Her scream was drowned in the chaos of battle. And then for the first time fear smote the princess. Outside those doors fought the son of Hystaspes, perilling himself in the press,—and for her sake. She could contain herself no more.
“Darius,” she shrieked again, “I come! Save!”
She leaped from the dais; in her madness she would have plunged into the riot below, when a heavy hand fell on her; she struggled, was helpless. Above her towered Khatin.
“It is commanded, lady,” quoth the headsman, gruffly, “that you abide here, till the king order otherwise.”
“Fool!” she cried, shrinking at his impure touch, “do you seek death? A moment more and your life is in my power. Release, and you shall live.”
“Ah, my bright-eyed rabbit,” answered he, dryly, unmoved by all the terrors about, “I have sent too many better men than I to the ‘world-mountain’ to dread myself the journey thither. All the Chaldees have not turned traitor, nor have I. Wait.”
He forced her back upon her seat, and stood guard beside her. Drunk or sober, the nobles of Babylon proved their lordly birth that night. Twice Atossa’s heart sank when a triumphant cry rang through the palace:—
“Glory to Marduk! Drive them forth! Victory!”
But each time the Persians swept back to the charge; and still the clamour rose. Well that all the death was hid from Atossa, or, king’s daughter though she was, her woman’s heart would have broken. How long might this last? The swarm of frenzied palace folk was growing denser. They sprang upon the dais, threatening Atossa, in their witless fear, but gave back at sight of Khatin’s bared sword-blade. Then forth rushed a single man, Avil-Marduk, his face blanched, his teeth a-chatter, and cast himself at Daniel’s feet.
“Save, generous lord! Save me from death! For you are merciful, and the Persians will hear you! Beseech your Jehovah that He may not let me die!”