SEMIRAMIS (continued 5)

"Think," he whispered; "once, once only, will Assyria's King forgive, and at a word from me the pardon of thy lord may slip his memory, in that Menon passeth from our sight to comfort thee no more."

Now threats against herself Semiramis could bear, and smile at them as at an idle puff of wind, yet at a hint of evil unto her lord, the tigress within her woke and showed its claws.

"Priest," she answered, in that purring tone which in after years her courtiers learned to dread, "I bethink me of a little fox I reared in Syria. A weakling he was that grew in strength and appetite because of my bounty and my care. From my hand he received his food, from my heart a love which shielded him from every harm; yet when he stole my father's fowls and hid among the rocky hills, nine days I hunted him with this my hunting spear, and nailed his skin against the wall."

Semiramis thrust her weapon upright in the earth and beside it held forth her hand.

"Choose, Nakir-Kish—I care not which—but choose!"

The High Priest pondered, looking into her winkless eyes. Fowls must he have, and wisdom warred with pride. His pride called out aloud for open enmity, for the measuring of his power against her wits, yet wisdom whispered that it were better far to receive his food in peace rather than buy it with the price of a priestly skin; therefore he loosed her spear from out the earth, gave back her own, and took the proffered hand.

"Thou hast stood my test," he murmured, with a lying smile; and Semiramis watched him till he disappeared beyond the shadows of his tent ere she mounted the chariot beside her waiting lord.

"What seeketh the High Priest?" Menon asked, and the Syrian laughed softly as she answered him:

"He fain would be our friend, for the great man, in his wisdom, hath divined that thou and I may one day rise in power."

Across the plain they drove, eastward, till they reached a clump of sheltering trees, and here Prince Menon drew his rein. As to wherefore, she questioned not, for as the moon slipped out from behind a cloud, the warrior took her in his arms, the first embrace since Nineveh was left behind, and her lips met his in a kiss of passion and of tenderness.

Yet others beside the moon looked on, with frowns as dark as the gathering clouds; for from the shadows watched Nakir-Kish, sullen in the helpless fury of defeat, while the lord of Assyria saw, also, and clenched his mighty fists.

The moon went down behind the spine of Hindu-Kush, and the High Priest slept at last; but Ninus sat brooding till the dawn had come, and the thoughts of the King were evil.

* * * * *

And now fresh plans were set afoot for the conquering of Zariaspa; King Ninus still laid siege to the western wall, while Menon set upon the east, though between the two no outward enmity was seen. By night they wrought their stratagems within the royal tent, and by daylight scanned the city from the crest of Menon's mound, till those who watched them said within themselves:

"Now, verily, are they like unto a father and a son, wherefore Assyria will profit and be glad."

Then it came to the mind of Nakir-Kish that Semiramis, because of her splendid deeds, would claim some office of leadership, thereby fermenting jealousies amongst the warrior chiefs; but in this were his prophecies confounded. The Syrian asked for naught. So the High Priest wrought in secret with the King, urging that he set her in command of the Babylonians, whose chief, Prince Asharal, had been stripped of office through the wrath of Ninus. By this design a mighty part of Assyria's host would hate the girl and seek her downfall, even though her blood was spilled; yet when Ninus offered to set her in the place of Asharal, she laughed and shook her head.

"What!" she demanded, "shall I, a woman, wear the sword of so great a man? Nay, lord, if thou wouldst please me best, forget thy wrath and restore this fallen idol unto Babylon."

"Not so," cried Ninus; "in my teeth hath he defied me, and though I spared his life, no more shall he lead his warriors to war. Of a verity, the race of Asharal is run."

"True," spoke Semiramis; "right well doth he merit death, yet what of the Babylonians who followed in his lead? With another chief they are but as sullen swine, undiligent, earning not their salt; yet under command of Asharal, who, in the strangeness of their hearts they love, no longer are they swine, but fighting men. Justice, therefore, cheateth Ninus, when craft will give him an hundred thousand allies to his strength."

King Ninus, marveling at her wisdom, laughed aloud, and set Prince Asharal in office once again, though when it was whispered that Semiramis and not the King had compassed it, Ninus gained little love from Babylonia, while the Syrian won a kingdom for a friend—a kingdom which would one day set her up on high, and hail her Queen, from sun-parched Egypt to the frozen waters of the North.

Thus Semiramis foiled the high priest Nakir-Kish, refusing all honors, taking no part in battle save such assistance as might be rendered to her lord in strategy; yet at length she chose her own reward and was set in command of the subterranean river-bed, together with all supplies therefrom, and in this her choice was good. She pitched her tent among the foot-hills beside the opening of her trench, then summoned the faithful Syrian Kedah, placing him as chief of a thousand men-at-arms. With this her body-guard, and Huzim who slept across the opening of her tent, she could rest in peace, knowing that none would molest her person or pry into the secrets of her charge.

Three days went by, and many a laden barge came down to fatten Ninus and his men, yet on the fourth day a great commotion was observed upon the city walls; a throng of priests came forth with Oxyartes at their head, and gazed toward the distant mountain range, then an under-priest made ready a pyre of wood, drenched it with pitch and applied a torch, so that soon a column of dense black smoke ascended in the breezeless air. Then another pyre was lit, likewise a third, though his last was smothered by a mighty cloth in the hands of many priests. The cloth they removed anon, then thrust it back again, and lo! the smoke went up, not in columns the like of the other fires, but in short black puffs with intervals between.

To those who watched, these pitch-fires seemed but some religious rite of their strange, barbaric foes, but one among them was of different mind.

"By Bêlit," cried Semiramis, springing to her feet, "the Bactrians signal to their friends among the hills! Go, Kedah, take a force of slingers to gall those busy priests upon the wall. Up, Huzim! Light a score of fires, in that the signs of Oxyartes may be confounded. Go!"

She watched, and soon a myriad of fires sprang up, to send a spark-shot curtain rolling above the battlements; the while a band of Hittites camped hard by, thinking an attack was planned, ran out and stormed the walls. A wild, unwonted hubbub rose, whereat the King grew wroth and sent a force of men with whips to flog the Hittites back into their camp again. Then the Bactrians, looking down upon these things, were mystified and whispered among themselves in wondering awe:

"To the high gods, praise! King Ninus hath lost his reason, for of a certainty the man is mad!"

That day the trench which led to the camp of Ninus was closed by a mighty gate of wood, and the subterranean river flowed once more to Zariaspa, and the Bactrians ate of the food which travelled underneath their towering hills.

"How now!" the King demanded of Semiramis when report was made to him by Nakir-Kish. "Wherefore should we feed our foes? Lift straightway this foolish gate and let us feast again."

"Nay, lord," the Syrian made reply, "this thing I may not do;" and the King stepped backward, rent by wonder at her words.

To Ninus, one who disobeyed was as one whose life is forfeited forthwith, for the pride of the man was great, and commands, once given, were carried through, even though the cost thereof was greater than the vantage gained; yet in the calm defiance of this red-haired imp there lurked a spirit as fearless as his own—a something which bewitched the soul of him, causing him to swallow down his wrath and ask with a meekness new to his fiery tongue:

"Where the King desireth the welfare of Assyria's host, wherefore wouldst thou thwart so just an aim?"

Thoughtfully she scraped the earth with one sandaled foot, smiled, and made reply:

"Of a surety my lord would be a half-fed serpent rather than an empty-bellied hawk."

"What meanest thou?" he asked, and again the Syrian smiled.

"'Tis better far that the belts of Assyria hang loose for a little space than to shout to Oxyartes concerning our knowledge of his river bed. Should he signal again to his friends across the Hindu-Kush, then straightway will they cease to load their boats, and albeit Zariaspa thereby starveth, naught is gained, for Ninus suffereth the hunger of a fool. So, then, to Oxyartes shall go one-half, till he, in wonder at the small supply, will signal to his friends for more; and thus may we satisfy the needs of all."

For a space the monarch made no answer, but looked in thought across the yellow plain, then at length he spoke, as one who communes with himself alone:

"By the splendor of Shamashi-Ramân, the time hath come when Ninus must cease to meddle in affairs of craft."

He spoke no more, but mounted his chariot and drove to his distant camp, slowly, with his head bowed low, though ever and anon he laughed, as one who gloats with pride at his own contrivances.

When the King was gone, Semiramis sat pondering, with puckered brow, with eyes which saw not, yet seemed to pierce the city walls; then she caused the river-gate to be raised once more, and, whispering a command to Kedah, called Huzim to her side and disappeared with him till the strength of the sun was spent and night had settled down upon the hills.

Prince Menon, coming from his eastern camp to seek Semiramis, could find no trace of her. In vain he sought, but none could give him news, while even Kedha lied stoutly concerning her affairs, though it pained his vitals to falsify unto one he loved. In despair the Prince was thinking of departure, when Semiramis herself appeared with a suddenness which caused her spouse to stare. From beneath a mat in a corner of her tent the head of Huzim rose; after it came his body which stooped and raised Semiramis as from a pit. Wet were her garments, soaked with mud and slime, till it seems as if she must have wallowed in a mire, while even her hair hung dank and dripping about her neck.

"In the name of the gods—!" cried Menon, but she checked him with a grimy hand thrust swiftly across his mouth. She looked to note that none were lingering outside her tent, then, laughing softly, whispered into Menon's ear:

"Fear not, my lord; no accident hath befallen me; yet the soul of the King desireth a bird called Zariaspa, and I—in the hope of pleasing him—have sprinkled a pinch of salt upon its tail."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE SIEGE

Semiramis in her chariot drove slowly round the wall of Zariaspa, scanning it from every vantage point; impenetrable, grim, it towered above her in the dignity of strength—the majesty of strength—which scorned to even mock the puny power of muscle and of brain.

"Mistress," asked Huzim who stood beside her in the chariot, "what booteth it to win this outer wall when the higher walls of the citadel must needs be scaled?"

"It booteth much," she answered with a smile, "for this citadel was made a gift to me two moons agone."

The Indian drew his reins and stared upon her in deep concern, thinking the sun, perchance, had touched her brain.

"What meanest thou?"

For a moment there came no answer, yet presently she raised her impish eyes:

"Huzim, my father Simmas once spake a mighty truth, saying that he whose tongue betrayed the children of his thought was both a murderer and a fool."

The Indian flicked his steeds, and in silence drove along the city's western side till Semiramis bade him draw his reins again; wherefore he knew not, for she paused to watch the common sight of a giant catapult hurling stones against the wall. This engine was fashioned in the form of a flinging-beam, the beam bent downward by ropes of human hair and sinews from the necks of bulls, while on its end was set a heavy stone. The beam, released, sprang upward, propelling its missile in a lumbering curve, yet wrought no harm, for the heavier stones fell short, while the lighter ones flew high, to crash into some house beyond the walls.

"See," said Semiramis, sitting upon the rim of a chariot wheel and pointing to the fruitless work, "they ever miss their mark because of these stones of unequal weight and shape. See, Huzim, the Bactrians hold no fear of missiles which fly so slowly and do but encumber the earth beneath their walls. If, perchance—"

She paused of a sudden, one brown hand rubbing idly on the chariot wheel, her gaze fixed fast on a heap of broken stones; then she laughed aloud and danced upon the sand in the manner of some joy some child.

"What aileth thee, my mistress?" asked the Indian, and she laughed again in answer to his questioning:

"In truth, good Huzim, once more am I the mother of a thought—a sturdy brat—and thou shalt help me nurture him, for, lo! these laboring swine have made to me the gift of Zariaspa's outer walls."

Menon, Huzim and Semiramis sat far into the night, pondering over plans and stratagems, and when morning came the Indian and his mistress sought out a hidden valley among the hills. With them went seven score of workmen, a full-armed guard, and slaves who bore the beams and bodies of abandoned catapults; and straightway the voice of labor rose on the mountain side, while along the valley's lip was set the guard, who with slings and shafts made answer to wandering curiosity.

In Menon's camp a labor was likewise set afoot, and engines of siege were put to rights again, while the army, wondering at things they could not understand, were set to making sacks. These sacks they contrived of fibre, of discarded clothes, of the cloth of canopies, or of any fabric gleaned from far or near sobeit they held two hundred-weight of sand; and when a warrior made questionings as to the strangeness of this toil, his chief would bid him hold his tongue, for the reason thereof was known to Menon and Semiramis alone.

When tidings of these happenings were brought unto the King, he drove away the messenger with oaths, for his heart was sick of fruitless stratagems. Where Ninus failed, there also must Menon fail; so the King went hunting through the uplands, finding little game, but much to vex the soul of him because of unhappy ponderings. Glory he desired, and the mastery of all the world, yet greater than these was his haunting thirst for the mastery of one woman's love and the glory of her passion lit for him alone.

In such a mood King Ninus one day came upon Semiramis returning from the valley in the hills, and marveled at the score of engines which she dragged across the sands. So frail they were, so slender as to build and the fashioning of hurling-beams, that the King desired to know if these toys were designed to fling the stones of cherries at their enemies.

"Aye," said Semiramis, gravely and without a smile, "for the Bactrians like not cherries, nor the stones thereof. Come, good my lord, tomorrow, for tomorrow a red juice trickleth from their battlements."

This answer puzzled Ninus, puzzled him throughout the night and filled his very dreams with a deep unrest; so on the morrow he drove into Menon's eastern camp to mark what craft might lie beneath the Syrian's words. Yet, if craft it was, its meaning was hidden from the monarch's mind, for Menon was now employed in throwing sacks of sand against the city wall. No aim had they to harm the besieged upon the battlements, but smote the masonry with a harmless thud and piled upon the earth. Full two score engines, set in line and served by eager, sweating men, were thus engaged in a foolish sport; and as Ninus laughed in scorn, so laughed the Bactrians, gibing Menon and urging him to a greater diligence.

Now, strangely, Menon's warriors made no answer to the enemy's abuse, but wrought in silence, bearing endless bags of sand upon their backs, while beyond sat the engines of Semiramis, idle, aiding naught in this mockery of siege; yet beneath the walls a mound of sand-sacks grew apace; then, of a sudden, the jeering Bactrians understood. Their laughter was changed to curses, their merriment to shouts of rage, for they saw that Menon built a sloping road-way to their battlements and soon would launch a horde of warriors upon the walls.

And now a tumult rose—the cries of captains raging at their men, the shriek of battle-horns and the answering din of Bactrian soldiery rushing to defense. On the walls were set their heaviest catapults with the aim of wrecking Menon's lighter engines of assault; but now the "thought-child" of Semiramis took a part, and even Ninus watched in awe.

This engine was not the like of other engines, for its hurling-beam bent backward in half a circle's space, and on the beam was set a chariot wheel. When loosed, the beam sprang forward with a sidelong sweep and the missile was launched as a boy might fling a shell. At the first discharge—aimed high because of a lurking vanity in the Syrian's soul—the wheel spun out, and, with a strange, melodious sound, went whining over Zariaspa. The eyes of Assyria's host looked on in wonder and in pride of her, and the joy of Semiramis was like unto the joy of a crowing babe.

Soon other engines were set in place and a score of chariot wheels were loosed, with a mournful, pleasing hum—pleasing to those who sent it forth, yet of different tune to the hapless warriors who were dashed from off their walls. These wheels, by reason of their roundness and their equal weight, could be flung with a wondrous accuracy, and woe unto those who sought to serve the Bactrian catapults; while Menon, in peace, went forward with his toil of piling sacks of sand.

If the Bactrians raged because of this new-born stratagem, so Ninus also raged, but in another vein of wrath. None had communed with him concerning it, and Menon, in secret, sought to snatch a glory from his King; so Ninus cast about him for a cause of just displeasure at the man. With the road against the wall he could find no fault, for the sands of the desert were free to all; yet the casting away of his chariot wheels was wicked extravagance, a crime, and in no wise to be borne.

"How now, Shammuramat!" he cried, striding to her side, and trembling in his wrath. "Wherefore shouldst thou do this evil thing? and how shall my hosts ride home to Nineveh when the wheels of my chariots are cast among our enemies?"

"Nay, lord," she answered, with her devil's laugh, "to-day, when Zariaspa shall be thine, then mays't thou gather up these cherry-stones and call them wheels again."

So Ninus, cursing, turned upon his heel, mounted his waiting chariot and drove furiously toward the western camp, in his ears a roar from Zariaspa's walls and an answering roar from those who toiled beneath; then Semiramis left her engines, and, with Huzim to drive her steeds, went clattering along the dust-trail of the King.

The camp once reached, the King deployed his armies in a swift attack upon the western wall, in the hope that Bactria's force was bent on the distant point where Menon struck his blow; so creaking towers and mighty structures of wood and brass were pushed toward the battlements, and men swarmed up, to grapple with defending foes, to fall and die.

Semiramis, following in the wake of Ninus, caused Huzim to draw his reins at the camp of Asharal, the Babylonian Prince whom the monarch had deprived of office, yet restored again at the pleadings of the Syrian. To him she whispered, and at the whisper Prince Asharal smiled happily and straightway sought the King. The King he found in a fretful mood because of the slowness of his armies and their failure to win the walls, and it troubled him the more when Asharal in meekness bent his knee and spoke:

"My lord, in what appointed place shall thy servant serve, trusting thereby to aid my King in this his sore discomfiture?"

Now this question, to Ninus, was like salt in an open wound, and he fain would have smitten Asharal upon his humble mouth; yet many watched, and so the King stretched forth one trembling arm and pointed to the citadel.

"There standeth what we seek! Go seek it, fool, and trouble me no more with idle questionings!"

The Babylonian bowed his head, half in homage, half in his wish to hide a joyous smile, and so went out from the presence of the King; yet, presently, he came upon Semiramis, sprang upon her chariot-tail, and the steeds were lashed in a race toward the hills. They made no pause till they reached the gateway of the subterranean river course, where Asharal made choice of a thousand Babylonian men-at-arms, and, commanding them to follow, disappeared with Kedha, Huzim and Semiramis into the bowels of the earth.

This move was made in secret and with care, yet a rumor thereof was learned by the prying High Priest Nakir-Kish who forthwith hastened to the King; yet Ninus was in the stress of an ill-gone battle, frowning tugging at his beard, so the High Priest held his tongue till a more propitious moment for his evil news. He waited apart, but Ninus spied him presently and called him to his side.

"Priest," said he, "a weighty question haunteth me, without a pause or peace, and the answer thereto is hidden from my mind; yet, mayhap, some aid may rise from out thine auguries."

"Speak on," begged Nakir-Kish, and the troubled monarch spoke:

"At Nineveh I swore an oath that he who first stood conqueror on the citadel of Zariaspa might claim a woman as his own, be the man a king or the spawn of a Hittite serf. In Bactria I gave this woman unto Menon, swearing again in an oath to part them not." He paused and looked on Nakir-Kish with narrowed eyes. "May a monarch swear two oaths, the one against the other, keeping both? Not so. Which, then, shall I keep, and which may Ninus break without affront to the justice of our gods?"

The High Priest looked upon his master and read the evil in his heart. Full well he knew which oath the King would break; full well he knew the danger in unpleasing auguries; so he closed his eyes, and in a solemn voice made answer, craftily:

"To one who is born a god, the gods alone make known their highest will. Heed, then, O King, thy servant's poor advice. Stand first thyself upon the citadel, and in thy justice give this woman unto him who best deserveth such a prize."

He paused. The moment now was ripe to tell of Semiramis and Asharal, yet ere he could speak the tide of battle called the King who leaped into his chariot, leaving Nakir-Kish alone. In the sands of the desert the High Priest stood, watching his master's receding form till it passed from sight, then he muttered in his beard:

"A man may be born a King; a man may be born a fool; yet if I were King I would stamp this Syrian devil in the dust, lest she ride one day on a kingdom's back as a beggar may ride an ass."

So the High Priest Nakir-Kish went out and opened the carcass of a sacred crane, finding therein no augury of happiness for master or for man.

* * * * *

On the eastern side of the city wall the sand heap grew apace, and now a band of Hittites rushed furiously up the slope to engage the defenders of the battlements. No foothold might they gain upon the wall, and were slain because of their ardor and their foolishness; yet their bodies added to the growing pile.

On the walls thronged hordes of reckless Bactrians, stemming the assault, and among them crashed the spinning chariot wheels, landing with an upward lurch and causing wide, bloody gaps, to be filled by other martyrs in a hopeless cause. The Bactrians liked not cherries, and, even as Semiramis had said, a red juice trickled from their battlements. Likewise, beneath the walls were many Assyrians slain by darts and slings, and, when sacks of sand grew scarce, their corpses were set in the catapults and hurled upon the heap, till the roadway well-nigh reached the summit of the wall.

The forces of Menon now gathered for a rush, but the Bactrians checked them by a brave device. From the wall's lip they emptied great vats of oil which ran in the crevices between the sacks of sand, and when torches were flung thereon the roadway became a Gibil's path which mortals might not climb and live. Huge tongues of yellow flame licked forth; dense clouds of smoke puffed out and went rolling towards the sky; yet if this sea of fire held hungering Assyria back, it likewise drove their foemen from the battlements, and so for a space defense and assault alike were quelled.

And now a watcher from the summit of Menon's mound cried out a warning unto those below.

"The King! The King!" he cried. "Ho, brothers, look ye and beware! King Ninus hath won to the western wall!"

It was even as he said, for on the west but a weak defense was given, and Ninus and his warriors had mounted to the parapets, soon to descend into the city streets and cleave a pathway to the citadel. The Citadel! There Menon, too, had sworn to stand the first, for his heart was troubled by the master's double oath; yet now the road was blocked by raging flame.

"Sand! Sand!" he cried, and the sacks were slit and set in the catapults. On striking they would burst, the loose sand being scattered far and wide; and thus, through diligence and the urging of his men by lashes and the promise of rich reward, the flames were in part subdued.

Then up this smoking pathway rushed the armies of Assyria, lusting for blood in the thirst of a long year's wait, hungering for the plunder of this mighty jewel-chest, mad for the women waiting in the grip of fear. They burned their hands on the blistered masonry, scorched their feet as they trod the parapets; yet quickly they spread to distant points along the wall or leaped below on the spear points of the Bactrians.

The walls once gained, Assyria held the whip-hand, and an endless stream of fighting men came pouring into the streets. On the western side King Ninus had torn away the masonry which blocked the gate, and a wedge of chariots came thundering in, to ride the defenders down. Thus, east and west, Assyria pressed on Bactria, forcing the foemen inward toward their citadel, and through every street and alley battle rioted and knew no pause. For every pace King Oxyartes asked a price of blood which Ninus paid, and the sons of Zariaspa struggled to the death for their hearths and homes, while women from the house tops tore away the tiles and flung them down—flung curses also, and their very beds which they dragged upon the roofs and tumbled on the conquerors.

On every hand the awsome din of war arose, the screams of death and victory, the battle chants of charging men, and the roar of flame which wrapped the city round about. As clouds of rolling smoke went up, with the tongue of carnage sounding underneath, the household doves of Bactria took fright and began to wheel in dizzy circles overhead. A warrior saw therein an omen, and cried to his fellows that Semiramis was born of doves; therefore Asshur smiled upon her and on the arms of those who served.

Forthwith a mighty roar went up, and as Assyria pushed toward the citadel her warriors thundered forth the name—SHAMMURAMAT.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CITADEL

Along the subterranean river course, cautiously and without a light, groped Kedha, Semiramis and Asharal, while at their heels walked Huzim bearing on his shoulder a mighty hammer with a ponderous head of brass; and following after came a thousand Babylonian warriors picked for their courage and their skill in deeds of arms.

One other came also, albeit none had bidden him, and now he came snuffling to the Syrian's side, knowing full well that the time was past when his mistress might send him back; so Semiramis cursed Habal softly and suffered him to go.

"Asharal," she whispered presently, "in this my enterprise a chance is given thee to win renown among the peoples of thy land, yet in return therefor I ask a price." She laid a hand upon his shoulder and spoke into his ear: "If the halls of the citadel be cleared, no man save Menon first must stand with me upon the roof, else a woe may come of it. Pledge me, therefore, in the word of a Prince of Babylon."

"Princess," he answered, "the kingdom which I serve is thine, even as its chief is thine, and he who passeth Asharal upon the stair must pass him dead."

Now Kedah, who heard, said naught, but his hand sought the hand of Semiramis whom he loved; he raised it and in the darkness pressed it to his lips.

Prince Asharal went backward, whispering to the chieftains of his line who in turn passed down the purport of command to every follower, then in silence the march went on.

They came at last to the mouth of the passage-way which was guarded by a double gate of brass, and beyond, through its massive bars, could be discerned a vaulted chamber, where the city cisterns lay, stretching away in impenetrable gloom. Behind the gates sat a full-armed sentinel drowsing at his post, yet an arrow in his throat brought deeper slumber to the man; then Huzim raised his hammer and, grunting, struck the gates. Thrice fell his mighty blows, with a clanging crash that sent the echoes rolling down a hundred passage-ways, and from out the murk came running other sentinels, trumpet-tongued in the flush of dread alarm.

"Strike, Huzim!" shrilled Semiramis. "Strike in the name of Bêlit—and in mine!"

So Huzim once more raised the hammer head above his own and, with a heave which drove the blood from out his nostrils, struck; the brazen gates fell inward, smitten from their hinges, and Semiramis sprang over them. Upward her warriors pressed toward halls of Zariaspa's citadel, and where a doorway barred their path, there Huzim smote it, till wood and metal gave before his strength; then into the central hall burst a raging imp of war, with the wolves of Babylonia baying at her heels.

Within the inner court were gathered many women, the wives of nobles, the children of King Oxyartes and his spouse, huddled together in the fear of death, but these Semiramis harmed not. Her work was laid among the warriors who manned the gates of the outer court, holding them for the inrush of the Bactrians fighting in the streets, for every man who might be spared from the citadel's defense was flung against the invading hordes of Menon and the King. So it chanced that within the citadel were, in all, three thousand men-at-arms, and these Semiramis attacked as a hound may leap at a lion's throat; yet ill it might have gone with her slender force had Menon not sent another thousand warriors to follow down the hidden river course. They came at the turning point of fate, the mountaineers from the land of Naïri, wild, hairy men who sang as they fought, or died with a broken song upon their lips; thus their strange, barbaric tongues gave heart to Babylon, even as their swords brought woe amongst the enemy.

The gates were won; the victors pursued their quarry from hall to hall, through winding passageways and on stairs that dripped with blood, while Semiramis, with Kedah and Huzim, worked ever upward toward the highest battlements. Two stairways led to an opening on the roof, the one upon the right, the other on the left, and these they mounted, while from without came the roar of battle raging in the streets.

When the Bactrians, pressed by Ninus, sought refuge in their citadel they came upon fast-locked gates, and so a tangled swarm of defeated warriors were squeezed against the walls, while into them drove Menon and the King, cleaving a pathway to the goal of their hearts' desire.

From the press King Ninus looked upward to the summit of the citadel and marvelled at what he saw, for a shepherd dog—the first to stand a conqueror thereon—looked down and barked and barked; then Semiramis sprang beside him, her red locks tossing from beneath her helm. She, too, looked down, on a caldron of murder seething in the pool of Zariaspa's walls; then she raised her round young arms, and, even as the conquering eagle screams, so screamed Semiramis, in a vaunting battle-cry.

In the streets below that cry reechoed from the thirst-parched tongues of a raging multitude that thundered at the fast-locked gates and trod on a floor of slain; then the bolts were drawn and the halls of the citadel were gorged with the inrush of a conquering horde. In the van ran Ninus, and close beside him Menon came, each intent on mounting to the battlements, each watching covertly lest the other gain some vantage ground; thus it came about that the two contrived a separate road. The King advanced to the stairway on the right, and with sword in hand looked backward, in a grim, unspoken vow to slay the man who followed him; but a Babylonian whispered in the ear of Menon who was straightway swallowed up amongst the throng.

Now the followers of Asharal, according to their pledge, made way for Menon, opening a path toward the flight of stairs upon the left, while the right was barred by the fighting-men of Babylon. Here none might mount and live, yet at the coming of the King—this black-browed warrior-lord of all the world—the blood of Babylon was cooled; their sword points fell, and they suffered him to pass—to pass across the wounded, senseless form of Asharal.

So, upward ran Prince and King, the one upon the right, the other on the left, each panting in his toil till their veins were swelled into throbbing, purple knots; each casting aside all reckoning of life and death save the one desire to outstrip his fellow animal in the race toward the roof. The roof!—whereon a woman stood—one mould of mortal clay, yet mixed with the blood-red wine of passion, whereof men drink, and in their madness trample on the altars of their gods.

Upward, still upward, till a single flight remained, and none might say which held a vantage of the lead; then Menon groaned aloud and sank exhausted on the stair. Huzim, watching from above, leaped down to seize his master in his arms and bear him upon the roof; yet, alas! too late, for the mighty sinews of the King would win to the summit of the citadel. The race was well-nigh run. Between the lord of all Assyria and his goal there stood one man alone—Kedha the faithful—he who loved Semiramis as a dog may love the master of his heart; he who loved in silence since that bygone day in Syria when a red-locked imp of war had cursed him in his teeth and with him charged a wall of battling Kurds. At the coming of the King he crouched upon the stair, not in fear, but in awe of that crowning flash of Destiny when a man and his spirit reach the parting of the way. An arm shot out and seized the monarch's thigh; a shoulder pressed him, and the two plunged downward, rolling to the bottom of the stair.

In the fall poor Kedha lay beneath the King—beneath two hairy hands that in fury gripped his throat. These hands had builded Nineveh; they had played with nations as a juggler toys with sharpened blades; they had woven the thongs of servitude—from sun-baked Egypt to the frozen waters of the North—and now they closed, till the neck of one last slave was snapped and his body lay in a bleeding, huddled heap. Thus Kedha passed, in the cause of those he loved, and, in passing, wrought a nobler deed than the lord of all Assyria could boast, with scepter and with sword.

When Ninus at last came out upon the roof, Menon rested from the toil of battle and the stress of his racing climb, breath-spent, with fast-closed eyes which noted not the coming of his King. In his heart of hearts the monarch yearned to raise the victor in his arms and hurl him from the battlements, but Semiramis leaned upon his hunting spear, even as Huzim leaned upon his mighty hammer haft; therefore the monarch smiled. He raised Prince Menon and set him upon the battlements, and then, in the sight of the watching hosts, proclaimed him conqueror; whereat a mighty roar went up, till the soul of the King grew faint with fury, though his hand was steady, and he smiled.

* * * * *

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.

CHAPTER XXV

SHIFTING THE BURDEN

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.

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

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.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE PASSING OF A MAN

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.

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

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.

CHAPTER XXVII

A PATH WHICH LED TO ITS STARTING POINT

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.

* * * * *

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!"

* * * * *

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.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CRY OF THE TIGRESS TO HER MATE

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?"