Avil-Marduk recalled his servant, and had the three manehs wrapped in a napkin given to Gudea. With many protestations and excuses the wizard took his farewell. “You risk all on this juggler,” declared Neriglissor when the fellow was gone. But the chief priest shook his head. “I know him by rumour to be one of the cleverest rats in Babylon. He will have enough real bricks to build his tale with and make it credible. I have him utterly in my power. Should he confess all to Daniel, who would believe him against my denial? He will not fail.” The “anointer” cast a shrewd glance at his superior. “You are a man of many devices. When did it enter your head to make use of this exorcist?” “The moment he opened his business. I had been casting about for many days for a chance like this against Daniel, and was at my wit’s end.” “Therefore, if we were not priests, we should say, ‘Bel has wondrously favoured us’; but since we are priests, we will preserve our thanksgivings—” “To ourselves,” interposed Avil, dryly; “and now to the other part of my business. You must ride with me to the palace. The king will hold council again.” Neriglissor grew even more insinuating. “My dear lord, _was_ that cloak, found in the shrubbery after the assault on his Majesty, the garment of the Persian envoy?” But Avil only gave a great shrug with his shoulders. “My very good friend,” answered he, “there are some things which if whispered to a gnat would put even my throat in peril. But I can tell you this: the subject of our debate this day might prove wondrously entertaining, if overheard by the ‘exceedingly noble’ Prince Darius.” [Illustration: THE HAREM OF THE KING] CHAPTER VIII Atossa awoke the morning after the feast with the same aching heart she had carried for more than one weary night and day. She had probably spoken with Darius for the last time. He had sat beside Belshazzar, and all through the feast she had been arraying the two men against each other,—and the All-Seeing knew who found favour in her partial eyes! But the deed was done, and no human chance promised to mend it. Already Pharnaces, the subordinate envoy, had started for Susa to inform Cyrus of the splendour of his prospective son-in-law. For one year Belshazzar could not actually take Atossa as his bride, but she was none the less the inmate of his harem. Life had hitherto been very lovely to the Persian; the turn of destiny that sent her to this gilded bondage had darkened her life utterly. Love lost, kindred lost, home lost,—and only half-known pains before! Small need to say further; enough that, as Atossa looked forth upon the city that day, she saw not one friendly object that made her sense of loss less keen.