"My son is indeed comely! Yet is it the comeliness of a woman rather than a man."

"There is but one woman on earth more fair," whispered a.s.sarac in her ear. "Nevertheless, were she down yonder in male attire on a war-chariot, and he sitting amongst us here in the royal robes of a queen, I doubt if the change would be suspected by one of all that countless mult.i.tude now gazing in admiration on both."

She started, not expecting to receive her answer from the priest, and bent her brows in deep thought, mingled with displeasure, as she observed the uneasiness of Sarchedon, eagerly watching certain movements going on below.

Guiding the horses, by the side of Ninyas, sat Sethos, the king's cup-bearer, who being in high favour with his young lord usually accompanied him in his chariot, both to battle and to the chase. Perhaps not entirely without a purpose, he drew rein immediately under the terrace where stood Ishtar and her maidens, at the instant when a posy of flowers, projected innocently enough by the damsel herself, came whirling down at the feet of her future king.

Ninyas looked up quickly; and even in that moment of vexation Sarchedon could not but remark the winning smile, that, brightening all his face, enhanced her son's extraordinary resemblance to Semiramis.

The young prince lifted the flowers, and put them to his lips with a graceful salutation. Then he bent his head to Sethos, and the latter, taking the cup from his lord's hand, flung it deftly upward so as to light on the terrace within a cubit of where the damsel stood.

"Keep it for the sake of Ninyas," called out the giver, as he bowed his head once more; whispering in the ear of Sethos, while the chariot moved slowly on, "That comely maiden, pale and tender like a lily in a paradise, is better worth the taking than all the beauty of Egypt, captives of our bow and spear."

"And my lord has won her with an empty cup," answered laughing Sethos.

"When he flings aside the maiden, like the goblet, may I be there to catch her ere she falls!"

Though the populace applauded loudly, as it was natural they should applaud such an action of mingled gallantry, condescension, and insolence, a shudder crept over Ishtar from head to heel, and she moved the skirt of her garment to avoid touching that gift of a future monarch, as if it had been some noxious reptile in her path.

Semiramis did not fail to note how the daughter of Arbaces shot more than one imploring glance at Sarchedon, that seemed to deprecate a jealousy of which she was aware, while conscious of not being answerable for its cause. It was perhaps more in character with the spite of a woman than the dignity of a queen that she should have leant towards the young warrior, and addressed him with such marked demonstrations of favour as could not fail to be observed by Ishtar, whose perceptions and feelings were now strung to their highest pitch.

She might even have shown him greater condescension than was either royal or prudent, but for the renewed intervention of a.s.sarac, who once more took possession of her ear, speaking so as to be heard by the queen alone.

"My directions have been carried out," he whispered, "and of every hundred men a.s.sembled in the streets, ten are warriors and four are priests. The people admire, but partake not in the triumph; they shout, but their hearts go forth less freely than their voices. There is discontent abroad, and even displeasure, relating to this conquest of my lord the king. The men of war who have gone down with him to battle are like to be ill-satisfied with their share of spoil. Those who have remained within the walls already jeer and point the finger at the unhacked armour and whole skins of their returning comrades. Our own followers, servants of Baal and prophets of the grove, whisper strange auguries, and the stars themselves declare that Ninus is destined ere long to take his place among the G.o.ds. Caution, Great Queen! caution! I must away on the instant, to be in readiness at the head of a thousand priests who will receive the king on the steps before the temple. He loves not such receptions, and holds but little with offerings and sacrifices to the G.o.ds; nevertheless, even Ninus must not, _dare_ not, beard the whole host of heaven in this their very stronghold. He will make the ceremony short and simple as he can, however, and every priest that ever laid knife to his own flesh before an altar will feel outraged and aggrieved. You have the Great King's signet. Keep it safely. That jewelled toy is worth ten thousand chariots of iron and as many hors.e.m.e.n. Behold, the guards have now pa.s.sed on. See what a handful of priests are pacing with his chariot--an empty chariot, too; and look how few in number and scant in metal are the molten G.o.ds that go before him to battle. He comes. I say again, Caution, Great Queen! caution! and for a s.p.a.ce forbear!"

Pointing his warning with an expressive glance towards Sarchedon, a.s.sarac bowed reverently and withdrew.

Semiramis turned a shade paler, and for one moment a shudder seemed to creep from her brow even to her feet. The next she stood forth to mark her lord's approach, erect and beautiful, the stateliest queen, as she was the fairest woman, in the world.

Immediately in rear of the royal standard pa.s.sed on the war-chariot of the Great King, containing his charioteer and shield-bearer. Sargon's lowering brow was black as night, and to the vociferous greetings of his countrymen he returned but a silent scowl. In the brief s.p.a.ce that had elapsed since the cruel slaughter of his son, the man's nature seemed wholly changed. His very beard, formerly so black and glossy, was streaked with grey, and the dark eyes now dull and downcast, glowed with lurid light as though from some inner fire. Few, however, remarked this alteration in the aspect of the shield-bearer; for with the first glimpse of Ninus, shouts of jubilee rose once more from the people, and in that moment of enthusiasm, a.s.sembled Babylon could not have afforded a fuller, fairer welcome to mighty Nimrod himself.

The Great King came on at a foot's pace, reining his steed with that craft of practised horsemanship which outlasts failing sight, lost activity, and bodily powers impaired by age. His large, gaunt frame, though bowed and tottering, swayed easily to every motion of his steed; his broad loose hands, though numbed and stiff, closed with unimpaired skill on spear and bridle; while ever and anon, with some vociferous cheer or stirring trumpet-call, the drooping head went up, the dim eye sparkled, and for a s.p.a.ce in which bow might have been drawn or sword-blow stricken, Ninus looked again the champion warrior of the world.

The king had abstained from all outward pomp of attire or panoply; he wore neither diadem nor tiara, but a steel helmet, much dinted and battered, guarded his brow. Save for the lion's head embossed in its centre, his shield was the plainest, as it was the most defaced, that pa.s.sed into Babylon that day; while neither his horse's trappings nor his own accoutrements could compare in splendour with those of his guards who preceeded him on the march. But his sword was a span longer, his spear some shekels heavier, than any other in the whole a.s.syrian host, and none, looking on that renowned conqueror, so formidable even in decay, but would have recognised him for the bravest and mightiest fighter of his time.

Slowly, sternly he came on, receiving the homage and acclamations of his people with a royal indifference not far removed from scorn. The press of chariots, the clash of steel, all the wild tumult and fierce music of battle, could scarcely now call the light to his eye, the colour to his visage. What was a mere peaceful triumph but an unmeaning pageant, a protracted and somewhat wearisome dream? His grim old features sank and lowered till it seemed to the nearer bystanders that they were looking on a corpse in mail.

But once the Great King's face brightened, the blood rushed redly to his cheek, and his strong hand shook so on the bridle, that his good horse, accepting the signal, bounded freely in the air. Then he turned ghastly pale, drawing his breath hard, and trembling like a maiden or a child.

Beaming down on him from the wall with her own bright smile, he saw the face that had haunted him in those long night-watches for many a weary month--the face that, of all on earth, had alone made itself a home in his fierce old heart.

The wild joy of battle was indeed over, but for him the calm of peace had come at last. From his saddle where he sat to the wall whence she smiled down on him, not a score of spear-lengths divided him from Semiramis, looking fonder and more beautiful than she had ever appeared even in his lonely dreams.

CHAPTER X

A BANQUET OF WINE

On the first night of his return from conquest, it was customary for an a.s.syrian king, his captains, and chief officers of state to be received by his consort with a banquet, offered to their special entertainment.

The stars were already out, the moon was rising from the desert, when a thousand torches, flaring on the summer night, lit up the central court of the royal residence with a fierce red glow, vivid as the light of day. It brought out in strange grotesque relief the gigantic sculptures on the wall, till winged bull, man-faced lion, and eagle-headed deity seemed but fleeting flickering shadows, that moved, threatened, and retired as the night breeze rose and fell. It played in variegated hues on the columns of porphyry and jaspar that supported the upper story, blackening the remote recesses of its lofty chambers, while marble pillar, shaft of alabaster, carving, cornice, and capital blushed in crimson flame. It shed a ruddier l.u.s.tre on wine, fruit, and flowers, the rich profusion of a royal table, glittering from ma.s.sive chalice and ancient flagon, blazing in jewelled cup and vase of burnished gold. The brilliant gems, the costly robes, the stately figures of those n.o.ble guests, were enhanced tenfold by its power; while the king's wan face showed paler, fiercer, ghastlier than ever, in that strong searching glare.

The procession had been long, the triumph protracted and wearisome; sacrifices offered, not ungrudgingly, to the G.o.ds, had delayed him with observances he loathed, ceremonials he despised; and Ninus had been in the saddle since daybreak. It was not strange then that Arbaces, his chief captain, sitting over against him, should have felt his heart sink while he looked on the ashy war-worn face, from which he had so often gathered counsel and resource, picturing to himself that he saw a dead monarch presiding, stark and grim, at his own funeral feast.

The king sat for a while with his head sunk on his breast, to all appearance thoroughly out-wearied and overcome; but after Sethos had filled his cup more than once, a feeble light came into his eyes, while he glared around with a haughty air of inquiry, that seemed rather to threaten the absent than welcome those who were present at his festival.

He looked sternly satisfied, however, with the number and importance of his guests--men who formed the props of his throne and the very bulwarks of his empire. There was Arbaces, captain of the host, firm in position as in character, a sage counsellor, a skilful leader, and a stout man of war in close fight, hand to hand; there was Sargon, his shield-bearer, who slew before the gates of Memphis, in single combat, seven Egyptian champions, one by one, and vowed in the hearing of both armies, that as he had sacrificed these to the Seven Stars, so would he take life after life from the host of Pharaoh till the Consulting G.o.ds, the Judges of the World, and each of the a.s.syrian deities, had been propitiated with a victim. Scowling and silent, Sargon sat apart at the banquet; and a keen eye, scanning him warily and by stealth, noted the seal of murder set upon his brow.

There was a.s.sarac too, the scheming priest, unwarlike indeed in form and nature, yet owning a more daring spirit, a more enduring courage, than the fiercest archer who ever drew bow from a war-chariot--a.s.sarac, present in virtue of his office to pour out drink-offerings, to peer into the divining cup if required, above all, to watch with jealous supervision the temper and opinions of those who surrounded the king.

Though aware that Ninus disliked, suspected, and would have put him to death without scruple, his eye never quailed, nor did his speech falter; and when he raised his goblet, filled to its brim, the eunuch's hand was firm and steady as a rock.

These last-named persons, with the older leaders and captains of ten thousand, were placed near the king; but scores of younger warriors, rising in fame, comely in person, and splendid in apparel, thronged the lower and more noisy extremity of the board. Over these, amongst whom Sarchedon was not the least remarkable, presided Ninyas, distinguished no less for his beautiful face and magnificent attire than for his deep draughts, reckless hilarity, and boisterous freedom of discourse.

"Once more in Babylon," said he, "after months of toil and heat, and worst of all, that torturing thirst! After those weary marches by day, those endless watches by night, welcome to the land of palm and pomegranate, peace and plenty, women and wine! What say you, Sarchedon?

Well, I trow that, being of his guard, your duty bids you echo the Great King. The old lion cannot hear you where you sit; you may speak the truth freely as if you were reading the Seven Stars. Confess, now. None but a fool would go forth in warfare who could stay to revel and sleep at home."

Sarchedon, though familiar with camps, was also no stranger to the usages of a palace.

"My lord did not seem of so peaceful a mind," he answered, "while he drove his war-chariot through the archers who lined her vineyards when we invested the city of Pasht, or it had cost us a weary siege ere we broke in pieces the idols of the Cat!"

"Well said, Sarchedon!" was the vain-glorious reply. "Why did we not push on, as I advised? By the G.o.ds of my fathers, I swear to you, that if Ninyas had been your leader but for one week, rather than the Great King, he would have left the Ethiopians to lose themselves amongst the marches in our rear, fought a pitched battle on the plain by the sweet river, and you and I would have been drinking wine of Eshcol in the palace of Pharaoh at this moment."

It may be that Sarchedon had his own opinion of the strategy which should have conduced to so triumphant a result. He answered gravely enough:

"My lord confessed even now that he was far better in the palaces of Babylon. Is he not satisfied with the spoil, the captives, and the cheers of the people? They lifted up their voices when he pa.s.sed to-day as it had been great Nimrod himself."

"The lazy drones!" laughed his well-pleased listener. "When I come to rule, they shall have something more to do than shout, I promise them.

Reach me that flagon, I pray you--nay, hold! I am like my scoffing old sire, in one respect at least--I pour all drink-offerings down my own throat! No; what pleased me best to-day was neither spoil nor glory nor the voices of fools. It was the face of a maiden sweeter than the honeysuckle and fairer than the rose. Did you not mark her Sarchedon? or were you so busy in attendance on the queen, my mother, that you had eyes for none beside?"

Stifling the hideous misgivings that rose like a flood in his heart, Sarchedon answered with forced calmness:

"My lord must have pa.s.sed to-day under the glances of a thousand damsels, and every one his handmaid. The comeliest of all were standing behind Kalmim, in attendance on the Great Queen."

"You are blind! by the beak of Nisroch, you must be blind!" exclaimed the excitable young prince. "Take Kalmim herself--for when she has tired her head and painted her eyes she is the best of them, since the queen loves not too much beauty so near her own--but take Kalmim, I say, and tell me whether she shows not like a camel beside a courser when you compare her with the daughter of Arbaces. O! never bend your brows and look so scared towards the chief captain. He cannot hear us up there; and, by the belt of Ashur, the king's voice raised in anger is enough to deafen a man in both ears! What can have chafed the old lion to make him roar so fiercely, even over his food?"

In truth, the deep harsh tones of Ninus, loud and overbearing, were heard above the ring of flagons, the clatter of tongues, all the din that accompanies a feast--even above the vibration of the lyre, the roll of the drum, the soft sweet music floating on the night air from an unseen gallery, far off amongst the pillared corridors that surrounded the open court.

Like the lion to which his graceless son compared him, Ninus was lashing himself into rage. His theme was the rapacity of priests, and, to use his own words, the extortions of the G.o.ds.

"Ten thousand of you!" roared the old warrior, turning fiercely on a.s.sarac, of whom he had asked a question relating to certain details of the day's pageant. "Ten thousand demons! and for Baal alone. By the beard of Nimrod, he should be better served than any of us his descendants, who must needs feed the hungry swarming brood. And you would have me believe that there are G.o.ds as many as stars in heaven?

Hear him, Arbaces! You and I have set armies in array ere this, so strong that our trumpets in the centre carried no sound to the hors.e.m.e.n on the wings; but if we are to have a thousand G.o.ds, and every G.o.d ten thousand priests, it will pa.s.s your skill and mine to devise how such a mult.i.tude may be ranged in order of battle. And one company of my bowmen would put them all to flight ere you could ride a furlong! Ten thousand priests of Baal! Ten thousand vultures tearing at a dead carca.s.s! I trow there will be little left for the desert-falcon that struck the prey.

You read the stars, forsooth, and can foretell the future easily as I can forget the past! Go to! Will you compute me the share of spoil I am likely to a.s.sign to-morrow for your entertainment and the altars of your G.o.ds?"

Without compromising one jot of his own dignity, the wily eunuch's answer was yet temperate and respectful to the Great King.

"My lord is himself the child of Ashur and of Baal--the father gives freely to the son, requiring only honour and reverence in return."

"Fill my cup!" thundered the king to Sethos, who ministered hastily to his wants. "I have not found it so," he continued, harping still on the theme that thus chafed him. "The honour and reverence I pay them willingly, though they keep me standing long enough in their temples, and, perhaps because they sit so far off, it seems hard to make them hear. But if honour and reverence are to signify, sheep and oxen, wine, jewels, raiment of needlework and heaps of treasure, they have had their share from Ninus--henceforth I will follow the example of those poor slaves we found in Egypt, the captives of our captives, who worship but one G.o.d, and offer him neither silver nor gold!"