Part 2 (1/2)
”Am I then so dangerous to look upon?” said she; ”the face of a queen should be gracious to a faithful servant. I say to _you_, Look and live!”
A thrill of intense triumph and pleasure shot through him with her words. He took courage to scan the form and features of that celebrated woman, whose intellect and beauty had already made her mistress of the mightiest nation in the East.
She was beautiful no doubt, in the nameless beauty that wins, no less than in the lofty beauty that compels. Her form was matchless in symmetry, so that her every gesture, in the saddle or on the throne, was womanly, dignified, and graceful, while each dress she wore, from royal robe and jewelled tiara to steel breastplate and golden headpiece, seemed that in which she looked her best. With a man's strength of body, she possessed more than a man's power of mind and force of will. A shrewd observer would have detected in those bright eyes, despite their thick lashes and loving glance, the genius that can command an army and found an empire; in that delicate, exquisitely chiselled face, the lines that tell of tameless pride and unbending resolution; in the full curves of that rosy mouth, in the clean-cut jaw and prominence of the beautifully-moulded chin, a cold recklessness that could harden on occasion to pitiless cruelty--stern, impracticable, immovable as fate.
But Sarchedon only saw a lovely woman of queenly bearing, glancing approval on his glowing face. His Southern nature seemed to expand like a flower in the suns.h.i.+ne of her smiles.
His looks could not fail to express admiration, and she, who might have been satiated with homage, seemed well pleased to accept as much as he had to offer.
Bending towards him with a gesture of condescension, that was almost a caress, she bade him advance yet nearer to her couch.
”And now,” said she, ”that you have looked on this terrible face of mine without perdition, tell me your tidings from the camp. What of the war?
what of the host? what of my lord the king?”
”The war is ended,” he answered briefly; ”the host is victorious. My lord the king will return in triumph ere another day be past.”
She started, but controlled herself with an effort.
”Enough,” she answered haughtily and coldly; ”you have done your duty--you are dismissed!”
Then she clapped her hands, and from behind the silken hangings appeared the woman who had guided Sarchedon into the temple.
”Kalmim,” said the queen, still in the same constrained voice, ”take this messenger to a.s.sarac without delay; bid the priest report to me, at sunset, all the details he can learn from him regarding the host. But stay”--her tone changed to one of winning sweetness, soft, sad, and irresistible--”not till he has had food and rest. You have ridden day and night through the desert; you have looked on your queen's face and lived. Take courage, you may live to look on it again.”
With the last words she turned on him one of her rare intoxicating smiles, and the strong soldier left her presence helpless, confused, staggering like a man who wakes out of a dream.
Within the gardens, or paradise, belonging to the royal palace stood a vast pile of building, dedicated to the wors.h.i.+p of Baal, and surrounding the lofty tower of Belus, raised on the same site, and nearly to the same alt.i.tude, as that by which human rebellion presumed to offend after the Flood. Here, at the head of a thousand priests, dwelt a.s.sarac in solemn state and splendour, officiating daily in sacrifices offered to the G.o.ds of a.s.syria, and their numerous satellites--a.s.sarac, who combined in his own person the leaders.h.i.+p of religion and of politics; for, during the absence of Ninus on his Egyptian expedition, it had been the ambitious eunuch's aim to share, if he could not guide, the queen's counsels, and, as far as he dared, to centre in his own person the executive of government.
Sarchedon found himself, therefore, again threading the shady paths by which he had come, but on this occasion under the conduct of a guide less swift of foot than the priest but, as became her s.e.x, more nimble of tongue. Kalmim made no scruple of unveiling, to afford her companion the whole benefit of her charms.
”A good beginning indeed,” said this saucy dame, with a smile that did justice to the reddest lips and wickedest eyes in Babylon; ”you are in favour, my young lord, I can tell you. To have seen her face to face is no small boast; but that she should take thought of your food and rest, and bid me charge myself with your guidance through this deserted wilderness! why, I cannot remember her so gracious to any one since--well--since the last of them--there, you needn't look so bold at an unveiled woman--I ought never to have brought you here alone!”
It was almost a challenge; but he was busy with his own thoughts, and made no reply. Kalmim, unaccustomed to neglect, attributed his silence, not unnaturally, to exhaustion and fatigue.
”You are weary,” said she kindly; ”faint, doubtless, from lack of food, and would not confess it to save your life? O, you men, how your pride keeps you up! and why are you only ashamed of those things in which there is no disgrace?”
He compelled himself to answer, though his thoughts were far away.
”I am not ashamed to be faint and athirst. I have ridden two nights and a day, and drank water but once--at the Well of Palms.”
”The Well of Palms!” she repeated, her woman's wit marking his abstraction, and a.s.signing to it a woman's cause. ”It is the sweetest water in all the land of s.h.i.+nar. It would taste none the worse when drawn for you by the daughter of Arbaces.”
”Ishtar!” he exclaimed, while his whole face brightened. ”You have seen her--you know her! Is she not beautiful?”
Kalmim laughed scornfully.
”Beautiful!” she echoed, ”with a poor thin face, white as ivory, and solemn as Dagon's yonder, in the fis.h.i.+ng-temple! Well, well! then she _is_ beautiful, if you like; and we shall learn next that she is good as well as fair!”
”What do you mean?” he asked, stopping short to look his companion in the face.