Belshazzar: A Tale of the Fall of BabylonDavis, William Stearns
History
Belshazzar: A Tale of the Fall of Babylon
Davis, William Stearns
Babylon (Extinct city) -- Fiction; Belshazzar -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Iraq -- History -- To 634 -- Fiction
“Isaiah’s seal!” exclaimed Ruth, joyously, recognizing the likeness of
the hero Eabani, “and the characters are like those from his hand.”
“I have consulted with Hasba,” added Imbi, “and we have decided it is
best for you to go. Doubtless these persons are faithful servants of your
father, though Isaiah would not mention them by name, lest the letter
should fall into unfriendly hands.”
Accordingly, the rest of the day Ruth passed in delightful impatience.
She was to be taken from Babylon. She was to see her betrothed. She was
to be put beyond the power of the hated king. Zabini had to urge her
that this one time, at least, she should eat heartily; for doubtless she
would have to journey the night long, and would need all her strength.
When twilight fell, Ruth had gathered her little bundle, said farewell
to Zabini and the friendly priests’ wives, and restlessly counted the
stars as they twinkled forth one by one above the great tower. The time
seemed endless before Imbi and Hasba conducted her stealthily through the
silently opened gate, and she quitted the refuge that had sheltered so
long and well. The five palm trees were just visible in the thickening
gloom. Fifty paces brought her to them, and there, as promised,
were waiting three figures, the capes of their long mantles drawn so
completely across their faces that in the starlight no features were
visible. Imbi peered about to see that there were no unfriendly watchers.
“Your business?” he demanded of the three; and one answered, in a husky
voice that Ruth did not in the slightest recognize:—
“We are the servants of the good Lord Daniel, and act for his excellent
friend Isaiah. Jehovah grant,” the wish sounded exceedingly fervent,
“that you have brought our adorable young mistress with you.”
“You answer well,” replied Imbi, “but I must see your token.”
The speaker drew back his mantle far enough to uncover a faint rushlight
that he concealed, burning in a small earthen jar.
“See this, then,” he answered, and held up something in the glimmer.
“It is Isaiah’s seal,” admitted Imbi; “you are vouched for. Take the girl
and guard her well.” He was turning to go, when some monitor prompted him
to add sharply, “And beware of faithlessness; or, as Nabu liveth, I will
make your fate no merry one, though the king himself befriend you!”
“The Lord God of Israel forbid that we should fail even to lay down our
lives for our dear mistress!” protested the other.
“Go with these people, Ruth,” commanded the pontiff; “and when next
we meet, may it be in happier days for your father. And let Nabu and
Jehovah, my god and yours, protect and prosper you.”
The Jewess murmured a low farewell. The two priests hurriedly returned
to the temple gate. She heard it closed and bolted. One of her new
companions caught her by the hand.
“Come, little lady; Isaiah is near by with the carriage.”
But at that touch, instinct, surer than knowledge, flashed a warning. The
Jewess did not follow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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