“Coward! You will not strike twice a man of your own age!”
The spearmen stood blinking at Isaiah in sheer astonishment. Igas crawled to his feet; rage choked the curses in his throat, then flowed forth a torrent of imprecations. In his wrath he forgot even to call for help.
“Beetle!” howled he, bounding on Isaiah. But the Jew had caught the whip, lashed it across the guards captain’s shoulders, and raised a smarting welt. Then at last all leaped on the intruder, but he laid about as seven, till a stroke of a cudgel dashed the whip from his grasp; he was carried off his feet, overpowered, and gripped fast. Around the motionless bull a tumultuous crowd was swelling, when a squad of red-robed “street-wardens” hastened up to arrest the peace-breakers.
“High treason against the king!” Igas was screeching. “His head off before sunset!” But the police rescued Isaiah from the spearmen, and their chief urged:—
“Softly, excellent captain, he must be tried before the judge.”
“A Jew! A Jew!” shouted many. “Away with him! Strike! Kill!”
The multitude seemed growing riotous, and ready to attack the police, when a new band of runners commenced forcing a passage.
“Way! way! for the noble Persian Darius and the Vizier Bilsandan!” was the cry; but to the astonishment of those in the banking-house, they saw the young envoy leap from his chariot and plunge before his escort into the crowd. Dashing back the mob with sturdy blows from his scabbard, he was in an instant beside the Jew. For a moment few recognized him. Igas thrust at him with a lance, a quick thrust, yet more quickly had Darius unsheathed, and struck off the spear-head. “Treason! Rebellion! A plot!” shouted a hundred. The police endeavoured to arrest the new offender.
“Death to the Jews!” rang the yell, as many hands were outstretched. But the Persian had released Isaiah, and thrust a cudgel in his hands. His own sword shone very bright.
“Guard my back!” commanded he, and braced himself. The crowd cut him off from his escort.