“Not sleep in Borsippa? Your little goddess Ruth will not weep her sight away in your absence?”
“Ruth!” Daniel had started at the name; but, as if there were an omen in the word, there sounded a sudden rumbling and jarring in the brick-paved road outside the temple precinct, the noise of a heavy carriage at a headlong speed, the cracking of a whip, shoutings and cursings, all rising together. When before had a like din roused the peaceful suburb? Imbi sprang to the parapet and stared across in wonder.
“God of Borsippa,” he swore, “have we a chariot charge!”
The clamour swept nearer, broken now by a yell of keenest pain, followed by a great shout from the younger priests and students watching from below.
“Nabu save him! The wheel has crossed his body!”
“Eunuchs! The king’s eunuchs! They violate the sanctuary!” bawled many more, with a scamper of feet through the gateway.
“In Jehovah’s name, what is this!” cried Daniel, leaping up beside Imbi; but the pontiff had just time to clutch at his friend, as he tottered almost in a swoon. The noise below grew sevenfold.
“Down! He has smitten Mermaza!”
Imbi was again at his post. A closed carriage had lumbered in at the gateway, the horses panting and steaming. The pontiff started in turn, when he saw a young man leaping from the driver’s platform, still clutching tightly his long whip.