CHAPTER SIX
THE AGREEMENT TO ARBITRATE THEIR SEVERAL DIFFERENCES
It was Jupiter’s Day (Thursday), and Akaza wore a scarlet robe of silk, with embroidered bands, having the twelve signs of the zodiac worked out in neutral tones of brown and green. On his head was a scarlet liberty-cap with the sign of Jupiter on the forehead and his long hair and beard had been curled into nine parts, typical of the nine phases of initiation which he had passed. He wore a sapphire ring on the middle finger of his right hand, and his breastplate was of emeralds, set in silver.
With a single tamane and a guide, Akaza followed the course of the Merced River and reveled in the luxuriant vegetation which changes in character and development according to locality.
Near the falls were dense growths of alder, willow and spruce, and in the upper valley were sugar-pine and yellow and bastard cedar in abundance.
The Balm of Gilead, poplar and black oak haunted the swampy places where snowy pond-lilies rode in imperious fashion over the moisture. There was a wilderness of sparkling mosses thriving in the spray of waterfall and cascade.
Back in cool, shady greeneries, were an infinite variety of ferns, ranging from tall bracken to feathery maidenhair clinging to the eerie crevices high up on the sky line.
Maple, laurel, and manzanita with dainty bell-shaped blossoms colored like a baby’s palm, had as companion another member of the buck-thorn family, the white lilac. And these seemed intent upon concealing the basis of the different falls. Here, also, was the madrono, “the harlequin of the woods,” in buff and red bark, in a chronic state of dishabille. But who would find fault with the toilet process which changes the older, darker bark for the delicate cream-colored covering which lies underneath?
A noisy, chattering bluejay, the scandal-monger of the bird family, protested vigorously against the incursion of this venerable old man. Vociferous and argumentative, the feathered opponent grew tired of useless opposition, and, as a practical joke, concealed itself in the clump of leaves and screamed like a hawk near where a flock of small birds were enjoying themselves in their own fashion.
The songsters recovered from their fright while the rascal was giving vent to a cackle which sounded like a derisive laugh, and then they combined forces to drive the intruder out of the neighborhood. The bluejay proved to be as full of fight as of mischief, but a severe conflict produced an appreciable amendment of manners.
Even the red-headed wood-pecker ceased hammering holes in the trees and stopped long enough to inspect the stranger. It may have been only a trick of the bluejay’s to entice the worker away from the tree to allow a raid on the store-house of acorns. It did the pilferer no good, however; for the carpenter-bird never makes a mistake in selecting acorns to fit the holes made for them. From the beginning of time the bluejay has never been able to appreciate this fact.
The chip-munks, the grasshoppers and the squirrels peeped and wondered from different points of vantage, while a mother partridge by fluttering and scurrying along the ground, sought to divert attention from her tiny striped-back brood huddled up on one foot under a friendly bunch of wild-strawberry leaves.
A pair of quail established themselves in the screen of a honey-suckle vine, and the little crested head of the family was feeding his small mate a dainty tidbit, having coaxed her up into that leafy retreat to discuss the viand. Ring-doves cooed lovingly to each other, while the now extinct wild turkey sunned itself and preened its bronze feathers, perched high on the top of the bare rock above.
Up near the snow-line were red patches of snow-plants, looking like huge semi-transparent globules of crystallized sugar, having stem, bells and leaves all of one color, curiously mingled and intertwined.
Every inch of Akaza’s advance was contested by some flowering plant. Sometimes it was the drooping boughs of the white blossoming dog-wood. Again, it was a rhododendron bush stubbornly blocking the way. Or, perhaps, it was a shower of azalea blooms that fairly smothered him. The spice-bush, with its long, slender green leaves, and odd-shape wine-colored flowers, locked horns with the tall shapely Shasta Lily.
The gossamer, glass-like mountain mahogany disputed honors with a flaring brown-and-orange tiger-lily, while the pentstemon, distinctly blue at the base and pink at the rim of its cup, coquetted with a dainty butterfly-lily. “Like a bubble borne on air, floats the shy Mariposa Bell,” with its purplish white, its faint tint of pink or pale gold, each petal brocaded in soft shades of bronze-brown or patched with plush, as if fairy finger-tips had smutched them before the paints were dry.
Who does not know the yellow buttercup which faces the world everywhere, the red columbine, whose chandelier of scarlet tongues makes light in dark places, or the well-beloved larkspur?
Then purple thistle, goldenrods and dandelions shook their heads vigorously in the refreshing breeze, and argued it out with the grasses and ice-plants lying flat on the ground, where only a muchly debased cactus bristled and threatened everything that ventured even to look at its forbidden fruit.
The day was well nigh spent when Akaza approached the camp near the mouth of the Indian Canyon. Yermah and Kerœcia advanced to meet him, hand in hand, like happy children. Kerœcia did not wait for a formal presentation but came forward graciously.
“Patriarch and hierophant,” she said, “this temple awaits thy ministration. The love and obedience of my people and myself are thine to command.”
“Fair daughter of the gods, thou hast already a place in my heart, as I perceive thou hast in the affections of my comrades. Mayst thou ever be surrounded by a nimbus of joy and gladness.”
As Akaza’s lips lightly brushed her glowing cheek, Yermah perceived that his vision was turned inward and that he prayed silently.
Kerœcia turned toward her attendants, but with her own hands served Akaza curds and a gourd of goat’s milk. She also broke the thin corn cakes and arranged some fruit temptingly near him. Akaza opened an oblong comb of wild honey and laid the ripe figs around it. As he poured thick, yellow cream over them, he murmured:
“As it was written! As it was written!”
Concerned for him, Yermah touched him on the shoulder.
“Is it not well?” he asked eagerly.
When the elder man saw the glow of happiness on the questioning face, he involuntarily groaned; but he answered steadily:
“From the beginning all things are ordered well.”
The evening shadows grew apace; but before darkness came on, Kerœcia prepared the pipes, which were to be lighted as an offering to fire.
Igniting the first one, a fragile porcelain bowl with an amber mouthpiece, she first drew three puffs out of the pipe, and then emptied the ashes on a platter of beaten silver. Dexterously replenishing the tobacco and substituting an ivory mouthpiece, she passed it to Yermah. He followed her example, and replacing the ivory with tortoise-shell, handed the pipe to Akaza.
The priestesses and the remainder of the company did likewise, always substituting one stick for another until all had smoked and each had a souvenir which was believed to bring good luck. The ashes were placed in the urn with the rose ashes collected from the ark—and the great Monbas festival was over.
Kerœcia was not a Monbas. Her people were known to the Atlantians as Ians; to the Persians, they were Scythians; to the Medes, they were known as Suani; to the early Europeans, they were Visigoths, alternately feared and admired; while by later generations, they were called Circassians.
Theirs was the Vinland of the Norsemen and their empire extended over a large part of ancient Persia. They were old in civilization, before Nineveh and Babylon. Theirs was the land of Phrasus, where the Argonauts sailed after the siege of Troy. At that time, they had outlying colonies along the Siberian and extreme northwestern coast of America. The Aleutian group of islands was then an unbroken chain, with a climate as mild as any portion of the temperate zone.
Kerœcia, a pure-blooded Aryan, was the crown princess of the reigning house of Ian, and it was after her abduction that the famous fortification named by the Greeks, “Gates of Caucasus,” was built in the Darien Pass of the Caucasus Mountains leading out from Tiflis.
From the beginning of history, patriotism and beauty have been accredited these people. Mithridates and Schamyl are the heroes of later times. There is a tragic pathos in the self-immolation this remnant of half a million souls voluntarily underwent when they were conquered by Russia. After this event, they emigrated in a body and became Turkish exiles.
“Speak freely, as thou wouldst to a father,” said Akaza to Kerœcia, privately, the next morning, while the whole company were on their way to Bridal Veil Falls. “If our offer to arbitrate between thy people and Eko Tanga is displeasing to thee, consider all things unsaid.”
“It is a question my followers must decide for themselves. They need have no fear. I will never leave them. They stole me away when a child but I love them as my own.”
“Rumor has it that thy visit was compulsory—that the Monbas brought thee here intending to fortify the place and then refuse to receive Eko Tanga.”
“This is not true. I came to perform the rite of renewal and purification, and shall tell the representatives from my father that I do not desire my so-called freedom. He should long ago have given the Monbas all that he has promised them in hope of having me returned to him.”
“Then thou art not retained against thy wish?” asked Yermah, who in company with Orondo joined them in time to hear the last remark.
“No, truly. The Monbas are as dependent as children and in no circumstances will I fail in my duty to them.”
“Wilt thou visit Tlamco while Eko Tanga is here?”
It would have been hard to determine which of the men felt the greatest interest in her answer. Yermah, Akaza and Orondo were each a study at this moment.
“My followers shall answer thy question. If consistent with their wishes, it will greatly please me to go.”
“Then we shall be honored with thy presence soon,” said Orondo. “A feeling of delicacy represses an expression of opinion. But I have knowledge that they will feel more secure if thou wilt accept our protection.”
“And the same feeling would prompt me to ask their permission,” she answered with a smile.
“So be it. To serve loyally is the office we desire.”
“This bright reflected glory pictures life,” exclaimed Yermah, as the warm afternoon sun spanned the long flowing veil of the falls with a succession of rainbows.
“Tell us why,” asked Kerœcia, and with a gesture of silence awaited an answer.
The pink and pride of Tlamco was before them, but he was still too young a man to teach philosophy. He looked appealingly at Akaza.
“Tell them why this rainbow is like the upward spiral compared with humanity,” directed Akaza. Then he turned to the multitude and said:
“Hear my pupil with patience. It is not lawful for youth to speak esoterically.”
Yermah flushed with pleasure and answered readily:
“Love, as the negative, or feminine, ray of Biune Deity is content and ever seeks to enfold. Wisdom, as the positive, or masculine, ray, is restless, and always in pursuit. The feminine forces in nature strive to encircle the atom, while the masculine attempt to propel it in a straight line. From this dual action of spiritual potentialities is born the spiral—the symbol of eternal progression. Man’s will is electric, penetrating and disruptive. The will of woman is magnetic, attractive and formative. The two express the polar opposites of nature’s creative powers.”
“The sun is the center,” continued the speaker, “and around him, like a group of obedient children, are the seven planets of the mystical chain. Each orb produces innumerable types of fauna and flora, corresponding to the action of its own peculiar grades of spiritual force. Each comprises a miniature world of its own. But each planet contains all the attributes of the other six.”
“We will engrave these sayings on plates of copper, write them on skins of animals, mold them on cylinders of clay, that they may instruct our tribesmen,” said the Monbas to each other in undertones.
“From the spinal column and the base of the brain issue streams of vitalizing power, causing individuals to attract or repel one another. These radiating magnets finally assume the form of spirals, which encircle the earth and penetrate to its very center, and then expand themselves, mist-like, into beautiful rainbows, such as we see here.”
“In which direction do they go?” asked Kerœcia.
“They flow backward in their orbit, and gradually ascend spirally. The first round corresponds to the earth’s annual orbit around the sun, and is red. Each convolution doubles in size as it ascends. The second round is orange; the third, yellow; the fourth, green; the fifth, blue; the sixth, indigo; and the last is violet.”
“Haille! Haille!” they cried. And the outburst was as spontaneous from one side as from the other.
Kerœcia held up her hand to command attention.
“Comrades, thou knowest the mission of our brothers from Tlamco. What are thy wishes?”
“We desire the little mother to follow her own inclination. We feel that she would be safe and free from annoyance in Tlamco,” they answered.
Kerœcia smiled broadly. Turning to Yermah, she asked:
“When will thy city receive me?”
“Whenever it pleases thee to come. We will gladly do escort duty now.”
“That were not possible. But in a fortnight expect me.”
“Haille! Haille!” echoed again and again.
It was fully an hour before the presents were all exchanged. There were exquisite articles of ivory, carved and chased in colors, and inlaid with metals and stones. Baskets of incredible fineness and blankets such as the Navajo Indians used to make were given by the Monbas.
Cunningly wrought cups of pottery were offered to Kerœcia by Ildiko, one being of her own make. It was round, and had for a handle a female head, which was an excellent likeness of herself. Taking a finely woven horsehair rope, which terminated in oblong onyx balls—Kerœcia swung one end high over her head, while retaining the other in her left hand. Facing Yermah, she entangled him completely by a dexterous turn of her wrists, despite his playful protest. The two balls swinging in opposite directions rapidly encircled and held him as if in a grip of steel.
“That, also, is a spiral movement,” she exclaimed, mischievously.
“And one which I have neither the desire nor the power to control or escape,” he replied, meaningly.
“The laws of hospitality declare the property confiscate to thee. The cord should be condemned to a life of hard service.”
“On the contrary, it shall have a high place in my affections, and shall receive state honors.”
There was that in his look and voice which sent the warm blood mantling to her cheek and brow.
Akaza came forward and with a blessing slipped a ring on her little finger. It was set with a garnet, having a lion intaglio.
“This will guard thee on thy journey, and prevent evil machinations from having control over the matters in hand.”
What she said in return was drowned in the blare of trumpets and the general preparations for departure.
“May Ambra plant flowers and make thy life a garden spot. May the Good Spirit protect and bless thee and thine,” was shouted after the moving column.
“May the spirits of darkness never cast a shadow on thy pathway,” came in answering echoes, as the trees and rocks finally hid the departing embassy.