Sarchedon Part 31

Thoughts of ransom, flight, freedom, flitted through her brain, all to be accomplished with less difficulty by the prisoner of humble grade.

"I will speak truth to my lord," said she, "and so find favour in his sight. His servant is but a simple archer in the hosts of the king of a.s.syria."

"What are you doing here in the wilderness," was the next inquiry, "many days' journey from the walls of Babylon and the footstool of the Great King?"

"The servant of my lord has been a prisoner in the land of Egypt,"

replied Ishtar; "he was taken by the spearmen of Pharaoh. I followed him into captivity, and ministered unto him till we found a fitting time to escape."

"But the dromedary?" pursued her questioner.

"We stole it," she answered simply; and the son of Anak became less inclined to doubt the probability of her statement.

"An archer?" he repeated, pondering, as it seemed, with all his might.

"But for the damsel herself, the tale seems likely enough; yet must the wives of his captains be marvellously fair, when a mere bowman in the Great King's host can come by so white a skin as that! Nevertheless,"

he added, turning to Ishtar, "if he be in truth an archer, and you his wife, no doubt he can bend a bow to some purpose, and you are not afraid to trust his skill. We shall prove you both on the spot."

With these words, he halted his followers and gave them the order to dismount. Sarchedon's arms were then freed, and a heavy bow, requiring no slight strength to draw, was placed in his hands. Though surprised, they laughed to observe that he was equally master of the weapon with the tallest man in their tribe.

One of the band then measured out, spear-length by spear-length, the distance of a furlong on the desert sand. It seemed a considerable flight for an arrow; but every child of Anak was bowman from his youth, just as he was horseman, swordsman, spearman, and spoiler of all who came across his path.

The chief himself, lifting Ishtar from the saddle, led her to the spot his follower had marked out. Then, taking off his own belt, he buckled it so as to form a loop half a cubit in diameter.

"Hold this in your hand," said he, "and stretch your arm to the farthest. If an archer of the Great King is skilful as the a.s.syrians boast, he can drive me a shaft through that loop without risk to a hair of his wife's head."

In vain Sarchedon protested; in vain he entreated that he might be pitted against the fiercest champion of the tribe with sword or spear, foot to foot and breast to breast.

"No," said the Anakim; "the damsel told us he was an archer. As an archer he shall be proved. Surely it is the wife's duty to give life, if need be, for her lord."

Not a shade was on Ishtar's brow, not a tinge of fear in eye, mouth, or att.i.tude, while she stood there over against him firm, erect, and beautiful; but Sarchedon felt his heart turn sick, his head swim, as he thought with horror of the result, should his hand fail him, or the desert wind divert the arrow but a cubit from its course.

He could not; no, he could not. Once, twice, he took aim--slowly, steadily, with true unfaltering eye--but the third time his powerful arm drew the bow to its utmost compa.s.s, directing its shaft at the sky, and sending it high over Ishtar's head, to quiver in the earth as far behind her as the marksman stood in front.

"An archer! an archer!" exclaimed the Anakim with one accord. "Not a man of us, with the wind against him, could have measured such a flight as that!"

"An archer, and a good one," a.s.sented their leader; "but the damsel is no wife of his, nevertheless. If he were indeed her lawful lord, he had not surely weighed the scratch of an arrow on her skin against his own freedom and his life."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

PARTED

Thus arguing according to his lights, the chief directed that Sarchedon should be secured once more, and, much to the dissatisfaction of the troop, that they should place him on their horses in rotation, journeying by turns on foot. Although Ishtar failed to make as good terms for her lover as for herself, she had in no way forfeited the protection she acquired so discreetly, and rode by their leader's side, at the head of the band, as an honoured guest rather than the captive of his bow and spear. Nevertheless, all her thoughts were engrossed by his welfare whom she so dearly loved; her whole mind was bent on forming some scheme for his security and freedom. Alas! it was to no purpose that she wrung her hands and racked her brain. Sarchedon had fallen into the power of men for whom human life and human suffering were of less account than the wormwood that lay bruised beneath their horses' feet.

If a captive proved troublesome, what matter? It was but the push of a spear, and they were rid of him once for all.

Nevertheless, these children of Anak, though possessing themselves on occasion with the strong hand of whatsoever they desired, had yet, like other spoilers, peaceful relations with certain traders whose propensities for barter could be of inestimable value to men against whom every gate was barred, every wall guarded, through all the cities of the plain. With these merchants their dealings were honourable enough, the man of trade seldom failing to make exorbitant profit from his transactions with the man of war. This mutual barter comprised almost every one of the ruder articles required for support or destruction of life. Horses, arms, camels, dates, bread, honey, mare's-milk cheeses, even goodly raiment of needlework, were exchanged freely; while a fair-faced maiden to adorn the tent, a stalwart youth to keep the herds, were more than all other merchandise sought after and desired.

Thus it came to pa.s.s that Sarchedon, though out of favour with his captors--who, like most practised hors.e.m.e.n, cared not to journey much on foot--escaped a fate that seemed imminent each time some wrathful giant dismounted to make room for the prisoner, and swore freely, by his G.o.ds, that if this inconvenience was to continue through another day, he would take such order with the a.s.syrian as should prevent him from ever riding on horseback again.

Night was falling fast when the troop approached the encampment of their tribe; a temporary residence to be broken up and removed at an hour's notice, on the slightest occasion. Rude goats'-hair tents were scattered here and there, scarcely visible in the deepening gloom. Two or three camels lay at rest amongst half a score of horses, fastened by the forefoot, that neighed, screamed, and fought savagely, whenever the loosening of their tethers permitted them to approach each other within striking distance. A few giants, sauntering lazily about, took little notice of the new arrivals, and their tall stately women scarcely lifted veil for a glance of curiosity, so busied were they in twisting bowstrings, repairing harness, grinding corn, pressing cheeses, or baking loaves in the embers of a scanty fire for their lords; but two swarthy travel-worn men, looking like dwarfs amongst the towering figures that surrounded them, came forward to accost the chief with words of extravagant welcome and looks of eager curiosity. These were traders from the north, who examined the veiled figure of Ishtar with professional interest, expecting, no doubt, to secure a golden profit by her purchase.

In this hope they were disappointed. With extreme courtesy the chief of the Anakim conducted her to a tent standing beside his own, in which, after a long loving look at Sarchedon, she disappeared, and was seen no more.

The Anakim seemed well pleased to find these dealers, with whom they had so often traded, thus inmates of their camp. The leader, after disposing of his fair guest by consigning her to the care of a stately beauty, tender of heart as she was gigantic of frame, came out to meet them, and at once broached a proposal that found immediate favour with his followers.

"The captive is a goodly youth," said he; "a stout warrior, an expert archer--tall and strong too for an a.s.syrian. What say you? These northern merchants are our brothers--shall we not sell him to them for a price?"

"Let him go," exclaimed his listeners with one accord; "he is fair, he is precious, he is a man, even amongst the children of Anak. But the traders from the north have eaten of our bread and drunken from our cup.

All we possess is theirs, and they shall have him--at a price!"

Then the elder of the traders--keen-eyed, voluble, energetic--put in his word:

"You have many mouths to feed, my brothers, here within your tents.

Millet grows scarce, and the wells are running dry from day to day. We also have a long journey before us in the desert. Our water-skins are empty, our camels over-loaded. What have we to do with a captive who eats and drinks, yet must be carried from day to day like a bale of goods? How are your servants to bring this enc.u.mbrance with them from city to city, till they reach their home in the mountains beyond the great rivers of the plain?"

"You will sell him for a talent of gold in the first market you enter,"

was the answer. "Is he not a comely youth? Fair and strong, and of a ruddy countenance? We have taken no such prey since we rode, without ceasing, four days and nights to spoil the City of Palms, by the western sea."

"The a.s.syrians have more slaves than enough," answered the trader, "since they brought captives up from Egypt, by scores and by hundreds, at the chariot-wheels of the Great King. Nevertheless, are we not brothers? You shall deliver him as a gift, and take two suits of raiment in exchange."

"He is yours, my brother," said the chief, "and my tents are yours; my horses, my camels, my handmaidens; the sword on my thigh, and the bow in my hand. But shall I give my brother ripened dates and receive from him only their broken sh.e.l.ls? Add to the raiment a measure of myrrh, at least, and three cruses of oil."

"With a new pack-saddle," suggested a bystander, whose own camel-furniture had reached the last stage of decay; while a dozen more took up the cry, insisting on such articles as each thought necessary to his own comfort or equipment.

"Some twisted rope for hobbles!"

"A bale of silk from Tyre!"

"Two skins of wine of Eshcol!"

"An embossed girdle!"

"A shield of bra.s.s!"

"A score of new bowstrings!"

"Or fifty shekels of silver, and no more said," exclaimed the trader, turning from side to side, with the air of a man overcome by his own liberality.

"Add to them a hundred," urged the chief; "and go thy way, thou and thy camels and thy servants, with the goodly slave I have given thee."

"One hundred shekels, and he is mine," returned the trader, placing his hand on the a.s.syrian's shoulder in token of ownership; and thus becoming the possessor of Sarchedon at something less than the price of a good horse.

Regret was fruitless--resistance impossible. Bound hand and foot, he could but grind his teeth, and submit.

The merchants made ready their camels forthwith, taking advantage of the coolness of night to journey through the desert, and guiding their course by the pilotage of the stars. So noiseless was their departure, after the bustle of concluding their bargain subsided, that they had disappeared with her lover in the darkness, ere Ishtar knew they were clear of the encampment. Seeking the spot where she had last seen Sarchedon, to find it empty, the maddening truth flashed upon her, and she could bear no more. Sick, faint, despairing, she uttered one plaintive cry, and fell senseless on the sand.

The first of the tribe who found her, lifted that drooping form, with the ease and something of the pitiful admiration with which he would have picked up a broken lily, and bore her gently to the chiefs tent.