CHAPTER VIII.
POSEIDON’S FESTIVAL DAY.
It was an hour past noon when Hellen left the palace. Soon he was traversing the great roadway among throngs of people, some on foot, some on horseback, some in chariots; and all, like himself, bound for the great temple.
For this was the Festival day of Poseidon, and he must now be honored less from love than from habit. So much had this people fallen.
This great roadway was stupendous of construction. Of thirty feet in width, it coiled about the mountain, spiral-like, from the base to the summit fifteen hundred feet above, in terraces of a hundred feet in height—these terraces being interrupted only about the vast groundwork of the temple, and there being continued in tunnels. In many places the roadway was cut out of the solid rock; and, in others, built over solid masonry in which the arch was a conspicuous figure; whilst transverse paths led from it up and down in numerous available points, causing the mountain to be accessible in every part. In this manner did the ancient Atlanteans testify their homage for Poseidon and Cleito, whose temple surmounted all—whose temple now was so seldom approached even by those considering themselves the most devout.
Along the roadway, with the throng, speeded Hellen until he arrived at the wide transverse road that curved upward to the Grove of Poseidon and through the grove to the great court of the temple.
This Grove of Poseidon, dense in its shade, was planted in cypresses and palms that stood in groups of threes, and about it were stationed columns of orichalcum inscribed with the ancient laws, both civil and religious. The largest of these columns stood in front of the gateway of the great court, and of this more will be said anon. Sufficient for the present is it to add that, as every Atlantean passed it, he was supposed to bow in veneration. Though of late years even this simple observance was falling into almost utter neglect.
Hellen entered the gateway to find the great court quite filled with people. On he pressed to the main portico—that vast portico about which were ranged the golden statues of Poseidon’s ten sons and their wives.[18] Here he paused, as did others, to admire the garlands flung about these, as well as gaze upon the scene below, of mountain with encircling zones of land and water, of the beautiful Luith winding to the sea, of that sea spreading blue and serene to the eastward. And Hellen thought that never had a day been so fair, never had the view been so enchanting.
He passed through the portal, and into a spacious hall whose stone ceiling was supported by columns of granite and syenite. From this hall opened the great circular temple proper, its wide portal facing the entering one; and both looking to the east.
Just within this sacred portal, Hellen took his stand so as to face the great altar to the right. As the people entered, they also turned to face both portal and altar, and consequently the east. Of the four cardinal points, the east was held in the most reverence, it being deemed the especial abiding place of the gods.
At the northern curve of the temple were three doors that led to the temple extension. The one toward the east opened into a passage leading to the inner holy place, or sanctuary, and through it only the king, high priest, chief priest, and the few priests highest in authority could pass. The middle door admitted the inferior priests from their gathering room. By the third door, toward the west, the handmaids entered from the long passage that extended northward to their own building. On the left of this passage were the rooms reserved for the priests and the few male attendants. On its right, the first door opened into the great gathering room, and farther along were other doors leading to rooms connecting with this that were sacred to the priests. As the rooms on the right of the passage, as well as the gathering room, were inside rooms, they would have been dark had not this part of the extension been run up higher, thus admitting of apertures in the walls just below the vaulted ceilings. To the right of this middle part, was the inner sanctuary with its rear connecting rooms. These were lighted by apertures; and those of the inner sanctuary and the principal rooms overlooked the eastern coast.
On the great stone dais, holding the golden altar and leading to the inner sanctuary, were gathered the priests, chanting. Toward the portal were the minstrels with lyre, syrinx, harp, pipes, cymbals, and drum. At intervals these accompanied the priests, the people swelling the refrains.
On a dais near the middle door, sat the king in his robes of state, and about him on a lower dais were seated the nobles and their wives. Grouped about the statues of Poseidon and Cleito were the handmaids, attired in long flowing robes of thin white linen and garlanded with lilies. Each held a bunch of rarest flowers, beside. A charming spectacle were they of youthful grace and innocence. But the despairing Hellen, as he gazed, could but shudder and grow faint at thought of their probable fate.
At first he could not distinguish Æole, nor Electra. But erelong, he perceived them to the left of the statue of Poseidon; and soon was brightening under a loving look from the one and a smile from the other. Then, so great became the pressure of the crowd, that he lost sight of them, and thus turned his attention to the statues of the Nereids nearest him. These, as well as the others, were lavishly decorated with flowers conspicuous among which were the blue lotus, chrysanthemum, anemone, acacia blossom, convolvulus, water lily, rose, tuberose, lilac, and the graceful plumes of the papyrus. Tall shoots of the last, over ten feet in height, also adorned the apertures, producing fine effect; whilst garlands and festoons hung from every available point. Most elegantly did the vast interior bear testimony to the Atlanteans’ skill in flower culture.
When the temple was full, and but few stragglers arriving, the great silver gong was sounded before the altar by a priest. Profound became the quiet. And, almost instantly, the door leading to the inner sanctuary opened to admit the high priest, the chief priest, and the few priests of superior rank.
Of course, Oltis was the observed of all, not so much because of his office, nor the fact of his officiating so seldom, as that the people held an unconscious fear and distrust of him. Every eye was fixed.
Now, as he moved with slow, stately step toward the altar, a mighty shock came upon these quiescent islanders. Oltis had dared to make another innovation upon the ancient sacred customs! He had discarded the white linen robe of the priests, the silver circlet with its sapphire, and was resplendent in a purple woolen robe embroidered in gold and a miter richly jeweled. Worse, he was wearing these with an air indicating he would brook no interference.
The great throng began to sway, and murmur; and those that could, looked from Oltis to King Atlano, inquiringly, resentfully.
But Atlano was smiling back as response to the salutation of the high priest, appearing to think it in order that the priestly vestments should rival his own in color and splendor. For Atlano wore the royal purple sacred ever before to the king, and his high crown was no richer in gems than the high priest’s miter.
When the king showed no disapproval, the murmurs of dissent grew louder, and even began to swell above the anthem the priests were raising to the accompaniment of the minstrels. But this anthem was long, and in honor of Poseidon, and of such beauty that the dissenting ones began to listen, charmed. When it ceased, the vast assemblage had calmed.
Then Oltis swept before the altar to chant with melodious voice an invocation to Poseidon, the while heaping upon it the fruits and flowers the people presented for offering. When the altar could hold no more, he turned and implored blessings from the gods in return for the virtues of their monarch. He dwelt long upon the king’s moderation, justice, self-command, generosity, love of truth, freedom from covetousness and sensuality in so fulsome a manner that Hellen writhed; and next caught himself groaning as he wondered over the easy forbearance of this listening people.
When Oltis had finished, and was raising his head proudly to survey the immense audience, Hellen took in as never before his strong likeness to Atlano. Both were tall, powerfully formed, strong featured, slightly receding of forehead and chin, red of skin, and fiery-eyed. But, in Oltis’ face was a look of dissimulation and craft that repelled even more than Atlano’s sensual expression. In a flash Hellen understood.
“Ah,” thought he, “Oltis hath aims beyond this temple. Can it be that he pandereth to Atlano with the view to be king himself? That royal robe meaneth much!”
While Oltis stood gazing at the people, and receiving with unconcern their dissatisfied looks, a great stir was heard in the entrance hall. As this increased, every eye that could turned to the portal, to behold there entering—Queen Atlana with her ladies, whilst Azu himself held up her long purple train!
At this most unusual appearance, the audience went wild—smiling, waving their hands, bursting into enthusiastic cries. The Atlanteans loved their queen, and her long absence from worship had been wondered at and deplored. Her vacant chair had been a protest of which they had not felt free to speak. But now all must be right, as she was coming back. So they went wild of their delight.
The astonished king had arisen. Oltis stood fixed and staring. Queen Atlana, crowned, clad in purple and gold, and ablaze with jewels, slowly advanced—the people joyfully giving way—until she had come nigh the king. With her ladies’ assistance she mounted the few steps of the dais; and sank into the chair she had been wont to occupy at the side of the king, but which now was placed toward the edge of the dais. Then her ladies formed about her, and, following her example, bent in prayer.
Intense had grown the quiet. They were as spellbound, waiting for the queen to raise her head. When she did, it was to look toward the king. But his face was averted. Then her glance was toward the priests. Breathlessly watched the people. How would she accept the high priest’s latest profanity?
Her eye was quick to distinguish Oltis in his royal robing. And she started violently. For this the people were prepared. But the olden spirit of Atlantis stirred within them, when, accepting to the full his intent, she arose and stared at him, astounded!
Despite himself, Oltis’ eyes fell beneath hers. This encouraged the awakening islanders, who began to murmur rebelliously, even to hiss. Yes, it had come to this—a high priest of Atlantis was suffering indignity in the temple, and from its worshipers!
Shuddering, the queen again looked toward the king, to meet his scornful smile. This smile the people beheld, and further, the grand manner in which the queen drew herself up and questioned with her eloquent eyes. In their appreciation, they burst forth into their favorite cry of “All dear is Queen Atlana!” but at once hushed upon perceiving the baleful looks the king was casting at her.
Mute of their rage, they began to sway tumultuously, vengefully: then made as if they would array themselves about her as she tottered, and leaned upon the Lady Rica. And the ensuing mutterings grew into imprecations.
At this serious moment, diversion occurred. The door leading to the inner sanctuary opened, admitting a figure taller than any in that assemblage, and of such majesty that the surging crowd quieted, and a few cried out in awe:
“The ‘Silent Priest’! The ‘Silent Priest’!”
The ‘Silent Priest’ bowing in grand, yet benign manner, advanced until almost beside Oltis; then, facing the people, signed that the murmurings must cease, and the ceremonies continue. Most graceful and significant were his gestures: and even Atlano and Oltis followed them as if charmed.
As to Queen Atlana, her amazement was supreme. Never had she seen this priest, though much had she wondered over his mysterious advent upon the island, and what such presence meant. Thus she stood transfixed.
Rarely had the ‘Silent Priest’ appeared at the services. Yet, among the people, it was already whispered that, since his coming, things had changed for the better. Fewer were the animal offerings, and no handmaids had been forced into the inner sanctuary. Now it was plain that he exercised some subtle force not only upon the subordinate priests, but even upon King Atlano and the high priest as these were regarding him in reverence, in subservience.
When the king and queen were seated, the ‘Silent Priest’ went before the altar, there to raise his eyes and move his lips in prayer. But no sound came forth, for the ‘Silent Priest’ was voiceless. But such were his magnetism and expression that king, queen, priests and people followed him in awe, and partly comprehending.
When his prayer was finished, he went from the altar, a little to one side, and stood absorbed.
Then Oltis moved before the altar, and signed to the handmaids. These began to sing in such fashion that the people listened, enthralled. Soon they were gliding about the statues of Poseidon and Cleito, and in and out among the Nereids, still singing. To Hellen, knowing what he did, it was unbearable to listen to the sweet voices, and watch the graceful movements of these beautiful, innocent, perhaps doomed young girls, each wearing so charmingly her robe of filmy white, her garland of purest lilies.
As they moved about Poseidon, they threw in his chariot their bunches of flowers, so that quickly he was standing amid heaping floral tributes. And Cleito was not neglected, for each took off the garland running from shoulder to waist, to lay it about her, after stooping to kiss her hand. And, oh, the grace of it all!
Quite a while did this last, to the delight of the beholders. After the handmaids had again resumed their places, all grew grave, for the time had come when Oltis was to deliver the speech eulogistic of Poseidon.
He stood up high before them in front of the altar, and his haughty tones rang out:
“Gracious King, Gracious Queen, Priests, Nobles, People: another year hath brought plenty upon Atlantis. Another year have the gods smiled: another year have they breathed into our minds their will. And, this day, as a year since, yea, as thousands of years since, we meet to joy in the festival of our Father Poseidon, and to plead for his further favor. I, his high priest, though far from worthy—”
Here was most fearful interruption. From the statue of Poseidon emanated a groan; and then it flung at Oltis this.
“Why art thou far from worthy?”
Oltis shrank back, mute, and gazed in horror at the statue. The people, screaming in terror, fell against each other. The king and queen started to their feet, and stood rigid.
But Oltis, with greatest effort, rallied. In loud, though shaking tones, he continued:
“I call myself far from worthy, because with the years I the better know my failings, my evil turnings—”
“Is thy new robe an evil turning?” was now spoken abruptly by a powerful voice at the rear of the assemblage.
There was a simultaneous looking backward to discover this speaker. Oltis stared in the same direction, paling even to his lips. Fearful was the hush that followed. At length, he desperately resumed:
“On this day so promising—”
But paused to gaze, petrified, at the people, who were reflecting his stony horror.
Far off, beneath the waters, was beginning a loud, menacing rumbling! It was approaching the island! On—on—it was coming—even to beneath their feet! Was the sea pouring into the bowels of the earth?
As they stood dazed, the massive walls began to shake violently, threatening to fall inward—the accompaniment to the earth now quivering fast beneath—that earth they had deemed so solid, so stable!
With the cry of panic, the islanders began to rush upon each other, no purpose in their movements. Great loss of life would have resulted had not the silver gong sounded imperatively.
The frantic people turned to see it held by the ‘Silent Priest,’ who was still standing in his place with mien undaunted. He returned their agonized looks by smiles; then gesticulated that the worst was over. Indeed, the earth was already quieting. Next, he pointed to Queen Atlana, as if beseeching their consideration. They looked to perceive her fainting in the arms of the Lady Rica. Then they calmed.
The oscillations had ceased. Atlano, haggard and trembling, signed that the queen must be taken out. Accordingly, she was placed in a chair and borne by some of the nobles to her chariot, the people looking on mute, motionless.
But when she had been borne out, they began to hasten after her, with no regard for the benediction Oltis was endeavoring to mutter. When king and priests alone remained, these, by one accord, speeded to their respective passages, thence to escape into the air. Surely such a convulsion must have direfully disfigured the face of nature.
But without, all was bright, serene, unchanged. Not a stone had fallen. But—what did it mean? Never within the island’s existence, had there been any evidence of the earth’s instability. And it was Poseidon’s Festival Day! Was there warning in this?
