken in the right direction. Utana's family was completely on their son-in-law's side, of course. Gauparuva's son, Marduniya was one of Kshayarsha's closest friends. Darayawahush had already sent Vindafrana to the land of his ancestors, so he couldn't do any harm. Only the families of noble Ardumanish and Vidarna worried Zopyrush, especially the latter. Vidarna was the satrap of Media. It would also be unwise to ignore his sons, Vidarna the Junior and Shishamna. The old fox thought that including them in Kshayarsha's circle would be a clever thing to do, but this would not be easy. The prince Ariuabrdna had already married their half sister, Phaidyme.

The experienced courtier was impressed by Kshayarsha's intelligence and shrewdness. The prince was only twenty two and he had already won over the majority of the Persian court. Surrounded by frivolous women and fun loving friends, the handsome prince never once shifted his eagle eyes from the Sunki's court. Even now, lounging on the grass, looking as carefree as ever, Kshayarsha was secretly spying on Zopyrush, trying to guess the reason behind his unexpected visit.

"I had a guest from Esagila in Borsippa," Darayawahush's old friend turned to Kshayarsha.

"Ohhh..." the prince sang meaningfully, raising his eyebrows. "And why would the sheshgallu trouble himself?"

"No, he didn't come himself, he sent Sellibi."

"What did he want?"

"The high priest of Esagila has a very interesting proposition for you."

"Does he still mean to get me involved in the Akitu festival?" Kshayarsha knotted his brows.

"The sheshgallu has much more on his mind. And I mean much more!" Zopyrush squinted his already narrow eyes. "Esagila desires to reestablish the throne of Babylon's sharri. For Akkad this would mean reclaiming its former honor. It would be very beneficial for you too, my Prince. Don't forget, Kambujiyah became the sharri of Babylon during his father's reign."

"I know, I know. Then he spent his entire life battling in Egypt, he lost his army in the desert, went insane, and almost destroyed all of Persia!" the prince sat up quickly. "Don't remind me of that! Thanks to Kambujiyah's lack of foresight, the Empire was torn into small kingdoms and if it wasn't for the devotion of my father and his loyal companions, the country wouldn't have survived!" the prince's eyes blazed savagely. "No, Zopyrush, no! Thank God I'm not Kambujiyah and I'm not planning on being the sharri of Babylon or the pharaoh of Egypt!"

The Persian noble jumped in surprise.

"What are you saying Kshayarsha? Becoming king of Babylon is a straight path to the throne of Persia. Think hard, don't rush your decision."

"The sheshgallu wants me to bear the crown of Babylon and bow down to their Bel-Marduk! Egypt is next in line. They will require exactly the same thing."

"Kshayarsha, every Sunki must sacrifice something to secure his throne. What do you think, did Darayawahush marry Utana's eldest daughter out of love? This unfortunate woman was unlucky enough to have been Kambujiyah's wife, then Bardia's, and even found herself in Gaumata's bed before she became your father's wife."

"Go on, go on! Exactly the same thing happened with my mother," the prince waved impatiently. "Everyone knows that Hutaosha is queen only because she is Kourosh's oldest daughter. Except for Irtashduna, my father never slept with anyone for love. The whole Empire knows this. So what? That's nothing. If need be, I'll take undesirable wives myself. You know what, Zopyrush?" Kshayarsha leaned in and lowered his voice. "If the sunki closes his eyes or looks aside, he can lay with whomever and make her queen. It's as easy as that!" the angered prince was breathing heavily. "Taking wives is one thing, Zopyrush, but worshipping their gods is an entirely different story!"

"What? Do you intend on making everyone Zoroastrian?" the noble asked scathingly.

"They can pray to whomever they like, just leave me out of it!"

"You'll have a hard time being sunki like this, my Prince."

"That's alright, Zopyrush. The throne will still be mine. You'll help me too, as will Gauparuva and Marduniya. Utana's family is also with us." Kshayarsha looked over at his wife's brother. "Who would dare cross us? And if they dare, they have only themselves to blame for the consequences!"

Zopyrush sensed such anger in the prince's tone that he realized there was no point in arguing with him now. Patirampa and Baghabagsha sat mutely, not even daring to move. They had all forgotten about their stomachs.

"What word will we send to the sheshgallu?"

"Tell him that the prince is Great Darayawahush's most loyal servant and whatever his father orders, he will fulfill. Only, my father's decision will be up to me," Kshayarsha laughed.

"Whatever you command, my Prince," the old fox bowed respectfully.

"You probably know Shamash-Eriba well, don't you, Zopyrush."

Who didn't know the Babylonian noble of royal descent? So Zopyrush nodded.

"I think the Great Kourosh made a mistake leaving Prince Belshazzar's children alive. He should have destroyed all of them along with their father," Kshayarsha growled.

"What are you talking about? The Great Kourosh spared even King Nabunaid. How could he slaughter his grandchildren?" Baghabagsha shrugged.

"My father couldn't rid himself of this dangerous family either," Kshayarsha continued.

"During the rebellions, they were quiet," Zopyrush defended his king.

That's a funny thing, the astonished courtier thought to himself. No one has ever accused Darayawahush of being soft hearted. And our refined prince is blaming the bloodthirsty ruler with just that. I wonder what kind of heart beats within his chest.

"Now, the house of Belshazzar is a huge headache for Persia. We must do something," the prince went on with the conversation as indifferently as if it was about receiving dates and onions from Esagila's lands for Naptan sharri. "Zopyrush, I'm counting on you. Keep a close eye on them. Maybe you'll think of something. If it would help, I'll follow my father's example and marry one of their daughters," the prince's white teeth flashed in the dark.

"That's a very good idea," Baghabagsha grinned.

"Meanwhile, we should make a copy of Great Darayawahush's famous inscription along the Procession Road in Babylon, Zopyrush. Let the Babylonian's never forget what happens to those who dare rise against the Sunki of Anshan."

Zopyrush really loved this idea.

The hunters and servants were gathered nearby, not daring to come closer. It was apparent that the prince was discussing something very serious with his nobles. The cook, Haldita, was fidgeting impatiently. He had long been finished with the food, yet Kshayarsha gave no sign to serve it.

Noticing this, the prince turned to Baghabagsha.

"Bagha, go to the tent and fetch the women. We've been resting under such a beautiful open sky, but your father came along and shoved such heavy palace worries on us that it won't do if we don't have some fun now."

Baghabagsha jumped to his feet in delight and ran for the tent. At the wave of the prince's hand the servants immediately brought the nobles their meal. Thanks to the women dressed in colorful, revealing dresses, the delicious food and exquisite wines, the company around the fire soon fell into good cheer, carrying the laughter and carefree fun until daybreak.

And so, Kshayarsha tactfully declined the crown offered to him by Babylon. Consequentially, the Akitu festivals continued without the sharri. The prince soon learned almost everything about Babylon's affairs. He also gained many supporters among the local nobles. Kshayarsha's position in the king's court grew stronger daily, although, his rivals weren't sitting around aimlessly either. The atmosphere in Darayawahush's palace was slowly growing tense. This was why Amisiri advised her husband to visit Susa and Persepolis more often, and ignoring his wise wife's counsel would have been a grave mistake. And so, Kshayarsha complied.

# Chapter 12

The First Meeting

The thirty third year of King Darayawahush's rein slowly neared its end. At this time Kshayarsha, along with Baghabagsha, was inspecting a fortress of Arbela, a city in northern Babylon. The ancient Assyrian city, Urbelum, as the locals called it, as far as anyone could recall, had always been a very important crossroad. This was why Akkad and Assyria constantly quarreled over it. When Babylon destroyed Ashshur, the capital of Assyria, and Nineveh, another big city two years later, Arbela was also swallowed by Babylon. Soon Babylon itself was conquered by Kourosh the Great and Arbela changed its master once more, this time becoming a part of the Achaemenid Empire.

In the summer of Darayawahush's second year in power, the rebel king, Kicantakhma was punished in exactly this city. This Sagartian nobleman had been captured by the Median general, Takhmaspada, and brought to the Empire's ruler. This poor rebel truly was of royal blood, so the righteous Darayawahush showed 'mercy'. Of course, the prisoner's nose, ears, and lips were cut off, and one of his eyes dug out, but they left the other one so he could well see his own misfortune. They didn't take his tongue either because he was not telling a lie. The mutilated noble was chained in the palace entrance for some time before they had pity on him and crucified him in Arbela.

This cruelty was not the only reason for Arbela's fame. The city also held quite an important position in the Persian Empire. From there, Babylon and Assyria were connected to Armina by a road running alongside the Great Zab River. The Royal Road to the south led to Susa and Persepolis. The shortest way to the capital of Lydia, Sardis, also ran through Arbela.

The temple of the city's main goddess, Ishtar, in importance was second only after the sanctuary of the capital city Ashshur. The priestesses of this temple prophesized the will of Ishtar to all of Assyria and Babylon. This place had many female worshipers, and they sometimes spent years sitting there. According to tradition, every woman, despite rank or status, had to come to Ishtar's temple and sell her body in the name of the goddess at least once in her lifetime. Any man who tossed a silver shekel to a woman became her temporary master, and it was not allowed to decline the money. The woman had to follow the purchaser and wordlessly comply with his every whim; only after this could she return home with a clean conscience.

This strange tradition was passed from generation to generation, often causing funny and curious incidents. No one left the beautiful and pleasant looking girls at the temple for long, but the chubby and ugly ones where not so lucky. It was said that some remained in Ishtar temple for years without hope, but still, a man who desired them never appeared. The poor often stayed in the temple while rich ladies had their relatives and servants escort them to the temple every morning and back home at night.

The prince fell victim to exactly such a curious incident. The viceroy of Babylon was awaiting Iddin-Marduk, the sandabakku, governor of Arbela. The angry Kshayarsha was pacing and constantly peering out the window. From there, nothing blocked his view of the fortress yard. He could even see warriors sitting in the dirt, casting dice for money. There were maidservants herding goats toward the gate, but the sandabakku was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is your master anyway?" Baghabagsha asked Iddin-Marduk's unfortunate shapiru, the scribe, for the hundredth time.

"I already told you, my Lord. He will escort Lady Nana-Bullitinini to the Ishtar temple and come straight here. The honorable sandabakku didn't know about the arrival of Persia's Mar Biti, or he would have been here by dawn," the loyal servant fruitlessly tried to defend his master.

"How come? Does Iddin-Marduk not know his duties? The Great sharri pays him so handsomely and even sends him provisions, and the sandabakku, instead of doing his job, sneaks to the Ishtar temple every morning! Now confess, you dirty liar! Don't you dare hold anything back! Does he run to the temple every morning?" in the mood for some fun, Baghabagsha wasn't about to let his prey go.

"What else can he do, my Lord? Someone must take Nana-Bullitinini to the temple."

The Babylonian servant was either as loyal as a dog or as brainless as a chicken. He stubbornly continued to defend the old sandabakku.

"Look, my glorious Prince, how arrogant this stupid shapiru is. What is your name, you sleazy oaf?" Baghabagsha loomed over the reddened servant.

"Adar-Enlil, my Lord," the poor man mumbled.

"Well done, Adar-Enlil. Loyalty to ones master is an honorable deed. You'll see, the prince will throw Iddin-Marduk out of the job and name you sandabakku. Will you at least come to work on time?" Baghabagsha was laughing.

The frightened scribe's eyes widened. He didn't know what to say.

"Let him be, Bagha, it's not his fault," Kshayarsha cut in, tired with his friend's jokes and turned to the head of the garrison. "How long has the sandabakku been taking his daughter to Ishtar's temple?"

"It would be about five years," the middle aged Persian answered, smiling.

"You've been enduring this for five years?" Kshayarsha was astonished.

The head of the garrison shrugged showing that civil affairs were none of his business.

"Why didn't you employ some poor mushkinu? That way, he'd earn some money and at the same time have the honor of laying with a noblewoman," the prince was surprised.

"What are you talking about, Kshayarsha? Babylonians look at such matters seriously. They cannot trick the goddess Ishtar. Besides, if in five years, nobody had pity on sandabakku's daughter, then we can guess what a beauty she is! No one but you would show mercy on such a poor girl."

Baghabagsha's remark sent everyone but the shapiru into fits of laughter.

"How can I serve all the virgins in such a huge Empire?" the prince went along with his friend's joke.

"Nana-Bullitinini is a good girl, she doesn't deserve such ridicule!" the gloomy Adar-Enlil spoke up.

"Look at how much this mongrel dares! Maybe you like the sandabakku's daughter!" Baghabagsha attacked the bold servant.

"If she's such a good girl, how come she couldn't get a man for so long?" the prince disregarded the shapiru's audacity. He was more interested in finding out every detail of this funny story.

"Nana-Bullitinini is a Jew from her mother's side and worships their God. Her father forces her to go to Ishtar's temple. The sandabakku says that if she doesn't fulfill her obligations to the goddess, she will never get a husband. But the girl is not about to listen to her father. The whole city knows this. The Babylonians fear Nana-Bullitinini's God, so no one comes near the maiden."

"What one doesn't learn! There's no hope for the poor girl then!" Baghabagsha concluded from what he had just heard.

"If only I was an amelu by birth, and wealthy at that, I'd buy this woman from her father. Iddin-Marduk would never say no to money. I'd marry Nana-Bullitinini and wouldn't deny her anything, she could pray wherever she wanted," the poor mushkinu fell into wishful thoughts.

"Now, now, don't dare think a nobleman's daughter is your equal!" Baghabagsha hissed at the Babylonian.

The prince's eyes sparkled strangely and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

At last the sandabakku had reached the fortress. Upon entering the room, when the old man caught eye of the grim looking prince, he immediately paled and flattened on the floor.

"Do you realize what city you are the sandabakku of?" Kshayarsha fell like a hurricane upon poor Iddin-Marduk. "Urbelum is the heart of the Empire's roadways. And you, instead of doing your job, spend all day running around!"

"Forgive me, merciful Mar Biti," the old man started sobbing.

"The roads are unattended, there's no water in the storehouses, the horses at the pirradazishes are no good. Now I'll check your spendings and if I find any inaccuracy, so help me, I'll skin you alive!" Kshayarsha thundered.

The prince's angry words completely ruined the governor's spirit. Baghabagsha's jaw dropped in surprise. Everything was perfectly taken care of in Arbela, especially the roads. The only offence the misfortunate sandabakku had committed was being late.

Kshayarsha summoned the local mashennu - the overseer, and the sab-sharri, the other man in charge of the income. All of Arbela was on high alert. Every servant was working well into the night. Kshayarsha wouldn't rest himself, or let anyone else catch their breath. By late night, Kshayarsha's wrath finally subsided and everyone beside the sandabakku and his shapiru were allowed to go home.

"Iddin-Marduk, your crimes against the Empire are great," the prince glared at the sandabakku, but didn't raise his voice.

The poor Babylonian was quivering in fear.

"The kindness of Persians is well known throughout the world. I'll forgive you just once for your negligence. Here is what your punishment will be: you must immediately cease running to Ishtar's temple every morning. And your daughter, because of whom you run around instead of fulfilling your duties to theGreat Sharri of Persia, you will give to this servant as a wife, if he is willing of course," Kshayarsha glanced over at Adar-Enlil questioningly.

The tearful sandabakku was ready to get on his knees and beg his subordinate for the favor. No surprise, stunned with joy, Adar-Enlil, immediately nodded his consent.

"Since this mongrel will become your son-in-law, I'll show even more mercy and name Adar-Enlil as the new mashennu. And he'll get suitable wages, of course. Now everyone get lost for god's sake, and feed me before I eat you all instead!"

The overjoyed sandabakku fell to his knees before the prince and kissed his feet.

"Join our feast, merciful Mar Biti. We have a splendid table set for you!" the old man babbled.

"No, serve us here," Kshayarsha ordered.

When left alone, Baghabagsha turned to the prince.

"What a game you put on, Kshayarsha! And what was with naming that kinless commoner as mashennu?"

"What didn't you like, Bagha? This old man has things in such order that no one can find a fault in it. The only thing he couldn't manage was his own daughter's happiness and I took care of that for him. And as for that young man, didn't you see how loyal and fearless he is? Never mind some common mushkinu, even nobles of royal blood don't dare to argue with me. I need exactly such people as servants."

"I get it Kshayarsha, I get it all! From now on, I'll challenge you on everything!" Baghabagsha beamed.

The prince glared at his already enormously bold companion, but would this be enough to settle this frisky noble?

Entering the room, the servants set a wonderful table. The friends had their fill, drank way too much as usual, and after getting nice and tipsy, they went outside. At the prince's appearance, the guards, who were leaning against the wall, immediately straightened up. Kshayarsha and his inseparable 'shadow' made their way across the yard swaying all the way, and soon found themselves outside of the fortress walls.

A peaceful autumn reverie was slumbering upon Arbela. It seemed as though the star studded sky was warmly embracing the earth. An incredible serenity settled around. A cool breeze swept in from the river. The intoxicated young men aimlessly followed the citadel wall for some time. The enormous fortification almost went all the way down to the river bank. Near the battlements, a lonely weeping willow was leaning over the river, its branches grazing the water's surface. The two friends sat under the tree, their backs to the willow and looked about at their surroundings. There must have been a settlement on the other side of the river, but in the dark, it was impossible to make anything out. The world was fast asleep. The stars shone white in the black rippling water, playing hide and seek with one another. The green, swaying grass rustled with the river's every breath, tickling the two friends sitting under the tree.

"How beautiful everything is!" the prince exhaled.

"You've always loved the stars," far less sensitive to nature, his friend answered, almost reprimanding him.

"I love everything beautiful," Kshayarsha confessed without hesitation.

Drunk on wine and splendor, the prince turned to the river, inhaling greedily.

"I wonder what that sandabakku made us drink that got us so woozy," Zopyrush's son complained.

"I was so hungry, I didn't feel anything," the prince answered.

"But the food was good."

The fresh air made Bagha's head spin even more.

"Yes, the food was really good."

"You know, Kshayarsha, I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now."

"What is it you're poking your nose into now?" the prince smiled.

"They say in the palace that before you go to sleep, you always have a mistress brought to you for at least a little while. So you really can't sleep without a woman, or what?"

"And can you think about anything other than women?" Kshayarsha avoided the question.

"What else should I think about?" Baghabagsha was honestly stumped. "I'm a warrior, but there is no war. What else can we do? I'm always with you, and when I'm not, you better believe there's a beauty in my arms!"

His friend's confession made the prince smile.

"And they say I'm obsessed with women. Look at you! You're much worse than me, Bagha."

"They don't bring me women every night! Don't change the subject on me. Don't lie now. Are the rumors true, or not?"

"Careful, Bagha! I wouldn't want you to share unfortunate Vindafrana's fate," Kshayarsha threatened.

"You wouldn't kill me for a woman. Come on, Kshayarsha, tell me the truth!"

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear in the palace," his friend's curiosity was annoying the prince.

"You lie! Then how come every time I visited you at night, they wouldn't let me in?"

"If you know so much, then why are you asking?"

"Just to hear it from you," Baghabagsha answered and immediately shot another question. "What do you think? Has Marduniya ever cheated on Ardushnamuya?"

"Oh, you're really drunk!" Kshayarsha pushed his friend roughly and sent him sprawling in the grass.

"I think he never cheats," even such a rude shove couldn't stop the young man's curiosity.

Bagha was trying to sit up in vain. It seemed the fresh air was making him even more intoxicated.

"What are you ranting about? Even if a man wanted to, he still wouldn't be able to cheat on his wife! Every husband has the right to have as many women as he desires. This isn't cheating. A man is his wife's master, not the other way around," his friend's ignorance disgusted Kshayarsha.

"Humph, not all women think that way," Zopyrush's son hiccupped and wanted to add something, but didn't get the chance.

"Shh! Do you hear something?" the prince tugged on his friend's shoulder.

"No, what is it?"

"Shh!" Kshayarsha motioned Baghabagsha to freeze and held his own breath.

For a while there was complete silence, but suddenly a strange sound emerged from the river. Then silence took over once more. The prince looked around warily. The splashing of water was heard somewhere nearby.

"There's something over there," the prince whispered to his friend and hid in the grass.

Bagha did the same. The prince crawled towards the shore, arming himself with a sword just in case. Consecutive splashing could be heard from the river clearly now. It was obvious that some creature was swimming towards shore. Then the sound ceased. It must have reached land. Kshayarsha cautiously peeked over the grass and froze in surprise. Two emerald embers were staring him straight in the eye. Suddenly there was a red blur and the mysterious creature jumped into the river. This all happened so fast that Kshayarsha barely managed to blink.

"Guards!" the prince yelled, coming to his senses.

Two well-built immortals instantly emerged from the shadow of the wall, but it was already too late. The lurking men caught a glimpse of fiery hair once or twice. Then everything was swallowed by darkness. The sound of splashing was heard for a while. This too soon disappeared.

"What was that?" the dazed prince turned to his friend.

"I can't see a damn thing!" Bagha was staring at the river persistently.

"But she can see us," Kshayarsha approached the bank and waved to the mysterious creature.

"A red haired mermaid! Don't wave! It's dangerous!" the superstitious Baghabagsha couldn't complete his sentences from anxiety.

"No, it was a naked woman, she had legs," the prince sank back into the grass.

"What legs? She had a fish tail!" Baghabagsha insisted. "Don't you know that Queen Semiramis' mother was a mermaid? And she lived in these parts! The lake goddess was forcefully impregnated by an Assyrian warrior. The infuriated mother left her child on the shore to be raised by pigeons and hid herself at the bottom of the lake in shame."

"That goddess hid at the lake bottom, not the river bottom. Besides, goddesses don't get cold."

"What do you mean?" sobered up from fear, Bagha widened his eyes.

"The girl was shivering, I saw it clearly."

"What are you saying, Kshayarsha? You must have imagined it; she was really a mermaid!"

"Did she have legs or a fish tail? What did you see?" the prince turned to his guards.

"A woman's legs," they answered in unison.

"What a wonder!" Bagha batted his long eyelashes in despair.

"An extremely beautiful naked wonder," the prince whispered, enchanted by the unexpected flash of an incredible specter.

Kshayarsha, completely sober now, couldn't take his eyes from the river's choppy surface, but whimsical luck was not on his side this time.

"Hadassah, Hadassah!" a careful call was heard from outside.

The Jewish woman pulled back the bar on the door and opened it a crack.

"Where have you been, Mzysia? You scared us to death! Simone was just about to come looking for you!"

"Nanny, you won't even believe what just happened!" The dripping wet and breathless Mzysia was barely able to speak.

The Greek teacher's head popped out from behind a curtain.

"So you came back, you scoundrel?" Simonides clasped the drenched Mzysia to his chest.

"Hold on, let her tell us where she's been all night!" Hadassah removed her shawl and started drying the girl off.

"When night fell, I snuck down to the river as usual. No one saw me."

"Oh my God! How many times have I asked you to quit bathing at night?" the Jewish woman moaned.

"What else can I do, nanny? I can't bathe here during the day. Am I supposed to walk around filthy?"

"Don't interrupt the child, Hadassah!" Simonides barked. "Then what happened, my girl?"

"Probably no one goes there even during the day, who would have been there at night? I looked around just in case, then I took off my clothes and jumped in. The water was so good and the stars sparkled so invitingly in the sky. I lay on my back and swam in." The smiling girl was lost in her sweet memories.

"What then?" Losing his patience, Simonides gave Mzysia a gentle shove.

"Well, to make a long story short, I swam a little more and I went a little over the top."

"Lord, have mercy!" Hadassah slapped her knee.

"When I looked back, I noticed that the other shore was closer than this one," Mzysia continued her story. "I got tired; besides it was a little chilly. I thought that it would be easier if I swim to the other side, rest a bit, and then swim back."

"Oh, my goodness!" Hadassah groaned.

Simonides was also shaking his head with disapproval.

"As soon as I reached the shore, I immediately felt that something was wrong there. I looked at the grass and what do I find? A true, armed giant was staring back at me!" The girl's emerald eyes flickered with astonishment rather than fear.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" the nanny beat her chest and moaned even more.

"Then what did you do?" Simonides blanched from fright.

"What could I have done? Hop, I jumped into the water. Like they could catch me!" the mischievous girl smirked.

"They?" the Greek man's tone changed.

"Yup, after I swam a ways I looked back. I think there were four of them. And the giant was standing on the shore, waving at me."

"Giant? You must have been hallucinating," Simonides didn't believe her, but Hadassah took her seriously and asked.

"What? Could he see you?"

"I don't think so. He was just waving blindly," the girl smiled devilishly.

For some reason, remembering the confused look on the exceptionally handsome giant's face amused her.

"This is what one always gets for not listening! You were almost trapped by Persian warriors. Do you have any idea what they would have done if they caught you?"

" 'Almost' doesn't count, my teacher," the girl smiled at her mentor.

"Look at her; she even dares to talk back!" Simonides grew angry.

"I'm the chief's daughter, and you can't order me around!" Mzysia teased.

"That's enough! Don't argue. Simone's right, my child. Thank God we made it this far. We have to be careful from now on too, or else we'll end up in big trouble!"

"Don't ever let it slip that you're the chief's daughter, or not only us, but you'll get all of Kolchis in a huge mess!" the teacher wasn't cooling down.

"I was only joking Simone, why are you getting mad at me?" Mzysia threw her arms around her teacher's neck.

The Hellen softened.

"I say it for you, young lady. It's no small feat sneaking such a beautiful young girl all the way through Persia to Hellas."

"Is it less dangerous for beautiful women in Athens?" Mzysia smiled.

"Look, she's still talking!" Simonides was angry once again. "You know what? Even if you fall into someone's clutches over there, at least he'll be a Hellen and I won't be so upset!"

"Mentor, you speak of me as if I were a wordless lamb. Does no one ask me anything anymore?"

"Oh, my girl. No one asks women anything. Not here, and not in Hellas," Simonides hugged Mzysia close.

"They ask in Svaneti."

"That's because they don't have women in Svaneti, just men and beasts."

All three of them laughed at the Greek's joke.

"We're on a very dangerous road now. We made it this far safely because the Arminians were looking for us up north. The Royal Road runs through Arbela; at one end, it leads to the heart of the Empire, Susa, and at the other, Sardis, our destination. On this road, they check everyone. Thank the gods, Hellens live everywhere. I'll go to the city and get permission under my own name to go to Sardis with my wife and son," Simonides winked at Mzysia.

"If we act wisely, we'll get to Sardis in about two months. From there, the Ionian cities are just two steps away. It's peaceful there now. The Ionians are renowned merchants. They sail everywhere. If we wanted, we could even get to Kolchis through Byzantion, but that's still too dangerous. It's better if we sail to Athens first as we decided."

"Do Athenians welcome foreigners?" Hadassah asked.

"Not really," Simonides confessed. "If one isn't a Hellen and wasn't born there, one can't become a citizen, but it doesn't matter for you. The women don't have citizen's rights anyway. At least, we can live there safely and peacefully."

"That's great! Maybe going to Babylon would be a better idea. My children live there too. We would send word to my old Iakin and he'd come join us. We, Jews, treat foreigners well; besides, Babylon is closer," Hadassah carefully slipped her wish to the teacher.

"Yeah right, of course you do! You badger us here with your 'chosen people'; I don't even want to know what you'd do with us among your people! We didn't come this far to visit your children, Hadassah."

"Nor are we here, running away to go see Athens!" Hadassah backfired.

"It's dangerous for Mzysia to stay in the Empire," the Greek wiped his face with the hem of his skirt and went on. "Look at this child, Hadassah! You think it's only about beauty? There are plenty of beautiful women around! No, Hadassah. Playful Aphrodite dumped so many enchantments on this imp that even as a child, no man could behold her without desire. What will happen when she grows up? I gave my word to Saurmag that I'd take care of Mzysia. Looking out for just one Zareh in Tigran's presence was a relatively easy task, but looking after this girl without a powerful protector, that's beyond my abilities and yours as well," a real tortured look crossed Simonides' face.

"Don't exaggerate, teacher!" Mzysia protested.

"In all honesty I tell you, I only let you run away because I didn't want to sacrifice you to that dreadful rat! Besides, I knew your father would approve of my actions. If only we could get to the Greeks, I'd get right on finding you a proper husband."

Mzysia knotted her brows at hearing this.

"I give you my word that I won't give you away without your consent," Simonides added hastily, "but keeping you safe without a husband may only be possible in Svaneti, but I doubt that too."

The girl's spirit was crushed; so even faithful Simonides intended to marry her off, but she couldn't deny the ring of truth in his words.

"Alright. Let's go to Sardis, nanny," Mzysia clung to Hadassah's shoulders. "We'll see what happens from there."

"Very good! We'll get going first thing in the morning. We need to pass Melitene on the road. There, at the Euphrates Bridge, they say the Persians check everyone. We have to be extremely careful," Simonides warned the women.

At the beginning of winter a few urgent matters fell on Kshayarsha's shoulders. He had spent almost the entire year on the road. Even now, he was rushing from Arbela to Cappadocia to settle important state business with Marduniya. On the way back, he was planning on stopping by Ecbatana. Over there, in pursuit of becoming the heir, the prince was planning a hunt with Satrap Vidarna's sons.

Kshayarsha didn't linger too long in Hatushash. Marduniya himself was planning to visit his father, the Satrap of Elam in Susa. The prince invited his friend to hunt in Media, and from there, they'd return to the capital together.

Baghabagsha, as usual, accompanied Kshayarsha. The three friends headed from Cappadocia to Media together. On the way they stopped briefly at the fortress of Melitene and spent the night there. At dawn, with a small detachment of Immortals, they passed through the citadel gates and rode through the city streets, heading straight for the bridge on the Euphrates River.

The sun was just beginning to rise and the narrow streets of Melitene were already bustling with people. Everyone was trying to finish their business in the morning purely out of tradition, for at this time of the year, the mid-day sun wasn't nearly as hot as it was in the blazing summers. The majority was rushing for the bazaar. Some were herding livestock to sell, others were carting vegetables, and the wealthier merchants were served by slaves. Those who were late had to set up shop in the outskirts of the bazaar. The whole thing already resembled an ant nest. Fervent sales were stirring on the wooden counters of the city courtyard.

The Immortals weren't concerned with pedestrians. At seeing the horsemen charging at them, the frightened people dove out of the way. Some of the tables carelessly close to the street were overturned as they passed by.

"Watch where you're going!" Jumping aside, a boy with a turban wrapped around his head and a cloth covering his face, boldly shouted after the warriors, casting his brazen, green eyes upon the prince. Kshayarsha tugged on his reigns so fast that the horse reared and froze for a few seconds. Swinging around at the speed of light, the prince, catching a glance at the boy as he jumped over the tables, immediately pointed at him. The Immortals quickly surrounded the place. The reckless boy already regretted his actions, but it was too late. The fleeing youth swiftly evaded a few warriors, flew over a table of watermelons and bolted for a narrow city street, never looking back. The Immortals themselves weren't new to playing tag either. When a warrior popped up in front of the boy, he ducked under the Immortal's arm, but ran straight into another. Jumping into the air, the runaway kicked him in the chest with both legs. The mountain of a warrior stumbled back, but did not fall from the blow.

Such arrogant behavior from the child immensely angered the Immortals. The way to the street was blocked. The youth quickly swerved around only to find ten more scowling pursuers. The boy struggled a bit but wound up flattened to the ground in no time. He would probably have gotten a few good punches too, but the prince got there before any damage was done. At Kshayarsha's orders, the warrior grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and brought him to his feet. Another Immortal angrily checked his clothes and stood aside, perplexed. The guard passed a pouch of coins and a dagger studded with precious stones to the prince, whispering something confusedly.

"I know," Kshayarsha smirked, staring at the costly weapon. "Turban!" the prince's eyes shimmered mockingly.

The guard removed the boy's turban. Fire red hair fell in heavy locks onto the prisoner's shoulders. An amazingly beautiful young maiden stood before the Persians, staring Kshayarsha straight in the eye, and sourly biting her full lips.

A smile of delight swept over the prince's face. He gazed at the girl, not believing his luck.

"Our mermaid!" the astounded Baghabagsha stood next to Kshayarsha.

"She's no Mermaid! Didn't I tell you she had a woman's legs?" the prince looked at his friend smugly.

"Clearly I'm missing something here," Marduniya murmured.

The prince didn't say anything to that, and instead quickly ordered:

"To Sippar!"

The guards grabbed the girl and dragged her to the horses. The small detachment was speedily approaching their destination. At night they set up camp in an open field. When Kshayarsha retired, he ordered the prisoner to be brought to him, and the guards obediently escorted the bound Mzysia into his tent.

"What is this?" the prince referred to her bound hands.

"She's already tried escaping twice, glorious Prince."

"You can't run away from me," smiling, Kshayarsha neared the girl and cut the rope with her own Kolchian blade.

Mzysia rubbed her wrists, relieved. The guard left the tent silently. The prince circled the girl, inspecting the precious prey curiously. Mzysia was still wearing the ragged boys clothing, yet emerald jewelry sparkled in her flaming hair.

She's so young, Kshayarsha thought.

"What's your name?" He asked in Persian.

The girl didn't move.

"You won't tell me your name?" the giant went on in Aramaic.

Mzysia glanced at him sideways, but still didn't speak up.

She understands Aramaic, Kshayarsha guessed from her silent gesture, but this still needed to be tested.

"You probably ran away from your parents."

Mzysia glared at the giant angrily.

Yes, she understands indeed, the prince smiled to himself.

"This is the only tent in the camp. You can stay here for the night."

"I feel just fine in the meadow," the girl snapped.

"Oh, so you can speak!" the prince smiled at her. "If you don't want to, no one is forcing you. Why didn't you answer when I asked for your name?"

"Because I didn't want to lie."

Her green eyes glowed almost menacingly from under her brows.

She's of such foreign beauty. And she's not at all afraid of me. Kshayarsha studied the girl with admiration. I wonder what her origin is, the prince couldn't quite place her accent.

"Where are you from?"

The girl lowered her head wordlessly.

"You don't want to answer me? You really did run away from somewhere. Where did you get these?" Kshayarsha produced the sack of money and the dagger. "Did you steal them from someone?"

The insulted girl's eyes filled with tears.

"They are mine," Mzysia whispered.

Crying suits her, enchanted by his prey, the prince continued his thoughts.

"I know they're yours, I was joking. It shows in everything that you're a noble."

Mzysia was alarmed by the prince's words. Had she said too much?

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. The warrior I ran into in Arbela."

She doesn't understand Arian, or else she'd know who I am, the man concluded.

"I am Kshayarsha, prince of Persia and master of Babylon. I promise you that you will not be harmed. Now tell me your name, my beauty."

The girl considered it for a minute, then broke the silence.

"In your language, I'm named 'belonging to the sun."

Look how cunning she is, she answered me, yet, she did not! Kshayarsha liked this astonishing girl more and more. I wonder what secrets lay behind these gleaming eyes. I will find out, that's for sure.

"I'll call you fire-fly. Now tell me, are you hungry?" the prince asked in Greek.

Mzysia nodded.

"Would you like to join me?" Kshayarsha moved to the table.

"If you would allow me, I'd like to take my food outside," Mzysia answered in perfect Greek and using an old feminine weapon cast her teary eyes on him.

"As you wish," Kshayarsha smiled warmly at the clever girl.

Mzysia scurried to the table, tucked some roast meat and a piece of flat bread into her tunic with her grimy hands, added some fruit on top of it, took a chug of wine from a silver batugara and headed for the entrance with brisk steps.

"If you promise to behave, I give you permission to roam freely," cheered by her fanny actions, Kshayarsha called after the girl. "Belonging to the sun', from now on, you belong to me. Always remember this, you'll never escape." Kshayarsha assured Mzysia, following her departure with a fervent gaze.

The prince was almost glad that the girl had left the tent. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his usually perfect composure toward this muddy savage. Kshayarsha could barely recognize himself.

This marvel from the water, 'belonging to the sun' must have bewitched me.

Despite his feelings, the refined prince didn't want to spoil his future bliss through hasty actions. Kshayarsha picked up the silver batugara and looked at the rim where the girl had taken a sip, then fell upon the vessel and drained the last drop of the grape nectar.

Seeing the prince leave his tent greatly surprised the nobles around the fire. Kshayarsha sat beside his friends and helped himself to the food set out in the grass for them.

"What are you doing here? Here I thought you were over there enjoying yourself, but instead you're filling your stomach as if it were nothing." The surprised Baghabagsha stared at him.

"Don't you know our Prince? He won't even come near a woman until she's bathed in rose water and rubbed with perfumes," Marduniya laughed.

"Are you saving the mermaid for Ecbatana?" Zopyrush's son was curious.

"She's not coming with us to Media. I'm sending her straight to Babylon," Kshayarsha answered and asked for more wine.

"I don't understand how you can do it. You have such a beauty nearby and you're sitting here drinking yourself away."

"Be quiet Bagha, can't you see this is serious? I'm afraid this girl really captured our Kshayarsha's heart," Marduniya proclaimed, having already been stung himself.

The prince looked over at his friend swiftly, but said nothing.

The next morning, Kshayarsha beckoned to the captain of the guards.

"Hurrunatu, bring the girl straight to the head of my eunuchs, Ardaja. Look after her on the road as if she were the apple of your eye. Be careful when you get her to Sippar too. Allow the girl to go to town only with heavy guards. Don't let her get away or you'll wish you were dead! Spy on her; see if she talks to anyone outside the palace. Try to find out who she is and where she's from, but don't push too much. Tell Zababa to grant the girl every wish beside one: she must never be left alone, day or night. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, my Prince," the immortal bowed low to Kshayarsha. "We'll get the lady a carriage in the nearest settlement and bring her to Sippar."

"Does she look like a girl who needs a carriage?" Kshayarsha smiled. "Use the pirradazishes and get her there as fast as you can!"

# Chapter 13

Hunting in Ecbatana

The usually quiet month of Marcasanash brought to the satrap of Media, Vidarna, much to worry about. King Darayawahush's court had already moved to Pasargadae to celebrate the beginning of winter, but despite this, many nobles gathered in Ecbatana, the reason being the hunt prince Kshayarsha had decided to host in the woods of Media. This was why the best of Persia's young nobility had come to the northern capital of the Empire so late in the season.

The task of welcoming the honorable guests and their envoys fell upon the satrap's sons, Vidarna the Junior and Shishamna. Everyone was here to join the party. Darayawahush's cousin, the youngest son of Parnaka, Artavazda, had come from the distant Chorasmia. The clever Parnaka, realizing the importance of this event, had sent word to his son, saying, "God forbid you miss this hunt!"

Darayawahush's loyal servant, the honorable Aspakana, along with his oldest son, Praxaspa, was also there. By his lineage and blood, Aspakana was nowhere near the other nobles, but his influence in the Persian court had grown so strong lately, that some even predicted him taking over old Parnaka's position. In Ecbatana, Aspakana hoped to get closer to Kshayarsha and find a worthy place in the prince's suit for his son.

Utana's youngest son, Patirampa, had also journeyed there, and almost all the youth form Baghabagsha's and Gauparuva's families were cheerfully joining Kshayarsha at Ecbatana. Darayawahush's sons, Gauparuva and Ariomardush, also came for the hunt. Ecbatana looked more like a festive gathering for the Seven Great Persian families than a merry crowd of the reckless youngsters. Kshayarsha, along with Baghabagsha and Marduniya, settled into the royal summer residence of Darayawahush. Patirampa stayed with them too. The prince's younger brothers took up the apartments of the same palace.

"The satrap mentioned the other day that he has a special present for Kshayarsha," stated Baghabagsha, passing a phialai of wine to his friend.

"The hunt starts tomorrow morning. You know everyone's going to be watching Kshayarsha. It would be better if the future Sunki were always sober!" Gauparuva's son glared at Baghabagsha, discontented.

"As if you're seeing our Prince for the first time, Marduniya! What can possibly get him drunk? And even if so, he'll recover soon enough," Baghabagsha poured himself some more wine.

"I wonder what present the satrap of Media has saved for me," The prince was sipping his cup and staring off into space.

"I tried to find out, but I couldn't," Marduniya grudgingly admitted to failing as a spy.

"The Medians know how to keep a secret," Patirampa smirked.

"Vidarna won't dare do anything harmful," Baghabagsha affirmed while trying to pick up a fat slice of boiled lamb with the tip of his dagger. The meat was sliding around in the melted fat, arrogantly running away from the gluttonous son of Zopyrush. The young man lost his temper, jumped to his feet, grabbed the stubborn piece of lamb with his sharp-clawed fingers and tossed it to his mouth.

"Let him just try anything! Father will make him so sorry that he will curse his own fate!" Prince Gauparuva knotted his brows.

Kshayarsha smiled at the words of the beardless youth. The boy was the youngest out of Queen Irtashduna's sons, and this was the first time his older half brother had brought him along on such an important hunt. The thankful prince was trying to please Kshayarsha in every way he could.

The other prince, Ariomardush, was Bardia-Smerdis' grandchild from his mother's side. Among Darayawahush's sons, his position in the king's court remained the most vulnerable. The prince didn't have any full siblings, so from childhood he had attached himself to Kshayarsha and was known as his loyal slave. But it appeared to be quite difficult to find out the true feelings of Darayawahush's many children. This was why those who had their sights set on the throne tried very hard to keep their brothers and sisters close to avoid any unpleasant surprises.

"Let's see what tomorrow brings." Kshayarsha stood, silently bid his friends and brothers goodnight and retired to his chambers.

The next morning, nearly a hundred nobles and their armies of countless slaves and servants scurried into the mountains of Ecbatana. Covered with snowy white clouds, the mountain peak, Alvand, proudly looked down on the hunters as if provoking them: 'Now, show me what brave men you are'.

According to the laws of the Persian court, the first kill in a hunt always belonged to the king. In the case of Darayawahush's absence, this honor fell upon Kshayarsha, as would be expected. The prince didn't make his inferiors wait long. He shot down a huge deer with a single arrow. With this the opening ceremony was fulfilled and small groups of armed men split up in the slopes of the mountain range.

The merry time of hunting had begun. The cheerful nobles mercilessly slayed any beasts that crossed their paths. No one wasted time on the small creatures. They only took the strong and dangerous animals into consideration. The servants dragged the prey to camp so they could sun dry their skin and prepare them for the lucky nobles to take home as proof of their bravery.

In two days, the camp was full of game. One buck, two wild boars and a lynx were killed on Kshayarsha's account alone. Baghabagsha and Marduniya weren't left empty handed either. Soon, Ecbatana's lands were nearly cleared of all wild animals. Some were killed and others fled for their lives.

On the third day it became difficult to find quarry. Kshayarsha, Vidarna the Junior, Baghabagsha, Marduniya, Artavazda, Patirampa and Praxaspa were searching for tracks nearly half a day without any luck.

"Nothing can beat hunting lions in the open fields of our Chorasmia," Artavazda was sharing his experience with his friends. "When I was a boy, I hunted lions in Lydia too. Actually, the grown-ups were hunting and us youngsters were only watching," he smiled, "but nothing can compare with a Chorasmian hunt! There, going against a lion on horseback doesn't count as anything. If you're a man, you'll face the beast one on one. A lioness is the most dangerous," the Chorasmian guest continued with his tale while checking the ground for tracks. "A lioness is much faster and more aggressive than a lion. If you delay even for a second, you're finished. She'll go for the hunter's neck. There have even been cases where hunters have lost their heads. Friends and servants can't help you if you don't help yourself."

"What do you have against our boars?" Vidarna sounded insulted. "No one can face them but true men!"

"Who says anything? Boars are very dangerous beasts too," Artavazda agreed.

Whilst talking, the friends crossed a small river at the ford and spurred their horses toward the dense forest on the other bank.

"A lion is less dangerous out in the open. One time I went to hunt man eating tigers across the Hindu River. Now that was dangerous!" Marduniya joined the talk. "Tigers are more agile than lions, and it's almost impossible to find them when they're hiding in the jungle. They move so quietly and stealthily, that you won't even catch a glimpse. A man eating beast often hunts humans themselves. They sneak into villages and drag people from their homes. Five of us men barely managed to kill two such predators."

"Where I'm from we hunt snakes too. It's different for venomous and constrictor snakes," Artavazda started a new tale.

"To tell you the truth, I don't care about lions or tigers and don't even mention snakes! I prefer hunting aurochs in the cliffs more than anything. First of all, the hunt itself is great, then, what tastes better than wild goat?" Baghabagsha swallowed loudly.

"This one's already hungry," Marduniya concluded.

"So what? Who ever heard of wondering aimlessly? Couldn't we at least catch some rabbits? We could fry them up quick and sate our hunger at least," Baghabagsha confirmed his friend's suspicion.

"You better be quite, Bagha, or else when I become sunki, I'll send you to the lands beyond the Hindu River, full of snakes, to hunt elephants. I'll let you keep the meat and make you bring me the tusks."

The prince's joke cheered his friends but didn't help the hunt itself.

"Do you see the peak?" Vidarna pointed to Alvand. "On that side of the mountain there are lots of bears. It looks far from here, but we could make it in a day's time if we wanted."

"Of course we want to!" Kshayarsha was thrilled.

And so, the hopeful hunters headed for the slopes of Alvand. The nobles spent the night around a fire and the young men stayed up late telling unbelievable hunting tales they heard from others, as well as of their own adventures. The next day, they continued on their way to the mountain. After so many days in the forest, they were covered in mud and dirt, but they didn't loose their zeal, for they found many tracks, although never ran across the beasts themselves.

"We have to find a den first," Artavazda offered.

"It'll take too long, besides we might not even find one," Praxaspa disagreed.

"It would be better if we waited to ambush one at the river. Every animal goes there in the morning to kill their thirst," Gauparuva's son chose to use an old hunting trick.

"Good idea, Marduniya," Kshayarsha liked his friend's suggestion.

The horsemen left their steeds at the meadow with their servants and headed along the river to find a forest path. The friends soon found the right spot and hid in wait for their prey behind thick bushes.

Waiting though, turned out to be harder than they thought. It was already pretty cold at night in the mountains and the upper slopes of the peaks were covered with snow. The nobles couldn't even light a fire in fear of warding off the animals. The frozen youngsters didn't sleep a wink.

This time the trickiness of man proved to be quite useful. The next morning at sunrise, a young bear strolled out of the forest path. The beast passed right by the hidden men and went down to the river to drink. Ready for its winter sleep, the bear gained so much fat on his sides that he could barely drag his own bottom along.

"This one belongs to the prince, nobody dare move!" Vidarna whispered to the hunters by his side.

The bear must have caught the humans' scent for he stood on his hind paws, sniffed around suspiciously then turned around and quickly moved toward the forest. There was no time to hesitate. Kshayarsha jumped from his hiding place and ran after the bear. At seeing the man, the beast stopped, paused for a moment, then changing his mind about running away, charged toward the hunter on all fours with an angry roar. Kshayarsha was prepared for the attack. He threw his ready spear with as much power as he could and shot the bear right in his open gullet. The beast stumbled and collapsed in front of the prince. The hunters cheered loudly. Kshayarsha was about to bend down to examine his kill when he heard a frightful crashing noise from behind him. The giant whirled around. An enormous female bear was furiously charging toward him on her hind legs.

The terrified Baghabagsha grabbed his spear, but Marduniya held him back.

Kshayarsha found himself before the raving bear without any big weapons. The prince stared in the frozen eyes of the mountain ruler. His soul was filling with anger instead of fear. Kshayarsha clearly felt how the spirit of Nimrod, the ancient hunter, was dangerously arousing within his guts. The young man drew his sword and swung at the beast with a wild roar. Everything happened with such speed that no one saw anything clearly. One moment the bear was viciously attacking Kshayarsha, and the next she fell to the ground wheezing, covering the giant prince completely with her enormous mass.

The onlookers stood frozen, dumbstruck. None dared to make a sound. Completely crushed, Baghabagsha was ready to kill Marduniya on the spot, although the spadapatish was already half dead without his friend's help. Suddenly the bear moved. Coming to his senses, Marduniya rushed to the beast, spear at the ready. The others followed suit. First Kshayarsha's leg emerged from beneath the bear, then the prince managed to free his head as well.

"Won't you get the beast off of me?" the nearly suffocated giant gasped.

The men fell on the bear and heaved it onto its back. Covered in blood, Kshayarsha stumbled to his feet.

Everyone stared at the slain bear. The hilt of the prince's sword protruded from the beast's chest. Even dead, the brooding animal still looked terrifying. The bear's gaping mouth revealed huge bloody fangs.

"It's a female bear. The one you killed earlier was probably her cub." The overjoyed Marduniya wrapped his arms around his mauled friend and held him close.

"I'll kill you, you crazy bastard!" The disgruntled Baghabagsha flew at the spadapatish with flying fists.

"Get this harebrained oaf off of me!" Marduniya shouted.

It took three men to barely contain Zopyrush's son.

"Remember this day, Marduniya. This is the last time I listen to you!" Baghabagsha spat.

"What's the matter with you, you weakling? What, you don't like that the prince slayed two bears in one day?" Cheered by their success, the young general no longer regretted his dangerous actions.

"One was enough for me! If that bitch had killed Kshayarsha, what use would the second one have been?"

"I didn't die; I'm alive! What's the matter with you Bagha?" the viceroy of Babylon consoled his friend.

"You be quite! You always side with that lunatic!" The prince also got a few punches.

"What that wild beast couldn't damage, this crazy one just fulfilled," Kshayarsha moaned.

The nobles didn't dare interfere in the friend's fight. No one could be so bold to the fierce prince. The giant grabbed Bagha by the scruff of his neck and lifted him into the air. Zopyrush's son didn't reach the ground again until he had quit cursing and struggling.

As soon as Kshayarsha settled his friends down, they turned to the kill once more. The men gathered around the bears, unable to contain their awe.

"What a blow! He got the sword in there up to the hilt!" Vidarna observed the wound up close while crouching to the ground.

"Is the spear-work any worse? He got him straight in the throat!" Artavazda hovered over the male bear's head.

By the time the feast, celebrating the end of the hunt rolled around, everyone was praising Kshayarsha's bravery.

"What a prince we have! He's like a hero straight off the palace walls!" Aspakana was recounting the details of the hunt to Zopyrush for the tenth time.

"When he becomes sunki, he'll have this tale depicted on his palace walls," Bagha's father looked over at the Babylon's viceroy and his own son at the head of the table with pride, while the satrap of Media approached Kshayarsha.

"Did you like our gift, my Prince?" Vidarna asked.

"Of course! You've got splendid bears up there," Kshayarsha answered.

"I have another present for you."

"What is it? You didn't hide some lions under my bed, did you?" the young man beamed.

"You almost got it!" The old devil's eyes gleamed.

The Median host really did surprise the joyful nobles with a pleasant gift upon their return to Ecbatana's palace. There they found beautiful maidens disguised as the Greek goddess of the hunt, Artemis, and woodland nymphs, who entertained the careless youths straight into the night.

"Don't tell Amisiri that we're fooling around with nymphs together or my sister will have me killed for betrayal," the immensely drunk Patirampa entreated the prince.

"All right, I won't tell," no less drunk, Kshayarsha gave his word to him and dragged Artemis off to bed.

"What are you doing, Kshayarsha? This goddess must remain a virgin forever!" Well versed in Greek mythology, the Lydian noble threw his arms up in protest.

It seemed that the intoxicated Patirampa could no longer tell reality from fairytales.

"Red head, she's Artemis only for one night," the prince assured his brother-in-law and pushed the girl off to bed.

"See? I know how to swim too!" Laying flat on the floor among the nymphs, Baghabagsha was flailing his arms absurdly.

Only God knew what ocean he was swimming, but from the side, it looked quite preposterous.

"Kshayarsha, if that bear killed you today, you'd never see your mermaid again. That fire headed goddess would swim with some other prince and it would be all my fault!" Zopyrush's frivolous son started weeping for some unknown reason.

The drunken friend's foolish words stuck like a thorn in Kshayarsha's jealous heart. Even imagining his young beauty in someone else's arms immediately sobered him up.

"Bagha, if don't shut up, your nymphs will swim my way at once!" The prince sharply kicked the young man on the floor.

Not many people remained in the room. Kshayarsha's younger brothers had long chosen their nymphs and had snuck off to their own chambers. Even the faithful Marduniya fell for the poisonous atmosphere of Ecbatana's palace, grabbed his half-naked prey and dashed for his bedroom. Then, the teary eyed general was begging Ardushnamuya's forgiveness beforehand as he kissed the anxious maiden sitting in his lap.

The god of justice, great Mithra and glorious Anahita could only look aside shamefully and simply pretended not to see the drunken unruliness of the disgraceful mankind.

The orgies and festivities lasted for ten days in Ecbatana. Then the young nobles set out for their own satrapies. Kshayarsha, along with Zopyrush and Baghabagsha headed for Babylon and stopped by at Susa, only to pay respects to Marduniya's ill father, the honorable satrap of Elam. The Viceroy of Babylon didn't stay at his domain's capital for long either. He rushed to Persepolis to join the king for the celebration of Nava Rezehh, the Persian New Year. Only for the very end of the month of Nisannu did Kshayarsha managed to reach Sippar at last.

# Chapter 14

The cage of Sippar

It took the immortals twenty days to bring Mzysia to Babylon. By the month of Kislimu, the chief's daughter had already reached the palace of Sippar. Such fast travel proved to be quite difficult even for the Svan girl. The morose Hurrunatu remembered the prince's words well and he was not about to jeopardize his own life for this red-headed beauty. So, the girl had her hands bound most of the way. They freed her at night for supper, only for a short time, though. In the pirradazishes, she always slept between two immortals. The maiden usually spent the majority of the day on horseback. The proud Svan didn't like the severe and degrading conditions of being a captive, but all chance of escape was cut off that way. Neither her smiles, nor her threats worked on the prince's watchdog. So, the clever girl accepted her fate for the time being. Throughout the journey, Mzysia only tried her best at not irritating her gloomy guards as much as possible.

When the small detachment arrived in Sippar, at seeing the girl's chafed wrists, Ardaja knotted his brows. It's true, the head eunuch could not interfere with security matters, but taking care of the women in the palace was directly his responsibility. And so, Ardaja immediately went to work on fixing the damage done by the reckless warrior.

The head of Kshayarsha's eunuchs was a truly priceless servant. God had granted this exceedingly strong, burly Babylonian with a sharp mind and peaceful demeanor. Covered in jewelry and with painted eyes and brows, the dark-skinned Ardaja looked more like a friendly companion than a strict overseer of the women's quarters. The prince's concubines liked this humble eunuch who seemed always happy to serve them. But this kindheartedness didn't distract him from spying on his master's mistresses. Loyal as a dog, Ardaja earnestly took care of Kshayarsha's women, reporting every little detail that took place there to the viceroy of Babylon. Thanks to the clever and useful slave, the prince knew everything about his mistresses. The head of the eunuchs was always trying to find common ground with the other servants as well, but even the peaceful Ardaja had a hard time getting along with Hurrunatu. This was why the smart slave turned to the steward for help.

Zababa-Sharra-Usur, being a true Babylonian, had honesty and decency hammered into his very being along with Hammurabi's canon. So, it was no surprise that the steward considered the severity shown by the guards toward the little lady uncalled-for and sided entirely with the eunuch.

"Hurrunatu, you already fulfilled your duty. You brought the lady here. Now we'll worry about her," the overseer of Kshayarsha's lands declared insistently to the captain of the immortals.

"The prince charged me with her protection, and will hold me, not you, accountable for it."

"The palace is well guarded!" Zababa's tone became sterner.

"I have no doubt in that, and I'm not about to interfere in anyone else's business. But I have to take care of this girl's safety until the prince's return!"

"All right, then. Be in charge! But I won't allow you to bind the girl's arms within the palace or chafe her skin," Ardaja flared up. "I am responsible for every one of the prince's women! What's the difference with this child? You can do whatever you like outside. Guard her room yourself if you want to. But you won't be able to impede on anything else!" showing a very unusual temper for him, the burly eunuch glared threateningly.

"Very well! I never wanted to look after women anyway," Hurrunatu looked over at the steward and the eunuch mockingly and left the room with his head held high.

Mzysia couldn't understand one word spoken by the men, but she was smart enough to realize it was about her.

"What's your name, my child?" As soon as the immortal was out of sight, Zababa-Sharra-Usur turned to the girl.

Mzysia guessed the question and answered in Aramaic.

"They call me 'belonging to the sun'."

"What a strange name," the Babylonian went into thought. "I'll call you Shamash-Ma. That sounds close enough. I'm the overseer of the prince's lands, Zababa-Sharra-Usur. This here is the head of the eunuchs, Ardaja. He will take care of you. If you need anything, you may come to me as well. No one will treat you badly here, my little one."

Ardaja signaled the girl to follow him and both left the room.

Oh, gods, she's just a child! the steward sighed and followed them with a disappointed gaze.

The rules of the palace in Sippar were not much different from those of the Kolchian court. By Ardaja's orders Mzysia was bathed, combed, dressed in fresh Babylonian clothes, and brought a physician. The palace healer, Manushtanu, was from Susa by birth. He was the best pupil of Darayawahush's physician, Democedes. This was why Queen Hutaosha had sent him with Kshayarsha to Babylon.

"He is young, but very good at what he does," the queen assured her son. "Democedes praises him highly. I warn you, don't let any Babylonian healer anywhere near you!"

Kshayarsha minded his mother's wise advice. That was how Manushtanu had found himself in Babylon for such a stretch of time. The lean man of medium height would be around thirty, thirty-five. His thin straight nose and lively honey colored eyes gave Manushtanu's bronze face a real nomadic look. Though he had lived in Babylon for quite a long time, the healer from Anshan still wore Persian clothes.

Manushtanu examined the girl's wrists with his long, skilled fingers.

"What have you done that they treated you so harshly?"

"Nothing," the girl answered quietly.

"Then why did they bind your hands?"

"So I wouldn't escape."

"What, did you try?" the Persian man smiled.

Mzysia nodded. For a moment the girl thought she saw a spark of sympathy in the healer's narrowed eyes. Manushtanu brought out a glass vial from a wicker basket and applied a mixture of melted fat and herbs to the girl's wounds.

"It's alright, it will heal soon enough."

"Thank you, my Lord," the girl bowed.

Manushtanu gently touched Mzysia's chin, lifted her face and looked intently into her eyes. Then he checked her neck and shoulders with his hands.

"Is there anything else bothering you?" the man asked.

"No, my Lord."

"Then take care of yourself." With that, Manushtanu headed for the door with a steady pace. At the entrance he paused for a moment and turned to the girl.

"You know, you have really stunning eyes, Shamash-Ma," the healer smiled to her and left.

The compliment pleased the beauty. Manushtanu turned out to be the first Persian in whom the Svan girl saw even a speck of warmth. She didn't count the prince, considering Kshayarsha an even worse enemy than Zareh.

Shamash-Ma. Why not? If they like, they can call me that, Mzysia thought and headed for the entrance herself.

The palace prisoner looked at the immortal lurking by the doorway uneasily, but the guard didn't even try to stop her. From her tiny room, Shamash-Ma ended up coming out to a spacious hall. Everything in the palace was strikingly beautiful. The airy apadana's walls were studded with mosaics. The scenes of hunts were followed by the images of battles between the king and various beasts. The bright greens, blues, golds, and reds of the mosaic naturally flowed with the scattered plants around the hall. Two small monkeys roamed freely about the grounds. Colorful parrots jumped from braches to branches on the small trees. The tall, thin columns lined along the wall were wrapped in red and white silky fabrics. A huge pool in the center of the hall sparkled light blue. This place looked more like a garden than a palace hall. A select few rooms led to this hall but only Shamash-Ma's bedchamber was stalked by a guard. The entrances had no doors, simply colorful drapes or heavy rugs separating the rooms from the garden-hall. Nearly thirty young women relaxed around the pool, lounging on bright floor mats and soft cushions.

Ardaja, sitting nearby, was reading a papyrus scroll, throwing swift glances toward the women from time to time. The hulking yet youthful eunuch wore a blue, red and white striped Babylonian robe, his wrists decorated with massive bracelets, and his large almond shaped honey colored eyes were painted black. Stunning pearl earrings dangled from the head eunuch's ears. Noticing Shamash-Ma's arrival, Ardaja put aside his reading and approached the girl.

"Welcome to our garden, my little Lady. I hope you'll enjoy being here."

"Are all these women the prince's wives?" the girl looked baffled.

"No," Ardaja smiled. "The prince has only one wife, the beautiful Amisiri. Our glorious lady lives in Susa and never comes here. You see that dark haired beauty, the one looking right at us? She's Kshayarsha's Egyptian concubine. The prince favors her," the eunuch gazed at the newcomer tentatively.

Shamash-Ma didn't even arch a brow.

"The girl sitting next to her is his Lydian mistress. She gives our master particular pleasure," Ardaja smiled slyly. "The dark one sitting by herself there was brought recently by Phoenician merchants from Ethiopia. Kshayarsha hasn't even seen her yet. The others are just musicians, dancers and singers. They entertain the prince and his guests during feasts."

"So, they're not Kshayarsha's women?" the curious girl asked.

"How do I explain this?" Ardaja considered this for a while. "Yes, and at the same time, no. The prince has granted nearly all of them with his attention at least once, but when he bores of a woman, she becomes available for his guests as well. This is allowed. The king's immortals benefit from this as well. With the prince's permission, they sometimes take one home as their own concubine, but this is rare. As a rule, beauties who are already available to all are not taken as mistresses."

"How horrible and unfair!" the girl gasped, repulsed.

"Why? Once a woman ends up in Kshayarsha's palace she spends the rest of her life in carefree luxury. Many women dream of such an honor."

"What's the difference between them and the concubines?" Used to Svan severity and Kolchian decency, the girl couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"A huge one. One can look at a concubine, but never touch her, not now, and not ever, not even after Kshayarsha tires of her. The prince sends his former lovers to a special palace. They lack nothing there. They live in comfort. Their children also live prosperous lives, although, the illegitimate ones won't rise in power just because of their birth. They need to earn their positions as everyone else does."

"And his wife, where is his wife in all this? How does she endure such shame?" Shamash-Ma's eyes blazed angrily.

"The Lady Amisiri rarely ever sees Kshayarsha," Ardaja smiled. "The wives of Persian princes' are always of the noblest birth. They are only responsible for giving birth to the legitimate heirs. That's all! They never get involved with their husbands' love affairs."

"I can't decide whose situation is worse, the wife's or the loves'," the horrified Shamash-Ma admitted honestly.

In this sinister world, everything seemed turned upside down. The girl felt as if she were tossed into a swamp and couldn't find steady footing.

"Explain what you mean," Ardaja was very much interested in the newcomer's thoughts.

To the eunuch's surprise the fiery haired beauty turned out to be uncommonly honest and straightforward. She didn't even try to conceal her rebellious thoughts. The girl spoke everything without any evasiveness, as a child would.

"The wife's condition is unbearable. Her husband loves everyone except her! Besides, the poor thing must bear her master an heir!" anger seeped into Shamash-Ma's tone. "The concubines are in no better state. They can be tired of at any given time, and sent off to a golden cage. I'm not even going to say anything about the rest of his victims. Their case is the worst of all: when time comes, they are tossed aside for the entertainment of others. As compensation, all of them get good food, pretty clothes, and expensive jewelry. What kind of a woman wants such a life?"

Ardaja didn't expect these kinds of ideas from the beauty, especially from such a young one. He was perplexed for a while, then replied.

"Hopefully, I've explained well your whereabouts. I'm sure, a beauty such as yourself won't end up as a mere entertainer. You understand that only daughters of a select few nobles can become the prince's wives and you aren't one of them. I'm certain the prince is preparing a place for you as his concubine. If you behave wisely, my little lady, and I can tell you don't lack intelligence, you can stay as one of Kshayarsha's favorites for a long time," Ardaja was trying to lessen the strange girl's intense irritation. "Believe me, a mistress is no less than a wife. In many ways, being a lover is better than being a lawful wife. A concubine sees the prince far more than his wife. And she benefits from all the respect. How can you even mention a cage? Where does the wife have as much freedom as his favorite mistress?"

The head eunuch spoke honestly. Kshayarsha really did treat his lovers as queens. Every time the thrifty Parnaka saw how much money was spent on the prince's women, he moaned bitterly, but there was nothing he could do. Even the king's powerful uncle didn't dare confront Kshayarsha. Because of such excellent treatment, losing the prince's love after all and being sent to a rich but lonely place full of women, was especially hard and painful. But this much the eunuch didn't understand, or didn't want to.

I won't stay here, no matter what! The proud daughter of the mountains concluded without any doubt and started searching for a hole to escape this dreadful cage right away.

Shamash-Ma was not stupid to let her secret plans slip. On the contrary, she acted very watchfully, measuring her every step. Within two days, the cheerful and friendly girl got to know everyone. The prince's concubines took the new beauty coldly. They saw a strong rival in the green-eyed, red-haired girl and didn't even hide their hostile feelings.

The singers and dancers turned out to be much nicer. Among them some were very young, others even past thirty. Shamash-Ma spent a lot of her time with these women. She grew especially close with one dancer, a Babylonian girl named Attar-Dannat. This girl was also new to the palace and the prince hadn't seen her yet.

Attar-Dannat differed from the others very much. The medium height, twenty-some year old Babylonian youth was not the prettiest thing; instead the gods had gifted her with incredible dancing abilities. This was the very reason that had brought Attar-Dannat to the palace. The cheerless girl often went off by herself, staring into the distance with her dark eyes.

"What is bothering you so much, Dannata?" Shamash-ma once asked.

"My father fell into dept so he sold me and my sisters for three years," the dancer revealed her sad tale to her new friend. "He would have sold us even for longer, but by Babylonian law, a parent can't do that. Within this time, the gods sent me a wealthy young man, who fell in love with me. He wanted to buy me out, but was too late," tears formed in Attar's eyes. "Our owner often brought me and my sisters out to dance during festivals. This summer, the prince's eunuch saw me and liked my dance. He bought me from my master. Who would dare deny Kshayarsha's servant? This is how I wound up stuck here."

"You miss your lover?" Shamash-Ma sympathized.

Tears started spilling from the dancer's eyes.

"Well, didn't you try to escape? They don't even guard you! You go to town often enough," kneeling on the bed, the astonished girl gazed at her dark skinned friend.

"What are you talking about, Shamash-Ma? If I did this, they'd find us and torture both me and my love to death! They'd add our families on top of it too."

The Babylonian's word reminded Shamash-ma once more that she had to hold her tongue and never reveal her identity under any circumstances.

Thrown on the same boat, the two girls soon grew so close that they spent most of their time together. A big admirer of dancing, the beautiful captive eagerly learned many Babylonian moves from Attar-Dannat. Full of life, the Svan girl could move her flawless shoulders and childishly narrow hips tirelessly.

"Shamash-Ma, women where you're from must be great dancers!" the Babylonian praised her skills.

"What are you talking about, Dannata? Women never dance in the mountains where I'm from! Only men walk in circles when they sing to praise the sun," garbed in red and green, the milky girl playfully pranced around her dark friend.

"Then how do you know how to dance so well?" Attar-Dannat grew wary.

"I learned it from the lowlands. Everyone dances there, and sing too!" Shamash-Ma giggled, cheered from her friend's suspicion.

The restless girl often performed fiery dances with Attar-Dannat for the other dancers and singers to see, but Shamash-Ma soon got tired of all this and all of a sudden, one day, came before the head of the eunuchs.

"Ardaja, can I ask you something?" the girl batted her eyes at the kind eunuch.

"What would you like, little Lady?" the eunuch smiled at the girl encouragingly.

"Could you find me Persian, Babylonian and Greek teachers?" the girl asked carefully.

"Why do you need teachers? You're learning to speak either way. Look how many Babylonian words you already know!" Ardaja was honestly surprised.

"I want to learn how to read and write too," the stubborn girl insisted.

"As you wish, my Lady," the eunuch agreed without any enthusiasm.

The Babylonian slave couldn't understand why the beautiful girl wanted to strain her pretty eyes with scratching wedge-shaped impressions on soft clay.

"Can I choose my own teachers?" Shamash-Ma smiled enchantingly at Ardaja.

She didn't know yet that a beautiful girl's charms didn't work on eunuchs.

"Zababa and I must discuss that," Ardaja answered softly.

"Can I have one more request?" It seemed that Shamash-Ma was planning to get everything in the same day.

"Ask away, my Lady," the eunuch bowed.

"May I also get riding and swordplay teachers?"

Ardaja didn't know what to say to such brazen insolence.

"You have to go to the prince himself for this request!" the eunuch sharply cut the girl off and shooed her away.

Aside from mentioning these odd desires, Shamash-Ma behaved quite agreeably in the palace. She cheerfully jumped around everywhere, paying Zababa frequent visits, making friends with the eunuchs, and even chatting up the immortals. Suddenly finding a serious problem on his hands, Hurrunatu often replaced the guards, strictly warning them:

"I don't trust that girl. Be careful, don't let her fool you or else the prince will have our heads!"

One month after arriving in Sippar, Shamash-Ma asked to go to town. The captain of the guards would never agree with this, but he remembered Kshayarsha's orders. So the beauty was granted her wish.

Shamash-Ma and Attar-Dannat, lying on palanquins, often wandered the streets of Sippar. The girl never caused any trouble for her guards. She was just buying little trinkets and delicious fruit, thoroughly enjoying them and offering them to the immortals as well. What she loved the most in town was going to the goldsmiths and various merchants. The Sipparians soon appreciated the rich and generous lady's appearance in their town. Spoiled by her openhandedness, in next to no time, the merchants simply awaited Shamash-Ma's visits with exclusive and precious offerings. The girl's lavish nature puzzled Zababa and Ardaja quite a bit, but Kshayarsha's orders were not to deny the girl anything, so they kept their mouths shut.

Shamash-Ma's tricky efforts finally gave results. One fine day, near the sun god's temple, the girl spotted Simonides, but the clever captive didn't show any cheer. She pulled the curtain of her palanquin aside, coolly looked down at the teacher and went on her way.

On her next visit to Sippar, Shamash-Ma tried to pass a letter to the Hellen, but couldn't. The immortals never took their eyes off of her.

They're like dogs! The disappointed prisoner fumed on the inside, but what could she do? The girl turned to her last hope.

"Dannata, do you see the graying man near the temple?"

Attar-Dannat nodded.

"Remember him well."

After returning to the palace, Shamash-Ma turned to her friend with a dangerous favor.

"Dannata, if you love me, please go tell that man that very soon they'll be looking for a Greek teacher at the palace and he must come."

The Babylonian dancer fulfilled her friend's request word for word.

When the time came and servants brought the candidates for Persian, Greek, and Babylonian teachers, Shamash-Ma set her sights on an Old Persian Magus, a young Babylonian eunuch and a middle aged Greek philosopher. Ardaja and Zababa approved of the girl's choices and her lessons soon commenced.

The girl's eagerness and sharp mind quickly earned her mentors' admiration. Shamash-Ma was spending entire days memorizing difficult words and writing them down. If the girl wasn't studying, she was staggering the Babylonian eunuchs and Persian warriors with her broken speech.

The tricky prisoner couldn't wait to be left alone with Simonides. Slowly the guards' attention slackened and the girl finally got the chance to speak with her Greek teacher.

"Simone, I knew you would find me!" the girl sobbed.

"It wasn't hard at all to find where you were. We found out who kidnapped you in the bazaar of Melitene the very same day. From there, it didn't require too much brain to guess where he'd take you," the Greek teacher was bawling himself, "but it turned out to be absolutely impossible to get into the palace as a stranger. If not your cleverness, we would have never succeeded."

"I missed you so! But where is my nanny?"

"I left Hadassah in her son's house and as for myself, I never left Sippar's main temple. I thought that if you ever managed to leave the palace, you'd certainly visit Shamash's temple." Simonides quietly whispered his story to her.

The teacher looked around; the guards were far away and couldn't hear them, no one else was watching so he went on.

"Hadassah's son works for a Babylonian merchant, Nidinti-Bel. This man and his old father, Marduk-Nasir-Apli, are only called merchants, though by wealth and influence, they exceed many nobles. Thanks to them, Ibnaya, as they call Hadassah's son here, has settled well and trades profitably. Iakin's daughter, Rishona, is happily married in Susa. Your nanny hasn't seen her yet, but they already sent Rishona word that Hadassah is in Babylon."

Since that day, Shamash-Ma had many opportunities to talk with her old friend. Through these conversations she learned many things about Akkadian life. The rare qualities of Greek truth-seekers were highly appreciated at the palace of Sippar. Zababa even gave him a place to stay there. Besides teaching, Simonides did many other things that required his unique knowledge.

As was Simonides, the other mentors were also pleased with Shamash-Ma, but the Persian Magus praised her the most.

"All these years I've been teaching only boys and I've never met such talent and cleverness in a pupil! This girl memorizes everything right away. Besides the Persian language, she's interested in our religion too, and asks me lots of questions. This young lady should be learning from Chaldean astrologers instead of sitting here in the palace!"

Ardaja had never heard such an absurd idea in his life. What did a woman need such an education for? To the eunuch's firm belief, too much knowledge would only cause harm to a woman.

Zababa-Sharra-Usur disagreed with Ardaja.

"Let her learn if she wants to. At least she'll be able to read Gilgamesh to the Mar Biti before bed."

"Zababa, at least trust me in this: the Mar Biti didn't capture this girl to have her read stories to him."

Soon their discussion was brought to an end. In the month of Nisannu, Kshayarsha arrived in Sippar with his children. The first few days were spent learning about the news of the prince's current domain. Then he made time for other matters and summoned Zababa, Ardaja, and Hurrunatu to his chamber.

"How is our captive?" Kshayarsha asked, lying on an ottoman.

"Shamash-Ma? Very well," Zababa-Sharra-Usur answered.

"Shamash-Ma!" The prince liked her new name.

"Do you have any news?" Kshayarsha looked over at the captain of the immortals.

"No, Master. We haven't figured anything out so far. She hasn't even tried to escape once. I would say she is overly friendly. She goes out to town frequently too, but she hasn't talked to anyone suspiciously. The only people she converses with are our local merchants. I checked myself."

When Zababa presented the list of Shamash-Ma's spendings to the prince, his eyes widened at seeing the total sum.

"I have never had such a terrible woman yet! Parnaka will go insane! Even Amisiri doesn't spend this much!" the prince laughed and looked over the servants before him. "She's probably paying me back for taking her purse in Melitene."

Hurrunatu frowned. "I still don't trust this girl. She hasn't done anything wrong, but I still don't trust her. I feel it in by bones that she has something in mind."

"What would you say?" the prince now turned to Ardaja.

"To me, our Shamash-Ma seems like a very good and obedient girl. And she's incredibly beautiful. She sings sweetly and dances passionately."

The overseer of the woman's quarters appraised the girl from his own perspective. The eunuch's words brought a smile to Kshayarsha's lips.

"Although, she has strange habits," Ardaja added.

The prince raised his brows in question and stared at the eunuch.

"The young lady is always eating something. Morning, afternoon, evening; it doesn't matter to her. She's always chewing on something and tempts the other girls too."

"Not everyone can be as restrained as a Persian," Zababa defended the girl.

"We'll forgive her for this somehow," the prince also grinned.

"Once she even asked for riding and swordplay lessons. I told her no."

"Hmm... What a bold request! I can teach her that myself," Kshayarsha smirked ironically.

"She also asked for Persian, Greek, and Babylonian teachers. We granted this harmless wish."

"Harmless?" the prince abruptly sat up. "She asked for a Greek teacher?"

"Yes, Greek too."

"Is someone already teaching her?"

"Yes, my Lord. We employed a Hellen wise man by the name of Simonides for this purpose. He teaches her how to speak, read and write in Greek," the eunuch didn't hide his displeasure.

"Well, how is the learning going?"

"Very well. She can even speak a little. She's incredibly talented."

"I have no doubt! And very clever too!" jumping to his feet, Kshayarsha sharply cut the eunuch off. "How did you allow this little girl to fool all of you? She speaks Greek perfectly well! She may even be a Hellen! Hurrunatu, check the teacher, but be careful so he won't notice anything."

"Understood, my Prince," the immortal answered, pleased.

"Ardaja, where is the little lady now?"

"In her room, glorious Mar Biti."

"Let's go."

"Right to her chamber?"

"No, let's go around back."

Kshayarsha sent Hurrunatu and Zababa off, then he himself, along with Ardaja, went to a narrow passage through a secret door and headed for Shamash-Ma's room. The prince knew this labyrinth-like place like the back of his own hand. Kshayarsha often entertained himself by spying on his concubines. If he had no time, he sent the eunuchs. This was not just plain old curiosity; the prince needed to know everything about his women, and was very pleased with his achievement.

Kshayarsha stopped near one corner, put the lamp on the ground and took two tiny rocks from the wall; then he leaned forward and looked into Shamash-Ma's bedchamber.

Most of the space in the richly decorated tiny room was taken up by a carved bed. A light green fabric covered the walls and a colorful rug was hung in the entrance on large bronze rings. The goddess Ishtar, depicted on the wall to the right of the bed, was curiously observing the surroundings, but this mosaic picture was the only thing Kshayarsha couldn't see, for he had become her eyes.

Shamash-Ma, half sitting up on top of her covers, looked about absently, while the Babylonian girl was gently combing her fiery locks.

"You have such a strange yet beautiful hair color, Shamash-Ma. Do a lot of people have this kind of hair where you're from?"

"No, only me and the goddess of the hunt have it," the girl smiled. "They tell me I got it from my mother. I don't remember her. She died giving birth to me."

"How sad. It's hard to be without a mother."

"It probably is, but my father and brothers took such good care of me that, to tell you the truth, I didn't even feel it. I was the youngest out of my siblings so no one ever denied me anything."

For a moment Shamash-Ma journeyed to the far-away kingdom of her memories.

"And you ran away from such a good parent? My father sold me as a slave, but I still wouldn't run away."

"Who told you I ran away from my father?" The girl was hurt by her friend's words.

"Then how did you get to Babylon? You don't even speak our language!"

Shamash-Ma didn't answer.

"Did you run away from your husband?"

"What husband, Dannata? I'm turning fourteen this summer!" Shamash-Ma furrowed her brows.

"Then from your lover."

"He wasn't my lover!"

"What, such a beautiful girl as yourself wasn't betrothed?" The Babylonian dancer grew suspicious.

The young lady smiled mischievously, but didn't say a word.

"You have completely confused me, Shamash-Ma. Sometimes you say you didn't have a lover, and sometimes it seems you did. Can't you give me a straight answer?"

"Why are you interrogating me, Dannata? Leave me alone," the girl grew defensive.

"I tell you everything, Shamash-Ma, and you hide everything! What kind of friendship is this?" Attar-Dannat took offence.

"If I could, I would definitely tell you, Dannata. Don't be mad, alright?" The girl wrapped her arms around the dancer's neck and gently kissed her.

At seeing that, Kshayarsha prickled up. The jealous prince didn't want to share even an innocent kiss from the young beauty with anyone, even with her friend.

"Alright, alright," Attar-Dannat instantly softened. "There's no point in digging in your past. The most important thing is the future. Did you hear the news? The Mar Biti is already here. I am sure Kshayarsha will soon make time for you too. Being as beautiful as you are, you'll certainly become his favorite concubine. Don't forget me then. You know how powerful the prince's concubines are?"

"Stop speaking nonsense! I won't be anyone's mistress!" The girl coldly moved away from her friend and slid her shapely bare legs from the bed.

"What are you saying, Shamash-Ma? No woman can deny the prince! He is so handsome and brave!"

"I didn't notice," the girl smoothed her skirt down, covering her legs.

"What didn't you notice? That he's handsome, or brave?" the dancer smirked.

"Both!" she shot, rudely. "What kind of a man attacks a woman like a beast, twists her arms, and drags her to the ends of the word?" Shamash-Ma fumed, rubbing her already healed wrists.

When did I attack her, and when did I twist her arms? The prince was taken aback. Kshayarsha didn't consider the evil deeds of his subordinates as his own. So he deemed the girl's words as highly unjust.

"Babylon is not the end of the world! It's the very center of it!" the dancer proclaimed proudly.

"Of course it is! Only for Babylonians!" Shamash-Ma didn't let her friend have the last say.

"So you don't want to be the prince's concubine?"

"I'd rather jump from here than let him touch me!" the girl pointing to the window, fired up.

"You definitely are in love, or worse, you have a lover! That's why you talk like this!" The shocked dancer threw her hand to her mouth in despair.

The chief's daughter sighed heavily, but didn't try to explain anything. How could the poor Attar-Dannat, raised as a slave on the banks of the Euphrates, possibly understand the cry of the proud Svan maiden's soul?

The prince stepped away from the wall, put the rocks back in their places, picked up the lamp, and shined it in Ardaja's face. The eunuch looked half dead.

"And you call this a 'good little obedient girl'?" Kshayarsha hissed. "She can lie to all of you, but she can't fool me!"

The prince's eyes narrowed dangerously and his jaw quivered with anger. Now an uncontrollable urge to strangle someone completely possessed him. Kshayarsha was not ready to sacrifice the girl's delicate neck, but this could definitely ruin Ardaja.

Avoiding temptation, the prince turned on his heels and flew down the dark passage. The poor eunuch followed behind disheartened. Back to his chambers, the prince stood at the window, feeling the cool breeze on his face. Ardaja awaited Kshayarsha's sentence with a quivering heart. At last the prince turned to his servant. His cold, calm gaze frightened the head eunuch even more.

"Can you explain all this to me?"

Ardaja knew well that defending the girl now was the equivalence of signing his own death warrant.

"Shamash-Ma really is a good girl, merciful Mar Biti," the eunuch couldn't believe his own ears; he had actually dared to say this. "She's as pure and innocent as a mountain spring," Ardaja continued in a shaky voice. "Many women have passed before your slave's eyes during these past years, my Lord. She is the best. There is no mistaking it. Don't listen to the words of the dancer. The silly woman has no idea what she's saying."

"Did you hear what she herself said? How can you explain that?"

"Shamash-Ma is just a child, my merciful Master. She doesn't understand her own luck. The first day they brought her here, the girl told me she wasn't planning to be a wife or a concubine at all. She didn't even try to hide her thoughts. The girl doesn't desire any man yet. She's not interested in anything but jumping around, playing and studying."

An unconcealed look of disgust appeared on Ardaja's face at mentioning her studies.

The experienced eunuch's words calmed Kshayarsha a bit, although the worm of jealousy still was gnawing at the prince's heart.

"Alright, let's give her some time. When she'll get to know me better, she'll be wiser," Kshayarsha decided and let Ardaja go unscathed.

Does she really not like me? the prince wondered. Spoiled by women's affection, the handsome young man couldn't even imagine such a thing. Even the proud Amisiri surrendered to his charm. Could this savage girl, stolen from the sun, possibly deny his love? Kshayarsha didn't want to consider it.

Either she's being tricky, or something else is going on here. No matter. I'll find everything out soon enough, the prince concluded and started formulating plans.

When they brought in her hunting garb, Shamash-Ma was very surprised.

"The prince has requested your company," the servant bowed and offered her help.

After assisting her mistress to get dressed, the servant took her to the prince's quarters.

Kshayarsha's chambers looked quite different from Shamash-Ma's lovely little room. The wide, airy space was luxurious and tastefully arranged. On one wall, a great hunt was portrayed; various weapons hung on another. Two leopards were idly perched on the huge, exquisitely ornamented rug. A strange, dizzying scent of malideh drifted in the air.

Shamash-Ma stopped awkwardly at the entrance. Another servant girl was finishing with dressing the prince. The young man waved at his guest amicably.

"Come in, help yourself to something. I was told you love fruit very much," the prince motioned to a low table.

The girl passed by the leopards, petting one on her way to the table.

"You are not afraid of predators?" Kshayarsha was surprised.

"I like them very much, but they never let me keep one at home. I used to have a fawn in my bedroom instead."

Shamash-Ma approached the table and carefully tasted a ripe, golden date. She munched on the amber-like fruit, sneaking peeks at the dressing process all the while. The maid put a short maroon tunic on the prince's broad shoulders and tied a golden belt around his waist.

Can't he put on his own belt? the girl laughed to herself. No, our men are definitely better!" She remembered Saurmag and held her head high.

Kshayarsha was finally done when he turned to his charming prisoner.

"Ardaja tells me you are quite taken by weapons. And you asked for riding lessons as well," the smiling young man stared into Shamash-Ma's emerald eyes. "I, myself will be your teacher."

The girl didn't consider being alone with the prince safe, so she tried to avoid this credit.

"I do not deserve such an honor, my Lord. Such an unimportant matter is not worth wasting the precious time of the Viceroy of Babylon. Besides, I'm feeling bit dizzy today," the tricky young lady bowed, ready to sneak away.

But Kshayarsha was not about to be fooled so easily.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. As about an honor, let me decide what you are worthy of, my Lady. Besides, we, princes need rest too. Let's go." Kshayarsha took the girl by the hand and dragged her along.

Shamash-Ma's tiny palm completely disappeared beneath the giant's huge paw. The tall girl couldn't even reach his chest. Shamash-Ma almost had to run to keep up with the prince. The couple soon emerged in the yard.

By the palace entrance the prince's massive, white stallion and a smaller black Cappadocian colt awaited them. The guard offered his linked palms to the girl for a boost, but Shamash-Ma shook her head and leapt onto the horse with one kick of her foot.

Man, she's light on her feet! the prince though, astonished and jumped on his own stallion.

With a light gait, they headed straight for the man made forest near the palace. When they had gone a little ways, Shamash-Ma looked back and couldn't see the immortals.

"Are we alone? Where are the guards?"

"I'm never alone. You just can't see them. Even if we were alone, so what? You still couldn't escape me."

"Are you so sure?" smiled the girl, kicking her horse.

Eager to run, the colt darted like an arrow through the field. The girl hung close to his back and let the beast go as it wished. The prince's Stallion took some time to catch up with the runaways. When they had enough galloping, Shamash-Ma slowed down.

"This doesn't count! Your horse is much stronger than mine!" The reddened girl could barely catch her breath.

"As it should be! You think you can compete with me? Just look at me!" the prince laughed, pleased.

The riders let the horses lead the way.

"You don't even need a teacher! You're an excellent rider already."

"Uhuh," the girl agreed, then wrapped her arms around the horse and kissed it in the mane. "I asked for a teacher because I love to ride."

Ardaja is right. She really is just a child, Kshayarsha thought to himself and cast a jealous glance at the colt.

In a little while, Shamash-Ma started looking around.

"Is something bothering you?"

"I'm thirsty, maybe there's a spring nearby?"

"And hungry too," the young man joked.

"Yup!" she chirped defiantly.

Kshayarsha lifted his arm to the sky and right away an immortal emerged from the woods, approaching the prince.

"The Lady desires to eat."

Soon, sitting on a carpet under a tree, Shamash-Ma feasted on a cold chicken leg, washing it down with chilled sweet wine. The prince didn't touch anything. He only sipped a full phialai of wine, scowling with dissatisfaction.

"It's sweetened, and too watered down!"

"It's just perfect! It kills your thirst and doesn't get you drunk!" Shamash-Ma complimented the drink.

"If you like it so much, you should drain mine too."

The prince didn't take his eyes from the girl as she finished his leftovers. Kshayarsha knew very well what kind of thirst he'd liked to quench right now, but he banished these tempting thoughts and asked instead.

"Who taught you how to ride?"

"My brother," Shamash-Ma answered, hardly swallowing her bite. "He also taught me how to wield a sword and fire an arrow."

"You know how to use a sword?" The man was becoming more and more amazed by this girl.

"Yes!" she proudly answered. "I am not as strong as you, of course, but I can use a sword."

"Don't brag; just show me what you can do."

The girl threw her hands up, showing she had no weapon. At Kshayarsha's signal, the immortal reappeared, handing a sword to Shamash-Ma. The overjoyed girl jumped to her feet and grabbed the weapon with both hands. The immortal's sword was much too heavy for a woman, but gripping it firmly, Shamash-Ma already had it pointing directly at the young man. Kshayarsha moved on his opponent gently. The girl easily repelled the attack with a quick parry. The man attacked with more force. Shamash-Ma answered this just as quickly. Kshayarsha swung his weapon in the air and brought it down on the girl from above. She swiftly jumped aside. The sword whizzed through the air and hit the ground with a loud thud. Shamash-Ma started giggling cheerfully.

"Warriors don't run away like that from blows, nor do they laugh so blatantly!" The prince drew his sword from the ground and prepared to attack once more.

Kshayarsha wasn't joking anymore. He now tried to disarm this conceited, nifty girl with fast, but soft blows from all sides. Most of the time Shamash-Ma just cleverly jumped out of the way, but sometimes she was forced to meet the blows with her own. After a while the girl grew so tired that she could hardly breathe. At last a heavy blow from the left knocked the sword from Shamash-Ma's hands.

"Well done. You're a good fighter!"

"You didn't once hit me with full force!" Shamash-Ma accused, knotting her brows.

"If I had hit you with all my might, I would have cleaved you in half on the first blow!" Kshayarsha laughed. "But, you really do handle a sword well. I didn't even know some of those moves. And, you're much faster than many skilled warriors," the man tousled her hair in approval like he would a boy.

Bardia would do the same in her younger days.

"These tricks are me and my brother's secrets. Bardia taught me to beat my enemies with speed and skill rather than strength," Shamash-Ma grinned at the prince.

"But, you'll never have to use these with me. I'm not your brother. I'll teach you other tricks in swordplay and riding," Kshayarsha promised with a naughty smile and led her to the tree to catch her breath, with his arm around her shoulder.

"I haven't used a sword in half a year. If I practice, I'll be better," exhausted, Shamash-Ma greedily inhaled the watered down wine and spread on the grass.

"Of course you will be better. The time will come and I'll let you practice every day," the young man sat by the girl.

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'm listening."

"Why aren't you eating anything? What, does your god forbid it?"

"No, he does not forbid it, but eating frequently is bad for a warrior. He'll get used to it, and then it will be harder to go without it. During battles and traveling long distances, there isn't much time to eat and rest. A man must always be in good shape. I am the high commander in the Persian army, so more is expected of me than an average warrior."

"My Persian teacher told me that desiring to eat too much is a Drugh - a crime against creation." Shamash-Ma scooted closer to Kshayarsha, turned over on her belly, put her head in her palms, and stared the young man in the eyes. "I didn't understand anything the Magus said."

"Ahura-Mazda created the world. Everything good that exists is made by him. Hashiya is the truth. Whatever isn't Hashiya is Drauga – a lie. Is that clear?"

"No, it's not! Ahura-Mazda made food as well, didn't he? Then how could wishing to eat it be Drugh?" The stubborn girl puckered up.

"Gluttony, not eating, is Drugh. Do you get it now?" Kshayarsha smiled.

Isn't having too many women a form of gluttony? Why don't you consider this as a Drugh? Shamash-Ma thought to herself but didn't dare voice her opinion. Instead she answered:

"I think I understand."

"Don't worry, this isn't a Drugh for you, you're a woman, not a warrior," the prince consoled her.

"Your god has different laws for men and women?" Shamash-Ma was surprised.

"Sometimes he probably does," Kshayarsha answered, not too certain.

On returning to the palace, the prince turned Shamash-Ma over to Ardaja and headed for his chambers himself.

If before this morning he was charmed by the girl's beauty, now Kshayarsha was completely taken by her free spirit and straightforward, bold nature.

How can a two faced, sly soul lurk behind such honest eyes? the prince thought.

This made it even more unfathomable how the girl could decline her own happiness. Nothing ever happened without a purpose. The shrewd Kshayarsha knew this for sure. His old suspicions gnawed at him even more than before. Today's meeting did not enlighten him to anything new, but the prince's mood was rather dampened. The more he liked the maiden, the angrier Kshayarsha grew.

If this naivety and purity is just a façade, and you are lying to me, be sure, I won't forgive you this Drauga and I'll strangle you myself! Kshayarsha threatened.

The prince doesn't seem as dangerous as I thought at first, Shamash-Ma thought on her way to the women's quarters.

The day's ride had brought the girl much delight. She obviously enjoyed the giant's company. Recollection of his fiery gaze strangely warmed her soul. Kshayarsha was so incredibly strong and handsome, and it seemed he knew everything she was interested in in the world better than the wise magus. There was just one thing the shrewd prince couldn't prove to the curious girl. How was it that so many gods claimed the creation of this one earth?

Perhaps different people call one god different names? The confused Shamash-Ma wondered.

Although, Hadassah's jealous Jehovah didn't exactly remind one of Kshayarsha's Ahura-Mazda who could easily accept the existence of many other gods. As for Simonides' cold hearted Absolute, he was not god at all, and the humans created by him couldn't talk to him any way.

So much acquaintance made Shamash-Ma's head spin, but finding the truth was something the girl's heart truly desired.

# Chapter 15

The Prince's Children

As soon as she opened her eyes, Shamash-Ma gave a sudden yelp of surprise and pulled her light covers up to her chin. Two pairs of glowing embers were shamelessly inspecting her, paying no heed to the beauty's astonishment.

A fine-looking little boy of about seven or eight years hopped up to her bed and touched the girl's hair with the tips of his fingers.

"She really is pretty, Umati," the boy turned to the gorgeous ten-year-old girl beside him.

"She can't beat our mom," standing on her tiptoes, Umati leaned over Shamash-Ma, staring straight into her face.

"I like this one better!" the little boy announced, stubbornly.

Suddenly the rug was pulled aside and Ardaja entered the room.

"What are you two doing here?" the head of the eunuchs demanded sternly.

"This is our father's palace and we can go where we like!" the boy spat.

"Going into the women's quarters should be forbidden to you, young man!"

"It's only forbidden for Darayawahush and Vishtaspa. I always go to visit my mother and others too," the youngster firmly stuck to it.

"Even worse for you! You are already a big boy and they should treat you as a man."

"Are you teaching our father what orders he should give?" the young lady furrowed her brows as well.

"Whatever roles they have in Shushan is none of my business, but here, I'm the master of the women's quarters!"

Not paying any attention to the girl's rude remarks, Ardaja grabbed the children by their arms and dragged them out of the room like little kittens.

"You come out here, alright?" the boy called to Shamash-Ma and disappeared behind the rug.

These must be the prince's young ones! the beauty smiled under her covers.

Shamash-Ma quickly fled her bed, got dressed and flew for the garden-hall. The little boy was sitting on the edge of the pool, splashing around in the blue water with his skinny legs.

"Your name is Shamash-Ma, right?" they child called to the approaching girl.

"Yes."

"Do you really belong to the sun?"

"I don't know," the beauty giggled.

"No, she doesn't belong to the sun, silly, she belongs to father," the girl sitting beside her brother corrected him.

Shamash-Ma looked at the little lady attentively. Umati wasn't the kind of girl who could be left unnoticed. The strikingly attractive and refined child's shiny black curls were neatly fixed on the back of her head with a beautiful hair pin. The girl's nearly adjoined, thin eyebrows added an unusual loveliness to her appearance, giving her more of a resemblance to her gorgeous mother. But it was not only handsome features that made Umati so special. The girl's huge sparkling eyes shone devilishly on her ivory, oval face, revealing Umati's vigorous spirit, while her stiff ruby lips betrayed the stubborn nature of Kshayarsha's spoiled daughter.

On the other hand, the boy was an exact image of his father, just smaller. The only odd feature that immediately caught one's attention was his unusually long right arm.

"They call you Umati, don't they?" Shamash-Ma smiled at the little girl.

"Yes," the child answered with pride.

"I don't know your name yet," Shamash-Ma turned to the boy.

"I'm called Artakhshasa."

"What a perfect name for you! You really reminded me of your father. So, how did you end up here?" The girl cast her curious gaze on both children.

"Father took our older brothers, Darayawahush and Vishtaspa, to the camp and left us here," Artakhshasa sounded thwarted.

"You're too young for a war camp, and I never desired to go," Umati exclaimed wisely.

Artakhshasa turned his hurt eyes from the girls and put his back to them, splashing harder.

Long ago, far off in the Svan Mountains, in times of such injustice, Budu would always come to aid the little Mzysia and Saurmag's youngest sons. Shamash-Ma sighed.

As was usual in the mornings, it was quite calm in the garden-hall. The prince's concubines never woke up early and the singers mostly led nocturnal lives. Even the mischievous monkeys were off somewhere, snoozing. Only the curious, yellow headed parrots showed any interest in the children.

Shamash-Ma herself was rather more of a child than an adult, but she still pitied the heartbroken little boy.

"Do you want me to teach you something?" the girl offered the children.

"What do you know that you can teach us?" the girl smirked smugly.

"A lot! For example, I'm a good archer," Shamash-Ma answered, just as smug.

"Will they let us?" Kshayarsha's daughter discretely looked over at Ardaja lying on a nearby couch.

"The eunuch won't let us, but I can ask Zababa," the clever girl used her wits.

As was expected, the steward liked Shamash-Ma's proposal. Zababa-Sharra-Usur quickly realized that the prince's willful children would be occupied for a while, which meant quite a relief for everybody else from the annoying youngsters at least for some time. The captain of the guards, Hurrunatu, also agreed without a problem. He deemed the palace yard, surrounded by four walls, completely safe for such entertainment. Hence the servants quickly set up targets for the children. Two relatively small bows were also found and the cheerful youths piled out into the yard.

From that day on, the prince's youngest offspring spent most of their time out in the palace garden with Shamash-Ma, competing in archery and filling their surroundings with joyful shouts. She taught the children the same lessons as she herself had learned from her skilled older brother.

"Arta, do you see that hat the guard stuck for us on his spear in front of the palm tree?"

The boy nodded.

"Now line the hat up to the tree and aim."

Artakhshasa squeezed his right eye shut.

"Did the hat move?"

"What do you mean move?"

"While you're aiming, does it stays in the same place against the tree or move aside?"

"No, it moves a little." Amused with this trick of vision, the youngster started closing and opening his right eye.

"Now try aiming with your other eye."

The boy obediently did as he was told.

"Now where is the hat?"

"In the same place where it was with both eyes!"

"Good. Arta, always aim with your right eye because your left will deceive you. Now try to shoot the hat."

The boy released his arrow, taking his target out.

"Shamash-Ma, my left eye is no good?" the boy sounded upset.

"No, silly, everybody has one tricky eye," the teacher smirked.

"Does everyone's right always aim better?"

"No," the girl answered smiling. "My left eye works better for me."

Soon the vigorous kids learned this and many other helpful tricks and started hitting the targets with much success.

Ten days later, when Kshayarsha returned from the camp and was resting in his chamber, his attention was caught by strange noises coming from the yard. The prince neared his window and looked into the garden. Umati and Artakhshasa were prancing around Shamash-Ma, arguing loudly about something.

"It's my turn, long arm!" the little lady shrieked in a high voice and shoved her brother.

"What? Long arm?!" the boy was quick to answer and reached for Umati's locks.

The girl started screaming in a high-pitched voice.

"Didn't you just fire, squeaky?" the boy was sharply tugging on Umati's hair.

Shamash-Ma, dressed in her hunting attire, jumped between the siblings. Artakhshasa swiftly wrapped his long arms around Shamash-Ma and using her as a shield, stuck his tongue out at his sister.

"Be a man and let the lady go first!" Shamash-Ma chided the youngster.

"Fine, let her shoot! But it was still my turn!" The offended Artakhshasa let the girl go.

Pleased, Umati drew her bow, took aim and was about to fire when her brother treacherously pushed her and fled like the wind. The arrow, hissing through the air, struck the palace wall. Infuriated, Umati slammed her weapon to the ground and screaming, chased her brother down. Shamash-Ma also took off after them, swinging her arms wildly. Artakhshasa was going to leap over the immortal, lying behind the rose bush, but tripped at the last minute instead, flopping on top of the guard. Triumphant, Umati completely ignored the warrior and pounced on her brother. Shamash-Ma couldn't stop either. She cleared the rose bush but couldn't avoid the piled up bodies and landed right on top of them.

The guards squatting nearby were almost dying from laughter. Suddenly awakened by an unexpected attack and finding himself stretched out on the ground, the immortal shoved the pack of children off into the grass. Then he angrily grabbed the girls by the scruffs of their necks and lifted them into the air. The rogue Artakhshasa, taking advantage of the moment, fled from the scene.

The prince, watching all this from the window could barely contain his laughter.

"What's going on here in my absence?" Kshayarsha called Ardaja.

"They've been like this ever since you left for camp, merciful Mar Biti," the head of the eunuchs appeared from nowhere without delay. "The children discovered Shamash-Ma that very morning. I kicked them out from the girl's room right away, but that didn't help. Zababa and Hurrunatu gave them permission to play with their bows in the garden despite my concern. After that, there's been no rest. They're always yelling and screaming. Shamash-Ma is not much smarter than these kids are. Immortals, instead of guarding them, amuse themselves by watching the children. And this lady has been stuffing both the children and the guards with fruit all day!" the eunuch denounced them all.

"We are in big danger! Pretty soon Shamash-Ma will spoil all of my palace servants, never mind my children!" the prince laughed. "Bring this frolicsome Lady to supper tonight, and tell Zababa to seat her next to me," Kshayarsha ordered.

Returning to her chambers that very same day, Shamash-Ma found a marvelous present waiting for her. A small fawn was pattering about her room, sniffing everything with its wet snout.

A present from the prince! The girl was thrilled, but when she heard about her invite to supper, she became suddenly afraid. Since she had journeyed from Aia, the girl hadn't been to any such gatherings. The fawn was not the only surprise Kshayarsha had prepared for her. The captive flicked through the fabulous dresses and jewelry sent by the prince with great pleasure. The half shouldered Babylonian dress suited the girl's swan-like neck exquisitely, but in her humble opinion such an exposed gown was far from appropriate for the noble lady; so for her final decision, the girl still chose the Persian orange tunic with green embroidery and a lime colored silk gown with long sleeves. Shamash-Ma dressed with the help of the servants, gathered her fiery locks with emerald hair pins, adorned her ears and wrists with Kshayarsha's generous gifts, and donned in her Persian attire, obediently followed Ardaja.

When the young lady arrived, the festively decorated Apadana of the Sippar palace was already overflowing with guests. Almost every Akkadian noble attended Kshayarsha's feast. As it always happened at the royal banquets, the prince's guests were up to their necks in making dealings. The former representative of the king in Esagila, the old Bel-Iddin, was intensely discussing something with his new replacement, the noble Bel-Rushua. The Babylonian courtier, Bel-Usallim, was gossiping about the odd religion rumors at the Persian court with the shatammu of Lugal-Marada temple. Unlike them, the shatammu of Sippar's Shamash temple didn't care about the gods tonight at all. His only concern was to renegotiate the terms of the prince' new lands with Zababa-Sharra-Usur.

The story was that a few years earlier, Kshayarsha had confiscated a large piece of land, rich with date palms, for personal gain from the outrageously wealthy Shamash Temple. The property was still worked by temple gardeners, but the harvest was pocketed by the prince. The shatammu hoped that with Zababa's help, he'd get justice and receive at least a part of the profit for his temple. But Kshayarsha didn't think this way. According to his firm belief, Babylonian priests already possessed much more wealth than should be allowed. So, the permanent misappropriation of the temple's fertile soil by the honorable royal was a completely warranted thing to do in his opinion.

At the other end of table, the wealthy Sipparian merchant, Bel-Remanni, was making a deal with the Babylonian Egibi family, the father and son, Marduk-Nasir- Apli and Nidinti-Bel, about buying wool from Kshayarsha's lands.

Esagila's sheshgallu also brought the temple's shatammu along with him. The members of the Chaldean religious sect, Hippareni, were also among the prince's guests.

Kshayarsha, sitting in a high backed chair studded with precious stones, was gazing around the hall, bored. The young yet experienced viceroy knew everything about his satrapy so well that the Babylonian courtiers, some much older than he, were quite troubled by this.

"How does this woman-loving Persian warrior find the time to poke his nose in every single, tiresome, endless matter?" Courtiers as well as temple shatammus raged.

Today as always, Kshayarsha was surrounded with his usual comfort. To his right, a Lydian mistress graced the table, to his left Shamash-Ma had her head modestly lowered. Settled next to the fiery-haired girl, Artakhshasa was sneaking food from Umati's plate when she wasn't looking and tossing them to the leopards behind his father's seat, carelessly swinging his feet under the table all the while. On the other side of the Lydian Concubine were Kshayarsha's older sons, Darayawahush and Vishtaspa, conversing with Zopyrush. Somewhere nearby, Shamash-Eriba was proudly seated along with his family. His brother, Bel-Shimanni, also joined the guests at the prince's table with his sons.

These feasts only resembled Aia's cheerful parties in appearance, if that. The feeling of distrust hung heavily in the air of Sippar. Besides the prince's young children, everyone was spying on one another. The guests ate greedily but drank little. Even the giant prince looked quite tired.

"Did you like my present?" Kshayarsha leaned toward the beauty.

"Very much! Thank you," Shamash-Ma's eyes gleamed.

"I wanted this place to remind you of home at least a little bit," the viceroy smiled at the girl, while at the same time he secretly inspected the captive's garments.

Her humble appearance pleasantly surprised the prince.

Even if you wrapped yourself in rags, everyone would still notice what a priceless pearl I've captured! Kshayarsha thought, charmed by the girl's innocence.

"Everything is so terribly boring here except you and my children," the prince's lips were almost touching Shamash-Ma's ear. "I enjoyed watching the three of you playing this morning."

Kshayarsha took a piece of marinated fish prepared in wine by a Jewish cook and offered it to the girl.

"Eat. It's delicious! I have never tasted anything like this, not even in Shushan!"

Shamash-Ma brought the unfamiliar food to her mouth and swallowed carefully.

"Silly, you don't swallow it, you're supposed to chew," Kshayarsha took another piece and fed it to the girl.

The prince's long fingers playfully lingered by her lips. When he looked into Shamash-Ma's eyes, her cheeks flushed and she almost choked. Kshayarsha concealed his smile. He left the baffled girl alone and leaned back against the chair.

The guests were secretly spying on their host.

"Zababa, who is this red-haired girl?" Shamash-Eriba reached for the steward's arm as he walked by.

"The Mar Biti's new mistress, my Lord," Zababa-Sharra-Usur answered and went on his way.

The Babylonian noble was noticeably relieved by the servants answer.

Getting bored, Shamash-Ma turned to the impish Artakhshasa.

"Do they always have such quiet feasts among your people?"

"You mean dull," the girl's whispers didn't escape the viceroy's sharp hearing. "Why do you think I brought you here? Don't I need some entertainment too?"

Kshayarsha took her hand in his own and squeezed tight. Shamash-Ma tried to free herself, but only cheered the man in her attempts.

"They are watching us, my Lord," the girl whispered, her eyes tearing up.

"So what? This is my palace. I am a prince of Persia and everyone here is my slave. Why should I care?" the man sounded surprised.

Kshayarsha's response astounded the girl. It was the first time the untested young lady faced such blatant disregard of others.

"Perhaps you should offer your guests some entertainment, my Lord. The dancers have been ready for some time now," the disconcerted girl quickly changed the subject.

"Well thought!"

On Kshayarsha's orders, the dancers and musicians piled in. The hall was soon filled with the pleasant sound of music. Although the dancers' faces were hidden behind veils, Shamash-Ma easily spotted the half naked Attar-Dannat among them. Light as a feather and as lithe as a snake, the Babylonian maiden easily captured the spectator's hearts.

"That friend of yours really is something!" Delighted by the Babylonian dancer, Kshayarsha exchanged a word with Shamash-Ma.

The girl's heart gave a sudden jolt.

"How do you know we're friends?"

"I know everything, my witty fire-fly, and what I don't know, I'll soon find out," the prince replied with a grin.

While everyone was utterly taken by the charming dancers, the restless Artakhshasa took advantage of the moment. He sneakily stabbed a fat piece of meat from Umati's silver plate with his short, golden dagger and tossed it behind him with all his might, not even bothering to look back. The dreadful roar that followed caused Shamash-Ma to turn around, and though terrified, fling her whole body onto Artakhshasa. The predator's mighty body leapt into the air and crashed on the ground behind the girl. Everything happened with such speed that no one even managed to come to their senses in time. The shocked prince rose to his feet. Speared by an immortal's weapon, the huge leopard launched behind the table, breathing his last. Artakhshasa's golden dagger gleamed like a precious jewel in the animal's left shoulder. The beast's sharp claws had torn long strips in Shamash-Ma's tunic as she lay across the child. Scattered music was still heard throughout the hall. The confused dancers continued to sway, now out of beat. The startled Artakhshasa blinked pitifully, still unable to grasp what had just happened.

Kshayarsha swept the blanched girl up in his arms and before the onlookers were able to gain composure, disappeared behind the apadana's back door. When the prince reached his room, he carefully placed Shamash-ma on the bed, knelt before her, and checked her back with quick movements of his hands.

"Does it hurt my little one?"

The teary girl shook her head in denial. Ardaja and Manushtanu followed just after the prince.

"I have to check her back," the healer moved toward the injured girl.

The frightened Shamash-Ma immediately clung to Kshayarsha. The prince hugged the girl's face to his chest, ripped her gown with one fluid movement, and directed Shamash-Ma's naked back to the healer. The maiden, not expecting such treachery from him, silently began to weep. Manushtanu followed the pink scratches down with his slight skilled fingers and demanded to go down further.

"I don't want to! No! Leave me alone!" the girl started struggling helplessly, but no one listened.

The prince laid Shamash-Ma face down on the bed and held her shoulder's firmly. Ardaja went for her legs. The poor victim couldn't even move anymore. Manushtanu ripped her dress further, revealing her childish, round bottom and slender legs. The pink scratches leading down her back branched off into three deep scars on her right butt cheek. Thankfully, her thighs had escaped unharmed. The healer inspected the girl's backside carefully.

"The injuries are quite deep. The leopard's claws are sharper than a blade. Fortunately, the skin is cut clean. There's no sign of tearing. Her scars will be hardly noticeable," Manushtanu announced, then produced a vial with some liquid in it from his inseparable wicker basket and began to work on her scratches at once.

The healer's medicine turned out to be much more painful than the beast's claws. Biting her lips, the girl gave a slight moan from time to time. Overall, she endured the sting bravely. Her tears flowed more from anger and humiliation.

Kshayarsha paid close attention to the healer's quick, skilled movements. Jealous by nature, the prince's heart soon filled with resentment. Manushtanu had served the viceroy and his family for ten years now. He was the one who delivered all the children of Kshayarsha's wife and concubines. Still, it was the first time that the jealous prince witnessed such a close, almost intimate association between his woman and the healer and he grew progressively gloomier.

The healers should be eunuchs too! Kshayarsha thought, not taking his hostile gaze from Manushtanu's able fingers.

Physicians benefited from much respect in the Persian court. Experienced, trustworthy healers were permanent guests at the king's table and often lived near the palace with their families. As for Darayawahush, he always kept his Greek healer by his side and never paid less respect to him than he would to Persian nobles.

The prince watched Manushtanu carefully, seriously considering changing the court's old tradition.

The Egyptians have qurums as healers, Babylonians - priests. I'll have eunuchs. Why not? Is it tolerable to have some man touching your woman? Kshayarsha reflected, thinking up a thousand diabolical plans.

"Your wounds will heal in a little while and you'll be jumping around as usual," To the prince's great anguish, Manushtanu playfully smacked Shamash-Ma's left butt cheek and ruffled her red hair.

Witnessing such barefaced insolence drove the giant completely mad, but he restrained himself for the time being and waved the eunuch and healer out of the room. The servants left wordlessly. Kshayarsha let Shamash-Ma up. Tears of bitterness and embarrassment were dribbling from her eyes. The girl turned over on her left side and fixed her torn gown with one hand.

"I'll get you a new one, even prettier than this." The man knelt down in front of her and dried her tears with kisses. "Does it hurt?"

The girl shook her head no.

"Liar," the prince smiled. "Did you see what happened?"

"Artakhshasa was teasing Umati, secretly stealing her food and tossing it to the leopards," Shamash-Ma quietly answered.

"Yes, and in his foolishness, he threw that dagger at the beast!" Kshayarsha's eyes blazed menacingly. "I'll teach that insolent brat a lesson for this!"

Shamash-Ma paled from fear at the prince's words. The girl had heard much about the Persians' cruel punishments. She had even learned that kings killed their disobedient children sometimes.

"Oh, please, don't punish him! He's just a child! He didn't mean to! Don't hurt him, I'm begging you!" The girl wrapped her arms around Kshayarsha's neck and kissed him on the cheek.

This trick had always worked on Saurmag and Bardia, but merited an entirely different response from the prince. Kshayarsha's sudden, passionate assault on her lips completely disarmed the startled girl. The dizzy captive involuntarily answered the kiss with her own. Coming to her senses, Shamash-Ma quickly tore her lips from the prince and moved away, confused. Kshayarsha wasn't expecting such a burst of feelings either. He immediately stood and sat beside the girl.

"Today you protected my son, Shamash-Ma. I'll never forget that! Ask me whatever you want. I'll grant any wish accept one: I'll never give up on you!" the young man smiled at the girl.

Shamash-Ma considered this for a while, and then turned to Kshayarsha with glowing eyes.

"I have one wish!"

"What is it, my pretty fire-fly?" the prince cooed.

"Don't even think of touching my friend Attar-Dannat, grant her freedom, and allow her to marry! Alright?"

"That long nose? Whatever made you think I was going to touch her?" the caught man feigned indifference.

In fact during today's performance Kshayarsha had liked the dancer and was planning to call on her that very night.

"It's very smart of your friend to dance with her face covered. Otherwise she would scare my guests away with her long nose. Why would I desire such a woman?"

Attar-Dannat was not actually ugly at all. The prince's words didn't fool Shamash-Ma a bit.

"No. Promise me you'll free her and let her marry a man of her choosing," the stubborn girl stood by her demand.

"Alright, have it your way. Zababa will see to it in the coming days. Although, I won't count that as your wish. Tell me what you want for yourself."

Shamash-Ma went back into thought, but nothing bright came to her mind. Meanwhile, Kshayarsha was enjoying peeking at the beauty's bare back and naked sides from above.

"Can I tell you my wish later?" the troubled girl asked.

"Alright, till later then," the prince agreed and scooted closer to the beauty.

Shamash-Ma didn't like that.

"Can I go to my room? I'm tired and my injuries hurt too," the girl moaned falsely.

"I'll take you myself, little one."

The prince quickly loosened his belt, took off his tunic and gently wrapped it around the girl, then lightly picked Shamash-Ma up, and headed for the women's quarters.

She likes me. There's no way she doesn't. Maybe she even loves me. She answered my kiss. No, she really likes me, Kshayarsha was talking to himself.

Swathed in the prince's clothes, the girl was obediently cuddled up in the man's mighty arms. The tunic, still holding Kshayarsha's warmth, was tightly wound around the girl's body, soothing her sore wounds perhaps better than Manushtanu's burning balm.

Shamash-Ma's injuries were healing fast, but the physician still wouldn't allow her to get up.

"You need to limit your movement so your scars won't show as badly," the Persian man demanded.

"Who will see them anyway?" the girl smirked.

"Obey my orders!" Manushtanu insisted.

Time was quickly passing. Kshayarsha spent the majority of his days in the immortals camp along with his older sons. As for Artakhshasa and Umati, they were always with Shamash-Ma.

"Show me your wounds! Oh, please show me!" the bothersome little boy wouldn't let the beauty be.

"Leave Shamash-Ma alone. Stop bothering her!" the gorgeous Umati glared at her brother.

"Show us secretly. Ardaja will never know."

"Even if the eunuch never foinds out, do you really think she wants to show you her behind?" Umati smiled slyly.

"Why ever not? Here, I'll show you my wounds," the boy lifted his dress and proudly revealed his scraped knees.

"No, no!" Shamash-Ma exclaimed, laughing.

"Just you wait! I'll still see your scars!" the stubborn child threatened his friend.

When he lost all hope of seeing the wounds that day, the restless Artakhshasa found a new amusement.

"Do you want me to teach you a new Babylonian game?" The playful boy jumped on the bed, tossed colorful sticks on the covers and started explaining the rules of the game to the girls.

# Chapter 16

Denial

One fine day, Kshayarsha ordered the most excellent goldsmiths of Babylon to be brought to the palace of Sippar. What kind of wonders the renowned masters didn't bring to flaunt their skills: beautiful tiny insects and horse drawn chariots that could fit in one's palm, flamboyant peacocks, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, golden jars, hair pins, and so on. The prince looked over each item carefully, nodding in approval.

One elderly goldsmith proudly passed a medium sized golden butterfly studded with rubies to Kshayarsha. The prince was slightly surprised by the old man's conceit. The entrant wasn't even small. The masters of much more refined works didn't beam like this one. The viceroy of Babylon looked over the jewel, "That's pretty," he said to be polite and asked for the next item.

"Don't think this is just an average toy, glorious Mar Biti, look."

The old man took the butterfly, turned it in his fingers, and placed the beautiful bracelet on the table.

"A very interesting jewel," Kshayarsha smiled.

"Now try and open it," the grey haired goldsmith challenged slyly.

The viceroy took the bracelet in his hands and pulled it apart. The circle didn't break anywhere. He pulled harder, but didn't accomplish anything.

"If one doesn't know how to open the bracelet, one won't be able to wear it or take it off," the master announced proudly.

Kshayarsha stared at the jewel intensely.

"Can you make a bracelet like this for me too, old man?"

"I brought it for you, merciful Mar Biti, you keep it," the goldsmith was overjoyed.

"Thank you, but can you make me another one with this image?" Kshayarsha showed the master his ring.

A lion embracing a fawn with his paws was depicted in the picture. From overhead shone the Faravahar, Ahura-Mazda's winged disc. From below, Kshayarsha's title and name completed this composition.

"I don't need the jewelry to turn into a butterfly. Can you make me a golden bracelet that only I'll be able to open and close? And I want this image to be studded on top of it with tiny precious stones."

The old man looked at the ring, thought for a while and agreed to fulfill the prince's order.

"Very good. Just write my name at the bottom without any title. By size it should suit a slender woman."

The request seemed odd to the goldsmith. Usually, his customers proudly wrote their noble titles on every single item. Even cups and jars didn't escape without inscriptions proving the high status of their owners. But the prince's strange wish was an order. Pleased with this profitable deal, the old craftsman headed for his workshop.

The summer in the "Land between the Rivers" was quickly growing stronger, and soon the intolerable heat swept over Mesopotamia. It seemed that the god Tishtrya wouldn't spare one drop of rain for the steaming earth. A little bit longer and the Persian nobles would leave the southern capitals and shelter themselves in the woody hills of Ecbatana. The thirty fourth year of Darayawahush's reign had just started. The last sweet minutes of life were slipping through the aging king's fingers like the desert sands. Time wouldn't spare anyone. Time didn't care about anyone. Time didn't wait for anyone.

In the terrace of Persepolis' palace, Darayawahush had his arms wrapped around his beloved Irtashduna, reflecting on how fast life flew by. But, for his son in Sippar, time was moving ever so slowly.

By then, Shamash-Ma had already recovered from her wounds, but she still showed no signs of interest toward the handsome prince. Step by step, Kshayarsha's patience wore thin.

"Ardaja, I think the woman is ready to meet her master. Bring her to me tonight," the viceroy of Babylon ordered.

What woman? The girl hasn't even reached her puberty yet. What ready is he talking about? the eunuch thought to himself but didn't talk back to the prince of course.

"As you wish, my glorious Mar Biti," the loyal slave bowed and left the room.

That night, the servants bathed the girl in scented water, rubbed her down with oils, dressed her in a golden silk gown, and brought her to the prince's bedchamber without even giving her a tunic. This odd clothing made Shamash-Ma uneasy, but when she caught sight of the wet haired prince, she understood everything. The absence of the viceroy's inseparable leopard from the room only confirmed the girl's suspicion. Kshayarsha himself, dressed in an open undershirt, was pacing impatiently by a low marble table.

"Come in, I've been waiting for you. Join me in supper," the prince waved to the girl and smiled warmly.

Shamash-Ma walked around the table and settled on some colorful cushions on the window side. The host sat opposite her, crossed legged and stared slyly at the girl.

"How do you feel, my little fire-fly? Is it hard to sit?"

Flushed from discomfort, Shamash-Ma didn't answer the question. Usually always ready to devour delicious food, today the girl had completely lost her appetite. The prince's frightened guest was fidgeting anxiously. Kshayarsha, on the other hand, felt quite confident, although he acted a bit strange.

"Give me your hands, my beauty," the prince gently kissed the confused Shamash-Ma's palms. "Let me feed you."

Kshayarsha turned to the table, broke a loaf of bread in half, passed the small piece to the girl and kept the larger one for himself. Then, he reached for the roast pheasant, ripped it with his hands, bit into the juicy thigh and offered it to his guest as well. The girl was thoroughly baffled by the prince's strange behavior but still took the meat and carefully began to eat it. Shamash-Ma looked over the table and was surprised to find that only one plate and drinking cup was set.

How strange. If he was waiting for me, then how come they didn't prepare the table for me too?

Meanwhile, the prince continued acting oddly. Whatever he offered his guest, he tasted himself first. The girl had never seen such bizarre hospitality anywhere.

The Persians treat eating so peculiarly; this is probably just some weird custom of theirs, Shamash-Ma concluded.

The strange host filled the cup, took a sip and passed it to her. Although, Kshayarsha's behavior astounded the girl more and more, he did nothing alarming, so the frightened beauty slowly relaxed and gladly ate from the host's silver plate.

"Can I ask you something?" the girl couldn't contain her natural curiosity.

"I'm listening, my Lady."

"Does the prince of Persia often share his plate with his guests?"

"Only on very special occasions, my little one," a mysterious smile crossed Kshayarsha's face.

Shamash-Ma wanted to ask what special occasion this was, but something inside stopped her.

"Zababa tells me that you made your Persian teacher angry the other day," Kshayarsha looked over at Shamash-Ma testily.

"I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"What happened?" Kshayarsha licked his fingers and reached for another slice of meat.

"Magu told me that Ahura-Mazda is the creator of the earth, but there is also Angra Mainyu, who also always existed and is Ahura-Mazda's enemy. I didn't understand any of this but answered as you taught me."

"What did you tell him?" the prince grew curious.

"I told him that there is Hashiya - truth, which comes from Ahura-Mazda and everything that isn't Hashiya is drauga- a lie. And there is only one God that created the world," Shamash-Ma concluded.

"Well done!" Kshayarsha praised the girl.

"But the magu got mad at me. He insists that there are other gods besides Ahura-Mazda and that they serve the Supreme God. And we must worship them too."

"He's right. There are other gods, Anahita, for example, the goddess of love and fertility," the young man smirked.

"Hadassah tells me that there is only one God and that we must worship him alone."

"Who's this Hadassah?"

Shamash-Ma bit her tongue immediately and lowered her head. Kshayarsha didn't pry any further. The young man changed the subject back to one that pleased him.

"They don't worship the goddess of love where you're from?" The prince looked surprised.

"Of course, we do! But we worship the sun goddess above all. Then the war and thunder gods. We love the goddess of the hunt as well," Shamash-Ma continued her list, slowly moving away from the table all the while.

Of course this movement didn't escape Kshayarsha.

"Ahura-Mazda created the first man and woman, Mashya and Mashyane, for love, Shamash-Ma!" The prince gazed into the girl's eyes decisively.

"I know! God made for man a wife out of the man's own rib!" Shamash-Ma met Kshayarsha's bold gaze with her defiant one. "If God made you all your women, you'd have no more bones left, never mind any ribs!"

The prince didn't understand a thing she had just said, but he got the gist of it: The maiden wasn't about to surrender peacefully.

"You will not leave here without love!" The infuriated Kshayarsha grabbed the edge of the table and reached for the girl.

As if she was waiting for this sign, Shamash-Ma jumped up with lightning speed and dashed for the window. Fortunately, the prince was even faster. He wound his arms around the girl's waist and dragged her back in just as she was about to leap into the air.

"I wanted to love you, not eat you!"

The pale Kshayarsha didn't recognize his own voice, but the exhausted girl could not notice it as she fainted in the dejected man's arms.

What could all this mean?

The troubled Kshayarsha wasn't planning on punishing Ardaja anymore.

If I couldn't do anything with this stubborn girl, what could this eunuch do? he thought and resumed pacing.

"My glorious Mar Biti, perhaps Shamash-Ma was the victim of rape in the past, and so she fears all men?" the confused Ardaja snuck his supposition in.

The prince froze thunderstruck at hearing the eunuch's words.

"If you're right, I'll dig that draujana up and skin him alive with my own hands! But I'll still win this girl's heart!"

The eunuch felt weak at his knees at seeing the prince's countenance.

"Ardaja, order Manushtanu to make the girl sleep tonight so deeply that nothing may wake her till morning." Staring off into the distance, the viceroy's eyes narrowed as he was constructing new plans of action.

The eunuch left the room bowing.

At midnight, Kshayarsha pulled the rug aside from his lovely captive's door and entered her cage. A cool breeze swept into the dimly lit room, threatening to extinguish the flames of the only torch hanging on the wall. The prince crept to the carved bed, slightly moved the drapes aside and looked at the sleeping girl. Shamash-Ma lay on her back, smiling in her dreams. The beauty's fiery curls were disorderly scattered about her. Kshayarsha climbed onto the bed and nestled in next to the girl.

The silence in the room was only broken by the trampling of the frightened fawn, woken from his rest by the intruder. In a short while the spoiled little one grew bolder and curiously pushed the prince with his wet snout. Leaning on one arm, Kshayarsha paid no attention to the annoying fawn. He was busy watching the sleeping Shamash-Ma.

How beautiful. Truly worthy of the sun.

The prince was drinking in the girl's unusual loveliness, softly stroking his captive's cheek with his fingertips and passionately whispering caressing words in her ear. A vein was throbbing in her swanlike neck, barely noticeable. Kshayarsha leaned in, greedily breathing in the girl's scent and kissed the gentle beat of life with a soft touch of his lips.

She's so calm and nice when she's sleeping. Why can't she be like that when she's awake? Kshayarsha wished.

The prince carefully took the beauty's hand and fastened the astonishingly refined bracelet on her wrist.

"I'm giving you this present in memory of our meeting tonight." Overwhelmed with emotion, Kshayarsha stole an innocent kiss from the girl, sunken in deep sleep.

Shamash-Ma must have sensed the closeness of a thief, gave a sigh and turned over on her side. The prince sat up on the bed. He had snuck into the sleeping lady's room to uncover the captive's mysterious secret, not to caress her and whisper intimate things she wouldn't even hear. He wasn't planning to stay long either, but the girl's irresistible loveliness lured even the experienced, flamboyant viceroy.

Soon she will be mine anyway. What's the harm in taking a peek? the prince judged wisely and carefully ripped his prey's nightgown. This turned out to be too dangerous even for the giant, rich with concubines. At seeing the girl's tiny pink nipples, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Her bud-like breasts were followed by an incredibly thin waist, a small round tummy, a fiery red hill, supple thighs, pointy childish knees, long shapely shins, and graceful little feet. Her not fully blossomed but already incomparable beauty made the young man's head spin.

"Oh great Anahita! She's so irresistible!"

The prince couldn't take his eyes from the girl's rounded but unfilled hips. Kshayarsha's clear conscience demanded he leave the place immediately, but his tempted heart pushed for more bold steps.

The girl smiled at something in her sleep and turned over again.

"You better be seeing me in your dreams too, my pretty one!" The man angered at this for some reason, but unfortunately for him, even the omnipotent prince couldn't determine the beauty's dreams.

The jealous Kshayarsha stopped hesitating and mercilessly squeezed the girl's injured butt cheek. Disturbed by the pain, Shamash-Ma knotted her brows and helplessly fluttered her lashes.

"You can't wake up, my little fire-fly," the man smirked.

His foolish anger over the insignificant dream had already passed. The prince's shameless fingers were now petting the girl's hips. Then he moved on to her tummy. The bold night thief didn't leave her porcelain thighs unattended either. Kshayarsha couldn't get enough of his innocent prey, studying her responses all the while.

"You like being petted," the prince noted with pleasure and smiled silently. He probably wouldn't have grown bored of playing like this, but it was not why he was there.

Can it be that the eunuch is right and some evil man laid his dirty hands on my property? The infuriated Kshayarsha hadn't considered that till this day, Shamash-Ma was not his but belonged to the sun.

A hostage of his own jealousy, the prince slid his fingers between the girl's legs and held his breath in wait for the answer. Insulted by such an abrupt attack, the girl hunched pitifully.

"O, Heavens! You're a virgin! You've had no lover, nor have you been the victim of rape!" the prince sighed as if a heavy burden was lifted from his shoulders.

The thankful Kshayarsha kissed the beauty with trembling lips. The young man was playing with his fingers for his own pleasure now. Cold sweat covered the maiden's face, her nipples hardened like cherries. At the touch of the prince's shameless fingers, Shamash-Ma moaned quietly, trying to open her eyes, but she couldn't and sank back into sleep. Unable to help himself, the allured man greedily fell upon her nipple.

This was a big mistake. Kshayarsha's entire being had become possessed by the desire to take the girl immediately and no one could get in his way, but he was a proud prince of Persia and wasn't about to steal something like a midnight thief that belonged to him anyway. This stubborn girl was not born to be a mere concubine either. In the sweetest moment of conquering her Kshayarsha wished to look into her emerald eyes, witnessing this proud beauty's full submission.

Thus, forcing himself from Shamash-Ma's room, Kshayarsha burst into the garden-hall half crazed. The formidable viceroy of Babylon didn't need to go far to satisfy his immediate needs. He was in the women's quarters of his own palace after all. Hence the prince marched straight for his Egyptian mistress's bedchamber and fell like a hurricane upon the sleeping woman.

The next morning Shamash-Ma woke up later than usual to horror: she lay totally naked on top of her sheets, wearing a strange new bracelet on her wrist. The torn nightgown was right there on the bed next to her. The desperate girl didn't know what to do; she was utterly helpless. Completely crushed, Shamash-Ma buried her face in her hands and started to weep bitterly.

An unfamiliar servant slid into the room and brought in new clothes sent by the prince. She kindly offered to dress the weeping girl hidden under the linen sheets, but Shamash-Ma sent the servant away with a cold decline. After a short while, the rug was moved aside again. This time Attar-Dannat's smiling face lit up the bedchamber, but the Babylonian's beam immediately fell from her lips as soon as she laid eyes upon her friend.

"Why are you crying Shamash-Ma? And why are you sitting there naked?"

The moment she found a true sympathizer, the captive wailed even louder. Hugging her friend, Attar-Dannat patiently waited for the girl to calm down. As soon as Shamash-Ma had enough of crying, she turned her helpless gaze to the dancer.

"Did the Mar Biti visit you last night?" the Babylonian guessed.

"I don't know. Probably," Shamash-Ma answered, hiccupping.

"How do you not know? Did he force you?"

"No... I don't know," the girl started bawling again.

"Shamash-Ma, stop your crying and tell me what happened!"

"How can I tell you what I do not know? I was sleeping all night."

The Babylonian's eyes widened like a sieve.

"Tell me whatever you know. Do you remember how you fell asleep?"

"Of course I remember! I had supper, then a servant helped me undress, I put on a nightgown, I went to bed and slept."

"And when you woke up?"

"When I woke up, I wasn't wearing my nightgown," the girl showed her the torn remains with a flabbergasted look. "Instead I wore this!" Shamash-Ma extended her arm with the bracelet.

"How pretty! Let me see."

The captive tried to remover the trinket but was unable to do so. The bracelet was firmly fastened to her wrist, her palm couldn't fit through, and it wouldn't open either. The girls fiddled with the bracelet for a while, but couldn't manage to do anything with the strange piece of jewelry.

"We can't take it off; let's look at it like this. Look, there's something written on it."

"KSHAYARSHA," Shamash-Ma read in Akkadian and wept even louder.

"Why are you crying now? At least we know it was the Mar Biti who visited you. Are you in pain?"

"It healed a long time ago."

"What healed a long time ago?"

"My wound, what else?"

"You're going to drive me mad! Does it hurt here?" The Babylonian put her hand just under her friend's belly.

"No!"

Attar-Dannat's eyes narrowed doubtfully.

"Hold on, hold on. Something isn't right here. Get out of there!"

The dancer nearly dragged Shamash-Ma out of the bed and examined the sheets. When she couldn't find anything suspicious, the Babylonian ran her hands up and down the girl's legs. The red-haired beauty roughly pushed her annoying friend away.

"Are you sure you didn't have this bracelet on before you went to sleep?" the dancer asked distrustfully.

"Dannata, I'm not crazy. I've never even seen this bracelet before!"

"Alright, alright. I don't know anything about the bracelet or the nightgown, but it's a fact that Kshayarsha did not sleep with you," the Babylonian concluded.

"How do you know?"

"I know, Shamash-Ma, I just know. Besides, the glorious Mar Biti never goes to the women himself. He summons the concubines to him. They take a different woman to Kshayarsha every nigh -"

The dancer had not finished speaking when she gave a shrill scream.

"What happened, Dannata?"

Attar-Dannat was pointing to the wall behind her friend.

"Shamash-Ma, that goddess was just looking at me!"

The fiery girl spun around and approached the mosaic. With breasts shamelessly spilling over her dress and a snake in each hand, the prominent Ishtar stared emotionlessly back at Shamash-Ma with her stone, enamel eyes.

"Dannata, she looks at everyone like this! What's wrong with you?"

The dancer glanced over at the mosaic again distrustfully and, calmed a little bit, turned to her friend.

"Now that you are sure nothing has harmed your innocence, perhaps you'll get dressed and come out."

As soon as Shamash-Ma felt secure, her helplessness turned to rage. How dare Kshayarsha violate her privacy so brutally! The girl was furious, but at the same time her empty tummy began to rumble. So she threw on the yellow silk gown sent by the arrogant prince and went out to find a snack to eat.

That very night Kshayarsha decided to dine with his concubines and invited all of his women to the feast. Surrounded by mistresses, the flamboyant viceroy was reclined on the rug, enjoying a honey-cake from his Egyptian paramour's hand. The woman was tearing pieces from the sweet pastry and feeding it straight to the young man's mouth. The prince drank a phialai of wine after phialai, thankfully kissing the mistresses' lips after each bite. The concubine was cheating, in order to steal more kisses, she gave him smaller bites. Guessing this trick, the tipsy man lightly nipped her as punishment.

The blond Lydian concubine was resting by Kshayarsha's feet, brazenly caressing his hips. The singers were chanting sweet Persian melodies, while the dancers were sitting right there, eating to their heart's content.

Surrendered to pleasure, the viceroy was inspecting Shamash-Ma and a black beauty, sitting in front of him on colorful cushions, from under the long lashes of his narrowed eyes. The African woman was eating heartily, but the red-haired beauty didn't touch anything.

"How are your Greek lessons going?" Kshayarsha pushed his Egyptian mistress away, leaned toward Shamash-Ma, rested his flawless face on his palms, and turned his almond eyes on the girl.

The maiden was taken aback. The prince smiled.

"Did you think I wouldn't realize? What else are you hiding? You know, I'll find out all of your secrets one by one, and then you'll never escape me. You don't think I couldn't have made your teacher spill everything by now? No one likes being skinned alive. They sing everything right then," Kshayarsha laughed.

Shamash-Ma blanched.

"Don't worry, I won't harm you. It would be a shame to spoil such beautiful skin."

The drunken man wanted to touch her cheek but couldn't reach. He stood up, stepped over the food, sat cross legged between Shamash-Ma and the black beauty, put the arms around both girls and pulled them in.

"I'll bring this one with me tonight," the prince eagerly kissed the black girl, "and you know what? Tomorrow morning she'll definitely know who she spent the night with. You can ask her everything in detail, if you understand her language, of course!"

The prince was obviously making fun of Shamash-Ma. He left the African woman alone and turned to face the red-haired beauty completely.

"If I had slept with you, silly, your body would remember it for a long time," Kshayarsha whispered in an almost somber voice and softly kissed her under the ear. "I don't want to steal anything from you, 'belonging of the sun'. When I have you, and I definitely will, you will remember that night always."

The prince's eyes, like embers, burned into the maiden's face, sending strange shivers down her back.

I shouldn't listen to this man-eating dev! the girl scolded herself.

Kshayarsha stood up, grabbed the African concubine and headed for his chambers. When he reached the pool, the prince looked back and caught the fuming emerald gaze. Shamash-Ma immediately lowered her eyelashes, but it was too late. The pleased Kshayarsha smiled to himself and continued on his way.

The following morning, the viceroy was traveling to the city of Babylon, taking his children with him. When the eunuch announced that Shamash-Ma had come asking to see him, Kshayarsha was very surprised.

"Let her in," he ordered, curious.

Did last night's jealousy trap work? the prince wondered.

Dressed in a white Babylonian gown, the girl looked particularly stunning this morning.

"Did you come to say goodbye, my beautiful fire-fly?"

"May God grant you and your children a safe journey, merciful Prince," Shamash-Ma kneeled and brought her head to the ground before the viceroy.

Suspicious of her unusual behavior, Kshayarsha approached the girl, pulled his beloved captive to her feet, and stared into her eyes. Of course, he was right! The man couldn't detect a hint of grievance in this obstinate creature.

"You wouldn't come for just this," Kshayarsha asked doubtfully.

"I came to get my wish, glorious Prince."

"Of course, you did. And what is your wish?"

"I want you to free my Greek teacher, my Lord," the maiden requested.

"Shamash-Ma, if I had intended to harm this man, I would have done so already. Keep your friend."

"I realized that, my Lord, but free him anyway."

"Alright, have it your way," Kshayarsha replied coldly.

"Will you give your order before you leave for Babylon?"

"Yes, my Master! What else?" The prince's temper was wearing thin.

"Thank you, merciful Mar Biti. May I go now?"

"You are free, my Lady."

Approaching the door, Shamash-Ma quickly spun around.

"Don't send your spies after him!"

This was over the top.

"I am a prince of Persia, not a street rat!" the enraged Kshayarsha thundered.

Everyone at this point would flee from the giant's rage, but Shamash-Ma was not everyone. Instead of running, she darted from her spot like a mountain gale. How the girl's delicate arms found their way around the dazed man's strong neck, the prince had no idea. When Kshayarsha came to his senses his anger was gone without a trace, he was bending over for some reason, and Shamash-Ma's trembling lips were whispering to his ear.

"I know who you are. And I know who I am."

"Who are you?" the prince asked, astonished.

"I am your rib," the beauty smiled, gently kissing him on the lips.

# Chapter 17

The Invincible Fortress

Kshayarsha's own vast lands, full of date palms, near the city of Babylon were run by his loyal ustarbarus, so the prince was rarely ever there. Even the Great Capital itself he only visited from time to time, and never stayed longer then needed. Kshayarsha himself probably couldn't understand why he never liked this city and why even his own splendid palace of dwelling rose uneasy feelings in his heart. Maybe it was because the viceroy's residence neighbored the Ziggurat from the south. From the north, it was side by side with the city's main stronghold. The east wing of the palace led to the Procession Road, while the west walls overlooked the Euphrates River.

Kshayarsha, along with Zopyrush and Baghabagsha, left this hated palace before the crack of dawn and came out on the Procession Road. He wanted to look at the new construction work while it was still possible to breath. Darayawahush and Vishtaspa accompanied their father.

The scenery which nobles found there was truly worthy of their early morning effort. The wall-pictures, completed with such mastery in small, colorful, glazed bricks, brought joy to the art-loving Kshayarsha's heart.

"Well done, Zopyrush! My orders are being carried out precisely. It's beyond doubt that one can't deny the beauty and splendor of the proud Babylonian palaces and temples, but I still prefer our Persian ornaments."

Kshayarsha pet the enormous lion's paw with his palm. The coolness of the glaze pleased the viceroy. The prince pressed his other hand against the wall as well.

"It's not only our achievement. Persian, Babylonian, and Yauna artisans are creating this masterpiece together," Baghabagsha mentioned casually.

"Yes," the prince sharply turned to his friend, "and this is the strength of the Persian Empire. We absorb everything worthy and fitting. We haven't denied anyone's value."

"You meant to say, we conquered all of them," Bagha laughed.

"No, my friend. Conquering is another story. We plant everything of all these people: culture, art, science, all of it, in the rich soil of Persia. By the confluence with our own Anshan traditions, the achievements of the Persian Empire have reached unbelievable heights. Look at Pasargadae, Parsa, even old Shushan and Hegmataneh. Who builds the bridges there? - The Yaunas. Who dyes our clothes blood red? - The Phoenicians. Who cuts the stones for us? - The Carians. Who weave our ropes? - The Egyptians. Who are our joiners, goldsmiths, blacksmiths? - The Tibarenians. Who observe our skies? - The Chaldeans." The Empire's accomplishments filled the young prince with pride. "Just you wait, Bagha. In a little while everything will mix together. Every nation in the Empire will absorb the knowledge and experience of their neighbors as we do. We are not only conquerors but also the power that moves this world forward!"

"The problem is, my Prince that these people don't understand so much. Right here, for example, in Babylon, from the lowest slave to highest noble, everyone is the Great Sunki's bandaka, a slave. Do you think the local nobles like that?"

"Wearing 'the belt of obedience' is very difficult for some. I have spent enough time in Babylon to understand this," Kshayarsha smiled.

"The other satrapies whine as well that all the wealth goes to the capitals."

"It's an expected thing, Bagha. A slave can't compare to a free man, and a satrap -- to the Great Sunki. A remote village is no splendid city. First, everything belongs to the Empire's heart, the sunki and his capitals, and then whatever is left over will be divided among the rest. This is a law laid down by the gods themselves."

Kshayarsha turned to Zopyrush.

"When will my father's famous inscriptions be ready?"

"As you are my witness, the job is moving forward quite fast," Zopyrush brought the viceroy to the wall. Intense labor was going on there. "As you see, the Akkadian writing is almost finished. The Aramaic should be done soon as well. No one is slacking here, neither the slaves nor the artisans."

"And a good thing too! We're paying them so much, my uncle went insane. Parnaka sends me letter after letter, accusing me of spending excessively on Babylon. But that's all right. It's necessary. When the Akkadians go down their Procession Road to worship their Bel-Marduk, they'll look at this inscription and remember who is the Great Sunki of Persia and what will befall anyone who dares to rebel against the Empire!"

"Speaking of disobedient slaves, the sheshgallu wanted to have a word with you," Baghabagsha informed his friend.

"He already did. I always get a headache after visiting Esagila. I need to ask a Babylonian healer what kind of evil omen this might be!"

"So what are you going to do now?" Baghabagsha smirked at the hidden threat behind Kshayarsha's words.

"Nothing, I'm going back to Sippar."

"Are you hurrying back to your new mistress? I'll come with you too. It's a lot cooler in Sippar."

"No, Bagha. I'll send you to a much cooler place. Take my kids to Amisiri in Hegmataneh."

"Your wish is my command, glorious Prince," Baghabagsha cheerfully answered, "and a great honor as well, if you entrust the beautiful Umati to me. You know I like this daughter of yours very much," the witty young man added with a laugh and looked over at his friend devilishly.

"Careful, Bagha!" the prince furrowed his brows.

Zopyrush also glared at his son sternly.

Upon arriving in Sippar, Kshayarsha wanted to see Shamash-Ma right away. The maiden's unexpected parting kiss had lingered on his lips the whole time he was away, but he didn't want to reveal his own impatience to the girl. So, he put off seeing her until the formal feast the next day.

The viceroy's arrival left Shamash-Ma restless as well. The chief's daughter tossed and turned in her bed. She tried to sleep but couldn't find any rest. To put the prince out of her head, the maiden lay on her back and started memorizing her Persian lesson for the day out loud.

"Adukanaisha, or Nisannu in Babylonian - the month of the New Year, Thuravahara- Ajaru, Thaigacish- Simanu, Garmapada- Duuzu, Turnabazish- Abu, Karbasiyash- Ululu, Bagayadish- Tashritu... This month, if I hadn't snuck out to bathe, I wouldn't have run into the giant and I'd be in Ionia right now," Shamash-Ma quit memorizing the months and her thoughts involuntarily turned back to Kshayarsha.

What's wrong with me? Why am I thinking about him? He's a seven headed dev, and worse! He smiles sweetly and means to ruin me! He already has a wife and many other mistresses too! These unfortunate women have lost all decency and do anything just to gain the prince's attention. Does he even know all their names? I'll never become one of them! the proud girl fumed and went on. I kissed him myself. What bit me? So what he's so handsome and proud? Thank God, Kshayarsha is this way. He expects every woman to go after him. Zareh would have acted entirely differently in his shoes. Although, he's still no better than Zareh! When he loses his patience who knows what he'll do? The Persians can't compare to our Svan or even Kolchian men. They kidnap girls too, but only to take as wives. Who would ever treat a woman disrespectfully there? But this vishap doesn't think about marrying me and he doesn't even attempt to hide his sinful intentions. And I, the fool that I am, can't even sleep because of him! the teary Shamash-Ma was reprimanding herself.

Suddenly a strange sound came from the hall, then the rug moved aside and Attar-Dannat and Manushtanu rushed in.

"Help us, Shamash-Ma!" Pale from fear, the dancer sprang for her friend's bed.

"What happened?" The girl was completely lost.

"If they catch us now, they'll kill us both!"

The commotion outside grew closer.

"They're looking for a man. We're doomed!" Attar-Dannat buried her face in her hands.

"Quiet! Healer, you come here," Shamash-Ma motioned Manushtanu to the edge of her bed.

As soon as the physician sat down, the rug moved aside again and Ardaja burst in with two guards.

"What are you doing here so late?" The head eunuch stared at the Persian man.

"I know its late, Ardaja, but my head hurt so badly, I couldn't bear it! I asked Attar-Dannat to bring a healer. Don't get mad at me, Ardaja," the tricky captive moaned, feigning illness.

"There's nothing to be angry over. When you don't feel well, you should tell me and I'll bring Manushtanu myself."

"I wanted to do just that, but Dannata was already here. And I didn't want to disturb your sleep."

Ardaja was pleased with the girl's consideration toward him.

"That's my humble duty, as well as an honor, my little Lady," he nodded and turned to Manushtanu.

"Where is your medicine basket?"

The physician was confused only for moment.

"The dancer told me that our Lady had a headache," he immediately came to his senses. "You know that headaches are a sign from the gods and we should cure it by sacred prayers, so I treat this illness in a Babylonian way. I've already read her so many prayers but still haven't discovered the demon that causes such pain."

"Our Gula temple priest would have already found and cast that demon away by now," the eunuch glanced at the physician with reprimand.

"You're right. I'm better at healing wounds and poisons. Only Egyptian Kurums can compare with Babylonian priests in curing illnesses caused by demons."

Ardaja immediately detected the shameless cajolery of the witty Persian man, but this cheep trick still flattered his Babylonian heart.

"Did my prayers help at all?" the healer turned to Shamash-Ma.

'Tormented' with pain, the girl shook her head no.

"If we don't bring the Lady a powerful chanter, she won't be able to get up in the morning," the Persian confidently assured the eunuch.

"I'll send a servant to Gula temple right away and have them send a healer. The priests of that temple are best."

"A wise idea," Manushtanu agreed.

"What's that noise?" Shamash-Ma asked.

"The guards are searching the musicians and concubines' rooms. One eunuch says he ran into a couple embracing in a dim hallway, but the lovers ran off. The eunuch swears that they both leapt from the stair landing. The woman hurt her leg and the man carried her off in his arms," Ardaja frowned, displeased.

"Did they come this way?" Shamash-Ma was intrigued.

"The eunuch didn't see as much, but the guards are turning everything upside down nevertheless," Ardaja sighed.

"My legs are fine, Ardaja," Shamash-Ma flailed her legs under the covers.

"They were probably servants. Spying on the prince's concubines isn't enough for the eunuchs, now they're watching slaves too?" the healer smiled.

"I feel the same way, but don't you know the guards? Now until they look under every bed, they won't leave," Ardaja moaned.

"Well check then, but quickly!" Shamash-Ma pointed under the bed.

"The guards already know no one except these two have come to your chamber, but the rules are rules," the eunuch apologized.

The immortams examined every corner carefully and when they found nothing suspicious, they left the room along with the eunuch.

"Can't you explain what's happening?" finally when they were alone, Shamash-Ma whispered to her uninvited guests.

"Remember when I told you my story?"

Shamash-Ma nodded.

"Well, this is my lover," Attar-Dannat sat beside Manushtanu. "We see each other in secret sometimes."

"Manushtanu?!" Shamash-Ma stiffened with surprise but instantly came to herself.

"What's wrong with you two? You already know the prince promised to free you. Can't you wait a little bit?" Shamash-Ma flared up.

"I know, we're guilty."

"Thank God, Ardaja swallowed my lie."

"We're saved at the moment, but everything will be revealed anyway," the dancer lifted her dress and showed her red, swollen ankle.

"Oh my God! The feast!" Shamash-Ma covered her mouth.

Manushtanu knelt beside his lover and inspected her injury.

"It's not broken, but it will swell up more for tomorrow and hurt more too," the man thought deeply. "I have such herbs and liniments that you'll be up and about in two-three days, but there's no way you'll dance tomorrow!"

"If I don't perform tomorrow, Ardaja will figure everything out, tell the Mar Biti, and we'll be ruined forever!" Attar-Dannat started to cry.

"I will numb it with malideh so you can walk carefully, but forget about dancing. That's impossible!"

"Don't worry, we'll think of something," Shamash-Ma comforted her friends. "I'll call you again for tomorrow, Manushtanu. Bring the medicine for Dannata. Until then we can wrap her ankle in wine-soaked rags. They treat sprains like that where I'm from."

"We do the same," the healer smiled.

The priest, summoned by Ardaja from the Gula temple, tortured Shamash-Ma with prayers till dawn. The next morning, exhausted from the night's emotional intricacy, the girl didn't even lie to the eunuch when whimpering that she felt so weak, she couldn't get up. And so, the physician was once more summoned.

Responding to the young lady's request, armed with his famous woven basket, Manushtanu immediately arrived to her bedchamber but instead of curing the viceroy's mistress, he turned all his attention to his own lover. The healer applied balm to Attar-Dannat's injured ankle and made her drink some malideh too. After Manushtanu left, the girls slept peacefully until dark. The two friends would have kept enjoying their rest longer, but a young dancer's curly head peeked in from behind the rug and asked for Attar-Dannat.

"It's time to get ready; we're all waiting for you, Dannata."

"What am I going to do, Shamash-Ma? During the performance everyone will see that my ankle hurts and I'll be doomed!" the troubled girl sobbed.

"Follow me. I have an idea," Shamash-Ma grabbed the dancer's hand and brought her to the garden-hall.

The palace entertainers were gathered by the pool. Some were already dressed for the night; others were just about to change.

"Hey girls, did you hear the news? This lady claims that there is no better dancer than her in all of Babylon," Shamash-Ma announced provocatively.

"Hmm. Attar-Dannat really is the best dancer," one of the women answered.

"She's really good but not the best. I bet you this necklace, Dannata that I am no less than you are. If you dare let me dance instead of you tonight and someone notices the difference, then it is yours."

"What are you talking about, Shamash-Ma? You're the prince's concubine! You can't do that!" the Babylonian's eyes widened in fear.

"I'm not the prince's concubine and you're just afraid I'll best you! Besides, how will they tell that it's me dancing? You always come out with your face covered anyway. It will be our secret. If you beat me, the necklace is yours. But if I get more praise from the guests, you'll stop bragging. Deal?"

The witnesses were torn. Some sided with Attar-Dannat in not partaking in this dubious challenge, but most couldn't see any harm in it. After a little hesitation, Attar-Dannat gave up.

"Do you have black curls around here?" Shamash-Ma asked.

"As much as you like," the women cheered.

"And some cream to make my skin darker?"

The question created much confusion among the entertainers.

"I know of ones that make you lighter, but darker? I've never heard of it," the eldest woman shook her head, troubled.

"If we mix red and black hair dyes into the ointment, I wonder how it would come out," an experiment-loving Egyptian singer made a blind suggestion.

"Send everything useful with this little girl and Dannata to my chamber. The rest of you stay outside or the guards will smell something," Shamash-Ma clapped.

The cunning young lady seemed very pleased by how everything was coming, but to accomplish her plan, first she had to excuse herself from the feast, so the roguish girl headed for the head eunuch's room.

"What can I do, Ardaja? I came outside. I even chatted with the dancers a little bit, but I still don't feel well. I'm afraid I won't be able to attend the feast."

"Did you call the healer?"

"How can I bother Manushtanu so much?"

"That is his job, Shamash-Ma! What else is he good for? This is why Manushtanu gets paid so well! If he doesn't cure you soon, I'll give him hell! Now, go to your room and get to bed! I'll have the healer brought," the eunuch flared.

Much pleased with the results of her visit, the little imp trudged back to her room with a gloomy face. When Manushtanu came to the lady's chamber, a hilarious sight lay before his eyes. Shamash-Ma, already disguised in dancer's clothes, was fixing the black curls onto her temples while Attar-Dannat and another young maiden was busy rubbing some brownish ointment on her bare calves.

"Stop whatever you are doing immediately!" the man waved his arms upon entering the room.

"Don't tattle our secret, Manushtanu! I challenged Attar-Dannat that I could dance in her place and no one would tell the difference."

"And will only painting your skinny legs help that?" The sharp healer momentarily grasped their witty plan and joined in on the dangerous scam. "Attar-Dannat dances like a goddess."

At hearing the physician's words, Shamash-Ma's little helper giggled cheerfully. The lover's compliment seemingly pleased Dannata too. As for the young imposter, she furrowed her brows:

"I'm no worse!"

"I don't believe it," the man challenged.

"When you see with your own eyes, then you will."

"And you're hoping to achieve all that by being blotchy and off color?"

"What else can we do?"

"I know a better way of making you dark. You've planned such an entertaining night that I have no choice but to help."

Saying that, Manushtanu produced an empty phialai from his basket, placed it on the table and poured clean water into it from the jar. Then he dug out a small glass vial of some brown liquid, carefully removed the cap and added a few drops to the phialai. The water turned brown right away.

"This is a very powerful dye of green walnut peel. My fingers constantly get stained with it. If we mix it properly, we should get a dark skin tone. The key is not to use too much or you'll burn."

Manushtanu dipped a white cloth into the water and rubbed the girl's arm. The dark golden streak appeared to be quite different from Dannata's natural color, but Shamash-Ma liked it very much. In no time, the snowy white beauty was painted golden from head to toe. At the healer's insistence, they even colored her covered skin as well. Of course, the physician had no part in that, but he personally filled in her face and was much pleased by the results.

"If I ever quit healing people, I'll take up painting sculptures," the Persian man announced proudly.

The girls quickly finished dressing Shamash-Ma, firmly tied her red locks back and fixed the black curls onto her head. Then, they added a light green cloak on top. This, they also firmly fastened to her hair with pins. When finally done with her hair, the helpers covered Shamash-Ma's face with a golden veil. Dressed like this, nothing but the girl's eyes showed. They painted her eyebrows black too and connected them in the Persian fashion. To top it off, bunches of bracelets were thrown on her wrists and ankles and so the girl's embellishment was complete.

"How well this kind of attire suits you, Shamash-Ma! You look like the goddess Ishtar. You're taller than me, and a bit too gold, but hopefully no one will pay any attention to that." Attar-Dannat was staring with admiration at her friend who resembled the Babylonian goddess of love indeed.

After that the injured dancer climbed into Shamash-Ma's sheets while her swindling decoy drew the heavy curtains on the bed.

When Ardaja came to ask about his charge, Manushtanu assured him that there was nothing seriously wrong with the girl, but it was still necessary for her to rest in bed. While the healer was fooling the poor eunuch, Shamash-Ma, along with the accomplice, mixed in with the other dancers and went out into the apadana.

Two long tables were set along the wall on either side of the festive hall. The servants left the middle of the apadana vacant on purpose. The viceroy of Babylon wished to gratify his company with a splendid performance tonight. For Kshayarsha and his honored guests, the food was set on a rug in the elevated part of the hall. The glorious prince himself, along with Shamash-Eriba, Zopyrush, and Marduniya, who had just arrived that very morning, was proudly perched on the soft cushions, calmly looking about the room. A little ways from this group, on the same rug, sat three of Kshayarsha's mistresses, swanking in their exquisite clothes and jewels.

The prince liked mixed banquets. In his opinion, women always brightened up the table. Kshayarsha had enough of the coarse feasts of men in the hunting and war camps. The viceroy of Babylon never treated his concubines any less than his wife. He spent many expenses on his lovers and often took them out in public, displaying their beauty with great pride. On the other hand, the concubines, while their fleeting stars were still shining, tried to take all the benefit they could of the moment.

The majority of the guests sitting at the tables in the hall consisted of Sipparian nobles and Persian troop commanders. Traveling merchants also found hospitality in the feast of the generous host.

Kshayarsha was talking with Marduniya, sneaking peeks at his concubines all the while.

Why is she so late? the prince thought to himself.

"Ardushnamuya followed the sunki's suit to Hegmataneh with the kids. It's unbearably hot in Shushan. Babylon is also burning. It feels a little bit better here in Sippar. At least you can breathe at night. I can't wait till I reach Cappadocia," the spadapatish was complaining to his friend about the Mesopotamian weather.

"As if it's any cooler over there!" the sweating Zopyrush piped in.

"At least it's a little better in Hatushash than here, my Lord," the young noble answered politely.

Marduniya was known as a kind and peaceful person by nature. however, Persia's spadapatish would take even such a harmless objection as too bold from anyone else, but Kshayarsha and Marduniya, along with Bagha had grown into young men under Zopyrush's guidance, so the old fox benefited from the privileges of being their mentor.

"What's new in Shushan?" at seeing his discontented face, the prince immediately changed the subject.

"Nothing much. Ariuabrdna was visiting your father for a while, but he couldn't accomplish much of his desires. The Satrap of Bactra left just as empty-handed as he had come."

"I heard about that. The rumors already reached Sippar," Kshayarsha smirked.

"The Yaunas also visit the sunki's court more often now. They're complaining about their ill fate, and beg for Great Darayawahush's help."

"Hmm, they are blood-thirsty and are pushing my father for war."

"But our loyal Yaunas have many reasons for being unhappy with their brothers."

"And is their 'ill fate' any of our business?"

This conversation promised nothing good for Kshayarsha. He remembered very well the bloody Ionian revolt and had no desire to discus the possibility of a new war. Fortunately, Ardaja came in from a back door and approached the prince respectfully. The eunuch quietly whispered something to the viceroy and left the hall immediately.

A slightly visible gloom crossed over Kshayarsha's features.

"Did something happen?" Marduniya asked.

"Nothing worthy of your attention," the prince assured with a smile, passing his golden phialai of wine to Shamash-Eriba.

Offering the host's own cup was an old Anshanian custom. By doing so, the Persians were acknowledging the importance of their guests. The Akkadian noble was obviously pleased by the prince's public display. Lately, the viceroy of Babylon was paying particular attention to Shamash-Eriba for obvious reasons. Over the past year Kshayarsha's interest was gradually shifting from Babylon to Persepolis. This was no surprise to anyone. Shamash-Eriba fully understood that the viceroy needed a loyal and trustworthy servant in his long absence here. Who could have been a better candidate than him? Descended from the last Babylonian king, Nabunaid, Shamash-Eriba could now even become a Persian king's close relative. The prince hinted to the Akkad noble that he might marry his youngest daughter. The girl was still but a child. Shamash-Eriba had to wait a long time for such an honor, but the sheer fact that Kshayarsha even considered marrying a Babylonian maiden meant a lot. The Akkadian courtier had both, the power and skill to rule the satrapy of Babylon wisely. And thus, Shamash-Eriba put on 'the belt of loyalty' for all to see and didn't let an opportunity slide to prove his devotion to Persia.

"Did you see our new wall in Babylon?" the prince asked Marduniya.

"No, I didn't get to. I came straight here."

"It's coming out beautifully. Zopyrush is in charge of the work. And the Babylonians greatly help us with the supplies."

"When it comes to beauty, you have no match, my Prince. Here, let's take your Sipparian dancers for example. I hear not many can compare to their loveliness," Marduniya complimented his friend's taste.

"So why don't you grace us with their arts?" the portly old fox asked.

"I let you eat first, my dear Zopyrush. Because once you see the dancers, you'd be left hungry," Kshayarsha laughed and signaled the musicians along the wall.

At the first sound of the melody, the entertainers slid into the hall. A graceful girl with a golden veil took the center, while the others circled her in three layers. And the performance began. The guests immediately left their food and turned to the dancers.

Gently swaying to the soft melody, the girls easily captivated the onlookers with their amazing litheness and grace. Kshayarsha also was enjoying his entertainers. The music slowly picked up the tempo and the girls scattered throughout the hall. They were all superior dancers, but none could match the leading lady. The veiled enchantress swayed so passionately to the melody that one might think that this goddess of love had no bones. Staring at the dancing girl, the prince was already regretting his promise to his beautiful captive. The speed picked up even more. The maidens twirled like burning flames and soon their passionate dance grew into wild, uncontrollable torrents of motion. When the performance reached its climax, the music suddenly ceased and the exhausted girls fell to the floor all at once.

The sudden surrounding silence burst into enraptured applause. Leaping to their feet and shouting loudly, the feasters chucked fistfuls of gold coins and jewelry at the dancers. The girls cheerfully started gathering their gifts off the floor. Only the veiled sorceress didn't reach for the gold.

Exceedingly pleased, Kshayarsha felt the desire to reward the girl himself. Getting to his feet, the viceroy approached the edge of the rug, took the bracelet off his arm and motioned the dancer to come. The bowing girl carefully advanced to the elevated area. When the prince got a closer look at the smooth step of the approaching girl, he froze in astonishment. The graceful swanlike neck, slender waist, round yet narrow hips, long shapely calves, and childishly pointy knees immediately reminded Kshayarsha of someone he had just recently seen. The bowing dancer stopped before the master of Babylon and froze in anticipation.

"You have greatly delighted us with your enchanting skills, sorceress of the dance."

The hall loudly sang in agreement with the prince's words.

"Except this small gift from me for now, girl, and I'll award you much more soon enough," Kshayarsha announced eloquently, evoking laughter from the crowd.

Standing on the platform, the prince bent down and handed the bracelet to the dancer. The bowing girl hesitantly touched the gift, but the prince didn't let the bracelet go.

"You must at least turn your eyes to your master in thanks, my beauty," the man demanded mockingly.

The frozen girl did not move.

"Look at me, my beauty!" Kshayarsha thundered.

The terrified girl unwillingly looked up, casting her green eyes on the prince.

"Won't you tell me anything?"

"It seems to be your dense habit to generously reward every woman with bracelets, glorious Mar Biti!" Knowing that she was already in trouble, the girl didn't suppress her mountain spirit and showed the prince his previous gift, permanently fixed on her wrist.

The dancer's impudent response enraged the already fuming Kshayarsha eminently. Such a malicious storm was stirring in the viceroy's gaze, that the girl couldn't believe her ears when she heard the prince's sweetened voice:

"You may go rest, my pretty one."

But Shamash-Ma didn't move, mesmerized.

"What are you waiting for? You may go, my girl," Kshayarsha repeated softly.

Coming to her senses, the bowing dancer walked back without turning around, silently mixed in with the other entertainers in the middle of the hall and slipped away immediately.

The prince returned to his seat.

"It seemed like you were getting mad at the girl for a moment there," Marduniya murmured to his friend.

"Nothing escapes your watchful eyes, Spadapatish. Didn't you recognize this Lady?"

The guest looked at the viceroy of Babylon, confused.

The prince sprang to his feet with no explanations and disappeared through the back door.

Reaching the room, the painted girl knelt on the rug, removed the veil from her face and turned her hopeless eyes to her friend peeking out from behind the bed drapes.

"What happened, Shamash-Ma?" the Babylonian asked, sliding from the bed.

The girl was about to answer when the ominous Kshayarsha entered the chamber. At seeing their master, Attar-Dannat jumped back into bed, throwing the covers over herself. The prince wordlessly pointed her to the entrance. Attar-Dannat barely crawled from the bed and crept behind the rug.

"What does this all mean?" A lion's roar wouldn't have been as frightening as Kshayarsha's hoarse whisper.

But scaring Shamash-Ma was not so easy. She was the Svan chief's daughter after all. The girl wasn't expecting anything good from being in a Sippar palace anyway. Sooner or later, all of this had to come to an end. And so the maiden gathered her courage and rose to her feet before the prince.

"How dare you come half naked to the feast and dance for the entertainment of drunken men?" the fuming Kshayarsha's eyes glared maliciously at her.

"But the others dance, don't they?" the girl asked provocatively.

"They are brought here for that! And you know what else? They often pleasure my guests with other things as well!" the prince harshly spoke through his teeth. "I will not have a dancer as a concubine!"

"Very well! That's exactly what I want!"

"Your punishment will be severe, you impudent creature!" the viceroy started shaking.

"I'm not afraid of your threats! Skin me alive if you want to!" The girl's emerald embers glowed so rebelliously from beneath furrowed black brows, that the giant lost his temper.

"And you think that will be it? You will fully get what you deserve! First I will seize everything from you; all that a man can wish from such a lovely woman and then throw you to the guests and the immortals for their pleasure like those unfortunate dancers!" Kshayarsha threateningly stepped toward the prey.

Shamash-Ma carefully drew back. The prince continued toward the painted girl and she kept retreating until her back hit the wall. The man sneered mockingly, wrapped his arms around her and moved in for a kiss when suddenly he felt a sharp prick on the left side of his neck.

"Let me go or I'll kill you right here, right now!" Shamash-Ma's emerald eyes glared menacingly.

Kshayarsha hesitated out of surprise for only a moment. Then he fell on the girl's lips like a thirsty beast. Shamash-Ma's golden hair pin silently slid to the rug. Helpless tears burned the captive's cheeks.

"I love you, you stubborn fairy. Don't force me to kill you!"

The man submerged his prey in such a savage affection, that she could hardly breath. His previous anger vanished without a trace. Now only boundless zeal for the girl and uncontrollable desire to have her right away stirred in his soul. Shamash-Ma did not resist Kshayarsha, nor did she answer his kiss. Astounded at the girl's coldness, the prince finally drew back.

"Let me go, Kshayarsha. Don't you have enough women besides me?" the crying girl begged in a quiet voice.

"I can't."

"You are a prince of Persia. You can do anything."

"I really can't." Kshayarsha replied and gently kissed the girl on the neck.

"I'll never be your mistress! If you force me, I'll kill myself. Because I spared you just now doesn't mean I'll spare myself too!"

"No, you won't. I won't let you!" possessed by passion, the prince whispered.

The man ripped the girl's top off with one fluid movement, then picked her up and firmly pinned her to the wall with his weight. Shamash-Ma was now glaring down at him, helplessly flailing her legs. Kshayarsha grabbed the girl's soft sides tightly in his paws.

"You want this too, my fire-fly," he grinned, reaching for her nipple.

"This is worse than death for a woman among my people! Even if you are right and I love you, I'll still die from shame and worry," the helpless maiden was shedding tears.

"What? women don't love men in your country?" The astonished prince left the girl's breast for a moment.

"Where I'm from, a woman only loves her husband. And a man has only one wife. You see, I can never become your concubine! Have pity on me. What good will my death bring you?"

Who ever said there's no such thing as an invincible fortress? Here she is, this stubborn creature. Thinking that, Kshayarsha set the sobbing Shamash-Ma on the rug and left the room without even looking back at the girl.

The viceroy headed straight back to the apadana, rejoined the feast and didn't leave his guests till dawn. As for Shamash-Ma, she barely reached the bed and didn't sleep a wink all night. Finally exhausted from her thoughts, she fell into slumber as the first rays of the sun slipped into her chamber.

Returning from the banquet, Kshayarsha didn't even think to lie down. It was clear to him that something must be done without delay. The glorious prince of Persia, the formidable viceroy of Babylon, the most probable heir of the Empire, could not stay in such a thwarting situation for much longer. Having a concubine in the palace who did not submit to her master would cast a shadow on Kshayarsha's worthy name and this could not be tolerated, especially now, when the sunki was about to announce his successor. If this compromising news reached the wrong ears, the invincible Empire would never accept Kshayarsha as its future ruler because of his unforgivable weakness.

Covering up this awkward affair was not hard at all. The prince could have the girl killed. This would be the fastest and easiest solution. But forcefully having the concubine and then killing her by his own hands would probably be the even more suitable action for strengthening the stern and just image of the viceroy. There was another option also. Kshayarsha could vehemently master the girl and keep her for himself. The prince was certain that the beauty wouldn't die because of this, but her glossy nature would forever be faded. Any of these deeds certainly implied punishing the girl one way or another, but that was exactly what Kshayarsha didn't want to do. He remembered Shamash-Ma's words:

"Let me go, Kshayarsha...You are a prince of Persia. You can do anything."

What a naïve mistake. This was not the first time the merciless Empire had demanded silent obedience from the prince and Kshayarsha always submitted without saying a word, but not this time. This time he had enough. The heavy hearted Kshayarsha stood to his feet and firmly headed to Shamash-Ma's room.

Batting her long eyelashes, the girl yawned sweetly and opened her sleepy emerald eyes. Her surroundings were bathed in such a golden haze of the bright midday sun, that at first she was completely blinded. As soon as she was able to make anything out in that light, the terrified girl immediately covered her bare breasts with her arms. Sitting crossed legged at the foot of her bed, Kshayarsha was openly staring at his beautiful captive and smiling warmly. No trace of last night's fury lingered in his visage.

"How long have you been here?" the baffled maiden asked.

"Not nearly long enough."

"Can I get dressed?" Shamash-Ma pleaded fearfully.

The viceroy shook his head no. The girl got scared.

"I'm leaving right now. I just came to say goodbye," the man calmed her down.

Could she trust him? Shamash-Ma was not so sure about that.

"I'm granting your wish," Kshayarsha smirked bitterly. "Ardaja will bring you travel clothes, a bag of money and a weapon. The dagger I took from you in Melitene, I'll keep as a sweet memory. If you don't wish to stay here, you may go wherever you like. I won't stop you."

"You'll really let me go?" Shamash-Ma couldn't believe her ears.

"Yes," Kshayarsha smiled sadly.

The girl leapt from the bed, hugged the prince and clung to his chest in tears.

"If you don't quit hugging me, I'll change my mind," the young man warned his captive.

Shamash-Ma drew back right away.

"If you could only know what's going on in my heart..." Tears rolled down the girl's cheeks.

"I know," the prince placed a hushing finger on her lips not giving Shamash-Ma permission to say anything further. "Farewell, my lovely fire-fly," he gently kissed the girl, swiftly jumped from the bed and left the room with quick steps.

Silenced in awe, the beauty sat dazed for a long time. No explanation, no reasons... Kshayarsha didn't even give her a chance to shed a good few tears on his mighty chest. How unfair was that? The startling freedom didn't even make the captive feel happy.

By the time Shamash-Ma came to her senses, she was already kicked out in the dusty streets of Sippar. Had it not been for the guard secretly following her, the girl might have thought her days spent in the palace were but a dream.

The prince stood at the window, not taking his sorrowful eyes off of the fiery haired beauty, walking away from the palace. At the gate, Shamash-Ma slowed down a little, looked back, sadly waved at someone and disappeared behind the fortress wall.

Kshayarsha stepped away from the window and turned around. Sitting on the edge of a high backed chair, Marduniya was staring at his feet, trying his best to avoid his friend's eyes. The head eunuch was also standing nearby.

"Are you planning on playing a game of silence with me all day?" the prince asked angrily.

"So, you let her go," Marduniya responded quietly.

"I let her be."

"That means you gave up on her. You never did that before."

"I've never given up on anything and never will. I just want her to find out herself that she belongs to me."

"By letting her go? That's dangerous."

"What could possibly happen to her, Marduniya? The guard will follow her everywhere. Besides, Shamash-Ma bears the bracelet with the Faravahar and my name on it. Who would dare to come close to her?"

"What if she sneaks out of the Empire?"

"That's impossible. She would never manage to do so."

"If this strange decision of yours ever leaves the walls of Sippar, and it will happen, trust me on it, there are plenty of people who will interpret your actions to the sunki in completely unfavorable for you ways."

"I know, but I am not afraid of them! I am not their slave; they are mine! And nobody will dare master my life from this day on. Not even the invincible Empire! I am the only master of my life!"

"I warned you, my friend. The Great Sunki may consider this as a show of weakness." Marduniya got up and slowly left Kshayarsha's bedchamber.

The viceroy turned to the silent eunuch.

"What do you say, my loyal servant? I bet you didn't expect such weakness toward this savage girl from me either?" the prince smirked.

"No, glorious Mar Biti, but I didn't expect such proof of strength from any man who was born of an earthly woman," enraptured by his master's magnificence, the eunuch bowed to the ground before the viceroy of Babylon.

Kshayarsha turned to the window again and swept his sorrowful gaze over the infinite emptiness around him. The prince himself would soon leave this lonely place for a long time, submitting himself to the Empire, the same Empire to whose heartless laws its own prince proudly announced his disobedience.

Again, time was passing hopelessly slow in Sippar. Buried up to his neck in endless responsibilities as always, Marduniya promised his royal friend that he'd meet him in Ecbatana as soon as possible and set out for Cappadocia. Left alone in his domain, the viceroy of Babylon felt completely rejected and abandoned. As if it was not bad enough, an unexpected failure crashed down on the prince's mighty shoulders. Four days after freeing Shamash-Ma, the head eunuch brought in an immortal disguised as a skouthi. The huge guard fell on his face before Kshayarsha and reported in a horrified voice:

"I'm not worthy of forgiveness, my Prince! I couldn't fulfill your order! I followed the young Lady to Babylon, but I lost her there."

"What do you mean you lost her?" Kshayarsha jumped to his feet like a bitten man.

"The Lady bought a horse in Sippar and rode to the capital. I didn't loose sight of her even for a moment. When it turned night, the girl headed for the other bank of the city, crossing the Semiramis Bridge. Midway she suddenly jumped from her horse and dove head first into the Euphrates. I didn't have time act in response," the unfortunate guard was ready to weep.

"What, she drowned? She killed herself?" the horrified eunuch cried.

"I don't know, probably," the immortal crushed his face to the ground again.

"No, Ardaja. She didn't drown. Shamash-Ma can swim like a fish," the prince sighed in relief.

"So we lost her," the eunuch groaned.

"No, my loyal servant. We haven't lost her. She wears a bracelet with my name on her wrist, remember? Who would dare touch her? She can't hide from me anywhere. Even if she buries herself under the ground, I will still find her," Kshayarsha's eyes, like glowing embers, burned as the god Attar in the darkness.

### (End of book one)

# An Index of Names

### -A-

Achaemenids – the Greek name of a royal dynasty of ancient Persia, (Hakhamanishiya in O.P.), named after its legendary founder Achaemenes (Hakhamanish in O.P.).

Ardumanish – a historical person; the son of Vakauka; the name of one of the six conspirators, who made Darayawahush I the king of Persia. This name is the only thing we knew about him from the Bisutun Inscription. Herodotus calls him Aspathines.

Amisiri – a historical person; Herodotus gives us Amestris as the name of Xerxes' wife. But on the cuneiforms from the period of Darayawahush I, the royal woman Amisiri is mentioned, who could have been the King's wife. In this novel the author uses her name as the Persian version of 'Amestris' because 'Amisiri' sounds suspiciously similar to 'Amestris'.

Amirani – a fictional character; the oldest son of the King of Kolchis during the period in which this story takes place.

Ardushnamuya – a historical person; the name is Old Persian. In Greek sources she's called Artozostre; the daughter of Darayawahush I and Artystone (Irtashduna O.P.); the wife of Marduniya, one of the most important generals of Persia.

Anapa – a historical person; Anaphes (O.G.); the son of Utana; the Persian general during the reign of Kshayarsha I.

Ariuabrdna – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; his Greek name leaves us with much confusion. Ariamenes/Ariaramnes/Ariobarzanes/Masistes, any of these can be referring to this prince. The author understands Masistes/Masishta as a title. As for the other names, it is not clear which one is correct. He was the second son of Darayawahush I and queen Hutaosha; the satrap of Bactria.

Arvishti /Argishti I – a historical person; the sixth known king of Urartu; reigned 785BCE – 763 BCE. He founded the citadel of Erebuni in 782 BCE, the present day capital of Armenia.

Aristagoras – a historical person; the tyrant of Miletos in the late 6th century BCE and early 5th century BCE; the leader of Ionian revolt 499 – 493 BCE.

Artavazda –a historical person; the name is Persian; Artabazos (O.G.); the son of Parnaka, a commander of the mounted archers from Chorasmia and Parthia during the Greek expedition of king Kshayarsha in 480 – 479 BCE; later the satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia.

Aritba –a historical person; Aritbos (O.G.); the Cilician general, who fought on the Persian side during the Ionian revolt (499 – 493 BCE).

Aryanda –a historical person; Aryandes (O.G.); the satrap of Egypt during Darayawahush's reign; was accused making false coins and killed by the king.

Arshama –a historical person; Arsames (O.G.); a prince; the son of Darayawahush and Irtashduna.

Adar-Enlil – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; a shapiru of Arbela.

Ardaja – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; Kshayarsha's chief eunuch.

Aspakana –a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Aspathines (O.G.); a very powerful courtier; in an inscription from Naqsh-i-Rustam he is mentioned as the king's Vacabara. The meaning of this title is not fully clear, (chief economic official?). Although he was not a high noble by birth, Aspakana gained unbelievable power in the king's court and maybe even became a member of the famous Seven families of Persia. The author believes that this is the reason why Herodotus mistakably includes his name among the conspirators who brought Darayawahush into power.

Ariomardush –a historical person; Ariomardos (O.G.); a prince; the son of Darayawahush and Uparmaya.

Attar-Dannat – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; the Babylonian dancer and closest friend to Mzysia; wife of Manushtanu.

Artakhshasa – a historical person; Artakhshatra/Artakhshaca, Artaxerxses I Macrocheir, longimanus in Latin, (both words mean 'long arm'); Achaemenid king of Persia, reigned 465 – 425 BCE. His name has a few different explanations; the author chose among them 'the justice of Kshayarsha', only because it suites the story.

Arbaku –a historical person; the name is Babylonian; Harpagos (O.G.); the Persian general who conquered Lycia during Darayawahush's reign.

### -B-

Baghabaksha/ Baghabaxsha (1) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Megabyzos (O.G.); the name means 'God save!'; one of the seven conspirators who helped Darayawahush I ascend the throne in 521 BCE; the father of Zopyrush and the grandfather of Baghabaksha the junior.

Baghabaksha/ Baghabaxsha (2) – a historical person; the name is Persian; Megabyzos (O.G.); the name means 'God save!'; the friend and son-in-law of Kshayarsha I; one of the supreme commanders of the Persian army during the Greek expedition of king Kshayarsha in 480 – 479 BCE; the satrap of Syria.

Bardia – a fictional character; older brother to the main character, Mzysia.

Bardiya – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Smerdis (O.G.); the son of Kourosh the Great. According to the inscriptions of Darayawahush I, his name was allegedly usurped by an impostor named Gaumata. Some scholars doubt this fact.

Budu – a fictional character; older brother to the main character, Mzysia.

Banija – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; the old eunuch of the prince Kshayarsha.

Bel-Sarra-Usur – a historical person; the name is Akkadian; the prince of Babylon, the oldest son of the king Nabunaid. He is more known under the name Belshazzar as the last king of Babylon according to the Old Testament, Book of Daniel.

Bel-Rushua – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; King's personal representative in the Babylonian temples, title called sha-resh-sharri (Bab.)

Bel-Shimanni – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a rebel who was recognized as the king of Babylon in August 484 BCE, (There is some uncertainty about the year of rebellion, but the author accepts 484 BCE as most reliable.). The author recognizes him as the son of Belshazzar and a member of the Babylonian royal family, but this can be disputed.

Baratkama – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; a ganzabara of the Persian treasury; subordinate of the king's uncle Parnaka.

Bel-Iddin – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; the king's representative in the Esagila temple.

Bel-Usallim – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a courtier in the government of Babylon.

Bel-Remanni – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; one of wealthy citizens of Sippar, Babylon.

Belshazzar – a historical person; see Bel-Sarra-Usur

### -C-

Cleomenes – a historical person; the king of Sparta, reigned 520 – 491 BCE.

Coes – a historical person; tyrant of Mytilene, Lesbos.

Charopinos – a historical person; the brother of Aristagoras; he led the Greeks against Sardis in 498 BCE during the Ionian revolt.

### -D-

Daniel – a biblical character; a prophet; the central protagonist of the Book of Daniel. The name 'Daniel' means 'judgment of God'.

Darayawahush (1) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'holding firm the good'; Darios (O.G.); the Persian king Darius the Great; reigned 522 – 486 BCE.

Darayawahush (2) – a historical person; Darios (O.G.); the oldest son of king Kshayarsha I.

Darsia – a fictional character; a Svan woman.

Daiukku – a historical person; the name is Assyrian; Deiokes (O.G.); according to Herodotus, the first king of Media, who ruled for fifty-three years into the first half of the 7th century BCE, during which he built Ecbatana, the capital of Media. In Assyrian inscriptions Daiukku is named as a Mannean provincial governor ruling a district bordering Assyria. Any connection between this Daiukku and Herodotus' Deiokes is only hypothetical.

Dedalos – a historical person; a Kolchian nobleman who was buried near the settlement of Surium (Kolchis, modern day Georgia), and probably lived in the same area. Nothing further is known about him.

Daurish –a historical person; Daurises (O.G.); the king Darayawahush's son-in-law, a very important person during the suppression of the Ionian revolt; was killed in Ionia.

Datiya –a historical person; the name is Elamite; Datica (O.P.) and Datis (O.G.); Median general, commander of the Persian army in the battle of Marathon in 490 BCE.

Dali – a fictional character; an older sister of the Kolchian queen.

Dadarshi – a historical person; the Arminian general who suppressed the rebellion of his own kinsmen. There is another Dadarshi, a satrap who ruled in Bactria in 522 BCE. The author's conclusion that they are the same person is just hypothetical.

Democedes – a historical person; king Darayawahush's Greek physician.

### -E-

Eualcides – a historical person; an Eretrian citizen, a former Olympic champion; was killed during the battle of Ephesos in 498 BCE.

Egibi – a historically known wealthy family of Babylonian merchants. From the clay tablets of Babylonian archives found in modern day Iraq, we know that five generations of the Egibi family had successful business in Babylon and beyond its borders until the uprising in 484 BCE.

### -F-

Frada – a historical person; rebel king of Media in 522 – 521 BCE; the name is Old Persian; Phraortes (O.G.); took Khshathrita as a throne name. After defeated, he was personally mutilated by king Darayawahush and crucified in Ecbatana.

### -G-

Gauparuva/Gaubaruva (1) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'beef-eater'; Gobryas (O.G.); satrap of Babylon; Kourosh the Great's general.

Gauparuva/ Gaubaruva (2) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'beef-eater'; Gobryas (O.G.); one of the seven conspirators who brought Darayawahush to the Persian throne; a satrap of Elam. He is represented on Darayawahush's tomb in Naqsh-i-Rustam as a king's 'lance carrier'- 'arshtibara'. He was married to the king's sister and had a son, Marduniya, the most important general during Kshayarsha's campaign to Greece.

Gauparuva/ Gaubaruva (3) – a fictional character; the name is Old Persian and means 'beef-eater'; Gobryas (O.G.); a head of a garrison in Armina.

Gauparuva/ Gaubaruva (4) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'beef-eater'; Gobryas (O.G.); a son of Darayawahush and queen Irtashduna.

Gorgos – a historical person; a tyrant of Salamis, Cyprus.

Gaumata/Bardiya/Smerdis – a historical person; see Bardiya.

Guranduht – a fictional character; a friend to the main character, Mzysia.

### -H-

Hadassah – a fictional character; a Jewish caretaker and nanny to Mzysia.

Haldita – a fictional character; Kshayarsha's cook.

Hutaosha –a historical person; the name is Avestan; Atossa (O.G.); the queen consort of Darayawahush I; the older daughter of Kourosh the Great; probably died before 513 BCE, because she is not mentioned in Persepolis's fortification tablets, but Herodotus tells as that she was still alive during her son, Kshayarsha's invasion in Greece. The author accepts Herodotus' opinion only because of convenience for her story.

Hurrunatu – a fictional character; the name is Old Persian; the head of Kshayarsha's bodyguards.

Histiaeos – a historical person; a tyrant of Miletos in the late 6th century BCE; king Darayawahush's personal friend; was killed in 494 BCE during the Ionian revolt.

Hippies/Hippias – a historical person; one of the sons of Peisistratus, tyrant of Athens in the late 6th century BCE; succeeded his father in 527 BCE and was expelled from Athens in 510 BCE and fled to Darayawahush's court at Susa.

Hermophantos – a historical person; a citizen of Miletos; one of the commanders who led the Greeks during the siege of Sardis in 498 BCE.

Himaish –– a historical person; the name is pseudo-Persian, made by the author; Himaees (O.G.); one of Darayawahush's son-in-laws; died from illness during the Ionian revolt, (498 BCE – 494 BCE).

Hakhamanish – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Achaemenes (O.G.); a full brother of Kshayarsha; the satrap of Egypt.

### -I-

Irdabanush –a historical person; the name is Elamite; Artabanos (O.G.); king Darayawahush's younger brother, a very important courtier during Kshayarsha's reign.

Irdapirna (1) –a historical person; the name is Elamite, Artaphrenes (O.G.); king Darayawahush's older brother; the satrap of Lydia.

Irdapirna (2) –a historical person; the name is Elamite; Artaphrenes (O.G.); the son of Irdapirna senior, and also his successor.

Irdabrdna –a historical person; Artabazanes (O.G.), (the name of this prince is shrouded in confusion. The author just picked a convenient one); the oldest son of Darayawahush I from Gauparuva's daughter; clamed the throne, but without success; not much known about him.

Irtashduna – a historical person; the name is Elamite; Artastuna (O.P.) means 'pillar of Arta, the deified true'; Artystone (O.G.); the youngest daughter of Kourosh the Great and beloved wife of Darayawahush I.

Iakin – a fictional character; a caretaker to the main character, Mzysia.

Itaya/Ibnaya – a semi-historical person; Ibnaya was a Babylonian merchant who worked for the Egibi family; the author gave him one more name, Itaya, which means 'friendly' in Hebrew, and made him Hadassah and Iakin's son.

Iddin-Nabu –a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a servant of the Esagila temple, (not priest).

Irdabama – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; a very wealthy and independent woman, some scholars think maybe even royal. The author makes her a wife of Vindafrana, the only one among the famous Seven conspirators who got killed by the king. This is not a historical fact.

Iddin-Marduk – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; the governor of Arbela.

Ishtovagu –a historical person; the name is Persian; Astyages (O.G.); the last king of the Median Empire, reigned 585 BCE – 550 BCE; the grandfather of Kourosh the Great.

### -K-

Kourosh II – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Cyros II (O.G.); also known as Kourosh the Great. The ancient Greek historians interpret his name as 'like the sun', but some modern scholars suggested the translation 'humiliator of the enemy in verbal contest'. He was the founder of the Persian Empire under the Achaemenid dynasty and reigned 559 BCE – 530 BCE.

Kambujiyah II – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Cambyses (O.G.); the son of Kourosh the Great; the king of Persia 530 BCE – 522 BCE.

Karkish – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; a ganzabara of the Persian treasury; subordinate of the king's uncle Parnaka.

Kin-Zeri – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a courtier.

Kicantakhma/Cicantakhma – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Tritantaechmes (O.G.); a rebel who clamed to be a king of Sagartia; was suppressed and killed in 521 BCE.

Kshayarsha I – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and its meaning has different translations, the author accepts 'ruler of heroes'; Xerxes (O.G.); the son of Darayawahush I and the queen Hutaosha; reigned from 485 BCE – 465 BCE.

Khongul – a fictional character; uncle to the main character, Mzysia.

Khoreshan – a fictional character; a Kolchian cook.

Khonchua – a fictional character; brother to the main character, Mzysia.

### -L-

Labashi-Marduk – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a king of Babylon in 556 BCE; was assassinated after nine month of reign.

Labashi – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; appears in Babylonian archives after the suppression of the 484 BCE rebellion. The author made him queen Hutaosha's relative, which is fictional.

### -M-

Marduniya – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Mardonios (O.G.);the son of Gauparuva and king Darayawahush's sister; a personal friend and brother-in-law of Kshayarsha; a most important general during Darayawahush's and Kshayarsha's reigns; died in the battle of Plataea in 479 BCE.

Memucan – a biblical character; a Wiseman in king Kshayarsha's court. The author uses the same character as the head of the Persian magus from Rhagae (see meaning of word 'magian/magus').

Mindya – a fictional character; a Moschi nobleman at the Kolchian court.

Miryan – a fictional character; a Moschian nobleman; betrothed to the main character Mzysia.

Meyashdnish – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Megabates (O.G.); a Persian admiral who failed the siege of Naxos in 499 BCE and was even accused of treachery.

Manana – a fictional character; the wife of Amiran, the prince of Kolchis.

Manushtanu – a fictional character; a healer for Kshayarsha's family.

Marduk-Nasir-Apli – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; the head of the Egibi family in its 4th generation in Babylon; had a nickname 'Shir(ik)ku

Mzysia/Shamash-Ma – a semi-historical and biblical character; the name is Georgian; a main heroine of the given book.

### -N-

Nathaniel – a fictional character; Dedalos' barber.

Nappahu – a historically existing wealthy family of Babylonian merchants. Their successful business activity in Babylon and beyond its borders had stopped after the uprising in 484 BCE.

Nabunaid –a historical person; the name is Babylonian; Nabunidus; the last king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire; reigned from 556 BCE – 539 BCE.

Nabu-Ushallim – a historically existing wealthy family of merchants in Kish, Babylon. Their successful business activity had stopped after the uprising in 484 BCE.

Nergal-Ina-Teshi-Etir – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; the shatammu of the Lugal-Marada temple in Babylon.

Nabopolassar – a historical person; the name is Greek; Nabu-apal-usur (Bab.); the first king of the Neo-Babylonian Empire; reigned 625 BCE – 605 BCE.

Nebuchadnezzar/Nabucodonosor II – a historical person; his Akkadian name is Nabu-kudurri-usur, which means 'Oh god Nabu, defend my first born son'; the king of Babylon in the Chaldean Dynasty; reigned 605 BCE – 562 BCE.

Nidintu-Bel – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; the son of Zin-Zeri; in the first year of Darayawahush's reign he claimed to be Nebuchadnezzar III. This uprising was shortly suppressed.

Nidinti-Bel – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; the head of the Egibi family in its 5th generation.

Nana-Bulitinini – a fictional character; the name is Babylonian; the daughter of Arbela's governor.

### -O-

Omyane – a fictional character; a Svan man.

Onesilos – a historical person; a tyrant of Salamis, Cyprus; brother to the former tyrant Gorgos, who he had overthrown.

### -P-

Parmenides – a fictional character; the head of the Greek Diaspora in Dioskurias, Kolchis.

Praxaspa –a historical person; Prexaspes (O.G.); the son of Aspakana; a Persian admiral during Kshayarsha's invasion in Greece in 480 BCE.

Patirampa – a historical person; Patirampes (O.G.); the son of Utana; Kshayarsha's brother-in-law and charioteer.

Phrynichos – a historical person; one of the earliest Greek tragedians during the late 6th and the first half of the 5th century BCE; his most famous play is "The Capture of Miletos".

Parnaka – a historical person; the name is Old Elamite; Pharnaces (O.G.); the youngest uncle of the king Darayawahush I. One cuneiform from Babylon mentions his name as Gauparuva's subordinate; then he was appointed as the Chief economic official of the Persian treasury; later was replaced by Aspakana; had son Artavazda who became satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia in 477 BCE.

Pherendata –a historical person; Pherendates (O.G.); the satrap of Egypt who replaced the previous satrap Aryanda.

Phaidyme – a very important historical person, but this name is given to her by the author; the wife of the satrap of Bactria, the prince Ariuabrdna.

### -R-

Rati (1) – a fictional character; a nephew of Dedalos; the head of Kolchis king's bodyguards.

Rati (2) – a fictional character; Mzysia's brother

Rishona – a fictional character; the daughter of Hadassah; in Hebrew her name means 'first'.

Radushdukda – a historical person; sister of Darayawahush I; wife of Gauparuva, the mother of Marduniya.

### -S-

Shamash-Ma/Mzysia – the name is pseudo-Babylonian; see Mzysia.

Saurmag – a fictional character; the chief of a Svan tribe.

Savlak – a fictional character; the Kolchian prince.

Smirdamna –a historical person; the name is pseudo-Iranian; Smerdomenes (O.G); the son of Utana.

Sarah – a fictional character; a cousin of Iakin.

Simonides – a fictional character; Mzysia's Greek teacher and friend.

Sellibi – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; son of Niddin-Nabu; a servant at the Esagila temple (not priest).

Spamithra – a fictional character; the head of prince Kshayarsha's bodyguards.

Shazana – a semi-historical person; from the clay tablets we know that the lady with this name was getting a quite a lot of goods from the king's food storage, but who she was, we do not know. The author makes her prince Kshayarsha's concubine, but this is not a fact.

Shamash-Eriba – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; a rebel who was recognized as the king of Babylon in September 484 BCE, (There is some uncertainty about the year of rebellion, but the author accepts 484 BCE as the most reliable.). The author recognizes him as the son of Belshazzar and a member of the Babylonian royal family, but this can be disputed.

Shutainda – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; a ganzabara of the Persian treasury, subordinate of the king's uncle Parnaka.

Shishamna –a historical person; the name is pseudo-Iranian; Sisamnes (O.G.); the youngest son of Vidarna, the satrap of Media.

### -T-

Tigran (1) – a historical person; the name is Armenian; Tigranes (O.G.); the king of Armina; the ally of Kourosh the Great.

Tigran (2) –a historical person; Tigranes (O.G.); the son of Tigran senior, satrap of Armina during Darayawahush's reign; nothing known about this person for sure, even his name is only the result of assumption that he would be named after his father.

Tigran (3) –a historical person; Tigranes (O.G.); the general during Kshayarsha's invasion in Greece. According to historical sources he might be a Persian and most likely had nothing to do with the previous two Tigrans, but the author made him the Arminian satrap's oldest son. This is not a fact.

Takhmaspada – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; the median general who fought on Darayawahush's side.

Tsitsino – a fictional character; the queen of Kolchis.

Tatuli – a fictional character; the wife of Rati, the head of Kolchian king's bodyguards.

### -U-

Utana –a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Otanes (O.G.); Persian nobleman; one of the seven conspirators who brought Darayawahush to the throne; Kshayarsha's father-in-law.

Uparmyia –a fictional character; servant of Amisiri.

Upadaranma – a historical person; the last king of Media.

Ushtanu – a historical person; satrap of Babylon during Darayawahush's reign.

Umati (1) – a semi-historical person; the name is Old Persian; Amytis/Amitys/Anytis (O.G.); the author accepts her as the daughter of Labashi-Marduk, but the source is not reliable since Labashi-Marduk was tortured to death so young that most likely he didn't leave any children behind.

Umati (2) -- a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Amytis/Amitys/Anytis (O.G.); the daughter of Kshayarsha and Amisiri.

### -V-

Vindafrana – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Intaphrenes (O.G.); one of the seven conspirators who made Darayawahush king ; the king's 'bow carrier'; the only one among the famous seven conspirators who got Killed by Darayawahush.

Vidarna – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Hydarnes (O.G.); one of the seven conspirators who made Darayawahush the King; a satrap of Media.

Vidarna the junior – a historical person; the Name is Old Persian; Hydarnes (O.G.); the commander of the Ten Thousand Immortals.

Vishtaspa (1) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'who knows horses'; Hystaspes (O.G.); a brother of Kshayarsha; the commander of the Bactrian troops during the invasion of Greece in 480 BCE.

Vishtaspa (2) – a historical person; the name is Old Persian and means 'who knows horses'; Hystaspes (O.G.); Kshayarsha's second son.

Vaumisha – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; Persian general who suppressed the upraising in Armina in the late 6th century BCE.

### -Z-

Zareh – a fictional character; the younger son of Armina's satrap; the seeker of Mzysia's hand in marriage.

Zoroaster – a historical person; the name is Latinized from its Greek version; Zarathustra/ Zarathushtra (Avestan); an ancient Iranian prophet; the Founder of the Zoroastrian faith.

Zopyrush – a historical person; the name is pseudo-Iranian; Zopyrus (O.G.); the son of Baghabagsha the older and the father of Baghabagsha the junior; he was not a satrap, but probably held some very important position in Babylon; was killed during an uprising in Babylon in 484 BCE.

Zosyme – a fictional character; the treasurer of the Kolchis Kingdom.

Zababa-Sharra-Usur – a historical person; the name is Babylonian; an overseer of Kshayarsha's properties in Babylon.

Zishawish – a historical person; the name is Old Persian; a ganzabara of the Persian treasury, subordinate of the king's uncle Parnaka.

# Geographical Places

### -A-

Arbela/Urbelum – a very important city in the Persian Empire; the name is Aramaic; was mentioned as Urbelum in the Sumerian holy writings 4000 years ago; the present day name is Arbil and it's the third largest city in northern Iraq.

Ashshur – the first capital of Assyria founded in 2500 BCE; was situated on the western bank of the Tigris between the Great and the Little Zab Rivers; in the present day only the small village Sharqat can be found in the place where in antiquities the ancient Ashshur proudly flourished.

Ashshur – the name is Assyrian; Assyria (O.G.); one of the oldest countries in the human history; the first inscriptions of Assyrian rulers appear after 2000 BCE; in the 5th century BCE when the story of the given book takes place, Ashshur was a part of the Persian Empire.

Anshan – the name is Old Persian, one of the early capitals of Elam from 3000 BCE; fell under Achaemenid rule in the 7th century BCE; modern day Tall-I Malyan, Iran.

Autiyara – the name is Old Persian; the settlement where the battle against the Arminian rebels took place, but the exact location is not known.

Armina – the name is Old Persian; the modern day Armenia; this exonym was first attested in the Old Persian Behistun inscription in 515 BCE.

Athos mount – a mountain on the peninsula of the same name in Macedonia, in northern Greece. In the times when the given story took place this peninsula was called Akti and caused the Persians a lots of problems.

Arin Berd – the mountain where the fortress Erebuni is erected; included in the present day Erevan, Armenia. The name means 'bloody fortress', but it may have nothing to do with blood because in spring time, the whole Arin Berd is covered with blood-red poppies.

Assyria /Ashshur – see Ashshur.

Aia – the capital of the ancient Kolchis kingdom, modern days Kutaisi, Georgia.

Alvand – this name is a newer form of Indo-Iranian Arvant and means 'pointed'; Orontes (O.G.); the Holy Mountain in Iran; belongs to pro-Zagros mountain range.

Attica – a peninsula jutting into the Aegean Sea; during the times which take place in the given story an independent Hellenic country with Athens as its capital.

Athens – one of the world's oldest cities which was continuously inhabited for over 4,500 years; the modern day capital of Greece.

Aegean Sea – the Sea located between the southern Balkan and the Anatolian peninsula. There are various explanations for the name, but the most beloved among ancient Athenians was the tale which said that this sea was named after the king Aegeos, the father of Theseos, who drowned himself in the sea when he falsely thought his son had died.

Akkad – 1: an ancient region of Mesopotamia located in the northern part of the fertile land which was later called Babylonia; 2: the capital city was also called Akkad and was situated on the west bank of the Euphrates, between Sippar and Kish, but the precise site has never been found (present day Iraq); reached its highest power between in 24th and 22nd centuries BCE.

Apsaros – the name is Old Greek; an ancient Greek 'emporia'- trading colony founded by Miletian merchants on the Black Sea at the mouth of the Chorokhi River, about 15 km south of Batumi, Georgia.

### -B-

Borsippa – an ancient Sumerian city founded by Hammurabi (1792 – 1750 BCE); located on the east bank of the Euphrates, about 18 km southwest of Babylon; modern day Birs Nimrud, Iraq.

Bactria – the name is Old Greek; Bakhtrish (O.P.); a country situated between the Hindu Kush mountain range in the south and the river Oxus (Amu Darya) in the north; nowadays northern Afghanistan, Uzbekistan and Tajikistan; according to some scholars, the motherland of prophet Zarathustra; in the time at which the story of the given book took place, the satrapy of the Achaemenid Empire; first mentioned in the Behistun inscription, written in 520 BCE.

Besitme – the settlement in ancient Persia mentioned in the clay tablets, but exact the location is not known.

Byblos – the name is Greek and given to this Phoenician city because 'bublos' means 'papyrus' and Egyptian papyrus was imported into Greece mainly from there, Gabel/Gubla (Phoenician), present-day Jbeil, Lebanon; have been founded around 5000 BCE, the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world.

Babylon – the name is Greek; Bab-ilu (Akkad.) and means 'Gateway of the gods'; Babel (Hebrew) comes from the verb 'balbal', 'to confuse' (languages); 1. A city-state of ancient Mesopotamia founded in the beginning of the third millennium BCE; only remains can be found in present-day Al Hillah, Iraq. 2. An Empire officially recognized as one of the first civilizations of the world; during the time in which the story of the given book takes place, Babylon was a satrapy of the Persian Empire.

Babibli –on a stele with Neo-Babylonian royal inscription of Nebuchadnezzar II, Babylon was referred to as Babibli.

Byzantion – an ancient Greek city founded by Greek colonists from Megara in 667 BCE and named after their king Byzantas; nowadays Istanbul, Turkey.

### -C-

Caister River – a river near the city Ephesos, Turkey.

Caria – the name is Greek; Karka (O.P.); a satrapy of the Persian Empire with Halicarnassos as its capital.

Caucasian mountains – a maintain range in Eurasia between the Black and Caspian Seas.

Cypros – the Mediterranean's third largest island; the mythical birthplace of Aphrodite; at the time in which the events of the given book took place, it was under the Persian Empire's rule.

Cilicia – the ancient name of southern Turkey, now known as Cukorova; at the time during which the events of the given story took place, it was the Persian satrapy and had Tarsos as its capital.

Cappadocia – the name is Greek, in Persian inscriptions it called 'Katpatuka' which means 'the land of beautiful horses', but word itself is not Persian; was located between the chain of mount Tauros from the south and Euphrates River from the east, Ponto Euxine Sea from the north and the lake Tuz from the west, modern days central Turkey. In times when the events of the given story took place, Cappadocia was the satrapy of the Persian Empire.

Coresos – a place in Ionia, the modern day Turkey.

Corax – the ancient name of the Bzybi River in Kolchis, modern day Abkhazia, Georgia.

Corax valley – modern day Bzybi valley in Abkhazia, Georgia.

Chorasmia – Huwarazmish (O.P.) and perhaps means 'lowland'; a satrapy of the Achaemenid Empire; was located on the delta of the Amu Darya (Oxus river) on the southern shores of the Aral Sea. Today, the area that once was Chorasmia is respectively divided between Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan and Iran.

### -D-

Danube – Europe's second longest river after the Volga, which passes through four Central and Eastern European capitals, before emptying into the Black Sea. The name derives from a Persian root that has contributed the names of all other major rivers, emptying into the Black Sea, such as the Don, Dnieper, and Dniester. Istros (O.G.); Danub (Farsi).

Dioskurias – an ancient Greek 'emporia'- trading colony founded by Miletian merchants on the bank of Ponto Euxine in the mid 6th century BCE; one of the prime centers of trade between the Greeks and the Kolchis kingdom; nowadays Sokhumi, Abkhazia, Georgia.

Delos – a Greek island located in the center of the Cyclades circular ring of islands; one of the most important mythological and historical sites in Greece; the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis; the reason of many fearless dreadful battles between the Hellens and Persians.

### -E-

Elam – the name is Sumerian and Hebrew; Haltamti in Elamite; Hujiya (O.P.); one of the oldest civilizations in the human history. During the Middle Bronze Age the center of Elam was in Anshan, but from the middle of the 2nd millennium BCE it moved to Susa. In the times at which the events of the given story took place, Elam was the satrapy of the Persian Empire.

Euboea – the second largest Greek island in the Aegean Sea separated from the coast of Attica by the Euripus channel.

Eretria – the ancient capital of the island of Euboea; a very important polis in 6th-5th centuries BCE.

Erebuni – a fortress built by the Urartuan king Arvishti/Argishti in 782 BCE on the mount of Arin Berd. Today its included in Erevan, the capital of Armenia.

Euphrates – the name is Greek which means 'fruitful'; Buranun (Sumerian); Pu-rat-tu (Akkadian); Ferat (O.P.); one of the two great rivers of Mesopotamia.

Ephesos – an important ancient Greek city, first established in the 10th century BCE in Ionia; was very famous thanks to the Temple of Artemis, built about 550 BCE; the remains still exist near the present day Seljuk, Turkey, located 9 km from the Aegean Sea and 60 km south of Izmir.

Ecbatana – the name is Greek; Hegmataneh (O.P.); the capital of Media, founded by the king Daiukku; was situated at the foot of Mount Alvand and became the summer residence of the Persian kings. Ecbatana's location probably had to be near the modern day Hamadan, but so far no evidence of Median presence over there has been found.

Egypt – one of the oldest countries in the world; its history began around 3150 BCE in northeastern Africa along the Nile River. The many achievements of ancient Egypt such as papyrus-making, faience and glass technology, building of pyramids, practical medicine, art, literature, architecture, and even the earliest known evidence of making successful peace treaties with their worst enemies add invaluable contributions to the knowledge of the life of mankind. In the time at which the events of the given story take place, Egypt was reduced to a mere satrapy of the Persian Empire.

### -G-

Gokcha/Gegham Sea – the nowadays Lake Sevan, Armenia.

Guenos – an ancient Greek 'emporia'- trading colony founded by Miletian merchants on the bank of the Ponto Euxine; nowadays Ochamchire, Abkhazia, Georgia.

Genyokhia –Georgian territory, stolen by the Persian Empire.

Gogharena –Georgian territory, stolen by the Persian Empire.

### -H-

Hellespont – an ancient name of the narrow strait, which separates Anatolia from the continent of Europe; nowadays the Dardanelles.

Hatushash – the ancient Hittite capital on the Halys river between 1680 – 1200 BCE; north-central Anatolia, Turkey.

Hittite – an ancient Empire in central Anatolia between 18th and 12th centuries BCE.

Halicarnassos – an ancient Greek city, the capital of Caria; nowadays Bodrum, Turkey.

Hegmataneh (O.P.) – see Ecbatana.

Hindu – the name is Old Persian; Sindhu (Sanskrit); Sindh (Punjabi); the longest river which starts in the Tibetan plateau, runs through India and Pakistan and merges into the Arabian Sea near Pakistan's port city of Karachi; Indus River.

### -I-

Ionia – the western costal region of the Persian Empire, included several Greek cities starting from Phocaea in the north to Miletos in the south; nowadays western Anatolia, Turkey.

Izala – a settlement in the Persian Empire where battle against the Hikes took place; the exact location is unknown.

Iberia – a name given to the east Georgian kingdom of Kartli by the Greeks.

### -J-

Jerusalem – Urushalimum in ancient Egyptian records; Yerushalayim (Hebrew); Al-Quds (Arab.); one of the oldest cities in the world, established in 4th millennium BCE between the Mediterranean Sea and the Dead Sea; the holy place of Judaism, Christianity and Islam; the capital of Israel.

### -K-

Kukkannakan –queen Irtashduna's land; the exact location is unknown.

Kolchis – sometimes also written 'Colchis'; Qulha (Urartuan); residence of the mythical king Aeetes and possibly the home of Amazons; an ancient Georgian kingdom with Aia as its capital; nowadays western Georgia.

Kish – the name is Sumerian; an ancient Sumerian city, nowadays Tell al-Uhaymir, Iraq.

Kokhia – an old Georgian province, partly stolen by the Persian Empire.

Khatarsia – a Georgian province, stolen by the Persian Empire.

Kourosh riv. – the name is Old Persian; Mtkvari (Georg.); the biggest river in Georgia, starting in north-eastern Turkey, it flows through Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan and enters the Caspian Sea.

### -L-

Lade – the island off the coast of Miletos.

Lesbos – a Greek island in the northeastern Aegean Sea.

Lydia – Sfard (Lydian); Sparda (O.P.); an ancient kingdom of western Asia minor in 14th -6th centuries BCE; later the satrapy of the Persian Empire, with Sardis as its capital; nowadays a province of Manisa, Turkey.

Lycos riv. – near the city of Apsaros; Chorokhi River, Georgia.

### -M-

Matannan – queen Irtashduna's land; the exact location is unknown.

Mirandu – queen Irtashduna's land; the exact location is unknown.

Macedonia – a northern Greek territory which was under the Persian influence.

Marathon – a costal town in Attica where in 490 BCE Athenians defeated the Persian army.

Marsias riv. – the river in Caria, Turkey.

Mytilene – the capital city of the island of Lesbos, Greece.

Miletos – the oldest and most powerful of the twelve Ionian cities on the western coast of Anatolia who's ruins lie near the village Akkoy, Turkey.

Melitene – the name is Latin; Melid (Hittite); an ancient Hittite city from 14th century BCE; an important fortress during the Persian period; modern Arslantepe, the Eastern Anatolia, Turkey.

Media – Mada (O.P.); an ancient kingdom in 8th – 6th centuries BCE; a satrapy of the Persian Empire, with Ecbatana as its capital.

Mesopotamia – the name is Greek and means 'the lend between the rivers'; the Mesopotamians themselves called their territories simply 'kalam' which in Sumerian means 'land'; an area geographically located between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, the cradle of Sumerian, Akkadian, Babylonian and Assyrian civilizations.

Macronia – an old Georgian province, stolen by the Persian Empire.

Moschi(a) – an old Georgian province, stolen by the Persian Empire.

### -N-

Nineveh – Ninua (Akkad.); Ninewe (Hebrew); an ancient Assyrian city on the eastern bank of the Tigris River; from the 18th century BCE a center of Worship of Ishtar; during the reign of Sennacherib (704 – 681 BCE) the city reached its pinnacle of magnificence; in 612 BCE Nineveh was razed to the ground by Babylonian and Elamite invaders.

Naessos – a Greek city-polis on the northern bank of the Ponto Euxine.

Naxos – the largest isle in the Cyclades island group in the Aegean Sea.

Nippur – the name is Sumerian; one of the oldest Sumerian cities; a center of worship of the god Enlil; was situated on both banks of the Euphrates River; the modern Nuffar, Iraq.

### -O-

Opis – Upija (Akkad.), an ancient Babylonian city on the bank of the Tigris River, somewhere near the modern Bagdad, Iraq; the exact location has not been found.

### -P-

Parsa/Persia – ancient Iran; the largest empire of the ancient world.

Parsa – an ancient city; see Persepolis.

Pasargadae – Pathragada (O.P.); the capital of Persia, built by Kourosh the Great.

Pamphylia – the name is Greek and means 'all tribes'; a small satrapy between Lycia and Cilicia; modern day Anatolia, Turkey.

Panionion – an Ionian sanctuary dedicated to Poseidon on the peninsula of Mt. Mycale; nowadays Southwest Turkey.

Peloponnesos – a large peninsula separated from the Greek mainland by the Isthmus of Corinth; contained several large city- polises, including Sparta, Argos, and Corinth.

Ponto Euxine Sea – the name is Old Greek; the Black Sea.

Persepolis – the name is Old Greek; Parsa (O.P.); the ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire, founded by Darayawahush the Great and built by his son and successor Kshayarsha I; modern day Takht-e Jamshid.

Persia/Parsa – ancient Iran; the largest empire of the ancient world.

Pitios – also known as Pitiunt; a Greek city-state at the bank of Ponto Euxine; modern day Bichvinta, Abkhazia, Georgia.

Phoenicia – the name is Latin; Canaan (Phoenician); Phoinike (O.G.); an ancient Maritime trading civilization known from the second millennium BCE; spread across the Mediterranean, but its heartland was situated at what are the modern day Lebanon, partly Israel, Palestinian and Syrian territories.

Phrygia – the name is Old Greek; an ancient kingdom raised in the eighth century BCE; Later the Satrapy of the Persian Empire; was situated between Lidia and Cappadocia; modern day Turkey.

Phasis – the name is Old Greek; an ancient Greek 'emporia'- trading colony founded by Miletian merchants on the bank of the Ponto Euxine; modern day Poti, Georgia.

Phasis riv. – the name is Old Greek; modern day river Rioni, Georgia.

Pactolos riv. – the name is Old Greek; the river which flows through ancient Sardis; Sart Cayi, Turkey.

### -R-

Rhagae – the name is Latin; a five thousand years Old Iranian city; some scholars believe it was the hometown to Zarathushtra and the heart of Zoroastrianism; the holy place for Shia Muslims as well; modern day Shahr-e Rey, near Tehran, Iran.

Rhizos – an ancient Greek city-state on the bank of the Ponto Euxine.

### -S-

Sagartia – the name is Old Greek; Asagarta (O.P.); a satrapy of the Persian Empire during Darayawahush's reign. In the first five years of Kshayarsha's reign, and before his invasion in Greece, it was united with Drangians, Thamanaeans, Utians and the people who had been deported to the Persian Gulf.

Sarmathia – the land of the nomadic tribes (not Slavs), who lived further north of the Black Sea in the territories of the modern Ukraine and southern Russia.

Sippar – Sepharvaim in the Bible; Zimbir in Sumerian, and means 'bird city'; five thousand year old ancient Mesopotamian city on the east bank of the Euphrates; modern day Tell Abu Habbah, Iraq.

Sardis – the name is Old Greek; Sfard (Lydian); Sparda (O.P.); the capital of the Lydian Kingdom which later became the satrapy of the Persian Empire.

Susa – the name is Latin; Shushan (Elamite); one of the oldest city in the world, founded in the fifth millennium BCE; the capital of the Elamite Empire, later one among five capitals of the Persian Empire; the modern day town of Shush, Iran.

Shushan – see Susa.

Sophene/Tsopka – the name is Latin; Tsopk (Armenian); the part of an ancient Armenian Kingdom of Orontids; later a part of the Persian Empire; modern day southwestern Turkey.

Sparta – a city- polis in the southern part of Peloponnesos; from 650 BCE to 362 BCE a very important military power in ancient Greece.

Surium – an ancient city in the Kolchian kingdom; the modern day town of Surami, Georgia.

Sogdiana – Suguda (O.P.); a satrapy of the Persian Empire, with Samarkand (Asmara 'rock' in Old Persian, and kand 'fort' in Sogdian; Maracanda (O.G.)) as it's capital; some provinces of modern day Uzbekistan and Tajikistan.

Scythia – a vast land of different nomadic tribes, which belonged to the Indo-Iranian family and shared the same name. The Scythians known to Herodotos called themselves 'Skolotoi', which means 'shooter, archer'; Sacae (O.P.), and means 'wanderer'; Sakai (O.G.).

Salamis – an ancient city-polis on the east coast of Cypros Island known from the eleventh century BCE; nearby modern day Famagusta.

Sumer – Shumeru (Akkadian); one of the earliest civilizations in the world in southern Mesopotamia known from the late sixth millennium BCE until the rise of Babylon in the early second millennium BCE.

### -T-

Tmolos mount – the mount in Ionia; nowadays mount Bozdag, west Turkey.

Teishebaini – an ancient Urartuan fortification, built in the first half of the 7th Century BCE and destroyed by an alliance of Medes and the Scythians in 585 BCE; was named after the Urartuan god of war; modern day Karmir-Blur, Armenia.

Tarsos – the name is Old Greek; Tarshish (O.P.); the capital of Cilicia; an ancient commercial center in the Mediterranean region; nowadays it is known as the Mersin province, Turkey.

Rusahinili – the word means 'city of Rusa'; an ancient Urartuan fortress built by the king Rusa II; modern Toprak Kale, Turkey.

Trapezos – an ancient Greek 'emporia'- trading colony founded by Miletian merchants in 756 BCE; nowadays the city of Trabzon, the Black Sea coast-front of northeastern Turkey.

Thrace – Thraki (O.G.); a vast territory between the Danube River to the north and the Aegean Sea to the south, the Black Sea and Sea of Marmara to the east and the Great Morava River to the west; a satrapy of the Persian Empire; nowadays north-eastern Greece, European Turkey, eastern Serbia and Bulgaria.

Taokhia – an old Georgian province, stolen by the Persian Empire.

Tibareni – sometimes called Tubal; Tibarenoi (O.G.); the southern coast of Ponto Euxine Sea, where the Tibareni tribe dwelled. Three neighboring tribes: Tibareni, Chalybes and Mossynoeci which were closely related to Kolchians are considered the founders of Metallurgy. The tribe's name 'Chalybes' passed into Latin as 'chalybs' and means 'steel'.

### -U-

Uyama – a settlement in the Persian Empire where battle against the Hikes took place; the exact location is unknown.

Urartu – this name is an Akkadian variation of 'Ararat' of the Old Testament; an ancient kingdom in eastern Asia Minor, raised to power in the ninth century BCE and fell in the early sixth Century BCE; was located on an Armenian plateau; eastern Anatolia, Turkey.

Urbelum – see Arbela.

### -Z-

Zab – an Old Persian name of two separate rivers, Great Zab and Little Zab, which flow through Iran, Iraq and Turkey.

Zykhia – the Kolchian kingdom's neighboring territories located on the northeastern shore of Ponto Euxine Sea.

#  An Index of Words and Phrases

### -A-

Amelu/avelu – the high class in Babylon, (Bab.).

Akitu – Resh-Shattimi, the New Year's festival, (Bab.).

Anahit(a) – the great goddess of fertility, healing, wisdom, and war; an ancient Indo-Iranian cosmological figure, venerated as the female divinity of 'the Waters' (Avestan 'Apo' or 'Aban'), who had been worshiped by the Medes and Persians before they adopted Zoroastrianism.

Artemis – the twin sister of Apollo, the goddess of the wilderness, the hunt and wild animals, (O.G.).

Ahura-Mazda/ Auramazdah – the Zoroastrian supreme god, the one uncreated Creator. (Ahura – lord, Mazda – wisdom), (O.P.).

Apshil /Apsilae – one of the many tribes who lived in the ancient Kingdom of Kolchis, the land of the Golden Fleece, the modern western Georgia. Their origin is controversial. Some scholars insist that Apshil is the missing link between the ancient Abeshela and the classic Apsils.

Abasci – according to the Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, the Scythian people in the north of Kolchis, on the confines of Sarmatia Asiatica, within which they are sometimes included.

Apadana – the name of the great audience hall at Persepolis, begun by Darius I and finished by Xerxes I, in the first quarter of the 5th century BC. A columned hall with corner towers and external colonnades, it became a criterion of Achaemenian architecture. This is why the author uses this world as the name for any great hall in the Achaemenid Empire; (O.P.).

Atar – Avestan Devine Fire, the son of Ahura Mazda; Mirza (1987:389) calls Atar 'the Zoroastrian concept for "burning and unburning fire".'

Angra Mainyu – Zoroastrianism's hypostasis of the "destructive spirit", (Avestan).

Arians – an ancient tribe, which dwelled on both banks of the river Arios (the modern Hari Rud), today's western Afghanistan.

Aramaic – One of the Semitic languages, known almost from the beginning of human history. The administrative language of the Persian Empire.

Arshtibara –the King's 'lance carrier', the very high title of the Great Darayawahush's friend-in-arms, Gauparuva; (O.P.).

Apo – the hypostases of "the Waters", same as Aban; (Avestan).

Argonauts – heroes in Greek mythology who sailed with Jason on the Argo to Kolchis (modern day Georgia), on the quest of the Golden Fleece.

Amirani – the Georgian demigod, equivalent to the Greek Prometheos.

Amphora – a type of ceramic vase with two handles, long narrow neck and a large body; (O.G.).

Artaba – an Old Persian measure of about 55 liters.

Aeetes – in Greek mythology a son of the sun-god Helios and the nymph Perseis; the king of Kolchis, and father of Medea, Chalciope and Apsyrtus.

Arshta – the righteousness, Truth; (O.P.).

Arta – the Truth, (O.P.).

### -B-

Bandaka –the slave, (O.P.).

Batugara –goblet, (O.P.).

Belt of obedience – the Old Persian practice to show one's obedience to the King.

### -C-

Coraxi – a tribe in Kolchis, where according to some sources, the famous witch of mythology, Circe was born.

Chaldeans – the term used by several ancient authors to denote the priests and other persons educated in classical Babylonian literature, especially in traditions of astronomy and astrology.

Canon – a principle, standard or rules, (O.G.).

### -D-

Dali – the red haired goddess of the hunt in Svaneti.

Daric – a coin, introduced by Darius the Great and used within the Persian Empire. The name itself may be derived from the name Darayawahush or from the Old Persian world meaning "gold". The Persians had very high quality golden coins, with a purity of almost 96%. They also had silver darics.

Drugh – violations against creation, (O.P.).

Drauga – deceit, the Lie, (O.P.).

Democratia – 'popular government'; the term was derived from 'demos' –people and 'kratos' – rule, (O.G.).

Dev – an evil creature in Persian mythology; a giant, often with many heads, (O.P.).

Drafsha – a large detachment in the Persian army, (O.P.).

Draujana – deceitful, follower of the Lie, (O.P.).

Dukshish – the exact meaning is unknown, maybe the queen or the princess, but definitely the woman from royal family, (O.P.).

Dionysos – the Greek god of wine, vegetation, pleasure and festivity.

### -E-

Earth and water – according to en ancient Greek historian, Herodotos, the phrase 'earth and water' was used by Achaemenid Empire to represent the demand of full surrender, giving up everything: the land and the liquids.

Esagil(a) – the main temple in the city of Babylon dedicated to Marduk, the supreme god of Babylon; in the Sumerian language this word literary means 'house of raised head'.

Etemenanki – the name of a ziggurat dedicated to Marduk in the city of Babylon; in Sumerian it means 'temple of the foundation of heaven and earth'.

Ezida – the god Nabu's main temple in Borsippa, Babylon.

Enlil – Mesopotamian god of air, wind and storms of.

Enuma Elish – the Babylonian or Mesopotamian myth of creation of the universe. The most complete text was found in the ruins of Ashurbanipal's library at Nineveh.

Esfand – Proto-Iranian Svanta, a common plant in Central Asia, used as sacred incense during the religious ceremonies by Zoroastrians.

Enuma Anu Enlil – the largest series of Babylonian omens, based on astronomy and meteorological events.

Elamite – a dead language, spoken by the ancient Elamites; was an official language of the Persian Empire.

Eunuch – comes from Greek world "eunouchos", meaning 'keeper of the bedchamber'; a castrated human male.

### -F-

Faravahar – the Middle Persian world, Old Persian name is unknown; the winged sun disc; one of the best-known symbols of Zoroastrianism, although has a long history in the culture of the ancient Near and Middle East. Because the symbol first appeared on royal inscriptions, it may represent 'Divine Royal Glory' or Fravashi – a guardian angel of the king. To the present day Faravahar remains as the national symbol of Iran, representing both ancient and modern Persia.

### -G-

Ganzabara – the chief treasurer, (O.P.).

Gilgamesh – the earliest known literary work, the Assyro-Babylonian Epic of Gilgamesh, a hero and king of Uruk, (modern day Iraq).

Gimru – the payment for transport costs, (Bab.).

Geloni – one of the tribes in Kolchis, (modern day Georgia); although Herodotos mentions the Gelonians as a nation in northwestern Scythia, he thinks they were originally Hellenes.

Golden Fleece – From Greek mythology, it is the fleece of the Winged ram Chysomallos, which was hung on an oak tree in Kolchis (modern day Georgia), and guarded by a dragon.

Gula – the Sumerian goddess of healing.

### -H-

Hashiya – true, (O.P.).

Hellens – the Ancient Greeks.

Hippareni – a sect of Chaldean scholars, mentioned by Pliny, probably located in Sippar, Babylon.

Haik – the name of the legendary founder of the Armenian nation; according to some sources, he had migrated south toward Babylon and served Nimrod. When his son Aramaneak was born, he led his people back to the land of his forefathers and at the foot of a mountain he built his village, Haykashen. The Armenian people called themselves 'Haik'.

Hirakurra – a servant, (steward?), who deals with grape vines, (O.P.).

Hama – summer, (O.P.).

Helen – from the Greek mythology Helen of Sparta, who later became Helen of Troy and was known as the most beautiful woman; cause of the Trojan War.

### -I-

Immortals –members of 'the Ten Thousand Immortals'; guards to the king of Persia.

Iberians – also known as Iverians, a name given by the ancient Greeks to the ancient east Georgian Kingdom.

Ilku – the State tax, (Bab.).

Ishtar – the Assyrian and Babylonian goddess of fertility, love and war.

### -J-

Jehovah – the name of God in the Hebrew Bible.

Jason – in the Greek mythology the famous leader of the Argonauts, who sailed to Kolchis in his quest for the Golden Fleece.

### -K-

Kartvelians – ethnic groups in southern Caucasus, Georgia.

Khada – Georgian sweet pie, made from flour and honey.

Khachapuri – Georgian bread with cheese inside.

King's eyes and ears – a name of a very important official position in the ancient Persian court.

Khaldi – sometimes written as Haldi; the supreme god of the Urartians.

Kybebe – the great Phrygian mother of the gods, a goddess of fertility, motherhood and the mountain wilds.

Kurums – Egyptian priesthood.

### -L-

Lugal Marada – the temple in ancient Babylon.

Lushba – a god worshiped in Armenia in the ancient times.

Lazi – one of the chief tribes of the ancient kingdom of Kolchis. The Laz people live primarily on the costal regions of the Black Sea of Georgia and Turkey.

### -M-

Magian/Magu(sh) – a tribe from ancient Media. The Hellenic world associated this term with followers of Zoroastrianism. This expression is also commonly used in reference to the Gospel's "wise men from the East"; (O.P.).

Mahvsh – the chief elder among Svans, (Svan).

Mandili – a woman's head cover cloth, (O.G.).

Marduk –Mesopotamian god, the 'god of rebellion', the successor of the Sumerian earth god Enlil. Later Marduk became the omniscient king of the pantheon of Babylonian gods. In some scholar's opinion an essence of Marduk was established as the apotheosis of the biblical Nimrod.

Mushkinu – the middle class in ancient Babylon, (Bab.).

Mashennu – an overseer, a canal inspector, (Bab.).

Mashya – the first man created by Ahura-Mazda, (O.P.).

Mashyane – the first woman created by Ahura-Mazda, (O.P.).

Miksu – the toll one had to pay in order to use the canals, (Bab.).

Mar-abarakku – an overseer, (Bab.).

Mithra – in Zoroastrianism a member of the ahuric triad, protectors of the order in the universe; the protector of truth and justice, the source of cosmic light, (O.P.).

Mar biti – a prince, (Bab.).

Meri Baal – one of the names of Mesopotamian god Marduk, the lord of rebellion, (Bab.).

Masishta – meaning 'greatest after the king', sometimes translated as an heir of the throne, (O.P.).

Mossynoeci – a tribe in ancient Kolchis, (modern day's Georgia).

Macrones – a tribe in ancient Kolchis, (modern day's Georgia).

Moschi – a tribe in ancient Kolchis, (modern day's Georgia).

Mares – a tribe in ancient Kolchis, (modern day's Georgia).

Malideh – opium in the Old Persian language; also was called 'theriac', (O.P.).

Medea – in the Greek mythology the daughter of Kolchian king Aeetes. She helped Jason steal the Golden Fleece.

Moses – the most important figure in both the Septuagint and the New Testament, who delivered the Jewish people from Egypt and brought them the Ten Commandments, written on stone tablets.

Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin – 'Numbered, numbered, weighed, divided', (Old Testament; Daniel 5).

### -N-

Ninurta – a young god of the Sumerians, Chaldeans and Assyrians. In many ways he resembles the Greek demigod Heracles.

Nabu – the Babylonian god of wisdom; son to the supreme god Marduk.

Naptan sharri – 'the royal table', (Bab.).

Nimrod – a great hunter in the Book of Genesis. He is a hero of many Mesopotamian legends and fairytales; the possible founder of the first empire; in some scholars' opinions, the symbol of the pagan world. Semiramis was his wife.

Nava Rezehh – the Persian New Year; translates to 'new day'; started at Spring Equinox, March 21 and continued for 13 days, (O.P.). Nowadays it's called 'Navruz' and is celebrated among many people in Asia.

### -P-

Palanquin – a covered litter carried on poles on the shoulders of bearers. This form of transportation was used in many countries in Asia.

Pirradazish – a kind of inn, established by Persians on their central roads, located every 30km., (O.P.).

Paris – the prince of Troy, who seduced the Spartan king's wife, Helen.

Pascadapati – a small unit of 5 warriors, (O.P.).

Papyrus – a thick paper-like material, the most important writing substance in the ancient world, made from the papyrus plant; it was so important to the ancient Egyptians that they kept the technology of its production a secret, becoming the monopolists in the papyrus making market.

Portico – a colonnade with a roof over a walkway, leading to the building.

Peplos – a body-length garment for women made from two rectangular pieces of cloth, which was folded and pinned in specific ways to become a gracefully draped cloak, (O.G.).

Peristylar – a colonnade surrounding a building or open space.

Phialai – a wide plate-like drinking vessel without handles or foot, made from clay, porcelain or metal, (O.G.).

Plethron – an old Greek measure of length equal to 29.6 m.

### -R-

Rikis qabli – the tax dedicated to outfitting soldiers, (Bab.).

Resh-shattimi – the New Year's festival in Babylon, (Bab.).

### -S-

Satrap – a governor of a province in ancient Persia, but the word 'khshacapava', which meant 'satrap' in Old Persian, is actually a Median word and means 'protector of the realm'.

Satrapy – a part of the Persian Empire, ruled by a satrap.

Sandabakku – the civil governor of a city, (Bab.).

Sab-sharri – the official who is in charge of all income, (Bab.).

Spada – the standing army, (O.P.).

Spadapatish – the supreme commander of the Persian army, (O.P.).

Sacae/Scythian – different nomadic tribes, which belonged to the Indo-Iranian family and shared the same name. The Scythians known to Herodotos called themselves 'Skolotoi', which means 'shooter, archer'; Sacae (O.P.) and means 'wanderer'; Sakai (O.G.).

Scythian/Sacae – see Sacae.

Skouthi – the poor, (O.P.).

Soani – one of the tribes of Kolchis, (modern day Georgia).

Svans – one of the tribes of Kolchis, (modern day Georgia).

Sarmathians – the nomadic tribes (not Slavs), which lived further north of the Black Sea in the territories of the modern Ukraine and southern Russia.

Sanigae – one of the tribes of Kolchis, (modern day Georgia).

Shah – an Iranian term for a monarch.

Shahin-shah/ Shahn shah – King of Kings, (Middle Persian).

Shatammu – the temple's chief administrator, (Bab.).

Shekel – one of many ancient units of weight and currency, first used in Mesopotamia about 5000 years ago.

Shapiru – scribes, clerks and secretaries, (Bab.).

Shipirtu – special written note that officially authorized one to act in behalf of another person, (Bab.).

Sheshgallu – the high priest of Esagila, (Bab.).

Sharri – king, (Bab.).

Sunki – king, (O.P.).

Shamash – the Akkadian name of the sun-god and the god of justice in Babylon and Assyria, (Bab.).

Sha-resh-sharri – the king's personal representative in the Babylonian temples, (Bab.).

Semiramis – also known as Semiramida, a legendary Assyrian queen, the wife of Nimrod

Shakin-temi – the head of the capital city Babylon.

Seven stocks – 91 meters, the height of the tower of Babylon according to the description in a cuneiform tablet from Uruk from 229 BC.

### -T-

Tamada – the head of a festive feast; (Georgian).

Talent – one of the ancient units of value pertaining to the masses of precious metal, usually silver; varied in different countries; for example: Attic talent was 26kg., Egyptian 27kg., Babylonian 30kg.

Ten Thousand Immortals – elite troops in the Persian army; imperial guard. According to Herodotus their number always remained 10 000.

Tyrant – a single ruler in a Greek city-state; originally the word didn't have any negative meaning, (O.G.).

Trireme – a category of warships used by the ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean, especially the Phoenicians, (O.G.).

Tiara – 'tara' in Persian; a form of crown, (O.P.).

Tunic – a loose-fitting garment, sleeved or sleeveless.

Tishtrya – a Zoroastrian divinity, a god of rainfall and fertility. (O.P.).

Thukhra – thought to be red headed. Utana's father's nickname. (O.P.).

-U-

Urash – a goddess of earth in the Sumerian mythology.

Usta(r)baru – a finance officer, (O.P.).

### -V-

Verethraghna – in Zoroastrianism the spirit of Victory, (Avesta).

Vacabara – a very high court position in ancient Persia held by a noble; literally means 'bow bearer', (O.P.).

Vishap – a serpent monster in Persian mythology, (O.P.).

### -Y-

Yauna – the Old Persian name for Greeks.

### -Z-

Zan – one of the tribes in Kolchis, (modern day Georgia). The term Zan comes from a name given to the Migrelians, one of the chief Kolchian tribes, by their neighboring tribe, the Svans.

Zayana – winter; (O.P.)

Zykhians – a north Caucasian tribe of the ancient times.

Zoroastrianism – the one of the oldest religions and philosophy based on the teachings of the prophet Zarathustra (Avesta)/Zoroaster; (O.G.).

Ziggurat – a temple tower in the shape of a terraced pyramid in ancient Assyria and Babylon.

# CALENDAR

# About Tsira Gelen

Hi! Let me introduce myself; my real name is Tsira Gelenava-Volobueva but I use the pseudonym Tsira Gelen so that English speakers do not break their tongues by trying to pronounce my combined Georgian-Russian surname correctly (which they never manage, anyway). I am from Georgia, a country located right where the East meets the West, and as you've already guessed, I'm multi-lingual, writing in Georgian, English, and Russian. (How well - it's up to you to judge.) I am a proud mom with two beautiful girls, Nino and Mariam, and their adopted brothers – black Labrador Alfie and yellow kitty Lawrence. By profession, I am a philologist and by heart, I am a researcher; I absolutely adore studying ancient civilizations. My career is a logical reflection of my character; I taught language arts at the Technical University of Georgia for ten years and then worked at the Faculty of Russian History at the Tbilisi State University for a while. The next ten years of my life I spent in America, working in the field of design, though I had never forgotten my true passion for literature and history. My main literary work: "And God Requireth That Which is Past" was thought out and mostly written during that period of time. In 2009 I returned to my motherland, and continue to live here to this day. During the last years, at different times, I have worked as a teacher, as a freelance tutor and translator for various organizations.

Besides studying antiquities and wondering about them, I have one more obsession – I love traveling and spend as much time as I can visiting different countries. And, of course, writing! Writing is my true passion. Now, at this stage of my life, I think I'm finally ready to release my more than decade-long literary work into the world for you, my dear reader. I hope you'll enjoy it.

If you would like to learn more about me, you can check out my interview: https://www.smashwords.com/interview/TSIRA

Thank you for your interest in my work. If you enjoyed reading The Invincible Empire as much I enjoyed writing it, won't you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

Thanks!

Tsira Gelen

# Connect with Tsira Gelen

I cordially invite you to connect with me at any of the coordinates below and look forward to hearing from you!

You are more than welcome to email me any questions or suggestions by using the address below. If you wish, you may also become one of my mailing list subscribers and get new release alerts, special offers, and free copies of my brand new books.

Friend me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TsiraGelen.Author

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Email me: tsiragelen@gmail.com

# Other books by Tsira Gelen

### The Illegals

Chapter 1

"Wow!" – Exclaimed Frank. He was a no-nonsense New England Lawyer, and the look on his face told me that my brief account of our family's misadventures in the first months of our stay in America were surprising to him. "You should write a book about this." – he said.

Considering that I was still working on my historical saga at that time, the advice struck me as a daunting task, so I brushed it off skeptically:

"And who would read it? Most readers aren't interested in this."

"Why? I would. We love politics and social issues," - he protested - speaking on behalf of all Americans, of course.

"Well, we'll see." - I replied, unpersuaded.

Years have passed since that chat, and I never thought about fulfilling Frank's advice; never until now. The recent rise of heated political debates about illegal immigration changed my mind. The internet is alight with differing views, objectives and arguments.

Well, here comes my confession; although I am a foreigner and currently living in my motherland of Georgia, not so long ago I resided in the USA as an unwelcome alien for almost a decade. Not a very lucrative way to accost an already irritated reader, I guess, but do I have a choice? If I want to say anything about the matter, which I most certainly do, I have to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. And now, before you shove my book aside, I better start talking.

My name is Tsira which means 'young lady' in the Megrelian dialect of the Georgian language. Although I should have stopped considering myself as particularly young a long time ago, I still feel like I'm eternally trapped in that formative age. And perhaps the same linguistic magic of my funny name makes me childishly hold onto the hope that if only I find the right words, people would understand that the vast majority of illegal immigrants are just regular clean-cut, I would even say, law-abiding folks. I'm guessing that 'law-abiding' would be the key metaphor that will raise the most questions here. Of cause I'm not implying that illegality shouldn't be considered a serious misconduct. I just want to illustrate on the example that under certain circumstances even the most unlikely person might find him/herself in an unimaginable scenario.

Let's start with me.

So, what is the Law to me? In the early days of my life it had a different name – it was called "mommy's rules", and ever breaking them was absolutely out of the question. That's not because I was a good girl but because of my steadfast belief that disobeying mom was simply an impossible thing to do. Even my daddy, Nodari, a 'big' man and a 'big' boss of the 'big, big' factory, would never dare to challenge the softly spoken words of his always calm but steady as a rock wife, Madonna. Every time when I or my younger brother tried to insert his authority between us and mom's everyday requests, he would just grin and decline:

"Don't come to me. She is the queen of the house."

And indeed, she was the true ruler of our tiny private world; strict but always fair and undoubtedly always right. Of course, this innocence couldn't last forever; one day I became a teenager and the sweet taste of disobedience stealthily snuck into my heart. This is when I discovered that rules were not always so indisputable after all. But even this rebellious phase of life didn't bring the razor-sharp sensation of 'breaking the Law' into my inner world. As most of us, I went through this perilous stage of human existence quite ordinarily; not as a dazzlingly wild child but not as mommy's shy little girl either.

And then legal adulthood came, the period when all of us start seeking actual maturity and independence. That was the very first time when the definition of the word "law" truly entered my freshly developed mind, the point at which I consciously realized that I actually turned into "Tsira". Now I was totally ready to accept all of the consequences of becoming a decision maker and a master of my own life. How proud I felt just considering myself as a law abiding middle class citizen. After finishing university I married my husband Dimitri. As you see, my path through this stage of life was not extraordinary either.

The daughter of a well-off family and the wife of a hard-working and talented husband, a promising young woman myself, one of the youngest lecturers of the State University, I felt quite confident in myself and the future seemed very bright and secure. We lived in a nice apartment in a prestigious district of the capital of Georgia, Tbilisi. Our dwelling was a little bit crowded for us because we lived with my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and her son, but we were a very happy and close knit family in which all adults had well respected jobs with steady incomes and we sincerely loved each other.

And then a beautiful baby-girl entered our lives; Nino. What could be better than her? Who would even think of breaking laws in such a nirvana of complete happiness? Certainly not me. Little unavoidable lies of everyday life, harmless naughtiness here and there, insignificant mischief, well, these and other inconsequential misbehaviors, of course, sometimes took place but never true delinquency. Never an act of actual wrongdoing. I was even convinced that neither I nor any member of our family was capable of committing any serious wrongdoing.

And then boom... With the collapse of the Soviet Union the whole world collapsed around me and not only around me. One might think that finishing off a totalitarian regime and dismantling such an enormous empire is a positive thing but it's more complicated than that. Along with the liberation of many subjugated nations and granting citizens personal freedoms, which are undoubtedly great achievements, it also brought a lot of thorny, ill side effects. Unfortunately, true democracy cannot prevail on ruins of despotism right away. It requires time. Time and sacrifice of many innocent lives as old regimes almost never go without a fight. This is exactly what happened in Georgia; ethnic wars staged by the intelligence service of the former USSR, broke out and in the blink of an eye nearly a hundred percent of our relatives became homeless refugees from Abkhazia. Ethnic cleansing, bloody battles, criminal gangs all over the place, lawlessness, joblessness, and intolerable cruelty entered our lives...

That was a time when the malady of the schism plagued even the best and the most modest families. Even under such horrible consequences many tried to remain calm and obedient, always playing by the rules, but others started to seriously doubt the sanity of such inert behavior. "Fight the Devil with its own weapons," – became the most popular creed of the time, euphemistically called 'revolutionary' by historians. Many good men were broken physically and morally under such tremendous pressure; some ending in suicide, others becoming homicidal and many simply dying from heartbreak.

Our little family fought back doing everything possible to remain humane and alive. In such harsh times our second daughter, Mariam, was born - a huge surprise even for me and a real blessing to our bleeding hearts. God truly acts in mysterious ways; the more responsibility, the more reasons to stay firm and keep fighting. And so, once more we clenched our teeth and intensified our resistance to the circumstances. At that point, my husband, Dimitri, had already lost his job. The family business, a multi-profile construction complex, which we co-owned with his brother, was also under constant attack by criminals in an attempt to force us to sell it for nothing. De jure we still owned it but de facto we were not able to run it. Things were getting uglier and uglier every day but we had no right to surrender.

So, in the battle for survival, Dimitri, who was an artist by nature, noticed an abandoned basement located conveniently close to the central park of Tbilisi. He breathed life back into that shabby little space, transforming it from a waste of space into a beautifully exotic alcove. And that is where we opened our tiny cafe. It was a desperate move, because opening even the smallest canteen without the "protection" of the local gangs was dangerous.

Consequences were swift and harsh. They came, we refused their 'protection' and they came again, but this time in masks and with guns. Of course, they took everything that they could carry. We were ruined but due to the stubbornness of our men we still didn't give up and after a while we reopened the cafe again. And they came once more. This happened three times during two months and finally we, the women, came to the conclusion that if we wouldn't halt our men, we would lose not only the goods but them as well.

That was it. After that point my husband didn't try to start another business. The only thing he was still capable of doing without any involvement of criminals was collecting fire wood in the winter and picking berries in the spring and summer. At home he entertained our kids, painting fairytale characters on our bedroom walls and playing make-believe. He would pretend to be a camel and they were princess riders on his back. This is how he kept them away from the harsh reality of our circumstances. A perfect father for our little angels.

Meanwhile, we were desperately seeking a way to create a steady income. If we failed to do so, we would parish as many others already had. As I mentioned before, our family used to be prosperous. Not very rich, but we had gained a few valuables through four generations of scholarly ancestry. So, we started selling personal belongings from our home, mainly to foreigners and sometimes to the contemporary members of our government. This decision was especially hard on my husband who already felt guilt for having failed to provide for his family. I think that the emotional damage from those days kept haunting his soul to his final days. I still remember how we would sell one tiny porcelain statuette from the renaissance era and our whole family could live for a month. Then the antique books, jewelry, a grandma's bureau, brought by her and grandpa from Paris during their honeymoon trip in the beginning of the twentieth century. Then grandpa's bronze ashtray vanished; beautiful and dear to my husband's heart.

"You never used it, anyway," - I tried to comfort him.

"Damn it and damn myself," - He grumbled back.

But those reserves eventually come to an end, and after almost half a decade of selling possessions from our home the only valuable thing still remaining there was grandma's grand piano which survived only because its sounding board, a decca, had been cracked. The last thing we sold was Dimitri's old car. It was then when we finally acknowledged that we had no option but to sell one of us to slavery abroad. I label it as 'slavery' only from today's prospective but back then we looked at it as an opportunity to find a job. I guess many readers will not appreciate me choosing the word "slavery" to describe the situation where a person might find him/herself under these particular circumstances, but believe me, I am not using such extreme terminology in a slinky attempt to make someone feel guilty or to gain fleeting sympathy, but simply because it is the most honest way to describe a situation in which many people find themselves in due to the struggle for survival. Ironically enough, modern 'slaves' will probably hate such presentation of the truth even more than the 'slave buyers' would, but I'm abhorrent about hiding behind euphemisms.

By the way, there is nothing new or unheard of in selling oneself into slavery. It is an ancient practice which is well described in the earliest-known set of laws, the four thousand-year-old Hammurabi's code, and which, as we all witness here, successfully prevails to date. And our family was among those who dared such a fate.

Somebody told us that there was an office downtown which sent people abroad for work. So, naturally, we went to try our luck.

"For a reasonable fee, we can get a job for you in the US", - the nice lady informed us.

"How?"

"We can get a guest visa for anybody."

"Guest visa? I thought we were talking about jobs."

"Yes, but it's faster this way. We can certainly get a work visa as well, but in that case the whole procedure would take about seven years."

Seven years sounded like a hell of a lot to us. We wouldn't survive so long, but a guest visa? We still had doubts.

"Why do we need the guest visa? What can we do with it? Can we work? Is it legal?"

"Everybody who wants to work there goes through this. It's a shortcut in a formal procedure and it's absolutely legal. You go to America as a tourist, and when you're already there, you find a job and your employer goes to the Labor department and they change your guest visa into a work permit."

"As simple as that? How can we find an employer like that?"

"That's why we are here. That's our part of the deal. We already have employers. This is why we are getting paid", - was the polite answer.

"How much would all of this cost?"

"Almost nothing; $100 for a visa, + $300 as our payment, and of course an embassy fee + air tickets."

Their "almost nothing" was quite a bit of something for us but did we have a choice? No, we did not. So we started asking the details and that was when our troubles began. It appeared that in order to get a visa approval from the American Embassy we had to hide our intentions to work in America.

We didn't like it. We didn't like it at all.

"Why can't we just tell the truth? If everything you say is true, and there are jobs that Americans don't want to do themselves, then why would the Embassy deny us visas?"

"If you're so worried about a little white lie, go for it and apply for a work visa and wait seven years to get it. But first, you'll have to go to Moscow because that's the only American Embassy that does that kind of work around here."- the clerk coldly explained.

Moscow. One of the most hostile Cities for a Georgian to visit? The one where even a short stay would cost a small fortune by our standards? We couldn't afford that in a million years.

We went home completely disheartened. I'm not going to whine about all the details we had been through, recounting how difficult it was to explain to the children why we were always walking in 90 degree blistering heat when others were sitting on a bus or even taking a taxi, why mommy was always so cruel that she would only let them eat half a piece of bread at a time when they obviously wanted to munch a whole slice. I will only assure you that after we had nothing else to sell, things got much worse. The only remaining sources for survival were the little daily provisions from my parents, and kind contributions brought by our friends and distant relatives every now and again. Even refugees from Abkhazia used to help us out by sharing the monthly food donations they'd been getting from international humanitarian organizations. This is how we learned that canned meat from 1953 US Army reserves was still good. Although this was valuable knowledge about the miracles of modern food technology, it was certainly not the way of life we wanted for the rest of our lives. That was a landmark point when our bona fide principles had gotten seriously breached for the very first time. We started revising our previous thoughts and many ubiquitous doubts snuck into our hearts:

"Why do moral dogmas always get in our way?"

"Why should we follow all the rules, especially when they don't make sense?"

"Why is telling one harmless white lie so unthinkable to us?"

"A little lie never killed anyone, has it? It's our children's lives at stake, for Goodness sake! We can't jeopardize them."

That was it. We were done. We vigorously started collecting money and soon entered "the office" door once more.

"I knew you would be back", - the lady smiled. - "Don't torture yourself with fruitless doubts. This is the right thing to do. We all have been in your shoes. We all want to survive."

Before we knew it, the people from "the office" got a valid invitation from New York for my husband. We prepared all the necessary documents in accordance with their advice, sold our last valuable possessions - our wedding rings - and finally we were ready for our last and most important step; to get the visa.

"Don't worry. You almost don't have to lie", \- I consoled my husband on his way to the Embassy.

He didn't answer, just looked the other way.

God, I was scared. I thought it was written on Dimitri's forehead in red marker that he was up to something and everyone was going to see it, but everything went surprisingly well that day. I was not completely dishonest while stating that he almost hadn't have to lie and "almost" was the key word there. I hadn't suspected yet that "almost" would become such a principal word in our life for many, many years. Dimitri had to leave the impression of a wealthy, flamboyant, carefree person. While this was indeed his true face in his past life, things were different now, and my husband would have to portray his old self rather than who he was now. Luckily, all of his documents were authentic. Technically, he was still a co-owner of the factory, but he had to "forget" to mention that his business had been dead for several years. But most importantly, Dimitri's affirmation that he was not planning on staying in America forever was indisputably genuine. The Embassy believed him and gave him the green light.

"You see, it was not the end of the world after all", - I comforted my husband later. – "Don't worry; the worst part of our life is over. From now we won't be starving and won't be forced to disgrace ourselves with swindling either."

If only I knew that it was just a mere harbinger of a much bigger and more colorful saga.

Getting money for the round trip ticket didn't appear hard at all. For such an occasion my father sold his car and gave us the money. I was very touched by this. I knew how much my dad loved his old GAZ 24 and what a huge sacrifice it was for him to make this decision, practically leaving his family without any source of income.

Finally, Dimitri bought the ticket.

"Be brave, woman. I'll be back in six months," – he said at last and left home, visibly trembling.

