The chariot had halted in the courtyard, but the swarms of soldiery without the gate had not begun to enter when Imbi-Ilu stepped before the sovereign, and salaamed almost to the bricks.
“A fortunate day, O Nabu, a fortunate day that brings Belshazzar the heaven-loving sovereign to the ‘Eternal House’! Let the king deign to make known his will to his servants; he knows,” the pontiff rubbed his hands craftily, “that Nabu is poor, his priests lack corn. Strange and young gods bewitch the pious of Babylon.”
Belshazzar leaped from the chariot without waiting for the grooms to set the footstool. He was clearly striving to appear conciliatory.
“I greet you well, you, and all these other venerable priests,” nodding to the company. “I have not forgotten that the revenues of Nabu have diminished. I have commanded that the treasurer deliver upon your request a hundred gurs[4] of barley and as many of millet, also I deed to you an estate of the crown near Erech of fifty ‘great acres’ of corn land.”
“Blessing to the ever bountiful son of the gods!” chorussed the company, every head bowing again.
“But I have come to make a request,” went on Belshazzar.
“The king’s wishes are law,” smiled Imbi-Ilu. “He desires the supplications of his servants for the continuance of peace; be assured—”
Belshazzar raised his hand. “I crave a smaller boon, that will not take these reverend men from their studies. There is in this temple a damsel—”
Imbi-Ilu bowed yet again. “The king has spoken,—the Jewess Ruth.”
“Be so good as to bring her forth immediately. I take her back to Babylon.”