“Beware,” admonished Hystaspes, in the king’s ear, “this may be but a spy of Belshazzar.” But the young man overheard and answered boldly:—
“I a spy of Belshazzar? May Jehovah the All-Seeing smite me as I stand, if I speak one jot or one tittle more or less than truth!”
Cyrus had raised his head, and looked on the Hebrew again.
“And I believe you,” swore the king; “for as Ahura reigns, I do not deem he could set deceit behind so frank a face and eye. This, my lords”—he held up the trinket—“is the locket I hung on my daughter’s neck before you all. And now, Jew, say on.”
And long the council sat and listened while Isaiah unwound to them the tangled web of Belshazzar’s and Avil’s intrigues and ill-doings—the sham marriage treaty, the attempt on Darius’s life, the plottings with Egypt, the preparations for war.
They had gathered much from the tale of the fugitive Ariathes, and the hasty despatch from Gobryas; they saw all clearly now. But when Isaiah had finished, Cyrus asked simply:—
“One question: By what means did you gain this locket from the Lady Atossa? Can you enter Belshazzar’s own harem?”
Whereupon Isaiah told very modestly the manner in which he had saved the princess during the riot; and despite his slackness in self-praise, as he ended, the king demanded of his lords:—
“Men of Persia, do you now believe this man?”
“Every word,” came from Harpagus, and he spoke for all.