THE CHILDREN OF ASSHUR

Chapter I

Solomon Kane started up in the darkness,
snatching at the weapons which lay on the pile of
skins that served him as a crude pallet. It was not
the mad drum of the tropic rain on the leaves of
the hut roof which had wakened him, nor the bellowing
of the thunder. It was the screams of human
agony, the clash of steel that cut through the din
of the tropical storm. Some sort of a conflict was
taking place in the native village in which he had
sought refuge from the storm, and It sounded
much like a raid in force. As Solomon groped for
his sword, he wondered what bushmen would raid
a village in the night and in such a storm as this.
His pistols lay beside his sword, but he did not
take them up, knowing that they would be useless
in such a torrent of rain — a rain which would wet
their priming instantly.

He had laid down fully clad, save for his
slouch hat and cloak, and without stopping for
them, he ran to the door of the hut. A ragged
streak of lightning which seemed to rip the sky
open showed him a chaotic glimpse of struggling
figures in the spaces between the huts, dazzlingly
glinting back from flashing steel. Above me storm
he heard the shrieks of the black people and deep-
toned shouts in a language unfamiliar to him.
Springing from the hut he sensed the presence of
one in front of him; then another thunderous burst
of fire ripped across the sky, limning all in a
weird blue light. In that flashing instant Solomon
thrust savagely, felt the blade bend double in his
hand, and saw a heavy sword swinging for his
head. A burst of sparks, brighter than the lightning,
exploded before his eyes; then blackness
darker than the jungle night engulfed him.

	Dawn was spreading pallidly over the dripping
jungle reaches when Solomon Kane stirred and sat
up in the ooze before the hut. Blood had caked on
his scalp and his head ached slightly. Shaking off
a slight grogginess, he rose. The rain had long
since ceased, the skies were clear. Silence lay
over the village, and Kane saw that it was in
truth a village of the dead. Corpses of men,
women, and children lay strewn everywhere — in
the streets, in the doorways of the huts, inside
the huts, some of which had been literally ripped
to pieces, either in search of cowering victims,
or in sheer wantonness of destruction. They had
not taken many prisoners, Solomon decided, who-
ever the unknown raiders might be. Nor had they
taken the spears, axes, cooking pots, and plumed
head-pieces of their victims, this fact seeming to
argue a raid by a race superior in culture and
artisanship to the crude villagers. But they had
taken all the ivory they could find, and they had
taken, Kane discovered, his rapier and his dirk,
pistols, and powder-and-shot pouches. And they
had taken his staff, the sharp-pointed, strangely-
carved, cat-headed stave, which his friends,
N'Longa, the West Coast witch-man, had given
him, as well as his hat and cloak.

	Kane stood in the centre of the desolated
village, brooding over the matter, strange speculations
running at random through his mind. His
conversation with the natives of the village, into
which he had made his way me night before out of
the storm-beaten jungle, gave him no clue as to
the nature of the raiders. The natives themselves
had known little about the land into which they had
but recently come, driven over a long trek by a
rival, more powerful tribe. They had been a
simple, good-natured people, who had welcomed
him into their huts and given him freely of their
humble goods. Kane's heart was hot with wrath
against their unknown destroyers, but even deeper
than that burned his unquenchable curiosity, the
curse of the intelligent man.

	For Kane had looked on mystery in the night.
And the storm -- that vivid flame of lightning —
had showed him etched momentarily in its glare a
fierce, black-bearded race — the face of a white
man. Yet according to sanity there could be no
white men — not even Arab raiders — within
hundreds and hundreds of miles. Kane had had no
time to observe the man's dress, but he had a
vague impression that the figure was clad bizarrely.
And that sword which, striking glancing and
flat, had struck him down — surely that had been
no crude native weapon.

	Kane glanced at the crude mud wall which 
surrounded the village, at the bamboo gates which 
now lay in ruins — hewn to pieces by the raiders
The storm had apparently abated when the raiders
marched forth, for he made out a broad trampled
track leading out of the broken gate and into the
jungle.

	Kane picked up a crude native axe that lay
nearby. If any of the unknown slayers had fallen
in the battle, their bodies had been carried away
by their companions. Leaves pieced together made
him a makeshift hat to protect his head from the 
force of the sun. Then Solomon Kane went through
the broken gate and into the dripping jungle, fol-
lowing the spoor of the unknown.

	Under the giant trees the tracks became
clearer, and Kane made out that most of them
were of sandals — a type of sandal, likewise, that
was strange to him. The remaining tracks were of
bare feet, indicating that some prisoners had been
taken. Apparently they had a long start for, though
he travelled without pause, swinging along tirelessly
on his rangy legs, he did not sight the
column in that day's march.

	He ate of the food he had brought from the
ruined village, and pressed on without halting,
consumed by anger and with the desire to "solve
the mystery of that lightning-limned face; more,
the raiders had taken his weapons, and in that
dark land a man's weapons were his life. The day
wore on. As the sun sank, the jungle gave way to
forest-land, and at twilight Kane came out on a
rolling, grass-grown, tree-dotted plain, and saw
far across it what appeared to be a low-lying
grange of hills. The tracks led straight out across
the plain, and Kane believed the raiders goal was
those low, even hills.

	He hesitated; across the grasslands came the
thunderous roaring of lions, echoing and re-echoing
from a score of different points. The great
cats were beginning to stalk their prey, and it
would be suicide to venture across that vast open
space, armed with only an axe. Kane found a giant
tree and, clambering into it, settled himself in a
crotch as comfortably as he might. Far out across
the plain he saw a point of light twinkling among
the hills. Then on the plain, approaching the hills,
he saw other lights, a twinkling fire-set serpentine
line that moved toward the hills, now scarcely
visible against the stars along the horizon, It was
the column of raiders with their captives, he
realized. They were bearing torches and travel-
ling swiftly. The torches were no doubt to keep
off the lions, and Kane decided that their goal
must be very near at hand if they risked a night
march on those carnivore-haunted grasslands.

As he watched, he saw the twinkling fire-
points move upward, and for awhile they glittered
among the hills; then be saw them no more-
Speculating on the mystery of it all, Kane
slept, while the night winds whispered dark
secrets of ancient Africa among the leaves, and
lions roared beneath his tree, lashing their tufted
tails as they gazed upward with hungry eyes.

Again dawn lighted the land with rose and
gold, and Solomon descended from his perch and
took up his journey. He ate the last of the food he
had brought, drank from a stream that looked
fairly pure, and speculated on the chance of finding
food among the hills, If he did not find it, he might
be in a precarious position, but Kane had been
hungry before — aye, and starving and freezing
and weary. His rangy, broad-shouldered frame
was hard as iron, pliant as steel.

	So he swung boldly out across the savannas,
watching warily for lurking lions, but slackening
not his pace. The sun climbed to the zenith and
dipped westward. As he approached the low range,
it began to grow in distinctness. He saw that
instead of rugged hills, he was approaching a low
plateau that rose abruptly from the surrounding
plain and appeared to be level. He saw trees and
tall grass on the edges, but the cliffs seemed
barren and rough. However, they were at no
point more than seventy or eighty feet in height,
as far as he could see, and he anticipated no
great difficulty in surmounting them.

	Approaching them he saw that they were almost
solid rock, though overlaid by a fairly thick
stratum of soil. Boulders had tumbled down in
many places and he saw that an active man could
scale the cliffs in many places. But he saw some-
thing else — a broad road which wound up the
steep pitch of the precipice, and up which led the
spoors he was following.

	Kane approached the road, noting the excellence
of the road's workmanship — certainly
no mere animal path or even a native trail. The
road had been cut into the cliff with consummate
skill, and it was paved and palustraded with
smoothly cut blocks of stone.

	Wary as a wolf, he avoided the road; further
on he found a less steep slope up which he went. It
was unstable footing, and boulders that seemed to
poise on the slope threatened to roll down upon
him, but he accomplished the task without undue
hazard and came out over the edge of the cliff.

	Kane stood on a rugged, boulder-strewn slope,
which pitched off rather steeply onto a flat expanse.
From where he stood, he saw the broad
plateau spread out beneath his feet, carpeted with
lush green grass. And in the midst — he blinked
his eyes and shook his head, thinking he looked on
some mirage or hallucination. No! It was still
there: a massive walled city, rearing from the
grassy plain. He saw the battlements, the towers
beyond, with small figures moving about them. On
the other side of the city he made out a small lake,
on the shores of which stretched luxuriant gardens
and fields, and meadow-like expanses filled with
grazing cattle,

	Amazement at the sight held the Puritan
frozen for an instant; then the clink of an iron
heel on a stone brought him quickly about to face
the man who had come from among the boulders.
This man was broad-built and powerful, almost as
tall as Kane, and heavier. His bare arms bulged
with muscles, and his legs were like knotted iron
pillars. His face was a duplicate of that Kane had
seen in the lightning flash — fierce, black-
bearded; the face of a white man with arrogant
eyes and a predatory hooked nose. From his bull
throat to his knees he was clad in a corselet of
iron scales, and on his head was an iron helmet.
A metal-braced shield of hardwood and leather
was on his left arm, a dagger in his girdle, and a
short but heavy Iron mace in his band.

	All this Kane saw in a glance as the man
roared and leaped. The Englishman realized in
that instant that there was to be no such thing as a
parley, it was to be a battle to the death. As a
tiger leaps, he sprang to meet the warrior,
launching his axe with all the power of that rangy
frame. The warrior caught me blow in his shield.
The axe-edge turned, the haft splintering in Kane's
hand, the buckler shattered.  

	Carried by the momentum of his savage lunge,
Kane's body crashed against his foe who dropped
the useless shield and, staggering, grappled with
the Englishman. Straining and gasping they reeled
on hard-braced feet, and Kane snarled like a wolf
as be felt the full power of his foe's strength. The
armour hampered the Englishman, and the warrior
had shortened his grasp on the iron mace and was
ferociously striving; to crash it on Kane's bare
head.

	The Englishman was striving to pinion the
warrior's arm, but his clutching fingers missed,
and the mace crashed sickeningly against his bare
head. Again it fell, as a fire-shot mist clouded
Kane's vision, but his instinctive wrench avoided
It, though it half-numbed his shoulder, ripping the
skin so that the blood started in streams.

Maddened, Kane Lunged fiercely against the
stalwart body of the mace wielder, and one blindly
grasping hand closed oh the dagger hilt at the
warrior's girdle. Ripping it forth, he stabbed
blindly and savagely.

Close-locked, the fighters staggered back-
ward, the one stabbing in venomous silence, the
other striving to tear his arm free so that he
might crash home one destroying blow. The
warrior's short, half-hindered blows glanced from
Kane's head and shoulders, lacerating the skin and
bringing blood in streams. Red lances of agony
pierced the Englishman's clouding brain. And still
the dagger in his Lunging hand glanced from the
iron scales that guarded his foe's body.           

Blinded, dazed, fighting on instinct alone as a
wounded wolf fights, Kane's teeth snapped, fang-
like, into the great bull throat of his foe. The torn
flesh and a burst of flooding blood brought an
agonized roar from the powerful frame. The lashing
mace faltered and the warrior flinched back.
They reeled on the edge of a low precipice and
pitched, rolling headlong and close clinched. At
the foot of the slope they brought up, Kane upper-
most. The dagger in his hand glittered high above
his head and flashed downward, sinking hilt-deep
in the warrior's throat. Kane's body pitched for-
ward with the blow and he lay senseless above his
slain enemy.

They lay in a widening pool of blood, In the
sky specks appeared, black against the blue,
wheeling, circling, and dropping lower.
Then from among the defiles appeared men
similar in apparel and appearance to he who lay
dead beneath Kane's senseless body. They had
been attracted by the sounds of battle, and now
they stood about discussing the matter in harsh
and gutteral tones. Slaves stood a little way from
them In complete silence.

	They dragged the forms apart and discovered
that one was dead, one probably dying. Then, after
some discussion, they made a litter of, their
spears and sword-slings, and ordered their slaves
to lift the bodies and carry them. The party set
out toward the city which gleamed strangely in the
midst of the grassy plain.

Chapter II

Consciousness returned to Solomon Kane. He
was lying on a couch covered with finely dressed
skins and furs, in a large chamber, whose floor,
walls, and ceiling were of stone. There was one
window, heavily barred, and a single doorway.
Outside stood a stalwart warrior, in appearance
much like the man he had slain.

	Then Kane discovered another thing; golden
chains were on his wrists, neck, and ankles. They
were linked together in an intricate pattern, and
were made fast to a ring set in the wall with a 
strong silver lock.

	Kane found that his wounds had been bandaged,
and as he pondered over his situation a slave
entered with food and a kind of purple wine. The
Englishman made no attempt at conversation, but
ate the food offered and drank deeply. The wine
was drugged, and he soon fell asleep. Many hours
later when he awakened, he found that the bandages
had been changed. A different guard stood
outside the door—- a man of the same caste as the
former soldier, however — muscular, black-
bearded, and clad In armour.

	This time when he awakened he felt strong and
refreshed. Kane quickly decided that when the
slave returned he would seek to learn something
of the curious environs into which he had fallen.
The scruff of leather sandals on the tilings announced
the approach of someone, and Kane sat up
on his couch as a group of figures entered the
chamber.

	In the background lurked the slave who had
brought Kane's food. Before him, a group of men
had assembled in a little clump; robed, inscrutable,
shaven of face and head. And a little apart
from them stood a man whose figure dominated the
whole scene. He was tall, with garments of silk
bound by a golden-scaled girdle. His blue-black
hair and beard were curiously curled; his hawk-
nosed face cruel and predatory. The arrogance of
the eyes, which Kane had noticed as characteristic
of the unknown race, was in this man much more
evident than in the others. On his head was a
curiously carved circlet of gold, in his hand a
golden wand. The attitude of the rest toward him
was one of cringing servility, and Kane believed
that he looked upon either the king or the high
priest of the city.

	Beside this personage stood a shorter, fatter
man, with shaven face and head, clad in robes
much Like those worn by the lesser persons in the
background, but far more costly. In his hand he
bore a scourge composed of six thongs made fast
to a Jewel-set handle. The thongs ended in tri-
angular shaped bits of metal, and the whole represented
as savage as implement of punishment as
Kane had ever looked upon. The man who bore
this had small eyes, shifty and crafty, and his
whole attitude was a mixture of fawning servility
toward the man with the sceptre, and of intolerant
despotism toward the lesser-beings.

	Kane gave back their stare, trying to place an
elusive sense of familiarity, There was something
in the features of these people which vaguely suggested
the Arab; yet they were strangely unlike
any Arabs he had ever seen. They spoke together,
and their language at times had a somehow
familiar sound. But he could not define these
faint stirrings of half-memory.

	At last the tall man with the sceptre turned
and strode majestically forth, followed by his
slavish companions. Kane was left alone. After a
time the fat second in command returned with half
a dozen soldiers and acolytes. Among these was
the young slave who brought Kane's food, and a
tall and sombre figure, naked but for a loin
cloth, who bore a great key at his girdle. The
soldiers ringed Kane, javelins ready, while this
man unlocked the chains from the ring in the wall.
They surrounded him and, holding to his chains,
indicated that he was to march with them. Surrounded
by his captors, Kane emerged from the
chamber into what appeared to be a series of wide
galleries winding about the interior of the vast
structure. Tier by tier they mounted and turned at
last into a chamber much like that he had left,
similarly furnished. Kane's chains were made
fast to a ring in the stone wall near me single
window. He could stand upright, or lie, or sit on
the skin-piled couch, but he could not move half a
dozen steps in any direction. Wine and food was
placed at his disposal.

	His captors left him, and Kane noticed that
neither was the door bolted nor a guard placed
before it. He decided that they considered his
chains sufficient to keep him safe, and after testing
them he realized that they were right. Yet,
there was another reason for their apparent carelessness,
as he was to learn.

	The Englishman looked out of the window,
which was larger than the other had been and not
so thickly barred. He was looking out over the city
from a considerable height. Below him were
narrow streets, broad avenues flanked by what
seemed to be columns and carven stone lions, and
on wide expanses of flat-roofed houses. Many of
the buildings were of stone, and others were of a
sun-dried brick. There was a massiveness about
this architecture that was vaguely repellent —- a
sombre, heavy motif that seemed to suggest a
sullen and slightly inhuman character of the
builders.

 A wall that surrounded the city was tall and
thick, with towers spaced at regular intervals. He
saw armoured figures moving sentinel-like along
wall, and meditated upon the warlike aspect of
this people. The streets and market places below
him offered a colourful maze as the richly clad
people moved in an ever-shifting panorama.

	As for the building which was his prison,
Kane could make out little of its nature. Yet, below
him he saw a series of massive tiers descending
like giant stair-steps. It must be, he decided
with a rather unpleasant sensation, built much
like the fabled Tower of Babel, one tier above
another.

	Kane turned his attention back to his chamber.
The walls were rich in mural decorations, carvings
painted in various colours, well-tinted and
blended. Indeed, the art was of as high a standard
as any the Englishman had ever seen in Asia or in
Europe. Most of the scenes were of war or of the
hunt — powerful men with black beards that were
often curled, in armour, slaying lions and driving
other warriors before them. Some of the pursued
warriors were naked black men; others closely
resembled their pursuers.

	The human figures were not as well depicted
as those of me beasts; they were conventionalised
to a point that often lent them a somewhat wooden
aspect. But the lions were portrayed with vivid
realism. Some of the scenes showed the black-
bearded slayers in chariots, drawn by fire-
breathing steeds, and Kane felt again that strange
sense of familiarity, as if he had seen these
scenes — or similar scenes — before. The
chariots and horses, he noted, were inferior in
life-likeness to the lions. The fault was not in
conventionalising but in the artist's ignorance of
his subject, Kane decided, noting mistakes that
seemed incongruous considering the skill with
which they were portrayed.

	Time passed swiftly as he pondered over the
carvings. Presently the silent slave entered with
food and wine.

	When he set down the viands, Kane spoke to
him in a dialect of the bush tribes, to one of the
divisions of which he believed the man belonged,
having noted certain tribal scars on his features.
The dull face lighted slightly, and the man answered 
in a tongue similar enough for Kane to
understand him.

	"What city is this?"
	"Ninn, bwana."
	"Who are these people?"
The dull slave shook his head in doubt.
	"They be very old people, bwana. They have
dwelt here very long time."
	"Was that their king who came to my chamber
with his men?"
	"Yes, bwana. That be King Asshur-ras-arab."
	"And the man with the lash?"
	"Yamen, the priest, bwana Persian."
	“Why do you call me that?" asked Kane nonplussed.
	"So the masters name you, bwana — " the
slave shrank back and his skin turned ashy as the
shadow of a tall figure fell across the doorway. A
shaven-headed, half-naked giant entered, and the
slave fell to his knees wailing his terror. Mighty
fingers closed about the terrified throat, and Kane
saw the wretched slave's eyes protruding, his
tongue thrust from his gaping mouth. His body
writhed and threshed unavailingly; hands clawed
weakly and more weakly at iron wrists. Then he
went limp in his slayer's hands. As the shaven-
headed warrior released him, the corpse slumped
loosely to the floor. The warrior smote his hands
together, and a pair of slaves entered. Their
faces turned ashy at the sight of their companion's
corpse, but at a gesture they callously laid hold of
the dead man's feet and dragged him form.

	The warrior turned at the door and his opaque
and implacable eyes met Kane's gaze, as if in
warning. Hate drummed in Kane's temples, and it
was the grim eyes of the murderer which fell be-
fore me cold fury in the Englishman's glare. The
man went noiselessly forth, leaving Kane to his
meditations.

	When food was next brought to Kane, it was
carried by a rangy young slave of genial and intelligent
appearance. Kane made no effort to speak
to him; apparently the masters did not wish for
their captive to learn anything about them for
some reason or another.

	How many days Kane remained in the high-
flung chamber, he did not know. Each day was
exactly like the last, and he lost count of time.
Sometimes Yamen the priest came and looked upon
him with a satisfied air that made Kane's eyes
turn red with the killer's lust; sometimes me
giant murderer noiselessly appeared, to disappear
just as noiselessly.

	Kane's eyes were riveted to the key that
swung from the silent giant's girdle. Could he but
once get within reach of the fellow — but his
captor was careful to stay out of reach unless
Kane was surrounded by warriors with readied
javelins.  

	Then one night to his chamber came Yamen
the priest with the silent giant who was called
Siem and some fifty acolytes and soldiers, it was
Shem who unlocked Kane's chains from the wall,
and, between two columns of soldiers and priests,
the Englishman was escorted along the winding
galleries that were lighted by flaring torches set
in the niches along the walls, and borne in the
hands of the priests.

By the light Kane again observed the carven
figures marching everlastingly around the massive
walls of the galleries. Many were life-sized,
some dimmed and somewhat defaced as with age.
Most of these. Kane noted, portrayed men in
chariots drawn by horses, and he decided that the
later, imperfect figures of steeds and chariots,
had been copied from these older carvings. Apparently
 there were no horses or chariots In the
city now. Various racial distinctions were evident
in the human figures — the hooked noses and
curled black beards of the dominant race wore
plainly distinguishable. Their opponents were
sometimes black men, sometimes men like them-
selves, and occasionally tall, rangy men with
unmistakable Arab features.
was startled to note that in some of the
older scenes, men were depicted whose apparel
and features were entirely different from those of
the Ninnites. These strangers were always pictured
in battle scenes and significantly Kane
thought, not always in retreat. Frequently they
seemed to be having the best of the fight, and nor-
where could the Englishman find them portrayed
as slaves. But what interested him was the familiarity
those carven features were like the countenance 
of a friend in a strange land to the
wanderer. Apart from their strange, barbaric
arms and apparel they might have been English-
men, with their European features and yellow
locks.

	Somewhere, in the long, long ago, Kane
knew, the ancestors of the men of Ninn had
warred with men kin to his own ancestors. But in
what age, and in what land? Certainly the scenes
were not laid in the country that was now the
homeland of the Ninnites, for these scenes showed
fertile plains, grassy hills, and wide rivers. Aye,
and great cities like Ninn, but strangely unlike.

	And suddenly Kane remembered where he had
seen similar carvings, wherein kings with black
curled beards slew lions from chariots. He had
seen them on crumbling pieces of masonry that
marked the site of a long forgotten city in Mesopotamia,
and men had told him those ruins were
all that remained of Nineveh the Bloody, the
accursed of God.

The Englishman and his captors had reached
the ground tier of the great temple, and they
passed between huge columns, squat and carven
Like the walls. At length they came to a vast
circular space between the massive wall and the
flanking pillars. Cut from the stone of the mighty
wall sat a colossal idol — carven features as
devoid of human weakness and kindness as the
face of a Stone Age monster.

Facing the idol on a stone throne in the shadow
of the pillars sat the King, Asshur-ras-arab. The
firelight flickered on his strongly chiselled face so
that at first Kane thought it was an idol that sat on
the throne.

Before the god and facing the king's throne
was another, smaller throne. A brazier on a
golden tripod stood before it; coals glowed in the
brazier and smoke curled languorously upward.

A flowing robe of shimmering green silk was
put upon Kane, hiding his tattered and stained
garments and the golden chains. He was motioned
to sit in the throne before the brazier, and he did
so without a sound. Then his ankles and wrists
were locked cunningly to the throne, hidden by the
folds of the silken robe.

The lesser priests and the soldiers melted
away, leaving only Kane, the priest Yamen, and
the king upon his throne. Back in the shadows
among the tree-like columns Kane occasionally
glimpsed a glint of metal like fireflies in the dark.
Warriors still lurked there, out of sight. He
sensed that some sort of a stage had been set.
Kane felt a suggestion of charlatanry in the whole
procedure.

Now Asshur-ras-arab lifted the golden wand
and struck once upon a gong that hung near his
throne. A full and mellow note like a distant
chime echoed among the dim reaches of the shadowy
temple. Along the dusky avenue between the
columns came a group of men whom Kane realized
must be the nobles of that fantastic city. They
were tall men, black-bearded and haughty of bearing, 
clad in shimmering silk and gleaming gold.
And among them walked one in golden chains, a
youth whose attitude seemed a mixture of apprehension 
and defiance.

	The assemblage knelt before the king, bowing
their heads to the floor. At a word from him, they
arose and faced the Englishman and the god behind
him. Now Yamen, with the firelight glinting on his
shaven head and into his evil eyes so that he looked
like a paunchy demon, cried out a sort of weird
chant and flung a handful of powder into the
brazier. Instantly a greenish smoke billowed up-
ward, half-veiling Kane's face. The Englishman
gagged, the smell and taste were unpleasant in the
extreme. He felt groggy, drugged. His brain
reeled like a drunken man's, and he tore savagely
at his chains. Only half-conscious of what he
said, unaccustomed oaths ripped from his lips.

	He was dimly aware that Yamen cried out
fiercely at his curses, the priest leaning forward
in an attitude of listening. Then the powder burned
out, the smoke waned away, and Kane sat groggy
and bewildered on the throne.

	Yamen turned toward the king and bent low.
He straightened and, with his arms outstretched,
spoke in a sonorous tone. The king solemnly repeated 
his words and Kane saw the face of the
noble prisoner go white. Then his captors seized
his arms, and the band marched slowly away,
their footfalls coming back eerily through the
shadowy vastness.

	Like silent ghosts the soldiers came from the
shadows and unchained him. Again they grouped
themselves about Kane and led him up and up
through the dim galleries to his chamber, where
again Shem locked his chains to the wall. Kane sat
on his couch, chin on his fist, striving to find
some motive In all the bizarre actions be had
witnessed. And presently he realized that there
was undue stir in the streets below.

	The Englishman peered out from his window.
Great fires blazed in the market place and the
figures of men, curiously foreshortened, came
and went. They seemed to be busying themselves
about a figure in the centre of the market place,
but they clustered about it so thickly he could
make nothing of it. A circle of soldiers ringed the
group; the firelight glanced on their armour. About
them clamoured a disorderly mob, yelling and
shouting.

	Suddenly a scream of frightful agony cut
through the din, and the shouting died away for an
instant, to be renewed with more force than before. 
Most of the clamour sounded like protest,
Kane thought, though mingled with it was the sound
of Jeers, taunting howls, and devilish laughter.
And all through the babble rang those ghastly,
intolerable shrieks.

	A swift pad of naked feet sounded on the tiles,
and the young slave who was called Sula rushed in
and thrust his head into the window, panting with
excitement. The firelight from without shone on
his contorted face.

	"The people strive with the spearmen," he
exclaimed, forgetting in his excitement the order
not to converse with the strange captive. "Many of
the people loved well the young Prince Bel-lardath
— oh, bwana, there was no evil in him! Why did
you bid the king have him flayed alive?"

	"I!" exclaimed Kane, taken aback and dumb-
founded. "I said naught! I do not even know this
prince! I have never seen him.

	Sula turned his head and looked full into
Kane's face.
	
	"Now I know what I have secretly thought,
bwana," he said in the Bantu tongue Kane under-
stood. "You are no god, nor mouthpiece of a god,
but a man such as I have seen before the men of
Ninn took me captive. Once before, when I was
small, I saw men cast in your mold, who came
with their native servants and slew our warriors
with weapons which spoke with fire and thunder."

	"Truly I am but a man," answered Kane,
dazedly. "But what — I do not understand. What
is it they do in yonder marketplace?"

	"They are skinning Prince Bel-lardath alive,"
answered Sula. "It has been talked freely among
the marketplaces that the king and Yamen hated
the prince, who is of the blood of Abdulai. But he
had many followers among the people, especially"
among the Arbii, and not even the king dared
sentence him to death. But when you were brought
into the temple, secretly, none in the city knowing
of it, Yamen said you were the mouthpiece of the
gods. And he said Baal had revealed to him that
Prince Bel-lardath had roused the wrath of
the gods. So they brought him before the oracle
of the gods — "

	Kane swore sickly. How incredible — how
ghastly — to think that his lusty English oaths had
doomed a man to a horrible death. Aye — crafty
Yamen had translated his random words in his
own way. And so the prince, whom Kane had never
seen before, writhed beneath the skinning knives
of his executioners in the marketplace below,
where the crowd shrieked or jeered.

	"Sula." he said, "what do these people call
themselves?"

	"Assyrians, bwana," answered the slave absently,
staring in horrified fascination at the
grisly scene below.

Chapter III

	In the days that followed Sula found opportunities
from time to time to talk with Kane. Little he
could tell the Englishman of the origin of the men
of Ninn. He only knew that they had come out of the
east in the long, long ago, and had built their
massive city on the plateau. Only the dim legends
of his tribe spoke of them. His people lived in the
rolling plains far to the south and had warred with
'the people of the city for untold ages. His tribe
was called Sulas, and they were strong and war-
like, he said. From time to time they made raids
on the Ninnites, and occasionally the Ninnites re-
turned the raid, but not often did they venture far
from the plateau. In such a raid Sula had been
captured. Of late the Ninnites had been forced to
range further a field in search of slaves, as the
tribes shunned the grim plateau, and generation by
generation moved further back into the wilderness.

	The life of a slave of Ninn was hard, Sula
said, and Kane believed him — seeing the marks
of lash, rack, and brand on me youth's body. The
drifting ages had not softened the spirit of the
Assyrians, nor modified their fierceness, a by-
word in the ancient East.

	Kane wondered much at the presence of this
ancient people in this unknown land, but Sula had
nothing further to tell him. They came from the
east, long, long ago — that was all Sula knew.
The Englishman knew now why their features and
language had seemed remotely familiar. Their
features were the original Semitic features, now
modified In the modern inhabitants of Mesopotamia, 
and many of their words had an unmistakable
likeness to certain Hebraic words and phrases.

	Kane learned from Sula that not all of the la-
habitants were of one blood. They did not mix with
their slaves, or if they did, the offspring of such
a union was instantly put to death. The dominant
strain, Sula had learned, was Assyrian; but there
were some of the people, both commoners and
nobles, who were called "Arbii." They were like
the Assyrians, yet differing somewhat.

	Another group were the "Kaldii" — magicians
and soothsayers who were held in no great esteem
by me true Assyrians. Shem, Sula said, and his
kind were Elamites, and Kane started at the bib-
lical term. There were not many of them, but they
were the tools of the priests -- slayers and doers
of strange and unnatural deeds. Sula had suffered
at the hands of Shem, as had every other slave of
the temple.

	And it was this same Shem on whom Kane kept
hungry eyes riveted. At his girdle hung the golden
key that meant liberty. But as if he read the
meaning in the Englishman's cold eyes, Shem
walked with care, a dark sombre giant with a
grim carven face. He came not within reach of the
captive's long and steely arms, unless accompanied 
by armed guards.

	Never a day passed but Kane heard the crack
of the scourge, the screams of agonized slaves
beneath the brand, the lash, or the skinning knife.
Ninn was a veritable Hell, he reflected, ruled by
the demoniac Asshur-ras-arab and his crafty and
lustful satellite, Yamen the priest. The king was
high priest as well, as had been his royal ancestors
in ancient Nineveh. And Kane realized why
they called him a Persian, seeing in him a resemblance 
to those wild old Aryan tribesmen who had
ridden down from their mountains to sweep the
Assyrian empire off the earth. Surely it was
fleeing those yellow-haired conquerors that the
people of Ninn had come into Africa.

	The days passed and Kane abode as a captive
in the city of Ninn. But he went no more to the
temple as an oracle.

	One day there was confusion in the city. Kane
heard the trumpets blaring upon the wall, and the
roll of kettle-drums. Steel clanged in the streets,
and the sound of men marching rose to his eyrie.
Looking out, over the wall, across the plateau, he
saw a horde of naked black men approaching the
city in loose formation. Their spears flashed in
the sun, their headpieces of ostrich-plumes
floated in the breeze, and their yells came faintly
to him.

	Sula rushed in, his eyes blazing.
	"My people!" he exclaimed. "They come
against the men of Ninn. My people are warriors!
Bogaga is warchief - Katayo is king. The war-
chiefs of the Sulae hold their honours by the might
of their hands, for any man who is strong enough
to slay him with his naked hands, becomes war-
chief in his place! So Bogaga won the chieftain-
ship, but it will be many a day before any slays
him, for he is the mightiest chieftain of them all!"

	Kane's window afforded a better view over the
wall than any other, for his chamber was in the
top-most tier of Baal's temple. To his chamber
came Yamen, with his grim guards, Shem, and
another sombre Elamite. They stood out of Kane's
reach, looking through one of the windows.

	The mighty gates swung wide; the Assyrians
were marching out to meet their enemies. Kane
reckoned that there were fifteen hundred armed
warriors; that left three hundred still in the city,
the bodyguard of the king, the sentries, and house-
troops of the various noblemen.

	The host, Kane noted, was divided into four
divisions. The centre was in the advance, consisting
of six hundred men, while each flank or wing
was composed of three hundred. The remaining
three hundred marched in compact formation
behind the centre, between the wings, so the
whole presented an appearance of this figure:
 	  -----
	/  ~~   \

	The warriors were armed with javelins,
swords, maces, and short heavy-bows. On their
backs were quivers bristling with shafts.

	The Ninnites marched out on the plain in
perfect order and took up their position apparently
awaiting the attack. It was not slow in coming.
Kane estimated that the attackers numbered at
least three thousand warriors, and even at that
distance he could appreciate their splendid stature
and courage. But they had no system or order for
warfare. It was in one great ragged, disorderly
horde that they rushed onward, to be met by a
withering blast of arrows that ripped through their
bull-hide shields as though they had been made of
paper.

	The Assyrians had slung their shields about
their necks and were drawing and loosing methodically, 
not in regular volleys as the archers of
Crecy and Agincourt had loosed, but steadily and
without pause, nevertheless. With reckless
courage the Sulas hurled themselves forward, into
the teeth of the fearful hail. Kane saw whole lines
melt away, and the plain became carpeted with the
dead. But the invaders came forward, wasting
their lives like water. Kane marvelled at the
perfect discipline of the Semitic soldiers who went
through their motions as coolly as if they were on
the drill ground. The wings had moved forward,
their foremost tips connecting with the ends of file
centre, presenting an unbroken front. The men in
the company between the wings maintained their
place, unmoving, not yet having taken any part in
the battle.

	The invading horde was broken, staggering
back under the deadly fire against which flesh and
blood could not stand. The great ragged crescent
had broken to bits, and from the fire of the right
flank and the centre, the Sulas were falling back
disorderly, hounded by the ranging shafts of (he
Ninnite warriors. But on the left flank, a frothing
mob of perhaps four hundred savage fighters had
burst through the fearful barrage and, yelling like
fiends, they shocked against the Assyrian wing.
But before the spears clashed, Kane saw the
company in reserve between the wings wheel and
march in double quick time to support the threatened 
wing. Against that double wall of six hundred
mailed men of war, the onslaught staggered,
broke, and reeled backward.

	Swords flashed among the spears, and Kane
saw the naked warriors falling like grain before
the reaper as the javelins and swords of the
Assyrians mowed them down. Not all the corpses
on the bloody ground were those of the attackers,
but where one Assyrian lay dead or wounded, ten
Sulas had died.

	Now the attackers were in full flight across
the plain, and the iron ranks moved forward in
quick but orderly pace, loosing at every step,
hunting the vanquished across the plateau, plying
the dagger on the wounded, they took no prisoners. 
Sulas did not make good slaves as Solomon
was instantly to see.

	In Kane's chamber, the watchers were
crowded at the windows, eyes glued in fascination
on the wild and gory scene. Sula's chest heaved
with passion; his eyes blazed with the blood lust of
the savage as the shouts and the slaughter and the
spears of his tribesmen fired all the slumbering
ferocity in his warrior's soul.

	With the yell of a blood-mad panther, he
sprang on the backs of his masters. Before any
could lift a hand, he snatched the dagger from
Shem's girdle and plunged it to the hilt between
Yamen's shoulders. The priest shrieked like a
wounded woman and went to his knees, blood
spurting, and the Elamites closed with the raging
slave. Shem sought to seize his wrist, but the
other Elamlte and Sula whirled into a deadly embrace, 
plying their knives which were in an instant
red to the hilt.

	Eyes glaring, froth on their lips. they rolled
and tumbled, slashing and stabbing. Shem, seeking
to catch Sula's wrist, was struck by the hurtling
bodies and knocked violently aside. He lost his
footing and sprawled against Kane's couch.

	Before he could move, the chained Englishman
was on him like a great cat. At last the moment he
had waited for had come! Shem was within his
reach, and even as he sought to rise Kane's knee
smote him in the breast, breaking his ribs. Kane's
iron fingers locked in his - throat. Solomon was
scarcely aware of the terrible,  wild-beast
struggles of the Elamite who sought in vain to
break that grasp. A red mist veiled the English-
man's sight and through it he saw horror growing
in Shem's inhuman eyes — saw them distend and
turn bloodshot -- saw the mouth gape and the
tongue protrude as the shaven head was bent back
at a horrible angle; then Shem's neck snapped like
a heavy branch and the straining body went limp in
Kane's hands.

	The Englishman snatched at the key in the
dead man's girdle, and an instant later stood up
free, feeling a wild surge of exultation sweep over
him as he flexed his unhampered limbs. He
glanced about the chamber. Yamen was gurgling
out his life on the tiles, and Sula and the other
Elamite lay dead. locked in each others' iron
arms, literally slashed to pieces.

	Kane ran swiftly from the chamber. He had no
plan except to escape from the temple he had
grown to hate as a man hates Hell. He ran down
the winding galleries, meeting no one. Evidently
the servants of the temple had been massed on the
walls watching the battle. But on the lower tier he
came face to face with one of the temple guards.
The man gaped at him stupidly — and Kane's fist
crashed against his black-bearded jowl, stretching
him senseless. Kane snatched up his heavy javelin.
A thought had come to him that perhaps me streets
would be deserted as the people watched the
battle, and he could make his way, across the city
and scale the wall on the side next the lake.

	He ran through the pillar-forested temple and
out the mighty portal. There a scattering of people
shrieked and fled at the sight of the strange figure
emerging from the grim temple. Kane hurried
down the street in the direction of the opposite
gate, seeing but few people. Then as he turned
into a side street, thinking to shorten his route,
he heard a thunderous roar.

	Ahead of him he saw four slaves bearing a
richly ornamented litter such as nobles rode in.
The occupant was. a young girl whose jewel-
bedecked garments showed her importance and
wealth. And now around the corner came roaring
a great, tawny shape. A lion, loose in the city
streets!

	The slaves dropped the litter and fled,
shrieking, while the people on the housetops
screamed. The girl cried out once, scrambling up
in the very path of me charging monster. She
stood facing it, frozen with terror.

	Solomon Kane, at the first roar of the beast,
experienced a fierce satisfaction. So hateful had
Ninn become to him that the thought of a wild
beast raging through its streets and devouring its
cruel inhabitants had given the Puritan an indisputable 
satisfaction. But now, as he saw the
pitiful figure of the girl facing the man-eater, he
felt a pang of pity for her, and acted.

	As the lion launched himself through the air,
Kane hurled the javelin with all the power of his
iron frame. Just behind the mighty shoulder it
struck, transfixing the tawny body. A deafening
roar burst from the beast which spun side wise in
mid-air, as though it had encountered a solid wall
and instead of the rending claws, it was the heavy,
shaggy shoulder that smote the frail figure of its
victim, hurling her aside as the great beast
crashed to the earth.                

Kane, forgetful of his own position, sprang
forward and lifted the girl, trying to ascertain if
she were injured. This was an easy task, since
her garments, like the garments of most of the
Assyrian noble women, were so scanty as to consist 
more of ornaments than of covering. Kane
assured himself that she was only bruised, and
badly frightened.

He helped her to her feet, aware that a throng
of curious onlookers surrounded him. He turned
to press through them, and they made no effort to
stop him. Suddenly a priest appeared and yelled
something, pointing at him. The people instantly
fell back, but half a dozen armoured soldiers came
forward, javelins ready. Kane faced the priest,
fury seething in his soul. He was ready to leap
among them and do what damage he could with his
naked hands before he died, when down the stones
of the street sounded the tramp of marching men.
A company of warriors swung into view, their
spears red from recent strife.

The girl cried out and ran forward to fling
her arms about the stalwart neck of the young
officer in command. There followed a rapid fire
of conversation which Kane naturally could not
understand. Then the officer spoke curtly to the
guards who drew back. He advanced toward Kane,
his empty hands outstretched, a smile on his lips.

His manner was friendly in the extreme, and the
Englishman realized that he was trying to express
his gratitude for the rescue of the girl, who was
no doubt either his sister or his sweetheart. The
priest frothed and cursed, but the young noble
answered him shortly, and made motions for Kane
to accompany him. Then as the Englishman hesitated, 
suspicious, he drew his own sword and
extended it to Kane, hilt foremost. Kane took me
weapon; it might have been the form of courtesy to
have refused it, but Kane was unwilling to take
chances, and he felt much more secure with a
weapon in his hand.