“May Justice find and abide with thee!” he answered, ignoring her
proffered hand.
Alcamayn held her eyes unflinchingly until she reached the door, to
which she made a halting journey, hoping that he would say some kind
word in farewell.
This was balm to his revolted feelings, and he had a grim sort of
satisfaction in knowing that she had sued for his good will, and had
been repulsed.
It was one way to revenge himself upon her choice of another for a
husband. The homicide really cherished no ill will toward Orondo. Ildiko
was the one he despised, and he would leave her his dying curses.
The last hour of his life was spent with Yermah, who did all that could
be done to sustain the wretched man through the anticipation of the
coming ordeal.
Imos prepared the spiced and tinctured wine, which Alcamayn was obliged
to sip through a straw. This was done to produce drowsiness; when the
victim was fully under its influence, a white powder having the quality
of cocaine was sprinkled upon his face to deaden pain.
Alcamayn’s under-garments were of chamois-skin, over which was a loose
robe of coarse cloth made from the beaten fiber of nettle. A hideous
mask was put over his face, to show that his lower self would be
disguised in animal form in its next incarnation.
Ben Hu Barabe and Hanabusa placed Alcamayn gently on the floor, giving
directions to the priests and warriors as to the number of cords which
should bind his body.
When securely pinioned they sewed him up in another layer of coarse
cloth, and then placed him on a litter. This they carried up to the
second floor, where by stout cords they tied Alcamayn’s feet to the arch
in front of his cell. The body was held upright on a trap-door, and
allowed to fall full length, striking the head upon the floor.
“May all who thus invert good be compelled to die head downward!” said
Imos, solemnly, as the trap-door closed, and the executioners stood,
blankly facing each other.
Great care was taken to preserve a semblance of lifelike proportions in
the outlines of the funeral basket, to enable the spirit to manifest
easily at some future time.
Four lusty tamanes shouldered the basket-covered remains and the little
procession filed out of the temple inclosure.
Men, women and children turned their backs as it passed, and there was
no one to receive the body when it was delivered to the priest at the
judgment hall of Hirach.
Early next morning Imos announced in the Temple of the Sun that
Alcamayn’s body had been refused burial.
Then the citizens went to the hall, and carried the remains down to
Land’s End, opposite Point Lobos. When the strongest ebb tide was at its
full, they cast it into the sea. At this point the current runs at the
rate of from three to four knots an hour, and the people knew that when
once washed out to the north, the body could never, in time or eternity,
return again to Golden Gate Bay.
The continuous barkings and roarings of the now extinct sea-cows which
congregated on the rocks in that vicinity were supposed by the populace
to be wails and lamentations from the unfortunate dead whose bodies had
been literally condemned as food for the fishes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
RAHULA’S DENUNCIATION OF YERMAH—AT THE FUNERAL OF ORONDO
The Azes believed that every part of a man’s body had a counterpart in
the world of matter. At the moment of dissolution, the individual ego
was thought to be reunited to the Absolute, if Will, which is the real
body of the individualized spirit, is free from Desire. If bound by
these ties, it must reincarnate again, and it was thought possible to
sink so low in the scale that the life principle would contact the
animal kingdom.
These people did not practice cremation of the dead, because they did
not think it right to skip all the intervening purgations, or
reincarnations, by projecting the ego back into the Absolute at once.
They embalmed their honored dead and mummified their bodies in order
that the individuality might be preserved, so that in the next
incarnation memory might function on the physical plane.
There are excellent examples of this practice found in the catacombs in
Mexico and Peru as well as in Egypt where the descendants of Atlantis
employed the same rites. The Egyptian “Book of the Dead” pertains
entirely to initiation, or the finding of the Perfect Way in this life;
and the well-known portions of it found with mummies are simply
certificates of initiation.
It is a curious fact in psychology that, so long as the physical body is
preserved, the astral counterpart cannot disintegrate; and as memory is
a function of the astral man, the Egyptian adepts expect to take up
their life work again with a full knowledge of the past.
The negative magnetic laws govern the astral and psychic qualities of
man, while the positive electric currents control the physical. Time and
space have no influence over the former conditions—facts which were well
known to primitive civilizations.
The papakoo, or cemetery of Tlamco, was a terraced range of hills, south
of Mountain Lake, then called the River of Mystery, which still lies
between Golden Gate Park and the ocean on the north. It is much shrunken
in proportions and depth, though retaining the same oblong outline. The
hills form a natural divide between the Park and Sutro Heights, and then
as now jutted into the ocean at their northern extremity.
For six weeks the embalmers were engaged with the body of Orondo, and
when they had finished, it was completely mummified. They put salt on
his breast, as an emblem of immortality, and a gold gorget around his
neck, with the inscription:
“O Hidden Being! Turn thy face toward the body of thy son!”
The corpse was wrapped in fine linen bandelettes, and a Saint Andrew’s
cross of copper was laid over the region of the heart outside the
enveloping swathes.
In the northwestern portion of the city, at the upper end of the lake,
was the Temple of Uranus, where dwelt the priesthood who had charge of
the dead.
This mound had a circular earth vallum seven hundred feet in diameter,
which is one three-hundred-thousandths of the diameter of the planet
Uranus.
It was here that Orondo’s body was prepared for burial, and it was from
this place that the funeral cortége embarked. While it was being rowed
across the lake, the mourners scattered rushes on its smooth surface as
a sacrifice and peace-offering.
Yermah, Setos, Imos and Hanabusa rowed the funeral barge; and when it
landed at the opposite end, they lifted the mummy onto the catafalque
standing ready to receive it.
All that was mortal of Orondo was laid in a bed of aloe, yew, cypress,
weeping-willow, rosemary and yellow marigolds, while over him was spread
the fated mantle given to him by Yermah. On top of this was the sword,
helmet and shield of the deceased.
A long line of warriors, with reversed spears, whose pennants trailed in
the dust, marched up a long line of mastodon-headed sphinxes, to the
judgment hall of Hirach, where the deceased would be tried for the deeds
done in the body.
“O Maker of the material world! Thou Holy One! Whither shall we bring,
where shall we lay, the bodies of our dead?”
After the body came Yermah, Setos, Imos and Hanabusa, followed by civic
deputations, priests and priestesses, and a great concourse of people.
The judgment hall stood on the south side of Mountain Lake, near the
plowed out Golden Gate, and had a rock foundation which the Azes called
Gharepo. The building was erected in the exact center of a huge
pentagram, the apex of which was on the rock Gharepo, the east foot on
the north peak of Las Papas, and the west in the ocean, near the Cliff
House shore. The feet of Hirach were correlated to those of the
pentagram. He was stepping from the ocean to the mountain, signifying
the involution of the ego from the astral universe into the material
world. Hirach was a counterpart of the Amen of Revelation, who had “one
foot on the sea and one on solid land,” etc.
The circle surrounding Hirach described the orbit of Mars, which
corresponds to the body of Desire. The sixth labor crushes this
principle, but in so doing opens the path for the initiate to measure
the proportions of the cosmos; and properly adjust them one to the
other.
Mars is the planetary phase of the Red Dragon, the eating of whose heart
forms the means by which Sigierd, the Norse hero, attained Wisdom. The
heart is triple, emblematic of the three cardinal virtues, Will,
Aspiration and Harmony, and their common center—the spirit, was the
altar in the middle of the judgment hall.
From the center of the holy of holies were struck the distances of the
four inner planets; hence it not only showed the three radii of the
earth, but the three phases of Hermes, or Wisdom, and the ego in the
three worlds, which in this instance was the higher personality sitting
in judgment on the deeds done in the body.
The relative size of the earth was represented by the tip of the
devotee’s forefinger as he entered the western door and held up his hand
in adoration and salutation to Deity.
The structure was shaped like a cross, and was surmounted by tall
spires. Over the entrance was an entablature propped by two square
capitals. Above this was a frieze with the hieroglyphs of Truth, Fire
and Light surrounded by twelve symbolical groups.
Between the sixth and seventh, a figure knelt and stretched out its arms
above the two sacred eyes, symbolizing the north and south. This alluded
to the diurnal motion of the sun, which is an implicit promise of
resurrection, from the sky above us.
At the ends of the emblematic row was another figure, poising a pair of
balances.
In the western arm of the cross was a throne, surmounted by a canopy
representing the Tree of Life. The golden fleece hung in its branches,
and in the center was the lamb immeshed in a nimbus.
Seated on the throne was Hirach, a priest from the Temple of Neptune,
whose face was hidden by a green mask. On his head was a tall conical
hat made of alternating stripes of red and green, and the same
combination of color was observable in his costume.
The mantle was green; the tunic, red; while the arms and legs were
covered with striped cloth, as he sat with arms crossed over his breast.
In his right hand was a crook, while in his left was a flail.
Hirach, or Conscious Life, personated the higher self of the dead man,
and it was his office to weigh the thoughts, words and deeds of Orondo,
against the image of Truth. On each side of him stood a priestess,
representing the two phases of truth. One held a lily in her hand, to
show that she stood for Truth in Action; while the other held the quill
of an eagle, signifying that she was Truth in Thought, itself.
The two attendants were clothed in trailing white draperies, and their
hands were crossed over their breasts. The sleeves came only to the
elbow, but were long and wide, like those worn by Japanese women. Only
the throat was revealed at the neck, and there was a peculiar
allegorical girdle around the waist. These figures were known as Ma.
When we call our mothers “Ma,” we are addressing them as the Principle
of Truth—a singularly fitting name; since the mother is the literal
image of Truth to the child, until he is old enough to discover it by
reasoning processes.
Osiris, the spirit within the earth, draws every soul to him with a
crook, and repulses it with a flail.
The ceremony about to be enacted quaintly set forth the trials by the
law of causation, or experience, undergone by the individual in the
process of being drawn into and thrown out of earth life. It was an
enactment of the tragedy within each human heart.
On a square lectern in front of Hirach was a huge parchment scroll, tied
with seven seals. By an ingenious arrangement, the lectern was also a
support for a pair of balances. On the left side was a gold vase
containing the heart of Orondo, which was soon to be weighed against a
small image of Truth, on the right scale.
Between Hirach and the altar of offerings sat four intercessors, or
Associate Judges, representing the material body, the astral body, soul
and spirit. They were dressed in black, gray, purple and green.
The official mourners, selected from each of the guilds, and from the
priesthood, made offerings to the four elements in nature corresponding
to the four attributes of man. That to earth was a bunch of bearded
wheat; that to water, a pond-lily; that to air, a white dove; while that
to fire was a chalice of bergamot oil. After being consecrated and
blessed, the offerings were brought forward by men dressed in blue, and
laid upon the altar in their proper succession. The fires in the sacred
urns in the burial service were used, in order that the life-principle
present in fire might find the individual body it once inhabited.
Along the outer wall, in a semi-circle, were seated the forty-two
assessors who were to try this novel case. They wore cloth-of-gold
robes, and had a golden feather of Truth in the headbands over their
closely curled hair, to show that they represented mental traits, and
corresponded to the forty-two phrenological organs of the brain.
These assessors were divided into three groups, distinguishable by the
color of their mantles. The first typified the psychic attributes, and
pertained to the front of the cerebrum; the mental to the middle part of
the head; while the material stood for the cerebellum.
The problem of the perfect life is solved by the even balance of these
parts of the brain with the corresponding worlds of cosmic essence.
When the remains were placed between the altar of offerings and the
lectern, the priestesses knelt on each side, followed by the official
mourners.
Every eye was turned anxiously toward the Left-Hand Path, as the second
entrance was called. Any citizen who had been wronged by the deceased in
his lifetime, had a right to come into the temple and accuse him.
There had been mutterings and ominous shakings of the head, but no one
seemed to be able to make definite statements.
Suddenly the door was flung open, and Rahula came in with an angry scowl
on her face. She had on the mantle and red cap of the accuser of souls,
and back of her was a numerous following; they, also, were dressed in
red.
Each face whitened, and there was a tense, apprehensive feeling
everywhere.
Yermah and Setos supported Ildiko, who rushed forward and threw herself
at the foot of the bier. She was completely shrouded in black. On her
head was a round wreath of black ivy, having a crown and long pennants
of white gauze in the back. Her close-cropped hair was still better
concealed by a broad band of the gauze which fastened to the wreath and
came down under the chin, hiding the ears.
Ben Hu Barabe and Alcyesta stood near Ildiko, ready to offer assistance
and sympathy, while Hanabusa supported Setos.
Oahspe, the Sun Virgin, enveloped in black, and wearing a gold mask for
unknowable Deity, broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. As she did
so, Imos prepared to record the verdict. Flinging his arms out on either
side, he exclaimed:
“I give glory to Hirach, lord of the essences, living in truth! I have
come to thee, bringing to thee truth. Where art thy attendant gods?
Grant that I may be with them in thy company.”
A deep guttural voice behind the mask responded:
“Peace will not abide with thee until thou hast overthrown thine
enemies.”
From out the phalanx on the right, Yermah stepped forward and lifted a
determined face, pale as the linen robes he wore. Bringing his hands
together high over his head, he said:
“Homage to thee, O Master of Truth! I come toward thee! I am here to
contemplate thy splendor!”
“Give thy tongue truthful license, but speak no evil of the dead,” was
the admonition of the Hirach.
Repeating the sign of asseveration, the Dorado began:
“Great and mighty Hirach, thou knowest that the gloom of the tomb is but
the cradle of the sun. Before thee lies a pure, unsullied soul.
“Orondo had the three cardinal virtues of piety, because he loved his
Creator, loved virtue, and loved man. He gave bread to the hungry, water
to the thirsty, garments to the naked. He who perceives him says he
comes in peace.
“May he enter into rest, praised; may he go out, beloved—for there is no
more fault or evil in him. Save him; protect him; for his mouth is clean
and his hands are pure. He was free from the oppression of the widow and
the fatherless.
“There was not by his fault either a fearful, or poor, or suffering or
wretched one. He did not cause any one to weep.[22] He—”
Rahula who had been growing more and more excited, rushed to Yermah’s
side, and throwing her hands up wildly, cried out:
“Hirach, thou who art mirrored in truth, palsy the tongue departing from
thy formula! Orondo merits not an honored place in the Vale of Peace.
The fishes yearn for his body. He lived not in truth, nor walked in the
ways acceptable to the gods of magic mystery.”
What more she would have said was drowned in a chorus of protest from
the warrior-priests. The mourners added their supplications, and the
priestesses murmured:
“Om—ah! Om—ah! Om—ah!”
Without noticing the interruption, Yermah completed his sentence.
“Orondo did no evil. Nothing can be produced against him. He committed
no violence, nor did he torment any heart. No one was by him
treacherously slain.”
“Hear him, O just powers! This man stands here and claims to be a
vehicle for truth! How darest thou say that Orondo caused no man to be
treacherously killed?
“On both thy heads lie the curse of Alcamayn’s death. Robbed of his own
by Orondo, and done to death by thee!
“Thou art a mighty representative in the Hall of the Two Truths. Hear
me, Yermah!—A mother’s curse is on thee! Thou art a doomed man!”
“A mother’s curse!” exclaimed Yermah, in a whisper, sharing the
consternation around him.
A curse in the time of the Dorado was a thing of fearful import.
The intemperance of her speech showed the uncontrollable rage of Rahula.
“Yes,” she screamed,—“a mother’s curse! Alcamayn was my first and only
born. Oh, there is no need of thy horrid looks! He never knew the
relationship. Because of thy spiritual father, Akaza, thou hast a
heritage of my hate. But for him I should have claimed my son.”
Seeming to realize that temper had carried her too far, Rahula tried to
repair what she had already said. Setos made a threatening gesture
toward her, while every one looked at his neighbor, and said in an
undertone:
“She is a black magician. Akaza was obliged to take her child away from
her.”
Her attendants hissed angrily and stamped with their feet to prevent
Yermah from being heard. He realized that the demonstration was against
himself personally, and was appalled at the virulence of the attack, but
went bravely on.
“Orondo afflicted no one; neither did he commit perfidy. He was never an
accuser, and was only angry when there was just cause—”
“Thou art a monstrous liar! He had just cause to be angry with thee, who
enticed his first love away, and repaid him with another man’s choice.”
Crossing over to him and shaking her finger in his face, defiantly,
Rahula fairly shrieked:
“Thou hast imperiled thy immortal soul! Dearly shalt thou pay for thine
own perfidy! I dare tell thee to thy face, thou art guilty of the
unpardonable sin! Thou who wert coward enough to compel thy dead friend
to marry this poor misguided creature lying at thy feet! For this cause
my Alcamayn died in dishonor!”
The warrior-priests clanked their swords angrily, and the smoldering
disloyalty was like a tinderbox to the furious gestures and acts of the
factions.
Setos grabbed Rahula by the arm and shook her violently before she would
heed him.
“Hast thou no sense of decency, Rahula? Cease thy upbraidings, else wilt
thou ruin all!”
She quailed before his determined look and was silent.
Shaking like a leaf and wounded to the death in his tenderest parts,
Yermah once more essayed to speak.
Finding that he could not command his voice, he turned appealingly to
the musicians, who responded with a funeral air. When they had finished,
Yermah, with tears coursing down his cheeks—which he made no effort to
conceal, said:
“Hirach, as I expect to stand face to face with thee finally, hear me!
In that I love Orondo well, conscience doth acquit me of evil intent
toward him. Whatever service he rendered me was a pleasure to him, and
was of his own choosing. That he preferred duty to success, is one more
reason why his bones should be interred with the blessed. There was no
guile in him.
“He was as tender as a woman, as simple as a child, and faithful unto
death. The heart weighing even in the scales of Truth was burst in twain
by the sorrows which oppressed his high courage. Struck down in the
flower of manhood, hurled through the Gates of Light by unseemly
circumstance, Orondo, the soul of honor, merits the rite of
consecration. Hear, Hirach, as thou wouldst in turn be heard, and grant
as thine own hope of future reward may prompt thee!”
The non-resistance and manliness of Yermah did not fail to appeal to a
people equable in temper and given to just decision. The waves of
feeling which surged through the temple made him aware of this, though
the sounds were almost inaudible.
Every one waited in dread suspense for Rahula’s final plea. She was
still laboring under ill-suppressed excitement, and resentment blazed
anew as she spoke.
“Hirach, thou who art unshaken by emotion or desire, hear and give heed!
Orondo was ever the craven tool of him who stands here in his defense.
He sought more to obey the will of his master than the will of the gods.
Once again I beseech thee, give his body to the fishes!”
“No! no! no!” burst from the lips of the mourners, the priestesses, and
the warrior-priests, augmented by the intercessors, too.
Yermah stood with his hands clasped and head bowed low. His dejection
and silence angered Rahula still more, because she instinctively felt
that he was right, and that she could not provoke him into a show of
resistance. She hated him for the sympathy he had unconsciously aroused.
“Finally, I demand this body of thee, Hirach!
“Bloody deeds shall follow thy refusal. Never canst thou make it right
to bless this man, while Alcamayn’s shade is doomed to wander through
myriad years because of him. I charge thee to weigh and consider thy
decision!”
Hirach, using the flail for a baton, waved for silence.
Then the two intercessors, earth and water, arose and pointed to the
left. Thus far the decision was against Orondo.
The kneeling figures arose and joined the warrior-priests in
supplication. The remaining intercessors, air and fire, stood and
pointed to the right.
With bated breath they waited for Hirach’s action. In an impressive
silence he arose and pointed to the right.
“Haille! Haille! Haille!” cried the people, in a spontaneous outburst,
which a sense of decorum quickly quelled.
“Let the heart of Orondo be given back to him. Let him go into the Hall
of Mystery by the Right-Hand Path,” read Imos in a sonorous voice.
As soon as the verdict was announced, the funeral cortége formed as it
came, and filed out of the temple. Rahula and her followers departed to
the left, with their arms crossed before their faces, and their heads
drooping under the knowledge of defeat.
* * * * *
A granite sarcophagus was placed at the entrance of the long tunnel-like
tomb, cut deep into the side of the mountain. Here was deposited all of
the personal belongings of Orondo, sealed up in curious-shaped jars and
baskets. After the body was placed in the tomb, these were laid around
it, and the whole securely sealed.
A never-dying perfume-lamp of wrought bronze was suspended over the
head, which was laid to the west. The granite doors were hermetically
closed, and Orondo was finally left to sleep with the justified.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“DOWN WITH THE APOSTATE, YERMAH”—STRIFE IN TLAMCO
“Thou knowest, Imos, how I execrate the memory of Akaza,” said Setos, as
the two sat in conference, at the high-priest’s house, shortly after
Orondo’s burial.
“So do I. How often has he come between the sacred hierarchy and their
rights. He was always intent upon the spirit rather than on the ritual
practice of our faith. By his will Yermah is made hierophant, and I, who
have served a lifetime, am cast aside with scant courtesy.”
Imos was a man advanced in years, having a broad high forehead, aquiline
nose, square-cut eye-brows, and thin, finely compressed lips. His bald
head, protruding like the knob of a knee, revealed a combative and
tyrannical disposition.
Setos had much ado to conceal a grin of satisfaction, as the high-priest
bared his secret ambition. He was unusually affable as he answered:
“Thou art shamefully ill-used, but I am thy brother in misfortune. When
war devastated Atlantis, Akaza stood continually before the rabble,
out-tonguing them in demands. The powers of right were on our side; but
in the third day’s battle he turned the tide of victory by his infernal
enchantments. Our gallant spearsmen were advancing two deep, when he
charged them with three bodies of horsemen.
“‘It is Akaza!’” cried our leader, Poseidon. “‘The traitor comes to
certain death.’ Some say that bolts from a mangonel struck through our
ranks; others, that he cut off the spear-heads. Of this I know not.
Poseidon rode at him in mortal combat, but fell uninjured at Akaza’s
feet. Failing to kill him, he was obliged to give the Dorado as hostage.
Ichanor, the war-chief of Poseidon, was compelled to surrender his son
Orondo. By this means the schemer contrived to gain supremacy in
Atlantis and all her dependencies. So long as he lived oppression hung
over me. Thou mayst judge what love I bear his successor.”
The two men gave each other a searching glance, which said as plainly as
words, “How shall we be rid of him?”
“We must be masters of caution,” said the wily priest.
“Suspicion abides not with Yermah and he knows nothing of black art.”
A loud rapping at the front door and hurrying feet along the passageway
caused both to rise and listen intently. Simultaneously with the permit
to enter, came Cezardis, flushed and in breathless haste.
“Exigency compels the waiving of ceremony,” said he. “A great concourse
are in the theater listening to Rahula’s arraignment of Yermah. By a
cunningly contrived tragedy, called ‘The Lost Soul’ she scores him
without mercy, and has given utterance to all that Alcamayn confided to
her concerning the Dorado having concealed his divinity in a ruby which
he sent to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.
“Yermah broke his vow, and was blaspheming violently when the swift and
terrible punishment came. Alcamayn heard his awful words, but feared
even to repeat them, lest we be doomed to suffer again. Rahula has
inflamed the populace against him, and they are running through the
streets shouting: ‘Down with the apostate, Yermah! He has committed
unpardonable sin against the Ineffable! He shall no longer rule Tlamco!’
Dost thou not hear the bugle calls? Signals are flashing from the forts,
and the whole city is in uproar.”
Many extraneous sounds bore out this testimony; but neither auditor
evinced surprise, though both showed concern.
“So,” said Setos presently, “the prophecy concerning the lost planet has
come true. A great and momentous change is upon us.”
“Hast thou not heard the Blessed Books read in the temples?”
“Thou shouldst remember that I have been in the house of enemies. It
would have been unsafe for me. Wilt thou refresh early recollections now
and hurriedly?”
As far as he was capable, Setos was devout, and was always comforted by
the rumble of long words.
Imos had a voice which fitted him for such an occasion, and he was much
pleased to have the opportunity to use it. With the proper degree of
solemnity, he crossed to the east side of the room, where the books lay,
and then making three profound genuflections, he began reading promptly:
_In the beginning the Great Spirit, surnamed Cohesion, breathed into
chaotic disorder the fire of life. Verily, it grew to mighty
proportions. It had two arms dividing the Supernal from the light of
this world, which is darkness to the ones reposing in the sunshine of
eternal peace. So vast was the chasm yawning between Spirit and
Matter, that no mortal crossed the void for a million years. Then the
twilight changed into morning, and there arose from the Celestial
Shore an Archangel strong and mighty._
_Hirach was his name. May it ever more be blessed! And a great voice
was heard in the expanse like unto the sound of a trumpet, saying_:
“_Who is able to cross the chasm, to give to souls unborn the Key? To
open the book to them that therein they may read the Way of life?_”
_And the bodiless and formless ones sounded the Æolian harps, and
sang_:
“_Hirach is his name! Thrice blessed is he—Hirach of two threefold
wings, encircling heaven, earth and the vast ocean! He alone is great;
he is able to cross the vast abyss._”
_Then Hirach called unto himself a great Red Dragon, whose name was
Marah—for he shall deceive the nations, and they shall war with one
another. He who sat on the dragon was calm and silent. His lofty,
godlike brow was wrapped in the golden splendor of the morning sun.
Over the deep chasm which divides mortals from the highest thrones
swirled the Red Dragon, and the worlds trembled and feared. And the
mountains from before whose eyes the clouds had vanished said to the
stars shining in the majesty of their being: “Who is the terrible Red
Dragon, and whose splendor anointeth the brow of him sitting
thereon?”_
_The stars answered: “From infinity to infinity we roll in our
courses; ages on ages have spent themselves in our existence, yet we
remember not when the Red Dragon rose into life; neither can we
comprehend the splendor on the brow of him who sitteth thereon.”_
_Now as the Dragon gyrated in his course, his fiery breath caused new
suns to spring into existence, and new planets rolled in their orbits
around them, peopled with living beings. Then the Dragon exalted
himself in pride, and puffed out his cheeks, saying_:
“_Behold the glorious suns which I have created, to give light and
life to all creatures, that they may praise me and give glory for that
which I have done._”
_Then he who sat on the head of the Dragon, clothed in splendor, rose
and smote the ugly beast, whose death-agony dashed into pieces the
beautiful planet circling between Mars and Jupiter, thus forever
destroying the equilibrium between War and Justice. The souls thereon
were drawn into the vortex of the earth. With his two tails he laid
hold of Mars and Venus, seeking to destroy them also; but Hirach
raised the great two-edged sword in his hands and cleft asunder the
tails of the Dragon. He cut the body into five pieces, which fell to
the earth, and the Dragon was no more._
“Such,” said Imos, “is the account of the Red Dragon. It is said that
the chain of hills which encircle Tlamco are the remains of his body.
Yonder hill to the east, is his skull, and is called Calvu. It is
furthermore stated that Hirach shall at the end of the cycle come from a
cavern beneath it. Akaza—curses be his portion! says that the Blessed
Story is an allegory. He, a viler apostate than his pupil, claimed that
he would come again, as Hirach incarnate, to break the power of the
black brotherhood.”
“Rather let us exterminate the last remnant of them, and give their
bodies to the fishes!” was his companion’s intemperate rejoinder.
“Face thy duty resolutely, and may victory be on thy side!” said Imos,
piously, as Setos hurried out of the house.
“He who holds our destiny, plans all things well. May thy hopes find
fruition also!”
Setos knew that his seditious work among the warriors was ready to bear
fruit, but he was gratified that Rahula had provoked the outburst. She
had been in a frenzy of rage since her defeat in the judgment hall, and
this was her revenge. Setos was determined to take advantage of it and
be made Grand Servitor of the Azes.
* * * * *
The theater stood on a sloping hill southeast of Lone Mountain. It faced
the south, shielding the spectators from the north wind. They had a
commanding view of the bay and islands in the foreground and the tawny
leonine hills in the distance.
The edifice was a semi-circle, provided with tiers of seats, and would
accommodate many thousand people. It was an earth embankment fitted with
stone seats and a sanded floor, with an open roof, supported by stout
poles. An arch under the right wing marked the entrance to the stage,
and led to subterranean dressing-rooms. There was small provision for
artificial setting, the beauty of natural scenery being deemed
sufficient.
“Haille! Haille! Haille! Setos sent to deliver us from peril!” cried a
company of warriors who were escorting Rahula home from the theater.
“Haille, Setos! Chief of the Turghati—men loyal to the true faith of
Atlantis!” exclaimed Rahula, whose disordered dress, sparkling eyes, and
flushed cheeks, bespoke her excitement. When she approached Setos, she
was trembling violently, but every sense was on the alert.
“Thou who art the man of destiny, come with me,” she continued. “I will
tell thee all that has happened.”
“Rahula, the silver-tongued, is thy worthy forerunner, as Mercury is of
the sun. Go with her and then come to the Observatory. Thy presence will
put heart into the wavering ones, who are in consultation. Thou mayst
depend upon us.”
The crowd was noisy and unruly, but Setos understood that the warriors
would hold them in check. He followed Rahula indoors. Acting on the
impulse of the moment, Setos drew Rahula to him and kissed her
passionately.
If he had been blind before, he certainly knew now, and he suddenly
realized that she was necessary to his success.
“Thou art worthy of my best love,” he said, “and thou shalt command it.
Open thy heart to me.”
“Thou hast surprised its secret, and made me forget our danger. Death
were not unwelcome in this guise,” she murmured, nestling down closer in
his arms.
“Thy lips must pay forfeit for speech once more, and then thy sweet
voice must quell this inward tumult. I could drowse like a sleepy god in
thy embrace.”
“Duty stern and uncompromising faces us, and we must yield to other
influences,” said Rahula, slipping out of his arms. “The die is cast,
and thou must not falter or linger in sweet dalliance.”
“Pearls of wisdom ever fall from thy lips, Rahula. Thy well-chosen words
sober me again. What dost thou know?”
She held both his hands to her breast, and looked at him steadfastly.
“I am aware that discontent has been flourishing like a poisonous weed
in Tlamco. It needed but a spark to fan it to a blaze and I have
produced that spark. It is in the suspicion that Yermah is an accursed
and lost soul. Thou knowest the tradition concerning other calamities in
the dim ages. Fan this flame judiciously, and thou wilt sit in the seat
of power.”
He would have strained her to his breast again, but she eluded him. She
was certain of her hold upon him, and was anxious to strengthen it.
“Thou canst not be sure of unqualified support,” she went on. “If thou
canst not silence Yermah’s adherents in argument, then thou must resort
to arms.”
“Thou art my love, and a wise counselor,” he answered, still actuated by
gratitude and what he called love. “Go thou to the Camp of Mars, and I
will be guided by thee,” he added, aiding her in the readjustment of her
mantle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE SHOCK OF CONFLICT AND YERMAH’S OVERTHROW
War was undertaken for religious purposes—never for conquest—which
accounted for the methods used in stirring up sedition in Tlamco.
The object in conquering an outside power was to civilize it; and if
captives refused to accept hospitable treatment, they were scattered
throughout the country, man for man, and kept under surveillance until
reconciled to their positions. No confiscation of property was allowed,
and after taking the oath of allegiance, the rebels were returned to
their homes.
Setos found Imos laboring with Hanabusa and Ben Hu Barabe, who remained
loyal to Yermah. These faithful adherents made earnest and eloquent
pleas in his behalf; but, finding themselves powerless, withdrew and
prepared to defend the city against inevitable attack.
It was a semicircular bay, five thousand feet across, which brought the
water to Montgomery Street up to the days of ’forty-nine. From a line
parallel with what is now Market Street, but a little to the north, was
a grand canal, deep and wide enough to accommodate all the commerce of
Tlamco. These waters terminated in a basin near the junction of
present-day Van Ness Avenue and Market Street, where a circular port of
entry was strongly fortified.
Leading from this was a broad avenue, which ended in another circular
building, half a mile nearer the Observatory, and in a direct line with
it. This was, in modern parlance, a bonded warehouse, and was amply
protected.
The port of entry was in the center of a circle which included Telegraph
Hill, Lone Mountain and the Potrero hills, all of which were formidable
fortifications. Rincon Hill, south and directly opposite Telegraph Hill,
guarded the entrance to the canal, while Yerba Buena Island, on the
east, lined with its center.
A hostile fleet sailing around Telegraph Hill would be under fire from
these forts, and as they came into the canal an assault could be made on
them from the ramparts and battlements of Nob Hill.
Should enemies approach the port of entry, they would be in range of the
mangonel batteries at East Temple, Alamo Hill, and the Temple of Venus,
which also shielded the bonded warehouse and the main, or eastern,
avenue to the city. On the top of the hill, was another fortification,
guarding the approaches to the Observatory, which had a complete system
of defense in itself.
South of the Potrero Hill fort was a harbor for the balsas. It is now a
broad marsh intersected by Islais Creek. A curved canal separated two
fortified hills and turned west to within the radius of the Camp of
Mars. The waterway skirted the closely guarded fortification on Bernal
Heights.
From time immemorial Mars was not only considered the god of war but the
guardian of sailors as well.
On the west side of the camp, a road ran south, parallel with what is
now Valencia Street direct to the port of entry. This was the only
approach from the south, and was well protected by the armored hills,
where the granaries and storehouses were located.
Much of the food supply came by this route.
Due west of Bernal Heights is a companion hill, which was garrisoned and
used as a signal station, being on a line with Mount Olympus, and from
the high Observatory tower news could be flashed to all the outlying
stations.
The center of the port of entry lined exactly with Telegraph Hill. By
this means a message could be sent from Hanabusa’s quarters to Mount
Olympus and Lone Mountain direct, and thence to the port of entry and
Telegraph Hill, thus making it easy to command the entire situation.
The horsemen’s camp lay close to Iaqua, west of the Observatory, while
the spearsmen’s grounds were east. From these points were trained
catapults, loaded with highly explosive lead cylinders filled with sharp
spikes. Mixed with the spikes were balls containing a stifling,
overpowering, deadly smell, which were exploded in the air, to shower
the inhabitants, barracks and forts.
* * * * *
Setos saw with the eye of a military genius the advantage to himself of
a sudden attack, and as a politician he felt the danger of remaining
inactive in such treacherous times. With a long, hissing screech, four
rockets shot into the sky from the signal-stations, electrifying some,
but prostrating the spirits of those who loved law and order.
Instantly, the warriors rushed pell-mell into the streets and confusion
seized the populace, who ran about aimlessly, and looked into each
other’s faces with half-averted eyes, like members of a family who are
determined to punish one another, but not too severely.
Around what is now known as Potrero Point came a fleet of thirty balsas,
with the blades of the rowers flashing in the sunlight as they rocked
and glided over the choppy waves of the bay.
Rowing swiftly to the Rincon Hill fort, they embarked a strong force of
spearsmen who were still loyal to Yermah.
Ponderous mangonels capable of throwing darts twenty feet long, shod
with bronze points and securely lashed to the shaft with strips of
bull’s-hide, surmounted each fort. This formidable weapon carried a
distance of several hundred feet with sufficient force to penetrate the
side of a stoutly built balsa.
On the poop of the foremost galley stood Hanabusa, in full armor, with a
black plume in his helmet, while beside him was Ben Hu Barabe. They were
both tall and powerful men, and the grim, determined expression on their
faces augured ill for the insurgents. Soon their balsas were gliding
over the smooth waters of the semicircular entrance to the canal and
making directly for it.
“Beware of the bolt!” shouted Ben Hu Barabe, and every man threw himself
under the stout oaken seats of the oarsmen, as a murderous missile rose
high in the air and fell with a crash on the stone coping of the canal,
sending a shower of splinters over the men.
“There is little danger to fear here,” said Hanabusa, “as the east fort
is still in our possession. It stands midway between the gangway and
basin at the end of the canal, and forms the strategic key to the
operations to-day. Yermah will lead a force between that fortress and
the granaries, as if ready to fall upon the city, whilst we, with our
noisy drums and trumpets, draw the rebels north of the canal, to repulse
our feigned attack.”
“Wilt thou forgive me for asking if this is thine own or Yermah’s plan?”
“It is the Dorado’s instruction. He is proving to be a worthy disciple
of the great tactician, Akaza, who never failed to gain a victory. See!
They are warned of our approach.”
As Yermah had predicted, the revolted troops, not being commanded by a
leader skilled in strategy, had signaled to the forts around the city
for reenforcements, and then turned toward the canal to repulse the
invaders.
A rocket was sent up from East Temple, signaling the defenders to
disembark south of the canal. Seeing this, the insurgents swept around
the basin to engage in a close-range combat and overwhelm Hanabusa and
Ben Hu Barabe by superior numbers.
Before they could execute this maneuver, the glittering ranks of
Yermah’s own household guards marched through the pass between Las Papas
and the Mission Hills, south of East Temple, with a company of horsemen
bringing up the rear.
The two columns marched side by side, but separate, that on the right
charging the insurgents on the right flank. There were about three
thousand men hemmed in between their own ranks and Hanabusa’s command.
Finding they were cut off from the main body, the rebels made a
desperate and gallant defense, but were obliged to surrender, with half
their force either killed, wounded, or made captive.
Simultaneously, the main column under Yermah wheeled toward the
Observatory, driving their enemies before them with great slaughter. The
Dorado’s guard swept over the rising ground between the center of the
city and the Observatory in a solid phalanx nine deep. Behind them came
detachments from the fleet at the head of the canal, who harassed the
stragglers and completed the general rout.
Archers and swordsmen, cutlass and javelin wielders excelled each other
in feats of generous daring, while shield clanked against shield, and
spearsmen tilted against spearsmen, in the shock and clamor of
fratricidal warfare.
Underneath all their apparent fury was a fraternal, conciliatory spirit,
causing the insurgents to make only a half-hearted fight against their
hereditary leader.
The revolted troops were oppressed by a secret fear that Yermah’s soul
was perjured; but this did not overcome their inherent sense of loyalty
to him.
“Down with the Mazaleels!” urged Setos, now in the thick of the fight.
“Spare not a single apostate! If thou art true-hearted Turghatis, stand
by the old beliefs.”
He spurred his horse into the fray, shouting:
“Mazaleel! Mazaleel! Mazaleel! Who loves a Mazaleel?”
“Kill! Slay! Burn! Fire every building! Do duty with torch and sword!”
hoarsely commanded Imos, seeing that the lines about the Observatory
trenches were wavering. “Who will help me cut a way through to the
canal?”
Urged forward by his example and words, a body of warrior-priests threw
themselves against Hanabusa’s flank, and succeeded in driving him to the
water’s edge. Many of the oarsmen tried to re-embark, but the fleet was
on fire and a swift and terrible conflict ensued.
In the meantime, Yermah had stormed the eastern entrance to the
Observatory, which finally yielded, and he rode in under the mocking
inscription:
“_Peace and Good Will Abide With Thee._”
“The victory is ours!” he cried, sheathing his sword, and surveying the
Temple of Venus on his left, apparently deserted.
“Take a dozen horsemen,” said he to an aide, “and ascertain if the
vestals are safe. If so, we will send a strong guard to prevent further
disorder and then retreat; for it is not seemly to fight our brethren.”
As rapidly as possible, reconnoitering parties were dispatched to
discover the damage done and to provide suitable care for the killed and
wounded. To this day the native American races make strenuous efforts to
prevent their dead from falling into the hands of an enemy.
The defeated troops were ordered back to quarters and Setos was seized
and brought before Yermah.
“Back into thy houses under penalty of arrest!” shouted the mounted
patrol, as they galloped through the streets, and rode down the
turbulent mob. Soon the cry went up:
“Setos is in chains! Run for thy life!” This startling news sent the
crowd flying in every direction, until even the stout-hearted seemed
paralyzed by the result, and the defeated ones slunk away to their
homes, like children caught in an act of disobedience.
The men were secretly humiliated and ashamed, none of that generation
having ever been guilty of insurrection, and they stood aghast at sight
of the carnage and slaughter.
The shamans and priestesses ministered to the wounded and dying, and
many heart-rending scenes were enacted on the spot where some turbulent
spirit had received its quietus.
The marketplace and temple walls were gallantly defended and by
nightfall comparative order reigned in the city itself, though heavy
firing from the forts told of the strife along the banks of the canal.
Imos, aided by a band of fanatical warrior-priests, was doing all in his
power to destroy the fleet. Hanabusa was retreating slowly with his
shattered forces, but every inch of the ground was being stubbornly
contested. As darkness came on, the balsas slipped by unobserved, and
Hanabusa steered for the Camp of Mars with less than half of his
original numbers.
The battering-rams and catapults had done deadly work on the feebly
defended Camp of Mars. Here the flood-gates of the canal had been opened
by a band of marauding insurgents, under cover of the darkness, and the
rising tide inundated the whole plain.
Imos marched rapidly across the peninsula, keeping well out of range of
the mangonels, and was in possession of the camp when Hanabusa arrived.
Ben Hu Barabe engaged the warrior-priests in a hand-to-hand struggle,
while Hanabusa hastened to the signal tower only to find it dismantled.
There being no way to inform Yermah of his desperate straits, he rushed
back to his house, and hurriedly securing things necessary for flight,
joined in the unequal contest Ben Hu Barabe and a handful of men kept up
at the water’s edge.
In the uncertain light, the commander could discern only three seaworthy
balsas, and into these his followers scrambled, and, pulling Ben Hu
Barabe aboard, put to sea, closely pursued by the leaky, disabled or
badly manned balsas which had already been captured by the enemy.
On the heels of Hanabusa’s flight came a company of horsemen, sent by
Yermah, who dashed into camp with drawn sabers and boldly demanded the
surrender of Imos. Realizing that he was completely surrounded and that
resistance was useless, the high-priest suffered himself to be put on
horseback and carried back to Iaqua. Upon arriving there he was brought
before Yermah, in company with Setos.
“Why hast thou made war upon me, Setos?”
“Because the Azes deem thee unfit to rule them,” was the blunt answer.
“I have no desire for temporal power. Hadst thou confided thy ambition
to me, I would have aided thee.”
“Thou hast mistaken me. I am only an instrument in the hands of
Providence for the deliverance of Tlamco,” answered Setos, in his best
temple-service manner.
“Thou art incapable of delivering thyself, much less Tlamco. But I
desire thee to become Grand Servitor. Art thou willing to accept its
full import?”
Setos could scarcely believe his ears. Was the Dorado speaking from
choice, or was he sore beset, and capitulating on the best possible
terms?
“What dost thou mean by the full import?”
“The law dost require thee to marry. Thou mayst not demand the oath of
allegiance without a consort. Atlantis no longer exists and thou must be
responsible for the succession.”
Setos opened his eyes wide in astonishment when the real nature of the
situation dawned upon him and he realized that fear had nothing to do
with Yermah’s abdication. As soon as he could recover himself, he
answered:
“I am willing to fulfill thy conditions.”
“Not my conditions, but the law of the ages,” corrected the Dorado, with
a frown. “Rahula has long been thy willing handmaid. Wilt thou espouse
her?”
“Yes.”
“And to-night?”
“Yes; but canst thou say as much for her?”
“She shall answer for herself, as she is already under this roof. And
while the tamanes conduct her here, wilt thou tell me, Imos, why thou,
too, art in bloody array against me?”
Encouraged by Setos’s success, Imos answered boldly:
“Because thou art a lost soul, and art unworthy to succeed Akaza.”
“For his sake must I endure persecution. But thou art rash in attempting
to defy the Brotherhood. Thou art enslaved by forbidden ambition.”
Yermah’s voice quivered with suppressed anger, and his eyes blazed
scornfully, but he kept himself under control. Catching Rahula’s eye as
she entered, he said with cutting emphasis:
“Every soul is lost on the downward spiral, and can only regain its
original position by a long and painful succession of incarnations.
Desire is the prison-house of the ego.”
Rahula stood abashed, uncertain how much Yermah knew, and just what his
speech implied. An uncomfortable and awkward silence followed, which
Setos finally broke by stepping forward and taking her by the hand. Then
he asked with gentleness:
“Art thou willing to share the perils of office with me? Yermah wishes
to make me Servitor of the Azes.”
“My heart acknowledges no other master, and my happiness is indissolubly
linked with thy fortunes. I am willing to serve thee.” She spoke in a
low voice, while a flush of triumph overspread her countenance. She was
almost as much surprised as Setos had been.
“Name thy witnesses, and let Imos hear thy marriage vows at once.
Matters of state compel haste.”
All three hated him, but they obeyed with alacrity, nevertheless.
“I will administer the oath of office at sunrise, and at meridian thou
must be ready to receive the allegiance of Tlamco,” said Yermah later,
before leaving for the Temple of Neptune.
He had not lived at Iaqua since Orondo’s death.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO SETOS AND RAHULA
Setos could not refuse the Dorado an armed escort. But there was
treachery in the very air, and Yermah did not retire when he found
himself alone and safe inside the temple walls.
He could hear Oghi howling dismally in the stable inclosure and in the
intense stillness he heard Cibolo pawing the ground and snorting as if
some one were prowling on the outside.
Opening the door cautiously, the hierophant peeped into the long, empty
aisles, dim and shadowy in the faint light flickering from the lamps
overhead. None of his senses relaxed vigilance, as he pressed his ear
close to the floor and listened intently.
Yermah had not long to wait before he heard a grating sound, as if some
heavy body were being pushed through the north gate. Returning to his
room he hastily tied the leathern pouches around his waist containing
the relics of Kerœcia and Akaza. He grasped his sword and came back to
the door, and was horrified to find a catapult being dragged into
position almost against it.
Recognizing Imos, it flashed over him that the high-priest had seized
upon Setos’s nuptial night to make himself hierophant; but his blood ran
cold when he thought of the helplessness of the recluses around him.
Fear and distrust counseled against apprising Setos of the situation,
and his own loyal guards were fast asleep, believing him safe at Iaqua.
His heart almost stopped its beating when he comprehended that his
enemies were attempting to slip the bolts and chains of the door.
Something caused him to turn his head in an opposite direction, and
there he saw an apparition of Kerœcia, luminous and perfect in outline.
He could only hold the image a moment; but she smiled and beckoned to
him as she flitted through the doorway. Instinct bade him follow her.
It was _his_ blood for which the rebels thirsted, and none of the other
inmates would be disturbed—Yermah thought, as he ran along the aisle.
While Yermah was unbolting the door, a projectile from the catapult
shivered the northern entrance with a crash that rocked and shook the
whole structure. The aisles filled immediately with half-awakened monks,
but their voices were silenced by an explosion against the opposite
wall, which sent the spikes flying in every direction and felled them
with stifling and deadly odors.
Yermah could never remember how he succeeded in reaching Cibolo’s stall.
The sagacious animal seemed to help in getting into his trappings, and
Oghi had already buried his teeth in the back of a miscreant slipping up
to the half-opened door through which Yermah had passed. The ocelot
darted out of the inclosure ahead of Yermah—all the tiger instincts in
him aroused and ready to attack the first thing in sight.
Oghi rolled over and over with a victim, marking and maiming him for
life. The man’s cries brought assistance; but neither arrows nor sword
thrusts dispatched the assailant until several persons had been wounded.
The Dorado found all the wall entrances locked from the outside, which
accounted for the absence of guards at the doors. Escape was only
possible through the north-gate, and there more than a dozen
warrior-priests were waiting for him.
Man and beast knew there was desperate work before them, but they were
nerved for the encounter. As he dashed past Oghi, Yermah saw with a
sinking heart that the poor creature was writhing in its death agony.
Cibolo laid back his ears, and tried to take a piece out of the arm put
forward to seize the bridle. When the animal found that he could not
break the ranks at the open gate, he wheeled and kicked at the
assailants viciously.
Yermah reined him back, and charged again, using his sword arm
constantly. A spear-point pierced the upper part of Cibolo’s neck,
causing him to squeal shrilly, while an arrow went through the flesh of
Yermah’s left arm near the shoulder, breaking the point on his armor. A
well-directed blow felled his antagonist, and horse and rider cleared
the open space at a bound.
The Dorado rode straight to the west into a redwood forest, long since
submerged. Covered with dust and faint from exhaustion and loss of
blood, with broken armor and disordered dress, he struggled on toward
Tlamco’s Tower of Refuge, situated on an artificial hill south of the
present Alms House.
Upon arrival there, he found the citadel filled with women and children,
who had fled from Tlamco during the day, and among them were Ildiko and
Alcyesta.
Yermah only took time to bind up his own and Cibolo’s wound before
making his way through Visitacon Valley to the bay, where Alcyesta told
him Hanabusa and Ben Hu Barabe were expecting him.
“The Turghati have sworn to kill thee,” confided Alcyesta, “and it were
not safe for thee nor for thy followers to remain even here in this
tower.”
“Before daylight, this place will be surrounded,” added the keeper.
“They will suspect thy hiding place. Shouldst thou surrender and stand
trial, thou knowest beforehand what the verdict would be.”
“Be advised by me,” pleaded Alcyesta. “For this purpose am I come.”
“Ample provision has been made,” urged the keeper. “Go thou quickly. I
fear for thy safety.”
Seeing that Ildiko prepared to accompany them, Yermah turned to her,
saying:
“Why art thou here? Thy father is married to Rahula, and will be
proclaimed Grand Servitor in a few hours.”
“I know all that thou sayest. But dost thou think I should be allowed to
live at Iaqua? If so, thou knowest neither Setos nor Rahula.”
“What is thy purpose?”
“To go with thee and thy followers. Do not, I beseech thee, turn me
away, since I should be left to perish miserably.”
“That is thy probable fate with me.”
“So be it.”
Seeing that she was not to be dissuaded, Yermah offered no further
objection.
The bay extended down to Monterey at that time—Monterey, the quaint old
Spanish town, where the first American flag was unfurled on this coast.
Hanabusa had managed to pick up six other balsas loaded with provisions
and manned by stout rowers whose fealty was unquestioned.
When this little remnant of Atlantians and Monbas reached the seas
through Monterey Bay, they were the last of the Mazaleels—a term of
derision applied to them by conservative Azes. Mazaleel was simply
another name for half-breed, and for ages after was a despised epithet.
Steadily and in secret, before there was light enough to betray their
movements, the conspirators wheeled the catapult back to the
parade-grounds near the Observatory. Thinking that Yermah would return
to the temple, they securely closed every door and window.
None of the monks ever awoke from their first insensibility.
Imos ordered the stable-doors to be left open and the north-gate ajar,
so that Yermah’s absence might be discovered by some passer-by, but he
took good care to be at home when the news flew over Tlamco.
He was the first to suggest that the Dorado’s flight was to conceal a
crime, and was properly shocked and horrified when the facts were made
known.
With a preternaturally long face and proper unction, Imos went to Setos,
and offered to officiate in Yermah’s stead.
Setos was genuinely surprised, yet not displeased over the turn of
affairs, and readily agreed with Imos that the temple should be razed
and never rebuilt. He had always opposed the White Brotherhood, and
could see them exterminated without regret.
* * * * *
It was rather an imposing procession that filed out of Iaqua at noon,
and marched over the rising ground, lately a scene of bloodshed, to the
Temple of the Sun, where Setos and Rahula were to receive the fealty of
the populace.
Each male adult in Tlamco, brought earth in a square jar and water in a
deep disk for an oath-offering. Unclasping a pair of interlaced
bracelets, the citizen placed his right hand flat upon one band, and,
detaching the other, carried it to his forehead, saying:
“Name I thee to witness, I make loyal oath by two rings. So help me, All
Powerful One.”
This formula was repeated thousands of times in the next three days, and
then, in response to a general proclamation, the warriors and citizens
assembled to give burial to the slain. These were interred in a large
circle at the base of Mount Olympus, with their heads turned toward the
center.
Setos’s first public work as Servitor was to erect a tall shaft with
four fire-altars at the base, on the cardinal points, on which sacrifice
was offered to the “Martyrs of the Lost Soul,” as the dead in this
conflict were subsequently termed.
Beginning at the northern side of East Avenue, and circling in a radius
of three thousand and ninety feet to the same side of West Avenue, was a
set of pillars supporting a low crenellated wall along which was a
sentry-path, used for public observation in the residence part of the
city.
This crescent gave the distance of the lost planet from the center of
Tlamco, Mount Olympus being in the same radiation. It was indicated
again from Las Papas to Lime Point, and also from Lone Mountain to the
artificial sugar-loaf surmounted by the Tower of Refuge, south of Blue
Mountain, and between Las Papas and Strawberry Hill.
The gilded domes on the Temple of the Sun were the five-pointed star in
the center of the crescent, a device which anciently figured as the lost
planet[23]—the present star and crescent of the Turkish Empire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE MEMENTO FOR GENERATIONS—BUILT BY SERPENT KINGS
“Alcyesta, hast thou the silver casket safe?” asked Ben Hu Barabe, as
soon as they were comfortably afloat.
“Yes.”
“Give it me.”
He leaned forward eager to take it, but she held back, saying:
“Dost thou remember the injunction to loosen the eagles in time of peril
and to follow their lead?”
“Yes. I have freed both birds. Dost thou not hear the cowardly gulls
screeching with fright because of the eagles’ presence?”
“Then thou hadst best confide thy secret.”
“Yermah, wilt thou hear me?”
“If it is to accuse thyself, no!”
“It is to give into thy hands a message from Akaza, and to impart to
thee the manner of its coming.”
“Speak,” returned Yermah, in a whisper.
“Before the awful time of wrath, a pair of golden eagles trained in
falconry were intrusted to me by our beloved high-priestess, who
intended them to be thy companions in the chase. She gave me, also, a
ring set with diamonds, which I carried safely until I met Akaza after
we left our battered balsa. I should never have known how, or when, the
ring and the birds left me, had I not received this from the
hierophant.”
He handed over a tiny, silver locket taken from the casket in Alcyesta’s
hand.
Yermah pressed the spring and revealed a ring, large enough for his
thumb, and having a fine silk tissue evenly fitting its broad band.
“Before removing the contents of this locket, hear me fully,” pleaded
Ben Hu Barabe. “This treasure was made fast in a leather pouch, which
was securely tied to the wing, next the body, of one eagle. Here is the
parchment slipped in beside it.”
Yermah reached out his hand, but Ben Hu Barabe retained it.
“Thou canst not read without more light. Hold a lantern close by,” he
ordered.
When the tamane obeyed, Ben Hu Barabe gave Yermah the writing.