“This gift, king Ithobal, from Aziel the Israelite,” he cried, as the arrow sped.
For a moment the great man stood still, then he opened his arms wide and of a sudden plunged downward, falling with a crash on the roadway, where he lay dead at the side of dead Elissa.
“The play is played, and the fate fulfilled,” cried Metem. “See, the servants of the king speed yonder with their evil tidings; let us away lest we bide here with these two for ever.”
“That is my desire,” said Aziel.
“A desire which may not be fulfilled,” answered Metem. “Come, Prince, since we cannot go without you. Surely you do not wish to sacrifice the lives of all of us as an offering to the great spirit of the lady who is dead. It is one that she would not seek.”
Then Aziel knelt down and kissed the brow of the dead Elissa, and went his way, saying no word.
That night, when the darkness fell, the sky behind these travellers grew red with fire.
“Behold the end of the golden city!” said Metem. “Zimboe is food for flames and its children for the sword. Issachar was a prophet indeed, who foretold that it should be so.”