Читать книгу Sarchedon - A Legend of the Great Queen - George J. Whyte-Melville - Страница 11

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Babylon the Great had pranked herself out in holiday attire, like some loyal and splendid dame arrayed to welcome her lord. From the Gates of Brass in her southern wall to the temple of Baal towering in her centre, squares, streets, and terraces were hung with scarlet, blazing with gold, and strewed knee-deep in flowers. Her population were shouting by tens of thousands on either bank of the Euphrates, which ran through the heart of the city, while even the broad river was dotted with boats of every shape and colour, fantastic, gaudy, and beautiful as the exotics on the tanks of those paradises or gardens which formed her distinguishing characteristic and her pride. Myriads of women waved their veils and scarfs from roof and balcony in endless perspective, while countless children added a shriller echo to every cry of welcome as it rose.

It was remarkable, however, that, contrary to custom on similar occasions, none of the weaker sex were to be seen in the streets. Such had been the decree of the Great Queen; a decree enforced by the presence of so strong an array of warriors as denoted the mighty resources of an empire, which could thus furnish a formidable army at home to receive an army of comrades returning from the frontier.

Besides these champions of bow and spear, masses of white-robed priests occupied the porches of every temple and every open space dedicated to sacrifice throughout the city; while others, chosen from the servants of Baal, and therefore under the immediate influence of Assarac, were scattered through the crowd, conspicuous amongst the gay dresses and glittering arms of their countrymen by their linen garment and the lotus-flowers in their hands.

Of these, Beladon seemed the busiest and most voluble, gliding from group to group with plausible words and impressive gestures, which nevertheless left on his listeners a nameless sense of dissatisfaction in the pageant, the victory, and general results of the Egyptian campaign.

Amongst the warriors perhaps this discontent was most apparent, amounting indeed to a sentiment of insubordination, which lost nothing in strength and bitterness from the observations of the priest.

"A feeble war," said he, addressing himself to the captain of a band of spearmen who occupied one of the Brazen Gates—"a distant country and a doubtful success. Few captives, I have heard, little spoil, and the frontier remains where it was."

"Not much to boast in the way of fighting," answered the other, a stalwart warrior curled and bearded to the eyes. "Look at the vanguard passing even now. Scarcely a dinted shield or a torn garment in their ranks; every bowman with a whole skin and a quiver full of arrows at his back. It was not thus we marched in from Bactria, when I myself could count three scars on my breast, and one on my face that you may see there even now; ay! and bore on my spear the head of a giant whom I slew in sight of both armies with my own hand. Ninus laughed, and swore I hewed at him like a wood-cutter at a broad-leafed oak in the northern hills. I wonder if he will remember me to-day."

"The Great King hath forgotten many a stout blow and faithful service since then," answered Beladon. "The lion grows old now, his teeth are gone, and his claws worn down. Ere long he will take his seat among the Thirteen Gods, my friend, and Ninyas, his son, will reign in his stead."

"He is a leader of promise, I have heard," said the other, "who can set the battle in array; ay, and strike hard in the fore-front too, despite his slender body and winsome woman's face."

"Winsome indeed," replied Beladon, pointing upward to where the queen sat in state on the wall amidst her people. "Is he not his mother's son? and has he not inherited her very eyes and smile?"

"She would make the noblest leader of the three," swore the captain of spears. "By the serpent of Ashtaroth, she has more skill of warfare than the Great King himself; and I have seen the Bactrians lay down their arms and surrender without a blow, when she drove her war-horse into their ranks. You are a priest, and priests are learned in such matters. Have you never heard that she is something more than woman?"

"The gods will take her to dwell with them in their own good time," answered Beladon gravely, but smothering a smile as he reflected on sundry feminine weaknesses and caprices of the Great Queen, freely discussed by the priests of the inner circle in the temple of Baal. "More than woman," he muttered, moving away to another group of spectators—"more than woman in cunning, more than man in foresight, more than the lion in courage, more than a goddess in beauty! The day must come when she will rule the world! Assarac is her chief adviser—Beladon is high in the counsels of Assarac—and so, what matters a gash or so before an altar, a little reserve amongst the people, compared with the prospect that opens before us, if only we were rid of this fierce old unbeliever, who fears neither gods above nor men below?"

Then he moved a few paces on, and bade a listener mark how the queen had turned the course of a stream out of her gardens round the royal palace to fill the fountains of the city, wondering in the same breath how Ninus would relish the alteration—Ninus, who a few years back had levelled walls, streets, and temples to enlarge the borders of a paradise for his game. This observation having won sufficient attention from the crowd, he proceeded to discuss the value of provisions, a subject of interest to all, reminding them that grain had been strangely cheap during the king's absence from his dominions, and marvelling why millet should have gone up in price as the conquering army advanced nearer and nearer home. Were they better or worse for the Great King's presence, he wanted to know; had they been athirst or ahungered while Ninus was far away making war on the frontier; and why was it that now, on the day of his return in triumph, they began to feel scarcity and to be sparing of the children's bread? Men looked blankly in each other's faces, and shook their heads for a reply; but such seed is never sown on barren ground, and it dawned on many minds that their city, which after all was not of his own founding, but his queen's, would have been none the worse had the Great King never come back from the war at all.

A hundred priests prating to the same effect in a hundred quarters produced no contemptible result. Discontent soon grew to disloyalty, and men who at daybreak would have asked no better than to fling themselves in adoration under the king's chariot-wheels were now prepared to receive him in sullen displeasure, and, as far as they dared, with outward demonstrations of ill-will.

Yet, like clouds before the northern breeze, all these symptoms of disaffection were swept away by the first glitter of spears in the desert, the first trumpet blast without the walls giving notice of his approach—to return, when the triumph and the pageant should be over, when the shouting and the excitement should have died away.

There was one, however, who watched the alternations of temper in the multitude as a steersman in shoal water watches the ebb and flow of the tide. Assarac's keen intellect penetrated the wavering feelings of the people, while his daring ambition aimed even at the overthrow of a dynasty for the gratification of its pride. He had long dreaded the return of Ninus as a check to his own power over the populace and paramount influence with the queen. The old lion loved neither priests nor priestcraft, and would have had small scruple in putting all the servants of Baal to the sword, if he suspected them of treachery or revolt. Had the army marched back from Egypt weakened and disorganised by the fatigues of its campaign; had the numerous force within the walls showed stronger symptoms of impatience and discontent; in short, had his materials seemed but inflammable enough to take fire at a moment's notice, Assarac would not have hesitated that one moment in applying a torch to set the whole Assyrian empire in a blaze.

But the priest, though swift to strike his blow, was also patient to abide his time. The Great Conqueror's army marched home as it had marched out, strong in numbers, in courage, in supplies—flushed moreover with an easy victory and a sufficiency of spoil. Warlike enthusiasm is of all excitement the most catching, and the hosts within the city were fain to greet their brethren-in-arms with at least the semblance of cordiality and good-will. Not thus on the day of his triumph was the old lion to be taken in the toils. Assarac, in his place of honour as high priest, standing near the queen, watched every turn of her countenance, and bethought him that the stars in their courses afforded no such difficult page to read as the text of a woman's heart.

Semiramis was attired with a magnificence that, enhancing her own unrivalled beauty, seemed to envelop her in splendour more than human. When she raised her veil to look down on the crowd, an awe came over the people, so that they forbore even to shout. It seemed as if Ashtaroth, Queen of Heaven, had descended in their midst; but a single voice finding vent at last, such a pent-up burst of cheers rose to the sky, that her fair face turned a shade paler, and to him who was scanning it with eager gaze of curiosity and admiration, it seemed as if a moisture rose in her deep dark eyes.

The shouts of the people were caught up again and again. Clad in a robe of golden tissue, crowned with a diadem of rubies and diamonds set in gold, wearing the star-shaped ornaments round her neck that denoted her divine origin, and on her breast the most precious jewel in the empire, representing a cock and a crescent-moon, emblems of that homage to the Evil Principle which she had herself inculcated on the nation; wrapped besides in the halo of her own surpassing beauty, it was scarce possible to believe she was only a woman after all, of the same mould, the same nature, the same passions, with the drudges they had left pounding corn and drawing water at home. From gilded warrior to naked slave, from the captain in his chariot to the leper at the wayside, not a man, as he looked on that lovely face, but would have felt death cheaply purchased by a kind word or a smile. And these were lavished on one who was asked to encounter no danger—scarcely to perform an act of homage, in return.

Sarchedon, flushed, dazzled, bewildered by the position, found himself installed at her right hand, chief officer and prime favourite, placed there ostensibly as bearer from the camp of the Great King's signet; in reality, something whispered to his astonished senses, because he had pleased the eye and taken captive the fancy of the queen.

Many a stolen look had he intercepted that could but be interpreted as of high favour and approval. Once she fixed her eyes on the amulet, which, in ignorance of its ownership, he wore openly round his neck, and seemed about to speak, but checked herself, sighing languidly, and turning with impatience to Assarac; while she questioned him about the details of the pageant, wondering why the vanguard, already marching in, should be thus far in advance of the main body and the Great King. "Was the army so encumbered with spoil? Had they so many captives? Were there beautiful women among them? She had heard much concerning the daughters of the South—Sarchedon could tell them—was it true the women of Egypt were so dangerously fair?"

Once more she bent her eyes on the young warrior, and was not displeased to mark the colour deepen on his cheek, while bowing low he answered, with his looks averted from her face.

"I thought so till I returned to Babylon from the host. But a man who has once seen the glitter of a diamond is blind thenceforth to the lustre of meaner gems."

"Your eyes must have been strangely dazzled," replied Semiramis with exceeding graciousness; "and the diamond that so bewildered you—was it rough from the mine, or cut and set in gold? Did it sparkle in the zone of a maiden, or in the diadem of a—" She stopped short with a faint laugh, adding in a more reserved tone, "She was no Egyptian, then, but one of our own people, whose beauty thus reached the heart at which Pharaoh's bowmen have been aiming in vain? Shall I press him to name this victorious archer? Kalmim, do you plead guilty? Is it you? or you? or you?" She looked round amongst her women while she spoke, and one after another, trying hard to blush, bowed her modest disclaimer with glances of admiration, not unmarked by the queen, at the warrior's handsome face and figure, set off by the splendid armour and apparel in which he stood. Even Semiramis, proud, conquering, almost omnipotent, liked him none the worse that it was obvious the other women would have liked him too, if they dared. But Assarac, ever watchful, ever jealous of his own interests, which centred in the dignity of the Great Queen, now interposed.

"The land of Shinar has been the land of beauty ever since the sons of heaven came down to woo her daughters on the mountains beyond the two rivers," said the priest. "Even before the days of the Great Queen, has not Ashtaroth the beautiful reigned ever goddess of the Assyrians? Ashtaroth, with her golden crown, enrobed in streams of light!"

"Ashtaroth trampling the lion beneath her feet!" added Semiramis, with a curl on her lip and a dangerous glitter in her eyes.

"Ashtaroth with the serpent in her hand," retorted Assarac, lowering his voice to a meaning whisper. "The emblem of cunning, stratagem, and true wisdom. Think not it is her star-like beauty, her golden crown, her lustrous robes, that dominate the world. No; it is the counsel of the serpent she carries in her hand!"

The queen flung up her head. "I require no counsels," said she, "from priest or serpent. When I spear the wild bull, I ride my horse freely against his front. When I shoot the lion, I aim mine arrow straight at his heart. Warriors bolder than the wild bull, fiercer than the lion, must needs go down before the weapons of Semiramis!"

It had been an ungraceful boast, but for the sweet smile, the soft glance, that accompanied her words, causing them to convey a loving invitation rather than a warlike defiance.

Sarchedon's heart was thrilling and his brain burning. The sweet intoxication of vanity possessed the one, the fiery spark of ambition kindled in the other. He muttered low, that "to be slain and trampled under foot by the Great Queen was a nobler lot than to drive a war-chariot over prostrate nations," and was raising his eyes to learn how the humility of such an avowal would be received, when his face turned pale, and he started like a man who leaps to his feet at the approach of danger.

Not half a bowshot off, looking fixedly towards him, was the gentle troubled face of Ishtar, on the terrace of her father's palace, watching for the chief captain's return.

The queen did not fail to detect his agitation and its cause. Her eyes flashed, her delicate mouth shut close on the instant as if with a clasp, her features set themselves like a mask, a beautiful mask, but of the hardest steel. So looked she when she rode the lion down and pierced him to the heart; so looked she when she urged her chariot through the ranks of an enemy, over heaps of slain; so looked she when she administered justice from the Great King's tribunal, and turned pitiless from a suppliant pleading hard for life. The glance she shot at the daughter of Arbaces was that of an unhooded falcon eyeing the gazelle upon the plains.

"So looked she when she rode the lion down."

And at the same moment glances, pleading, passionate, longing, as of that same gazelle when she nears the desert-spring, were directed towards Ishtar from a gorgeous chariot passing slowly in pompous march of triumph through the Brazen Gate, while veils were waved, steel brandished, and the acclamations of ten thousand voices rose higher and higher; for in that chariot stood their future king, the young Ninyas, a living reflection of his mother, bright, delicate, and beautiful as the queen herself.

She marked her son's admiration of the pale fair girl; she marked Sarchedon's uneasiness; but whatever thoughts were busy in her royal and lovely head, she looked abroad into the desert and held her peace.