CHAPTER X.
Thus the sacred regatta moved over the prescribed course to the mainland. Leaving the barges, the priests were marshalled into a vast procession. At the head moved the trumpeters, their instruments pitched to a wailing key, and giving forth long and monotonous notes. They were followed by others, carrying the various articles that were to be offered. Then came the living sacrifices. About the parents who were bringing their children to the god, the singing priests formed a circle, and drowned the weeping in the louder praise they shouted to Baal. The throne of the king was placed upon an open platform, and, with its royal occupant, was borne upon the shoulders of the most noted of the hierarchy; the neophyte Hanno being honored with a place by its side, and with a wand of authority as one of the directors of the ceremony.
During the passage from the landing-place to the presence of the idol, the people were allowed to look upon their vicarious sacrifice. All hatred and wrath had given way to the better emotions of reverence, gratitude, and affection. The crowd pressed as close to the line as the priestly attendants would permit, and there threw themselves upon the ground, kissing the spot their king's form had shadowed, and gathering up handfuls of the dust for sacred memorial. He was now their possession as they had never thought when they called him their king; for he was their substitute, upon whom were laid all their woes and fears; and soon he was to be their god, when, through the mystery of the fire-offering, he would pass into the sublimer mysteries of the glory of Baal.
A little way to the front of the idol had been erected a silken pavilion, covered with devices and mottoes of religious import, which were elaborately wrought with needle-work upon its floating walls of crimson. This was the Holy Place, into which the great atoner, leaving his throne, retired from the gaze of all, that in secrecy he might prepare himself for the final offering; that, as Egbalus had said, his soul might first pass into, and be absorbed by, the very being of deity, before his body should be given to the outward image of the Unknown. The high priest had declared that so thorough was the acquiescence of the king in his own immolation that, when he should come forth from the sacred pavilion and proceed to the flames, he would not be a mortal, but only the semblance of his former self; his glory shielded as a cloud shields the sun, lest the sight should blind the beholders.
As the curtains fell, secluding Hiram in the sacred pavilion, Egbalus kissed the spot where the victim's foot last touched the outer earth. Together with the attendant priests, he then retired from the proximity of the tent, leaving a broad space about it unoccupied by a human being, but penetrated by the gaze of thousands.
A long silence fell upon the multitude. A strange, oppressive awe of what might be transpiring within stifled the very breathing of the waiting throngs.
Then, suddenly, the blare of a hundred trumpets gave the signal for the presentation of the offerings. The inanimate gifts were first placed in huge piles upon the arms of the god, which, being lowered, dropped them into the flames beneath. Next, the living animals of small size were laid bound in his hands. The horse and bull were first slain, their blood poured over the arms of the idol, their hearts thrust into his open jaw, until, shrunken by the heat, they fell into the pit, and were consumed with the remaining flesh.
Then followed a stillness as of Sheol itself, broken only by the sobbing of the women who approached the image, each bearing her child in her arms. One, overcome by her contending emotions, fell fainting, but a priest instantly seized the child, and laid it upon the hot hands that shook it into the flames. Some staggered on with closed eyes, guided and goaded by the attendants. Some sang, in half-crazy ecstasy, the wild refrain of temple hymns, swaying their babes in time with the rhythm, and, without assistance, ascended the steps and presented their sacrifice. As babe after babe disappeared through the smoke, new waves of excitement poured over the crowd; hot waves of delirium, burning out humane instincts, and firing that rage of beasts which is latent in all men. The crowd yelled in frenzy. The priests, with their long knives, gashed their bodies, and, filling their mouths with their own flowing blood, spit it forth again in the direction of the god.
Then, as the last babe was offered, the grand expectation brought the multitude to silence. Egbalus approached the holy pavilion. He raised his hand. The note of a single trumpet, finer, sweeter, yet sadder than any other, floated over the throng. It was repeated, with louder sound and more prolonged. Again it rang forth with full blast, and was answered by one borne over the water from the Temple of Melkarth in the island city. Then the high priest stood with uplifted hands. It seemed many minutes to the people, whose excitement was scarcely endurable. Turning to where the folding curtain indicated the entrance to the pavilion, Egbalus cried with loud voice,
"Come forth, O thou accepted of Baal!"