"O holy sacrifice! Seven times blessed! Chosen of men! Accepted of our Lord Baal!"
Then this one's head dropped to the floor. Each head was raised in turn, and repeated the same words.
All the statues then rose. One of them was clothed in a long black robe— Could he mistake that figure? It was Egbalus. Bowing low, the high priest spoke:
"The holy spell has been upon thee, O royal son of Tyre, son of Baal! As thou wast lying on thy couch I saw a wondrous thing. All the souls of the ancient kings of Tyre came again from their abodes in the world of the dead. Each was like a shooting-star. They came from the dark bosom of the night. They flashed across my vision and entered thy body. One by one these starry kings came, until the last, thine own father. In thee, O blessed Hiram! is all the royalty of Tyre. I saw, too, the great spirit of Baal, like a globe of light, brighter than the sun himself. Baal came and enclosed thee. The divine light penetrated thee, purified thee, until thy body was light itself; bright even as the brightness of Baal. This was thy consecration for the sacrifice. The flames cannot harm thee, since thou art become light itself. But one duty awaits thee. Come thou, O divine king, and consecrate with thy presence the temple, the holy place of Melkarth. Then shalt thou enter the life of which Baal is the fulness. Come!"
Hiram knew not whether this were a dream or a mocking reality. But it mattered little which, since he had determined to outwardly obey and, with Hanno, to watch.
"As thou wilt, O servant of our Lord Baal!" he replied: and, preceded by Egbalus and followed by the attendant priests, he passed from his palace.
The royal palanquin awaited him in the court. It had been covered with a white cloth canopy and curtains which completely enveloped it, and concealed his person from all eyes. The priests became his bearers. A line of them marched ahead, playing lugubrious notes on pipes of reed, above which rose the words of a chant. As the procession wound its way across the Great Square the multitudes prostrated themselves on either hand, murmuring prayers and benedictions upon the royal deliverer of Tyre. At the temple gate the popular reverence and awe were evinced by intense silence. Not a form swayed, not a foot was lifted, not a word was spoken. Only the slow-timed tramp of the bearers of the royal victim broke the stillness as the cortège passed between the massive gates, which slowly swung upon their hinges and closed again.
For three days King Hiram remained alone in the chief chamber, that which opened upon the corridor of the sacred lake. Priests incessantly patrolled back and forth, saying nothing except their prayers. They brought him food in golden dishes, and left it, removing the remnants in the same reverential manner in which they would have served at the altar.
As the silence of the day turned into the deeper silence of the night, and back again to silent day, the solitude became unendurable. Only royal pride prevented Hiram asking some question of his obsequious custodians. When would the sacrifice be accomplished? Was there no communication for him from Zillah? Could he bribe any of these bigots to confer with Captain Hanno? Now he was tempted to rush upon one of the priests, seize his sacrificial knife, plunge it into the man's heart, and then into his own. He was once in this latter mood, and on the very point of executing his purpose, when the priest who would have been his victim began to mumble his prayers.
"I will wait until the wretch has got through that. He will need all his prayers for his last breath," muttered the king.