"Is your visit early, Jew, or the last of your night?"
"The last.--May it please you, lord of Bel, to see me alone. My news is not such as should grow cold. Over it, all Babylon will laugh for joy."
Amraphel looked at this companion of many schemes a little sourly as he sank back on his couch, and took up an orange from its dish of gold.
"What is the nature of this laughing news that you should impart it by stealth?"
Suddenly Daniel lost his patience--a thing not usual with him. "My lord receives it thus"--he snapped his fingers--"and behold, I take it to Vul-Raman of Bit-Yakin, who, hearing it, will not scoff." And the Jew actually made as if to get up from his chair.
"Stop!" cried the high-priest, sharply. "There is no cause for anger.
Sit you, and we will speak of it."
Daniel shrugged his indifference, but slipped into his chair again, without, however, offering to touch food.
My lord looked round upon his slaves, indicating each of them with a little glance, and designating those that fanned him with a gesture.
"Depart and leave us," he said, shortly.
His command was obeyed with decided alacrity, and when the bare feet had patted their noiseless way far down the adjoining corridor, Daniel straightened up in his chair with a little rustle and said, in a low tone: "My news, Amraphel, is, shortly, this: Istar of Babylon, whom we have feared, is a woman--a woman, weak, powerless, full of sin."
Daniel paused, and Amraphel looked at him with a little curl of the lip.
"Is that all?" he said, after a pause. "Is that all? Art thou drunk, Jew?"
Daniel did not lose his temper now. He smiled, contemplatively, and went on: "Nay, I am not drunk, lord high-priest, neither is that all my news--yet, in a way, it is all told. If all Babylon knew too well that Istar were a woman--and weak--and sinful? _Hein?_ Would it not be enough?"
"If the _people_ knew--the people--yea, it might be."
Thereupon Daniel told without more ado all that he had seen, and how Istar lay at this moment in her sanctuary with the infant in her arms.
Then, indeed, Amraphel was touched to the quick. Verily, here was news!
Here was such news as caused the most unemotional man in the Great City to start up from his couch and pace the floor with hurried and uneven steps, his eyes alight, his pale face tinged with red excitement, his hands busily twisting his robe. It was some moments before he spoke, but, once begun, Daniel sat silent and amazed.
"Ah, Beltishazzar, wisely mayst thou rejoice now. Babylon--Babylon, the city of Nabopolassar, my father, shall at last stand free before me!
Listen, listen, all ye people! Istar of Babylon is fallen. She is fallen who reigned as a goddess--over me. Mark me, Jew, time was when Istar of Babylon was divine. The glory of the unknown God flowed around her. Her lips spoke truth. In her heart was hidden all knowledge. The life that she lived was unapproachable by mortal man. And while she remained thus, I dared not try my full power in the city.
"But now--now! Ah, Beltishazzar, now the fear is gone! The goddess has tasted the bitterness of human love and is become mortal. Her sin has found her out. To-day, even to-day, she shall be driven from that temple that her presence defiles. Her downfall shall be cried aloud to them that have worshipped her. Her disgrace shall be proclaimed throughout the kingdom. Let her invoke what aid she may, human or divine! I defy her now to deny me omnipotence in Babylon.
"And thou, Daniel--thou that broughtest this word--have no fear that thy people shall lack favor in my sight, and in the sight of the mighty lord of Elam. Let us henceforth work together for that end which, in the name of our gods and of the God of Judah, shall be accomplished within the year!"
He paused in his speech and in his walk, and his head fell upon his breast. He descended quickly, did Amraphel, from heroics to practicality; and this, perhaps, was one reason of his great success in life. Daniel eyed him in silence till the echoes of the tirade had died away and there had been time for thought. Then he said, shortly:
"You will drive her from the temple, Amraphel? How?"
"By Nebo, with an ox-goad, that is used for cattle!"
Daniel shrugged incredulously. "And whither drive you her?"
"She may go, if she will, to her proper abode--the temple of false Istar, near the gate of the setting sun."
Daniel drew a sharp breath. "Father Abraham!" he muttered, himself amazed at Amraphel's pitiless joy in triumph. Then, a moment later, he added: "It is a just ending. Well, my lord, I take my departure now."
"Thy departure! By Marduk, thou shalt come with me to the temple! Thou must be at my side when I enter her shrine."
Daniel cringed quickly, and proffered a swift excuse. Keen he might be; bold in his way; master of diplomacy, of deceit, and cunning; but discreet, cautious, nay, cowardly, when it came to his personal safety, he was always. It was true that Istar was no more and no less than a weak and unfortunate woman; but enough of divinity still clung to the thought of her to keep the Jew far from any desire to stand before the people as her accuser. Amraphel might be angry, might persuade or command. In the present matter Beltishazzar was immovable. Amraphel recognized it presently, and saw that nothing was to be done but to summon Vul-Raman, with all possible speed, from the neighboring temple, and to command a chariot to be prepared at once and brought into the outer court of the palace.
These things were quickly done; and Daniel had been gone for many minutes by the time Vul-Raman answered the peremptory summons and stood before his superior. The priest of Nebo was in a temper, and greeted Amraphel in an undisguisedly irritable tone.
"My lord, it is the hour for sacrifice. My place was at the altar. By your message hath Nebo lost his morning savor, and the temple the flesh of three goats. What is needed of me here?"
"And has the freeing of Babylon cost the price of three goats, O Bit-Yakin? Pray thou for strength to endure the loss!"
Vul-Raman looked at him in displeasure. "Are thy words oracles?" he said, sourly.
"Within the hour their light will illume thy understanding. Now thou art to drive with me up to the temple of Istar. They bring my cloak."
Vul-Raman looked on with sudden interest as two slaves entered the room where he stood. One of them carried a long, woollen garment of Tyrian weave, heavily embroidered in golden threads in a pattern containing the various symbols of the different gods. It was a mantle worn only upon the greatest occasions. This being fastened upon Amraphel's shoulders with well-wrought pins of gold, the second slave crowned the high-priest with his golden-feathered tiara, sandalled him with sandals embroidered in the same rich metal, and finally put into his hand something that caused Vul-Raman to exclaim:
"What, in the name of Nergal's holiness, do you with the bullock's goad, Amraphel!"
"Come you with me, Vul-Raman. Our way lies to the north, to the temple of Istar. From it I shall drive forth the false woman that dwells there receiving worship. For--"
"Amraphel!" Vul-Raman stopped short. "Art thou raving? What canst thou do against Istar? Because by her mercy we are spared punishment for our last sin against her, darest thou again attempt her downfall? Attempt it by such means as this? If thy mind has not left thy body, then thine arrogance leads thee to death!"
The high-priest waited till the other had finished his protest. Then he said, calmly: "Istar of Babylon is a woman with child. Her divinity is gone. I go to drive her from the heavenly house."
In silence the two men proceeded to the court-yard, where, surrounded by a group of slaves, stood the golden chariot with its white horses and flashing harness. The driver stood holding the reins in his hands. On the arrival of the two priests there was a general obeisance. Amraphel entered the vehicle first. Vul-Raman, not without a perceptible hesitation, followed him. The master raised his hand, the driver shouted to his steeds, and the powerful animals, with one spring, shot forward, drawing the whirring chariot after them through the bronze gate way, out into the a-Ibur-Sabu.
"The temple of Istar!" said Amraphel.
The flashing wheels turned to the north, and in brave silence they proceeded towards the square at the end of the broad street. Not a word was spoken during the drive. The two priests, one on either side of the driver, stood like statues--Vul-Raman with a face as white as a summer cloud, Amraphel in immovable calm. The right hand of the high-priest rested on the rim of the chariot in front of him. His left, the one with which he clasped the short, black goad, with its two cruel leathern thongs, hung at his side. As they went along, the people in the street stopped to stare in curiosity as to the wherefore of Amraphel's state magnificence, and Vul-Raman's appearance so far from his temple at the hour of morning sacrifice. When finally they entered the square of Istar, it was wholly deserted; for service was going on in the temple, and a respectable throng was assembled to witness the weekly slaughter of doves and the broiling of their flesh over the cone-fire on the altar.
"Istar will be there at the sacrifice, doubtless," whispered Vul-Raman, hurriedly, as they alighted together at the steps of the platform.
"Let us seek her," was all the reply he got. Amraphel exhibited not a trace of uneasiness, and yet, to a certain extent, the fear of the priest of Nebo had its effect on him. Mentally he cursed the prudent cowardice of Daniel, who, having arranged this situation, had left him to run the chance of disgrace and defeat alone.
As they came to the door of the temple the two priests found themselves confronting the throng of men and women who were just emerging into daylight. The sacrifice was over. But as Amraphel, in all his magnificence halted before them in the door-way, the people also came to a stand-still, lowered their heads, and waited silently to learn if there was a reason for his coming. For some seconds, however, Amraphel stood passive. He perceived the officiating priestess coming towards him from the altar, and he waited for her to reach his side. Then she, and Bit-Yakin, and finally the high-priest, performed the ceremonious greetings of the religious code; and only after these were over did Amraphel say:
"We seek the lady--Istar of Babylon. Is she in the temple, O servant of the great goddess?"
"The spirit of the goddess hath attended on the sacrifice. So spake the omens, most high lord," was the disturbed reply.
"Belit Istar, then, is not here?"
"Nay, Lord Amraphel. She is in her shrine at the top of the ziggurat, to which she retired at sunset yesterday."
"We will ascend into her presence."
The priestess started. "Nay--nay! Let my lord remain here below. The goddess is alone with her brothers. She commands that none shall ascend to her to-day."
"Begone, woman!" shouted Amraphel, suddenly breaking out into a very well-arranged burst of anger. "Begone, thou deceived and deceiving servant of a false goddess! Hear ye, ye people!" And he turned to the astonished multitude. "Hear ye who, for many months--nay, years--have worshipped at an altar of evil! Istar of Babylon, whom, unknowing, ye have called Belit, spouse of the great Bel, is no goddess. As the great gods have revealed to me by night, she is but a woman, sacrilegiously dwelling in the house of heaven, accepting the homage of the multitude, delivering oracles from the mercy-seat, receiving offerings and the sacrifice day by day throughout the months, deceiving you and them that dwell with you. Now I come to expose her and to deliver her up to you to do with as ye will. Come ye forth and assemble about the foot of the ziggurat while I ascend, that ye may behold her when she comes forth from the holy shrine of the outraged goddess that dwells afar from us in the silver sky."