When they parted, scarce a bowshot intervened between the king's chariot and the handful of Anakim who were drawn up in the position they had clamoured to occupy, waiting with fiery impatience an order to begin.
Their queen sat motionless at their head, her face concealed as usual, her eyes intently scanning those hostile ranks in search of the man she loved.
Suddenly she dropped the rein and clasped her hands upon her heart. Surely that was his figure yonder, riding, as he alone could ride, along the river bank! A dead archer lay in his path, and the bay horse, swerving wildly aside, brought his rider round with a swing that showed his front to the enemy.
"Sarchedon, Sarchedon!" she cried, in a stifled voice, then stretched her arms out piteously, and, gasping for breath, flung the veil back from her face.
It was the signal they had expected since daybreak, the gesture by which they were taught to believe their enemies would be consumed like thorns crackling in a fire. The wild blood of the desert would take no denial now; and with a shout that rang round the towers of Ardesh, reins were loosed, spears lowered, while, sweeping their bewildered leader onward in their centre, the children of Anak carried all before them in a desperate and irresistible charge.
The brow of Semiramis turned black for very anger, while the beautiful features were distorted with a spasm of rage and scorn.
"The fools!" she hissed between her teeth. "If but one comes out of the press alive, I will impale him in the centre of the camp! And for their leader—if she be wise, she will die on those Armenian spears, rather than answer this mad frolic in the face of the Great Queen!"
The next moment, with smooth calm smile and royal dignity, she beckoned Assarac to her chariot, and gave her directions in that calm assured tone which with Semiramis denoted a crisis of extreme peril, and perfect confidence in her own powers to meet it.
What she anticipated did indeed come to pass. The common saying, "Who shall stand before the children of Anak?" had doubtless grown into a proverb because of its undisputed truth. Individually, the champions of Armenia went down before these stalwart horsemen like corn under the sickle. Iron buckler made no better stand than wicker shield against their mad thrusts and crashing strokes, linked harness proved no stronger fence than linen gown, and bearded men of war seemed as but puny infants contending with this gigantic foe. Charging against the head of the Armenian phalanx, they drove its leaders back upon their fellows; and while they hewed and shouted and smote without remorse, the little band reared about them a barrier of ghastly mutilated corpses, rising to their very girths.
But while thus pressing sore against the front of their enemy, they condensed him into his original formation; and the Great Queen, always intolerant of shortcomings in discipline, had the mortification to witness her well-digested plan destroyed, her whole order of battle put to confusion, by this untoward advance of a force she intended reserving to the last moment for a purpose of her own.