mounting the ebon courser of his late enemy, dashed again into the
thickest of the fight.

The shades of night descended, the clamour gradually decreased, the
struggle died away. A few unhappy Moslemin who had quitted their saddles
and sought concealment among the ruins, were occasionally hunted out,
and brought forward and massacred. Long ere midnight the last of the
Seljuks had expired.[56]

The moon shed a broad light upon the street of palaces crowded with
the accumulated slain and the living victors. Fires were lit, torches
illumined, the conquerors prepared the eager meal as they sang hymns of
praise and thanksgiving.

A procession approached. Esther the prophetess, clashing her cymbals,
danced before the Messiah of Israel, who leant upon his victorious
scimitar, surrounded by Jabaster, Abner, Scherirah, and his chosen
chieftains. Who could now doubt the validity of his mission? The
wide and silent desert rang with the acclamations of his enthusiastic
votaries.

Heavily the anxious hours crept on in the Jewish quarter of Hamadan.
Again and again the venerable Bostenay discussed the chances of success
with the sympathising but desponding elders. Miriam was buried in
constant prayer. Their most sanguine hopes did not extend beyond the
escape of their Prince.

A fortnight had elapsed, and no news had been received of the progress
of the expedition, when suddenly, towards sunset, a sentinel on a
watch-tower announced the appearance of an armed force in the distance.
The walls were instantly lined with the anxious inhabitants, the streets
and squares filled with curious crowds. Exultation sat on the triumphant
brow of the Moslemin; a cold tremor stole over the fluttering heart of
the Hebrew.

'There is but one God,' said the captain of the gate.

'And Mahomed is His prophet,' responded a sentinel.

'To-morrow we will cut off the noses of all these Jewish dogs.'

'The sceptre has departed,' exclaimed the despairing Bostenay.

'Lord, remember David!' whispered Miriam, as she threw herself upon the
court of the palace, and buried her face in ashes.

The Mollahs in solemn procession advanced to the ramparts, to shed their
benediction on the victorious Hassan Subah. The Muezzin ascended the
minarets to watch the setting sun, and proclaim the power of Allah with
renewed enthusiasm.

'I wonder if Alroy be dead or alive,' said the captain of the gate.

'If he be alive, he will be impaled,' responded a sentine