Artemisia made a feeble effort to obey, and Thais felt the arm that she held draw away from her grasp.
"Sorcerer!" she cried desperately, retaining her hold, "she is not willing of her own will. Release her from thy spell!"
"She is willing," Hiram repeated, "and thou shalt see her place herself voluntarily in the hands of the Giver of Life."
He made a slight sign, and the three priests who followed him stepped forward. One of them twisted Thais' hand from Artemisia's arm, retaining her wrist in his clutch, while another seized her on the opposite side, rendering her helpless. The third took Artemisia gently by the hand. She offered no resistance, but suffered herself to be led down the marble stairs with wide-open eyes that seemed to see nothing. Thais followed between her captors. Her face was pale to the lips, and yellow flames danced in her eyes.
"Priest of Baal!" she said, "thou hast shown no mercy and none shalt thou receive—neither thou nor thy God!"
"Blaspheme not," Hiram said; "the vengeance of our Lord is bitter."
"More bitter still shall be the vengeance of men," Thais exclaimed in her despair, "and they are now beating at the walls who shall make thee feel it!"
Hiram made no reply. If he felt a misgiving, his face did not betray it. He led the way with measured tread down the staircase, followed by his two captives and by the guard.
"Artemisia!" Thais cried in anguish, "speak to me!"
Artemisia made no response, nor did she turn her head. It was evident that she had not heard. Laying aside her pride, Thais determined to make a final effort. When they reached the deserted entrance hall, she raised her voice.