“Lord,” said Gobryas, the senior general present, “we cannot suffer this thing. Your Majesty must remain without the gates till your slaves have mastered the city.”
The king struggled to be free.
“Must? Not even you may use that word to me. As Ahura liveth, you shall die for this madness.”
But the others did not release him.
“Lord,” repeated Gobryas, “when your Majesty wills, I bow my neck to the stroke; but till then, I love the ‘Light of the Aryans’ too well to see it quenched, even at its wish.”
“But I implore you—” protested the king, for commands were useless.
And Gobryas answered, “We love the king too well even to heed his prayers.”
Cyrus gave one bitter groan, but he remounted the chariot and said no more.
“Advance,” entreated Sirusur; “every instant gives Belshazzar chance to take alarm, and my work is undone!”