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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 42822
   :PG.Title: Semiramis
   :PG.Released: 2013-05-27
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Edward Peple
   :DC.Title: Semiramis
              A Tale of Battle and of Love
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1907
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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SEMIRAMIS
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      Cover

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      :alt: She had come into the lion's very lair.  (Page 143)

      She had come into the lion's very lair.  (Page `143`_)

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      SEMIRAMIS

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      A Tale of Battle and of Love

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      BY

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      EDWARD PEPLE

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      NEW YORK
      MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
      1907

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      Copyright, 1907
      BY MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY

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      Published August, 1907
      Reprinted, November, 1907

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      To
      "THE LITTLE PADRE"

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   CONTENTS

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I.  `The Raising of the Siege`_
II.  `The Building of a City`_
III.  `The Governor of Syria`_
IV.  `The Fish Goddess`_
V.  `A Prayer to Dagon`_
VI.  `The Daughter of Derketo`_
VII.  `A Master's Kiss`_
VIII.  `They that Depart and He that is Left Behind`_
IX.  `The Eaglet Nursed by Doves`_
X.  `The Lifting of a Tax`_
XI.  `The Sandal and the Straws`_
XII.  `The Sorrows of a King`_
XIII.  `The Skin of a One-Eyed Lion`_
XIV.  `The Turn of a Woman's Tongue`_
XV.  `An Army on the March`_
XVI.  `The Pass of the Wedge`_
XVII.  `In the Shadow of Zariaspa`_
XVIII.  `The Raisin in a Skin of Vinegar`_
XIX.  `The Stratagem`_
XX.  `The Flight`_
XXI.  `The Riddle of the Secret Way`_
XXII.  `Who Ruleth, First Must Rise`_
XXIII.  `The Siege`_
XXIV.  `The Citadel`_
XXV.  `Shifting the Burden`_
XXVI.  `The Passing of a Man`_
XXVII.  `A Path Which Led to Its Starting Point`_
XXVIII.  `The Cry of the Tigress to her Mate`_
XXIX.  `When a Woman Ruled the World`_
XXX.  `The Desert and the King`_
XXXI.  `The Crowning of the Dead`_
XXXII.  `A War Queen's Prophecy`_

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   PREFACE.

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The existing history of Assyria's greatest ruler,
Semiramis, is so confounded with the religions and
superstitions of the ancients that little or no
authentic fact may be gleaned therefrom.  Again, these
legends were handed down from father to son among
the Syrians and imaginative Persians, till finally
recorded by the more imaginative Greeks.  These latter
gentlemen seemed seldom to allow mere truth to stand
as a stumbling block in their literary paths, but
leaped it nimbly for the entertainment of an admiring
world.

As for poets, they ever sing of Queen Semiramis
at a period of her seasoned age and wickedness,
though her "devilish beauty" continued to abide
with her, being wielded as an evil scepter o'er the
souls of men; yet much must be forgiven in a poet,
because of that strange inaptitude of truth for a
friendly relationship with meter and with rhyme.

In every human, however bad, there exists a trace
of virtue, even as, on the other hand, no mortal yet
has lived without some blemish of flesh or mind or
heart; thus Nature balances her weird accounts,
leaving the extremes of vice or purity to mythical ideals.

Given a woman without imagination or originality,
and that woman deserves no credit whatsoever for
her righteousness.  She exists; she does not live; for
her temptation possesses no attractive lure.  Yet
given another woman, of beauty, temper, brains, and
for her the battles of good and evil will be waged
till her fires are dead.  Her better self must battle
against ambition, passion, the blood of direct
inheritance, the thousand ghostly guides that lead her
into perilous ways, while on the scales of
circumstances must hang the issue of her rise or fall.  She
must face still other foes, in men who are stronger
than herself—men who seek her charms for weel or
woe; for perfect love is a woman's highest goal, and
a man may make or mar it by the mould of his great
or little heart.

If, therefore, in her later days Semiramis was evil,
the fault was not all her own.  She chose her master—not
the master of her mind, but the master of her
woman's heart, and to him she gave her all.  What
wonder, then, that when her all was filched by lustful
treachery, departing peace awoke a sleeping devil in
her blood?

Great faults had Queen Semiramis, and many, as
viewed by enlightened women from a reach of two
thousand years; yet who shall say that evil would
have claimed this splendid savage had fate not raised
another savage to mould her destiny?

It is not the purpose of this work to present a
series of historical facts, for even the legends of
Semiramis are too absurd and fragmentary to admit
of such a hope.  Its aim—in emulation of the
worthy Greeks—is, at least, to entertain, albeit a
truth or two may now and again be handled carelessly.
It treats of ancient loves and wars, a tangle
of myth and probability—a patch-work, woven into
a quilt which, at worst, may assist the reader in
going peacefully to sleep.

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July, 1907.  E. P.

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.. _`THE RAISING OF THE SIEGE`:

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   SEMIRAMIS

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CHAPTER I

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THE RAISING OF THE SIEGE

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King Ninus sat his war horse, gazing sadly
out across the walls of Zariaspa.  His cheek was
bronzed by the brush of many winds, his muscles
hardened by the toil of battle in a hundred lands; the
blood of dauntless youth ran riot in his veins, yet it
whispered at his heart that the King had failed.

Behind him the mountains of Hindu-Kush towered,
dull and purple, in the morning light, their peaks
obscured in coils of snake-like mist.  Southward they
ran, a ragged line of hills, till they reached the height
of Hindu-Koh and claimed a brotherhood with the
mighty Himalayas.  To right and left the
hill-steeps lay, a barren waste of rock and stunted
shrubbery, while at the feet of Assyria's King stretched
fertile valleys, and the plains of Bactria reaching
away to the banks of the River Oxus.

In the centre of the plain stood Zariaspa, the city
which defied Assyria's might, a fortress whose walls
rose thirty cubits above the earth, grim, battle-scarred,
but still unconquered.  Within, the defenders feasted
from a never ending store of food which seemed to
drop by magic from the brazen skies, while without,
a hungry host of besieging foes sat, cursing, in the
sand.

So Ninus sat upon his horse in troubled thought, a
monarch cheated of his heart's desire—cheated by
craft and prowess more subtle than his own.  To his
side rode Menon down a mountain trail, a Prince of
the house of Naïri, now travel-stained from a baffled
hunt for the secret of Zariaspa's store of food.  He
made report, and Ninus listened, silent, nodding
slowly, frowning at the distant walls.

In feature and form these two were as oddly matched
as the sons of a kindred race might be.  The King
was of massive frame and corded thews, a leader of
men who ruled by the right of might, who offered to
those he loved an open hand—to his enemies a
hard-clenched fist.  Haughty of mien was he, with the eyes
of a restless hawk burning beneath the shadow of his
brow; his strong, square chin lay hidden in his beard,
while from his helm swept a mass of hair, resting in
thick, oiled curls upon his shoulders.

The Prince beside him was but a boy in years, with
a beardless face of beauty to look upon, a slender,
nimble frame, yet hardened in the school of hunting
and of war.  Where Fate was pleased to mark his
path, there Menon[#] rode with a loose, free rein,
mocking at danger as he played at love, yet scorning
not discretion's padded shield.


[#] This name is known to modern writers as Onnes or Cannes,
but the historian Diodorus called him Menon and this name
has been used by the author throughout.


Where Ninus smashed his way through the
bristling ranks of opposing force, Menon skimmed in
crafty circles till he found the weakest point, then
cut it cleanly, as the swallow cuts the wind.  Where
Ninus frowned and crushed obedience to his will, there
Menon bought devotion's merchandise with the price
of a joyous laugh; yet the boy, withal, had need to
lean upon the arm of power, while the King was a
king from helm to heel, a lord to whom his mighty
armies gave idolatry and the tribute of their blood.

"Menon," spoke the King at length, as he pointed
across the plain to Zariaspa, "I have sworn by Bel
and Ramân to lay yon city low, to sack it to the dust
of its whitest ash.  Thinkest thou we may some day
cease to squat in the manner of toads outside its
walls?"

"Aye, my lord," the Prince returned, with a
fleeting smile, "some day—when the toads have learned
to fly."

King Ninus nodded thoughtfully, and with his
fingers combed at his thick, black beard.

"True," he answered, "true; and yet we soon will
be upon the wing.  Look thou and listen."  Again
he pointed, not at the city's walls, but to the monster
camp which circled Zariaspa as a girdle rests about a
woman's waist.  "See, Menon, thy King hath learned
to fly."

Now even as he spoke, the besieging army woke as
from a heavy sleep.  On the gentle wind came a clank
and clatter of swiftly gathered arms, the squeak of
wheels and the harsh, shrill cries of captains to their
men.  At first the sound was faint and far, a
whispered echo through the morning mists; yet anon it
multiplied and swelled into a busy roar, as the
vanguard of Assyria's hosts turned tail upon their
enemies and crawled toward the southern mountain-pass.

Menon, like the King, gazed out across the plain,
but in wonder and amaze, then raised his eyes to his
master's frowning face.  Twice he strove to speak,
and twice fell silent, turning again to the marvel of
Assyria's army in retreat.

"My lord—" he began at last, but Ninus checked
him with a lifted hand.

"Nay, Menon," the master sighed, "thy soul is
troubled because of the strangeness of this thing; yet
heed me and know the cause.  My heart is still for
battle, yet the heart hath taken council of the mind,
and wisdom soundeth my retreat."

The King dismounted from his steed, leading the
Prince to a seat upon a stone which overlooked a wider
view of the breaking camp.  He placed his arm in
fatherly caress on Menon's shoulder, and spoke once
more:

"My warriors have called their chief a god."  He
paused to smile behind his beard, and for an instant
sat in reverie.  "Now godhood hath its virtues so long
as it leadeth unto victory and beds of ease; yet this
have I learned, and to my woe, that a pot of boiling
grease poured down from a city's wall will scald a god
as it scaldeth a naked slave.  Defeat is mortal; gods
bring victory alone, and my faithful followers begin
to mutter among themselves."

Again King Ninus paused in reverie, then stretched
his knotted arm toward the stubborn city.

"Three years have we girded Zariaspa's walls and
battered at its masonry.  Three years! and what hath
been compassed in these weary days?  We scrape an
hundred-weight of scales from off the stones, and
sacrifice a third of an army's strength to the sport of
our laughing enemies.  Our shafts are as swarms of
harmless gnats, our lances reeds in the hands of girls;
our mightiest engines toys at which the foemen crow
and chuckle in their merriment.  From the Oxus to
the hills we harry the land in search of food, while
the Bactrians fatten as they loll upon their
battlements.  Aye, meat have they, the which they
devour in lazy arrogance, tossing the bones thereof at
our hungry men below!  Whence cometh this vast
supply?  From Bel or Gibil, it matters not; they
gorge themselves, and laugh!  Five score spies have
I sent by craft into the city, and five score spies have
they hanged upon the walls!  By the breath of
Shamashi-Ramân, it rouseth me to wrath!"

The King arose and set to striding in fury to and
fro, while Menon forbore to question him, knowing
that if his master willed he would speak in time.

"And so," sighed Ninus, pausing at last beside the
boy, "and so will we journey westward for a space, to
conquer other and weaker lands, to fatten my army
with the fruits of spoil, to help them forget that a
god hath failed.  When this be compassed, then will
I rest from war beside the Tigris where my city shall
be builded in the sand—a city, Menon, the like of
which no eye hath yet beheld—a fortress beside
whose strength this little Zariaspa is but a nut to
crack beneath thy heel.  And there will I set my court
and hold dominion over all the world—hold it, till
men and the children of men shall wear my footstool
smooth with the pressure of their knees!"

The monarch's bosom heaved in wrapt desire; his
dark eyes kindled with a flame inspired, as he raised
them toward the clouds.  As a prophet he saw this
pearl of glory rise from out the wilderness.  He saw its
monster walls, surmounted by a thousand and a half a
thousand soaring towers.  In fancy he fashioned
gleaming palaces and sumptuous banquet halls.  He
dreamed of gardens drowsing in the cool of spreading
palms, where a king might rest from the toil of his
lion-hunt; he heard the splash of fountains murmuring
through the long blue night, till the torch of
morning lit his terraces, and the grapes of Syria ripened
to his hand.  He watched in triumph from his palace
roof the vast brown city stretching at his feet, while
the echoed roar of its busy din climbed upward in
waves of melody.  He heard the clang of its mighty
gates of bronze that opened to the commerce of the
earth—that opened again to the outrush of his
war-armed hosts, a thousand nations melted into one grand
hammer-head that rose and fell in obedience to his
lightest nod.

"And because of this city," King Ninus cried
aloud, "the peoples of every land shall hold my
memory till the passing ages rot, for I swear to mount
it on a deathless throne and crown it with the
splendour of my name!  Up, Menon, and journey with
thy King to NINEVEH!"

And thus was born that Nineveh which rode
astride the world, to fall at last, as falls the pride of
power, and find its grave in the dust from whence
it sprung—to lie forgotten in a mouldy crypt of
dreams, till the peoples who slipped from the womb
of another age swarmed forth to dig again—to spell
out a kingdom's vanished glories from the symbols of
a vanished tongue.

Menon and the King rode down into the valley and
across the plain to where the great war-serpent of
Assyria began to uncoil itself and crawl toward the
west.  For the space of a moon the joyless work
went on.  The camps of horse and foot were struck,
the rude utensils and heavier arms being strapped
to the backs of beasts of burden, while an hundred
thousand chariots were hitched and deployed across
the plains.  Cumberous engines for the hurling of
heavy stones were dragged from beneath the city
walls, to be burned and destroyed, or hauled through
gaps in the distant mountain range by lowing oxen
and toiling, sweating slaves.  The warriors set torches
to the huts and houses behind their trenches, and a
roar of flames was added to the bustling din of
moving men-at-arms.  Great columns of spark-shot smoke
arose, to roll above the city in a suffocating
cloud—to choke the defenders who coughed and crowded
along the battlements.  As each dense mass of
besiegers passed, the Bactrianas set up shouts and
songs of victory, while they hurled their taunts,
together with flights of shafts and stones, at the
growling, cursing enemy below.

From day to day the scene was one of turbulence
and haste, a jumble of groaning carts and provision
trains, of swiftly formed battalions passing
westward on the run, to join the vanguard and be lost in a
cloud of thick, low-hanging dust.  And thus an
hundred nations trickled into order through the teeming
ruck, each yelling in its native tongue as it flung
defiance back at Zariaspa; while above the rumbling
tramp of myriads of feet rose the blare of
countless signal horns.

When the last day dawned, King Ninus marshalled
an array to bid farewell to his jeering foes.
Where he faced the city gates, a thousand chariots
were formed in a curving, triple line, with steeds
whose polished trappings glittered in the sun, their
drivers giants picked from the flower of his force.
The wings were shaped by cavalry, dark-visaged riders
from the south, in turbans and flowing robes, while
a horde of footmen were massed behind.  Here were
seen the harnessed tribes that bowed to Assyria's rule;
Indian bowmen, with weapons fashioned from bones
of saurians; spearsmen from Babylonia, archers from
the north; grim swordsmen from the Upper and
Lower Nile, bearing their shields of painted bronze;
wild slingers from the Syrian hills, half clothed in the
skins of beasts; Afghans, sullen Khatti, proud
Armenians in solid, bristling ranks—the warriors of
the world who had swept all Asia as with a flame, yet
failed to drag the walls of Zariaspa down.

In the centre of the curving front King Ninus sat
his war horse silently; on his right rode Menon, while
on his left a mounted herald waited for command.
The monarch gave a sign; the stern battalia advanced,
to halt within an arrow-shot of the city gates; then the
herald raised his voice, demanding audience with
Oxyartes, King of Bactria.

Now the Bactrians on the walls, suspecting some
deceitful snare, answered the summons with hoots and
laughter, with the mimic howls of animals and the
mocking crow of cocks.  A cloud of arrows fell like
drops of rain, galling the restive chariot steeds, while
a captain on the wall released the beam of a
catapult.  A monster rock came hurtling through the
air, to strike the earth within a spear's length of the
King and crash through the triple line of
chariots; whereat a mighty roar of rage went up, the
clamour growing into fury, till Ninus wheeled his horse
and gave a sharp command.  At his word, the
centre of the line began to bend in a deeper curve,
divided at last, and two great columns of horse and
foot streamed westward toward the hills, while the
rumbling chariots, twelve abreast, brought up the
rear.

With Menon alone King Ninus sat motionless upon
his steed till his warriors left the space of a thousand
paces clear; then he rode to the gate and struck it
sharply with the hilt of his heavy sword.

"Come forth, King Oxyartes!" he cried aloud.
"Come forth!"

Now the people of Bactria loved a fearless man, be
he enemy or friend, so they cheered him till the city
rocked with the thunder of their shouts, and Oxyartes
stood out upon the battlements.

"What would Ninus of the King of Bactria?" he
called; and Ninus answered, albeit he lifted not his
eyes:

"It is not meet that the lord of Assyria hold
speech with fowls who roost in trees.  Come down and
parley, King to King."

A bowman from above took umbrage at the haughty
tone, and loosed a shaft which broke upon the
monarch's metal helm, yet because of this deed King
Oxyartes seized the miscreant and flung him from
the wall.  Then he called for a rope which,
being brought, was looped beneath his arms, and his
warriors lowered him to the earth, for the city gates
were sealed.  In his hand he held a naked sword, and
Ninus noting this laughed scornfully, dismounted and
cast his weapon on the ground, awaiting his enemy
with folded arms.  The Bactrian flushed in shame,
flung his own blade aside, and advanced with
outstretched hands.

"Pardon, my lord," he begged.  "With one so
strange to fear, I might have brought my trust as I
brought my sword."

"Nay," smiled Ninus; "where the sword is
wisdom, there caution is a shield."

Oxyartes was of that mould of warrior which Ninus
loved; the straight, lean form, the kingly head
beneath whose brow the eyes looked out with a level
gaze, while the hands he offered were firm in the
strength of youth—a fitting shield for the heart of
his sturdy land.

"And why," he asked, "am I honoured by a
parley with Assyria's lord, when his army marcheth
westward in retreat?"

King Ninus laid his hand upon the Bactrian's
shoulder, looked into his eyes, and spoke:

"I come to bid farewell to a worthy foe, ere I turn
toward the Tigris where my city shall be builded on
its shore.  There will I rest and plan my coming
wars.  There will I raise another and a mightier
force, to return when three short years have passed
and blot thy city from the plains.  Ah, smile if thou
wilt, friend Oxyartes, but I come again, and at my
coming, look well to Zariaspa's walls!"

So Oxyartes ceased to smile, casting his gaze upon
the earth, for he knew his foe spoke truth and would
come again.

"My lord," he asked at length, "wherefore should
our races be at war?  In the country round about I
may not match thy multitude of men-at-arms; yet
behind my battlements I defy thy proudest strength.
Wisdom crieth out for truce, a compact wherein I
weld my force with thine and share all conquests and
a portion of the spoil thereof.  Speak, Ninus, for
the compact seemeth just."

"True," the monarch nodded gravely, "true; and
yet I may not do this thing.  When Bactria is
conquered and thy citadel laid low, then will I make a
treaty with thy nation's chiefs.  They shall join their
strength to mine and share a goodly part of my
captives and my spoils."  He paused to smile, and once
more laid his hand on the shoulder of Oxyartes.
"Their warrior King will I set among my best
beloved, for I hold him as a brother in the arts of war;
yet heed me, friend, I have sworn by Bel and Ramân
to rake the ashes of thy Zariaspa into sacks and with
them feed the waters of the sea!  And this will I do,
or leave my bones to bleach beneath the brow of
Hindu-Kush!  Till I come again—farewell."

Then Oxyartes embraced the Assyrian king, begging
him to tarry for a day as an honored guest, to
feast and receive the richest gifts his kingdom might
afford; but Ninus smiled and shook his head.

"Nay, suffer me to treasure up the thought," he
answered with a laugh, "yet keep thy gifts till I
come to take them for myself."

"So be it," smiled the Bactrian in return.  "Three
years of peace thou givest me, and in them will I dig
the grave of Assyria's lord in the shadow of frowning
Kush!  Farewell!"

He stooped and gave the sword of Ninus into the
monarch's hand, stroked the charger's neck till its
master mounted, then watched the King and Menon
ride away across the sunlit plains.

Not once did Ninus give a backward glance, yet
Menon wheeled his steed and kissed his hand to a
gathering of maidens watching from the battlements.





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.. _`THE BUILDING OF A CITY`:

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   CHAPTER II


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   THE BUILDING OF A CITY

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The Assyrian host dragged westward till it
wormed its way through notches in the mountain
range, descended the further slopes, then fared upon
its way.  It split at last into lesser armies, each
beneath the leadership of a trusted chief, each charged
with a separate mission of its own.  One force swung
north, to harry the shores of the Black and Caspian
seas and to levy tribute for the building of the city.
Another force went south through the plains and
valleys of Armenia, while still another fared afar to
the Sea of the Setting Sun.  Here fleets of Phoenician
merchantmen were seized and pressed into the service
of the King, for in the eyes of Ninus a nation's traffic
was but a paltry thing till Nineveh should be.  These
ships sailed out toward the delta of the Nile, presently
to return with swarms of Egyptian workers, together
with their cutting-tools of bronze, their winches and
their levers used in the wielding of mighty weights.
Ten score thousand riders spread forth through every
land and every tribe, summoning workers by pay or
promises; and where a tribe rebelled, Assyria's
warriors herded them like sheep toward one central hub
of toil.

King Ninus himself sat down upon the river bank
where the waters of the Tigris and the Khusur join,
and here he wrought his plans.  A band of men went
northward to the forest lands, felled trees, and split
them into boards with which they fashioned a fleet
of wide flat boats.  These boats, propelled by sweeps
and pushing-poles, were manned by Phoenicia's sons,
for Assyria knew no more of ship-craft than hillsmen
know the camel's back; yet Ninus employed the skill
of others in his self appointed task.  While the boats
were being builded, he marked the line of his city wall
in the form of a mighty egg, full twenty leagues
around; then the King began to dig.

He caused two trenches to be sunk, the one within
the other; the outer trench being twenty cubits wide
and ten in depth, while the inner trench was shallower,
but of greater width.  These he flooded by means
of the river Khusur, forming two vast canals, with a
ring of earth between whereon should rest the walls of
Nineveh.  Then the whole wide world, it seemed, was
set a-making bricks.

On the Tigris river-flats, above and below the city
site, a million workers toiled by night and
day—warrior, captive, slave, King Ninus cared not, so he
moulded bricks.  These bricks were fashioned from
river mud brought down by inundation, the mud
commingled with straw and the fiberous parts of reeds to
give it strength, and were set to bake in the heat of
the summer sun.

Later these river flats would be employed for the
making of other bricks—the kiln-baked bricks which
were glazed and tinted with every color known to men,
designed for the facing of temples and of palaces;
but now the work went on for the city wall alone.
And yet not quite alone, for in the centre of the
city's line, where the Khusur cut the site in twain, the
King erected a monster mound whereon his royal
palace would one day sit; then on the summit of the
mound he builded a watch-tower, and abode therein.
Here, beneath a shading canopy, the master-builder
sat from dawn till dark, watching his work, for he
had sworn a sacred oath to indulge in neither hunt nor
war till Nineveh was Nineveh.

And now he saw the budding of his dream.  From
the Tigris banks and up the Khusur came his flatboats,
piled high with bricks; they floated on his two
canals, supplying the workers who builded the wall
between.  In time this inner canal would disappear,
being filled with earth, but the outer trench would
ever remain, to serve as a moat which girt the city
round about.

Like unto ants the workers swarmed beneath the eye
of Ninus on his tower, yet every little insect moved in
lines marked out by patient thought.  The well-nigh
countless throng was divided into ordered gangs, each
gang provided with an over-chief who urged his
laborers by word of mouth or the lash of whips.
Beneath the tower sat a ring of mounted men-at-arms
who galloped forth with orders of the King, or
brought report from points too distant for his eye to
scan; for the builder willed his work to grow, not with
gaps or breaks, but as one splendid whole, each
section of the wall arising in conformity with its brother
parts, until a straight, unvaried line should mount
each day toward the sky.

From dawn till dark the robe of Ninus fluttered on
the tower's crest—a banner of warning to those who
shirked their toil.  Where diligence grew slack from
weariness, or the work of a section fell behind, a
man-at-arms spurred out toward the offending gang, to
strike off the head of its over-chief and cast his body
into an empty boat.  Presently this boat, on its
outward journey for a load of bricks, would drop the
corpse into the Tigris, and another chief was set in
the sleeper's place.

Beyond the wall the army of Assyria lay encamped,
yet active beneath the rule of Menon and his chiefs.
A kingdom in itself it was, whence recruits were
drilled and trained to combat with the veteran
warriors; whence engines of offense were builded against
the day when Zariaspa again would suffer siege;
whence foraying bands went forth to gather grain
and fruits, likewise sheep and cattle, wherewith to
feed the multitudes of slaves and soldiery.  It was
here deserters from the wall were caught and
crucified in sight of those who harboured thoughts
displeasing to the King; for Ninus punished, not in
impotent gusts of rage, but rather with that cold
precision of a master-mind.  And because of these things
his work went on apace.

When the wall had risen twenty cubits above its
base, the King contrived from his inner trench a
myriad of intersecting channels converging toward his
central mound.  Through these he conveyed material
for the laying of his streets, for the erection of
houses and the temples unto Ishtar, the fire-god Gibil,
and the temple of his great Lord Asshur upon the
hill.  The royal palace would be modeled last of
all, for the mind of Ninus, released from other cares,
might give its power to the grandeur of his halls, to
their splendour of adornment wherein the arts of an
hundred nations would be taxed to lend them glory.

And now the deep-tongued voice of labour swelled
in volume, rolling upward in incessant waves of melody
to where the King sat smiling on his tower.  He
listened to the roar of sharp command, commingled with
the answering cries of slaves and the groan of laden
carts.  Far out across the plain he spied a train of
sleds, each drawn by a thousand men, and creeping
inch by inch through tawny sands; from the quarries
in the south they bore huge blocks of basalt wherefrom
strange effigies would be carven in the likeness of
gods, of lions and of wingéd bulls.  Beyond the wall
King Ninus heard the humming din of Assyria's hosts
encamped, the clank of arms and the rumbling tread
of horse and foot.  Within, he listened to the whine
of ropes, to the creak of hoisting-cranes which lifted
a world of brick and swung like living tentacles above
the sweating pigmies down below.  He heard the
songs of boatmen on his black canals, a droning air
that rose and fell, stilling the harsher cries of labour's
pain, and seeming to chant the kingly builder's praise.

The heat of the summer sun poured down, a pitiless,
parching blaze, while a horde of delvers bowed
beneath their lashes and their loads.  They staggered
at their tasks, each praying to his gods for the shades
of night to fall, when he slept like a beaten dog till
dawn awoke him to another hell of toil.

And thus fair Nineveh grew, as if by magic, from
the dust, the while a master-devil watched it from his
tower.  And the heart of Ninus swelled within him
and was glad.





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.. _`THE GOVERNOR OF SYRIA`:

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   CHAPTER III


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   THE GOVERNOR OF SYRIA

.. vspace:: 2

King Ninus, grandson of the mighty Shalmaneser,
mounted his throne in youth, a throne which
ruled a kingdom run to seed through the slothful
reign of Shamashi-Ramân; yet as his grandsire's
heart had beat for war alone, so beat the heart of
Ninus, resting not till the glory of Assyria flamed
forth again.

From the city of Kalah, crumbling in decay, he
began his little conquests, conquering his neighbors
and joining their strength to his, making them friends
and allies rather than slaves who bowed beneath a yoke
of might.  He moulded their uncouth valor into
ordered rule, exchanging their clumsy weapons for
his better tools of war, till, presently, an army raised
its head from out the mud of ignorance.  A conquered
people, so long as they paid him tribute and
kept their covenants, were left in peace, their gods
untroubled, their temples sacred to their own desires;
but should they revolt, then Ninus and his grim,
unpitying host returned, to leave their cities smouldering
heaps upon the plain, the heads of their chiefs set up
on poles by way of warning to all who entertained a
similar unrest.

And thus, like ever widening circles in a pool, the
Assyrian Empire grew apace, until at length its
confines stretched away, even to the shores of the Sea of
the Setting Sun.  Beneath the rule of Ninus bowed
Media and Armenia, the roving, battle-loving Khatti,
Tyre, Sidon, Edom and Philistia.  Proud Babylon
was once more wedded to Assyria, albeit she ever
scratched and bit in the manner of fractious and
unwilling wives.  Damascus fell, a feat which even
Shalmaneser failed to compass, and the peaceful fields of
Syria were overrun, their cattle eaten by the hungry
conquerors.  The dwellers on the shores of the Black
and Caspian seas were subject to the sway of Ninus,
and Egypt paid him endless tribute in precious metals
and shields and swords of bronze.

And yet two kingdoms lay as stumbling blocks in
the path of Assyria's power.  The one was Bactria, a
land whose armies, beaten in the field, took refuge
behind the massive walls of Zariaspa, defying siege for
three long years, their turrets lined with well-fed,
jeering men-at-arms.

The other unconquered kingdom was Arabia, ruled
by a wily Prince, by the name Boabdul Ben Hutt,
who chose a saddle for his throne, his sceptre a
loose-sheathed scimitar.  This country abounded in a breed
of swiftest steeds which wrought King Ninus to the
verge of mad desire; yet the prize was beyond his
grasp, like the fruit of a palm whose trunk he could
neither fell nor climb.  And more; its inner kernel
was protected by a circling rind of desertland, far
deadlier than a force of a million warriors.
Moreover this kingdom stood in constant menace to the
plans of Ninus, and so soon as an adjacent country
was subdued and the armies marched to further wars,
a cloud of dusky riders would descend in a swirling
rush of sand, to obliterate the tracks of Assyria's
patient toil.

Report came now to Ninus as he sat upon his
tower, and vexed him till he fain would crucify the
messengers of evil tidings.  The horsemen of
Boabdul were troubling Syria with the points of spears,
devouring the fattest flocks and bearing off rich spoils
which the King desired in the building of his city.
For an hour King Ninus combed his beard in thought,
then sent for Menon and spread before him a feast of
fruits and wine.

"Menon," spoke the King, when the feast was
done, "to-morrow shalt thou journey down into
Arabia and seal a covenant with our worthy foe, Prince
Boabdul Ben Hutt."

Menon stared and set his goblet on the board.

"A covenant?" he asked in wonder, for he feared
lest he had not heard aright.

"Aye, a covenant of peace," King Ninus nodded
gravely; "for, heed thee, fools alone make war
upon the birds of flight, while a wise man feedeth
them from his store of grain, in that they fatten
against a time of need."  Menon smiled, and the King
spoke on: "Go thou, then, unto Arabia, seek out
Boabdul and bear him gifts which I now make ready.
Offer them together with the love and fellowship of
Assyria's lord, and call him brother in my name.
Seal, thou, a covenant whose bonds provide that we
trespass not upon one another's lands; that in all
new conquests, wherein he lendeth aid, a half of the
spoils thereof shall be his part.  In turn, Arabia may
call upon the arm of Ninus for the smiting of her
enemies, and the lands subdued shall be divided in two
equal shares.  Accede to such demands of the noble
Prince as wisdom and justice may advocate, yet upon
one point hold fast as a buck-hound's grip, though
the treaty come to grief because of it."

"And that?" asked Menon, still marvelling at the
master's tone.

"Stallions!" cried the King, as he struck the table
with his hairy fist.  "These must I have, to add to
the glory of my stud, to draw my chariots and to fill
the stalls of my stables here at Nineveh.  Look to it,
Menon, three thousand steeds of the noblest stock will
Boabdul send each year; and for the which he may
ask his price in maidens or other merchandise.  The
steeds, my friend, the godly steeds of Barbary!"

For a space the King and his faithful general
spoke thoughtfully of matters pertaining to the
truce, then Menon rose to take his leave; but Ninus
detained him further.

"When the covenant shall be sealed," said he,
"send messengers with the terms thereof to my allies
in the South; likewise dispatch a trusty courier to me,
then journey into Syria.  In Syria thou wilt wait
upon its Governor, one Surbat by name, a drowsy
man who ruleth with the wisdom of a sheep.  Send me
his head; and when he, thus, shall be removed from
office, rule thou in his stead—yet wisely and with
wakefulness."

Menon's cheeks grew red with pride at the honours
which his master was about to heap upon him, and he
would have fallen to his knees in gratitude, but the
King restrained him.

"Nay, listen," said he, "the hills of Syria are fat
with the fat of plenty, their vast tribes rich in cattle
and in sheep, while Ninus hath grievous need of food
in the building of his city.  Pinch them with tax, my
son, till their veins run dry, yet spare their skins that
they puff again for a later need.  I, myself, will send
a messenger unto Surbat, advising him of my will in
the change of rule, albeit as to the smiting of his
neck, I will leave it till thou comest on him suddenly."

Once more Menon sought to sink upon his knee, but
Ninus took his hands and raised him, saying, with a
smile:

"Nay, spare thy thanks till the lion's hide is dried;
for, remember, I send thee down to Syria for
Surbat's head.  Rule boldly, but with craft, lest
perchance I may some day send for still another head.
And now, farewell."

Menon journeyed down the Tigris in a barge whose
sweeps were manned by swart Phoenicians; and beside
the guard accompanying him, there were certain
slaves who bore provisions and the royal gifts for
Arabia's Prince.  By day and night they travelled
swiftly till they came to the town of Kutha, where
they crossed by land to the Euphrates and embarked
in another boat.  Thence they floated for many days
on the current of this muddy stream, and rested at
last by Burwar, a league below the site where Babylon,
the Queen of Cities, would some day rise.  Here they
dispatched an Arab messenger unto Boabdul Ben
Hutt, and sat down to wait the pleasure of the Prince
and an escort through the desertlands.

At length the escort came, a band of turbaned
savages who stole like ghosts across the sands on the
backs of lurching camels; whose weapons and
trappings gave no sound; whose visages were hardened to
the breath of heated winds and the sting of burning
dust.  Their Sheik bade Menon welcome in his
master's name, and strapped the gifts of Ninus on a
vicious lead-beast's hump.  He mounted the leader
and seven of his men-at-arms, but the others, together
with the slaves and servants, he commanded to remain
behind.

There were those of Menon's guard who sat uneasy
in their seats, because of the strangeness in the gait of
these awsome beasts; and one, when his camel floundered
from its knees, clutched wildly at nothing and
pitched headlong to the earth, to arise from the dust
with curses, amid the laughter of the Bedouins.

Now it is not good to mock at a Babylonian in
distress, so he, one Babus, nursed a certain soreness of
his pride which was like to bring the cause of Menon
into bitter stress, yet the time was not yet come.

For the space of eleven days the cavalcade fared
westward through the trackless wastes, the sky a
brazen lake of fire, the plains a tawny, dizzy sea that
seemed to heave with endless waves of sand.  In the
hours of noon they rested long beneath the shade of
canopies, and slept; then took up their flight again,
to shiver through the cool of night when a huge moon
leapt with wondrous suddenness from beneath the
world and raced away along his curving, star-lit path.
And thus they journeyed till the dawn of the twelfth
red day, when Menon spied the fringe of a green oasis
as it rose from the desert's rim.  Like a cool, sweet
dewdrop it seemed to lie in the core of a yellow leaf,
and after a weary ride at quickened pace the travellers
came upon the outposts of Boabdul's camp.

Here the Assyrians were conducted into tents of
skins, that of Menon being sumptuous in appointment;
it was deep, commodious, and provided with
silent slaves to wait upon the chieftain's needs.  One
servant bore a cooling draught of wine, while another
prepared a bath—a tub devised of a camel's hide
supported on stakes which were driven in the earth.
The juice of the grape was sweet to Menon's swollen
tongue, but the bath was like unto the spirit of a
loved one who took him in her arms and kissed away
his weariness.  In the water he lingered listlessly, at
rest, at peace, while his thirsty pores drank in the
precious moisture; then a black attendant clothed him in
a filmy robe, and a rich repast was spread.  There
were dates and figs, with cakes of pounded grain;
there was wine in jeweled cups, and melons chilled in
the depths of Boabdul's wells.  The Assyrian ate and
was satisfied, then sank upon a couch, to slumber
dreamlessly throughout the day, throughout the night,
till at dawn the tingling blood ran knocking at his
heart with the message that he lived again.

When, once more he had eaten and was conducted
from his tent, Menon found the camp astir with the
life and bustle of moving warriors, of shifting
sentinels, and horsemen who led their steeds to water and
provided feed.  Through groves of palms he could
see a vast array of tents which stretched away to the
uttermost edges of the green oasis, while on the plains
beyond white clouds of riders wheeled and darted to
and fro.  The great red sun arose, and with its
coming Menon and his men-at-arms were led before
Arabia's Prince.

Boabdul Ben Hutt stood waiting in the opening of
his royal tent, a youth of lordly mien, with a proud,
disdainful beauty stamped upon his beardless face.
About his head was wound the folds of a milk-white
turban whose tall aigret was caught in the clasp of a
splendid emerald.  His robe was wrought with
precious gems and threads of gold, while a jeweled
scimitar swung from his studded belt.

In Assyria's tongue he greeted Menon and his
followers, bidding them welcome to his couch and
board, for the Prince was schooled in the speech of
many lands.  He questioned them as to the health
of the King, their master, and sought to know if the
messengers had rested from their tedious march; and
then, when the rind of courtesy was pealed away,
Boabdul demanded that the meat of Assyria's quest be
laid upon the palate of his understanding.

So Menon spoke as Ninus had desired, calmly,
craftily, setting forth the marked advantage of a union
with his lord.  He touched with truth upon Assyria's
wants, yet pointed out Arabia's crying needs.  He
laid the terms of treaty before the Prince till the
scales of justice balanced to a grain of sand; then, he
called Boabdul brother in his monarch's name and
asked for stallions from the plains of Barbary.

The Arab listened in the patience of his race,
albeit a frown of anger now rode upon his brow, while
his fingers fluttered about the hilt of his keen-edged
scimitar.  When Menon ceased to speak Boabdul
spurned the gifts of Ninus with his foot and loosed
the bridle of his fiery tongue.

"What!" he stormed.  "Is Arabia's Prince an
owl?  Shall he blink at the glory of Assyria's sun,
while foxes pluck out feathers from his tail?  My
stallions!  No!  Go back to thy master who would
pillage where he conquereth not, and lead him a
bridled jackal for his stud.  Go!  Say that Boabdul
knoweth not a brother of his name, and bear him as
my gift thy two palms heaped with dust!"

A close-packed ring of Bedouins girt the messengers
round about, and those who understood passed
whispered words to their fellow warriors, till soon a
threatening murmur rose, and many a scimitar itched
to leave its sheath.

Now Babus, the Babylonian—he whose pride was
sore because of his fall from the camel's back—spoke
out unbidden and flung a taunt in the teeth of the
angry Prince, whereat an Arab impaled the offender
on his lance, so that Babus writhed upon the earth,
and died.  The Assyrian guard would have drawn
their swords to avenge the stroke, and of a certainty
would have lost their lives and marred their master's
truce, but Menon wheeled upon them with a word of
sharp command.

"Peace!" he cried.  "The mouth of a braying ass
is closed with the dust which wise Boabdul sendeth as a
gift to Ninus."  He paused, to set a chain of gold
about the neck of the Arab who had wrought the deed,
then turned to the Prince with palms held downward.
"See, my lord," he smiled, "my hands are empty
now.  What, then, shall I bear to Ninus who waiteth
at Nineveh for a seal of truce?"

"The jackal!" flashed Boabdul.  "Bear him that!"

"Nay," spoke Menon, pointing to the corpse of
Babus at his feet, "thy second gift will I also put to
use in devouring the flesh of this fallen fool, whom
my lord will forget, aye, even as a generous Prince
forgeteth wrath."

The Bedouins nodded among themselves and smiled,
for they loved the turn of a crafty tongue, yet the
Prince ceased not to scowl.

"And why," he asked, "if Ninus would call me
brother of his heart, doth Ninus not come in person
to my tents, or seek a council on some middle
ground?"

"Because," replied the messenger, "he buildeth a
city on the Tigus river-bank; a city so vast that
none save he alone may direct the rearing of its walls
and palaces."

"Oho!" the Arab scoffed.  "So the master
thatcheth huts, and sendeth a hired servant where he
dare not risk the peril of his neck."

Menon flushed, but checked a hot retort upon his
lips, and held the eyes of Prince Boabdul in a level
gaze.

"Aye, truly," he answered, with a slow, unangered
speech, "I am but an humble servant of my King;
and yet I lead his hosts to battle, even as thou, my
lord, lead those of thine honored father, whom I learn,
with sorrow, is too infirm by reason of his years to
bear the stress of war."

Again the Bedouins murmured among themselves,
but now in approval of the Assyrian's words, yet
Boabdul checked them with a frowning glance, and
their tongues were stilled.

Of a truth the Prince was pleased in secret at the
covenant which Ninus offered, yet would not seem too
eager of his own desires.  Therefore he feigned a
marked disfavor to the plan, in hope that the treaty
might lean more lightly on the shoulders of Arabia.

"And this master of thine," he asked, with a dash
of scorn, "is he then so high in power that the world
must kneel before his kingly nod?  Is he mightier
than I, Boabdul Ben Hutt, who sweepeth the land
with sword and flame? who ruleth from the desert to
the lip of the western sea and balanceth a kingdom
on the edge of his whetted scimitar?  Speak, servant
of thy King!  Would Ninus face me, man to man,
and still be conqueror?"

"As to that," smiled Menon, openly, "I may not
say.  Long have I known my master as a father and
a friend, yet remember not that he boasted of his
deeds."

Now the words of Menon were the words of bald
untruth, for Ninus was a very prince of braggarts,
causing a record of his feats of arms to be graven on
mighty tablets, the which were designed for the
wondering eyes of men who should follow after him.  But
Menon was unafraid, and the sting of his calm
reproof was as a spur in the flanks of the Arab's rage.

"I would to my gods," he cried, "that this
builder of huts were here at hand, in that I prove a
weapon on his teeth!"

"Alas!" sighed Menon, "he is far away at Nineveh,
where he trusteth some day to receive Boabdul as
his honoured guest."

"And thou," the Arab sneered; while he trembled
with fury because of the other's unruffled mien, "thou
who bearest the terms of this foolish truce and
shieldeth thy master's insolence, wilt thou dare face me,
afoot or astride a steed?"

"Aye," said Menon, as he took Boabdul's measure
thoughtfully; "if thereby our treaty may be
sealed—with all my heart."

"Come!" cried the Arab fiercely.  "Come cross
thy blade with mine; and if I fall, the treaty shall be
made in accord with the covenants set forth.  If not,
a second council shall be held, whereat thy King
shall sue for peace upon his knees."

Beneath the shade of date-palms a circle of warriors
was formed, and in its centre the two prepared
to battle for the terms of truce.  Their robes were
laid aside lest the folds become entangled with their
legs, and they stood forth naked except for waist
cloths girt about their loins.  The Arab was lean
and wiry to the litheness of a cat, with corded
thews that lay in knots upon his dusky skin.  The
Assyrian's flesh, though pale with the tint of a
northern clime, was firm and hard, its muscles rippling
smoothly with the movement of his limbs.  He was
taller and of longer reach, well schooled in the arts of
war, and possessed of a lynx-eyed watchfulness as
a match to the speed of his nimbler foe.

Boabdul wielded his curving scimitar, which was
weighted at its point, and held a tiny target upon his
arm in easy grace, while Menon was armed with a
shield of bronze and a heavy two-edged sword, the
gifts of Memetis, an Egyptian prince held hostage
at the court of Ninus.

For a moment the two stood motionless, each
striving to note a weakness in the other's guard, each
ready for thrust or parry should an opening chance;
then the Arab crouched and began to move in circles
round and round.  Menon, making a pivot of his
heel, turned slowly with his hawk-like adversary,
presenting a steady front to every point of menace or
attack, and daring the Arab with his smiling eyes.  Of
a sudden Boabdul feinted with an under-thrust,
recovered, and lashed out wickedly at Menon's head;
yet the scimitar only rasped along the edge of a
waiting sword, and the Arab bounded back beyond the
danger line.  Again and again he sought an opening,
and was met by a steady, cool defense, while the
watching Bedouins and Assyrian men-at-arms cheered
lustily for their champions.

Stung by repeated failure, Boabdul's blood ran hot
within his veins, and the battle waxed in fierceness and
in speed.  As the leopard springs, so the Arab darted
in and out, his scimitar a wheel of light, a weapon in
every spoke, that now rang sharply on a shield of
bronze or gritted against a sword; the while Prince
Menon fixed his gaze on the Arab's eyes and waited
a whisper from his gods.

In circles they stamped the earth, amid the din of
hoarse, wild cries of men who lusted for a sight of
blood; and then a shout went up, for a crimson stream
ran trickling down the Assyrian's thigh.  The crafty
Boabdul, too, had seen, and he bounded to a fresh
attack, but Menon caught the blow on his brazen
shield and turned the stroke aside; then swiftly, and
with all his strength he smote the foeman's target with
the flat of his heavy sword.  His gods had whispered,
for the Arab's arm hung numbed and useless at his side.

And now it was Menon's turn to forsake the waiting
game and push his foeman to the wall.  The
fresher of the two, because of his calm defense, he
pressed upon the Prince without a feather-weight
of mercy, nor gave him pause.  In vain Boabdul
fought with all his skill to regain an aggressor's
vantage ground, yet could not, for his blade was now his
shield, while Menon warded blows with either arm.
Still the battle was not yet won.  The Arab strove
by a score of cunning tricks to lure his enemy into
faulty guard or a weakness of attack.  He even
sought with taunts and mockery to tilt the even
temper of his foe; but Menon pressed him closer still
and laughed—which troubled Boabdul grievously.
Once the wily Arab flung himself upon the earth and
slashed at the other's legs, but Menon leaped and
the stroke passed harmlessly beneath, while the
Prince regained his feet and moved backward on the run.

They closed again for a final test of strength and
artifice, twisting, thrusting, showering blows that were
turned aside or evaded by a shifting foot, each
panting in his toil, each weary but undismayed; then, of
a sudden, Menon locked his sword in the curve of the
Arab's scimitar, and, grunting, heaved it from
Boabdul's grasp.  The Prince, in an effort to elude the
snare, reeled backward, tripped, and rolled upon the
earth.  In a flash the Assyrian sprang upon him and
pressed his point beneath the dusky chin.

With screams of rage the circling Arabs lowered
their spears to swoop upon the victor and save the
vanquished if they might, but Menon flung his shield arm
up in warning.

"Back!" he cried, "or by the crown of Ishtar will
I slit his throat!"

The sons of the desert halted, as a steed is curbed,
each poised for a savage thrust, each waiting in
awesome dread for a thread of life to snap, while
Boabdul Ben Hutt gazed upward into Menon's eyes,
though the brand of fear burned not upon his cheek.

"Strike, dog!" he groaned, in the shame and
anguish of defeat; but Menon tossed his sword away
and stretched forth his hands that the fallen one
might rise.

In silence stared the Bedouins; in silence Boabdul
rose and looked in puzzled wonder on his conqueror.

"Assyrian," he asked at length, "why now is thy
blade unstained, when a twist of fortune gave me
over into thy hand?"

"My lord," spoke Menon solemnly, and yet with
a certain twinkling of the eye, "I seek to seal a
covenant with Arabia's Prince; not with Boabdul dead."

The Arabian had looked on death, and knew that
the wine of life was sweet to him; so anger departed
utterly, and humor seized him till he laughed aloud.

"Now by my father's beard," he cried, as he caught
the Assyrian's hands in his and pressed them against
his breast, "if Ninus keepeth faith as he chooseth
messengers, right gladly will I call him Brother of
my Soul!"

Then a mighty cheer arose, whose echoes rolled
far out across the plains—a cheer for Ninus, lord of
all Assyria—and another, louder, longer still, for
the lion-hearted messenger.  It had come upon the
Arabs that Menon not once had sought to strike a
fatal blow, but had stood before the desert's fiercest
scimitar, undaunted, staking all upon his strength,
and had spared where he might have slain.

They led him unto Boabdul's tent, where the
Prince's aged leech administered to his wound.  They
bathed and anointed him lest he suffer hurt because
of his heated blood, and clothed him in raiment from
Boabdul's royal chests.

The treaty was duly sealed, to stand between two
kingdoms through the march of years; and neither
monarch once broke its covenants, albeit the links
thereof were oft' times strained by jealousies and the
wild unrest of evil men.

When the terms of peace were closed to the smallest
point, then Menon and his followers abode with the
Prince for the space of seven days, wherein the hours
of light were passed in hunting and in sports of arms,
while the nights were given o'er to feasts and revelry.
The guests were regaled at a kingly board, where
wine cups circled till the thirsts of men could ask no
more, their senses steeped in the charms of music and
of maidens who danced unveiled before their eyes.

In the hour of parting Boabdul took the Assyrian
to his heart and bade him think on Araby as a
tent-flap ever held aside; and more, he made the gift of
a noble steed from the plains of Barbary, a brother
stallion to the one which he himself bestrode.  With
the steed went an Indian slave whom the Prince called
Huzim, a giant from the Indus, with shoulders of
mighty girth and whose bow no arm save his alone
could draw.

So Menem, in sadness, parted from his host and
journeyed into Syria, where he came upon Surbat, the
drowsy Governor thereof.  This man he removed
from office and sent the head of him to Nineveh,
taking council with the gods of craft that he save his
own.

Then he rode upon the back of Syria, as a mahout
drives a fractious elephant, goading with a goad of
tax, till the hills resounded with its echoed trumpetings.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE FISH GODDESS`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center medium

   THE FISH GODDESS

.. vspace:: 2

Menon, Governor of Syria, was troubled in his
soul.  Throughout the night he had courted
sleep, yet rest came not to body or to mind, for the
air was close, and vexious thought stood sentinal
beside his couch.

When the cool of dawn came stealing down on
Syria, he left his heated pallet, clothed himself, and
wandered along the lake shore where the freshening
breezes blew.  He sprawled at ease upon a shelving
stone, cast off his outer robe, and watched for a ruby
sun to spring from out the east.

Behind him lay the village of Ascalon, where dwelt
the herders of sheep, the tillers of the thirsty soil and
the wardens of flocks and herds.  Before him
stretched the lake, deep, green and chill, the palm and
pomegranate casting ghostly shadows from its shores.
On the further side, in the gloom of shrubbery and
trees, the temple of the fish-god Dagon seemed but
the end of a morning mist that trailed across the
waters.  In the shallows beside the rocks swam
countless fishes, now darting to cover beneath the stones,
now leaping at some luckless fly that swung too near
the danger line.  From end to end the surface broke
with myriads of fins, while ever and again a louder
splash proclaimed some monster's upward rush, the
widening ripples cut by minnows in a scurrying
flight.

They dwelt in peace, these denizens of the deep,
for the Syrians eat no fish, nor may they snare them
with hooks or nets lest the wrath of Dagon utterly
destroy such fools, together with their flocks and herds,
their wives and children, their soil and the fruits
therein.  And thus the fish lived on and multiplied.

There were men, as countless as the fish of
Ascalon, who envied Menon as one on whom the gods had
smiled; yet now he sat with his chin upon his palm,
with a foot that tapped impatiently on the
wave-bathed shore, while he scowled at the glory of a
coming dawn.

Wherefore should he scowl, this favorite of the
gods, Chief Governor of Syria, a warrior beloved of
men, a youth watched covertly from many a latticed
screen till his careless passing caused a yearning sigh?
Wherefore should he mutter curses in his palm and
dig his heel into the sands?  Had he not on yestereve
received a scroll from the King himself, wherein
that monarch praised him for his services afield, and,
more, for his crafty rule?  Had Ninus not made offer
of a high reward when Nineveh should be builded at
the end of two short years?  Ah, here the sandal
galled!  Full many an older man, for very joy, might
have danced upon the lake shore happily, yet Menon
muttered curses in his palm and digged his heel into
the sands.

Ere another moon was dead, the waiting messengers
must return to Nineveh and with them bear an
answer to the lord of all the lands.  Agreement to the
King's desire meant cruelty more bitter than he dared
to dream.  Refusal dragged the keystone from his
arch of hope, to crush him beneath the very walls his
youthful strength had raised.  To seek delay—

Of a sudden Menon started from his revery, as
a round white pebble struck his knee and bounded into
the lake.  He looked to learn whence the missile came,
but all was still.  Behind him in the distance stretched
the rolling hills, with herders following in the wake
of drowsy sheep; to the right, the lake's rim lay in
peace, barren save for a fluttering bird or two, while
on the left a fringe of bush ran out on a point of
rocks, too low, it seemed, to screen a human form.
Still wondering, the Assyrian rubbed his knee and
gazed reproachfully at the fishes in the lake, when a
flute-like laugh pealed forth—a joyous, bubbly
laugh—that rang along the shores till every rocky
ledge took up its notes and flung a mocking echo
across the waves.

Menon sprang upon a stone, to explore each nook
and crevice with a hunter's circling gaze.  With body
bent, with every sense alert, he swept the shores for
the jester's hiding place; and at last, when hope was
well-nigh spent, he caught the gleam of a
wind-blown lock of hair from the rocky point close down
by the water's edge.  Menon smiled, then seemed to
become engrossed in the sight of some floating
object far out upon the lake; yet, the while, from the
tail of his crafty eye, he watched the point whence
mischief hid as behind a shield.  A silence fell.  No
sound was heard save the splash of plunging carp, the
yelp of a shepherd's dog, and the harsh, shrill cry of
a crane that passed in lazy, lumbering flight.

From the water a form rose noiselessly, while a pair
of dancing eyes looked out through a leafy screen;
a rounded arm was raised, and Menon wheeled and
caught the second pebble as it came.  For an instant
the two stood motionless; the one surprised at her
swift discovery, the other stricken speechless with
amaze at the bold, unearthly beauty, of a water nymph.

"A goddess!" he gasped at length, and stared in
the wonder of a dreamer roused from sleep.

She stood at the water's edge, a girl just budding
into womanhood, her fair skin glistening with the
freshness of her bath.  A clinging skirt from hip
to knee, revealed her slender symmetry of limb, clean,
lithe, and poised for nimble flight.  For the rest she
was nude, save for a tumbling wealth of flame-hued
locks, tossed by the rising breeze, half veiling, half
disclosing, a gleaming bust and throat.  Above, a
witch's face, Grecian in its lines, yet dashed with the
warm voluptuousness of Semitic blood; a mouth,
firm, fearless in its strength, yet tempered by
a reckless merriment—a mouth to harden in a
tempest-gust of scorn, to quiver at the sigh of passion's
prayer, or fling its light-lipped laughter in the teeth
of him who prayed.  Her eyes—a haunted pool of
light, wherein, a man might drown his soul, and,
sinking, bless his torturer.

For an instant more stood Menon, gaping at the
girl, till humor gripped him, and he flung back his
head and laughed.

"By Asshur," he cried aloud, "a kiss shall be the
price of thy sweet impertinence!"

At a bound he cleared the intervening space and
stretched his hand for a wayward coil of hair, yet
ere his fingers closed the girl leaped backward, turned,
and plunged into the lake.  In a flash she disappeared,
to rise again and strike out swiftly in a line
with Dagon's temple on the further shore.

"Oho!" laughed Menon, "t'is then a fish's game!
So be it, saucy one, for two shall play it to the end!"

Not pausing to divest himself of clothing or the
leathern sandals strapped upon his feet, he followed
after, sank and shot upward, snorting as he shook
his head to free his ears and eyes.  With strong, free
strokes he began the race, smiling happily because
of its speedy end.  What chance had she against his
splendid strength, he who had breasted the swollen
Euphrates, or stemmed the Tigris when its waters
sang to the plunge of hissing arrow points?  The
chilling bath lent vigor to his limbs and sent the
young blood bubbling through his veins.  The shoulder
muscles writhed beneath his skin, while his heart
beat faster in the fierce exhilaration of pursuit.
What joy to run such quarry down, that gleaming
body moving with an easy sweep, the flame-red hair
that barely kept beyond his reach!

Faster and faster Menon swam, with every grain of
power behind his strokes; yet the maiden kept her
lead, now pausing to fling a mocking glance behind,
now darting forward till the ripples danced against
her breast.  And so the chase went on, till the lake
was well-nigh crossed, till the temple, which had
seemed to twinkle among the trees, now stood out
boldly, and an image of the ugly fish-god Dagon
watched the stragglers in stony silence.

Then the pace began to tell, even upon the
Assyrian's strength.  His muscles ached; his hot breath
broke between his lips in labored gasps; about his
breast a band of bronze seemed squeezing out his
life, and a sweat of weakness dripped into his eyes.
He was gaining now!  He saw with a hunter's joy
that his quarry wearied of her work.  Her strokes
grew feeble, while the flaming head sank lower among
the waves.

"By Bêlit," he wheezed, "the kiss is mine, or I
rest my bones at the bottom of thy lake!"

The space of a spear's length lay between the two,
and inch by inch the pursuer cut it down, while the
nymph had ceased to mock him with her laughter,
and bent her ebbing strength to the effort of escape.
For her the race was run.  On came the panting
hunter in her wake, remorseless, eager, a hard hand
reaching for her floating locks.  She ducked her
head, eluding seizure by a finger-breadth, leaped as
the struggling fishes dart, and regained a tiny lead.
Once more vantage slipped away, and now was
hanging on a thread of chance.  Again and again the
Assyrian's hand shot out, to clutch the air or a dash
of spray in his empty fist.  His failure angered him.
He clenched his teeth and worried on, yet splashing
clumsily, for exertion now was fraught with agony.

"The kiss!" he breathed.  "I'll have the kiss, I
swear, or—"

The oath died suddenly upon his lips, for the
maiden tossed her arms and disappeared.  With a
cry the youth plunged after her, forgetting his pain
in the fullness of a self-reproach.  He reached the
spot where her form had sunk, and strove to dive,
but weary nature proved a master of his will.  He
floated to regain his wind, while scanning the lake for
a rising blotch of red; but only the leaping carp
made circles through the waves, and a ruby sun
climbed upward from a bed of mist.  The breeze
hummed foolishly among the palms, and a blue crane
flung an accusing cry across the waters.

Menon's hope ebbed low and lower still, to die, to
spring again to life at a peal of bubbly laughter,
sweet unto his ears.  Behind him he caught a flash
of flaming hair, the gleam of a throat that shaped the
taunt, a shoulder cutting through the ripples easily—the
lake-nymph, fresh, unweary, an impish victor
of the race!

By a trick she had lured him to expend his strength
in the chase of one who swam as the minnows swim;
and to Menon came this knowledge like a blow between
the eyes.  He turned him shoreward with a feeble
stroke, striving to keep himself afloat, for his heavy
sandals weighed him down, and languor seized on
every fibre of his frame.  He was beaten, spent.  A
blurred mist rose before his eyes, while the droning
call of distant battle raged within his ears.  A
thousand flame-hued heads danced tauntingly beyond his
reach, and laughed and laughed.  The world went
spinning down into a gulf of gloom, and a clumsy
crane reeled after it—a steel-blue ghost that stabbed
him with a beak of fire.  He choked; he fought for
life as he lashed out madly, till the foam-churned
waters mounted high and fell to crush him in their
roaring might.

For the space of an indrawn breath a white face
rode upon the surface of the lake, then slowly the
Assyrian sank.

It was easier now!  He seemed to slide from the
grip of pain to a waving couch of peace.  The world
had slipped from out its gulf of gloom at last, to rock
through league on league of emerald cloud, and the
crane was gone.  The lake-nymph's laughter, too,
had died away.  She fled from him no more, but
stretched her arms and held him close, his limp head
pillowed on her breast.  She warmed his flesh with the
coils of her fiery hair, and her child-voice rose and
fell in a crooning slumber-song.

"The kiss!" sighed Menon, and the waters hung
above him drowsily.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A PRAYER TO DAGON`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center medium

   A PRAYER TO DAGON

.. vspace:: 2

As the young Assyrian sank, the maid smiled
cunningly and edged away, fearing to be snared in
a trap of her own device; yet when the moments
melted one by one, her merriment gave place to fear.
Full well she knew the space a swimmer might remain
beneath the waves, and when at last four tiny
bubbles rose, she took one long, deep breath, and dived.

Downward her course was laid in a slanting line,
down to the very lake-bed, where the rocks were
coated with a slimy muck, and tall grey weeds swayed
gently to and fro.  She worked in circles among the
sharp-edged, slippery stones, groping with hands and
feet where shadows closed the mouths of the darker
pools; and at last she touched his hand.  She strove
to seize it, but her breath was well-nigh spent, and
with a spring she shot toward the air.

A moment's rest and again she dived, now certain
of the spot whereon he lay.  She reached him, paused
an instant while her fingers sought a clutching point
and closed upon his belt.  She raised his weight, then
bent her knees to lend a springing start, and began a
battle for the stranger's life.

Slowly, too slowly, was the journey made, for the
body in its water-laden robes was dragging heavily,
while the swimmer, with only one free arm, was
hampered in her toil.  But still she rose, though her
lungs were like to burst, and the sinews across her
chest were taut with pain.  Up, still up, till youth
and will could bear the double tax no more.  She had
ceased to move.  She was sinking now, and of a
sudden loosed her hold and raced for life—alone.
High up she shot, till her slim waist cleared the water
line.  Another long, glad breath, and she sank again
ere the body might once more settle among the weeds;
and now she was beneath it, swimming cautiously, lest
her burden slip.

How far it seemed to that wavy blur of light above,
and how he weighed her down!  How the lagging
moments crawled, while each was a hope that slid away
as the waters swept beneath her arms!  His trailing
hands were checking speed, and his robe was torn and
entangled with her feet; yet across her shoulder hung
his head, his cheek pressed close against her own.

By Ishtar, she would save him now, or rest beside
him on his couch of weeds!

At last!  A prayer of thankfulness to Dagon
whistled across her lips with the first sweet rush of
imprisoned breath; then, grasping the Assyrian's
locks, she turned upon her back and swam to the
temple's marble steps.

Once she had seen her foster-father bring back the
life of a shepherd boy whose spark was well-nigh
quenched in a swollen mountain stream; and so she
wrought with Menon, first turning him upon his face
and by her weight expelling the water from his lungs;
then she chafed his pulses, beat with her fists upon
his body, and moved his arms with a rhythmic motion
to and fro.  This she did and more, for, womanlike,
when hope had oozed away, she took him on the
cradle of her breast and sought to coax him back to life
by soothing, childish words.

"Live!  Live!" she breathed.  "How young thou
art to die!  And I—a fool!—a fool!—to cause
thee ill!  Come back, sweet boy, and I will give the
kiss!  Aye, an hundred if thou wilt—but come!"

She wound her arms about him and looked into his
upturned face.  How beautiful he was, but oh, how
still!  How deep were his eyes which gazed into her
own, but saw not her tears of pity and of pain!
Some noble was he, perchance, in the train of Menon,
the mighty Governor, who would doubtless sell her
into slavery because of her wicked deed.  But why
should a youth do foolish things?  Why had he dared
the waters of her lake where fish alone or the child
of fishes swim?  Must a life so young, so precious,
pay the price of folly?  The folly of a kiss!  Ah, he
might have it now, though his lips were cold,
unconscious, beneath the pressure of her own.

Again and again the blazing head was bowed, while
the color raced from cheek to throat, and the
lake-nymph's blood awoke—awoke with a flame that
would one day boil the caldron of Assyria, when the
froth was stirred by a spoon of passionate unrest—a
flame that would parch a thousand lands and drive
their hordes to madness in a quenchless lust for war.

With the strength of despair the maiden lifted
Menon's body, dragged it up the temple steps and
laid it at the foot of Dagon's altar; then on her knees
beside it she raised her arms and prayed, in a woman's
passion-born desire.

"See, Dagon," she cried aloud, "see what the
spirits of thy lake hold prisoner!  See how still he
lieth—he who was warm and filled with the breath of
youth!  An offering?  No, no, sweet god, 'tis not an
offering at thy daughter's hands.  The fruits, the
garlands, and the grain are thine; the fattest kids
and the first of the springtime ewes, but he is mine!
List thee, mighty one!  Why lookest thou across
the lake in silence, unmoved, and heeding not my
cry?  Do I not bring thee dates and flowers, the
goat's milk and the buds from the tallest palms?
No boon have I asked of thee, yet grant it now!
Ah, pity, pity, and give him back to me!"

The suppliant bowed her head and waited, but the
fish-god gave no sign.  High up he towered, a
hideous effigy in rough-hewn stone, with human face
and hands, with the scaly body of a fish, while below
his human feet were seen, distorted, half concealed in
heaps of withered blossoms borne in offering by his
shepherd worshippers.  Behind him lay a carven
plow, in emblem of the tiller's art, a sickle, a herder's
crook, and vessels of wine from the vineyard's choicest
juice.

Long moments passed.  The lake-nymph's eyes
were shifted from Dagon's visage to the stranger at
her side.  His body lay in an ugly, helpless sprawl,
his arms outstretched, his dark eyes fixed on nothingness,
as vacant as the idol's own.  Once more the
maiden turned to the god who seemed to mock her
with his icy calm, whose stony ears were closed to the
voice of prayer.  She waited, and childish reverence
melted as a mist dissolves, and fury rent her heart.
She sprang to her feet and beat upon the effigy with
doubled fists, her eyes ablaze, her loose hair whipping
at her naked breast.

"Awake!  Awake!  Art sleeping, Dagon, that
thou heedest not?  Awake, I say!  'Tis I who
call—*Shammuramat*![#]  Am I, too, not a child of gods,
whom the good witch Schelah sayeth will one day rule
the world?  Heed, or I tear thy temple down and set
a Moloch in thy stead!  Awake, thou fool!  Awake!"

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

[#] The name "Shammuramat" has been corrupted by the
Greeks into Semiramis, in which form the great Assyrian
Queen is better known.

.. vspace:: 2

The shrill voice ceased.  The pale girl listened with
a chill of terror till the echoes died in the temple's
dome.  Once more she fell upon her knees, and
though her rage still stormed within her heart she
softened her speech, as in after years she won by
flattery where anger failed to lash obedience to her will.

"Forgive, dear Dagon," she whispered, as she
clasped his feet, "my tongue is the tongue of
Derketo, my mother, whom thou didst curse with a just
unhappiness.  Yet listen!  In error didst thou cause
this youth to sink in the waters of thy lake, for he,
too, loveth thee, with a love as great as mine.  Give
me his life, divine one, and in payment will I steal
rich wine from my father's oldest skins—the palm-wine,
Dagon, which is sweet and strong.  Also, my
goat is thine.  I will slay it here in sacrifice and lay
its heart in the hollow of thy hand."

She paused in thought profound.  The bribe was
large, yet the scales of barter needed still another
weight; and well she knew the gods demand in
sacrifice the parting with gifts which cause the keenest
pangs.  Of all her treasures two were held most dear,
her dog and a string of pearls; and now, as she looked
into Menon's sightless eyes, her treasures seemed
to shrink in worth.  Yet ere she squandered all upon
an altar stone, the voice of wisdom whispered at her
ear and caused her to hide a smile.

"Hear me, Dagon," she murmured, meekly, "thou
knowest my good dog Habal that on rest-days cometh
to thy temple's door?  Him, too, might I give in
offering to turn thy heart, yet the deed were folly and
to thee unjust; for doth he not watch my father's
flocks, with a faithful eye upon the lambs which are
slain for thee alone?  Were Habal dead, who then
might save thy lambs from the beasts of prey?  Nay,
Habal's teeth can serve thee unto better ends than
Habal's blood."

She stole a glance at Dagon, and, finding his features
placid in content, became emboldened to seal her
bargain with a master-stroke.  In a corner of the
temple lay her robe of fine spun wool, discarded for
her morning bath; and now from beneath its folds
she brought her necklace, holding it up for the greedy
god to see.

"Look!  Look, sweet god," she cried.  "This I
offer thee—a treasure given by a great Armenian
prince.  Soften thy heart and I cast it into the
deepest waters of thy lake, where none may find it and
dispoil thee of my gift."

True, Semiramis herself might dive and recover it
at will, albeit she hoped a point so trifling might
escape the god.  Yet, lest the thought occur to him,
she hastened on:

"Knowest thou not the value of such pearls?
With a single bead thou couldst buy an hundred
Habals for thine altar's needs.  Think, then, what all
would mean—they are twice a score—and I give
them for the life of this one poor youth, whom
me-thinks is of common blood and lowly born.  Heed,
wise one, and hasten, lest wisdom tempt me and I keep
my pearls."

A shaft of sunlight filtered through the thick
leaved palms, wavered, and crawled across the
temple's floor; for an instant it rested on a tangle of
blazing hair, then slowly climbed the fish-god's scaly
side.  As the maiden watched, with parted lips, with
bosom fluttering to a quickened pulse, the flame of
sunlight flickered and went out.  Yet at her choking
cry, it leaped to life again, to splash the face of
Dagon with a leering glow of happiness—and
Menon groaned and stirred.

While one might count a score, the girl leaned, limp
and nerveless, on Dagon's altar stone; then she cast
aside the blistered cat's paw of divine appeal and set
in its place a swift, more vigorous god of force.
With a zeal of hope she fell upon the body of her
charge in all the strength her wild, free life had built,
till Menon's eyelids fluttered and a frown of half
unconscious protest ridged his brow.  In the twilight of
understanding, he fancied himself an ill used
prisoner in the hands of enemies who mauled him from
neck to heel; and when with returning life came an
agony of water-laden lungs that labored to be free,
he turned on his side and muttered curses, deep,
fervent, touched by the fires of poesy.

It was then, then only, that the toil of Semiramis
gave place to indolence.  She rested her chin upon
her knees and listened to the music of his oaths—music
far sweeter than the liquid notes of shepherd's
flutes, or the echoes of sheep bells tinkling through
the dusk.  A seed of love had broken from its strange,
unharrowed soil, and the bud had opened to look upon
its god.

With a sigh of peace she rose and clothed herself
in the robe of fine spun wool, clasped tight her girdle
and strapped the sandal thongs about her feet; then
she rested Menon's head upon her lap and forced
between his teeth the rim of a wine cup of which she
recklessly deprived great Dagon's shrine.

"Dagon and I," she murmured, with an impish
smile, "have compassed much; yet Dagon alone,
without the measure of my aid—"

She paused, for a young cloud slid across the sun,
flinging a shadow on the temple floor, a shadow which
crept and crept till the fish-god's visage darkened
with its gloom; then Semiramis remembered, rose, and
cast her pearls far out into the lake.

Once more she sat beside her charge, chafing his
temples with a patient, lingering caress.  Long, long
she watched, her fancy looming lace-work webs of
fate, while her heart marked joyfully his battle with
reluctant life; till, presently, his breath flowed gently
and the sweat of pain was dried upon his brow.

Menon's glance met hers, and a flush of shame
grew hot upon his cheek—the shame of defeat to
him, a war-tried soldier, at the hands of a shepherd
girl.  Yet in her smile a man might forget defeat—forget
and rejoice—forget all else save the smile and
the maid who smiled.

His color spread, yet the blood-warmed tint now
told no more of the sting of an humbled pride.  He
strove to raise his arms, but they seemed as weights
too heavy for his strength, and sank beside him
weakly.  His thews were slack; he lay as helpless as
an unweaned babe, yet the victor's eyes were laughing
down into his own, and were kind.

"The kiss!" sighed Menon, and the maiden bent
and gave her soul into the keeping of his lips.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE DAUGHTER OF DERKETO`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center medium

   THE DAUGHTER OF DERKETO

.. vspace:: 2

A coppery sun climbed upward on his hill of
cloud; the south-wind ceased, and the lake
drowsed lazily in the morning sun.  The Assyrian
still reclined with his head upon the lap of Semiramis,
for in the beginning she would not suffer him to tax
his strength with speech.  She urged that he rest,
while she told her name and the story of her birth;
and he, content, asked nothing more than to look and
listen, while his heart grew hungry and his pulses
sang to a tune of joy.  So the maiden babbled on of
gods and men, of the shepherd's home with Simmas,
her foster-father, and of her simple life with sheep
that browsed upon the hills and the fishes swam in the
waters of Ascalon.

Her mother, Derketo, had been a goddess whom
the Syrians worshipped in her temple beside the lake,
till she drew the fatal wrath of Dagon down, because
of her beauty and her foolish vanities.  She lured
the hearts of mortals from their level paths,
consuming them with mad desires which were barren and
unfulfilled; playing with passion, yet drinking not its
flame—a reckless sprite who mocked at hell, while
she danced on a thread that stretched across its throat.

Then Dagon, troubled at her wickedness, brought
forth from some far eastern land a warrior youth who
sighed and sang before Derketo's shrine.  Slender
was he and shapely, with deep blue eyes and locks
that shone as a flame of golden red; so the goddess
came out to him and was pleased because of the
sweetness of his song.  Through the long blue night he
sang and whispered in her ear, till by his arts and a
subtle tongue he wrought her fall, then straightway
disappeared.

A babe was born, and Derketo, in her shame and
grief, stole out by night upon the hills and left her
child among the rocks to die; then, weeping, she
crept into her temple, hiding behind its altar's shadow
from the sight of men.  By day she slept; by night
she crouched beside the water's edge, to fling shrill
curses at Dagon across the lake.

Then Dagon in wrath waxed terrible, and sent a
lightning bolt which destroyed the goddess and her
temple utterly, so that Syria knew her beauty and
her wiles no more.

Now a farmer who dwelt in Ascalon was sorely
vexed because of theft, yet never could he lay his
hands upon the pilferer, albeit he watched together
with his wife and sons.  The goats' milk left in crocks
outside his door would disappear in the broad of day,
and after a space his cheeses began to suffer
likewise.  Marveling, he set himself to watch again, and
at dawn a flock of doves dropped down before his
door.  They pecked at his cheeses, or filled their
beaks with milk, then winged their flight to a distant
point on the hillside over against the lake.  The
farmer and his sons marked out the spot and journeyed
thither, to find a babe that was sheltered among the
stones—the same which Derketo left to perish, and
now was nurtured by these sacred birds.[#]


[#] This is the accepted legend of the origin of Semiramis.


The farmers bore her tenderly to the house of
Simmas, chief warden of the royal flocks, a kindly
man who reared her as his own; and they called her
Shammuramat, which name, in the Syrian tongue,
means Dove.

Thus the offspring of a goddess, and adopted
child of doves and mortal man, grew swiftly to a
strength and beauty of the gods themselves.  From
early childhood she loved the lake, where she sported
among the waves till none might match her in speed
or grace of stroke; yet, truly, born of Derketo,
goddess of the fishes, what marvel, then?  Again, as her
mystic father hunted through far off eastern lands,
so the girl soon turned to hunting through the hills
of Syria, with a passion which made her bow and
spear a wonder among the simple shepherd folk.

"And now," said Semiramis, as she toyed with
Menon's hand, "and now am I a woman grown, with
lovers who come in droves as the cattle come, yet
daring not to voice the yearnings of their hearts.
Great, stupid youths are they, the sons of farmers
and tenders of our herds, who stare at me in
tongue-tied wonderment; aye, like unto the yearling calves
whose thoughts we may not fathom because of their
foolishness."

The Assyrian laughed and drew her down till her
lips met his and clung; and she joined his merriment,
in that he seemed so unakin to the yearlings of
which she spoke.  Then, presently, she thought to
ask his name.

"Menon," he answered simply, whereat she started,
pushed his head from out her lap and edged away.

"Menon—*thou*!" she cried.  "Ah, no, my lord!
A jest!  That man is but a devil's leech who clingeth
to the throat of Syria, taxing, taxing, till its very
blood is sucked in tax!  *Thou*—!"  She paused to
laugh.  "The Governor is ugly, fat—and thou—"

Again she stopped, with suddenness, and blushed.

"Nay, harken," said Menon, "of a truth I am the
Governor; and it cometh to me that I would tax thy
country further still—tax it till I snatch from thy
foster-father, Simmas, his choicest store of all."

"Eh—what!" she demanded, angered at his
words.  "My father—that kind old man?  Shame!
Shame, my lord!"

Menon pursed his lips and ridged his brow with
his sternest frown.

"I fain would rob him as I say; yea, even thy
sacred doves and the very gods themselves, of Syria's
Pearl—Shammuramat."

The girl said naught, but gazed in silence out across
the lake, while a smile played softly at the corners of
her mouth.  She was not ill pleased to be called the
Pearl of Syria, albeit she herself had long been
conscious of the pretty truth.  Moreover, t'was most
unseemly in a maid to gainsay a mighty Governor; and
in her heart she could find no dread of this weighty tax
on Syria's birds and gods.  Therefore she waited for
his further speech, which came at length with earnestness:

"Now as to these taxes, concerning which I am
called a devil's leech, it grieveth me sorely to oppress
a simple folk, and it causeth my soul's unrest by night
and day."

Again the maiden laughed.

"Aye, truly," she answered, spreading out her
locks for the sun to dry; "I well can believe thy
words, for never have I looked upon a youth so
melancholy, or one on whom his sorrows ride with a
tighter knee.  Yet tell me, O Prince of Woe, what
in truth may chance to be thy station and thy name?"

Menon spread his hands, though he could not help
but smile at the maiden's doubt of him.

"Nay, believe me," he urged, "I speak the truth.
I swear it on thy fish-god's altar.  I am indeed the
Governor, sent hither at the King's command, to do
his bidding, not my will alone.  King Ninus buildeth
a city for himself on a far off river bank, a city
which is like unto a huge, devouring monster, swallowing
up the stores of men, the fruits of the earth, and
the children of every land.  This, then, is why I come
to tax thine honest neighbors of their wealth."

He told her of the city's walls and of how they rose
from out the waste of sand; of the temples, palaces,
the towers and the soaring citadel.  He told of
millions toiling through the nights and days, and of an
army which girt the walls around, while Semiramis
sat listening, drinking in his words.

"Ah!" she breathed.  "Ah, now I understand!
And what is this city called?"

"Nineveh—the Opal of the East."

Again Semiramis came close to Menon's side, and,
at his pleading, once more took his head into her lap.

"This monarch of thine," said she, as she nodded
thoughtfully, "is right.  He is wise and strong.
My people are fools to murmur against the justice
of his tax.  For listen!  I, too, will some day build
a city, more grand, more vast in its reach and splendour,
aye, even than this Opal of the East.  Its walls
shall top thine highest towers—its gardens shall
hang between the earth and sky.  Ah, laugh if thou
wilt, yet Schelah hath seen it all—as I have
seen—as it rises on her kettle's smoke."

At Menon's look of wonder, she told him that
Schelah was a witch who dwelt in a cave among the hills,
who wrought strange spells, told fortunes, and healed
disease with her arts and herbs.

"A withered crone is she," the maiden said, "ugly
and of crooked limbs, whose very name the farmers
fear; and yet she is not an evil witch, but kind and
gentle to those who understand.  Why, I fear her no
more than—than—"

"Than me?" asked Menon, with a smile.

"Than thou," she nodded happily, "and I fear *thee*
none at all.  Yet tell me more."

He told her of the battles he had seen; of the siege
of Zariaspa, where Ninus, baffled of desire, needs turn
away till a mightier army could be raised, and
engines devised to batter down the walls.  He told her
of other wars, long, fierce, triumphant in the end; and
as he spoke Semiramis saw it all, even as she once
had seen a dim and ghostly Babylon which rose from
out old Schelah's kettle-smoke.

She saw vast, rolling plains, where armies met with
a rending crash and roar; where warriors, locked in a
grip of rage, fought desperately and died; where
chariots charged as against a cliff, to totter and
overturn, and the sands ran red with blood.  She heard
the cries of men and the clang of blows, exultant
shouts of victory and the shrieks of those who
fled—the rumble of wheels and hoofs that shook the
earth—the clamour of ranks that reeled through tossing
clouds of dust.  Her bosom heaved; her cheeks, her
lips, grew crimson with the rush of blood; her dark
eyes kindled, and she trembled as in a chill.

"Ishtar!" she cried, as she raised her head and
clenched her outflung hands.  "Oh, if I but once
might sing a battle-song!  To struggle—to
fight—!"

Menon checked her with a rich, full-throated laugh
that echoed to the temple's dome.

"Fight?" he asked.  "In the name of all the
gods, fight whom?"

She gave no heed to his merry tone, for the spark
had caught, the flames were lit, and the fuel needs
must burn.

"*Poof*!  I care not, so it be a foe—a foe who
will stand and scorns to fly!"  Again she raised her
arms, her rich voice shrill in its pitch of feverish
desire: "To drive a chariot and lash its steeds through
hedges of swords and spears!  To drink of the wine
of war!  To conquer and to reign—a queen!  And
see!" she cried, as she caught her flame-hued hair,
"this will I cut away, that none may know me for a
maid.  Then, then wilt thou suffer me to follow as a
youth who is in thy train.  Speak, lord, I wait."

Menon smiled and shook his head, for a maiden's
path, he told her, was not amidst the perils of the
field; but she took his cheeks in both her palms and
bent till her breath was mingled with his own.

"Nay, once," she pleaded, in her haunting, liquid
tone, "one *little* war—no more!  Ah, Menon, sweet,
thou will let me go?"  Lower she bent and leaned
upon his lips, while her strange eyes burned their
passion into his, her fair arms clinging in a love caress.
"Menon!  Menon!"

He trembled, for his heart cried out aloud and
longed to give this maid whatever she asked; and she
held him closer still, murmuring into his ear as her
mother, Derketo, might have whispered when she
lured the steps of men from their level paths.

"Heed me," she pleaded low, and brushed his
cheek with the velvet of a softer curve, "didst thou
not will to tax my father of the Pearl of Syria?
What then?  Wouldst leave me in thy home—alone—to
yearn for a loved one far afield, to
weep, to listen for his footstep through the weary
night?  Nay, Menon, that were cruelty, and thou art
kind."

A shadow settled on the Governor's brow.  He
arose and paced the temple's floor, his hands locked
tight behind his back.  Grim duty called his name,
and it came to him that the scepter of Assyria was
thrust between his heart and the woman for whom it
beat alone.

"What troubleth thee, my lord?"

For a space he answered naught, but kept to his
thoughtful pacing to and fro.

"Maiden," he began at last, "there are matters
of state which come to pass, and a woman may not
understand, by reason of their strange complexities."

The girl looked up, with a sparkle in her eye which
warred with a sense of vague misgiving in her heart.

"Perchance, my lord, the tongue of a learned
Governor is happily of that turn which maketh such
matters simple, even to a woman's foolish mind.  I pray
thee try."

Menon laughed, then began to tell his trouble as
best he might, though the task now seemed more
weighty than the sealing of a truce; and rather far
would he have faced Boabdul's scimitar than the eyes
of this red-haired girl who watched him, hanging on
his utterance.

"King Ninus," said he, "hath sent me messengers
who on yesterday were come.  They bear me a scroll
wherein my master is pleased to laud my deeds with
flatteries and praise.  At his command have I taxed
thy people till the very grass blades wilt, and thereby
won the enmity of all the land; yet the King is glad,
for because of me he receiveth vast stores for the
building of his city.  In reward"—here Menon
faltered, turned away his eyes and looked upon the
floor—"in reward he offereth me his daughter's
hand—Sozana—when the walls and palaces of Nineveh shall be."

"Ah!" breathed Semiramis.  "Ah!  I see!"  She
crouched upon the temple steps, one knee clasped
tight within her arms, her pink chin resting on it
thoughtfully.  "Go on, my lord."

"This offer," continued Menon, scowling as he
spoke, "is a fruit of bitterness upon my tongue, for
the maid is loved by my best of friends—Memetis—an
Egyptian Prince whom Ninus holdeth hostage at
his court lest his nation rise to—"

He stopped, for Semiramis had checked his speech
with a cold command.

"Nay, let Memetis rest!  What manner of maid
may this Sozana chance to be?"

"She is dark and slight," the Governor answered
slowly, "of a trustful nature, gentle in her ways, and
kind."  The girl beside him laughed, yet merriment
was not its tone; and Menon blundered on: "As
children we played together, she and I—a saucy
little rogue of mirth and song—a child, for whom
I'd cut away my hand rather than bring a pang of
suffering."

"So," said Semiramis, in a whispered drawl, "so
the Princess is fair to look upon.  I did divine as
much.  Well?  Well, my lord?"

"And now," sighed Menon, "the King would
cause this pretty child to stifle love and wed where she
hath no will."

"Not so," declared Semiramis, with a snap of her
firm white teeth.  "Be warranted, my lord, the jade
hath put him up to it.  What!  Hath she not seen
thee?  Hast thou not beguiled her with thy, craftful
wiles?  How should it, then, be otherwise?"

Again the lake-nymph laughed, ungently, and with
a shrill, derisive ring.

"Nay!" said Menon.  "Nay!  She yearneth not
for me, nor do I yearn for her.  In secret is she
betrothed unto Memetis whom she loveth utterly; and
should I bow to the King's desire, t'would bring a
hurt to her whom I took to wife, and to him whose
happiness I hold more dearly than mine own."

Once more the Assyrian paused and gazed in trouble
through the temple's door.  In the waters of the
lake he seemed to see the faces of his monarch and his
friends, the King, with a smile upon his bearded lips;
Memetis, sad and silent in reproach, and sweet
Sozana, wondering at a grief too deep for tears.

"Then why," asked Semiramis, quivering as she
spoke, "then why, in the name of Bel and Moloch,
wouldst thou do this wicked thing?"

The Governor stood before her, cast in gloom, and
answered sullenly:

"The offer of the King is the King's command,
and once, once only, may a subject thwart his will."

"Ah!" breathed Semiramis once again.  "Ah, I
see!  Moreover, I do perceive that Menon hath a
mighty leaning to this maid of Nineveh, who is dark
and slight, of a trustful nature, gentle in her ways,
and kind.  Nay, shake not thy head, deceitful one.
Shammuramat is not a fool.  What, then, remaineth
for my lord to choose?"

Menon sighed, but answered naught, while she sat
and watched him pacing in his deep unrest.  Presently
she spoke again, slowly, softly, yet the tone was
cold:

"I have marked, my lord, that those of smallest
mind demand the longest span of time in making up
the same.  The wise man acteth!  His love and greed
he weigheth not in the selfsame scale.  What!  Hath
the mighty Governor still to choose?"

The Assyrian leaned against a pillar of the
temple, gazed gloomily before him, and brooded on the
mandate of the King.  The warrior within him
whispered at his ear, calling, pleading, as with a
trumpet's blast.  Another voice there was, that told of a
love of power—of the joy in ruling over weaker
men—and Menon's place was beside the King.
They dragged him, these voices, as with a chain of
bronze, yet his heart cried out Shammuramat!  With
her he could dwell in peace for all time, an outcast
from his land, a wanderer, in want and poverty—a
worshipper who died content in the glory of her
smile.  And yet—

"Is my lord still praying to his gods of guile, or
doth he slumber because of weariness—and me?"

The troubled Governor did not note a certain
purring in her tone, nor the gleam of her eye, while she
crouched as the leopard crouches, noiseless, ready for
its spring.

"By the great lord Asshur," Menon muttered between
his teeth, "my wits are tried and grievously."  He
shook himself and turned with his winning smile.
"Can the friend of the good witch Schelah lend aid
to one who is vexed in spirit and in mind?"

"Yea!" cried Semiramis, springing to her feet
in a gust of fury.  "Yea!"  Her eyes flamed hotly,
and her fingers clenched till the nails bit deep into
her palms.  "*Go*, thief of kisses!  Go, when thou
hast scorched my country bare with tax!  Go back
to thy maid of Nineveh—this whining jade whose
sire is but a savage and a fool!  Yet tell her
this—thou hast looked on the Pearl of Syria!  *Tell
her—and she will understand!*"

For an instant stood Semiramis, a queen of
consuming rage and scorn; then she laughed—laughed
hoarsely—in the mockery of mirth, sprang down the
temple steps, and was gone.

Menon followed after, shouting, begging her
return, as he sought her among the trees and tangled
undergrowth.

"Shammuramat!  Shammuramat!" he called
aloud, and only the echoes of his yearning voice came
back to taunt him.  For a weary space he searched,
yet his search was vain; and when hope had departed
utterly, he turned him homeward, skirting the lake
shore with a lagging step.

Then a girl crept out from the shadows among
the trees and sat on the temple steps.  She rested her
arms upon her knees, her chin upon her arms, and
watched till Menon's drooping figure passed from
sight.

Once more she cast her robe aside, tore off her
sandals and flung them down; and then, in the
wondrous beauty of her form unveiled, she stood in wrath
before the fish-god Dagon, her eyes aflame, her red
hair tumbling in disorder on her neck.

"What!" she stormed.  "Did I—Shammuramat—drag
out this liar from the lake, to save him for
a minx at Nineveh?"

She snapped her fingers scornfully and turned upon
her heel; then she dived for her string of pearls.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A MASTER'S KISS`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center medium

   A MASTER'S KISS

.. vspace:: 2

For a year, since his appointment, the Governor
of Syria had dwelt at Azapah, a central point
where his army camped, and whence his agents and
his spies went forth to every tribe.  Yet Azapah was
a home in name alone, for Menon's eye was ever set
on the works of his under-officers.  He would ride
from point to point, descending at uncertain times
on those whose duties dozed in lethargy, or on others
whose fingers stuck by chance to certain taxes of the
King.  And as Ninus made examples on the walls of
Nineveh, so Menon dealt with those who disobeyed his
will; for the body of a wicked, slothful servant was
held to be of higher value when detached from the
head which led his steps astray.  Thus Menon won
the name of a cruel master, albeit a whisper now and
again went forth of many a poor man's taxes paid in
full from the Governor's own purse.

He journeyed ever on his noble steed of Barbary,
whose name was Scimitar, in honor of Boabdul's
blade, and, likewise, was attended by the Indian slave
who came as the Arab's second gift.  In Huzim he
found a jewel and a friend, whose heart he won by a
stroke of policy.  From the first the Governor had
been kind to him, and when the borders of Arabia
were passed, Huzim was given his freedom, to
return if he would to his home upon the Indus; but
the Indian fell upon his knees, to kiss the master's
hand and cover it with tears.  His freedom he
accepted with a grateful heart, yet prayed to remain
in the service of his lord, to whom he proved a
faithful watch-dog unto the end.  His mighty bow and
shafts brought many a dish of flesh to Menon's
board, and at night his body lay athwart the master's
door, where none might pass and live to slink away
again.

Now Menon had tarried beside the lake of
Ascalon for a longer space than was his wont to abide
in any place; yet business there was none to stay his
leave, nor taxes in arrears.  The voice of duty
whispered warnings in his ear, pointing unto urgent
matters far afield; yet duty, he swore, might sleep with
Gibil till Semiramis was seen again.

For many days he sought her among the hills, from
the crack of dawn till the brazen sun went down, yet
found her not; and his heart, because of its hunger
for the maid, grew faint within him and clamored
for a food denied.

Semiramis, too, was haunted by a certain restlessness
of mind and foot, a goad which ever kept her
on the move.  Close hidden within some clump of
trees, she would watch the hunter's fruitless search
from hour to hour.  Her eyes grew wistful, and a
fever burned in her racing blood, though pride, a
demon's pride, forbade that she suffer capture at his
hands.  If the seeker came near unto her hiding
place, she would straightway creep away to some other
vantage point and watch him with a scowl.  Yet,
because of his lack of craft in snaring her, hot anger
mounted to the heights of foolishness, causing her to
mutter curses on him, bitter, deep, and to vent her
wrath upon things inanimate.  At last she left the
lover to his own device, and with her spear and
arrows hunted far and wide, thus finding relief in a
savage joy of killing beasts—the great, the
small—she cared not which, so be it that she killed.

Then Menon, in despair, set Huzim on her trail,
for in prowess of the chase, or in coming up with
wary things, there were none the like of him
throughout the land.  So Huzim circled round about and
found what his master sought.

At the close of one long red day, when the sun
swung low and purple clouds were banked against the
rim of night, the Indian bore word that Semiramis
returned to Ascalon by way of a certain path; so
Menon hid himself and lay in wait.  From a leafy
screen he watched her coming, while his breath grew
warm and quick, and nearer she came, unconscious of
the snare.  Her bow and quiver rattled at her back
with each slow step; she used her spear for a walking
staff, and her flame-hued head was bowed upon her
breast.  In the dust she dragged the body of a
leopard by its tail, while her sheep-dog Habal trotted
at her heels.

Of a sudden Menon stepped across her path, and,
with folded arms, stood smiling as he blocked her
way.  With a startled cry Semiramis leaped backward,
while Habal crouched between his mistress and
the man, his thick hair bristling down his spine, an
ugly rumble in his hoarse, deep growl.

The Governor spoke contritely and in a prayerful
tone, yet the maiden met his pleading with a torrent
of abuse.  This he bore with fortitude, and when
she paused for breath, he strove to gain his end by
reason, knowing not that an angry woman scorns it
as she scorns no other thing in heaven or hell.  Of
this he learned unto his woe, but when he would have
overborne her, snatching at her hand, she struck
him with the butt of her hunting spear and set her
dog upon him.

Straight at his throat the black dog leaped, but
Menon caught it by the neck and held its jaws,
though its strength was great and it battled with him
mightily.  For a space they struggled for a
master-grip, yet Habal's teeth, in the end, were of no
avail, for Menon squeezed him till his bones were like
to crack, while he turned once more to Semiramis and
urged his suit.

Now a lover will find a grievous task in murmuring
into a maiden's ear, and at the same time hold a
foaming, furious dog; so the maiden mocked him because
of his sad discomfiture, and stirred his wrath.  Peal
on peal of impish laughter rang out in the twilight
hush, till Menon cursed, and, clutching Habal still,
turned angrily away.

Then the maiden's merriment died swiftly on her
lips, for she saw that he stole her dog; and with a
cry of fury she set a shaft upon her bow and drew
it to its head.  In an instant now the Governor
would tax her land no more, and Habal and her heart
might then be free.  And yet she faltered—paused;
then dashed her weapon on the earth, to fling herself
beside it, weeping bitterly.

So Menon bore the struggling Habal in his arms,
till he reached his house, where he tamed the brute
and made of him a friend.  Long, long he labored
unto this end with morsels of tempting food and many
a soft caress, till at last the captive wagged his tail
and licked a master's hand.

Menon had conquered, yet he could not soothe a
look of sadness deep in Habal's eyes, nor cause him
to desist from snuffling at the outer door where he
scratched with his paws and whined.

At length, when the third day passed, the lover
clasped a collar of gold on Habal's neck and
whispered into his ear; but Habal looked into his face,
bewildered, for he did not understand.

"*Shammuramat!*" cried Menon, sharply, and the
glad beast sprang upon him, whimpering in his joy.
The door was opened.  Habal, barking, bounded
through, to burn the earth with the beat of his flying
paws.  Yet on the crest of a distant hill he stopped,
looked back and barked again, then disappeared.  And
the lover, watching, understood—and smiled.

So Habal found his mistress, as she drooped in the
doorway of her father's home, and overturned her in
the pure delight of coming into his own.  He fawned
upon her, yelping out his love aloud; he muzzled her,
caressing with paw and tongue, to prove devotion far
deeper in its purity than aught a mortal holds on the
altar of his heart.

Semiramis, too, was glad at her dog's return, for
she took him in her arms, and, weeping strangely, hid
her face on his shaggy breast; but when she saw the
collar Habal wore, her fury boiled afresh.  She tore
it from his neck and gave it to a beggar who had
wandered into Ascalon.

The beggar took the trinket gratefully, then hobbled
away as fast as his legs might carry him, though
ever and anon he cast a glance behind, in the manner
of one who marvels and may not understand.  Now
whether this persistent turning brought good or evil,
is a matter hidden in the beggar's soul alone, for,
presently, a horse came tearing down the wind, while
a wild-haired girl leaned low upon its neck,
augmenting speed with frantic voice and heel.  She came
upon the wanderer suddenly, reining in her steed till
it reared upon its haunches, pawing at the air, its
mouth stretched wide, its nostrils red and quivering.
Then the girl dismounted, demanding back her gift.

The beggar protested, and, muttering, turned
away, but she menaced him with her hunting spear,
and of a certainty would have pinned him to the earth
had he not obeyed.  Slowly he produced the golden
collar from his pouch and tossed it at her feet.

"Hound!" cried Semiramis, "pick it up and give
it in my hand!"  Again her spear was poised, so the
beggar stooped to do her bidding hastily; then, while
this fiery hawkling rode away, he lingered, gazing
after her in loose-jawed wonderment.

Semiramis made a wide detour to pass the lake,
where she flung poor Habal's collar far into the
deep—repented, and on the morrow dived and recovered
it again.  That night she sought her sleep with the
bauble nestling upon her heart; but sleep came not,
for her flesh seemed burned by every golden link.
She hurled it from her angrily and was happy for a
space, then stole from her couch and hunted till she
found it in the dark.

When she had it, she hated it; but when she had
it not, she longed for it with a gnawing, furious
desire which ever increased in heat and magnitude;
wherein it may be seen that Semiramis, though a
goddess born, was human—and a woman—after all.

Meanwhile the Messengers of State were waiting
patiently for Menon's answer to the King at
Nineveh; yet the Governor bade them tarry on for yet a
little while, and took to hunting from a vantage point
on the back of his good steed Scimitar.

One morning Habal's barking caught his ear, so
he followed the sound till he reached the spine of a
high, adjacent hill.  In the centre of a plain beyond
he spied Semiramis, unarmed, and walking slowly; so
his heart rose up as he patted Scimitar and loosed
the rein.  In the night he had vowed no more to
plead his cause with a lowly mien, but would break
this witch's spirit though he heat her with his
fists.

Semiramis saw him coming, and her heart stood
still.  The lake was far too distant for a haven of
retreat, and the plain was bare of bush or thicket
through which she might elude pursuit.  Should she
stand and face him?  Yea!  By Ishtar, *no*!  He
then might fancy that she waited him—she—Semiramis!
So she turned and fled.

The maid was fleet of foot, and skimmed the earth
with the speed of a frightened fawn; yet her pace,
alas, was a paltry match for the splendid stride of
Scimitar.  Behind her she heard the thunder of his
hoofs, but louder still chimed out the notes of
Menon's laughter as his joy gave tongue.  He was
nearer now!  He pressed upon her flank!  Then
Menon bent and gathered up the maiden in his arms.
She screamed and bit his hand; she scratched him,
raining buffets on his face and breast; but he only;
laughed the more, and kissed her on the mouth and
eyes.

On, on they sped, with mighty leaps and bounds,
for Scimitar knew not what manner of warlocks
fought upon his back, so he took the bit between his
teeth and ran as before he had never run, while the
toiling Habal panted far behind.

Now after a space Semiramis ceased to strive, and
lay passive in the rider's grasp.  It pleased her thus
to be torn from the roots of her own hot willfulness.
It joyed her to be battered against a victor's heart, to
drink in the pain of a hand wound tight within her
locks, and to feel her strength give way beneath his
brutal power.  For thus it was written that
Semiramis should love, in stormy passion, where an
humble prayer was trampled under foot in scorn.

So it came to pass that of a sudden she flung her
arms about the conqueror's neck and sobbed as though
her soul were rent in twain, while he, to soothe the
tempest of her tears, bent down and kissed her lips.
Again and yet again he bent, till Semiramis raised
her head and stared upon him in amaze.

"In the name of the gods!" she cried, "how many
wouldst thou take?"

"Not one," laughed Menon, "which thou givest
me unwillingly, for I do but return thy courtesies
upon the temple steps."

"Eh—what!" she faltered, flushing crimson at
his speech.  "Nay, truly, I recall but three—"

"So be it, then," said Menon, with another laugh
and still another kiss.  "T'is in my mind that when
my body had been drowned, and lying helpless in thy
power—"

"Beast!" she stormed, in grievous doubt if she
should strain him to her heart or take his life; yet
Menon lived.

The Governor turned his steed on the backward
trail and journeyed till they came in sight of
Ascalon; then he slid from the back of Scimitar and
walked beside, lest idle shepherds marvel at the
strangeness of uncommon things; albeit he still held
tight to the maiden's hand.

Semiramis, from her perch, looked down into her
lover's eyes, and her spirit sang because of its
bubbling joy, for now he was hers—*hers!*—till the
very stars should die; yet, suddenly, she dragged at
the bridle rein.

"Wait!  What, then, of this minx, Sozana?"

Menon frowned, yet looked upon her steadily.

"Of her," he answered, "thy mind need hold no
fear, for I love her not.  To-morrow will I leave the
service of my King and fly with thee into Arabia.
With Prince Boabdul will we there abide, for his love
will shield me, even from the wrath of Ninus."

"Now that," spoke Semiramis, thoughtfully, "were
the course of a fledgling and a fool."  A moment
more she pondered, looking up at last.  "Tell me,
can Ninus conquer Zariaspa, or will he fail again?"

"Zariaspa?" asked Menon, vacantly, wondering
how this matter ran with his flight into the desert with
a wife.  "Zariaspa?"

"Aye, Zariaspa!" she repeated in impatience.
"The town—the city!  What!  Is my lord a frog?
Come, lace thy wits.  Will Ninus conquer Zariaspa
in the end?"

"Nay," said Menon, "for the walls are high and
strong, while the food of the garrison is brought by
some mysterious means, the which is a puzzle unrevealed
by thought, or search, or vigilance.  Again,
and yet again, will Ramân-Nirari fail."

"Ah!" breathed Semiramis, nodding in the manner
of some venerable judge.  "Then write thy King
in this wise: I, Menon, Governor of Syria, greet
my lord and master, even as a son might greet his
father, in love and reverence.  Because of the honor
he hath done me, my heart o'erfloweth with a joy,
and in glad obedience to a monarch's will, I accept
his dau—"

"Hold!" cried Menon, angrily.  "Now by, the
beard of—"

"Nay," laughed Semiramis, "but wait the end."  Again
she borrowed of an aged judge's mien.  "—I
accept thy daughter's hand.  And now, O Radiant
One, I crave a boon—not for myself alone, but for
my King.  When Zariaspa shall be overthrown, and
another gem is set in the war-crown of my lord, then
let these nuptials be proclaimed.  Thus, men will
marvel, saying among themselves: Of a verity King
Ninus is divine; for who but a god would share the
glory of his name with an humble warrior—one
unworthy of reward so high."  Semiramis paused to
smile.  "In closing thy letter, praise the King
because of the city which he buildeth on the sand.
Contrive thy words with an artful edge of truth, in that
you touch his vanity.  A touch—no more.  Yet,
above all else, be brief, and of a not too marked
humility."

A light of understanding crept into Menon's eyes,
yet a cloud arose to mar his perfect happiness.

"But—but," he stammered, "if, peradventure,
King Ninus conquereth this city, after all—then—"

"Poof!" scoffed Semiramis.  "At worst we will
have loved for two untroubled years—and much may
chance in that goodly span of time."

For answer, Menon, caring not a fig if a thousand
shepherds saw, laughed happily, then drew her down
to him and kissed her laughing lips.

Across the hills of Syria the lovers journeyed at a
crawling pace, Semiramis enthroned upon the back of
Scimitar, while Menon, with her hand clasped tight in
his, strolled slowly at the bridle-rein.

They reached the home of Simmas, and a dancing
dog ran out, to spring upon them, barking joyously.





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.. _`THEY THAT DEPART AND HE THAT IS LEFT BEHIND`:

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   CHAPTER VIII


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   THEY THAT DEPART AND HE THAT IS LEFT BEHIND

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Simmas, chief warden of the royal flocks and
herds, was a venerable man both wise and strong,
yet his heart was as water running before the will of
his foster-child.  Unto him the lovers brought the
matter of their vows, concealing naught of the
danger to themselves, nor the wrath of Ninus should he
learn how they sought to flatter him and dim his eye.
Gravely had Simmas listened, smiling indulgent
smiles, though his heart was sore afraid for her whom
he loved so tenderly; and, at length when the tale was
done, he sighed and shook his wise old head.

"My son," said he, "there are valiant men who
have hied them forth to capture beasts of prey with
arrows and with spears; others, more reckless still,
go armed with ropes and stones, yet never have I
known of one who laboured to that end by tickling a
lion's nose with straws."

"How know we, then," asked Semiramis, "that a
lion may not be vastly pleased thereat?"

Poor Simmas was forced to laugh, for how could
the man do otherwise, with two round arms clasped
tight about his neck, a pink cheek nestled lovingly
against his own?  And thus his foster-child met
every argument, twisting his threads of wisdom into
ropes of foolishness, until, reluctantly, he gave them
blessing, smiling through his tears.

"Down, Habal," cried Semiramis, "and lick thy
master's hand."  And the dog went down.

So it came to pass that the messengers went out
from Syria and knelt to Ninus as he sat upon his
watch-tower in the heat of a certain day.  They bore
him a missive which that Monarch read for the
seventh time, then read again in sore perplexity, his
fingers combing at his beard.  It preened his vanity
as by a feather-touch of truth, and joyed his nostrils
with the unctuous odour of his own divinity—a point
whereon his pride was prodded grievously of late.

At his failure in subduing Zariaspa, a whisper
leaked abroad that Ninus was but a mortal, after all;
and through his harshness unto those who toiled on
the walls of Nineveh, the whisper swelled in volume
and in frequency, till now it lay upon him in the
hours of sleep.  The voice of the people grumbled
sullenly, or cried aloud because of the yoke of tax;
yet, far more clamorous still, the whisper troubled at
his heart, for a god once doubted is a god undone.

Therefore, in Menon's missive, the King found
goodly food for thought; and yet, on the other hand
there seemed a haunting something underneath, a
something which caused him to taste with care ere he
swallowed whole.

"Now as I live," mused Ninus to his inward self,
"my Menon loveth me with a love that is rare
amongst the sons of men; or else, full cry, he
followeth the trail of a woman other than Sozana.  A
woman of wit!  A dreadless woman—a guileful
and a wise."

The monarch pondered deeply for a space, while he
combed at his beard and gazed toward the walls of
Nineveh; then, suddenly, he frowned and leaned
across the parapet.

"Zomar!" he called to a mounted man-at-arms
below, "ride out to yonder chief of labourers by the
western gate and admonish him to ply his whip with
a higher diligence; for it cometh to me that the
villain's head is balanced over-lightly on his neck."

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Across the Syrian hills, beneath the splendour of a
million stars, rode Menon and Semiramis, side by side.
Their hearts were full with the fullness of a joy which
conquers speech and leaves them to beat with a
voiceless pulse of peace.  Their eyes alone told secrets,
tender, deep, for each had hunted through the desert
for a grain of sand, and, finding it, was glad, for
they knew that its name was love.

Before them, silent too, rode Huzim, his head bowed
low upon his mighty chest, for a worm of jealousy
had entered him because of this love of a master for
his bride.  Was a slave not human?  Should his
lowly mind be proof against the poison of forgetfulness?
A slave!  And yet—the master's hand had
freed him of his chains, while he himself had riveted
them again.  What now?  Were the cloaks of love
not strange and manifold?  So gratitude rose up to
choke the jealous worm; then Huzim raised his head
once more and crooned the songs of those who dwell
where the Indus runs and the sun is warm.

For league on league they journeyed through the
night, each heart a slave, each thought a link in the
chain of loving servitude.  In the van rode Huzim,
singing softly in his native tongue; behind him came
Menon and Semiramis, hand in hand, while, still
again, as a rear-guard of the march, the wise,
untroubled Habal trotted at their heels.

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On the hills of Syria the shepherds built their fires
against the chill of night; and many a youth looked
long amongst the flames for the eyes of
Shammuramat—strange eyes that peered from the
embers impishly, half veiled in coils of smoke.  They
danced!  They mocked!  Now laughing when some
green young twig was burned; now falling into
darkness with its blackened ash.  How sad they were,
these ashes of a dream—as sad as the bleat of a
wandering sheep as the cry came floating down the
wind.  And yet—what, then, should a goddess have
to do with the herders of browsing beasts, or they
with her?  Should an ox lick salt from off the stars?
Nay, not so!

Thus wisdom came to the watchers of the fires, till
peace was brought by drowsiness, and the shepherds
slept.

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In the home of Simmas an old man paced the
silent rooms and found not peace nor rest.  How bare
and desolate when a loved one came no more!  How
pitiful they were, these homely things that her hand
was wont to touch—a broken spear—a quiver cast
aside—a sandal old and worn!

He fled to the housetop from the ghosts below,
but they followed, clutching at his robe with the
hands of memory.  He had hunted through the desert
for a grain of sand, and found it not, for, lo! his
sand was dust.  Then Simmas fell upon his knees
and stretched his withered arms toward the stars.

"*Oh, Ishtar, Ishtar,*" he cried aloud, "*fling pity
to a weak old man!*"





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   CHAPTER IX


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   THE EAGLET NURSED BY DOVES

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In troublous times the government of Syria was not
a game at which a child might play; and, albeit
Menon dwelt with his wife at Azapah, he needs must
circle round about through many a restless tribe.
From Nineveh came an endless call for grain
wherewith to feed the multitudes of labourers, for oxen,
asses, and the water buffalo, whose strength was now
employed in the drawing of heavy loads.  Train on
train of lowing, braying beasts were driven from out
the land; and so soon as their tails had ceased to
switch in Syria, a cry went up for more.  Thus the
Syrians whispered amongst themselves, as others
muttered far away at Nineveh; and soon the whisper
swelled, till each man spoke his thoughts aloud, and
thought was bitter against the Governor.

So Menon journeyed forth and back again, chiding,
soothing, punishing.  His hand was heavy when
the rod was lifted of necessity; and when it fell, the
back of the smitten wore a mark.  Throughout he
was honest, just, and unafraid in all things save one
alone—Semiramis.  He dare not suffer her to share
the perils of the road, nor did he desire that tidings
should leak abroad concerning his wedded state; for
of all swift messengers, both of earth and air, not
one keeps pace with the babble of an idle tongue—and
the ears of the King were sharp.

True, Menon might have wedded both Sozana and
Semiramis, together with a score of other wives, yet
the mate of a daughter of the King must cherish one
wife alone.  And still again, that man who would
divide his love betwixt some other and Semiramis had
best go down at once amid the raging fires of Gibil
to seek his peace of soul.  So Menon, as he rode,
was wont to ponder upon these things, and was
troubled because of fear.

Semiramis fretted in the absence of her lord, till
her heart was rife with a clamorous unrest.  She
loved him as a tigress loves its mate, and knew no
peace till he came to her side again.

Huzim, too, was left behind for a watch-dog in
the Governor's house, a servant who vied with Habal
as a sentinel against alarm.  If the Indian loved his
master, to the mistress he gave idolatry, and naught
was there which he would not do to bring her happiness.
In the chase which she loved he taught her arts
of the jungle-hunt, when the tracker's hand is
brother to his eye, and the eye must sweat because of
its constant roving to and fro.  He taught her to
use her bow, not in the manner of Syrian archers who
sight along the shaft, but to shoot from the hip,
with vision fixed upon the mark alone, thus giving
a quickness following hard upon the heels of thought.
Above all other arms he schooled her in the use of a
heavy-headed spear on which to receive the body of a
pouncing beast; and for his patience Huzim found
good cause to thank his gods.

On a certain morning they trailed across the hills,
the Indian and Semiramis, while Habal snuffled
joyously for any breed of mischief that he chanced to
find.  Long they hunted, but without a kill, till at
mid-day, of a sudden, the dog set up a furious
barking in a deep ravine.  Semiramis, who chanced to be
in the valley's neck while Huzim hunted far above,
came first to the point whence the angry uproar told
of game.  At first there was naught to see, save
Habal dancing in his rage, his lips rolled back, his thick
hair bristling; yet, presently, through a tangled
screen of thorn and vine, she spied a lion crouched
upon the body of a goat, the blood of his victim
dripping from his jaws.  A mighty beast was he, ill
pleased at being thus disturbed; and now, at the sight
of Semiramis, he roared his wrath and leaped upon
his enemies.

As the lion sprang, the heart of Huzim was like to
stop its beat in fear.  With a cry of anguish from
above he plunged down the steep declivity, heedless of
stones and thorns that tore his flesh as he rended a
pathway through the interwoven shrubberies.  He
saw his mistress crouch, and brace the butt of her
hunting spear behind her on the earth.  He saw a
tawny body hurtling through the air, to land on the
waiting spear point which, by reason of the brute's
own weight, sank deep into his neck; then the
monster shot in a curve above the woman's head and,
snarling, fell among the rocks.  With all her strength
the huntress clung to her weapon's haft, striving to
hold her prey upon his back, while the cautious
Habal, with that over-plus of noise which sometimes
covers a lack of pluck, snapped viciously at the brush
of the lion's tail.

Panting, breathless with his toil, the Indian raced
toward the spot, notching an arrow as he came, yet
Semiramis would have none of him.

"Hold, Huzim!" she cried.  "On thy life dare
loose a shaft!  The kill is mine!"

So Huzim stayed his hand, though it irked him
sore to watch while his mistress gripped her spear
and was tossed like a rag upon the wind; but at
length the lion ceased to struggle, sighing, as he
stretched his splendid limbs in death.

Then Huzim—that trail-tried hunter, of many a
fight more terrible than this—did a thing which was
full of strangeness in a man.  Trembling, he cast
himself upon the earth, to clasp the feet of
Semiramis, to kiss them, and to weep as a child might
weep; but his mistress laughed, and patted Huzim's
head, even as it was her wont to fondle Habal for a
deed of love.

Homeward they journeyed across the hills,
Semiramis proud of the pelt which Huzim bore, while
Habal pranced before them, with the air of one who
had done this deed alone, and cared not a pinch of
wind if the whole world knew and marveled because
of a most uncommon dog.

So the hunts went on, for Menon now was much
abroad in quelling troubles which arose on every
hand; though often in his leisure hours he joined the
sport, and this Semiramis loved best of all.

Then the Kurds arose in fierce revolt, and the
Governor needs leave his wife for a longer space, though
many a bitter tear she shed, in that he would not
suffer her to go.  She was mad for a taste of war, mad
as when with kisses she had urged him on the temple
steps at Ascalon; yet Menon closed his ears alike to
prayer and subtle argument.  And thus it came to
pass that she dried her eyes and watched him depart
alone.

Now the Kurds were a wild and valiant race of
hillsmen dwelling among the rocks, bold men who
ceased to long for battle only when vultures picked
their carcasses; so Menon and his army journeyed
forth and laboured unto that end.  He tracked them
through wastes of sand, through gorges where
torrents rushed, and monster stones came thundering
down the pass; yet after a space he lured them to
the centre of a plain and sought to give them one more
taste of Assyria's scourge.  He screened a strong
reserve behind a hill, and then, in seeming disarray,
marched down upon the enemy, while the Kurds looked
on and were overjoyed because of the greater number
of their warriors.

The Kurds awaited not the enemy's attack, but,
shrieking in their barbarous tongue, poured down
the slope to catch him in a dip between the hills.

In sooth the case of Assyria seemed evil, yet at a
low command the disorder vanished utterly.  As if by
magic warriors sprang into the close-ranked form of
a crescent moon, its curving front a line of bristling
spears, its long horns tipped by horse, while in the
rear and on either flank a cloud of bowmen waited for
their prey.

In the hush before the storm a rider came spurring
down the hill, to fling himself from his winded steed
and to fall at Menon's feet.

"Huzim!" breathed the Governor, in a nameless
dread.  "What now?"

"Forgive, my lord," the Indian begged upon his
knees, "and slay me if thou wilt.  The lady
Shammuramat—hath gone!"

"*Gone?*" cried Menon, whitening to the lips.  "In
the name of Bêlit—where?"

"Nay, lord, I know not," Huzim, in his grief,
protested wildly.  "In the hours of night she slipped
away unseen.  At morning, Habal, Scimitar and she
were gone.  I tracked them hither, lord, and now—"

His speech was drowned in a rush of howling
Kurds, their first line breaking as a wave is shattered
on a rock, their second crumpled, bleeding, tossed back
in heaps of slain, while the third for an instant
glared across the spears, then died as their brothers
died.  Yet more came on, and more again, an endless
stream of madmen, delirious in rage, each caring
naught for life so be it that he dragged a foeman
down.  They hacked at lance heads with their clumsy
swords and wormed their way through the legs of the
heaving front, till the crescent swayed and was like
to burst in rout.  And still they came, like waves
from out the sea, to strike and fall, roll backward,
rise and strike again.

The Governor had held the temper of his enemies in
contempt too light, and now repented of his
rashness in giving them a vantage ground.  He looked
for his horsemen screened behind the hill, but Kedah,
their captain, was not the man to charge without an
order from his chief; so Menon's soul was troubled
for his army's fate.

"The reserve!" he roared into a courier's ear.
"Ride on the wings of hell!  Nay, look!  By the
grace of all the gods, they come!"

Of a truth it was so.  A cloud of horsemen swept
along the ridge in the form of a solid wedge, its sharp
point aiming full at the foemen's flank.  To the
front, three lengths ahead, a steed of Barbary ran
low against the earth, on its back a wild-eyed imp of
war, unhelmeted, her red hair whipping out behind.
In her hand she waved a hunting spear, and urged
her men in a high, shrill scream that rang above the
battle's din—and the men came on as evil spirits
drive.  Downward they plunged, to strike the Kurds
with the shock of a thunder-bolt, to bore a ragged
pathway through the seething ruck; then turned and
bored back again.

And now the hearts of the Kurds grew faint, and a
scrambling rout began; yet ere they could flee, the
horsemen battered through their flank once more,
circled, and took them in their rear.  The crescent
steadied, formed its line again, and spread to cut the
Kurds' retreat; but Menon, shouting words that were
hoarse and strange, flung wisdom to the seven winds,
and charged.

Destruction dire might have come upon the enemy,
but so long as he saw that flaming head that rocked
on a surf of reeling, blood-mad warriors, he knew
no thought save one—to reach Semiramis and be
her shield.  With Huzim close behind he won his way
through a tangle of plunging steeds and men, but
paused at last, to battle vainly at a human wall
which he might not pierce.

As it chanced, the Kurds were caught between two
closing jaws which pinched them as in a vice; yet
full a third swarmed out at right and left, to scurry
away among the distant crags where none but snakes
might follow after.

The battle was done at last.  A silence fell where
the crash and roar of carnage had resounded through
the hills.  The Assyrian footmen were drawn in
triple lines, and Menon recalled his horsemen who
galloped far and wide, impaling stragglers on their
points.  At last they came, Semiramis in the lead, while
behind her rode a soul-sick horseman, his chin sunk
low upon his breast.  Kedah was he called, the
captain in whose command the reserve had been entrusted,
and he who had charged without his chieftain's word.
In silence he dismounted; from his saddle he produced
a rope which he looped about his neck, then gave the
end into Menon's hand.

The Governor frowned darkly and his rage was
deep; not that the officer had charged without
command, but because this underling had dared to bring
Semiramis into a raging, blood-bespattered pool of
death.

"Speak, Kedah—the truth!  Be brief!"

"My lord," replied the man, who thought himself
about to die, "my lips speak truth, as Bêlit watcheth
me.  I sat behind yon hill and waited for the word to
ride.  I heard the tumult when the battle joined, and
though I yearned to come upon the dogs, I held my
will in leash."  The offender paused, glanced
backward at Semiramis, smiled, and spoke again: "Of
a sudden, my lord, this goddess dropped upon us
from the clouds, for I swear I saw her not till her
grip was on mine arm and she cursed me in mine ear.
'Fool!' she cried, 'why dawdle here when the great
lord Menon sweateth in the toils.  At them, ye
swine, or by the living gods I charge alone!'"

Kedah paused, to shrug and spread his hands,
palms upward.

"My lord, I came.  I know not why I came—but came."

Another silence fell.  The angered Governor
looked from Kedah to Semiramis.  She sat her steed
in the glory of a beauty dear to him; her cheeks were
flushed, her eyes aflame with battle-fires, her red locks
tumbling on a breast revealed, for her robe was rent
and torn.  Still Menon's lips moved not; then Kedah
raised his head, his fingers toying nervously at his
noose.

"My lord, I do perceive no tree in sight, yet,
haply, further on—"

He stopped, for Semiramis loosed a ringing laugh
and vaulted from the back of Scimitar, to approach
the chief without a sense of fear or shame.

"My lord," said she, and pointed with her hunting
spear, "if, in truth, this sturdy warrior must hang,
then first shalt thou hang Shammuramat."  She
snatched the noose from Kedah's neck and laid it
about her own.  "And harken, O Prince of Justice,"
she cried aloud, "in his throat this fellow lieth!  Aye,
even to spare me thy reproof!  It was I who disobeyed,
not he, for I told him I came at thine own command."

Now the lady had spoken no such thing, and, truly,
it was as Kedah said; yet the sweet lie joyed the hearts
of the horsemen mightily, and a smile ran rippling
down the line.  Presently Semiramis spoke again,
humbly, sadly, with her hands clasped tight, in the
manner of a slave condemned to die:

"My lord, I do perceive no tree in sight, yet,
haply, further on—"

Then a roar of laughter burst from every rank,
and even as it broke, so yearned these men to break
from their ordered lines, to hoist a war-queen up and
bear her on their harnessed backs, to shout her praise
aloud.

So Menon ceased to frown, for how could he hold
his anger at a conqueror of enemies and friends?
Had she not saved his army and his very life itself?
What now!  So he took her to his heart, though his
heart was sad.  In a little space the tidings would
leak abroad concerning this warrior queen who was
his wife, and because of love his soul grew dark within
him and was afraid.

On the homeward march Semiramis sought by many
an art and wile to chase away his gloom, but ever he
would sigh and shake his head.

"Ah, love," he murmured, "now have we cut a
link from out our chain of happiness, for when my
master learneth of this thing—"

"*Poof!*" she laughed.  "'Twas worth a link or
two of love; and even though King Ninus naileth
me against his wall, still will I have thundered down
that slope and tasted once of the wine of war.  Smile,
Menon mine!"

And Menon smiled—in that she bade him smile.





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.. _`THE LIFTING OF A TAX`:

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   CHAPTER X


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   THE LIFTING OF A TAX

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The army marched swiftly back to Azapah, for
the place was sore in need of the Governor's fist.
In his absence the people, growing bold, had stoned
his agents, slaying many in their hatred toward
Assyria's King.  So Menon straightway rode from
tribe to tribe, advising patience until Nineveh was
builded, when peace and plenty would once more lay
upon the land.  Where wisdom and cunning failed
to pacify, there Menon employed a rod of force,
even as Ninus held the growling hordes of Egypt
beneath his thumb.  The King had grown vexed at
reports from Karnak that the children of the Nile
were chafing beneath their yoke, so he sent swift
messengers, saying that upon the day when Egypt
flew to arms, that day would he crucify their Prince
Memetis on the walls of Nineveh.  And Egypt ceased
to growl.

In all his dealings with the tribes of Syria, Menon
soon learned that the wit of Semiramis was sharper
than his own.  When his strings of policy grew
twisted into knotted snarls, she would lay her fingers
on the hidden ends, pull deftly, and the skein was
free again.  Thus, more and more, the Governor
leaned upon the shoulder of his wife's advice, till there
came a time when, stricken by a fever, he gave the
rule of Syria into her hands.

Tenderly Semiramis nursed her lord through the
life of a summer moon, and yet not once did her
eyelids close on the troubles beyond her house.  From
there she sent her agents forth with oil upon their
tongues, or planned with Kedah, in whose command
she placed the Assyrian force of arms; for Kedah
loved her with such a love as Habal gave, albeit he
rarely snapped at the brush of a lion's tail.  In her
best appointed room she received the headmen of every
tribe, who came with grievances, or for favours great
and small.  To each she listened thoughtfully, while
scanning his face for flaws beneath the skin, then she
dealt with the man in accordance with his flaws.
With the bold she was bold; with the timid, gentle
in her speech; with the sullen she soothed away the
temper in their hearts and made them whole again.
On the vain she smiled, nor recked the issue to his
soul, while she laughed with the gay, and was sober
before the wise.  Thus each man came and went,
rejoicing at departure because of his own uplifted
understanding, yet knowing not that the swaying of
mortal flesh, to Semiramis, was a master-art of arts.

"The juice of flattery," said she, "must needs be
mixed with bread—not honey-cakes—for an
over-sweetness cloyeth and is vain."

Now it chanced, that among the dwellers at
Azapah, there were those who starved, alike on the
bread of flattery and the little left them by the grasp
of tax; so they met in a secret place and contrived
a plot to destroy the Governor's house with fire,
while those who slept therein should come not forth
alive.  With the army close at hand they dare not
move; yet when Kedah led his force away to fall upon
a certain band of malcontents, the plotters over-powered
the guards who were left behind, slew them, then
came to make their evil works complete.

At the hour of midnight Semiramis sat by Menon's
couch, albeit the fever now had passed and his body
was on the mend; yet it joyed her thus to mother him
and to watch him while he slept.  Habal lay yawning
at her feet, but of a sudden the bristles rose upon his
back and a rasping mutter trembled in his throat.

"Peace, Habal, peace!" his mistress urged, fearful
lest the growls disturb her lord; yet the dog would
not be stilled.  Crouched at the stout-barred door, he
growled afresh, and Semiramis knew full well that
Habal snuffed a trouble in the air; so, calling Hazim,
she mounted to the roof.

To the left she saw the tents of her guard in flames,
while through the night came a close-packed throng,
their ugly visages alight in the glare of many a torch.
A hideous crew they were, the scum and evildoers of
the plains, half clothed, and armed with staves and
stones.  At the sight, the heart of Semiramis grew
cold within her breast—not for her own alarm, but
for him who slept below, and, shrinking with Huzim
behind a parapet, she waited, pondering hard and fast.

On came the crowd, full twenty score, who, if they
would, might override the Governor's feeble strength
in the twinkling of an eye, dash down the doors and
drag the inmates forth to butchery.  Yet ere a torch
could be set against the walls, the plotters saw a
woman leap upon the parapet above, to smile upon
them and raise her hands in glad surprise, as though
they bore her precious wedding gifts.

"Greeting!" she cried.  "What seek ye of Shammuramat?"

Now a murderer's liver is a cousin to his slinking
mind, and these who came were murderers.  Of a
certainty, had they reached the house by stealth, they
would have burned it to the earth, showing no mercy
to the Governor or his wife.  Yet when this vision
stood upon the housetop, not as one who pleads for
life, but as a master knowing them for the cattle
which they were, then the plotters faltered in their
course and paused.  A silence fell, and for a moment
no man found his tongue.

"What seek ye of Shammuramat?"

"The Governor!" cried a voice amongst the
throng.  "The Governor!  Give him into our hands!"

"Ah!" said the lady upon the roof, as she nodded
pleasantly.  "Ah, I see!  Right gladly would my
lord come out to you, but my lord is not within."  She
raised her hand to check a murmur of dissent, and
smiled.  "If friends would speak with him, I pray
them wait for a little space, for even now he returneth
with his men-at-arms.  Harken!"  She placed a
hand behind her ear and gazed toward the north,
whence Kedah and his force would come at dawn.
"Harken to the clatter of his cavalry and the beat of
hoofs upon the plain.  Patience, good friends—he
cometh!"

They listened, tricked for an instant by her words,
but only the croak of frogs and the hum of insects
sounded on the breeze; then the cowards' muttering
swelled into a roar of rage.  A volley of stones was
flung against the house, one missile striking her upon
the temple, causing her to totter on the roof's edge
dizzily, while a trickle of blood ran down her cheek.
Huzim had marked the man who hurled this stone,
and, cursing, he set an arrow on his bow; but the
mistress stayed his hand.

"Down, Huzim!  I yet may deal with them.  Be
not a fool!"

Once more she turned to the scowling men who had
stopped their rush when they saw the wound to one
on whom their vengeance lay not so heavily; yet they
hung in the balance now, and the weight of a hair
might tip the beam.

"Perchance," she called aloud, "ye have a
grievance, just, and one which I might quickly mend.
What, then, would ye have of me?—I who have ever
kept my promises, even though it brought me wounds,
as I now am wounded at your hands.  Speak!  If it
lieth within my power to grant—"

She was checked by a babel of discordant cries
from the tongue of each who sought above the rest
to air a separate woe; and Semiramis smiled within
herself, though she frowned upon them with the dark
displeasure of a queen.

"Be silent, dogs!" she commanded, fiercely.
"What!  Would ye burst my ears with the yelpings
of your pack?  Have done!"

They stared.  She had them marveling now, and
would keep them marveling, lest idle thought breed
mischief ere she clipped its wings.

"Let one step forth!" she called.  "Your leader.
What!  Is there not one man in all this valiant
throng?"  She paused to raise her eyes and hands.
"Dear Ishtar, pity them!"

A mighty murmuring arose, when each man
nudged his fellow, urging him to speak for all, till
at last a hairy-chested, black-browed villain pushed
toward the front—the same who had flung the stone,
and Huzim's fingers curled about his bow, and he
whimpered in restraint.

The leader spoke.  He made his charge against
the Governor who pressed, he said, upon the people
till their children cried aloud for food.  He lied; yet
he lied with a certain air of honesty; and as he
marked each point, the rabble applauded him, while
their fury was like to bubble up afresh.  He told of
his nation staggering beneath the load of an unjust
tax, when Ninus built him palaces wherein to squander
wealth in wild debauchery.  His people, he declared,
were overjoyed to obey the King and pay him tribute
according to the law; but when he sought to starve
them by the right of might, then Syria bared her
teeth.  Justice they asked—no more—and received
the lash.

"Stay!" cried Semiramis, seeing that the crowd
was pushed by frenzy to the danger line.  "If
your hearts are hot against the King alone, why then
would ye seek to harm my lord who standeth
between the wrath of Ninus and your worthless carcasses?"

A reckless speech it was, and well she knew that
she laid her finger on an open sore.

"Why?" the leader thundered.  "Why?  Because
we would strike the master through the man!
A Governor shall be no more in Syria, save a
Governor dead!"  Amid hoarse shoutings he lifted up
his voice again: "If Menon would plunder bread
from the mouths of women, let Menon come forth
alone, to reckon with their sons—their brothers—and
those who love them as they love their land."

A tumult now arose.  The torch-lights flickered
on a sea of upturned faces, black with wrath,
distorted by the passions of ferocious men full ripe for
a deed of blood.  They gathered for a rush; great
stones were raised aloft, and flaming brands were
whirled in eager fists.

But Semiramis had one shaft in her quiver still,
and, setting it upon the string of craft, she let it
fly.  She flung her arms toward the sky, and laughed—a
shrill, derisive peal that echoed far beyond the
outskirts of the band and for an instant checked its
charge; then, from the housetop, she pointed a
scornful finger at the black-browed chief.

"Thou child!" she cried.  "Thou suckling babe!
Thou fool! to whom the asses of the wilderness are as
oracles!  What!  Hast thou, then, not heard?"  She
paused, to give her listeners the space of an
indrawn breath, then full in their teeth she launched
a master-lie.

"Harken!" she cried, "and bend your knees in
gratitude.  *King Ninus hath lifted his tax from
Syria—and no man needs must pay!*"

A hush of wonder fell upon the throng, and in the
silence Semiramis heard a rustling at her side.
Turning, she looked into Menon's eyes, grown large
in fear, and seeming larger still against the pallor
of his pain-drawn face.  He had heard the tumult
and had risen from his couch, to crawl to the
house-top, trembling in the weakness of his state.

"*Bêlit!*" he gasped in hoarse dismay.  "What
madness wouldst thou do?"

"Nay, wait!" she whispered.  "Huzim, hold thy
master, that these madmen see him not."  Then she
turned to the crew below.  "Oho!" she scoffed.  "I
see that ye are filled with shame; yet hear the end.
At the prayers of my lord the Governor, King Ninus
harkened to your murmurings, and giveth unto Syria
what he giveth no other land.  Not only doth he lift
the burden of your tax, but commandeth that no
man pay a sum which he payeth not of his own desire;
wherein the King would measure generosity, not by
force, but love.  Moreover, he offereth a high reward
in the nature of a prize.  To the tribe which may
aid his needs by the largest store, that tribe will
Ninus set above all other tribes in riches and in
power, receiving its headmen as his honoured guests
at Nineveh."  Once more the speaker paused, till the
meaning of her words had sunk into wondering ears.
"What now," she asked, "is the King a tyrant, or
your Governor a beast to slay?"

For a moment more a silence held the marveling
men, then they broke into a mighty roar, shouting
while they stamped upon their torches, weeping,
cheering lustily for Menon and the King.  Yet
Semiramis was not yet done with them.  She raised her
hand for silence, pointed to the smoking ruins of the
camp, and spoke in her sternest tone:

"For what ye have done this night, my lord
forgiveth you because of your swinish ignorance.  Yet
have a care, for every evil face amongst your pack
is chiseled on my memory.  Once, not twice, the
Governor may forgive, and a rope there is in Syria for
each offending neck.  Now go! and thank the gods
for the little wisdom ye have learned."

So the murderers dispersed, and, silent, scattered
far and wide to seek their homes, while a priestess of
guile, who lingered on the housetop, looked after
them and laughed.

"Menon mine," she murmured, filled with glee, as
she smoothed the pillows on his couch, "by Ishtar I
swear 'twas keener sport than a dash against the
Kurds!"

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Menon and Semiramis took thought together, long
and earnestly; for now, when the Syrians learned how
they had been deceived, the ashes of murder would
burst again in flames.  Menon was for hanging every
man who had sought to burn his house, but Semiramis
said nay.

"By craft have we sown a seed; by craft will we
nurture it and eat the fruit."

Thus it came to pass that a cunning proclamation
was sent throughout the land, and the simple
peoples rejoiced and sang songs of praise because of
the lifting of their tax.  Moreover the many tribes
began to vie with one another for the prize which
Semiramis had offered in the name of Ninus, till unto
Azapah they brought such stores of metals and of
food, that Menon reaped a harvest far beyond his
dreams.  Where tribes were wont to dole their tribute
out through doubled fists, they now came swiftly and
unbidden, with treasures on their backs—for men
look not where their footsteps fall when chasing
swamp-flies to a goal of greed and power.

And now to Nineveh came mighty stores of grain
and wine, long lines of sheep and cattle, asses, goats,
and the water buffalo.  Metals came likewise, silver,
gold and brass; fruits were there also, and honey in
earthen jars.  Whatever dry Syria owned, that Syria
sent, till Ninus, seeing this stream of riches pouring
through his gates, sat down upon his stool both
suddenly and hard, in the grip of profound amaze.

"Now by the great lord Asshur," he muttered in
his beard, "these eyes of mine have never looked upon
the like before!  In thought have I wronged my
Menon grievously, for in truth he loveth me with a
love that is rare amongst the sons of men."





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.. _`THE SANDAL AND THE STRAWS`:

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   CHAPTER XI


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   THE SANDAL AND THE STRAWS

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And now came a day when Nineveh was Nineveh
at last, and Ninus stood upon his palace roof
and was glad because of the Opal of the East.  At
his feet a vast brown city lay—a city builded by his
heart—each brick a monument to other hearts that
broke in rearing temples to Assyria's gods.  In the
streets a busy hum of trade arose, where marts and
booths were opened to the sale of a thousand wares;
where citizens in gala dress swarmed in and out of
unfamiliar doors; where troops of children danced in
wreaths of flowers, or white-robed priests filed past,
chanting their deep-toned songs and bearing loads in
sacrifice to the temple of Nineb and up its winding
ziggurat.

From the palace steps a broad, smooth road ran
down to the western gate and was lined by effigies of
stone, great wingéd bulls, and lions crouching as for
a spring.  Around it all the mighty wall lay coiled,
its top of a width whereon three chariots might be
driven abreast, while above rose a thousand and a
half a thousand towers.

The army still encompassed Nineveh around, yet
the King was not for war.  He looked on his work
and sighed a sigh of peace, then stretched his mighty
limbs and prepared a lion hunt.  For three long
years his heart had yearned for sports afield, with a
yearning which hunters alone may know; yet,
because of his vow, the bow and spear were left
untouched by the monarch's hand.

Consulting his oracles, and likewise the prophet
Azet whose arts foretold great deeds of wonder to
his arms, the King appointed another Governor in
Syria and commanded Menon to join him on the
banks of the lower Euphrates.  Here game might be
found in plenty where Ninus had known rare pleasures
of the chase in former days; so, smiling, he set
him forth.

When the messengers had come to Azapah, Menon
bowed to the master's will and departed with a heavy
heart, first sending Semiramis with Huzim back to
Ascalon, to dwell for a little space till chance might
bring him into Syria again.  He reached the banks
of the Euphrates and waited the royal hunter till a
moon had waned; but Ninus came not, because of the
slowness of his journey to the place.

The King, in sitting much upon his tower while
Nineveh was being builded, had laid a deal of fat
upon his bones, and tedious travel irked him; moreover,
in the hunt his breath was shorter than of yore
and his thews less strong.  Yet the mind may ofttimes
entertain a zeal beyond the body's power, and in this
King Ninus brewed a trouble for himself—but the
trouble was yet to come.

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Semiramis, at parting with her lord, wept bitter
tears; yet she, too, bowed where wisdom left no
loophole of escape, and journeyed with Huzim and Habal
back to Ascalon.  And here her grief must find
another stab, keener, deeper, more sad than the parting
from one who would come again; for in the house of
Simmas an old man lay asleep—a woman's sandal
pressed against his beard.

They buried Simmas far out upon the hillside,
where in years gone by a babe was mothered by a
flock of doves.  The babe was a woman now, who
loved her foster-father tenderly and above all others
save her lord alone; so she wept beside the grave for
many days.

"A dove was he," she whispered to her lonely
heart, "so fond, so gentle in his ministries—a dove
that winged his flight and left me, only because of
Ishtar's yearning cry."

In her two long years of absence Semiramis had
oft'times dreamed of Ascalon, longing to roam its
hills once more or to swim in its cool, green lake;
yet now it all seemed strangely poor and small.  The
shores of the lake had shrunk together in the night;
the hills were not so high as the hills of yore, nor
the trees so green; the vault of the very sky itself
seemed pressing down to smother her, and the smell of
the very earth was not the same.  Ah, if she were like
to Habal who could see no change in the march of
time; yet Habal was but a dog!

Now, concerning this dog, the mistress erred and
grievously.  Not only did he mark the change in
Ascalon, but a greater one within himself.  He
swaggered through the village with his tail held high,
in the manner of one who had done large deeds
abroad, passing old canine friends without a sniff or
wag, yet eying interlopers scornfully.  On these he
would fall at the slightest wink of provocation, and
leave his memory marked upon their hides; so his
name became a wonder unto other dogs.

Semiramis was not of Habal's stamp, nor did she
boast of her deeds abroad; yet still their memory
beckoned, till her soul was full with a great unrest.
At home she was idle, grieving for the things so
changed, wandering through a house made desolate
by the flight of those she loved.  Old friends would
come—gaunt shepherds, gazing on her beauty with
the eyes of cattle that rove the hills—to linger, then
slink away to hide the passion in their hearts.

"Home!  Home!" she cried.  "No longer is it
home, for the dove hath flown, and my lord is not
beside me in the gloom!"

Through the hush of night there were whispers on
the wind—relentless ghosts that glide from the outer
world to mock us with their sighs; to bring on their
garments odours of the days that were, and the hopes
of other days to come; to haunt us, till we harken to
their murmurings and know not peace.

They called to Semiramis, these whispers, in the
name of love, whence Menon seemed to stretch his
arms in loneliness.  They called through a shattered
fringe of Kurds who screamed and struggled under
hoof and heel; they called in the tongues of madmen
whirling torches round and round, their evil faces
yellow in the flame and smoke.  They called her to
deeds of arms—to work—to power.  Oh, Ishtar,
if she might ride under whip and spur to Nineveh,
and pit her wits against the King!  To play the
thirsty game, with life the stake, its hazard on a
single cast!  Ah, if she might glide, as these ghosts
were gliding through the night, far out beyond the
rim of solitude, to the teeming battle-ground of hearts
and men!

For days she wandered, silent, yearning to be gone,
while the faithful Huzim dogged her every step.
His master had admonished him to watch his charge
with a winkless eye, lest spirit override her reason
and tempt her to a recklessness.  It troubled Huzim
thus to be a jailer to one he loved, yet the master's
will was law, so the Indian followed ever on her trail.

Semiramis knew no peace nor rest, and at last she
came to Dagon's temple down beside the lake, to lay
her sorrows on the fish-god's knees and ask a sign.

All day, all night, she prayed, yet when the dawn
came oozing from out the east, the face of Dagon
was as a face of stone.  The suppliant sat upon the
temple steps, weary, warring with despair.  With
listless eyes she watched a beetle crawling at her feet,
then, of a sudden, hope rose up and lived.  She
grasped the bug between her thumb and finger, holding
it above the surface of the lake, while she closed
her teeth as a gambler might at the whirl of his last
remaining coin.

"Now this," she murmured to herself, "shall tell
me of Dagon's will.  If the beetle swim, I go!  If
he sink, I rot in Ascalon!"

She cast it in, smiling, for she knew right well
that the bug must float, yet turning her back lest
Dagon mark her knowledge of such things.  For an
instant the victim struggled pleasingly with leg and
wing, while the smile of Semiramis broadened in its
reach, to flicker, to fade, to die.  A monster carp
came upward with a rush.  One snap, and the tempting
morsel disappeared, thus making the fish-god's
judgment clear, beyond the very hem of Redemption's robe.

Semiramis sat upon the temple's steps, her chin
upon her hands, her eyes on a wheel of ripples that
widened away from its hub of swift calamity.  She
pondered long, her thoughts like cats in trees, with
Habal barking furiously below.

"He sank," she sighed.  "Of a certainty he sank.
I may not make it otherwise.  And yet"—she
paused to steal a glance at Dagon's face—"and yet
the fool *did* swim for a *little* space.  Mayhap—"  Again
she paused, then spread her hands and raised
her eyes appealingly.  "In truth my beetle proveth
naught at all.  For a space he swam.  For a space
he sank.  Dagon, Dagon, what meanest thou in this?"

No answer came.  Once more she pondered, her
fair brow puckered with the lines of deep perplexity;
till, presently, the truant colour raced to her cheek
again and her great eyes lit with the flame of
understanding.

"Ah!" she breathed.  "Ah, now I see.  Thou
meanest, O wise and radiant one, that, *sink or swim*,
must I do this thing.  What!" she cried, "hast thou,
thyself, not said it?  And, lo!  I am but a weak and
foolish woman in thy power.  Ah, Dagon, Dagon,
thou art a crafty god, indeed!"

In haste Semiramis left the temple door, and,
singing loudly, tripped toward her home.  Her god had
sent a sign.  She was free to journey now as her
heart desired.  Free!  And yet, a doubt came
prowling after her—a watchful, sleepless doubt that
dogged her steps, even as Huzim slipped upon her
trail from his hiding-place behind a stone.  On the
hill she paused, to mutter to herself in a soothing
tone:

"The sign is clear.  Did I linger on in Ascalon,
some evil might befall me, even as that carp arose to
snatch my beetle in his greedy maw.  Did Menon
know, he would urge that I fly to him without delay."

She went her way and took up her song again, but
paused to reason with a small brown toad that hopped
across her path.

"Little beast," said she, "thou comest as a warning
of some ugly chance, the which, I confess, hath
filled me with the juice of fear.  Therefore will I
hasten out of Syria in time."

She walked around the toad with care, and, singing,
journeyed on till she reached the house where the
old dove Simmas dwelt in days gone by.  At the door
she lingered, ere she raised the latch, for one last
argument in the cause of a heart's desire.

"Now Dagon," she reflected, grieving at the
thought, "is in truth a careless god in the matter of
his signs.  Had Ishtar cursed me with a simple mind,
I might have misinterpreted, alas!"

Semiramis then slept, to dream of Menon till the
shades of night wore on, and in her dreams found
weightier reasons which she laid on the fish-god's
judgment scale.

"Huzim," she asked, when the Indian had brought
the evening meal, "did I seek escape from Ascalon,
what course would thy duty run?"

"Mistress," he answered her, "like an arrow in
my heart is the thought of force with one whose
happiness is held above my hopes of peace; yet the
master's will is the master's will, and a servant must
obey."

"Ah," she nodded thoughtfully.  "Ah, I see!
Yet if, by chance, I slipped away in the gloom of
night, as I did at Azapah—what then?"

The Indian cast a troubled gaze upon the floor, and
heaved a sigh.

"I would follow, mistress, as before I followed, till
I fell because of weariness."

"Then follow!" said Semiramis, "for I go to join
my lord at Nineveh—and to tickle the lion's nose
with straws."





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.. _`THE SORROWS OF A KING`:

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   CHAPTER XII


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   THE SORROWS OF A KING

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King Ninus, lord of all Assyria, lay cursing
in his royal litter, while slaves and attendants
bore him northward on the banks of the Euphrates.
Presently they left their course, struck eastward till
they reached the Tigris and again turned north,
whence, with many rests and long, forced marches in
the cool of night, the stricken King at length was
placed upon his couch at Nineveh.

Full many a grievous matter rode upon the
monarch's mind, and the pale attending leech wrought
vainly to quell his patient's fever, one augmented by
a sleepless, boiling rage within.  By day the King
would fret; by night he rioted throughout his dreams
and found no rest.

First there was his wound, a ragged, half-healed
gash, laid open by a lion's claw and running from a
point beneath his arm-pit to his hip.  It was not the
wound itself, nor the pain thereof, which fired the
hunter's wrath, but rather the truth that he,
Ramân-Nirari—the greatest hunter since beasts and hunters
were—should miss his kill and seek his life in flight.
Of witnesses there were only three: Shidur-Kam, a
warrior whom the King might trust to entrench his
tongue behind his teeth, and a slave who was safer
still, for Ninus had cast his body into the Euphrates;
but, then, there was a girl—a red-haired girl—who
perched in the boughs of a citron tree and
laughed as the King sped underneath, a wounded lion
leaping at his horse's haunch.

At another time the monarch might have held this
face, and the echo of a bubbly laugh, in pleasing
memory; yet raillery, directed at a royal personage
in the stress of flight, begets a recollection of a
different breed.  So the mocking laughter haunted
Ninus through all the day and caused him to wake at
night and grind his teeth in fury.

"Argol," said he, to the faithful leech beside him,
"give order that a thousand horse repair to the
region of our lion hunt.  Command them to scour the
country round about in a circuit of thirty leagues
and bring me every red-haired wench they may chance
to find.  By Gibil's flame!  I have a pressing need of
them!"

The leech sighed sadly, tapped upon a gong of
bronze, then waited in silence till an officer strode in,
saluted, and sank upon his knees.  The order given
and the soldier gone, Argol administered a sleeping
draught and sat once more at his weary post.

Yet the King slept not, for still another matter
lay heavy on his heart.  There was a certain man
called Azet, the venerable seer who had prophesied
with lies.  Before the hunt he had opened the
carcasses of seven cranes, finding in the entrails of each
and all an omen of success.  Full thirty beasts, said
Azet, should the King o'ercome, returning unto
Nineveh triumphant and sound of limb.  Was not
this prophet, then, to blame for the ills which had
come to pass?  Wherefore should he prophesy unto
evil ends, or cause witch-women to laugh from the
boughs of citron trees?  Could virtue not be found
in the vitals of seven sacred cranes? or was this holy
man but a monster and a fool?

The King's dark brow grew darker still with
troublous thought, as he questioned his leech for the
hundredth time in fretful tones:

"Argol, good Argol, tell me, I pray thee, man,
how in the name of Asshur may I teach this wretch to
mend his auguries?"

"My lord," the leech replied, as he raised his
drooping lids and gazed out dreamily to where the
Tigris flowed, "my lord, the breath of man ariseth
from his breast, but in his throat are shaped his evil
prophecies."

"Eh—what?" the King demanded.  "What
manner of speech is this, and how doth it run with
Azet and his seven cranes?"

"Hang him, my lord," said Argol, drowsily, and
turned away.

A slow smile lit the features of the King, while
for a space he pondered, plucking at his coverlet;
then, summoning an officer, he gave an order in a
weak but cheerful voice, at the same time causing his
couch to be removed to a shaded spot upon the palace
roof.  Here, with his watch-worn leech beside him, he
could lie at ease and feast his eyes on the glory of
completed Nineveh.  Across his terraced gardens
where fountains sparkled in the sun, he could see the
temple of Asshur and of Ishtar upon their hills;
likewise the temple of the fire-god Gibil, above whose
dome a wreath of smoke hung low, belched upward
from the flames beneath.  He could see his streets,
his marts, his mighty gates and the tawny plains
beyond where the Tigris and the Khusur ran.  He
could see his wall—that shield of his heart's
desire—which made his city a fortress against the world;
yet the thoughts of Ninus were not for walls and
shields.

He watched a thousand horsemen pass the western
gate and gallop swiftly down the river bank, then
disappear from Nineveh for the space of many days.
The chief was a man of little love beyond his sword
and steed, one, who would give short shift to devils
with flame-hued hair, and the heart of the King was
glad.

Of a sudden a tumult rose from the streets below,
while a concourse gathered, and a sound of weeping
ascended to the palace roof.  Through the surging
throng a band of soldiers fought their way, leading
the prophet Azet toward the wall and beating back
the populace with the butts of their heavy spears.

The western gate was spanned by a monster arch,
on the shoulder of which sat the highest tower of all,
and thither the soldiers led their victim by a
winding stair.  When at last they appeared on the
turret's edge, a wail of anguish rang out afresh, while
the multitude gazed upward, swarming to and fro.

"Now truly," chuckled Ninus as he watched,
"this fellow hath a wondrous following, who, because
of their ignorance, grieve at things they may not
understand."

From the turret the soldiers thrust a wooden beam;
from the end thereof they hanged the prophet by a
noose, and, according to a writing set above the gate,
"The prophecies of Azet ceased to be throughout the
land."

Argol then bound his master's wound in a healing
salve, and the sufferer straightway slept for many
hours; on waking, his fever had departed utterly, so
he mended in body and in mind.  He appointed
another prophet, one Nakir-Kish, a wise and observing
man whose promises of good and ill were the like of
kites, the strings thereof being held within his hand
till his eye had marked the temper of all heavenly
winds.  Thus Nakir-Kish endured.

King Ninus now sent for Bobardol, a sculptor of
high renown, the same who had carven a famous bull
that had, in all, five legs.  This extra limb might at
first seem strange and at odds with Nature's own
design; yet, even so, it had its marked advantages.  An
observer gazing on this masterpiece—no matter
where he stood—might always perceive four legs;
"And that," said Bobardol, "is Art."  So Ninus
was pleased, and retained the sculptor in his service.

The King gave order for a monster *stele*, whereon
should be carven a scene from the lion hunt, the
monarch being pictured, not in wild retreat, but faced
about and causing great discomfiture to a mighty
foe.  True, the attitudes of the King of Assyria and
the king of beasts would be quite reversed, yet Ninus
was a god whose front was more imposing than his
back; moreover it *would* have been as pictured had
Azet not prophesied with lies.  Shall a King be held
to blame where foolish servants err through
ignorance?  Not so!

The sculptor Bobardol now set to work, while
Ninus commanded a sumptuous feast to be prepared,
whereby he might celebrate his triumphs in the chase.
His soldiers and populace should pass in lines through
the palace hall and gaze in awe upon this unveiled
tablet, set up to the glory of the high lord
Asshur—and to the glory of the King.

While waiting this work of art, and at the same
time resting so that his wound might heal, Ninus was
wont to recline within his litter which was borne along
the top of the city wall.  Here he could watch at
will, or give directions in the order of another
enterprise which dwelt in his mind and heart.  Three
years had now passed by since his warriors turned
tail from Zariaspa; and the time approached when
Ninus must seal his promises to rake the ashes of
this city into sacks and with them feed the waters of
the sea.

The army encamped within and without the walls
of Nineveh was twice so great as that which had
failed in the former siege, and Ninus gave much
thought to the plans of his second war.  On the
plain a wall had been erected, in height and thickness
measuring that of Zariaspa, and here the Assyrians
practiced methods of assault.  Great carts they had,
with platforms twenty cubits above their wheels,
propelled by slaves who were hidden underneath, while
above the platforms ladders rose and slanted toward
the wall.  Up these the men-at-arms would clamber
rapidly, to grapple with defenders at the top; and so
great was their zeal in this mimic war that many lives
were lost because of it.  There were tall machines
which worked on pivots, whose swinging buckets could
set a score of men upon a parapet; there were towers
faced by armor-plates of brass, from the crests of
which wide bridges might be flung, while warriors
swarmed across to engage the enemy.  Huge
catapults were built, of new design and hurling power,
some casting single rocks, and others to rake a
battlement with a volley of smaller stones.  Full many
a strange machine of cunning workmanship was thus
devised and stored against departure, when the King
would once more lead his armies to the East.

In the lowgrounds and on the rolling slopes
beyond the river Khusur which flows between the
mounds of Koyunjik and Nebbi Yunas, myriads of
oxen and beasts of burden were set to graze upon the
pasture-lands.  These had been employed in the
building up of Nineveh, and now were resting for a
further need, for their final strength would be utilized
in hauling the traps of war through desert lands and
toilsome ways, on spongy forest roads to the hills
beyond, up heavy mountain slopes to gorges between
the peaks of Hindu-Kush.  Thence they would
scramble down into the plains of Bactria, to become
at last the food for a hungry host; and thus the
cattle served unto many ends.

The waiting army was under sole command of
Menon, whose heart was now divided between two
loves.  To prepare for war would have joyed him
vastly, except for his vow to wed Sozana when
Zariaspa fell before the King; and this he might not
do because of Semiramis, of whom he dreamed as
resting peacefully in the valley of Ascalon.  Had
Ninus spoken aught to him of the red-haired imp who
laughed from the bough of a citron tree, Menon's
heart might then have borne a double weight; but the
happening was not that quality of jest on which a
monarch is pleased to regale his chiefs.

It chanced on a certain day that Menon was
summoned to the palace for a council with the King, and,
striding through the gardens, he came with suddenness
upon Sozana, who sat alone.  Fair was she, with
the beauty of a childish maid; yet in her green simar,
and the silvery veil which was wound about her throat,
Sozana was a princess, from her raven hair to the
jeweled sandals on her tiny feet.

Since returning from Syria Menon had found no
opportunity for speech with her, and now he came
forward joyously, his hands outstretched.  At the
sound of footsteps Sozana had risen from her seat,
but, on seeing him, she gave a little cry of
disappointment and of pain, flushed crimson and turned away
without an answer to his greeting; and when he
sought to question her concerning such treatment of
an old-time friend, she sank upon a bench, to weep as
though her heart would break.

For a moment Menon stood irresolute, then, as he
began to speak again, a hand was laid upon his
shoulder, and, turning, he looked into the eyes of
Memetis the Egyptian, a youth whom he loved as he
might have loved his mother's son, but who now
refused his greeting coldly, spurning the proffered
hand and placing his own behind his back.

"How now," asked Menon, "is this the manner of
Memetis to his friends?"

"Nay," returned Memetis, frowning as he spoke;
"true friends I greet in love and tenderness; the false
may rest with Hathor ere I take their hands."

Then it came upon Menon that Memetis and Sozana
knew of the mandate of the King, and were
bitter in their thoughts of one who came between them
and their happiness.

"Memetis," the Assyrian asked, "is it, then, to
the walls of Zariaspa that thine eyes are turned,
fearing lest a friend hath juggled with thy trust as a
traitor might?"

The Egyptian's black eyes glowed in anger which
he vainly strove to check, while his fingers played
about the hilt of a dagger at his belt.

"Aye," he answered bitterly, "to the walls of
Zariaspa do I turn mine eyes, for with their fall falls
every hope which Isis dangled before my foolish
heart.  And thou!" he cried, "the false!  The
treacherous! who would tear Sozana from mine arms,
aye, even as the hawk would swoop upon a nest of
doves!"

Menon strove to speak, but the Egyptian would not
harken to his words.  The Assyrian faced Sozana,
stretching forth his hand, but Memetis sprang
between them, drawing his dagger, and in a low, fierce
whisper spoke his wrath:

"Lay but a finger on this maid, or speak her name
again, and as Osiris liveth, will I take thy life!"

Menon looked into the lover's eyes, and slowly
spread his arms.

"Strike!" he murmured sadly.  "Strike, and
learn from other lips than mine that Memetis is a
fool."

He waited, but the Egyptian made no move,
because of the sorrow on the face of one who had been
a cherished friend.

"And dost thou dream," asked Menon, pointing to
the girl who wept beside him, "that I would willingly
bring sorrow to this child?  Nay, listen, both, then
judge me when ye know the truth."

The Egyptian's hand sank down beside him, and
his blade was tossed upon the earth.

"Speak on," he begged, "but, oh, my friend, I
pray thee show me no mirage of hope that melteth
when a thirsty traveller would drink."

So Menon sat between them on the bench and told
them of Semiramis.  He told of the artifice by which
he sought to gull the King, in a firm belief that
Zariaspa would not fall; and yet, should chance prove
otherwise, he would fly with his wife into Arabia,
where Prince Boabdul offered them a safe retreat.
He spoke of his life in Syria, of the wonder of his
love for her whom he left behind; and as the tale
went on Sozana dried her tears and held the teller's
hand in both her own, for she and Memetis knew at
last that Menon betrayed no trust in him, and their
hearts were glad because of a hope restored.

"Forgive," Memetis pleaded as his friend arose;
and Menon smiled, bent down and kissed Sozana as a
brother might, then left them with a heavy heart to
seek the King.

Ninus still reclined upon his couch—for his hurt
was yet unhealed—and rested beneath the shade of
a canopy on the palace roof, whiles he waited in
impatience for Menon's coming till the hour was past.
Now it is not good to linger when a wounded monarch
waits, so Ninus fretted, combing at his beard as was
his wont when matters troubled him or anger rose.

"How now," he asked, when Menon came at length
with a hasty step, "am I the master, or do I sleep,
to awaken presently and find myself a servant—*thou*
the King?"

"Forgive, my lord," begged Menon, falling on his
knee; "King Ninus sleepeth not.  'Twas the servant
who drowsed beside the way.  In the garden below I
chanced upon Sozana with whom I have held no
speech since—"

"Ah!" said the King, his anger fading, while
a smile began to play about his mouth.  "So the
eagle needs must wait when pigeons peck at love.
Speak on, my son."

Menon flushed and cast his gaze upon the floor.

"I—I sat with her, my lord, and spoke of many
things, taking no thought of how the moments flew,
till—"

"Hark!" said Ninus, as he raised his hand.
"Can it be that I hear Sozana singing from the
garden there?"  Menon listened, nodded, and the King
went on: "Strange!" he mused.  "For days she
hath tasted lightly of her food, and sighed and
drooped her head; yet now at thy coming she hath
straightway plumed herself, and pipeth a saucy song.
Look thou, master fox, what miracle is this?"

Menon flushed again and smiled a foolish smile;
yet he answered cunningly, with a lingering grip on
the slippery skin of truth:

"My lord, I—I whispered into the maiden's ear."

"Oho!" laughed Ninus.  "Now by my beard, I'd
give a goodly sum to learn thine art.  But come,
what chanced to be the burden of this pretty speech?"

"As to that," said Menon boldly, in a manner
which ever pleased his lord, "my whisper is a secret
in the keeping of discretion's tongue and the maiden's
ear alone."

"U'u'm!" mused Ninus.  "How many men-at-arms
are now prepared to take the field against our
good friend Oxyartes?"

For a space the two discussed their plans for a
second war against the Bactrians, then Menon saluted
his master's hand and took his leave.  Alone, the
King lay thinking on his war, when of a sudden his
thought was disarranged by the notes of another
song, no longer Sozana's voice, but that of a man,
deep, tender, and pleasing to the ear:

   |  Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,
   |  When kissed by the gleaming, golden flood
   |  Of light from shining Ra;
   |  It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beams
   |  On the Nile of Life, and its blossom seems
   |  To shine as a milk-white star.
   |
   |  But lo! when the fateful season turns,
   |  And the tawny desert glows and burns,
   |  Shimmering, parched, and dry—
   |  As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,
   |  All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—
   |  And, withered, it falls to die!
   |

"Strange!" mused Ninus, combing at his beard.
"The Egyptian sitteth with Sozana in the gardens
down below and singeth a song of love; albeit I mark
that his song be sad....  Yet—why should
he sing at all, the fool!  Doth he, too, whisper into
the maiden's ear, and—"

The monarch paused abruptly, to call to his
faithful leech in a tone of petulance:

"Argol! come stroke my side in the region of my
wound; for I tell thee, man, it itcheth damnably."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LION`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center medium

   THE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LION

.. vspace:: 2

The throne-hall of the palace was of lofty pitch—and
of spacious depth and width.  In its rear,
through arches, lay an open portico, while beyond
could be seen the Valley of the Tigris and the reaches
of the river on its journey to the sea.  Within were
carven pillars of marble and of stone brought hither
by utmost toil from foreign lands; likewise other
pillars of malachite, of silver, and of hammered gold,
draped with hangings of purple and embroidered
stuffs from the treasure-stores of far Phoenicia.
There were curious arms, the trophies of chase and
war, rare gifts from conquered princes sent to
Nineveh through love or fear, and the mounted heads
and skins of beasts which had fallen before the King's
own spear and shafts.

The entrance was set with chiselled lions, and
wingéd bulls in miniature of those which guarded the
western gate, while the walls were lined with *steles*,
whereon were pictured the battles of the King, his
deeds of prowess in the hunt, his sacrifices at the
altars of his gods.

On the ceiling stretched a tessellated emblem of all
the deities wrought cunningly with bits of tinted
stone and precious gems, a work of art so fabulous in
price that even the spendthrift Ninus drew his breath
when the cost thereof was known to him.  In the
centre sat the great lord Asshur in his godly robes,
his breast adorned with the wingéd disk designed in
pearls and sapphires on a base of lapis-lazuli.
Before high Asshur King Ninus knelt, obedient to the
heavenly will alone, while around them were grouped
the lesser deities—Ramân hurling forth his
lightning forks, Bel in his hornéd cap, red Gibil peering
out through sacrificial flame and smoke, Bêlit
princess of the dawn, Shala, Nebo, Ninêb, and Nerga of
the chase, Shamashi-Ramân, father of the King—a
heavenly litter of divinities, each dear to the heart
of his special worshipper.

On a sumptuous throne sat Ninus, with Sozana at
his side, for the queen had passed away ere Nineveh
was complete; so now his daughter held the highest
place in the monarch's heart.  The hall was thronged
with chieftains, priests, and the king's good friends.
At the feet of Ninus sat Menon, and at his side the
Arabian Prince, Boabdul Ben Hutt, whom the king
had urged to grace his festival.  There were kings
of Tyre and Sidon, from beside the Sea of the
Setting Sun, whose cities sent their caravans of tribute
and of tax with muttered curses trailing after them;
and likewise came the sons of Canaan, giant Khatti
chiefs still restless beneath their yoke, princes of
Babylon, Syrians, lords of the desert and the sea;
grim mountaineers who had fought like rats in the
caverns of their rocky homes; governors, rulers, and a
swarm of wives and daughters of these men, all now
unveiled at the mandate of the King.

From behind a pillar Memetis looked upon Sozana's
face, his hope an oasis whence his soul might drink
the waters of his love; yet now must he sip lest Ninus
mark his thirst and be aggrieved thereat.  So, with
his eyes, the Egyptian looked out upon the throng,
yet with his heart he saw one maid alone.

A goodly gathering it was, in rich attire, in armor
and robes of state, the warriors of a hundred wars,
the proudest beauty of the court, assembled now to
view the monster tablet carven in honor of the King.
It was newly set within the wall, hidden from sight
by crimson draperies, and on either side stood the
sculptor Bobardol and the High Priest Nakir-Kish,
the one to draw the cloth aside, the other to bless the
*stele* in the name of Asshur.

A breathless silence fell upon the courtiers; King
Ninus gave a sign, and the sculptor drew the draperies
aside.  On the *stele* was pictured in *bas-relief* a
wondrous exploit of the King, who, mounted on a
rearing charger, battled with a king of beasts.  This
lion was springing upon the withers of the steed,
seeking to drag the hunter from his seat with teeth
and claws, while Ninus gripped its throat and crushed
its skull with a haft of his broken spear.

A triumph of art it was, bespeaking valor spirited
and rare, rather than exactness of the facts
concerning this glorious happening, and a murmur of
admiration rose to every lip because of the daring
monarch and the skill of Bobardol.

Below an inscription told the story of the deed, in
language employed by Assyria's Kings, wherein they
laid aside the robes of modesty and spake for the
world to hear:

"I, Ramân-Nirari, son of Shamashi-Ramân and
mightiest of all Assyria's Kings, by the will of
Asshur, lord of earth and sky, fared forth to conquer
lions in this the twentieth year of my resplendent
reign.  Much game I slew, my horse bestriding,
likewise upon my feet alone with arrows and with spear.
Thus it came to pass that I, Ninus, to whom no
other may compare in skill and lack of dread, joined
battle with a mighty, one-eyed lion in the thickets
along the Euphrates.  Terrible in rage was he, this
lion, because of the wounds I gave, roaring till my
servants fled in fear away.  Yet I, alone, took hold
upon his throat and smote him thrice, in that his
roaring ceased and went out of his belly with the death of
a so great beast."

"To the high lord Asshur praise!  To Ninus
praises greater still, for Asshur watched while Ninus
wrought the deed!"

Amid rejoicings the *stele* was blessed by the High
Priest Nakir-Kish, while the wine cup circled and a
chant was heard from a train of hidden priests—a
chant which now was taken up in the temples throughout
vast Nineveh, and the gods smelt sacrifice from
a thousand altar stones.  A jingling tinkle then
arose, when from right and left two lines of dancers
tripped into the hall, to bow before the King, to rise
and glide in rhythmic steps through the measures of
their dance.  A score they were, of beauties picked
from many lands and climes, arrayed in gauzy robes,
rich head dress and bangles of bronze and gold.
They swayed to a pace of slow monotony, with the
sad, melodious strain of citherns and of flutes of
quaint design; then, suddenly, at a crash of cymbals,
the dancers woke to life, whirling, tossing high their
arms, leaping through a swift, bewildering maze, with
gleaming bodies, crimson lips and pleading eyes.
Louder and louder rang the music's call to passion
and to love, while faster and faster the pink feet
fell in velvet kisses on the floor of tinted brick; till,
at last, with a scurrying rush, the maidens left the
hall, while a shout of applause and noise of clapping
hands rolled after them down the corridors.

A silence followed, wherein the courtiers waited
eagerly for a signal that the feast was spread, when
an officer stepped toward the throne and bowed before
the King.

"Thy pardon, lord," he faltered, "but a woman
clamoreth at the palace door.  She would enter
without delay and will not be denied."

So strange was the man's demeanor that all who
heard him marveled at its cause, yet Ninus spoke
impatiently:

"Bid her begone, lest my servants scourge her
from the city gates!"

The officer, with downcast eyes, retreated toward
the door where every eye was turned in sharp
expectancy of a stranger unbidden to the feast.  From
without the audience heard a murmur of protest
cut short by a firm, imperious command; then the
officer came slinking back into the hall.

"Lord," he quaved, trembling before the King,
"thy high commands I gave, bidding the woman
depart in peace, yet—yet she will not go."

"*Will not!*" King Ninus roared.  "By Gibil's
breath, what manner of wench is this to defy me in
my teeth?"

"Lord," the soldier stammered in confusion, while
his cheeks went white and red by turns, "lord, no
mortal wench is she, but a spirit from the outer world,
so fair to look upon that—"

A roar of laughter checked him, and even Ninus
joined therein, yet presently the King spoke sternly,
striving to hide his smile:

"Go, ape, and bring her hither!  Yet mark you,
man; if she be not fairer than any woman of my
land, I swear to hang you from the highest roof in
Nineveh!"

A titter arose and the blushing officer retired, to
presently return with—not one stranger in his
wake—but three.  In the lead a woman strode, yet such
a woman as the court of Ninus had never looked upon.
She was clothed in a skirt of lamb's wool whose border
touched her knee, her limbs encased in doe skin lashed
with thongs; across her breast was flung a leopard's
silky hide, and head dress had she none save a crown
of flame-hued hair.  In her hand she held a hunting
spear, and at her back was slung her bow, together
with its quiver and a sheaf of shafts.  Behind her
walked an Indian, of lowly mien but of mighty
strength, who, besides his spear and bow, bore a half
dried lion's skin, while at his heels a shepherd's dog
came swaggering in as though the palace were some
kennel of a lesser dog—and, strangely, the woman's
bearing seemed the same.

On the assembled court the effect was varied and
most strange.  The women raised their brows in
outward scorn of this stranger and her garb, yet in their
secret hearts they knew a rival who outstripped them
far; therefore they hated her and yearned that some
swift calamity befall; but their husbands looked
with a kindlier gaze.  The warriors, the statesmen,
aye, even the priests themselves, for a moment stood
in silent awe, each face revealing what each soul would
hide—wonder, worship, base desire—for the
passions of men are tuned to divers keys when beauty
strikes the chords.

.. _`143`:

To Menon the woman came as a fevered dream
from which he longed to wake and know that she was
safe in Ascalon; yet the dog was there—and
Huzim—Huzim who looked into his master's eyes and
dropped his own.  It was true!  She had come into
the lion's very lair, and the voice of Fear cried out
aloud that Folly had claimed its own.

"*Shammuramat!*" breathed Menon, leaning limp
and white on the shoulder of Boabdul.  "May the
gods lend aid, where I may give her none!"

"Courage, friend!" the Arab whispered, "for in
this, as in all things, my scimitar is brother to thy
sword."

The King leaned back upon his throne, with folded
arms, with eyelids narrowed into slits beneath his
frown, with fingers that combed his beard, while the
heart of him rejoiced.  At last it was she!  The
red-haired devil who had perched in a citron tree and
mocked him as he fled before a wounded lion.  Ah,
now should she pay the price of laughter in the coin
of tears!

A hush had fallen on the company, each waiting
with bated breath for the King to speak; but the
King spoke not.  At length Semiramis, wearying of
the pause, stepped forward without the royal word of
sufferance.

"My lord," said she, and pointed to her servant
and the gift he bore, "I bring a lion's skin from the
thickets of the Euphrates.  A mighty one-eyed lion
which—"

"Hold!" cried Ninus, leaping to his feet, his hard
hands clenched, his neck veins standing out to a
wrathful rush of blood.  For a moment he stood,
regarding the woman with a dark, malignant frown,
then he turned to a man-at-arms beside his throne:
"Go down with this wench to the keep below and let
her taste the lash!"

To those who heard, this deep injustice came like
a thunderbolt, for naught had the woman done save
to bear a present to the King and speak without his
leave.  A murmur of protest sounded throughout the
gathering, and Menon half arose with his hand upon
his sword; yet the Arab checked him by a warning
word and a grip upon his arm, for the time was not
yet ripe to place a life in jeopardy.

The man-at-arms, obedient to his master's will,
strode forward and laid his hand upon the prisoner's
arm; but at his touch Semiramis took a backward step,
then with her doubled fist she struck him fair upon
the apple of his throat.  With a grunt of pain the
fellow sprawled full length, his armor clanging on
the floor, while Huzim lowered his spear point
threateningly and Habal crouched beside the prostrate man,
his lips rolled back, his eye upon his mistress, waiting
for a sign.

Again fell silence, to linger till one might count a
score, while all looked on in dumb amaze at this queen
who dared the rage of Ninus, meeting his eye with an
eye that knew not fear and his scowl with a reckless
smile.

"My lord," she began once more, her low voice
smooth and even as though the stretching of a
warrior on his back were but a pleasing courtesy, "my
lord, I bring a lion's skin from the thickets of the
Euphrates.  A mighty one-eyed lion which leaped
upon thy horse's neck and—"

"Have done!" stormed Ninus.  "What witch's
foolery is this of lions in the thickets of the
Euphrates?"  He paused to laugh derisively.  "Perchance
it was even thou who slew the brute—thou with thy
puny might."

"Puny?" smiled Semiramis, pointing to the fallen
man-at arms.  "Nay, ask this grimy dog who dared
to pollute me with his touch.  And as for the lion,
good my lord, I have his skin.  Mayhap I slew him,
and again mayhap he laid aside his coat in the
manner of a wrestler, eager for another bout with Ninus,
who, alas, receiveth gifts with but a sorry grace."  She
smiled once more and again took up her interrupted
speech: "My lord, I bring a lion's skin—"

"Peace!  Peace!" cried the King, then turned to
glare about him savagely.  A laugh had broken from
some hidden soldier's throat, and, as a flame is
kindled from a spark, so mirth ran riot up and down the
hall.

The King, whose temper had been weakened by his
wound, was placed in a grievous pass.  Should he
suffer this witch to tell her damning tale of disaster
in the chase, it would brand the royal hunter as a
braggart and a liar—a case far out of tune with a
king's desire to be thought a god.  On the other
hand, should he check her speech by force, there were
those who would hold displeasure for a deed they
could not understand.  Therefore Ninus swallowed
down his spleen and sought to meet guile with guile.

"Princess," he laughed, as he once more took his
seat, "with anger assumed did I test the mettle of a
huntress at my court, and my heart is glad because of
the spirit she hath shown.  Speak then, fearing
naught, and if thy tale prove true and pleasing to our
ears, demand what thou wilt from Ninus in exchange
for this one-eyed lion's skin."

Semiramis bowed low and was about to speak, when
the monarch checked her with a lifted hand.

"Nay, a moment," he begged.  "Now perchance
I might tell this tale myself, and thereby lose no shred
of its palatable meat."  He smiled to his court
amusedly and once more bent his glance upon
Semiramis: "A lion's skin is borne me from the
thickets along the lower Euphrates—a one-eyed lion,
fierce and strong, that leapt upon my charger's neck
and pressed me hurtfully.  I, Ninus, in my terror of
a beast so strange, then flung my weapons down,
turned tail and fled for safety in my distant camp,
whilst thou—all praise to Asshur for the
deed—came after me and slew my enemy."  Again the
monarch laughed and stretched his hand toward the
huntress: "Speak, pretty one, is this the tale of
Ninus and the one-eyed lion?"

The King, in painting with a brush of truth, had
spread his colors artfully, for it came to him that to
steal the thunder from an accusing tongue was better
far than a shield of defensive lies.  So the courtiers
whispered among themselves and smiled at the
pleasing humor of their Song.  This joyed the monarch
vastly, for his vanity was large, and now that his wit
had given him a vantage ground, he turned to Semiramis,
ready for attack, but was ill prepared for his
subtle enemy.

On her face came a look of childish wonderment
and pain, while her hands were raised in protest of a
thought so wrongful to the King.  She stood with
her back toward the *stele* which pictured the lion hunt,
yet, on entering the hall, her eye had marked it, and
memory served her well.

"Ah, no, my lord," she answered timidly, as she
slowly shook her head, "of a truth thy words are the
words of jest, for I saw thy battle from the bough of
a citron tree wherein I had climbed in my wish to
gaze upon the King."

She paused to drop her eyes, but raised them again
at a smile and a word from Assyria's lord.

"Speak," said the King, "and fear not, for we
fain would hear this tale.

"O radiant one," returned Semiramis, "small skill
have I in the telling of a deed so great, and yet each
day my prayers of praise go up to Ishtar, in that I
saw this glorious battle of a god."

The King breathed easy and ceased to comb his
beard, and Semiramis began her story, of the hunt.
At first her voice was low, melodious and calm, yet
presently it rose to the fevered pitch of an orator
whose audience is but a harp beneath his hand, each
string a heart to thrill and quiver at a master-touch.
Her listeners seemed to see the hunter charge the king
of beasts, his stout spear shivering with the impact
of the blow.  They heard the lion's roar of fury as
he leaped on the shoulder of the rearing steed, to
tear at his enemy, while the two tossed to and fro in a
grip of death.  They heard the rip of armored
garments at the stroke of raking claws, while the blood
of Ninus dyed his vestments red and his arm rained
blows upon the skull of a maddened beast.  They saw
its mighty jaws relax, the tawny body heave in agony,
to drop to the earth at last in death.  Then the
conqueror strove to staunch his wounds and, failing, rode
for succor to his distant camp.

Semiramis ceased to speak, and those who had
listened drew a long, deep sigh of wonder at the King's
escape and at her who told the tale so truthfully.
King Ninus likewise heaved a sigh, but of peace and
sweet content, for never since his reign began had he
looked upon so glorious a liar.

"Behold!" cried Nakir-Kish, and pointed to the *stele*.

Semiramis turned, to stare in seeming wonder
at the carven miracle.  One fluttering hand was
drawn across her eyes; her lips moved slowly, giving
forth no sound, and all save two who watched her
felt that here, indeed, was truth.  King Ninus raised
his hand to check a tribute of applause, and spoke in
a voice of gentleness.

"What more?" he asked.  "How came it to pass
that a woman beareth the lion's skin to Nineveh?"

Semiramis spread her hands in the manner of one
who does a deed too small for the waste of words.

"O mighty one," she answered simply, "of a truth
my tale is told.  When the beast lay dead I descended
from out my tree to watch while my servant removed
its skin."  She took the lion's hide from Huzim and
laid it at the monarch's feet.  "My lord, I bring this
simple token of my love to Nineveh, in trust that the
King of all the world will grant my small desires."

"Say on," cried Ninus, "and by the sword of
Asshur do I swear to make a just reward.  Speak,
then, for we harken to thy wish."

Semiramis spoke not.  She raised her eyes to his
in the wondering innocence of a little child and smiled.

"Nay, lord, why now should I name desires which
Ninus in his wisdom knoweth well?"

"True," returned the monarch thoughtfully, once
more combing at his beard and wondering if some
trap were being laid, "true, and yet 'twere well to
name thy wish aloud, in that these my friends may
ever bear a witness to the promise made.  Speak, for
Ninus heedeth."

"Forgiveness!" begged Semiramis, kneeling upon
the lion's skin.  "This, O Father of the Land, I ask
alone."

"Granted!" cried the King, "though I swear I
know not—um—though thy sin be great or small."

Semiramis pressed the fingers of the King against
her lips, then, rising, turned with a joyous cry and
flung herself into Menon's arms.

A gasp of wonder rose from those who saw, while
Menon flushed, and his friend Boabdul smiled.
Sozana sought the eyes of Memetis with a furtive
glance, but the King rose up in wrath.

"What now!" he demanded, in a voice which shook
with passion, but Semiramis checked him with a laugh
and stood before him holding Menon's hand.

"Three years agone, as thou knowest well, my lord,
he wedded me in Syria."

"Eh—what!" cried the puzzled King.  "In
truth he is thy spouse?"

"Aye," she nodded happily, "in defiance of his
master's will; and thought—the foolish boy—to
blind the eyes of the Eagle of Assyria.  Yet as for
me, my lord, I laughed, for well I knew that the
vanities of man must come to dust.  What!  I asked
him, is thy master a fool whose eye can fathom
naught beyond his nose?  Nay, King Ninus is a god
whose wisdom marketh the works of lesser men, and
he smileth because of them.  Therefore, since Ninus
knoweth all, he will treasure up this jest till such a
time as Menon cometh unto Nineveh, and will rally
him in the sight of all the court.  Speak then, O
generous lord, that thy courtiers may laugh with thee."

The monarch made no answer.  He was like unto
a man who stood between two ditches, each too wide
to spring across, yet spring he must.  To admit a
knowledge of his governor's disobedience, would mean
forgiveness where the measure of his wrath was fain
to fall; and yet denial stamped him, not as a high,
far-seeing god, but a mortal fool whose vision ceased
at the tip of his royal nose.  So Ninus pondered
thoughtfully.

"How now, my lord," asked Semiramis with her
witch's smile, "in truth dids't thou not know of this
joyous happening from the first?"

"Aye," growled Ninus, savagely, "I knew it—from
the first."





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.. _`THE TURN OF A WOMAN'S TONGUE`:

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   CHAPTER XIV


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   THE TURN OF A WOMAN'S TONGUE

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For many days the mind of the King was troubled
by a fractious mood.  He strove to nurse an
anger against Semiramis, yet, even as he brooded, his
thought would trail away from the wrong she had
put upon him, and linger on the witchery of the
woman's eyes.

"*Heh!*" he muttered, savagely.  "This imp is
not an imp to be forgotten in a day!"

There were hours wherein he was prone to pass
the matter by, to forgive these lovers who had balked
his will by a wit more subtle than his own; yet
moments would come when he longed to strip her
shoulders bare and watch the lash laid on; and in such
a mood he caused her to be brought before him as he
lolled in his garden in the noontide heat.

His couch had been set beside a fountain's edge,
beneath a trellaced arbor whereon a vine of Syria
climbed, the great black grapes in clusters peeping
from their leaves and set apart for the lips of the
King alone.  At his hand were a jeweled flagon and
a dish of fruit on which he regaled himself from time
to time as he waited for Semiramis, while at his head
stood a eunuch who waved a fan of feathered
plumes and watched lest a buzzing insect rest upon
his monarch's skin.

King Ninus, smiling grimly, watched Semiramis
coming down a garden-path, and hardened his heart,
for now, alone with her, he would speak his mind as
befit the master of the world, and even learn,
perchance, if her arrogance would break beneath the lash.

Then presently she stood before him, clothed in a
white simar, whose edges were stitched with pale blue
feathers of some tiny bird, crossed on her breast and
caught by a silver girdle at her waist, the soft folds
falling to her sandaled feet.  Her hair was drawn
from her temples in a drooping curve, confined with
jeweled pins in a knot behind, and was covered by a
gauzy veil, now lifted from her face in deference to
the King.

In the eyes of Ninus she was fair beyond his fondest
dreams of womankind, yet, withal, she galled him
by her calm assurance of the power to charm.  So,
for a space he regarded her and spoke no word, till
Semiramis, uninvited, perched herself upon a stool
and inquired into the monarch's health as though she
had been his leech in charge.

"Woman," growled the King, "knowest thou why
I bring thee here—alone—where none may hear
my words or thine?"

She smiled and looked into his eyes, striving to
read the mind beneath, then plucked a bunch of his
sacred grapes from the vine about her head and
began to eat them thoughtfully.

"Mayhap my lord is weary of himself and willeth
to be amused."

The King half raised himself upon his arm in
angry astonishment, for the impudence of both her
act and speech was past belief.  Serene and
undismayed, she spoke as an equal, to *him*—the lord of
all Assyria—and pecked at his royal fruit with the
recklessness of some wanton bird.  His mouth went
open, while he vainly sought for words wherein to
shape his wrath; yet, ere he could find them,
Semiramis had poised a luscious grape between her thumb
and finger and thrust it between his lips.

"Eat, my lord," she murmured, smiling happily,
"for never have I tasted fruit that lay more sweet
upon my tongue."

So the monarch, marveling at a weakness which
he could not understand, devoured the grape and cast
its skin into the fountain at his side.

"The grapes of Syria!" laughed Semiramis.
"Ah, good my lord, their flavor, like unto a memory,
leadeth me among my native hills—to the lake of
Ascalon and the vine-clad temple crouching on its
shore.  If my lord would hunt, I can lead him where
the beasts of prey are fierce and strong—where—"

"Nay," said the King who stretched himself at
ease upon his couch, "I would hear the story of
Shammuramat."

She bowed her head in obedience to his will, and, as
before she had spoken to Menon on the steps of
Dagon's temple, so now again she told the tale of a
babe that was nursed by doves, the while she fed her
royal listener with grapes, and watched his anger
fade.  She told him of her home with Simmas, the
father-dove, and of her other home in Azapah, whence
she fled by night to join the battle of the Kurds.

The eyes of Ninus were sparkling now, his lips
had twitched into a smile; and when he learned how
the tax on Syria was raised, he laughed till the tears
ran down and the pain in his wounded side aggrieved
him sorely.

Was this the woman above whose back he longed
to hear the whistle of a scourge?  Nay, strive as he
would, he failed to harbor wrath against Semiramis,
yet in his breast there rankled still a wound to pride.
Someone must suffer because of the disobedience; if
not the woman, then justice must fall upon the man.
Should Menon be blest above all other men—to enjoy
the love of Ninus and also the love of one who was
fit to mate with kings?  Nay!  By the necklace of
the five great gods, this thing was not to be!

So Ninus nursed a grave displeasure against his
general, while he lay with half closed eyes and hung
upon the words of his general's wife.  He watched
her lips, her eyes, the curve of her rounded breast,
and the tiny veins on her velvet skin where the blood
of passion drowsed.  In the soil of his soul a seed
was planted deep, and though he knew not its name,
it would grow in might, a sturdy vine that twined its
soft, insidious tendrils round a monarch's heart, till
it dragged him to the earth with the weight of its
ripened fruit.

The palace gardens lazed in a silence of the
noon-day's heat that was broken only by the fountain's
gurgling song, the flutter of a bird that dropped to
drink, and the voice of Semiramis, low, melodious, and
sweet.  The sounds on the city streets below were
hushed in the hour of rest, and the lisp of the breeze
was but a whisper among the palms.  Farther and
fainter the Syrian's murmurs trailed away, till they
seemed to the King the nameless voices of the night,
when a hunter sprawls beside his camp-fire, listening,
listening, while he slides from weariness to
peace—and Ninus slept.

In his dreams he sat upon the throne at Nineveh
and looked toward the east.  His eye could pierce
the snow-capped mountain range, and the rolling
mists beyond which hung above the walls and citadel
of Zariaspa.  He saw his armies swarming up the
battlements, to be beaten back and tumble headlong
to the earth, while his foemen waved their
bloodstained arms and shouted, though their shouts he
could not hear.  He strove to cry commands, but a
hot wind blew them back into his throat, and the
Bactrians leaped from their battlements to smite the
children of Assyria.  Yet, suddenly, they seemed to
pause in fear, retreating to their walls before the
charge of a single chariot which swept across the
plain.  It was drawn by three white steeds that fought
with hoof and teeth, the taut reins held in the shield
hand of Semiramis.  Her locks, unbound, were
streaming in the wind.  The sun's rays lit her golden
armor with a flash of fire that burned through the
ranks of her fleeing enemies.  Straight at the walls
she drove, while the King looked on and trembled
in his dread.  A stone from a catapult went hurtling
out and burst upon her shield, but she laughed and
urged her steeds.  He saw her splash through a
bloody moat, and, shuddering, closed his eyes; yet
when he opened them again, lo! the city walls had
crumbled into dust, and the chariot raced across great
mounds of smoking wreck.  Westward it came,
through passes and defiles, up, up to the summit of
the Hindu-Kush, to thunder down into the plains
beyond, wheel swiftly to the west and speed for
Nineveh!  She was coming!  Semiramis was coming!
Ah, he could see her clearly now—her great eyes
blazing from a splotch of red and gold—her white
throat gleaming through a web of wind-blown hair.
She passed the city gates, which burst before her
rush, and drove full swing between long rows of
wingéd bulls and crouching lions.  The King could
now discern the beat of hoofs, the ring of the driver's
voice as she urged her steeds, and the crack of her
pitiless lash.  He heard the shock of her chariot
wheels when they struck the palace steps, and the
splintering crash of Ramân's statue as it overturned;
then the massive doors of the hall fell in, while a queen
of battle thundered over them, to check her panting
steeds beside the throne.

"Bactria is no more!" she cried, and leaped to a
seat beside the King.  Then Ninus flung wide his
arms, yet ere he felt her weight against his breast,
a black cloud slid between them—and the lord of
dreams awoke.

Semiramis had gone, and in her place stood Menon,
waiting till the slumbers of his master ceased.

"My lord," spoke Menon humbly, as he bent his
knee, "the armies of Assyria lie beyond the wall,
ready to march on Zariaspa at the King's command."

For many moments Ninus scowled upon this man
who in days of old had been his friend in joy and
grief, in peace, in victory and defeat.

"Then lead them forth at dawn," he answered,
sternly; "and mark thou, Menon, this for thine ear
alone.  On Zariaspa's fall will hang the fate of those
who disobey my will."

Menon looked up swiftly, and the King spoke on:

"Thy deed in Syria hath grieved me sorely, the
more because of a trust misplaced, and so thy hand
shall dip no more in the fleshpots at thy master's
board.  Go, then, without the love of Ninus which
was like unto the love of a father for his son, and
sue for pardon when our enemies shall cease to be."

The monarch waved his hand as a sign that the
conference was done, yet Menon lingered still.

"And she, my lord?" he asked, striving to quell
the tremor in his tone.  "If Bactria falleth, what
then of my wife Shammuramat?"

The King lay still and pondered for a space, till
at length his dark eyes glowed with the fires of craft.
A plan was born wherein he might compass his own
desires, and at the self same time hold Menon in the
grip of unceasing diligence.

"Shammuramat," said Ninus, smiling in his beard,
"remaineth a hostage here at Nineveh till the war
be done.  My army, once beyond the Hindu-Kush,
shall divide in twain, the one half mine, the other
thine, albeit Ninus is the chief of all.  Then will we
each lay siege to Zariaspa, the one upon the east, the
other on the west; and as thy men are spurred to deeds
of valor by promises of high reward, so will I urge
mine.  And look thou, boy, the walls are strong, their
copings manned by sturdy foes; yet to him who first
shall stand a conqueror on the summit of their citadel,
that man shall receive a prize."

"And the prize, my lord?" asked Menon, shivering
at a dread to which he dared not give a name.

"*Shammuramat!*" cried Ninus, bringing down his
doubled fist, till the table rocked and the flagon
overturned, the dark wine gurgling out upon the earth
like the blood of a stricken warrior.  "To the
conqueror shall go this prize—by Asshur I swear
it!—though he be her wedded spouse or the spawn of a
Hittite serf.  Now go! and set thy hope on the
citadel of Zariaspa."

For an instant Menon lingered still, his gaze fixed
fast upon the eyes of Ninus, his hot blood surging
madly through his veins, his sword hand playing
nervously about his blade; then he laughed and turned
upon his heel without salute, albeit his laughter was
like unto the cry of a strangled wolf.

"Wait!" called the King, and as Menon paused,
he pointed a warning finger at his under-chief.  "No
parting word may be spoken with thy wife, save in
my presence and in my audience hall this night.  And
more; should thy lips tell aught which Ninus gave in
secret to thine ear, then marvel not if my men-at-arms
cast lots amongst them for a concubine!"

So Menon went out from the gardens of the King,
and, with a head that drooped upon his breast, rode
slowly to the camp beyond the city wall.





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.. _`AN ARMY ON THE MARCH`:

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   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center medium

   AN ARMY ON THE MARCH

.. vspace:: 2

Sad at heart Semiramis stood on the palace roof
at dawn and watched the army, like a mighty
serpent, wriggling away toward the east.

Her parting with Menon had been strange indeed,
for while his lips spoke bravely of the days to come,
in his eyes lurked shadows of a troubled soul.  Some
secret preyed upon him which he dare not share with
her, and the eagle glance of Ninus rested on him
ceaselessly, even while the husband's kiss was pressed upon
her lips; and Menon stumbled as he left the hall.
What danger to her lord lay hidden behind the master's
smile, and why should he hold her here, a prisoner,
at Nineveh?  Menon, too, had bade her stay behind,
though since her coming, in the one sweet night when
she rested at his side, he had sworn to part from her
no more till Ishtar snapped the thread.  What now?
Was his change of heart a mandate of the King,
whereby her lord should suffer in secret for his
disobedience, when open forgiveness was but a
close-masked lie?  By Gibil, if he dared—!

Semiramis leaned across the parapet, shaking her
hard-clenched fist toward the lines of marching men
which had swallowed up the purple litter of the
wounded King.  Hour by hour she watched the armies
move, like restless waves on the breast of a shoreless
sea, the sunlight flashing on their polished gear.
Line on line of footmen swung in measured stride,
archers, slingers, pikemen, and those who fought with
axes and with staves; vast clouds of riders skirting
the Khusur river's edge where the way was cleared
for the monster catapults now knocked apart and
bound upon carts with wooden wheels.  As far as the
eye could reach great lines of lowing oxen drew these
machines of war, their drivers goading them with
whips and the points of swords, while as a rear-guard
came a rumbling host of chariots clanging through
the city's eastern gate.

A brazen sun climbed upward on its arch, hung like
a keystone over Nineveh, then dipped toward the west;
and still Assyria's forces stretched in sight of the high
brown walls, a tangle of an hundred nations pressing
on at the will of a wounded King.  A ball of dull red
fire hung low behind the hills; a purple mist came
creeping down on Nineveh, and the tail of an army
disappeared beyond the river bend.  Then Semiramis
cast herself upon the palace roof and wept, for in the
sob of a rising breeze she seemed to hear the sigh of
Dagon and the rush of a carp that dragged her beetle
down.  It were better far that she should rot in
Ascalon than dwell a prisoner at Nineveh, watching,
listening, through the dull eternities of night for the
footstep of a loved one who came not back to her.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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The Assyrian host crawled eastward through the
dust and heat, skirting the mountain spurs, and
marching through the plains of Media, where an
infant nation gave but weak resistance to the progress
of the King.  For four long moons they journeyed
slowly, with many halts, for the ponderous machines
of war retarded speed because of their weight and
the breaking of axles and of wheels.  Up mountain
sides they were dragged by ropes attached to cattle
and to slaves who held them back from running down
the slopes beyond, though anon some heavier cart
would sway, careen, and tumble with a rending crash
among the stones.

In the van, and guarded by wings of flying horse,
went an army of workmen who smoothed the way,
hewing wide roads through forestlands, bridging the
smaller streams, or constructing barges where rivers
needs be crossed.  Through desert wastes they laid a
track of wood, whereon the wheels of catapults might
roll and sink not deeply into the sands; and thus
Assyria moved, by force of slow, brute strength, till the
slopes of Hindu-Kush were reached and the toil of
gods began.

King Ninus might have fretted at the slowness of
his pace, yet his wound had healed and his strength
came back again; so while his engines and his baggage
carts crept slowly along their way, he foraged through
the lands, subduing strangers, adding them to his
mighty host, or collecting tribute and a store of food
against the hungry days of siege.  Where peoples
were peaceful or stricken with fear before his might,
then would he hunt from dawn till the shades of
evening fell, though since the day of his going out from
Nineveh, Menon joined not in his master's sports, nor
dipped his hand in the fleshpots at the royal board;
and in the eyes of men this thing was strange.

To the warriors in Menon's charge, their chieftain
had passed from boyhood to sterner age, for his laugh
no more resounded through the camp as in days of
old, and a frown of gloom sat always upon his brow.
Where the followers of Ninus feasted by night and
day, laying great rolls of fat upon their bones,
Menon's men were held to the toil of war, to the
practice of arms and a temperate use of wine and food,
till slender and gaunt they grew, yet clear of sight
and as hard as the rocky roads up which they climbed.

When half of the mountain's side was scaled and
the army rested in the valley's lap, King Ninus
proclaimed a council of his chiefs wherein he set forth
plans to take the enemy unawares.  That Oxyartes
smelled their coming, was clear because of his many
spies who dodged like mountain goats among the
crags; yet weary days must pass ere the great
machines of war could be dragged into the plains beyond,
and this the Bactrians likewise knew full well.
Therefore Ninus planned a sudden dash of chariots and
horse through the highest mountain pass and a swift
descent on Zariaspa, thereby cutting off a mass of
Bactrians ere they found a safe retreat behind their
walls.

This strategy seemed wise, and the chiefs as with
one voice agreed thereto save Menon only, who sat
apart and spoke no word.  King Ninus, noting this,
grew vexed and gave command that Menon stay
behind in charge of the footmen and the baggage trains,
a flout which hurt the youthful warrior to the
marrow of his pride.  For a moment he looked upon his
master, then shrugged and left the council tent in
silence, striding down the rocky path to his camp
below.  He yearned to reach the walls of Zariaspa, yet
he knew full well that Ninus might accomplish naught
without the aid of his ladders and his catapults;
and these must be watched with a sleepless eye, for in
them lay the hope of a breach in the city's walls or a
path which led to the summit of the citadel.  One man
would stand upon that lofty goal and claim the
prize—Semiramis—and Menon swore by his every god
of light and gloom to be that man!

When the cloak of evening fell King Ninus with his
horsemen and his chariots moved stealthily up the
winding trail which led to the mountain's top, while
Menon brooded by his camp fire far into the night.
In the valley about him his soldiers lay asleep, wrapped
in their cloaks, for the mountain air was chill; on the
cliffs above his ghostly sentinels could be seen against
the stars, watchful lest marauding bands swoop down
to pillage the baggage trains or scatter the beasts of
burden through intersecting glades.  Many and bold
were the Bactrian mountaineers who spared no pains
to harass the Assyrians' march, though far too weak
to battle openly; therefore they clung to the army's
flanks, as insects gall a steed; and because of them
Assyria itched by night and day.

The hours dragged on and on, till Menon with a
sigh arose at last and entered his tent where he flung
himself upon his couch of skins for an hour of sleep;
but sleep came not, for his heart was heavy, and his
thoughts trailed ever back to Nineveh and to her who
lay in peril of a fate unknown.  Then, presently, his
eyelids drooped with a restless drowsiness wherein came
tangled, half wakeful dreams through which he
clambered up the walls of Zariaspa, while Ninus pushed
him downward, laughing to see him fall.  In the far,
dim distance the voice of a woman stormed, sobbing
because she might not reach his side; then, suddenly,
Menon sat upright, listening, at the call of a sentry
outside his tent.  The flap was thrust aside, and
Huzim entered, bearing a heavy burden in his arms.

When a torch was kindled, its light revealed a
Bactrian spy whom Huzim had captured on the outskirts
of the camp and whose limbs were bound with leathern
thongs, for the Indian found less labor in bearing
this spy upon his mighty back than in leading him,
struggling, down a tedious defile.

The prisoner was questioned concerning his master,
Oxyartes, but refused to speak.  They scourged him,
yet he bore the lash in silence, scowling at his enemies,
till Huzim procured a torture iron, clamped it on the
Bactrian's bare foot and turned the screws; then the
wretch's spirit broke; he shrieked for mercy, promising
to reveal all secrets which the Assyrians wished to
learn.  Menon nodded, and by a sign directed Huzim
to keep the iron about the prisoner's foot, then he
turned to the sufferer sternly:

"Speak," he commanded; "yet remember, fellow,
that much is known to us, and for each false word that
slips your tongue, this screw shall sink a hair's breadth
into your ankle bone."

The threat proved potent; Menon learned, by swift,
adroit questionings, that Oxyartes lay in wait for
Ninus at the outlet of a deep defile on the ridge of the
highest mountain pass, where, aided by rising ground
and the towering cliffs on either side, he could crush
the Assyrians, even as this devil's iron bit into a
captive's foot.

Menon pondered thoughtfully, for the case was
evil, demanding all his craft.  Mayhap the captive
lied, seeking to draw away another force from the
baggage trains, when hidden mountaineers might pour
into the valley, wrecking the machines of war and
dealing a fatal blow to the plans of siege.  On the other
hand, should Ninus, in his overconfidence of strength,
become entangled in the narrow gorge, then of a
certainty Assyria's fate was sealed.

Menon faltered.  A haunting whisper worried at
his ears:

"Let Ninus die!  Wherefore should a mortal shield
an enemy who houndeth him in a cause of cruelty?
Leave him to his fate!  Race back to Nineveh and the
goal of a heart's desire!"

'Twas sweet, this haunting whisper, yet another
voice within him cried aloud—cried for the glory of
Assyria and the lives of those who rode into a snare.
Should he soil a warrior's after-memory with the
murder of his friends—those who had charged with him
in Syria against the Kurds?  By the breath of Ishtar,
no!  Semiramis would scorn him as the weakness of a
craven merited!

In a moment Menon's tent was thronged with
officers and under-chiefs to whom he issued swift
commands.  The camp in the valley woke to sudden life.
Slumbering warriors roused to cast their cloaks aside
and form in silent, eager bands, their heavier armor
left behind, their backs untrammeled by any weight
save their arms alone, their pouches for food, and
leathern flasks for water and for wine.

In the valley, carts and wagons were set in one vast
oval barricade, while oxen and the burden-beasts
were roped within.  Beneath the wheels lay a force
of men who slept upon their arms, and treble sentries
paced the outposts and lined the cliffs above.  The
baggage train was a fortress now which well might
hold its own till Menon could reach his threatened
King, strike at the enemy, and hasten back again.

And now the force was on the move, Menon in the
van, while at his side strode the faithful Kedah, he who
had served in Syria, and at his master's lightest nod
would charge across the lip of a precipice.  Three
spears' lengths in advance went the Bactrian spy who,
choosing between the torture-iron and a sack of gold,
had promised to lead the Assyrians by a shorter route
to where King Oxyartes lay concealed; yet, lest he
betray his trust, a noose was knotted about his neck
and Huzim followed close upon his heels.

To those who raced with the coming dawn on
slippery mountain paths, circling deep chasms, leaping
from stone to stone where torrents cut their way, the
ceaseless trainings of Menon's camp now stood them
in good stead.  The chill of the altitude was felt no
more, for the soldiers' blood ran bubbling through
their veins as their limbs grew damp with the sweat
of toil.  Upward they clambered, swinging westward
in a wide detour, in the hope of taking Oxyartes in his
rear, now running swiftly down some gentle slope,
now clinging like flies to the face of a dizzy cliff, then
up again on narrow, tortuous ways.

They came at last upon the point where Ninus and
his force had passed when they entered the gorge
which notched the summit of the mountain range;
and as Menon paused, his ear could faintly catch a
distant rumble of the chariot wheels where the
rearguard dragged its way on the stony trail.

Well might Menon pause.  To dash into that gulf
of gloom, meant only to become a part of Assyria's
slaughter when the battle joined; nor might a single
spy press on with warning, for the march of Ninus,
beyond a peradventure, was followed up by a force of
Bactrians who would balk retreat.  To advise the
King of impending fate was beyond the powers of
Menon's strength or strategy; yet, what if after all
his journey bore no fruit save the knowledge of a fool
who was lured by phantoms to forsake a trust?  In
fancy he fashioned swarms of hairy mountaineers who
tumbled down the cliff sides to the valley's lap,
charging his wagons, stabbing at his men beneath the
wheels.  He heard their howls of triumph—smelled
the smoke, as great red flames leaped, roaring, at his
priceless machines of war, while maddened cattle-beasts
surged round and round, trampling his men
beneath their frenzied hoofs.

Well might Menon cast his eyes along the backward
trail, for if judgment served him ill, what hope of her
who watched upon the walls of Nineveh, listening for
the footsteps of a loved-one coming in the night?  He
faltered, yet, as he stood, irresolute, there came a
memory of Semiramis admonishing a foolish serving-maid
in their home at Azapah:

"Thou child!" she chided.  "When once the mind
be set upon a thing, go straightway and do that thing,
leaving the broken threads of consequence to be
gathered up in afterdays."

So Menon wiped the beads of sweat from off his
brow and gave the word to move.  He divided his
men-at-arms, commanding Kedah to mount the heights
on the gorge's right, while he, with an equal force,
would take the left; thus the two long files diverged
from the central point and soon were hidden among
the beetling crags.

For an hour they stole along uncertain paths,
hugging the edge of a slit-like mountain pass which
marked the march of Ninus in the depths below.
They moved with speed, yet cautiously, lest the
rattling of a weapon or a stone displaced give warning
to the enemy, while beneath their very feet could be
heard the clattering hoof-falls of three score
thousand war steeds plodding sleepily—and Menon and
his men raced on to reach the van.

At length the gloom of night began to fade.  A
smear of grey crept up from out the east.  Then,
of a sudden, the hills awoke, resounding with the crash
of arms, the thunder of descending stones, the cries
of men, and the shriek of stricken steeds.

"Too late!" sighed Menon, gazing down into the
shadowy gulf whence the tongues of tumult roared.
"Too late!  Yet, perchance, the hand of Ishtar
stayed my speed!"





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE PASS OF THE WEDGE`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center medium

   THE PASS OF THE WEDGE

.. vspace:: 2

With the army of Ninus the night had passed
without alarm, for in the lead crept a force of
spies who watched the way and made report by
signals that the road was clear of enemies.  Following
the spies came a mass of mounted spearsmen, armed
also with swords and shields, a vanguard for the King
who reposed in his royal litter borne by slaves.  Then
came another horde of close-ranked horsemen, nodding
on the backs of their toiling steeds, or cursing at the
steeps of their tedious ascent.  Behind rolled a host
of heavy chariots, their horses well-nigh spent by the
labor of their climb and the need of water for their
thirsty throats.

Slowly and more slowly still this mighty monster
crawled upward on its way, through gloom more
dense than night because of towering rock-walls which
shut it in, deflecting icy winds that searched the
crevices of armor-plate or the seams of leathern coats.
Then the road became more difficult, for, as dawn
approached, the mountain pass grew narrower in its
cleft, till far above the riders' heads the cliffs leaned
inward, leaving but a ribbon's width of star-stabbed
sky between.

And now the gorge came suddenly to an end, as
though rent apart by giants of some forgotten age.
The ground still sloped toward the ridge of Hindu-Kush,
but the hillsides sheared away on either hand,
their faces scarred by black ravines, by twisting
ridges, tangled root-dried shrubbery, and wastes of
splintered rock.

This place was known to travellers as the Pass
of the Wedge, because of its strange formation,
resembling in shape some splitting instrument
which forced two soaring mountain-backs apart.  In
its neck, at the narrowest point, six chariots might
drive abreast, yet it broadened till its widest reach
might hold a thousand horsemen standing flank to
flank; and here the Assyrian vanguard spread as
spreads a fan, rejoicing to be free at last from the
gloomy gorge which had closed about their heads.

Here, too, the crafty Oxyartes laid his snare, for
as each Assyrian spy came through the pass, a
shadowy form rose up behind him, and in a moment
more a noose would grip his neck, and his shout of
warning died with his strangled breath.  Then the
Bactrians, themselves, stole backward down the trail
with signals that the road was clear, luring a drowsy
army on to a swift awakening of woe.

Thus, in the haze of dawn, the foremost Assyrian
riders came against a barrier of high-piled stones
whose crevices were filled with a hedge of planted
spears.  Too late the horsemen checked their steeds,
wheeling to warn their followers.  A torch flared out
from the rocks above, and at the sign the battle broke
with a deep, tumultuous roar, wherein the screams of
men were intermingled with a rushing avalanche of
stones, the hiss of shafts and the whine of leaden
pellets hurled from slings.  Great boulders, hurtling
down the steep declivities, would strike the bottom,
rending bloody lines through the mass of close-packed
horsemen, or, bursting into fragments, hurl a score
of riders from their steeds.

The last of the horses had passed the gorge's neck,
and at the signal of alarm, long files of chariots came
streaming out, to meet a heaving, backward wave of
terror-stricken men, each seeking safety from the
missiles of their unseen enemies, and finding death in a
rush of wheels.  The chariot horses reared and
plunged beneath a galling hail of darts, fell and
became entangled with their harness, while other
chariots crashed into them and piled upon the wreck.

Another signal torch flared up, and blood-mad
Bactria seemed to tear the very hills apart.  A storm of
stones was poured into the gorge's neck, till a mound
of splintered chariots and dying warriors arose,
choking egress, cutting off retreat, and locking Ninus with
the flower of his force in a trap of death.

Beyond, in the centre of the press, the King,
aroused from sleep, sprang from his litter and seized
a passing steed; half clad, unarmored and unhelmed,
he rose to Assyria's stress.  Here was no weakling,
cowering at a grave mischance of war, but a King
who conquered nations, teaching them, like dogs, to
lick his hand; and when they snarled he walked among
them with a whip.  What recked it though his foes
were hidden among the heights, his army writhing in
a pit of gloom?  A King was a King, and peril ran
as mothers-milk on the lips of the lord of men.

In the half light Ninus towered above his followers,
his bare arms raised aloft, his great voice rolling
forth commands, till those who had lost their wits in
the sudden fury of attack, plucked courage from their
master's fearless front.  Where tossing, disordered
troops ran riot among themselves, balking defense and
fanning the torch of panic into flame, they now
pressed backward from the valley's sides and the zone
of plunging rocks, raising their shields to protect
their heads from showers of arrows and smaller stones.
Where horsemen proved a hindrance, the riders
dismounted, and while one force was sent ahead to tear
away the spear-set barrier, still others charged the
hillsides, scrambling up by the aid of projecting
roots, in a valiant effort to dislodge their foes; but
the Bactrians beat them back with savage thrusts of
javelins and of spears.  So soon as an Assyrian head
arose above some ledge, a wild-haired mountaineer
would cleave it with an axe and laugh aloud as the
corpse went tumbling down, itself a missile, thwarting
the progress of its scuffling friends.

Again and again the assault was checked, till the
climbers faltered and then went reeling down the slope,
while the Bactrians shrieked their triumph from above,
and the wrath of Ninus knew no bounds.  He raged
about him, striking with his sword at every flying
warrior within his reach, cursing their cowardice and
leaping from his steed to lead one last mad onslaught
on his enemies.

There were those who fain would save their King,
so they flung themselves upon him and clung in the
manner of wriggling eels; yet even as they struggled
a louder shouting rose among the rocks, and the
strugglers paused in awe.  Commingled with the
shouts came cries of sharp alarm, while the Bactrian
shafts were aimed no longer in the valley's bed, but
upward at the crags.  King Ninus looked and
marveled.  The gloom of dawn was thinning rapidly;
great coils of mist, that swam among the peaks,
unwound and disappeared, scattered by shifting winds,
or sucked into thirsty, deep defiles.  The red sun
shot above a ragged spur, flinging his torch of hope
into the death-strewn pass, for upon the heights on
either hand the warm light lit the arms of Menon
and Kedah as they led their men.

As Bactria had pressed upon Assyria's force below,
so now Prince Menon galled the Bactrians from his
vantage point above, destroying them with arrows
and with slings, with down-flung stones and the trunks
of fallen trees.  With Kedah came the Syrian hillsmen,
silent, pitiless, while Menon led the loose-limbed
mountaineers from the land of Naïri, to whom a fray
was as a feast of wine.  They sang as they swept the
cliffs, jeering, mocking while they slew, seizing their
fallen foes where other missiles failed and flinging
their bodies on the heads of those beneath.

In the gorge the King's men once more scrambled
up the slopes, snatching at the foemen's legs and feet,
dragging them from rifts and crevices.  Anon two
foes would grapple on some narrow ledge, totter, and
plunge, still fighting with nails and teeth, till the shock
of death released them from the fierce embrace.  The
Bactrians who sought to fly were caught below on
the points of spears with shouts of vengeful joy,
while those who held their ground in the courage of
despair, were slain where they stood, for mercy they
begged not nor received.

A breach had now been torn through the barrier of
stones which stretched across the gorge, and the King,
to relieve the press within, led three score thousand
horsemen out and breasted the gentle slope beyond;
yet scarce had he cleared the opening when Oxyartes,
with a cloud of riders, swept into view and came
thundering down the hill.  They far outnumbered the
Assyrian horse and held a marked advantage by reason
of their whirlwind rush; yet the heart of the King
arose.  Here was no unseen enemy hurling stones
from shrouded heights, but a foe to charge on even
ground, sword to sword and shield to shield—a foe
to conquer in the glory of his strength, or to free a
royal saddle of its weight.

"At them!" he cried and loosed his bridle rein,
while his followers with a shout of joy came streaming
after him.  With a clangorous roar the riders met,
their horses rearing to the shock, battling with hoofs
or toppling backward upon those who pressed behind.
For an instant Bactrian and Assyrian both recoiled,
then drew their breath and fell to the work of war—a
struggle, deadly, fraught with fate, for victory gave
the whip-hand unto Ninus or the brave King Oxyartes;
and so the leaders vied in their deeds of arms.
They met at last, the sword of Ninus clanging on the
Bactrian's blade; and for a space they glared across
their shield-rims silently, then rose in their saddles for
a scepter-stroke that would mark a kingdom's fall.

Yet fate had written that this stroke was not to be,
for the chiefs were swept apart by a surging rush of
men, and each was forced to steep his blade in the
blood of meaner foes, while the tangled, battling mass
was moving once again, downward, when the weight
of Oxyartes's force began to tell.  Slowly, foot by
foot, the Assyrians gave ground, in spite of Ninus
and his mighty arm, till the rearward riders backed
into the barrier of stones, or struggled vainly, in its
narrow breach.

Of a certainty the King was in a grievous case, yet
now from the hillsides Menon and Kedah stung the
Bactrians' flanks, taking them with flights of shafts
that pierced their armpits, sank into their necks or
unprotected backs, while the Syrian slingers marked
their own and grunted in their toil.  A leaden pellet
smote King Oxyartes full upon the helm.  He reeled
and would have plunged beneath his horse's hoofs,
but a warrior leaped behind him, clutching the drooping
form and guiding the good steed rearward on the run.

Shorn of their chief, the fury of the Bactrians
ceased, and, fearing the day was lost, they wheeled
and sought for safety in retreat.  The mountaineers
of Naïri barred their path, but were ridden down as
an east wind sweeps a lake, though many a horse and
rider fell before their spears.  Upward the Bactrians
toiled, with Ninus and his riders hacking at their
heels, till the mountain top was reached, and a beaten
army fled like foxes to the plains below.  Their
King had made a valiant cast for victory, yet Ninus
stood, a conqueror, on the spine of Hindu-Kush.

And now came a swarm of fighting-men from out
the bloody pass—exulting horsemen, shouting
charioteers, Menon and his men-at-arms who had run
throughout the night to shield the glory of Assyria
and the glory of Assyria's King.

The eyes of the monarch fell upon the Prince of
Naïri who strode toward him through the throng,
and his heart grew warm with the old, strong love that
slumbered, but had not died.  He was fain to forget
the follies of this youth, to take the hands of Menon
into his own and lay them against his breast; yet the
smile of a sudden faded from his lips, his brow grew
clouded, and his outstretched arms sank slowly to his
sides.  On the tongues of the multitudes a shout
arose—a shout that rolled across the trembling hills
till its echoes bounded back from a thousand crags;
and the name it roared was not the name of Assyria's
lord, but Menon!  MENON!—and the King grew
cold in wrath.  A serpent of jealousy had coiled about
his heart, and, striking, stung it to its core.

"How now!" he demanded.  "What manner of
craft be this which bringeth thee upon my heels?
Perchance, when silent in our council tent, thou knewest
of this peril in our path, yet spoke no word, in the
hope of profit to thyself."

"Nay, lord," answered Menon, humbly, while he
looked into his master eyes; "too late to warn thee I
learned from a captured spy of this trap beyond the
pass, so I hastened by a shorter path across the hills,
with as great a force as I dare detach from the army
left on guard."

"A likely tale!" the angry monarch scoffed, though
he knew in his heart that Menon spoke the truth.
"Go back to my wagon-trains which are left as a
tempting bait to our watchful foes!  And mark thou
this," he cried as he clenched his fist, "bring down my
stores and my engines of war unharmed before the
walls of Zariaspa, or account to Ninus for a trust
betrayed!"

Prince Menon flushed, then paled again as he strove
to hold an eager tongue in bounds.

"So be it," he answered, haughtily, and turned
upon his heel; but Ninus called him back, for it came
to him that his words were hasty and hurtful to the
minds of those who heard.

"What wilt thou," he asked, "in payment of
thy deed?  Where Assyria oweth, there Assyria will
pay, nor boggle at the price.  What, then, wilt thou
have at the hands of Assyria's King?"

"Naught," said Menon, looking on his master
with a level gaze.  "There are mongers of fish who
hawk their wares in the open market-place.  A
warrior may buy; but a warrior selleth not—even to
Assyria's lord."

Once more he turned upon his heel, and, commanding
Kedah to collect his men-at-arms, strode down the
mountainside on the backward trail, while the King
gazed grimly after him and spoke no word.

A failure Ninus might forgive, but Menon's triumph
galled him, even as an ill-set bandage chafes a
wound.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IN THE SHADOW OF ZARIASPA`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center medium

   IN THE SHADOW OF ZARIASPA

.. vspace:: 2

From the walls of Zariaspa the Bactrians watched
a besieging host descend into the plains.  First
came mounted warriors who paused at the mountain's
foot, one half to pitch their camp and guard the road
which swarms of workmen delved to smooth, while the
other half made shift to sweep the country round
about, to seize on points of vantage or to beat back
hostile bands of horse and foot that sought to enter
the city and aid its strength.  Then followed long
lines of chariots, till the eyes of the Bactrians ached
with the glitter of the proud array.  This second
army, when it reached the plains, began likewise to
divide, stretching away to east and west in the
manner of two huge, creeping arms that girt the city in
a close embrace.  Day after day went by, till the
war-cars stood at rest in a circle six hundred cubits
distant from the walls; then came the footmen.

As a locust pest descends upon a land, so swarmed
this horde from out the hills, till the earth was hidden
and the grass blades died beneath their tread.  As the
forces of horse and chariots had split, so split the
footmen, swinging to east and west, then sitting down
behind the besieging circle's outer rim.

The Assyrians offered no assault upon the walls,
for their engines of war must first be guided down the
mountainside and their catapults and towers be set in
place; yet the army lay not in idleness.  Detachments
were sent to forage through the land, laying
up stores among the foot-hills where the camp of
supplies was set.  Here the cattle were put to fatten
on fertile slopes where water abounded in the valleys
near at hand.  Here grass was plucked and borne
away as feed for the chariot steeds.  Here, also, the
pack trains were brought to camp under guard of a
strong reserve, for the feeding of the army proved a
mighty task.  Below this camp ten thousand slaves
toiled ceaselessly among the rocky wastes, piling huge
stones upon wooden sledges, dragging them away
and piling them up again for use of the waiting catapults.
Still other slaves filled water-skins which they
strapped on the backs of asses and drove the braying
beasts to distant points where springs and streams
were not; so the labors of men went on.

On an eminence among the hills, where three long
years agone the King had sat his horse and watched
an army break its camp, Ninus now sat before his
tent, commanding the order of his force below.  Even
as he builded Nineveh, that splendid city of defense,
he now laid out a thousand cities of assault.  Like the
tire of a chariot wheel his army encompassed the hub
of Zariaspa, the spokes thereof being long, wide
avenues, converging toward the city walls and affording
unhampered ground for the moving of his men, or
for bearing food to his hungry hosts.  Each spoke
was a sharp dividing line between the outposts of a
separate camp, each camp in command of a leader
accounting to an over-chief who in turn accounted to the
King.

This plan of war seemed good to Ninus, and in his
joy he forgot all else save the fire of a mighty
conqueror; yet when his engines were dragged into the
plains and set at vantage points within his lines, he
remembered Menon, and his heart grew cold again.

This man had saved Assyria's vanguard from defeat,
aye, even the life of Ninus he had saved, and
thereby won the love of a multitude who were witness
to the deed.  Justice cried out for the King's
forgiveness, yet it cried in vain, for justice is ever a
feather-weight in the scale of jealousy.

"Nay," the monarch muttered, sullenly, "him may
I not forgive; yet, lest these foolish chieftains
murmur among themselves, I will keep my covenants."

Therefore he summoned Menon to his tent, dismissing
the guard so that none might overhear his
words, and spoke:

"In Syria I set thee to a task and bade thee wed
Sozana when all things were accomplished in that
land.  A servant thou art, and the price of
disobedience is the heaviest debt a servant needs must pay.
If, therefore, thou judgest me because I withhold my
love, think then of the trust I placed in thee and the
manner in which my faith hath been deceived."

"My lord," replied the Prince, "I pray thee suffer
me to speak as in other days thine ear was turned in
patience to my words."  Ninus nodded, and the youth
went on: "In all things, save one alone, I have set
the King's desires above the yearnings of my will.  In
childhood I bore his wine cup, obedient to his lightest
nod.  From him I learned the arts of war, and served
him through conquests of four score lands, sparing
neither strength nor blood to bring him victory.
When Nineveh was rising from the earth I journeyed
down into Arabia, measured my sword with the Prince
Boabdul, and sealed a treaty which gave Assyria
peace along the border lands.  It bringeth thee
stallions from the plains of Barbary, and an army of
mounted Bedouins; it bringeth thee peace of heart, for
thine enemies are now thy friends.  In Syria I ruled
till summer for the third time came, nor grudged the
ceaseless labor of my hands.  For my master's needs
at Nineveh I sapped the wealth of every Syrian tribe,
save the Sons of Israel alone, whose grip on treasure
no mortal man hath yet been born to loose with profit
unto himself."

"Ah, good my lord, I have no will to wag a boastful
tongue, yet man to man I give thee simple truth,
urging that a life's devotion outcount the grave
displeasure of my King."

Ninus was moved.  In his heart he loved this youth
as he loved no other throughout the kingdom of
Assyria, and now he sat in reverie, his chin upon his
hand, with eyes that gazed upon the armies at his
feet and saw them not.  Full well he knew the value
of a servant's deeds; full well he knew the power of
Menon's sway among the soldiery, who, since the
battle in the mountain pass, had set him upon a perch
of fame.  In the siege of the city Menon's sword
would rise as a tower of strength, yet might it not
outshine the King's?  What profited the fall of
Zariaspa if the name of Menon rolled on the tongue of
victory?  Could a single chariot hold two gods of war?
Nay, not so; for one must drive while the other smote
the enemy.  Who, then, should ply the whip and who
the spear?  By Gibil, it were better far that the
grapes of triumph hung unplucked than to watch a
rival make merry on their juice!  Yet Ninus was
Ninus, and what had he to fear from a beardless
under-chief?

"Harken!" said the King.  "Thy prayer is
granted, and my anger, together with thy one misdeed,
shall be forgotten, even as we cleanse our blades
with moistened sand.  To the glory of Asshur must
Zariaspa fall, and Menon shall follow Ninus through
its broken shell."

In the eyes of the Prince rose tears of gratitude, as
he sought to kiss his master's robe; but the master
in haste withdrew it, for a woman peeped through
memory's veil, and her smile was a smile of mockery.

"Nay, not so fast," King Ninus growled.  "The
trader's pack is lightened ere his purse may swallow
up the gain.  To enjoy the fruits of a monarch's
love, first, then, must the cause of sorrow be
dispelled."

"What meanest thou, my lord?" asked Menon,
rising from his knees; and the King smiled grimly,
combing at his beard.

"Put by Shammuramat—dream of her no more—and
take the daughter of Ramân-Nirari to thy bed
and board."

At the words of the King a flame of anger lit the
young Assyrian's eyes; yet he curbed his tongue and
stood, in silence, beneath the tyrant's gaze.  Long
thus he stood, but made reply at last:

"My lord, did Shammuramat bid me tear the
memory of Ninus from my heart, I would answer as I
answer now—it may not be.  Thy servant is one
whom Sozana loveth not, and to me she is naught
save a friend and the daughter of my King.
Shammuramat is mine—by the will of Ishtar and the
word of my master given in the halls of Nineveh.
With her, her only, will I share my bed and board,
till it pleaseth the gods to rend our vows apart."

"So be it," Ninus answered, and pointed across the
valleys to the sun-lit plains beyond.  "Mark yon
road which runneth from the foot-hills to the city's
southern gate!  Beyond it on the east lieth half my
army.  Go forth and take command.  The west is
mine.  Since Menon setteth his will against the
King's, so shall he set his strength against my
strength, and in the fall of Zariaspa prove the better
man."

For a space Prince Menon made no answer, but
scanned the distant road which cut the besieging host
in twain as a knife divides a loaf.  To the east lay
sun-baked plains where water was scarce and stones
were few, while on the west lay fertile valleys where
the fattening oxen browsed, and hillsides abounding
in stones wherewith to feed the catapults.  Again, on
the west were set the heaviest engines of assault, while
to Menon's lot fell the lighter towers and weaker
catapults of clumsy and old design.

It was easy to perceive why Ninus chose the west,
for every resource lay ready at his hand.  His
outposts commanded all mountain roads, and the camp
of supply was set within his lines, whence food and
water must be borne to the eastern army over parching
Bands.  In event of a counter-siege, attack must
come from the border lands along the river Oxus, thus
causing the east to bear the brunt of each assault—and
the Scythian riders were wont to strike in hours
of sleep.

Menon was quick to mark the wisdom of the monarch's
choice, yet he hid his rage and spoke with a
mocking smile:

"My lord, the master's generosity is here made
manifest, for on the eastern camp the sun is first to
rise, thus giving me a longer day wherein to wrestle
with mine enemies.  I yield my gratitude, O Lord of
Earth and Heaven, and may Ishtar smile on him who
first shall stand upon the citadel."

Then Menon made obeisance, mounted his good
steed Scimitar and rode toward the east, while the
King gazed after him, combing at his beard.

When Menon reached his camp, he entered his tent
and straightway summoned Huzim to his side.  To
the Indian he recounted all which had come to pass,
and laid a trust upon him which to another might not
be given.

"Huzim," he began, "of all who have served me,
there is none the like of you in faith and love; yet
now must I add to my weight of debt in a task of
peril and of toil.  Go you in secret unto Nineveh
and there gain speech with my wife Shammuramat.
Tell her of all these things which I breathe into your
ear alone, then contrive her escape and together
journey to the land of Prince Boabdul who will give you
both retreat.  When this be compassed, send me a
trusted messenger, when I, myself, will follow after you."

Menon ceased to speak, and for a space the Indian
looked thoughtfully upon the earth.

"My lord," he answered, "this thing will I do, as
in all things else I serve my master, even with my life;
yet would it not be better far that I lay in wait for
Ninus when he hunteth among the hills?  An arrow
in his throat—"

"Nay," smiled Menon; "we may not harbor
murder against Assyria's King, even though we live
because of it.  Go you to the furthest outposts of our
camp, and when night is fallen creep away among
the hills.  Cross them, avoiding all roads and passes
held by our men-at-arms, then make such speed to
Nineveh as wisdom and your craft have taught.  If
it please the gods that Shammuramat shall reach
Arabia, there guard her, Huzim, till I come to prove
my gratitude."

To the Indian Menon gave a pouch of precious
metal for his needs on the road to Nineveh and for
his flight therefrom; then Huzim embraced his
master's knees and disappeared toward the south.

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In the three long years of peace which had come to
Bactria since Assyria's first attack, the people had
not lain down in idleness, but labored diligently
against the second coming of the King.  If Ninus
marched against their smaller towns, he found their
walls unmanned, their streets deserted save for
forgotten dogs, the houses empty of inhabitants or stores.
Beyond the river Oxus an army of mounted Bactrians
lay encamped, but far too fleet and numerous to be
followed ere their chief of cities be destroyed; so
Ninus pursued them not.

The years of peace had likewise wrought a change
in Zariaspa, for its walls were heightened and capped
by jutting battlements, whereon the besieged could
laugh at ladders which their foes set up; and its
many gates were sealed with masonry.  Save at a
single point on the north-west side, where the plain
sloped downward into a deep and dry ravine, the
Bactrians had digged a mighty ditch about their
walls, though whence came the water which ever
filled this trench, was a mystery as dark as the city's
source of food.  None might drink this water, lest
they sicken and die, with swollen bodies and discolored
flesh; for in truth the trench was poisoned by reason
of offal flung therein.

By day the Bactrians thronged their battlements,
gibing at their foes, while at night the walls were
lighted by flaring braziers clamped beneath the
jut-stones and fed with pitch through slits which pierced
the masonry.  Thus the parapets were shrouded in
uncertain gloom, while beneath, the walls were bathed
in light; and woe unto him who sought to swim the
trench and clamber up.

On every side the Assyrians began to fill this trench,
and labored to that end by hurling stones and the
waste of camp materials by means of their catapults.
Likewise, by night, a myriad of slaves took up the
tasks, and of a sudden a horde of naked men would
rush from out the darkness, each bearing on his head
a sack of sand, each flinging his burden into the
trench and beating swift retreat; though many were
slain, and weary days went by ere the grievous work
was done.

On the city's western side King Ninus straightway
urged a fierce assault, and from dawn till dusk the
battlements resounded with the crash of mighty
stones.  Great creaking towers of metal-plated wood
were pushed against the wall, while from their
swaying tops the Assyrians flung out bridges, battling
with the Bactrians hand to hand.  Anon they would
win a foothold among their enemies who repelled them
with swords and spears, or destroyed their towers by
means of engines of strange and devilish design.
These engines, set on wheels and dragged to given
points along the parapet, were fashioned in the form
of a mighty bow whose missiles were trunks of trees
with sharpened points.  These shafts were soaked in
oil and smeared with pitch or resinous gum, and
before discharge they were set on fire, then crashed
into the clumsy towers, to stick and wrap the whole
in flames, while the choked Assyrians leaped down to
death or roasted in the wreck.  So, thus, for the
space of a moon King Ninus toiled, compassing
naught save the bitterness of defeat, grave loss of
his men-at-arms, and destruction to his engines of
assault.

On Zariaspa's eastern walls Assyria made no
attack.  Menon foresaw that the city must be won by
strategy rather than by might; therefore he put his
camps in order, looking to the health and comfort of
his men ere he sacrificed their lives in a fruitless siege.

To lessen the toil of bearing water from the distant
hills, he commanded that wells be dug in every camp;
and having sunk these wells—many to the depth of
thirty cubits—his wisdom was rewarded by the
bounty of Mother Earth.  Now toward the north the
digging was in vain, while southward the shallower
wells gave forth a cool, sweet flow of water; and the
reason thereof was a sore perplexity, albeit, in
after-days the solving of the riddle was, to Semiramis, a
simple task.

Next, Menon caused his chariots to be set in double
lines and tilted upon their tails.  From their upright
harness-poles he stretched wide canopies of cloth and
matted grass; thus, in the noon-day heat, which ever
increased in fierceness as the summer grew, his men
might rest beneath a grateful shade.  This joyed the
Assyrians mightily, and where chariots there were
none, they planted their spears and devised a roof of
vines and the boughs of trees.  'Twas a little thing,
this thought for the common soldiery, yet it bought
an army utterly, and the Prince was looked upon with
pride.

Then to Menon came the thought that if he alone
could see beyond the city walls, a marked advantage
might be scored against the King; and for many days
he rolled the problem in his brain, till suddenly he
laughed aloud and summoned a messenger to his side.
This messenger, presently, rode southward, skirting
the city wall, till he crossed the dividing road and
came to the western camp, where he found King Ninus
in a fretful mood.

"O King," spoke the messenger, falling upon his
knees, "my master sendeth greeting to the lord of
Earth and Heaven, and speaketh through the mouth
of his humble slave.  Because of the height of
Zariaspa's walls, the lord of Assyria knoweth naught of
what the Bactrians do within; therefore my master
urgeth that a mighty mound of earth be raised to the
reach of forty cubits above the plains."

"How now!" cried Ninus, angrily.  "Wherefore
should I do this foolish thing?"

"Nay, lord," the messenger made reply, "I do but
recount my master's words.  From the summit of this
mound the King might dispose his armies with a wider
view; and, likewise, mark the weakest points within
the foemen's walls.  This, my lord, is all, save thy
royal answer which my master chargeth me to bear."

Now had Ninus himself devised the plan, it might
have seemed good to him; yet, coming from Menon
in the form of fatherly advice and spoken in the
presence of a score of chiefs, it roused the monarch's
ire.  His brow grew black with rage; he rose and
spurned the messenger with his foot.

"Go back," he thundered, "and say that Ninus
fighteth upon the earth, and not in the manner of
kites above the clouds.  Urge, also, that the meddler
hold his tongue, lest Asshur tempt me and I cut it out.
Begone!"

So the messenger returned to Menon, who smiled
at the anger of his King and straightway began to
raise a mound upon the east, while Ninus, from the
west, still battered at the walls with ponderous stones.

For many days and nights the eastern camp was
given o'er to sweating toil, as cubit by cubit rose the
monster mound which even unto this day may be seen
on the plains of Bactria.  And while this labor grew
apace, another and more irksome task was laid upon
the soldiery, for stones must be gathered from the
distant hills wherewith to serve the catapults, and
loud rose the mutterings of those who journeyed back
and forth beneath the sun.

"My lord," spoke Kedah, one day dismounting at
Menon's side, "our chiefs are murmuring amongst
themselves and the men wax petulant."

"Wherefore?" asked Menon, laying a gentle hand
on the shoulder of his friend.

"Because," answered Kedah, "they yearn to fly
at Zariaspa's throat, yet weapons rust, and my lord
employeth men in the tasks of slaves.  It is not meet
that warriors strain their thews in dragging stones
across the sands, nor in digging earth wherewith to
build a mountain on a plain."

"Patience, good Kedah," Menon urged, "for the
mountain is well-nigh done; and as for the gathering
of stones, I bethink me of another plan."

He leaned and whispered into Kedah's ear, and as
he spoke the soldier grinned, then laughed aloud and
smote himself upon the thigh.  So Kedah, chuckling,
rode away; and, as Menon had whispered into his ear,
in turn he whispered into the ear of the chief of every
camp, who grinned and rubbed his palms.

That night the Bactrians heard a mighty hammering
outside their walls, and when morning dawned
they marvelled at a line of scaffolding of strange
design which had risen in the darkness.  On upright
spears were bits of rag, fluttering like banners in the
breeze, while at intervals were set huge effigies of
Oxyartes and the chiefs of Zariaspa, in attitudes
which caused a wound to their stately pride.

The Assyrians came forth with shoutings and mysterious
signs.  They danced in circles, while pointing
scoffing fingers at their enemies upon the walls, and
bowed in obeisance before their ugly effigies.

Now the Bactrians knew not what manner of strategy
lay concealed behind this scaffolding, so they set
their catapults and battered it down with a storm of
stones; thereat the Assyrians sent up wailings, shrieks
of rage—and the noise of their mouths was great.
With bitter curses they shook their fists, attacking
their foes with arrows and with slings: yet after a
space they retreated sullenly beyond the danger line.
When night was come the Bactrians again heard
hammerings, and morning found the scaffolds once more
set in place, though a pace or two more distant from
the walls.  This time the Zariaspians laughed, and
reduced the work to splinters with stones from their
hurling-beams, while Assyria's children cursed them
till the deed was done.

For seven nights the scaffolds were rebuilt, each
night a pace or two more distant from the catapults,
yet the enemy each day would find the range and
fling them to the earth.  On the seventh day the
effigies of Oxyartes and his chiefs were hung by their
necks with ropes, and were placed at the furthest
scope of the Bactrian machines.  On the scaffolds
were crowded a swarm of soldiery who bellowed songs
of praise, or flung vile insults at their foes, goading
them to fury by names of a foulness hitherto
unknown.  In vain the Bactrians strove to smite their
mockers, striving till the mid-day hour, yet their
missiles fell short, and Menon perched upon the
summit of his mound, jeering at Oxyartes.

Now the spies of Ninus brought him word of the
strangeness of Menon's deeds, and, divining not the
reason of these things, the King waxed warm with
curiosity.  In his chariot he drove to the eastern
camp, a slave behind him who held a feathered screen
above his head, for the heat of the day was such that
many died.

From afar the monarch spied the mound on which
sat Menon, and it came to Ninus that his general
lolled at rest where grateful breezes blew, while he, the
lord of all Assyria, must sweat on a baking
plain—and it vexed him mightily.  Likewise he perceived a
half a league of scaffolding, whereon clung a
multitude of idle men.  Wherefore should Menon waste
the hours of day when Zariaspa lay unconquered
before his eyes?  Must Ninus toil to feed this lazy horde
who swapped the work of war for childish sports?
By the glory of Asshur, this shameful thing should
cease!

"Come down!" he cried to Menon, as he leaped
from his brazen chariot; and Menon came down and
bowed before the King.

"What foolery is this which has come to pass?"
the king demanded, pointing to the hideous effigies,
and he spoke with scorn: "Must Assyria set up new
and hateful gods, to worship them before the eyes of
Bactria?"

"Nay, lord," answered Menon, humbly, "we worship
none save Assyria's gods and Assyria's King."

A murmur rose from the circling chiefs, and the
wrath of Ninus cooled beneath the salve of flattery;
yet still he scowled, and the tone of his speech was
harsh:

"If it be not worship, why then should ye toil for
seven nights, and watch each day while yonder
Bactrians beat your temples to the ground?"

"My lord," replied Prince Menon, "our eastern
camp is far removed from the rock-strewn hills; and
to lighten the labor of dragging stones across the
sands, we borrow from our good friend Oxyartes."

"Borrow!" cried the King.  "What meanest thou?"

For answer Menon pointed to the ground outside
the walls, now sown with missiles which the Bactriana
had cast from catapults.

"See, my lord, what the generous foemen give in
payment for our gibes.  To gather such a store of
stones would fill the space of two weary moons; yet
Oxyartes flingeth them out to me in seven days.
Therefore we hold them as a passing loan, till,
presently, we shall hurl them back again."

For a moment King Ninus spoke no word, yet his
frown departed and his features lit with a ghostly
smile; then he mounted his chariot and drove toward
the west.

A shout went up from Menon's merry warriors, and
when night was come they gathered great piles of
borrowed stones, with the which, in time, they would storm
the walls of Zariaspa.





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.. _`THE RAISIN IN A SKIN OF VINEGAR`:

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   CHAPTER VIII


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   THE RAISIN IN A SKIN OF VINEGAR

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Through the hot brown streets of Nineveh
a merchant of Phoenicia hawked his wares.  His
frame, once huge and splendid in its strength, was
bent with seeming age, and a grey beard fell to the
belt of his trailing robe.  Before him, by a leathern
strap about his neck, hung a wooden tray whereon his
trinkets were displayed, baubles of polished metal,
beads of coral and of carven wood, rings, amulets, and
fragrant scents.  Here, too, were bracelets, chains
of many links, scarfs of web-like fabrics and of gaudy
hue, colored with the secret dyes from the Sea of the
Setting Sun.

From street to street the merchant pushed his way,
while ever and anon he raised his voice in a strange
shrill cry which drew attention to himself and to his
wares; and thus he bartered among the foolish wives
of Nineveh.  Yet at last he wandered past the market-place
to the richer quarters of the city, and came
to the central mound whereon sat the palace of the
King.  To the westward terraced slopes ran down
to the level of the streets and to smooth, wide avenues
which stretched to the river gate; yet here, where the
merchant walked, the walls of the mound rose twenty
cubits, masking the royal gardens which drowsed in
the noon-day heat.

Again and yet again from the old man's throat
came his strange, harsh call, resembling the cry of a
startled crane in flight; then, presently, he paused
at the joyous barking of a dog and a woman's voice
in sharp admonishment: "Peace, Habal, peace!"

The merchant hurried onward, yet at the entrance
of a narrow lane he turned, cried out once more and
disappeared, while within the gardens Semiramis hid a
smile and sought to soothe the whining of a shepherd's
dog.

When noontide came again, the merchant once more
wandered past the garden walls, and now a captain
of the guard came out to him.

"Hey, old man!" the soldier called.  "Come, follow
me, for the Princess Sozana would look upon your wares."

"Nay," said the merchant, smiling as he shook his
head, "my trinkets deck the charms of common
maidens in the market-place.  The daughter of a
king would scorn them, for their price is small."

So spoke the merchant, and smiled once more as he
turned upon his heel, but the captain caught him
roughly by the robe and whispered into his ear:

"Fool!  The Princess Sozana asks but once to
look upon a merchant's tray.  Come quickly, lest I
urge your pace by a spear-point in your hams."

The old man trembled at the threat, and followed
meekly, through a door of bronze which pierced the
wall.  At the head of a narrow flight of steps he
reached the gardens which King Ninus made for the
pleasure of his idle hours.  There were palms and
vines from Syria, flowers from an hundred lands,
trees and shrubs which were strange to the merchant's
eyes, and fragrant thickets interlaced by tiny paths.
Here a fountain bubbled, and there an artificial spring
gushed forth as though by nature moistening the
earth, while countless birds of brilliant plumage
fluttered down to drink.

Of a sudden the merchant and his guide came face
to face with those who had sent the summons.
Beneath an arbor on a bench of stone sat the Princess
Sozana in a green simar which was wrought with
precious gems and with threads of gold.  At her side
lazed Semiramis, robed in white; yet, unadorned, her
beauty far outshone the daughter of the King.  At
Sozana's feet lay Prince Memetis, the Egyptian
hostage, toying with her veil which was cast aside, and
behind them stood an Afgan mute who waved a
monster fan of plumes.  None else was near, save Kishra,
chief eunuch of the palace-guard whom Ninus had
left in charge of his household and his prisoners, and
who now in watchful silence sat apart, his sharp eyes
resting on the merchant's face.

The old man knelt, bent forward till his forehead
touched the earth, and sprinkled dust upon his head;
then, kneeling still, he displayed his wares to the
women's listless gaze.  One by one he raised them
from his tray, expounding their virtues or the potency
of sacred amulets; yet none were pleasing to Sozana's
mind.

"See," she pouted, plucking at the sleeve of Semiramis,
"there is naught save jingling rubbish such as
slaves may wear.  Wherefore shouldst thou bring
this merchant from the streets to weary me?  Ho,
Kishra!  Bid the man begone."

The eunuch strode forward, but Semiramis stayed
him with a lifted hand.

"Nay," she pleaded, "I did but think to ease the
dullness of the hour, and the baubles please me, for
many of the like have I seen in Syria."

The merchant raised his head, a light of hope
within his eyes; then he fumbled in a hidden corner
of his tray, producing a tiny fish which was carven in
malachite and suspended by a leathern stong.

"Ah!" cried Semiramis, and clapped her hands.
"Look, Sozana!  'Tis a symbol of Dagon which the
Syrian shepherds wear about their necks when they
roam the hills by night.  Buy it for me, Kishra, for
'twill keep off evil, bringing peace to me and to those
who serve."

The eunuch scowled, but did her bidding, while
Semiramis turned once more to the trinket tray.

"Dost know the land of Syria, old man?"

"Aye, lady," the merchant answered with
sparkling eyes, "from the slopes of Lebanon to the Sea
of Death—from Jordan where dwells the Sons of
Israel to Azapah and the valley of Ascalon—"

"Sweet Ishtar!" cried Semiramis, flinging up her
hands.  "My home, Sozana!  He hath journeyed
even to my home in Ascalon!"  She laughed and
turned to the merchant once again, for now in truth
she knew that Huzim hid beneath the Phoenician's
robe.  "Speak," she commanded, in the Syrian
tongue which was strange to Kishra and her friends,
"speak, for they may not understand.  What
message from my lord?"

So Huzim answered her and told of the danger-snares
which beset his master round about.  He told
of the battle in the pass, of the wrath of Ninus, and
of how the King made proclamation of the prize to
him who should first stand conqueror on the citadel of
Zariaspa.  He spoke of all which Menon had
commanded him, and though his words were heavy with
the weight of fear, yet Semiramis nodded in seeming
happiness and clapped her hands.

"What telleth he?" Sozana asked, and Semiramis
answered with a joyous smile:

"He telleth of my lake which sparkleth like unto a
jewel among the hills; of my fishes that swim therein,
and of Dagon's little temple on the shore.  I see the
sheep that browse by day, till the sun is low behind
the desert's rim, and one by one the shepherds' fires
leap, twinkling, through the dusk.  Ah, Sozana, mine,
'tis like unto the joy of Prince Memetis when he
dreameth by night of his silver Nile and the mighty
pyramids."

Sozana, turning, cast a look of tenderness on him
who smiled into her eyes, and suffered her hand to
linger when the Egyptian raised it to his lips.

"Say on," begged Semiramis of the merchant once
again, "for I tell you, friend, when first I heard your
hunter's call in the streets below, my heart was set
a-leaping, even as Habal loosed his tongue in honest
joy.  Poor Habal!  I have shut him in my chamber,
lest in his gladness he spring upon your breast and
thereby undeceive this eunuch Kishra, who even now
regardeth you with a doubting eye.  Be, therefore,
brief.  What more of my troubled lord?"

"Mistress," replied the faithful Indian, "he
urgeth that we steal away from Nineveh by craft and
journey to the land of Prince Boabdul, whither the
master followeth when my messenger shall bear him
word that all is well."

"So be it," said Semiramis, puckering her brows.
"Kishra, bear a draught of wine to this aged man who
is athirst and would now depart."

The chief of eunuchs departed on her errand, and
in his absence Semiramis spoke quickly, albeit she
smiled the while:

"Go, Huzim, and sell your wares through Nineveh
by day, yet wait by night on the further river-bank
where the water lilies grow.  If seven nights pass by
and I come not to the place, then walk once more by
the garden wall, and Sozana shall summon you again.
Buy baubles of Egypt, Huzim, for her lover is of that
land, and trifles will seem of value in her sight; yet if
Ishtar smileth I will win to the river-bank and journey
to Arabia as my lord hath willed."

When Kishra returned with a cup of wine, the
Princess listened eagerly to the merchant's tale of a
ring he had seen and would seek to find.  It was
fashioned, he said, of yellow metal in the form of two
serpents intertwined.  It was set with moon-stones,
jewels sacred to the goddess Isis who shed her light
on the land of Pharaohs far beyond the sea; and
Sozana laughed in happiness, urging that he buy this
ring though it brought the price of an hundred
slaves.  The merchant promised as he drank his wine,
then, once more bowing till his forehead touched the
earth, he departed whence he came.  In the streets
below he smiled as he hawked his wares, while those
in the garden heard his voice uplifted ever and anon
in the cry of a startled crane.

Three days passed by, and Semiramis whipped her
brain for means of escape from Nineveh; yet all in
vain, for liberty seemed as far denied as though her
limbs were weighted down by chains.  On the
parapets of the garden wall paced sentinels from dawn
till dawn was come again, so that none might pass
unchallenged or unscathed.  The palace was but a
prison perched on its lofty mound, and though its
halls still swarmed with servants and with slaves, its
portals were sealed while the King made war on
Bactria.  By night Semiramis shared the chamber of
Sozana, yet the door she might not pass, for across its
threshold the eunuch Kishra lay, the curtain-rope
made fast to a copper bracelet on his waist.  If by
chance she could cross the watch-dog's form to the
gardens beyond and clamber down the brick-built
mound, she still must face the barrier of the city wall
or the brazen gates closed fast in the hours of night.
True, bribery of the sentinels might buy a path to
the river-bank, whence swimming the Tigris would be
as play to the daughter of Derketo; yet, one false
step—one virtuous fool who scorned to barter
honesty for coin—and Huzim might wait among the lily
beds in vain.

Full many a wakeful hour Semiramis stared
through the opening in the roof, with eyes which
followed not the shimmering stars, nor the chariot of
Ishtar rolling down the sky.  To her troubled brain
came a thousand daring plans, each smiling hope,
each ending in a jeer of mockery, till her head grew
hot, and anger rose to devour her in its might.  What!
Was she, the child of gods, to be balked at every turn,
when love cried out and Menon battled with his fate
alone?  Nay, by the breath of Gibil, this thing was
not to be!  Gold she had none wherewith to buy
release, nor jewels to tempt a captor's lust for wealth;
and yet—  Of a sudden Semiramis laughed aloud,
till the fair Sozana stirred, awaking with a cry.

"Nay, child, 'tis naught," the Syrian whispered,
as she stroked a trembling hand.  "Hush, sweet; I
did but dream, and the spirits of the night have
brought me words of wisdom and of peace."

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The eunuch Kishra sat beneath a palm, his mind
a prey unto vexious thought.  He was hideous to
look upon, with a bloated paunch, a thick-lipped
mouth, and crafty eyes which peeped from their
pouch-like rims.  Long had he served in the
household of the King, and now was chief of the
palace-guard and warden of the chambers where the women
dwelt.  When Ninus marched to Bactria, the rearward
wing of the palace had been sealed, and, together
with the gardens, was set apart for Sozana and
Semiramis, while Memetis, the Egyptian hostage,
was confined in a distant court, in charge of an
under-chief.  Now the Princess had pined for the presence
of him she loved, and sought by bribery to have him
brought to her; yet Kishra feared the wrath of Ninus,
and naught would move him.  Sozana then contrived,
through her tire-maid Nissa, to bribe the guard who
paced before the Egyptian's door, and in secret this
maiden bore many a tender message to and fro, till
she came at last to a grievous end.

Kishra once marked her stealing from a shadowy
passage-way, and on the morrow he lay in wait,
following upon her heels and listening while Memetis
whispered with the maid.  In the knowledge of being
thus befooled, so great was his rage that he fell upon
Nissa and slew him with his sword, too late repenting
the folly of his deed.  With the Princess he sought
to excuse himself, but for once Sozana forgot her
gentle mien and rose in wrath.

"Dog!" she cried, "your life shall pay for the
murder of this child, for I swear by Asshur to see
you crucified upon the garden wall."

Now the eunuch knew that Ninus loved his daughter
utterly, and at her pleading, would surely nail him
to the mortar between the bricks; so he groveled at her
feet with tears and prayers, beseeching that she speak
no word on the King's return; yet the Princess
spurned him with her foot and refused to heed, till
Semiramis spoke softly into her ear, then the maiden's
cheeks grew red again with a rosy flush.

"Kishra," she answered, "I will spare your worthless
life, yet exact a price therefor.  Memetis shall
come each morning to the garden here, and, beneath
your sight, remain till the evening hour.  Do this,
and silence holds my tongue.  Refuse, and the god of
darkness claims you for his own."

Thus it came to pass that the eunuch, in his dread
of being crucified, suffered Sozana to have her will,
albeit, at very sight of the Egyptian, his blood
became as water in his veins.  If Ninus learned that
Memetis came each day to the women's dwelling-place,
short shift would the chief of guards receive, and
Ninus was prone to beset the passing of a man with
pain.  Thus Kishra roasted betwixt two fires of woe,
and because of all these things he pondered much
upon his lot, and his sleep was fraught with evil
dreams.

As he now sat pondering beneath the palm,
Semiramis and Sozana talked with Prince Memetis on a
distant garden-seat.  This oft' occurred, yet now
there was somewhat in their manner which annoyed
the eunuch's thoughts, for they whispered, with their
heads held close together, while ever and anon
they glanced to where Kishra sat, and laughed as at
some merry jest.  So the eunuch waxed suspicious
of their murmurings; yet, when he came toward them,
they straightway ceased to smile and began to speak
of the garden birds, the flowering plants, or the heat
of the mid-day sun.  Throughout the day they
counseled among themselves in secret, with fingers upon
their lips and many a swift, mysterious sign, till
Kishra sweated because of curiosity.

All night he cudgeled at his brain for means by
which to overhear their words, and ere the dawn he
bethought him of a plan.  Behind the garden-seat,
whereon the conspirators were wont to loll, was a
muddy fish pond surrounded by overhanging shrubs;
and here the eunuch submerged himself, with his
chin upon the bank, his fat head covered by a mass
of matted vines.  In this retreat he waited for a weary
space, yet the plotters came at last, seating themselves
a spear's length from the listener's open ears.

"Hast found a messenger?" Sozana asked, in a
voice subdued.

"S-h-h-h!  Have a care," the Syrian cautioned,
with a finger against her lip; "the fox is
listening, perchance.  Keep watch, Memetis, lest he
steal upon us suddenly."

Kishra grinned from his covert in the pond, but
gave no sign; then Semiramis drew from her bosom
the little fish of malachite which was bought from the
merchant of Phoenicia.

"Of a truth," said she, "the messenger hath been
found, and under Kishra's very nose.  Two nights he
waiteth in the street below, till I give him warning by
a night-bird's cry and cast this trinket from the
garden wall.  See!  I have marked it with a secret sign,
for proof to my lord in Bactria that the runner
speaketh truth."

"Ah!" sighed Sozana.  "And, seeing it, he will
come to thee?"

"Aye," returned Semiramis, with a smile of joy,
"as fast as Scimitar can bear him on his way.  Upon
his coming, then will I escape from Nineveh, and with
my dear lord cross the Tigris, where we dig our buried
treasure from the earth, and—"

"Treasure!" cried Memetis.  "Nay, of this thou
has spoken naught before."

"Hush!" begged Semiramis, clutching at his arm.
"Methought I marked a movement in the shrubbery.
Go see, Memetis, for Kishra would give an eye to learn
of what I tell."

The Egyptian rose and beat about the undergrowth,
but found no sign of him who watched, for
the eunuch lay as a dead man in the pond, scarce
breathing, though his heart was pounding in his
breast.  A treasure!  This, then, was why the
plotters whispered secretly.  Fools!  The fox's teeth,
perchance, might sink beneath the feathers when he
snapped.

"'Tis naught," the Egyptian made report, as he
came once more to the garden-seat.  "Say on,
Shammuramat, for none can overhear."

"Mayhap," the Syrian laughed, "it were wiser
that I held my tongue, yet ye who love me will ever
be discreet.  When we journeyed from Azapah to the
court of Ninus, I bore a store of jewels in a leathern
sack; and, knowing not if the King would smile or
frown, I buried it on the river's further bank against
a time of need.  Ah, Sozana, thou who loveth gems,
shouldst look upon this store!  There are pearls from
India, rubies from beyond the Sea of the Setting
Sun, blue girasols and the opals of the Nile, zircons
gleaming as the eyes of Bêlit shine, amethysts, and
corals carven in the forms of birds and beasts.  Tyre,
Sidon, and the far off Heliopolis have helped to heap
this hoard.  With half a kingdom might be bought,
yet now it lyeth hidden in a bed of river mud."

The Princess sighed, and Semiramis pinched her
dusky cheek, promising to keep the choicest gem of
all as a wedding gift for the little daughter of Assyria.

"Nay," Sozana smiled, "'tis not for the gems I
sigh, but because of a loved one who would depart
from me.  Why, sweet, wouldst thou do this thing?"

Semiramis looked thoughtfully upon the earth and
stirred a lizard with her sandaled foot.

"Dost remember the merchant of Phoenicia who
was here three days agone?  He told me of my home
in Ascalon.  Since then I yearn for the smell of my
dew-moist hills, for the reach of the valleys, and my
sweet, cool lake which sparkleth in its bed of rocks.
The water, Sozana!—and here I look upon a tepid
spring—a fountain fed by cisterns on the palace
roof.  Downward this water floweth, to trickle weakly
from the earth, while eunuchs gather it in skins and
bear it back upon the roof again.  Dear Ishtar, what
a flout to Nature's pride!"

For a space the three sat silent, then the Egyptian
hostage asked:

"And if thou wouldst fly with Menon unto Ascalon,
what then would chance to Kishra when the master
cometh from his wars?"

Semiramis laughed softly.

"Poor Kishra!  In truth he sleepeth on the
hornéd cap of Bel.  The master knoweth much
concerning his servant's treachery, and hath sworn to
hang him from the highest tower in Nineveh."

There were ripples in the fish pond, but the plotters
gave no heed.

"It cometh to me," Semiramis laughed again,
"that this eunuch will gather up such treasure-store
as may be wrung from those who serve him, and fly
to some distant land ere Ninus nail him to the city
gate.  A villain is he, yet none may say that Kishra
be a fool."

For a space they argued strategems of escape from
the palace walls, and of the journey unto Ascalon,
then the three arose, and, chattering, wandered down
the garden path.

From the fish pond Kishra crawled, with an evil
grin upon his face, and made his way by stealth along
the wall, a stream of muddy water dripping from his
muddy robe.

From a vine-clad arbor by the fountain's pool,
Semiramis watched him creeping through the trees,
and smiled.

"Of a truth," she murmured, happily, "the poison
in his blood will work; aye, even as a raisin in a skin
of vinegar."





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.. _`THE STRATAGEM`:

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   CHAPTER XIX


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   THE STRATAGEM

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With Kishra it came to pass as Semiramis had
prophesied, for a poison worked within his
veins till he sickened and knew no peace.  Hour by
hour he squatted upon the earth, while the words of
the Syrian burned into his heart:

"*The master knoweth much concerning his servant's
treachery, and hath sworn to hang him from the
highest tower in Nineveh!*"

In sooth it were wise to hide away in some secret
place where the tramp of Assyria's hosts was but an
echo down the wind, and India offered many a safe
retreat.  Yet, one grown lazy at a post of power
revolts at the thought of poverty and toil, for the
cup and a savory dish were as musk to the eunuch's
nose.  If he could but lay his hand on the treasure
of Semiramis!  To dwell in plenty and in ease!  To
swing the lash above the backs of a hundred slaves!
Ah, this were peace!  These jewels lay hidden in a
leathern sack—a sack concealed in a bed of river
mud.  Mayhap, if craft were exercised—!  Mayhap!

Long Kishra crouched, with burning eyes, with
parching lips which he moistened with a restless
tongue, while the raisin worked in a skin of vinegar.
To his brain came many a cunning scheme which
faltered not at a stain of blood, till the sun-lit garden
reeled before his sight, and the pebbles in the path
were as a million precious gems which mocked his
greed.  Then Kishra slept, to dream of being
crucified on the brazen gates of Nineveh.

When night was come the eunuch set a guard in the
streets below, with commands to seize on all who
loitered in the shadow of the wall; then he hid himself
and lay in wait.

Through the garden stole Semiramis, clothed in a
sombre robe and bearing the fish of malachite now
wrapped in a veil and bound with cords.  She skirted
the fountain and bent her steps toward the east,
where fewest sentries paced the parapets, and here she
paused.  Kishra rejoiced that Habal followed not at
the Syrian's heels, for the eunuch's scent would
speedily have caused a warning growl; yet now the spy had
removed his sandals, and his cat-like tread fell,
noiseless, on the trail.

Close in the shadow of the wall, Semiramis raised
her voice in a night-bird's cry.  For a space she
listened.  An answering cry came faintly back, then
she raised her packet to fling it across the wall; but
behind her Kishra rose, caught the uplifted arm and
wrenched the amulet from her grasp.

With a smothered cry, Semiramis wheeled upon him,
her eyes two pools of fury, while a storm of passion
bubbled to her lips.

"Hound! give back my own.  What!  Am I, the
spouse of Syria's Governor, to be tracked like a
pilferer through the night?  Have done!  Give o'er my
packet and begone!"

So fiery was her mien that Kishra took a backward
step, drawing a dagger from his belt and presenting
its point against attack.

"Not so," he answered, tauntingly.  "When
captives send forth messengers to Bactria, a palace
warden risketh the hazard of his head."

The woman started.  What if the eunuch had
overheard her whisperings and was advised of all?  Yet,
how could it chance, when Memetis had watched on
every hand.  So Kishra read her thoughts, for anger
departed from her tongue, and in its place came a
tone of craft:

"'Tis naught, good Kishra.  'Tis naught, I swear,
save a message to my lord—a token that all is well
at Nineveh—an amulet—the little green fish which
the merchant of Phoenicia sold.  See, Kishra.  I pray
you break the seal."

The eunuch laughed.

"True," he nodded, "'tis but a fish, and being
but a fish, can wait for a moon till the stores of grain
be dispatched to the King at Zariaspa.  Thy message
shall journey with the guard."

"Nay," she reasoned, "these wagon-trains are
slow, and my haste is great.  To-night must it go,
or to-morrow, else my runner will come too late."

"Ah!" grinned Kishra.  "Then perchance thy
lord in Bactria will reward this runner for his haste."

"Aye," replied the Syrian, "even as you shall be
rewarded if you cross me not."

"The price of broken faith is large," said the
eunuch, artfully.  "How much?"

"A purse that is weighted to its very throat."

He laughed in scorn and turned away, but Semiramis
caught his robe with a swift, detaining hand.

"Listen," she urged; "if the price be small, then
will I add to the purse another purse and such
ornaments as are mine—even to the pearls that rim my
sandals round."

Kishra still shook his head and withdrew his robe,
retreating through the garden, while the Syrian
followed after him.

"What, then?" she pleaded, and sighed in hope to
see him pause.

For a moment he pondered, then, leaning forward
till she felt his breath upon her cheek, he whispered,
hoarsely:

"*The leathern sack of gems!*"

Once more she started, yet controlled her voice,
answering in a tone of wonderment:

"A leathern sack of gems?  In truth I know
naught of it.  As Bêlit liveth, your words are the
words of foolishness."

"True," grinned Kishra; "no treasure is hidden
on the river bank, nor is there a garden-seat before
our eyes, nor a fish pond near at hand where a man
may hide his body beneath the scum and harken unto
whisperings."

At his taunting speech Semiramis raised her fist
as if to dash it in his evil face, then let it fall beside
her, while she sank upon the garden seat in bitter
tears.  The eunuch for a space stood silent, for well
he knew the value of a bridled tongue, so he waited
for her heart to battle with her mind and conquer it.

"Give me this sack," he said at length, "and thy
runner shall go unharmed."

"Nay," sobbed Semiramis, "a purse—no more."

"A half," urged Kishra, but she shook her head,
again repeating her offer of the purse.

"A third.  Think, mistress, vast riches will be left
to thee, and a third is little."  She made no answer,
and a light of cunning crept into his eyes.  "All
might I have if I willed to serve thee ill, for I know
the spot on the river bank where—"

"*Liar!*"

The Syrian once more faced him, trembling in
her wrath.

"No eye save mine can find the hiding place,
though it sought till the sun is cold.  Who, then,
shall point the way for thieves?"  She laughed
derisively.  "Shall I, Shammuramat, go forth—disguised,
perchance, as some kitchen wench—at the
heels of a sexless beast?  Nay, not till Nineveh hath
rotted from the plain!"  Again she laughed and
snapped her scornful fingers in the eunuch's face.
"Safe by the river my treasure lieth—a treasure
for which the King might barter half his power—yet
not one gem shall fall into your grasp.  Go out
and hunt the Tigris, from the mountains to the sea.
Dig! and may Gibil damn you for a fool!"

She drew her robe aside, as though she passed some
thing of pestilence, and strode away, while Kishra
came pattering meekly after her.  His avarice had
over-shot the mark, and failure gnawed his bowels
with the teeth of fear.

They now had reached the fountain's pool where
the palace torches glimmered through the foliage,
casting strange shadows upon the earth till the garden
seemed thronged with myriads of dancing ghosts.
Here Kishra put forth his hand and grasped a fold
of the Syrian's simar.

"Heed me," he begged, and as Semiramis swung
angrily about, he began once more to bargain for the
gems.  "Be patient, mistress, for my needs are sore,
and I, too, would escape from Nineveh, even as thou
and thy lord will fly to Ascalon.  Give me but a little
part of this treasure store and I swear to aid thee
with an aid none else may give."

Semiramis pondered thoughtfully.

"Fling my packet from the wall and I promise
you a part."

But the man was not to be deceived by slippery
promises.

"Nay; when the gems are in my hand, then shall
the fish of malachite be given unto thy messenger."

Their horns were locked again.  Yet, a moment
since, when the Syrian had cursed him in her scorn,
her words had left a maggot in his mind.  "What!"
she had demanded.  "Shall I, Shammuramat, go
forth to point the way for thieves—disguised,
perchance, as some kitchen wench?"  Ah, if he could
but bend her pride, how simple would be the rest!

"Listen," he begged, with deep humility.  "In
the hour of stress we stoop to many things.  What
harm if the lady Shammuramat conceal her beauty
beneath an humble cloak and fare with Kishra to the
river bank?  By boat we may cross, returning ere
the night is old, and none would be the wiser, for the
city gates are free to me."

"No!" declared Semiramis, with a gesture of
disdain.  "I trust you not, nor will I leave the palace
mound, though you prayed till dawn."

Her speech was firm, yet in it the eunuch marked
a sign of wavering, so he urged his case with a
beating heart:

"The gems once buried in the garden here, we wait
in peace till Menon cometh to take thee hence, and for
a third of this treasure store a friend is made, where
an enemy might balk thy every move."

His words were words of wisdom, yet the Syrian
frowned in doubt, while her sandal tapped impatiently
on the graveled path.

"What will it profit," the tempter asked, "if wealth
be stored away, when he whom thou loveth shall die in
a distant land?"

"What mean you?" cried Semiramis, with a gasp
of fear, and Kishra drove the nail:

"If the fish of malachite, with the message which
it beareth, shall go into Bactria, coming not to Menon,
but to the King's own hand, then in truth thy lord
may suffer grievously."

At his thin-veiled threat the woman quailed, while
terror leaped into her eyes.

"Nay—nay," she pleaded, clinging to his arm,
"'twere cruel to do this thing.  Be merciful, good
Kishra, and I give a tenth."

The battle was won.  The eunuch could scarce restrain
his joy, for in his heart an evil plan took root.
The treasure once dug from the river bank, the body
of Semiramis should fill the hole; yet, lest suspicion
rise, he wrought by subtlety, grumbling at the
smallness of his pay.

"And my messenger," Semiramis demanded,
"what of him?  Two days will he wait—no more.
Alas, we will be too late!"

"Then come with me to-night," breathed Kishra,
biting at his nails.

The Syrian wavered, her will tossed back and forth
on the shields of doubt and love, till Kishra hinted at
further ills to Menon; then her spirit broke.
Trembling from head to heel, she agreed to go, but
laid an oath upon him, and sought to bind him with a
thong of bribery.

"Kishra," she faltered, "I have promised you a
tenth.  Be faithful and I give a greater part.  Dost
swear to guard me from every harm and bring me in
safety to the palace once again?"

In the gloom the man smiled wickedly, yet gave his
pledge; then whispered into her ear:

"Go to thy chamber, and when the princess sleepeth,
creep forth and join me at the garden-seat.  An
hour must pass, for I send a messenger to the river
shore to find a boat.  A cloak will I have for thee, and
pigment wherewith to stain thy skin, lest the keepers
of the gate should marvel at thy comeliness.  Go now,
and count on Kishra as a servant faithful to the end."

For a moment more she lingered, faltering; then
bowed her head and passed from the garden with a
weary tread.

In the sleeping-chamber, Sozana drew her down
beside the couch, asking in whispered mirth:

"Didst hear my answer to the night-bird's call?
How fareth the jest with Kishra?"

"It worketh," breathed Semiramis into a tiny ear,
"for the son of fools will journey to the river bank
and dig for dreams.  Sleep, dear one, and to-morrow
we may laugh aloud."

Long lay Semiramis, staring through the opening
in the roof, while she waited for sleep to kiss Sozana's
eyes.  Her bosom heaved; her breath came hot,
impatient, from her lips.  If all went well the city would
soon be left behind, and the gardens of Ninus would
be but a haunting memory.  How sweet to snap the
bonds of dull captivity and face such crouching
dangers as the darkness veiled!  And yet, a sorrow came
to share the treasure of her joy.  The Princess and
Memetis thought her plan was but a jest whereby to
trouble Kishra's peace of mind; and to-morrow they
must mourn her as one who slips away into the great
unknown and leaves no trace.  Again, came a sharper
pang for a friend deserted—one who would grieve as
none other save her lord might grieve—for Habal,
too, must be left behind.

Her hand stole out from the couch's edge and fell
upon him in a fond caress, while Habal licked the
hand, and his tail beat happily upon the tiles.  Then
Semiramis drew him up to her, and wept, with her
face deep hidden on his shaggy breast.

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The Princess slept.  Semiramis arose and moved
in stealth toward the door; yet she paused on the
threshold, for her dog came creeping at her heels.

"Down, Habal, down!" she whispered, struggling
with her tears, and the dog obeyed, though he whined
because of impending evil—a sense which is keen in
the hearts of beasts, and is passing strange.

In the garden all was still.  Semiramis crept to the
appointed place where the eunuch waited, eager to
begone.  She smeared her hands and face with pigment,
donned a slave's simar, and hid her flame-hued hair
beneath a ragged hood; yet, when all was ready, she
hung back, trembling, till Kishra's patience broke,
and he longed to urge her on by blows.

The door of bronze, which pierced the garden wall,
was opened by a sentry who saw but the eunuch and
a kitchen wench with a basket upon her head.  Oft
had he seen the like before when Kishra went forth in
search of dainties for his pampered appetite; so when
the door clanged sharply at their backs, the sentry
once more nodded at his post.

As the street was reached Semiramis well-nigh
swooned for joy, and vowed a gift to Ishtar should
the city gates be passed.  In silence they began to
walk, when of a sudden each started at the sound as of
a body falling from the palace mound.  They paused,
but naught was heard or seen, so the two set out
again.

Westward their course was laid, past many a booth
where women laughed, and crafty hucksters lured
them on to buy; past a teeming market-place, for
Kishra went boldly in accustomed paths, lest
marauders spring upon him from some darkened alley-way.
The place was a place of noises, lights and evil
smells, of leering, besotted crowds who knew the
eunuch and gibed him because of the woman at his
side.  The Syrian's blood burned hotly in her veins,
till she yearned to tear the jesters with her nails; yet
wisdom whispered, so she laughed in the manner of
an easy-virtued kitchen wench, and went her way.

And now the booths were passed, and they came at
length to the city wall with its mighty gates of brass.
Here fortune once more favored them, for a band of
belated horsemen came clattering in, the riders nodding
on their weary steeds; so Kishra whispered with the
captain of the gate, slyly pressing a coin into his
palm; then, as the keeper turned his back, the two
slipped by and went unnoticed out of Nineveh.

In silence the treasure-seekers crossed the plain till
they came to the river bank.  Here a boat was found
in charge of an under-keeper's boy who stretched out
his hand for pay, then straightway disappeared.
Kishra produced a digging tool from beneath his
cloak, laid it beside him on the beach, and began to
unloose the boat; and while he was thus employed,
Semiramis cast a lingering glance at the city wall that
loomed against the sky, so black, so stern, with its
monster towers which seemed to stand on guard like
giant wardens of the night.

As she gazed, her heart grew sad again—sad for
the little Princess dreaming on her couch, and because
of Habal, watching for the mistress who would come
not back to him.

She sighed and turned; yet, turning, felt a cold
nose thrust into her hand; then with a cry of joy
Semiramis fell upon her knees, her arms clasped tight
about the neck of the faithful dog.  She remembered
the sound of a body falling from the palace mound;
'twas Habal that had leaped to the street below, where
he lay for a space with the breath dashed out of him,
then hobbled along her trail with a broken paw.
At the city gate he had darted between the legs of
the horses filing in, and now crouched, panting, at
the Syrian's side, to receive caresses, or reproof
because of his disobedient love.

Now the coming of Habal proved a check to
Kishra's plan of murdering the woman when her
treasure was in his hands; so, cursing, he snatched up
his digging tool wherewith to slay the beast; but
Semiramis sprang between them, furious as a mother
who defends her child, while the dog rose, snarling,
eager for Kishra's blood.

"Lay but a finger tip upon him," the mistress
cried, "and you hunt alone on the further shore!
Have done!  The dog is wounded, and with us he
shall go!"

Kishra paused.  Full well he knew the risk of
trifling with a woman's whims.  It were better to
humor her in this little thing than to hazard all ere
the gems were in his clutch; so, grumbling, he cast
his digging tool into the boat and made ready to
depart.  The craft was small, and rude of shape, yet
would serve to bear them safely to the other side; and
when Semiramis and Habal had settled in the bow,
Kishra with his paddle pushed out into the stream.

"Whither, mistress?" he asked in a muffled tone,
as though he feared some lurker on the bank might
hear.

"To the lily beds in line with the city gate," the
Syrian whispered, with a hidden smile, while she
tore a strip from her nether garment and bound it on
Habal's broken paw.

For a space they were silent, and, as the boat
slipped forward in the gloom, dim voices of the night
came floating to their ears—to the woman, sweeter
than a zittern's softest strain.  She listened to the
river's droning hymn as it worshipped on its way to
the Sea-god's shrine, and the deep-toned song of frogs
from a reedy marsh.  She heard the lisp of the paddle
in the yellow tide, a heron's echoed cry, and the far,
faint call of sentries from the battlements of Nineveh.

On the heart of Kishra these voices cast a spell of
fear, chilling the fever of his greed which till now
had urged him on.  Why should the Syrian be
overjoyed to greet her dog if she thought to return ere
the dawn had come?  Perchance she laid some snare
to trip his feet, and would fly to Ascalon, cheating
him of his wealth so coveted.  The treasure!  Mayhap
no gems were hidden there at all, and hers was
but a trick to lure him to his death.

A thousand terrors trickled from out the gloom;
they swam through the waters, climbed into the boat,
and lay upon him heavily.  Of a sudden the traitor
paused, with his paddle across his knees.

"Mistress," he asked, "what proof have I that
no enemy lurketh beside the lily beds, to fall upon me
when we reach the shore?"

"None," replied Semiramis.  "He who would dig
for leathern sacks, must dare such dangers as the
night-gods send.  Yet, if yours be a coward's heart,
turn back, for it cometh to me that a tenth is
usury."  She smiled again, and bent to her restless dog:
"Down, Habal, down!  What troubleth thee?"

The boat now floated in the middle of the stream,
and ere Kishra began his paddling once again, his
fears were confirmed by the actions of the dog.
Habal had risen, sniffing at the air.  On the western
breeze he caught a scent, and his bark rang out till
the echoes rolled from shore to shore.  A friend was
near at hand, and the dog gave joyous tongue.

For a moment Kishra sat staring at Semiramis,
while through his evil brain shot the knowledge of his
own credulity.  From the first she had gulled him,
luring him to lie in a muddy fish pond, harkening unto
whisperings.  No runner waited for her fish of
malachite.  Her tremblings and her tears were but a mask.
Even in her well-feigned fury she had fed him with
designs for his own undoing, and he, in his gross
cupidity, had eaten of the fruit of fools.  No treasure
lay hidden on the river shore, but enemies who smiled
and waited for their own.

Mad with terror, Kishra spun the boat about, but,
in his over-strength of fear, the paddle snapped, and
Semiramis laughed aloud.  Helpless he sat, a victim
to this gloating witch who befooled him with her
guile—he—Kishra, warden of the King, who dared
not return again to his post of ease.  Then fury took
him utterly.  He seized on the digging tool, arose,
and swung it high above his head in the thought to
brain her at a blow.

"Devil," he snarled, "thou hast tricked me with a lie!"

Down came the implement, but not upon the Syrian,
for Habal had leaped at Kishra's throat, and Semiramis
overturned the tossing craft.

For an instant all was darkness, fraught with fear;
then the man rose, gasping, clutching at the boat.
A spear's length away he spied a foaming swirl, where
Semiramis flung high her arms and disappeared.

Then the river again took up its droning hymn;
the sentries called from the distant battlements; a
dog's head rode the waves as it pointed to the
westward shore, and a boat went spinning down the
Tigris, while Kishra clung in terror to its slippery
keel.





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.. _`THE FLIGHT`:

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   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center medium

   THE FLIGHT

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"Ho, Huzim!" called Semiramis, as she gained
a footing on the river mud and splashed
through the shallows where the lilies grew; and
Huzim, with a cry of greeting, stretched forth his hands
to draw her up upon the bank.

"Art safe?" he asked.  "No hurt hath come to
thee?  Of a truth I rejoiced at the voice of Habal,
yet close upon it came a sound of tumult, and my
strength forsook me utterly.  See, mistress, I
tremble still, for the night hath brought a terror to my
heart."

In his joy the faithful servant, who would have
dared the anger of the gods themselves to shield
Semiramis, sank down and clasped her knees, to weep as
a child might weep.

"Nay," laughed the woman, with a gentle hand
upon his straight black locks, "'twas naught indeed
save a plunge and a joyous swim, for the waters
thronged about me with the kisses of old, remembered
friends.  Up, Huzim!  Bear Habal in your arms, for
his leg hath received a hurt, poor beast.  And
hasten!  Yon apish eunuch whirling down the stream
may arise an outcry, bringing a troop of horse upon
our trail."

The Indian arose, and raising Habal as his mistress
bade him, strode forward through the darkness, while
she, in the joy of freedom, walked happily at his side,
wringing the water from her wet simar and whispering
of all which had come to pass.  For a league they
journeyed westward till they came to a hillock
crowned by trees, and here the Indian bade his
mistress wait, while he, himself, went onward to secure
their steeds which waited in a secret place in the
wooded lands beyond.

"Keep watch," he urged, then filled his lungs with
a hopeful breath and vanished in the gloom.

Alone, the Syrian raised her eyes toward the sky
and once more listened to the voices of the night.
The river's hymn was hushed; no sentry's call rang
out from distant Nineveh, and across the plains came
only a foolish wind that murmured among the trees.
Yet other voices rose in the heart of Semiramis, to
cry aloud with every quickened beat.  Menon!
Menon! they shouted, till the echo mounted to the
burning stars, to catch their flame and tumble back
to the heart which sent it forth.  Thus cried Derketo,
that mother whose passion stirred in the daughter's
blood, till her eyes grew dim in yearning tenderness.
As a song it sounded in her ears—a song of fire
and love; yet with it rose a strain more harsh, the
voice of her unknown sire—perchance a war-god
from the Southern Seas.  It rose in a stern command
and was taken up on the tongues of marching multitudes,
in the snarl of the battle-horn, and the rumble
of charging chariots.

To the south lay far Arabia, whence peace might
follow in the thread of love; yet Semiramis stretched
her arms toward the east where Zariaspa sat,
unconquered, on the plains.

From the darkness came Huzim on the back of a
goodly steed, leading another by its bridle rein.  To
the saddle-skin of each was bound a food-sack, arms,
and a woolen cloak to shield the body from the chill
of night.  Likewise, for Semiramis, he had brought
a brave attire, for henceforth she must travel, not as
a woman, but as a man; so, from a screen of the
hillock's trees, she discarded her wet simar and soon
stepped forth in the guise of a youthful warrior.
From her shoulders hung a linen tunic, belted and
falling to the knee, while her limbs were encased in
heavier cloth, bound round with thongs.  Her arms
were bare, and on her head sat a brazen helm, of a
pattern worn by fighting chiefs on the Syrian coast,
its stiff rim lined with a veil of many folds.

With a laugh Semiramis leaped astride her steed,
causing her dog to be set before her on the saddle-skin,
for their pace would be swift, and Habal might
not follow with his broken foot.

"See, mistress," whispered Huzim, coming to her
side and stretching forth his arm toward the south;
"there lieth our road which leadeth by devious ways
to the desert home of Prince Boabdul, whence we
journey at my lord's command."

"Aye," the Syrian nodded, "'twas even so two
moons agone, yet now the world hath somehow gone
awry, till Arabia no longer lieth in the south.  Come,
hasten! that we catch this wandering land ere it shift
again."

With another laugh she wheeled her steed and raced
toward the north, while for an instant Huzim gazed
after her, his jaws agape in wonderment; then he
cursed, and spurred upon her track.  For a space
she held the lead, till the Indian cut it down and at
last stretched forth his hand which closed on her
bridle-rein.

"How now," he cried, when the steeds had come
to a fretful stand, "what madness wouldst thou do?
Come, turn southward, for to Arabia we journey, else
Huzim must first be slain."

For the first time since the battle with the Kurds
she marked a frown of anger upon the servant's brow,
yet little she reckoned of the wrath of any man.

"Huzim," she answered, and her teeth shone white
in the light of a riding moon, "I know not what path
is best for fools to take, nor if you would hide in
idleness beneath the desert's sands; but as for me, as
Ishtar hears my oath, I go to Bactria."

"But why?" he demanded, in a tone of keen
despair.  "Why tempt the gods when wisdom pointeth
out the way?"

Once more Semiramis raised her arms toward the
stars, and her fists were clenched.

"To join my lord and share the perils which are
his; to wrest a loved one from the toils which hedge
him round about, or drive my hunting spear through
the body of Assyria's King!"

In vain the Indian pleaded; in vain he besought her
with prayers and tears to discard a plan so mad, but
she paid no heed.

"What!" she demanded, "am I born of coward's
blood?  Nay; what man may do, that also will I, a
woman, compass; and, failing, the fault is mine alone.
Think," she argued, "if hiding seemeth good to you,
then will we lie concealed among the crags which
overtop the plains of Bactria, whence you, good Huzim,
may creep by night into Menon's camp and guide him
safely to my side.  Once joined with him, we journey
where he wills, though it be to Gibil or to Ramân's
thunder-halls."

Thus in the end the reluctant Indian gave in, and
they rode toward the north, though for a space he
lagged behind in troubled silence, his chin upon his
breast.  As he rode it came to him that his mistress
had never held a thought of flying to Arabia, but
had curbed her tongue lest wisdom move him to
prevent escape from Nineveh.  It was now too late to
husband wine when the skin was rent, so Huzim shook
the anger from him, and, with one last sigh of doubt,
came up to the side of Semiramis.

For a league they held to the river bank, then
forded at a shallow point and travelled eastward
swiftly till the night was gone.  And thus they fared
for many days, boldly by night, and resting throughout
the day in close retreats, for they knew not if
Kishra had perchance survived to send out hunters
on their trail.  Poor Habal's paw healed quickly, and
soon he rode no more on the saddle-skin, albeit a moon
went by ere he ran upon four sound legs again; yet,
even with a bandaged limb, the dog served faithfully,
and many a lurking danger came to naught by reason
of his warning growls.

And now they came into Media, and the fear of
pursuit was lost; so onward they pushed, avoiding the
open roads.  They passed through trackless
forest-lands, through verdant valleys and up again to the
crests of wooded hills, where at their feet the lands
of foreign peoples stretched far and wide, their
dwelling places marked by coils of smoke.  Anon they
skirted woodland villages, and, peering through a
screen of leaves, saw naked children sporting in the
sun, their naked mothers pounding grain with stones,
while uncouth warriors drowsed at ease beneath the
shade.  Once, on a hillside, they came full face upon
a hunter, bearing a forest pig upon his back, in his
hand a spear.  For a space the man stared stupidly,
then dropped his burden, cast his spear at Huzim, and
went shrieking down the slope.  From stone to stone
he leaped, as leaps a mountain goat, the while he cried
out shrilly to his friends beneath; yet in his final
plunge he bore no message save a shaft between his
shoulder blades.

"Of a truth," sighed Huzim, "'twas pity to slay
the fool, yet wise, perchance, for his tribesmen know
not if we be an army or a single man.  Come, hasten,
mistress, lest his friends be cursed with curious minds."

They hastened on, and for a space no other
mischief came to trouble them, though many evils stalked
abroad by night and day; yet these were passed
because of Huzim's cunning woodcraft, and Habal's wit
in scenting peril from afar.  Then, when the skin of
Semiramis was tanned to a ruddy brown, and the
steeds were lean and weary from their toil, the
travellers neared the foothills of Hindu-Kush, to fall upon
a grave mischance.  They had come to a forest's
edge, where a sloping plain of a league in width
stretched out before them, ascending to the mountain
steeps beyond; and here the Indian counseled that they
lie concealed till the shades of night should fall, but
Semiramis would have none of it.

"Nay," she urged; "I burn to reach the mountain
top for a peep into the land of Bactria, and to know,
perchance, if my lord still battleth there.  Come,
Huzim, lest I leave a faithful friend behind."

The servant shook his head and galloped after her,
yet his hope came back again when the middle of the
plain was reached and naught was seen save a
watchful kite that swung in the blue above.  Then Habal
wheeled on the backward trail, and barked.  From
the forest left behind came a score of riders who
spread to right and left, then lashed their mounts and
advanced in a ragged line.

"'Tis even as I feared," growled Huzim beneath
his breath.  "Speed thee, mistress!  We yet may
win to the hills in time."

But ere they had ridden twenty paces he was fain
to draw his rein, for out from a fringe of woods
ahead another band appeared, to spread as the first
had spread, with an aim of closing in upon the
fugitives.  The Indian unslung his bow, casting about
him for a spot wherein to halt and hold his foes at
bay, but Semiramis smiled upon him and took command.

"Be not a child," she whispered.  "Your shafts
are useless, for these our enemies outnumber us, and
our steeds are spent.  Obey me and speak no word."

She drew her bridle, shielded her eyes from the
sunlight's glare, then waved her hand and dashed full
speed toward the Bactrian troop.

"In the name of the gods—!" gasped Huzim,
spurring after her; but she laughed and, once more
waved her hand.

Now the horsemen, marveling at the strangeness
of this move, drew rein upon the slope and waited till
their quarry came to them.  Outposts they were whom
Oxyartes set beyond the mountains, to watch all roads,
to cut off messengers, and to bring report of armies or
of food-trains coming out from Nineveh.

"Ho, friends!" laughed Semiramis, pausing in
their midst and speaking in the Bactrian tongue, a deal
of which she had learned from Menon while in Syria.
"For the moment I feared ye were a herd of Assyrian
swine.  Who leadeth here?"

A Bactrian youth dismounted and stepped before
her, his fellows gathering in a close-packed ring.

"How art thou called?" she questioned, looking
straight into his eye.

"Dagas," he answered, with a bow and a smile of
merriment.

The woman was fair to look upon and easy in her
speech, yet spies were ever prone to claim a friendship
with their foes in a hope of deceiving them; so
the Bactrian smiled, and was not to be deceived.

"Ah!" sighed Semiramis, stretching her hand to
him.  "Then bear me wine, good Dagas—the best—for
to-day I have journeyed far and am athirst.
See, likewise, to our steeds and to my servant here,
who—"

She paused, for now the chieftain laughed aloud
because of her impudence, while those about him
joined in a roar of mirth; yet mirth was turned to
wonderment, when a gust of fury lit her eyes, and she
struck at the head of Dagas with a haft of her
hunting spear.

"Fool!" she stormed, "is the sister of Oxyartes
to be mocked by a brainless dog?"

The shaft went home.  The laughter died upon
their lips; yet, ere their startled senses woke again,
Semiramis swept on:

"What!  Know ye not that Babylon is in revolt?
That Tyre and Sidon fling aside the yoke?  That
Syria flies to arms and sends her armies forth to
crush King Ninus as a grain of corn?  Does Bactria
sleep, as sleeps Assyria's lord, when Nineveh
hath tumbled to the earth—a blotch of mud upon the
plains?  Does Dagas know not that the hosts advance,
with horsemen countless as the forest leaves, with
slingers, axemen, hordes of Hittite charioteers, and
a swarm of riders from the desert lands?"  She
flung back her head and laughed.  "O worms of
ignorance!  O sons of fishes, knowing naught beyond
their slimy pool!  Go out and guard each road—each
mountain pass—lest fugitives slip by and cry
disaster to the King!"

She paused for lack of breath, and a buzz of
confusion rose among the men-at-arms; then, at their
chieftain's questioning glance, Semiramis spoke
again:

"Five days must pass ere the vanguard cometh,
yet I and my servant hasten on to warn the King
of Zariaspa; for when our warriors pour down the
mountain sides, then must Oxyartes sally forth and
take King Ninus in his rear."

Dagas knit his brows in troubled thought, then
raised his eyes and asked:

"What surety have I that thy words are the words
of truth—that thy tidings be not a trick to befool
mine ears?"

"None," she answered, in majestic pride.  "None
save my word alone.  If thou doubtest, then hold me
prisoner."  Again she paused, to look upon the youth
in scorn.  "Yet I warn thee, Dagas, that should a
mischief come of it, or I suffer by delay—by every
god in heaven, thy flesh shall puff in one great blister
from the lash!"

Once more the Bactrian pondered, torn 'twixt duty
and a fear of some bold deceit, then he asked, as a
final test:

"And how wilt thou reach the city when Ninus
encompasseth it about in a deep, unbroken ring?
How scale the walls and bear thy message in?"

It was now the Syrian's turn to ponder, for on her
wit hung fortune, good and evil, balanced to a hair.
To blunder meant captivity, death perchance; to
answer rightly was beyond her power; yet she faltered
not, and staked her all upon a single cast.  She
smiled upon Dagas, leaned down, and whispered into
his ear:

"*Why scale a wall when a message may go to
Zariaspa by the secret way?*"

The Bactrian started, glanced swiftly toward the
north, and back to her dancing eyes.

"What meanest thou?" he asked, and hung upon
her words as one who waits on death.

Once more Semiramis smiled upon him, stooping till
her breath played warm upon his cheek.

"Thou comely child," she murmured into his blood-flushed
ear, "where stores of food are sent for my
brother's needs, there, also, may a message find its
way, though it float or fly."

This she delivered boldly, on the hazard of a
guess, and Dagas fell upon his knee and made
obeisance, begging that she hold no evil memory against
him, in that he had harbored doubt.

"Nay," she answered him, "of all which hath come
to pass I will make report to Oxyartes;" then, as the
Bactrian's cheeks went white, she added, meaningly:
"The King would know when his chiefs mix caution
with their zeal, else how shall he make a just reward?"

Dagas rose up in a flush of pride, and of vanity
which ever follows certain men of war.

"Command me," he cried, "and thy lightest wish
shall be mine own desire."

Semiramis paused, to look upon the earth in
thought; then from her finger she drew a jewel,
placing it within his hand.

"Dagas," she enjoined, "when the conquering
host hath come from out the west, seek thou the King
of Tyre, saying that she of the flame-hued locks hath
come in safety unto Hindu-Kush.  In proof of thy
words, display this bauble before his eyes—then keep
it for thine own."  With a radiant smile she checked
his thanks and spoke again: "Ride southward with
all thy men-at-arms to guard the roads, lest Assyrian
runners pass.  Nay, I need no guide to the Secret
Place, for the way is known to me.  Now set us wine
and meat, and then—farewell!"

The young chief hastened to do her bidding
eagerly, in hope of the rich reward from Oxyartes,
though to his racing heart it seemed that in life he
could ask no higher gift than to bask in this woman's
smile.  So he set them a feast, which being done, his
guests arose.  Henceforth they must go on foot, for
the mountain paths were such that horses might not
climb, so the steeds were left with Dagas and his
followers.  At parting the Bactrian lingered, gazing
with awe into the Syrian's eyes.

"Princess," he faltered, "in days to come I pray
thee to hold my memory, for the sword of an
humble man is thine, be it drawn against enemy or
friend."

Thus Dagas spoke, yet little did he dream that in
after years this love of his would part a nation and
its king.

Semiramis yearned to question him concerning
many things, but her tongue gave thanks alone, as her
hand dropped into his and pressed it.  So she fared to
the north, with Huzim and Habal following her lead,
while Dagas stood watching till they passed from
sight; then he turned and sighed.

For a space the travellers journeyed swiftly, the
woman smiling to herself, while Huzim pondered and
spoke no word; yet, presently, he laid his hand upon
her arm.

"Mistress," said he, "our path is upward among
the crags, and as we journey now, we risk the peril
of unknown ways and wander from our course."

"Nay," Semiramis denied, "our quest is in the
north, for there a weighty secret lieth.  Listen; to
Zariaspa cometh a strange supply of food, vexing
Ninus, in that he may not cut it off and starve his
enemies; therefore in the north I seek its source, though
I hunt the hills for the space of a double moon."

The Indian frowned and slowly shook his head.
One hour agone she had burned to reach the mountain
top, and now would hunt behind it for the space of a
double moon.  Of a surety the ways of women were
a trouble unto Huzim's mind.

"And how," he asked, "may we know that this
secret place be hidden in the north?"

Again the Syrian laughed, and the laughter pleased
her to the finger tips.

"Good Dagas betrayed it by a fleeting glance, and
knew not that he gave his master into my hand.
What manner of place it is, or where it lieth, the
spirits of the mountains only know; yet, mayhap,
these spirits may be taught to wag their tongues."

Once more the patient Huzim shook his head,
following on in silent thought, and for a space they
bent their steps on a gently ascending path, till they
came to a rocky spur which overlooked the plains.

"See!" cried Semiramis, pointing with her spear,
while her merriment was loosed, to echo back from
stone to stone.  "Yon troop of Bactrians rideth
toward the south, to cry alarm, to guard all roads, and
to wait a phantom host which cometh to Zariaspa's aid."

Huzim gazed out and saw that her words were true,
though he joined not in her merriment.

"Nay, mistress," he murmured, "this Dagas is
but a fool; yet deeply was I troubled for thy fate,
till streams of sweat poured out upon my skin.  Thou
didst say that Syria had risen in revolt—that Hittite
chariots advanced—that Nineveh was but a blotch of
mud upon the plain.  'Twas witful craft, I grant,
though hazardous, for truth was twisted inside out,
even as women wring their garments at a washing time."

"Aye," sighed Semiramis, dreamily, as she rested
on her hunting spear and watched the riders vanish in
a cloud of dust, "aye, good Huzim, in song and
legend this truth of which thou speakest is a wondrous
thing, yet oft must the god of wisdom robe himself
in the splendor of a lie."





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.. _`THE RIDDLE OF THE SECRET WAY`:

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   CHAPTER XXI


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   THE RIDDLE OF THE SECRET WAY

.. vspace:: 2

The day waxed old.  The sun plunged down into
a fiery death, as though a Moloch swallowed it,
to breathe back flames from his brazen throat; then
the crimson glow grew faint and faded from the
west; the twilight deepened, while a purple haze stole
up on the mountain slopes, to wrap the loftiest crags
in gloom, till the moon rode forth and set them free.

Semiramis and Huzim now paused for rest and
food, for the way grew more precipitous, and naught
might be accomplished while the darkness held; so
when the Indian had eaten he stretched himself in
sleep, but for the Syrian there was none.  She sat
with her chin upon her hand, gazing in thought upon
the mountain stream which tumbled noisily beside the
resting place, while through her brain a question
rioted and gave no peace—a question which mocked,
yet lured her on through swamps of deep perplexity.
Whence came these stores of food to Zariaspa? and
why in the name of Nebo should the Bactrians set
the place on the further side of a mountain range?
To cross the ridge was but to meet with Ninus and his
ring of warriors.  How pass them and win to the city
walls?

"Ah, little stream," she murmured, with a heavy
sigh, "what secrets of the hills thy hundred tongues
could tell did I but understand thy strange, wise
songs!"

The stream sang on, a roar of dull monotony that
lulled her senses into drowsiness, and again the Syrian
sighed as she stretched her limbs for sleep; yet slumber
hid itself away as hid the answer to her quest, and
suddenly a silence fell—a silence so deep that the
wind-gods seemed to hold their breath as for a
coming storm, while through the hush ran a whispered
chant of insects of the night—that murmurous hum
from the tongues of tiny, things.

The Syrian started, sat upright on the earth, and
stared at the stream in wide-eyed unbelief.  Where,
before, a torrent rushed along its way, leaping the
stones with a foaming, boisterous swirl, now ran a
trickling rivulet.  Its song was stilled; black rocks
protruded from its bed, and a stranded fish flapped
clumsily upon the sand.  For a moment longer stared
Semiramis, then leaped to her feet and shook the
sleeping Indian.

"Awake!" she cried.  "As Ishtar liveth, I have
spoken with the stream—and the stream hath
answered me!"

For a space she whispered eagerly, pointing to
the north, till Huzim rose and brushed the slumber
from his eyes.  They bound the jaws of Habal with a
leathern thong, lest the dog give tongue and sound
alarm; then they crept in silence up the water-course.
Northward it ran, yet suddenly it sheared away
toward the east where the hills bent inward, forming a
mighty pocket in the mountainside, and here the
hunters paused, for faintly down the wind came the calls
of men, the bellow of a burden-beast, and the sound of
many hammer-strokes.

"Ah," breathed Semiramis, "'tis there the riddle
hath its root, hanging like grapes till we come to strip
the vine."

They left the stream and clambered upward, with
an aim of spying from above, the Indian creeping on
ahead, while Semiramis came after him, her dog in
leash.  The steeps grew difficult, but the seekers
spared their strength, mounting slowly till they came
upon a sentry seated in a narrow pass and singing
softly to himself.

"How white is his throat," smiled Huzim, as he
notched a shaft and knelt among the rocks; but
Semiramis laid a restraining hand upon his arm.

"Nay, spare him; for see, he looketh upon the
stars, and, all unknowing, giveth praise to Ishtar.
To slay him were to bring us evil.  Come!"

To the right they crept, in a circuit which brought
them far above the watcher's post, then turned and
bent upon their course again; and thus they journeyed
stealthily, as in days of old they had stalked their
game in Syria, coming at last to the lip of a
precipice.  Prostrate they lay and peeped below, yet
naught could be seen because of gloom, and the
trailing mists which eddied to and fro at the chase of a
fickle breeze.  Strange sounds came floating up to
them, an oath, a sharp command, the crack of a lash,
and the jumbled echoes of haste and toil; and now the
moon slid out from behind a crag, bathing the slopes
in a wave of light, while the call of sentries echoed far
and wide, and the din in the valley ceased.

The watchers crept into the shadow of an
over-hanging rock, continuing to peer into the depths
beneath; and, as they looked, they caught the gleam of
water, whereon a clumsy barge was pushed by men
who waded to their waists.

"See!" gasped Huzim, pointing to the loaded
barge.  "It floateth toward the cliff!  What manner
of mystery is this?"

It was even as he said.  Another barge came out,
and still another, till seven in all were counted, each
pushed by waders toward the cliff, each disappearing
suddenly as if it sank into some yawning well.  On
the water's edge swarmed scores of men, each busied
with his appointed task; then after a space a gang
came forth to labor at a wooden gate which slid
between jaws of masonry.  By means of a prizing-beam
this gate was raised, when the dammed-up water once
more rushed into the bed of the mountain stream, and
the earth was seen where a lake had rested in a basin
among the hills.

Now all these things were strange to Huzim and
as marvels beyond his grasp, but Semiramis smiled and
thus reproached herself:

"In truth have I been but a suckling babe concerning
wit and the wiles of men; yet beyond the mountains
lie twice a million other babes, with Ninus who
croweth mightily and sitteth enthroned—the master-babe
of all!"  She turned to the Indian, thoughtfully:
"Tell me, didst say that Menon dug his wells
to the east of Zariaspa and found sweet water there?"

"Aye," said Huzim; "but what hath this to do
with barges on a mountainside?"

"Much," the Syrian laughed, "for these boats go
down through a cavernous passage-way, beneath the
mountain, beneath the earth where Ninus is encamped,
and beneath the city's walls.  There the Bactrians
receive their stores of food and burn these barges which
may not travel back again.  The water they gather
up in cisterns for the city's needs, or loose it at will,
whence it floweth away, to sink in the thirsty sands
beyond.  Thus Menon hath digged his wells, and
marveleth at what is found."

The Indian listened with an open mouth, grunting
his wonder, but offering no reply, and Semiramis
spoke again:

"By Ishtar, 'tis a cunning wile, yet craft may
match it unto Bactria's woe.  Menon is mine at last!"
she cried exultantly.  "The King is mine!  And
Zariaspa lieth in the hollow of my hand!  Up,
Huzim, for we climb to the mountain top ere dawn hath
come!"

Once more they journeyed, with care at first
because of sentinels who watched the hillsides as a
mother eagle guards her young; but at length the
danger line was passed and they mounted with
quickened pace.  Up, up they climbed till the moon went
down, and the chill of the lofty altitude came searching
beneath their cloaks; then for an hour they rested,
and the ascent was begun again.  By the gleam of the
stars alone they toiled, till a sickly glow came
stealing from out the east; and then, as the sun came up,
they stood at last on the mountain's spine, poor Habal
dropping at their feet with heaving flanks and a
lolling tongue.

Semiramis heaved a sigh.  Beneath her lay the land
of Bactria, yet hidden now by a ghostly sea of
mist—a mist that writhed and heaved, revealing giant
peaks that seemed to peep out timidly, to turn and
flee as though pursued by spirits of the under-world;
then the peaks, emboldened as the sunrays drank the
vapors down, rushed back again, while scurrying
clouds dissolved like rabble before a war-king's chariot.

Lower and lower sank the mist, till the battlements
of Zariaspa pierced the veil, and on the walls long
lines of white-robed priests came forth in worship of
the sun, while warriors dipped their banners, knelt,
and raised their gleaming arms aloft.

As Semiramis watched, the scene unrolled as to one
who looks into a witch's caldron when the reek is blown
away.  She saw the valleyed foothills, and the tawny
plain that stretched beyond till lost in an ochre haze.
She saw the city, grim, defiant in its might, and the
vast brown monster coiled around its outer shell,
hungry, baffled, weary of its fruitless grip.  From north
to south long ridges seamed the earth where trenches
had been dug to hold the slain and the offal of the
camps, the whole heaped o'er with sand lest pestilence
arise, while scattered far and wide lay blackened
skeletons of scaling-towers, engines of assault, and
abandoned catapults, which the enemy had wrecked or
burned with fire.

And now the army wakened, not as warriors eager
for the siege, but as sluggards who find it easier far to
hurl a drowsy curse than to labor like men in a cause
of little hope.

"See!" cried Semiramis, pointing with a trembling
arm, while her great eyes blazed in scorn.  "King
Ninus lieth down in sloth, and a million warriors rot
in idleness!  By Ishtar, with such a force I'd
overthrow yon town as a woodsman felleth a sapless
tree!"  She paused to sigh, then turned to Huzim with a
smile: "Among the stars above strange happenings
are ordained, yet perchance unto Ninus I may whisper
soon, in that he rouseth from his lethargy."

The Indian regarded her both earnestly and long.

"Mistress," he answered, grimly, in the manner of
one who is charged with truth, "if thou wouldst
whisper in the ear of Assyria's King, first make its
opening larger with the barb of thy hunting spear."

"Nay," laughed Semiramis; "a woman's wit may
sink far deeper and will leave no scar.  Now point me
out where my good lord Menon hath set his camp."

The Indian's finger swept the line of the city's
eastern wall, to a mound beyond, to a dull brown horde
of idle warriors—as idle as the warriors of the King.

"Ah!" sighed the yearning wife, and walked apart
to gaze across the walls of Zariaspa, in hope that her
heart might lead her eyes unto one she sought among
a myriad of midges on the distant field.

"Menon," she whispered, her arms outstretched,
her sensuous soul outflung, "were Shammuramat in
truth a dove, how swiftly would she wing her way to
thee!"

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As the sun slid down and the shadows of the hills
crept out across the plains, King Ninus sat within his
tent, while about him stood a score of his under-chiefs.
Warriors they were of many lands which made
Assyria's kingdom one, stern men of copper hue, half
naked in the summer heat, gaunt of feature, lean and
sinewy of limb.  On the faces of many was stamped
a look of weariness; on others anger, while the
monarch wore his darkest scowl; for a council was being
held, wherein rebellion against the King had risen to
a fever-pitch, and fierce internal strife was like to rend
the army from end to end.

"Heed me!" cried Asharal, the Babylonian Prince
whose hatred of the conqueror led him ever to dispute.
"What need to starve in Bactria when plenty lieth
along the Tigris and the Euphrates?  Why break
our teeth against a wall of stone when naught may
come of it save a bleeding mouth?  We storm a
city, fling away a nation's wealth as though its
coffers served a catapult!  Our soldiers sicken at the
lack of food and because of the bitterness of long
defeat!  If Ninus be in truth a god, then let him give
this city into our hands; if not, he will lead his
wearied servants home!"

For answer the King rose up and smote Prince
Asharal full upon the mouth, in that he fell upon the
earth with twitching limbs and eyes that rolled in
vacancy.

"So," growled Ninus, nursing the knuckles of his
great brown fist, "the dog, at last, hath a mouth that
bleeds."  He turned to the Babylonian's friends and
spoke again, calmly, but as a master speaks:
"Because he is born a fool, I spare him—the next of his
like shall hang!"

A silence fell within the council tent, save for the
shifting of uneasy feet, and the creak of harness as
the fallen man breathed fast and hard; then, in the
hush, a sentry entered, bowing low before the King.

"Lord," said he, "a messenger is without, demanding
an audience of Ninus and of his chiefs."

The lips of the monarch parted for an oath, and
yet no sound came forth; instead his mouth stretched
wider still in wonderment, for before him stepped a
woman warrior, the like of whom his eyes had never
lit upon.  Her shapely limbs were encased in linen,
bound with thongs, as were the leathern sandals on
her feet; she wore her tunic, washed white in a
mountain stream, and across her breast was flung a
leopard's skin, caught with a clasp behind and forming a
quiver for her shafts.  She carried a bow and hunting
spear, and on her shoulders, brown and bare, her
red locks rippled from a brazen helm.

The chieftains stared; and yet it was not the
splendor of her raiment which held them in amaze, but her
beauty, strange and devilish—her eyes, deep pools of
ever changing light wherein the sons of men grew
foolish and were consumed.

"Shammuramat!" breathed the King.  "Whence comest thou?"

"Shammuramat no more," the Syrian answered,
"but a merchant from the west with wares for sale."

"By Bêlit," grunted Gazil, a hairy chieftain from
the uplands of the river Hit, "did the merchant sell
herself, I'd buy, though the bargain stripped me to
the bone."

"Hush!" a nudging neighbor whispered.  "Be
sparing of thy tongue, lest Ninus serve thee as he
served yon Babylonian fool."

So Gazil held his peace, and Ninus looked in silence
on Semiramis.  In the mind of the King two spirits
warred for mastery; the one in anger at this prisoner
who escaped from Nineveh to defy his will, the other
unwilling admiration of her recklessness.

"And why," he asked, as he combed his beard,
"doth the merchant risk her head in a journey unto
Zariaspa?"

Semiramis regarded him with a look of childish
wonder wherein was mingled trust untouched by fear.

"Right well the lord of Assyria knoweth that I
come at his own command."

Now the King bad commanded no such thing, yet,
recalling how the Syrian's wits had befooled him in
the halls at Nineveh, he took council with himself lest
it chance again.

"Speak," he urged, with a cautious mien, "that
these my chiefs and friends may hear."

Semiramis bowed before him humbly and turned to
the listening men.

"My lords," she began, and looked on each in
turn, "far better than I might Ninus speak, for the
glory of this deed is his."  She paused an instant,
then spoke once more, her rich tones falling strangely
on the ears of those who heard.  "In a vision came
the King unto my side—a spirit in the godly robes
of Asshur and the hornéd cap of Bel.  'Arise,
Shammuramat,' he commanded, in a voice that rolled as
from afar; 'arise and seek through the hills of
Hindu-Kush for a wondrous secret hidden there—a
secret through which all Zariaspa feasteth long, while
Assyria must prowl, a hungry wolf outside its walls.'"

"Ah!" cried Ninus, leaping to his feet, "thou
knowest, then, whence cometh Zariaspa's store of food?"

"Aye," she answered, "but the spirit of the King
said more."  The monarch sank into his seat, and
she turned to the gaping chiefs: "'My spirit,'
spoke the spirit of the King, 'is heaven-born, yet my
flesh is mortal as all men know full well; so follow
thou where my spirit leadeth and sell this secret to my
mortal flesh for such a price as justice may demand.'"

The King looked up, a light of anger in his eyes;
but he curbed his speech, for he knew not what was
yet to come, and half a god was better far than being
proven not a god at all.

"Say on," he muttered, and Semiramis said on.
She wove a wondrous tale of magic and of myth, of
how the spirit led her through the gates of Nineveh
unseen; of how a steed awaited beyond the walls to
bear her on her way; of the arms and raiment found
upon its back, and its speed in passing through the
lands of enemies.

Now in these days the sons of Assyria were as
children whose minds were swayed by superstitious
fears; in demons they believed who thronged the earth
and air, the waters and the sky; so the words of
Semiramis were the words of truth to all save two,
who listened and were not deceived.  The one was the
King; the other Nakir-Kish, High Priest of the
Magi, a man of wisdom who stood apart with folded
arms, and smiled.  The Syrian marked his look of
ill-veiled jealousy, for she trod too close upon his
own dark rites to pass unchallenged; therefore she
sought to disarm an enemy ere the weapon of his
speech was raised.

"My lords," said she to the wondering chiefs,
"the tale is done.  As the spirit of Ninus led my
steps, so followed I and found; yet if there be one to
doubt my words, then let him ask of Nakir-Kish, by
whose high arts was the spirit of the King unleashed
and sent to me at Nineveh."

All eyes were turned upon Nakir-Kish who flushed
as the Syrian's shaft went home, for of a certainty he
stood in a grievous pass.  To deny would strip him
of a boasted power and cheat his magic of a splendid
deed; to confirm her words was but to mark him as
the ally of a liar; so the High Priest pondered for a
space and held his tongue.  Yet the chieftains waited,
so at last he strode to the center of their ring and
raised his arms.

"'Tis even as she telleth," he cried aloud, and
Semiramis smiled, with the air of one who
conquers Kings; then Ninus arose and spoke:

"Peace, Nakir-Kish!  It is not meet that our
works be heralded abroad.  Let the woman tell of
the Bactrians' store-house hidden from our mortal
eyes."

The Syrian shook her head.

"My lord," she made reply, "'tis true the merchant
selleth wares, yet the merchant hath a price."

"Name it," growled the King.  "If thy words
be true, I give a chariot's weight in gold; if
false—beware!"

"Nay, radiant one," she smiled, "is Shammuramat
a thief?  One chariot I ask—of wood and brass—with
a man to drive me whither and when I will."

"Granted," agreed the King.  "Choose chariot,
steeds, and charioteer, but in the name of Nebo tell us
quickly of what we yearn to know."

"Wait!" said Semiramis.  "My bargain must
first be sealed.  As to steeds, I care not, so be they
sound in wind and limb; yet as to him who driveth, is
of greater moment to my sale."

She turned to the listening warriors, then paused
to laugh again, for half a score of men stepped
forward, eager to drive her, though the road be laid
through Gibil's smoking gates.

It is ill to tweak a King's impatient mood, yet this
the Syrian dared to do, knowing right well the price
Assyria would pay to call proud Bactria slave;
therefore she paid no heed to Ninus, but wrought with his
chieftains, smiling, conscious of her power.

"Nay, friends, 'tis I whose pride is roused at
thought of riding forth with valiant men of war.
Each—all—I love ye, for your strength, your
loyalty to him who leadeth, who by his wisdom
conquereth the world; yet one alone may drive my
chariot, and he—"

"Prince Menon!" cried Nakir-Kish, seeking to
win a friend where he dare not make an enemy, and
Semiramis turned and bowed before the King.

The monarch frowned, and for a space he pondered,
weighing the value of the Syrian's knowledge
against the measure of his royal pride; yet it came
to him that her arts had left him but a single path,
for in her secret lay the nation's welfare and the
King's.  His chieftains plotted treason, while the
army trembled between revolt and loyalty, wavering,
waiting for a leader's cry to plunge them headlong
into open war—a war at which the Bactrians would
laugh aloud in very joy.  Peace, then, the Syrian
offered—peace and victory—her price the
forgiveness of a single man.  Forgiveness!  It was
galling to the King, yet, where a King drinks gall,
it were well that he drain his goblet with a smile, as
though the draught lay sweet upon his tongue; therefore
Ninus smiled, rising to speak in a voice which all
might hear:

"Listen, my children.  Long have I yearned to
take Prince Menon to my heart; yet, because of
stubbornness, he sitteth upon his mound, devoured
by spleen.  If now he would once more call himself
my son, a father will bid him welcome, even as he
welcometh a daughter in Shammuramat."

At this a mighty shout went up, and the Syrian's
great eyes filled with tears.  She fell upon her knees
and would have pressed her lips to the monarch's
hand, but Ninus raised her and kissed her upon the
mouth.

Then before them all Semiramis told her tale of
the water-way beneath the hills; of the cleft in the
cliffs on the further side where the Bactrians damned
a mountain stream, raising the waters to the height
desired.  She told of the outposts guarding this
secret round about, while through the fertile lands an
army of hunters combed the forests and the fields
for game; this game to be borne to the hidden cleft
and loaded on barges, whence it floated through the
bowels of the earth unto waiting Zariaspa.

"And thus," cried Semiramis, "cometh food to our
hated enemies—stores and a flow of sweet, cool
water, when Assyria must sit outside the walls,
unconquering, hungered and athirst."

She ceased, and silence lay within the royal tent,
silence save for the sound of heavy breathing and,
anon, a gasp of wonderment; yet, presently, the
High Priest Nakir-Kish strode forth, with the aim
of sharing in the Syrian's fame.  He raised his
naked arms, a light of battle in his eyes, his voice a
tempest charged with the fires of prophecy:

"Glory to Asshur, lord of all the lords! for on
the spirit-tongue of Ninus is chanted Zariaspa's song
of death!  Harken, ye chiefs of proud Assyria, and
ye who follow at their heels!  This day your King
will lead ye o'er the peaks of Hindu-Kush, to crush
the foeman's strength, to destroy his store-house in
the mountain side, and fill the tunnel's mouth with
stones!  Up, Gazil!  Sound thy battle horn!
Collect thy swordsmen from the hills of Naïri and thy
slingers from the north!  Up, men of Babylon and
Nineveh, to follow where your King may lead, and
let your war-cry be—*Shammuramat*!"

The Syrian bowed low, yet even as the chieftains
rose with her name in war-cry on their lips, she stayed
them with a lifted hand.

"Nay, lords," she laughed, "your mighty priest
hath offered but a jest, to test the temper of his dogs
in leash.  Bark not so loud, brave dogs, for none will
climb the mountain side this day."

At her daring speech, the High Priest Nakir-Kish
grew pale in wrath, and Ninus watched in silence,
knowing there was somewhat yet to come, while the
men-at-arms drew closer, in a circle of wonder and of
awe.

"What need to climb," the woman asked, "when
the master hath a fairer plan?"

"Say on," commanded Ninus, cautiously, and
Semiramis turned her back upon Nakir-Kish.

"My lord," she spoke, "'tis not in thy mind to
cross the mountain range and tumble stones into the
tunnel's throat, for thereby this great supply of
food will cease.  Rather would the King go forth
and dig till he find this sunken river-bed; and then,
when the laden boats come down, their stores shall
fill the stomach of Assyria, while Zariaspa looketh
on with curses at our feast.  This, then, is the
thought in the mind of Ninus, for the mind of the
King is wise."

She ceased, and once more silence fell.  The
chieftains cast their eyes upon the earth, nudging one
another slyly, while the High Priest glowered and
spoke no word.  King Ninus was likewise silent for a
space, yet presently his great beard trembled beneath
his fingers, as he gazed at the woman leaning on her
spear; then he burst into a roar of laughter, taking
her hand as he might the hand of a brother and a King.

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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!"





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.. _`WHO RULETH, FIRST MUST RISE`:

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   CHAPTER XXII


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   WHO RULETH, FIRST MUST RISE

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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.

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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."





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.. _`THE SIEGE`:

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   CHAPTER XXIII


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   THE SIEGE

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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.

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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.





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.. _`THE CITADEL`:

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   CHAPTER XXIV


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   THE CITADEL

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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.

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When darkness fell, great braziers of oil and fat
were lighted in the hall of the conquered citadel, and
there the King made feast in honor of his victory.
Beside him sat Menon and Semiramis, on whom the
monarch looked with a look of love, hiding his flaming
jealousy in smiles.  Beyond them sat the brave
Prince Asharal, on whom King Ninus also smiled,
with a devil of hatred clawing at his heart.  So the
feast went on and on, and joy was rife throughout
Assyria and Babylon.

When the wine was half consumed, and when beasts
and captives had been slain in sacrifice of Asshur, then
Ninus arose and spoke concerning the splendor of all
things which had come to pass.  To those deserving
praise, he praised without stint of measure, promising
such reward as the treasures of plundered Bactria
might yield; yet Menon he set in honor above the
rest.  He bade his warriors look upon this man as the
son of Ninus—son of his loins and heart—who
would henceforth share in the stress of war and the
rule of the King's dominion over men.

"For who," he cried, "shall sit upon Assyria's
throne if Ninus, perchance, be gathered to his fate?"

A silence fell throughout the hall, and each man
looked upon his fellow, wondering.  Semiramis, too,
sat silent, her eyes fast fixed upon the master's face,
striving to read his hidden heart, even as a seeker
after truth may scan a graven lie upon a monument.

So the feast, at last, was done, and each man
sought his rest, the King to toss upon his couch and
plan a war of craft, while Semiramis, because of a
wounded knee, was borne in the arms of Menon to his
tent, and slept from weariness.

The feast was done; yet within the stricken city's
gates another feast was made—a feast of horror—for
the victors fell to plundering far and wide, seeking
for wine and blood, for hidden gold, for jewels—and
for those who wore the gems.

As Fate has written, women must ever shed the
tears of war; so now they were hunted from home to
home, to fall a prey to the brutish lust of conquerors.
Some shrieked for mercy, and received it not; some
slew themselves and passed to judgment undefiled;
while others still would smile on being comforted.
The feast, at least, was done.  A red moon hung
above the peaks of Hindu-Kush, and dipped into the
gloom.  A stillness fell on stricken Zariaspa, for the
gods of mercy sent it sleep.  Anon, the stillness
broke to the howling of a dog, or the rustle of some
wounded warrior who crawled from out the shadows
in search of a cooler spot whereon to die.





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.. _`SHIFTING THE BURDEN`:

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   CHAPTER XXV


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   SHIFTING THE BURDEN

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The High Priest Nakir-Kish was summoned to
an audience with the King, and was bade to
bear a sacred fowl for the manifestation of an
augury; so he went forthwith and came upon his
master, alone and seated on the throne of Oxyartes, with
a naked sword across his knees.  The High Priest
marveled at the strangeness of this thing, but held
his peace, bending his knee and asking in what
manner he might serve his gracious lord.

Ninus for a space sat silent, combing at his beard,
his black brows drawn into a knot above his nose;
then, suddenly, he spoke:

"May a King do homage to a dog?"

The priest stepped back a pace; he passed a hand
across his eyes, in the fear that, mayhap, he
dreamed; but the King spoke on:

"Shall the lord of Assyria keep covenant with a
barking beast, whose mind is such that an oath is
naught to him?"

Then Nakir-Kish divined.  His master would shift
the burden of an evil deed, even though he set it on
the shoulders of the gods; therefore the High Priest
answered cunningly:

"Nay, lord, in matters concerning the King alone,
there is one endowed by birth and mind to best
interpret them—thyself."

"Not so!" cried Ninus, "for the fate of others is
woven in the skein.  As my deeds of arms are wrought
for the glory of Asshur and the lesser gods, so, then,
must the gods point out my way when their servant
wandereth in the mists of doubt."  He paused, then
spoke again, as an humble traveller who had lost his
path: "Heed, Nakir-Kish, and lend me aid.  The
first to stand a conqueror upon the citadel was
Habal—and Habal is but a dog.  Shall Habal take
Shammuramat to wife?  Not so!  One oath is thus
dissolved."

"Aye," spoke the priest, "but who was next to
stand with Habal on the summit of the citadel?"

"Menon!" breathed the King, in smothered wrath.
"Menon to whom I swore a second oath and gave him
this Syrian for his own."

The High Priest shook his head.

"'Twould seem," he ventured, "that one covenant
dissolved would bind its maker's faith to the second
covenant, and thereby lift the troublous mists of
doubt."

"True," the monarch nodded; "true, to the feeble
mind of man; yet, mayhap, in the judgment of the
gods, this matter hath a deeper trend.
Shammuramat, not Menon, was the conqueror; and albeit
he stood before me on the citadel, his vantage was won
by trickery!—by his servant who cast me down the
stairs, in the cause of his master's evil selfishness!"

King Ninus paused again, and his fingers, which
had squeezed the breath from Kedha, combed gently
at his beard, then dropped to the sword across his
knees.

"Heed, Nakir-Kish; rive open thy sacred bird,
and in its entrails seek an answer to my questionings."

So the High Priest wrought his master's will; yet
the while he pondered, seeking some nook of wisdom
wherein to hide himself.  He slew the sacred crane
and opened it; he plucked three downy feathers and,
giving each a name, dropped them into the carcass,
then bound the whole with a silken cord.  Head
downward he held the crane, and by its slender legs he
swung it in mystic circles before the King, then laid
it at last upon an altar-stone.  When the carcass
once more was opened, two feathers lay curled in a
close embrace, while the third was lost to sight, and
the cheek of the High Priest paled.

"Read!" breathed Ninus; yet Nakir-Kish stood
silent, casting a troubled gaze upon the floor.  The
King stretched forth a hand and pointed to the bird;
and in that moment the High Priest knew that an
augury of truth was but an augury of death.  The
master made no threat by word of tongue, yet slid his
fingers down the edge of a naked sword, as he looked
on the warm brown throat of Nakir-Kish—and smiled.

The trembling priest said naught.  His brain
swam round and round, and a mist of fear arose
before his eyes, for the feather which bore the name of
Ninus had disappeared in the entrails of the
slaughtered crane.

"Speak!" growled the King, and the pale priest
lifted up his voice and spoke, though he spoke in
shame:

"*Prince Menon shall pass from the sight of those
who love him best! ........... The lord of the world
will claim his own—and take Shammuramat—to wife!*"

He ceased, and the King sat pondering, with fingers
that combed his beard in a feather-touch; then the
High Priest gathered up the sacred crane and went
his way.  On the burning sands he strode, in the
glare of a molten sun, seeking to free his spirit from
the shadow of a lie.

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The King sat pondering.  Unto him came a trusted
spy with word that in the mountains of Hindu-Kush
was gathered a mighty force of Bactrians, those who
had escaped from Zariaspa and from the lesser cities
round about.  The monarch harkened to these tidings
with a bounding heart, for in his brain an evil
plan was born.  Desiring to hold the secret of the
Bactrian force, he spoke no word of it to any man,
and put the spy to death; then mounting his chariot,
he drove to the tent of Menon and Semiramis.  Here
he came upon them, the Syrian resting upon a couch
of skins, by reason of her wounded knee, while Menon
sat beside her on the ground.

The monarch greeted them, and with them held a
secret council, setting forth the expedients of war.
King Oxyartes he would make an ally to Assyria's
might, when the scattered Bactrians had been
subdued and the terms of treaty were thereby cheapened
for the conquerors.  Concerning Zariaspa, he would
not destroy it, but would set a governor within its
walls and keep it as a stronghold in the East.
Therefore he begged that Semiramis would lead a force of
twenty thousand warriors across the mountains, seizing
upon the source of the hidden river-course, lest
the Bactrians choke the cleft with stones and cheat
the city of its water and its food.

Right gladly would Semiramis have wrought this
deed, yet because of her wound she might not scale
the mountains steeps; so, sorrowing at the idleness of
many days to come, she offered her servant Huzim as
a guide.  The King demurred.  It was not meet, he
said, that a slave should win the glory of so great a
thing; yet since Semiramis and the Indian alone
might point the way, he would suffer Huzim to lead
the army hence.  So thus it was agreed, and, after
discoursing on other weighty matters of the time,
Ninus went forth and once more mounted to his
chariot.

Now it chanced that when the King was gone
Semiramis held council with her lord, and in that
council wrought more woe unto herself than in all her
other days since she lay, a deserted babe, among the
rocks of Ascalon.

"Menon," said she, "'tis well that thou and I bask
always in the light of uncommon things.  Mayhap
our works may oft' times fret the King to jealousy;
yet, even so, we win the homage of Assyria and Babylon.
Go, therefore, thyself and, leaving Huzim here
to guard my tent, point out the way to the Bactrians'
secret place."

"Nay," sighed Menon, "how, then, shall I mark
a trail through the hills of Hindu-Kush when the
way thereof is hidden and unknown to me?"

Semiramis laughed aloud.  Through the open
tent she pointed to a cleft which split two mountain
peaks in twain:

"Climb yonder and pass between, then journey
down the further slope till the second mountain stream
is reached; hunt northward toward its source, and the
foam-tongued waters will shout thy way, even as
hounds lift up their song on the quarry's trail."  She
paused to laugh again: "In truth, King Ninus is
of little wisdom, else to him I might have pointed out
this open path, even as I point it out to thee."

Prince Menon looked upon his wife and smiled,
then dispatched a messenger to Ninus, begging to lead
the army over Hindu-Kush; but the King refused.
Then Menon went himself before the master,
beseeching that this honor might be his, and setting
forth such argument that the King at last was
moved, albeit he gave consent reluctantly; so Menon,
rejoicing, went out from the presence of his lord and
came again unto Semiramis.

Yet when he was gone, the King sat pondering
on his throne, combing at his beard with a feather-touch,
rejoicing, even as the younger man rejoiced.
Full well he knew that the fastness of the hills now
swarmed with Bactria's fighting-men.  Full well he
knew that this horde of warriors, driven from their
cities and their homes, would watch from commanding
heights and fall upon Menon with the fury of a lion
brought to bay.  And thus would the master send
him forth to die, even as in after days King David of
the Jews sent forth the husband of Bathsheba to
perish on the spear-points of the sons of Ammon.

And because of these things, the lord of all the
world sat pondering on his throne, combing at his
beard with a feather-touch—rejoicing—for now
in truth would he set the burden of his sin on the
shoulders of the gods.

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When darkness descended Menon lashed his armor
on and bade farewell to his wife Semiramis.  He
smiled in parting, yet she, because of a haunting
whisper-ghost of fear, clung tightly to her lord with
her round, warm arms and warmer lips, setting about
his neck a leathern thong whereon hung a little fish
of malachite—the same which had befooled the
eunuch Kishra and brought her in safety out of Nineveh.

"See," she whispered, "'tis a charm which we of
Syria wear, averting evil and bringing back a
cherished one unto those who love him best.  Wear, then,
my charm, as I will ever wear the garment of thy
love, for if thou comest not back to me, ah, Menon
mine, the joy of the world is but as a cup of water
spilled."

So Menon held his woman to his breast and looked
into the heart-pools of her eyes—looked and was
gone—on a road of darkness wherein he would grope
for a cherished one in vain, and fling his cries of
anguish at a throne of unlistening gods.





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.. _`THE PASSING OF A MAN`:

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   CHAPTER XXVI


.. class:: center medium

   THE PASSING OF A MAN

.. vspace:: 2

King Ninus took council within himself, and was
afraid.  Menon, he knew full well, was a seasoned
warrior, one who even from the ashes of defeat
would oft' times snatch a brand of victory.  What
if he won to the Bactrians' secret-place and returned
unscathed?  He would thereby add more glory to his
name and bring his master's design to naught.
Nay, Menon must pass from the sight of those who
loved him best!  What chance, the like of this, might
again arise, and when?  Mayhap the lord of the
world must wait—alone—for the waning of many
moons, while Menon lay nightly at the side of
Semiramis—and the thought was not to be endured.  By
the spirit of Shamashi-Ramân, the spirit of this man
must pass!

And yet King Ninus pondered, tossed back and
forth by passion and the haunting whisper-ghost of
fear.  Then he lifted his head and laughed.  It was
not meet that the lord of all Assyria should whine at
the altar stone of circumstance.

"Therefore," he reasoned within himself, "will I
twist the tail of chance; for when the steed of Doubt
be saddled, mount him, lest a rider be left behind."

So it came to pass that Menon, ere he led the army
forth, was summoned before the King, and found him
seated in the hall of Oxyartes, attended by Neb and
Ura, two tongueless eunuchs of giant frame and
knotted thews, whom Ninus had brought from the land of
the Lower Nile.  At right and left of the royal seat
they stood, awaiting the master's nod—a nod which
would be obeyed, though it asked the slaying of an
enemy or destruction to themselves; yet Ninus gave
no sign to them as Menon bowed before the throne.
It had come to the King, in thought, that by
plucking his rival's wife from out his arms and sending
him to death, mayhap the wrath of the goddess
Ishtar might work an evil unto him who wrought the
deed; therefore it were wise that Menon yield to the
master's will, though consent be won by bribery or
the torture-chain.  So Ninus smiled, and spoke in a
voice of honey mixed with oil:

"Son of my heart, it hath come to me that our
needs demand a King in the land of Syria; and
because of thy deeds will I set thee up, to
reign in plenty, bringing glory to thy house and
name."

Menon looked upon his master, marveling; yet at
his heart suspicion came a-knocking, even as a runner
speeds by night to sound alarm from door to door.
He feared, yet knelt before his lord and spoke in
gratitude; then, rising at last, he took the bit of
chance between his teeth, and asked:

"Who, lord, shall follow me to Syria and there
remain?"

And Ninus answered him and said:

"An army of chosen warriors to hedge thee in safety
round about—my daughter Sozana to sit beside thee
on a throne."

A silence fell.  Each looked into the other's eyes,
in measure of the final cast; then Menon spoke a single
word in answer:

"No!"

Again fell silence, till the monarch's cloak of
gentleness was pealed away, leaving him a brutish ruler
over men—a ruler naked in his flame of power—before
whose passion the passions of lesser men must
be consumed and die.

"Heed well," he cried, and pointed a finger,
trembling in spite of will, "'tis better far to sit a
throne in Syria than to rot and be forgotten in the
hills of Hindu-Kush.  Choose, then, to live or die!
Choose now, for I tell thee this: though the arch of
heavens fall, Shammuramat shall be thy wife no
more—but mine!"

For answer Menon set one foot upon the dais of
the throne, and, curving his spine, struck fiercely with
a doubled fist.  It sank into the monarch's beard, and
deeper, to the cruel mouth beneath; whereat King
Ninus reeled, and the great dim hall spun round and
round in a misty smear of light.  Then Menon's
sword came rasping from its sheath, for he, too,
looked through a blinding mist, though the mist was
red; yet ere he could smite, the eunuchs Neb and Ura
fell upon him, dragging him to the floor where they
bound his wrists with thongs.

The King arose, though leaning dizzily against his
throne.  He wiped a blood stain from his wounded
lips and spoke, in a voice which was strangely calm:

"Bear me this dog to a chamber beneath the
citadel and nail him to the wall!"

So the eunuch Neb went out and cleared the
passage-ways of all who lolled therein, while Ura
covered Menon with a cloak and bore him on his back to
a distant chamber where the city cisterns were.  Here
they stripped him of his armor and of all he wore
besides, even to the little fish of malachite; then, deaf
to his curses, they pierced his hands and feet and
nailed him against the wall, where he hung in agony.

When this was accomplished Ninus came to view
his handiwork.  He looked and his heart was glad,
for now no more would this man rise up to steal his
fruits of passion or of power.

"Heed," spoke he; "renounce Shammuramat for
evermore, and I lift thee from the nails and heal thy
wounds."  Menon made no answer, and presently the
master spoke again: "To fling away thy life is but
the deed of a mindless fool, for I swear by the breath
of Asshur thine eyes shall look no more upon Shammuramat!"

"Liar!" cried Menon, and laughed in scorn—laughed,
though a sweat of anguish dripped down
upon his breast; and the laughter enraged the King.

With his fingers he touched his eyes; touched, too,
the dagger in his girdle and made a sign to the
eunuch Neb.  Two thrusts, and the brain of Menon
wandered on a darkened road; then Ninus looked up
and mocked at the man impaled upon the wall.

"Who now," he asked, "will look upon Shammuramat? and
who shall say that the lord of Assyria
speaketh falsely, even to a fool?"

He ceased; then Menon raised his drooping head
and cursed his King in prophecy:

"Thou spawn of hell!  Laugh now in my hour
of tears!  Rejoice, ere the hand of reckoning shall
draw thy taunting tongue!  Thou hast slain my
heart and let my body live!  Slay, thou, the body,
also, but the spirit thou cans't not slay!  'Twill come
to thee, this spirit, watching at thy couch and board,
watching through thy huntings and thy wars—through
days of waking and the nights of troubled
sleep!  'Twill bay thy trail of blood and lead the
hounds of Ishtar to their kill!  Laugh, then, O lord
of lies, and wait for Menon!  Wait!"

The shrill voice ceased to ring throughout the
chamber, and he who cried in prophecy hung limp
and speechless from the nails.  The eunuchs crouched,
trembling, at the master's feet, and the master, also,
was afraid.  Nor man nor beast he feared, yet if a
spirit rode upon his soul, full well he knew that the
steed would race for Gibil's smoking stalls; so the
King took council within himself whereby to cheat a
ghostly rider of his mount.

"In truth," he mused, "if Menon liveth, his spirit
may not wander from its outer shell; and if it there
remain, how, then, shall it follow me, with a nose of
vengeance snuffling at my trail?  Again, should the
woman accuse me of his death, right well may I swear
a guiltless oath while his life be still his own."

Thus mused Ninus and washed his conscience of a
stain, then turned to his eunuchs in a sharp command:

"Lift ye this man from the nails upon the wall;
restore his breath with water from the cisterns, and
his strength with wine.  Bring garments wherewith
to warm his flesh, and a salve to heal his wounds.
Guard ever this doorway, bearing food and drink, for
I charge ye that his body must not die, but live."

So the King came up from under the under-chambers
of the citadel and caused a thousand torches
to be set aflame; yet, even in the glare of burning
pitch, a shadow seemed to haunt him, with a
low-hung muzzle snuffling at his heels.

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From the city gates went twenty thousand
warriors, and in the van a spy whose name was
Akki-Bul, a man who knew the hills of Hindu-Kush and
would lead an army hence.  Why, he fathomed not,
yet wore the armor of a chieftain and his sword, a
chieftain's nether garments, while about his neck,
from a leathern thong, hung a charm of carven
malachite.  So, pondering upon the strangeness of
these things, proud Akki-Bul went forth to spy the
way, ten spear lengths in advance of those who
followed after him.

Through the opening in her tent Semiramis
watched an army steal across the plain and disappear
into a valley's dip; then she slept, to dream of her
home in Ascalon, of Dagon's lake, of the creatures
that swim therein, and of Menon—with a little green
fish of malachite that nestled against his heart.

In a chamber beneath the citadel lay a sorely
stricken man.  In fever and pain he lay, and cried
aloud to the far, unlistening gods.  With tortured
hands he groped on a darkened road and found no
staff wherewith to feel his way.  His book of light was
closed; the water from his cup had spilled, and the
glory of the world was gray.

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The morning mists came writhing from their
valley-beds, and the Hindu-Koh loomed red through an
opal haze.  A drowsing desert shrank from the heat
to come, and the world awoke and yawned.

Now those who watched from the city wall, looked
westward and were amazed, for down the hill-slopes
came a swarm of warriors, fleeing as from the
unclean boggards of an under-world; and after them ran
other men, smiting with sword and shaft, till the
shreds of a death-torn army came streaming across
the plain.  They poured through the city gate,
choking it with the inrush of a bawling crew, while many
fell panting, in the shadow of the wall; then Ninus,
roused by a signal of alarm, drove, raging, into the
press.  Half clad, he leaned from his rocking chariot,
lashing at all who came within his reach, cursing the
cowardice of men who brought a shame to Assyria's
King.

Semiramis, too, awoke, and at the clamour of
retreating men, her blood ran chill and she trembled for
her lord.  In haste she clothed herself, unmindful of
her wounded knee, and limped to the city gates.  She
yearned to question each passer-by, and dared not,
because of a terror clawing at her heart; so the daughter
of Derketo crouched in a shadow of the wall, with
parching tongue and hunted eyes, waiting, listening
for the tidings which would blight the glory of her
world.

King Ninus marked her coming, yet gave no sign,
for now he had a part to play, wherein he would
befool the craftiest of women to whom the gods had
given breath and brain.  He called aloud for Menon,
but no answer came, nor were there any knowing aught
of him since the rout began; so Ninus reviled them,
swearing vengeance on all who had left their chieftain
to perish among the hills.  He gave command that a
mighty force make ready for attack against the
Bactrians, a force which he himself would lead, in
search for Menon, held prisoner or dead; then, wheeling
his chariot, drove swiftly to the citadel; and there,
as he lashed his armor on, he chuckled joyously, for
a lion had learned the wisdom of a fox.

From the shadow of the wall Semiramis groped her
way toward her tent, numb, tearless, and with a sense
of wonder at the strangeness of her grief.  She
seemed to look in pity, from afar, on this silent thing
who set a helm upon her flaming locks and a breast-plate
on a breast which now was dead.  So the one
Semiramis watched the other make ready for a journey
into Hindu-Kush; she saw the silent one take up her
hunting spear, mount on her chariot and drive to the
city gate, where she-waited, shivering, in the glory of
a summer sun.

When the King came forth to find her waiting
there, his heart misgave him, for if Semiramis chanced
to find the body of Akki-Bul in Menon's armor, then
in truth would the crust of Gibil's pit be lifted from
its fires.  Therefore he sought to dissuade her will,
saying that he himself would accomplish all things,
while she remained at rest till her wound was healed;
yet to his pleadings she answered naught, for to her
his words were meaningless and like unto the idle
whisperings of rain drops as they fell.  She stood
upon her chariot, gazing in silence out toward the
prison of the hills which hid her lord, and waited for
Assyria to move.

Then the King, in secret, gave command to all who
followed him that if any came upon Menon's body or
the armor which he wore, no word of it should reach
Semiramis, because of her consuming grief; and those
who loved her, promised, and the army marched across
the plains of Bactria.

To Semiramis came the faithful Huzim with a
whispered word of hope.  He seated her on the
chariot's floor and took the reins, while after them
trotted Habal, for the dog, perchance, might lead
the seekers where the cunning of man would falter
on the trail.  When the foot-hills were reached the
chariot was left behind; Semiramis rode an unharnessed
steed which Huzim led, and the toil of ascent began.

And now the slopes of Hindu-Kush awoke to the
din of strife, for the hill rocks swarmed with
Bactria's fighting-men who loosened great stones upon
the climbers, or smote them with down-flung spears
and whistling shafts; and even as the voice of battle
woke, so woke Semiramis from the slumber of her
grief.  In her veins ran the blood of two great
passions which must ever rule the world—the passions
of love and war—begotten in the lust-lock of
Derketo and a battle-god.

Thus a child of passion went raging through the
hills of Hindu-Kush, and where she might not climb,
there Huzim bore her on his mighty back.  At her
side fought Asharal and the chiefs of Babylon, while
about them was ever set a ring of the men of Naïri,
those hairy mountaineers who sang as they battled;
yet now, because of Menon whom they loved, the
battle-chant was hushed upon their lips.

Upward they toiled, through valley and defile
smiting their Bactrian enemies on every hand,
pursuing them from crag to crag, or cutting off retreat;
and where the foeman hid away in caverns, they were
smoked therefrom and slain.  So Assyria came at
last to the mountain-top, surged through the pass
and swept the slopes beyond, coming by night to the
source of the hidden river-bed, while the Bactrians
fled to the forest lands beyond, hiding in swampy
glades where Ninus might not follow them.

When morning was come and a force had been left
to guard the mouth of the river-bed, the Assyrian
army once more breasted the mountain slope, and on
the eastern side began a search for Menon, though the
task was great.  There were those who thought to
find the spot whence the first assault had come, yet, by
reason of the darkness which had made the marks on
the mountain side seem strange, they found it not;
nor might they trace it by the bodies of the slain, for
the second battle had strewn the rocky wastes with
dead, even as the field-man scatters grain.

For seven days the hunters combed the hills, while
the sun poured down in fury, and from the sky great
birds of prey descended to their feast; at approach
they would reel away in lazy flight, mocking the
seekers with discordant cries, then settle to some other
dread repast.  So the search went on in vain, and day
by day the spirits of Ninus rose, for, if Semiramis
came not upon the corpse of Akki-Bul, the monarch's
treachery would lie forever with the lost; then came
to pass a happening which fitted the King's desire,
even as a sword may slide into its sheath.

The good dog Habal had hunted with his mistress
and her slave, yet found no scent to lead them on their
quest; and now as he snuffled along the edge of a
precipice his footing gave beneath him, and, clawing
at the loosened stones, the dog went whirling down
into the depth below.  As he fell, Semiramis cried
out in pain and grief, for Habal she loved, with a
love which woman only may fathom or understand.
Sorrowing, she commanded Huzim to descend into the
rift to learn if a spark of life remained within her
dog; so the Indian went down.

The way was grievous, and at the bottom he was
forced to stone away a flock of noisome vulture-birds;
then he came upon Habal with the breath of
life dashed out of him.  The Indian stooped, yet
paused in stark amaze, for the dead dog lay beside
the body of a man—a man who wore Prince Menon's
armor and his broken helm; yet, because of heat and
the beaks of birds, none now might see therein a
semblance of the hapless Akki-Bul.  Thus it seemed that,
even in his death, a faithful beast had led his loved
ones on the trail of the master whom he loved.

So Huzim climbed up to Semiramis, and, sorrowing,
gave into her hand Prince Menon's sword, together
with a little green fish of malachite suspended
on a leathern thong; and, seeing these things, her
wails of anguish echoed throughout the hills, for now
she knew in truth that her lord would come to her no
more.

She would have clambered down to him, but Huzim
dissuaded her, saying that the steeps would cause her
wound to open; and again, it were better that she hold
the memory of her lord in life than to look upon
this rotting thing below.  So Huzim, with Asharal
and the men of Naïri, descended into the rift
and left Semiramis weeping on the lip of the precipice.

They dug a grave and laid therein the body of
Akki-Bul, dropping their tears upon it in the name
of Menon, Prince of the house of Naïri; and with
him they buried Habal, as every faithful dog would
yearn to sleep, with his paws and muzzle resting on a
master's breast.  Above, among the rocks, a thousand
warriors watched, grim sons of battle and of blood,
yet children now in the grip of unselfish grief.
Semiramis they loved, because of the glory of the
woman's flesh and the glory of her deeds; her
sorrows were even as their sorrows, so their hearts were
sad within them, and they wept.

Then down the mountain side went the army of Assyria,
to the foot-hills and across the hot brown plains,
coming at last to the city of Zariaspa; and in the
lead went Ninus, a chant of mourning on his lips, a
song of passion in his heart.

Throughout the day Semiramis lay within her tent
as one who is stricken by a sword, and Huzim sat
beside her, cooling her brows with water, and driving
the fever from her wound with ointment and pounded
herbs.  At evening came the King, with words of
gentleness, mourning with her at the double loss of
Menon and her shepherd dog; but she answered him
and said:

"Nay, lord, mourn not because of Habal, for in
his death the gods let fall a dew of comfort and of
peace.  In the rimless fields of the over-world my
Menon is not alone, for Habal's spirit hunteth at his
master's side."

Now if this thought brought peace unto Semiramis,
no peace it brought unto the King, for his cheek went
pale beneath his beard.  Since Menon had hung upon
the wall and cursed him, swearing to lead the hounds
of Ishtar on his trail, a dog was a dread abomination
in his sight—a thing to bay his memory and patter
after him on ghostly feet.

When night was come he tossed upon his couch in
troubled dreams, watching a ghoulish army trail
across the sky.  Spirits they were of those he had sent
to perish in the hills of Hindu-Kush; and in their lead
flew Menon's spirit—with the spirit of a dog in
leash.  And the King awoke and caused his torches
to be lit.





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   CHAPTER XXVII


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   A PATH WHICH LED TO ITS STARTING POINT

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King Ninus now rested from his war and disposed
of the affairs of state.  He sealed a treaty with
Oxyartes whereby all Bactria lay subject to Assyria's
rule, each city paying yearly tribute to the King.
King Oxyartes he took unto himself as a brother-chief,
and in Zariaspa set up as Governor of Tax a
man whose name was Tiglath-Shul, a chieftain who
would likewise hold a force of warriors in command
of the city wall.

When this was accomplished, Ninus brought before
him the eunuchs Neb and Ura, and charged them to
guard the prison door of Menon, suffering none to
enter or learn the name of him who lay therein.
Likewise he whispered in the ear of Tiglath-Shul,
saying that a Bactrian hostage was being held in the
keep below, and the head of a certain Governor would,
mayhap, be forfeit for those who meddled in the
King's affairs.  Therefore the Governor took
council with himself, refrained from prying, and set a
blight on all who were overcurious.  Then Ninus,
when other weighty matters had been put in order,
commanded that the armies of Assyria depart on the
homeward way.

Once more the marching host like a monster
serpent crawling through the dust, crept upward among
the hills, through the Pass of the Wedge now strewn
with whitening bones, and down the rugged slopes
beyond; through forest-lands and the countries of
those who dwelt among the rocks, through Media
ripening for a conquest by the King; scaling the
Zagros mountains, and coming at last unto Arbela
where the army sat down in weariness.

Throughout the journey Semiramis lay within her
litter, holding speech with none save Huzim who ever
sat on guard, while the King, albeit he yearned for a
sight of her, restrained his ardor till her term of
mourning passed and her grief had spent itself.

"Because," he mused, "a fruit hath life so long
as it hangeth on its mother-branch.  But once may this
fruit be plucked—no more; take, therefore, heed lest
in plucking we find it green."

So the lion persevered in the wisdom of the fox and
broke not upon the seclusion of Semiramis; then, after
a rest of twenty days, the army left Arbela, marched
northward across the river Zab and thence to the
eastern gate of Nineveh; and at their coming the
people flocked to the city walls, with songs of
rejoicing for the conquerors, with love-lit eyes for those
who returned to waiting homes, with hunted eyes
that watched in vain for others who slept in the vales
of Hindu-Kush.  Thus it came to pass that Nineveh
was rent with joy and tears; for where the thousands
wept into the ashes of their hearths, the tens of
thousands steeped their hearts in wine, and laughed.
Laughter and tears, entwined in a close embrace, for
the joy of a man is ever his neighbor's woe.

In the palace of the King there was likewise joy,
much feasting and the dance of timbril-girls; then
Ninus, in the gardens, came upon Sozana and Memetis
who together had dwelt in happiness since the eunuch
Kishra ran afoul of fate.  An infant had been born
to them, so Ninus tore his beard in wrath and gave his
daughter in wedlock to the man; albeit he would have
surely slain the Egyptian had Semiramis not pleaded
mightily.

"Heed," said she, "what profit in this deed of
blood?  What promise in a babe left fatherless?  See
what a sturdy little warrior, who, as Asshur liveth,
hath the eye of Ninus and his very nose!"

Thus the wrath of the King grew less, as the wrath
of man must ever grow beneath the soothing subtleties
of a woman's tongue.  Then Semiramis shut herself
within her chamber, communing with none save Sozana
and the child; and thus through the life of seven
moons she mourned for Menon, sitting by day in the
garden's shade, or at night on the palace roof, seeking
for peace in the rays of Ishtar and her sister stars.

Now Ninus, who loved her, grew impatient of her
grief, and sought by every art to contrive a wakening
therefrom, yet in every pleasure set for her he failed;
then came a time when he must journey in India to seal
a covenant with that country's King.  So he
summoned Huzim who was born of that land where the
Indus runs, and spoke unto him, saying:

"Thy mistress pineth, dreaming in regret of things
which even the high god Asshur may not mend.
Plead, therefore, with Shammuramat, urging that she
follow with Sozana in my train, and, perchance, the
wonders of thy native land may rouse her from her
sorrows and her lethargy."

The Indian bowed before the King and promised,
then sought his mistress in the gardens on the mound.
He found her, seated beside the fountain's pool,
feeding the fishes that swam therein, while in her hand
she held another fish—a little green thing of carven
malachite suspended on a leathern thong.  This
saddened Huzim, yet he spoke to her concerning India,
of the marvels of its mighty river and the game
abounding on its marshy banks; he told her of other
game, strange beasts that made their lairs within
the jungle where hunters followed after them on the
backs of other beasts; and as he spoke, the eyes of
Huzim glowed in joy and his muscles quivered, even as
the muscles of a battle-steed, for he yearned for his
native land, and his hope ran high that his mistress
might journey there.

Semiramis smiled in sadness, for she saw the hope in
her servant's heart, albeit she knew he would here
remain at Nineveh through all his days rather than
part from those he served.

"Ah, Huzim," she sighed, as she laid a hand upon
his mighty arm, "'tis even as my good lord Menon
spoke to me on many a day, for in all the world thou
art ever first in faith and love.  Go, therefore, unto
Ninus, saying that I, Shammuramat, wilt journey
in his train to the land of my faithful Huzim, where
the Indus runs and the sun is warm."

The servant wept in gladness, and would have
kissed her feet, but she raised him gently and bade
him seek the King; so Huzim went out from Semiramis,
rejoicing, with the half forgotten songs of
childhood bubbling beneath his tongue.

Thus it came to pass that in royal barges, manned
by boatmen of Phoenicia, King Ninus and his train
fared down the Tigris, even to the point of its
marriage with the Euphrates, and thence to the gulf
beyond; and throughout the journey Semiramis sat
apart with her tiring-maids, nor did the King pay
court to her, but minded his own affairs in the wisdom
of the fox.

At the gulf's head they left their barges and
climbed to the deck of a mighty ship which rocked
upon the waters till the King and all his court were
like to die of a sickness which came upon them; for
Assyrians ever hate the sea, and now their inwards
turned in riotous revolt.  The King himself was
assailed most grievously, for he groaned aloud in
anguish, beseeching his servants that they slay him and
have done with woe; yet the seizure passed at length,
and after many days the great ship came to rest upon
the Indus, while its two score oarsmen dropped among
their chains, and slept.

At the river's mouth King Khama met his royal
visitor, with much rejoicing and the beating of
wooden drums, and, after exchange of gifts and
courtesies, King Ninus and all his train were paddled in
bobbing reed-boats, till they came at last to Surya,
the City of the Sun; and here rare feasts were held
and the covenants of peace were duly sealed.

Then followed more feastings, with toothful dishes,
and a native wine which provokes the heart to mirth,
while before them came jugglers performing deeds of
prodigy, and madmen who mocked at death in a
snake-dance with the hooded cobra, till even Semiramis
was stirred to pleasure and amaze.

To those of Assyria were the sacred rites of India
made manifest in the temples of the fire-god Agni,
and of Indra who ruled the open skies, while priests
made offerings of the moon-plant's milk, and melted
butter which they set atrickle on the altar stones.  In
the fastness of the hills were viewed the shrines of the
devil gods, where the wild-eyed Khonds made sacrifice
to Siva the Destroyer, or to Kali, the goddess of dread
iniquities, whose necklace was a string of human
skulls.

When the guests were weary of sacred things, King
Khama took them hunting, whereat the heart of
Ninus rose from out the dust, while Semiramis smiled
as Huzim gave into her hand a spear and an oddly
fashioned bow.  Then for many days they trailed
through swamp and forest-land, slaying monsters in
the thickets along the river shores, or hunting tawny
jungle-beasts from the backs of elephants.  These
elephants, to Semiramis, were ever a wonder and a
joy, because of their strength and the wisdom in their
little eyes; yet to Ninus they brought no joy, for their
motion recalled the heavings of a ship and took away
his zest of life and of all things contained therein.
Therefore he bestrode a steed, or met his game on foot
and slew it in the glory of his strength.

Thus Semiramis awoke from her lethargy of grief,
and, albeit, she sorrowed still, her blood ran quickly
through her veins, while laughter rose upon her lips
and was not stayed; whereat the King was glad, and
in his gladness begged that she choose a gift from out
the riches of this marvelous land.  She pondered
thoughtfully, then voiced a desire so strange that
Ninus stared upon her and combed at his beard in
wonderment:

"My lord, I thank thee, and of thy bounty will ask
a thousand sheaves of reeds, with two score reeds in
every sheaf thereof."

Now on the river marshes grew these reeds, to a
heighth three times the stature of a man, and were
light of weight and strong; also their outer rind was
hard, so that fishermen fashioned boats of them, and
the water came not in.  Likewise, so plentiful they
were that a beggar might build him a house of reeds
and thatch his roof, or feed them to his fires.

Thus Semiramis chose a worthless seeming gift,
when she might have picked from the jewels of a
wonder-land, yet when Ninus questioned her concerning
the folly of her choice, she laughed and would tell
him nothing of her thoughts; so the thousand sheaves
of reeds were dispatched to Nineveh, though the labor
and the cost thereof was great.

And now came a final feast, with a parting from
India's King, and the train of Ninus faced its
homeward way; albeit they journeyed not upon a heaving
ship, for the master swore by the thunder of the gods
that nevermore would he rive his belly on a thrice
accursed sea.  Therefore they marched by land along
the coast, hunting much game as they fared at easy
pace, till they came again to the Tigris where the
boats awaited to bear them on to Nineveh.

As they journeyed slowly up this stream, the King
paid court unto Semiramis, but at first she would
answer nothing to his prayers.  With the death of
Menon her heart had died within her breast, and never
again could she look with love on any man; yet, since
the passion of love was spent, it left in her heart full
sweep for that other passion—the passion of
power—to wind the skein of destiny, or snap it as she
would.  She yearned to say unto a nation, Go! and
to another nation, Come!—to shape the ends of the
peoples of the earth—to cause them to bow into the
dust and worship one who could lift them up again.
How better then, could this passion of desire be
wrought than in mating with Assyria's lord?  To
barter one human body in exchange for dominion
over all the world!  True, Ninus drove the chariot
of state, yet she had but to whisper in the driver's ear
to turn the course of its plunging steeds.  If Ninus
held the reins, a woman held the lash—and, by the
smoke of Gibil, she would lay it on!

Thus dreamed Semiramis, while about her the
waters of the Tigris crooned their chant of mystery;
above, the great stars hung, and flung their burning
meteors across the sky; the marshes throbbed with the
drone of things invisible and though the gloom rose
the vast black walls of Nineveh.

Semiramis, weeping, clung still to a thread of
memory—a thread which stretched from a grave in the
Hindu-Kush to the steps of Assyria's throne; yet
strand by strand it parted, till at last it snapped, and
into the Tigris her trailing hand let fall a little
green fish of carven malachite.

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The great brown city woke to the thunder-throated
voice of festival; the princes of the world foregathered
there in honor of the King who would take Semiramis
to wife.  From every land they came, together with
their followers in arms, and Nineveh resounded with
the shoutings of foreign tongues.  In the temples on
every hill great fires were lit, and the nostrils of the
gods were filled with the smoke of sacrifice, while
Nakir-Kish and his swarm of under-priests slew flocks
of cranes and found in every one an omen of joy
unutterable.  Through the streets ran youths and
maidens twined with flowers, exchanging favors freely
in this gladsome hour when none need count the cost.
The warriors might quench their thirst at brimming
tubs of wine, with naught to pay save shouts for
Assyria's Queen; so they drank to the verge of madness
and fought fiercely among themselves, for their hearts
were glad.

Likewise, the forests and the fields were swept for
meat wherewith to feed the multitudes, for Ninus
dipped into his treasures with a reckless hand, even as
men in the drunkenness of joy will ever squander all
their substance, regretting it sorely in the sober
after-days.

In the palace, the wealth of kingdoms sank from
sight through feastings of costly foolishness, where
jewels were baked in the very bread, and the bidden
guests would oft'times break their teeth thereon; albeit
they kept the jewels, smiling at their pain.  Then
the King, who was mad with love, went forth and
set Semiramis upon a chariot of gold, driving her
slowly through the streets, so that all might behold
the glory of her charms.  He bade his people
worship her, and as they knelt he scattered treasures on
their heads, till the worshippers vied viciously among
themselves, seeking this wealth in the whirling dust
where they battled with fists and nails.

At last came the wedding rites, and as Semiramis
sat with Ninus on his throne, the palace rocked with
bellowing acclaim; then followed more feasting, with
the din of music, the songs of thickening tongues,
and all Assyria was glad save one alone.  Through
the reek of flaring torches and the fumes of wine, a
woman fled to the peace of the silent roof; yet the
echoes of joy came climbing after her, hounding
her heart with the memories of other days—the
whisper-ghosts that would not die, though crushed
beneath a throne.

On her knees the woman fell, and flung her arms
toward the dim, unlistening stars.

"Oh, Menon, Menon," she cried aloud, "how
empty is the world without the solace of thy kisses
on my breast!"

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Thus it came to pass that the nursling of doves
made a nest on Assyria's throne.  For a year she dwelt
in the master's house, and bore him a son whose name
was Ninyas; albeit Semiramis never loved the child,
who was weak and petulant, of a slothful nature and
a selfish heart—a son who in after days would seek
his mother's death, then reign in besotted idleness
and squander the strength of a kingdom built on
swords.

Now Ninus loved his Queen, to the verge of
madness, and naught was there which he would not do
to gladden her or indulge her whims; yet Semiramis
loved not the King, for in her heart rose ever the
image of one man alone—Menon the Beautiful—who
dwelt with the dead in a valley of Hindu-Kush.

Thus, since her passion slumbered with him who
would wake no more, ambition borrowed of love's
desire and rode on a chariot of war.  War, red war! till
the peace of remotest lands was rent by the screams
of battle-horns.  Thus the kingdom of Assyria grew
apace.  The fathers of men had fashioned a map of
the countries of all the world; yet it fitted not the
fancy of Semiramis, so the War Queen changed it,
with a finger dipped in blood.

Where the fury of battle knotted its tightest snarl,
there she would drive her chariot, to leap at the throat
of danger, breast the surf of death, ride over it, and
leave a crimson trail behind.  And the warriors bowed
down and worshipped her, half in unknowing passion,
half in awe, forgetting the glory of the high god
Asshur in the glory of a woman-god.  As she rode
in her chariot of gold, so she rode in the hearts of
men, driving them on with a feather-lash, yet
driving where she willed; and Ninus became not jealous
of her worship or her deeds, for the Queen was his,
and the glory of Shammuramat was, also, his.

As the years of war went by, she changed not in
the beauty of form and face, for her strange,
unearthly charms remained with her, thus causing all to
wonder at her immortality; yet with Ninus it was
otherwise.  Grizzled he grew; the furrows of age ran,
straggling, across his brow, and his great beard
whitened, even as the coat of a battle-steed is streaked
with foam.  There were moments when his wrath
would burst all bounds, without a cause therefor, and
he seemed a man who harkened to a whisper-ghost
that hunted him and worried at his ears.  Each year
a trusted messenger brought report from Zariaspa
that Menon's spirit still tarried in the body of the
man; yet the master knew no peace throughout his
days, and a dog was ever hateful in his sight.  By
night he would awaken at the distant baying of a
hound, then lie in the sweat of fear, huddling for
comfort at a woman's side.

The finger of Fate swept slowly round in a circle
of a score of years, and the monarch's path of evil
led homeward to its starting point.  In the Zagros
mountain lay a mighty gap through which, in after
years, would pour a race of the white-skinned sons
of Iran, conquering the world and holding proud
dominion till the end of time; and through this gap
now crept a train of Bactrians, hiding by day and
faring forth again in the hours of night.  With them
they bore a curtained litter wherein lay a man whose
fingers curved like the claws of birds, whose feet were
shrivelled so that he might not stand thereon, and
his weak hands wandered always, as if groping on a
darkened road.

Nearer, nearer drew this blind, misshapen thing,
moaning as his litter rocked from side to side,
helpless, shorn of strength; yet better far for Ninus had
the hounds of Ishtar fallen on his trail.  Outside the
walls the Bactrian train lay hidden in the night; then,
presently, a warrior chief came knocking at the gates
of Nineveh.





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.. _`THE CRY OF THE TIGRESS TO HER MATE`:

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   CHAPTER XXVIII


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   THE CRY OF THE TIGRESS TO HER MATE

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Semiramis, Queen of all Assyria, sat in the
royal gardens, in the light of a great round
moon which swung above the walls of Nineveh.  About
her were grouped her maidens, lolling on the fountain's
rim, splashing their tiny feet in the coolness of
the waves, while their laughter vied with the gurgling
music of a water-song.  This song burst forth from
the fountain's heart, low, soothing, in the summer
night, yet was marred of a sudden by the shrieks of
Ziffa, a timorous maiden from the north on whose
white knee a clammy little frog had sprung.  So
Ziffa shrieked, till saved by a laughing warrior, the
son of Sozana and Memetis, now grown into a man;
then the maidens crowned him with a wreath of lily
leaves, and their merriment waxed shrill in the
gladsome foolishness of youth.

In this harmless mirth Semiramis took no part, for
to-night her heart was sad.  Her fancy roved through
the thickets of a score of years, led on by a thread of
memory, and lingered in the vale of Hindu-Kush.
Again she looked upon the everlasting hills and the
plain below, that thirsty plain on which her cup of
water had been spilled, which drank her joy and made
a brother-desert of her soul.

As she sat apart, her great eyes lifted to the glow
of Ishtar's trail, a man-at-arms came clanking down
the garden path, bearing report that a stranger
waited beyond the wall with a message for the Queen
alone.  His name was Dagas, a Bactrian warrior,
and, as surety of faith and good intent, he sent a
jeweled ring, declaring that Assyria's Queen once
wore it on her hand.

Semiramis took the jewel, which in truth had been
her own, and, remembering, laughed aloud.  This
Dagas was the same whom her wits befooled in the
foot-hills of Hindu-Kush, when she claimed a
sisterhood to Oxyartes and sent the Bactrian seeking for
an army of phantom warriors.  So, laughing again,
she dismissed her maidens and suffered Dagas to
approach alone.

He knelt before her, pressing her sandal to his lips,
then at her bidding rose, and gave her smile for smile;
no longer the beardless youth, but a grizzled man of
war, on whom the heel of years had trod and set its
mark.  She looked upon him now, remembering how
her charms had dazzled him in the day of long ago, so
she smiled again and spoke in gentleness:

"Ah, Dagas, thou has come at last to reproach me
for deceiving thee.  In exchange for Zariaspa I gave
thee a jewel and a lie.  For thee an evil bartering,
my Dagas; yet ask of my bounty, and receive.  What
wouldst thou?"

"Naught," returned the Bactrian, with a sigh,
"naught save thy memory of one who hath loved
Shammuramat, and who loveth still."

To the eyes of the woman leaped the fires of wrath,
for how should a slave presume to babble of his
love?—for *her*—the Queen of all Assyria!  She would
have clapped her hands in summons of her guard to
slay the dog, yet Dagas restrained her gently,
smiling as he shook his head.

"Nay, Mistress of the World, I speak not of myself,
albeit of myself the same is true; for while I wore
thy ring I took no wife unto my breast, no hope unto
my heart.  For another I plead—for one who shall
grope in darkness all his days—yet in his hell of
everlasting night, one cry hath rung through the
empty hall of years—one heart-cry beating at the
doors of life—Shammuramat!"

The Bactrian ceased.  The Queen, in wonder, was
silent, too, for the words of the man seemed strange
and meaningless.  Yet why should the dead arise to
life?  Why should the thread of memory become a
chain and drag her back to her lord of other days?—to
Menon the Beautiful—he who had torn the veil
of Ishtar, and bade her look on the naked glory of a
heart!

"Speak," she whispered, watching Dagas, as before
she watched in the shadow of Zariaspa's wall,
waiting, listening, for tidings of the lost; and Dagas
spoke.

He told her of a pestilence which had run through
his city's streets, knocking at the doors of beggar and
of prince till those who might took refuge in the hills,
while others remained because of poverty or lack of
fear, and died.  Among the stricken were two
Egyptian eunuchs, Neb and Ura, who guarded a certain
prisoner by command of Tiglath-Shul; yet when
these eunuchs died, the Governor set Dagas and a
brother warrior as keepers of the man.  They had
ministered to this prisoner, whose eyes were blind and
whose hands and feet were useless by reason of his
being nailed against the wall.

"And so," said Dagas, "in sorrow of his state, I
sought to hearten him, and became his friend.  To
me he told his tale, in the truth whereof I may not
vouch, for it brandeth him as madman, or else the
saddest son of chance since tears were fashioned by
the pitying gods."

Semiramis made no answer, but she raised her
trembling hand, so that Dagas understood and spoke
again:

"By night, by day, he pleaded with me, saying: I
am Menon, Prince of the House of Naïri, whom Ninus
hath crucified.  Go, thou, unto my wife Shammuramat
and tell her of this thing—tell her I swear
it by her kisses on the temple steps at Ascalon!  And
if she doubt thee still, say thou of me, in her parting
words, that the garment of her love hath gone, and
the joy of the world is but as a cup of water spilled!"

The Bactrian ceased.  Semiramis sat, silent, on the
garden seat; no longer Queen of proud Assyria—Mistress
of the World—but *the woman*, stripped of
royalty and power; *the woman*, crouching in a
huddled heap, whence two great eyes looked out and
suffered; eyes which would have shrieked, had tongues
been given them, yet staring now, in the terror of a
stricken beast.

Through the gardens floated laughter—song—the
tinkling mirth of zitherns softly played.  On the
night breeze ran the hum of Nineveh, joyous, flinging
care to the seven winds; and a woman's heart was
wondering at the strangeness of it all.  Menon lived!
Menon the Beautiful who had died in the glory of his
youth!  Yet Menon lived!  Who, then, lay down
with Habal in the vale of Hindu-Kush?  Speak,
Ishtar!  Who?

No answer came, till Dagas, in tones of gentleness,
told her how this man had journeyed out of Bactria
and now lay hidden beyond the city wall; then Semiramis
arose and spoke, though her voice was as the voice
of some other woman, broken and unknown to her;

"Go, thou, with my servant Huzim and bring him
in secret unto me."

She spoke no more, nor did she offer gold or
gratitude to him who had proved devotion rare among
the sons of men; yet the Mistress of the World bent
down and pressed her lips to the hand of an humble
warrior.

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Huzim and Dagas came to the hiding-place where
Menon lay, and the servant knew not his master,
because of his shrunken form and the hair which grew
upon his cheeks and chin; yet in Huzim's arms the
master lay sobbing out his joy, till the servant knew,
rejoicing that the dead had risen up to live again.

They cut away his beard, washed him, and clothed
his form in a garment of fine-spun wool; then they
bore him in secret to a chamber on the palace mound.

And Semiramis came in to him—alone—for on that
meeting nor you nor I may seek to look, when even
the goddess Ishtar might have turned away in pity
and in pain.

Through the long blue night he lay with his head
upon her breast, weeping, babbling of the aching
solitude of his prison years, caressing her hair, her
features, with the crooked fingers which were now his
eyes.  And Semiramis rocked him in the cradle of
her arms, as she might have rocked a babe, soothing,
whispering her love to this poor misshapen thing,
crooning, till he slept at last, to forget the tangle of
his joy and grief.

Then the Queen of Assyria stole away—away
from the horror of it—seeking the housetop, where
none might see, where none might hear, where none
might follow save the ghosts of pain.  On the roof
she stood and opened her robe to the cool, sweet
breath of the morning stars.  She looked upon Bêlit
riding down the sky; she looked upon sleeping
Nineveh which was builded by the King.  The King! who
had builded up another curse and set its walls on a
woman's heart—its palace on a woman's shame!
The King! who had wrenched the glory from a
woman's soul and crucified it!

And now, when her soul could bear no more, she
loosed one long-drawn, quivering scream—the cry of
the tigress to her stricken mate.





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.. _`WHEN A WOMAN RULED THE WORLD`:

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   CHAPTER XXIX


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   WHEN A WOMAN RULED THE WORLD

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In the palace of the King there was revelry
unstinted, for a change had come upon Semiramis.
Through the score of years when she reigned with
Ninus, she had paid the tribute of a wife, in
sufferance of love which she gave not back again, bearing
his son, while her heart roved ever through the hills
of Hindu-Kush.  She graced his throne and added to
his kingdom's power; she ruled his house and gave
obedience to her lord; yet the King asked more.  He
asked for all, not tithes, but the utmost treasure of a
woman's heart—her smiles, her yearnings, and the
fruits of love which ripened for her mate alone; and
now, when the frost of age was set as a helm upon his
locks, the hope of youth burst forth to flower again.

Semiramis smiled upon the King, and there was
somewhat in her eyes which sent the hot blood bounding
through his veins, which caused his breath to flow
the faster and his hand to tremble in a lingering
caress.  Her beauty was for him—the master of
men—the lord of a woman's yielding soul—the
love-mad king who groveled at a shrine of craft.

So Semiramis suffered the King's caress, smiling
her smiles of promise, while she hushed the curses of
her fury-throated hate.  She waited now, even as the
tigress stalks her kill, patient, tireless, crouching till
a shifting wind had passed, to rise again and steal
toward the pouncing-point.  King Ninus she might
have slain by day or night, and there were moments
when her fingers clung to a weapon hungrily; yet the
King was King, and his nation might not be slain.
Nay, first must she strip this man of a nation's love,
strip him to the very nakedness of guilt, then nail him
to a wall of suffering, even as Menon hung upon a
wall of stone.  So the tigress waited, and her quarry
frolicked through the fields of pleasant ways.

High revelry resounded on the palace mound, till
the echoes thereof were borne to a distant chamber
where Huzim sat on guard, where Semiramis would
steal from the hateful feasts and comfort Menon, till
the whisper of wisdom urged return.  And the King
was mad with love, haunting her footsteps, heaping
her lap with his splendid gifts; yet his gifts she would
not receive, and retreated from the ardor of his love.
She lured him to a deeper madness still, drawing him
on by every artful charm, repulsing in a gust of
petulance; now warm, now cold, till Ninus knew not
if he stood upon his royal head or upon his royal
heels.  She withdrew to her chamber, heedless of his
knockings and his calls, till his soul became afraid of
losing her again, and he followed her with pleadings
and with prayers.  At his prayers she scoffed; at his
wrath she answered with a higher wrath, then, of a
sudden, gave freely where he had not asked.

Thus Ninus marveled at the strangeness of her
mind, and begged that she ask of him such gifts as
would please her best, for he swore by the robe of
Shamashi-Ramân that none might fathom aught at
all in the wilderness of a woman's whims.

At his offer of gifts, the Queen took thought,
pondering upon it for the space of a day and night;
then she came unto him, saying:

"My lord, if thou wouldst please me best, go hunt
for lions in the thickets along the Euphrates."

"Eh—-what?" cried the King, thinking she
sought to banish him from his bed and board; but she
laughed and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Nay, lord, grieve not at parting from my side,
for, as Ishtar liveth, *I swear to follow after
thee!*"  Again she laughed, to smooth the hidden meaning of
her oath, and smiled upon him as her tongue tripped
on: "Yet in thy absence I would reign as Queen of
all Assyria—to rule alone—for the span of one
short moon.  Give, thus, the chariot of state into
my hands, and Shammuramat will drive it, to the
wonder of her lord and King."

Once more the master looked upon the promise in
her eyes—strange orbs that swam in passion's misty
light—and though the voice of wisdom cried aloud
against this thing, the voice of love cried, also, till the
tongue of warning ceased to clamor and was still.
Thus it came to pass that Ninus and his hunters
rode toward the south, while criers ran through the
streets of Nineveh, proclaiming the Queen as Ruler
Absolute, for the life of a summer moon.

Now as these criers ran, so ran a host of other
messengers, bidding the warrior chiefs of every land
to appear at court, while their followers might feast
within the city walls, nor pay the reckoning thereof.
So, while the master hunted beasts, the mistress
hunted men.  She brought them to her board and
feasted them, till hunger and thirst could ask no
more.  She made such gifts as never a pillaged city
yielded to a conqueror, and even the mouths of beggars
she filled with gold.  To those in office she gave a
higher office still, with dream-land promises to all who
sought to climb; but to their wives and daughters
she offered naught, nor gave; for her thoughts were
now of men—the fighting men from the face of all
the earth, who would rise as one and dash a monarch
from his throne.

Since that by-gone day when she set Prince Asharal
again into his place, proud Babylon, to a man,
was hers; yet now she wanted more than Babylon.
She wanted the warriors of Assyria—the warriors
who had worshipped Ninus as a god.  She wanted
the blood and bone which had raised him up on
high—and she wanted them to stamp him in the dust
from whence he sprung.

So, now, through Nineveh rang the voice of joy,
the voice of feastings and the voice of praise; and on
these several tongues the name of Ninus sounded not,
but in its place one mad, tumultuous roar—*Shammuramat*!

Queen of the Moon they called her, and she smiled
upon their happiness, and gave and gave.  She
sapped the country bare of wine and food.  She flung
her gems amongst them as a drunken sower scatters
grain.  She spilled the blood of a nation's wealth,
till the treasury staggered in the manner of a wounded
ox, and still she smiled; smiled though her heart was
breaking for a man—alight with the flames of Gibil
for another man.

Thus it came to pass, at the waning of the moon,
that one last feast was held in the hall of the
spendthrift Queen, a hall now choked with a press of
warrior chiefs and the princes of the world, grim fighters
who wore their swords and battle-scars.  Such men
alone were bidden to the feast—such men who in
secret loved the Queen, yet dared not lay a tongue to
the telling of their love.

Then unto these sons of war came the mistress of
Assyria, not in her gem-sewn robes of state, but in
the armor of a battle-queen.  On her breasts were set
her nipple-plates of gold; on her flame-hued locks
that helm which had flashed like star-fire through the
ruck of war.  Across her shoulders was flung a leopard
skin, and her arms were bare, stripped of all save the
bands of bronze which bound the sinews of her wrists.
No longer was she the laughing imp who had charged
against the Kurds, but a woman—a queen—a
tempest-hearted battle-hawk.

At her coming no man spoke, but looked in awe,
till presently—they knew not why—the silence was
rent by thunders of acclaim, and the Queen bowed
low before the sons of war.  No smile she gave in
greeting; no light-lipped laughter to these men who
had followed her through storm and sun; but on her
face rode a look of fierce resolve which caused them
to wait the coming of uncertain things.

In silence she bade them sit; in silence she sat
amongst them, albeit she caused one seat to be vacant
at her side; then in silence the feast began.  It was
not the like of her other feasts, for before them was
set the simple fare of warriors afield; and where the
wine of Syria was wont to slake their thirst, each
found a cup of water at his hand.  The Queen sought
not their drunken passion which would die before the
morrow's sun, for now she would feed their hearts on
the flesh of truth and mix their lasting curses with her
own.  Thus each man, marveling, ate in silence and
waited for the coming of the storm; and then, when
the feast was done at last, Semiramis arose and spoke:

"My brothers," she began, "brothers in war, in
love, in the days of idleness and peace, the heart of
your Queen is sad.  As I share with you the bounty
of my throne, so now I share my sorrows, giving
each a part; yet, ere I bare my grief, I would ask
if there be any here to offer me reproach.  If there
be one to say that Shammuramat hath sent him into
danger where she herself would fear to lead, speak
now, that I brand him liar!  Come forth and say
injustice hath been done to any man—that I looked
with lack of pity on a wound, or gave not of my
own to all who hungered and were athirst!  Come
forth, my brothers, and name the price of one
grievance unavenged, that I, your sister and your Queen,
may pay it ere I bare my heart!"

None spoke; yet a growling murmur rose, and
each man looked upon his fellow fiercely, daring
him to loose a tongue, lest his blood be loosed to
wash away the lie.

Semiramis had paused, but she lifted up her voice
once more.  As in days of old she had played upon
the hearts of men, even as a harper sounds the chords
of curses and of tears, so now she played again.
She told them of her home in Ascalon, and how
Prince Menon came to wake her soul.  She told
them of her wedded years wherein her lord had
striven for the King—had conquered Zariaspa and
stood with her upon the fallen citadel.

"And you," she cried, "who loved him!  You
who shared his bounty and the peril of his wars!
You who stood with me on a vale's lip in the
Hindu-Kush and saw him buried in the earth!
What!  Know you not that his armor alone is buried
there?  For in his armor lay a rotting lie!  A lie!
For Habal—my good dog Habal—sleepeth with
his paws and muzzle on a stranger's breast!  A lie,
I say!  A lie!  *For Menon liveth and by Ninus was
crucified!*"

The shrill voice ceased.  It had risen to the scream
of a tigress calling to her mate; but now no answering
roar burst forth in echo of her call.  The sons
of Assyria sat silent—wondering.  All had heard
the tale of Prince Menon's death, and many had seen
him laid away to sleep.  On the vale's lip they had
wept for a man they loved.  They had seen—had
known!  How, then, should the dead arise to life
again?  Semiramis had branded ears and eyes as the
keepers of a lie—a lie which dragged the gods of
honor down and damned them!  Aye, a lie; but
should it rise to point its finger at a King, or point
it at a Queen?  So each man cast his gaze upon the
floor and sat in silence—wondering.

Semiramis smote her palms together, thrice.  At
the sign, a door swung open and Huzim strode in,
bearing a burden in his arms, a burden which he set
upon the vacant seat beside the Queen.  A man it
was, or the semblance of a man, whose eyes were blind;
whose form was shrunken, and whose hands were
curved in the manner of horrid claws.

"Look!" cried the Mistress of the World.  "Look
ye upon this torn, misshapen thing who was once
the glory of a woman's heart!  Look ye and learn
from him what the King hath wrought—for you
who loved him—and for me!  Look! for a lie hath
risen from the grave, and liveth to mark its own!"

In awe they gathered round him, though they knew
him not, by reason of the horror of his state; but
the warriors Prince Menon knew, and voiced his joy
in meeting them again; weeping as he found the
features of old friends with his wandering finger-tips;
sobbing as he called them each by name, or
whispered secrets known to him and their hearts alone.
Then Huzim raised him up, and he called aloud on
the sons of Naïri, his children of war, who would
harken to a father's battle-cry; and as that cry rang
out, they knew him once again, and knelt before him,
weeping bitterly.

"And now," called Semiramis to her kneeling
warriors, "I ask that you follow me to pluck a vulture
from his roost on Assyria's throne!  To cast him out,
as a father might cast a serpent from the bosom of his
babe!  The King! who hath shorn me of my joy in
life!  The King! who hath stolen away my lord—who
caused me to bear him a bastard son—who hath
made a strumpet of your Queen!  The King!  The
King no more!  Naught do I ask but justice!  Give
me this, or the edge of your pitying swords!"

She ceased.  She knelt at the side of her stricken
mate and held him in the cradle of her arms, her eyes
upturned to those who shared her suffering.  From
the throats of these men there came no shout of fury
at the King, no wrathful curse, no sound save the
wrench of a stifled sob; yet on their faces rode a look
of death, as each man drew his sword and laid it at
the feet of the undone Mistress of the World.

As the feast had passed in silence, so now these men
departed one by one, and, treading softly, went out
into the night; then each sought out his home or tent,
and slept—to dream and mutter curses in his
troubled sleep.

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Through the western gate passed a troop of horse,
swinging toward the south and riding as the spirits
drive.

It is written of Ninyas, son of Semiramis and
the King, that never one good deed came out of him;
and now he rode with warnings to his father in the
south, who straightway fled into Arabia, seeking a
shield in the desert's sands and a sword in Boabdul's
scimitar.

It was Ninyas who turned against his mother in her
hour of stress.  It was Ninyas who, in after years,
spread forth report that Semiramis had lied—that
Menon had hanged himself in Bactria—that the
Queen had set a maimed imposter in his place to
accomplish her evil ends.

Yet, as Ninyas reigned in sloth and foul debauchery,
so judgment came upon him at last.  As his
heart was false, so also, his tongue was false, for who
will credit aught of him who has turned against a
mother in her hour of stress?

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Through the long blue night Semiramis sat beside
her withered lord; and if she had loved him on the
temple steps at Ascalon, when he lay in the splendid
beauty of his youth, so now she loved him a hundred
fold when the wine of his life was spilled for her.
What matter though his hands were curved and his
eyes were blind?  What matter though his outer shell
was dead?  The heart of the man still lived, and it
beat for her alone.  Together they had hunted
through the desert for a grain of sand, and, finding
it, were glad, for they knew that its name was Love.

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When morning came stealing down on Nineveh,
the city awoke and growled.  A loose-tongued warrior
had whispered to his wife; his wife had whispered
to a neighbor's wife,—and the city knew.  Through
the streets ran men who were swollen with the bounty
of Semiramis, and with them foregathered other
men—lean dogs who licked their chops and gazed on the
glories of more benefits to come.  So Nineveh woke to
growlings, which grew into a bark of wrath, till,
from end to end, the Opal of the East gave tongue,
frothing, struggling at the leash, and yearning to
leap like the hounds of Ishtar on a master's trail.

Thus, after a space, the western gate was opened
wide, and through it poured the war-hounds of
Assyria.  Southward they swung, and in their lead rode
a queenly hunter in her battle-gear—for Semiramis
had kept her oath to Ninus, and would follow after him.





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.. _`THE DESERT AND THE KING`:

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   CHAPTER XXX


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   THE DESERT AND THE KING

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On the rim of Arabia's desert Semiramis and her
army sat down to rest, for well she knew this
pitiless, burning waste would offer a sterner barrier
than the points of a million swords; therefore the
Queen took council with herself and prepared to
battle with the scourge of thirst.

On every chariot was loaded wine-skins, filled with
water and covered o'er with cloths and matted grass
to keep them cool.  Each rider was commanded to
fare on foot, while across his steed were balanced
other water-skins; then came to light the wisdom of
Semiramis in choosing ten score thousand reeds as a
gift from the King in India.

These reeds were of mighty length, and on their
ends were set the heads of spears; again, they were
hollow, and, the pith therein being bored away, they
were filed with water, when their butts were closed
with plugs of wood.  Thus it came to pass that each
man bore a new and fearsome weapon in his hands,
wherefrom he might drink and ease the torture of a
thirsty tongue.

Then, presently, the army moved toward Boabdul's
stronghold in the desert's heart.  By night they
journeyed, when the sun shone not and the air was
chill; by day they slept beneath the shade of
canopies which were stretched on the points of planted
spears; yet even their vast supply of water dwindled
into nothingness, and the beasts of burden suffered
and were sad.  Men drank of their spears, but the
heat had warmed their drink, and many died of
madness and were left behind.

Yet Semiramis journeyed on.  Her pathway led,
not straight to the goal of her hot revenge, but by a
devious course which touched the palm-groves of
oases, where springs and wells were found; and where
these wells had dried beneath the fierceness of the sun,
there Semiramis drove her reeds into the earth till
oft' a grateful gush of water flowed therefrom.  In
these groves her warriors rested, drinking the precious
juice of life and filling again their reed-spears and
their water-skins; then the journey was taken up once
more.

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Now it came about that the scurrying riders of
Boabdul brought word that Assyria marched across
the plain; so the Arab prepared to give them battle
on the sands, or to fly if the force proved stronger
than his own.

King Ninus had befooled the Arabian Prince, persuading
him that the people rose in an unjust cause,
till Boabdul harkened and was wroth because of this
shameful thing, swearing to give his blood, if need
be, in behalf of a brother king.

And now, at the dawn of a certain day, these two
looked out on the desert, and were amazed.  Through
the mists came the army of Assyria, not as a
strong-armed host to batter down its foes, but as men who
were famished by the desert's breath, whose strength
was spent, who reeled and fell upon the sand, to
rise and struggle on again.  Their war-wings
stretched in ragged disarray; their chariots came
crawling far behind where they should have held the
van, and horsemen limped across the fiery plains,
leading their drooping steeds.

At the sight, Boabdul looked into the eyes of
Ninus, and Ninus looked into Boabdul's eyes, and
laughed.  'Twere pity to fall upon this heat-picked
skeleton of strength and ride it down; yet, since it
was written thus, who, then, should thwart the will
of Asshur and his scribe of fate?  So Ninus and
Boabdul laughed again, and prepared a slaughter
for the sons of sacrifice.

Two clouds of wild-eyed riders swept around the
grove of palms, their white robes fluttering their
lances flung aloft and caught as they fell again.
They joined in one, a mad-mouthed horde of desert-wolves,
who loosed their reins and raced at the core of
Assyria's stricken lines.

At their coming, Assyria bended as a twig which
it trod upon; yet, of a sudden, the twig would bend no
more.  Where warriors had seemed to sink exhausted
on the sand, they now stood up in the splendor of
their strength.  Where lines seemed torn to wilted
shreds, they now closed tightly, and Arabia came
upon a hedge of spears—the reed-spears of Semiramis.
Behind the first line stood another line, their
spears protruding against attack; and behind these
two stood other lines, till he who would reach Assyria
must leap a hurdle of seven rows of points.  Thus
Arabia hacked vainly at a wall of death, even as in
after days the blood of Sparta spilled itself on the
spears of Macedonia.

And now the war-wings ceased their feeble flutterings,
to close upon Boabdul and his men, to take them
in as a mother might take a wanderer in her arms;
though on that mother's breast they found no peace of
heart.  The Bedouin horsemen backed upon themselves
in a close-packed, tangled mass, fighting with scimitars
against a storm of darts and the thrusts of spears;
then a lane was opened, and into the boiling ruck
drove Semiramis and her wedge of chariots.

In the car of the Queen stood Huzim, holding the
reins and striving to guard his mistress with a mighty
shield of bronze; yet to-day Semiramis cared
naught for shields, nor recked of death, so long as
she came upon the Vulture of Assyria.  For him
alone she sought—the King!—and never before
had the tigress raged as she raged this day.  Where
an hundred scimitars flashed about her head, she rode
them down and bored toward the King—bored till
her steeds were slain and her chariot overturned, then
she arose from the earth and bored on foot into the
press.

She cared not for a thousand swords, and yet one
scimitar there was which she might not pass
unscathed.  High up it swung, in the fist of Prince
Boabdul; but ere it could descend upon her, Huzim
leaped and dragged the Arab from his horse.  On
the blood-wet sands they battled, beneath the hoofs of
plunging steeds, where dying Bedouins sought with
dagger thrusts to claim still one more death ere they
stood before their gods; and Huzim, who was once the
Arab's slave, prevailed against Boabdul, gripped him
tightly, and whispered into his ear:

"Peace, little master! for it grieveth me to crack
thy bones.  Peace, then, for I hold thee fast!"

Now the Prince whose rage and mirth went ever
hand in hand, forbore to strive with his mighty
conqueror, and laughed because of Huzim's words;
yet the Arabs, seeing their chieftain fallen, surged
backward and burst their way through Assyria's wall
of men.  Beaten, they fled like foxes from the trap
which Semiramis had set for them; and in the van of
their flying pack rode Ninus, on a matchless steed of
Barbary.  Away they sped through the desert's
shimmering haze, where Assyria might not follow
after them, nor did Semiramis seek to follow, for in
her brain was born a craftier design.

In the grove of palms she caused Boabdul to be
brought before her where she cut his bonds and
offered him her hand.

"My lord," she spoke, "with thee I have no cause
for war, nor did I seek to bring a harm to these thy
followers who are dead or scattered o'er the plains.
My concernment is with the Vulture of Assyria, and
him I will snare though I rake the sand-wastes of
Arabia from end to end."

Then she told Boabdul of all things which had
come to pass—how the King had crucified Prince
Menon whom the Arab loved, and had stolen his wife
for the space of a score of years; and so great was
Boabdul's wrath that he rent his robe and swore by
his gods of fire to follow after Ninus, to find him, and
to nail him on a wall of woe.

"Fear not," he cried, "for my desert is but a
prison-yard, where the wardens of heat and thirst
will hedge our captive round about and drive him to
the arms of those who seek.  Fear not, for soon will
we come upon the King."

And thus Semiramis had won unto her cause the
man who above all other men could aid her in her
quest; the man who balanced a thousand tribes on the
edge of his whetted scimitar; the man who now sent
forth his riders, recalling all who had scattered across
the plains.

Throughout the day Semiramis rested in the shade,
and slept; but when night was come she chose a few
from amongst her warrior-chiefs, then with Boabdul
and his brown-skinned Bedouins she slipped across the
sands.  On camels they rode, those long-limbed,
lurching beasts that devoured the leagues with a
tireless, padding gait—that glided like ghosts beneath
the icy stars—that slid through the wastes of red
Arabia on a trail of death.

And in the silence of the night Semiramis raised her
eyes and arms and cried unto the stars:

"Oh, Ishtar, Ishtar, give over this devil to the
vengeance of my heart—keep, thou, my lord till I
come again to him at Nineveh!"

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King Ninus was mounted on a matchless steed of
Barbary, and his eagerness to be gone from out
Arabia kept pace with his matchless steed.  Full well
he knew that Semiramis would follow after him; full
well he knew that, since Boabdul's arm was lost to
him, his hope lay eastward in the distant country of
India's King.  Could he win to the Euphrates, cross
over it, and skirt the coast, coming at last to the river
Indus, he there might mock the huntings of all
Assyria, and bide his time till an army could be
raised—an army which should give him back his throne,
his power; for these King Ninus craved, and would
have them, though his years were few.

That Semiramis hunted him, was a thought of
bitterness in the monarch's heart, for he loved her
utterly; yet, since Prince Menon had risen from the
dead, a terror, also, rose, which vied with the
yearnings of his love and sent him eastward in a line as
straight as an arrow's flight.  His steed outstripped
the flying Bedouins who had burst through Assyria's
lines, and soon the King sped on alone—alone on
the desert's fiery breast—and hour on hour he fled
from the vengeance of Semiramis.

At evening the King grew faint from heat and
his lips were parched with thirst, while even his
splendid mount was drooping, and faltered in its stride.
The wise steed scented the breath of a cool oasis
toward the north, and would have turned thereto, but
Ninus knew naught of the plainsman's lore and lashed
the wise one, racing him eastward in a dead straight
line.

Thus it came about that when night had fallen the
horse grew lame, so Ninus dismounted and rested
upon the sand.  Then a cold wind rose, which sang
across the desert, searching his bones till he shivered
and cursed aloud; and the good steed shivered, also,
because of his sweating body and the lack of a
master's care.  Naught had this stallion of Barbary
known save love and tenderness; and now, with
drooping head, he looked upon the cursing King,
and wondered.  No covering was there to shield his
flanks against the cold; no water wherewith to bathe
his wind-burned nostrils; no hand to stroke his
muzzle in caress; no lips to croon the love-songs of the
land of Araby.  The chill of the night had entered
into him, till he whinnied for the shelter of a master's
tent, and coughed in pain; then man and beast lay
down together in a hollow in the sands which Ninus
dug with his royal nails.

When the warmth of morning came again, the two
went on their way; yet a red sun rose to harry them,
to pour its light upon them in a wavy glare; and the
stallion of Barbary reeled toward the east.  Again
came night.  Again came day—the pitiless, parching
day, when league on league of tawny desert
wrapped them round in a world of flame; when their
tongues were black and swollen from the pangs of
thirst, a thirst which took them by the throat and
shook them, a thirst which reached beyond and
gripped their hearts.

Then, presently, the faithful steed could bear his
weight no more; he staggered and fell upon the sands
to die.  King Ninus slew him, and, in the fury of
his thirst, he drank of the horse's blood; but the blood
was warm and brought no ease to him, for rather did
it spur his mad desire.  Then the famished man rose
up and wandered away on the desert's breast—alone.

No more he fled from the anger of Semiramis
toward the east, but strayed in circles, while the
heat-waves danced before his eyes, causing a haze which
blinded him, till through it ran the twisted fancies of
a dream.  Before him he spied a river gurgling
through the sands—a deep, sweet river, where the
cool palms waved upon its shores; so Ninus spread
his arms and rushed toward it eagerly.  Yet, at his
coming, the waters fled away and melted as a morning
mist dissolves; then the King fell prone upon his face,
to bury his lips in a draught of the flaming sands.
To his knees he rose and lifted his hairy arms aloft,
whispering hoarsely to the gods on high; and unto
Ninus came the gods!

He saw them on the far horizon's line, gaunt spirits
sweeping down as the storm-king rides—red Ramân,
prince of lightnings and the thunder-bolt—the lord
god Asshur and his underlings of war and death; and
even as Ninus had set a sin on the shoulders of these
gods, so now they bore that sin, and the sin was in the
likeness of Prince Menon who had come at last to
reckon with his King.  And the lord of the world
would have burrowed in the sands to hide himself, but
the spirit of a blind man pointed out the way, and
Ishtar's spirit snapped the leash of her spirit hounds.

Straight at their prey they sprang, but the King
was a King, and stood upon his feet to battle with
them mightily—to fight as his hands had fought
from childhood to declining years; yet now he was
old and the glory of his strength was spent.  He felt
the teeth of Ishtar's hounds upon his throat, and, in
his madness, knew not that the deathly grip was of
thirst alone; so Ninus screamed and died—died battling,
as the man had battled all his days, yet Menon's
prophecy was a prophecy of truth.

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When the red sun, weary of his raging, sank
behind the desert's rim, Boabdul and Semiramis came
upon the ending of their trail.  The King!  On his
back he lay, his wide eyes staring at the heavens
whence his judgment came.  The body of a King!
The shell of a spirit which had ruled the wills of
lesser men, which had conquered all save the spirits of
the gods alone, and, conquering, had used the world
as a sandal for his lordly feet.  The body of a King;
yet now a King no more, but dust!

Semiramis looked down upon him, sorrowing—sorrowing
because of one who had cheated her in life,
as now he cheated her in death; but the Arab read
another tale in that kingly heap of dust, and spoke
to her in gentleness and in the ripened wisdom of his
years:

"Grieve not, O Queen Shammuramat, because of a
vengeance that is lifted from out thy hands.  Grieve
not, for of a truth King Ninus hath been crucified on
a wall of the desert's wrath."





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.. _`THE CROWNING OF THE DEAD`:

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   CHAPTER XXXI


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   THE CROWNING OF THE DEAD

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Prince Ninyas, when he had brought his
warnings to the King, fled not with him into
Arabia, for he had no thought to risk his slothful
bones in the peril of a war; therefore he hired a
score of boatmen and was paddled up the Tigris till
he came again to Nineveh.

Now in every land and in every city there are those
who suffer with the worms of a strange unrest, and
did their highest god come down to rule amongst
them they would find some cause for disaffection,
yearning for a change in government.

With men of this breed Prince Ninyas whispered,
promising that when the throne was his a reign of
peace should come to Nineveh, wherein the wormy
ones might look for the fruits of their souls'
desire; so, when the Queen returned, and report was
spread concerning the death of Ninus, then a million
infant lies were born.  They waxed in strength, these
lies, till soon they muttered through the city streets;
yet, because of the whip-hand of Semiramis, they
muttered secretly.

Now secret discontent was ever hateful to the Queen,
for she held that a man should bring his grievance
to the stool of a justice, setting forth his wrongs in
the manner of a man, else hold his tongue; therefore
she sought to bring this trouble to a head and set her
heel upon it, swiftly and with weight.

Through the streets ran scores of criers, with word
that on the morrow would the court be held before the
eyes of Nineveh; so when the morrow came the
streets were packed with multitudes that surged
toward the palace mound, waiting for weary hours
before the appointed time, in expectancy of uncommon
things.  Dread whisperings went round about
concerning the Queen who had slain the King, and who
now would tax the people grievously, demanding their
wealth to supply a treasury made lean; thus
growlings arose on every hand, till the waiting crowds
swarmed to and fro and fought amongst themselves.

To the ears of the High Priest Nakir-Kish came
warnings of the Queen's intent; so he hastened unto
her, urging that she rule in wisdom, lest fierce internal
wars ferment throughout Assyria.  Semiramis looked
upon him, smiling, and answered in a tone of softness
which was like unto the purring of a cat:

"For thy wise advice I pay in humble gratitude;
yet the tongue of a fool may oft' undo him by its
flutterings.  Hold it, O Priest, and follow, thou, my
will this day, lest, one by one, my servants shall draw
thy teeth."  She paused and looked upon him keenly
through her half closed lids.  "It cometh to me that
Nakir-Kish was ever close to Ninus, even in sins.
Take, therefore, a further heed, lest thy bread be
eaten with slowness and in pain."

Then the priest went out from the presence of
Semiramis, took council with himself and held his
tongue; wherein the man was wise, for to wag it
would bring him woe.

The palace steps ran down from the royal mound
to an open square wherein were set the effigies of
lions and wingéd bulls, and here the sons of Nineveh
foregathered at the mandate of the Queen.  At the
head of this stairway, before the palace doors, was
set Assyria's double throne, while about it stood a
ring of priests, and the chiefs of war in their
battle-gear.  Then, presently, Semiramis came forth,
resplendent in her gem-sewn robes, and, descending the
palace steps to a middle distance, she raised her arms
to check the shouts of loud acclaim, then addressed the
multitude:

"My children," she called, "it hath come to mine
ears that ye murmur amongst yourselves because of
foolishness and lies—because I would take away what
my hand hath given, and become a pilferer where ye
look to find a friend.  Know, then, that I,
Shammuramat—Queen of Assyria—Mistress of the
World—ask naught from *any* man!"

At her words a thunderous shouting rose, and men
danced madly in their joy on the open square.  One
loud-mouthed warrior sprang upon the back of a
wingéd bull and bawled to his friends below:

"Long reign the Queen!  A curse on Ninyas—son
of Ninus—and the Prince of Liars!  A curse
upon his evil tongue!"

The curse was taken up by five score thousand
mouths, till the roarings rocked the palace mound, and
the din was great; then Semiramis once more raised
her arms and spoke to the seething multitude:

"Naught do I ask, my children, in taxes or in
gifts; for now would I make a royal gift to you.
The King is dead!  He died in a distant land, where
I followed after him because of his evil works.  The
King is dead; yet now do I give to you another King!"

She ceased.  No shout arose, for her listeners
stood silent, wondering if she thought to set the liar,
Ninyas, on her throne; so they waited, each man
drawing in his breath.

Through the palace doors strode Huzim, bearing
a burden in his mighty arms—a burden which he set
on Assyria's double throne.  A man it was, or the
semblance of a man, whose eyes were blind; whose
form was shrunken, and whose hands were curved in
the manner of horrid claws.  This, then, was the
King whom Semiramis would give!

In silence the people gazed on Menon while one
might count a score, then from their throats came a
quivering wolf-lipped howl.  No pæan of rejoicing
rode that tempest-gust of sound, but the snarl of men
whose passions were stirred to madness and to deeds
of blood.  Would Semiramis dare to crown this
hideous thing?—this mockery of man who swayed
in weakness as he sat on high?  Nay, better to set a
prince of liars on the throne!  Better to crown a
graven effigy!  So the people howled their wrath and
surged toward the palace steps, seeking to tear the
idol from a woman's shrine and stamp it in the dust.

About Semiramis were gathered her chiefs of war,
Prince Asharal of Babylon, Boabdul Ben Hutt whose
scimitar could match a score of swords, Huzim the
faithful, Dagas who loved and whose shield was hers
in any cause, while many more stout arms were there
to work her will; but of these the Queen thought not
as she faced the coming throng.

"Ye dogs!" she stormed, "am I to be sickened by
the yelpings of your pack?  Ye swine of Assyria!
who have fattened on the plenty of Shammuramat!
I who have puffed your bellies with the food of gods!
Have done!  Go down in peace, nor lay your tongues
to idle mutterings!  In peace, I say, lest I cease to
love you and destroy you utterly!"  She paused for
an instant, then flung her hand toward her stricken
mate, lifting her voice that all might hear and heed:
"*On a throne King Menon sitteth, and shall sit!
Down!  Down upon your knees and worship him,
who is lord of my heart and lord of all the world!*"

Now those who would have rushed upon her, paused
at the very wonder of her love, and in that pause
Semiramis turned and made a sign to Nakir-Kish.
The High Priest would have set the crown on Menon's
head, but the head drooped forward, sinking upon his
breast.  His little strength had ebbed.  The tumult
of the populace below had seemed like the roar of
battle in his ears, though the meaning thereof was strange
to him, and he knew not that he was King.  One
thought alone was in his heart—Semiramis!—and
to her he stretched his broken, wandering hands.

But the Queen would have her will.  She snatched
the crown from the High Priest Nakir-Kish and set
it on Menon's brow—a brow which now would never
feel its royal weight, for a dead man slid from
Assyria's throne and fell upon his face.

And the people shouted not, but were very still, for
beside the crownless King a weeping woman knelt—forgetful
that the swine of all Assyria looked upon
her grief—knowing only that the Mistress of the
World had *lost* her world.





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.. _`A WAR QUEEN'S PROPHECY`:

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   CHAPTER XXXII


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   A WAR QUEEN'S PROPHECY

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Once more the priests and the chiefs of war
foregathered at the mandate of the Queen; and now
they waited not on the palace steps, but assembled in
the council hall, that spacious chamber where, in days
of old King Ninus was wont to issue his commands.
There, through its open end, could be seen the Tigris,
chanting a wordless song as it ran to a chanting sea;
there hung proud trophies of the battle and the chase;
there, on the walls, were the carven *steles* of Ninus,
each telling a tale of a monarch's mighty deeds.

And to those who waited there, Semiramis came at
last; no longer clothed in the splendor of her
gem-sewn robes, or the glory of her battle-gear.  She
wore a garb of mourning, and on the flame-hued
locks was set no diadem save a crown of withered
leaves.  In silence she came into the hall, and in
silence took her seat upon the throne.  In silence she
looked on the men before her—men who had followed
through the desert's fire and the storm of many
a war; then the Queen arose and spoke:

"My brothers," she began, "brothers in battle and
the pleasant ways of peace, your sister Shammuramat
is sad.  The King is dead; yet I grieve not for the
King.  The king of my heart is dead, and I grieve
for him."

She paused.  Her warrior brothers bowed their
heads, and each man hid his eyes in the hollow of his
hand; then the Queen spoke on:

"And now will I reign alone!  Alone, till it
pleaseth Ishtar to call me unto one who will wait and
listen for my footsteps coming in the night.  And so
will I reign alone!  Yet harken, ye children of
Assyria, and ye who write on tablets and the graven
*stele*!  In after-days the sons of men will say of me
that Shammuramat was one of an evil heart!—that
her heart was for war, for blood, for pillage, and the
conquering of all the earth!  They will say that she
slew the King—slew him in brutish lust for a
lesser man!  They will say that she ruled with a rod
of might, and set ambition on a higher altar than the
altar of her gods!  All this, and more, will run from
the babbling tongues of men—*and Shammuramat
will strive to make it true!*"

Once more she paused and looked upon her wondering
warriors.

"Heed, then, my brothers who will marvel at my
wrathful days to come!  Heed ye and remember one
who hath wrought this evil in my soul!  The King! who
hath crucified a woman's love!  The King! who
hath torn a woman's heart from out her breast and
set a raging devil as the master of her blood!  So
harken, ye children of Assyria, and ye who write on
tablets and the graven *stele*!  Remember!  And now
make ready for a war!"

"A war?" cried Nakir-Kish, who knew that the
nations rested on their arms and were at peace.
"What war?"

Semiramis turned upon him with a cry of consuming
rage, and with the scepter of an hundred lands
she smote him across his mouth.  The High Priest
Nakir-Kish went down before her throne, and she
raised her eyes on high and called aloud:

"Dear Ishtar, hear the fool who asketh me what war!"

She turned to her brother warriors, her children of
the sword, grim, battle-scarred, and faithful unto
death; and to them she stretched her empty arms and
opened her empty heart.

"War!  War!" she cried.  "I care not where
nor how, so be it that we war!  *Rise Babylon—and
sink Assyria!*"

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