Part 41 (1/2)
He had sworn by the eternal wings, and there was no escape. The wisest men in their dealings with women have pledged themselves, ere now, to give precious metal in exchange for dross, and Beladon made no better bargain when he matched his wits against the keener intellect and finer perceptions of the queen's tirewoman.
With grave aspect, and much decreased ardour, he answered somewhat ruefully:
”I will do your bidding--not only for mine oath's sake, but because of the love I bear you. Speak, then--your servant is waiting your commands.”
”It is not much I desire,” said she carelessly, though had there been more light he might have seen the blush rising to her brow. ”We women have strange fancies, you know; I would fain revisit my old haunts, and walk once more by night through the palace of the Great King!”
”Impossible!” he exclaimed, turning pale. ”You know not what you ask----”
”Impossible!” she repeated, mocking him. ”There is no such word acknowledged by the servants of Semiramis or Baal. Nothing is impossible, nor impenetrable, nor improper in the city of the Great Queen!”
”But my life would hang on your discretion,” urged Beladon, much disturbed--”on the silence of a woman, whose very office it is to repeat everything she hears, whether false or true!”
”And where could it hang more safely?” she retorted. ”Nay, Beladon, your welfare and mine are blended together like the bronze and gold of that buckle on your belt. The interest of one is the interest of both.
Besides, think of your oath! Lead on.”
There seemed no help for it. Taking her by the hand, he guided her softly through those darkened courts and pa.s.sages; urging, in impressive whispers, the necessity of secrecy, laying no light stress on the peril he was himself encountering for her sake. Thus gliding like shadows, they pa.s.sed stealthily through the great hall of the king's palace, immediately beneath that _talar_, or upper chamber, into which Ninus had ascended when he poured his last drink-offering to the host of heaven, and was seen by his people here on earth no more.
She could not help shuddering while she recalled that awful night, when a great horror seemed to brood over the city, and men looked blankly in each others' faces, wondering what should befall them next.
Catching sight of the famous carbuncle over the gate, glowing, even in utter darkness, like a living coal, her fort.i.tude gave way, and she screamed aloud.
However obtained, Beladon's experience seemed to have taught him that vigorous measures were judicious in cases of feminine alarm. Seizing her arm so impressively that she well-nigh screamed again for bodily pain, he whispered in her ear:
”It is death for both of us if we are discovered by the priests of Baal, who now guard the palace. I know my brethren, Kalmim, and I _love_ you.
Listen! I wear a knife at my girdle, and you shall die first!”
Thoroughly frightened, she hung her head, and held her breath. Could this be the free-spoken light-hearted Beladon, whom she had hitherto esteemed a mere frivolous idler, fit only to fill a place in the showy pageants of his G.o.d? He was rising rapidly in her good opinion, while in her characteristic love of excitement a certain thrill of pleasure sweetened the terror that admonished her how many risks she ran at every step.
Traversing the great hall, they emerged on a terrace commanding one of those pleasure-grounds for which Babylon was then no less famous than in after years for the celebrated hanging-gardens that adorned the age of her decay. It was a wilderness of shrubs and flowers, of grove and rock and stream--fit haunt for the game with which it had been plentifully stocked--fit retreat for luxurious royalty during the heat of an a.s.syrian day--fit hiding-place to secrete the fair favourite of a jealous lord--fit stronghold to immure the person of an imprisoned king.
Its recesses were distinctly visible from the terrace twenty feet above, on which Kalmim stood. At that elevation she looked over its entire length and breadth, while a bright moon, high in the heavens, flooded every nook and corner of this paradise with a light like day.
It was now dead of night, the wild bird had gone to roost, the wild deer was couched in its lair, yet a dark object moved across the lawn, on which Kalmim's eyes were fixed, slowly, stealthily, with long-continued pauses, like some feline creature prowling for its prey.
”Come away,” whispered Beladon in her ear. ”You have traversed the palace; you have seen the king's garden. It is time to depart.”
She made no answer. Her eyes were fixed and s.h.i.+ning; her face set like that of a sleep-walker, or of one horror-stricken in a dream.
The figure turned slowly round. Its garments fell disordered and awry, its hair was dishevelled, its mien wild and scared, but none could mistake the beauty of that pale startled face; and in the miserable object thus stealing, s.h.i.+vering through the moonlight, Kalmim did not fail to recognise the person of Ninyas the king.
Surrounded by a dense column of spearmen, on whom threats, protestations, and remonstrances were alike wasted, the hapless son of Ninus and Semiramis had no sooner entered the city of his inheritance, in ill-advised disguise, than he found himself a helpless prisoner under the very eyes of his a.s.sembled people, shouting enthusiastic welcome of his return. So wisely had a.s.sarac's measure been taken, so skilfully had he disposed the large force at his command, that Ninyas and his attendant, spite of their struggles, found themselves engulfed, as it were, and swept away in a resistless rush of spears. Their horses'
bridles were seized, the animals themselves urged to a gallop, the guards who hemmed them in drowned with noisy cheers even the acclamations of an excited populace; and so the whirlwind swept on unchecked towards the king's palace, where all Babylon was persuaded its beloved queen had betaken herself, there to a.s.sume the royal diadem and sceptre, ere she sought her own dwelling on the other side of the river.
But Ninyas shuddered while they hurried him under the outspread wings of those colossal bulls; for something told him they guarded a prison-gate, obdurate and impenetrable as the very granite from which their huge proportions were hewn.
”It is all over,” he whispered to Sethos. ”The bow is broke and there are no more arrows in the quiver. This is one of the Great Queen's master-strokes. I ought not to have trusted her, and yet I thought my mother loved me too well to have worsted me like this!” Whereto his follower, from whose smooth and easy nature fortune, good or bad, glided without making much impression, only answered, ”A silken cus.h.i.+on is a softer couch than the desert sand; a palace in Babylon is a n.o.bler lodging than the fortress of Ascalon. Baal himself knows not what the coming hour may bring, but the three wings never cease to turn their everlasting wheel, and the spoke that is lowest one moment comes uppermost the next!”
The cup-bearer's philosophy was so far borne out, that the royal prisoner found no reason to complain of his personal treatment. His banquets were sumptuous, his pleasures magnificent, his retinue submissive, as if he were in truth a king; but, turn which way he would, he encountered the smooth faces and downcast looks of the priests of Baal, who answered his questions with irritating professions of ignorance, and waited on him with a subservience maddening in its vigilant humility. To those whose very existence depended on the favour of a.s.sarac had been confided the care of this important captive, and scrupulously they fulfilled their trust. Though he wandered at will from court to court and hall to hall of the roomy palace--though he might take the air, when it pleased him, in its gardens, or follow the chase in its wilderness--he knew that never for a moment was he unwatched--felt that words, looks, gestures, all were noted and reported, that his very thoughts were known; for while many of his wishes seemed antic.i.p.ated, his attempts at escape were foiled almost before contrived.