A certain rough sympathy for his impending fate seemed elicited from his guards, as they forced Sarchedon through the palace, down a dark passage, bricked and vaulted, that led to some remote place of security, unvisited by the light of day.
"You should have held your peace, man," said one, easing a little the belt that bound the prisoner's arms. "To bandy words with Pharaoh is to throw scalding broth in the air, and stand under where it falls. Had you feigned to be stricken dumb with fear, now, not daring to raise your eyes in the face of my lord the king, you might have escaped with the loss of your nose and tenscore stripes on the soles of your feet. But that long tongue of yours has made it a hanging matter, believe me, no less, if not impalement, which is worse."
"Tush, brother!" interrupted his comrade, a comely archer, not unconscious of his sleek dark locks, marked brows, and other personal advantages; "a man can die but once. Better be stuffed and swathed decently in a large cool resting-place, with plenty of room and shade, than limp about in the heat a hideous object, crippled and disfigured for life."
"A man can die but once," repeated Sarchedon stoutly, repressing the shudder that, in this dark downward passage, chilled him to the bone. "I had hoped, however, to fall honourably from my war-chariot in the fore-front of battle, rather than hang by the heels like a trapped jackal, to rot and blacken, till my bones are stripped by the birds of prey."
"What matter?" observed the first speaker, accepting with resignation the misfortunes of another. "Men come to the same resting-place, travel the road how they will. Even the Great Sphinxes and the three royal tombs must crumble down at last. It is only Pharaoh who lives for ever."
Thus speaking, he thrust a bunch of onions and a lump of barley-bread into Sarchedon's hands, unbinding them at the same moment while dexterously pushing him through a door, which he shut and bolted on the outside, leaving his own homely meal with the prisoner, whom he thus consigned to solitude and gloom.
The Assyrian listened to the retiring footsteps of his escort as a man hanging over an abyss marks the last strands parting of a rope that links him to life and light of day. When they faded into silence, he seemed to taste already the bitterness of death. Unlike the Egyptian, however, that fatalism which sinks without effort to despair was no part of the Assyrian's character, and he soon roused himself to examine the strength and quality of his prison-house.
It was a cell of liberal dimensions, sunk deep into the earth, bricked throughout and with vaulted roof, admitting a feeble glimmer from one narrow loophole, which communicated with the passage he had left. The more minutely he studied it, the more convinced was he that his dungeon afforded no chance of escape.
He felt the walls on each side, not leaving a single brick untouched; he searched the flooring carefully for some inequality that might give hope of a subterranean passage or concealed egress; but in vain. The work seemed even and level, smooth as granite, and no more to be tampered with than the pitiless rock itself.
Wearied at length with his exertions, his ride through the night, and the events of the morning, he made up his mind to die, and in the meantime munched his barley-bread and onions ere he laid him down to sleep.
It seemed that he had scarcely rested an hour before the door of his cell was opened, to be shut again ere he could spring to his feet. Food and wine, however, of the best quality had been left for his refreshment, and to these he did justice, notwithstanding the exigencies of his situation and the prospect of a painful death.
So the time dragged wearily on, the faint streak of light that stole into his dungeon affording the prisoner no means of calculating the days as they passed by. His meals, though served regularly, were brought by a shrouded figure that vanished, phantom-like, before he could accost it. No sound from upper earth penetrated these gloomy regions. It seemed to Sarchedon that he was forgotten of men, and, as he somewhat bitterly reflected, deserted by the gods.
Could Baal not see him here, sunk surely but a fathom deep below the surface—Baal, in whose service he had so often drawn bow and brandished spear? Nor Ashtaroth, lovely Queen of Light, to whom, young, comely, gallant, he had tendered an adoration not unmixed with something of poetry and romance? Nor any of the Great Thirteen, wheeling aloft in their golden cars? Nor one amongst the countless host of heaven? Was this the reward they vouchsafed their worshipper? and would that other God, of whom Sadoc spoke, have left him thus to die? He summoned all his manhood, and it failed him; he drew on his courage, and found it but a dogged form of despair. He felt the want of something to lean on, something to trust in, something to help him from without, like a blind man seeking a friendly grasp to guide his steps. He wished he had questioned the Israelite more minutely as to that mysterious creed of his, which taught men they could never be alone nor friendless; that present with them always, but nearest at their greatest need, was a power unseen, unheard, tender, compassionate, yet irresistible and superior to Fate.
Alas, it was too late now! He turned to the wall, with something of hopeless apathy, and fell to thinking of Ishtar, fingering the while that amulet round his neck which had clung to him through all his troubles, and in which he put some vague superstitious trust.
He felt persuaded it was mysteriously interwoven with his destiny; and if this charm too had played him false, like all else, it must be time to die, since he was indeed ruined and undone.
Thus pondering, he started fiercely to his feet; for in an instant the whole cell seemed ablaze with light, not on fire, but glowing in a mild yellow lustre, which faded back to gloom ere his dazzled eyes could distinguish more than the outline of a shrouded figure standing in the midst. Some wild hope shot through his heart that it might be the phantom of his love come to bid him farewell; but a moment later he remembered his sentence, and prepared to confront a messenger from Pharaoh, sent doubtless for the purpose of leading him forth to die.
"I am ready," said the prisoner sternly. "I might strangle you where you stand, before you could summon help; but what would that avail me? You are but doing your duty. Lead on. 'Tis almost worth a life to see daylight once more."
"Life is dear," was the answer, "to the reptile in the mud, no less than to the eagle in the sky. It should be doubly dear to a man of war, who is the bulwark of a host and the favourite of a prince."
Sarchedon started, and looked piercingly at the speaker, whose voice, calm, low, and grave, seemed not entirely strange to his ear; but the cell had again become so dark, he could make out no more than a cloaked form and closely muffled face.
"What mean you?" said he. "Did Pharaoh send you here to jest with me before I die?"
"I am indeed sent by Pharaoh," was the answer; "Pharaoh, who, through my lore, can read events passing at Nineveh, at Babylon, at Thebes and Memphis, clearly as here in the City of the Cat. Have you never heard, my son, of the magic of the Egyptians?"
"I haveheardof it," replied the out-spoken warrior. "But my experience of your people is at bowshot distance, and more than once at point of spear. They are skilful marksmen, I tell you fairly, and sturdy men of war enough with push of steel. They needed but little magic to help them when it came to downright blows. Yet we drove them before us, we sons of Ashur, as the lion drives the wild ass across the plain."
"The wild ass may yet spurn the lion with her hoof," answered the other. "But what are sword and spear and human might to those forces we can summon from the world of spirits at our will? Would you not tremble, my son, to behold Typhon or Abitur of the mountains standing here on the floor between you and me?"
"Seeing is believing," was the reply of the stout-hearted Assyrian.
"I will not test your courage so far," said his visitor; "the more that I know it true as the steel you ought to wear on your thigh even now. Nor would I dare to summon such powerful aid as those I have named except at utmost need, or by the desire of Pharaoh himself. Nevertheless, I will show you here on the spot such manifestations of my power as will put to shame all the lore acquired from your lofty towers or your wide Northern plains. Which of your star-readers will bid this dry rod blossom like the almond-tree, or cause a fresh lotus to spring up in flower from the arid soil of that cemented brickwork beneath our feet?"
While he spoke, the same glow as before, though somewhat milder in lustre, shone through the cell, revealing to the astonished prisoner a slender figure draped up to the keen black eyes, that never seemed to leave his own. The magician, if such he were, looked imposing neither in gravity of age nor majesty of stature; yet Sarchedon felt a strange consciousness that he was in the presence of one superior to himself.
He watched with eager curiosity every motion of his visitor.
The latter brought out from beneath his robe a lamp of transparent glass, traced with mystic characters in waving lines of gold, and which shed the radiance that had so startled the Assyrian. Over the lamp he brandished a rod some two cubits long, apparently of polished ebony; and immediately a cloud of aromatic vapour filled the cell, hiding him for a space from the prisoner's sight. When it cleared away, he reached to Sarchedon the branch of an almond-tree, equal in length to the rod he had carried in his hand, green, full of sap, and fragrant in a rich growth of blossoms bursting into flower.
"The warrior can take life," said he gravely, "and the king can level fenced cities with the plain. Is not he greater than king and warrior who can call into existence that which these have only power to destroy?"
Sarchedon gazed on him in mute astonishment and awe. That the magician should have thus appeared in a dungeon of which the walls denoted no possibility for secret entrance was of itself surprising enough; but to inhale its fragrance, and behold in luxuriant blossom that which his own eyes had told him was but now a dry rod of ebony, could only be accounted for by supernatural influences; and he became a firm believer in magic forthwith. He made a last stand, however, for his incredulity, exclaiming almost unconsciously,
"You must have brought it beneath your cloak."
There was something of the kindly patience with which one instructs a child in the other's tone, while he replied,
"Seeing is indeed believing, as you even now averred. See, then, my son, and believe!"
With that, he cast his mantle from his shoulders, and stood forth erect, letting its folds wind about his feet, and showing in the pure white robe that enveloped his person like a pillar of alabaster on a black pedestal. His features were still shrouded; but his eyes gleamed with a mocking fire.
Once more, while he passed his hand over the lamp, a cloud obscured the dungeon as before, but for a somewhat longer space. When it cleared away, he lifted his dark cloak from the floor, and there at the prisoner's very feet, springing, as it seemed, from the hard brickwork, bloomed a fresh lotus, the flower that every son of Ashur deemed specially sacred to his country and his gods.
Sarchedon was a brave man in battle; braver, indeed, than the average of his countrymen, whose courage, perhaps, was their noblest quality. Had a score of Pharaoh's archers been bending bows all round him, he would have died like a lion in their midst, without a sign of weakness or fear; but it was no part of his creed to set at defiance the powers of another world, and he fell prostrate before his visitor in abject humility, covering his face with his hands.
The magician raised him kindly, tempered to a pale mild light the lamp he had set down, and wrapping his cloak around him as before, fixed his eyes on the prisoner with that calm scrutinising gaze which had dominated the fiery spirit of the warrior from the first.
"Have no fear," said he. "I came not hither through the solid earth that I might destroy you, or I had created but now the greedy monster of the river, the deadly serpent of the brake, rather than a fruitful branch from our Egyptian orchards and the sacred flower of your own Assyrian plains. Is it enough? or shall I show you here in this deep dark cell greater and more terrible examples of my power?"
"No more, my lord!" answered the Assyrian, who felt his courage, though beginning to reassert itself, unequal to farther trials of a like nature. "No more, I entreat you; for although I fear not mortal enemies, I have no wish to meet the sons of Seth in all the terrors they bring with them from the South; nor has Baal befriended me so stoutly, that I would trust to his assistance in an encounter with Abitur face to face."
"Blaspheme not Baal!" was the sarcastic reply. "Think you that he can see down into the earth from his seat up yonder amongst the stars, or that he would deign to aid you if he could? Has he not votaries by tens of thousands in great Babylon, who offer him daily their goods, their blood, their lives? Has he ever descended to his temple for one of them, or made the least sign that he could taste the savour of their sacrifices, could hear their prayers, take note of their outcries and their wounds? Will Ashtaroth give you light in your dungeon, Nebo come to release you from captivity, Dagon bring you to eat and drink, or Shamash himself show pity while you are writhing under his very eyes on the stake? These are your gods, O Assyrian! And you can venture to compare them with ours—with Thmei, of eternal truth and justice; with Osiris, benefactor and regenerator of earth and heaven: with wise Anubis, and subtle Thoth, and Isis, fertile, lavish, glorious in her ten thousand names!"
"There are gods enough in both countries," answered Sarchedon; "and I have heard the Great King swear by them all, that it was strange out of so large a host he had never set eyes on a straggler yet. But I have not heard of Assyrian priest, I tell you frankly, who can claim such dominion over the powers of nature as you showed me even now."
"And you think a man had better force Abitur to do his bidding than implore succour from Baal in vain?" said the other, with a sneer.
"Why not?" was the reply. "I carried a spear already in his royal guard when Semiramis persuaded the Great King to rear an altar for the worship of Abitur in the mountains beyond old Nineveh. It crossed him sore; for he never endured such ceremonies with patience, complaining that he could feed a score of companies with fewer bullocks than were slain to satisfy one single god. But the queen's eyes have power in them to draw men whither she will, and Ninus would do her bidding readily as the humblest archer in the host. So we marched up into the mountains at midnight, every man with bow and spear, axe and mattock. Plane, cedar, and broad-leafed oak fell by scores under so many willing arms, while the stoutest spearmen raised a lofty altar, and dug deep trenches, to carry off the blood, bringing in bullocks and sheep for slaughter, that we had driven up with no small trouble from the plains. Ere long we built up such a fire that the watchmen on the walls of Nineveh proclaimed the mountain was ablaze; and when the burnt offerings were made ready, there rose such a smoke that the gods could have seen but little of what we, their servants, were about beneath it. Perhaps it was too thick even for him to penetrate, whom we went there to honour. I know the Great King's wrath was kindled; for he caught up spear and shield, bidding the demon come out if he dared, and speak with him face to face."
"Did Abitur make no sign?" asked the other, with the same covert mockery in his tone.
"There were shrieks heard in the mountain more than once before dawn," answered Sarchedon; "but they seemed too shrill and faint for the voice of man or demon. Some of the queen's women, who went up with her, affirmed they were cries of lamentation from those daughters of earth scorched in the olden time by the embraces of the stars, wailing that they could not die till they had touched their spirit-lovers once again. And the queen inclined to think so too."
"But you—what didyouthink?" inquired the Egyptian, not repressing a smile.
"I was of the guard," replied the Assyrian simply; "and I thought with the Great King that the women in the mountain were fairer and fresher than in the plain; also that our spearmen were ever somewhat hasty and eager with those who would be wooed, before they were won. But we marched down again to Nineveh at sunrise, and for my part, I saw no more of Abitur than I had seen of Baal."
The other pondered, as if he scarcely listened. Presently he looked up, and asked,
"This queen of yours—is she, then, so beautiful?"
It was a topic on which Sarchedon could be eloquent, even in a dungeon.
"Beautiful!" he repeated. "In Assyria all our women are beautiful; but by the side of the Great Queen the fairest of them show like pearls against a diamond. You have seen morning rising, serene and radiant out of the east—the brow of Semiramis is purer, calmer, fresher than the dawn. When she turns her eyes on you, it is like the golden lustre of noon day; and her smile is brighter and more glorious than sunset in the desert—sweeter, softer, lovelier than the evening breeze amongst the palms. To look on her face unveiled is to be the Great Queen's slave for ever more."
"You have looked on it more than once it seems, and to some purpose," was the answer.
"I have seen her in silk and steel," replied Sarchedon, "robe and diadem, helmet and war-harness. Deck her how you will, she rivals Ashtaroth, Queen of Heaven, herself. There is not her equal on earth. 'Tis thought, indeed, that she is more than mortal, and will never taste of death."
"Like Pharaoh," said the other, laughing outright. "Nevertheless, if she have many guards stout and devoted as yourself, there can be small risk for that fair body of hers from outward foe. Yet I have heard she mounts a war-chariot and bends a bow with the bravest warriors in your host."
"I was in Bactria," answered Sarchedon, "when the Great Queen surprised ten thousand spearmen of the enemy with the royal guard alone, and a handful of horsemen she had begged of Ninus to bring in corn from the plains the night before. She drove her war-chariot through the thickest of the press, ere we could close in on it, and when we came up with her, she had but one arrow left in the quiver, while around her lay a circle of slain. Her cheek seemed a little flushed, but the smile was on her lip, and her eyes shone softer, lovelier, kinder than ever. The Great King swore that of all the captains in his host, she was the wariest and boldest, but he forbade her sternly such ventures of battle for the future. 'How shall I tarry, when my lord is in front?' was her answer, gentle and low as I am speaking to you now. He would have taken her in his arms then and there, before the assembled host. Perhaps he did; but she had scarcely spoken, when the trumpets rang out an alarm that the Bactrians were upon us, and I was down with an arrow through my ribs, almost ere you could have bent a bow. But for Sargon, the royal shield-bearer, who dragged me from under a broken chariot and a dead horse, I had never lifted spear again. The next time I saw the queen she was riding single-handed against a lion, that had slain two of her dogs, and put her people to flight."
"Single-handed!" exclaimed the Egyptian, "and against a lion! But you made in to help without delay?"
"You know not our laws of the land of Shinar," replied Sarchedon. "He who draws bow at the royal quarry loses his right hand; he who takes a prey before the prince forfeits his life. I had been safer lying naked under the beast's very jaws than riding in unbidden between the lion and the Great Queen. Yet would I have ventured too, for the sake of her matchless face, but that while I stood watching, she brought her horse within a spear length of the mighty brute, and drove an arrow right through his heart from shoulder to shoulder. I turned rein then; for I knew Semiramis would like well to stand alone over the dead carcase, and jeer at her attendants as they came up."
"Brave, wise, politic," observed the Egyptian, "and yet no doubt a very woman to the core. What think you now? Would she rule prudently over the land of Shinar, if the Great King were gathered to his fathers amongst the stars?"
"No woman may reign over the sons of Ashur," was the answer. "We only owe allegiance to a king. It is our privilege and our law."
"But hath she no favourites, this bold and beautiful archer?" pursued the other, turning his lamp so as to mark every line and shade of the prisoner's countenance. "None that share her sports and influence her counsels? The Great King waxes old; does the queen look kindly onnoneof all the fair and noble warriors about the palace or in the host?"
Not a quiver of his eyelid would have escaped the Egyptian's notice, but Sarchedon's brow was open and unconcerned, as his tone was loyal, while he replied,
"I am a prisoner, alone here in a dungeon; you are—what are you? A priest, an enchanter, a magician, backed, for all I can tell, by a company of Pharaoh's archers and a host of spirits from the Southern mountains. But were you and I standing two naked men in the market-place, that question had been answered with a buffet; were we in harness on the plain, it were well worth push of spear and clash of steel."
The Egyptian laughed once more—heartily this time, and without disguise.
"I am your friend," said he, "and you will not believe it. A powerful friend, too, as I have shown you, and one who, while able to crush you as a man crushes a locust beneath his hand, would yet lend you all the resources of his art for your solace here and your deliverance from captivity hereafter."
"You cannot set me free!" exclaimed Sarchedon, a delightful hope breaking in to cheer him like the dawn of day.
"I can foretell the future," answered the magician, "clearly, certainly, as you can relate the past. Behold this lamp: see, I darken it to a faint pale gleam. Look on it, and tell me what it shows."
In vain Sarchedon strained his eyes.
"A line of waving gold within the crystal," said he; "no more."
"Such is the blindness of him whose sight has not been sharpened by learning," replied the magician. "You are as the rower labouring at the oar, who can but see the ripple he leaves behind, and the banks on the river-side that he has passed. I am the steersman who scans the coming rapids, the rocks in mid-stream, the calm and comely reach of smooth water that sleeps beyond. I look into the crystal, and I behold a youth stretching his arms in freedom, rubbing, with unfettered hands, his eyes dazzled by the light of day. I follow him into the presence of Pharaoh. I behold him on the king's right hand, clad in a dress of honour, drinking costly wine of the South from a cup of gold. He mounts a goodly steed, he talks joyfully with one of dress and bearing like his own, a troop of the sons of Ashur close round him, he rides away into the desert, and I see him no more. That youth bears a strange resemblance to him who stands before me now, with clasped hands and wondering eyes, a captive in the strongest dungeon ever built at the command of Pharaoh by a nation of slaves."
Sarchedon again prostrated himself at his visitor's feet.
"If you tell me true," he exclaimed, "I am the faithful servant of my lord for ever more."
"You will remember me when you are in Babylon," returned the other. "You will recall the wisdom and power of the Egyptians. You will tell your countrymen the wonders that I, the least and lowest amongst their wise and great, have shown you without an effort, and you will not forget that I have been your friend, even in your extreme need. Farewell! He who sent me summons me back to his presence, and we shall not meet again!"
Even while he spoke, a thick cloud of aromatic vapour filled the dungeon as before; when it cleared away the visitor was gone, and Sarchedon, looking blankly about him, began to think he had been the sport of his own fancy, beguiled by the illusions of a dream.
Had his bodily powers been weakened by starvation, his mind, enfeebled in proportion, might, he thought, have played him false. But no; food and wine had been supplied with constant regularity; and testing his faculties in every way he could think of, he found them equal to any effort of observation or reflection he desired to make. Once more he tried the walls of his dungeon, and failed to discover the slightest symptoms of an opening through which the visitor could have passed. This seemed less surprising, as the blossoming of the ebony rod and sudden growth of the lotus in flower denoted supernatural powers, which might well penetrate a cubit of brickwork and a fathom or two of solid earth. These wonders he accepted without question as worked by the spells of that magic lore which could compel the gods themselves to do its bidding; nor did he see reason to doubt, in his simple credulity, those glimpses of the future which, though sealed to his own eyes, seemed clear as day to his companion.
And that companion—who and what could he be? Sarchedon, whose ideas of a magician were of the vaguest, had yet some indistinct persuasion that such a professor must be old and stately, with long gray beard and thoughtful wrinkled brow. His late visitor, however, could scarcely yet have reached middle life, and on his countenance, so far as he had observed it, was stamped the wary vigilance, the keen foresight, of the man of action, rather than the serene and saddened wisdom that denotes the man of thought. Those eyes, too, haunted him strangely. Where had he seen the piercing gaze, half pitiful, half mocking, that seemed to master a man's inmost feelings, and scorn them while it read? He grew very restless and uneasy now. He paced to and fro in his dungeon, clenching his hands, grinding his teeth, longing with wild feverish desire to breathe the desert air, and strike a blow for liberty in the light of day once more.
He had been calm, quiet, almost resigned when captivity seemed inevitable, and death near at hand.
The time dragged on so, that again he slept, despairing, exhausted, heart-sick with hope deferred. As usual in calamity, the darkest hour was that which brought the dawn.
He was woke by the measured tramp of marching men. The door of his cell opened, and a strong light streamed in, showing the passage outside filled with archers. He drew himself together, like a wolf amongst the hounds, resolved on fighting to the death; but the captain had fallen at his feet, and was pressing the hem of Sarchedon's garment to his lips.
"Let my lord look favourably on his servant," said the archer, "whose happy lot it is to conduct him into the presence of Pharaoh, there to be clothed in a dress of honour, and to stand at the right hand of my lord the king."
Confused, bewildered, all the more that he recalled the magician's words, Sarchedon followed his conductor from the dungeon, gazing about him amongst the guard like a man in a dream. Passing down their ranks, he recognised him who had bestowed on the prisoner his own scanty meal at the cell-door. The Assyrian wrenched from his tunic a golden clasp in the form of a serpent—the only ornament save his mysterious amulet left on his person—and thrust it in the bowman's hand as he went by. The latter kissed it reverently, while he whispered in the next man's ear,
"A good deed is like a handful of millet cast into the Nile. After many days, lo, the river goes back to its bed, and leaves you a harvest!"
"True enough," replied his comrade. "As our proverb runs, 'When the waters wane, then sprouts the grain.' But the harvest of thy good deeds, my friend, would be reaped but once in seven years at best."
"Silence!" interrupted his captain; and the archers closing in the rear, escorted Sarchedon ceremoniously to the palace.
Here he was received by sundry officials gorgeously attired, and obviously belonging to the royal household, who vied with each other in rendering him every service that could be offered by inferiors to their lord. They ushered him into a cool and spacious chamber, rich in fantastic decorations, and ornamented with coloured figures of beast, bird, and reptile. Here they stripped and rubbed him with fragrant ointments; conducting him thence to the bath, from which two active Ethiopians extricated him, grinning from ear to ear as they dried his stalwart frame with the finest cloths, kneading and chafing limbs and joints till his whole person glowed and tingled from the friction. Then they brought him such a dress of honour as might become the favourite of a king; and placing before him roast kid, parched locusts, milk, spices, honey, wine, and fruit from Pharaoh's own table, left him to be served by half a score of such Egyptian officials as waited on the king himself.
Presently the same captain of archers who had brought him from the dungeon appeared at the door of his chamber, prostrating himself with extreme humility ere he ventured to advance.
"When my lord has eaten and drank," said he, "and comforted his heart, I am sent to conduct him into the presence of Pharaoh. Thy servant is the bearer of good tidings. Let him find favour in the sight of my lord."
"There needs not so much ceremony," answered Sarchedon. "Are we not warriors both?—enemies yesterday, perhaps enemies to-morrow, in the mean time friends and comrades to-day?"
"My lord speaks good words to the lowest of his servants, out of the fulness of his own heart. How shall I answer him whom the king delighteth to honour according to his greatness? What am I but dust beneath the feet of my lord?"
While he spoke thus humbly, it was evident to the Assyrian that his conductor did but veil under this affectation of extreme deference a strong professional jealousy and an intense hatred of race. He recognised in the Egyptian warrior's dress and harness the distinctive marks of a certain company, celebrated in Pharaoh's armies for their warlike prowess—a company that the Great King, with a handful of his body-guard, had driven to the very gates of Memphis, during his last campaign. Its captain would fain have been bending a bow to-day against the Assyrian's breast, rather than thus humbling himself at every step before a national enemy; but his first duty was to Pharaoh, and Pharaoh had commanded that the prisoner should be brought to him with all the honours of a prince.
They proceeded in silence through the lofty halls and corridors of the palace, traversing that well-remembered court, in which stood the royal judgment-seat—silent and deserted now but for several cats, arching their backs and rubbing their sides against the pedestal of their own special deity, and a pair of storks, each standing on one slender leg, with head tucked back and wary eye, in the places of accuser and accused, at the steps of Pharaoh's throne.
"I little thought to have come here again," said the light-hearted Assyrian, "save as a doomed man passing naked to the stake; and, behold, I march by in a dress of honour at the head of a hundred archers. Who shall say what a day may bring forth?"
The well-drilled features of the Egyptian forced themselves to smile.
"Man is but a vain thing," he answered sententiously—"a strained shaft, a riven harness, a broken bow! But the king's hand stretches far and wide. He giveth or taketh away, setteth up or casteth down, and Pharaoh lives for ever!"
The last four words he spoke in a loud voice, falling immediately on his face; for they were entering the royal banquet-hall, at the extremity of which the king sat in person, under a canopy of state, attended only by his cup-bearer and the official who carried his fan.
A venerable man, whom Sarchedon recognised as having stood at his right hand while the king administered judgment, now stepped forward, and conducted the guest to a place of honour provided for him, apart from the great lords and captains, who were ranged all down the hall. Passing before the royal table with a low obeisance, the Assyrian could not but be gratified by the reception accorded him: Pharaoh even raised the wine to his lips in acknowledgment of his guest's salute, while in the dark eyes that gleamed over his cup, Sarchedon thought he recognised something of that mocking mirth which had so disturbed him in the magician's gaze, who foretold the term of his captivity. But he was destined to higher honours yet; for no sooner had he taken his seat than a portion of meat and a cup of wine were served him from the king's own table, by no less a person than the old man who had conducted him thither—Phrenes, governor of Egypt, second only in rank and authority to Pharaoh himself.
Adopting a tone of confidential intercourse, as with an equal, this magnate now bade Sarchedon look round amongst these lords and captains for the familiar face of a countryman. Had he not been so accustomed to wonders of late, he could scarcely have believed his eyes when he observed Sethos, gorgeously attired in the Assyrian fashion, seated like himself in a place of honour, and pouring out a drink-offering to the gods of his own land, ere he quenched his thirst with the choicest wine of Egypt from a cup of gold.
"He will scarce recognise you in that dress," said Phrenes; "but it was the command of Pharaoh to make amends for the mishap of your ill-usage and imprisonment, by such honours as are paid to the prince who is next the throne. He must needs be a man of mark at home for whose sake an Assyrian king sends his own cup-bearer with an embassy to Pharaoh."
"An embassy to Pharaoh!" In the last stage of astonishment, Sarchedon could only repeat the other's words.
"No less," assented Phrenes. "And you must not take offence if I tell you it arrived here not a day too soon. Your accusation was a heavy one, and the penalty of your crime was death. These sons of shepherds begin to overrun the land. Some of our wisest counsellors would rejoice to be rid of them once for all; but Pharaoh loves well to see great buildings growing to the skies, cubit by cubit, and day by day. He would not willingly let this people go. Meanwhile they increase and multiply till it seems that ere long they will outnumber their lords. If they had arms, or could use them, it might come to a bad ending. We keep them down with labour, and tame them with blows; nevertheless, if a leader should rise up amongst them, they have it in their power to vex us sore. You had not crossed into the dominions of Pharaoh a day ere your person and character were as well known to us as they are now. When it came out that yours was the daring hand which smote the Egyptian, we did you the justice to believe you were a dangerous offender, and condemned you accordingly, even before you were accused."
"Your opinion of me far exceeded my merits," answered Sarchedon, who did not fail to perceive he had run a very narrow risk. "To which of the gods, then, did I owe my unexpected deliverance?"
"Neither to Thmei nor Thoth," replied Phrenes. "Justice and policy alike counselled a short examination and a speedy sentence; but Pharaoh"—here he dropped his voice with an affectation of extreme caution—"Pharaoh, whose wisdom is infallible, determined that you should be kept in safe ward until he had caused you to disclose the inmost secrets of this captive people with whom you had cast in your lot."
"I could have told him nothing!" exclaimed Sarchedon; "nor would I have turned traitor to the hand that succoured me for the half of his kingdom."
"It is well, then," answered the other calmly, "that the question was never asked. It must be a loud shriek to reach upper earth from those dungeons of ours; and in my opinion, though Pharaoh thinks otherwise, knowledge is bought too dear even from a criminal at the price of torture."
Sarchedon shuddered. Glancing across the hall at the king's calm cruel face, he could not help thinking how fruitless would have been an appeal for mercy, how hopeless an attempt at escape. "Had you tortured me to death," said he, "you would have gained nothing for yourselves but shame!"
"There was fortunately no need," replied the other with exceeding courtesy. "Ere Pharaoh had leisure to attend to your affairs in person, lo, there comes a cloud of horsemen out of Assyria, bearing rich presents, speaking honeyed words, yet demanding plainly enough that you should be delivered to them unhurt; threatening vengeance if a single hair of your head had fallen while in our charge. And Ninyas, it seems, is no more to be trifled with than his father."
"Ninyas!" repeated Sarchedon. "Doth the Great King then rule no longer in Babylon?"
"Have you not heard?" replied the other. "Ninus has gone to his gods, wherever they may be, and Ninyas his son reigns in his stead. If the new king's counsellors be like that gaudy youth who hath ridden here on behalf of his lord, sound wisdom must be less sought after than shining raiment about his throne."
He signed with something of contempt towards Sethos, who had now caught sight of his countryman, and, being well warmed with wine, was showing as much satisfaction as seemed compatible with the dignified presence in which he found himself. The banquet, according to the custom of the Egyptians, was prolonged to a late hour. When the guests could eat and drink no more, singing-women entered the hall, bearing fruit and flowers and golden measures of the rarest wines. These were succeeded by dancers conspicuous for their beauty, and much appreciated by Sethos, who could not refrain from audible comments on their charms. Wrestlers also, and tumblers of the other sex, relieved them at intervals; and if Sarchedon in his heart more admired the upright forms and noble proportions of his countrymen, he could not but admit that the pliancy of limb and subtle dexterity of those Egyptians were beyond praise.
The sun had long set, and scores of lamps were flashing their radiance over the revellers, ere a slow sad dirge swelled through the palace, while an image of Osiris, swathed in mummy-clothes, and stretched corpse-like on a bier, was borne to the feet of Pharaoh himself. Then Phrenes, who, to his weightier avocations, added that of Master of the Feast, raised his hands aloft for silence, and in the hush of voices spoke that solemn warning with which it was the custom of Egypt to close its richest entertainments:
"What is man? Nothing. What is life? Nothing. What is death? Nothing. For we are born at an adventure; and when we go hence, it will be as though we had never seen the day. Life, though short, is weary; death, though unwelcome, is not to be escaped. Let us, then, enjoy the good things that are present; let us comfort our hearts with wine, and gladden our faces with oil, and crown our locks with flowers: for wine hath lees and oil hath dregs, and ere set of sun the lotus herself shall have faded and passed away. Let none go fasting to his bed, nor joyless to his grave, because in sleep there is neither mirth nor mourning; there is neither good nor evil in the tomb. What is man, then? Nothing. But Pharaoh lives for ever!"
Then the strangers passed once more before the king, Sethos and Sarchedon receiving each a costly present, the other Assyrians being also gladdened with gifts according to their rank. It would have seemed beneath the dignity of Pharaoh to hold converse with strangers in person; but Phrenes, when he bade them farewell, took occasion to enlarge on the power and riches of his own country, reminding the visitors of its arts, its fertility, its resources in peace and war. Lastly, retaining him for a moment behind his companions, he whispered in Sarchedon's ear,
"Forget not how the captive in his dungeon found favour in the sight of my lord the king. He bids you think of Pharaoh when you are exalted in your own country, and above all, he warns you, despise not the wisdom of the Egyptians."
Once more in the saddle, once more in the light of day, once more in the boundless desert, free as the wild ass devouring the plain, the long-winged hawk darting across the sun. Sarchedon set his horse to its speed, and circled round the troop of warriors who accompanied him, in sheer ecstasy of liberty and motion. How could he refrain? Was it not life itself to feel beneath his limbs the old familiar swerve, and swing and long elastic bound? fingering with light and skilful touch the quivering rein, to which every motion answered, like the chord of an instrument responsive to the practised hand of a musician? to borrow from the animal under him, till each quality seemed his own, the speed of a wild deer, the strength of a mountain bull, and the gentle generous courage peculiar to a good horse alone? Yes, it was worth long days and nights of captivity, of restless slumber and weary waking, of listless apathy and dull sickening despair, to back a steed, wear sword on thigh, and shake a javelin in the pure still air of the wilderness once again. He said as much to Sethos, while they turned in the saddle to look their last on the great pyramids of Egypt, sinking into the plain behind them. The cup-bearer, moderating his companion's pace, like his own, to the springing walk of their pure-bred steeds, expressed, as usual, his earnest desire to behold the walls, pinnacles, and brazen gates of great Babylon, with her pleasures and her repose.
"A place, my friend," said Sethos, "that I was sore afraid you would never see again. A fallen man in the desert is more commonly picked up by jackals than Israelites; and it is not every horse that would take another rider back, as did Merodach, to the very spot where he laid his master on the sand. By the belt of Nimrod, I always said, for camp or march, charge or chase, I have not found such a steed in the Great King's host as the white horse with the wild eye."
"Brave Merodach!" answered Sarchedon; "I would I were across him now. Bold, gentle, and true, I never saw him frightened, and I never felt him tired."
"He was scared that night, nevertheless," said Sethos. "He came by me like a stone out of a sling, even as I reached the middle gate in the southern wall; but the archers on watch turned him back, and when I caught his bridle, he let me lead him through the crowded streets like a dog. By the brows of Ashtaroth, it was a night not to be forgotten in Babylon, while the great tower of Belus has one brick standing on another."
"Was there a tumult, then?" asked Sarchedon. "Our countrymen need but little to stir them into action at a festival."
"Not so much a tumult," answered the cup-bearer, "as a great awe and horror over all. The streets were thick with people; but men looked in each other's faces, and scarce dared ask what might come next. Some told me that the skies were raining fire and brimstone on the temple of Baal, and that ere dawn of morning the whole city was to be consumed; some that the Bactrians had vanquished our Great King's host, all scattered about in the plain; that their elephants could be seen from the walls, and that even now the fiercest of their mountaineers were advancing to the assault."
Sarchedon laughed.
"Such tidings should have vexed you but little," said he. "Did you not remember how we put them to flight by the Red Lake, from which our warriors drank so freely, believing it was wine? I slew three of their slingers at its very brim with my own hand."
"I remembered nothing," answered Sethos, "but that when they drew the sword they smote and spared not, old men and maidens, mothers and children, the warrior in harness, and the wounded at their feet. If the Bactrians were in truth over the wall, I bethought me whether it were not best to leap on Merodach, and gallop back into the desert from whence I came."
"It was a stout-hearted resolution," laughed Sarchedon, who knew the cup-bearer's courage to be beyond suspicion, but had not forgotten the disinclination to hard work, hard fare, and hard blows his friend was never ashamed of owning. "And what prevented this dignified retreat of the Great King's chief officer before an old woman's fable of an impossible attack?"
"Speak not lightly of women, old or young," returned Sethos. "If these make love, those make pottage; and thus two of man's chief needs are satisfied. I repeat, I had begun to think gravely of flight, when I met one in the crowd who was neither man nor woman precisely, but a priest of Baal. He told me that his god descended at nightfall in a chariot of fire, and had carried the Great King back with him to the stars. This was the light I saw flaring in the sky over the city, while I approached the gate."
"I saw it too," observed Sarchedon. "When I fell heavily to the ground, there passed before my eyes, as it were, a sheet of flame, and then I remember nothing more, till I found myself on an ass's back, faint and weak, swaying from side to side, but supported by that good old man who picked me off the sand."
"It was true enough," continued Sethos, "though told by a priest. While I was riding about on a fool's errand, uncertain where to turn my bridle, and you were galloping to and fro, with diverse wild purposes I do not yet clearly understand, but which seem to have cost you somewhat dear, our Great King went up into his Talar to pour out a drink-offering to Baal. The god must have been thirsty, since he came down to wet his beard with wine in person, and Ninus must have been in milder mood than usual to mount the flaming chariot at his desire. Well, the Thirteen have gained a stern comrade, and the land of Shinar has lost the stoutest warrior that ever crossed a steed."
"We shall see his like no more," answered the other. "He was the last of those mighty men begotten by Nimrod to rule over the sons of Ashur with sword and spear. But it is written in the stars that the Great King lives for ever; and though Ninus be gone, doth not Ninyas his son reign in his stead?"
"Doubtless," was the reply. "So soon as the father set foot in his flaming chariot, the diadem of Ashur blazed on the son's bright comely brow. By the glory of Shamash, he shone beautiful as morning when he showed himself to the people with the royal circle over his head, the royal sceptre in his hand. There was a something changed in him too; I know not what—a dignity of bearing, a smoothness of gesture, a quiet courtesy to all—and he looked in his dazzling raiment more like a god than a king."
"Was there, then, no outbreak?" asked Sarchedon. "Unlike old Nineveh, the people of Babylon must be reined with the strong hand, in great and sudden changes such as these."
"With the strong hand!" exclaimed Sethos. "Why, the spearmen of the queen's host were drawn up in battle array by hundreds at the corner of every street, while bowmen clustered on wall and tower like locusts about a fig-tree. No man dared murmer if he would; and I think none who looked in his fair face could have desired a nobler king than Ninyas."
"And the queen?" said Sarchedon. "How fares it with Semiramis in her woe?"
"The queen remains hidden in her palace," replied his friend; "not to be seen of men while she makes her moan, rending her garments and scattering ashes on her head. Alas for the pride of her beauty, the pomp and power of her dominion! Surely her glory passed away with the smoke of the great sacrifice. Ninus ruled half the earth with his frown, and she ruled Ninus with her smile. But all is changed now."
"Has she, then, so little influence over her son?" asked Sarchedon, reining his horse to a halt in his preoccupation, while he pondered on his own future, and how it might be affected by these strange unlooked-for events.
Ninyas, he had reason to believe, loved him but little; and the queen—he scarcely dared think of the terms on which he stood with the queen. In every direction his path seemed beset with difficulties. But for Ishtar, he could have been satisfied to remain in Egypt for ever, even in the dungeon—Ishtar, whom perhaps he was never to see again. He recalled the words of the magician; but their comfort was very vague and hollow, compared with the steadfast belief of Sadoc, whom no troubles seemed to perplex, no anticipations of evil to overcome. He almost envied the carelessness of his light-hearted comrade, who proceeded with his narrative as though it were but the detail of a lion-hunt or a festival.
"Ninyas seems resolved to reign in person—a great king, not only in name, but in authority, who bears sword as well as sceptre, and tarries longer in the seat of judgment than at the banquet of wine. I could not have believed a man's nature might be thus changed in the putting on of a tiara. When I prostrated myself in his presence, it seemed as though years had passed since he dismissed me in the desert, and rode back unattended into Babylon. Yet the interval was less than a day. And Merodach: he sent for the good horse to his royal stables, and caressed him fondly with his own hand."
"Merodach loves not strangers," replied Sarchedon. "But if Ninyas desires him, how shall his servant say him nay? Is not my life in the hands of the Great King? Something warns me, nevertheless, that the horse finds more favour in his sight than the rider."
"You speak thus in your ignorance," said Sethos. "Had he lost the great ruby from the handle of his sword, he could scarce have looked more anxious, more concerned. If you find not that you are first in favour when we return, never believe a king's cup-bearer again. Is it not for this I ride at your right hand so humble even now? Think of us when you come to high honour; but do not forget you owe more to your horse than your friend."
"I can well believe it," returned the other, smiling. "I have always trusted less in the man than the beast. Nevertheless, I am loath to be ungrateful, and will take care to remember both."
"Had I not been leading Merodach through the streets," continued Sethos, "I should not have been seen of Assarac; but the priest, knowing the white horse afar off, bade some archers clear a passage, and beckoned me to his presence. When he learned all I had to tell, how I had left you but a short space before the horse came flying by me riderless through the desert, he seemed unusually thoughtful and concerned: you know how rarely his face betrays his thoughts, how good or evil seem powerless to affect him, and yet there came a frown on his brow, a wicked fire in his eyes, while he listened to my tale. I could hardly learn whether he was pleased or angered, anxious for your safety or eager to know your fate. He tarried but an instant. Leaders and warriors were thronging round him for orders, and you would have thought him captain of a host setting the battle in array, rather than priest and eunuch preparing a sacrifice for his gods. He seemed calm enough while he gave his directions; but the same evil look gleamed in his eyes again when he bade me yield up Merodach in charge to his attendants, and return at day break to the palace. What more was done in Babylon that night must be related by others; for I was wearied sore, and when I lay down, without so much as taking off my harness, I slept as sound as all the Pharaohs—who live for ever—in their tombs."
"And with daybreak you learned what had befallen Ninus?" asked Sarchedon. "Of a truth, my friend, you must have felt that you woke to a new world."
"Not so," replied the other. "In the city, save that the guards had been doubled, all was orderly and unchanged. The prophets of the grove had discontinued their leapings and howlings and brandishing of knives. The priests of Baal were busy cleaning gore and garbage from their temple. In the royal palace I found the old servants of Ninus, with the queen's archers, as usual, keeping their listless watch. When I prostrated myself at the threshold, it seemed as though I must needs fill the king's cup, and give him to drink with the first rays of the morning sun."
"A good old practice," observed Sarchedon, "and, if I know him, not to be discontinued by Ninyas during his reign."
"You donotknow him, it seems," replied the other; "for I came no nearer his presence than the golden-winged bull in the middle of the Great Court. Here I was stopped by Assarac, who bade me attend the king armed and mounted within an hour at the southern wall. When I tendered the wine-cup, he laughed, and said these old-world practices were to be discontinued for the future; but I have no fear I shall lose my office, nevertheless."
"You are little given to despair," said his friend; "I know that of old."
"As chance would have it," resumed Sethos, in perfect good faith, "I fell in with Kalmim, wearing her garment rent and her hair about her face, but otherwise little vexed with woe; and she found time to bid me keep heart, for that none of my honours, said she, would be taken away, but rather new rewards added thereto; and in this she spoke truth, though I scarce believed her at the time, for I thought Ninyas would have done well to place me on his right hand in sight of all the people. So I got to saddle with a heavy heart, and hastened me to the southern wall, where I found the king and but two attendants—mountain-men, well skilled to take a prey. Ninyas rode to and fro amongst the vineyards on Merodach, turning the beast to his hand as though it had borne him ever since it wore a bridle."
Sarchedon's face fell.
"I shall never ride him again," said he. "When a man has once backed a horse like Merodach, he would take him by force from his own brother."
"Ninyas seemed to love him well," replied Sethos, "for his palm was never off neck or shoulder, and I swear by Ashur I saw him once press his lips against the horse's crest. But he seemed strangely hurried and restless, holding little discourse with me, but consulting eagerly the mountain-men who accompanied us. One of these bade me point out the exact spot at which Merodach passed me in his flight, and of this I could make sure because I remembered how a single palm was growing there by a spring. When we reached it, Ninyas laid the rein on Merodach's neck, and, lo, the horse broke eagerly into a gallop, stretching away over the desert at speed, so that it cost us some trouble to keep him in sight. The king never touched his bridle, but let the beast bear him how and where it would. My horse was already failing under me, when they halted at a spot where lay a splintered arrow and a few large bones picked white and bare. Merodach stood still, snorting and trembling, while the tears fell from the king's eyes. Then the mountain-men alighted, and showed how a human body had lain here the night before, and how it had been lifted carefully by one whose footmarks were to be traced, deep and wide, under his burden. Also, how others had gathered round, leading their asses; and even boasted they could distinguish the prints of that on which the fallen man had been disposed. "Can you track them?" asked the king in a hoarse whisper; and he promised a reward of camels and oxen, costly raiment, and a talent of gold each, if they could follow up the chase successfully, and return with good tidings of its result.
"The mountain-men earned their wages fairly. It was not long ere they brought back to Babylon such intelligence as seemed to cause the king no little concern and anxiety. But that his royal word was passed, I think Ninyas would have impaled them both, having no better news to tell. They had traced you into Egypt, they said, and had left you lying in prison by the decree of Pharaoh, under sentence of death. I would have given you up, my friend, then; but our young king, it seems, abandons not his servants at their greatest need. He sent for me to the royal palace, and though I entered not his presence, I was received in the outer chamber by Assarac, who clad me in a dress of honour, and threw a chain of gold about my neck. You never saw such workmanship! Had the links been but of bronze, they were so wrought as to be worth a score of camels each. They prate of their gold and silver down yonder," added Sethos, with a backward nod, "but I would defy the whole of Egypt, with all her furnaces, to produce such a chain as that!"
"You were wise not to bring it with you," observed Sarchedon. "They are skilful thieves, and would have stolen it from round your very throat while you slept."
The cup-bearer's swarthy cheek reddened.
"I gave it away," said he, "for all my haste, ere I laid hand on bridle to ride southward. I know not if 'tis so withyou, Sarchedon, but I can keep nothing from a woman that she desires of me—not even the secret of my dearest friend. They seem to have some strange power over our wills, like that by which I turn this good horse under me with the rein."
Sarchedon thought of Ishtar, and held his peace.
"The eunuch's directions," continued Sethos, "were brief enough. He wastes few words, you know, when there is need of action. "You will mount at noon," said he, "and ride without delay to the steps of Pharaoh's throne, wherever he may be. You will take valuable presents. Such a troop will accompany you as can protect you from violence or insult. To Pharaoh's own face you will deliver the words of the Great King, bidding him the salutation of brotherhood and peace, but demanding the body of his Assyrian prisoner alive and unhurt. If he refuse, or if a hair of Sarchedon's head have fallen, you will break your bow asunder, and cast the fragments at his feet, telling him you will return to claim them with an army of the sons of Ashur, to which the last that entered Egypt was but as the lizard in the garden to the mighty monster of the Nile. Be lavish, peremptory, and bold. The king hath spoken." You may believe, my friend, that I turned my head more than once, thinking I might be taking my last look of beautiful Babylon. To beard Pharaoh on his throne with a handful even of the bravest horsemen in Assyria seemed an action savouring little of wisdom or common prudence; but, as the old king used to swear, Nisroch strikes with him who trusts his own right hand. So, when Ididfind myself in Pharaoh's presence, I spoke out as if the hosts of Assyria stood in array a bowshot from my back. Small reason had I to complain of my reception. A king in person could not have been greeted with a nobler welcome. What riches! what luxury! what splendour! I would we had taken their whole country when we fought so hard to cross their river under the old king's leadership. Pharaoh must have been weakened to some purpose, or he had scarce listened patiently to a demand which seemed well-nigh a defiance. There was delay, indeed, ere they produced you, and I feared for a time you had been slain in one of their secret dungeons; but I took my bow from my back in presence of Phrenes, and made as though I would break it across my knee. The old man turned white with fear, and that very day I beheld you at the banquet of wine, seated in a place of honour and apparelled like a king's son. Then my heart leaped within me; for I knew that we were both safe, and might hope to drink the wine of Damascus within the walls of Babylon once more. I would we had a cup of it now!"
Sarchedon was silent. His friend's account of the means by which an imprisonment that seemed so hopeless had been cancelled, a decree of Pharaoh reversed, perplexed him more and more.
That he should have attained thus suddenly to the favour of Ninyas, on accession of the latter to his father's throne, was perhaps to be accounted for by one of those caprices to which he had already seen men owe great honours and promotion under the authority of a despot; but that the king should have ridden in person to discover his track, should have actually shed tears of pity for his supposed fate, was so strange, that he left to future events the solution of such a riddle, resolving for the present to content himself with the improvement in his prospects, and the hope that, when free and amongst his own countrymen, he might succeed in obtaining some traces of the fate of Ishtar, some clue to the perpetrators of that outrage by which Arbaces lost his life. Deep in his own heart he swore never to rest until he had recovered his lost love and avenged the slaughter of her father—blood for blood.
Thus journeying northward through the plain, at a rate which promised ere many more furlongs were passed to bring them across the confines of Egypt into their own land of Shinar, they observed a cloud of dust rising on the sky-line behind them, and extending so far along the horizon that it threatened to encompass their little troop in its embrace. Swiftly as they travelled, it seemed to advance more swiftly still. The Assyrian horsemen looked in each other's faces with blank dismay, but none liked to be the first in expressing a hideous apprehension that curdled at each man's heart. Nevertheless, reins were instinctively tightened and horses pressed to increased speed. Presently Sethos laid his hand on his companion's bridle-arm, and pointed ominously to the rear.
"Behold the red simoon!" he whispered. "The demon of the desert has spread his wings from side to side, and there is no escape. It is the will of Nisroch. When he breathes in our faces, we must die?"
The little troop had been picked from the boldest horsemen of Assyria. Not a man but would have spent life freely under the banner of Ashur, and charged home into the host of an enemy, though out-numbered ten to one. Their warlike traditions, their national character, their pride and self-respect, had taught them to shrink from no professional danger, to yield before no living foe; but the bold faces were pale now, and the proud eyes haggard. They rode in wild disorder, as though flying before the shadow of death; while the pure-bred steeds that bore them snorted, and shook their bridles gaily, exulting in the glory of their strength, the easy freedom of their speed.
The simoon, even in its natural terrors, might well be an object of dread to man and beast. No fate seems much more horrible than to be overwhelmed and drowned in a storm of sand. But the Assyrian had been also taught to regard this danger as a supernatural foe, a gigantic demon of the desert, hidden in lurid clouds, advancing swift, insatiable, portentous, swallowing furlongs at every stride, to seize and stifle him in an inevitable embrace.
Even Sethos caught the infection, and pushed his horse to its speed with reckless energy, panic-stricken as the rest.
Sarchedon could not forbear a laugh.
"Hold!" he exclaimed, while he shot with some difficulty to the front, raising his bow horizontally above his head to stop the undisciplined flight. "Hold, fools and faint of heart! Can you not turn for one look in your enemy's face, ere you scour away before him like a herd of frightened deer? Stop, I say; lest I drive an arrow through the foremost of ye, and leave him to be picked clean by the vultures ere the sun goes down!"
"The simoon!" gasped the leading horseman, pressing wildly onward without pause.
"The simoon!" repeated Sarchedon, seizing the other's bridle, and thus bringing him to an involuntary halt. "Do you call yourself a son of Ashur, and not know better the arms and apparel of your enemy? Can you see the violet spot that marks the demon's eye, the purple hem that borders his garment, the golden spangles that glitter through his veil? For shame, man! And you, too, Sethos; I could not have believed you would turn and fly, with bow and spear in hand, from a bushel of dust flung up on the wayside!"
Thus arguing, storming, and gesticulating, he succeeded in pacifying the terror of his comrades, who consented to halt for a space and breathe their horses, while they scanned the appearance that had given rise to their alarm. The peril, when they examined it more coolly, was none the less threatening that its cause seemed in no way supernatural. The clouds of sand had indeed increased both in extent and volume; but through the folds of that dusky curtain gleamed here and there a sparkle of steel, while at its skirts an opaque winding line denoted to a warrior's eye the approach of a strong body of horse.
The Assyrians became somewhat reassured, though Sethos and Sarchedon looked doubtfully from each other's faces to the advancing host. Already they could distinguish fluttering garments, uplifted spears, and the banners of Egypt waving over all.
"He has sent to fetch us back!" exclaimed the cup-bearer. "He has repented him of his counsel, and we have not done with Pharaoh yet!"
Sarchedon burst into a mocking laugh.
"Have they wings like the south wind," said he, "that they hope to overtake the horses of Assyria in the open desert with heads turned for home? If, as in good truth it seems, there be too many to fight, let us put on at speed, and the hosts of Pharaoh shall toil after us in vain."
They galloped on accordingly at a steady even pace, which, while it could be kept up for a considerable distance, gained surely though gradually on their pursuers.
But the desert, flat, open, and boundless as the sea, has also its ports and havens, to which men put in for fresh water and repose, thus diverging from the straight line of their direct course. The Assyrians, therefore, now resuming the shortest way to their own land, found they had described an arc, of which, in order to overtake them, their pursuers needed only to speed along the chord. And thus it fell out that, nearing a range of rocks, one of the few landmarks in the wilderness, they came suddenly on an ambush of Egyptian horsemen, who had pushed forward to post themselves in that hiding-place.
The little troop now found an enemy in front and rear, the latter overwhelming in numbers, the former too strong for so scanty a force to break through.
They halted, and took counsel, inclining to dash forward in a desperate charge, when an old man rode out from the ranks of their opponents, making signs of parley and peace.
Even a bowshot off they recognised Phrenes. Sarchedon and Sethos advanced therefore to meet him, bidding their comrades remain in the saddle with bows bent, watching every movement of the Egyptians.
The old man broke his spear across, and cast it at their feet in token of amity.
"Your servant has ridden far and fast," said he, "to bid you return into Egypt, and look on the light of Pharaoh's countenance once more. Behold, my lords, these also are your servants, sent to bring you in honour to his palace beyond the Nile."
"We have taken our leave of my lord the king," returned Sethos courteously, but keeping his horse well in hand under him; "Pharaoh has given gifts to his servants, bidding them depart in peace. Why, then, should we return at an untoward season, to the encumbrance of my lord the king?"
Phrenes cast one glance back amongst his followers, a glance not unobserved by those he addressed, while he replied:
"What am I, that I should interpret between my lords and the king my master? I pray you, now, return with me of good will. So shall you come to great honour, and sit on thrones in the land of Egypt."
While he spoke, he edged his horse gradually round, showing no slight skill in the art of managing it, so as to place himself between the Assyrians and their comrades.
"Not a bowshot will I return," answered Sethos, "until I have fulfilled mine embassy, and sought in the land of Shinar a new command from the Great King."
The Egyptians, meanwhile, continued to move their horses imperceptibly nearer the two Assyrians, who were now separated from their companions. The cup-bearer, suspecting treachery, held his bow in readiness with an arrow fitted to the string, while his movements were exactly copied by the Assyrians, narrowly watching and mistrusting the parley. Sarchedon too grasped a broad-headed javelin, prepared to hurl it at a moment's notice into the ranks of the enemy.
"I bid you once more in peace," said Phrenes, holding up his hand as it seemed for a signal to his followers. "If you think to resist the might of Egypt, your blood be on your own head! Pharaoh lives for—"
He never finished the sentence, with the conclusion of which it was doubtless intended that the two isolated horsemen should be surrounded and taken prisoners. The cup-bearer's bowstring rattled even while he spoke, and Phrenes fell heavily to the ground, with a shaft quivering in his heart. At the same moment Sarchedon's weapon transfixed the nearest Egyptian, and a storm of arrows from the Assyrians created no small confusion in the rest of the band. Horses reared, men lost their seats and weapons, shouting, storming, jostling each other, and looking in vain for some one to direct; while the Assyrians turned bridle without delay, to speed over the plain at a pace which put them many an arrow's flight from their enemies ere the latter had sufficiently recovered to form line and bend their bows.
It was a ride for life through the desert. The rest of Pharaoh's army had been advancing rapidly during the parley; their horses were fresher than those they pursued; and it would have been madness for the Assyrians to dream of resisting such a force, if it should succeed in overtaking them. Sarchedon seemed to see the well-remembered gloom of his Egyptian dungeon gathering round him once again. His horse, too, began to fail, labouring to keep up with its companions. Bitterly did he now regret the childish enthusiasm that had tempted him to waste its strength and mettle at the commencement of their journey.
"It is enough," said he. "My time is come. I will strive all that one man can to delay a host. Peradventure when they have slain or taken me, they will suffer you to escape unhurt."
"Not so," replied Sethos, looking anxiously over his shoulder. "They gain on us but little. Nay, take heart, my friend; we may baffle them yet. Surely we are in the land of Shinar now. And yonder, by the beard of Nimrod and the beauty of Ashtaroth! I see the City of Towers, and the Silver Lake glittering in the sun!"
"It is but the paradise of the desert," answered Sarchedon sadly. "I have ridden after it many a weary hour, but never reached it yet."
In spite of the enemy's rapid approach, Sethos reined in his horse, and shaded his brows with his hand, in sore misgiving that he was the dupe of that mirage which is so remarkable an effect of a level surface, a rarified atmosphere, and a dazzling sun. Then he observed with the utmost calmness:
"Lofty palms, and shining pinnacles, and golden waters, all these adorn the paradise of the desert; but who hath yet seen the banner of Ashur floating over its walls? If those be not the towers of Ascalon, may I never drink a cup of Damascus wine, nor drive an arrow through a false Egyptian heart again! We are safe, my friend. Look yonder at that glitter in the sky-line; it is the flash of sunlight on the western sea."