The Judgment of Cambyses

Preface.

On September 10, 2016, Colonel Zakharchenko, head of the anti-corruption unit within the financial and banking service of Russia’s Ministry of Internal Affairs, was charged with bribery, abuse of power, and obstruction of justice.

As investigators dug deeper into the case, they uncovered astonishing details. The colonel had amassed thirteen luxury apartments with views of the Kremlin, fourteen lavish villas in Moscow’s most prestigious districts, four high-end cars, and approximately $130 million in cash. The money—euros, dollars, and rubles—weighed nearly two metric tons, filling cargo pallets and spilling across the floor of one of his apartments. The scale of his wealth was staggering.

A Journey Through Art
Paris, May 2016

In late May, I wandered through the halls of the Louvre, surrounded by the works of Renaissance masters. I was looking for the paintings of my favorite Flemish artists. It had been a year since I had last seen them, and I was certain they were nearby.

But time passed, and frustration grew. Finally, unable to contain it, I approached a curator in the Flemish gallery and said, in hesitant French:

“I can’t find Jan van Eyck’s Madonna of Chancellor Rolin.”

“I’ve been here before,” I added, “and I’m sure it should be here among the early Renaissance masters—but it isn’t.”

The tall, slender woman—perhaps in her mid-forties—looked at me with curiosity. Then she stood and replied in English:

“That’s interesting. Out of thousands of paintings in this museum, you’re looking for this one. Why van Eyck?”

“He painted it seventy years before Leonardo’s Mona Lisa. In background detail, he was ahead of the Italians by nearly a century.”

“Are you Russian?” she asked.

“And you?” I replied.

We both laughed.

Later, I learned that she held a PhD in art history and had moved from the Hermitage in St. Petersburg to work at the Louvre. Her reaction made sense—the painting had been the subject of her dissertation.

The gallery was closed for restoration, so I never saw the painting. But the conversation stayed with me. It led me to Bruges—the city where Jan van Eyck had lived and worked.

Bruges, September 2016

Immersed in the works of van Eyck and his Flemish contemporaries—Hans Memling and Jan Provost—I came across a diptych by Gerard David: The Judgment of Cambyses.

The city authorities of Bruges had commissioned the painting to illustrate a story told by Herodotus in the fifth century BC—the judgment of a corrupt judge by King Cambyses—though David depicted the figures in medieval dress.

According to The Histories, the judge Sisamnes accepted a bribe. Cambyses ordered him to be flayed alive. His skin was then tanned, cut into strips, and used to cover the seat on which his son—appointed as the new judge—would sit.

“Remember how your predecessor met his end,” the king warned him.

Completed in 1498, the painting hung in Bruges’s courthouse for three centuries, serving as a reminder of justice to judges and citizens alike. Its message was clear: punishment was inevitable, and mercy was rare.

Afterword

As I stood before The Judgment of Cambyses, news broke about the millions discovered in the possession of the “humble” anti-corruption officer, Colonel Zakharchenko.

Looking at the painting’s details, I wondered whether he—and others like him—ever considered how such stories end. Would they still take those bribes if they knew the price?

The contrast was striking. The annual budget of Fredericton, the capital of New Brunswick, was smaller than the fortune hidden in just one of his apartments.

It was a reminder of how far greed can go—and how predictable its consequences are.