The meeting now broke up.

“Where are you going, Malchus?” Giscon asked the lad as they went out into the courtyard; “to see the sacrifices?  You know there is a grand function today to propitiate Moloch and to pray for victory for our arms.”

“No,” Malchus said with a shudder.  “I don’t think I am a coward, Giscon, but these terrible rites frighten me.  I was taken once by my father, and I then swore that never again, unless it be absolutely necessary for me in the performance of public office, will I be present at such a scene.  For weeks afterwards I scarcely slept; day and night there was before me that terrible brazen image of Moloch.  If I fell off to sleep, I woke bathed in perspiration as I heard the screams of the infants as they were dropped into those huge hands, heated to redness, stretched out to receive them.  I cannot believe, Giscon, that the gods are so cruel.

“Then there was the slaughter of a score of captives taken in war.  I see them now, standing pale and stern, with their eyes directed to the brazen image which was soon to be sprinkled with their blood, while the priests in their scarlet robes, with the sacrificial knives in hand, approached them.  I saw no more, for I shut my eyes till all was over.  I tell you again, Giscon, I do not believe the gods are so cruel.  Why should the gods of Phoenicia and Carthage alone demand blood?  Those of Greece and Rome are not so bloodthirsty, and yet Mars gives as many victories to the Roman arms as Moloch does to ours.”

“Blaspheme not the gods, Malchus,” Giscon said gloomily; “you may be sure that the wreath of a conquering general will never be placed around your brow if you honour them not.”

“If honouring them means approval of shedding the blood of infants and captives, I will renounce all hopes of obtaining victory by their aid.”

“I would you had spoken so before, Malchus; had I known that you were a scorner of the gods I would not have asked you to join in our enterprise.  No good fortune can be expected to attend our efforts unless we have the help of the gods.”

“The matter is easily mended, Giscon,” Malchus said calmly.  “So far I have taken no step towards carrying out your plans, and have but listened to what you said, therefore, no harm can yet have been done.  Strike my name off the list, and forget that I have been with you.  You have my oath that I will say nought of anything that I have heard.  You can well make some excuse to your comrades.  Tell them, for example, that though I fear not for myself, I thought that, being the son of Hamilcar, I had no right to involve his name and family in such an enterprise, unless by his orders.”

“Yes, it were better so,” Giscon said after a pause; “I dare not continue the enterprise with one who condemns the gods among us; it would be to court failure.  I did not dream of this; who could have thought that a lad of your age would have been a spurner of the gods?”