THE GLORY OF THE CHALDEESCHAPTER XXIII
THE GLORY OF THE CHALDEES
Three months nearly had the host of the Persians lain under the walls of the capital. They had ravaged far and wide, had driven the country folk by thousands inside the defences; the thriving villages were become one blackened waste. But still the great Euphrates brawled through the massy water gates; still the battlements loomed unapproachable above the besiegers’ heads! What had Belshazzar and his city to fear? The battering ram? Let Cyrus first bridge the network of protecting canals, drain the moats, drive the archers from the walls, and establish his enginery, and then he might beat for months on those mountains of brick and accomplish nothing. Did he trust to starvation? There was corn enough, yes, and daintier fare, to let Babylon hold off famine three long years; and besides, the gardens and orchards within the long circuit of the walls could in themselves supply a multitude. After the first fright was passed the Babylonians had ceased to tremble and gibber, when they thought of the foe without the gates. Trade was resumed in the bazaars; the scholars returnedto their schools; the rope-walks, the carpet factories, and the brass foundries were again busy. Merchants counted impatiently the days when the interrupted caravan trade with Egypt and Syria might recommence. Plentiful stories were afloat that Cyrus was having vast difficulty in feeding the myriad mouths in his army; that the Persian generals were at strife amongst themselves; that revolt in Media and Carmania might send the invader home discomfited at any moment. Therefore the worthy city folk had advised one another “patience”; and behold, to-day, their waiting was rewarded! A royal crier was parading the length of Nana Street, and his proclamation was heard even above the plaudits of the crowds:—
“Rejoice! Rejoice, men of Babylon, city favoured by Marduk! Last night the noble Sirusur, ‘Master of the host,’ made a sortie from the Gate of Borsippa, and smote the Persian barbarians utterly, slaying hundreds, and taking many of their great princes captive. This morning Cyrus, the impious blasphemer of our gods, being utterly discomfited by the valour of his Majesty’s army,—his generals deserting him, and his kingdoms of Media and Bactria having rebelled against his tyranny,—is raising the siege in all haste. His power is destroyed forever. Glory, glory to Bel-Marduk, to Istar, to Samas, whose favour is over Babylon! Rejoice! Rejoice!”
“Glory to Marduk! Glory to Belshazzar, favoured son of the almighty god!”
So the thousands had hailed the glad tidings, and rushed with one accord to the walls, to make sure of the news. Even so; the black tents of the besiegers were disappearing. Already the pavilion of Cyrus had vanished behind the plains; the retreat bore almost evidence of a rout.
“Follow after! Destroy them utterly!” advised the younger and bolder captains about the exultant king, while he surveyed the welcome scene from the Gate of the Chaldees. But Sirusur, the victor of the sortie, who next to Belshazzar’s self had won most glory in the defence, only observed, with the prudent wisdom of the all-knowing Ea:—
“Leave them alone, your Majesty; the barbarians are at strife among themselves: they will soon turn their swords on one another, and so fight for us. Our army is weary with the siege, grant it some reward before we take the field to conquer Cyrus’s provinces. Proclaim a great feast of thanksgiving throughout Babylon.”
“And is it not one year to-morrow night,” demanded the king, nothing loath, “since I betrothed Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus?”
“Even so, your Majesty,” quoth Bilsandan the vizier, at the other elbow.
Belshazzar clapped his hands in right kingly glee.
“Praised be every god! Do you proclaim a feast over the city for to-morrow and to-morrow night. Let Babylon be one house of mirth, for it shall be her king’s triumph and wedding-night together. Preparethe palace for a banquet such as no king before—no, not Nebuchadnezzar the Great—set for his lords and captains; there I will drink wine before all Babylon, and show forth the daughter of Cyrus, whom I take to wife.”
Therefore for a second time the crier had fared through the streets, and all Babylon gave itself over to merriment.
None did so with a gladder heart than Itti-Marduk the great banker. That evening, when he sat with Neriglissor on his house roof, the excellent man was in a state of enviable content. Two days before he had sold out a huge granary of corn at half a shekel on the homer[11]above the price it would now fetch, the siege being over; and when Neriglissor had examined the entrails of three white geese, to see if his friend ought to risk a very profitable loan, the omens had been most happy—the livers so white, the hearts so very large, that some great advantage was foretokened, unless all faith in augury was bootless. Therefore from business they had passed to small talk.
“Happy evening for Babylon,” Neriglissor was saying; “I did not think Cyrus would give us the back so readily.”
“Or that Sirusur the general would prove so valiant, if the flying rumours had been true.”
“Rumours?” demanded the old priest; “in Bel’s name, what rumours?”
“Are you so ignorant at the temple, as not to know the talk of the city?”
“Will you slaughter me, by not telling?”
The banker grew confidential.
“My dearest Neriglissor, surely you know that there have been many tales afoot lately that, since the day of the great riot, and that scene in his Majesty’s council where Sirusur the general and your own lord, Avil-Marduk, passed such bitter words, the two have been as cold friends as a lamb and a desert hyena. I have heard no less than two tales, one of which is proved false,—the gods know concerning the other, not I.”
“Well, tell them: I am tortured by curiosity.”
“The first is that Sirusur theTartanand Bilsandan the vizier fear the hostility of Avil and his influence over Belshazzar so much, that, rather than see him wax in power, they prefer to open the gates to Cyrus.”
“A lie! Sirusur’s valour in the sortie proved it so.”
Itti let his head come yet closer to the priest’s as they sat together; his gaze was shrewd and penetrating.
“And is this a lie also?—that Avil-Marduk, the worshipful priest of Bel, would not be greatly displeased if some hap of fate were to set him on the throne of Nebuchadnezzar? By Samas, you are startled!”
Neriglissor was smiling uneasily. “Have you theeyes of Nergal, dear Itti? Well, you are a good friend, and know the meaning of that hard word ‘silence.’ His Majesty is childless, thus far; he is the last of his line; if by some dispensation of heaven,—which Ramman forefend,—if Avil-Marduk were to be summoned to the throne—”
The banker broke the other short with a dry chuckle. “Ah! then I did not hear old-wives tales merely. Sirusur and Bilsandan would have good cause for quaking with Avil wearing the purple cap. But the king weds the Persian,—there may be an heir.”
Neriglissor rolled one eye in his head. “Many things can befall before an heir is born to his Majesty.”
“Ha!” laughed the other, “so be it, if trade is not disturbed, and Avil-Marduk remembers that he yet owes me twelve talents, be he king or priest.”
So the gossip ran in the town, and in the palace there was one continuous carnival. Belshazzar sat on his throne in the great audience hall; two tame lions crouched at right and left, but he, in his kingly majesty looked the noblest lion of them all. Before him had come the captains of thousands and of hundreds, to pay obeisance and listen to the royal words of praise, or even receive some crowning mark of good will—a chain of gold hung round their necks by the monarch’s own hand.
Then, next to Belshazzar, all paid court to Avil-Marduk,who stood more modestly in a corner of the great hall, while the noblest of the princes salaamed to him, and wished him “a thousand sons and a thousand daughters;” for it was hardly more an hour of triumph for the king than for Avil. His policy of mingled caution and boldness had been completely vindicated. His influence in the royal council would be supreme. Never had Babylon stood so clearly in the zenith of glory. And now that the power of Cyrus seemed broken, to what bounds might not the dominions of the Chaldee reach? And Avil-Marduk was saying within his crafty heart, “The city may ascribe the triumph to Belshazzar if they will, the wise will confess it won by me.” Only one thing marred the high priest’s bliss. Sirusur theTartanand Bilsandan the vizier gave no compliments, only dark frowns, when they passed him; and Avil spoke again within himself of a certain ambition that boded little good for general or minister, or even king.
But the hopes and fears of his underlings had little place in the heart of Belshazzar that day, when he dismissed the levee, and his parasol and fan bearers followed him into the harem of the palace. Hardly had Igas-Ramman the guards-captain departed after reporting that the last of the Persian host had vanished in such haste as to leave much valuable armour and camp furniture, when Mermaza came before the king with a tale that made his smooth face beam with complacent mirth.
“Let the king’s heart be enlarged, his liver exalted. Know, my lord, Marduk sends no fair thing singly. May your slave speak?”
“Say on.” The king was smiling, too, for he saw Mermaza had some wondrous good fortune to relate.
“Lord,” quoth Mermaza, smirking, “have you forgotten the daughter of Daniel?”
“Forgotten? By Istar, am I like to forget those stars, her eyes? or how her accursed father has hidden her, despite all search?”
“Wrong, my king.” Mermaza brushed his stiffly pomatumed curls on the leopard’s skin at Belshazzar’s feet. “I and my eunuchs have discovered. A shy partridge, but she is snared.”
“Nabu prosper you, fellow! How did you secure her? When? Where?”
Mermaza’s smile grew yet more honeyed. “Lord, your slave can tell the story quickly. Daniel hid the maid with his friend Imbi-Ilu at Borsippa; but when that traitor fled to Cyrus, he gave the maid into the keeping of one Dagan-Milki, a schoolmaster who owed Daniel some debt of gratitude. To-day in the rejoicings one of the older scholars, well laden with palm-beer, chattered somewhat in the ears of Ili-Kamma, the slyest rat amongst all my eunuchs. Said the lad, ‘Our master has a strange maid in his family, and her manner is thus and thus.’ Ili comes to me; together we go to the school and house of Dagan-Milki. And behold! Dagan lies in the inner prison, and Ruth, the daughter of Daniel, waits nowthe good pleasure of Belshazzar, the ever victorious king!”
Belshazzar gave a laugh that almost set Mermaza to trembling; for it was safer sometimes to hear the roar of uncaged lions, than such burst of royal mirth. But the eunuch had naught to fear.
“I thank you, rascal; by every god I thank you! Truly, Marduk sends all things good at once; let him keep back some now, that his later store may not be exhausted. Where is the maid?”
“Already here in the harem. I have commanded that she be dressed in a manner pleasing to your Majesty.”
“And she has lost none of her beauty—she is fair as on that day when Darius (curses light on the Persian!) beguiled me into letting her slip through my grasp?”
“She has lost nothing; nay, rather, in one year her bud has blown to full blossom; she is doubly fair.”
“Again I give you thanks. Lead me to her.” But the king paused an instant: “One thing also,—command that Atossa be brought to me, when I am with the Jewess in the harem.”
Atossa had been on the palace roof that afternoon, where she had spent many a long hour during the siege,—gazing toward the lowering walls, and praying for the moment so long delayed, when Aryan steel should be flashing on the summits of those ramparts.And now Mermaza had come to her, declaring: “Rejoice, my lady! for all Babylon rejoices. Cyrus raises his siege; his host melts away like snow in the springtime!”
Then Atossa had stared hard at the eunuch, wasting no tears on such as him. “Another lie, serpent! Earth will turn to fire ere the host of the Aryans turn the back from a war once begun.”
“Nevertheless,” answered Mermaza, with an unusually lowly salaam, “you will find your slave’s words do not err.”
Full soon the shouts of gladness and the tidings that the under servants brought into the palace told the Persian that Mermaza had indeed spoken well; and right on the heels of this great bitterness trod a summons from Belshazzar to appear before him without delay. A fearful outburst rewarded the eunuch who brought it.
“Get you gone! Tell Belshazzar that Atossa will love to see your Chaldean ‘Maskim’ more gladly than him.”
“Lord,” explained the myrmidon, who knew how to soften tart messages to the king, “the Lady Atossa is much indisposed; she prays to see you later.”
“Much indisposed!” roared Belshazzar, clapping his thigh. “Yes, by Nergal, she and all her race need more than an Egyptian doctor’s physic for their ills! Bring her hither, by force if needs be!”
No disobeying this; Atossa was brought to the king. She found Belshazzar in one of the cool,softly lighted, high-vaulted chambers of the harem; he was lolling on the crimson cushions of his couch, in one hand his constant companion of late—a wine-cup. But what Atossa was swiftest to see was a young girl seated on a footstool at his right elbow,—a slender, graceful thing, but shivering, and glancing furtively this way and that like some trapped creature watching for escape. Only the flutter of the fans of the inevitable corps of attendants broke the silence, when Atossa was led before the king. She made no motion or sound; only looked straight before her, with stern, glassy eyes, as if seeing all, yet seeing nothing.
Belshazzar raised himself and tilted the goblet to his lips.
“Your health, my queen; may it be happier than that of your valorous father.”
The hot colour in Atossa’s cheeks was the king’s sole answer; he drained, and thrust back the cup into the ever watchful cup-bearer’s hands.
“Lady,” began he again, a trifle more soberly, “you have fought against the bridle, but the Chaldee’s curb is too strong. To-morrow you become indeed my wife. One year in Babylon is time enough to forget Susa. You are of us now.”
“I Babylonish?” demanded Atossa, and in the last word there was a whole weight of scorn. But Belshazzar only let his eyes half close in easy good humour.
“You are a comely maid, even though Cyrus beyour father. I do not repent his sending you to Babylon; for Istar’s self might stand beside you, and flush with shame. Be you who you may, you shall become my ‘first queen’; and if you are but reasonable, you will find your least wish a law to the Chaldees, no sorry thing even to a princess of the Aryans. Not so?”
“So I am to be first queen?” spoke Atossa, pointing with a finger; “but this woman—who is she?”
Belshazzar pinched the smooth arm of the maid at his side.
“Look up, my queen! The lady does not remember the day when her marvellous archer friend Darius saved you from the lion. Never since then have my soul’s eyes lost sight of you, my flower, though your father hid so carefully; and I have plucked you at last! The Persian is the lily, and you shall be the rose in my sweet nosegay!”
Atossa caught the girl roughly under the chin, and looked into her face. “Excellent taste, my king,” she taunted; “so this is the maid who is to divide honours with me. Is her father the Pharaoh, or Nadab the boatman?”
The girl shuddered out of Atossa’s grasp.
“You forget,” quoth Belshazzar, ogling from one woman to the other; “her father is no boatman, by Nergal! though, like your own, scarce now on good terms with the god of good fortune. He is Daniel, the one time civil-minister.”
All the anger vanished from Atossa’s face instantly.
“Were you not Ruth, who was betrothed to Isaiah the Jew?” asked she of the girl, who only nodded dumbly, for fear had stolen her power of speech.
“And what does the king require of her?” spoke the Persian, almost haughtily; “possessing me, does he not possess enough?”
“Fie!” answered he; “because I keep the swiftest Elamite bay in my stables, must I own no other charger? You need not fear her as a rival in power. You shall be queen, and she?—” he lifted the dark curls on the Jewess’s soft neck, “we shall find her place when some lucky god gives back to her her tongue.”
Ruth cringed and shivered under the touch; more than ever she seemed the dumb, netted creature. But Atossa took her by the hand.
“Your Majesty,” said she, more mildly than before, but losing none of her lofty tone of command, “surely you have made merry enough with your two slaves for to-day. Let me take the daughter of Daniel with me, to my chambers.”
“Let the king so favour his handmaiden.” It was the first word Ruth had spoken. And Belshazzar declared, with another great laugh:—
“So be it. Go your ways. Teach this wench speech, Atossa, and I thank you. But one last command,—let the Jewess be present at the feast of triumph; for if you are to shine as Istar, the other great goddess, Beltis, must not fail.”
Once in the private chambers of Atossa, Ruth castherself on the tiles at the princess’s feet and burst into a flood of tears.
“O lady! if you have any power indeed, give one favour, a speedy death, and end my pain! Better black Sheol than to hear again the voice of Belshazzar!”
But the Persian, stronger and maturer, raised her up, and held her head against her own breast.
“Peace, peace. Lamentation binds up no broken hearts, else would mine have ceased its grieving long ago.”
“Ah! merciful mistress,” cried the Jewess, falling again on her knees, “forgive your slave; what freedom is this that I have shown before your face? Forgive—”
“I forgive nothing; there is naught to be forgiven,” answered Atossa, with a wan smile. “We are equals in the wretchedness of our lot. Whether your plight or mine is worse, Ahura knows, not we.”
“Ah! God is weak,” groaned the Jewess, “else why has Belshazzar thus been suffered to blaspheme Him and to prosper? The king has hounded my lover from the city, has flung my father into a dungeon, and soon will take his life. Just before you came to us, Belshazzar said unto me, ‘Forget your Jewish god, my pretty, for I will teach the nations how helpless is the demon the Hebrews and Persians serve.’ Once I was strong, once I bade Isaiah risk all for our God, and count nothing for Him too dear. But now,—I am not of kingly blood, as you, Olady,—I can only know that to all seeming Marduk has conquered Jehovah.”
Atossa pointed from the window, beyond the green foliage of the “paradise” about the palace, beyond thezigguratsand the towering walls.
“How can these things be? I do not know. Ahura-Mazda is all-wise and all-good. That should suffice, were we but perfect as His ‘Ameshaspentas.’ But this I know: beyond those walls are Cyrus and Darius and Isaiah; and while those three live, let these Babylonish swine grunt their boastings, I know that hope is not ended.”
“But Cyrus departs. His princes disobey him, and turn against him.”
Atossa pointed again toward the window. “Cyrus departs? Little you know my father, or the princes of the Persians, and our Aryan fealty. Other kings have cried ‘victory’ when they warred with Cyrus—but those kings, where are they?”
“Then you still hope?” almost implored the Jewess.
“Yes, because Ahura still sends Mithra the ‘fiend-smiter,’ into the heavens, pledge of His favour; and because Cyrus, lord of the Aryans, is Cyrus still; and Darius, son of Hystaspes, is Darius still.”
“Yes, lady,” cried Ruth, still quivering, “hope is sweet; but I have long hoped, and hoped in vain; and it grows hard. To-morrow is the feast, and after the feast Belshazzar will possess us utterly.”
“The time truly is short”—Atossa’s eyes, for thefirst time that day shone with tears; “yet if Ahura willeth, one last moment shall yet bring low this Babylon and its most evil king.”
“But we?”
Atossa shook her head impatiently.
“We are only women, made to trust and bear. We can only wait his will.”