The Last King of Lydia Read Online Free PDF

‘Disappointing.’
    At this, his wife laughed.
    They sat, together with their eldest son, in a walled garden courtyard – a private refuge in a palace where all eyes watched their ruler, looking for his blessing, or waiting for his
mistakes. A rare space for the king to be in, for a few rare moments on the uncommon days when he could spare them, could be a man with his family.
    ‘Disappointing?’ his wife said. ‘How so?’
    ‘Just an old man, like any other. A wretched old man, worn out by the world. Oh, he is clever, no doubt about that. But he reeks of disappointment. May the Gods preserve me from such an
ending.’
    ‘What did you expect from him, Father?’ said his son, Atys.
    ‘Something better. Something more. I don’t know.’
    ‘Did you ask him anything?’
    Croesus scratched his beard and turned his head. ‘Yes.’
    ‘And what was it?’ his wife said.
    ‘I asked him who was the happiest man he’d ever met.’
    ‘And he didn’t say you?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Oh, Croesus. I know you too well. Must you be the happiest man in the world, as well as the richest?’
    ‘I thought they were the same thing.’ The three of them laughed together. Croesus leaned forward, and gave his wife a chaste kiss on the cheek.
    Theirs had been a dynastic marriage, but they had been fortunate enough to grow fond of one another. Croesus remembered seeing Danae for the first time, knowing that they would be married within
a month; he had been grateful, at least, that the woman his father had chosen for him was a tall, copper-skinned beauty. Over time, he came to value her thoughts much more than any other quality,
for he could bring her any uncommonly tangled problem of the court and she would find a way to unravel it. He had never come to love Danae, but he trusted her.
    He looked across at his son. Here, he thought, is one that I do love. Everything about the boy radiated potential. His clearly defined features, already the face of a man at fourteen, had a rare
beauty that drew people to him, like iron to a lodestone. He spoke well, learned quickly, and above all he enjoyed playing the roles that were appropriate to him. He loved being the magnanimous
prince, just as he would one day enjoy acting as the benevolent king.
    Croesus clapped the boy on the shoulder. ‘What do you think, Atys? Is your father the happiest man in the world?’
    Atys thought for a moment, for it was his habit to consider all questions seriously, even those asked in jest. ‘I think I am surely happier than you,’ he said, ‘since I have
such a great man as my father.’
    ‘Listen to the little flatterer!’ Danae said. ‘He has got the tongue of a courtier, not a king.’
    ‘No,’ Croesus said, ‘no, he is very clever. He has claimed the prize for himself, yet forced me to feel gratitude in conceding it to him. He is a king. A trickster, but still a
king, quick in pursuit of all the honour and prizes on which he can lay his hands. As he should be.’
    ‘And what of me?’ Danae asked, a playful smile dancing on her lips. ‘With such a husband and such a son, surely my happiness outstrips both of yours?’
    Croesus threw up his hands in mock defeat. ‘Must everyone deny me this? My wife, my son, Solon the Athenian . . . I suspect conspiracy. But I shall be the greatest king the world has ever
known, and is not the king the man that all others aspire to be? Is not the happiest king the happiest man? Dispute the logic of that, if you will.’
    ‘Did you ask him who was the unhappiest man he had ever met?’ asked Atys.
    ‘No. But I think I may have met him today myself.’ Croesus shook his head. ‘Poor Adrastus.’
    ‘Adrastus?’
    ‘A young man who came to throw himself on my mercy. He is from the east, a Phrygian. He killed his brother by accident, and was hounded from his city as a fratricide. Cursed by the Gods,
they said.’
    ‘Will you take him in?’
    ‘Of course. It was an accident. He shall be one of your