"Kudashu!" shouted the king, accordingly, and at the cry the waiting eunuch came quickly in. "Kudashu, bear word to the priest Ludar that I would talk with him. Let him return with thee here."
There was a prostration and an exit, and then silence. Neither the king nor Nana said anything till, ten minutes later, the slave returned alone.
"Ludar follows thee?" asked Nabonidus, quickly.
"May the king regard me with favor--Ludar is not in the college. He is gone forth into the city, none knows why."
The man was dismissed with a nod, and the two were left alone again.
Presently Nana rose and made his obeisance.
"Lord king, I must go forth. The hour is late, and I have not yet numbered the night-guards. Before I go--let it please thee to take up thy abode from to-morrow in the palace of Sharrukin. Everything there was prepared for thee. Here, with Ludar, thou art not safe. If thou wilt not escape from Sippar, come thou and take up thy dwelling with those that regard thee with loyalty and devotion." Nana was not an emotional man, but the feeling in these words was genuine, and Nabonidus was touched.
"The gods send thee peace of heart," he said, gently.
"My lord king will not come?" persisted the soldier.
Nabonidus shook his head with a faint, stubborn smile, and, a moment later, he was alone. For some time after his general's departure the king sat looking vaguely into space, his lips straightening more and more and the lines round his mouth growing stern. Presently the eunuch glided quietly into the room and took up his position by the door, standing there as he was trained to do when the king was alone.
Nabu-Nahid regarded him reflectively for a moment and then said:
"Kudashu, Ludar and Nana are gone into the city. I also will go. Bring to me my mantle, and come thou behind me. I will behold Sippar by night."
Kudashu obeyed promptly, but a few seconds later, as the king was donning his white coronet and cloak, he ventured to say: "O king, live forever! Let me summon for thee some of the soldiers of thy guard, that they may follow thee on thy way."
"Is thy body weary, Kudashu?"
"Nay, lord my king; but my arms are weak to strike for thee."
"By Ninip! is the whole world waiting to slay me? Stay thou here, then, with thy arm, weak one! I will go alone."
"Nay, nay, father of Babylon! I go gladly. Yet, fearing for thy safety, I--"
"Be silent, foolish one. I go alone. Behold, I have spoken. It is my will."
And in the face of plea, protest, and remonstrance, go forth alone Nabonidus did, into the city of Sippar.
The streets were quiet. Early though it was, lacking yet two hours to midnight, few towns-people were moving about. A general weariness had followed the merry-making of the past night, and this, added to the feeling of solemnity attendant on the actual arrival of the long-expected invading army, had closed the doors of many a house at an unwonted hour, and caused citizens of an ordinarily convivial temperament to betake themselves to an early couch. Most of those abroad in the streets were soldiers, on their way to or from the watch-towers.
It was a curious condition for the first night of a siege, and Nabonidus could not but wonder, as he proceeded, at the extraordinary calm of the people; for he had known many a beleaguered city, but never one that presented a spectacle of such quiet on its first night of defence.
The night was fair, and with the coming of darkness there had sprung up a faint breeze that came from the east, across two rivers, bearing with it a breath of cooling fragrance. The moon was just past its second quarter and hung suspended, in a soft, golden aureole, over the western walls of the city. By its light the houses and towers of the town stood out in wavering outlines against the grayish, star-strewn sky. The stillness that wrapped the city trembled, when, occasionally, it was pierced by a distant shout of laughter or a command called out by one of the guards on the walls.
Nabonidus went on and on, unheeding the distance that he traversed, allowing himself to be permeated with the night. The spotless white of his robes caused him to be taken for a priest by the few whom he passed.
None offered to molest him. None gave him more than a fleeting glance as he went along. After what he could hardly realize had been an hour of walking, he found himself standing before the great south gate of the city, through which he had come that morning. It was closed now, and guarded with soldiers, some of whom stood or lay on the ground before it, while others could be seen on top of the wall, walking to and from the watch-tower, whence the confused camp of Gobryas' army could be made out across the plain. No hostility had as yet passed between besieged and besiegers. Not an arrow had been shot, not a javelin hurled.
The king stood off at a little distance from the gate, reflecting on the scene before him. Presently there came a shout from some one outside the gate, a word that was heard and answered from inside. There was a question from the captain of the watch, to which an answer, inaudible to Nabonidus, was returned. Then the small door in the gate opened. A figure appeared from outside, and at sight of it Nabonidus moved swiftly back into the shadow of the wall. The door was closed and barred again.
He who had come in paused to place something in the hand of one of the soldiers. Then, without a word, he moved rapidly off in the direction from which, a little while before, the king had come. Nabonidus stared after him for a moment. His thoughts were in a whirl. Considering all that he had known before, this incident had an unnecessarily strong effect on him. It was only by means of a physical effort that he finally pulled himself together and started on his return, a hundred paces back of that other. In this fashion the two traversed the length of the city, arriving at the college of the Chaldees in the same relative positions as those in which they had started.
When, a few minutes after midnight, the king re-entered the building and turned up the passage leading to his room, he found Ludar, wrapped in a gray cloak, standing in the door-way talking with Kudashu. He hailed Nabu-Nahid's appearance rather effusively.
"O king, live forever. What imprudence does he commit that wanders abroad at night in the city streets!"
"And thou--wast thou guarded on thy way?" inquired the king, rather sharply.
"Nay, truly. But for me there is no danger. I am--"
"You say well, Ludar. For you, indeed, there is no danger! Shamash guard your sleep!" And with this curt good-night, Nabonidus brushed past the priest, closed the curtain of his room, flung off his mantle and coronet, and threw himself down upon the chair that still stood before the brick table. He was in a state of tremulous anger, of discouragement, of heart-sickness, and his head drooped lower and lower, and his hands clasped themselves on the table before him in the tightness of mental pain. The light from the still burning lamp above his head fell over his white figure, and a ray of it glinted off a jewel that hung on a thin, golden chain from his neck. A refracted ray of this presently shone in his eye and caused him to look down upon the gem that he was accustomed to wear inside his tunic, next his skin. It was a charm--a holy charm, blessed and consecrated to be a sure protection against all bodily disease or danger. In some way, the fact that it came to his sight now, unexpectedly, seemed an omen of good-fortune; and with a brow less clouded, the old man rose, took the jewel in his hands, and, falling on his knees before the image of the sun-god in his room, poured forth a piteous prayer for rest and peace. And the sun-god heard him doubly well.
It was not till early dawn began to peer from the east that the great king, seeking his narrow couch, dropped into an untroubled sleep.
The following day, the fourteenth of the month, was a busy one.
Nabonidus again conducted the sacrifice. Then he returned to the college and spent two or three long hours with a class of acolytes of the highest order of embryonic priesthood. The noon meal he partook with Ludar, and immediately afterwards was driven in his chariot to the house of Sharrukin, where the afternoon passed quickly in a council over military affairs.
It was half an hour to sunset when the king returned to his room in the college and commanded his evening meal. He was drooping with fatigue, as the result of his short night and his crowded day. Kudashu, therefore, was ordered to refuse admittance to any one that should seek audience with the king that night. After a change of garments, a bath, and more prayers to Shamash, the king lay down on his couch, much refreshed in body and mind, and eager for the food that was presently brought him. He ate in the twilight, for that hour of the day always brought calm to his spirit, and even at the close of the meal, when the room was nearly dark, he still refused lights, but lay, immovable and alone, with the ghost of the dead day whose golden bier had been borne across the shadowy threshold of the night.
Gradually the king sank into a profound and vividly imaged reverie. His thoughts went back into many long-past scenes of his youth and young manhood; and, as he afterwards remembered, the last of these was something apart from his own life. In the twilight there rose before him clearly and distinctly the room in which he had said farewell to his son. Here, under the glow of the hanging-lamp, clad in her crimson and gold, with the veil of black hair drawn back from her face, was Istar of Babylon, Belshazzar's wife. Beside her, transformed by the new power of his life and love, was the storm-eyed prince, holding Istar's infant in his arms. Nabonidus' eyes looked again into those of his son, and found there something that now only he understood. A smile stole over the childlike face of the old man. Belshazzar had found a heart-home.
Belshazzar was a king in spirit. What mattered it how soon in truth? The vision grew brighter still, till the three figures were aureoled with a divine light. Istar spoke to her husband, held out her arms for the child. Then suddenly there came, from the passage outside the door, a low murmur of voices and a quick cry. The vision crumbled. Nabonidus started up. His ears were pierced by the sound of a shrill scream, and the words spoken by Kudashu: "My lord! My king! Save thys--" Then came a heavy thud as of a body fallen, and Nabu-Nahid leaped to his feet as three men burst into the room.
Two of them were soldiers in armor. The third, who carried a lighted torch, was in the garb of a priest. It was Ludar, the president of the college.
"How do ye thus enter my presence?" demanded Nabonidus, glaring about him wrathfully.
Ludar shot a sharp glance at him, and the hands of the soldiers tightened on their dripping pikes.
Nabonidus' question was fully answered, and he asked no more; but his manner did not change. Perhaps he drew himself up a little, became a little more royal, a little more angry, a little brighter of eye, a little whiter of face. The soldiers stood mute and motionless, waiting evidently for their next move to be ordered by Ludar, their leader. He, after a moment or two, nodded to them.
"Do what is commanded to be done," he said.
In a breath Nabonidus of Babylon lay on his back on the floor, while the two soldiers worked to bind him about with heavy thongs till he was unable to move so much as a finger alone. Lastly the gag was put upon him; but there was no need of it. During the whole business the old man remained perfectly passive, perfectly still, gazing steadily up into the face of Ludar, who presently refused to meet his glance, though he could not, in that small room, get out of range of the pale, fixed eyes.
When their captive was perfectly secure, the soldiers lifted him in their arms and carried him roughly out of the room, past the bloody body of Kudashu, along the silent passage and out into the night, where, before the door of the college, waited a cart, one of the rude vehicles of the common people, drawn by a water-buffalo. Into this lowliest of all conveyances the king was lifted and laid down. There was a word of command from the soldier that clambered in beside him. The driver gave a long shout, and the cart clattered away from the door of the college in which, with his still burning torch, stood white-robed Ludar, left alone with his triumph.
As they went along, the king, his gaze turned upward to the sky, could see nothing of what was happening in the streets around him. But that something unusual had occurred was only too apparent, and what that something was, was not difficult to surmise. The city was filled with soldiers, half of them in the uniform of the Babylonish guards, and half of them in the dress of those that had entered the presence of the king.
Yet there was very evidently no hostility between them. Men, women, and children were also in the streets, the last making an especial clamor over this unexpected holiday night. Here and there bonfires burned in the heat. In every direction torches flitted through the moonlight. And still to the strained ears of the king came not one sound of combat, no single clash of swords or whistling of stones from the sling. No. Sippar had fallen, had fallen to Elam, without blood, without a suggestion of defence, without one blow for this, Nabu-Nahid's, country, the country over which he had ruled as justly and as gently as he could for seventeen proud years. No. He had been left alone, utterly alone, without a single hand to hold him back when others pushed him ruthlessly forward to face the rainbow gates of the silver sky.
Through the city and out of the gate of Babylon and over the shadowy plain for half a mile or more, the slow cart passed till it came to a halt in the camp of the invader, in front of a great, crimson tent that stood in the midst of a host of smaller ones, and on top of which, from the head of a spear fastened to the central pole, hung suspended the Persian sun-standard. Nabonidus saw this, rising against the shadowy sky; and seeing it, he realized where they were.
There were two soldiers guarding the door of this tent; and, as the cart halted before it, a short colloquy passed between them and Nabonidus'
captors. Then one of the soldiers disappeared inside, to come forth again an instant later with an order. Nabonidus was lifted from the vehicle and carried inside the temporary domicile of the general. He was greeted by a glare of light so bright that, involuntarily, his weak eyes closed before it. When he opened them again to look about, he had been placed on his feet, and found himself facing a tall, heavily armored, black-bearded fellow, with piercing eyes and an air of undeniable dignity, who performed an obeisance due from a nobleman of rank to a sovereign.
"Lord Nabonidus of Babylon, I bid you welcome to my tent in the name of Bel, your god. I am Gobryas, general of the army of Kurush of Elam."
Nabonidus slowly bent his head. "I am your prisoner. Do your will with me," he said, faintly.
"It is my wish, O king, that you sleep here to-night in peace. By rule of war you are my prisoner. Yet know that I and all that is mine to give, save only freedom, are at the king's command."
Again Nabonidus bowed his head; and then, lifting it slowly, he gazed at Gobryas with a question in his eyes.
"I ask of you to speak, lord king!" said the general, with all courtesy in his tone.