not shape in words; they wept, they shouted, they prophesied, and over
them swept ever the witchery of her wonderful voice, preaching
impiety--the worship of Seraiah!

Philadelphus looked at this frantic work with a creeping chill. He
knew the sorceress. Salome of Ephesus, who could send the sated
theaters wild with her appeal to their senses, had found enchantment
of a half-mad city not hard. Aside from the impiety, in fear of which
his own irreligious spirit stood, he saw suddenly opened to him the
immense scope of her influence. Not Simon, not John, not Titus, had
discovered the logical appeal to the city's unbalanced impulses. But
the reckless woman, robing herself in the ancient garb of the days to
which the citizens would revert, assuming the pose of a woman they had
sanctified, preaching the dogma they would hear, showing them the sign
that helped them most, held Jerusalem, at least for that hour, in her
hands.

He realized at once that to attempt to denounce her would expose him
to destruction at the wolfish hands of the frenzied mob. There were
not soldiers enough in the city to destroy her influence, for she had
achieved in her followers that infatuation that goes down to death
before it relinquishes its conviction. Her control was complete.
Seraiah was the anointed one, but the prophetess, the instigator, the
founder of the worship, as follows in all apostasies, was the final
recipient of the benefits of that devotion.

Philadelphus walked away from the sight of Salome's triumph. He had
surrendered instantly his hope of regaining the treasure. The whole of
mad Jerusalem had ranged itself with her to protect it. And Laodice
was not yet found.

Chapter XX

AS THE FOAM UPON WATER

The madness on Jerusalem poured like an overwhelming flood into the
cavern under the ruin of the Herodian palaces. There was Hesper, with
most of his Gibborim gathered, preparing to proceed to the defense of
the First Wall in Akra against which the Roman would hurl himself in
the morning.

For days he had controlled his men only by the force of his fierce
will. Restlessness, little short of turbulence, had changed his six
hundred from earnest recruits to bright-eyed, contentious,
irresponsible enthusiasts whom only intimidation could manage. They
seemed to be balanced, prepared, ready at the least whisper in the
wind to scatter madly, each in his own direction, after a vagary,
albeit the end were destruction.

Throu