“Elissa not the servant of Baaltis? How
comes she then to be her high-priestess? Aziel,
your passion has made you mad.”
“She is high-priestess because Metem and others
brought about her election without her will, urged
on to it by I know not whom.” And he looked
hard at Issachar, who turned away. “But
what matters it who did the ill deed,” he continued,
“since this, at least, is certain, that here
my presence breeds sorrow and bloodshed, and therefore
I must go as I have promised.”
“When do we depart, Prince?” queried Issachar.
“I know not, it is naught to me. Here comes
Metem, ask of him.”
“Metem,” said the Levite, “the prince
desires to leave Zimboe and march to the coast, there
to take ship to Tyre. When can your caravan be
ready?”
“So I have heard, Issachar, for Sakon tells
me that he has come to an agreement with the prince
upon this matter. Well, I am glad to learn it,
for troubles thicken here, and I think that the woe
you prophesied is not far from this city of Zimboe
where every man seeks to serve his own hand, and is
ready to sell his neighbour. When can the caravan
be got ready? Well, the night after next; at
least, we can start that night. To-morrow evening,
so soon as the sun is down, I will send on the camels
by ones and twos, and with them the baggage and treasure,
to a secret place I know of in the mountains, where
we and the prince’s guard can follow upon the
mules and join them. As it chances, I have a safe
conduct from Ithobal. Still I should not wish
to put his troops into temptation by marching through
them with twenty laden camels, or to lose certain
earnings of my own that will be hidden in the baggage.
Moreover, if our departure becomes known, half the
city would wish to join us, having no love of soldiering,
and misdoubting them much of the issue of this war
with Ithobal.”
“As you will,” said Issachar, “you
are captain of the caravan, and charged with the safety
of the prince upon his journeyings. I am ready
whenever you appoint, and the quicker that hour comes,
the more praise you will have from me.”
“Come with me, I wish to speak with you,”
said Aziel to the Phoenician as they left the presence
of Issachar. “Listen,” he added, when
they had reached his chamber, “we leave this
city soon, and I have farewells to make.”
“To the Baaltis?” suggested Metem.
“To the lady Elissa. I desire to send her
a letter of farewell; can you deliver it into her
own hand?”
“It may be managed, Prince, at a price—nay,
from you I ask no price. I have still some images
that I wish to sell, and we merchants go everywhere,
even into the presence of the Baaltis if it pleases
her to admit them. Write your scroll and I will
take it, though, to be plain, it is not a task which
I should have sought.”
So Aziel wrote slowly and with care. Then having
sealed the writing he gave it to Metem.
“Your face is sat, Prince,” he said, as
he hid it in his robe, “but, believe me, you
are doing what is right and wise.”
