"Such a measure would be wise, I grant, and would set the question at rest for ever. But I must not—I will not—consent! I cannot but think the doves that fed me in my infancy have imparted something of their nature to mine. I loved the boy dearly all his childhood through; none the less, perhaps, that in form and features he seemed so entirely mine own. I was a good mother to him, as any sun-burned peasant who brings her babe into the vineyard on her back; and, will you believe me, Assarac? he cared more for a rough word or a rude jest from the Great King than for my fondest caress, my smiles, my very tears. When I have pleaded with him, even to his own advantage, he has turned his back on me, and laughed outright."
How strange it seemed that any man on earth could see that matchless face unmoved, hear that sweet voice unwon! But Assarac dared not speak, lest all his self-control should fail, and Semiramis proceeded with her complaint:
"He loved the meanest dancing-girl out of the market better than the mother to whom he owed his life, his beauty, his favour with the Great King. He would leave me for horse, and hawk, and hound, without a word—the ring of a timbrel, the flash of a torch, the clink of a wine-cup, would have taken him from beside my dying bed; and yet I cared for the lad through it all, sheltered him many a time from his father's anger, and screened his weakness, his incapacity, his vices, from the people over whom he thought some day to reign. I have done too much for Ninyas, and I have had no return. When I sent him to Ascalon with that white-faced girl, I thought we were rid of his follies for a space, to the profit of every one concerned. I never dreamed she would leave him, nor that the child loved its toy so well as to follow even to the gate of Babylon. That he should ride through in woman's attire must have been arranged expressly by the gods. Had he come in his own person, I had been compelled to act with less mercy. I thank you again, Assarac, that you saw the opportunity at a glance. One so sage in counsel, so quick in action, cannot but be skilful in war. Ere this year's dates have turned to russet, you and I will flaunt the banner of Ashur in the very face of the Beautiful King before his gate at distant Ardesh, and water our horses, whether he will or no, in the swift Araxes. War is the sport of kings, and am not I more king than queen when I mount my chariot in harness and headpiece, armed with bow and spear?"
"And does love count for nothing in the project?" asked the eunuch, with so much of reverence as masked, but did not quite conceal, a bitter sneer.
Semiramis turned from him in obvious displeasure: under the delicate ear he marked her very neck grow crimson with a blush. He bore pain well, this priest of a false god, and proceeded to urge his objections in the calm tone befitting one who offers counsel to a superior.
"Has the Great Queen counted well the cost?" said he. "Has she considered how many bones of men and horses must whiten the line of march to rearward of her armies, ere they pass the Zagros range? Can her chariots of iron penetrate its wooded defiles? How shall her camels climb its steep and slippery rocks? Say she advances to the fertile country beyond the hills: she must either encounter those terrible savages, who worship a naked sword as the sons of Ashur worship Nisroch and Baal—gigantic warriors, clad in skins, but armed with bow and spear eating human flesh and drinking horses' blood—or she will behold a barren plain before her, its peasants fled, its wells choked up, its harvest wasted by fire, affording neither food nor water to man or beast. When she has surmounted these obstacles, with the loss of half her strength, she will find herself face to face with a countless host of horsemen from the northern desert, under the leadership of Aryas the Beautiful himself."
In many respects, she was a woman to the core.
"I have heard he is beautiful," she answered with a light laugh.
His reply was grave and sad:
"Could not he have met Semiramis, at the frontiers of her empire, in all honour and splendour, without encounter of armies and shedding of blood? Must he, too, rue the youthful manhood and comely face that bring him a captive to the Great Queen's chariot-wheels, because of her ungovernable desire—"