BOW AND SPEAR
It was a goodly sight, could the queen have waited to behold it, that
downward march of the Armenian host to meet their enemy in the plain.
The flower and pride of all the north, formidable in size, number, and
length of weapons, they deployed, squadron by squadron, and company by
company, under cover of their archers on the wall, till they found space
near the river's empty bed to form that wedge, or solid triangle in
which it was their custom to offer battle. This mass consisted of
spearmen, who with levelled points and raised bucklers seemed to present
but an impervious hedge of steel to the efforts of an adversary. It was
designed to penetrate and cleave asunder by sheer weight and pressure
the opposing force, while Thorgon and his long swords, mounted on their
swift hardy horses, held themselves in readiness to cut up and destroy
in detail the fragments of an enemy thus riven the wider the more it
gave ground to its assailants.
Such a method of fighting was considered by the mountain men to insure
victory; and the queen's eye sparkled, her cheek glowed, when she beheld
the hosts of Aryas the Beautiful thus eager to engage her own on a
system of which she had mastered all the details, prepared to worst it
at every point.
"The lion is astir," she said, "and walking deliberately into the toils
without an effort at escape. By the light of Ashtaroth, I will have his
claws pared, his fangs drawn, and the beast as tame as a kitten, before
close of day!"
Splendidly armed, ablaze with gold and jewels that flashed in the
morning sun, she stood in her chariot, looking like the goddess by whom
she swore, her beautiful face radiant with pleasure, her heart beating
high with courage, triumph, and the wild tumult of unbridled love.
Her shield-bearer's place still remained vacant, and save a youth to
drive her horses, she was alone in the chariot; for Assarac, who
remained as usual in attendance, occupied another at her side.
The eunuch's face was very grave and sad; its fleshy outlines had
fallen, the eyes were sunk and haggard, while about the lips care and
sorrow had carved those anxious lines that age itself fails to imprint
when the heart remains at ease.
He looked little like a priest of Baal, less like a warrior of Ashur:
but never prophet burned with fiercer fire, never were nerves of
champion strung to more desperate courage, than glowed in the vexed
heart and wounded spirit of Assarac the eunuch, thus waiting on
Semiramis the queen.
He had galloped back with her to the camp before sunrise, and at the
first trumpet call ascended into his chariot, that he might aid her with
his counsel, perhaps shield her with his body in the press of battle.
In the disposal of her power she had shown her accustomed skill. Dark
masses of horsemen gathered like clouds on either flank. Her spearmen,
in a solid column, occupied the centre, protecting a bristling array of
war-chariots, ready to be launched against the enemy so soon as he
advanced into the plain; while forming her own guard and a reserve to be
hurled, as it were, at the critical moment on any point she should
select, rode a picked body of warriors clothed in blue, shining with
gilded armour, and chosen from the flower of her men of war by the
queen herself.
Aryas the Beautiful, surveying from his chariot the line of battle thus
opposed to him, felt, while his courage rose with its very hopelessness,
a sad conviction of the impossibility of his task. He whispered as much
to Sarchedon, who accompanied him.
"Behold," said he, "how the wolves are gathering to hem in the mountain
bull on every side. I knew not they were so many, nor so fierce. Surely
he is a daring leader who joins battle with the sons of Ashur."
The other, while acknowledging so obvious a truth, could not repress a
thrill of exultation in the fair and formidable array of warriors with
whom he had heretofore gone out to victory.
At the same moment Semiramis turned to Assarac, whose chariot now stood
by her own, and pointed with a radiant smile to those long lines of
steel glittering in the morning sun.
"The blade is out," said she, "and balances so well in my hand, I can
smite when and where I will. Who would care to be a queen, but that the
arm which sways a sceptre has such strength to draw a sword? Behold, the
very auxiliaries stand fast, as if they too felt they carried on their
spears the honour of Assyria!"
"Trust not their patience too far," urged the eunuch. "Great Queen, they
are clamouring to engage even now!"
"Fools," she returned gaily, "I mean to sacrifice them soon enough. But
I can scarce trust them in the first shock of the assault, or I would
leave our own people to come in and reap the victory."
"Let not the Great Queen scorn the words of her servant," replied
Assarac, "humble man of peace though he be. The children of Anak, led by
their woman-captain, claim the advance as their right. Behold, they are
fierce champions, tall as palms, greedy as beasts of prey, acknowledging
no law save the customs of their tribe. How shall these be satisfied
when the fight is over, the victory gained, and the spoil divided? Grant
them their wish: let them hurl themselves against the enemy. If they
loosen his formation, it is well; if they turn back in confusion while
he smites them hip and thigh, it is better. Assyria can do without them
in the day of triumph as in the day of battle."
The queen scanned him from head to foot.
"Do you think I cannot rein a steed," she asked, with a scornful laugh,
"because it is strong and wilful, or rule a handful of horsemen because
they stand a span higher than their fellows? Go to, Assarac; I thought
you knew me better. I have a task in store for these same Anakim, and I
purpose leading them myself. They shall help me to take this Comely King
captive from the very midst of his host. I tell you I mean to look at
his beautiful face before sunset, as close as I am to you!"
"May the queen live for ever!" was his reply, for Assarac's whole
attention seemed now engrossed by the strength of Armenia advancing to
the attack.
The wedge came on, solid and impenetrable as if it were indeed a living
mass of metal. Thus it crossed the level ground by the river's bed,
directing its point steadily for the centre of the Assyrian line; and so
long as it moved upon an even surface, nothing could be more warlike
than the mechanical regularity of its advance--nothing, perhaps, save
the discipline of the Assyrian archers, whom the queen kept so perfectly
in hand, that in spite of a tempting proximity to the Armenians not a
man moved in his saddle, turned his rein or bent his bow. But when the
huge triangular phalanx reached the channel, now dried up indeed, yet
rough with broken banks, sandy ledges, shingle, and boulders of rock, a
shiver seemed to pass over it like that which ripples the hide of some
huge monster in its death-pang, and Aryas drove furiously down in his
chariot to rectify the disorder ere it was too late.
In compliance with his bowbearer's entreaties, the attire and harness of
the Comely King, though less simple than usual, were such as might be
worn by any captain or leader of his host. There was nothing about him
to identify his royalty but the handsome form and face. Sarchedon also
was armed and dressed in a precisely similar manner, so that at the
interval of a spear-length it was impossible to distinguish one from the
other. The bowbearer too had divested himself of the quiver that
denoted his office, and while he stood upright and brandished a spear in
the war-chariot, Aryas covered him with a shield. Even old Thorgon,
riding up to his lord for final orders, rubbed his eyes and pulled his
shaggy beard in angry confusion at its success, while he admitted the
wisdom of this stratagem.
With voice and gesture, Aryas and Sarchedon strove in concert to restore
that dense consistency to the mass which constituted its strength and
safety; but eyes as quick, and skill more practised, were watching their
opportunity, so that as the leading Armenian spearman made his first
false step, the arm of Semiramis went up, a trumpet sounded, and the
horsemen of Assyria set themselves in motion by thousands, with bows
bent and arrows drawn to the head.
There is a moment, and none knew it better than the Great Queen, on
which the tide of battle turns.
"In the toils _now_!" she murmured viciously, "and that fair head of
yours will be at my mercy to-night, as sure as I hold this bow in my
hand. Assarac," she continued, in the calm ringing accents with which it
was her wont to issue her commands in battle, "let them feed that force
of archers thousands by thousands, as they want them, from the columns
on their flanks. When the Armenian host arrives at yonder white stone,
bring up the reserve of spearmen, and I will attack with the whole
line."
Ere this landmark could be reached, she was well aware that the
advancing phalanx, stumbling at every step, galled on all sides by
mounted bowmen, who, circling swiftly round, wrapped it in a deadly
storm of arrows, must become so loosened and disorganised as with one
well-supported charge to be broken up and cut to pieces in detail.
Already darting an upward glance at the towers of Ardesh, she was
doubting whether to occupy it with a strong Assyrian garrison or to burn
its palace, and level its defences to the ground. For a space all went
as she desired. Wheeling in clouds, succeeded and relieved by squadron
after squadron, each fresher, fiercer, more daring than the last, it
seemed to Aryas that the horsemen of Assyria were inexhaustible and
intangible as the locusts of their own fertile land. With each discharge
of arrows, his phalanx hesitated, tottered, and opened out. It was no
longer a solid wedge, but an irregular mass, melting and crumbling like
a snow-wreath in the southern breeze. There was not a moment to lose,
and the Comely King, whose habits of wood-craft had at least gifted him
with that promptitude of decision which is so necessary in war, saw the
crisis and prepared to meet it.
"Sarchedon," he exclaimed, "leap on my horse, the bay standing there
behind the chariot! Ride down to Thorgon like the wind. Bid him bring up
his long swords steadily, but without delay. At the first step taken by
the enemy's spearmen, he must charge and drive them back amongst their
chariots. It is the last chance left. Away! Two Armenian kings are
fighting side by side this morning; Sarchedon, if at set of sun there is
but one left, my faithful friend and servant, fare thee well!"
Touching his lord's hand reverently with his lips, the bowbearer flung
himself into the saddle, and galloped off at speed; while Aryas,
snatching reins and whip from his charioteer, shaking the former and
plying the latter to some purpose, flew towards that white stone which
the keen eye of Semiramis had already marked as the turning-point of
conflict.
When they parted, scarce a bowshot intervened between the king's chariot
and the handful of Anakim who were drawn up in the position they had
clamoured to occupy, waiting with fiery impatience an order to begin.
Their queen sat motionless at their head, her face concealed as usual,
her eyes intently scanning those hostile ranks in search of the man she
loved.
Suddenly she dropped the rein and clasped her hands upon her heart.
Surely that was his figure yonder, riding, as he alone could ride, along
the river bank! A dead archer lay in his path, and the bay horse,
swerving wildly aside, brought his rider round with a swing that showed
his front to the enemy.
"Sarchedon, Sarchedon!" she cried, in a stifled voice, then stretched
her arms out piteously, and, gasping for breath, flung the veil back
from her face.
It was the signal they had expected since daybreak, the gesture by which
they were taught to believe their enemies would be consumed like thorns
crackling in a fire. The wild blood of the desert would take no denial
now; and with a shout that rang round the towers of Ardesh, reins were
loosed, spears lowered, while, sweeping their bewildered leader onward
in their centre, the children of Anak carried all before them in a
desperate and irresistible charge.
The brow of Semiramis turned black for very anger, while the beautiful
features were distorted with a spasm of rage and scorn.
"The fools!" she hissed between her teeth. "If but one comes out of the
press alive, I will impale him in the centre of the camp! And for their
leader--if she be wise, she will die on those Armenian spears, rather
than answer this mad frolic in the face of the Great Queen!"
The next moment, with smooth calm smile and royal dignity, she beckoned
Assarac to her chariot, and gave her directions in that calm assured
tone which with Semiramis denoted a crisis of extreme peril, and perfect
confidence in her own powers to meet it.
What she anticipated did indeed come to pass. The common saying, "Who
shall stand before the children of Anak?" had doubtless grown into a
proverb because of its undisputed truth. Individually, the champions of
Armenia went down before these stalwart horsemen like corn under the
sickle. Iron buckler made no better stand than wicker shield against
their mad thrusts and crashing strokes, linked harness proved no
stronger fence than linen gown, and bearded men of war seemed as but
puny infants contending with this gigantic foe. Charging against the
head of the Armenian phalanx, they drove its leaders back upon their
fellows; and while they hewed and shouted and smote without remorse, the
little band reared about them a barrier of ghastly mutilated corpses,
rising to their very girths.
But while thus pressing sore against the front of their enemy, they
condensed him into his original formation; and the Great Queen, always
intolerant of shortcomings in discipline, had the mortification to
witness her well-digested plan destroyed, her whole order of battle put
to confusion, by this untoward advance of a force she intended
reserving to the last moment for a purpose of her own.
"And ten more spear-lengths would have sufficed," said she, veiling her
vexation as best she might. "Behold, Assarac! In war, as in peace, it is
better to trust a haltered ass than an unbridled steed!"