“And I know that it would be better to groan in ‘The Land of the North’[7] for years uncounted, than to put trust in _your_ word. From your own mouth I know how your oaths are sworn only to be broken, how you have prated ‘friendship’ in my ear, and all the while plotted death. Therefore take my life. I do not fear to cross the Chinvat Bridge, and stand before the throne of Ahura. But rest assured, Cyrus will wreak full vengeance!” When Darius ended there was silence in the council, for every man knew they had laid hands on a monster, equally dangerous to release or to retain. “And what, then, would my lord have us do to preserve the peace?” faltered at length Sirusur the commander. “Let your king send an embassy in sackcloth to Susa to confess his fault and declare his penitence. Let him send to Cyrus the head of Avil-Marduk, chief begetter of these falsehoods. Let him send me back safely with the Princess Atossa, and present my king with a great treasure. Finally, let him throw down two furlongs of the city walls of Babylon, to show he meditates no war. Do thus, and you preserve the peace; and thus only.” Belshazzar had risen on his throne. “Let us have an end to this,” cried he, darkly. “I see the prince’s wits have been blasted, or else he has fallen in love with death. I have spared his life, because he saved me from the auroch; but my forbearance is near its end. Yet he shall have chance to reflect on his madness. Hale him away, clap him in the lower dungeon, beside that of Daniel, double-fetter, and let him prepare to die!” Darius neither salaamed nor gave other sign when his guards stepped beside him to lead him away. Having delivered himself to the council, he became silent as a stone idol. When the prisoner and his escort were gone, there was yet again stillness in the council. When presently the storm broke out, it was upon Avil. “Cursed are we, priest,” growled Bilsandan in his beard, “for listening to your counsels. It is you who poured the oil on this fire. It is you that advised the sham treaty, then browbeat the king into arresting the envoy. Whither are we come, indeed? The Pharaoh still holds back. Cyrus knows all, and it will take more than smooth words to stop the charge of his lancers!” “We have the prince as hostage,” retorted Avil, trying to retain his composure. “Pliable hostage, indeed!” snarled the vizier; “catch the lion cub, as hostage for the friendliness of the lioness. We may cut off the prince’s head, but such a deed is little suited to make Cyrus more friendly. You temple folk, Avil, will be the first to whimper when your crafty deeds return one and all to nest on your own heads. I love wisdom, but not the wisdom that is like to ruin all ‘Sumer and Akkad.’” Avil kept his temper by a manifest effort. It had not escaped him that Belshazzar was staring at him very fixedly, a most ominous sign of royal displeasure.