Azemilcus walked to the window and stood there leaning against the frame. Day was breaking, sullen and gray, in a wrack of flying clouds, and the uneasy moaning of the sea sounded in his ears.

There Hur and Esmun, panting from their long climb, found him standing.

The prince carried a drawn sword in his hand and he glanced quickly from side to side as he burst into the room. Behind him came Ariston and a guard of twenty or thirty soldiers, headed by one of the generals of the garrison. Hur had expected to find the Greeks. He saw only his father, leaning wearily in the window. He stood abashed, looking at Esmun as if for advice.

The old king remained motionless until all had entered, and then he turned slowly and faced them. The lines of his countenance, deepened by months of anxiety, told of the strain he had passed through, and his shrunken frame seemed aged and feeble in its magnificent robe of state.

His eyes met theirs steadily and frankly, yet with a look of sadness as he gave them his greeting.

"Welcome, my son and gentlemen," he said. "You come early to seek your king; but in these times I know that ceremony must be disregarded.

What news do you bring?"

The authority in his tone and the dignity of his bearing, which most of the men who stood before him had been accustomed from boyhood to respect, had their effect. The soldiers, who knew nothing of the plot, stared wonderingly about them. Ariston had prudently halted near the door, and he now edged still farther into the background.

"Come, gentlemen!" the king said, finding that none replied to his question. "What is the news that brings you hither at this hour? Do not fear to tell me, since it is the lot of kings to share the dangers and sorrows of their people. Have I not done it for nearly fifty years?"

He smiled somewhat sadly and waved his thin hand with a gesture that seemed to dismiss all that he had done for the city as something for which he required no return of gratitude.

"Do not hesitate," he continued, "because you would spare me. It is true that in all that now threatens us I have more to lose than you. I am ready, as you know, to sacrifice even life itself if that would save the city. Is it concerning the offering to Baal-Moloch that you desire to consult me?"

He addressed himself to Esmun, recognizing in the priest the man from whom he had most to fear. He had scarcely glanced at his son, who stood helpless, raging inwardly to find himself presenting the appearance of a culprit caught in some fault, instead of the avenger that he had expected to be. Esmun looked at the prince and saw that nothing was to be expected from him. He took up the situation boldly, relying upon his sacred office to protect him.

"It is true that I wished to consult you concerning the sacrifice to Baal-Moloch, whom I serve," he said, "but we had still another reason for coming. We have been informed that a plot against your life has been conceived. It was told to us that certain Greeks had been brought into the city by the treachery of your enemies, and we made all haste to summon this guard to protect you in case of need. It is said that the assassins are even now in the palace. If anything should happen to your Highness, then, indeed, the city might despair. In guarding thy safety, we guard the safety of all."

The two men looked into each other's eyes. The king read the threat that lay behind Esmun's words and he took up the challenge.

"Why should they seek to destroy a man whose days are fast nearing their close?" he asked. "The death of one of these soldiers would profit them more, since it would leave one less dauntless heart for them to conquer. It seems to me that the alarm is needless, although I thank you for your care; and yet, I will not conceal from you that there may after all be some basis for the story you have heard. Within the week, the crown rubies have been stolen, and it is clear that I have some unfaithful servants. Perhaps they have brought in the Greeks to prevent detection and the punishment they deserve. Search the palace, and if the assassins are found, we will make an example of them."

Esmun's heavy face quivered when the king spoke of the rubies, for his words were accompanied by a look full of significance. He knew that the Greeks were in the city, but the willingness of the king to have the search made indicated that they were no longer in the palace. He racked his brains to think what had become of them.

Ariston slipped out of the door and stole softly down the stairs. The astute Athenian saw that the counterplot had collapsed.

"You, my son, and you, Esmun, will remain with me while the guard makes the search," the king said coolly, "and let us eat, for there is much to be done to-day."

He engaged the priest in talk regarding the details of the sacrifice to Baal while the soldiers dispersed through the palace and slaves brought food. To Hur he did not speak. The general in charge of the guard at last returned, saying that no trace of the presence of strangers in the palace could be discovered. He knew nothing of the secret passages, and the prince did not venture, in his father's presence, to reveal them. Esmun, with the theft of the rubies in his mind, dared not betray his knowledge of their existence.

"It is as I thought," the king said, dismissing the guard. "I thank you for your zeal."

The slaves had already withdrawn, since it was unlawful for any who had not been initiated to be present while the mysteries of the worship of Baal were being discussed.

"You seem downcast, my son!" the king said when he was left alone with Hur and the priest. He took his seat at the table, upon which the food had been placed, and motioned them to a seat opposite to him. "You will never be a king," he continued, "until you learn how to conquer failure. I have noted a certain nervousness in you of late. You should overcome it. Misfortune is half disarmed when you meet her in a cheerful spirit."

Hur let his eyes fall, but he made no reply. Esmun kept his gaze on the king's face.

"Come!" Azemilcus said in the same bantering tone, "you do not eat.

You should leave the welfare of the city to me. You thought you knew, when you did not. You should remember that kings do not always reveal their purposes."

He filled his cup from the great flagon and pushed it toward them.

"Let us drink to the safety of Tyre," he said.

"To that I say amen," Esmun exclaimed, "and may the curse of Baal rest upon all who seek to betray her!"

"So say I--be they high or low!" Hur echoed boldly.

The old king's eyes sparkled and he looked at them with the mocking smile that they knew so well.

"Drink, then!" he said, spilling a few drops from his cup upon the floor as a libation.

The others followed his example, Esmun with a muttered word of invocation, and both drank off what remained. The king was seized by a violent fit of coughing that shook his withered frame and forced him to set his cup down untasted. As he did so Esmun rose to his feet.

The face of the priest was convulsed and purple and his eyes seemed starting from his head. He raised his clenched hands and made a tottering step toward the king as though he would strike him with his fists. He struggled to speak, but no words issued from his throat. He reeled blindly and crashed down across the table like a slain bullock, overturning it in his fall. His eyes rolled up in his head and he lay motionless.

The prince did not rise from his chair, but his fingers gripped convulsively the carved arms of ebony and he writhed in agony.

"Father!" he gasped.

His form stiffened, his head fell back, and a slight foam appeared on his lips.

Azemilcus drew the skirts of his robe around him and stepped carefully across the litter caused by the wreck of the table, with its linen cloth stained in the spilled wine that flowed from the shattered flagon. He walked quietly to the door and vanished between the crimson curtains, leaving the two dead men alone in the room.

CHAPTER XLIV

THE REVOLT OF THE ISRAELITES

While Azemilcus was dealing with his enemies in his own way, the wretched chancellor, shaking in every limb, conducted the Macedonians back through the secret passage by which he had brought them to the presence of the king. Descending the winding stairs, they reached the street level, where the old man opened a hidden door that led into a narrow subterranean gallery. They followed this for what seemed to them a long distance in a stagnant atmosphere, heavy with dampness. It brought them at last to a slab of stone, from which hung a ring of iron.

Chares was forced to exert all his strength to turn this stone upon its pivot. They emerged from the passage into a small room with walls of rough masonry and a door that was closed by a black curtain. At the request of the chancellor, the lamp was extinguished.

"Where are we?" Leonidas demanded.

"In the Temple of Baal," the old man whispered. "This room is little used by the priests. They live on the other side."

The Spartan raised the curtain and looked into the gloomy interior of the temple. It was deserted and silent.

"What shall we do with this man?" he asked, turning to his companions, and indicating the chancellor.

"We have no further use for him," Chares replied, placing his hand suggestively upon his sword-hilt.

"Spare me!" the chancellor cried, falling upon his knees. "I will tell where the rubies are, and a great store of jewels besides. They are under the image of Baal. Do not take my life!"

"He might betray us if we let him go," Leonidas said, paying no attention to his supplications.

"I swear to you on the head of Baal that I will not," the old man cried piteously.

"If he should betray us," Clearchus observed, "his own life would be forfeit, because we should reveal the part he had in bringing us into the city."

"Very well; you have most at stake," the Spartan said. "Let him go."