Carthage (Extinct city) -- History -- Fiction; Historical fiction
At first he tottered, then his eye rapidly sought for Schahabarim. But
the priest of Tanith had alone remained in his place; and Hamilcar could
see only his lofty cap in the distance. All were sneering in his face.
In proportion as his anguish increased their joy redoubled, and those
who were behind shouted amid the hootings:
“He was seen coming out of her room!”
“One morning in the month of Tammouz!”
“It was the thief who stole the zaïmph!”
“A very handsome man!”
“Taller than you!”
He snatched off the tiara, the ensign of his rank—his tiara with its
eight mystic rows, and with an emerald shell in the centre—and with
both hands and with all his strength dashed it to the ground; the golden
circles rebounded as they broke, and the pearls rang upon the pavement.
Then they saw a long scar upon the whiteness of his brow; it moved like
a serpent between his eyebrows; all his limbs trembled. He ascended one
of the lateral staircases which led on to the altar, and walked upon
the latter! This was to devote himself to the god, to offer himself as
a holocaust. The motion of his mantle agitated the lights of the
candelabrum, which was lower than his sandals, and the fine dust raised
by his footsteps surrounded him like a cloud as high as the waist. He
stopped between the legs of the brass colossus. He took up two handfuls
of the dust, the mere sight of which made every Carthaginian shudder
with horror, and said:
“By the hundred torches of your Intelligences! by the eight fires of
the Kabiri! by the stars, the meteors, and the volcanoes! by everything
that burns! by the thirst of the desert and the saltness of the ocean!
by the cave of Hadrumetum and the empire of Souls! by extermination! by
the ashes of your sons and the ashes of the brothers of your ancestors
with which I now mingle my own!—you, the Hundred of the Council of
Carthage, have lied in your accusation of my daughter! And I, Hamilcar
Barca, marine Suffet, chief of the rich and ruler of the people, in the
presence of bull-headed Moloch, I swear”—they expected something
frightful, but he resumed in a loftier and calmer tone—“that I will
not even speak to her about it!”
The sacred servants entered wearing their golden combs, some with purple
sponges and others with branches of palm. They raised the hyacinth
curtain which was stretched before the door; and through the opening of
this angle there was visible behind the other halls the great pink
sky which seemed to be a continuation of the vault and to rest at
the horizon upon the blue sea. The sun was issuing from the waves and
mounting upwards. It suddenly struck upon the breast of the brazen
colossus, which was divided into seven compartments closed by gratings.
His red-toothed jaws opened in a horrible yawn; his enormous nostrils
were dilated, the broad daylight animated him, and gave him a terrible
and impatient aspect, as if he would fain have leaped without to mingle
with the star, the god, and together traverse the immensities.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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