Sanballat strode up and down the apartment. When he had worked off the froth of his passion the native cunning of the man asserted itself, and, sitting down close to his guest, he studied his face for a moment. "You said, Make an alliance? Is it possible?"
"Possible! Why not?" replied Marduk. "Only Ezra and Nehemiah have heretofore prevented, and now Ezra is like an old dog who keeps his spirit but has lost his teeth. He cannot hold on to affairs long. And as for Nehemiah, the Tirshatha, he is enamoured of the feasts at the palace of Susa, and shows no sign of coming back."
"The Tirshatha! A curse on that mongrel Persian and Jewish dog!"
Sanballat took another turn about the room, as uneasy as a chained bear with a dog snapping at his legs. The exercise clarified his half-drunken wits, and he resumed the council.
"Ezra's teeth may be broken, but that whelp Nehemiah's teeth are sharp enough. But for him I should now have my palace on the hill of Zion, and my soldiers be encamped in the valley of Jehosaphat. Then, think of it, Marduk! mine should be the satrapy from Syria to Egypt."
"The thing is possible yet," replied Marduk. "There is no ruler now at Jerusalem. The high priest's family are chief in influence. They are jealous of Nehemiah, and do not want him back from Susa. They are ready to strengthen themselves in any way. They are already scratching the ambitious itch of Tobiah, the Ammonite. They have torn out the walls between the priest's chambers to make state quarters for his Impudence in the very temple itself."
"Humph! Tobiah cannot help them," said Sanballat.
"But he can help himself by them," replied Marduk.
"He shall not."
"Why not?"