When he arose in the morning he found that his own clothing had been
replaced by silken garments fashioned as were Ai’s with the addition of
golden clasps and belts. In place of his revolver was a jewelled dagger
literally encrusted with gems.
After the bath and breakfast, Ai entered the room with his noiseless
tread, and when the greetings had been said, invited him to go with
him to visit the public buildings and works of Telassar. With a swift,
phantomlike movement, Ai escorted his guest to the farther end of the
great hall. Throwing aside a curtain of rich topaz silk which draped
the large entrance doors he ushered him into another apartment opening
out on a terrace with a garden at its foot--a garden where a marvellous
profusion of flowers and foliage ran riot amid sparkling fountains and
gleaming statuary.
Through a broad alley, lined with majestic palms, they passed to the
extreme end of the terrace, and turning faced the building from which
they had just issued. A smile quivered for a moment on Ai’s face
as he noted Reuel’s ill-concealed amazement. He stood for a moment
stock-still, overcome with astonishment at the size and splendor of the
palace that had sheltered him over night. The building was dome-shaped
and of white marble, surrounded by fluted columns, and fronted by
courts where fountains dashed their spray up to the blue sky, and
flowers blushed in myriad colors and birds in gorgeous plumage flitted
from bough to bough.
It appeared to Reuel that they were on the highest point of what might
be best described as a horse-shoe curve whose rounded end rested on the
side of a gigantic mountain. At their feet stretched a city beautiful,
built with an outer and inner wall. They were in the outer city. Two
streams descended like cataracts to the plain below, at some distance
from each other, forming a triangle which held another city. Far in
the distance like a silver thread, he could dimly discern where the
rivers joined, losing themselves in union. As he gazed he recalled the
description of the treasure city that Professor Stone had read to the
explorers.
As far as the eye could reach stretched fertile fields; vineyards
climbed the mountain side. Again Reuel quoted Milton in his thoughts,
for here was the very embodiment of his words:
“Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose,
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall
Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake,
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown’d
Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.
The birds their choir apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves, while universal Pan,
Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,
Led on th’ eternal spring.”
Far below he could dimly discern moving crowds; great buildings reared
their stately heads towards a sky so blue and bewildering beneath
the sun’s bright rays that the gazer was rendered speechless with
amazement. Shadowy images of past scenes and happenings flitted across
his brain like transient reflection of a past perfectly familiar to him.
“Do you find the prospect fair?” asked Ai at length, breaking the
settled silence.
“Fairer than I can find words to express; and yet I am surprised to
find that it all seems familiar to me, as if somewhere in the past I
had known just such a city as this.”
Ai smiled a smile of singular sweetness and content; Reuel could have
sworn that there was a degree of satisfaction in his pleasure.
“Come, we will go down into the city. You who know the wonders of
modern life at its zenith, tell me what lesson you learn from the
wonders of a civilization which had its zenith six thousand years
before Christ’s birth.”
“Six thousand years before Christ!” murmured Reuel in blank stupidity.
“Aye; here in Telassar are preserved specimens of the highest
attainments the world knew in ancient days. They tell me that in many
things your modern world is yet in its infancy.”
“How!” cried Reuel, “do you then hold communion with the world outside
your city?”
“Certain members of our Council are permitted to visit outside the
gates. Do you not remember Ababdis?”
“Our camel-driver?”
Ai bowed. “He is the member who brought us news of your arrival, and
the intention of the expedition to find our city for the sake of its
treasure.”
More and more mystified by the words and manner of his guide, Reuel
made no reply. Presently they entered a waiting palanquin and were
borne swiftly toward the city. The silken curtains were drawn one side,
and he could drink in the curious sights. They soon left the country
behind them and entered a splendid square, where stately homes were
outlined against the dense blue of the sky. A statue of an immense
sphinx crouched in the center of the square, its giant head reaching
far into the ethereal blue. Fountains played on either side, dashing
their silvery spray beyond the extreme height of the head. Under
umbrageous trees were resting-places, and on the sphinx was engraved
the words: “That which hath been, is now; and that which is to be, hath
already been; and God requireth that which is past.”
Suddenly a crowd of men surged into the square, and a deep-toned bell
sounded from a distance. Swiftly sped the bearers, urged forward by the
general rush. The booming of the bell continued. They reached the end
of the avenue and entered a side street, through a court composed of
statues. They paused before a stately pile, towering in magnificence
high in the heavens, a pile of marvellously delicate architecture
worked in stone. The entrance was of incomparable magnificence. Reuel
judged that the four colossal statues before it represented Rameses the
Great. They were each sculptured of a single block of Syene granite of
mingled red and black. They were seated on cubical stones. The four
Colosses sitting there before that glittering pile produced a most
imposing effect.
The steps of the temple were strewn with flowers; the doors stood open,
and music from stringed instruments vibrated upon the air. The bearers
stopped at a side entrance, and at a sign from Ai, Reuel followed him
into the edifice.
All was silence, save for the distant hum of voices, and the faint
sound of music. They halted before a curtain which parted silently for
their entrance. It was a small room, but filled with a light of soft
colors; when Reuel could command his gaze, he beheld about twenty
men prostrated before him. Presently they arose and each filed past
him, reverently touching the hem of his white robe. Among them was
Ababdis, so transformed by his gorgeous robes of office as to be almost
unrecognizable.
Ai now assumed an azure robe embroidered in silver stars and crescents
that formed a sunburst in shape of a Grecian cross. He then advanced
towards Reuel bearing on a silken cushion a magnificent crown, where
the principal aigrette was shaped as a cross set with gems priceless in
value. Astounded at the sight, the young man stood motionless while it
was adjusted by golden chains about his head. The gems blazed with the
red of the ruby, the green of the emerald, the blue of the sapphire,
the yellow of the topaz, the cold white of priceless diamonds. But
dulling all the glories of precious stones, peerless in their own
class, lay the center ornament--the black diamond of Senechus’s crown,
spoken of in Professor Stone’s record. A white robe of silken stuff
was added to his costume, and again his companions filed past him in
deepest reverence. Reuel was puzzled to understand why so great homage
was paid to him. While he turned the thought in his mind, a bugle
sounded somewhere in the distance, sweet and high. Instantly, he felt
a gliding motion as if the solid earth were slipping from beneath his
feet, the curtains before him parted silently, and he found himself
alone on a raised platform in the center of a vast auditorium, crowded
with humanity. Lights twinkled everywhere; there was the fragrance of
flowers, there were columns of marble draped in amber, azure and green,
and glittering lamps encrusted with gems and swung by golden chains
from the sides of the building. A blazing arch formed of brilliant
lamps raised like a gigantic bow in the heavens and having in its
center the words
“HAIL! ERGAMENES!”
in letters of sparkling fire, met his startled gaze. Then came a
ringing shout from the throats of the assembled multitude, “Ergamenes!
Ergamenes!” Again and again the throng lifted up the joyous cry.
Presently as Reuel stood there undecided what to do--not knowing what
was expected of him, as silently as he had come, he felt the motion of
the platform where he stood. The crowd faded from sight, the curtains
fell; once more he stood within the little room, surrounded by his
companions.
“Ababdis, Ai,” he demanded, sternly, “What is the meaning of this
strange happening, more like a scene from the Arabian Nights? Who is
Ergamenes?”
“Thou art Ergamenes--the long-looked-for king of Ethiopia, for whose
reception this city was built! But we will return to the palace, now
that the people have satisfied somewhat their curiosity. At supper you
shall know more.”
Once more the bearers carried them swiftly beyond the confines of
the city, and soon the palace walls rose before them. Reuel had
hardly collected his scattered wits before he found himself seated at
table and on either side of the board the Council reclined on silken
cushions. His own seat was raised and placed at the head of the table.
There was no talking done while what seemed to be a solemn feast was
in progress. Servants passed noiselessly to and fro attending to their
wants, while from an alcove the music of stringed instruments and
sweetest vocal numbers was borne to their ears.
After supper, they still reclined on the couches. Then from the hidden
recesses the musicians came forth, and kneeling before Reuel, one began
a song in blank verse, telling the story of Ergamenes and his kingdom.
“Hail! oh, hail, Ergamenes!
The dimmest sea-cave below thee,
The farthest sky-arch above,
In their innermost stillness know thee,
And heave with the birth of Love.
All hail!
We are thine, all thine, forevermore;
Not a leaf on the laughing shore,
Not a wave on the heaving sea,
Nor a single sigh
In the boundless sky,
But is vowed evermore to thee!”
“Son of a fallen dynasty, outcast of a sunken people, upon your breast
is a lotus lily, God’s mark to prove your race and descent. You,
Ergamenes, shall begin the restoration of Ethiopia. Blessed be the name
of God for ever and ever, for wisdom and might are His, and He changeth
the times and seasons; He removeth kings and countries, and setteth
them up again; He giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them
that know understanding! He revealeth the deep and secret things; He
knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with Him!
“Great were the sins of our fathers, and the white stranger was to
Ethiopia but a scourge in the hands of an offended God. The beautiful
temples of Babylon, filled with vessels of silver and gold, swelled
the treasures of the false god Bel. Babylon, where our monarchs dwelt
in splendor, once the grandest city to be found in the world. Sixty
miles round were its walls, of prodigious height, and so broad that
seven chariots could be driven abreast on the summit! One hundred
gates of solid brass gave entrance into the city, guarded by lofty
towers. Beautiful buildings rose within, richly adorned and surrounded
by gardens. One magnificent royal palace was girdled by three walls,
the outermost of which was seven miles and a half in compass. In its
grounds rose the far-famed hanging gardens, terraces built one above
another to the height of three hundred and fifty feet, each terrace
covered with thick mould, and planted with flowers and shrubs, so
that the skill of man created a verdant hill on a plain. Nearly in
the centre rose the lofty temple of Belus, the tower of Babel, whose
builders had hoped to make its summit touch the very skies. Millions
of dollars in gold were gathered in the chambers of the temple. The
wealth, power and glory of the world were centered in the mighty city
of Babylon.
“On the throne of this powerful city sat your forefathers, O Ergamenes!”
Part of the story had been given in recitative, one rich voice carrying
grandly the monotonous notes to the accompaniment of the cornet, flute,
sackbut, dulcimer and harp. Reuel had listened to the finest trained
voices attempting the recitative in boasted musical circles, but never
in so stately and impressive a manner as was now his privilege to hear.
They continued the story.
“And Meroe, the greatest city of them all, pure-blooded Ethiopian. Once
the light of the world’s civilization, now a magnificent Necropolis.
“Standing at the edge of the Desert, fertile in soil, rich in the
luxuries of foreign shores; into her lap caravans poured their
treasures gathered from the North, South, East and West. All Africa
poured into this queenly city ivory, frankincense and gold. Her
colossal monuments were old before Egypt was; her wise men monopolized
the learning of the ages, and in the persons of the Chaldeans have
figured conspicuously the wisdom of ages since Meroe has fallen.
“Mother of ancient warfare, her horsemen and chariots were the wonder
and terror of her age; from the bows of her warriors, the arrows sped
like a flight of birds, carrying destruction to her foes,--a lamb in
peace, a lion in time of war.”
Once more the measure changed, and another voice took up the story in
verse.
“Who will assume the bays
That the hero wore?
Wreaths on the Tomb of Days
Gone evermore!
Who shall disturb the brave
Or one leaf of their holy grave?
The laurel is vow’d to them,
Leave the bay on its sacred stem!
But hope, the rose, the unfading rose,
Alike for slave and freeman grows!
“On the summit, worn and hoary,
Of Libya’s solemn hills,
The tramp of the brave is still!
And still is the poisoned dart,
In the pulse of the mighty hearts,
Whose very blood was glory!
“Who will assume the bays
That the hero wore?
Wreaths on the Tomb of Days
Gone evermore!”
Upon Reuel a strange force seemed working. If what he heard were true,
how great a destiny was his! He had carefully hidden his Ethiopian
extraction from the knowledge of the world. It was a tradition among
those who had known him in childhood that he was descended from a
race of African kings. He remembered his mother well. From her he had
inherited his mysticism and his occult powers. The nature of the mystic
within him was, then, but a dreamlike devotion to the spirit that had
swayed his ancestors; it was the shadow of Ethiopia’s power. The lotus
upon his breast he knew to be a birthmark. Many a night he had been
aroused from childhood’s slumbers, to find his mother bending above
him, candle in hand, muttering broken sentences of prayer to Almighty
God as she examined his bosom by the candle’s rays. He had wondered
much; now he guessed the rest. Once more the clanging strings of the
instruments chained his attention. The recitative was resumed.
“The Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to
whomsoever He will. He delivereth and rescueth, and He worketh signs
and wonders in heaven and in earth. Pre-eminent in peace, invincible
in war--once the masters of mankind, how have we fallen from our high
estate!
“Stiff-necked, haughty, no conscience but that of intellect, awed
not by God’s laws, worshipping Mammon, sensual, unbelieving, God has
punished us as he promised in the beginning. Gone are our ancient
glories, our humbled pride cries aloud to God in the travail of
our soul. Our sphinx, with passionless features, portrays the dumb
suffering of our souls.
“Their look, with the reach of past ages, was wise,
And the soul of eternity thought in their eyes.
“By divine revelation David beheld the present time, when, after
Christ’s travail for the sins of humanity, the time of Ethiopia’s
atonement being past, purged of idolatry, accepting the One Only
God through His Son Jesus, suddenly should come a new birth to the
descendants of Ham, and Ethiopia should return to her ancient glory!
Ergamenes, all hail!
“You come from afar
From the land of the stranger,
The dreadful in war,
The daring in danger;
Before him our plain
Like Eden is lying;
Behind him remain
But the wasted and dying.
“The weak finds not ruth,
Nor the patriot glory;
No hope for the youth,
And no rest for the hoary;
O’er Ethiop’s lost plains
The victor’s sword flashes,
Her sons are in chains,
And her temples in ashes!
“Who will assume the bays
That the hero wore?
Wreaths on the Tomb of Days
Gone evermore!”
Upon his companions the song of the past of Ethiopia had a strange
effect. Soothing at times, at times exciting, with the last notes
from the instruments the company sprang to their feet; with flashing
dark eyes, faces reflecting inward passions, they drew their short,
sabrelike arms and circled about Reuel’s throne with the shout
“Ergamenes! Ergamenes!”