“Noble Sirusur,” spoke the priest, turning to the general, “surely you and all the king’s sword-hands have not waxed so unvalorous that you dread the war. Has his Majesty only harem girls for an army?” “The sword-hands of the Chaldees,” retorted Sirusur, testily, “are able to fight for their king, and, if needs be, die; but I say only truth when I tell you, the host is in no condition to meet the Persians in pitched battle. Madness to risk it.” “I congratulate our lord,” flashed back Avil, “on the heroic spirit of his gallant _Tartan_.” “Aye!” shouted the “Master of the Host,” “the taunt comes right well from such as you,—you who have lit the blaze, and fain would see others quench it now. I know your prowess. While I was risking my life in that mob, all say the valiant high priest was cowering like a cornered hare.” But it was the king who terrified the pontiff most; for, though Belshazzar spoke not, Avil-Marduk saw his eye fixed on him, full of that cold menace which, he knew well, had often preceded a curt command to Khatin. “You may speak, Avil,” remarked Belshazzar at length, his tones icy as a blast of the north. But the courage of Avil-Marduk, if not that which might carry unblenching through the ragings of a hostile multitude, was yet courage after its kind. He had turned pale in the face of the furious rioters, but he was steadfast before the hostile council and angered king. He rose and addressed Belshazzar almost as haughtily as had the Persian. “Do you well, my Lords Bilsandan and Sirusur, to revile me?” retorted he, hotly. “Am I not a man of peace? Is it my business to see that the royal guard does not fly like sparrows at the yells of an unarmed rabble? As for this coming of the second embassy, who save Anu and Ea could know that a letter of Darius could pass through our watchers—so many were they—even had some foul demon whispered the truth in the Persian’s ear? I am not a god, your Majesty; but what human wit has done, I have done also.” “But human wit,” quoth Belshazzar, grimly, “has not sufficed to avert an issue with Cyrus. What are we to do now, my dear pontiff?” When the king became affectionate, men said he was not far from ordering an execution. Avil knew his danger, but he only let his voice rise higher.