A HUMAN RAPTOR
There is nothing, as we then saw, servile, debasing in Droman court
ceremonial. The meanest Droman, indeed, would never dream of kneeling
before his queen. A Droman kneels to no man or woman, but to the Deity
only.
The sovereign does not owe her queendom to birth, but to merit, or to
that which the Dromans deem as such. She is chosen, and she is chosen
queen for life, though, if she prove herself unfit for the throne,
the Dromans may remove her. I say she, and I mean she. The Salic law
excluded a woman from the throne of France; the Salic law of Drome
excludes a man; or, as the Dromans are wont to put it. "No man may be
queen." A proposition that even the most Socratical Droman philosopher,
and Drome has had many a one, has never been known to dispute!
As to the choosing of the Droman sovereign, I should perhaps explain
that every one does not have a voice in this. Beggars, prodigals,
sociophagites, dunces, nincompoops, fuddle-caps, half-wits,
no-wit-at-alls, sharpers, crooks, bunko-men, bandits, thieves, robbers,
highwaymen, burglars, crack-pots, fools, madmen and murderers, and some
others, are all (I know that this is perfectly incredible and awful,
but I solemnly assure you that it is a fact) interdicted the ballot.
Alas, it grieves me more than I could ever express to record so sad
an instance of benightment in a people in so many ways so truly
enlightened and broadminded. But I take pride in saying that, when I
had attained to something like a real knowledge of the Droman tongue,
I described to Lathendra Lepraylya herself, at the first opportunity
and in the most glowing and eulogistical language at my command, though
confining myself strictly to the truth, how beautifully we did those
things in the World Above.
I had (yes, I confess it) flattered myself that I would thus be
instrumental in bringing about a great reform, in righting a cruel
injustice. Vain vision, vain alluring dream! As I went on with my
panegyric, I saw wonder and amazement gathering in the beautiful eyes
of Lathendra Lepraylya. When I had finished, she sat for some moments
like one dumfounded. And, when at last she spoke, it was, as old
Rabelais has it, as though her tongue was walking on crutches. What she
said was:
"My Lord, Bill Carter!"
And again after a pause:
"My Lord, Bill Carter!"
At this point I noticed that Milton was smiling at me with great
apparent amusement.
"But, then," Lepraylya added, "it must be an allegory. I confess,
however, that the meaning, to my poor intellect at any rate, is
involved in the deepest obscurity. Yes, an allegory it must be.
Surely this world that you have described to me exists only in the
imagination; surely it is an imaginary world inhabited by imaginary
sane people that are in reality lunatics!"
But this _is_ anticipating.
There we stood before Lathendra Lepraylya, the Queen of Drome.
And what a vision of loveliness was that upon which we stood gazing!
Strange, too, was the beauty of Lathendra Lepraylya, what with her
violet hair. Yes, I wrote violet, and I mean violet. (Her age I put at
about thirty.) The eyes were large and lustrous, were of the lightest
gray, the pallid color of them and the violet of her tresses enhancing
the weird loveliness of her.
With her right hand she held the scepter; one end of it rested upon
the dais, upon the other was a statuette--of Zeeleenoanthelda,
the half-historical, half-mythical first sovereign of Drome. Upon
Lepraylya's brow, in a bejeweled golden diadem, was a large brilliance
of pale green, flashing when she moved her head with prismatic hues and
fires.
But this woman before whom we stood was no mere beauty. That one saw at
the first glance. Wonderful, splendid, one felt, was the mind of her,
the soul of Lathendra Lepraylya.
And not only that, but it was as though there was something uncanny
in those pale gray eyes when she turned them to mine. That look of
Lepraylya's did not meet look; it seemed to go right into my very
brain, to search out its thoughts and its secret places.
At the time it seemed long, but I suppose that no more than a few
seconds passed before she turned her eyes to Milton Rhodes, upon whom
they seemed to linger.
And what were the thoughts of the queen as she saw before her two men
from another world?
We could, of course, only guess.
And here again had superstition and a prophet loaded those dice upon a
throw of which the fate of Milton Rhodes and myself depended; for one
of the prophets had foretold the coming of men from another world--men
who would be the harbingers of fearful calamities for Drome.
The snowy face of the queen was cold, impassive. Even when she slightly
raised her right hand and the scepter to us in salutation, not the
slightest change was perceptible upon a single lineament.
The next moment, however, there was a change--when she addressed
Drorathusa. For each of the others of our little party Lepraylya had a
kind word, and then we all moved back a few steps to the seats which
had been reserved for us, all, that is, save Drorathusa. She, we at
once perceived, was about to give an account of the journey up to the
mysterious, the awful World Above.
There was not a vacant seat in all that great room, save one--that for
Drorathusa. This was a little to the left of the throne, as one faces
it, together with a dozen or so others, all occupied by persons whom I
at once, and rightly, set down as priests and priestesses.
Of this small group (small but very powerful) every member save
one was dressed in a robe of snowy white. As for the individual in
question, his robe was of the deepest purple, and he had round his
head a deep-blue fillet, in which was set a large gem, a diamond as we
afterwards learned, of a red so strange and somber that one could not
help thinking of blood and dreadful things.
We thought that this personage was the high priest, and in this we were
not mistaken. He was about sixty years of age, lean to emaciation and
with the cold, hard look of the fanatic in his eyes and, indeed, in his
every lineament. His face, smooth-shaven, as is the Droman custom, was
like that of some cruel bird of prey. Coldly he received, and returned,
the salutation of Drorathusa, and dark with malevolence had been the
look which he had fixed upon Rhodes and me.
There could not be the slightest doubt that this human raptor purposed
to rend us beak and talon.