“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.”