‘Noble warriors, list to a woman’s voice,’ exclaimed the prophetess, coming forward. ‘‘Tis weak, but with such instruments, even the aspirations of a child, the Lord will commune with his chosen people. There is a secret way by which I can gain the gardens of the palace. To-morrow night, just as the moon is in her midnight bower, behold the accursed pile shall blaze. Let Abidan’s troops be all prepared, and at the moment when the flames first ascend, march to the Seraglio gate as if with aid. The affrighted guard will offer no opposition. While the troops secure the portals, you yourselves, Zalmunna, Abidan, and Jabaster, rush to the royal chamber and do the deed. In the meantime, let brave Scherirah, with his whole division, surround the palace, as if unconscious of the mighty work. Then come you forward, show, if it need, with tears, the fated body to the soldiery, and announce the Theocracy.’
‘It is the Lord who speaks,’ said Abidan, who was doubtless prepared for the proposition. ‘He has delivered them into our hands.’
‘A bold plan,’ said Jabaster, musing, ‘and yet I like it. ‘Tis quick, and that is something. I think ‘tis sure.’
‘It cannot fail,’ exclaimed Zalmunna, ‘for if the flame ascend not, still we are but where we were.’
‘I am for it,’ said Scherirah.
‘Well, then,’ said Jabaster, ‘so let it be. Tomorrow’s eve will see us here again prepared. Good night.’
‘Good night, holy Priest. How seem the stars, Jabaster?’
‘Very troubled; so have they been some days. What they portend I know not.’
‘Health to Israel.’
‘Let us hope so. Good night, sweet friends.’