"Woe to him who withholds from the Church her dues!"
Mîtri, with the brother of Azîz, then paid respect to the Emîr, engaging his attention while Elias was being led away. Guided by the outcry of the prisoner, Iskender followed his captors on a parallel line among the orange-trees. He heard the howls of derision with which the women hailed the appearance of the boaster, and their demand that he should be well beaten to reward his impudence. Iskender drew close to them and peeped out through the leaves.
"Beat me? Nay, that you dare not!" cried Elias. "The lives of all of you would not suffice my vengeance. Wait, wait till I get hold of my good sword!"
"Thy sword, if thou hast one, is of wood, O braggart!" laughed one of his captors, at the same time giving him a shove which sent him reeling up against another of the band, who straight returned him.
"Nay, nay," he protested, in his passage through the air. "By Allah, I possess one, of the finest steel. Ask Mîtri, ask Iskender; they have seen it!"
Then, as they continued their rough game with him, he screamed out:
"Are you Christian men or devils thus to maltreat me on account of a few oranges for which I paid the guardian?"
"Nay, O beloved! Allah witness, it is not the oranges we begrudge thee, but the honour thou didst take unto thyself feloniously."
"Aha, thou art the owner of this place, and we thy servants!"
"Oranges! Let him have his fill of them!"