"Long reign the Queen! A curse on Ninyas—son of Ninus—and the Prince of Liars! A curse upon his evil tongue!"
The curse was taken up by five score thousand mouths, till the roarings rocked the palace mound, and the din was great; then Semiramis once more raised her arms and spoke to the seething multitude:
"Naught do I ask, my children, in taxes or in gifts; for now would I make a royal gift to you. The King is dead! He died in a distant land, where I followed after him because of his evil works. The King is dead; yet now do I give to you another King!"
She ceased. No shout arose, for her listeners stood silent, wondering if she thought to set the liar, Ninyas, on her throne; so they waited, each man drawing in his breath.
Through the palace doors strode Huzim, bearing a burden in his mighty arms—a burden which he set on Assyria's double throne. A man it was, or the semblance of a man, whose eyes were blind; whose form was shrunken, and whose hands were curved in the manner of horrid claws. This, then, was the King whom Semiramis would give!
In silence the people gazed on Menon while one might count a score, then from their throats came a quivering wolf-lipped howl. No pæan of rejoicing rode that tempest-gust of sound, but the snarl of men whose passions were stirred to madness and to deeds of blood. Would Semiramis dare to crown this hideous thing?—this mockery of man who swayed in weakness as he sat on high? Nay, better to set a prince of liars on the throne! Better to crown a graven effigy! So the people howled their wrath and surged toward the palace steps, seeking to tear the idol from a woman's shrine and stamp it in the dust.
About Semiramis were gathered her chiefs of war, Prince Asharal of Babylon, Boabdul Ben Hutt whose scimitar could match a score of swords, Huzim the faithful, Dagas who loved and whose shield was hers in any cause, while many more stout arms were there to work her will; but of these the Queen thought not as she faced the coming throng.
"Ye dogs!" she stormed, "am I to be sickened by the yelpings of your pack? Ye swine of Assyria! who have fattened on the plenty of Shammuramat! I who have puffed your bellies with the food of gods! Have done! Go down in peace, nor lay your tongues to idle mutterings! In peace, I say, lest I cease to love you and destroy you utterly!" She paused for an instant, then flung her hand toward her stricken mate, lifting her voice that all might hear and heed: "On a throne King Menon sitteth, and shall sit! Down! Down upon your knees and worship him, who is lord of my heart and lord of all the world!"
Now those who would have rushed upon her, paused at the very wonder of her love, and in that pause Semiramis turned and made a sign to Nakir-Kish. The High Priest would have set the crown on Menon's head, but the head drooped forward, sinking upon his breast. His little strength had ebbed. The tumult of the populace below had seemed like the roar of battle in his ears, though the meaning thereof was strange to him, and he knew not that he was King. One thought alone was in his heart—Semiramis!—and to her he stretched his broken, wandering hands.
But the Queen would have her will. She snatched the crown from the High Priest Nakir-Kish and set it on Menon's brow—a brow which now would never feel its royal weight, for a dead man slid from Assyria's throne and fell upon his face.