As he noted this, the vizier turned to descend.
“Come with me, Captain,” he said to Beni; “it may be necessary to hold the gate open for a time. I will myself give you the command to close it.”
The officer followed him down the stairs, and when they had disappeared from the room a big guardsman arose from the group of sleepers and, still muffled in his robe, followed after the captain. Also the others arose, seemingly alert, and by the light of the torch exchanged grins with the men at the windlass.
When Agahr paused before the heavily-barred gate it had already ascended toward the arch far enough to admit a horseman. Presently, with a final creak that sounded very audible in the stillness of the night, the windlass stopped and the gate remained poised in the archway.
Agahr bent forward, and heard the soft pattering of horses’ feet. The sound was repeated to the right and left, echoing far out upon the plains as if an army was awakening to action. Then the patter broke into a gallop, and a single horseman rode through the gate, a drawn sword clutched in his hand.
“Light a torch!” said the voice of Kasam. “My men cannot see this accursed gateway.”
Almost instantly a light flamed up behind them, and its red glow spread outside the gate and showed the plain fairly alive with a host of warriors.
“Advance!” shouted Kasam, and waved his sword around his head.
Then a strange denouement came. The immense gate, suddenly loosened from the tower, fell with a crash, crushing beneath its weight those of the front rank that already pressed forward to enter. A strong hand seized the prince and dragged him from his saddle, disarming him at the same instant.
And then a mighty shout burst from many throats, sounding from all the length of the great wall as well as from the horde that clamored helplessly without. Torches flashed, tom-toms were beat with lusty strokes and the alarm gong sent its warning tones reverberating throughout the city.