"We have another king," was Egbalus's quick and altogether unghostly response.
"Baal save us!" cried one.
"The will of Baal be done!" was the sharp rejoinder of another—Mattan, a man of ferocious severity of countenance, whose body showed more scars from self-inflicted wounds than could be counted in half the circle besides.
Egbalus suddenly dropped all his mysteriousness of manner, with keen eyes searched their faces, by his very look challenging each one to dare resistance. He was now less high priest than he was politician and leader; seemingly forgetting his spiritual, he asserted his secular, power. Satisfied with what he saw in the half-cowed superstition or the crafty ambition of his followers, he boldly declared:
"It must be. Woe to the priest who, at this crisis of our order, dares to betray it!"
He drew his long knife, such as was used in sacrificing—"This for the heart of the first faithless priest!"
"And this!"
"And this!"
Half a score of gleaming blades were raised.
Egbalus continued: "King Hiram believes not in the gods; would destroy them, and us with them. Rubaal must be king. It is the will of Baal, and it is the wisdom of men."