“He shall die,” Istar replied, briefly.
A roar of approbation instantly broke forth; but next instant, again raising her hand to command quiet, the queen-goddess continued,—
“He shall die when, as my slave, he hath served me.”
“Let him die now, O Istar!” they shouted. “Gladden our hearts by letting us see the lions tear him limb from limb. He is the Destroyer, the visitant against whom the sages have warned us. Through him will the vengeance of Anu, the dread god, descend upon us. Let him die!”
“No,” she answered, both hands resting upon the crystal arms of her glittering throne. “I have spoken. He is my personal slave, bound to my side by night and by day.”
“Dost thou not fear to have a son of Anu as thy body-servant?” asked an aged priest, with flowing white beard and high head-dress of shining gold, surmounted by a star, the emblem of Istar. “He may wreak vengeance upon thee.”
“I am Istar, and know not fear,” she answered, haughtily. “Men bow to me, and women make sacrifice in my temple. For those who incur my displeasure, Merodach, the protector of mankind, will not mediate.”
Then the queen-goddess nodded towards a man of tall stature, attired in a robe of dead black. Again the trumpets sounded thrice, as signal for her captains to come forward and present their reports. They came, one by one, advancing to the foot of the steps, bowing upon one knee, and obtaining the sanction of their sovereign upon various matters.
At last, when about twenty had been received and dismissed, a man older than the rest, and wearing a breastplate in which rubies were set in the form of a great star within a circle, advanced, knelt before the bewitching Queen, and mumbled some words that I could not catch.
Istar inclined her head slightly in approbation. Then, bidding the white-headed warrior to rise, said aloud,—