FORGIVEN
For two days, woe, perplexity, and dire confusion reigned in the temple
of the great Assyrian god. Baal might be an hungered, but they slew for
him no droves of sheep and oxen; athirst, but they poured him out no
drink-offerings; displeased, but they sought not favour and forgiveness
with praise and prayer, because his servants looked in vain for a
high-priest to interpret the commands of their deity, and the great
golden image, towering sullen, and unmoved, afforded neither word nor
sign. The denizens of the temple stared blankly in each other's faces,
for men doubted sore in this crisis of the Assyrian hierarchy whose turn
it might next be to die.
But on the third day, court and temple were once more redolent of
incense and bright with flowers; altars blazed, victims fell, ditches
ran crimson with blood. A hundred priests leaped, howled, and cut
themselves with knives, a thousand voices raised their hymn of triumph,
and Beladon, chosen by direct interposition of his god, under the
authority of Ninyas his king, was proclaimed high-priest of Baal, in
place of the dead man, crouched yonder on his stake in an open space
near the northern gate, already torn and mangled out of human likeness
by the birds of prey.
Careless of a fallen master, the new high-priest had turned gladly from
Assarac to obtain favour in the sight of Ninyas; and that prince was
content to give him honour and promotion in the mean time, waiting his
own leisure to destroy him without pity or remorse.
For on this third day, the son of Ninus again sat in the gate to
administer justice, again shook off the fetters of sloth, and the
drowsiness of wine-cups, to wear the royal tiara of his fathers, and
carry the sceptre of Nimrod in his hand.
The people of Babylon indeed clamoured loudly for their queen, crowding
the streets and terraces about her palace, rending the air with their
cries, vowing vengeance on priest and prophet, if she forbore to show
herself, and even threatening the sacred person of her son.
It needed all the influence of a priesthood bribed by gifts and
promises, all the intimidation of an army corrupted by gold and spoil,
to persuade them that she had left her faithful subjects for the realm
of those divinities to whom she was akin, and that the white doves they
had seen since sunrise, flitting on restless pinions through her
favourite city, were but so many messengers from the spirit-world,
bidding a nation of mourners take comfort for the departure of the Great
Queen.
It was to Beladon that Ninyas intrusted the promulgation of this strange
belief, resolving that so soon as the tumult had subsided, so soon as he
was himself firmly established on the throne, it would be wise to
destroy the only power that rivalled his own in the land of Shinar, by
the slaughter of their new high-priest, and general destruction of the
worship of Baal, in favour of Nebo, Nisroch, or some other deity, over
whose servants he would take care to retain undisputed influence and
control.
For in the golden morning, lying tossing and troubled on his couch, a
deep sleep had fallen on Ninyas, even with the rising of the sun, and he
had dreamed a dream, or seen a vision, such as moved even that heart of
his, so hardened by years of vice and self-indulgence, brought the
unaccustomed tears to those eyes blinded by folly, sensuality, and sin.
He dreamed that he was a child once more--a tender happy child,
triumphant in a new toy, or a treasure of fruit and flowers, loving,
hopeful, and believing in his mother, the queen, as he believed in the
light of day. He thought she came to his bedside carrying a fair and
bending lotus in her hand; that she withheld from him the flower,
resisting alike his prayers, his caresses, and his tears; that in his
impatience and childish wrath, he seized the white caressing hand and
bit it till the blood came, striking and buffeting the while so fiercely
that his efforts seemed to wake him, and yet he could not rise, though
he knew that he lay there a grown man, stretched on his own royal couch,
struggling with the influence of a dream.
He must be helpless, he felt, and passive--chilled, shivering,
speechless--so long as those reproachful eyes held him in their gaze, so
long as that stately figure bent over him so tenderly, that pale sad
face confronted his own in the shadow of an unearthly beauty, that awed
him with the majesty of death.
His tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, yet it seemed loosened, and
his senses were freed from their heaviest restraint, when the vision
addressed him; for was it not his mother's voice? And in spite of the
injuries she had inflicted, in spite of injustice, treachery, all that
had come and gone, those tones were liquid with a music that could still
dominate his spirit, still soften and subdue his heart. "Ninyas," she
said, "beloved, has it come to this, that my son could thirst for his
mother's blood?" He almost believed while she spoke there were red drops
on the white hand that had tended and fondled him from a child. Twice he
raised his eyes to hers, and cast them down in very shame; twice he
essayed an answer, and his lips refused to form the words; but the third
time he took courage, and, with a great effort, exclaimed, "Forgive me,
mother; for I have sinned! I am unworthy to reign in Shinar; I am
unworthy even to draw bow among the sons of Ashur! Yet forgive me,
mother; for am I not your son?"
A smile, unspeakably sad and tender, came over the pale fair face. "I
have forgiven," said she, "although the arrow from my son's quiver bit
into my very heart. Listen, Ninyas: it was foretold long ago, by one who
read the stars, and who knows doubtless, ere now, whether he read them
right--it was foretold, I say, by this wise man, that when the spear on
which she leaned at her utmost need should break and wound her hand,
then must the doves that nourished her childhood come back to lead
Semiramis away, and the sons of Ashur must wander to and fro through old
Nineveh and mighty Babylon, and all the wide bounds of the land of
Shinar, asking each other in vain for tidings of the Great Queen. I
mourned in sorrow and sadness, but my son was yet left to me, and I
leaned on him as his father was wont to lean after battle on his spear.
My spear is broken, my son has failed me; he would reign unvexed,
unwearied by the counsels of his mother. Go to! He will never look on
that mother's face again."
He fell into a great sweat and trembling; with a desperate effort, he
leaped like a young lion from his couch, to fall at her feet and clasp
her knees, and detain her even by force, that he might make amends.
Alas, he grasped the empty air! He searched in vain with eager gaze
throughout the chamber, and looked only on coloured carvings and
vermilion roof, on alabaster columns, scarlet hangings, winged monsters
tipped with gold, all the pomp and symbols of imperial sovereignty, his
own without question now, because she was gone for evermore. Then he
burst into a passion of tears, and so, draining the flagon of Damascus
wine that stood by his couch, felt comforted, and went out among his
people with diadem and sceptre, feeling in his heart, that at last he
was really an Assyrian king.
As the day waned, and the populace, who had been feasted at the royal
expense, found themselves refreshed with food and gladdened by wine,
discontent gave way to hilarity, and anxiety for the fate of their queen
lapsed into easy indifference, or a stupid satisfaction in those
supernatural attributes, by which they were taught to account for her
disappearance.
It was credited of all men that she had been claimed by the unearthly
order of beings to which she belonged; that she had only been intrusted
for a time to the Assyrians, for the completion of their national glory;
and that now, having fulfilled her mission, she was summoned back by
kindred spirits, who, in the form of doves, birds she always prized and
cherished, were to-day flitting in unusual numbers about the city of her
choice.
Kalmim, whose eyes were red with weeping, stoutly supported the general
belief, finding in it, no doubt, a salve for certain qualms of
conscience she could not but entertain, regarding her own varying
loyalty towards the mistress she served. This nimble-tongued tirewoman
found herself regretting many a hint she had thrown out, many a petty
scandal she had promulgated in derision of the Great Queen to have seen
her back in the royal palace, to have smoothed her robes, tired her
head, and done her bidding once more, Kalmim would willingly have given
all she prized in the world, except perhaps the affection of Sethos,
whom she now claimed as her own possession, by every rite of love and
law known in the land of Shinar.
Standing with him on a house-top over against the temple of Baal, and
marking with fond eyes how his bright young face glowed in the parting
rays of a sun already touching the horizon of the desert, she could not
forbear a sigh of pity for one whose lot, in spite of beauty, glory, and
power, seemed so dark and sad, compared to her own.
"She had everything Baal and Ashtaroth could bestow," observed Kalmim,
looking lovingly in her companion's face. "And see what has been the
end. To hover, like an evil spirit, saddened and restless, about the
place that is still bright with her glory, and then to vanish, none can
tell where, like a cloud that comes up from the desert with promise of
rain, and while man and beast are yet athirst to welcome it, lo, it has
passed over, and is gone."
"We shall see her no more," answered Sethos. "Nor shall we see one like
unto her again. Since Ashur came down from the stars to lead them, his
children have known but one great Queen. Of a surety, it is enough!
Another Ashtaroth would set the heavens in a blaze; another Semiramis
would be too much for the vexed earth to sustain."
She glanced at him sharply, but his features wore their usual expression
of placid and somewhat languid content.
"She was not happy," said Kalmim, as if puzzled to account for the
anomaly. "And yet she had wisdom, fame, courage, riches, unlimited
empire, and, O Sethos, beauty surpassing even the daughters of the
stars!"
"The last is the gift you grudge her most," observed the cup-bearer,
with a quiet smile, as of one who directs his shaft, though without
malice, straight towards its mark.
But instead of flushed denial or indignant retort, he was surprised to
note on Kalmim's face an expression of real apprehension. She turned
quite pale, while she replied,
"It is a fatal possession for the owner, when spoilers can be found who
scruple not to share in it by the strong hand. O Sethos," she added,
with a shudder, pointing to the temple of Baal, "there is but one man I
fear in the whole of Babylon, and he stands, night and morning, before
the altar of his god, the second in power through all the land of
Shinar, after my lord the king."
Sethos laughed outright, whereat, in Kalmim's eyes, displeasure took the
place of fear.
"Listen," said he, "and remember that I am not given to vain words, but
that I speak only so much as I surely know. Do you dread the handful of
bleached bones, the few dangling strips of blackened flesh, that were
once that famous eunuch who made himself chief counsellor of princes,
mightiest leader of armies in all Assyria, and great interpreter of the
god he worshipped, to rule, as it seemed, rather than to obey? I tell
you, Kalmim, that Assarac, withering yonder on his stake, is as much to
be feared as comely Beladon, now high-priest of Baal. I tell you that I
had rather change places with the one who has known and proved the worst
than with the other, who has yet to learn the mercies of Ninyas for such
as thwart his projects or stand in the way of his convenience."
"What mean you?" she asked. "Are you in the secrets of my lord the
king?"
"He has shown favour to his servant," answered the other, with mock
gravity, "since the days of his youth, when I filled his cup to the brim
at the bidding of Ninus, now driving a golden chariot amongst the stars.
He has not forgotten that I waited dutifully at his footstool, while he
wore sackcloth in his prison-house, as he had been clad in purple on a
throne. Above all, he remembers that, but for me, he would have sinned a
hideous sin against the Great Queen; therefore is my place at his right
hand in his secret chamber; therefore can I tell you, Kalmim, that
Beladon and his priests are doomed, and that the jackals you hear now
howling beneath the wall shall scarcely wait another moon ere they tear
them limb from limb. Beladon is thine enemy and mine. What am I that I
should set myself against the counsels of my lord the king?"
She drew a deep sigh of relief. The tirewoman was happy now, and had
reached the haven of her rest; yet, even in her fulness of content,
there crept a dreary sadness about her heart, while she thought on the
vanished glories of the mistress she had served and loved, marvelling,
even while she mourned, at the strange departure and sad mysterious fate
of the Great Queen.