The two looked at each other questioningly, disregarding the curious and envious eyes upon them.
“What new insult thinkest thou—?”
Out of the gate limped a soldier very little older than themselves and halted before them with a grave salute.
“Peace be unto thee if thy errand be peace. Naaman, my master, goeth forth on a matter for the king. Quickly, therefore, thy names and what it is that bringeth thee hither.”
The young men bowed low before him and the elder made the necessary explanations.
“A long and toilsome journey hath thy servants taken and one beset with danger, and five lean and hungry years have they spent in preparing that they might speak to the master of this house concerning a matter on which only he can speak with both knowledge and authority. So I pray thee, if thy servants have found favor in thine eyes, grant that their request be carried to him.”
“It shall be done,” the soldier answered, tersely, after a momentary hesitancy, and conducted them forthwith past the sacred gate and the once frowning gatekeeper (now all smiles) to the outer courtyard.
Scarcely had he left them and scarcely had they time to observe the magnificence of the surroundings, when he returned, a few steps behind his master. The latter suffered the usual elaborate salutations of the East with visible irritation.
“The king’s business, on which I go, requireth haste,” he told them, thoughtlessly speaking in Syrian. “State thy errand in as few words as possible that I may tarry but briefly.”
The elder of the two, continuing to act as spokesman, bowed low before the soldier, who was standing apart: “Thy speech is that of Israel and thy master is not able to understand thy servants. I pray thee stand near that thou mayest tell thy lord what thy servants say and tell them what he saith.”