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Chapter 3 Epilogue
The interview begins now.
I beg your forgiveness for my laughter, nameless one, but I cannot remember the last time I was actually surprised by something! It’s been so long. Here I am, taught for my many years to expect particular things, and here you are, who are not, I believe, any of those particular things! I had forgotten what a joy it is to encounter the unexpected. Perhaps it is rare for you to be a welcome presence to those who meet you, but I, for one, am happy to meet you. I hope I find you well.
An interview? But one without any questions I see. Or perhaps there is one question, unspoken; ‘what would you like to be interviewed about?’.
Well, I’d like to be interviewed about the things I could never tell anyone, despite being surrounded by legions of people who constantly needed to talk to me about everything. You would be surprised how many such secrets I kept to myself, for when I was a younger man there was rarely a thought that I kept totally hidden. It was partially on purpose- the moods of someone in the public eye to my degree should bring terror in their wake- but some of it was my genuine rashness and eagerness to emulate my father’s magnificent deeds. But you discover that such things do not last when you gain in years, and one of the things which I have kept to myself my entire life is that there was a long time, a long time, where I lost my faith in the innate goodness of man. Or rather, in the existence of an innate goodness of man. I became too familiar with the ins and outs of selfish men, of all nations. Too aware of my own desires, many as they were. Too aware of the real, true necessities required to keep civilized societies on an even footing. Too acquainted with casual cruelty, including at times my own. The whole world seemed to be tinged with it, even those with nearly nothing to their name still committing countless cruelties to one another, betraying loved ones and family. Goodness was only created by Gods, and through them priests, as a decoration to human existence to make it bearable, an alcohol for the soul. My next secret is that I regained this faith, very late on. I was an old man by then. Yet I suddenly found myself confronted by an old man, and at his side another old man, both filled with passion and intelligence and humanity, after a fashion. Foreigners, foes, barbarians, but nonetheless they were dazzling. Surrounded by men who attached to their cause from a genuine belief in what they were doing, and why they were there, not simply a chance of power being offered to them. It was invigorating. I hadn’t felt so full of life for twenty years. It was my last great conflict, and perhaps my finest. Victory against the Hellenes was completing my father’s task in the world but felt unsatisfying, for there I was, King of Lands, with my armies from all of the finest civilizations and warrior peoples on the face of the Earth, against proud but primitive peoples who could not realistically hope to oppose me. There had been a spark there, a vitality that had impressed me. At the time I thought it a curiosity that would come to nothing. Perhaps it still will, but here, in this place, I wonder if those people simply need more time before they set the world on fire, for I saw the flames awoken in the march of Herodotos the scribe-prince and Perikles the king of the kingless.
I have another secret that I was not sure I would share, even now. When I was young, and first gaining the throne, Artabarzana was detestable to me. He was my elder but of common origins, I saw him as ambitious above his station and claiming what had been rightfully mine by my talents and my father’s wishes, attempting to defy the natural order of things. As I grew older I came to envy him- I had thought my sacred duties to be glorious, and then swiftly found, after my wars came to an end, that in reality it was a burden, day in day out. Every little pore of skin subject to countless observations, every little movement analysed, every single decision affecting millions and millions. I do not regret holding power, because I took my sacred duty seriously, because it was my right to hold it, but… perhaps I grew to regret how it was used. I do not know if you have met many kings of such large domains before, but I wonder how many of them have told you how much time is wasted dealing with innumerable relatives, appeasing their whims, chastising their excesses, monitoring their activities in case of rebellion, granting them estates for sustenance. I did not realise how much time my father must have spent on petty dealings regarding some cousin’s gardens and mules, because the Gods know that I have spent an entire lifetime doing the same. Likewise, I did not recognise casual cruelty for what it was when I was younger, it was simply how one behaved as a king, how my father behaved as king, how everyone expected a king to behave. I do not know that I like how much time I spent on such cruelties, how much attention I devoted to them; once I had realised them to be the cruelties that they were I did not engage in them as frequently, but there was only so much cruelty that could be avoided whilst being King, some amount is necessary to maintain such a thing as an Empire stretching from the Yauna to the Hindush river. Perhaps creating such a thing in the first place was wrong, but that was not my choice to make, I came into the world with it already in place, and with sacred duties upon my head. I had not the gall to refuse them.
I am finding myself strangely comforted, silent one, precisely because of the silence in fact. Your silence, the silence of this place. I do not know if it will last, but I will enjoy it while I may. True peace, and quiet when I desired it, are something that has escaped me for over forty years. Perhaps that is the description of monarchy which should be given to all prospective kings; ‘endless labour to create beautiful gardens whilst never having the time to ever enjoy them’. This is not a garden, but it is peaceful. Are you a king, I wonder? Guardian of the helpless, hammer of the evil, arbiter of the powerful? If you are then you have my commiserations, o King, and hope that you have time to rest in your gardens. Though I fear you have also met many of my foes, and may not take my wishes in the spirit in which they are intended. Though there are far fewer of them that died cruelly at my hands than many have said. The idea that such things were done at my order was far more infectious among my foes than the reality of my ordering them or not, that was perhaps the first realisation I had about cruelty. I also realised that many outside the Empire called me a cruel despot whilst committing far more naked indignities on their own peoples, and relying as they did on the slave labour of others. I rarely found I had the time for contempt but that, that made me shake my head, even as an old man. The world is a complex and often stupid space in which to live, and I have seen all of its complexities laid out before me. I am ready, I think, to leave it behind.
The interview is over.
Μηδίζω! THE WORLD OF ACHAEMENID HELLAS
CHAPTER 3
EPILOGOS
CHAPTER 3
EPILOGOS
The interview begins now.
I beg your forgiveness for my laughter, nameless one, but I cannot remember the last time I was actually surprised by something! It’s been so long. Here I am, taught for my many years to expect particular things, and here you are, who are not, I believe, any of those particular things! I had forgotten what a joy it is to encounter the unexpected. Perhaps it is rare for you to be a welcome presence to those who meet you, but I, for one, am happy to meet you. I hope I find you well.
An interview? But one without any questions I see. Or perhaps there is one question, unspoken; ‘what would you like to be interviewed about?’.
Well, I’d like to be interviewed about the things I could never tell anyone, despite being surrounded by legions of people who constantly needed to talk to me about everything. You would be surprised how many such secrets I kept to myself, for when I was a younger man there was rarely a thought that I kept totally hidden. It was partially on purpose- the moods of someone in the public eye to my degree should bring terror in their wake- but some of it was my genuine rashness and eagerness to emulate my father’s magnificent deeds. But you discover that such things do not last when you gain in years, and one of the things which I have kept to myself my entire life is that there was a long time, a long time, where I lost my faith in the innate goodness of man. Or rather, in the existence of an innate goodness of man. I became too familiar with the ins and outs of selfish men, of all nations. Too aware of my own desires, many as they were. Too aware of the real, true necessities required to keep civilized societies on an even footing. Too acquainted with casual cruelty, including at times my own. The whole world seemed to be tinged with it, even those with nearly nothing to their name still committing countless cruelties to one another, betraying loved ones and family. Goodness was only created by Gods, and through them priests, as a decoration to human existence to make it bearable, an alcohol for the soul. My next secret is that I regained this faith, very late on. I was an old man by then. Yet I suddenly found myself confronted by an old man, and at his side another old man, both filled with passion and intelligence and humanity, after a fashion. Foreigners, foes, barbarians, but nonetheless they were dazzling. Surrounded by men who attached to their cause from a genuine belief in what they were doing, and why they were there, not simply a chance of power being offered to them. It was invigorating. I hadn’t felt so full of life for twenty years. It was my last great conflict, and perhaps my finest. Victory against the Hellenes was completing my father’s task in the world but felt unsatisfying, for there I was, King of Lands, with my armies from all of the finest civilizations and warrior peoples on the face of the Earth, against proud but primitive peoples who could not realistically hope to oppose me. There had been a spark there, a vitality that had impressed me. At the time I thought it a curiosity that would come to nothing. Perhaps it still will, but here, in this place, I wonder if those people simply need more time before they set the world on fire, for I saw the flames awoken in the march of Herodotos the scribe-prince and Perikles the king of the kingless.
I have another secret that I was not sure I would share, even now. When I was young, and first gaining the throne, Artabarzana was detestable to me. He was my elder but of common origins, I saw him as ambitious above his station and claiming what had been rightfully mine by my talents and my father’s wishes, attempting to defy the natural order of things. As I grew older I came to envy him- I had thought my sacred duties to be glorious, and then swiftly found, after my wars came to an end, that in reality it was a burden, day in day out. Every little pore of skin subject to countless observations, every little movement analysed, every single decision affecting millions and millions. I do not regret holding power, because I took my sacred duty seriously, because it was my right to hold it, but… perhaps I grew to regret how it was used. I do not know if you have met many kings of such large domains before, but I wonder how many of them have told you how much time is wasted dealing with innumerable relatives, appeasing their whims, chastising their excesses, monitoring their activities in case of rebellion, granting them estates for sustenance. I did not realise how much time my father must have spent on petty dealings regarding some cousin’s gardens and mules, because the Gods know that I have spent an entire lifetime doing the same. Likewise, I did not recognise casual cruelty for what it was when I was younger, it was simply how one behaved as a king, how my father behaved as king, how everyone expected a king to behave. I do not know that I like how much time I spent on such cruelties, how much attention I devoted to them; once I had realised them to be the cruelties that they were I did not engage in them as frequently, but there was only so much cruelty that could be avoided whilst being King, some amount is necessary to maintain such a thing as an Empire stretching from the Yauna to the Hindush river. Perhaps creating such a thing in the first place was wrong, but that was not my choice to make, I came into the world with it already in place, and with sacred duties upon my head. I had not the gall to refuse them.
I am finding myself strangely comforted, silent one, precisely because of the silence in fact. Your silence, the silence of this place. I do not know if it will last, but I will enjoy it while I may. True peace, and quiet when I desired it, are something that has escaped me for over forty years. Perhaps that is the description of monarchy which should be given to all prospective kings; ‘endless labour to create beautiful gardens whilst never having the time to ever enjoy them’. This is not a garden, but it is peaceful. Are you a king, I wonder? Guardian of the helpless, hammer of the evil, arbiter of the powerful? If you are then you have my commiserations, o King, and hope that you have time to rest in your gardens. Though I fear you have also met many of my foes, and may not take my wishes in the spirit in which they are intended. Though there are far fewer of them that died cruelly at my hands than many have said. The idea that such things were done at my order was far more infectious among my foes than the reality of my ordering them or not, that was perhaps the first realisation I had about cruelty. I also realised that many outside the Empire called me a cruel despot whilst committing far more naked indignities on their own peoples, and relying as they did on the slave labour of others. I rarely found I had the time for contempt but that, that made me shake my head, even as an old man. The world is a complex and often stupid space in which to live, and I have seen all of its complexities laid out before me. I am ready, I think, to leave it behind.
The interview is over.
- Daeres
- Word Count: 1.3k