“It is risky. I am not fond of taking chances.”

“Without risk there is no gain, my friend. And as you yourself have said, you have no choice. I tell you, this upstart King means to pull down the High Temple and drive out the priests. With every passing day the King’s Temple grows; when it is done, yours will be destroyed.”

“Still, would he dare? It would inflame the people against him. I would see to that.”

“He dares all things in the name of this god of his. He must be dealt with at once. Too long have you hidden beneath your robes of office. Wait any longer and it will be too late.”

“Yes, yes. So you say.” Pluell looked at his guest sharply. “I do not like this King at all, and I do not fear him. The sanctity and authority of the High Temple must be preserved. When and where do we begin?”

Nimrood smiled expansively. “I will choose the time and the place. Leave all to me. But I will need six of your temple guard-six who know how to obey and to keep secrets concealed.”

“You shall have them. What else?”

“Nothing, for now.” Nimrood stood slowly. “Only a place to rest and a morsel to eat. Then I will be on my way.”

“Very well. Tell the priest waiting outside what you require. He will arrange everything for you. I will go and choose the men who are to accompany you.”

Nimrood dipped his head and then went out. The High Priest sat for a moment in his chair, still staring blankly into the shadows. Then he drew his robes close around as a chill shivered through him, for the room had grown quite cold.

The afternoon sun shone a hazy gold as it sank below the green, tree-lined hills. The road bent down into low valleys, sinking into cool shadow. On the crest of the hill the small traveling party stopped.

“Yonder lies Askelon my Lady,” said Wilkins, one of Lady Esme’s traveling companions, “and a fair sight it is.”