"Argol, good Argol, tell me, I pray thee, man, how in the name of Asshur may I teach this wretch to mend his auguries?"
"My lord," the leech replied, as he raised his drooping lids and gazed out dreamily to where the Tigris flowed, "my lord, the breath of man ariseth from his breast, but in his throat are shaped his evil prophecies."
"Eh—what?" the King demanded. "What manner of speech is this, and how doth it run with Azet and his seven cranes?"
"Hang him, my lord," said Argol, drowsily, and turned away.
A slow smile lit the features of the King, while for a space he pondered, plucking at his coverlet; then, summoning an officer, he gave an order in a weak but cheerful voice, at the same time causing his couch to be removed to a shaded spot upon the palace roof. Here, with his watch-worn leech beside him, he could lie at ease and feast his eyes on the glory of completed Nineveh. Across his terraced gardens where fountains sparkled in the sun, he could see the temple of Asshur and of Ishtar upon their hills; likewise the temple of the fire-god Gibil, above whose dome a wreath of smoke hung low, belched upward from the flames beneath. He could see his streets, his marts, his mighty gates and the tawny plains beyond where the Tigris and the Khusur ran. He could see his wall—that shield of his heart's desire—which made his city a fortress against the world; yet the thoughts of Ninus were not for walls and shields.
He watched a thousand horsemen pass the western gate and gallop swiftly down the river bank, then disappear from Nineveh for the space of many days. The chief was a man of little love beyond his sword and steed, one, who would give short shift to devils with flame-hued hair, and the heart of the King was glad.
Of a sudden a tumult rose from the streets below, while a concourse gathered, and a sound of weeping ascended to the palace roof. Through the surging throng a band of soldiers fought their way, leading the prophet Azet toward the wall and beating back the populace with the butts of their heavy spears.
The western gate was spanned by a monster arch, on the shoulder of which sat the highest tower of all, and thither the soldiers led their victim by a winding stair. When at last they appeared on the turret's edge, a wail of anguish rang out afresh, while the multitude gazed upward, swarming to and fro.
"Now truly," chuckled Ninus as he watched, "this fellow hath a wondrous following, who, because of their ignorance, grieve at things they may not understand."
From the turret the soldiers thrust a wooden beam; from the end thereof they hanged the prophet by a noose, and, according to a writing set above the gate, "The prophecies of Azet ceased to be throughout the land."