Lifting my bewildered eyes to the fiery lines, I gazed beyond the wondrous medley of inshot colours and precious stones, and read,—
“I am Istar, Supreme on Earth and in Heaven, Ruler of the Present and the Hereafter, who holdeth the lives of all men in the hollow of my hand. Every man is my slave: every woman shall sacrifice unto me in the House of Lustre. Those who break my commandments Anu and Rimmon, the gods great, shall destroy and devour. Thus I speak.”
Thrice the Queen of Ea raised her slim hand, and thrice the lines of enormous arrowheads glowed red and fiery like living coals, each time disappearing and leaving no trace upon the wall. The silence was complete, broken only by the crackling of the herbs as they burned in the great, golden perfuming-pans, but, as the letters of fire died away for the last time, the beautiful woman, with tranquil eyes, slowly placed her foot upon the bare backs of the two women who were lying upon their faces, forming a footstool before the throne, and, with languorous grace, rose and stood upon their prostrate bodies. Then, outstretching her arms, she stood gazing upon us, as if giving us her blessing, and next second my companions, raising themselves, shouted with one voice, “Istar sa-la-dhu yusapri. I la-tu nahdu nemicu banat sini makhri naku ci nasu-sa-eni!”
These words, in the ancient language of Babylon, I was able to understand. Outside the palace a corrupted tongue was spoken, but here, before the Queen, worshipped as goddess, only the original tongue was heard. The words uttered by my companions were,—
“Lo! Istar, the Ruler, is revealed! Thou art the glorious Lady of Wisdom, beauteous daughter of the Moon-god, Sin. Before thee our wives and our daughters make sacrifice, and to thee we, thy suppliant slaves, raise our eyes. Thou art our deity!”
As their echoing voices died away, the Queen, fanned by her sphinx-like attendants, slowly re-seated herself upon the crystal throne. A languid expression settled upon her features, and, with her foot upon the neck of one of the women before her, she lounged, one hand thrown carelessly over the crystal, human-headed monster that formed the arm of the gorgeous seat of royalty, and the other toying with the emeralds in her girdle.
From the crowd surrounding me, there stepped forward upon the pavement of pearl and gold, a tall, white-bearded man in a breastplate of green serpent skin, denoting that he was a high-priest, on either side of him standing a trumpeter. Thrice their loud blasts awakened the echoes of the chambers around, then Istar, casting an inquiring glance towards the man, commanded him to speak.
He hesitated, his trembling hand resting upon the bejewelled hilt of his sword, and the little gold bells, sewn at the hem of his robe, tinkling musically.
“Speak! O Rabbani, son of Nabu-ahe-iddina. Why demandest thou an audience in this my dwelling-place? Why goest thou not unto the temple to make sacrifice before the golden image?”
“Let not anger consume thee, O Queen of All the Gods,” cried Rabbani, lifting his hand in supplication, and falling upon his knees. “We have ventured into this Everlasting House, passed the Gate of Glory, and entered into the House of the Raising of the Head, because there is one evil-doer among us, with whom thou alone in thy majesty and power canst deal.”