"Sargon, the royal shield-bearer," was the answer, "has been on guard since cock-crow; and Shamash, Prince of Light, will doubtless show himself above the horizon so soon as my lord the king appears at the door of his tent."
Ninus bent his shaggy brows in displeasure on the volubility of his servant.
"Halt!" said he. "Rein in thy tongue, lest the dogs have their share of it without the camp. Fill yet again; and let me hear no more of this endless jargon about the gods."
It was death to laugh in the king's presence; but Sethos, replenishing the goblet to its brim, did not repress a smile. The old warrior's second draught seemed somewhat to renew his strength.
"Reach me that gown," said he—"the heavy one; and the girdle yonder. Fool! that in which hangs the sword—my good old sword! Ha! if Baal and Ashtaroth had done for me but one half the service of horse and weapon, they might take their share of the spoil, and welcome. By the belt of Nimrod, they shall not have one shekel more than a tenth this time! Thirteen gods, by my beard, and every god a thousand priests! Why, it is enough to ruin the richest king that ever built treasure-house. I must reduce them. I will about it at once, when the people are busy with the triumph. I wonder what she will say—my beautiful! I angered her long ago, when I refused to worship Satan up yonder in the mountains. I would be loath to anger her again, though I will worship nothing but the eyes that are watching fondly for my return."
Old, exhausted, weary as he was, there came a gentle look over his grim war-worn face while he thought of the woman he loved so fondly, whom it had cost him so much of crime and cruelty to possess. But the passion of acquisition, almost inseparable from age, was strong in the king's heart; and it chafed him to think the votaries of Baal should so largely share in the fruits of this his last and most successful expedition beyond the Nile.
Sethos, standing before him in the prescribed attitude of respect, marked every shade of his lord's countenance, drawing his own conclusions, and preserving his usual air of imperturbable good humour and self-conceit.
The early flush of sunrise now stole under the hangings of the tent, crimsoning the cup-bearer's feet where he stood, so that his sandals looked as if they had been dipped in blood.
"Bid them sound trumpets," said the king. "Go tell Arbaces that the vanguard must set themselves in array at once. Where is Ninyas? He should have been waiting before his father's tent ere now. Wine, sloth, and pleasure—he loves them all too well. Yet the boy drew a good bow in his first battle, and rode through Pharaoh's horsemen, dealing about him like Nimrod himself. Go, bring him hither; and, Sethos, as you pass through the camp, order the captain of the night to call in the watches. So soon as the camels are loaded I shall march."
A warrior to the very marrow, Ninus loved such minute details as the marshalling of a vanguard, or the ordering of an encampment, better than all the pomp of royalty; and felt more at ease in steel harness, on the back of a good steed, than seated in purple and gold, with the royal parasol over head, the royal sceptre in hand, an object of worship to adoring crowds in ancient Nineveh, or even great Babylon itself.