THE QUEEN'S PETITION
Sarchedon was hurried away in the custody of his former comrades, who,
pitying the fate their experience taught them was inevitable, had yet
discretion to take him from the presence of Ninus ere some hideous
cruelty or mutilation should be added to his punishment. They were
hardly out of the king's sight, however, when a priest of Baal, arriving
in breathless haste, brought an order from Assarac to deliver up their
prisoner in the temple of the god. On the festival of that national
deity, unusual respect was paid to the sacerdotal character; and as,
even amongst the guards of the Great King, Assarac's policy had taught
him to cultivate friendship and acquire influence, the high priest's
behest was obeyed readily, as if it had emanated from Arbaces or even
Ninus himself.
Sarchedon therefore became only so far a prisoner that he was not
permitted to pass the guards at any point of egress from the sacred
building, but might roam at large through its spacious chambers,
speculating on his chances of escape when night should fall, and he
could take advantage of such secret communications as his knowledge of
its votaries taught him must surely exist between the temple and the
town.
Meantime, however, he was a caged bird, yearning wildly for freedom
because of her whom he dearly loved. The queen's shaft was shot deftly
home, and the poison with which it had been tipped did its work as
cruelly as the pitiless archer could have desired. It was madness to
think of Ishtar in the arms of Ninyas; to feel that, whilst he was a
prisoner here, she might even be struggling for personal freedom,
perhaps calling on _him_ to save her in vain.
But men trained to warfare acquire the habit of reviewing calmly all
sides of a dilemma, neither undervaluing its difficulties nor despairing
to vanquish them; especially they take into consideration the bearing of
probabilities and the important doctrine of chance. It was not long
before Sarchedon reflected he had himself seen Arbaces under shield and
helmet within a brief space of the queen's arrival at her husband's
palace; that if the espousals of his daughter were really taking place
with a prince, the chief captain would hardly be absent from such a
ceremony; and that Semiramis might have thought it not below her dignity
to tell him an absolute falsehood for reasons of her own--reasons, he
suspected, that ought to be flattering to his self-love and conducive to
the safety of his person. It was impossible to mistake her avowed
interest, her obvious condescension, her changing moods and the
bitterness with which she accosted him in their late interview under the
very eyes of the Great King. If Semiramis loved him, he thought, she
would surely provide for his escape; and the first use he would make of
his freedom should be to seek Ishtar and urge her to fly with him at
once. Merodach could bear them both far beyond pursuit into the desert,
where they would find a hiding-place from the king's merciless hatred
and the queen's more cruel love.
Sarchedon, then, imprisoned in the temple of Baal, was hardly so ill at
ease as the wilful imperious woman whose reckless malice had brought him
to captivity and shame.
The old king scowled at her with fierce jealousy and rage as her eyes
followed the retiring form of the culprit, hurried out of the royal
presence with judicious promptitude by his comrades; but from the first
moment Ninus ever looked on that winsome face, he had found in it a
charm his heart was powerless to resist, and he was half subdued already
ere she leaned towards him with tender confiding grace, and crossing her
hands over his gaunt arm, rested her brow on them, while she murmured in
low soft accents,
"I thank my lord that he has turned no deaf ear to the voice of his
handmaiden. But enough of this. It is not well that Ninus should be
moved by the misconduct of a thoughtless spearman born under an evil
star. I have been summoned hastily to his presence. I feared he was ill
at ease. Is it overbold of his loving servant to ask what ails my lord
the king?"
"Nothing ails me," was the impatient answer; "nothing but the clamour of
women's voices and the senseless outcries of priests. I sent for the
queen," he added more gently, "because she is the light of mine eyes and
the priceless jewel of my treasure-house."
Semiramis rose erect, and bowing her lovely head, stood with her hands
crossed in the prescribed attitude of humility proper for a subject.
She knew right well that in no position could she show to more
advantage; the pride of her bearing softened, the tender graces of her
womanhood enhanced, by its expression of shy compliance, of loving
submission to her lord.
"His servant hasted hither," said she, "on the instant the king's
command reached her palace. I had scarce time to tire my head and smooth
my robes. Yet I would fain look my best and proudest in the sight of my
lord the king."
He gazed on her with a fond admiration that was touching to see in that
war-worn old face, softening its rugged outlines and bringing into the
sunken eyes something of the wistful fidelity with which a dog watches
for the smile of its owner.
"Tired by a score of handmaidens," said he, "blazing in a hundred
jewels, or dishevelled and disrobed, with her free locks floating to her
knees, not the Queen of Heaven herself is to be compared to my queen,
fair and matchless to-day as on that bright morning when I saw her ride
through the camp like a vision, bow in hand, and granted her the very
first boon she asked me, for love of her sweet face and her soft
pleading eyes."
"And am I still so fair?" smiled the queen, while a flush of hope,
triumph, and pride in conscious beauty deepened the colour on her cheek.
"Nay, I shall scarce be brought to believe he is in earnest unless I can
prevail on my lord the king to grant me once again the request I lay at
his royal feet. If he loves me, surely he will not refuse; and--and I
_think_ he loves me a little still!"
"I will have him flayed alive who gainsays it!" answered Ninus. "I have
ceased to love most things now, from the roar of battle to the bubble of
a wine-cup. But may I burn like a log of cedar in the fire of Belus when
I cease to love my queen!"
She shot at him one of those glances she could command at will, in which
mirth, tenderness, and modesty were blended with the fire of love. "I
believe it," she murmured gently. "Such an affection as ours is written
in the stars, and kindles into flame at the first meeting of those who
are destined for each other. It seems but yesterday that my lord burst
on my sight like Shamash, god of day, rising in splendour on the camp,
and I turned my head away to bury my blushing face in my hands,
because--because, already I loved him only too well."
With the thrill that vibrated in every fibre of the old king's frame
arose the invariable accompaniment of sincere affection--a sense of
uncertainty and unworthiness.
"I was a stout warrior then," said he, "and not so uncomely, for one
whose life had been spent in saddle and war-chariot; but the colour has
faded on my cheek now, and worse, the fire has gone from my spirit like
the strength from my limbs."
There was a plaintive ring in the deep hoarse voice, that must have
touched any heart, save that of a woman with a purpose in view.
"Not so!" she exclaimed, hanging fondly about him. "Not so, my lord, my
love, my hero! I swear by the host of heaven, that to me you are more
noble, more kingly, more beautiful now, in the dignity of your past
deeds and mature fame, than in all the vehemence and ardour of your
impetuous manhood. Nay, my beloved," she added, half playfully, half
sadly, while clinging yet closer to his side, "it is not I alone who
think so; there were looks shot at my lord as he rode through the
streets from the brightest eyes in Babylon, that had I not known full
surely I was his only queen and love, would have made me so miserable I
had fled straightway to the desert, and never looked on the face of man
again."
Is there any age at which the male heart becomes insensible to such
flattery? With ebbing life and failing vigour, battered and out-worn by
a hundred battles, glorious in the splendour of a hundred victories, the
Great King might surely have been above that boyish vanity, which counts
for a triumph the empty gain of a woman's fancy; yet Ninus smiled well
pleased, and Semiramis felt that her petition was already more than half
granted, her game more than half won.
"They know a stout spearman when they see one still," said the old hero
proudly, "and they judge by the ruin, doubtless, what the tower must
have been in its prime. Well, well, it stood many an assault in its day,
and from hosts of many nations, nor thought once of surrender, till my
queen here marched in and took possession, with all the honours of war."
"And she has held it since against every woman in the world!" murmured
his wife, with another of those resistless glances, and a bright flush.
"Is it not so? Keep me not in the agony of suspense. Let me have the
king's word for my great happiness, and swear, by the head of Nisroch,
to grant me my desire!"
"I must hear first what it is," said the old warrior playfully; but
observing the tears start to her eyes, he added in fond haste, "Nay,
nay, beloved, the queen's petition shall be granted, whatever it be,
even to the half of mine empire."
"It is more than that!" exclaimed Semiramis, with a smile as ready as
her tears. "It is the whole empire I desire! I would fain sit in the
seat of my lord the king, but only for a day."
Ninus shook his head. "You are like your boy," said he fondly. "Do you
not remember when we took Ninyas for the first time to hunt the lion
outside the walls, and the lad must needs ride Samiel, the wild
war-horse, that bent to no hand but mine? By the blood of Merodach, he
wept like a maid, and I had not the heart to refuse him; but when he was
fairly in the saddle the tears soon dried on his cheek, for the horse
broke away with him like the wind of the desert, from which he took his
name. I tell you, while I stood there dismounted, I must have felt what
men call fear! I never knew how I prized the boy, till my horse brought
him back to me unhurt. Samiel loved not to be far distant from his
lord; and now Samiel is dead, and his rider worn-out, and the
queen--what was it the queen asked? That she too should ride a steed she
cannot control? Does she know the pride of the Assyrian people, the
turbulence of the crowd, the daily clamour for sluices to be opened and
granaries unbarred, the craft of the priests, the false witness borne at
the seat of judgment, and the weight of the royal word, which may not be
recalled?"
But for the last consideration, the heart of Semiramis might have been
softened towards one who, with all his crimes and cruelties, had yet
been tender and loving in his home. The thought, however, of Sarchedon's
doom, ratified and rendered inevitable by those fatal words, "The king
hath spoken," swept all other considerations to the winds, and she never
looked truer, fairer, fonder than now, while she answered in a tender
whisper:
"My lord granted his request to our son at the sight of his wet eyes.
Shall he withhold from the mother her soul's desire, because she cannot
weep save when she fears to lose her place in the heart of the Great
King?"
His head sank on his breast; he was soon weary now, withering, as it
seemed, more hopelessly in the confinement of a palace than in the freer
atmosphere of a camp. "Name it," said he--"it is granted: the king hath
spoken."
Her eyes blazed with triumph, and the rich crimson mantled in her cheek.
"I have in my possession the signet of the Great King. I ask to keep it
until to-morrow at noon."
"I have said it," was the reply. "But what use will my queen make of a
toy that has often cumbered my hand more wearily than ever did bridle,
spear, or shield?"
"I will but use it to my lord's advantage," answered Semiramis calmly.
"Is not to-day the feast of Baal, and shall not the Great King go up at
nightfall into the cedar house on the roof to burn sacrifices, and pour
out drink-offerings before his god? There will be long procession of
priests, much leaping, howling, and gashing of themselves at the altars;
the prophets of the groves too must pass before my lord, bearing earth
and water, fir-cones, caskets, gold, frankincense, and gifts. My lord is
weary even now. Let him take his rest undisturbed to strengthen him for
the tedious labours of the night. Meanwhile I hold the signet of the
Great King and his authority. I will provide for the safety of the
nation, and for our own."
He was getting drowsy, and his eyes were already half-closed.
"You have my signet," he murmured. "Send to Arbaces, and advise with the
chief captain for setting of the watch. And that presumptuous
spearman"--here he blazed up with an expiring flame--"see that he be led
forth at dawn. I have spoken, and he who dared to cross the queen's path
must die before the rise of another day."
"Before the rise of another day!" she repeated mechanically; adding, as
she gathered her robes about her to depart, "I thank him that his
handmaiden hath found favour in his sight. I cover the feet of my lord
the king, and I take my leave."
But she turned at the great gate for one last look at the sleeping form,
mighty even in its ruin, and formidable in the abandonment of its
repose.
Proceeding from the palace, Semiramis paused to whisper a few words in
the ear of Arbaces. The chief captain seemed surprised, and even
discomposed by the purport of her communication; but there was no appeal
from a command backed by the royal signet, and placing her hand, with
the jewel in it, against his forehead, he prostrated himself and
withdrew. Had he remained, his discomfiture might have been even greater
to observe the queen in deep consultation with Assarac, while Sargon,
the king's shield-bearer, remained, as if in waiting, a few paces off.
The eunuch's head was erect and his face bright with triumph; he wore
the air of a man on the eve of some great enterprise requiring skill,
courage, and intellect, but having at the same time perfect confidence
in his own power to carry it through.
"Is all ready?" asked Semiramis in a hollow whisper, while her cheek
paled, and a strange fire shone in her dark eyes.
"All is ready," answered the priest, in composed and measured accents,
as of one who states the details of a duty satisfactorily fulfilled.
"Double guards have been placed at the city gates; fifty thousand
archers, and as many spearmen, are mustered under arms. Not a strained
shaft nor a frayed bowstring amongst them, and every man with his hand
on his weapon, devoted to the queen's interest for life and death!"
"We shall scarcely need them," was her reply. "I have commanded Arbaces
to remove his own especial power without the walls. Has my son gone
forth, and have you taken order for bestowing him in safety to-night?"
"A company of spearmen will escort him," said the eunuch, "and will
guard the child and its new toy on the road to his refuge at Ascalon.
The king's signet will insure the obedience of such warriors as are
required to force the palace of Arbaces, and if the chief captain
resists with the strong hand, his blood be on his own head!"
"More slaughter!" exclaimed the queen sorrowfully. "O that the road to
power were not mired so deep with blood! But it is too late to turn back
now. Your life, my own, that poor condemned spearman of the guard--all
are at stake to-night; and we must not, we _dare_ not, stop. Is Sargon
to be trusted? Yonder he stands, waiting for his orders even now."
"Assarac glanced to where that warrior was stationed, a few paces off,
silent, erect, immovable, with the scowl of undying hatred on his brow.
The priest smiled--and the queen thought his smile more fearful than the
shield-bearer's frown--while he replied:
"A captive in the dungeon longs for light, and a gourd in the garden for
water; but what is their desire to a father's thirst for vengeance on
one who has shed the blood of his child?"