OnYourMark
オンヨマク いつも
Prologue
The instruments of love played songs so sweet;
I fell in love. Behold! Our eyes did meet.
Arranged to wed was Maiden fair to sight,
But by my lust I seized her in the night.
Not one believed the story which she kept:
“The Prince of Persia ***** me while I slept!”
With child, adultery called for banishment;
She took the fatal blow, away she went.
But following a while with little strife,
A twisting turn of fate controlled my life:
Two men confessed they’d seen my mortal sin;
Not stoned was I, but exiled I had been.
Alone and poor, I wandered with no aim;
A traveling Gypsy posed to me a game.
She’d give me a grand prize to meet her mark;
A bargain sounded it to me, but hark!
The Girl, the Game, and the Gold
The Arabian Desert
It was late in the afternoon, and all that the fiery sun’s harsh rays could find soon became scorched. The most brutal winds whipped sand into the Prince’s face as he walked on the dry, dusty roads.
He came to a busy town in the middle of the vast desert place. Much dirt had now collected on his sweaty face. He walked through the marketplace, weak and tired. Already, he had begun to feel the sting of hunger as he had never felt before. Many of the townspeople made for themselves lifestyles of thievery, but none of them dared to rob the Prince, for he wore around his neck a golden chain, studded with lapis lazuli, a sign of royalty.
“You are a fine-looking wealthy young gentleman,” said a vivacious peddler selling his goods on the street. “Would you care for a tasty morsel of this delicious fermented soybean? Straight from the Far East! 250 rupees I usually sell this for, but you look like a nice fellow. I will give it to you for the cheapest price in all of Arabia: 249 rupees, just for you!”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money,” said the Prince.
“A piece of your necklace would fetch a fair price,” the man said; he examined the ornament closely. “A member of the Persian Royal Family should not be walking in the marketplace with no money, taunting himself with the succulent food that he cannot have. The pleasant smell of this fresh food simply knocks at the door of the senses. It begs to be eaten. But, food is not cheap. I have a good idea: if you give me only a small piece of your fine jewelry, you can have as much food as you want.”
The Prince immediately undid his necklace and took off a bead of lapis; it was dark blue in color and had veins of golden Pyrite.
With a greedy grin, the peddler snatched the bead from the Prince’s hand and said, “Now, eat all that you like.”
The Prince took a large bite of the fermented soybean which the peddler had regarded with such high esteem. It was gooey in texture and pungent in scent, and when the Prince began to chew on it, his face turned noticeably red, even though it was already very burnt by the desert sun. His eyes bulged out of his head, and he bent over forward as if he was going to vomit. He coughed and gagged, and out shot the food onto the peddler’s feet.
“That was disgusting!” exclaimed the Prince.
“But, sir, this is the finest delicacy in all of East Asia!” the man said with a worried and puzzled expression on his face. “Here, try this fried octopus. Don’t worry, most people here enjoy this dish.”
The Prince sneered at the peddler, but his hunger cast aside all disbelief and contempt. He took a small piece and found that it was exceedingly good to eat. He ate more, and more, until his stomach was filled solely with the octopus.
The peddler summoned up a big laugh and said, “Ah, you are a good man.”
The day passed slowly, and the Prince continued to wander through the streets. He saw many poorly constructed tents and some mud houses, but suddenly a particular place caught his attention. It was a clay house, well built, and it was lighter in color than the other houses. It was not its peculiarity that drew him closer, but the power of the one who was inside—the Gypsy called him in. He entered the house.
“My dear Prince,” said the Gypsy as the Prince walked into the room, “have you done what I asked of you?”
He recalled his meeting with the Gypsy on the previous day when she said to him, Choose, boy, which you desire: Black or Green. Consider it surely, for the penalty of choosing poorly is death, though your reward will be great if you choose well. But do not be hasty. We will meet tomorrow. Tell me your answer then.
“I have given it much thought, just as you instructed me to,” the Prince said. He looked at the Gypsy carefully. Her lips were full, her face was fat, and the folds of flesh on her neck were frightening. She had a large imposing mole on the left side of her upper lip. Her eyes were large and bulbous, and could pierce into the thoughts of many minds.
The Gypsy commanded the Prince to sit opposite of her at the table. She placed in front of him two orbs. One was black, and the other was green. They were both smooth and perfectly round, and were equally attractive.
“Your answer?” she asked. “Which of these do you desire?”
I have ever longed to choose Black, he thought to himself. Why should I live if not for the throne of my father Xerxes, and his father Darius? But I have tasted the sweet food of the merchant. Is there not still delight in life? Oh, how my heart is broken!
“My answer?” he said after a long pause. “I hold hope in the green orb. I choose the green orb.”
“Death will not find you today. Please, wait in the room in the back while I prepare your reward,” the Gypsy said, dumbfounded and angered by the Prince’s answer. “Beyond all doubt, I thought that you would have chosen the black orb.”
The House of the Assyrian King
The Maiden was engaged to the King of Assyria in hope of reconciliation between the two nations, but the Prince’s act of **** had greatly angered the king. He was pacing back and forth; the ground quaked at each fall of his thunderous feet.
“Concerning that cursed prince,” the king spoke to his advisor, “have you not yet devised a way to crush that fool?”
“I have, Your Highness,” he answered. “A few days ago, I hired a psychic woman to impersonate a Gypsy. She will get rid of the Prince.”
“Good,” the king said. He was greatly pleased with the thought of revenge. “The Persians promised me a wife, but their king’s son spites me by sleeping with her. I’ll finally be able to sleep with him in hell.”
A messenger entered the room. He presented the king with a letter:
From Medea, the Gypsy. To the Most Worthy King of Assyria:
I presented the Prince with a game. I did not expect him to win, but nonetheless, I promised him a great reward for victory. He would give his life to me if he lost, then I would sell him to the cannibals in Egypt. But he readily accepted to play my game, even when he knew of the risk, because he had already considered his life forfeit.
I asked him, “Which of these do you desire: Black or Green?” I looked into his thoughts; not once has my discernment failed me. He meant to choose Black from the beginning. But he choose Green. That coward, that cur!
But being a woman of the highest integrity, I presented him with his reward—but not after binding a cruel spell on it. No, it will not kill him. I am no murderer.
I ask you pardon me, Your Highness. ~Medea.
The king became furious, and the messenger trembled in fear of the king’s wrath.
“Send out the assassins,” the king roared. “Kill the Prince. That vile creature deserves death. Now!”
The Arabian Desert
The night was cool, and the air was still. The Prince bought a new set of clothes in an attempt to flee from his Persian life and start anew in Arabia. He stayed in an inn not far from the Asian peddler’s shop, and he paid the rent with beads from his necklace which was now quite destitute of value.
He examined his reward from the Gypsy. It was a golden ball, nearly a half of a cubit in diameter. It was smooth and glossy, and resembled the Gypsy’s green and black orbs. Initially, the golden Orb had little affect on the Prince, and he intended to sell it the following day. But as he looked at it more, he became attached to it. Its beauty was captivating, though the Gypsy’s Curse had not yet been activated. He decided to think for a day more whether he should keep it or sell it.
When morning came, the Prince went to the marketplace, but he left the Orb in the inn. While he was out, he gave what was left of his royal necklace to the Asian peddler. He usually ate only the octopus, though he eventually tried newer foods from the Far East; upon doing so, he always said they were “pale in comparison to the fried octopus.”
The pregnant Maiden too lived in this desert town. Though against her conscience, she earned money by theft and hustling; and when she saw the Prince the previous night with his golden Orb, she planned to steal it from him. She did not know who he was, because his clothing caused him to appear Arabian, and his headdress covered much of his face. While the Prince was at the marketplace, gorging himself with the peddler’s food, the Maiden crept quietly into the inn.
When she saw the Orb, she was immediately taken by its beauty; for she, unlike the Prince, had not been accustomed to such elegance.
“It’s amazing,” she said, half to herself and half to her unborn child. “It’s too beautiful to sell. We can find money enough to provide for our aching stomachs, can we not? Yes, we will keep this.”
She held the Orb in her hands and fell into a dark dream. You fiendish woman! the Gypsy said. How do you dare to steal my Orb from Darius? You will suffer, as he will, though he will lose much more than you have ever had. Forget now all your sorrows and be bound to the Gypsy’s Curse!
The Maiden awoke. Though she forgot all that was in her dream, she had an inner sense of uneasiness. A pain came into her stomach and she dropped the Orb. She began to sweat, and her breath became heavy.
“My baby!” she screamed. “You are in trouble. Someone, help!”
She stumbled out of the Prince’s room, grasping for breath and holding her stomach. She was ready to give birth. The innkeeper saw her and took her into his room. He and his wife helped deliver the baby. The Maiden was in labor for six hours.
The Prince, after his day out, came once again to the inn; but before he went to his room, the innkeeper fetched him and brought him into the Maiden’s presence. She held a baby boy in her arms.
“This woman came shouting out of you room,” the innkeeper said to the Prince. “She was in great pain and was in labor.”
The Prince immediately recognized the Maiden, and he became exceedingly fearful. But the Maiden did not recognize him; for, by the Gypsy’s Curse, she did not remember the ****.
“What were you doing in my room?” the Prince asked her in suspicion.
“I don’t know,” she replied earnestly. “I remember waking up in that room, and I was about to give birth, and that’s when this man and his wife came to help me. I am sorry for my trespass. Do not be angry with me.”
The Prince saw that she did not recognize him, though he thought it was because of his headdress.
“Thank you for being honest,” he said. He asked his leave.
The Prince began to walk toward his room. By now, night had come to the desert town. He was anxious, cold, and queasy, and he now felt the deepest regret and sorrow. Shame came back into his conscience. Why is she here? he said. Thoughts began to race through his mind. She makes me her quarry when hitherto she was mine. But I’ve paid for my sin already. Has God not had enough?
His face was sweaty, his throat was sore, and his heart beat wildly. He came at last to his room. As he entered, he was startled and filled with wonder: the Orb was on the floor, it was glowing brilliantly, and its light illuminated the whole room.
He picked it up; it was hot to touch. He looked at it and stared deep into the reflection of his face. The deceitful Orb showed him not his filthy sins, but instead the upright and handsome Prince. This was the first time he felt relief from the guilt of the ****, and this was the first time in months he felt good about himself. The Gypsy’s curse began its work in him. He stared at the Orb for hours longer until the Maiden appeared at his door.
“Excuse me,” the Maiden said. The Prince became surprised, and then the light from the Orb vanished. He hid the Orb and went to the doorway.
“Hello,” the Maiden said. “I came back to thank you for your forgiveness. Ah, look here: this is my baby boy. I don’t have a name for him yet, though.”
“You are very kind, fair one,” the Prince said. He was very affectionate for her grew; for though by the power of the Orb he had no recollection of the memory of the ****, her beauty remained, and his love for her rekindled. “If I may say this, he looks very much like me—when I was a child, I think.”
The Prince took off his headdress to let her compare the faces.
“Yet even now that you are not a child, my son’s face resembles yours,” she said.
The Maiden gazed into the eyes her rapist and fell in love. The Prince’s eyes were dark brown, stern and yet soft. He had short and wavy brown hair, and his face was strong and decisive.
He was no less handsome than the Maiden was beautiful. Her face was gentle, and her hair was long, flowing, and purely black. Her skin was light brown in color. Though her eyes were of a very dark brown color, they were radiant and bright.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked to break the lengthy and somewhat uncomfortable silence.
“—Oh, yes,” she said and came into the room. “Thank you.”
And thus their relationship started. They talked until the rising of the sun. The Prince told the Maiden stories about his ancestors: about the overthrow of the Medes and the founding of Persia, and how King Cyrus the Great was blessed and used by God to restore Judea and the Hebrew Temple. Many other things like these he told, but never did he tell a tale of sadness or sorrow.
The Maiden listened with wonder; never before had she heard of the history of the Persians. But while she listened, she tried to refrain from staring at the Prince’s beautiful face, and looked instead at her newborn child.
“Ah! I have forgotten,” the Prince said suddenly and bashfully. Morning had already come, and he had forgotten to give the Maiden a very important piece of information. “I have just remembered that I haven’t told you my name! I am Darius, son of Xerxes, son of Darius, whose wife Atossa was the daughter of Cyrus the Great. I am pleased to have met you. Though such beauty as yours I have never seen before, I am sure that I have met you before. Is it not true?”
“It is not, I do believe. My name is Darya, and I too am from Persia,” she said. But had she not been in love, she would have been in disbelief, for why would the Persian Prince be living in Arabia? “Perhaps we have met, though. My memory has become shady.”
“It is nice to have met you again,” the Prince said. “Morning has come. I’d like to take you to the tavern for a meal and a drink.”
“Thank you for offering,” she said, “but my baby is more hungry than I am. He asks me to feed him now.”
“Great! You can attend to the child while I bring us something to eat. But before I go, I must ask you something,” he said. “I know that we have met only last night, but I’d like to be with you for all of eternity, and I’d like to adopt your nameless child. Oh, how will you answer my prayer?”
The Maiden was surprised and enthralled with joy. She suppressed her overemphatic emotions, smiled softly, and said, “I will answer you in this way: may our lives continue on together forever, and may my child be your child.”
“Glory, glory, Gloria Dei!” the Prince exclaimed. He kissed the baby on the forehead and gave the Maiden a long and passionate kiss. “I will be back with breakfast.”
He exited the room and went to the nearby tavern. Meanwhile, the Maiden gave milk to her baby and sat in the room. She was in a blissful state of mind: not only had she forgotten all her grief, but now she was given happiness. When the baby had enough to drink, the Maiden paced the floor and waited for the Prince’s return. She picked up a blanket which was on the floor, tossed in the corner of the room, and put it on the table.
The Maiden saw the golden Orb on the floor where it was once covered by the blanket. She picked it up and was taken by its beauty again. She fell into a dark dream. And they lived happily ever after? No! the Gypsy said as she appeared to her once more. You have not stopped tormenting me! When the Prince comes back to you, he shall remember whom you are, and he shall grieve.
The Maiden was on the floor, paralyzed with fear, and her baby was next to her, sleeping peacefully. The Prince came back to the room. He saw the Maiden on the floor, and saw the Orb in her hands. He took the Orb from her, and he immediately remembered whom she was.
He became anxious and shameful again, and he looked to the Orb for relief. Fool! the Gypsy said to him. You will find no help here. The Orb can no longer help you. Recall now all your sorrows and be loosed from the Gypsy’s Curse!
The House of the Assyrian King
The two assassins had come back to the king’s house after their search for the Prince. It seemed to them that their efforts were fruitless.
“Tell me: why could you not find the Prince?” the agitated king asked.
“We saw one who matched the Prince’s description, but we judged him not to be the one we were looking for,” the first assassin said.
“And why is that?” the king asked. He took from his bodyguard a spear as if to intimidate the two men.
The first assassin became fearful for his life and told all that he knew. “It is his fault!” he said. “My partner and I saw the Prince in a tavern in the town, but he insisted that the man was not the Prince. Clearly, that is not our man, he said. As you can see, he wears not his royal necklace. I told him, But we must kill him, for the king wants us to kill anyone who even looks like the Persian Prince. But he refused, even saying, Oh, screw what the king says! He can come here himself and murder the stupid Prince. As you can see, my partner was drunk with the tavern’s fine brew, and he convinced me to leave the man alone. I was but cheated and deceived! Please spare me, oh mighty king, and kill him.”
But the king thrust the spear into the first assassin’s gut, and then he took another spear and slew the second man.
“Cleanse my house of their bloody corpses,” the king said to his attendants. “And bring me strong wine.”
The Persian Palace
Artaxerxes, the brother of Darius, and Artabanus, the Persian king’s chief official, met secretly in the Palace to plan behind the king’s back.
“Your brother has already brought enough shame to your family, and even all of the Persian Empire,” Artabanus said, “and now I hear that the Assyrians mean to start a war with us. Kill your brother while things are yet clean.”
“But what if my father finds out?” Artaxerxes asked. “He loved his son very much. Though tradition called for my brother to be stoned, my father lightened the punishment and banished him. Do you see now how much Darius is loved by my father?”
“Your father will not discover it,” he said. “He is too caught up in the affairs of his wife, Esther, and that stupid animal of a vizier, Haman. He will never find out. This is your chance, Artaxerxes: remove Darius finally, and there will be no chance of not receiving the power of Persia after it has left the hands of your father.”
“Your counsel is always to be trusted, Artabanus,” he said. “Have Darius killed.”
“It shall be so immediately,” Artabanus said.
The Arabian Desert and Assur
The Prince found himself once again in despair, and the Maiden still was in her dark slumber on the floor. The next morning had come, and the hungry baby lay on the floor next to his mother and cried unceasingly. The Prince sat in the dark corner of his room with the Orb in his hands, still attempting vainly to find relief in it.
A second day had passed, and night had come to the Arabian desert. The Prince, the Maiden, and the baby all held to their positions of the previous day. How long this dread would have gone on could not have been guessed, but it was interrupted as a group of men burst into the room.
They took the Maiden and the baby, and the Prince willingly surrendered himself. They were taken to Assur, the capital city of Assyria.
“Hello, my brother,” Artaxerxes said to Darius, the Prince.
“Why have you brought me to Assur?” Darius asked. He had given up. There was no hope left in the his heart.
“I have brought you here, Darius, so that you will be a pleasing sacrifice to the Assyrian King,” he said. “You and the one the king was engaged to shall die.”
“Oh, treacherous brother,” he said, “let Darya be free, for it is not she who has sinned, but me.”
“Oh, valiant brother,” Artaxerxes said. “You do not understand. The Persian Empire needs this. If I let you live, shame and war will haunt our dynasty forever. Our father would have me do nothing less.”
“Our father—” Darius said.
“—Your father is dead,” Artabanus, the Persian king’s vizier, interrupted Darius’s sentence. His voice was not as ambitious as before, and sorrow plagued his tone.
“How?” the brothers asked.
“I killed him,” he said to Artaxerxes, but Darius could also hear what was being said, for Artabanus did not keep quiet. The brothers wept bitterly. “I regret it now,” Artabanus said, “but I was fearful that he would discover Darius’s murder. I know he suspected our plot. He would have had us put to death.”
“My father will not have died needlessly,” Artaxerxes said angrily to Artabanus. “Fulfill our plan: tie them to a stake and burn them.”
So Darius and Darya were tied up and put on a stake. Still, Darya was unconscious. To watch the event, Artaxerxes, Artabanus, and the king of Assyria were there.
“Have you any last words, brother, before you meet our father?” Artaxerxes asked.
“I have none but these: death has found me, therefore death I choose,” he said.
At these words, Darya was released from the Gypsy’s Curse and woke up from her dark slumber.
“I remember all that has happened, Darius, even your evil sin. I forgive you. But seek the forgiveness of God,” she muttered softly. “Do not say you choose death, for that above anything else grieves my heart. Choose life instead.”
It was then that Darius remembered the words which his father told him as a child: “Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, that you and your descendants might live!*” At this moment Darius placed his faith in the Hebrew God.
“I choose life,” he told her. “Yet our lives come to an end here. May we meet again in the presence of God.”
“May it be so,” she said. “Oh Artaxerxes, brother of Darius, have pity our son.”
They both died then, even before the fire was set to their flesh.
Artaxerxes began to sob, regretting their death.
The Persian Palace
Artaxerxes adopted the child and named the baby after the his grandfather, Xerxes.
Artabanus became king of Persia in place of Xerxes I. After his death, Artaxerxes, brother of Darius, became king. And after his reign, Xerxes II, son of Darius and Darya, became king.
_____________________
*Deuteronomy 30:19 (NLT)
The instruments of love played songs so sweet;
I fell in love. Behold! Our eyes did meet.
Arranged to wed was Maiden fair to sight,
But by my lust I seized her in the night.
Not one believed the story which she kept:
“The Prince of Persia ***** me while I slept!”
With child, adultery called for banishment;
She took the fatal blow, away she went.
But following a while with little strife,
A twisting turn of fate controlled my life:
Two men confessed they’d seen my mortal sin;
Not stoned was I, but exiled I had been.
Alone and poor, I wandered with no aim;
A traveling Gypsy posed to me a game.
She’d give me a grand prize to meet her mark;
A bargain sounded it to me, but hark!
The Girl, the Game, and the Gold
The Arabian Desert
It was late in the afternoon, and all that the fiery sun’s harsh rays could find soon became scorched. The most brutal winds whipped sand into the Prince’s face as he walked on the dry, dusty roads.
He came to a busy town in the middle of the vast desert place. Much dirt had now collected on his sweaty face. He walked through the marketplace, weak and tired. Already, he had begun to feel the sting of hunger as he had never felt before. Many of the townspeople made for themselves lifestyles of thievery, but none of them dared to rob the Prince, for he wore around his neck a golden chain, studded with lapis lazuli, a sign of royalty.
“You are a fine-looking wealthy young gentleman,” said a vivacious peddler selling his goods on the street. “Would you care for a tasty morsel of this delicious fermented soybean? Straight from the Far East! 250 rupees I usually sell this for, but you look like a nice fellow. I will give it to you for the cheapest price in all of Arabia: 249 rupees, just for you!”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any money,” said the Prince.
“A piece of your necklace would fetch a fair price,” the man said; he examined the ornament closely. “A member of the Persian Royal Family should not be walking in the marketplace with no money, taunting himself with the succulent food that he cannot have. The pleasant smell of this fresh food simply knocks at the door of the senses. It begs to be eaten. But, food is not cheap. I have a good idea: if you give me only a small piece of your fine jewelry, you can have as much food as you want.”
The Prince immediately undid his necklace and took off a bead of lapis; it was dark blue in color and had veins of golden Pyrite.
With a greedy grin, the peddler snatched the bead from the Prince’s hand and said, “Now, eat all that you like.”
The Prince took a large bite of the fermented soybean which the peddler had regarded with such high esteem. It was gooey in texture and pungent in scent, and when the Prince began to chew on it, his face turned noticeably red, even though it was already very burnt by the desert sun. His eyes bulged out of his head, and he bent over forward as if he was going to vomit. He coughed and gagged, and out shot the food onto the peddler’s feet.
“That was disgusting!” exclaimed the Prince.
“But, sir, this is the finest delicacy in all of East Asia!” the man said with a worried and puzzled expression on his face. “Here, try this fried octopus. Don’t worry, most people here enjoy this dish.”
The Prince sneered at the peddler, but his hunger cast aside all disbelief and contempt. He took a small piece and found that it was exceedingly good to eat. He ate more, and more, until his stomach was filled solely with the octopus.
The peddler summoned up a big laugh and said, “Ah, you are a good man.”
The day passed slowly, and the Prince continued to wander through the streets. He saw many poorly constructed tents and some mud houses, but suddenly a particular place caught his attention. It was a clay house, well built, and it was lighter in color than the other houses. It was not its peculiarity that drew him closer, but the power of the one who was inside—the Gypsy called him in. He entered the house.
“My dear Prince,” said the Gypsy as the Prince walked into the room, “have you done what I asked of you?”
He recalled his meeting with the Gypsy on the previous day when she said to him, Choose, boy, which you desire: Black or Green. Consider it surely, for the penalty of choosing poorly is death, though your reward will be great if you choose well. But do not be hasty. We will meet tomorrow. Tell me your answer then.
“I have given it much thought, just as you instructed me to,” the Prince said. He looked at the Gypsy carefully. Her lips were full, her face was fat, and the folds of flesh on her neck were frightening. She had a large imposing mole on the left side of her upper lip. Her eyes were large and bulbous, and could pierce into the thoughts of many minds.
The Gypsy commanded the Prince to sit opposite of her at the table. She placed in front of him two orbs. One was black, and the other was green. They were both smooth and perfectly round, and were equally attractive.
“Your answer?” she asked. “Which of these do you desire?”
I have ever longed to choose Black, he thought to himself. Why should I live if not for the throne of my father Xerxes, and his father Darius? But I have tasted the sweet food of the merchant. Is there not still delight in life? Oh, how my heart is broken!
“My answer?” he said after a long pause. “I hold hope in the green orb. I choose the green orb.”
“Death will not find you today. Please, wait in the room in the back while I prepare your reward,” the Gypsy said, dumbfounded and angered by the Prince’s answer. “Beyond all doubt, I thought that you would have chosen the black orb.”
The House of the Assyrian King
The Maiden was engaged to the King of Assyria in hope of reconciliation between the two nations, but the Prince’s act of **** had greatly angered the king. He was pacing back and forth; the ground quaked at each fall of his thunderous feet.
“Concerning that cursed prince,” the king spoke to his advisor, “have you not yet devised a way to crush that fool?”
“I have, Your Highness,” he answered. “A few days ago, I hired a psychic woman to impersonate a Gypsy. She will get rid of the Prince.”
“Good,” the king said. He was greatly pleased with the thought of revenge. “The Persians promised me a wife, but their king’s son spites me by sleeping with her. I’ll finally be able to sleep with him in hell.”
A messenger entered the room. He presented the king with a letter:
From Medea, the Gypsy. To the Most Worthy King of Assyria:
I presented the Prince with a game. I did not expect him to win, but nonetheless, I promised him a great reward for victory. He would give his life to me if he lost, then I would sell him to the cannibals in Egypt. But he readily accepted to play my game, even when he knew of the risk, because he had already considered his life forfeit.
I asked him, “Which of these do you desire: Black or Green?” I looked into his thoughts; not once has my discernment failed me. He meant to choose Black from the beginning. But he choose Green. That coward, that cur!
But being a woman of the highest integrity, I presented him with his reward—but not after binding a cruel spell on it. No, it will not kill him. I am no murderer.
I ask you pardon me, Your Highness. ~Medea.
The king became furious, and the messenger trembled in fear of the king’s wrath.
“Send out the assassins,” the king roared. “Kill the Prince. That vile creature deserves death. Now!”
The Arabian Desert
The night was cool, and the air was still. The Prince bought a new set of clothes in an attempt to flee from his Persian life and start anew in Arabia. He stayed in an inn not far from the Asian peddler’s shop, and he paid the rent with beads from his necklace which was now quite destitute of value.
He examined his reward from the Gypsy. It was a golden ball, nearly a half of a cubit in diameter. It was smooth and glossy, and resembled the Gypsy’s green and black orbs. Initially, the golden Orb had little affect on the Prince, and he intended to sell it the following day. But as he looked at it more, he became attached to it. Its beauty was captivating, though the Gypsy’s Curse had not yet been activated. He decided to think for a day more whether he should keep it or sell it.
When morning came, the Prince went to the marketplace, but he left the Orb in the inn. While he was out, he gave what was left of his royal necklace to the Asian peddler. He usually ate only the octopus, though he eventually tried newer foods from the Far East; upon doing so, he always said they were “pale in comparison to the fried octopus.”
The pregnant Maiden too lived in this desert town. Though against her conscience, she earned money by theft and hustling; and when she saw the Prince the previous night with his golden Orb, she planned to steal it from him. She did not know who he was, because his clothing caused him to appear Arabian, and his headdress covered much of his face. While the Prince was at the marketplace, gorging himself with the peddler’s food, the Maiden crept quietly into the inn.
When she saw the Orb, she was immediately taken by its beauty; for she, unlike the Prince, had not been accustomed to such elegance.
“It’s amazing,” she said, half to herself and half to her unborn child. “It’s too beautiful to sell. We can find money enough to provide for our aching stomachs, can we not? Yes, we will keep this.”
She held the Orb in her hands and fell into a dark dream. You fiendish woman! the Gypsy said. How do you dare to steal my Orb from Darius? You will suffer, as he will, though he will lose much more than you have ever had. Forget now all your sorrows and be bound to the Gypsy’s Curse!
The Maiden awoke. Though she forgot all that was in her dream, she had an inner sense of uneasiness. A pain came into her stomach and she dropped the Orb. She began to sweat, and her breath became heavy.
“My baby!” she screamed. “You are in trouble. Someone, help!”
She stumbled out of the Prince’s room, grasping for breath and holding her stomach. She was ready to give birth. The innkeeper saw her and took her into his room. He and his wife helped deliver the baby. The Maiden was in labor for six hours.
The Prince, after his day out, came once again to the inn; but before he went to his room, the innkeeper fetched him and brought him into the Maiden’s presence. She held a baby boy in her arms.
“This woman came shouting out of you room,” the innkeeper said to the Prince. “She was in great pain and was in labor.”
The Prince immediately recognized the Maiden, and he became exceedingly fearful. But the Maiden did not recognize him; for, by the Gypsy’s Curse, she did not remember the ****.
“What were you doing in my room?” the Prince asked her in suspicion.
“I don’t know,” she replied earnestly. “I remember waking up in that room, and I was about to give birth, and that’s when this man and his wife came to help me. I am sorry for my trespass. Do not be angry with me.”
The Prince saw that she did not recognize him, though he thought it was because of his headdress.
“Thank you for being honest,” he said. He asked his leave.
The Prince began to walk toward his room. By now, night had come to the desert town. He was anxious, cold, and queasy, and he now felt the deepest regret and sorrow. Shame came back into his conscience. Why is she here? he said. Thoughts began to race through his mind. She makes me her quarry when hitherto she was mine. But I’ve paid for my sin already. Has God not had enough?
His face was sweaty, his throat was sore, and his heart beat wildly. He came at last to his room. As he entered, he was startled and filled with wonder: the Orb was on the floor, it was glowing brilliantly, and its light illuminated the whole room.
He picked it up; it was hot to touch. He looked at it and stared deep into the reflection of his face. The deceitful Orb showed him not his filthy sins, but instead the upright and handsome Prince. This was the first time he felt relief from the guilt of the ****, and this was the first time in months he felt good about himself. The Gypsy’s curse began its work in him. He stared at the Orb for hours longer until the Maiden appeared at his door.
“Excuse me,” the Maiden said. The Prince became surprised, and then the light from the Orb vanished. He hid the Orb and went to the doorway.
“Hello,” the Maiden said. “I came back to thank you for your forgiveness. Ah, look here: this is my baby boy. I don’t have a name for him yet, though.”
“You are very kind, fair one,” the Prince said. He was very affectionate for her grew; for though by the power of the Orb he had no recollection of the memory of the ****, her beauty remained, and his love for her rekindled. “If I may say this, he looks very much like me—when I was a child, I think.”
The Prince took off his headdress to let her compare the faces.
“Yet even now that you are not a child, my son’s face resembles yours,” she said.
The Maiden gazed into the eyes her rapist and fell in love. The Prince’s eyes were dark brown, stern and yet soft. He had short and wavy brown hair, and his face was strong and decisive.
He was no less handsome than the Maiden was beautiful. Her face was gentle, and her hair was long, flowing, and purely black. Her skin was light brown in color. Though her eyes were of a very dark brown color, they were radiant and bright.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked to break the lengthy and somewhat uncomfortable silence.
“—Oh, yes,” she said and came into the room. “Thank you.”
And thus their relationship started. They talked until the rising of the sun. The Prince told the Maiden stories about his ancestors: about the overthrow of the Medes and the founding of Persia, and how King Cyrus the Great was blessed and used by God to restore Judea and the Hebrew Temple. Many other things like these he told, but never did he tell a tale of sadness or sorrow.
The Maiden listened with wonder; never before had she heard of the history of the Persians. But while she listened, she tried to refrain from staring at the Prince’s beautiful face, and looked instead at her newborn child.
“Ah! I have forgotten,” the Prince said suddenly and bashfully. Morning had already come, and he had forgotten to give the Maiden a very important piece of information. “I have just remembered that I haven’t told you my name! I am Darius, son of Xerxes, son of Darius, whose wife Atossa was the daughter of Cyrus the Great. I am pleased to have met you. Though such beauty as yours I have never seen before, I am sure that I have met you before. Is it not true?”
“It is not, I do believe. My name is Darya, and I too am from Persia,” she said. But had she not been in love, she would have been in disbelief, for why would the Persian Prince be living in Arabia? “Perhaps we have met, though. My memory has become shady.”
“It is nice to have met you again,” the Prince said. “Morning has come. I’d like to take you to the tavern for a meal and a drink.”
“Thank you for offering,” she said, “but my baby is more hungry than I am. He asks me to feed him now.”
“Great! You can attend to the child while I bring us something to eat. But before I go, I must ask you something,” he said. “I know that we have met only last night, but I’d like to be with you for all of eternity, and I’d like to adopt your nameless child. Oh, how will you answer my prayer?”
The Maiden was surprised and enthralled with joy. She suppressed her overemphatic emotions, smiled softly, and said, “I will answer you in this way: may our lives continue on together forever, and may my child be your child.”
“Glory, glory, Gloria Dei!” the Prince exclaimed. He kissed the baby on the forehead and gave the Maiden a long and passionate kiss. “I will be back with breakfast.”
He exited the room and went to the nearby tavern. Meanwhile, the Maiden gave milk to her baby and sat in the room. She was in a blissful state of mind: not only had she forgotten all her grief, but now she was given happiness. When the baby had enough to drink, the Maiden paced the floor and waited for the Prince’s return. She picked up a blanket which was on the floor, tossed in the corner of the room, and put it on the table.
The Maiden saw the golden Orb on the floor where it was once covered by the blanket. She picked it up and was taken by its beauty again. She fell into a dark dream. And they lived happily ever after? No! the Gypsy said as she appeared to her once more. You have not stopped tormenting me! When the Prince comes back to you, he shall remember whom you are, and he shall grieve.
The Maiden was on the floor, paralyzed with fear, and her baby was next to her, sleeping peacefully. The Prince came back to the room. He saw the Maiden on the floor, and saw the Orb in her hands. He took the Orb from her, and he immediately remembered whom she was.
He became anxious and shameful again, and he looked to the Orb for relief. Fool! the Gypsy said to him. You will find no help here. The Orb can no longer help you. Recall now all your sorrows and be loosed from the Gypsy’s Curse!
The House of the Assyrian King
The two assassins had come back to the king’s house after their search for the Prince. It seemed to them that their efforts were fruitless.
“Tell me: why could you not find the Prince?” the agitated king asked.
“We saw one who matched the Prince’s description, but we judged him not to be the one we were looking for,” the first assassin said.
“And why is that?” the king asked. He took from his bodyguard a spear as if to intimidate the two men.
The first assassin became fearful for his life and told all that he knew. “It is his fault!” he said. “My partner and I saw the Prince in a tavern in the town, but he insisted that the man was not the Prince. Clearly, that is not our man, he said. As you can see, he wears not his royal necklace. I told him, But we must kill him, for the king wants us to kill anyone who even looks like the Persian Prince. But he refused, even saying, Oh, screw what the king says! He can come here himself and murder the stupid Prince. As you can see, my partner was drunk with the tavern’s fine brew, and he convinced me to leave the man alone. I was but cheated and deceived! Please spare me, oh mighty king, and kill him.”
But the king thrust the spear into the first assassin’s gut, and then he took another spear and slew the second man.
“Cleanse my house of their bloody corpses,” the king said to his attendants. “And bring me strong wine.”
The Persian Palace
Artaxerxes, the brother of Darius, and Artabanus, the Persian king’s chief official, met secretly in the Palace to plan behind the king’s back.
“Your brother has already brought enough shame to your family, and even all of the Persian Empire,” Artabanus said, “and now I hear that the Assyrians mean to start a war with us. Kill your brother while things are yet clean.”
“But what if my father finds out?” Artaxerxes asked. “He loved his son very much. Though tradition called for my brother to be stoned, my father lightened the punishment and banished him. Do you see now how much Darius is loved by my father?”
“Your father will not discover it,” he said. “He is too caught up in the affairs of his wife, Esther, and that stupid animal of a vizier, Haman. He will never find out. This is your chance, Artaxerxes: remove Darius finally, and there will be no chance of not receiving the power of Persia after it has left the hands of your father.”
“Your counsel is always to be trusted, Artabanus,” he said. “Have Darius killed.”
“It shall be so immediately,” Artabanus said.
The Arabian Desert and Assur
The Prince found himself once again in despair, and the Maiden still was in her dark slumber on the floor. The next morning had come, and the hungry baby lay on the floor next to his mother and cried unceasingly. The Prince sat in the dark corner of his room with the Orb in his hands, still attempting vainly to find relief in it.
A second day had passed, and night had come to the Arabian desert. The Prince, the Maiden, and the baby all held to their positions of the previous day. How long this dread would have gone on could not have been guessed, but it was interrupted as a group of men burst into the room.
They took the Maiden and the baby, and the Prince willingly surrendered himself. They were taken to Assur, the capital city of Assyria.
“Hello, my brother,” Artaxerxes said to Darius, the Prince.
“Why have you brought me to Assur?” Darius asked. He had given up. There was no hope left in the his heart.
“I have brought you here, Darius, so that you will be a pleasing sacrifice to the Assyrian King,” he said. “You and the one the king was engaged to shall die.”
“Oh, treacherous brother,” he said, “let Darya be free, for it is not she who has sinned, but me.”
“Oh, valiant brother,” Artaxerxes said. “You do not understand. The Persian Empire needs this. If I let you live, shame and war will haunt our dynasty forever. Our father would have me do nothing less.”
“Our father—” Darius said.
“—Your father is dead,” Artabanus, the Persian king’s vizier, interrupted Darius’s sentence. His voice was not as ambitious as before, and sorrow plagued his tone.
“How?” the brothers asked.
“I killed him,” he said to Artaxerxes, but Darius could also hear what was being said, for Artabanus did not keep quiet. The brothers wept bitterly. “I regret it now,” Artabanus said, “but I was fearful that he would discover Darius’s murder. I know he suspected our plot. He would have had us put to death.”
“My father will not have died needlessly,” Artaxerxes said angrily to Artabanus. “Fulfill our plan: tie them to a stake and burn them.”
So Darius and Darya were tied up and put on a stake. Still, Darya was unconscious. To watch the event, Artaxerxes, Artabanus, and the king of Assyria were there.
“Have you any last words, brother, before you meet our father?” Artaxerxes asked.
“I have none but these: death has found me, therefore death I choose,” he said.
At these words, Darya was released from the Gypsy’s Curse and woke up from her dark slumber.
“I remember all that has happened, Darius, even your evil sin. I forgive you. But seek the forgiveness of God,” she muttered softly. “Do not say you choose death, for that above anything else grieves my heart. Choose life instead.”
It was then that Darius remembered the words which his father told him as a child: “Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, that you and your descendants might live!*” At this moment Darius placed his faith in the Hebrew God.
“I choose life,” he told her. “Yet our lives come to an end here. May we meet again in the presence of God.”
“May it be so,” she said. “Oh Artaxerxes, brother of Darius, have pity our son.”
They both died then, even before the fire was set to their flesh.
Artaxerxes began to sob, regretting their death.
The Persian Palace
Artaxerxes adopted the child and named the baby after the his grandfather, Xerxes.
Artabanus became king of Persia in place of Xerxes I. After his death, Artaxerxes, brother of Darius, became king. And after his reign, Xerxes II, son of Darius and Darya, became king.
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*Deuteronomy 30:19 (NLT)
