While Hanno’s bireme glided betwixt the portals of Nimitti-Bel, a yet
more magnificent galley had been flying up-stream to meet her. On the
poop, where the polished teak and ivory glittered, stood a group of
officers, in array glorious as the orb of Samas. Here stood Sirusur, the
_Tartan_, commander of the host; here Bilsandan, the _Rabsaki_, grand
vizier; here, proudest of all, Avil-Marduk, whose gray goatskin across
his shoulders proclaimed him chief priest of Bel,[1] highest pontiff
of the kingdom. Tall, handsome men were they all, worthy rulers of the
city of cities. But at their centre was no less a person than Belshazzar
himself, sovereign lord of “Sumer and Akkad,” as myriads hailed him.
The monarch sat while his ministers stood round him; yet even on his
gold-plated chair Belshazzar seemed nearly as tall as they. The royal
dress differed from that of the nobles’ only as the embroideries on the
close-fitting robes blazed with more than common splendour, and the gems
on the necklet would have drained the revenues of a petty kingdom.
Upon the carefully curled hair perched the royal tiara, white and blue,
threaded with gold, cone-shaped, but the top slightly flattened. There
was majesty and force stamped upon his aquiline features; force—and it
might be passion—glittered in his dark eye, and shone from the white
teeth half hid by the thick black beard. In brief, no diadem was needed
to proclaim Belshazzar lord.
Avil-Marduk, a gaunt, haughty man, with a strident voice, was speaking to
Sirusur, while the eunuchs behind the king flapped their ostrich fans to
keep the flies away from majesty.
“I would give much,” quoth he, “to know how long Cyrus will remain blind.
We must dissemble to the envoys; chatter peace. By Istar! I wish the
Egyptian treaty were signed! Pharaoh’s envoy is timorous as a wild deer.”
Sirusur laughed dryly. “I have less fear. There are two envoys—Pharnaces,
an old nobleman, but the chief is the young Prince Darius. They say his
eyes are only for hunts and arrow-heads, after these Persian barbarians’
fashion. We will give him a great fête, and show all courtesy. He will
return to Susa dazzled, and tell Cyrus that Belshazzar is friendly as his
own son.”
“Nevertheless,” answered Avil, cautiously, “be guarded. The Persians
forgive twelve murders sooner than one lie. If Darius dreams we ask the
marriage treaty but to gain time for an Egyptian alliance and war—”he
broke off—“then, my gallant _Tartan_, you may have chance to prove your
valour.”
Sirusur shrugged his shoulder. “The power of Cyrus is great. Media and
Lydia were both swallowed by him; but Babylon, Bel grant, shall prove
over large in his maw!”
“The ship of the princess approaches,” announced Bilsandan. And even
Belshazzar arose as the vessel of Hanno swept alongside. The king stepped
to the bulwarks, the purple parasol of royalty held above his head by a
ready nobleman. The nimble Phœnicians lashed the two vessels together,
and laid a railed gangway between. Of the Persians Atossa crossed first,
followed by her eunuchs; and as she knelt at the king’s feet, she
unveiled. Her face was very pale, but marvellously fair in the eyes of
the Chaldeans, accustomed to the darker beauty of their own race.
Belshazzar spoke to her, his voice deep, melodious, penetrating. “Rise,
daughter of Cyrus. Istar grant that the white rose of Persia shall bud
with new beauty in the gardens of Chaldea!”
Atossa stood with downcast eyes. “I am content to find grace in the
sight of my lord,” was all she said. Then Darius followed, bowed himself
before the king, and delivered the good wishes of his master, to which
Belshazzar made friendly reply. After these compliments were ended, and
the Babylonians had salaamed before Atossa, Belshazzar commanded the
Persians to sit beside him, and affably pointed out each new building as
they entered the city.
“Before us, on the left, rises the citadel of Nebuchadnezzar; yonder
flashes the brass of the great Gate of Istar; beside the mighty
_ziggurat_ of Bel rises that, scarce smaller, of his consort Beltis.
These brick quays on either bank extend ten furlongs, yet do not suffice
for the shipping. The high walls to the right are of the royal palace, a
city in itself, and the forest of the Hanging Gardens is close by. Though
all the rest of Babylon were taken,” Belshazzar spoke proudly, “a host
might rage against the palace in vain.”
Darius could only wonder and gaze. The quays were a forest of masts. The
houses that crowded the water-front rose three and four stories high,
and were flat-roofed, walled with plastered wicker brightly painted.
The windows were very small, and all the buildings were closely thrust
together.
“By Ahura!” cried the Persian, “do your people forget the smell of pure
air?”
To which Belshazzar answered, laughing: “If one would live in Babylon,
one must pay his price. Happy the man so rich as to possess a little
garden in the midst of the city. As you go south, you find vineyards and
country houses inside the walls.”
“Verily,” declared Darius, “better a reed hut in the forest, and good
hunting, than a thousand talents and life in Babylon!”
The frankness and good nature of the Persian seemed contagious.
Belshazzar laughed again, heartily.
“Now, by Marduk! you will never covet my kingdom. Tell me, do you love to
follow the lion?”
The prince’s eyes flashed fire. “What are the joys of Ahura’s paradise
without a lion hunt before the feasting? Understand, O king, that the
name men call me by in Persia is the ‘King of the Bow,’ for I boast that
I have no peer in archery.”
“Then, by Nergal, lord of the hunting,” swore the monarch, “you shall
face the fiercest lions and wild bulls in my preserves in the marshes!
And I will learn if a Persian can conquer a king of Babylon in the chase.”
“Excellent,” exclaimed the Persian. “Babylon and Persia are at peace;
they shall test their might on the lord of beasts. And if I am not
Cyrus’s self, next to him there is none other of my nation that calls me
vassal.”
But now the water-gate of Imgur-Bel was passed, and while on the left
the cone of Bel-Marduk lifted its series of diminishing terraces to a
dizzy height, on the right spread the royal palace, a vast structure,
surrounded by a dense park, and all girded by a wall. On the river side
the buildings closely abutted the shores, rising from a lofty brick-faced
embankment, themselves of brick, but splendid with the gilding on the
battlements, with the sculptured winged bulls that flanked the many
portals, and the bright enamel upon the brickwork. Out of the masses of
walls sprang castellated towers crowned with gaudy flags, and toward the
centre reared a _ziggurat_, the private temple of the king.
For an instant Darius was at Atossa’s side as she gazed, and no one
watched them.
“This is the dwelling of Belshazzar,” said he softly, “a great king. Joy
to be his wife.” But the lady shivered behind her veil.
“He is a great king, but they will never call him, like Cyrus, ‘the
father of his people.’”
“You will soon forget Persia, happy as mistress in this wondrous city.”
“When I have lived ten thousand years I shall forget—perhaps.” Then she
added very softly, “I am afraid of Belshazzar; his lips drop praise, his
heart is cold and hard as the northern ice. I shall always dread him.”
“You wrong the king,” Darius vainly strove to speak lightly; “the ways of
Babylon are not those of Persia. But there will come a day when you will
feel that the Chaldees are your own people. Belshazzar is a splendid man;
he will delight to honour you.”
But Atossa only held down her head, and answered in a whisper Darius
might not hear.
They had no time for more. A vast multitude was upon the embankment
before the palace—white-robed priests, garlanded priestesses, the
glittering body-guard, all manner of city folk. A shout of welcome
drifted over the river.
“Hail, King Belshazzar! Hail, Lady Atossa! May your years exceed those of
Khasisadra the Ancient!” Then, amid tinkling harps, many voices raised
the hymn of praise to Marduk, the conductor of the royal bride:—
“O merciful one among the gods,
Marduk, king of heaven and earth,
Mankind, the black-headed race,
All creatures, and the spirits of the sky,
Bow down before thee!”
The royal galley headed toward the landing. The great orchestra of
eunuchs and playing-girls raised a prodigious din; yet all their music
was drowned by the shoutings of the people. The staid citizens brandished
their long walking-staffs, and cheered till the heavens seemed near
cracking. But a large corps of the body-guard had cleared a portion of
the royal quay, and the party disembarked between two files of soldiers.
Close to the landing waited the chariots—the six-spoked wheels all
glistening with the gilding, more gilding on the panels of the body, the
pole, and the harness, and jewels and silver bells braided into the manes
of the prancing bay Elamites. For Atossa was ready a four-wheeled coach,
adorned as richly as the chariots, drawn by two sleek gray mules, and
with a closed body, that the daughter of Cyrus might rest on her cushions
within, undisturbed by the vulgar ken. Belshazzar ceremoniously waited
upon the princess, till Mermaza closed the door upon her. Then the king
beckoned to Darius to mount one of the chariots, while he leaped himself
into another. “To the palace,” was the royal command; but just as the
charioteers upraised their lashes, the steeds commenced to plunge and
rear almost beyond control.
Along the brick-paved terrace tugged several lumbering wains, for
which great and small made way. As the wagons approached, a low rumble
proceeded from them, which set all the chariot horses prancing, and
the women and timid burghers uttered low cries and began to mutter
incantations. The eyes of Darius commenced to sparkle. The meaning of
that rumble he knew right well.
“Lions?” demanded he of his chariot-driver.
“Yes, lord,” the man answered, scarce reining the horses, “twelve
bull-lions just taken, being sent to Kutha for the king’s preserves.”
The Persian’s nostrils dilated like a charger scenting battle. And as if
in answer to his half-breathed prayer, lo! one of the oxen, stung by the
goad and fretted by the roarings, commenced to shake his yoke, halting
obstinately, and lifting a full-voiced bellow. Instantly his mates
answered; the lions’ thunders doubled; the wagon-train was halted.
Belshazzar called fiercely to the chief wagoner, “Quiet instantly, or
fifty stripes!”
His voice was drowned in the roar. The teams were so near now that one
could look into the cages, and see the great beasts pent up behind the
stout wooden bars; bars that seemed all too frail at this moment, as
lion after lion, frightened and enraged by the din of the oxen, the
multitude, and his own fellows, began to claw at the bars, digging out
huge splinters with tooth and talon, and roaring louder, ever louder.
Belshazzar’s voice sounded now above all the noise. “Clear away this
rabble!” he was ordering Sirusur, “Master of the Host.” “The man who sent
the lion-train this way shall face me to-night. Silence the beasts, and
get off with them!”
But not the lord of Babylon and all his guards could still those oxen and
their maddened freight.
Sirusur did as bidden. His men pushed on the crowd with their
sword-scabbards, but truth to tell the press was so close, and the exits
from the quay so cramped, the soldiers could accomplish little. The panic
was spreading swiftly enough, however. The goads on the oxen had only
driven them into deeper obstinacy.
“Look! In Nergal’s name, look!” cried Darius’s charioteer; and before the
prince’s half-terrified, half-exulting eyes he saw the lion within the
nearest cage leaping to and fro, trebly maddened now by all the growing
tumult. The wagon swayed on its wheels. The wooden bars gave a crash
every instant.
“Three more leaps and he is free!” the prince was shouting, transported
by his excitement.
“Danger! The wagon topples!” was the howl of the people, and at last they
began to give way indeed.
Sirusur, having abandoned his hopeless effort to restore order and
silence, hurried men to form before the chariots, while others ran to
aid the despairing drivers. Late—the unruly oxen strained their chains.
Darius saw the heavy cage totter, fall—a crash, a murk of dust, a noise
that thrilled the stoutest, hard wood giving way under harder talons
and teeth, then a roar of triumph. Out of the dust he saw a kingly lion
bounding, in all his panoply of tawny mane. As the beast leaped, drivers
and soldiers sped back like leaves before a gale. The multitude was
shrinking, trampling.
“The lion! The lion! Loose! Escape!”
Belshazzar’s curse was heard above all else. “Take him alive, or, by
Marduk, you are all flayed!” Some guardsmen sprang forward, but the lion,
crafty brute, did not fling himself against those breasts of steel. There
were bowmen present, but the king stayed their arrows. “Not a shaft.
Better ten killed than have him butchered!” The soldiers stood impotent,
while the lion ran with low bounds straight into the helpless crowd, that
recoiled as at the touch of fire. Belshazzar was in a towering rage.
“Nets and hot irons from the palace!” he thundered. “Impalement to all if
he escapes!”
The people were screaming, panic-struck; priests were trampling down
women; the noise grew indescribable. The other lions dashed against
their cages. The brute ran like a great cat down the lane opened through
the multitude. A moment, and he would have broken clear and ranged the
streets. But from his own side Darius heard a cry of mortal fear.
“Jehovah, have mercy! Ruth! My daughter!”
In the next chariot stood Daniel, covering his face with his hands. The
Persian glanced toward the lion. In the centre of the lane, before the
escaping monster, stood a white-clad girl, terrified, shivering, her eyes
upon the lion, fascinated by his gaze, held helpless as a dove before
the snake. How she came there, what fate ordained that she alone of
those thousands should be left to confront the monster, that was no time
to know. But present she was, and before her the lion. The whole scene
passed in less time than the telling. The beast had instantly forgotten
his own perils. Keepers, soldiers, multitude, all ignored. He seemed
again in his forest—fair prey! That was all he knew!
The lion sank low upon the earth, and crept by little leaps nearer,
nearer. The charming fire in the eyeballs Darius saw not, but he saw the
red, lolling tongue, the bristling mane, the great tail undulating at the
tip, the paws fit to crush an ox. Daniel was turning away his face.
“Arrows, O king! Shoot! My only one!” pleaded he; but Belshazzar flung
back, “What is a maid beside a royal lion! Too far—no bow can carry!”
[Illustration: “Darius had proved his title, ‘King of the Bow.’”]
Many an archer’s fingers tightened around his bow, but the king’s eye
was on them. Not a shaft flew. There was a moment’s silence, lions and
oxen hushed. A low moan seemed rising from the people. The lion had
covered twenty of the thirty paces betwixt him and his prey. The maid was
quaking, yet her feet seemed turned to stone. Belshazzar stood in his
car, no god more splendid, more merciless.
“Pity me, O king!” was Daniel’s last appeal. He had leaped down, and
grovelled as a worm before the royal car.
“Too late,” came the answer, “only Bel’s bolt now can save!” What joy to
the king to see those lithe limbs in the monster’s clutch! But a great
cry had broken from Darius.
“No, in the name of Ahura the merciful!” Few saw him, bounding from his
chariot, pluck bow and quiver from a soldier. The lion coiled his limbs
for the final leap; men saw his body spring as a stone from a catapult;
heard a twitter of a bow, and right at the bound the shaft entered the
shoulder, cunningly sped. A roar of dying agony, the body dashed upon the
pavement at the girl’s feet. No second shaft needed—a twitch, a great
bestial groan. Darius had proved his title, “King of the Bow.”
But Belshazzar, who had seen the shot but not the archer, blazed out in
blind fury, “As Marduk rules, who shot? Impale him!”
Darius stepped beside the royal chariot; his pose was very haughty. “My
lord,” said he, “I give proof we Persians are fair huntsmen.”
Belshazzar’s hand went to his sword-hilt, but Darius met the flame in his
eyes unflinchingly. By a great effort the king controlled himself, but
did not risk speech. The drivers had mastered the oxen, the lions grew
still. The people were shouting in delight, “Glory to Nergal! The Persian
is peer to the hero Gilgamesh!”
Daniel was kissing Darius’s shoes, his voice too choked for thanks. But a
young man with a forceful, frank face, a manly form, dressed like Daniel,
very simply, came and kissed, not the shoes, but the dust at Darius’s
feet.
“For life I am your slave, O prince! You have saved me my betrothed!”
Then he ran among the people to lead away the girl. Belshazzar ventured
to speak.
“How now, Daniel?” ignoring Darius. “By Nergal, your wench has been the
death of an African lion! Why here? You keep her locked at home, safe as
a gold talent. I have never seen her.”
“She was with Isaiah, her betrothed. In the crowd they were swept
asunder. The king saw the rest.”
Belshazzar was still raging.
“Yes, verily. A rare bull-lion sacrificed for a slip of a wench like
her!” Then to the eunuchs: “Run, bring the lass to me. Rare treasure she
must prove to make her more precious than the lion.”
Darius saw a fresh cloud on the old Jew’s face. In a moment Isaiah and
the maid were before the king. Very young and fragile seemed the Jewess.
The blood had not returned to the smooth brown cheeks. Her black hair was
scattered in little curls, for veil and fillet had been torn away. She
looked about with great, scared eyes, and all could see her tremble. She
started to kneel before the king, but Belshazzar, regarding her, gave a
mighty laugh.
“Good, by Istar! So this is your treasure, Daniel? Not the Egibi bankers
possess a greater, you doubtless swear. Stand up, my maid. Bel never made
those eyes to stare upon that dusty road. Closer. Look at me, and I vow
I will forgive you the lion. There are more in the marshes, but only one
daughter of Daniel!”
“Look up, child; his Majesty bids you,” the old Hebrew was saying, but
his face was very grave. Ruth raised her great eyes; her lips moved, as
if in some answer, but no sound came. Belshazzar smiled down upon her
from his car. Atossa was to be his queen, but when was a king of Babylon
denied a maid that was pleasant to his eyes? He turned to Darius.
“Now, by every god, I thank you, Persian. I was about to curse, but your
archery saved one beside whom Istar’s self must flush in shame. Well are
you named ‘King of the Bow.’”
Then he gazed again upon the maid. “Mermaza,” he commanded, “put the girl
in a chariot, and take her to the palace harem. Give her dresses and
jewels like the sun. Do you, Daniel, draw five talents from the treasury.
Not enough? Ten then. Fair payment for a daughter—ha!”
Daniel was on his knees before the king. “Mercy! Hear me, my lord. If
ever, by faithfulness serving you and your fathers, I gather some store
of gratitude—”
Belshazzar cut him short. “Now does Anu, lord of the air, topple down
heaven? What father says to a king, ‘Mercy. Give back my daughter’? Oh,
presumption! No more, or you forfeit the money.”
“The money,” groaned Daniel, “the price of my daughter? Kiss the earth,
Ruth; and you, Isaiah, entreat the king to forbear!”
Belshazzar turned his back. “Fool,” he cried, “the money is truly
forfeit! Away with her, Mermaza. Great mercy I leave the Jew his life.”
But Darius deliberately thrust himself before the king, and looked him in
the face. “My lord,” he said soberly, “if to any, the girl belongs to me.
I saved her and restore her to her father.”
“You beard me thus, Persian, barbarian!” broke forth Belshazzar, again in
his wrath. The prince answered him very slowly:—
“Your Majesty, in me you see the ‘eyes and ears’ of Cyrus, lord of the
Aryans. What if I report in Susa, ‘On the day I delivered Atossa to
Belshazzar, he, before her own eyes, showed his esteem for her by haling
to his harem a maid chance sent him on the streets’? Would such a tale
knit the alliance firmer?”
Avil-Marduk was beside the king in the chariot, and he whispered in the
royal ear, “Risk nothing. Dismiss the maid; the eunuchs can watch for her
and secure her quietly.”
Belshazzar was again calm. His passion was swift; he subdued it more
swiftly. “Son of Hystaspes,” said he, with easy candour, “I am a man of
sudden moods. The maid pleased me; but, by Istar, I did not think to
insult the princess. Let the Jews go in peace, and to heal their hurts
let the treasurer weigh to each a talent. The Jewess shall sleep safe as
a goddess’s image in the temple. I swear it, on the word of a king of
Babylon. Enough, and now to the palace.”
* * * * *
Darius was received with stately hospitality at the palace. He was told
the arrangements made for Belshazzar’s bride. The king would give her a
great betrothal feast at the Hanging Gardens, but could not wed her for
one year; for before marriage she must be taught the religious duties
of a queen of Babylon. Darius paced the open terrace of the palace that
evening. Below him and all about lay the city of the Chaldees, fair as a
vision of heaven, with the white moon riding above the tower of Bel. But
the beauty of the city brought no joy. Into the hands of what manner of
man had Atossa fallen? The desire of Belshazzar to sacrifice the maiden
for the beast, followed by the outburst of carnal passion—how unlike this
king to Cyrus, whom the meanest Persian loved! At last, when it had grown
very dark, Darius looked about him. No one was near. He lifted his hands
toward the starry sky.
“Verily this Babylon is a city of wickedness, and most evil of all is its
cruel king. But I am young. I am strong. Belshazzar shall not possess
Atossa for one year. And in that year a brave man may do much—much. Help
Thou me, Ahura-Mazda, Lord God of my fathers!”
[Illustration: THE YOKE OF THE CHALDEES]