* * * * *Menon and Semiramis took thought together, long and earnestly; for now, when the Syrians learned how they had been deceived, the ashes of murder would burst again in flames. Menon was for hanging every man who had sought to burn his house, but Semiramis said nay."By craft have we sown a seed; by craft will we nurture it and eat the fruit."Thus it came to pass that a cunning proclamation was sent throughout the land, and the simple peoples rejoiced and sang songs of praise because of the lifting of their tax. Moreover the many tribes began to vie with one another for the prize which Semiramis had offered in the name of Ninus, till unto Azapah they brought such stores of metals and of food, that Menon reaped a harvest far beyond his dreams. Where tribes were wont to dole their tribute out through doubled fists, they now came swiftly and unbidden, with treasures on their backs—for men look not where their footsteps fall when chasing swamp-flies to a goal of greed and power.And now to Nineveh came mighty stores of grain and wine, long lines of sheep and cattle, asses, goats, and the water buffalo. Metals came likewise, silver, gold and brass; fruits were there also, and honey in earthen jars. Whatever dry Syria owned, that Syria sent, till Ninus, seeing this stream of riches pouring through his gates, sat down upon his stool both suddenly and hard, in the grip of profound amaze."Now by the great lord Asshur," he muttered in his beard, "these eyes of mine have never looked upon the like before! In thought have I wronged my Menon grievously, for in truth he loveth me with a love that is rare amongst the sons of men."CHAPTER XITHE SANDAL AND THE STRAWSAnd now came a day when Nineveh was Nineveh at last, and Ninus stood upon his palace roof and was glad because of the Opal of the East. At his feet a vast brown city lay—a city builded by his heart—each brick a monument to other hearts that broke in rearing temples to Assyria's gods. In the streets a busy hum of trade arose, where marts and booths were opened to the sale of a thousand wares; where citizens in gala dress swarmed in and out of unfamiliar doors; where troops of children danced in wreaths of flowers, or white-robed priests filed past, chanting their deep-toned songs and bearing loads in sacrifice to the temple of Nineb and up its winding ziggurat.From the palace steps a broad, smooth road ran down to the western gate and was lined by effigies of stone, great wingéd bulls, and lions crouching as for a spring. Around it all the mighty wall lay coiled, its top of a width whereon three chariots might be driven abreast, while above rose a thousand and a half a thousand towers.The army still encompassed Nineveh around, yet the King was not for war. He looked on his work and sighed a sigh of peace, then stretched his mighty limbs and prepared a lion hunt. For three long years his heart had yearned for sports afield, with a yearning which hunters alone may know; yet, because of his vow, the bow and spear were left untouched by the monarch's hand.Consulting his oracles, and likewise the prophet Azet whose arts foretold great deeds of wonder to his arms, the King appointed another Governor in Syria and commanded Menon to join him on the banks of the lower Euphrates. Here game might be found in plenty where Ninus had known rare pleasures of the chase in former days; so, smiling, he set him forth.When the messengers had come to Azapah, Menon bowed to the master's will and departed with a heavy heart, first sending Semiramis with Huzim back to Ascalon, to dwell for a little space till chance might bring him into Syria again. He reached the banks of the Euphrates and waited the royal hunter till a moon had waned; but Ninus came not, because of the slowness of his journey to the place.The King, in sitting much upon his tower while Nineveh was being builded, had laid a deal of fat upon his bones, and tedious travel irked him; moreover, in the hunt his breath was shorter than of yore and his thews less strong. Yet the mind may ofttimes entertain a zeal beyond the body's power, and in this King Ninus brewed a trouble for himself—but the trouble was yet to come.* * * * *Semiramis, at parting with her lord, wept bitter tears; yet she, too, bowed where wisdom left no loophole of escape, and journeyed with Huzim and Habal back to Ascalon. And here her grief must find another stab, keener, deeper, more sad than the parting from one who would come again; for in the house of Simmas an old man lay asleep—a woman's sandal pressed against his beard.They buried Simmas far out upon the hillside, where in years gone by a babe was mothered by a flock of doves. The babe was a woman now, who loved her foster-father tenderly and above all others save her lord alone; so she wept beside the grave for many days."A dove was he," she whispered to her lonely heart, "so fond, so gentle in his ministries—a dove that winged his flight and left me, only because of Ishtar's yearning cry."In her two long years of absence Semiramis had oft'times dreamed of Ascalon, longing to roam its hills once more or to swim in its cool, green lake; yet now it all seemed strangely poor and small. The shores of the lake had shrunk together in the night; the hills were not so high as the hills of yore, nor the trees so green; the vault of the very sky itself seemed pressing down to smother her, and the smell of the very earth was not the same. Ah, if she were like to Habal who could see no change in the march of time; yet Habal was but a dog!Now, concerning this dog, the mistress erred and grievously. Not only did he mark the change in Ascalon, but a greater one within himself. He swaggered through the village with his tail held high, in the manner of one who had done large deeds abroad, passing old canine friends without a sniff or wag, yet eying interlopers scornfully. On these he would fall at the slightest wink of provocation, and leave his memory marked upon their hides; so his name became a wonder unto other dogs.Semiramis was not of Habal's stamp, nor did she boast of her deeds abroad; yet still their memory beckoned, till her soul was full with a great unrest. At home she was idle, grieving for the things so changed, wandering through a house made desolate by the flight of those she loved. Old friends would come—gaunt shepherds, gazing on her beauty with the eyes of cattle that rove the hills—to linger, then slink away to hide the passion in their hearts."Home! Home!" she cried. "No longer is it home, for the dove hath flown, and my lord is not beside me in the gloom!"Through the hush of night there were whispers on the wind—relentless ghosts that glide from the outer world to mock us with their sighs; to bring on their garments odours of the days that were, and the hopes of other days to come; to haunt us, till we harken to their murmurings and know not peace.They called to Semiramis, these whispers, in the name of love, whence Menon seemed to stretch his arms in loneliness. They called through a shattered fringe of Kurds who screamed and struggled under hoof and heel; they called in the tongues of madmen whirling torches round and round, their evil faces yellow in the flame and smoke. They called her to deeds of arms—to work—to power. Oh, Ishtar, if she might ride under whip and spur to Nineveh, and pit her wits against the King! To play the thirsty game, with life the stake, its hazard on a single cast! Ah, if she might glide, as these ghosts were gliding through the night, far out beyond the rim of solitude, to the teeming battle-ground of hearts and men!For days she wandered, silent, yearning to be gone, while the faithful Huzim dogged her every step. His master had admonished him to watch his charge with a winkless eye, lest spirit override her reason and tempt her to a recklessness. It troubled Huzim thus to be a jailer to one he loved, yet the master's will was law, so the Indian followed ever on her trail.Semiramis knew no peace nor rest, and at last she came to Dagon's temple down beside the lake, to lay her sorrows on the fish-god's knees and ask a sign.All day, all night, she prayed, yet when the dawn came oozing from out the east, the face of Dagon was as a face of stone. The suppliant sat upon the temple steps, weary, warring with despair. With listless eyes she watched a beetle crawling at her feet, then, of a sudden, hope rose up and lived. She grasped the bug between her thumb and finger, holding it above the surface of the lake, while she closed her teeth as a gambler might at the whirl of his last remaining coin."Now this," she murmured to herself, "shall tell me of Dagon's will. If the beetle swim, I go! If he sink, I rot in Ascalon!"She cast it in, smiling, for she knew right well that the bug must float, yet turning her back lest Dagon mark her knowledge of such things. For an instant the victim struggled pleasingly with leg and wing, while the smile of Semiramis broadened in its reach, to flicker, to fade, to die. A monster carp came upward with a rush. One snap, and the tempting morsel disappeared, thus making the fish-god's judgment clear, beyond the very hem of Redemption's robe.Semiramis sat upon the temple's steps, her chin upon her hands, her eyes on a wheel of ripples that widened away from its hub of swift calamity. She pondered long, her thoughts like cats in trees, with Habal barking furiously below."He sank," she sighed. "Of a certainty he sank. I may not make it otherwise. And yet"—she paused to steal a glance at Dagon's face—"and yet the fooldidswim for alittlespace. Mayhap—" Again she paused, then spread her hands and raised her eyes appealingly. "In truth my beetle proveth naught at all. For a space he swam. For a space he sank. Dagon, Dagon, what meanest thou in this?"No answer came. Once more she pondered, her fair brow puckered with the lines of deep perplexity; till, presently, the truant colour raced to her cheek again and her great eyes lit with the flame of understanding."Ah!" she breathed. "Ah, now I see. Thou meanest, O wise and radiant one, that,sink or swim, must I do this thing. What!" she cried, "hast thou, thyself, not said it? And, lo! I am but a weak and foolish woman in thy power. Ah, Dagon, Dagon, thou art a crafty god, indeed!"In haste Semiramis left the temple door, and, singing loudly, tripped toward her home. Her god had sent a sign. She was free to journey now as her heart desired. Free! And yet, a doubt came prowling after her—a watchful, sleepless doubt that dogged her steps, even as Huzim slipped upon her trail from his hiding-place behind a stone. On the hill she paused, to mutter to herself in a soothing tone:"The sign is clear. Did I linger on in Ascalon, some evil might befall me, even as that carp arose to snatch my beetle in his greedy maw. Did Menon know, he would urge that I fly to him without delay."She went her way and took up her song again, but paused to reason with a small brown toad that hopped across her path."Little beast," said she, "thou comest as a warning of some ugly chance, the which, I confess, hath filled me with the juice of fear. Therefore will I hasten out of Syria in time."She walked around the toad with care, and, singing, journeyed on till she reached the house where the old dove Simmas dwelt in days gone by. At the door she lingered, ere she raised the latch, for one last argument in the cause of a heart's desire."Now Dagon," she reflected, grieving at the thought, "is in truth a careless god in the matter of his signs. Had Ishtar cursed me with a simple mind, I might have misinterpreted, alas!"Semiramis then slept, to dream of Menon till the shades of night wore on, and in her dreams found weightier reasons which she laid on the fish-god's judgment scale."Huzim," she asked, when the Indian had brought the evening meal, "did I seek escape from Ascalon, what course would thy duty run?""Mistress," he answered her, "like an arrow in my heart is the thought of force with one whose happiness is held above my hopes of peace; yet the master's will is the master's will, and a servant must obey.""Ah," she nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, I see! Yet if, by chance, I slipped away in the gloom of night, as I did at Azapah—what then?"The Indian cast a troubled gaze upon the floor, and heaved a sigh."I would follow, mistress, as before I followed, till I fell because of weariness.""Then follow!" said Semiramis, "for I go to join my lord at Nineveh—and to tickle the lion's nose with straws."CHAPTER XIITHE SORROWS OF A KINGKing Ninus, lord of all Assyria, lay cursing in his royal litter, while slaves and attendants bore him northward on the banks of the Euphrates. Presently they left their course, struck eastward till they reached the Tigris and again turned north, whence, with many rests and long, forced marches in the cool of night, the stricken King at length was placed upon his couch at Nineveh.Full many a grievous matter rode upon the monarch's mind, and the pale attending leech wrought vainly to quell his patient's fever, one augmented by a sleepless, boiling rage within. By day the King would fret; by night he rioted throughout his dreams and found no rest.First there was his wound, a ragged, half-healed gash, laid open by a lion's claw and running from a point beneath his arm-pit to his hip. It was not the wound itself, nor the pain thereof, which fired the hunter's wrath, but rather the truth that he, Ramân-Nirari—the greatest hunter since beasts and hunters were—should miss his kill and seek his life in flight. Of witnesses there were only three: Shidur-Kam, a warrior whom the King might trust to entrench his tongue behind his teeth, and a slave who was safer still, for Ninus had cast his body into the Euphrates; but, then, there was a girl—a red-haired girl—who perched in the boughs of a citron tree and laughed as the King sped underneath, a wounded lion leaping at his horse's haunch.At another time the monarch might have held this face, and the echo of a bubbly laugh, in pleasing memory; yet raillery, directed at a royal personage in the stress of flight, begets a recollection of a different breed. So the mocking laughter haunted Ninus through all the day and caused him to wake at night and grind his teeth in fury."Argol," said he, to the faithful leech beside him, "give order that a thousand horse repair to the region of our lion hunt. Command them to scour the country round about in a circuit of thirty leagues and bring me every red-haired wench they may chance to find. By Gibil's flame! I have a pressing need of them!"The leech sighed sadly, tapped upon a gong of bronze, then waited in silence till an officer strode in, saluted, and sank upon his knees. The order given and the soldier gone, Argol administered a sleeping draught and sat once more at his weary post.Yet the King slept not, for still another matter lay heavy on his heart. There was a certain man called Azet, the venerable seer who had prophesied with lies. Before the hunt he had opened the carcasses of seven cranes, finding in the entrails of each and all an omen of success. Full thirty beasts, said Azet, should the King o'ercome, returning unto Nineveh triumphant and sound of limb. Was not this prophet, then, to blame for the ills which had come to pass? Wherefore should he prophesy unto evil ends, or cause witch-women to laugh from the boughs of citron trees? Could virtue not be found in the vitals of seven sacred cranes? or was this holy man but a monster and a fool?The King's dark brow grew darker still with troublous thought, as he questioned his leech for the hundredth time in fretful tones:"Argol, good Argol, tell me, I pray thee, man, how in the name of Asshur may I teach this wretch to mend his auguries?""My lord," the leech replied, as he raised his drooping lids and gazed out dreamily to where the Tigris flowed, "my lord, the breath of man ariseth from his breast, but in his throat are shaped his evil prophecies.""Eh—what?" the King demanded. "What manner of speech is this, and how doth it run with Azet and his seven cranes?""Hang him, my lord," said Argol, drowsily, and turned away.A slow smile lit the features of the King, while for a space he pondered, plucking at his coverlet; then, summoning an officer, he gave an order in a weak but cheerful voice, at the same time causing his couch to be removed to a shaded spot upon the palace roof. Here, with his watch-worn leech beside him, he could lie at ease and feast his eyes on the glory of completed Nineveh. Across his terraced gardens where fountains sparkled in the sun, he could see the temple of Asshur and of Ishtar upon their hills; likewise the temple of the fire-god Gibil, above whose dome a wreath of smoke hung low, belched upward from the flames beneath. He could see his streets, his marts, his mighty gates and the tawny plains beyond where the Tigris and the Khusur ran. He could see his wall—that shield of his heart's desire—which made his city a fortress against the world; yet the thoughts of Ninus were not for walls and shields.He watched a thousand horsemen pass the western gate and gallop swiftly down the river bank, then disappear from Nineveh for the space of many days. The chief was a man of little love beyond his sword and steed, one, who would give short shift to devils with flame-hued hair, and the heart of the King was glad.Of a sudden a tumult rose from the streets below, while a concourse gathered, and a sound of weeping ascended to the palace roof. Through the surging throng a band of soldiers fought their way, leading the prophet Azet toward the wall and beating back the populace with the butts of their heavy spears.The western gate was spanned by a monster arch, on the shoulder of which sat the highest tower of all, and thither the soldiers led their victim by a winding stair. When at last they appeared on the turret's edge, a wail of anguish rang out afresh, while the multitude gazed upward, swarming to and fro."Now truly," chuckled Ninus as he watched, "this fellow hath a wondrous following, who, because of their ignorance, grieve at things they may not understand."From the turret the soldiers thrust a wooden beam; from the end thereof they hanged the prophet by a noose, and, according to a writing set above the gate, "The prophecies of Azet ceased to be throughout the land."Argol then bound his master's wound in a healing salve, and the sufferer straightway slept for many hours; on waking, his fever had departed utterly, so he mended in body and in mind. He appointed another prophet, one Nakir-Kish, a wise and observing man whose promises of good and ill were the like of kites, the strings thereof being held within his hand till his eye had marked the temper of all heavenly winds. Thus Nakir-Kish endured.King Ninus now sent for Bobardol, a sculptor of high renown, the same who had carven a famous bull that had, in all, five legs. This extra limb might at first seem strange and at odds with Nature's own design; yet, even so, it had its marked advantages. An observer gazing on this masterpiece—no matter where he stood—might always perceive four legs; "And that," said Bobardol, "is Art." So Ninus was pleased, and retained the sculptor in his service.The King gave order for a monsterstele, whereon should be carven a scene from the lion hunt, the monarch being pictured, not in wild retreat, but faced about and causing great discomfiture to a mighty foe. True, the attitudes of the King of Assyria and the king of beasts would be quite reversed, yet Ninus was a god whose front was more imposing than his back; moreover itwouldhave been as pictured had Azet not prophesied with lies. Shall a King be held to blame where foolish servants err through ignorance? Not so!The sculptor Bobardol now set to work, while Ninus commanded a sumptuous feast to be prepared, whereby he might celebrate his triumphs in the chase. His soldiers and populace should pass in lines through the palace hall and gaze in awe upon this unveiled tablet, set up to the glory of the high lord Asshur—and to the glory of the King.While waiting this work of art, and at the same time resting so that his wound might heal, Ninus was wont to recline within his litter which was borne along the top of the city wall. Here he could watch at will, or give directions in the order of another enterprise which dwelt in his mind and heart. Three years had now passed by since his warriors turned tail from Zariaspa; and the time approached when Ninus must seal his promises to rake the ashes of this city into sacks and with them feed the waters of the sea.The army encamped within and without the walls of Nineveh was twice so great as that which had failed in the former siege, and Ninus gave much thought to the plans of his second war. On the plain a wall had been erected, in height and thickness measuring that of Zariaspa, and here the Assyrians practiced methods of assault. Great carts they had, with platforms twenty cubits above their wheels, propelled by slaves who were hidden underneath, while above the platforms ladders rose and slanted toward the wall. Up these the men-at-arms would clamber rapidly, to grapple with defenders at the top; and so great was their zeal in this mimic war that many lives were lost because of it. There were tall machines which worked on pivots, whose swinging buckets could set a score of men upon a parapet; there were towers faced by armor-plates of brass, from the crests of which wide bridges might be flung, while warriors swarmed across to engage the enemy. Huge catapults were built, of new design and hurling power, some casting single rocks, and others to rake a battlement with a volley of smaller stones. Full many a strange machine of cunning workmanship was thus devised and stored against departure, when the King would once more lead his armies to the East.In the lowgrounds and on the rolling slopes beyond the river Khusur which flows between the mounds of Koyunjik and Nebbi Yunas, myriads of oxen and beasts of burden were set to graze upon the pasture-lands. These had been employed in the building up of Nineveh, and now were resting for a further need, for their final strength would be utilized in hauling the traps of war through desert lands and toilsome ways, on spongy forest roads to the hills beyond, up heavy mountain slopes to gorges between the peaks of Hindu-Kush. Thence they would scramble down into the plains of Bactria, to become at last the food for a hungry host; and thus the cattle served unto many ends.The waiting army was under sole command of Menon, whose heart was now divided between two loves. To prepare for war would have joyed him vastly, except for his vow to wed Sozana when Zariaspa fell before the King; and this he might not do because of Semiramis, of whom he dreamed as resting peacefully in the valley of Ascalon. Had Ninus spoken aught to him of the red-haired imp who laughed from the bough of a citron tree, Menon's heart might then have borne a double weight; but the happening was not that quality of jest on which a monarch is pleased to regale his chiefs.It chanced on a certain day that Menon was summoned to the palace for a council with the King, and, striding through the gardens, he came with suddenness upon Sozana, who sat alone. Fair was she, with the beauty of a childish maid; yet in her green simar, and the silvery veil which was wound about her throat, Sozana was a princess, from her raven hair to the jeweled sandals on her tiny feet.Since returning from Syria Menon had found no opportunity for speech with her, and now he came forward joyously, his hands outstretched. At the sound of footsteps Sozana had risen from her seat, but, on seeing him, she gave a little cry of disappointment and of pain, flushed crimson and turned away without an answer to his greeting; and when he sought to question her concerning such treatment of an old-time friend, she sank upon a bench, to weep as though her heart would break.For a moment Menon stood irresolute, then, as he began to speak again, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, turning, he looked into the eyes of Memetis the Egyptian, a youth whom he loved as he might have loved his mother's son, but who now refused his greeting coldly, spurning the proffered hand and placing his own behind his back."How now," asked Menon, "is this the manner of Memetis to his friends?""Nay," returned Memetis, frowning as he spoke; "true friends I greet in love and tenderness; the false may rest with Hathor ere I take their hands."Then it came upon Menon that Memetis and Sozana knew of the mandate of the King, and were bitter in their thoughts of one who came between them and their happiness."Memetis," the Assyrian asked, "is it, then, to the walls of Zariaspa that thine eyes are turned, fearing lest a friend hath juggled with thy trust as a traitor might?"The Egyptian's black eyes glowed in anger which he vainly strove to check, while his fingers played about the hilt of a dagger at his belt."Aye," he answered bitterly, "to the walls of Zariaspa do I turn mine eyes, for with their fall falls every hope which Isis dangled before my foolish heart. And thou!" he cried, "the false! The treacherous! who would tear Sozana from mine arms, aye, even as the hawk would swoop upon a nest of doves!"Menon strove to speak, but the Egyptian would not harken to his words. The Assyrian faced Sozana, stretching forth his hand, but Memetis sprang between them, drawing his dagger, and in a low, fierce whisper spoke his wrath:"Lay but a finger on this maid, or speak her name again, and as Osiris liveth, will I take thy life!"Menon looked into the lover's eyes, and slowly spread his arms."Strike!" he murmured sadly. "Strike, and learn from other lips than mine that Memetis is a fool."He waited, but the Egyptian made no move, because of the sorrow on the face of one who had been a cherished friend."And dost thou dream," asked Menon, pointing to the girl who wept beside him, "that I would willingly bring sorrow to this child? Nay, listen, both, then judge me when ye know the truth."The Egyptian's hand sank down beside him, and his blade was tossed upon the earth."Speak on," he begged, "but, oh, my friend, I pray thee show me no mirage of hope that melteth when a thirsty traveller would drink."So Menon sat between them on the bench and told them of Semiramis. He told of the artifice by which he sought to gull the King, in a firm belief that Zariaspa would not fall; and yet, should chance prove otherwise, he would fly with his wife into Arabia, where Prince Boabdul offered them a safe retreat. He spoke of his life in Syria, of the wonder of his love for her whom he left behind; and as the tale went on Sozana dried her tears and held the teller's hand in both her own, for she and Memetis knew at last that Menon betrayed no trust in him, and their hearts were glad because of a hope restored."Forgive," Memetis pleaded as his friend arose; and Menon smiled, bent down and kissed Sozana as a brother might, then left them with a heavy heart to seek the King.Ninus still reclined upon his couch—for his hurt was yet unhealed—and rested beneath the shade of a canopy on the palace roof, whiles he waited in impatience for Menon's coming till the hour was past. Now it is not good to linger when a wounded monarch waits, so Ninus fretted, combing at his beard as was his wont when matters troubled him or anger rose."How now," he asked, when Menon came at length with a hasty step, "am I the master, or do I sleep, to awaken presently and find myself a servant—thouthe King?""Forgive, my lord," begged Menon, falling on his knee; "King Ninus sleepeth not. 'Twas the servant who drowsed beside the way. In the garden below I chanced upon Sozana with whom I have held no speech since—""Ah!" said the King, his anger fading, while a smile began to play about his mouth. "So the eagle needs must wait when pigeons peck at love. Speak on, my son."Menon flushed and cast his gaze upon the floor."I—I sat with her, my lord, and spoke of many things, taking no thought of how the moments flew, till—""Hark!" said Ninus, as he raised his hand. "Can it be that I hear Sozana singing from the garden there?" Menon listened, nodded, and the King went on: "Strange!" he mused. "For days she hath tasted lightly of her food, and sighed and drooped her head; yet now at thy coming she hath straightway plumed herself, and pipeth a saucy song. Look thou, master fox, what miracle is this?"Menon flushed again and smiled a foolish smile; yet he answered cunningly, with a lingering grip on the slippery skin of truth:"My lord, I—I whispered into the maiden's ear.""Oho!" laughed Ninus. "Now by my beard, I'd give a goodly sum to learn thine art. But come, what chanced to be the burden of this pretty speech?""As to that," said Menon boldly, in a manner which ever pleased his lord, "my whisper is a secret in the keeping of discretion's tongue and the maiden's ear alone.""U'u'm!" mused Ninus. "How many men-at-arms are now prepared to take the field against our good friend Oxyartes?"For a space the two discussed their plans for a second war against the Bactrians, then Menon saluted his master's hand and took his leave. Alone, the King lay thinking on his war, when of a sudden his thought was disarranged by the notes of another song, no longer Sozana's voice, but that of a man, deep, tender, and pleasing to the ear:Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,When kissed by the gleaming, golden floodOf light from shining Ra;It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beamsOn the Nile of Life, and its blossom seemsTo shine as a milk-white star.But lo! when the fateful season turns,And the tawny desert glows and burns,Shimmering, parched, and dry—As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—And, withered, it falls to die!"Strange!" mused Ninus, combing at his beard. "The Egyptian sitteth with Sozana in the gardens down below and singeth a song of love; albeit I mark that his song be sad.... Yet—why should he sing at all, the fool! Doth he, too, whisper into the maiden's ear, and—"The monarch paused abruptly, to call to his faithful leech in a tone of petulance:"Argol! come stroke my side in the region of my wound; for I tell thee, man, it itcheth damnably."CHAPTER XIIITHE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LIONThe throne-hall of the palace was of lofty pitch—and of spacious depth and width. In its rear, through arches, lay an open portico, while beyond could be seen the Valley of the Tigris and the reaches of the river on its journey to the sea. Within were carven pillars of marble and of stone brought hither by utmost toil from foreign lands; likewise other pillars of malachite, of silver, and of hammered gold, draped with hangings of purple and embroidered stuffs from the treasure-stores of far Phoenicia. There were curious arms, the trophies of chase and war, rare gifts from conquered princes sent to Nineveh through love or fear, and the mounted heads and skins of beasts which had fallen before the King's own spear and shafts.The entrance was set with chiselled lions, and wingéd bulls in miniature of those which guarded the western gate, while the walls were lined withsteles, whereon were pictured the battles of the King, his deeds of prowess in the hunt, his sacrifices at the altars of his gods.On the ceiling stretched a tessellated emblem of all the deities wrought cunningly with bits of tinted stone and precious gems, a work of art so fabulous in price that even the spendthrift Ninus drew his breath when the cost thereof was known to him. In the centre sat the great lord Asshur in his godly robes, his breast adorned with the wingéd disk designed in pearls and sapphires on a base of lapis-lazuli. Before high Asshur King Ninus knelt, obedient to the heavenly will alone, while around them were grouped the lesser deities—Ramân hurling forth his lightning forks, Bel in his hornéd cap, red Gibil peering out through sacrificial flame and smoke, Bêlit princess of the dawn, Shala, Nebo, Ninêb, and Nerga of the chase, Shamashi-Ramân, father of the King—a heavenly litter of divinities, each dear to the heart of his special worshipper.On a sumptuous throne sat Ninus, with Sozana at his side, for the queen had passed away ere Nineveh was complete; so now his daughter held the highest place in the monarch's heart. The hall was thronged with chieftains, priests, and the king's good friends. At the feet of Ninus sat Menon, and at his side the Arabian Prince, Boabdul Ben Hutt, whom the king had urged to grace his festival. There were kings of Tyre and Sidon, from beside the Sea of the Setting Sun, whose cities sent their caravans of tribute and of tax with muttered curses trailing after them; and likewise came the sons of Canaan, giant Khatti chiefs still restless beneath their yoke, princes of Babylon, Syrians, lords of the desert and the sea; grim mountaineers who had fought like rats in the caverns of their rocky homes; governors, rulers, and a swarm of wives and daughters of these men, all now unveiled at the mandate of the King.From behind a pillar Memetis looked upon Sozana's face, his hope an oasis whence his soul might drink the waters of his love; yet now must he sip lest Ninus mark his thirst and be aggrieved thereat. So, with his eyes, the Egyptian looked out upon the throng, yet with his heart he saw one maid alone.A goodly gathering it was, in rich attire, in armor and robes of state, the warriors of a hundred wars, the proudest beauty of the court, assembled now to view the monster tablet carven in honor of the King. It was newly set within the wall, hidden from sight by crimson draperies, and on either side stood the sculptor Bobardol and the High Priest Nakir-Kish, the one to draw the cloth aside, the other to bless thestelein the name of Asshur.A breathless silence fell upon the courtiers; King Ninus gave a sign, and the sculptor drew the draperies aside. On thestelewas pictured inbas-reliefa wondrous exploit of the King, who, mounted on a rearing charger, battled with a king of beasts. This lion was springing upon the withers of the steed, seeking to drag the hunter from his seat with teeth and claws, while Ninus gripped its throat and crushed its skull with a haft of his broken spear.A triumph of art it was, bespeaking valor spirited and rare, rather than exactness of the facts concerning this glorious happening, and a murmur of admiration rose to every lip because of the daring monarch and the skill of Bobardol.Below an inscription told the story of the deed, in language employed by Assyria's Kings, wherein they laid aside the robes of modesty and spake for the world to hear:"I, Ramân-Nirari, son of Shamashi-Ramân and mightiest of all Assyria's Kings, by the will of Asshur, lord of earth and sky, fared forth to conquer lions in this the twentieth year of my resplendent reign. Much game I slew, my horse bestriding, likewise upon my feet alone with arrows and with spear. Thus it came to pass that I, Ninus, to whom no other may compare in skill and lack of dread, joined battle with a mighty, one-eyed lion in the thickets along the Euphrates. Terrible in rage was he, this lion, because of the wounds I gave, roaring till my servants fled in fear away. Yet I, alone, took hold upon his throat and smote him thrice, in that his roaring ceased and went out of his belly with the death of a so great beast.""To the high lord Asshur praise! To Ninus praises greater still, for Asshur watched while Ninus wrought the deed!"Amid rejoicings thestelewas blessed by the High Priest Nakir-Kish, while the wine cup circled and a chant was heard from a train of hidden priests—a chant which now was taken up in the temples throughout vast Nineveh, and the gods smelt sacrifice from a thousand altar stones. A jingling tinkle then arose, when from right and left two lines of dancers tripped into the hall, to bow before the King, to rise and glide in rhythmic steps through the measures of their dance. A score they were, of beauties picked from many lands and climes, arrayed in gauzy robes, rich head dress and bangles of bronze and gold. They swayed to a pace of slow monotony, with the sad, melodious strain of citherns and of flutes of quaint design; then, suddenly, at a crash of cymbals, the dancers woke to life, whirling, tossing high their arms, leaping through a swift, bewildering maze, with gleaming bodies, crimson lips and pleading eyes. Louder and louder rang the music's call to passion and to love, while faster and faster the pink feet fell in velvet kisses on the floor of tinted brick; till, at last, with a scurrying rush, the maidens left the hall, while a shout of applause and noise of clapping hands rolled after them down the corridors.A silence followed, wherein the courtiers waited eagerly for a signal that the feast was spread, when an officer stepped toward the throne and bowed before the King."Thy pardon, lord," he faltered, "but a woman clamoreth at the palace door. She would enter without delay and will not be denied."So strange was the man's demeanor that all who heard him marveled at its cause, yet Ninus spoke impatiently:"Bid her begone, lest my servants scourge her from the city gates!"The officer, with downcast eyes, retreated toward the door where every eye was turned in sharp expectancy of a stranger unbidden to the feast. From without the audience heard a murmur of protest cut short by a firm, imperious command; then the officer came slinking back into the hall."Lord," he quaved, trembling before the King, "thy high commands I gave, bidding the woman depart in peace, yet—yet she will not go.""Will not!" King Ninus roared. "By Gibil's breath, what manner of wench is this to defy me in my teeth?""Lord," the soldier stammered in confusion, while his cheeks went white and red by turns, "lord, no mortal wench is she, but a spirit from the outer world, so fair to look upon that—"A roar of laughter checked him, and even Ninus joined therein, yet presently the King spoke sternly, striving to hide his smile:"Go, ape, and bring her hither! Yet mark you, man; if she be not fairer than any woman of my land, I swear to hang you from the highest roof in Nineveh!"A titter arose and the blushing officer retired, to presently return with—not one stranger in his wake—but three. In the lead a woman strode, yet such a woman as the court of Ninus had never looked upon. She was clothed in a skirt of lamb's wool whose border touched her knee, her limbs encased in doe skin lashed with thongs; across her breast was flung a leopard's silky hide, and head dress had she none save a crown of flame-hued hair. In her hand she held a hunting spear, and at her back was slung her bow, together with its quiver and a sheaf of shafts. Behind her walked an Indian, of lowly mien but of mighty strength, who, besides his spear and bow, bore a half dried lion's skin, while at his heels a shepherd's dog came swaggering in as though the palace were some kennel of a lesser dog—and, strangely, the woman's bearing seemed the same.On the assembled court the effect was varied and most strange. The women raised their brows in outward scorn of this stranger and her garb, yet in their secret hearts they knew a rival who outstripped them far; therefore they hated her and yearned that some swift calamity befall; but their husbands looked with a kindlier gaze. The warriors, the statesmen, aye, even the priests themselves, for a moment stood in silent awe, each face revealing what each soul would hide—wonder, worship, base desire—for the passions of men are tuned to divers keys when beauty strikes the chords.To Menon the woman came as a fevered dream from which he longed to wake and know that she was safe in Ascalon; yet the dog was there—and Huzim—Huzim who looked into his master's eyes and dropped his own. It was true! She had come into the lion's very lair, and the voice of Fear cried out aloud that Folly had claimed its own."Shammuramat!" breathed Menon, leaning limp and white on the shoulder of Boabdul. "May the gods lend aid, where I may give her none!""Courage, friend!" the Arab whispered, "for in this, as in all things, my scimitar is brother to thy sword."The King leaned back upon his throne, with folded arms, with eyelids narrowed into slits beneath his frown, with fingers that combed his beard, while the heart of him rejoiced. At last it was she! The red-haired devil who had perched in a citron tree and mocked him as he fled before a wounded lion. Ah, now should she pay the price of laughter in the coin of tears!A hush had fallen on the company, each waiting with bated breath for the King to speak; but the King spoke not. At length Semiramis, wearying of the pause, stepped forward without the royal word of sufferance."My lord," said she, and pointed to her servant and the gift he bore, "I bring a lion's skin from the thickets of the Euphrates. A mighty one-eyed lion which—""Hold!" cried Ninus, leaping to his feet, his hard hands clenched, his neck veins standing out to a wrathful rush of blood. For a moment he stood, regarding the woman with a dark, malignant frown, then he turned to a man-at-arms beside his throne: "Go down with this wench to the keep below and let her taste the lash!"To those who heard, this deep injustice came like a thunderbolt, for naught had the woman done save to bear a present to the King and speak without his leave. A murmur of protest sounded throughout the gathering, and Menon half arose with his hand upon his sword; yet the Arab checked him by a warning word and a grip upon his arm, for the time was not yet ripe to place a life in jeopardy.The man-at-arms, obedient to his master's will, strode forward and laid his hand upon the prisoner's arm; but at his touch Semiramis took a backward step, then with her doubled fist she struck him fair upon the apple of his throat. With a grunt of pain the fellow sprawled full length, his armor clanging on the floor, while Huzim lowered his spear point threateningly and Habal crouched beside the prostrate man, his lips rolled back, his eye upon his mistress, waiting for a sign.Again fell silence, to linger till one might count a score, while all looked on in dumb amaze at this queen who dared the rage of Ninus, meeting his eye with an eye that knew not fear and his scowl with a reckless smile."My lord," she began once more, her low voice smooth and even as though the stretching of a warrior on his back were but a pleasing courtesy, "my lord, I bring a lion's skin from the thickets of the Euphrates. A mighty one-eyed lion which leaped upon thy horse's neck and—""Have done!" stormed Ninus. "What witch's foolery is this of lions in the thickets of the Euphrates?" He paused to laugh derisively. "Perchance it was even thou who slew the brute—thou with thy puny might.""Puny?" smiled Semiramis, pointing to the fallen man-at arms. "Nay, ask this grimy dog who dared to pollute me with his touch. And as for the lion, good my lord, I have his skin. Mayhap I slew him, and again mayhap he laid aside his coat in the manner of a wrestler, eager for another bout with Ninus, who, alas, receiveth gifts with but a sorry grace." She smiled once more and again took up her interrupted speech: "My lord, I bring a lion's skin—""Peace! Peace!" cried the King, then turned to glare about him savagely. A laugh had broken from some hidden soldier's throat, and, as a flame is kindled from a spark, so mirth ran riot up and down the hall.The King, whose temper had been weakened by his wound, was placed in a grievous pass. Should he suffer this witch to tell her damning tale of disaster in the chase, it would brand the royal hunter as a braggart and a liar—a case far out of tune with a king's desire to be thought a god. On the other hand, should he check her speech by force, there were those who would hold displeasure for a deed they could not understand. Therefore Ninus swallowed down his spleen and sought to meet guile with guile."Princess," he laughed, as he once more took his seat, "with anger assumed did I test the mettle of a huntress at my court, and my heart is glad because of the spirit she hath shown. Speak then, fearing naught, and if thy tale prove true and pleasing to our ears, demand what thou wilt from Ninus in exchange for this one-eyed lion's skin."Semiramis bowed low and was about to speak, when the monarch checked her with a lifted hand."Nay, a moment," he begged. "Now perchance I might tell this tale myself, and thereby lose no shred of its palatable meat." He smiled to his court amusedly and once more bent his glance upon Semiramis: "A lion's skin is borne me from the thickets along the lower Euphrates—a one-eyed lion, fierce and strong, that leapt upon my charger's neck and pressed me hurtfully. I, Ninus, in my terror of a beast so strange, then flung my weapons down, turned tail and fled for safety in my distant camp, whilst thou—all praise to Asshur for the deed—came after me and slew my enemy." Again the monarch laughed and stretched his hand toward the huntress: "Speak, pretty one, is this the tale of Ninus and the one-eyed lion?"The King, in painting with a brush of truth, had spread his colors artfully, for it came to him that to steal the thunder from an accusing tongue was better far than a shield of defensive lies. So the courtiers whispered among themselves and smiled at the pleasing humor of their Song. This joyed the monarch vastly, for his vanity was large, and now that his wit had given him a vantage ground, he turned to Semiramis, ready for attack, but was ill prepared for his subtle enemy.On her face came a look of childish wonderment and pain, while her hands were raised in protest of a thought so wrongful to the King. She stood with her back toward thestelewhich pictured the lion hunt, yet, on entering the hall, her eye had marked it, and memory served her well."Ah, no, my lord," she answered timidly, as she slowly shook her head, "of a truth thy words are the words of jest, for I saw thy battle from the bough of a citron tree wherein I had climbed in my wish to gaze upon the King."She paused to drop her eyes, but raised them again at a smile and a word from Assyria's lord."Speak," said the King, "and fear not, for we fain would hear this tale."O radiant one," returned Semiramis, "small skill have I in the telling of a deed so great, and yet each day my prayers of praise go up to Ishtar, in that I saw this glorious battle of a god."The King breathed easy and ceased to comb his beard, and Semiramis began her story, of the hunt. At first her voice was low, melodious and calm, yet presently it rose to the fevered pitch of an orator whose audience is but a harp beneath his hand, each string a heart to thrill and quiver at a master-touch. Her listeners seemed to see the hunter charge the king of beasts, his stout spear shivering with the impact of the blow. They heard the lion's roar of fury as he leaped on the shoulder of the rearing steed, to tear at his enemy, while the two tossed to and fro in a grip of death. They heard the rip of armored garments at the stroke of raking claws, while the blood of Ninus dyed his vestments red and his arm rained blows upon the skull of a maddened beast. They saw its mighty jaws relax, the tawny body heave in agony, to drop to the earth at last in death. Then the conqueror strove to staunch his wounds and, failing, rode for succor to his distant camp.Semiramis ceased to speak, and those who had listened drew a long, deep sigh of wonder at the King's escape and at her who told the tale so truthfully. King Ninus likewise heaved a sigh, but of peace and sweet content, for never since his reign began had he looked upon so glorious a liar."Behold!" cried Nakir-Kish, and pointed to thestele.Semiramis turned, to stare in seeming wonder at the carven miracle. One fluttering hand was drawn across her eyes; her lips moved slowly, giving forth no sound, and all save two who watched her felt that here, indeed, was truth. King Ninus raised his hand to check a tribute of applause, and spoke in a voice of gentleness."What more?" he asked. "How came it to pass that a woman beareth the lion's skin to Nineveh?"Semiramis spread her hands in the manner of one who does a deed too small for the waste of words."O mighty one," she answered simply, "of a truth my tale is told. When the beast lay dead I descended from out my tree to watch while my servant removed its skin." She took the lion's hide from Huzim and laid it at the monarch's feet. "My lord, I bring this simple token of my love to Nineveh, in trust that the King of all the world will grant my small desires.""Say on," cried Ninus, "and by the sword of Asshur do I swear to make a just reward. Speak, then, for we harken to thy wish."Semiramis spoke not. She raised her eyes to his in the wondering innocence of a little child and smiled."Nay, lord, why now should I name desires which Ninus in his wisdom knoweth well?""True," returned the monarch thoughtfully, once more combing at his beard and wondering if some trap were being laid, "true, and yet 'twere well to name thy wish aloud, in that these my friends may ever bear a witness to the promise made. Speak, for Ninus heedeth.""Forgiveness!" begged Semiramis, kneeling upon the lion's skin. "This, O Father of the Land, I ask alone.""Granted!" cried the King, "though I swear I know not—um—though thy sin be great or small."Semiramis pressed the fingers of the King against her lips, then, rising, turned with a joyous cry and flung herself into Menon's arms.A gasp of wonder rose from those who saw, while Menon flushed, and his friend Boabdul smiled. Sozana sought the eyes of Memetis with a furtive glance, but the King rose up in wrath."What now!" he demanded, in a voice which shook with passion, but Semiramis checked him with a laugh and stood before him holding Menon's hand."Three years agone, as thou knowest well, my lord, he wedded me in Syria.""Eh—what!" cried the puzzled King. "In truth he is thy spouse?""Aye," she nodded happily, "in defiance of his master's will; and thought—the foolish boy—to blind the eyes of the Eagle of Assyria. Yet as for me, my lord, I laughed, for well I knew that the vanities of man must come to dust. What! I asked him, is thy master a fool whose eye can fathom naught beyond his nose? Nay, King Ninus is a god whose wisdom marketh the works of lesser men, and he smileth because of them. Therefore, since Ninus knoweth all, he will treasure up this jest till such a time as Menon cometh unto Nineveh, and will rally him in the sight of all the court. Speak then, O generous lord, that thy courtiers may laugh with thee."The monarch made no answer. He was like unto a man who stood between two ditches, each too wide to spring across, yet spring he must. To admit a knowledge of his governor's disobedience, would mean forgiveness where the measure of his wrath was fain to fall; and yet denial stamped him, not as a high, far-seeing god, but a mortal fool whose vision ceased at the tip of his royal nose. So Ninus pondered thoughtfully."How now, my lord," asked Semiramis with her witch's smile, "in truth dids't thou not know of this joyous happening from the first?""Aye," growled Ninus, savagely, "I knew it—from the first."
* * * * *
Menon and Semiramis took thought together, long and earnestly; for now, when the Syrians learned how they had been deceived, the ashes of murder would burst again in flames. Menon was for hanging every man who had sought to burn his house, but Semiramis said nay.
"By craft have we sown a seed; by craft will we nurture it and eat the fruit."
Thus it came to pass that a cunning proclamation was sent throughout the land, and the simple peoples rejoiced and sang songs of praise because of the lifting of their tax. Moreover the many tribes began to vie with one another for the prize which Semiramis had offered in the name of Ninus, till unto Azapah they brought such stores of metals and of food, that Menon reaped a harvest far beyond his dreams. Where tribes were wont to dole their tribute out through doubled fists, they now came swiftly and unbidden, with treasures on their backs—for men look not where their footsteps fall when chasing swamp-flies to a goal of greed and power.
And now to Nineveh came mighty stores of grain and wine, long lines of sheep and cattle, asses, goats, and the water buffalo. Metals came likewise, silver, gold and brass; fruits were there also, and honey in earthen jars. Whatever dry Syria owned, that Syria sent, till Ninus, seeing this stream of riches pouring through his gates, sat down upon his stool both suddenly and hard, in the grip of profound amaze.
"Now by the great lord Asshur," he muttered in his beard, "these eyes of mine have never looked upon the like before! In thought have I wronged my Menon grievously, for in truth he loveth me with a love that is rare amongst the sons of men."
CHAPTER XI
THE SANDAL AND THE STRAWS
And now came a day when Nineveh was Nineveh at last, and Ninus stood upon his palace roof and was glad because of the Opal of the East. At his feet a vast brown city lay—a city builded by his heart—each brick a monument to other hearts that broke in rearing temples to Assyria's gods. In the streets a busy hum of trade arose, where marts and booths were opened to the sale of a thousand wares; where citizens in gala dress swarmed in and out of unfamiliar doors; where troops of children danced in wreaths of flowers, or white-robed priests filed past, chanting their deep-toned songs and bearing loads in sacrifice to the temple of Nineb and up its winding ziggurat.
From the palace steps a broad, smooth road ran down to the western gate and was lined by effigies of stone, great wingéd bulls, and lions crouching as for a spring. Around it all the mighty wall lay coiled, its top of a width whereon three chariots might be driven abreast, while above rose a thousand and a half a thousand towers.
The army still encompassed Nineveh around, yet the King was not for war. He looked on his work and sighed a sigh of peace, then stretched his mighty limbs and prepared a lion hunt. For three long years his heart had yearned for sports afield, with a yearning which hunters alone may know; yet, because of his vow, the bow and spear were left untouched by the monarch's hand.
Consulting his oracles, and likewise the prophet Azet whose arts foretold great deeds of wonder to his arms, the King appointed another Governor in Syria and commanded Menon to join him on the banks of the lower Euphrates. Here game might be found in plenty where Ninus had known rare pleasures of the chase in former days; so, smiling, he set him forth.
When the messengers had come to Azapah, Menon bowed to the master's will and departed with a heavy heart, first sending Semiramis with Huzim back to Ascalon, to dwell for a little space till chance might bring him into Syria again. He reached the banks of the Euphrates and waited the royal hunter till a moon had waned; but Ninus came not, because of the slowness of his journey to the place.
The King, in sitting much upon his tower while Nineveh was being builded, had laid a deal of fat upon his bones, and tedious travel irked him; moreover, in the hunt his breath was shorter than of yore and his thews less strong. Yet the mind may ofttimes entertain a zeal beyond the body's power, and in this King Ninus brewed a trouble for himself—but the trouble was yet to come.
* * * * *
Semiramis, at parting with her lord, wept bitter tears; yet she, too, bowed where wisdom left no loophole of escape, and journeyed with Huzim and Habal back to Ascalon. And here her grief must find another stab, keener, deeper, more sad than the parting from one who would come again; for in the house of Simmas an old man lay asleep—a woman's sandal pressed against his beard.
They buried Simmas far out upon the hillside, where in years gone by a babe was mothered by a flock of doves. The babe was a woman now, who loved her foster-father tenderly and above all others save her lord alone; so she wept beside the grave for many days.
"A dove was he," she whispered to her lonely heart, "so fond, so gentle in his ministries—a dove that winged his flight and left me, only because of Ishtar's yearning cry."
In her two long years of absence Semiramis had oft'times dreamed of Ascalon, longing to roam its hills once more or to swim in its cool, green lake; yet now it all seemed strangely poor and small. The shores of the lake had shrunk together in the night; the hills were not so high as the hills of yore, nor the trees so green; the vault of the very sky itself seemed pressing down to smother her, and the smell of the very earth was not the same. Ah, if she were like to Habal who could see no change in the march of time; yet Habal was but a dog!
Now, concerning this dog, the mistress erred and grievously. Not only did he mark the change in Ascalon, but a greater one within himself. He swaggered through the village with his tail held high, in the manner of one who had done large deeds abroad, passing old canine friends without a sniff or wag, yet eying interlopers scornfully. On these he would fall at the slightest wink of provocation, and leave his memory marked upon their hides; so his name became a wonder unto other dogs.
Semiramis was not of Habal's stamp, nor did she boast of her deeds abroad; yet still their memory beckoned, till her soul was full with a great unrest. At home she was idle, grieving for the things so changed, wandering through a house made desolate by the flight of those she loved. Old friends would come—gaunt shepherds, gazing on her beauty with the eyes of cattle that rove the hills—to linger, then slink away to hide the passion in their hearts.
"Home! Home!" she cried. "No longer is it home, for the dove hath flown, and my lord is not beside me in the gloom!"
Through the hush of night there were whispers on the wind—relentless ghosts that glide from the outer world to mock us with their sighs; to bring on their garments odours of the days that were, and the hopes of other days to come; to haunt us, till we harken to their murmurings and know not peace.
They called to Semiramis, these whispers, in the name of love, whence Menon seemed to stretch his arms in loneliness. They called through a shattered fringe of Kurds who screamed and struggled under hoof and heel; they called in the tongues of madmen whirling torches round and round, their evil faces yellow in the flame and smoke. They called her to deeds of arms—to work—to power. Oh, Ishtar, if she might ride under whip and spur to Nineveh, and pit her wits against the King! To play the thirsty game, with life the stake, its hazard on a single cast! Ah, if she might glide, as these ghosts were gliding through the night, far out beyond the rim of solitude, to the teeming battle-ground of hearts and men!
For days she wandered, silent, yearning to be gone, while the faithful Huzim dogged her every step. His master had admonished him to watch his charge with a winkless eye, lest spirit override her reason and tempt her to a recklessness. It troubled Huzim thus to be a jailer to one he loved, yet the master's will was law, so the Indian followed ever on her trail.
Semiramis knew no peace nor rest, and at last she came to Dagon's temple down beside the lake, to lay her sorrows on the fish-god's knees and ask a sign.
All day, all night, she prayed, yet when the dawn came oozing from out the east, the face of Dagon was as a face of stone. The suppliant sat upon the temple steps, weary, warring with despair. With listless eyes she watched a beetle crawling at her feet, then, of a sudden, hope rose up and lived. She grasped the bug between her thumb and finger, holding it above the surface of the lake, while she closed her teeth as a gambler might at the whirl of his last remaining coin.
"Now this," she murmured to herself, "shall tell me of Dagon's will. If the beetle swim, I go! If he sink, I rot in Ascalon!"
She cast it in, smiling, for she knew right well that the bug must float, yet turning her back lest Dagon mark her knowledge of such things. For an instant the victim struggled pleasingly with leg and wing, while the smile of Semiramis broadened in its reach, to flicker, to fade, to die. A monster carp came upward with a rush. One snap, and the tempting morsel disappeared, thus making the fish-god's judgment clear, beyond the very hem of Redemption's robe.
Semiramis sat upon the temple's steps, her chin upon her hands, her eyes on a wheel of ripples that widened away from its hub of swift calamity. She pondered long, her thoughts like cats in trees, with Habal barking furiously below.
"He sank," she sighed. "Of a certainty he sank. I may not make it otherwise. And yet"—she paused to steal a glance at Dagon's face—"and yet the fooldidswim for alittlespace. Mayhap—" Again she paused, then spread her hands and raised her eyes appealingly. "In truth my beetle proveth naught at all. For a space he swam. For a space he sank. Dagon, Dagon, what meanest thou in this?"
No answer came. Once more she pondered, her fair brow puckered with the lines of deep perplexity; till, presently, the truant colour raced to her cheek again and her great eyes lit with the flame of understanding.
"Ah!" she breathed. "Ah, now I see. Thou meanest, O wise and radiant one, that,sink or swim, must I do this thing. What!" she cried, "hast thou, thyself, not said it? And, lo! I am but a weak and foolish woman in thy power. Ah, Dagon, Dagon, thou art a crafty god, indeed!"
In haste Semiramis left the temple door, and, singing loudly, tripped toward her home. Her god had sent a sign. She was free to journey now as her heart desired. Free! And yet, a doubt came prowling after her—a watchful, sleepless doubt that dogged her steps, even as Huzim slipped upon her trail from his hiding-place behind a stone. On the hill she paused, to mutter to herself in a soothing tone:
"The sign is clear. Did I linger on in Ascalon, some evil might befall me, even as that carp arose to snatch my beetle in his greedy maw. Did Menon know, he would urge that I fly to him without delay."
She went her way and took up her song again, but paused to reason with a small brown toad that hopped across her path.
"Little beast," said she, "thou comest as a warning of some ugly chance, the which, I confess, hath filled me with the juice of fear. Therefore will I hasten out of Syria in time."
She walked around the toad with care, and, singing, journeyed on till she reached the house where the old dove Simmas dwelt in days gone by. At the door she lingered, ere she raised the latch, for one last argument in the cause of a heart's desire.
"Now Dagon," she reflected, grieving at the thought, "is in truth a careless god in the matter of his signs. Had Ishtar cursed me with a simple mind, I might have misinterpreted, alas!"
Semiramis then slept, to dream of Menon till the shades of night wore on, and in her dreams found weightier reasons which she laid on the fish-god's judgment scale.
"Huzim," she asked, when the Indian had brought the evening meal, "did I seek escape from Ascalon, what course would thy duty run?"
"Mistress," he answered her, "like an arrow in my heart is the thought of force with one whose happiness is held above my hopes of peace; yet the master's will is the master's will, and a servant must obey."
"Ah," she nodded thoughtfully. "Ah, I see! Yet if, by chance, I slipped away in the gloom of night, as I did at Azapah—what then?"
The Indian cast a troubled gaze upon the floor, and heaved a sigh.
"I would follow, mistress, as before I followed, till I fell because of weariness."
"Then follow!" said Semiramis, "for I go to join my lord at Nineveh—and to tickle the lion's nose with straws."
CHAPTER XII
THE SORROWS OF A KING
King Ninus, lord of all Assyria, lay cursing in his royal litter, while slaves and attendants bore him northward on the banks of the Euphrates. Presently they left their course, struck eastward till they reached the Tigris and again turned north, whence, with many rests and long, forced marches in the cool of night, the stricken King at length was placed upon his couch at Nineveh.
Full many a grievous matter rode upon the monarch's mind, and the pale attending leech wrought vainly to quell his patient's fever, one augmented by a sleepless, boiling rage within. By day the King would fret; by night he rioted throughout his dreams and found no rest.
First there was his wound, a ragged, half-healed gash, laid open by a lion's claw and running from a point beneath his arm-pit to his hip. It was not the wound itself, nor the pain thereof, which fired the hunter's wrath, but rather the truth that he, Ramân-Nirari—the greatest hunter since beasts and hunters were—should miss his kill and seek his life in flight. Of witnesses there were only three: Shidur-Kam, a warrior whom the King might trust to entrench his tongue behind his teeth, and a slave who was safer still, for Ninus had cast his body into the Euphrates; but, then, there was a girl—a red-haired girl—who perched in the boughs of a citron tree and laughed as the King sped underneath, a wounded lion leaping at his horse's haunch.
At another time the monarch might have held this face, and the echo of a bubbly laugh, in pleasing memory; yet raillery, directed at a royal personage in the stress of flight, begets a recollection of a different breed. So the mocking laughter haunted Ninus through all the day and caused him to wake at night and grind his teeth in fury.
"Argol," said he, to the faithful leech beside him, "give order that a thousand horse repair to the region of our lion hunt. Command them to scour the country round about in a circuit of thirty leagues and bring me every red-haired wench they may chance to find. By Gibil's flame! I have a pressing need of them!"
The leech sighed sadly, tapped upon a gong of bronze, then waited in silence till an officer strode in, saluted, and sank upon his knees. The order given and the soldier gone, Argol administered a sleeping draught and sat once more at his weary post.
Yet the King slept not, for still another matter lay heavy on his heart. There was a certain man called Azet, the venerable seer who had prophesied with lies. Before the hunt he had opened the carcasses of seven cranes, finding in the entrails of each and all an omen of success. Full thirty beasts, said Azet, should the King o'ercome, returning unto Nineveh triumphant and sound of limb. Was not this prophet, then, to blame for the ills which had come to pass? Wherefore should he prophesy unto evil ends, or cause witch-women to laugh from the boughs of citron trees? Could virtue not be found in the vitals of seven sacred cranes? or was this holy man but a monster and a fool?
The King's dark brow grew darker still with troublous thought, as he questioned his leech for the hundredth time in fretful tones:
"Argol, good Argol, tell me, I pray thee, man, how in the name of Asshur may I teach this wretch to mend his auguries?"
"My lord," the leech replied, as he raised his drooping lids and gazed out dreamily to where the Tigris flowed, "my lord, the breath of man ariseth from his breast, but in his throat are shaped his evil prophecies."
"Eh—what?" the King demanded. "What manner of speech is this, and how doth it run with Azet and his seven cranes?"
"Hang him, my lord," said Argol, drowsily, and turned away.
A slow smile lit the features of the King, while for a space he pondered, plucking at his coverlet; then, summoning an officer, he gave an order in a weak but cheerful voice, at the same time causing his couch to be removed to a shaded spot upon the palace roof. Here, with his watch-worn leech beside him, he could lie at ease and feast his eyes on the glory of completed Nineveh. Across his terraced gardens where fountains sparkled in the sun, he could see the temple of Asshur and of Ishtar upon their hills; likewise the temple of the fire-god Gibil, above whose dome a wreath of smoke hung low, belched upward from the flames beneath. He could see his streets, his marts, his mighty gates and the tawny plains beyond where the Tigris and the Khusur ran. He could see his wall—that shield of his heart's desire—which made his city a fortress against the world; yet the thoughts of Ninus were not for walls and shields.
He watched a thousand horsemen pass the western gate and gallop swiftly down the river bank, then disappear from Nineveh for the space of many days. The chief was a man of little love beyond his sword and steed, one, who would give short shift to devils with flame-hued hair, and the heart of the King was glad.
Of a sudden a tumult rose from the streets below, while a concourse gathered, and a sound of weeping ascended to the palace roof. Through the surging throng a band of soldiers fought their way, leading the prophet Azet toward the wall and beating back the populace with the butts of their heavy spears.
The western gate was spanned by a monster arch, on the shoulder of which sat the highest tower of all, and thither the soldiers led their victim by a winding stair. When at last they appeared on the turret's edge, a wail of anguish rang out afresh, while the multitude gazed upward, swarming to and fro.
"Now truly," chuckled Ninus as he watched, "this fellow hath a wondrous following, who, because of their ignorance, grieve at things they may not understand."
From the turret the soldiers thrust a wooden beam; from the end thereof they hanged the prophet by a noose, and, according to a writing set above the gate, "The prophecies of Azet ceased to be throughout the land."
Argol then bound his master's wound in a healing salve, and the sufferer straightway slept for many hours; on waking, his fever had departed utterly, so he mended in body and in mind. He appointed another prophet, one Nakir-Kish, a wise and observing man whose promises of good and ill were the like of kites, the strings thereof being held within his hand till his eye had marked the temper of all heavenly winds. Thus Nakir-Kish endured.
King Ninus now sent for Bobardol, a sculptor of high renown, the same who had carven a famous bull that had, in all, five legs. This extra limb might at first seem strange and at odds with Nature's own design; yet, even so, it had its marked advantages. An observer gazing on this masterpiece—no matter where he stood—might always perceive four legs; "And that," said Bobardol, "is Art." So Ninus was pleased, and retained the sculptor in his service.
The King gave order for a monsterstele, whereon should be carven a scene from the lion hunt, the monarch being pictured, not in wild retreat, but faced about and causing great discomfiture to a mighty foe. True, the attitudes of the King of Assyria and the king of beasts would be quite reversed, yet Ninus was a god whose front was more imposing than his back; moreover itwouldhave been as pictured had Azet not prophesied with lies. Shall a King be held to blame where foolish servants err through ignorance? Not so!
The sculptor Bobardol now set to work, while Ninus commanded a sumptuous feast to be prepared, whereby he might celebrate his triumphs in the chase. His soldiers and populace should pass in lines through the palace hall and gaze in awe upon this unveiled tablet, set up to the glory of the high lord Asshur—and to the glory of the King.
While waiting this work of art, and at the same time resting so that his wound might heal, Ninus was wont to recline within his litter which was borne along the top of the city wall. Here he could watch at will, or give directions in the order of another enterprise which dwelt in his mind and heart. Three years had now passed by since his warriors turned tail from Zariaspa; and the time approached when Ninus must seal his promises to rake the ashes of this city into sacks and with them feed the waters of the sea.
The army encamped within and without the walls of Nineveh was twice so great as that which had failed in the former siege, and Ninus gave much thought to the plans of his second war. On the plain a wall had been erected, in height and thickness measuring that of Zariaspa, and here the Assyrians practiced methods of assault. Great carts they had, with platforms twenty cubits above their wheels, propelled by slaves who were hidden underneath, while above the platforms ladders rose and slanted toward the wall. Up these the men-at-arms would clamber rapidly, to grapple with defenders at the top; and so great was their zeal in this mimic war that many lives were lost because of it. There were tall machines which worked on pivots, whose swinging buckets could set a score of men upon a parapet; there were towers faced by armor-plates of brass, from the crests of which wide bridges might be flung, while warriors swarmed across to engage the enemy. Huge catapults were built, of new design and hurling power, some casting single rocks, and others to rake a battlement with a volley of smaller stones. Full many a strange machine of cunning workmanship was thus devised and stored against departure, when the King would once more lead his armies to the East.
In the lowgrounds and on the rolling slopes beyond the river Khusur which flows between the mounds of Koyunjik and Nebbi Yunas, myriads of oxen and beasts of burden were set to graze upon the pasture-lands. These had been employed in the building up of Nineveh, and now were resting for a further need, for their final strength would be utilized in hauling the traps of war through desert lands and toilsome ways, on spongy forest roads to the hills beyond, up heavy mountain slopes to gorges between the peaks of Hindu-Kush. Thence they would scramble down into the plains of Bactria, to become at last the food for a hungry host; and thus the cattle served unto many ends.
The waiting army was under sole command of Menon, whose heart was now divided between two loves. To prepare for war would have joyed him vastly, except for his vow to wed Sozana when Zariaspa fell before the King; and this he might not do because of Semiramis, of whom he dreamed as resting peacefully in the valley of Ascalon. Had Ninus spoken aught to him of the red-haired imp who laughed from the bough of a citron tree, Menon's heart might then have borne a double weight; but the happening was not that quality of jest on which a monarch is pleased to regale his chiefs.
It chanced on a certain day that Menon was summoned to the palace for a council with the King, and, striding through the gardens, he came with suddenness upon Sozana, who sat alone. Fair was she, with the beauty of a childish maid; yet in her green simar, and the silvery veil which was wound about her throat, Sozana was a princess, from her raven hair to the jeweled sandals on her tiny feet.
Since returning from Syria Menon had found no opportunity for speech with her, and now he came forward joyously, his hands outstretched. At the sound of footsteps Sozana had risen from her seat, but, on seeing him, she gave a little cry of disappointment and of pain, flushed crimson and turned away without an answer to his greeting; and when he sought to question her concerning such treatment of an old-time friend, she sank upon a bench, to weep as though her heart would break.
For a moment Menon stood irresolute, then, as he began to speak again, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, turning, he looked into the eyes of Memetis the Egyptian, a youth whom he loved as he might have loved his mother's son, but who now refused his greeting coldly, spurning the proffered hand and placing his own behind his back.
"How now," asked Menon, "is this the manner of Memetis to his friends?"
"Nay," returned Memetis, frowning as he spoke; "true friends I greet in love and tenderness; the false may rest with Hathor ere I take their hands."
Then it came upon Menon that Memetis and Sozana knew of the mandate of the King, and were bitter in their thoughts of one who came between them and their happiness.
"Memetis," the Assyrian asked, "is it, then, to the walls of Zariaspa that thine eyes are turned, fearing lest a friend hath juggled with thy trust as a traitor might?"
The Egyptian's black eyes glowed in anger which he vainly strove to check, while his fingers played about the hilt of a dagger at his belt.
"Aye," he answered bitterly, "to the walls of Zariaspa do I turn mine eyes, for with their fall falls every hope which Isis dangled before my foolish heart. And thou!" he cried, "the false! The treacherous! who would tear Sozana from mine arms, aye, even as the hawk would swoop upon a nest of doves!"
Menon strove to speak, but the Egyptian would not harken to his words. The Assyrian faced Sozana, stretching forth his hand, but Memetis sprang between them, drawing his dagger, and in a low, fierce whisper spoke his wrath:
"Lay but a finger on this maid, or speak her name again, and as Osiris liveth, will I take thy life!"
Menon looked into the lover's eyes, and slowly spread his arms.
"Strike!" he murmured sadly. "Strike, and learn from other lips than mine that Memetis is a fool."
He waited, but the Egyptian made no move, because of the sorrow on the face of one who had been a cherished friend.
"And dost thou dream," asked Menon, pointing to the girl who wept beside him, "that I would willingly bring sorrow to this child? Nay, listen, both, then judge me when ye know the truth."
The Egyptian's hand sank down beside him, and his blade was tossed upon the earth.
"Speak on," he begged, "but, oh, my friend, I pray thee show me no mirage of hope that melteth when a thirsty traveller would drink."
So Menon sat between them on the bench and told them of Semiramis. He told of the artifice by which he sought to gull the King, in a firm belief that Zariaspa would not fall; and yet, should chance prove otherwise, he would fly with his wife into Arabia, where Prince Boabdul offered them a safe retreat. He spoke of his life in Syria, of the wonder of his love for her whom he left behind; and as the tale went on Sozana dried her tears and held the teller's hand in both her own, for she and Memetis knew at last that Menon betrayed no trust in him, and their hearts were glad because of a hope restored.
"Forgive," Memetis pleaded as his friend arose; and Menon smiled, bent down and kissed Sozana as a brother might, then left them with a heavy heart to seek the King.
Ninus still reclined upon his couch—for his hurt was yet unhealed—and rested beneath the shade of a canopy on the palace roof, whiles he waited in impatience for Menon's coming till the hour was past. Now it is not good to linger when a wounded monarch waits, so Ninus fretted, combing at his beard as was his wont when matters troubled him or anger rose.
"How now," he asked, when Menon came at length with a hasty step, "am I the master, or do I sleep, to awaken presently and find myself a servant—thouthe King?"
"Forgive, my lord," begged Menon, falling on his knee; "King Ninus sleepeth not. 'Twas the servant who drowsed beside the way. In the garden below I chanced upon Sozana with whom I have held no speech since—"
"Ah!" said the King, his anger fading, while a smile began to play about his mouth. "So the eagle needs must wait when pigeons peck at love. Speak on, my son."
Menon flushed and cast his gaze upon the floor.
"I—I sat with her, my lord, and spoke of many things, taking no thought of how the moments flew, till—"
"Hark!" said Ninus, as he raised his hand. "Can it be that I hear Sozana singing from the garden there?" Menon listened, nodded, and the King went on: "Strange!" he mused. "For days she hath tasted lightly of her food, and sighed and drooped her head; yet now at thy coming she hath straightway plumed herself, and pipeth a saucy song. Look thou, master fox, what miracle is this?"
Menon flushed again and smiled a foolish smile; yet he answered cunningly, with a lingering grip on the slippery skin of truth:
"My lord, I—I whispered into the maiden's ear."
"Oho!" laughed Ninus. "Now by my beard, I'd give a goodly sum to learn thine art. But come, what chanced to be the burden of this pretty speech?"
"As to that," said Menon boldly, in a manner which ever pleased his lord, "my whisper is a secret in the keeping of discretion's tongue and the maiden's ear alone."
"U'u'm!" mused Ninus. "How many men-at-arms are now prepared to take the field against our good friend Oxyartes?"
For a space the two discussed their plans for a second war against the Bactrians, then Menon saluted his master's hand and took his leave. Alone, the King lay thinking on his war, when of a sudden his thought was disarranged by the notes of another song, no longer Sozana's voice, but that of a man, deep, tender, and pleasing to the ear:
Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,When kissed by the gleaming, golden floodOf light from shining Ra;It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beamsOn the Nile of Life, and its blossom seemsTo shine as a milk-white star.But lo! when the fateful season turns,And the tawny desert glows and burns,Shimmering, parched, and dry—As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—And, withered, it falls to die!
Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,When kissed by the gleaming, golden floodOf light from shining Ra;It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beamsOn the Nile of Life, and its blossom seemsTo shine as a milk-white star.But lo! when the fateful season turns,And the tawny desert glows and burns,Shimmering, parched, and dry—As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—And, withered, it falls to die!
Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,
When kissed by the gleaming, golden flood
Of light from shining Ra;
It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beams
On the Nile of Life, and its blossom seems
To shine as a milk-white star.
But lo! when the fateful season turns,
And the tawny desert glows and burns,
Shimmering, parched, and dry—
As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,
All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—
And, withered, it falls to die!
"Strange!" mused Ninus, combing at his beard. "The Egyptian sitteth with Sozana in the gardens down below and singeth a song of love; albeit I mark that his song be sad.... Yet—why should he sing at all, the fool! Doth he, too, whisper into the maiden's ear, and—"
The monarch paused abruptly, to call to his faithful leech in a tone of petulance:
"Argol! come stroke my side in the region of my wound; for I tell thee, man, it itcheth damnably."
CHAPTER XIII
THE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LION
The throne-hall of the palace was of lofty pitch—and of spacious depth and width. In its rear, through arches, lay an open portico, while beyond could be seen the Valley of the Tigris and the reaches of the river on its journey to the sea. Within were carven pillars of marble and of stone brought hither by utmost toil from foreign lands; likewise other pillars of malachite, of silver, and of hammered gold, draped with hangings of purple and embroidered stuffs from the treasure-stores of far Phoenicia. There were curious arms, the trophies of chase and war, rare gifts from conquered princes sent to Nineveh through love or fear, and the mounted heads and skins of beasts which had fallen before the King's own spear and shafts.
The entrance was set with chiselled lions, and wingéd bulls in miniature of those which guarded the western gate, while the walls were lined withsteles, whereon were pictured the battles of the King, his deeds of prowess in the hunt, his sacrifices at the altars of his gods.
On the ceiling stretched a tessellated emblem of all the deities wrought cunningly with bits of tinted stone and precious gems, a work of art so fabulous in price that even the spendthrift Ninus drew his breath when the cost thereof was known to him. In the centre sat the great lord Asshur in his godly robes, his breast adorned with the wingéd disk designed in pearls and sapphires on a base of lapis-lazuli. Before high Asshur King Ninus knelt, obedient to the heavenly will alone, while around them were grouped the lesser deities—Ramân hurling forth his lightning forks, Bel in his hornéd cap, red Gibil peering out through sacrificial flame and smoke, Bêlit princess of the dawn, Shala, Nebo, Ninêb, and Nerga of the chase, Shamashi-Ramân, father of the King—a heavenly litter of divinities, each dear to the heart of his special worshipper.
On a sumptuous throne sat Ninus, with Sozana at his side, for the queen had passed away ere Nineveh was complete; so now his daughter held the highest place in the monarch's heart. The hall was thronged with chieftains, priests, and the king's good friends. At the feet of Ninus sat Menon, and at his side the Arabian Prince, Boabdul Ben Hutt, whom the king had urged to grace his festival. There were kings of Tyre and Sidon, from beside the Sea of the Setting Sun, whose cities sent their caravans of tribute and of tax with muttered curses trailing after them; and likewise came the sons of Canaan, giant Khatti chiefs still restless beneath their yoke, princes of Babylon, Syrians, lords of the desert and the sea; grim mountaineers who had fought like rats in the caverns of their rocky homes; governors, rulers, and a swarm of wives and daughters of these men, all now unveiled at the mandate of the King.
From behind a pillar Memetis looked upon Sozana's face, his hope an oasis whence his soul might drink the waters of his love; yet now must he sip lest Ninus mark his thirst and be aggrieved thereat. So, with his eyes, the Egyptian looked out upon the throng, yet with his heart he saw one maid alone.
A goodly gathering it was, in rich attire, in armor and robes of state, the warriors of a hundred wars, the proudest beauty of the court, assembled now to view the monster tablet carven in honor of the King. It was newly set within the wall, hidden from sight by crimson draperies, and on either side stood the sculptor Bobardol and the High Priest Nakir-Kish, the one to draw the cloth aside, the other to bless thestelein the name of Asshur.
A breathless silence fell upon the courtiers; King Ninus gave a sign, and the sculptor drew the draperies aside. On thestelewas pictured inbas-reliefa wondrous exploit of the King, who, mounted on a rearing charger, battled with a king of beasts. This lion was springing upon the withers of the steed, seeking to drag the hunter from his seat with teeth and claws, while Ninus gripped its throat and crushed its skull with a haft of his broken spear.
A triumph of art it was, bespeaking valor spirited and rare, rather than exactness of the facts concerning this glorious happening, and a murmur of admiration rose to every lip because of the daring monarch and the skill of Bobardol.
Below an inscription told the story of the deed, in language employed by Assyria's Kings, wherein they laid aside the robes of modesty and spake for the world to hear:
"I, Ramân-Nirari, son of Shamashi-Ramân and mightiest of all Assyria's Kings, by the will of Asshur, lord of earth and sky, fared forth to conquer lions in this the twentieth year of my resplendent reign. Much game I slew, my horse bestriding, likewise upon my feet alone with arrows and with spear. Thus it came to pass that I, Ninus, to whom no other may compare in skill and lack of dread, joined battle with a mighty, one-eyed lion in the thickets along the Euphrates. Terrible in rage was he, this lion, because of the wounds I gave, roaring till my servants fled in fear away. Yet I, alone, took hold upon his throat and smote him thrice, in that his roaring ceased and went out of his belly with the death of a so great beast."
"To the high lord Asshur praise! To Ninus praises greater still, for Asshur watched while Ninus wrought the deed!"
Amid rejoicings thestelewas blessed by the High Priest Nakir-Kish, while the wine cup circled and a chant was heard from a train of hidden priests—a chant which now was taken up in the temples throughout vast Nineveh, and the gods smelt sacrifice from a thousand altar stones. A jingling tinkle then arose, when from right and left two lines of dancers tripped into the hall, to bow before the King, to rise and glide in rhythmic steps through the measures of their dance. A score they were, of beauties picked from many lands and climes, arrayed in gauzy robes, rich head dress and bangles of bronze and gold. They swayed to a pace of slow monotony, with the sad, melodious strain of citherns and of flutes of quaint design; then, suddenly, at a crash of cymbals, the dancers woke to life, whirling, tossing high their arms, leaping through a swift, bewildering maze, with gleaming bodies, crimson lips and pleading eyes. Louder and louder rang the music's call to passion and to love, while faster and faster the pink feet fell in velvet kisses on the floor of tinted brick; till, at last, with a scurrying rush, the maidens left the hall, while a shout of applause and noise of clapping hands rolled after them down the corridors.
A silence followed, wherein the courtiers waited eagerly for a signal that the feast was spread, when an officer stepped toward the throne and bowed before the King.
"Thy pardon, lord," he faltered, "but a woman clamoreth at the palace door. She would enter without delay and will not be denied."
So strange was the man's demeanor that all who heard him marveled at its cause, yet Ninus spoke impatiently:
"Bid her begone, lest my servants scourge her from the city gates!"
The officer, with downcast eyes, retreated toward the door where every eye was turned in sharp expectancy of a stranger unbidden to the feast. From without the audience heard a murmur of protest cut short by a firm, imperious command; then the officer came slinking back into the hall.
"Lord," he quaved, trembling before the King, "thy high commands I gave, bidding the woman depart in peace, yet—yet she will not go."
"Will not!" King Ninus roared. "By Gibil's breath, what manner of wench is this to defy me in my teeth?"
"Lord," the soldier stammered in confusion, while his cheeks went white and red by turns, "lord, no mortal wench is she, but a spirit from the outer world, so fair to look upon that—"
A roar of laughter checked him, and even Ninus joined therein, yet presently the King spoke sternly, striving to hide his smile:
"Go, ape, and bring her hither! Yet mark you, man; if she be not fairer than any woman of my land, I swear to hang you from the highest roof in Nineveh!"
A titter arose and the blushing officer retired, to presently return with—not one stranger in his wake—but three. In the lead a woman strode, yet such a woman as the court of Ninus had never looked upon. She was clothed in a skirt of lamb's wool whose border touched her knee, her limbs encased in doe skin lashed with thongs; across her breast was flung a leopard's silky hide, and head dress had she none save a crown of flame-hued hair. In her hand she held a hunting spear, and at her back was slung her bow, together with its quiver and a sheaf of shafts. Behind her walked an Indian, of lowly mien but of mighty strength, who, besides his spear and bow, bore a half dried lion's skin, while at his heels a shepherd's dog came swaggering in as though the palace were some kennel of a lesser dog—and, strangely, the woman's bearing seemed the same.
On the assembled court the effect was varied and most strange. The women raised their brows in outward scorn of this stranger and her garb, yet in their secret hearts they knew a rival who outstripped them far; therefore they hated her and yearned that some swift calamity befall; but their husbands looked with a kindlier gaze. The warriors, the statesmen, aye, even the priests themselves, for a moment stood in silent awe, each face revealing what each soul would hide—wonder, worship, base desire—for the passions of men are tuned to divers keys when beauty strikes the chords.
To Menon the woman came as a fevered dream from which he longed to wake and know that she was safe in Ascalon; yet the dog was there—and Huzim—Huzim who looked into his master's eyes and dropped his own. It was true! She had come into the lion's very lair, and the voice of Fear cried out aloud that Folly had claimed its own.
"Shammuramat!" breathed Menon, leaning limp and white on the shoulder of Boabdul. "May the gods lend aid, where I may give her none!"
"Courage, friend!" the Arab whispered, "for in this, as in all things, my scimitar is brother to thy sword."
The King leaned back upon his throne, with folded arms, with eyelids narrowed into slits beneath his frown, with fingers that combed his beard, while the heart of him rejoiced. At last it was she! The red-haired devil who had perched in a citron tree and mocked him as he fled before a wounded lion. Ah, now should she pay the price of laughter in the coin of tears!
A hush had fallen on the company, each waiting with bated breath for the King to speak; but the King spoke not. At length Semiramis, wearying of the pause, stepped forward without the royal word of sufferance.
"My lord," said she, and pointed to her servant and the gift he bore, "I bring a lion's skin from the thickets of the Euphrates. A mighty one-eyed lion which—"
"Hold!" cried Ninus, leaping to his feet, his hard hands clenched, his neck veins standing out to a wrathful rush of blood. For a moment he stood, regarding the woman with a dark, malignant frown, then he turned to a man-at-arms beside his throne: "Go down with this wench to the keep below and let her taste the lash!"
To those who heard, this deep injustice came like a thunderbolt, for naught had the woman done save to bear a present to the King and speak without his leave. A murmur of protest sounded throughout the gathering, and Menon half arose with his hand upon his sword; yet the Arab checked him by a warning word and a grip upon his arm, for the time was not yet ripe to place a life in jeopardy.
The man-at-arms, obedient to his master's will, strode forward and laid his hand upon the prisoner's arm; but at his touch Semiramis took a backward step, then with her doubled fist she struck him fair upon the apple of his throat. With a grunt of pain the fellow sprawled full length, his armor clanging on the floor, while Huzim lowered his spear point threateningly and Habal crouched beside the prostrate man, his lips rolled back, his eye upon his mistress, waiting for a sign.
Again fell silence, to linger till one might count a score, while all looked on in dumb amaze at this queen who dared the rage of Ninus, meeting his eye with an eye that knew not fear and his scowl with a reckless smile.
"My lord," she began once more, her low voice smooth and even as though the stretching of a warrior on his back were but a pleasing courtesy, "my lord, I bring a lion's skin from the thickets of the Euphrates. A mighty one-eyed lion which leaped upon thy horse's neck and—"
"Have done!" stormed Ninus. "What witch's foolery is this of lions in the thickets of the Euphrates?" He paused to laugh derisively. "Perchance it was even thou who slew the brute—thou with thy puny might."
"Puny?" smiled Semiramis, pointing to the fallen man-at arms. "Nay, ask this grimy dog who dared to pollute me with his touch. And as for the lion, good my lord, I have his skin. Mayhap I slew him, and again mayhap he laid aside his coat in the manner of a wrestler, eager for another bout with Ninus, who, alas, receiveth gifts with but a sorry grace." She smiled once more and again took up her interrupted speech: "My lord, I bring a lion's skin—"
"Peace! Peace!" cried the King, then turned to glare about him savagely. A laugh had broken from some hidden soldier's throat, and, as a flame is kindled from a spark, so mirth ran riot up and down the hall.
The King, whose temper had been weakened by his wound, was placed in a grievous pass. Should he suffer this witch to tell her damning tale of disaster in the chase, it would brand the royal hunter as a braggart and a liar—a case far out of tune with a king's desire to be thought a god. On the other hand, should he check her speech by force, there were those who would hold displeasure for a deed they could not understand. Therefore Ninus swallowed down his spleen and sought to meet guile with guile.
"Princess," he laughed, as he once more took his seat, "with anger assumed did I test the mettle of a huntress at my court, and my heart is glad because of the spirit she hath shown. Speak then, fearing naught, and if thy tale prove true and pleasing to our ears, demand what thou wilt from Ninus in exchange for this one-eyed lion's skin."
Semiramis bowed low and was about to speak, when the monarch checked her with a lifted hand.
"Nay, a moment," he begged. "Now perchance I might tell this tale myself, and thereby lose no shred of its palatable meat." He smiled to his court amusedly and once more bent his glance upon Semiramis: "A lion's skin is borne me from the thickets along the lower Euphrates—a one-eyed lion, fierce and strong, that leapt upon my charger's neck and pressed me hurtfully. I, Ninus, in my terror of a beast so strange, then flung my weapons down, turned tail and fled for safety in my distant camp, whilst thou—all praise to Asshur for the deed—came after me and slew my enemy." Again the monarch laughed and stretched his hand toward the huntress: "Speak, pretty one, is this the tale of Ninus and the one-eyed lion?"
The King, in painting with a brush of truth, had spread his colors artfully, for it came to him that to steal the thunder from an accusing tongue was better far than a shield of defensive lies. So the courtiers whispered among themselves and smiled at the pleasing humor of their Song. This joyed the monarch vastly, for his vanity was large, and now that his wit had given him a vantage ground, he turned to Semiramis, ready for attack, but was ill prepared for his subtle enemy.
On her face came a look of childish wonderment and pain, while her hands were raised in protest of a thought so wrongful to the King. She stood with her back toward thestelewhich pictured the lion hunt, yet, on entering the hall, her eye had marked it, and memory served her well.
"Ah, no, my lord," she answered timidly, as she slowly shook her head, "of a truth thy words are the words of jest, for I saw thy battle from the bough of a citron tree wherein I had climbed in my wish to gaze upon the King."
She paused to drop her eyes, but raised them again at a smile and a word from Assyria's lord.
"Speak," said the King, "and fear not, for we fain would hear this tale.
"O radiant one," returned Semiramis, "small skill have I in the telling of a deed so great, and yet each day my prayers of praise go up to Ishtar, in that I saw this glorious battle of a god."
The King breathed easy and ceased to comb his beard, and Semiramis began her story, of the hunt. At first her voice was low, melodious and calm, yet presently it rose to the fevered pitch of an orator whose audience is but a harp beneath his hand, each string a heart to thrill and quiver at a master-touch. Her listeners seemed to see the hunter charge the king of beasts, his stout spear shivering with the impact of the blow. They heard the lion's roar of fury as he leaped on the shoulder of the rearing steed, to tear at his enemy, while the two tossed to and fro in a grip of death. They heard the rip of armored garments at the stroke of raking claws, while the blood of Ninus dyed his vestments red and his arm rained blows upon the skull of a maddened beast. They saw its mighty jaws relax, the tawny body heave in agony, to drop to the earth at last in death. Then the conqueror strove to staunch his wounds and, failing, rode for succor to his distant camp.
Semiramis ceased to speak, and those who had listened drew a long, deep sigh of wonder at the King's escape and at her who told the tale so truthfully. King Ninus likewise heaved a sigh, but of peace and sweet content, for never since his reign began had he looked upon so glorious a liar.
"Behold!" cried Nakir-Kish, and pointed to thestele.
Semiramis turned, to stare in seeming wonder at the carven miracle. One fluttering hand was drawn across her eyes; her lips moved slowly, giving forth no sound, and all save two who watched her felt that here, indeed, was truth. King Ninus raised his hand to check a tribute of applause, and spoke in a voice of gentleness.
"What more?" he asked. "How came it to pass that a woman beareth the lion's skin to Nineveh?"
Semiramis spread her hands in the manner of one who does a deed too small for the waste of words.
"O mighty one," she answered simply, "of a truth my tale is told. When the beast lay dead I descended from out my tree to watch while my servant removed its skin." She took the lion's hide from Huzim and laid it at the monarch's feet. "My lord, I bring this simple token of my love to Nineveh, in trust that the King of all the world will grant my small desires."
"Say on," cried Ninus, "and by the sword of Asshur do I swear to make a just reward. Speak, then, for we harken to thy wish."
Semiramis spoke not. She raised her eyes to his in the wondering innocence of a little child and smiled.
"Nay, lord, why now should I name desires which Ninus in his wisdom knoweth well?"
"True," returned the monarch thoughtfully, once more combing at his beard and wondering if some trap were being laid, "true, and yet 'twere well to name thy wish aloud, in that these my friends may ever bear a witness to the promise made. Speak, for Ninus heedeth."
"Forgiveness!" begged Semiramis, kneeling upon the lion's skin. "This, O Father of the Land, I ask alone."
"Granted!" cried the King, "though I swear I know not—um—though thy sin be great or small."
Semiramis pressed the fingers of the King against her lips, then, rising, turned with a joyous cry and flung herself into Menon's arms.
A gasp of wonder rose from those who saw, while Menon flushed, and his friend Boabdul smiled. Sozana sought the eyes of Memetis with a furtive glance, but the King rose up in wrath.
"What now!" he demanded, in a voice which shook with passion, but Semiramis checked him with a laugh and stood before him holding Menon's hand.
"Three years agone, as thou knowest well, my lord, he wedded me in Syria."
"Eh—what!" cried the puzzled King. "In truth he is thy spouse?"
"Aye," she nodded happily, "in defiance of his master's will; and thought—the foolish boy—to blind the eyes of the Eagle of Assyria. Yet as for me, my lord, I laughed, for well I knew that the vanities of man must come to dust. What! I asked him, is thy master a fool whose eye can fathom naught beyond his nose? Nay, King Ninus is a god whose wisdom marketh the works of lesser men, and he smileth because of them. Therefore, since Ninus knoweth all, he will treasure up this jest till such a time as Menon cometh unto Nineveh, and will rally him in the sight of all the court. Speak then, O generous lord, that thy courtiers may laugh with thee."
The monarch made no answer. He was like unto a man who stood between two ditches, each too wide to spring across, yet spring he must. To admit a knowledge of his governor's disobedience, would mean forgiveness where the measure of his wrath was fain to fall; and yet denial stamped him, not as a high, far-seeing god, but a mortal fool whose vision ceased at the tip of his royal nose. So Ninus pondered thoughtfully.
"How now, my lord," asked Semiramis with her witch's smile, "in truth dids't thou not know of this joyous happening from the first?"
"Aye," growled Ninus, savagely, "I knew it—from the first."