The approach of relief at last goaded the rebels to extremities, and they resolved on a final and murderous attack. A violent onset was made from all quarters, and the forlorn band of defenders (including still the sons of Aly, Zobeir, and Talha), unable longer to hold their ground, retired at Othmân’s command, but not without difficulty, within the palace gate, which they closed and barred. In doing this they covered their retreat with a discharge of archery, and one of the rebels was killed thereby. Infuriated at their comrade’s death, the insurgents rushed at the gate, battered it with stones, and finding it too strong, sat down to burn it. Meanwhile others, swarming in crowds from the roof of an adjoining building, gained an easier access, and, rushing along the corridor, attacked the guard still congregated within the palace gate. One was slain, Merwân was left half dead, and the rest were overpowered.[488] Othmân had retired by himself into an inner chamber of the women’s apartments; and, seated there awaiting his fate, read from the Corân, spread open on his knees. Three ruffians, sent to fulfil the bloody work, rushed in one after another upon him thus engaged. Awed by his calm demeanour, his pious words and mild appeal, each one returned as he went. ‘It would be murder,’ they said, ‘to lay hands upon him thus.’ Mohammed, son of Abu Bekr, in his hate and rage, had no such scruples. He ran in, seized him by the beard, and cried, ‘The Lord abase thee, thou old dotard!’ ‘Let my beard go,’ said Othmân, calmly; ‘I am no dotard, but the aged Caliph, whom they call Othmân.’ Then, in answer to a further torrent of abuse, the old man proceeded, ‘Son of my brother! Thy father would not have served me so. The Lord help me! To Him I flee for refuge from thee.’ The appeal touched even the unworthy son of Abu Bekr, and he too retired. [Sidenote: And Othmân slain.]The insurgent leaders, on this, crowded in themselves, smote the Caliph with their swords, and trampled on the Corân he had been reading from. Severely wounded, he yet had strength enough to stretch forth his aged arms, gather up the leaves, and press them to his bosom, while the blood flowed forth upon the sacred text.[489] Thus attacked, the faithful Nâila cast herself upon her wounded lord, and, endeavouring to shield him, received a sword-cut which severed some of the fingers from her hand, and they fell upon the ground. The band of slaves attempted his defence. One of them slew Sudân, the leader, but was immediately himself cut down and killed. Further effort was in vain. They plunged their weapons into the Caliph’s body, and he fell lifeless to the ground. The infuriated mob now had their way. A scene of riot followed. They stabbed the corpse, and leaped savagely upon it; and they were proceeding to cut off the head, when the women screamed, beating their breasts and faces, and the savage crew desisted. The palace was gutted; and even Nâila, all wounded and bloody, was stripped of her