Westward their course was laid, past many a booth where women laughed, and crafty hucksters lured them on to buy; past a teeming market-place, for Kishra went boldly in accustomed paths, lest marauders spring upon him from some darkened alley-way. The place was a place of noises, lights and evil smells, of leering, besotted crowds who knew the eunuch and gibed him because of the woman at his side. The Syrian's blood burned hotly in her veins, till she yearned to tear the jesters with her nails; yet wisdom whispered, so she laughed in the manner of an easy-virtued kitchen wench, and went her way.
And now the booths were passed, and they came at length to the city wall with its mighty gates of brass. Here fortune once more favored them, for a band of belated horsemen came clattering in, the riders nodding on their weary steeds; so Kishra whispered with the captain of the gate, slyly pressing a coin into his palm; then, as the keeper turned his back, the two slipped by and went unnoticed out of Nineveh.
In silence the treasure-seekers crossed the plain till they came to the river bank. Here a boat was found in charge of an under-keeper's boy who stretched out his hand for pay, then straightway disappeared. Kishra produced a digging tool from beneath his cloak, laid it beside him on the beach, and began to unloose the boat; and while he was thus employed, Semiramis cast a lingering glance at the city wall that loomed against the sky, so black, so stern, with its monster towers which seemed to stand on guard like giant wardens of the night.
As she gazed, her heart grew sad again—sad for the little Princess dreaming on her couch, and because of Habal, watching for the mistress who would come not back to him.
She sighed and turned; yet, turning, felt a cold nose thrust into her hand; then with a cry of joy Semiramis fell upon her knees, her arms clasped tight about the neck of the faithful dog. She remembered the sound of a body falling from the palace mound; 'twas Habal that had leaped to the street below, where he lay for a space with the breath dashed out of him, then hobbled along her trail with a broken paw. At the city gate he had darted between the legs of the horses filing in, and now crouched, panting, at the Syrian's side, to receive caresses, or reproof because of his disobedient love.
Now the coming of Habal proved a check to Kishra's plan of murdering the woman when her treasure was in his hands; so, cursing, he snatched up his digging tool wherewith to slay the beast; but Semiramis sprang between them, furious as a mother who defends her child, while the dog rose, snarling, eager for Kishra's blood.
"Lay but a finger tip upon him," the mistress cried, "and you hunt alone on the further shore! Have done! The dog is wounded, and with us he shall go!"
Kishra paused. Full well he knew the risk of trifling with a woman's whims. It were better to humor her in this little thing than to hazard all ere the gems were in his clutch; so, grumbling, he cast his digging tool into the boat and made ready to depart. The craft was small, and rude of shape, yet would serve to bear them safely to the other side; and when Semiramis and Habal had settled in the bow, Kishra with his paddle pushed out into the stream.
"Whither, mistress?" he asked in a muffled tone, as though he feared some lurker on the bank might hear.
"To the lily beds in line with the city gate," the Syrian whispered, with a hidden smile, while she tore a strip from her nether garment and bound it on Habal's broken paw.