Part 25 (1/2)
Lastly, retaining him for a moment behind his companions, he whispered in Sarchedon's ear,
”Forget not how the captive in his dungeon found favour in the sight of my lord the king. He bids you think of Pharaoh when you are exalted in your own country, and above all, he warns you, despise not the wisdom of the Egyptians.”
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE DESERT
Once more in the saddle, once more in the light of day, once more in the boundless desert, free as the wild a.s.s devouring the plain, the long-winged hawk darting across the sun. Sarchedon set his horse to its speed, and circled round the troop of warriors who accompanied him, in sheer ecstasy of liberty and motion. How could he refrain? Was it not life itself to feel beneath his limbs the old familiar swerve, and swing and long elastic bound? fingering with light and skilful touch the quivering rein, to which every motion answered, like the chord of an instrument responsive to the practised hand of a musician? to borrow from the animal under him, till each quality seemed his own, the speed of a wild deer, the strength of a mountain bull, and the gentle generous courage peculiar to a good horse alone? Yes, it was worth long days and nights of captivity, of restless slumber and weary waking, of listless apathy and dull sickening despair, to back a steed, wear sword on thigh, and shake a javelin in the pure still air of the wilderness once again.
He said as much to Sethos, while they turned in the saddle to look their last on the great pyramids of Egypt, sinking into the plain behind them.
The cup-bearer, moderating his companion's pace, like his own, to the springing walk of their pure-bred steeds, expressed, as usual, his earnest desire to behold the walls, pinnacles, and brazen gates of great Babylon, with her pleasures and her repose.
”A place, my friend,” said Sethos, ”that I was sore afraid you would never see again. A fallen man in the desert is more commonly picked up by jackals than Israelites; and it is not every horse that would take another rider back, as did Merodach, to the very spot where he laid his master on the sand. By the belt of Nimrod, I always said, for camp or march, charge or chase, I have not found such a steed in the Great King's host as the white horse with the wild eye.”
”Brave Merodach!” answered Sarchedon; ”I would I were across him now.
Bold, gentle, and true, I never saw him frightened, and I never felt him tired.”
”He was scared that night, nevertheless,” said Sethos. ”He came by me like a stone out of a sling, even as I reached the middle gate in the southern wall; but the archers on watch turned him back, and when I caught his bridle, he let me lead him through the crowded streets like a dog. By the brows of Ashtaroth, it was a night not to be forgotten in Babylon, while the great tower of Belus has one brick standing on another.”
”Was there a tumult, then?” asked Sarchedon. ”Our countrymen need but little to stir them into action at a festival.”
”Not so much a tumult,” answered the cup-bearer, ”as a great awe and horror over all. The streets were thick with people; but men looked in each other's faces, and scarce dared ask what might come next. Some told me that the skies were raining fire and brimstone on the temple of Baal, and that ere dawn of morning the whole city was to be consumed; some that the Bactrians had vanquished our Great King's host, all scattered about in the plain; that their elephants could be seen from the walls, and that even now the fiercest of their mountaineers were advancing to the a.s.sault.”
Sarchedon laughed.
”Such tidings should have vexed you but little,” said he. ”Did you not remember how we put them to flight by the Red Lake, from which our warriors drank so freely, believing it was wine? I slew three of their slingers at its very brim with my own hand.”
”I remembered nothing,” answered Sethos, ”but that when they drew the sword they smote and spared not, old men and maidens, mothers and children, the warrior in harness, and the wounded at their feet. If the Bactrians were in truth over the wall, I bethought me whether it were not best to leap on Merodach, and gallop back into the desert from whence I came.”
”It was a stout-hearted resolution,” laughed Sarchedon, who knew the cup-bearer's courage to be beyond suspicion, but had not forgotten the disinclination to hard work, hard fare, and hard blows his friend was never ashamed of owning. ”And what prevented this dignified retreat of the Great King's chief officer before an old woman's fable of an impossible attack?”
”Speak not lightly of women, old or young,” returned Sethos. ”If these make love, those make pottage; and thus two of man's chief needs are satisfied. I repeat, I had begun to think gravely of flight, when I met one in the crowd who was neither man nor woman precisely, but a priest of Baal. He told me that his G.o.d descended at nightfall in a chariot of fire, and had carried the Great King back with him to the stars. This was the light I saw flaring in the sky over the city, while I approached the gate.”
”I saw it too,” observed Sarchedon. ”When I fell heavily to the ground, there pa.s.sed before my eyes, as it were, a sheet of flame, and then I remember nothing more, till I found myself on an a.s.s's back, faint and weak, swaying from side to side, but supported by that good old man who picked me off the sand.”
”It was true enough,” continued Sethos, ”though told by a priest. While I was riding about on a fool's errand, uncertain where to turn my bridle, and you were galloping to and fro, with diverse wild purposes I do not yet clearly understand, but which seem to have cost you somewhat dear, our Great King went up into his Talar to pour out a drink-offering to Baal. The G.o.d must have been thirsty, since he came down to wet his beard with wine in person, and Ninus must have been in milder mood than usual to mount the flaming chariot at his desire. Well, the Thirteen have gained a stern comrade, and the land of s.h.i.+nar has lost the stoutest warrior that ever crossed a steed.”
”We shall see his like no more,” answered the other. ”He was the last of those mighty men begotten by Nimrod to rule over the sons of Ashur with sword and spear. But it is written in the stars that the Great King lives for ever; and though Ninus be gone, doth not Ninyas his son reign in his stead?”
”Doubtless,” was the reply. ”So soon as the father set foot in his flaming chariot, the diadem of Ashur blazed on the son's bright comely brow. By the glory of Shamash, he shone beautiful as morning when he showed himself to the people with the royal circle over his head, the royal sceptre in his hand. There was a something changed in him too; I know not what--a dignity of bearing, a smoothness of gesture, a quiet courtesy to all--and he looked in his dazzling raiment more like a G.o.d than a king.”
”Was there, then, no outbreak?” asked Sarchedon. ”Unlike old Nineveh, the people of Babylon must be reined with the strong hand, in great and sudden changes such as these.”
”With the strong hand!” exclaimed Sethos. ”Why, the spearmen of the queen's host were drawn up in battle array by hundreds at the corner of every street, while bowmen cl.u.s.tered on wall and tower like locusts about a fig-tree. No man dared murmer if he would; and I think none who looked in his fair face could have desired a n.o.bler king than Ninyas.”
”And the queen?” said Sarchedon. ”How fares it with Semiramis in her woe?”
”The queen remains hidden in her palace,” replied his friend; ”not to be seen of men while she makes her moan, rending her garments and scattering ashes on her head. Alas for the pride of her beauty, the pomp and power of her dominion! Surely her glory pa.s.sed away with the smoke of the great sacrifice. Ninus ruled half the earth with his frown, and she ruled Ninus with her smile. But all is changed now.”
”Has she, then, so little influence over her son?” asked Sarchedon, reining his horse to a halt in his preoccupation, while he pondered on his own future, and how it might be affected by these strange unlooked-for events.