Avil had turned to the king. The haughty pontiff fell on his knees, his face ashen with terror. [Illustration: “They did not know the lion spirit within the king, that made him as steeled against fear as against mercy.”] “Protection, lord! Save me! Save! They will pluck me in pieces!” And he caught at the hem of his master’s robe. But if any had reckoned on Belshazzar’s quailing at that dread moment, they did not know the lion spirit within the king, that made him as steeled against fear as against mercy. Atossa had never seen him more kingly, more truly the incarnation of his arrogant, indomitable race, than now, when he leaped upon the parapet of the terrace, and faced that screeching, raging mob. Three bricks brushed past him in a twinkling, a fourth smote the purple and white tiara from his head, but he would have heeded snowflakes more. And at sight of him, the king, “lord of Sumer and Akkad, who had taken the hands of Bel,” even this foaming multitude gave back, and grew quiet. The king spoke to them as to crouching hounds. “Back, imps! Do you so love Allat that you seek quick voyaging to her? Get you gone, or by the Anunnaki, the dread spirits, I swear the kites shall eat you all by morning!” A moment of hesitation and silence. “And you, spawn of Nabu,” thundered the king, “advance one step farther, and the head of Imbi-Ilu, your chief demon, is flung down to you!” Untimely boast, for Hasba instantly howled back: “Be it so, and we of Nabu swear that Sirusur, the general, dies when Imbi-Ilu dies. Life for life, and death for death!” And to this all the priests answered; “It is so! We hold Sirusur hostage for Imbi-Ilu!” The king gave a fearful curse. “So be it!” cried he, in his passion, “but if the general loses an hair, he shall be terribly avenged. Execute Imbi-Ilu this instant!” He had leaped down from the parapet. The bricks were flying again. He repeated his command to Igas-Ramman, the captain now heading the troops, but Igas had salaamed before his lord, saying:— “Live forever, my king! Your slaves, the guards, will die for you; but they will throw their swords away rather than see Sirusur, their leader, sacrificed. We dare not touch the high priest of Borsippa.” “Have you, too, the hearts of conies?” warned Belshazzar. And they saw his hand go to his sword, as if to smite Imbi with his own arm. But the instant he had sprung from the parapet the attack had been renewed. The troops, cowed and ill-led, broke under the pressure, and the volleys gave way; and in a twinkling the rioters were on the first terrace. It was a moment of uttermost danger for king and courtiers. The mob swept up upon the platform in a single human wave. “Back, my lord! back!” exhorted Igas-Ramman, thrusting himself with a handful of men betwixt the rioters and Belshazzar; but the king brushed him aside. “Where is Isaiah?” shouted the monarch, casting about one glance. “Though I perish, let not _him_ escape!”