SEMIRAMIS (continued 3)

Shimmering, parched, and dry—

As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,

All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—

And, withered, it falls to die!

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIII

THE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LION

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

The entrance was set with chiselled lions, and wingéd bulls in miniature of those which guarded the western gate, while the walls were lined 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.

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."

CHAPTER XIV

THE TURN OF A WOMAN'S TONGUE

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.

CHAPTER XV

AN ARMY ON THE MARCH

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.

* * * * *

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!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE PASS OF THE WEDGE

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.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE SHADOW OF ZARIASPA

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.

* * * * *

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.

CHAPTER VIII

THE RAISIN IN A SKIN OF VINEGAR

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."