Part 26 (1/2)

”Every father is a G.o.d to his daughter, or should be; also in my day millions named me a G.o.d because I saw further and struck harder than they could. As for the rest, it came to me in a vision. Oh! Bickley, if you were wiser than you think you are, you would know that all things to come are born elsewhere and travel hither like the light from stars.

Sometimes they come faster before their day into a single mind, and that is what men call prophecy. But this is a gift which cannot be commanded, even by me. Also I did not know that you would come. I knew only that we should awaken and by the help of men, for if none had been present at that destined hour we must have died for lack of warmth and sustenance.”

”I deny your hypothesis in toto,” exclaimed Bickley, but n.o.body paid any attention to him.

”My father,” said Yva, rising and bowing before him with her swan-like grace, ”I have noted your commands. But do you permit that I show the temple to these strangers, also something of our past?”

”Yes, yes,” he said. ”It will save much talk in a savage tongue that is difficult to me. But bring them here no more without my command, save Bastin only. When the sun is four hours high in the upper world, let him come tomorrow to teach me, and afterwards if so I desire. Or if he wills, he can sleep here.”

”I think I would rather not,” said Bastin hurriedly. ”I make no pretense to being particular, but this place does not appeal to me as a bedroom.

There are degrees in the pleasures of solitude and, in short, I will not disturb your privacy at night.”

Oro waved his hand and we departed down that awful and most dreary hall.

”I hope you will spend a pleasant time here, Bastin,” I said, looking back from the doorway at its cold, illuminated vastness.

”I don't expect to,” he answered, ”but duty is duty, and if I can drag that old sinner back from the pit that awaits him, it will be worth doing. Only I have my doubts about him. To me he seems to bear a strong family resemblance to Beelzebub, and he's a bad companion week in and week out.”

We went through the portico, Yva leading us, and pa.s.sed the fountain of Life-water, of which she cautioned us to drink no more at present, and to prevent him from doing so, dragged Tommy past it by his collar.

Bickley, however, lingered under the pretence of making a further examination of the statue. As I had seen him emptying into his pocket the contents of a corked bottle of quinine tabloids which he always carried with him, I guessed very well that his object was to procure a sample of this water for future a.n.a.lysis. Of course I said nothing, and Yva and Bastin took no note of what he was doing.

When we were clear of the palace, of which we had only seen one hall, we walked across an open s.p.a.ce made unutterably dreary by the absence of any vegetation or other sign of life, towards a huge building of glorious proportions that was constructed of black stone or marble. It is impossible for me to give any idea of the frightful solemnity of this doomed edifice, for as I think I have said, it alone had a roof, standing there in the midst of that brilliant, unvarying and most unnatural illumination which came from nowhere and yet was everywhere.

Thus, when one lifted a foot, there it was between the sole of the boot and the floor, or to express it better, the boot threw no shadow.

I think this absence of shadows was perhaps the most terrifying circ.u.mstance connected with that universal and pervading light. Through it we walked on to the temple. We pa.s.sed three courts, pillared all of them, and came to the building which was larger than St. Paul's in London. We entered through huge doors which still stood open, and presently found ourselves beneath the towering dome. There were no windows, why should there be in a place that was full of light? There was no ornamentation, there was nothing except black walls. And yet the general effect was magnificent in its majestic grace.

”In this place,” said Yva, and her sweet voice went whispering round the walls and the arching dome, ”were buried the Kings of the Sons of Wisdom. They lie beneath, each in his sepulchre. Its entrance is yonder,” and she pointed to what seemed to be a chapel on the right.

”Would you wish to see them?”

”Somehow I don't care to,” said Bastin. ”The place is dreary enough as it is without the company of a lot of dead kings.”

”I should like to dissect one of them, but I suppose that would not be allowed,” said Bickley.

”No,” she answered. ”I think that the Lord Oro would not wish you to cut up his forefathers.”

”When you and he went to sleep, why did you not choose the family vault?” asked Bastin.

”Would you have found us there?” she queried by way of answer. Then, understanding that the invitation was refused by general consent, though personally I should have liked to accept it, and have never ceased regretting that I did not, she moved towards a colossal object which stood beneath the centre of the dome.

On a stepped base, not very different from that in the cave but much larger, sat a figure, draped in a cloak on which was graved a number of stars, doubtless to symbolise the heavens. The fastening of the cloak was shaped like the crescent moon, and the foot-stool on which rested the figure's feet was fas.h.i.+oned to suggest the orb of the sun. This was of gold or some such metal, the only spot of brightness in all that temple. It was impossible to say whether the figure were male or female, for the cloak falling in long, straight folds hid its outlines. Nor did the head tell us, for the hair also was hidden beneath the mantle and the face might have been that of either man or woman. It was terrible in its solemnity and calm, and its expression was as remote and mystic as that of Buddha, only more stern. Also without doubt it was blind; it was impossible to mistake the sightlessness of those staring orbs. Across the knees lay a naked sword and beneath the cloak the arms were hidden.

In its complete simplicity the thing was marvelous.

On either side upon the pedestal knelt a figure of the size of life. One was an old and withered man with death stamped upon his face; the other was a beautiful, naked woman, her hands clasped in the att.i.tude of prayer and with vague terror written on her vivid features.

Such was this glorious group of which the meaning could not be mistaken.

It was Fate throned upon the sun, wearing the constellations as his garment, armed with the sword of Destiny and wors.h.i.+pped by Life and Death. This interpretation I set out to the others.