Sounds of commotion and of hurried footsteps in the lower halls of the house interrupted them. Thais listened.
"Go and see what it is," she commanded.
The Syrian went, and in a moment came flying back into the room with terror on her face.
"Oh, my mistress!" she cried. "Why did you speak so of Moloch? His priests are in the house! Save us!"
"Silence!" Thais exclaimed, rising to her feet. "You shall not be harmed."
She raised her head proudly and faced the doorway, while the slave women huddled behind her with frightened eyes. Artemisia stood beside her, trying to emulate her courage; but a strange sinking laid hold upon her heart, and a mist swam before her eyes.
There was a rush of feet outside, and four black-robed men, followed by a guard of soldiers, entered. Their leader was a man of stern and grave expression, whose eyes seemed to glow in his pale face with the power of his compelling will. He was Hiram, who had been chosen hastily to act as chief priest when Esmun failed to return from the royal palace. His ascetic countenance contrasted strongly with the gross faces of his followers, brutalized by self-indulgence. The other priests both feared and hated him, for it was said that Baal had endowed him with powers that were beyond the understanding of man.
"What seek ye here?" Thais demanded, flashing a haughty glance at the zealot.
He paid no heed to her and made no answer. His dark eyes caught those of her companion and held them.
"Artemisia!" he said, in a solemn voice that sounded like a summons, "our Lord, Baal-Moloch, the Saviour, awaits thee! Come with us to his temple."