Sarchedon Part 9

"Therefore are they but servants to the servants of my lord the king,"

replied a.s.sarac, unabashed by the frowns of Ninus and the open derision of certain veterans, who took their creed from their leader, as they took their orders--without comment or inquiry.

"Prate not to me!" was the angry answer; "I have scores of them down yonder bound in the outer court amongst my Egyptian captives. I cannot tell, Arbaces, what hinders me now, this moment, from sending you with a handful of spearmen to clear his temple of its white-robed locusts, and drive in these strangers, Egyptians and all, to worship Baal in their stead."

The chief captain, who to certain scruples of religion added those of custom, policy, and propriety, would have ventured on expostulation; but a.s.sarac interposed.

"The G.o.ds, thy fathers, who look upon us to-night!" said he, in a stern loud voice, that awed even Ninyas and the younger revellers into attention while he pointed gravely upward where the stars were shining down in their eternal splendour on all the royal magnificence and glittering profusion of that feast in the open court.

At the same moment, sweeping round the outer walls of the palace, vibrating through its long corridors and lofty painted chambers, there rose a cry, so wild, so pitiful, so unearthly, that it arrested the goblet in each man's hand, froze the jest on his lip, and curdling the blood in his veins, caused him to sit mute and petrified, as if turned to stone.

The Great King started, and bade Arbaces summon up his guard; but a.s.sarac's voice was heard once more, solemn and majestic in its notes of warning and reproach.

"The G.o.ds, thy fathers!" he repeated, looking Ninus sternly in the face, "who have spared the blasphemer, but visited his sin on the innocent cause thereof. Hear those Egyptian prisoners mourning for a comrade this moment pa.s.sed away, wearied and out-worn by a toilsome march to the house of his captivity, stricken and thrust through by the iron that has entered into his soul!"

It was indeed such a wail of bereavement and despair as was to rise hereafter through all its length and breadth in the land of the South, because of the terrible punishment that visited her people, "from Pharaoh that sat on the throne to the captive that was in the dungeon"--on that awful night, the climax of successive judgments, when "there was a great cry in Egypt, for there was not a house where there was not one dead."

As these long-drawn notes of woe swelled, sank, and swelled again, the king's first emotions of horror were succeeded by a fresh outbreak of wrath. It might have gone hard with the sorrowing herd of captives, and perhaps not one had been left to mourn for another, but that the old lion's fury, redoubled by its momentary check, was at this juncture wholly diverted and appeased. A burst of music, so loud, so full, so jubilant, that it drowned all other noises in its grand triumphant swell, announced the entrance of Semiramis; and like the Queen of Heaven rising from the dark back-ground of night, this Queen of a.s.syria, blazing in jewels, and robed in the light of her incomparable beauty, stood forth a shining vision from the black shadows of the gateway, to move with stately step and slow through long lines of admiring revellers, ere she made her royal obeisance before the throne of gold, where sat the Great King. While she traversed the lower end of the court, a.s.syria's chosen warriors, the goodliest men of all the East, rose from the board and bent them low in courtly reverence, like a bed of garden-flowers doing homage to the south wind as it pa.s.ses by. With a mother's love and a queen's dignity, she laid her hand on the shoulder of her son Ninyas, while he bowed himself before her; but it was a feeling stronger than the one, and but little in accordance with the other, that bade her pause by the side of Sarchedon and whisper tenderly in his ear.

He started, colouring to his temples--two or three young warriors glanced enviously at their favoured comrade; but it was dangerous to observe too narrowly the motions of royalty, and each man fixed his eyes in deep humility on the hem of her garment as Semiramis moved proudly on.

Ninus stirred uneasily where he sat. He would fain have risen to meet his queen, and taken her in his gaunt embrace to the fierce old heart that knew no other want; but such an innovation was not to be thought of even by the conqueror of the East, and he could only reach towards her the golden sceptre that lay on a cushion at his feet.

While she pressed it to her fair white brow, there came a light in the old king's haggard face that told of the loving spark too often kindled but to be quenched in sorrow, the blind trust born to be betrayed, the fond unreasoning pride in another that goeth before a fall.

This final ceremony broke up the banquet. With loud peals of music, the king and queen, waited on by their personal attendants, betook them to their respective dwellings, between which ran the Euphrates, though under the broad river a tunnelled pa.s.sage afforded free communication from one to the other. Arbaces and Sargon followed closely behind their lord, as Kalmim and her group of women accompanied the queen. Ninyas, pushing round a mighty flagon, called Sethos to his side, and swore he would not stir till midnight; an intention loudly applauded by many of the younger revellers, who gathered joyously round their prince. In the change of places that ensued, Sarchedon made his escape from the banquet, hastening through the outer gates to cool his brow in the night air, while he communed with his own perplexed aspiring heart.

The queen's soft breath seemed still upon his neck, her whisper thrilling in his ear. What could she mean? "Follow the shaft! Fly on, fly upward!" Was it possible? Could the stars have written for him such a destiny as these words seemed to imply, or was he deceiving himself like a fool? And how was this upward flight to be accomplished? A thousand wild impossible longings and fancies filled his brain, but shining calmly through them all, like the moon amidst clouds and storm-wrack veiling a troubled sea, rose the gentle image of the girl he really loved. Could he give her up? Must it so soon come to an end, this dream, so short, so sweet, so cruel in its hour of waking? At any risk he was resolved to see her once again; that very night, that very hour, before the G.o.ds had time to cast his lot for him without recall.

He hurried, like a ghost, through the shadows of the silent courts towards the palace of Arbaces.

But Ninyas, while he filled cup and emptied flagon, by no means lost sight of those interests and pleasures which, in his royal opinion, const.i.tuted the chief advantages of his station as a prince. Sarchedon had not moved ten paces from his seat to leave the revellers, ere the king's son whispered to the king's cup-bearer, "Follow him, Sethos. A wise hunter never loses sight of his hound till he pulls down the deer."

CHAPTER XI

LIKE TO LIKE

Deep in his own thoughts, and wholly unconscious he was watched, Sarchedon hurried through the outskirts of the palace, traversing, with one pa.s.sing glance of curiosity and compa.s.sion, an open s.p.a.ce in which the Israelitish and Egyptian captives lay bound. The voice of mourning was hushed at last among these sufferers, save where some weeping woman, waking, as it were, to a sense of intolerable misery, pressed both hands against her throat, and thus enhanced the long vibrations of that dismal wail--so piteous, so keen, so thrilling, that it stirred the very jackal in his lair amongst the vineyards without the city walls.

Groups of these prisoners sat or grovelled on the ground, in att.i.tudes expressive of the utmost sorrow and desolation. Here was a wounded archer, one of Pharaoh's choicest marksmen, gnawing his bonds in impotent rage and shame, while he cursed the javelin that disabled him--the comrades who had fled and abandoned him to be taken captive--the G.o.ds in all their different earthly shapes of goose, bull, falcon, stork, and locust, whom he had worshipped faithfully by the Nile, that they might leave him here in Babylon to die. There was a cl.u.s.ter of children, the elder sleeping the calm lovely sleep of youth, the youngest prattling, laughing, stretching its little arms towards the stars. And beside them, on her knees, their tawny mother, with head bowed down, dark eyes fixed, dim but tearless, and thoughts far away in the South, by a rude hut raised on props above the river, where last she saw him stark, motionless, and gashed from brow to breastplate, the lover of her girlhood, the husband of her heart, the father of those dear ones, dragged, without hope of return, into the land of their captivity. Wherever grieved a dark-skinned mourner, from brawny warrior to tender maiden, there seemed to be embodied the very abandonment of woe; while a few Ethiopians, surprised by hazard amongst Pharaoh's auxiliaries, before they had time to run away, wept and bemoaned themselves, with a force of lungs and vehemence of gesture, so unbridled as to border on the grotesque.

But somewhat apart, treated, as it would seem, by their a.s.syrian conquerors with less rigour than the rest, a handful of prisoners had disposed themselves, with scrupulous attention to decency of att.i.tude and bearing. Conversing little, and only to each other, their low tones were forcible and expressive; their demeanour, grave and gentle, was marked with a certain sad dignity and grace. Though dark of beard and hair, they were far less swarthy in complexion than their fellow sufferers, and while n.o.bler of stature and fuller of limb, lacked the sinuous ease and pliancy of movement so remarkable in the slender Egyptian. Their high features, kindling eyes, and curved nostrils partook of the peculiar beauty general amongst their present masters; but they showed none of the haughty self-a.s.sertion, the lofty warlike bearing, of the fierce a.s.syrian race. Such kin they seemed to their conquerors as the dog to the wolf, the ossifrage to the eagle, the patient ox in the furrow to the fiery wild-bull of the fell.

Presently silence came over them, and taking advantage of the laxity of their fetters, one and all rose to their feet and stood erect. Then he who seemed eldest and gravest spoke a few words in a loud solemn voice, to which the others listened attentively, responding at intervals, with heads sunk on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Sarchedon, hastening past, had yet time to observe their motions, and marvelled, in his own mind, if this could be a religious ceremonial, thus divested of all pomp and outward form; no sacrifice of blood, nor drink-offering poured out, nor altar raised,--only deep awe and reverence impressed on every face, courage, love, and trust beaming in each worshipper's eyes. The white robe of a priest of Baal flitted through the darkness round the circle; but Sarchedon's heart was filled with a sentiment that left no room for interest or curiosity, save on one subject, and he sped towards his goal, longing only for the moment that should bring him face to face with her he loved.

The moon was low in the sky, yet gave light enough to have guided him on his way, even had not every step of it been familiar as the handle of his sword. Was it strange he should have found so readily a path that led to the home of Ishtar? that he should have had access to the roof of a dwelling adjoining the palace of Arbaces? that the girl herself should have been restless, unable to sleep, and fevered with a desire to spread her carpets and cushions under the sky in the cool night air by the parapet of her father's house?

No, it was not strange; and the reason seemed simple enough as explained in a low measured chant, by a rich sweet voice--richer and sweeter that it was toned down and suppressed--which thrilled and scorched through every fibre of the young girl's being, while Sarchedon poured forth his heart in pa.s.sionate pleading conveyed through the fanciful imagery of the East.

"I pa.s.s'd without the city gate, I linger'd by the way; The palm was bending to her mate, And thus I heard her say,

'The arrow to the quiver, And the wild bird to the tree; The stream to meet the river, And the river to the sea.

The waves are wedded on the beach, The shadows on the lea; And like to like, and each to each, And I to thee.

'The cedar on the mountain, And the bramble in the brake; The willow by the fountain, And the lily on the lake; The serpent coiling in its lair, The eagle soaring free, Draw kin to kin, and pair to pair, And I to thee.

'For everything created In the bounds of earth and sky, Hath such longing to be mated, It must couple, or must die.

The wind of heaven beguiles the leaf, The rose invites the bee; The sickle hugs the barley-sheaf, And I love thee.

By night and day, in joy and grief, Do thou love me?'

The palm was bending to her mate, I marked her meaning well; And pa.s.s'd within the city gate, The fond old tale to tell."

When he ceased, she rose on him like a ghost, from behind the parapet.

In another moment her veil was up, her sweet lips parted in a greeting that was rather breathed than spoken, and both hands were abandoned to the caresses of her lover.

"Ishtar," he murmured, "queen of my heart! I scarcely dared to hope, and yet I _knew_ I should find you here."

"I thought not you would come," she whispered, for a girl's modesty thinks no shame to veil with ingenuous falsehood the truth of which she is really proud. "But I could not sleep--I could not rest under a roof--the war is over--my own dear father has returned safe. O Sarchedon! this has been such a happy day."

It was the first time she had called him by his name, and the endearing syllables dropped like honey from her lips. It was no more to be "n.o.ble damsel," "my lord's handmaiden," but "Ishtar," and "Sarchedon," because they knew they loved each other with all the rich warmth, the stormy pa.s.sion of their race and climate.

"A happy day!" he repeated, rather bitterly; "and a day of victory for the fairest maiden in the land of Shinar! Think you it was such a happy moment for _me_, Ishtar, when I saw the love-gift hurled from our prince's chariot to your feet?"

She had not been a woman, could she have quite suppressed a double sense of triumph--of vanity gratified by the homage of a prince, and, sweeter far, of pride in his own avowal that she could excite the jealousy of him she loved. Very tender was her smile, very soft and kind her glance, while she replied:

"You may judge how I value the gift when I tell you the handmaidens are shredding herbs in it even now. Yet is he a goodly youth, our young lord, and a comely--fair he must surely seem in _your_ eyes, Sarchedon, for is he not the very picture of his mother? and _you_ of all men would be loath to dispute the beauty of the Great Queen."

It was a feminine thrust, and planted fairly home; but here in Ishtar's presence it rather roused in him a feeling of alarm, lest he should lose the blossom in his hand, than any wish to reach the riper and costlier fruit hanging above his head.

"Beloved!" he answered gravely, "the desire of queens and princes is like the hot wind of the desert, that blasts and scorches where it strikes. It matters little what befalls Sarchedon, if he loses her who has become the jewel of his treasure-house, and the light of his path.

With the young prince, to see is too often to covet, and to covet, too surely to possess! It may be, that ere the days of triumph are over, he will have asked you of Arbaces in marriage, and whither shall I go for comfort then, if I am to look nevermore on the only face I love?"

That face showed strangely pale in the wan light of the stars and crescent moon. There was a thrill of deadly fear in the whisper that appealed so piteously for succour and protection.

"Save me, Sarchedon, save me! It would be worse than death. What shall I do? What shall I do?"

He pondered, pressing the hand he held fondly to his eyes and forehead.

"Arbaces would not barter you away for treasure, like a herd of camels or a drove of captives?" he asked, after a pause.

"My father loves me dearly," she answered. "I know he fears to lose me; for he has often said, if I were to vanish from his side, like my mother, he would never wish to come out of his war-chariot alive!"

"She was a daughter of the stars," said Sarchedon abstractedly; "their love is fatal to mortal men! You see, I have learned it all, and yet I care not--I have but you in the world!"

The daughter of the stars, he thought, had surely transmitted her celestial beauty to the girl who now bent fondly over him, and shook her head.

"They say so!" she answered. "But Arbaces is loath to be questioned, and I know not what to think. She may have been the child of a priestess of Baal, espoused to the G.o.d. I cannot believe that the stars have come down from their thrones for the love of women in these later days, since the plague of waters in the olden time, before the great tower of Belus was built. I only know I would I had my mother's beauty and my father's fame, and the wealth of the Great Queen, that I might bestow it all on the man I love. You would be rich, Sarchedon, and of high repute; while I should be----very, very happy!"