Just then a strange sound echoed far
off among the hills, an unearthly cry that rang high in the air and
struck the dark crags and doubled in the echo and died away in short,
faint pulsations of sound. She started slightly, she had never heard
such a sound before. Again that strange cry rang out and echoed and died
away. Her slave women gathered about her.
"What is it?" asked Nehushta.
"The war cry of the children of Anak is like that," said a little Syrian
maid.
Nehushta pushed the slaves aside and fled towards the palace. The truth
had flashed across her. Some armed force was collecting on the hills to
descend upon the palace. But one thought filled her mind. She must find
Zoroaster and warn him.
Through the garden she ran, and up the broad steps to the portico.
Slaves were moving about under the colonnade, lighting the great torches
that burned there all night. They had not heard the strange cries from
the hills. As she entered the great hall, she heard the cry again.
"Go, my little maid, in one direction and I will go in another, and
search out Zoroaster, the high priest, and bring him.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213