There, among the principal votaries of a goddess, the wickedness of
whose worship was a scandal and a by-word even in the ancient world,
walked the woman to whom he felt so strangely drawn and with whom,
if there were any truth in the visions of Issachar and the mysterious
warnings of his own soul, his fate was intertwined. As he thought of it
a sudden revulsion filled his heart. She was wise and beautiful, and she
seemed innocent, but Issachar was right; this girl was the minister of
an abominable creed; nay, for aught he knew, she was herself defiled
with its abominations, and her wisdom but an evil gift from the evil
powers she served. Could he, a prince of the royal blood of the House of
Israel and of the ancient Pharaohs of Khem, desire to have anything to
do with such an one, he a child of the Chosen People, a worshipper of
the true and only God? Yesterday she had thrown a spell upon him, a
spell of black magic, or the spell of her imperial beauty, which, it
mattered not, but to-day he was the lord of his own mind, and would
shake himself free of it and her.
*****
In the market-place below, the Levite Issachar also had watched the
passing of the priests and priestesses of El and Baaltis.
"Tell me, Metem," he asked of the Phoenician who stood beside him, his
head respectfully uncovered, "what mummery is this?"
"It is no mummery, worthy Issachar, but a ceremony of public sacrifice,
which is to be offered in the temple yonder, for the recovery from her
sickness of the Lady Baaltis, the high-priestess.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59