BATTLE ON LATMOS
At the opening of the passage into the cave the way was scarcely wide
enough for two men to enter abreast. Farther in, where the entrance
curved, it was narrower yet. There Minos elected to meet the attackers.
He ordered the other men into the cave, whither Patrymion went sorely
against his will.
"Art not going to take all the sport to thyself, king, I hope?" he
asked. "I would make claim to a share in it."
"Thou shalt have it, and to spare, my lad," said Minos comfortingly.
"No one of us will have complaint for lack of fighting while yonder red
robe flameth in the valley."
As he spoke the king backed into the cave-passage and took position at
the first turn, crouching low behind his shield. "Stand thou behind me
here," he directed the boy, "and into thy keeping I commend any who may
pass me." The king and the boy took their places.
The spearsmen of Analos, fully two hundred strong, poured over the
little plateau on which the cave fronted. With a rush and yell they
came, but found no foe to fight. Only the dark riff in the rock yawned
silently before them. Strain their eyes as they might, they could not
see what danger lay in wait for them within.
After a brief conference they decided to force the entrance, for
Sardanians, when not arrayed against their own superstitions, were
not cowards. Two by two, for the way was narrow, they crept into the
passageway. Those foremost proceeded cautiously, and with their spear
points well advanced.
In this warfare all the advantage lay with Minos. The besiegers could
not see him, but from his position they were outlined against what
light there was without the cave, and the king could see them well.
So it was that groping forward the spears of the first two of the
attacking party clanged against something that was not rock. A flash
in the dusk before them, a whine in the air, where the sword of Minos
sang as it flew and two of the warriors of Analos were out of the fight
forever.
Behind them their companions sprang to their feet and thrust
desperately with their spears. So straight was the way that there was
little room for spear play. Thrust and cast alike fell on the rocky
wall or the shield of the king. Out of the darkness the strongest arm
in all Sardanes swung unceasingly, dealing blows that none could see or
parry.
The passage became hideous with cries and groans. Only Minos fought in
grim silence. At his shoulder young Patrymion stood and laughed aloud
at death unloosed.
Presently the king found his blows falling on empty air. Convinced that
this method of battle was of small avail, the priest's men withdrew
from the cave, dragging with them the fallen. They carried eight men
down the steep sides of Latmos, to be sent to the Gateway, and five
others were so sorely smitten by the blade that guarded the narrow way
that they were little better than corpses.
"Now, let us out, master, and fall on them from behind," said Zalos.
"One good charge may break their spirit."
Minos shook his head. "Nay, Zalos, we fight not save to defend
ourselves. This slaughter of my people doth grieve me much. Would that
'twere at an end!"
"In verity, if thou grievest over long in thy present fashion, there
will be none left in Sardanes to withstand thee," put in Patrymion. "At
least let me go forth and hunt the high priest. With him dead, the rest
are easily managed."
"Nay, he shall not be slain, and there's an end," said Minos sternly.
"He hath coupled his mad talk to these strange manifestations in
Sardanes, and so brought about all the trouble that is on foot. His
death now will mend matters but little, for he hath done his damage
among the people. When things right themselves once more (if, indeed,
they ever do come aright), it is my will that he be living witness to
his own confusion."
"Have they gone, or do they still watch, I wonder?" said Patrymion. He
turned the passage and walked boldly to the entrance. Scarcely had he
reached it when a spear whizzed by his ear and splintered on the rock
wall. He picked the shattered weapon up with a laugh. "We are still
watched," he said, as he bore it back into the cave.
Below in the hall of the Judgment House the stroke of the great drum
echoed through the valley, giving notice of the passing of another
day--a day fuller of events in Sardanes than any since Polaris of the
Snows had fought his great fight on the crater-rim and struck out for
the unknown North.
Through the sleeping hours a watchful hunter stood guard at the turn
in the cave-passage, but no attempt was made to surprise the besieged.
They ate from the store of grain in the cave and took what rest they
could, undisturbed. With cloths from the king's chests the hunters
curtained off a section of the cave for the Lady Memene, and thither
she withdrew in silence, to sit with wakeful eyes through half the
slumber hours.
On the morrow there was little rest for any. Within an hour of the
first drum-stroke, the clamor of fighting men rang through the cave
once more.
Again Minos took up the tale, but he found his foes more wary. Not
again would they rush blindly the narrow way and the singing sword.
They built a big wood fire at the edge of the plateau, in such a
position that its flames cast their light into the passage. Six of
their strongest warriors charged the cave-mouth. Four of them engaged
the battling giant with their spears. The other two, on hands and
knees, endeavored to creep under his guard, and got near enough to pull
him down.
Straightway the Lord Patrymion went down on all fours, and with a spear
in either hand fought between the knees of the king. As he fought,
he taunted the attackers with mocking jests more bitter than the
spear-thrusts. With his legs guarded, the strength of Minos was more
than the strength of six. Of those who charged, only two reached the
outer plateau alive.
* * * * *
In the respite the king turned and became aware of the Lady Memene.
Shrouded in her long cloak, she stood against the wall of the passage,
almost at his shoulder. She had watched the fighting with kindling
eyes, but when Minos turned to look at her, she assumed again the
mantle of indifference. Only behind the folds of her cloak one of her
little feet was tapping, tapping on the rocky floor.
"Lady Memene, I pray thee, go within. Here is no place for thee," the
king said. "A chance spear might pass this guard of mine, and then were
all of Minos's fighting of no avail."
Wordless, she turned away and disappeared among the shadows.
Time after time the Sardanians, in stubborn fury, charged the
cave-mouth. They fetched ladders from the valley, erected them against
the cliff-face at the sides of the fissure, where the wall rose too
sheer for a foothold otherwise. From the ladders, spearsmen leaped
down, essaying to overwhelm the guardians of the pass and bear them
down. But Minos drew back to where the closing roof of the entrance
defended him from their attempts, and men who fell found the great
sword and the keen spears of Patrymion and Zalos always waiting.
But one man, however brave and strong, cannot fight an army. Slowly,
very slowly, the warriors of the priest tired that mighty sword-arm,
although the dauntless spirit behind it flagged not. Again and again
the rock passage was choked with dead and dying. Its floor ran red with
blood. As often, the besiegers dragged the bodies of their comrades
forth and renewed the struggle with fresh men. The champions of the god
showed a fighting will even with that of Minos, laying on for his own
head and his dear lady.
At last the king, sorely wearied, and wounded, although but slightly,
in a score of places, yielded his place to Zalos and the Lord
Patrymion. The lad took the shield of the king, and knelt with his
spear at the turn of the passage. Behind him the stout captain plied a
ponderous woodsman's ax with both hands, and the battle went on.
An unexpected circumstance ended the conflict. Several of the
Sardanians on the cliffside with their long ladders discovered a ledge
some forty feet above the opening into the cave and scrambled to it. On
the ledge lay a number of large boulders, masses that had rolled down
and rested there perhaps an age before.
With much labor and prying with spear-hafts, the men brought down
several of the smaller rocks to the lip of the ledge. Poising one of
them where, as nearly as they could judge, it would fall straight into
the passage below, they waited for a lull in the fight. When they saw
the pass clear of their fellows, they loosed the big stone with a shout.
Down it crashed, but, aimed too far to the left, missed the cleft and
struck on the cliff-face with such force that a part of it flew to
splinters. The main mass bounded through the air, struck again at the
edge of the plateau, and thundered down the slope, carrying three of
Analos's fighting men with it.
Unheeding the cries of their fellows from below to desist, the men on
the ledge poised another boulder with better aim. It smashed into the
rock corridor so near to the turn that the wind from it blew hard in
the face of the Lord Patrymion, looking forth, and it struck the spear
from his grasp and shattered it.
Up sprang the lad with a loud laugh.
"Now there's an end to this pleasant business of fighting," he said to
Zalos, and pointed to the fallen rock. It lay wedged in the passage,
jammed against the sides, and breast high, a natural barrier, stronger
than the shield of Minos. One active man might hold the pass against
any number, as long as he held strength to thrust, for room was left
for but one man to pass over the rock at a time, and in no position for
fighting.
Outside the plateau the Sardanians also had seen this new guardian in
the narrow way, and reviled their fellows on the ledge for their lack
of thought.
Nevertheless, they made one more attempt. They fetched up the slope
a long and heavy timber of hymanan wood. Fixing an ilium-bar the
thickness of two spear-hafts across the crevice, they slung the beam
from it with a stout rope. Twenty men then seized the bar and swung the
battering-ram against the boulder until they were weary. Every blow did
but fix the rock firmer. All efforts to ram it in to where it might
fall into the wider portion of the passage failed. They gave it up.
"Here we may stay now until we be old and gray-headed, Zalos," said
Patrymion ruefully. "There can be no more fighting worth the telling.
They cannot come at us. A puny girl could withstand them all here." He
peered over the rock. "Aye, they know it, the rogues, and are going.
'Twill be but poor sport here." To himself he added: "I know a better,
even though it lasteth but a few moments. What's the odds?"
Carried away by the love of fighting, a madness seemed to seize the
lad. He let fall the shield of Minos, caught Zalos's ax from his hand,
and before any man could hinder, he leaped over the rock.
"'Tis a pretty weapon," he called back over his shoulder to the hunter,
and shook the ax aloft. "I will use it well." He ran out across the
plateau singing loudly.
Unmindful of the danger, the hunter captain clambered over the rock to
follow him. It was too late. For an instant Zalos saw the lad outlined
clearly in the glare from the fire on the plateau, swinging the great
ax with both hands. Then the spearsmen closed in on him from all sides.
Four men he felled with four lightning strokes, and went down, dying as
he had lived, with careless song on his lips, making a jest of death
itself.
A storm of spears fell about the hunter as he emerged into the light,
and he was fain to scramble back into the passage and over the rock to
save his own skin.
Utterly exhausted, Minos, when he left the battle, had entered the cave
and thrown himself on a couch to regain breath and strength for further
combat. His hunters dressed his wounds and chafed his numbed sword-arm.
First to reach him with water and bandages was Memene, but when she saw
that his injuries were light and that he was merely tired, she gave way
to the men and went back to her carved chair. But as she sat, one of
her feet was ever tapping softly.
After a time came Zalos, and told his story to the king. Minos stood up
and called for wine. When the beaker was fetched, he bowed low toward
the rocky entrance, raising one hand in silent salute, and drank.
"To whom dost thou drink a toast, King Minos?" asked the girl, who
noted all with curious eyes.
"To a brave man gone from among us," he replied gravely; "to a very
brave man, to the Lord Patrymion."
* * * * *
Around the rocky headland, and into the cove swung the _Minnetonka_.
The cove afforded the cruiser a safe harbor, storm-protected and free
from ice. Down swung the boats from their davits, filled with eager
men. For the first time shouting American sailors set foot on the shore
where, more than two thousand years before, the little band of Achaeans
had left the wreck of their ancient trireme, and pushed on into the
unknown wilderness to find and people Sardanes.
Scoland, from the wireless room on the cruiser's deck, released the
electric current that sent a splitting, chattering call out along the
air-waves to the north. Nor was that call long unanswered.
Loaded with supplies and coal, the staunch old ship _Felix_, which
Scoland had commanded on his previous polar dash, had left America
before the _Minnetonka_. The faster cruiser had passed the _Felix_ on
the sea-road, but she had toiled sturdily along, and was now in harbor
at the upper end of Ross Sea to wait what might befall; the _Felix_ and
her wireless constituted the one link that joined the Sardanian relief
expedition to the outer world.
In the second boat to the shore went Polaris Janess and his dogs.
The son of the snows was moccasined and furred, and ready to try
conclusions with the worst that the white wildernesses had to put forth
against him, the wildernesses that once had been his home. He wore the
garments of white bearskin that had kept the warmth in his body in his
great dash to the north.
His hair of red-gold had now grown long and hung again to his
shoulders. Except that time and the perils through which he had passed
had marked his face a thought more grave, he was the same indomitable
young man who once had fought his way across the drift-ice in this
selfsame cove, when the fiends from the sea deeps, the killer whales,
had striven in vain to make a meal of him, and his Rose maid had stood
on the snowy shore and called encouragement to him in his fight.
Beside Polaris in the boat was seated the short, wide figure of Zenas
Wright. His white hair shone from under a shapeless cap of lynx fur
from the Hudson Bay country. He was buttoned to the ears in a suit of
mackinaw wool with a furred parka. Like the young man, he had a pair of
snowshoes slung at his back. He, too, was determined to tread the white
pathway to Sardanes.
Polaris had done his best to dissuade the aged scientist from the
attempt, and Scoland had added his plea. The determination of the
old man to go with Polaris had seemed a particular annoyance to the
captain. Zenas Wright would listen to neither argument nor entreaty.
"In my time I've put my name on one or two spots on the map," he said,
"but I would rather have it erased than to miss my share in this
expedition. I'm going to see this Sardanes of yours, my son, if I have
to leave my old bones there. I was responsible for your coming down
here. Now I'm going in with you. You are not going to take all the
risks alone. Don't try to stop me. My mind's made up, and I'm obstinate
as a Tennessee mule."
Ashore with them went the ship's carpenters with tools and lumber to
establish a winter camp. A number of shacks were knocked together.
More sledges and dogs were taken ashore. Within a couple of days a
small but noisy settlement had sprung up on the bay shore. Men and
beasts, confined for many weary weeks to the cramped quarters aboard
the cruiser, were glad, indeed, to have the chance to be ashore and
move about freely, bleak as the place was. Shouts and barks arose
joyously where for untold centuries few voices had been heard except
those of many-tongued Nature herself.
Sure that his wireless connections with the _Felix_ were in working
order, and that the crew of the supply ship had chosen a safe harbor,
where he could find them, Captain Scoland also went ashore, and threw
himself energetically into the details of camp making.
Never a talkative man, the tall captain had grown, in the latter days
of their voyaging, more taciturn than ever. Morose and moody, for
hours at a time he never opened his lips except for the giving of
orders, and they were more sharp and stern than even was his wont. His
associates had been quick to notice those things, but laid them to the
cares and dangers of their enterprise. In one thing the captain was not
lacking. That was a great capacity for work. Scarcely a detail of the
work on board the cruiser or ashore went forward without his personal
supervision.
Seeing that the heart of Zenas Wright was firm set on making the trip
inland to Sardanes, Polaris, with inward impatience, was forced to
delay the immediate start he had premeditated. Once started, the going
would be swift as they were capable of, and it would be a cruelty to
expect the older man, unused for years to snow travel, to keep up the
pace on snowshoes.
While others of the party were busy with the camp building, Polaris
and the scientist spent hours on the snow slopes, and made a number of
short trips over the ridge to the east. As the young man had foreseen,
Wright's first experience with the shoes nearly crippled him. In the
course of a couple of days, however, his joints and muscles were
limbered to the labor, and he was able to make surprising progress,
proving his boast that he was an adept snow runner.
Scoland, whom previous years in both Arctic and Antarctic regions had
made expert in the management of dogs, selected himself a team from the
huskies, and took a sudden interest in snow journeying, an activity
that nearly cost the expedition dearly.
* * * * *
On the second day after their arrival at the cove, a man came ashore
from the _Minnetonka_ with a message for the captain from Aronson on
the _Felix_. The message bearer failed to find Scoland at the shacks.
When Polaris and Zenas Wright came in later, at the end of their day's
exercise, the captain was still missing. They had not seen him. Dogs
and sledge which the captain had been using were missing also.
"Either he is strayed and lost in the snow, or some manner of mishap
has befallen," said Polaris. "I will go and find him."
Turning his own beasts, he set out at once to study the tangle of snow
trails that led inland from the camp. There had been no snow and little
wind for a number of days, so it was an easy matter for him to read the
paths. Starting from the ridge at the back of the cove, he swung out in
a long loop, whose farther curve took him five miles or more from the
camp. Four trails he crossed that were plainly back-trailed. The fifth
snow path that he came to led on into the wilderness, with no evidence
of a return, and he followed that.
Along the foothill slopes of the icy barrier mountains the land lay
comparatively level, except for the rocky hummocks that were everywhere
sprinkled. A few miles to the south of the range, low rolling hills
began again, extending as far as eye might see. Into the hills
Scoland's trail lay. Some six miles from where Polaris first picked up
the path, he found the captain.
Where a deep and jagged crevasse yawned beneath its treacherous
coverlet of snow crust, the trail ended. Where the crust had broken
under their weight, men and dogs and sledge had disappeared into the
depths.
Outspanning and tethering his own team to a rock, the son of the snows
crept forward cautiously to the brink of the chasm.
Scarcely a yard below the level of the broken snow bridge, Scoland's
sledge was caught fast between two projecting teeth of rock and hung
over the crevasse. Head downward in their harness, and frozen stiff and
dead, dangled the carcasses of two of the captain's huskies. Below them
the forward harness hung in strips. Peering into the lower deep of the
crevasse, as his eyes became accustomed to its gloom, Polaris could
make out the mass of fallen snow from the bridge. It lay forty feet
below him, on the floor of the crevasse, which extended away to either
side in an irregular corridor, rock-walled and carpeted with snow. Of
the man and the other dogs he could see nothing.
He shouted, and his heart leaped gladly, when, faint and weak and
far-away, came an answering halloo, followed immediately by the howling
of dogs. Scoland lived!
Lengths of thin, stout rope were part of the equipment of every sledge,
and with each a small steel pulley for hauling. Polaris sprang to his
sledge and fetched his tackle.
Testing every inch of the rock with his utmost strength, he crept over
the lip of the crevasse, whipped a short bight of rope about one of the
rocks that held the wreck of Scoland's sledge, swung his pulley and
threaded it. Of rope he had nearly a hundred feet, so that, doubled,
it reached the floor of the crevasse, and to spare. He did his work in
haste.
Within five minutes of the time of Scoland's answering hail from the
depths, Polaris went down the doubled rope hand under hand, and set
foot on the crevasse bottom. He shouted again, and again received
a faint answer, away to the south in the windings of the crooked
corridor. He started that way, and had gone but a few steps when,
whimpering and howling, two of the captain's dogs came floundering
through the snow to meet him.
When Scoland broke through the crust he had been running with the dogs
ahead of his sledge. He had pitched downward with the mass of falling
snow, and landed, badly shaken but uninjured, on the floor of the
crevasse. He saw at once that it would be impossible at the point where
he fell to scale the height of the crevasse wall. The corridor-like
fissure, extending south, took an upward course. The captain followed
its windings in that direction, hoping that it would lead again to the
surface.
Another mishap had made his case almost hopeless. A break in the rocky
floor, masked by snow, yawned across the entire width of the chasm.
In the half darkness, Scoland had reached its edge. Too late he felt
the snow slipping from beneath his feet, and fell again. He had found
himself in a pocket some eight feet deep, its sides so sheer that he
could not climb them. Vainly he explored every inch of the walls at
either side, and tore at the rocks until his hands bled, in an effort
to gain a hold. His struggles only brought exhaustion. Three of his
huskies had taken the leap, the other two remaining in the upper
corridor.
Utterly worn out, the captain at length had curled himself up with the
beasts. The warmth of their bodies alone had held the life in his body,
for the cold was deadly. Dogs and man were waiting for slow death when
they heard the hail of Polaris.
Flat on his stomach, Polaris crawled to the edge of the break in the
floor. Cramped and chilled, Scoland was barely able to stand and
stagger to the wall. Polaris reached down and found that he could grasp
Scoland's upstretched arms between wrists and elbows. Turning on his
back, the son of the snows exerted his mighty sinews. Scoland hung
almost a dead weight, but he raised him. Up, up, slowly, carefully, and
then over the edge, and the captain lay gasping beside him.
On his face again, Polaris called encouragement to the huskies. Barking
loudly, the dogs sprang high, leaping repeatedly at the face of the
wall. One by one, the man caught them in the air as they leaped, and
raised them to the upper floor.
Half carrying the exhausted Scoland, Polaris hurried along the passage
to the ropes, and made him fast. Fearing that the captain was too weak
to effect his own release from the tackle, Janess climbed the rope to
the lip of the chasm. Again he exerted his tireless strength and hauled
the other to the surface.
Scoland rolled weakly into the snow.
"Brandy," he muttered; "there's a flask in the back of the sledge. Can
you reach it?"
Polaris found and fetched the flask. Scoland took a long pull at the
fiery spirit. Seeing Janess about to lower himself over the rock again,
he asked:
"What are you going to do?"
"Fetch up the dogs," Polaris answered.
"Let the damned brutes go, and get me back to the camp. I'm nearly all
in."
Polaris eyed him narrowly.
"Not so," he said shortly. "They are good dogs. Were it not for three
of them I think you would not now be living." He slipped down the side
of the crevasse.
Scoland sneered. He lay watching the straining rope. It seemed to
fascinate him. His hand crept to the knife at his belt. Slowly he drew
it, and laid its keen blade against the rope. A wave of weakness came
over him. Alone, he could never reach the camp. He put away the knife.
One by one Polaris brought up the huskies. He placed Scoland on his own
sledge and drove back to the camp, leaving the wreck to be recovered
later.
Not one word of thanks did Scoland speak to him for his deliverance.
All the way back to the camp the captain lay on the sledge with closed
eyes. All the way he cursed furiously within himself that it should be
his fortune to take his life at the hands of this one man of all men.
* * * * *
No more was battle done on the steep slope of Mount Latmos. Assured
that Minos and his men were holed in where they might not come at
them, the fighting men of the priest went up against the cave no more.
Although they must have known that the treasure cave was provisioned
and watered so abundantly that it would keep its small garrison for
many months, they did not give up their siege entirely. That was
discovered when one of the hunters thought to go forth by stealth in
the slumber hours, and pay a visit to his wife and children at his home
in the valley. Hardly was he over the ledge of the plateau when men
seized him in the dusk.
His comrades in the cave above heard him scream out once and twice, and
then the minions of Analos cut his throat.
On their part, the hunters maintained a guard of one man at all hours,
who sat behind the boulder in the passageway.
Late in the fourth day that they had been immured in the mountainside,
Dukulon, one of Zalos's men, as he stood his turn at guard, heard a
rapping at the mouth of the pass as one who tapped gently on the wall
with a stone.
"Who cometh?" he hailed.
"_Sh_--it is I, Alternes," came the whispered answer. "I would have
speech with Minos the King."
Minos came and bade the lad enter the cave. He wriggled slowly, and
with not a few groans, through the passage, and was helped over the
rock. When they took him to the light, they found that he was in evil
case. Most of his clothing had been torn from him, and he was bruised
and with dried blood on his flesh.
"They have hunted me in the hills like a goat," he gasped, as he bent
to kiss the hand of his master. "Thy palace is a dismal ruin, O king.
Thy servants are scattered or slain. The stone with thy name on it has
been cast down from above thy seat in the Judgment House. Even thy
throne they toppled from its place and shattered."
The king turned from him sorrowfully. The hunters gathered round, and,
as they tended the hurts of the lad, they sought news from him of their
families.
"I can tell you naught," he said wearily, "but I believe that every
soul in the valley that stood faithful to the king hath been sent to
Hephaistos. The dead lie unburned in rows on the upper terraces of the
Gateway. For in the hill the fires of the god do wax so mighty that
none, not even his own priests, dares to come near to them. All upper
Sardanes is snow and ice. Ten of the great moons have gone dark, and as
they die the cold cometh on apace."
Then Alternes turned his face to the wall on the couch of skins where
they had laid him, and slept long and well.
One more attempt Analos made to bring Minos to his will. The priest
sent a delegation of all the lords of the valley to the cave-mouth.
Minos came and talked with them over the fallen rock. To his side came
the Lady Memene and leaned upon the stone, her chin upon her hands.
Ukalles, now an outcast from his home on Tanos in upper Sardanes, was
spokesman for the nobles.
"We are sore beset of troubles, O Minos!" he cried. "The priest saith
the land is doomed to the anger of the Lord Hephaistos, and day by day
the doom marcheth. Thou dost stand against it and lure it on the people
and on all of us, saith Analos. Wilt not yield to the god, and not let
this fair valley perish, that hath stood for ages? Consider, for the
people's sake--the people whom once thou didst love so well, and who
love thee. It is promised thee that thou shalt not die if thou dost
yield. Thou must, indeed, go to the Gateway and submit to what decree
of punishment the god maketh, but not to death. Come, ere that we hold
dear be gone, and Sardanes be blotted out."
"Strange is the love the people bear their king," answered Minos
calmly. "Strange, indeed, when they have slain my servants, laid
my palace in ruins, and stricken my very name from the seat of my
fathers--"
"But that was by orders of the god through his priests," broke in
Ukalles.
"Right well I know that so ye are deluded to believe," replied the
king. "Yet were those orders from the priests carried out by hands and
hearts of those who once were my people. Minos hath no people more,
save these few faithful ones who abide with him, risking all.
"Now list thee, Ukalles and all of those with thee, for this is the
last word of Minos. Once, before he did send his spearsmen against me,
I did tell this Analos that, were Minos convinced for one little moment
that by any sacrifice, however great, he could avert that which falleth
on the valley, that sacrifice he would make, and hesitate not. Of such
is Minos not convinced. Not of the god are the rumblings of the hills,
the dying fires and the coming of the snows."
"Thou blasphemest," Ukalles shouted in anger, "and in thy madness
dost bring doom on us all. My curse and that of all these, and of the
people, the priests and the great Hephaistos, lieth on thee, if thou
dost not yield thee to his grace."
"Curse on, thou fool," was Minos's answer. "I mind thy curses as little
as the wind that bloweth. If this god of thine be great and powerful,
as thou sayest, and as the priests do preach, how is it that he doth
allow me, one man alone, to stand in his divine path? Why hath he not
come hither and plucked me from my place and bent or broken me to his
will?"
Minos raised his hand on high with the great sword shining in it.
"I, Minos, king in Sardanes until the end, do defy this Hephaistos.
Hath he need of such as thou and Analos to do his will for him, he is
no cause for fear. Away, ye superstition-ridden dullards, and run your
mad pace through. Minos yieldeth not. He defieth all of you. Your god
cometh not, nor will come, because--_there is no god!_"
Shaking and trembling in the fears aroused by the king's defiance, the
nobles turned to go. Only Karnaon stood out from among them.
"Memene, my daughter, leave thou this madman and come to me," he
called. "Come, girl. Thy father commandeth thee."
"And I, my father, do disobey thee," said the girl.
"Then take thou thy father's bitter curse," Karnaon shouted. He stamped
his foot in his anger.
"That thou didst give me once, O father, when thou didst send me to the
Gateway to marry the foul priest," answered Memene. "That is neither
forgotten nor forgiven thee."
"Thou art no more daughter of mine," Karnaon said between his set
teeth. Then he, too, turned away and followed the others down the steep
hill, walking heavily.
Slowly the nobles crossed the valley and the river and took their
tidings to Analos at the Gateway.
At the top of the pathway to the first terrace, the high priest met
them, escorted by the black-robed company that served the mighty
altar of Hephaistos. When he saw that they brought no royal captives
with them, and heard the tale of the defiance Minos had hurled at the
ancient god, his anger rose and choked him so that he answered them
nothing. He stood and heard them through, his hands clenched under his
robe so that the nails of his fingers bit into his palms.
For a time he stood so. Then he rent his black robe from him, tearing
it to shreds, and in his red paraphernalia of death ran up the terraces
like a flame. In a room in his own house on the upper terrace he threw
himself on the marble floor and writhed and rolled and tore at his
black beard, gone clean mad with impotent rage. When one of his priests
came to consult him, he leaped in frenzy, and slew the man with one
stroke of a stone vase, then hid the body and went forth, somewhat
calmed.
As he passed his threshold, a roaring smote upon his ears. From the
lofty arched portal built against the side of the cliff gushed a tide
of molten lava as wide as the river Ukranis. The fire-lake had risen
until it overflowed the ledge and poured down through the spiral
passage that led from the temple of death to the upper terrace.
Out from the carved portal flowed the fiery torrent, hissing and
snapping. Right in its path lay the rows of dead Sardanians, awaiting
the rites of Hephaistos, their quiet faces upturned and ghastly in the
baleful radiance reflected down on them from the flaming hill-crown.
One moment they lay there in their still lines, and then the seething
flood passed over them and licked them up.
On it poured, and crept over the brink of the terrace, and down in a
fearful cascade, setting fire to the forest on the side of the holy
hill. The force of the torrent soon abated, and the lava lay as though
some terrible serpent had crept forth from the deeps of the earth and
stretched itself adown the terraces. For hours it glowed before it
cooled into dross and ashes. The fire in the forest spread, until half
the mountain was aflame, and the lower end of the valley presented a
spectacle of unearthly splendor.
That flood of lava was a spurt of the very heart's blood of the valley.
Even as it jetted from the side of the Gateway, halfway up the valley's
rim three more of its volcanic guardians gave up their fiery ghosts,
and the cold grip of the Antarctic took hold of their gaping throats.
Undaunted by the fury that raged on the Gateway to the Future, Analos
would not desert his post on the upper terrace. All of the other
priests he drove from him, bidding them abide below with the stricken
people until such time as he should summon them to him again. He stayed
alone with his god.
More days of terror passed. The red priest from the flaming hill and
Minos the king from his lair on Mount Latmos watched the march of
winter down the valley.