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THE FATE OF ZOROASTER
Written by Marion Crawford
Zoroaster a young Persian and Nehushta a Hebrew maiden were betrothed lovers; an unfortunate misunderstanding separated them and, in a fit of jealousy, Nehushta became a wife of Darius, king of the Persians. Zoroaster entered the priesthood and later became the high priest of the temple in the king's palace. In a subsequent interview with the high priest, Nehushta discovers that her jealousy was groundless, but it was now too late to correct her unhappy mistake. In the meantime, Nehushta had incurred the jealousy and hatred of another wife of Darius, who, in the absence of the king, planned the massacre of the priests of the temple and Nehushta and her servants.
Four days after the king's departure, Nehushta was wandering in the gardens as the sun was going down. Just then a strange sound echoed far off among the hills, an unearthly cry that rang high in the air and struck the dark crags and doubled in the echo and died away in short, faint pulsations of sound. She started slightly, she had never heard such a sound before. Again that strange cry rang out and echoed and died away. Her slave women gathered about her.
"What is it?" asked Nehushta.
"The war cry of the children of Anak is like that," said a little Syrian maid.
Nehushta pushed the slaves aside and fled towards the palace. The truth had flashed across her. Some armed force was collecting on the hills to descend upon the palace. But one thought filled her mind. She must find Zoroaster and warn him.
Through the garden, she ran, and up the broad steps to the portico. Slaves were moving about under the colonnade, lighting the great torches that burned there all night. They had not heard the strange cries from the hills. As she entered the great hall, she heard the cry again.
"Go, my little maid, in one direction and I will go in another, and search out Zoroaster, the high priest, and bring him."
The girl turned and ran through the halls, and Nehushta went another way upon her search. Something within her told her that she was in great danger, and the calm she had seen in the palace could not allay the terror of that cry she had heard three times from the hills. Just then the Syrian maid came running in and fell breathless at Nehushta's feet.
"Fly, fly, beloved mistress, the devils of the mountains are upon us—they cover the hills—they are closing every entrance—the people in the lower palace are all slain."
"Where is Zoroaster?"
"He is in the temple with the priests—by this time he is surely slain—he could know of nothing going on—fly, fly!"
"On which side are they coming?"
"From the hills, from the hills, they are descending in thousands."
"Go you all to the farther window, leap down upon the balcony—it is scarce a man's height,—follow it to the end past the corner where it joins the main wall of the garden. Run along upon the wall till you find a place where you can descend. Through the gardens, you can easily reach the road. Fly, and save yourselves in the darkness." But before she had half-finished, the last of the slave women, mad with terror, disappeared.
"Why do you not go with the rest, my little maid?" asked Nehushta.
"I have eaten thy bread, shall I leave thee in the hour of death?"
"Go, child, I have seen thy devotion; thou must not perish."
But the Syrian leaped to her feet as she answered:
"I am a bondwoman, but I am a daughter of Israel, even as thou art. Though all the others leave thee, I will not. It may be I can help thee."
"Thou art a brave child; I must go to Zoroaster; stay thou here, hide thyself among the curtains, escape by the window if anyone come to harm thee." She turned and went rapidly out.
But the maid grasped the knife in her girdle and stole upon her mistress's steps. The din rose louder every moment—the shrieks of wounded women with the moaning of wounded men, the clash of swords and arms, and a quick, loud rattle, as half a dozen arrows struck the wall together.
Onward flew Nehushta till she reached the temple door; then she listened. Faintly through the thick walls, she could hear the sound of the evening chant. The priests were all within with Zoroaster, unconscious of their danger. Nehushta tried the door. The great bronze gates were locked, and though she pushed with her whole strength, they would not move a hair's breadth.
"Press the nail nearest the middle," said a small voice. Nehushta started. It was the little Syrian slave. She put her hand upon the round head of the nail and pressed. The door opened, turning noiselessly upon its hinges. The seventy priests, in even rank, stood around. Solemnly the chant rose round the sacred fire upon the black stone altar. Zoroaster stood before it, his hands lifted in prayer. But Nehushta with a sudden cry broke their melody.
"Zoroaster—fly—there is yet time! The enemy have come in thousands; they are in the palace. There is barely time!"
The high priest turned calmly, his face unmoved, although the priests ceased their chanting and gathered about their chief in fear. As their voices ceased, a low roar was heard from without as though the ocean were beating at the gates.
"Go thou and save thyself," said Zoroaster. "I will not go. If it is the will of the All-Wise that I perish, I will perish before this altar. Go thou quickly and save thyself while there is yet time."
But Nehushta took his hand in hers and gazed into his calm eyes.
"Knowest thou not, Zoroaster, that I would rather die with thee than live with any other? I swear to thee, by the God of my fathers, I will not leave thee!"
"There is no more time! There is no more time! Ye are all dead men! Behold, they are breaking down the doors!"
As she spoke the noise of some heavy mass striking against the bronze gates echoed like thunder through the temple and at each blow a chorus of hideous yells rose, wild and long drawn out.
"Can none of you save Zoroaster?" cried Nehushta.
But Zoroaster gently said:
"Ye cannot save me, for my hour is come; we must die like men, and like priests of the Lord before His altar;" and, raising one hand to heaven, he chanted:
"Praise we the all-wise God
Who hath made and created the years and the ages;
Praise Him who rides on death,
In whose hand are all power and honor and glory;
Who made the day of life,
That should rise up and lighten the shadow of death."
With a crash, the great bronze doors gave way and fell clanging in. In an instant, the temple was filled with a swarm of hideous men. Their swords gleamed aloft as they passed forward, and their yells rent the roof. They had hoped for treasure—they saw but a handful of white-robed, unarmed men. Their rage knew no bounds, and their screams rose more piercing than ever, as they surrounded the doomed band, and dyed their blades in the blood that flowed red over the white vestures.
The priests struggled like brave men, but the foe was a hundred to one. A sharp blade fell swiftly and the brave little slave fell shrieking to the floor.
Nehushta's eyes met the high priest's triumphant gaze and her hands clasped him wildly.
"Oh, Zoroaster, my beloved, my beloved! Say not anymore that I am unfaithful, for I have been faithful even unto death, and I shall be with you beyond the stars forever!"
"Beyond the stars and forever!" he cried; "in the light of the glory of God most high!"
The keen sword flashed and severed Nehushta's neck and found its sheath in her lover's heart; and they fell down dead together.
Finish