* * * * *In the valley among the foothills, hidden from the sight of Zariaspa's walls, an army of slaves began to dig a mighty trench; full twenty cubits deep it was, running from north to south in a line which must cross the hidden river-bed. For eleven days they dug, yet all in vain, till many looked askance upon Semiramis, believing her tale to be the fancies of some foolish dream; and of those who doubted, the first was Nakir-Kish, while Ninus followed close upon his heels.The King set watch upon Semiramis, commanding that Menon come not into the western camp till proof of her word was manifest; yet at all these doubts the Syrian laughed, urging her diggers on with promises of reward—reward, forsooth, which would come from the coffers of the King.She demanded the post of chieftain of these works, and from dawn till darkness fell she set the pace for labor, even as Ninus himself had toiled in the building up of Nineveh. At night, when the camp was stilled in sleep, she would creep through the valley's dip, listening from time to time with her ear pressed close against the earth, and at last she reaped reward in the faint far gurgle of waters underneath.On the morning of the eleventh day, the diggers ceased their toil, for their trench had come upon a rocky water-course whose roof was fashioned of timbers and the trunks of trees, whose height five cubits might embrace and whose width was of greater span. No water now flowed through this strange black hole, yet its bottom was wet, and soon a stream came trickling down, to deepen and grow in magnitude; then, while the diggers leaned upon their implements, watching open-mouthed, the current turned upon itself, no longer sweeping toward the city walls, but into the trench Semiramis had dug—a tiny river, running in a strange new bed.And now a marvellous happening came to pass, for, suddenly from out the earth shot a wooden barge full laden with the carcasses of bear and mountain-goat, sheep, and the deer which wander through the hills of Hindu-Kush, much grain and skins of wine. Then, seeing these things, the diggers dropped their tools and fled from Semiramis as from one accursed; but the Syrian laughed and leaped upon the barge.The King, aroused from sleep by a thunderous roar of many voices, came out from his tent and stared into a new-made river flowing at his feet. On its tide sat a rocking barge piled high with food and drink, while on the very topmost sack of grain a red-haired witch was perched, her eyes aglow, her hand outflung in impish greeting to the King."Ho, master!" she cried, with a bubble of laughter in her tone, "the lords of Bactria send tribute to the lord of all the world!"CHAPTER XXIIWHO RULETH, FIRST MUST RISEA sumptuous feast was held, whereat the greater and lesser chiefs of every camp assembled, each in his appointed place; moreover, throughout the army of Assyria no soldier went unfed, or thirsted for a gulp of wine.At the head of the royal board sat Ninus, in his robes of state, with Menon on his left, Semiramis on his right, while below them ran a double row of grim-faced warriors from many lands, the bearded nobles of Assyria's court, the swart barbarian clad in skins; yet pieces all in the bloody game of war. With thumpings of hairy fists they bawled for wine—red wine from the hills of Syria—and in the riot of a drunken toast they thundered forth the name—Shammuramat!King Ninus smiled into Menon's eyes, dropping his hand upon the shoulder of the youth, while Menon smiled in turn, lifted the monarch's hand and pressed it to his lips. And thus amid wild music of the sheep-skin drum and the zither's tinkling whine, beneath the flickering glare of torches filling the air with resinous reek, a truce was made; a treaty betwixt Prince Menon and the King, wherein all enmity should cease, and the youth once more might claim a foster-father's love. In peace might he dwell with his wife Semiramis, and, fearing naught, lead forth his men-at-arms to storm the walls of Zariaspa.Deep into the night a din of revelry was heard, till the vault of the skies turned gray and the burning stars winked out, even as the brawlers one by one dispersed, to rest till a span of sleep brought back their fires again. Then Menon and Semiramis gave thanks unto the King for his bounty and his love, made low obeisance, kissed his robe, and hand in hand went forth into the night.Outside the tent, amid a glare of torches, a chariot stood, its steeds grown restless at the weary wait, and thither Menon led his wife, now his for all time by the oath of Assyria's King; yet ere they could mount and loose the reins, a white-clad figure stole from the shadow of a lesser tent, stood full in the chariot's path and raised his arms. Menon peered beneath the hood, then bent his knee to the High Priest Nakir-Kish."What wouldst thou?" he asked, and the High Priest answered, solemnly:"Of Menon—naught!" Then he laid a finger upon his lip and beckoned to Semiramis.Marvelling, she followed him to a point beyond the hearing of her lord, and by the light of a dying moon she marked his features, grim and cold, his thin lips twitching beneath a manelike beard. A man of commanding beauty was Nakir-Kish, strong in the vigor of his two score years, and stronger still in the pride of his mystic power; and now with folded arms he looked upon Semiramis, keenly, without a show of haste, then, presently, he spoke:"Princess, thy crafts become thee not, nor is it meet that a woman meddleth in affairs of men. Go, then, to the tent of thy lord whom Ninus spareth, and rear him children, leaving the arts of magic and of war to priests and warriors.""Wherefore?" she asked, and looked into his eyes."Because," he made reply, "where the fires of heaven fall, the earth is seared, and the daughters of mortals sleep to wake no more."She smiled, then answered, proudly, and as one who knows not fear:"My mother was Derketo; my father a warrior-god from the Eastern Seas. The fires of heaven may warm me, but will never blight."Full well she knew the cause of his discontent, for the worm of jealousy may eat into the hearts of priests, even as it feeds upon the vanity of lesser men. In bending Ninus to her will, she had filched the boasted powers of Nakir-Kish, and even though she gave him credit for his magic arts, still she contrived to stand upon a step above his own. Where an army of spies had failed to win the secret of Zariaspa's food, where even the Magi with their spells and slaughtered birds discovered naught, a woman had sought among the hills and found; thus, coming as the savior of Assyria's hosts, her, shadow fell athwart the temple's door, and the pride of the priest was shamed. What if this shadow grew? What if this woman thirsted for a higher power and yearned to sway a nation, even as she swayed the minds of a score of fools? Might she not, in the end, push Ninus from his godly pedestal, and in his fall bring bruises to the flesh of Nakir-Kish? Born of devils or of men, what the Syrian craved, that thing must be her own; so the heart of the priest was troubled lest these happenings come to pass."Think," he whispered; "once, once only, will Assyria's King forgive, and at a word from me the pardon of thy lord may slip his memory, in that Menon passeth from our sight to comfort thee no more."Now threats against herself Semiramis could bear, and smile at them as at an idle puff of wind, yet at a hint of evil unto her lord, the tigress within her woke and showed its claws."Priest," she answered, in that purring tone which in after years her courtiers learned to dread, "I bethink me of a little fox I reared in Syria. A weakling he was that grew in strength and appetite because of my bounty and my care. From my hand he received his food, from my heart a love which shielded him from every harm; yet when he stole my father's fowls and hid among the rocky hills, nine days I hunted him with this my hunting spear, and nailed his skin against the wall."Semiramis thrust her weapon upright in the earth and beside it held forth her hand."Choose, Nakir-Kish—I care not which—but choose!"The High Priest pondered, looking into her winkless eyes. Fowls must he have, and wisdom warred with pride. His pride called out aloud for open enmity, for the measuring of his power against her wits, yet wisdom whispered that it were better far to receive his food in peace rather than buy it with the price of a priestly skin; therefore he loosed her spear from out the earth, gave back her own, and took the proffered hand."Thou hast stood my test," he murmured, with a lying smile; and Semiramis watched him till he disappeared beyond the shadows of his tent ere she mounted the chariot beside her waiting lord."What seeketh the High Priest?" Menon asked, and the Syrian laughed softly as she answered him:"He fain would be our friend, for the great man, in his wisdom, hath divined that thou and I may one day rise in power."Across the plain they drove, eastward, till they reached a clump of sheltering trees, and here Prince Menon drew his rein. As to wherefore, she questioned not, for as the moon slipped out from behind a cloud, the warrior took her in his arms, the first embrace since Nineveh was left behind, and her lips met his in a kiss of passion and of tenderness.Yet others beside the moon looked on, with frowns as dark as the gathering clouds; for from the shadows watched Nakir-Kish, sullen in the helpless fury of defeat, while the lord of Assyria saw, also, and clenched his mighty fists.The moon went down behind the spine of Hindu-Kush, and the High Priest slept at last; but Ninus sat brooding till the dawn had come, and the thoughts of the King were evil.* * * * *And now fresh plans were set afoot for the conquering of Zariaspa; King Ninus still laid siege to the western wall, while Menon set upon the east, though between the two no outward enmity was seen. By night they wrought their stratagems within the royal tent, and by daylight scanned the city from the crest of Menon's mound, till those who watched them said within themselves:"Now, verily, are they like unto a father and a son, wherefore Assyria will profit and be glad."Then it came to the mind of Nakir-Kish that Semiramis, because of her splendid deeds, would claim some office of leadership, thereby fermenting jealousies amongst the warrior chiefs; but in this were his prophecies confounded. The Syrian asked for naught. So the High Priest wrought in secret with the King, urging that he set her in command of the Babylonians, whose chief, Prince Asharal, had been stripped of office through the wrath of Ninus. By this design a mighty part of Assyria's host would hate the girl and seek her downfall, even though her blood was spilled; yet when Ninus offered to set her in the place of Asharal, she laughed and shook her head."What!" she demanded, "shall I, a woman, wear the sword of so great a man? Nay, lord, if thou wouldst please me best, forget thy wrath and restore this fallen idol unto Babylon.""Not so," cried Ninus; "in my teeth hath he defied me, and though I spared his life, no more shall he lead his warriors to war. Of a verity, the race of Asharal is run.""True," spoke Semiramis; "right well doth he merit death, yet what of the Babylonians who followed in his lead? With another chief they are but as sullen swine, undiligent, earning not their salt; yet under command of Asharal, who, in the strangeness of their hearts they love, no longer are they swine, but fighting men. Justice, therefore, cheateth Ninus, when craft will give him an hundred thousand allies to his strength."King Ninus, marveling at her wisdom, laughed aloud, and set Prince Asharal in office once again, though when it was whispered that Semiramis and not the King had compassed it, Ninus gained little love from Babylonia, while the Syrian won a kingdom for a friend—a kingdom which would one day set her up on high, and hail her Queen, from sun-parched Egypt to the frozen waters of the North.Thus Semiramis foiled the high priest Nakir-Kish, refusing all honors, taking no part in battle save such assistance as might be rendered to her lord in strategy; yet at length she chose her own reward and was set in command of the subterranean river-bed, together with all supplies therefrom, and in this her choice was good. She pitched her tent among the foot-hills beside the opening of her trench, then summoned the faithful Syrian Kedah, placing him as chief of a thousand men-at-arms. With this her body-guard, and Huzim who slept across the opening of her tent, she could rest in peace, knowing that none would molest her person or pry into the secrets of her charge.Three days went by, and many a laden barge came down to fatten Ninus and his men, yet on the fourth day a great commotion was observed upon the city walls; a throng of priests came forth with Oxyartes at their head, and gazed toward the distant mountain range, then an under-priest made ready a pyre of wood, drenched it with pitch and applied a torch, so that soon a column of dense black smoke ascended in the breezeless air. Then another pyre was lit, likewise a third, though his last was smothered by a mighty cloth in the hands of many priests. The cloth they removed anon, then thrust it back again, and lo! the smoke went up, not in columns the like of the other fires, but in short black puffs with intervals between.To those who watched, these pitch-fires seemed but some religious rite of their strange, barbaric foes, but one among them was of different mind."By Bêlit," cried Semiramis, springing to her feet, "the Bactrians signal to their friends among the hills! Go, Kedah, take a force of slingers to gall those busy priests upon the wall. Up, Huzim! Light a score of fires, in that the signs of Oxyartes may be confounded. Go!"She watched, and soon a myriad of fires sprang up, to send a spark-shot curtain rolling above the battlements; the while a band of Hittites camped hard by, thinking an attack was planned, ran out and stormed the walls. A wild, unwonted hubbub rose, whereat the King grew wroth and sent a force of men with whips to flog the Hittites back into their camp again. Then the Bactrians, looking down upon these things, were mystified and whispered among themselves in wondering awe:"To the high gods, praise! King Ninus hath lost his reason, for of a certainty the man is mad!"That day the trench which led to the camp of Ninus was closed by a mighty gate of wood, and the subterranean river flowed once more to Zariaspa, and the Bactrians ate of the food which travelled underneath their towering hills."How now!" the King demanded of Semiramis when report was made to him by Nakir-Kish. "Wherefore should we feed our foes? Lift straightway this foolish gate and let us feast again.""Nay, lord," the Syrian made reply, "this thing I may not do;" and the King stepped backward, rent by wonder at her words.To Ninus, one who disobeyed was as one whose life is forfeited forthwith, for the pride of the man was great, and commands, once given, were carried through, even though the cost thereof was greater than the vantage gained; yet in the calm defiance of this red-haired imp there lurked a spirit as fearless as his own—a something which bewitched the soul of him, causing him to swallow down his wrath and ask with a meekness new to his fiery tongue:"Where the King desireth the welfare of Assyria's host, wherefore wouldst thou thwart so just an aim?"Thoughtfully she scraped the earth with one sandaled foot, smiled, and made reply:"Of a surety my lord would be a half-fed serpent rather than an empty-bellied hawk.""What meanest thou?" he asked, and again the Syrian smiled."'Tis better far that the belts of Assyria hang loose for a little space than to shout to Oxyartes concerning our knowledge of his river bed. Should he signal again to his friends across the Hindu-Kush, then straightway will they cease to load their boats, and albeit Zariaspa thereby starveth, naught is gained, for Ninus suffereth the hunger of a fool. So, then, to Oxyartes shall go one-half, till he, in wonder at the small supply, will signal to his friends for more; and thus may we satisfy the needs of all."For a space the monarch made no answer, but looked in thought across the yellow plain, then at length he spoke, as one who communes with himself alone:"By the splendor of Shamashi-Ramân, the time hath come when Ninus must cease to meddle in affairs of craft."He spoke no more, but mounted his chariot and drove to his distant camp, slowly, with his head bowed low, though ever and anon he laughed, as one who gloats with pride at his own contrivances.When the King was gone, Semiramis sat pondering, with puckered brow, with eyes which saw not, yet seemed to pierce the city walls; then she caused the river-gate to be raised once more, and, whispering a command to Kedah, called Huzim to her side and disappeared with him till the strength of the sun was spent and night had settled down upon the hills.Prince Menon, coming from his eastern camp to seek Semiramis, could find no trace of her. In vain he sought, but none could give him news, while even Kedha lied stoutly concerning her affairs, though it pained his vitals to falsify unto one he loved. In despair the Prince was thinking of departure, when Semiramis herself appeared with a suddenness which caused her spouse to stare. From beneath a mat in a corner of her tent the head of Huzim rose; after it came his body which stooped and raised Semiramis as from a pit. Wet were her garments, soaked with mud and slime, till it seems as if she must have wallowed in a mire, while even her hair hung dank and dripping about her neck."In the name of the gods—!" cried Menon, but she checked him with a grimy hand thrust swiftly across his mouth. She looked to note that none were lingering outside her tent, then, laughing softly, whispered into Menon's ear:"Fear not, my lord; no accident hath befallen me; yet the soul of the King desireth a bird called Zariaspa, and I—in the hope of pleasing him—have sprinkled a pinch of salt upon its tail."CHAPTER XXIIITHE SIEGESemiramis in her chariot drove slowly round the wall of Zariaspa, scanning it from every vantage point; impenetrable, grim, it towered above her in the dignity of strength—the majesty of strength—which scorned to even mock the puny power of muscle and of brain."Mistress," asked Huzim who stood beside her in the chariot, "what booteth it to win this outer wall when the higher walls of the citadel must needs be scaled?""It booteth much," she answered with a smile, "for this citadel was made a gift to me two moons agone."The Indian drew his reins and stared upon her in deep concern, thinking the sun, perchance, had touched her brain."What meanest thou?"For a moment there came no answer, yet presently she raised her impish eyes:"Huzim, my father Simmas once spake a mighty truth, saying that he whose tongue betrayed the children of his thought was both a murderer and a fool."The Indian flicked his steeds, and in silence drove along the city's western side till Semiramis bade him draw his reins again; wherefore he knew not, for she paused to watch the common sight of a giant catapult hurling stones against the wall. This engine was fashioned in the form of a flinging-beam, the beam bent downward by ropes of human hair and sinews from the necks of bulls, while on its end was set a heavy stone. The beam, released, sprang upward, propelling its missile in a lumbering curve, yet wrought no harm, for the heavier stones fell short, while the lighter ones flew high, to crash into some house beyond the walls."See," said Semiramis, sitting upon the rim of a chariot wheel and pointing to the fruitless work, "they ever miss their mark because of these stones of unequal weight and shape. See, Huzim, the Bactrians hold no fear of missiles which fly so slowly and do but encumber the earth beneath their walls. If, perchance—"She paused of a sudden, one brown hand rubbing idly on the chariot wheel, her gaze fixed fast on a heap of broken stones; then she laughed aloud and danced upon the sand in the manner of some joy some child."What aileth thee, my mistress?" asked the Indian, and she laughed again in answer to his questioning:"In truth, good Huzim, once more am I the mother of a thought—a sturdy brat—and thou shalt help me nurture him, for, lo! these laboring swine have made to me the gift of Zariaspa's outer walls."Menon, Huzim and Semiramis sat far into the night, pondering over plans and stratagems, and when morning came the Indian and his mistress sought out a hidden valley among the hills. With them went seven score of workmen, a full-armed guard, and slaves who bore the beams and bodies of abandoned catapults; and straightway the voice of labor rose on the mountain side, while along the valley's lip was set the guard, who with slings and shafts made answer to wandering curiosity.In Menon's camp a labor was likewise set afoot, and engines of siege were put to rights again, while the army, wondering at things they could not understand, were set to making sacks. These sacks they contrived of fibre, of discarded clothes, of the cloth of canopies, or of any fabric gleaned from far or near sobeit they held two hundred-weight of sand; and when a warrior made questionings as to the strangeness of this toil, his chief would bid him hold his tongue, for the reason thereof was known to Menon and Semiramis alone.When tidings of these happenings were brought unto the King, he drove away the messenger with oaths, for his heart was sick of fruitless stratagems. Where Ninus failed, there also must Menon fail; so the King went hunting through the uplands, finding little game, but much to vex the soul of him because of unhappy ponderings. Glory he desired, and the mastery of all the world, yet greater than these was his haunting thirst for the mastery of one woman's love and the glory of her passion lit for him alone.In such a mood King Ninus one day came upon Semiramis returning from the valley in the hills, and marveled at the score of engines which she dragged across the sands. So frail they were, so slender as to build and the fashioning of hurling-beams, that the King desired to know if these toys were designed to fling the stones of cherries at their enemies."Aye," said Semiramis, gravely and without a smile, "for the Bactrians like not cherries, nor the stones thereof. Come, good my lord, tomorrow, for tomorrow a red juice trickleth from their battlements."This answer puzzled Ninus, puzzled him throughout the night and filled his very dreams with a deep unrest; so on the morrow he drove into Menon's eastern camp to mark what craft might lie beneath the Syrian's words. Yet, if craft it was, its meaning was hidden from the monarch's mind, for Menon was now employed in throwing sacks of sand against the city wall. No aim had they to harm the besieged upon the battlements, but smote the masonry with a harmless thud and piled upon the earth. Full two score engines, set in line and served by eager, sweating men, were thus engaged in a foolish sport; and as Ninus laughed in scorn, so laughed the Bactrians, gibing Menon and urging him to a greater diligence.Now, strangely, Menon's warriors made no answer to the enemy's abuse, but wrought in silence, bearing endless bags of sand upon their backs, while beyond sat the engines of Semiramis, idle, aiding naught in this mockery of siege; yet beneath the walls a mound of sand-sacks grew apace; then, of a sudden, the jeering Bactrians understood. Their laughter was changed to curses, their merriment to shouts of rage, for they saw that Menon built a sloping road-way to their battlements and soon would launch a horde of warriors upon the walls.And now a tumult rose—the cries of captains raging at their men, the shriek of battle-horns and the answering din of Bactrian soldiery rushing to defense. On the walls were set their heaviest catapults with the aim of wrecking Menon's lighter engines of assault; but now the "thought-child" of Semiramis took a part, and even Ninus watched in awe.This engine was not the like of other engines, for its hurling-beam bent backward in half a circle's space, and on the beam was set a chariot wheel. When loosed, the beam sprang forward with a sidelong sweep and the missile was launched as a boy might fling a shell. At the first discharge—aimed high because of a lurking vanity in the Syrian's soul—the wheel spun out, and, with a strange, melodious sound, went whining over Zariaspa. The eyes of Assyria's host looked on in wonder and in pride of her, and the joy of Semiramis was like unto the joy of a crowing babe.Soon other engines were set in place and a score of chariot wheels were loosed, with a mournful, pleasing hum—pleasing to those who sent it forth, yet of different tune to the hapless warriors who were dashed from off their walls. These wheels, by reason of their roundness and their equal weight, could be flung with a wondrous accuracy, and woe unto those who sought to serve the Bactrian catapults; while Menon, in peace, went forward with his toil of piling sacks of sand.If the Bactrians raged because of this new-born stratagem, so Ninus also raged, but in another vein of wrath. None had communed with him concerning it, and Menon, in secret, sought to snatch a glory from his King; so Ninus cast about him for a cause of just displeasure at the man. With the road against the wall he could find no fault, for the sands of the desert were free to all; yet the casting away of his chariot wheels was wicked extravagance, a crime, and in no wise to be borne."How now, Shammuramat!" he cried, striding to her side, and trembling in his wrath. "Wherefore shouldst thou do this evil thing? and how shall my hosts ride home to Nineveh when the wheels of my chariots are cast among our enemies?""Nay, lord," she answered, with her devil's laugh, "to-day, when Zariaspa shall be thine, then mays't thou gather up these cherry-stones and call them wheels again."So Ninus, cursing, turned upon his heel, mounted his waiting chariot and drove furiously toward the western camp, in his ears a roar from Zariaspa's walls and an answering roar from those who toiled beneath; then Semiramis left her engines, and, with Huzim to drive her steeds, went clattering along the dust-trail of the King.The camp once reached, the King deployed his armies in a swift attack upon the western wall, in the hope that Bactria's force was bent on the distant point where Menon struck his blow; so creaking towers and mighty structures of wood and brass were pushed toward the battlements, and men swarmed up, to grapple with defending foes, to fall and die.Semiramis, following in the wake of Ninus, caused Huzim to draw his reins at the camp of Asharal, the Babylonian Prince whom the monarch had deprived of office, yet restored again at the pleadings of the Syrian. To him she whispered, and at the whisper Prince Asharal smiled happily and straightway sought the King. The King he found in a fretful mood because of the slowness of his armies and their failure to win the walls, and it troubled him the more when Asharal in meekness bent his knee and spoke:"My lord, in what appointed place shall thy servant serve, trusting thereby to aid my King in this his sore discomfiture?"Now this question, to Ninus, was like salt in an open wound, and he fain would have smitten Asharal upon his humble mouth; yet many watched, and so the King stretched forth one trembling arm and pointed to the citadel."There standeth what we seek! Go seek it, fool, and trouble me no more with idle questionings!"The Babylonian bowed his head, half in homage, half in his wish to hide a joyous smile, and so went out from the presence of the King; yet, presently, he came upon Semiramis, sprang upon her chariot-tail, and the steeds were lashed in a race toward the hills. They made no pause till they reached the gateway of the subterranean river course, where Asharal made choice of a thousand Babylonian men-at-arms, and, commanding them to follow, disappeared with Kedha, Huzim and Semiramis into the bowels of the earth.This move was made in secret and with care, yet a rumor thereof was learned by the prying High Priest Nakir-Kish who forthwith hastened to the King; yet Ninus was in the stress of an ill-gone battle, frowning tugging at his beard, so the High Priest held his tongue till a more propitious moment for his evil news. He waited apart, but Ninus spied him presently and called him to his side."Priest," said he, "a weighty question haunteth me, without a pause or peace, and the answer thereto is hidden from my mind; yet, mayhap, some aid may rise from out thine auguries.""Speak on," begged Nakir-Kish, and the troubled monarch spoke:"At Nineveh I swore an oath that he who first stood conqueror on the citadel of Zariaspa might claim a woman as his own, be the man a king or the spawn of a Hittite serf. In Bactria I gave this woman unto Menon, swearing again in an oath to part them not." He paused and looked on Nakir-Kish with narrowed eyes. "May a monarch swear two oaths, the one against the other, keeping both? Not so. Which, then, shall I keep, and which may Ninus break without affront to the justice of our gods?"The High Priest looked upon his master and read the evil in his heart. Full well he knew which oath the King would break; full well he knew the danger in unpleasing auguries; so he closed his eyes, and in a solemn voice made answer, craftily:"To one who is born a god, the gods alone make known their highest will. Heed, then, O King, thy servant's poor advice. Stand first thyself upon the citadel, and in thy justice give this woman unto him who best deserveth such a prize."He paused. The moment now was ripe to tell of Semiramis and Asharal, yet ere he could speak the tide of battle called the King who leaped into his chariot, leaving Nakir-Kish alone. In the sands of the desert the High Priest stood, watching his master's receding form till it passed from sight, then he muttered in his beard:"A man may be born a King; a man may be born a fool; yet if I were King I would stamp this Syrian devil in the dust, lest she ride one day on a kingdom's back as a beggar may ride an ass."So the High Priest Nakir-Kish went out and opened the carcass of a sacred crane, finding therein no augury of happiness for master or for man.* * * * *On the eastern side of the city wall the sand heap grew apace, and now a band of Hittites rushed furiously up the slope to engage the defenders of the battlements. No foothold might they gain upon the wall, and were slain because of their ardor and their foolishness; yet their bodies added to the growing pile.On the walls thronged hordes of reckless Bactrians, stemming the assault, and among them crashed the spinning chariot wheels, landing with an upward lurch and causing wide, bloody gaps, to be filled by other martyrs in a hopeless cause. The Bactrians liked not cherries, and, even as Semiramis had said, a red juice trickled from their battlements. Likewise, beneath the walls were many Assyrians slain by darts and slings, and, when sacks of sand grew scarce, their corpses were set in the catapults and hurled upon the heap, till the roadway well-nigh reached the summit of the wall.The forces of Menon now gathered for a rush, but the Bactrians checked them by a brave device. From the wall's lip they emptied great vats of oil which ran in the crevices between the sacks of sand, and when torches were flung thereon the roadway became a Gibil's path which mortals might not climb and live. Huge tongues of yellow flame licked forth; dense clouds of smoke puffed out and went rolling towards the sky; yet if this sea of fire held hungering Assyria back, it likewise drove their foemen from the battlements, and so for a space defense and assault alike were quelled.And now a watcher from the summit of Menon's mound cried out a warning unto those below."The King! The King!" he cried. "Ho, brothers, look ye and beware! King Ninus hath won to the western wall!"It was even as he said, for on the west but a weak defense was given, and Ninus and his warriors had mounted to the parapets, soon to descend into the city streets and cleave a pathway to the citadel. The Citadel! There Menon, too, had sworn to stand the first, for his heart was troubled by the master's double oath; yet now the road was blocked by raging flame."Sand! Sand!" he cried, and the sacks were slit and set in the catapults. On striking they would burst, the loose sand being scattered far and wide; and thus, through diligence and the urging of his men by lashes and the promise of rich reward, the flames were in part subdued.Then up this smoking pathway rushed the armies of Assyria, lusting for blood in the thirst of a long year's wait, hungering for the plunder of this mighty jewel-chest, mad for the women waiting in the grip of fear. They burned their hands on the blistered masonry, scorched their feet as they trod the parapets; yet quickly they spread to distant points along the wall or leaped below on the spear points of the Bactrians.The walls once gained, Assyria held the whip-hand, and an endless stream of fighting men came pouring into the streets. On the western side King Ninus had torn away the masonry which blocked the gate, and a wedge of chariots came thundering in, to ride the defenders down. Thus, east and west, Assyria pressed on Bactria, forcing the foemen inward toward their citadel, and through every street and alley battle rioted and knew no pause. For every pace King Oxyartes asked a price of blood which Ninus paid, and the sons of Zariaspa struggled to the death for their hearths and homes, while women from the house tops tore away the tiles and flung them down—flung curses also, and their very beds which they dragged upon the roofs and tumbled on the conquerors.On every hand the awsome din of war arose, the screams of death and victory, the battle chants of charging men, and the roar of flame which wrapped the city round about. As clouds of rolling smoke went up, with the tongue of carnage sounding underneath, the household doves of Bactria took fright and began to wheel in dizzy circles overhead. A warrior saw therein an omen, and cried to his fellows that Semiramis was born of doves; therefore Asshur smiled upon her and on the arms of those who served.Forthwith a mighty roar went up, and as Assyria pushed toward the citadel her warriors thundered forth the name—SHAMMURAMAT.CHAPTER XXIVTHE CITADELAlong the subterranean river course, cautiously and without a light, groped Kedha, Semiramis and Asharal, while at their heels walked Huzim bearing on his shoulder a mighty hammer with a ponderous head of brass; and following after came a thousand Babylonian warriors picked for their courage and their skill in deeds of arms.One other came also, albeit none had bidden him, and now he came snuffling to the Syrian's side, knowing full well that the time was past when his mistress might send him back; so Semiramis cursed Habal softly and suffered him to go."Asharal," she whispered presently, "in this my enterprise a chance is given thee to win renown among the peoples of thy land, yet in return therefor I ask a price." She laid a hand upon his shoulder and spoke into his ear: "If the halls of the citadel be cleared, no man save Menon first must stand with me upon the roof, else a woe may come of it. Pledge me, therefore, in the word of a Prince of Babylon.""Princess," he answered, "the kingdom which I serve is thine, even as its chief is thine, and he who passeth Asharal upon the stair must pass him dead."Now Kedah, who heard, said naught, but his hand sought the hand of Semiramis whom he loved; he raised it and in the darkness pressed it to his lips.Prince Asharal went backward, whispering to the chieftains of his line who in turn passed down the purport of command to every follower, then in silence the march went on.They came at last to the mouth of the passage-way which was guarded by a double gate of brass, and beyond, through its massive bars, could be discerned a vaulted chamber, where the city cisterns lay, stretching away in impenetrable gloom. Behind the gates sat a full-armed sentinel drowsing at his post, yet an arrow in his throat brought deeper slumber to the man; then Huzim raised his hammer and, grunting, struck the gates. Thrice fell his mighty blows, with a clanging crash that sent the echoes rolling down a hundred passage-ways, and from out the murk came running other sentinels, trumpet-tongued in the flush of dread alarm."Strike, Huzim!" shrilled Semiramis. "Strike in the name of Bêlit—and in mine!"So Huzim once more raised the hammer head above his own and, with a heave which drove the blood from out his nostrils, struck; the brazen gates fell inward, smitten from their hinges, and Semiramis sprang over them. Upward her warriors pressed toward halls of Zariaspa's citadel, and where a doorway barred their path, there Huzim smote it, till wood and metal gave before his strength; then into the central hall burst a raging imp of war, with the wolves of Babylonia baying at her heels.Within the inner court were gathered many women, the wives of nobles, the children of King Oxyartes and his spouse, huddled together in the fear of death, but these Semiramis harmed not. Her work was laid among the warriors who manned the gates of the outer court, holding them for the inrush of the Bactrians fighting in the streets, for every man who might be spared from the citadel's defense was flung against the invading hordes of Menon and the King. So it chanced that within the citadel were, in all, three thousand men-at-arms, and these Semiramis attacked as a hound may leap at a lion's throat; yet ill it might have gone with her slender force had Menon not sent another thousand warriors to follow down the hidden river course. They came at the turning point of fate, the mountaineers from the land of Naïri, wild, hairy men who sang as they fought, or died with a broken song upon their lips; thus their strange, barbaric tongues gave heart to Babylon, even as their swords brought woe amongst the enemy.The gates were won; the victors pursued their quarry from hall to hall, through winding passageways and on stairs that dripped with blood, while Semiramis, with Kedah and Huzim, worked ever upward toward the highest battlements. Two stairways led to an opening on the roof, the one upon the right, the other on the left, and these they mounted, while from without came the roar of battle raging in the streets.When the Bactrians, pressed by Ninus, sought refuge in their citadel they came upon fast-locked gates, and so a tangled swarm of defeated warriors were squeezed against the walls, while into them drove Menon and the King, cleaving a pathway to the goal of their hearts' desire.From the press King Ninus looked upward to the summit of the citadel and marvelled at what he saw, for a shepherd dog—the first to stand a conqueror thereon—looked down and barked and barked; then Semiramis sprang beside him, her red locks tossing from beneath her helm. She, too, looked down, on a caldron of murder seething in the pool of Zariaspa's walls; then she raised her round young arms, and, even as the conquering eagle screams, so screamed Semiramis, in a vaunting battle-cry.In the streets below that cry reechoed from the thirst-parched tongues of a raging multitude that thundered at the fast-locked gates and trod on a floor of slain; then the bolts were drawn and the halls of the citadel were gorged with the inrush of a conquering horde. In the van ran Ninus, and close beside him Menon came, each intent on mounting to the battlements, each watching covertly lest the other gain some vantage ground; thus it came about that the two contrived a separate road. The King advanced to the stairway on the right, and with sword in hand looked backward, in a grim, unspoken vow to slay the man who followed him; but a Babylonian whispered in the ear of Menon who was straightway swallowed up amongst the throng.Now the followers of Asharal, according to their pledge, made way for Menon, opening a path toward the flight of stairs upon the left, while the right was barred by the fighting-men of Babylon. Here none might mount and live, yet at the coming of the King—this black-browed warrior-lord of all the world—the blood of Babylon was cooled; their sword points fell, and they suffered him to pass—to pass across the wounded, senseless form of Asharal.So, upward ran Prince and King, the one upon the right, the other on the left, each panting in his toil till their veins were swelled into throbbing, purple knots; each casting aside all reckoning of life and death save the one desire to outstrip his fellow animal in the race toward the roof. The roof!—whereon a woman stood—one mould of mortal clay, yet mixed with the blood-red wine of passion, whereof men drink, and in their madness trample on the altars of their gods.Upward, still upward, till a single flight remained, and none might say which held a vantage of the lead; then Menon groaned aloud and sank exhausted on the stair. Huzim, watching from above, leaped down to seize his master in his arms and bear him upon the roof; yet, alas! too late, for the mighty sinews of the King would win to the summit of the citadel. The race was well-nigh run. Between the lord of all Assyria and his goal there stood one man alone—Kedha the faithful—he who loved Semiramis as a dog may love the master of his heart; he who loved in silence since that bygone day in Syria when a red-locked imp of war had cursed him in his teeth and with him charged a wall of battling Kurds. At the coming of the King he crouched upon the stair, not in fear, but in awe of that crowning flash of Destiny when a man and his spirit reach the parting of the way. An arm shot out and seized the monarch's thigh; a shoulder pressed him, and the two plunged downward, rolling to the bottom of the stair.In the fall poor Kedha lay beneath the King—beneath two hairy hands that in fury gripped his throat. These hands had builded Nineveh; they had played with nations as a juggler toys with sharpened blades; they had woven the thongs of servitude—from sun-baked Egypt to the frozen waters of the North—and now they closed, till the neck of one last slave was snapped and his body lay in a bleeding, huddled heap. Thus Kedha passed, in the cause of those he loved, and, in passing, wrought a nobler deed than the lord of all Assyria could boast, with scepter and with sword.When Ninus at last came out upon the roof, Menon rested from the toil of battle and the stress of his racing climb, breath-spent, with fast-closed eyes which noted not the coming of his King. In his heart of hearts the monarch yearned to raise the victor in his arms and hurl him from the battlements, but Semiramis leaned upon his hunting spear, even as Huzim leaned upon his mighty hammer haft; therefore the monarch smiled. He raised Prince Menon and set him upon the battlements, and then, in the sight of the watching hosts, proclaimed him conqueror; whereat a mighty roar went up, till the soul of the King grew faint with fury, though his hand was steady, and he smiled.
* * * * *
In the valley among the foothills, hidden from the sight of Zariaspa's walls, an army of slaves began to dig a mighty trench; full twenty cubits deep it was, running from north to south in a line which must cross the hidden river-bed. For eleven days they dug, yet all in vain, till many looked askance upon Semiramis, believing her tale to be the fancies of some foolish dream; and of those who doubted, the first was Nakir-Kish, while Ninus followed close upon his heels.
The King set watch upon Semiramis, commanding that Menon come not into the western camp till proof of her word was manifest; yet at all these doubts the Syrian laughed, urging her diggers on with promises of reward—reward, forsooth, which would come from the coffers of the King.
She demanded the post of chieftain of these works, and from dawn till darkness fell she set the pace for labor, even as Ninus himself had toiled in the building up of Nineveh. At night, when the camp was stilled in sleep, she would creep through the valley's dip, listening from time to time with her ear pressed close against the earth, and at last she reaped reward in the faint far gurgle of waters underneath.
On the morning of the eleventh day, the diggers ceased their toil, for their trench had come upon a rocky water-course whose roof was fashioned of timbers and the trunks of trees, whose height five cubits might embrace and whose width was of greater span. No water now flowed through this strange black hole, yet its bottom was wet, and soon a stream came trickling down, to deepen and grow in magnitude; then, while the diggers leaned upon their implements, watching open-mouthed, the current turned upon itself, no longer sweeping toward the city walls, but into the trench Semiramis had dug—a tiny river, running in a strange new bed.
And now a marvellous happening came to pass, for, suddenly from out the earth shot a wooden barge full laden with the carcasses of bear and mountain-goat, sheep, and the deer which wander through the hills of Hindu-Kush, much grain and skins of wine. Then, seeing these things, the diggers dropped their tools and fled from Semiramis as from one accursed; but the Syrian laughed and leaped upon the barge.
The King, aroused from sleep by a thunderous roar of many voices, came out from his tent and stared into a new-made river flowing at his feet. On its tide sat a rocking barge piled high with food and drink, while on the very topmost sack of grain a red-haired witch was perched, her eyes aglow, her hand outflung in impish greeting to the King.
"Ho, master!" she cried, with a bubble of laughter in her tone, "the lords of Bactria send tribute to the lord of all the world!"
CHAPTER XXII
WHO RULETH, FIRST MUST RISE
A sumptuous feast was held, whereat the greater and lesser chiefs of every camp assembled, each in his appointed place; moreover, throughout the army of Assyria no soldier went unfed, or thirsted for a gulp of wine.
At the head of the royal board sat Ninus, in his robes of state, with Menon on his left, Semiramis on his right, while below them ran a double row of grim-faced warriors from many lands, the bearded nobles of Assyria's court, the swart barbarian clad in skins; yet pieces all in the bloody game of war. With thumpings of hairy fists they bawled for wine—red wine from the hills of Syria—and in the riot of a drunken toast they thundered forth the name—Shammuramat!
King Ninus smiled into Menon's eyes, dropping his hand upon the shoulder of the youth, while Menon smiled in turn, lifted the monarch's hand and pressed it to his lips. And thus amid wild music of the sheep-skin drum and the zither's tinkling whine, beneath the flickering glare of torches filling the air with resinous reek, a truce was made; a treaty betwixt Prince Menon and the King, wherein all enmity should cease, and the youth once more might claim a foster-father's love. In peace might he dwell with his wife Semiramis, and, fearing naught, lead forth his men-at-arms to storm the walls of Zariaspa.
Deep into the night a din of revelry was heard, till the vault of the skies turned gray and the burning stars winked out, even as the brawlers one by one dispersed, to rest till a span of sleep brought back their fires again. Then Menon and Semiramis gave thanks unto the King for his bounty and his love, made low obeisance, kissed his robe, and hand in hand went forth into the night.
Outside the tent, amid a glare of torches, a chariot stood, its steeds grown restless at the weary wait, and thither Menon led his wife, now his for all time by the oath of Assyria's King; yet ere they could mount and loose the reins, a white-clad figure stole from the shadow of a lesser tent, stood full in the chariot's path and raised his arms. Menon peered beneath the hood, then bent his knee to the High Priest Nakir-Kish.
"What wouldst thou?" he asked, and the High Priest answered, solemnly:
"Of Menon—naught!" Then he laid a finger upon his lip and beckoned to Semiramis.
Marvelling, she followed him to a point beyond the hearing of her lord, and by the light of a dying moon she marked his features, grim and cold, his thin lips twitching beneath a manelike beard. A man of commanding beauty was Nakir-Kish, strong in the vigor of his two score years, and stronger still in the pride of his mystic power; and now with folded arms he looked upon Semiramis, keenly, without a show of haste, then, presently, he spoke:
"Princess, thy crafts become thee not, nor is it meet that a woman meddleth in affairs of men. Go, then, to the tent of thy lord whom Ninus spareth, and rear him children, leaving the arts of magic and of war to priests and warriors."
"Wherefore?" she asked, and looked into his eyes.
"Because," he made reply, "where the fires of heaven fall, the earth is seared, and the daughters of mortals sleep to wake no more."
She smiled, then answered, proudly, and as one who knows not fear:
"My mother was Derketo; my father a warrior-god from the Eastern Seas. The fires of heaven may warm me, but will never blight."
Full well she knew the cause of his discontent, for the worm of jealousy may eat into the hearts of priests, even as it feeds upon the vanity of lesser men. In bending Ninus to her will, she had filched the boasted powers of Nakir-Kish, and even though she gave him credit for his magic arts, still she contrived to stand upon a step above his own. Where an army of spies had failed to win the secret of Zariaspa's food, where even the Magi with their spells and slaughtered birds discovered naught, a woman had sought among the hills and found; thus, coming as the savior of Assyria's hosts, her, shadow fell athwart the temple's door, and the pride of the priest was shamed. What if this shadow grew? What if this woman thirsted for a higher power and yearned to sway a nation, even as she swayed the minds of a score of fools? Might she not, in the end, push Ninus from his godly pedestal, and in his fall bring bruises to the flesh of Nakir-Kish? Born of devils or of men, what the Syrian craved, that thing must be her own; so the heart of the priest was troubled lest these happenings come to pass.
"Think," he whispered; "once, once only, will Assyria's King forgive, and at a word from me the pardon of thy lord may slip his memory, in that Menon passeth from our sight to comfort thee no more."
Now threats against herself Semiramis could bear, and smile at them as at an idle puff of wind, yet at a hint of evil unto her lord, the tigress within her woke and showed its claws.
"Priest," she answered, in that purring tone which in after years her courtiers learned to dread, "I bethink me of a little fox I reared in Syria. A weakling he was that grew in strength and appetite because of my bounty and my care. From my hand he received his food, from my heart a love which shielded him from every harm; yet when he stole my father's fowls and hid among the rocky hills, nine days I hunted him with this my hunting spear, and nailed his skin against the wall."
Semiramis thrust her weapon upright in the earth and beside it held forth her hand.
"Choose, Nakir-Kish—I care not which—but choose!"
The High Priest pondered, looking into her winkless eyes. Fowls must he have, and wisdom warred with pride. His pride called out aloud for open enmity, for the measuring of his power against her wits, yet wisdom whispered that it were better far to receive his food in peace rather than buy it with the price of a priestly skin; therefore he loosed her spear from out the earth, gave back her own, and took the proffered hand.
"Thou hast stood my test," he murmured, with a lying smile; and Semiramis watched him till he disappeared beyond the shadows of his tent ere she mounted the chariot beside her waiting lord.
"What seeketh the High Priest?" Menon asked, and the Syrian laughed softly as she answered him:
"He fain would be our friend, for the great man, in his wisdom, hath divined that thou and I may one day rise in power."
Across the plain they drove, eastward, till they reached a clump of sheltering trees, and here Prince Menon drew his rein. As to wherefore, she questioned not, for as the moon slipped out from behind a cloud, the warrior took her in his arms, the first embrace since Nineveh was left behind, and her lips met his in a kiss of passion and of tenderness.
Yet others beside the moon looked on, with frowns as dark as the gathering clouds; for from the shadows watched Nakir-Kish, sullen in the helpless fury of defeat, while the lord of Assyria saw, also, and clenched his mighty fists.
The moon went down behind the spine of Hindu-Kush, and the High Priest slept at last; but Ninus sat brooding till the dawn had come, and the thoughts of the King were evil.
* * * * *
And now fresh plans were set afoot for the conquering of Zariaspa; King Ninus still laid siege to the western wall, while Menon set upon the east, though between the two no outward enmity was seen. By night they wrought their stratagems within the royal tent, and by daylight scanned the city from the crest of Menon's mound, till those who watched them said within themselves:
"Now, verily, are they like unto a father and a son, wherefore Assyria will profit and be glad."
Then it came to the mind of Nakir-Kish that Semiramis, because of her splendid deeds, would claim some office of leadership, thereby fermenting jealousies amongst the warrior chiefs; but in this were his prophecies confounded. The Syrian asked for naught. So the High Priest wrought in secret with the King, urging that he set her in command of the Babylonians, whose chief, Prince Asharal, had been stripped of office through the wrath of Ninus. By this design a mighty part of Assyria's host would hate the girl and seek her downfall, even though her blood was spilled; yet when Ninus offered to set her in the place of Asharal, she laughed and shook her head.
"What!" she demanded, "shall I, a woman, wear the sword of so great a man? Nay, lord, if thou wouldst please me best, forget thy wrath and restore this fallen idol unto Babylon."
"Not so," cried Ninus; "in my teeth hath he defied me, and though I spared his life, no more shall he lead his warriors to war. Of a verity, the race of Asharal is run."
"True," spoke Semiramis; "right well doth he merit death, yet what of the Babylonians who followed in his lead? With another chief they are but as sullen swine, undiligent, earning not their salt; yet under command of Asharal, who, in the strangeness of their hearts they love, no longer are they swine, but fighting men. Justice, therefore, cheateth Ninus, when craft will give him an hundred thousand allies to his strength."
King Ninus, marveling at her wisdom, laughed aloud, and set Prince Asharal in office once again, though when it was whispered that Semiramis and not the King had compassed it, Ninus gained little love from Babylonia, while the Syrian won a kingdom for a friend—a kingdom which would one day set her up on high, and hail her Queen, from sun-parched Egypt to the frozen waters of the North.
Thus Semiramis foiled the high priest Nakir-Kish, refusing all honors, taking no part in battle save such assistance as might be rendered to her lord in strategy; yet at length she chose her own reward and was set in command of the subterranean river-bed, together with all supplies therefrom, and in this her choice was good. She pitched her tent among the foot-hills beside the opening of her trench, then summoned the faithful Syrian Kedah, placing him as chief of a thousand men-at-arms. With this her body-guard, and Huzim who slept across the opening of her tent, she could rest in peace, knowing that none would molest her person or pry into the secrets of her charge.
Three days went by, and many a laden barge came down to fatten Ninus and his men, yet on the fourth day a great commotion was observed upon the city walls; a throng of priests came forth with Oxyartes at their head, and gazed toward the distant mountain range, then an under-priest made ready a pyre of wood, drenched it with pitch and applied a torch, so that soon a column of dense black smoke ascended in the breezeless air. Then another pyre was lit, likewise a third, though his last was smothered by a mighty cloth in the hands of many priests. The cloth they removed anon, then thrust it back again, and lo! the smoke went up, not in columns the like of the other fires, but in short black puffs with intervals between.
To those who watched, these pitch-fires seemed but some religious rite of their strange, barbaric foes, but one among them was of different mind.
"By Bêlit," cried Semiramis, springing to her feet, "the Bactrians signal to their friends among the hills! Go, Kedah, take a force of slingers to gall those busy priests upon the wall. Up, Huzim! Light a score of fires, in that the signs of Oxyartes may be confounded. Go!"
She watched, and soon a myriad of fires sprang up, to send a spark-shot curtain rolling above the battlements; the while a band of Hittites camped hard by, thinking an attack was planned, ran out and stormed the walls. A wild, unwonted hubbub rose, whereat the King grew wroth and sent a force of men with whips to flog the Hittites back into their camp again. Then the Bactrians, looking down upon these things, were mystified and whispered among themselves in wondering awe:
"To the high gods, praise! King Ninus hath lost his reason, for of a certainty the man is mad!"
That day the trench which led to the camp of Ninus was closed by a mighty gate of wood, and the subterranean river flowed once more to Zariaspa, and the Bactrians ate of the food which travelled underneath their towering hills.
"How now!" the King demanded of Semiramis when report was made to him by Nakir-Kish. "Wherefore should we feed our foes? Lift straightway this foolish gate and let us feast again."
"Nay, lord," the Syrian made reply, "this thing I may not do;" and the King stepped backward, rent by wonder at her words.
To Ninus, one who disobeyed was as one whose life is forfeited forthwith, for the pride of the man was great, and commands, once given, were carried through, even though the cost thereof was greater than the vantage gained; yet in the calm defiance of this red-haired imp there lurked a spirit as fearless as his own—a something which bewitched the soul of him, causing him to swallow down his wrath and ask with a meekness new to his fiery tongue:
"Where the King desireth the welfare of Assyria's host, wherefore wouldst thou thwart so just an aim?"
Thoughtfully she scraped the earth with one sandaled foot, smiled, and made reply:
"Of a surety my lord would be a half-fed serpent rather than an empty-bellied hawk."
"What meanest thou?" he asked, and again the Syrian smiled.
"'Tis better far that the belts of Assyria hang loose for a little space than to shout to Oxyartes concerning our knowledge of his river bed. Should he signal again to his friends across the Hindu-Kush, then straightway will they cease to load their boats, and albeit Zariaspa thereby starveth, naught is gained, for Ninus suffereth the hunger of a fool. So, then, to Oxyartes shall go one-half, till he, in wonder at the small supply, will signal to his friends for more; and thus may we satisfy the needs of all."
For a space the monarch made no answer, but looked in thought across the yellow plain, then at length he spoke, as one who communes with himself alone:
"By the splendor of Shamashi-Ramân, the time hath come when Ninus must cease to meddle in affairs of craft."
He spoke no more, but mounted his chariot and drove to his distant camp, slowly, with his head bowed low, though ever and anon he laughed, as one who gloats with pride at his own contrivances.
When the King was gone, Semiramis sat pondering, with puckered brow, with eyes which saw not, yet seemed to pierce the city walls; then she caused the river-gate to be raised once more, and, whispering a command to Kedah, called Huzim to her side and disappeared with him till the strength of the sun was spent and night had settled down upon the hills.
Prince Menon, coming from his eastern camp to seek Semiramis, could find no trace of her. In vain he sought, but none could give him news, while even Kedha lied stoutly concerning her affairs, though it pained his vitals to falsify unto one he loved. In despair the Prince was thinking of departure, when Semiramis herself appeared with a suddenness which caused her spouse to stare. From beneath a mat in a corner of her tent the head of Huzim rose; after it came his body which stooped and raised Semiramis as from a pit. Wet were her garments, soaked with mud and slime, till it seems as if she must have wallowed in a mire, while even her hair hung dank and dripping about her neck.
"In the name of the gods—!" cried Menon, but she checked him with a grimy hand thrust swiftly across his mouth. She looked to note that none were lingering outside her tent, then, laughing softly, whispered into Menon's ear:
"Fear not, my lord; no accident hath befallen me; yet the soul of the King desireth a bird called Zariaspa, and I—in the hope of pleasing him—have sprinkled a pinch of salt upon its tail."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SIEGE
Semiramis in her chariot drove slowly round the wall of Zariaspa, scanning it from every vantage point; impenetrable, grim, it towered above her in the dignity of strength—the majesty of strength—which scorned to even mock the puny power of muscle and of brain.
"Mistress," asked Huzim who stood beside her in the chariot, "what booteth it to win this outer wall when the higher walls of the citadel must needs be scaled?"
"It booteth much," she answered with a smile, "for this citadel was made a gift to me two moons agone."
The Indian drew his reins and stared upon her in deep concern, thinking the sun, perchance, had touched her brain.
"What meanest thou?"
For a moment there came no answer, yet presently she raised her impish eyes:
"Huzim, my father Simmas once spake a mighty truth, saying that he whose tongue betrayed the children of his thought was both a murderer and a fool."
The Indian flicked his steeds, and in silence drove along the city's western side till Semiramis bade him draw his reins again; wherefore he knew not, for she paused to watch the common sight of a giant catapult hurling stones against the wall. This engine was fashioned in the form of a flinging-beam, the beam bent downward by ropes of human hair and sinews from the necks of bulls, while on its end was set a heavy stone. The beam, released, sprang upward, propelling its missile in a lumbering curve, yet wrought no harm, for the heavier stones fell short, while the lighter ones flew high, to crash into some house beyond the walls.
"See," said Semiramis, sitting upon the rim of a chariot wheel and pointing to the fruitless work, "they ever miss their mark because of these stones of unequal weight and shape. See, Huzim, the Bactrians hold no fear of missiles which fly so slowly and do but encumber the earth beneath their walls. If, perchance—"
She paused of a sudden, one brown hand rubbing idly on the chariot wheel, her gaze fixed fast on a heap of broken stones; then she laughed aloud and danced upon the sand in the manner of some joy some child.
"What aileth thee, my mistress?" asked the Indian, and she laughed again in answer to his questioning:
"In truth, good Huzim, once more am I the mother of a thought—a sturdy brat—and thou shalt help me nurture him, for, lo! these laboring swine have made to me the gift of Zariaspa's outer walls."
Menon, Huzim and Semiramis sat far into the night, pondering over plans and stratagems, and when morning came the Indian and his mistress sought out a hidden valley among the hills. With them went seven score of workmen, a full-armed guard, and slaves who bore the beams and bodies of abandoned catapults; and straightway the voice of labor rose on the mountain side, while along the valley's lip was set the guard, who with slings and shafts made answer to wandering curiosity.
In Menon's camp a labor was likewise set afoot, and engines of siege were put to rights again, while the army, wondering at things they could not understand, were set to making sacks. These sacks they contrived of fibre, of discarded clothes, of the cloth of canopies, or of any fabric gleaned from far or near sobeit they held two hundred-weight of sand; and when a warrior made questionings as to the strangeness of this toil, his chief would bid him hold his tongue, for the reason thereof was known to Menon and Semiramis alone.
When tidings of these happenings were brought unto the King, he drove away the messenger with oaths, for his heart was sick of fruitless stratagems. Where Ninus failed, there also must Menon fail; so the King went hunting through the uplands, finding little game, but much to vex the soul of him because of unhappy ponderings. Glory he desired, and the mastery of all the world, yet greater than these was his haunting thirst for the mastery of one woman's love and the glory of her passion lit for him alone.
In such a mood King Ninus one day came upon Semiramis returning from the valley in the hills, and marveled at the score of engines which she dragged across the sands. So frail they were, so slender as to build and the fashioning of hurling-beams, that the King desired to know if these toys were designed to fling the stones of cherries at their enemies.
"Aye," said Semiramis, gravely and without a smile, "for the Bactrians like not cherries, nor the stones thereof. Come, good my lord, tomorrow, for tomorrow a red juice trickleth from their battlements."
This answer puzzled Ninus, puzzled him throughout the night and filled his very dreams with a deep unrest; so on the morrow he drove into Menon's eastern camp to mark what craft might lie beneath the Syrian's words. Yet, if craft it was, its meaning was hidden from the monarch's mind, for Menon was now employed in throwing sacks of sand against the city wall. No aim had they to harm the besieged upon the battlements, but smote the masonry with a harmless thud and piled upon the earth. Full two score engines, set in line and served by eager, sweating men, were thus engaged in a foolish sport; and as Ninus laughed in scorn, so laughed the Bactrians, gibing Menon and urging him to a greater diligence.
Now, strangely, Menon's warriors made no answer to the enemy's abuse, but wrought in silence, bearing endless bags of sand upon their backs, while beyond sat the engines of Semiramis, idle, aiding naught in this mockery of siege; yet beneath the walls a mound of sand-sacks grew apace; then, of a sudden, the jeering Bactrians understood. Their laughter was changed to curses, their merriment to shouts of rage, for they saw that Menon built a sloping road-way to their battlements and soon would launch a horde of warriors upon the walls.
And now a tumult rose—the cries of captains raging at their men, the shriek of battle-horns and the answering din of Bactrian soldiery rushing to defense. On the walls were set their heaviest catapults with the aim of wrecking Menon's lighter engines of assault; but now the "thought-child" of Semiramis took a part, and even Ninus watched in awe.
This engine was not the like of other engines, for its hurling-beam bent backward in half a circle's space, and on the beam was set a chariot wheel. When loosed, the beam sprang forward with a sidelong sweep and the missile was launched as a boy might fling a shell. At the first discharge—aimed high because of a lurking vanity in the Syrian's soul—the wheel spun out, and, with a strange, melodious sound, went whining over Zariaspa. The eyes of Assyria's host looked on in wonder and in pride of her, and the joy of Semiramis was like unto the joy of a crowing babe.
Soon other engines were set in place and a score of chariot wheels were loosed, with a mournful, pleasing hum—pleasing to those who sent it forth, yet of different tune to the hapless warriors who were dashed from off their walls. These wheels, by reason of their roundness and their equal weight, could be flung with a wondrous accuracy, and woe unto those who sought to serve the Bactrian catapults; while Menon, in peace, went forward with his toil of piling sacks of sand.
If the Bactrians raged because of this new-born stratagem, so Ninus also raged, but in another vein of wrath. None had communed with him concerning it, and Menon, in secret, sought to snatch a glory from his King; so Ninus cast about him for a cause of just displeasure at the man. With the road against the wall he could find no fault, for the sands of the desert were free to all; yet the casting away of his chariot wheels was wicked extravagance, a crime, and in no wise to be borne.
"How now, Shammuramat!" he cried, striding to her side, and trembling in his wrath. "Wherefore shouldst thou do this evil thing? and how shall my hosts ride home to Nineveh when the wheels of my chariots are cast among our enemies?"
"Nay, lord," she answered, with her devil's laugh, "to-day, when Zariaspa shall be thine, then mays't thou gather up these cherry-stones and call them wheels again."
So Ninus, cursing, turned upon his heel, mounted his waiting chariot and drove furiously toward the western camp, in his ears a roar from Zariaspa's walls and an answering roar from those who toiled beneath; then Semiramis left her engines, and, with Huzim to drive her steeds, went clattering along the dust-trail of the King.
The camp once reached, the King deployed his armies in a swift attack upon the western wall, in the hope that Bactria's force was bent on the distant point where Menon struck his blow; so creaking towers and mighty structures of wood and brass were pushed toward the battlements, and men swarmed up, to grapple with defending foes, to fall and die.
Semiramis, following in the wake of Ninus, caused Huzim to draw his reins at the camp of Asharal, the Babylonian Prince whom the monarch had deprived of office, yet restored again at the pleadings of the Syrian. To him she whispered, and at the whisper Prince Asharal smiled happily and straightway sought the King. The King he found in a fretful mood because of the slowness of his armies and their failure to win the walls, and it troubled him the more when Asharal in meekness bent his knee and spoke:
"My lord, in what appointed place shall thy servant serve, trusting thereby to aid my King in this his sore discomfiture?"
Now this question, to Ninus, was like salt in an open wound, and he fain would have smitten Asharal upon his humble mouth; yet many watched, and so the King stretched forth one trembling arm and pointed to the citadel.
"There standeth what we seek! Go seek it, fool, and trouble me no more with idle questionings!"
The Babylonian bowed his head, half in homage, half in his wish to hide a joyous smile, and so went out from the presence of the King; yet, presently, he came upon Semiramis, sprang upon her chariot-tail, and the steeds were lashed in a race toward the hills. They made no pause till they reached the gateway of the subterranean river course, where Asharal made choice of a thousand Babylonian men-at-arms, and, commanding them to follow, disappeared with Kedha, Huzim and Semiramis into the bowels of the earth.
This move was made in secret and with care, yet a rumor thereof was learned by the prying High Priest Nakir-Kish who forthwith hastened to the King; yet Ninus was in the stress of an ill-gone battle, frowning tugging at his beard, so the High Priest held his tongue till a more propitious moment for his evil news. He waited apart, but Ninus spied him presently and called him to his side.
"Priest," said he, "a weighty question haunteth me, without a pause or peace, and the answer thereto is hidden from my mind; yet, mayhap, some aid may rise from out thine auguries."
"Speak on," begged Nakir-Kish, and the troubled monarch spoke:
"At Nineveh I swore an oath that he who first stood conqueror on the citadel of Zariaspa might claim a woman as his own, be the man a king or the spawn of a Hittite serf. In Bactria I gave this woman unto Menon, swearing again in an oath to part them not." He paused and looked on Nakir-Kish with narrowed eyes. "May a monarch swear two oaths, the one against the other, keeping both? Not so. Which, then, shall I keep, and which may Ninus break without affront to the justice of our gods?"
The High Priest looked upon his master and read the evil in his heart. Full well he knew which oath the King would break; full well he knew the danger in unpleasing auguries; so he closed his eyes, and in a solemn voice made answer, craftily:
"To one who is born a god, the gods alone make known their highest will. Heed, then, O King, thy servant's poor advice. Stand first thyself upon the citadel, and in thy justice give this woman unto him who best deserveth such a prize."
He paused. The moment now was ripe to tell of Semiramis and Asharal, yet ere he could speak the tide of battle called the King who leaped into his chariot, leaving Nakir-Kish alone. In the sands of the desert the High Priest stood, watching his master's receding form till it passed from sight, then he muttered in his beard:
"A man may be born a King; a man may be born a fool; yet if I were King I would stamp this Syrian devil in the dust, lest she ride one day on a kingdom's back as a beggar may ride an ass."
So the High Priest Nakir-Kish went out and opened the carcass of a sacred crane, finding therein no augury of happiness for master or for man.
* * * * *
On the eastern side of the city wall the sand heap grew apace, and now a band of Hittites rushed furiously up the slope to engage the defenders of the battlements. No foothold might they gain upon the wall, and were slain because of their ardor and their foolishness; yet their bodies added to the growing pile.
On the walls thronged hordes of reckless Bactrians, stemming the assault, and among them crashed the spinning chariot wheels, landing with an upward lurch and causing wide, bloody gaps, to be filled by other martyrs in a hopeless cause. The Bactrians liked not cherries, and, even as Semiramis had said, a red juice trickled from their battlements. Likewise, beneath the walls were many Assyrians slain by darts and slings, and, when sacks of sand grew scarce, their corpses were set in the catapults and hurled upon the heap, till the roadway well-nigh reached the summit of the wall.
The forces of Menon now gathered for a rush, but the Bactrians checked them by a brave device. From the wall's lip they emptied great vats of oil which ran in the crevices between the sacks of sand, and when torches were flung thereon the roadway became a Gibil's path which mortals might not climb and live. Huge tongues of yellow flame licked forth; dense clouds of smoke puffed out and went rolling towards the sky; yet if this sea of fire held hungering Assyria back, it likewise drove their foemen from the battlements, and so for a space defense and assault alike were quelled.
And now a watcher from the summit of Menon's mound cried out a warning unto those below.
"The King! The King!" he cried. "Ho, brothers, look ye and beware! King Ninus hath won to the western wall!"
It was even as he said, for on the west but a weak defense was given, and Ninus and his warriors had mounted to the parapets, soon to descend into the city streets and cleave a pathway to the citadel. The Citadel! There Menon, too, had sworn to stand the first, for his heart was troubled by the master's double oath; yet now the road was blocked by raging flame.
"Sand! Sand!" he cried, and the sacks were slit and set in the catapults. On striking they would burst, the loose sand being scattered far and wide; and thus, through diligence and the urging of his men by lashes and the promise of rich reward, the flames were in part subdued.
Then up this smoking pathway rushed the armies of Assyria, lusting for blood in the thirst of a long year's wait, hungering for the plunder of this mighty jewel-chest, mad for the women waiting in the grip of fear. They burned their hands on the blistered masonry, scorched their feet as they trod the parapets; yet quickly they spread to distant points along the wall or leaped below on the spear points of the Bactrians.
The walls once gained, Assyria held the whip-hand, and an endless stream of fighting men came pouring into the streets. On the western side King Ninus had torn away the masonry which blocked the gate, and a wedge of chariots came thundering in, to ride the defenders down. Thus, east and west, Assyria pressed on Bactria, forcing the foemen inward toward their citadel, and through every street and alley battle rioted and knew no pause. For every pace King Oxyartes asked a price of blood which Ninus paid, and the sons of Zariaspa struggled to the death for their hearths and homes, while women from the house tops tore away the tiles and flung them down—flung curses also, and their very beds which they dragged upon the roofs and tumbled on the conquerors.
On every hand the awsome din of war arose, the screams of death and victory, the battle chants of charging men, and the roar of flame which wrapped the city round about. As clouds of rolling smoke went up, with the tongue of carnage sounding underneath, the household doves of Bactria took fright and began to wheel in dizzy circles overhead. A warrior saw therein an omen, and cried to his fellows that Semiramis was born of doves; therefore Asshur smiled upon her and on the arms of those who served.
Forthwith a mighty roar went up, and as Assyria pushed toward the citadel her warriors thundered forth the name—SHAMMURAMAT.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE CITADEL
Along the subterranean river course, cautiously and without a light, groped Kedha, Semiramis and Asharal, while at their heels walked Huzim bearing on his shoulder a mighty hammer with a ponderous head of brass; and following after came a thousand Babylonian warriors picked for their courage and their skill in deeds of arms.
One other came also, albeit none had bidden him, and now he came snuffling to the Syrian's side, knowing full well that the time was past when his mistress might send him back; so Semiramis cursed Habal softly and suffered him to go.
"Asharal," she whispered presently, "in this my enterprise a chance is given thee to win renown among the peoples of thy land, yet in return therefor I ask a price." She laid a hand upon his shoulder and spoke into his ear: "If the halls of the citadel be cleared, no man save Menon first must stand with me upon the roof, else a woe may come of it. Pledge me, therefore, in the word of a Prince of Babylon."
"Princess," he answered, "the kingdom which I serve is thine, even as its chief is thine, and he who passeth Asharal upon the stair must pass him dead."
Now Kedah, who heard, said naught, but his hand sought the hand of Semiramis whom he loved; he raised it and in the darkness pressed it to his lips.
Prince Asharal went backward, whispering to the chieftains of his line who in turn passed down the purport of command to every follower, then in silence the march went on.
They came at last to the mouth of the passage-way which was guarded by a double gate of brass, and beyond, through its massive bars, could be discerned a vaulted chamber, where the city cisterns lay, stretching away in impenetrable gloom. Behind the gates sat a full-armed sentinel drowsing at his post, yet an arrow in his throat brought deeper slumber to the man; then Huzim raised his hammer and, grunting, struck the gates. Thrice fell his mighty blows, with a clanging crash that sent the echoes rolling down a hundred passage-ways, and from out the murk came running other sentinels, trumpet-tongued in the flush of dread alarm.
"Strike, Huzim!" shrilled Semiramis. "Strike in the name of Bêlit—and in mine!"
So Huzim once more raised the hammer head above his own and, with a heave which drove the blood from out his nostrils, struck; the brazen gates fell inward, smitten from their hinges, and Semiramis sprang over them. Upward her warriors pressed toward halls of Zariaspa's citadel, and where a doorway barred their path, there Huzim smote it, till wood and metal gave before his strength; then into the central hall burst a raging imp of war, with the wolves of Babylonia baying at her heels.
Within the inner court were gathered many women, the wives of nobles, the children of King Oxyartes and his spouse, huddled together in the fear of death, but these Semiramis harmed not. Her work was laid among the warriors who manned the gates of the outer court, holding them for the inrush of the Bactrians fighting in the streets, for every man who might be spared from the citadel's defense was flung against the invading hordes of Menon and the King. So it chanced that within the citadel were, in all, three thousand men-at-arms, and these Semiramis attacked as a hound may leap at a lion's throat; yet ill it might have gone with her slender force had Menon not sent another thousand warriors to follow down the hidden river course. They came at the turning point of fate, the mountaineers from the land of Naïri, wild, hairy men who sang as they fought, or died with a broken song upon their lips; thus their strange, barbaric tongues gave heart to Babylon, even as their swords brought woe amongst the enemy.
The gates were won; the victors pursued their quarry from hall to hall, through winding passageways and on stairs that dripped with blood, while Semiramis, with Kedah and Huzim, worked ever upward toward the highest battlements. Two stairways led to an opening on the roof, the one upon the right, the other on the left, and these they mounted, while from without came the roar of battle raging in the streets.
When the Bactrians, pressed by Ninus, sought refuge in their citadel they came upon fast-locked gates, and so a tangled swarm of defeated warriors were squeezed against the walls, while into them drove Menon and the King, cleaving a pathway to the goal of their hearts' desire.
From the press King Ninus looked upward to the summit of the citadel and marvelled at what he saw, for a shepherd dog—the first to stand a conqueror thereon—looked down and barked and barked; then Semiramis sprang beside him, her red locks tossing from beneath her helm. She, too, looked down, on a caldron of murder seething in the pool of Zariaspa's walls; then she raised her round young arms, and, even as the conquering eagle screams, so screamed Semiramis, in a vaunting battle-cry.
In the streets below that cry reechoed from the thirst-parched tongues of a raging multitude that thundered at the fast-locked gates and trod on a floor of slain; then the bolts were drawn and the halls of the citadel were gorged with the inrush of a conquering horde. In the van ran Ninus, and close beside him Menon came, each intent on mounting to the battlements, each watching covertly lest the other gain some vantage ground; thus it came about that the two contrived a separate road. The King advanced to the stairway on the right, and with sword in hand looked backward, in a grim, unspoken vow to slay the man who followed him; but a Babylonian whispered in the ear of Menon who was straightway swallowed up amongst the throng.
Now the followers of Asharal, according to their pledge, made way for Menon, opening a path toward the flight of stairs upon the left, while the right was barred by the fighting-men of Babylon. Here none might mount and live, yet at the coming of the King—this black-browed warrior-lord of all the world—the blood of Babylon was cooled; their sword points fell, and they suffered him to pass—to pass across the wounded, senseless form of Asharal.
So, upward ran Prince and King, the one upon the right, the other on the left, each panting in his toil till their veins were swelled into throbbing, purple knots; each casting aside all reckoning of life and death save the one desire to outstrip his fellow animal in the race toward the roof. The roof!—whereon a woman stood—one mould of mortal clay, yet mixed with the blood-red wine of passion, whereof men drink, and in their madness trample on the altars of their gods.
Upward, still upward, till a single flight remained, and none might say which held a vantage of the lead; then Menon groaned aloud and sank exhausted on the stair. Huzim, watching from above, leaped down to seize his master in his arms and bear him upon the roof; yet, alas! too late, for the mighty sinews of the King would win to the summit of the citadel. The race was well-nigh run. Between the lord of all Assyria and his goal there stood one man alone—Kedha the faithful—he who loved Semiramis as a dog may love the master of his heart; he who loved in silence since that bygone day in Syria when a red-locked imp of war had cursed him in his teeth and with him charged a wall of battling Kurds. At the coming of the King he crouched upon the stair, not in fear, but in awe of that crowning flash of Destiny when a man and his spirit reach the parting of the way. An arm shot out and seized the monarch's thigh; a shoulder pressed him, and the two plunged downward, rolling to the bottom of the stair.
In the fall poor Kedha lay beneath the King—beneath two hairy hands that in fury gripped his throat. These hands had builded Nineveh; they had played with nations as a juggler toys with sharpened blades; they had woven the thongs of servitude—from sun-baked Egypt to the frozen waters of the North—and now they closed, till the neck of one last slave was snapped and his body lay in a bleeding, huddled heap. Thus Kedha passed, in the cause of those he loved, and, in passing, wrought a nobler deed than the lord of all Assyria could boast, with scepter and with sword.
When Ninus at last came out upon the roof, Menon rested from the toil of battle and the stress of his racing climb, breath-spent, with fast-closed eyes which noted not the coming of his King. In his heart of hearts the monarch yearned to raise the victor in his arms and hurl him from the battlements, but Semiramis leaned upon his hunting spear, even as Huzim leaned upon his mighty hammer haft; therefore the monarch smiled. He raised Prince Menon and set him upon the battlements, and then, in the sight of the watching hosts, proclaimed him conqueror; whereat a mighty roar went up, till the soul of the King grew faint with fury, though his hand was steady, and he smiled.