IV
BELSHAZZAR
Charmides found no loneliness in his Babylonish life. In an unaccountableway he felt it to be the home of his spirit. The dirty, narrow,barely furnished rooms of the tenement of Ut; the vast temple ofSin, where he performed the light tasks that gave him his livelihood;the platform of the temple of the goddess, where, with Ramua close athand, the hours were wont to fly on rosy wings; the long streets, themyriads of people, the hum of the city, the curious, solemn, ceremoniousbearing of its inhabitants, all these welded themselves into such a lifethat sometimes, in dead of night, he cried out in the fear that it wasall a dream: a dream from which he could only pray not to wake.
In the second week there happened something that gave him a great thrillof exalted pride. It was eight days after his arrival; in fact, the noonafter the third Sabbatu of the month of Duzu (June). He was sitting withRamua on the steps of the temple of Istar, munching dates and strugglingwith new phrases in the apparently hopeless Chaldean tongue, when aveiled hierodule came out of the temple and down the platform stairswith the request that Charmides follow her to the presence of BelitIstar, who longed for the sound of his voice.
The Greek felt a quiver, half of fear, half of delight; and, rising atonce, and leaving Ramua and his meal behind, followed the attendant, notinto the temple, but behind it, towards the entrance court of Istar'sdwelling. Here, upon a heap of rugs, beneath a canopy of Egyptianembroidery, the goddess reclined. Charmides, however, did not see hertill after he had encountered the gaze of one who stood just inside thearch of the door in the wall. This was he who had followed Istar in hischariot home from the procession of the gods, he at whose remarkableappearance Charmides had so marvelled: Belshazzar, the king's son. Stillwas he godlike, imperial enough to look upon; but the Greek forgot hispresence while Istar was again before him. When his gaze fell on her hestarted slightly, turned his eyes away for an instant, and looked again.Yes--it was true. Through the shimmering veil her form was clearlyvisible. She was not now only a cloud of dazzling, palpitating light.Immortal still, and radiant she was, but--Charmides let his thoughtsbreak off quickly. Istar was commanding him, in Greek, to play to her.He lifted his lyre at once, and, under the spell of music, he forgothimself, half forgot her before whom he played, in contemplation of theideal created by the harmonies. When, after half an hour, he was stoppedand dismissed, he left the divine presence in a state of exaltation.Belshazzar was but a blur beside the door-way, and Ramua, when hereturned to her, seemed a trifle less beautiful than usual.
After this, every day, Charmides gave half of his noon hour to this newform of worship. It was Ramua's pride as well as his. She never grudgedthe time; and, on his return to her side, never failed to ask of hissuccess, nor to beam with delight when he confessed it. At each of thesevisits Charmides realized that Belshazzar was present; but the fact madelittle impression on him. He saw her whom he worshipped quicken to newlife, to new radiance, at sound of his voice and the chords of his lyre;and, when he left the court, the storm in the eyes of the king's sonwent unnoticed. Yet the storm was there, daily increasing in fury; andthere came a time when it passed control and burst forth in the verypresence of her whom both men worshipped.
It was noon on the seventh of Abu (July), a day on which Babylon layquivering under a fiercer sun than before. The city was exhausted withthe recent end of the annual three-day feast of Tammuz; and Charmideshimself was weary and a little faint when he entered Istar's presence.Belshazzar, with what seemed a scarce pardonable liberty, had thrownhimself face downward on a rug near the portal of the court. At thefirst note of Charmides' song a slight twitching of the muscles in theprince's back betrayed his hearing of the song. But as the voice wenton, as Charmides, even in his weariness, sang with a depth of feelingthat he had never before exhibited, the other man lifted his head tolook at Istar. Under the spell of the music that was a divine gift, shewas becoming more and more the old-time unapproachable goddess. The raysof the aureole, which, half an hour before, had vibrated so slowly asscarcely to disturb the eye, were quickened to a new life. Blindingstreams of light poured about her now. And Istar herself was quiveringwith a strength, with a delight, that was apart from earthly things.Charmides' voice showed its power, its beauty, its clear heights, itsmellow depths, as never before. He had begun with a most delicatepianissimo, in tones of exquisite restraint and purity, the old myth ofAlpheus and Arethuse--a thing that he had sung a hundred times before,yet never as now. The tones blended with the rippling harmonies of hislyre in a stream as pure and limpid as the current of the sacred river.The Greek syllables, music in themselves, fitted so perfectly to themelody, that Allaraine himself, afar off, listened with surprise andpleasure. Belshazzar alone, perceiving how Istar's divinity increasedwith each sweep of the instrument, trembled with anger. The song rosetowards its climax. Istar had become oblivious to everything but thesound of that voice. Charmides, inspired, had lost himself in the heavenof his own making. Suddenly, from beside him, came a hoarse, choked cry,the sound of hurried running, and the lyre was struck furiously from hishands down to the brick pavement.
"~Hos eipon Alpheus men~...!" The song stopped. Panting with brokenemotion, Charmides faced about. His face was pale and his lips drawnwith displeasure--with something more than that. Before him, shakingwith jealous wrath, towered Belshazzar, his hand uplifted, his eyesflaming.
There was silence. Charmides waited immovably for the blow to fall. ButBelshazzar did not strike him. Istar lay back, trembling. Under theinfluence of these human and gross emotions, the vibrations of lightaround her diminished so rapidly that one could see them melt away; andsoon she was left almost without divine protection--a woman, in woman'sgarb. Finally, however, with no trace of weakness in her manner, sherose, confronting the two men. For a moment her gaze travelled from oneto the other. Then, passing to Charmides, she halted by his side,touched his shoulder lightly with her hand, and pointed to the door-way.
"Go, thou disciple of Apollo. Fear not. I will send to thee a lyre thatis not dishonored. To-morrow come to me again--as always."
Then, while the Greek still quivered with the thrill of her touch, shewalked with him, two or three steps, towards the open arch.
In the mean time Belshazzar, broken now, waited before her place. Whenthe light trailing of her garments passed near his feet again, hesuddenly lifted his head and looked at her. They were face to face, andtheir eyes met. Istar's glance shone clear and baffling upon the man,yet before it Belshazzar would not lower his. He was making an almostinhuman effort, mental and physical, to overcome the perfect poise thatproclaimed her more than human. But Belshazzar could not cope with athing divine. His strength, to the last drop, was gone. She was superiorto him. He knew it. Goddess she was--must be! He must acknowledgeit--must submit. Slowly he lifted his arms and crossed them on hisbreast. Slowly his dark head was lowered. With bitter humiliation hegave the signal of defeat. Istar moved slightly.
"Give me the broken lyre," she said, softly.
Belshazzar sought it where it lay, bright and shattered on the pavement.He proffered it to her humbly, and saw her, receiving it, touch it toher breast. He shut his eyes that he might not see the hated thing madewhole; but, looking up again, he saw the instrument still splintered,still unstrung. She had not, then, performed the miracle.
He had but a moment more with her. Presently she raised her hand, and,with the slightest of gestures, dismissed him from her presence.Belshazzar could not disobey the command. Blindly, weakly, without aglance behind, he moved towards the portal. Thus he did not see thegoddess, as he left the court, suddenly reel, and an instant afterwardsfall back upon the pile of rugs, covering her face with her hands, andexhibiting every sign of human distress. On the contrary, humiliated,hopeless, and disturbed by the temerity of his thoughts, yet asrebellious as before, the prince of Babylon crossed the platform anddescended the steps where Charmides sat with Ramua. The prince scarcelysaw the Greek as he passed him; and Charmides only lifted his eyes intime
to behold Belshazzar's back, and to watch him cross the square tothe spot where his chariot waited. The driver, at his master's approach,leaped to his place, drawing up the heads of the powerful black animals.The prince entered the vehicle. Nebo-Ailu gave a quavering cry. Thehorses plunged forward, and the shining chariot clattered after themdown the A-Ibur-Sabu.
"To the house of Amraphel," said Belshazzar; and Nebo-Ailu inclined hishead.
They passed swiftly down the great street to where, north of the squareof the gods and the holy houses of Nebo and Nergal, stood the spaciouspalace of Amraphel, high-priest of Bel-Marduk, and chief of thepriesthood of Babylon.
As the chariot of the prince royal drew up before the palace gate, twoattendants always in waiting there ran out, their swords heldhorizontally above their heads, in presentation to one high inauthority. Belshazzar remained like a statue where he stood, andNebo-Ailu requested audience with the high-priest in such terms as theprince would have used towards an equal; for the priest of Bel-Mardukwas not at the command of the king.
The slaves disappeared with their message, and Belshazzar waited,motionless, moving not so much as an eyelash, acknowledging no obeisancemade him by a passer-by: for such was the etiquette of royalty at thatday. After many minutes in this trying attitude, a little company ofeunuchs emerged from the gateway. In their midst, shaded by a large,swinging parasol, and fanned on either side by black slaves, wasAmraphel, an old man, white-bearded, bright-eyed, his stiff, white haircrowned with a red, conical cap, his flowing muslin skirts sweeping thepavement, and the goat-skin bound upon his left shoulder. Slowly hemoved towards the chariot. Ten feet from the wheel he stopped. At thesame instant Belshazzar turned his head. They gave to each other thebrother salute--of the mind, the lips, and the heart. Then Amraphel, whowas doing the prince an extraordinary honor, said:
"Will the lord prince, governor of the city, enter into my house?"
"Receive my thanks for thy favor. Nay, Amraphel, it is Nabu-Nahid, theking, my father, that asks if thou wilt be conducted by me to hispresence. He has some communication to make to thee."
"I will command my chariot."
Belshazzar leaped from his place, while Nebo-Ailu descended morecarefully and went to stand at the horses' heads. "Let my chariot beyours, Lord Amraphel," observed the prince, courteously.
The old priest bowed acknowledgment, and, having quickly whispered inthe ear of his nearest slave: "My chariot at the gate of the new palacewithin an hour," stepped forward and mounted into the royal vehicle.Belshazzar followed him, and this time took the reins himself, leavingNebo-Ailu to reach home on foot; for there were few chariots thatafforded comfortable standing-room for more than two people.
Nebo-Ailu left the horses' heads just as Belshazzar's ringing cry sentthem plunging up the A-Ibur-Sabu. At no great distance north of thepalace of the high-priest there ran off from the boulevard a narrow butwell-paved road, that wound eastward and north to that part of the riverthat was lined with palaces--on the east shore Nebuchadrezzar's andNabopolassar's, side by side, connected by the great bridge with thoseon the opposite bank--the hanging gardens, Nabu-Nahid's royal dwelling,and the vast hunting-park used by Belshazzar. The Street of Palacesskirted this park, passed the portals of the present royal palace, andbranched off to the west end of the great bridge. Along this way to-dayBelshazzar guided his steeds at break-neck pace; for in all Chaldeathere was not such another horseman as he, when he chose to exercise hisskill; and it must be confessed that there was nothing in the person ofAmraphel that made Belshazzar desirous of prolonging their drivetogether. The priest showed neither nervousness nor displeasure at thepace set. Through all the jolting, the jarring, and the swift, dangerouscurves, he maintained an expressionless, passive demeanor. It was onlywhen, with a wide sweep, the vehicle rounded up and the quivering steedscame to a halt before Nabu-Nahid's gateway, that Amraphel, alightingfirst, remarked, ceremoniously:
"Thine are goodly horses, Prince Bel-shar-utsur. May Raman guard themthat you break not their breath some day with fast running."
"There are other horses to be bought for gold," was the brusque answer,as Belshazzar leaped from the chariot and signed to a slave to lead thefrothing animals to their stables.
Prince and priest entered the palace together; but, once across theouter court-yard, Belshazzar left his companion to be announced beforethe king, while he himself retreated to his own apartments, wheremany hours' labor awaited him. Steward and chancellor sat in hiscouncil-chamber when he entered it, and he greeted them with the air ofa man who was about to begin work. Yet work was impossible to-day tohim. Treasury and grain reports, accounts of the crops within the walls,lists of taxes, military supplies, arrangements of reviews, matters ofpension and promotion, deeds of sale, mortgages, matters of transport,all alike were impossible to be considered. That thing which washaunting him would not go; and, after half an hour of wearisome effortto concentrate his mind on what was before him, he suddenly pushed awayall the clay tablets and rolls of papyrus, leaped to his feet, and,curtly dismissing the officials, himself left the room. Passing out ofhis many and rather forlorn apartments, he walked aimlessly out acrossthe wide, central court-yard, around which the separate portions of thepalace met, and went through a small gateway that led into the seraglio.The small court, off which opened various sets of rooms, was white withthe glare of the afternoon sun. Three piles of scarlet rugs, anembroidery frame, and a broken peacock-feather fan, gave evidence of thefeminine character of the inhabitants of the court; but there was nowoman here at the present moment. Huddled in the shadow of the wall, hisbronze back turned upon the world, lay a child of three or four years,fast asleep. Before each of the several door-ways stood a cotton-cladeunuch, palm-staff in hand, rigid and sleepy. These inclined decorouslyas Belshazzar swept across the court, and they watched him from undertheir eyelids as he halted near the great entrance, looking thoughtfullyaround. From some chamber far in the interior came the droning sound ofa dulcimer and the crooning of a woman's voice. Other than this, theseraglio was still.
Belshazzar stood apathetically listening to the song. Should he seek outthe singer? After a moment's indecision, and a step or two in thedirection of a small door-way, he halted. He had had enough of singingfor one day. Yet, till the day was cooler, time must be passed in someway. He might go to his father--his father and Amraphel, who werecloseted together. His father and Amraphel--clay and a sculptor; softmetal and a hot fire; an arrow and the bow. Belshazzar caught at hisidea, never looked again at the court-yard, but turned sharply on hisheel and set off across the palace for his father's favoritelounging-room. He was met at its curtained door-way by Sha-Nana-Shi,chief eunuch of the king's house, who regarded the advisability of anintrusion by the prince as a matter of doubtful wisdom.
"The priest of Bel is within, Lord Belshazzar."
"Who else?"
"Shula--"
"The architect?"
"My lord speaks."
"Let me enter, then. Amraphel is dangerous, I say!"
Nana, his duty done, stood aside; and Belshazzar, unannounced, strodeinto his father's place of dreams.
His entrance brought with it sudden silence. The prince felt this beforehis hand had dropped the curtain. He looked from the effeminate figureof the king, reclining on a couch, to Amraphel, who stood stiffly on theother side of the room, and then back to little Shula, with his scrollsof papyrus upon the floor before him, and his expression apprehensive ofsome unexpected disturbance. Belshazzar, in his one swift glance, readthe drama, smiled inwardly, shrugged, and stepped over to Nabonidus'side.
"My coming is ill-timed, lord my father?" he asked, in a gently grievedtone, after the filial obeisance.
"No, Belshazzar, no," replied his father, with hasty courtesy. "Irejoice at your arrival. You may, perhaps, show us the way out of ourdiscussion."
"And of what is it that you speak?"
"The great temple of Ishtar, in Erech, which I, at the behest and forthe love of the gods my fathers, have la
tely restored. Shula's drawingsof the new building are here."
Little Shula's face betrayed wary signs of enthusiasm. Shula, alone withhis master the king, was an inspiriting sight; for the one was no lessardent than the other on their particular hobby. But Shula with Amraphelon the one hand, Belshazzar on the other, and Nabonidus in thebackground, was an unhappy object. The high-priest was like a wedgeinserted between two teeth; himself unfeeling, impassive, unswerving, hepossessed the unhappy faculty of causing everybody about him the mostexquisite discomfort by the mere fact of his presence. From behind thedrawings that had been presented to him by Shula, Belshazzar lookedabout him. The constraint of the atmosphere was still a mystery.
"So," he said, presently, in a tone of slow good-humor, "your discussionis regarding the holy temple of Istar of Erech. And what of thistemple?"
"My Lord Nabu-Nahid, why should this feeble matter in any way concernthe prince thy son? Has he not perplexities enough in the ruling of thecity--"
"Nay, Amraphel," cut in Belshazzar, hastily, "I am here because of myidleness. Here, if my father says me not nay, I will stay, and listen toyour speech. What speak you of?" He turned again to his father, as thehigh-priest, with an angry frown, gave up the point.
"Yes, yes, Belshazzar, stay and tell Amraphel that the goddess Ishtarmust not be removed from Babylon to dwell for evermore in her holy houseat Erech."
Belshazzar's head swam; and he felt a pang as of a stab at his heart.The knowledge that Amraphel's hawk-eyes were reading him like a baretablet, enabled him to straighten up, without having betrayed himselfutterly.
"The Lady Istar removed from Babylon?" he repeated.
"Listen, Lord Belshazzar," observed Amraphel, smoothly. "The primevalseat of Belit Ishtar was, as you know, in the ancient city of Erech. Itwas from there, more than sixty thousand years ago,[8] after the deathof Izdubar, that her worship was extended to all Chaldea. Now, on thesite of her old and ruined temple, your father has caused to be erectedthe magnificent building of which the plans lie yonder. The king, out ofthe goodness of his heart, is about to decree a great religious festivalin honor of the goddess and the opening of the temple. At present therightful inhabitant of that temple is alive in Babylonia. Howdispleasing to her and to the gods her brothers would it be, if hertemple should be opened without her!"
Amraphel finished in a tone of quiet authority that was peculiarlyirritating. That his logic, however, was incontrovertible, was at onceapparent to Belshazzar. Again, however, Nabonidus began with hisplaintive, unreasoning: "No, no. Babylon shall be protected. Babylonmust keep her goddess."
Amraphel shifted his weight and gave the faintest shrug of theshoulders. The sheep-like complaint must run its course. After it, avictory would be a simple matter. But Belshazzar's expression was notthat of his father. Amraphel regarded it uneasily. The high-priest's onedesire was to get Istar, goddess or demon, whichever she might be, outof Babylon, where her hold on the credulous and superstitious masses wassomething against which the priesthood could not contend. And thisdesirable end might easily have been arranged with Nabonidus alone.Belshazzar's entrance at this particular time was the most unfortunatething that could have happened. Amraphel had some faint, hardly definedsuspicion of Belshazzar's state of mind; and he was instinctively awarethat to remove Istar from Belshazzar's seat of government, would be atask next to impossible. Belshazzar, after a few moments of thought,said, quietly:
"My father, Amraphel of Bel is right inasmuch as he saith that BelitIstar should go down into Erech to receive worship in her holy temple.Decree the festival in honor of her and of the great gods her brothers;and let her be in Erech for that time. But as the goddess of Chaldeasuffered her first incarnation in Erech, and there dwelt during herfirst earth-life, so now, since she received the flesh in Babylon, lether also dwell here, returning hither again after the opening of hertemple in the ancient city. Is it not reasonable that it should be so, OAmraphel?"
"Truly, truly, Belshazzar, thou art inspired of the gods!" criedNabonidus, delightedly, from his couch.
Little Shula ventured to smile; and Amraphel signalized a partial defeatby seating himself in an ivory chair, disdained by him a half-hourbefore. Belshazzar remained standing. He felt that his point was won.There were, indeed, more words on both sides, but nothing further wasgained by the priest. The festival was planned for the following week;and it was decided that Istar, the king, the prince, and many of thepriesthood, should descend the river in the state barges kept readyequipped and frequently used by the king and the official household. AtErech itself there would be processions, pageants, sacrifices, andmerry-makings of every description. For three days should Istar beinstalled in her holy house, returning afterwards to Babylon as she hadcome. To this plan Amraphel was obliged to submit; for if the force oflogic pitted against him was as strong as his own, and the strength ofwill were as great again, it was because Amraphel was laboring throughhate, while Belshazzar worked in the thrall of an overweening, hopeless,unconquerable passion that meant more to him than his religion, andagainst which none could have contended. It was part of their times,probably, that in the midst of the dispute it should not once occur toany of the three that Istar herself could best decide the place of herfuture dwelling. Goddess though she might be, her gender was feminine;and that fact, in this oldest of Oriental lands, in a way halfneutralized her godhead.
The discussion ended, Nabonidus waited fretfully to be alone; but thehigh-priest still lingered, and Belshazzar, as Amraphel very well knew,remained for the purpose of watching him and preventing any attemptedinfluence with the king. It was not, indeed, till Nabu-Nahid dismissedShula, and, rising, announced that he was going to the apartments of hislow-born queen, that Amraphel took an obligatory leave, and Belshazzar,in a very good humor, watched the high-priest drive from the portals ofthe palace in his own chariot.
By now the sun hung low in the heavens. The heat of the day was passed;and the prince, dismissing from his mind all further thoughts of work,commanded his chariot again. The victory of the afternoon had almostcounterbalanced the hopeless affair of the earlier day; and it was in acareless and light-hearted mood that the prince royal started forth intothe city, chatting as he went with Nebo-Ailu, and showing by this meansthat his business was unofficial.
Their way led once more into the A-Ibur, down which they rattled pastthe treasury, the granaries, the house of Amraphel, the square of thegods, and finally across the bridge of the New Year. Here they turnedoff to drive along the street that ran by the south bank of the canal,till they drew up in front of the palace and extensive gardens thatstood almost directly opposite the tenement of Ut. Here, at a bound,Belshazzar alighted, dismissed his chariot, and turned to theresplendent slave who hurried out to meet him.
"Tell Lord Ribata that Bit-Shamash--nay, lead me rather into hispresence without announcement. I can speak for myself."
The servant cringed obediently, and led the way through the emptycourt-yard into a long series of dimly lighted and sparsely furnishedhalls, elaborately decorated, but as cold and as lifeless as unusedchambers always are. From these they presently emerged into a verylivable apartment, where, in a big arm-chair, in front of a narrowtable, bending over a heap of neatly inscribed tablets which he wasexamining with the aid of a magnifying-glass, sat the master of thehouse, Ribata Bit-Shumukin, one of the most important and one of theyoungest officials in the kingdom. His back was to the door-way, and hewas much engrossed in his task. Therefore he had no inkling of theappearance of Belshazzar till it was announced by a burst of hilariouslaughter, and the words: "Truly here is an example for thy prince!"
Bit-Shumukin started up and wheeled round. Belshazzar's laughter seemedto be catching, for Ribata, at sight of his friend's face, joined in hismerriment, and the two laughed together till the solemn secretaries andthe slave-porter were constrained to think the heir-apparent either verydrunk or very crazy.
"How art th--thou melancholy, O my Ribata? Is it granaries or Elam thatknow thy labors at
this hour of repose?" gasped Belshazzar, when theirmirth had diminished somewhat.
"Granaries, my prince. But if I labor further now, it is thou that shaltbe blamed for it."
"Never! Dismiss thy sweating secretaries and send them to their play.Then thou shalt once more show me Khamma, if thy jealousy hath indeedabated. Let her dance for us to the strains of the zither. Let us quaffwines of Khilbum and of Lebanon. Let us laugh, and make joy to flowabout us like rain in Tabitu. Yea! Harken unto me, for I speak as aprophet; I speak as the mighty prophet of my father's father--what washis name? Bel--Bel--"
"Belti-shar-utsur!"
"Belti-shar-utsur! That! Without the _ti_ it is mine own. Come away,Ribata, from this den of toil."
Belshazzar's flow of nonsense ceased as suddenly as it had begun, andthe last phrase was spoken rather impatiently. Ribata recognized thechange and hastily obeyed his companion's suggestion, dismissing hissecretaries, and slipping a familiar arm through that of Belshazzar, asthey started away together towards the women's apartments. Here theyentered a small, empty hall, at the upper end of which was a raised daiscovered with rugs and cushions, and overhung by a purple canopy.Belshazzar threw himself wearily down, while Ribata sent for refreshmentof cool wines and fruits, for slaves with fans and perfumes, and,finally, for Khamma, the fairest of his dancing-women.
While he was waiting for these various luxuries, Belshazzar lay backupon the soft resting-place with an air of intense weariness. Hisevanescent gayety had gone, and he was bent beneath a weight of unknowncares. Ribata understood him in this state as well as in the other, forthe two men were as brothers--Bit-Shumukin having lived all his lifeunder the royal protection. Bit-Shamash and he had played together aschildren; together had reached the period of adolescence; had tasted thefirst delights of young manhood, entered upon a career of the wildestdissipation, and finally settled down to take up the duties of life,still in each other's company, still holding fast to a brotherhood ofspirit that was perhaps the most beautiful thing in the life of each.Ribata was in no way possessed of the remarkable personal beauty thathad rendered Belshazzar famous--or, some said, infamous, through theland. Still, in his way, he was a handsome fellow, of good stature,cleanly built, with refined features, a merry eye, and the blackestpossible hair and beard. His wealth was great and his taste highlycultivated; so that Belshazzar had only to admire whatever he might findin the house of his friend. This, a few weeks past, had been a factsomewhat unfortunate; for a new slave of Bit-Shumukin's purchase, Khammaby name, a dancing-girl of some beauty, had appeared before the prince,and for the moment caught his fancy. The girl herself, being called tohim and receiving a word or two and a caress, suddenly fell on her kneesbefore her master, and pleaded with childish tears and sobs to be soldto this man over whose wonderful eyes she was suddenly gone desperate.It had been an embarrassing situation. Belshazzar knew Ribata to be, forthe moment, enamoured of his purchase; and he escaped her adoringpresence as adroitly as possible. Yet for days thereafter Khamma hadchosen to weaken her eyes with incessant tears, her voice with moans andwails, and, worst of all, her owner's affection by her exhibition ofdislike for him. The result was that Ribata's passion cooled as rapidlyas it had risen, and, a day or two before, he had actually offered herto Belshazzar, taking care to warn the prince that, save for herdancing, she was a perfectly useless piece of household furniture.Belshazzar was not too enthusiastic over her, but consented to see heragain, and hence his visit to-day. But now, while they waited hercoming, his mind was anywhere but upon her.
Side by side the two men lay back on their cushions. The perfumed airwas stirred about them by the huge, slowly moving fans. At their feetstood a bronze pitcher of wine, and in their hands were chased silvercups. After a sleepy pause the prince, taking a long draught, introducedan unlooked-for topic.
"Beltishazzar, Ribata, the prophet of Nebuchadrezzar--he was one of thecaptives of Judea, I have heard."
"Ay. He is a Jew."
"_Is!_"
"It is so. He lives, I know too well where. Thou, also, must have seenhim many times. His dwelling is in the Jews' quarter, not far from thetraders' square, and close to the house of Egibi. In time, my lordprince, upon some council day, I shall speak to thee concerning the raceof this Beltishazzar. For the last two years I have watched them, and Ifind them giving promise of danger to the state. Beltishazzar himself,he whom his people call Daniel, is no poor man; but he goes about withthe slinking manner of a pauper, ill-kempt, unclean, dirtily dressed,and yet--mark it well, O prince--he is not seldom seen in the company oftemple priests, with Amraphel himself sometimes, and with Vul-Raman ofBit-Yakin."
Ribata paused, noting with regret that he had brought a frown of troubleinto the brow of Belshazzar, and that the prince was slipping away fromthe present scene of enjoyment to a realm of anxious thought. "Priests!"he muttered, half to himself. "Priests again! Priests forever! Priests!I tell thee, Ribata," and his voice rose high with anger--"I tell theethat should Babylon ever fall it would be at the hand of a priest. Theirpower is mightier than that of the throne. Everywhere through the landthey--"
He broke off suddenly, displeased with himself for having spoken in sucha manner here. Two eunuchs were entering from the lower end of the room,and they seated themselves on either side of the door-way, with zitherson their knees. Behind them appeared a woman, or, more properly, a girl,lithe and slender, with pretty, vacant face and floating black hairtwisted with golden ribbons. Her feet were sandalled in red and gold.Her dress was of flying, yellow gauze, with a girdle of crimson. Scarletpoppies were bound about her head, and a crimson scarf was in her hands.She halted in the door-way with an air of grave modesty, performed ahumble obeisance before the two men, never lifting her eyes to the faceof either; and then, as the zither-players began their music, she,Khamma, began the dance. Certainly she was a graceful creature, and, inher dreamy way, possessed of a perfect sense of rhythm. Belshazzarwatched her with half-closed eyes. Ribata's attitude was that of politeweariness. While the dance progressed, both men replenished theirwine-cups, and occasionally addressed each other in an undertone. Khammadid not look at them. Nevertheless her whole body was cold with emotion,and as she continued the dance she trembled, and her very teethchattered with terror and delight at the near presence of Belshazzar.Ordinarily she had remarkable powers of endurance, and often danced forhalf an hour at a time before Ribata. But to-day was different. At theend of fifteen minutes she was in a state of utter exhaustion; and, asthe eunuchs, noting her condition, mercifully began their closingharmonies, she advanced up the room to the foot of the dais, andpresently sank, half swooning, in the last prostration before hermaster.
Ribata glanced at his friend. "Wilt thou have her?" he muttered, toosoftly for the girl to hear.
Belshazzar considered, and a different expression came over his face."Nay," he said.
"What sayest thou!" cried Ribata, in astonishment. "Since when dost thourefuse my gifts? Is she so unlovely?"
At this last phrase, which she had heard, Khamma looked up, straightinto Belshazzar's eyes. Instantly a sharp sigh, like a groan, escapedher lips, and in spite of himself the prince softened.
"She is fair--enough. Let her be conveyed to my house. Thy gift couldnot be unwelcome, Ribata, thou knowest it. Accept this, my brother, inplace of her."
Belshazzar took from his shoulder a pin of beautifully wrought gold andfastened it upon his friend's sleeve. Ribata's little displeasure wasdispelled, and, after returning affectionate thanks, he signalled theeunuchs to come forward and lead the girl away. Before going she kneltbefore Belshazzar, and left upon his feet the hot imprint of her lips.This act affected the recipient in a curious way. His color suddenlyfled. The storm-eyes opened wide, and flashed with a new fire. He drew agasping breath, and then, while his face grew crimson, the veins in hisneck and in his temples swelled out in bright, purplish blue. Hismuscles twitched with emotion. Ribata, watching him with a smile ofsympathy, looked to see his comrade rise and run after the dancer.
But,to Bit-Shumukin's vast amazement, he perceived that, for the first timein all his life, Belshazzar was fighting fiercely with himself. Theanimal in him was a very lion in strength, but the opposing force wasthis time stronger. What this force was Ribata had yet to learn.Belshazzar, tight-lipped, lay back again upon the cushions, his twofists hard-clenched. Ribata bent over him and laid a hand upon hisshoulder.
"What is this, Belshazzar?" he asked, softly.
Belshazzar looked into his face with an inscrutable smile. "It is Istar,Ribata, Istar my goddess." Then, with a long-drawn cry, all the strange,warped, blasphemous emotion in him burst forth: "Istar! Istar! Istar!Beloved! Lift me up! Make me divine, or cause my mind to lose thethought of thee! Istar! The iron sears my soul!"
"Belshazzar!" exclaimed Ribata, in horror. And then, in an undertone, hemuttered: "By Nebo and Bel, our sins overtake us! He is going mad!"