Semiramis, weeping, clung still to a thread of memory—a thread which stretched from a grave in the Hindu-Kush to the steps of Assyria's throne; yet strand by strand it parted, till at last it snapped, and into the Tigris her trailing hand let fall a little green fish of carven malachite.
* * * * *
The great brown city woke to the thunder-throated voice of festival; the princes of the world foregathered there in honor of the King who would take Semiramis to wife. From every land they came, together with their followers in arms, and Nineveh resounded with the shoutings of foreign tongues. In the temples on every hill great fires were lit, and the nostrils of the gods were filled with the smoke of sacrifice, while Nakir-Kish and his swarm of under-priests slew flocks of cranes and found in every one an omen of joy unutterable. Through the streets ran youths and maidens twined with flowers, exchanging favors freely in this gladsome hour when none need count the cost. The warriors might quench their thirst at brimming tubs of wine, with naught to pay save shouts for Assyria's Queen; so they drank to the verge of madness and fought fiercely among themselves, for their hearts were glad.
Likewise, the forests and the fields were swept for meat wherewith to feed the multitudes, for Ninus dipped into his treasures with a reckless hand, even as men in the drunkenness of joy will ever squander all their substance, regretting it sorely in the sober after-days.
In the palace, the wealth of kingdoms sank from sight through feastings of costly foolishness, where jewels were baked in the very bread, and the bidden guests would oft'times break their teeth thereon; albeit they kept the jewels, smiling at their pain. Then the King, who was mad with love, went forth and set Semiramis upon a chariot of gold, driving her slowly through the streets, so that all might behold the glory of her charms. He bade his people worship her, and as they knelt he scattered treasures on their heads, till the worshippers vied viciously among themselves, seeking this wealth in the whirling dust where they battled with fists and nails.
At last came the wedding rites, and as Semiramis sat with Ninus on his throne, the palace rocked with bellowing acclaim; then followed more feasting, with the din of music, the songs of thickening tongues, and all Assyria was glad save one alone. Through the reek of flaring torches and the fumes of wine, a woman fled to the peace of the silent roof; yet the echoes of joy came climbing after her, hounding her heart with the memories of other days—the whisper-ghosts that would not die, though crushed beneath a throne.
On her knees the woman fell, and flung her arms toward the dim, unlistening stars.
"Oh, Menon, Menon," she cried aloud, "how empty is the world without the solace of thy kisses on my breast!"
* * * * *
Thus it came to pass that the nursling of doves made a nest on Assyria's throne. For a year she dwelt in the master's house, and bore him a son whose name was Ninyas; albeit Semiramis never loved the child, who was weak and petulant, of a slothful nature and a selfish heart—a son who in after days would seek his mother's death, then reign in besotted idleness and squander the strength of a kingdom built on swords.