“The peace of Jehovah cover you, my son,” declared the old man. Yet when Isaiah had risen, he was startled at the anxiety written on the other’s face. He knew it was no light thing that could shake the civil-minister out of his wonted calm.
“As Jehovah lives,” adjured the younger Jew, “what has befallen? Where are you going? You do not commonly ride abroad in the heat of the day.”
“I have urgent need of going to Borsippa to see my good friend Imbi-Ilu, high priest of Nabu, on a private matter.” The effort to speak lightly was so evident that Isaiah’s fears were only doubled.
The minister turned to the others.
“Tell Absalom to hasten with harnessing the chariots,” commanded Daniel. The servants took the hint and withdrew. Their master cast a searching glance about the courtyard, to make sure that no others were in easy earshot.
“Listen.” His speech sank to a whisper. “I am in sore anxiety concerning the safety of Ruth.”
“Of Ruth!” Isaiah’s grave face grew dark as the thunder-cloud. “How? Who threatens?”
Daniel spoke yet lower. “This day I have received a message from friends in the palace, that the king still remembers her beauty, and desires her. His promise to Darius was a lie, to appease the envoy for the moment. I dare not doubt that some attempt will be made by Mermaza, or by others of his spawn, to carry away the girl at the first convenient opportunity. She must not sally abroad, however much she may desire it. I do not know how great is the immediate danger, but there is nought to be risked. On this account I am going to Borsippa without delay.”
“Then as our God rewardeth evil for evil, so will I reward the king!” Isaiah had turned livid with his wrath. “I will slay Belshazzar with my own hand, and then let them kill me with slow tortures.”
Daniel smiled despite his heavy heart.