sperate, prowled over and
plundered the adjoining provinces. The loss of the division of Jabaster
was also severe, but the rest of the army suffered little. Alroy himself
was slightly wounded. The battle lasted barely three hours. Its results
were immense. David Alroy was now master of the East.

The plain was covered with the corpses of men and horses, arms and
standards, and prostrate tents. Returning from the pursuit of the Sultan
of Roum, Alroy ordered the trumpets to sound to arms, and, covered
with gore and dust, dismounted from his charger, and stood before the
pavilion of Malek, leaning on his bloody scimitar, and surrounded by his
victorious generals.

'Ah, Jabaster!' said the conqueror, giving his hand to the pontiff,
''twas well your troops had such a leader. No one but you could have
rallied them.

You must drill your lads a little before they again meet the Cappadocian
cavalry. Brave Scherirah, we shall not forget our charge. Asriel, tell
the guard, from me, that the victory of the Tigris was owing to their
scimitars. Ithamar, what are our freshest troops?'

'The legion of Aderbijan, sire.'

'How strong can they muster?'

'It counts twelve thousand men: we might collect two-thirds.'

'Valiant Ithamar, take the Aderbijans and a division of the guards, push
on towards Bagdad, and summon the city. If his Sultanship of Roum offer
battle, take up a position, and he shall quickly have his desire. For
the present, after these hasty marches and sharp fighting, the troops
must rest. I think he will not tarry. Summon the city, and say that if
any resistance be offered, I will make it as desolate as old Babylon.
Treat with no armed force. Where is the soldier that saved me a cracked
skull; his name Benaiah?'

'I wait your bidding, sire.'

'You're a captain. Join the division of Ithamar, and win fresh laurels
ere we meet again. Gentle Asriel, let your brother know our fortune.'

'Sire, several Tartars have already been despatched to Hamadan.'

''Tis well. Send another with these tablets to the Lady Miriam. Despatch
the pavilion of Malek as a trophy for the town. Elnebar, Goliath of
the Hebrews, you bore our sacred standard like a hero! How fares the
prophetess? I saw her charging in our ranks, waving a sabre with her
snowy arm, her long, dark hair streaming like a storm, from which her
eyes flashed lightning.'

'The king bleeds,' said Jabaster.

'Slightly. It will do me service. I am somewhat feverish