"What is this sacrifice? I have never seen one," Thais asked.
"I do not know," the girl said. "There has been none since I came to Tyre."
"I know, mistress," another of the women volunteered. She was a Syrian, with a supple figure and bright black eyes, who had been a slave from her infancy.
"Describe it, then," Thais said.
"Baal-Moloch is the most powerful God in the world," the woman said volubly. "His image is made of iron, and is terrible to look upon." She shivered as she spoke. "I never saw it but once, and that was when the Babylonian king threatened to make war upon us. We offered sacrifice to prevent it, and Moloch would not permit him to come. The priests went about the city and took the children—even the little babies—and carried them away to the temple. When the doors were opened, we could see Baal sitting there in the darkness. There was a fire inside of him, and his eyes glowed at us. He reached his hands down, and the priests gave him the children, one by one, and he lifted them up and devoured them. It was awful to think of those little children!"
Artemisia listened with an expression of horror on her face.
"I do not see where they are going to get the children now," Thais remarked. "They have all been sent away."
"They are taking the children of the Israelites who remained here," the Syrian explained, "and they say—at least, Mena says—they are going to sacrifice a virgin, too. Ugh! I don't want to see it."
"Little good will it do them!" Thais exclaimed. "Not even Baal can save their city now."
"Hush!" the Syrian said, affrighted. "He is a great God."