“Yes, noble lord,” and the wizard still knelt.
“Stand up, then. State your errand. You have something against Isaiah the Jew?”
Gudea bowed; it was not well to risk long speeches with the great. Avil demanded again:—
“Well, do not waste any time. What is the complaint?”
“Lord,” came the reply, “he commits murder.”
“Murder?” Avil raised his eyebrows. Neriglissor laid down his well-beloved wine-cup. “But why come to me? Am I the judge? Who is dead?”
“Saruch, the rich rope merchant, by birth a Jew, a most pious servant of the gods, especially of Bel-Marduk.”
“Ah, woe!” began Neriglissor; “he gave five skins to us at the last feast. Excellent wine! Cruel murder!”
“And how has this worthy servant of Bel been butchered by Isaiah?” quoth Avil, sternly. “Is justice denied? Where is the magistrate? Can assassins stalk scatheless in our very streets?”