Sarchedon was silent. His friend's account of the means by which an imprisonment that seemed so hopeless had been cancelled, a decree of Pharaoh reversed, perplexed him more and more.

That he should have attained thus suddenly to the favour of Ninyas, on accession of the latter to his father's throne, was perhaps to be accounted for by one of those caprices to which he had already seen men owe great honours and promotion under the authority of a despot; but that the king should have ridden in person to discover his track, should have actually shed tears of pity for his supposed fate, was so strange, that he left to future events the solution of such a riddle, resolving for the present to content himself with the improvement in his prospects, and the hope that, when free and amongst his own countrymen, he might succeed in obtaining some traces of the fate of Ishtar, some clue to the perpetrators of that outrage by which Arbaces lost his life. Deep in his own heart he swore never to rest until he had recovered his lost love and avenged the slaughter of her father--blood for blood.

Thus journeying northward through the plain, at a rate which promised ere many more furlongs were pa.s.sed to bring them across the confines of Egypt into their own land of Shinar, they observed a cloud of dust rising on the sky-line behind them, and extending so far along the horizon that it threatened to encompa.s.s their little troop in its embrace. Swiftly as they travelled, it seemed to advance more swiftly still. The a.s.syrian hors.e.m.e.n looked in each other's faces with blank dismay, but none liked to be the first in expressing a hideous apprehension that curdled at each man's heart. Nevertheless, reins were instinctively tightened and horses pressed to increased speed. Presently Sethos laid his hand on his companion's bridle-arm, and pointed ominously to the rear.

"Behold the red simoon!" he whispered. "The demon of the desert has spread his wings from side to side, and there is no escape. It is the will of Nisroch. When he breathes in our faces, we must die?"

CHAPTER XXVIII

A RIDE FOR LIFE

The little troop had been picked from the boldest hors.e.m.e.n of a.s.syria.

Not a man but would have spent life freely under the banner of Ashur, and charged home into the host of an enemy, though out-numbered ten to one. Their warlike traditions, their national character, their pride and self-respect, had taught them to shrink from no professional danger, to yield before no living foe; but the bold faces were pale now, and the proud eyes haggard. They rode in wild disorder, as though flying before the shadow of death; while the pure-bred steeds that bore them snorted, and shook their bridles gaily, exulting in the glory of their strength, the easy freedom of their speed.

The simoon, even in its natural terrors, might well be an object of dread to man and beast. No fate seems much more horrible than to be overwhelmed and drowned in a storm of sand. But the a.s.syrian had been also taught to regard this danger as a supernatural foe, a gigantic demon of the desert, hidden in lurid clouds, advancing swift, insatiable, portentous, swallowing furlongs at every stride, to seize and stifle him in an inevitable embrace.

Even Sethos caught the infection, and pushed his horse to its speed with reckless energy, panic-stricken as the rest.

Sarchedon could not forbear a laugh.

"Hold!" he exclaimed, while he shot with some difficulty to the front, raising his bow horizontally above his head to stop the undisciplined flight. "Hold, fools and faint of heart! Can you not turn for one look in your enemy's face, ere you scour away before him like a herd of frightened deer? Stop, I say; lest I drive an arrow through the foremost of ye, and leave him to be picked clean by the vultures ere the sun goes down!"

"The simoon!" gasped the leading horseman, pressing wildly onward without pause.

"The simoon!" repeated Sarchedon, seizing the other's bridle, and thus bringing him to an involuntary halt. "Do you call yourself a son of Ashur, and not know better the arms and apparel of your enemy? Can you see the violet spot that marks the demon's eye, the purple hem that borders his garment, the golden spangles that glitter through his veil?

For shame, man! And you, too, Sethos; I could not have believed you would turn and fly, with bow and spear in hand, from a bushel of dust flung up on the wayside!"

Thus arguing, storming, and gesticulating, he succeeded in pacifying the terror of his comrades, who consented to halt for a s.p.a.ce and breathe their horses, while they scanned the appearance that had given rise to their alarm. The peril, when they examined it more coolly, was none the less threatening that its cause seemed in no way supernatural. The clouds of sand had indeed increased both in extent and volume; but through the folds of that dusky curtain gleamed here and there a sparkle of steel, while at its skirts an opaque winding line denoted to a warrior's eye the approach of a strong body of horse.

The a.s.syrians became somewhat rea.s.sured, though Sethos and Sarchedon looked doubtfully from each other's faces to the advancing host. Already they could distinguish fluttering garments, uplifted spears, and the banners of Egypt waving over all.

"He has sent to fetch us back!" exclaimed the cup-bearer. "He has repented him of his counsel, and we have not done with Pharaoh yet!"

Sarchedon burst into a mocking laugh.

"Have they wings like the south wind," said he, "that they hope to overtake the horses of a.s.syria in the open desert with heads turned for home? If, as in good truth it seems, there be too many to fight, let us put on at speed, and the hosts of Pharaoh shall toil after us in vain."

They galloped on accordingly at a steady even pace, which, while it could be kept up for a considerable distance, gained surely though gradually on their pursuers.

But the desert, flat, open, and boundless as the sea, has also its ports and havens, to which men put in for fresh water and repose, thus diverging from the straight line of their direct course. The a.s.syrians, therefore, now resuming the shortest way to their own land, found they had described an arc, of which, in order to overtake them, their pursuers needed only to speed along the chord. And thus it fell out that, nearing a range of rocks, one of the few landmarks in the wilderness, they came suddenly on an ambush of Egyptian hors.e.m.e.n, who had pushed forward to post themselves in that hiding-place.

The little troop now found an enemy in front and rear, the latter overwhelming in numbers, the former too strong for so scanty a force to break through.

They halted, and took counsel, inclining to dash forward in a desperate charge, when an old man rode out from the ranks of their opponents, making signs of parley and peace.

Even a bowshot off they recognised Phrenes. Sarchedon and Sethos advanced therefore to meet him, bidding their comrades remain in the saddle with bows bent, watching every movement of the Egyptians.

The old man broke his spear across, and cast it at their feet in token of amity.

"Your servant has ridden far and fast," said he, "to bid you return into Egypt, and look on the light of Pharaoh's countenance once more. Behold, my lords, these also are your servants, sent to bring you in honour to his palace beyond the Nile."

"We have taken our leave of my lord the king," returned Sethos courteously, but keeping his horse well in hand under him; "Pharaoh has given gifts to his servants, bidding them depart in peace. Why, then, should we return at an untoward season, to the enc.u.mbrance of my lord the king?"

Phrenes cast one glance back amongst his followers, a glance not un.o.bserved by those he addressed, while he replied:

"What am I, that I should interpret between my lords and the king my master? I pray you, now, return with me of good will. So shall you come to great honour, and sit on thrones in the land of Egypt."

While he spoke, he edged his horse gradually round, showing no slight skill in the art of managing it, so as to place himself between the a.s.syrians and their comrades.

"Not a bowshot will I return," answered Sethos, "until I have fulfilled mine emba.s.sy, and sought in the land of Shinar a new command from the Great King."

The Egyptians, meanwhile, continued to move their horses imperceptibly nearer the two a.s.syrians, who were now separated from their companions.

The cup-bearer, suspecting treachery, held his bow in readiness with an arrow fitted to the string, while his movements were exactly copied by the a.s.syrians, narrowly watching and mistrusting the parley. Sarchedon too grasped a broad-headed javelin, prepared to hurl it at a moment's notice into the ranks of the enemy.

"I bid you once more in peace," said Phrenes, holding up his hand as it seemed for a signal to his followers. "If you think to resist the might of Egypt, your blood be on your own head! Pharaoh lives for--"

He never finished the sentence, with the conclusion of which it was doubtless intended that the two isolated hors.e.m.e.n should be surrounded and taken prisoners. The cup-bearer's bowstring rattled even while he spoke, and Phrenes fell heavily to the ground, with a shaft quivering in his heart. At the same moment Sarchedon's weapon transfixed the nearest Egyptian, and a storm of arrows from the a.s.syrians created no small confusion in the rest of the band. Horses reared, men lost their seats and weapons, shouting, storming, jostling each other, and looking in vain for some one to direct; while the a.s.syrians turned bridle without delay, to speed over the plain at a pace which put them many an arrow's flight from their enemies ere the latter had sufficiently recovered to form line and bend their bows.

It was a ride for life through the desert. The rest of Pharaoh's army had been advancing rapidly during the parley; their horses were fresher than those they pursued; and it would have been madness for the a.s.syrians to dream of resisting such a force, if it should succeed in overtaking them. Sarchedon seemed to see the well-remembered gloom of his Egyptian dungeon gathering round him once again. His horse, too, began to fail, labouring to keep up with its companions. Bitterly did he now regret the childish enthusiasm that had tempted him to waste its strength and mettle at the commencement of their journey.

"It is enough," said he. "My time is come. I will strive all that one man can to delay a host. Peradventure when they have slain or taken me, they will suffer you to escape unhurt."

"Not so," replied Sethos, looking anxiously over his shoulder. "They gain on us but little. Nay, take heart, my friend; we may baffle them yet. Surely we are in the land of Shinar now. And yonder, by the beard of Nimrod and the beauty of Ashtaroth! I see the City of Towers, and the Silver Lake glittering in the sun!"

"It is but the paradise of the desert," answered Sarchedon sadly. "I have ridden after it many a weary hour, but never reached it yet."

In spite of the enemy's rapid approach, Sethos reined in his horse, and shaded his brows with his hand, in sore misgiving that he was the dupe of that mirage which is so remarkable an effect of a level surface, a rarified atmosphere, and a dazzling sun. Then he observed with the utmost calmness:

"Lofty palms, and shining pinnacles, and golden waters, all these adorn the paradise of the desert; but who hath yet seen the banner of Ashur floating over its walls? If those be not the towers of Ascalon, may I never drink a cup of Damascus wine, nor drive an arrow through a false Egyptian heart again! We are safe, my friend. Look yonder at that glitter in the sky-line; it is the flash of sunlight on the western sea."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CITY OF REFUGE

The fugitives pressed on apace, Sarchedon's horse, though wavering and exhausted, vindicating n.o.bly the purity of its lineage, a race of which none ever failed to answer the rider's hand and voice, ask what he would; but when they stopped, they fell stone dead. Nevertheless, the foremost Egyptians gained ground too surely, and ere the a.s.syrians came under the protection of a friendly city, the swiftest of their pursuers had already halted to bend their bows.

A volley of arrows whistled round Sarchedon's head, who arrived last within the welcome shelter of the walls, bristling with bowmen, prepared to defend it against a host. As the great gate closed behind him, he heard the war-cry of Ashur swelling to a shout of triumph; while the baffled Egyptians, making the circuit of the place at a gallop, wheeled round and withdrew into the desert, as though content to abandon their prey.

"I never wish to look on Pharaoh's face again," said Sethos, drawing a long breath of relief, while leaping nimbly to the ground, he loosened the girths of his panting steed. "I have fronted the Great King in his wrath, and it seemed like pa.s.sing through a burning fiery furnace, that scorches the beard and blisters the skin; but under the cold eye of Pharaoh, I could feel the chill of death creeping into the marrow of my bones."