Semiramis yearned to question him concerning many things, but her tongue

gave thanks alone, as her hand dropped into his and pressed it. So she

fared to the north, with Huzim and Habal following her lead, while Dagas

stood watching till they passed from sight; then he turned and sighed.

For a space the travellers journeyed swiftly, the woman smiling to

herself, while Huzim pondered and spoke no word; yet, presently, he laid

his hand upon her arm.

"Mistress," said he, "our path is upward among the crags, and as we

journey now, we risk the peril of unknown ways and wander from our

course."

"Nay," Semiramis denied, "our quest is in the north, for there a weighty

secret lieth. Listen; to Zariaspa cometh a strange supply of food,

vexing Ninus, in that he may not cut it off and starve his enemies;

therefore in the north I seek its source, though I hunt the hills for

the space of a double moon."

The Indian frowned and slowly shook his head. One hour agone she had

burned to reach the mountain top, and now would hunt behind it for the

space of a double moon. Of a surety the ways of women were a trouble

unto Huzim's mind.

"And how," he asked, "may we know that this secret place be hidden in

the north?"

Again the Syrian laughed, and the laughter pleased her to the finger

tips.

"Good Dagas betrayed it by a fleeting glance, and knew not that he gave

his master into my hand. What manner of place it is, or where it lieth,

the spirits of the mountains only know; yet, mayhap, these spirits may

be taught to wag their tongues."

Once more the patient Huzim shook his head, following on in silent

thought, and for a space they bent their steps on a gently ascending

path, till they came to a rocky spur which overlooked the plains.

"See!" cried Semiramis, pointing with her spear, while her merriment was

loosed, to echo back from stone to stone. "Yon troop of Bactrians

rideth toward the south, to cry alarm, to guard all roads, and to wait a

phantom host which cometh to Zariaspa's aid."

Huzim gazed out and saw that her words were true, though he joined not

in her merriment.

"Nay, mistress," he murmured, "this Dagas is but a fool; yet deeply was

I troubled for thy fate, till streams of sweat poured out upon my skin.

Thou didst say that Syria had risen in revolt--that Hittite chariots

advanced--that Nineveh was but a blotch of mud upon the plain. 'Twas

witful craft, I grant, though hazardous, for truth was twisted inside

out, even as women wring their garments at a washing time."

"Aye," sighed Semiramis, dreamily, as she rested on her hunting spear

and watched the riders vanish in a cloud of dust, "aye, good Huzim, in

song and legend this truth of which thou speakest is a wondrous thing,

yet oft must the god of wisdom robe himself in the splendor of a lie."

CHAPTER XXI

THE RIDDLE OF THE SECRET WAY

The day waxed old. The sun plunged down into a fiery death, as though a

Moloch swallowed it, to breathe back flames from his brazen throat; then

the crimson glow grew faint and faded from the west; the twilight

deepened, while a purple haze stole up on the mountain slopes, to wrap

the loftiest crags in gloom, till the moon rode forth and set them free.

Semiramis and Huzim now paused for rest and food, for the way grew more

precipitous, and naught might be accomplished while the darkness held;

so when the Indian had eaten he stretched himself in sleep, but for the

Syrian there was none. She sat with her chin upon her hand, gazing in

thought upon the mountain stream which tumbled noisily beside the

resting place, while through her brain a question rioted and gave no

peace--a question which mocked, yet lured her on through swamps of deep

perplexity. Whence came these stores of food to Zariaspa? and why in the

name of Nebo should the Bactrians set the place on the further side of a

mountain range? To cross the ridge was but to meet with Ninus and his

ring of warriors. How pass them and win to the city walls?

"Ah, little stream," she murmured, with a heavy sigh, "what secrets of

the hills thy hundred tongues could tell did I but understand thy

strange, wise songs!"

The stream sang on, a roar of dull monotony that lulled her senses into

drowsiness, and again the Syrian sighed as she stretched her limbs for

sleep; yet slumber hid itself away as hid the answer to her quest, and

suddenly a silence fell--a silence so deep that the wind-gods seemed to

hold their breath as for a coming storm, while through the hush ran a

whispered chant of insects of the night--that murmurous hum from the

tongues of tiny, things.

The Syrian started, sat upright on the earth, and stared at the stream

in wide-eyed unbelief. Where, before, a torrent rushed along its way,

leaping the stones with a foaming, boisterous swirl, now ran a trickling

rivulet. Its song was stilled; black rocks protruded from its bed, and

a stranded fish flapped clumsily upon the sand. For a moment longer

stared Semiramis, then leaped to her feet and shook the sleeping Indian.

"Awake!" she cried. "As Ishtar liveth, I have spoken with the

stream--and the stream hath answered me!"

For a space she whispered eagerly, pointing to the north, till Huzim

rose and brushed the slumber from his eyes. They bound the jaws of

Habal with a leathern thong, lest the dog give tongue and sound alarm;

then they crept in silence up the water-course. Northward it ran, yet

suddenly it sheared away toward the east where the hills bent inward,

forming a mighty pocket in the mountainside, and here the hunters

paused, for faintly down the wind came the calls of men, the bellow of a

burden-beast, and the sound of many hammer-strokes.

"Ah," breathed Semiramis, "'tis there the riddle hath its root, hanging

like grapes till we come to strip the vine."

They left the stream and clambered upward, with an aim of spying from

above, the Indian creeping on ahead, while Semiramis came after him, her

dog in leash. The steeps grew difficult, but the seekers spared their

strength, mounting slowly till they came upon a sentry seated in a

narrow pass and singing softly to himself.

"How white is his throat," smiled Huzim, as he notched a shaft and knelt

among the rocks; but Semiramis laid a restraining hand upon his arm.

"Nay, spare him; for see, he looketh upon the stars, and, all unknowing,

giveth praise to Ishtar. To slay him were to bring us evil. Come!"

To the right they crept, in a circuit which brought them far above the

watcher's post, then turned and bent upon their course again; and thus

they journeyed stealthily, as in days of old they had stalked their game

in Syria, coming at last to the lip of a precipice. Prostrate they lay

and peeped below, yet naught could be seen because of gloom, and the

trailing mists which eddied to and fro at the chase of a fickle breeze.

Strange sounds came floating up to them, an oath, a sharp command, the

crack of a lash, and the jumbled echoes of haste and toil; and now the

moon slid out from behind a crag, bathing the slopes in a wave of light,

while the call of sentries echoed far and wide, and the din in the

valley ceased.

The watchers crept into the shadow of an over-hanging rock, continuing

to peer into the depths beneath; and, as they looked, they caught the

gleam of water, whereon a clumsy barge was pushed by men who waded to

their waists.

"See!" gasped Huzim, pointing to the loaded barge. "It floateth toward

the cliff! What manner of mystery is this?"

It was even as he said. Another barge came out, and still another, till

seven in all were counted, each pushed by waders toward the cliff, each

disappearing suddenly as if it sank into some yawning well. On the

water's edge swarmed scores of men, each busied with his appointed task;

then after a space a gang came forth to labor at a wooden gate which

slid between jaws of masonry. By means of a prizing-beam this gate was

raised, when the dammed-up water once more rushed into the bed of the

mountain stream, and the earth was seen where a lake had rested in a

basin among the hills.

Now all these things were strange to Huzim and as marvels beyond his

grasp, but Semiramis smiled and thus reproached herself:

"In truth have I been but a suckling babe concerning wit and the wiles

of men; yet beyond the mountains lie twice a million other babes, with

Ninus who croweth mightily and sitteth enthroned--the master-babe of

all!" She turned to the Indian, thoughtfully: "Tell me, didst say that

Menon dug his wells to the east of Zariaspa and found sweet water

there?"

"Aye," said Huzim; "but what hath this to do with barges on a

mountainside?"

"Much," the Syrian laughed, "for these boats go down through a cavernous

passage-way, beneath the mountain, beneath the earth where Ninus is

encamped, and beneath the city's walls. There the Bactrians receive

their stores of food and burn these barges which may not travel back

again. The water they gather up in cisterns for the city's needs, or

loose it at will, whence it floweth away, to sink in the thirsty sands

beyond. Thus Menon hath digged his wells, and marveleth at what is

found."

The Indian listened with an open mouth, grunting his wonder, but

offering no reply, and Semiramis spoke again:

"By Ishtar, 'tis a cunning wile, yet craft may match it unto Bactria's

woe. Menon is mine at last!" she cried exultantly. "The King is mine!

And Zariaspa lieth in the hollow of my hand! Up, Huzim, for we climb to

the mountain top ere dawn hath come!"

Once more they journeyed, with care at first because of sentinels who

watched the hillsides as a mother eagle guards her young; but at length

the danger line was passed and they mounted with quickened pace. Up, up

they climbed till the moon went down, and the chill of the lofty

altitude came searching beneath their cloaks; then for an hour they

rested, and the ascent was begun again. By the gleam of the stars alone

they toiled, till a sickly glow came stealing from out the east; and

then, as the sun came up, they stood at last on the mountain's spine,

poor Habal dropping at their feet with heaving flanks and a lolling

tongue.

Semiramis heaved a sigh. Beneath her lay the land of Bactria, yet

hidden now by a ghostly sea of mist--a mist that writhed and heaved,

revealing giant peaks that seemed to peep out timidly, to turn and flee

as though pursued by spirits of the under-world; then the peaks,

emboldened as the sunrays drank the vapors down, rushed back again,

while scurrying clouds dissolved like rabble before a war-king's

chariot.

Lower and lower sank the mist, till the battlements of Zariaspa pierced

the veil, and on the walls long lines of white-robed priests came forth

in worship of the sun, while warriors dipped their banners, knelt, and

raised their gleaming arms aloft.

As Semiramis watched, the scene unrolled as to one who looks into a

witch's caldron when the reek is blown away. She saw the valleyed

foothills, and the tawny plain that stretched beyond till lost in an

ochre haze. She saw the city, grim, defiant in its might, and the vast

brown monster coiled around its outer shell, hungry, baffled, weary of

its fruitless grip. From north to south long ridges seamed the earth

where trenches had been dug to hold the slain and the offal of the

camps, the whole heaped o'er with sand lest pestilence arise, while

scattered far and wide lay blackened skeletons of scaling-towers,

engines of assault, and abandoned catapults, which the enemy had wrecked

or burned with fire.

And now the army wakened, not as warriors eager for the siege, but as

sluggards who find it easier far to hurl a drowsy curse than to labor

like men in a cause of little hope.

"See!" cried Semiramis, pointing with a trembling arm, while her great

eyes blazed in scorn. "King Ninus lieth down in sloth, and a million

warriors rot in idleness! By Ishtar, with such a force I'd overthrow

yon town as a woodsman felleth a sapless tree!" She paused to sigh,

then turned to Huzim with a smile: "Among the stars above strange

happenings are ordained, yet perchance unto Ninus I may whisper soon, in

that he rouseth from his lethargy."

The Indian regarded her both earnestly and long.

"Mistress," he answered, grimly, in the manner of one who is charged

with truth, "if thou wouldst whisper in the ear of Assyria's King, first

make its opening larger with the barb of thy hunting spear."

"Nay," laughed Semiramis; "a woman's wit may sink far deeper and will

leave no scar. Now point me out where my good lord Menon hath set his

camp."

The Indian's finger swept the line of the city's eastern wall, to a

mound beyond, to a dull brown horde of idle warriors--as idle as the

warriors of the King.

"Ah!" sighed the yearning wife, and walked apart to gaze across the

walls of Zariaspa, in hope that her heart might lead her eyes unto one

she sought among a myriad of midges on the distant field.

"Menon," she whispered, her arms outstretched, her sensuous soul

outflung, "were Shammuramat in truth a dove, how swiftly would she wing

her way to thee!"

* * * * *

As the sun slid down and the shadows of the hills crept out across the

plains, King Ninus sat within his tent, while about him stood a score of

his under-chiefs. Warriors they were of many lands which made Assyria's

kingdom one, stern men of copper hue, half naked in the summer heat,

gaunt of feature, lean and sinewy of limb. On the faces of many was

stamped a look of weariness; on others anger, while the monarch wore his

darkest scowl; for a council was being held, wherein rebellion against

the King had risen to a fever-pitch, and fierce internal strife was like

to rend the army from end to end.

"Heed me!" cried Asharal, the Babylonian Prince whose hatred of the

conqueror led him ever to dispute. "What need to starve in Bactria when

plenty lieth along the Tigris and the Euphrates? Why break our teeth

against a wall of stone when naught may come of it save a bleeding

mouth? We storm a city, fling away a nation's wealth as though its

coffers served a catapult! Our soldiers sicken at the lack of food and

because of the bitterness of long defeat! If Ninus be in truth a god,

then let him give this city into our hands; if not, he will lead his

wearied servants home!"

For answer the King rose up and smote Prince Asharal full upon the

mouth, in that he fell upon the earth with twitching limbs and eyes that

rolled in vacancy.

"So," growled Ninus, nursing the knuckles of his great brown fist, "the

dog, at last, hath a mouth that bleeds." He turned to the Babylonian's

friends and spoke again, calmly, but as a master speaks: "Because he is

born a fool, I spare him--the next of his like shall hang!"

A silence fell within the council tent, save for the shifting of uneasy

feet, and the creak of harness as the fallen man breathed fast and hard;

then, in the hush, a sentry entered, bowing low before the King.

"Lord," said he, "a messenger is without, demanding an audience of Ninus

and of his chiefs."

The lips of the monarch parted for an oath, and yet no sound came forth;

instead his mouth stretched wider still in wonderment, for before him

stepped a woman warrior, the like of whom his eyes had never lit upon.

Her shapely limbs were encased in linen, bound with thongs, as were the

leathern sandals on her feet; she wore her tunic, washed white in a

mountain stream, and across her breast was flung a leopard's skin,

caught with a clasp behind and forming a quiver for her shafts. She

carried a bow and hunting spear, and on her shoulders, brown and bare,

her red locks rippled from a brazen helm.

The chieftains stared; and yet it was not the splendor of her raiment

which held them in amaze, but her beauty, strange and devilish--her

eyes, deep pools of ever changing light wherein the sons of men grew

foolish and were consumed.

"Shammuramat!" breathed the King. "Whence comest thou?"

"Shammuramat no more," the Syrian answered, "but a merchant from the

west with wares for sale."

"By Belit," grunted Gazil, a hairy chieftain from the uplands of the

river Hit, "did the merchant sell herself, I'd buy, though the bargain

stripped me to the bone."

"Hush!" a nudging neighbor whispered. "Be sparing of thy tongue, lest

Ninus serve thee as he served yon Babylonian fool."

So Gazil held his peace, and Ninus looked in silence on Semiramis. In

the mind of the King two spirits warred for mastery; the one in anger at

this prisoner who escaped from Nineveh to defy his will, the other

unwilling admiration of her recklessness.

"And why," he asked, as he combed his beard, "doth the merchant risk her

head in a journey unto Zariaspa?"

Semiramis regarded him with a look of childish wonder wherein was

mingled trust untouched by fear.

"Right well the lord of Assyria knoweth that I come at his own command."

Now the King bad commanded no such thing, yet, recalling how the

Syrian's wits had befooled him in the halls at Nineveh, he took council

with himself lest it chance again.

"Speak," he urged, with a cautious mien, "that these my chiefs and

friends may hear."

Semiramis bowed before him humbly and turned to the listening men.

"My lords," she began, and looked on each in turn, "far better than I

might Ninus speak, for the glory of this deed is his." She paused an

instant, then spoke once more, her rich tones falling strangely on the

ears of those who heard. "In a vision came the King unto my side--a

spirit in the godly robes of Asshur and the horned cap of Bel. 'Arise,

Shammuramat,' he commanded, in a voice that rolled as from afar; 'arise

and seek through the hills of Hindu-Kush for a wondrous secret hidden

there--a secret through which all Zariaspa feasteth long, while Assyria

must prowl, a hungry wolf outside its walls.'"

"Ah!" cried Ninus, leaping to his feet, "thou knowest, then, whence

cometh Zariaspa's store of food?"

"Aye," she answered, "but the spirit of the King said more." The

monarch sank into his seat, and she turned to the gaping chiefs: "'My

spirit,' spoke the spirit of the King, 'is heaven-born, yet my flesh is

mortal as all men know full well; so follow thou where my spirit leadeth

and sell this secret to my mortal flesh for such a price as justice may

demand.'"

The King looked up, a light of anger in his eyes; but he curbed his

speech, for he knew not what was yet to come, and half a god was better

far than being proven not a god at all.

"Say on," he muttered, and Semiramis said on. She wove a wondrous tale

of magic and of myth, of how the spirit led her through the gates of

Nineveh unseen; of how a steed awaited beyond the walls to bear her on

her way; of the arms and raiment found upon its back, and its speed in

passing through the lands of enemies.

Now in these days the sons of Assyria were as children whose minds were

swayed by superstitious fears; in demons they believed who thronged the

earth and air, the waters and the sky; so the words of Semiramis were

the words of truth to all save two, who listened and were not deceived.

The one was the King; the other Nakir-Kish, High Priest of the Magi, a

man of wisdom who stood apart with folded arms, and smiled. The Syrian

marked his look of ill-veiled jealousy, for she trod too close upon his

own dark rites to pass unchallenged; therefore she sought to disarm an

enemy ere the weapon of his speech was raised.

"My lords," said she to the wondering chiefs, "the tale is done. As the

spirit of Ninus led my steps, so followed I and found; yet if there be

one to doubt my words, then let him ask of Nakir-Kish, by whose high

arts was the spirit of the King unleashed and sent to me at Nineveh."

All eyes were turned upon Nakir-Kish who flushed as the Syrian's shaft

went home, for of a certainty he stood in a grievous pass. To deny

would strip him of a boasted power and cheat his magic of a splendid

deed; to confirm her words was but to mark him as the ally of a liar; so

the High Priest pondered for a space and held his tongue. Yet the

chieftains waited, so at last he strode to the center of their ring and

raised his arms.

"'Tis even as she telleth," he cried aloud, and Semiramis smiled, with

the air of one who conquers Kings; then Ninus arose and spoke:

"Peace, Nakir-Kish! It is not meet that our works be heralded abroad.

Let the woman tell of the Bactrians' store-house hidden from our mortal

eyes."

The Syrian shook her head.

"My lord," she made reply, "'tis true the merchant selleth wares, yet

the merchant hath a price."

"Name it," growled the King. "If thy words be true, I give a chariot's

weight in gold; if false--beware!"

"Nay, radiant one," she smiled, "is Shammuramat a thief? One chariot I

ask--of wood and brass--with a man to drive me whither and when I will."

"Granted," agreed the King. "Choose chariot, steeds, and charioteer,

but in the name of Nebo tell us quickly of what we yearn to know."

"Wait!" said Semiramis. "My bargain must first be sealed. As to

steeds, I care not, so be they sound in wind and limb; yet as to him who

driveth, is of greater moment to my sale."

She turned to the listening warriors, then paused to laugh again, for

half a score of men stepped forward, eager to drive her, though the road

be laid through Gibil's smoking gates.

It is ill to tweak a King's impatient mood, yet this the Syrian dared to

do, knowing right well the price Assyria would pay to call proud Bactria

slave; therefore she paid no heed to Ninus, but wrought with his

chieftains, smiling, conscious of her power.

"Nay, friends, 'tis I whose pride is roused at thought of riding forth

with valiant men of war. Each--all--I love ye, for your strength, your

loyalty to him who leadeth, who by his wisdom conquereth the world; yet

one alone may drive my chariot, and he--"

"Prince Menon!" cried Nakir-Kish, seeking to win a friend where he dare

not make an enemy, and Semiramis turned and bowed before the King.

The monarch frowned, and for a space he pondered, weighing the value of

the Syrian's knowledge against the measure of his royal pride; yet it

came to him that her arts had left him but a single path, for in her

secret lay the nation's welfare and the King's. His chieftains plotted

treason, while the army trembled between revolt and loyalty, wavering,

waiting for a leader's cry to plunge them headlong into open war--a war

at which the Bactrians would laugh aloud in very joy. Peace, then, the

Syrian offered--peace and victory--her price the forgiveness of a single

man. Forgiveness! It was galling to the King, yet, where a King drinks

gall, it were well that he drain his goblet with a smile, as though the

draught lay sweet upon his tongue; therefore Ninus smiled, rising to

speak in a voice which all might hear:

"Listen, my children. Long have I yearned to take Prince Menon to my

heart; yet, because of stubbornness, he sitteth upon his mound, devoured

by spleen. If now he would once more call himself my son, a father will

bid him welcome, even as he welcometh a daughter in Shammuramat."

At this a mighty shout went up, and the Syrian's great eyes filled with

tears. She fell upon her knees and would have pressed her lips to the

monarch's hand, but Ninus raised her and kissed her upon the mouth.

Then before them all Semiramis told her tale of the water-way beneath

the hills; of the cleft in the cliffs on the further side where the

Bactrians damned a mountain stream, raising the waters to the height

desired. She told of the outposts guarding this secret round about,

while through the fertile lands an army of hunters combed the forests

and the fields for game; this game to be borne to the hidden cleft and

loaded on barges, whence it floated through the bowels of the earth unto

waiting Zariaspa.

"And thus," cried Semiramis, "cometh food to our hated enemies--stores

and a flow of sweet, cool water, when Assyria must sit outside the

walls, unconquering, hungered and athirst."

She ceased, and silence lay within the royal tent, silence save for the

sound of heavy breathing and, anon, a gasp of wonderment; yet,

presently, the High Priest Nakir-Kish strode forth, with the aim of

sharing in the Syrian's fame. He raised his naked arms, a light of

battle in his eyes, his voice a tempest charged with the fires of

prophecy:

"Glory to Asshur, lord of all the lords! for on the spirit-tongue of

Ninus is chanted Zariaspa's song of death! Harken, ye chiefs of proud

Assyria, and ye who follow at their heels! This day your King will lead

ye o'er the peaks of Hindu-Kush, to crush the foeman's strength, to

destroy his store-house in the mountain side, and fill the tunnel's

mouth with stones! Up, Gazil! Sound thy battle horn! Collect thy

swordsmen from the hills of Nairi and thy slingers from the north! Up,

men of Babylon and Nineveh, to follow where your King may lead, and let

your war-cry be--_Shammuramat_!"

The Syrian bowed low, yet even as the chieftains rose with her name in

war-cry on their lips, she stayed them with a lifted hand.

"Nay, lords," she laughed, "your mighty priest hath offered but a jest,

to test the temper of his dogs in leash. Bark not so loud, brave dogs,

for none will climb the mountain side this day."

At her daring speech, the High Priest Nakir-Kish grew pale in wrath, and

Ninus watched in silence, knowing there was somewhat yet to come, while

the men-at-arms drew closer, in a circle of wonder and of awe.

"What need to climb," the woman asked, "when the master hath a fairer

plan?"

"Say on," commanded Ninus, cautiously, and Semiramis turned her back

upon Nakir-Kish.

"My lord," she spoke, "'tis not in thy mind to cross the mountain range

and tumble stones into the tunnel's throat, for thereby this great

supply of food will cease. Rather would the King go forth and dig till

he find this sunken river-bed; and then, when the laden boats come down,

their stores shall fill the stomach of Assyria, while Zariaspa looketh

on with curses at our feast. This, then, is the thought in the mind of

Ninus, for the mind of the King is wise."

She ceased, and once more silence fell. The chieftains cast their eyes

upon the earth, nudging one another slyly, while the High Priest

glowered and spoke no word. King Ninus was likewise silent for a space,

yet presently his great beard trembled beneath his fingers, as he gazed

at the woman leaning on her spear; then he burst into a roar of

laughter, taking her hand as he might the hand of a brother and a King.

* * * * *

In the valley among the foothills, hidden from the sight of Zariaspa's

walls, an army of slaves began to dig a mighty trench; full twenty

cubits deep it was, running from north to south in a line which must

cross the hidden river-bed. For eleven days they dug, yet all in vain,

till many looked askance upon Semiramis, believing her tale to be the

fancies of some foolish dream; and of those who doubted, the first was

Nakir-Kish, while Ninus followed close upon his heels.

The King set watch upon Semiramis, commanding that Menon come not into

the western camp till proof of her word was manifest; yet at all these

doubts the Syrian laughed, urging her diggers on with promises of

reward--reward, forsooth, which would come from the coffers of the King.

She demanded the post of chieftain of these works, and from dawn till

darkness fell she set the pace for labor, even as Ninus himself had

toiled in the building up of Nineveh. At night, when the camp was

stilled in sleep, she would creep through the valley's dip, listening

from time to time with her ear pressed close against the earth, and at

last she reaped reward in the faint far gurgle of waters underneath.

On the morning of the eleventh day, the diggers ceased their toil, for

their trench had come upon a rocky water-course whose roof was fashioned

of timbers and the trunks of trees, whose height five cubits might

embrace and whose width was of greater span. No water now flowed through

this strange black hole, yet its bottom was wet, and soon a stream came

trickling down, to deepen and grow in magnitude; then, while the diggers

leaned upon their implements, watching open-mouthed, the current turned

upon itself, no longer sweeping toward the city walls, but into the

trench Semiramis had dug--a tiny river, running in a strange new bed.

And now a marvellous happening came to pass, for, suddenly from out the

earth shot a wooden barge full laden with the carcasses of bear and

mountain-goat, sheep, and the deer which wander through the hills of

Hindu-Kush, much grain and skins of wine. Then, seeing these things, the

diggers dropped their tools and fled from Semiramis as from one

accursed; but the Syrian laughed and leaped upon the barge.

The King, aroused from sleep by a thunderous roar of many voices, came

out from his tent and stared into a new-made river flowing at his feet.

On its tide sat a rocking barge piled high with food and drink, while on

the very topmost sack of grain a red-haired witch was perched, her eyes

aglow, her hand outflung in impish greeting to the King.

"Ho, master!" she cried, with a bubble of laughter in her tone, "the

lords of Bactria send tribute to the lord of all the world!"

CHAPTER XXII

WHO RULETH, FIRST MUST RISE

A sumptuous feast was held, whereat the greater and lesser chiefs of

every camp assembled, each in his appointed place; moreover, throughout

the army of Assyria no soldier went unfed, or thirsted for a gulp of

wine.

At the head of the royal board sat Ninus, in his robes of state, with

Menon on his left, Semiramis on his right, while below them ran a double

row of grim-faced warriors from many lands, the bearded nobles of

Assyria's court, the swart barbarian clad in skins; yet pieces all in

the bloody game of war. With thumpings of hairy fists they bawled for

wine--red wine from the hills of Syria--and in the riot of a drunken

toast they thundered forth the name--_Shammuramat_!

King Ninus smiled into Menon's eyes, dropping his hand upon the shoulder

of the youth, while Menon smiled in turn, lifted the monarch's hand and

pressed it to his lips. And thus amid wild music of the sheep-skin drum

and the zither's tinkling whine, beneath the flickering glare of torches

filling the air with resinous reek, a truce was made; a treaty betwixt

Prince Menon and the King, wherein all enmity should cease, and the

youth once more might claim a foster-father's love. In peace might he

dwell with his wife Semiramis, and, fearing naught, lead forth his

men-at-arms to storm the walls of Zariaspa.

Deep into the night a din of revelry was heard, till the vault of the

skies turned gray and the burning stars winked out, even as the brawlers

one by one dispersed, to rest till a span of sleep brought back their

fires again. Then Menon and Semiramis gave thanks unto the King for his

bounty and his love, made low obeisance, kissed his robe, and hand in

hand went forth into the night.

Outside the tent, amid a glare of torches, a chariot stood, its steeds

grown restless at the weary wait, and thither Menon led his wife, now

his for all time by the oath of Assyria's King; yet ere they could mount

and loose the reins, a white-clad figure stole from the shadow of a

lesser tent, stood full in the chariot's path and raised his arms.

Menon peered beneath the hood, then bent his knee to the High Priest

Nakir-Kish.

"What wouldst thou?" he asked, and the High Priest answered, solemnly:

"Of Menon--naught!" Then he laid a finger upon his lip and beckoned to

Semiramis.

Marvelling, she followed him to a point beyond the hearing of her lord,

and by the light of a dying moon she marked his features, grim and cold,

his thin lips twitching beneath a manelike beard. A man of commanding

beauty was Nakir-Kish, strong in the vigor of his two score years, and

stronger still in the pride of his mystic power; and now with folded

arms he looked upon Semiramis, keenly, without a show of haste, then,

presently, he spoke:

"Princess, thy crafts become thee not, nor is it meet that a woman

meddleth in affairs of men. Go, then, to the tent of thy lord whom

Ninus spareth, and rear him children, leaving the arts of magic and of

war to priests and warriors."

"Wherefore?" she asked, and looked into his eyes.

"Because," he made reply, "where the fires of heaven fall, the earth is

seared, and the daughters of mortals sleep to wake no more."

She smiled, then answered, proudly, and as one who knows not fear:

"My mother was Derketo; my father a warrior-god from the Eastern Seas.

The fires of heaven may warm me, but will never blight."

Full well she knew the cause of his discontent, for the worm of jealousy

may eat into the hearts of priests, even as it feeds upon the vanity of

lesser men. In bending Ninus to her will, she had filched the boasted

powers of Nakir-Kish, and even though she gave him credit for his magic

arts, still she contrived to stand upon a step above his own. Where an

army of spies had failed to win the secret of Zariaspa's food, where

even the Magi with their spells and slaughtered birds discovered naught,

a woman had sought among the hills and found; thus, coming as the savior

of Assyria's hosts, her, shadow fell athwart the temple's door, and the

pride of the priest was shamed. What if this shadow grew? What if this

woman thirsted for a higher power and yearned to sway a nation, even as

she swayed the minds of a score of fools? Might she not, in the end,

push Ninus from his godly pedestal, and in his fall bring bruises to the

flesh of Nakir-Kish? Born of devils or of men, what the Syrian craved,

that thing must be her own; so the heart of the priest was troubled lest

these happenings come to pass.

"Think," he whispered; "once, once only, will Assyria's King forgive,

and at a word from me the pardon of thy lord may slip his memory, in

that Menon passeth from our sight to comfort thee no more."

Now threats against herself Semiramis could bear, and smile at them as

at an idle puff of wind, yet at a hint of evil unto her lord, the

tigress within her woke and showed its claws.

"Priest," she answered, in that purring tone which in after years her

courtiers learned to dread, "I bethink me of a little fox I reared in

Syria. A weakling he was that grew in strength and appetite because of

my bounty and my care. From my hand he received his food, from my heart

a love which shielded him from every harm; yet when he stole my father's

fowls and hid among the rocky hills, nine days I hunted him with this my

hunting spear, and nailed his skin against the wall."

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

forth her hand.

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

The High Priest pondered, looking into her winkless eyes. Fowls must he

have, and wisdom warred with pride. His pride called out aloud for open

enmity, for the measuring of his power against her wits, yet wisdom

whispered that it were better far to receive his food in peace rather

than buy it with the price of a priestly skin; therefore he loosed her

spear from out the earth, gave back her own, and took the proffered

hand.

"Thou hast stood my test," he murmured, with a lying smile; and

Semiramis watched him till he disappeared beyond the shadows of his tent

ere she mounted the chariot beside her waiting lord.

"What seeketh the High Priest?" Menon asked, and the Syrian laughed

softly as she answered him:

"He fain would be our friend, for the great man, in his wisdom, hath

divined that thou and I may one day rise in power."

Across the plain they drove, eastward, till they reached a clump of

sheltering trees, and here Prince Menon drew his rein. As to wherefore,

she questioned not, for as the moon slipped out from behind a cloud, the

warrior took her in his arms, the first embrace since Nineveh was left

behind, and her lips met his in a kiss of passion and of tenderness.

Yet others beside the moon looked on, with frowns as dark as the

gathering clouds; for from the shadows watched Nakir-Kish, sullen in the

helpless fury of defeat, while the lord of Assyria saw, also, and

clenched his mighty fists.

The moon went down behind the spine of Hindu-Kush, and the High Priest

slept at last; but Ninus sat brooding till the dawn had come, and the

thoughts of the King were evil.

* * * * *

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 Belit," 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-Raman, 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 Belit--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 Nairi, 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