Cambyses’ madness had meanwhile taken fresh forms.  After the failure of his attempt to restore Bartja, (transformed as he fancied into a bow) to his original shape, his irritability increased so frightfully that a single word, or even a look, was sufficient to make him furious.  Still his true friend and counsellor, Croesus, never left him, though the king had more than once given him over to the guards for execution.  But the guards knew their master; they took good care not to lay hands on the old man, and felt sure of impunity, as the king would either have forgotten his command, or repented of it by the next day, Once, however, the miserable whip bearers paid a fearful penalty for their lenity.  Cambyses, while rejoicing that Croesus was saved, ordered his deliverers to be executed for disobedience without mercy.

It would be repugnant to us to repeat all the tales of barbarous cruelties, which are told of Cambyses at this insane period of his life; but we cannot resist mentioning a few which seem to us especially characteristic.

While sitting at table one day, already somewhat intoxicated, he asked Prexaspes what the Persians thought of him.  The envoy, who in hopes of deadening his tormenting conscience by the performance of noble and dangerous acts, let no opportunity pass of trying to exercise a good influence over his sovereign, answered that they extolled him on every point, but thought he was too much addicted to wine.

These words, though spoken half in jest, put the king into a violent passion, and he almost shrieked:  “So the Persians say, that the wine has taken away my senses, do they? on the contrary, I’ll show them that they’ve lost their own.”  And as he spoke he bent his bow, took aim for a moment at Prexaspes’ eldest son, who, as cup-bearer, was standing at the back of the hall waiting for and watching every look of his sovereign, and shot him in the breast.  He then gave orders that the boy’s body should be opened and examined.  The arrow had pierced the centre of his heart.  This delighted the senseless tyrant, and he called out with a laugh:  “Now you see, Prexaspes, it’s the Persians who have lost their judgment, not I. Could any one have hit the mark better?”

Prexaspes stood there, pale and motionless, compelled to watch the horrid scene, like Niobe when chained to Sipylus.  His servile spirit bowed before the ruler’s power, instead of arming his right hand with the dagger of revenge, and when the frantic king asked him the same question a second time, he actually answered, pressing his hand on his heart:  “A god could not have hit the mark more exactly.”