Faintly through the thick walls she could hear the sound of
the evening chant. The priests were all within with Zoroaster,
unconscious of their danger. Nehushta tried the door. The great bronze
gates were locked, and though she pushed with her whole strength, they
would not move a hair's breadth.
"Press the nail nearest the middle," said a small voice. Nehushta
started. It was the little Syrian slave. She put her hand upon the round
head of the nail and pressed. The door opened, turning noiselessly upon
its hinges. The seventy priests, in even rank, stood round. Solemnly the
chant rose round the sacred fire upon the black stone altar. Zoroaster
stood before it, his hands lifted in prayer. But Nehushta with a sudden
cry broke their melody.
"Zoroaster--fly--there is yet time! The enemy are come in thousands;
they are in the palace. There is barely time!"
The high priest turned calmly, his face unmoved, although the priests
ceased their chanting and gathered about their chief in fear. As their
voices ceased, a low roar was heard from without as though the ocean
were beating at the gates.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216