Pointing his warning with an expressive glance towards Sarchedon, Assarac bowed reverently and withdrew.
Semiramis turned a shade paler, and for one moment a shudder seemed to creep from her brow even to her feet. The next she stood forth to mark her lord's approach, erect and beautiful, the stateliest queen, as she was the fairest woman, in the world.
Immediately in rear of the royal standard passed on the war-chariot of the Great King, containing his charioteer and shield-bearer. Sargon's lowering brow was black as night, and to the vociferous greetings of his countrymen he returned but a silent scowl. In the brief space that had elapsed since the cruel slaughter of his son, the man's nature seemed wholly changed. His very beard, formerly so black and glossy, was streaked with grey, and the dark eyes now dull and downcast, glowed with lurid light as though from some inner fire. Few, however, remarked this alteration in the aspect of the shield-bearer; for with the first glimpse of Ninus, shouts of jubilee rose once more from the people, and in that moment of enthusiasm, assembled Babylon could not have afforded a fuller, fairer welcome to mighty Nimrod himself.
The Great King came on at a foot's pace, reining his steed with that craft of practised horsemanship which outlasts failing sight, lost activity, and bodily powers impaired by age. His large, gaunt frame, though bowed and tottering, swayed easily to every motion of his steed; his broad loose hands, though numbed and stiff, closed with unimpaired skill on spear and bridle; while ever and anon, with some vociferous cheer or stirring trumpet-call, the drooping head went up, the dim eye sparkled, and for a space in which bow might have been drawn or sword-blow stricken, Ninus looked again the champion warrior of the world.
The king had abstained from all outward pomp of attire or panoply; he wore neither diadem nor tiara, but a steel helmet, much dinted and battered, guarded his brow. Save for the lion's head embossed in its centre, his shield was the plainest, as it was the most defaced, that passed into Babylon that day; while neither his horse's trappings nor his own accoutrements could compare in splendour with those of his guards who preceeded him on the march. But his sword was a span longer, his spear some shekels heavier, than any other in the whole Assyrian host, and none, looking on that renowned conqueror, so formidable even in decay, but would have recognised him for the bravest and mightiest fighter of his time.
Slowly, sternly he came on, receiving the homage and acclamations of his people with a royal indifference not far removed from scorn. The press of chariots, the clash of steel, all the wild tumult and fierce music of battle, could scarcely now call the light to his eye, the colour to his visage. What was a mere peaceful triumph but an unmeaning pageant, a protracted and somewhat wearisome dream? His grim old features sank and lowered till it seemed to the nearer bystanders that they were looking on a corpse in mail.
But once the Great King's face brightened, the blood rushed redly to his cheek, and his strong hand shook so on the bridle, that his good horse, accepting the signal, bounded freely in the air. Then he turned ghastly pale, drawing his breath hard, and trembling like a maiden or a child.
Beaming down on him from the wall with her own bright smile, he saw the face that had haunted him in those long night-watches for many a weary month—the face that, of all on earth, had alone made itself a home in his fierce old heart.
The wild joy of battle was indeed over, but for him the calm of peace had come at last. From his saddle where he sat to the wall whence she smiled down on him, not a score of spear-lengths divided him from Semiramis, looking fonder and more beautiful than she had ever appeared even in his lonely dreams.