“By every god of Babylon you shall nevertheless die a jackal’s own death!” he shouted, while Belshazzar still thundered, “Kill! Kill!” But Sirusur stood hesitant; for if his lord had cast off the Jew’s spell, the general was still under it.
In his fury Belshazzar tugged at the short sword at his side that he might become himself executioner, when a new shout of the people finally drowned his commands.
“Spare Daniel! Spare the good minister! Do not anger Heaven!”
Avil’s underlings were fairly howled down at last.
“Except the king promise to spare Daniel, I look for a riot instantly,” remonstrated Bilsandan, the vizier, in the first instant of silence.
“Better let Babylon flow with blood, be he ten times innocent,” blazed the wrathful king, “than I give way to these hissing geese. Khatin ends him to-night.”
Avil-Marduk sped to the terrace where Isaiah had taken station, and beckoned in vain for silence.
“Away with him!” roared the crowd, led on by Hasba, the bold priest of Nabu. “Away with the king’s evil councillor!”
Belshazzar had mounted to his friend’s side.
“Well,” cried he, in Avil’s ear, “Allat has loosed all her fiends! Let sword and spear quiet them!”