None did so with a gladder heart than Itti-Marduk the great banker. That evening, when he sat with Neriglissor on his house roof, the excellent man was in a state of enviable content. Two days before he had sold out a huge granary of corn at half a shekel on the homer[11] above the price it would now fetch, the siege being over; and when Neriglissor had examined the entrails of three white geese, to see if his friend ought to risk a very profitable loan, the omens had been most happy—the livers so white, the hearts so very large, that some great advantage was foretokened, unless all faith in augury was bootless. Therefore from business they had passed to small talk. “Happy evening for Babylon,” Neriglissor was saying; “I did not think Cyrus would give us the back so readily.” “Or that Sirusur the general would prove so valiant, if the flying rumours had been true.” “Rumours?” demanded the old priest; “in Bel’s name, what rumours?” “Are you so ignorant at the temple, as not to know the talk of the city?” “Will you slaughter me, by not telling?” The banker grew confidential. “My dearest Neriglissor, surely you know that there have been many tales afoot lately that, since the day of the great riot, and that scene in his Majesty’s council where Sirusur the general and your own lord, Avil-Marduk, passed such bitter words, the two have been as cold friends as a lamb and a desert hyena. I have heard no less than two tales, one of which is proved false,—the gods know concerning the other, not I.” “Well, tell them: I am tortured by curiosity.” “The first is that Sirusur the _Tartan_ and Bilsandan the vizier fear the hostility of Avil and his influence over Belshazzar so much, that, rather than see him wax in power, they prefer to open the gates to Cyrus.” “A lie! Sirusur’s valour in the sortie proved it so.” Itti let his head come yet closer to the priest’s as they sat together; his gaze was shrewd and penetrating. “And is this a lie also?—that Avil-Marduk, the worshipful priest of Bel, would not be greatly displeased if some hap of fate were to set him on the throne of Nebuchadnezzar? By Samas, you are startled!” Neriglissor was smiling uneasily. “Have you the eyes of Nergal, dear Itti? Well, you are a good friend, and know the meaning of that hard word ‘silence.’ His Majesty is childless, thus far; he is the last of his line; if by some dispensation of heaven,—which Ramman forefend,—if Avil-Marduk were to be summoned to the throne—” The banker broke the other short with a dry chuckle. “Ah! then I did not hear old-wives tales merely. Sirusur and Bilsandan would have good cause for quaking with Avil wearing the purple cap. But the king weds the Persian,—there may be an heir.” Neriglissor rolled one eye in his head. “Many things can befall before an heir is born to his Majesty.” “Ha!” laughed the other, “so be it, if trade is not disturbed, and Avil-Marduk remembers that he yet owes me twelve talents, be he king or priest.”