Part 40 (2/2)

Bit-Shumukin's reply was to lay a brother's hand on his shoulder. Then Belshazzar lifted back the curtain and entered the room. There came a great cry from his lips, and the hideous sight was once more veiled in gloom.

”There is blood, Ribata! It is blood!” whispered the prince, hoa.r.s.ely.

”I saw it, Belshazzar. Yet it may be the blood of an animal, or of some other man. I cannot think that thy father was yester-night in Babylon.

Come, let us look, my prince. Within we may find some trace--some evidence of what has happened.”

The prince shrank. ”Wilt thou do it, Ribata?” he asked.

Accordingly, while Belshazzar held aside the curtain that some light might enter by the door-way, Ribata, sick at heart, hunted over the blood-splashed floor for some clew to the ident.i.ty of what it was that had died here. Belshazzar presently turned his back and stood staring into the street, refusing to look, yet listening with every sense for a dreaded exclamation from his friend. It came. As Bit-Shumukin bent over the corner where Nabonidus had fallen, he found something that wrung from him a low cry.

Belshazzar turned deathly white. ”What is it?” he said, quietly.

Ribata came to him with something in his hand. It was a small, s.h.i.+ning, blue stone, that showed itself in the suns.h.i.+ne to be an Egyptian-cut sapphire of great value, attached to a wire of twisted gold.

Belshazzar took it dully from his hand. ”My father wore it always on his neck. Let us return to the palace,” he said.

”But the body--it may surely be found!”

”The river hath it. Let her keep her own.”

And so the two remounted the vehicle and started on their way back through the city of which Belshazzar was king.

XVII

THE WOMAN'S WOE

On that fateful morning Belshazzar was away from the palace less than one hour; yet when he re-entered it he was aged ten years at heart, and one, at least, in appearance. He neither saw nor heard any one as he hurried through the great court-yard to his own room, whither Ribata accompanied him and remained with him till late afternoon, while they two took council together. Belshazzar was unnaturally calm. Through all their talk neither he nor Ribata once hinted that either knew or cared to know the ident.i.ty of the murderers. For, whatever they suspected, whatever was all but a certainty, both of them were too painfully aware of Babylon's present situation not to know that any accusation they might make of those whose power was now supreme, would do infinitely more harm than good: would merely precipitate that frightful climax that both of them dreaded and neither spoke of. Therefore, after a careful debate, it was decided to keep the murder of Nabonidus a profound secret until such time as the disclosure might be safely made.

”I charge thee as my brother, Ribata,” were Belshazzar's parting words to his friend that day, ”that thou let no man or woman, of whatever station, know from thy lips who is king of Babylon. And save for Istar, who is as myself, none shall know it from my lips. But also, as I live and reign, there shall come a day, not too distant, when justice shall be done--when this foul crime shall be avenged, as never crime before, on them that have accomplished it.”

Ribata gave his promise in all devotion, and, embracing his king, bade him farewell and set off to his own abode, his mind unstrung by the fearful discovery of the morning.

Long hours before, Belshazzar had sent a message of rea.s.surance to Belitsum; and now, with a weary sigh of relief, he turned his steps towards the distant apartments of his wife and child. With Istar, as he knew, was peace and sympathy. Never yet had she failed to understand him, and to offer him in his trials the comfort that he needed. His mind, like his heart, was absolutely hers. Arrived at the threshold of the room where, at this hour, she was always to be found, he stopped, his hand upon the curtain. Some one within had been singing. Now, noiseless as was his approach, the voice was silent. The curtain was pushed aside. Istar stood before him with a smile in her eyes.

”I felt thy presence, lord,” she said, in such a tone that his face kindled with love-light. ”Thou--Belshazzar! Art thou ill?”

”Yea, at heart,” he answered. ”Not in body. Be not afraid. Let me come in to thee, that I may tell thee Babylon's new woe.”

Istar took him gently by the hand and led him into the apartment. Inside stood Baba, holding the baby to her breast. It was she whose voice Belshazzar had heard. Belshazzar greeted the little slave, and then Istar, knowing how he wished to be alone with her, whispered a word to Baba, who a moment later went quietly away.

When they were alone Belshazzar sank back on the divan in the corner, and Istar, laying her baby upon the bed, seated herself at her lord's feet, laid her hands in his, and anxiously scanned his care-worn face.

”Kurush hath stormed the walls, Belshazzar? The city is taken?” she asked.

”Nay, my beloved. My father hath been murdered in the city--in the temple of the strange G.o.ds, by the river-bank.”

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