Untimely boast, for Hasba instantly howled back: “Be it so, and we of Nabu swear that Sirusur, the general, dies when Imbi-Ilu dies. Life for life, and death for death!” And to this all the priests answered; “It is so! We hold Sirusur hostage for Imbi-Ilu!”
The king gave a fearful curse. “So be it!” cried he, in his passion, “but if the general loses an hair, he shall be terribly avenged. Execute Imbi-Ilu this instant!” He had leaped down from the parapet. The bricks were flying again. He repeated his command to Igas-Ramman, the captain now heading the troops, but Igas had salaamed before his lord, saying:—
“Live forever, my king! Your slaves, the guards, will die for you; but they will throw their swords away rather than see Sirusur, their leader, sacrificed. We dare not touch the high priest of Borsippa.”
“Have you, too, the hearts of conies?” warned Belshazzar. And they saw his hand go to his sword, as if to smite Imbi with his own arm. But the instant he had sprung from the parapet the attack had been renewed. The troops, cowed and ill-led, broke under the pressure, and the volleys gave way; and in a twinkling the rioters were on the first terrace. It was a moment of uttermost danger for king and courtiers. The mob swept up upon the platform in a single human wave. “Back, my lord! back!” exhorted Igas-Ramman, thrusting himself with a handful of men betwixt the rioters and Belshazzar; but the king brushed him aside.
“Where is Isaiah?” shouted the monarch, casting about one glance. “Though I perish, let not him escape!”
But while the words quitted his lips, a young man in the foremost of the assailants, had bounded past the demoralized soldiers, and in an instant loosed the Hebrew’s bands.
“Shaphat! Shaphat the accuser of Daniel!” howled many voices together; but rescuer and rescued were already swallowed in the sea of writhing, fighting forms. A moment later, the victorious priests of Nabu had plucked their leader out of the hands of the panic-struck guardsmen, and Imbi-Ilu once more headed his cheering followers.
“Away with Avil-Marduk!” rang the shout, never louder. “Fling him over the ziggurat!”
The pontiff barely saved himself by most headlong flight up the next stairway to the second stage of the tower. After him fled Mermaza, and many a dignitary followed them. But there was one who did not fly, and that was the king. Marduk, guardian of his house, cast his shield indeed before him, and saved him, for he was foremost in the press of death; and more than one stout priest of Nabu and riotous burgher howled no more after the royal sword smote them.