When the meats had been removed, and the goblets were filled with wine, men began to talk, till presently Sakon called for silence, and rising, addressed Aziel:—
“Prince,” he said, “in the name of this great and free city—for free it is, though we acknowledge the king of Tyre as our suzerain—I give you welcome within our gates. Here, far in the heart of Libya, we have heard of the glorious and wise king, your grandfather, and of the mighty Pharaoh of Egypt, whose blood runs also within your veins. Prince, we are honoured in your coming, and for the asking, whatever this land of gold can boast is yours. Long may you live; may the favour of those gods you worship attend you, and in the pursuit of wisdom, of wealth, of war, and of love, may the good grain of all be garnered in your bosom, and the wind of prosperity winnow out the chaff of them to fall beneath your feet. Prince, I have greeted you as it behoves me to greet the blood of Solomon and Pharaoh; now I add a word. Now I greet you as a father greets the man who has saved his only and beloved daughter from death, or shameful bondage. Know you, friends, what this stranger did since to-night’s moonrise? My daughter was at worship alone yonder without the walls, and a great savage set on her, purposing to bear her away captive. Ay, and he would have done it had not the prince Aziel here given him battle, and, after a fierce fight, slain him.”
“No great deed to kill a single savage,” broke in the king Ithobal, who had been listening with impatience to Sakon’s praises of this high-born stranger.
“No great deed you say, King,” answered Sakon. “Guards, bring in the body of the man and set it before us.”
There was a pause, till presently six men staggered up the hall bearing between them the corpse of the barbarian, which, still covered with the leopard skin mantle, they threw down on the edge of the daïs.
“See!” said one of the bearers, withdrawing the cloak from the huge body. Then pointing to the sword which still transfixed it, he added, “and learn what strength heaven gives to the arms of princes.”
Such of the guests as were near enough rose to look at the grizzly sight, then turned to offer their congratulations to the conqueror, but there was one of them—the king Ithobal—who offered none; indeed, as his eyes fell upon the face of the corpse, they grew alight with rage.
“What ails you, King? Are you jealous of such a blow?” asked Sakon, watching him curiously.
“Speak no more of that thrust, I pray you,” said Aziel, “for it was due to the weight of the man rushing on the sword, which after he was dead I could not find the power to loosen from his breast-bone.”
“Then I will do you that service, Prince,” sneered Ithobal, and, setting his foot upon the breast of the corpse, with a sudden effort of his great frame, he plucked out the sword and cast it down upon the table.