On the hills of Syria the shepherds built their fires against the chill of night; and many a youth looked long amongst the flames for the eyes of Shammuramat--strange eyes that peered from the embers impishly, half veiled in coils of smoke. They danced! They mocked! Now laughing when some green young twig was burned; now falling into darkness with its blackened ash. How sad they were, these ashes of a dream--as sad as the bleat of a wandering sheep as the cry came floating down the wind. And yet--what, then, should a goddess have to do with the herders of browsing beasts, or they with her? Should an ox lick salt from off the stars? Nay, not so!
Thus wisdom came to the watchers of the fires, till peace was brought by drowsiness, and the shepherds slept.
In the home of Simmas an old man paced the silent rooms and found not peace nor rest. How bare and desolate when a loved one came no more! How pitiful they were, these homely things that her hand was wont to touch--a broken spear--a quiver cast aside--a sandal old and worn!
He fled to the housetop from the ghosts below, but they followed, clutching at his robe with the hands of memory. He had hunted through the desert for a grain of sand, and found it not, for, lo! his sand was dust. Then Simmas fell upon his knees and stretched his withered arms toward the stars.
"_Oh, Ishtar, Ishtar,_" he cried aloud, "_fling pity to a weak old man!_"
In troublous times the government of Syria was not a game at which a child might play; and, albeit Menon dwelt with his wife at Azapah, he needs must circle round about through many a restless tribe. From Nineveh came an endless call for grain wherewith to feed the multitudes of labourers, for oxen, asses, and the water buffalo, whose strength was now employed in the drawing of heavy loads. Train on train of lowing, braying beasts were driven from out the land; and so soon as their tails had ceased to switch in Syria, a cry went up for more. Thus the Syrians whispered amongst themselves, as others muttered far away at Nineveh; and soon the whisper swelled, till each man spoke his thoughts aloud, and thought was bitter against the Governor.
So Menon journeyed forth and back again, chiding, soothing, punishing. His hand was heavy when the rod was lifted of necessity; and when it fell, the back of the smitten wore a mark. Throughout he was honest, just, and unafraid in all things save one alone--Semiramis. He dare not suffer her to share the perils of the road, nor did he desire that tidings should leak abroad concerning his wedded state; for of all swift messengers, both of earth and air, not one keeps pace with the babble of an idle tongue--and the ears of the King were sharp.