CHAPTER TWELVE
“A BROTHERHOOD VOW BINDS THE SOUL!”
“Hold the burning feathers close under his nose,” directed the chief shaman, who had been hastily summoned to Iaqua, when Orondo was found in an unconscious condition early the following morning after his adventure with Yermah in the public gardens. “We will soon determine whether it is merely a fainting fit or of more serious import.”
The pungent and penetrating odors produced no effect except to cause the sufferer to turn his head and moan.
“Delirium chains his physical senses,” said the shaman, when Orondo opened his eyes without recognizing any one.
In their own peculiar fashion, the chief and his two assistants examined the seven principal organs of the body—the same that are symbolized by the curls of Medusa, and whose appetites must be controlled before there can be health either on the physical or the mental planes.
“Extreme heat, and a labored and painful drawing in of the breath is here,” said the chief, while one assistant carefully wrote down his words.
It was compulsory upon healers to post in a conspicuous place on the temple walls to which they were attached the number of cures made, and by what processes. Orondo being a civic leader, the law required that his malady should be written on the tablet back of the Chief Councilor’s chair in the Temple of the Sun.
“Pains in all the bones, and in the cords which give them motion,” he continued. “The air-bellows rise and fall one-half, and the hammer in the left breast moves slowly and is very weak. Lend a hand.”
The scribe hastily put down his parchment and assisted in placing Orondo in a hammock, hung in the full glare of the sun, in a circular, glass-sided room. The sick man was quickly stripped to the waist, and the shamans took turns in holding first a large red convex lens over the region of the heart and lungs; then an orange-colored one; and finally a yellow-green ray of light was concentrated over the heart, to stimulate its retarded action. This process will be recognized as the forerunner of the modern X-Ray.
Then by what is now known as the Swedish movement, they went over the entire body, keeping the lenses focused on the parts being kneaded and rubbed. When this treatment ceased, they carried him back to his wall-pallet, taking care to lay his head to the north, thus taking advantage of the magnetic currents.
A small oblong bit of copper was placed in an olla of snow-water. It was fastened by a silken-cord to a copper anklet clasped above the patient’s left foot. Over the main artery was a small disk of copper with Orondo’s seal on the outside.
“Squeeze the sponge gently, and slip it under the signet,” directed the head physician.
Believing that the topaz exercised a powerful influence over an afflicted mind, the shaman rubbed a necklace of these stones briskly between his hands, and put it around Orondo’s neck. For the first half-hour the fever increased, and then Orondo raved incessantly:
“Love denies dominion in my heart!... Not for thee, Orondo! She makes no return!... A Brotherhood vow binds the soul!... No, no, no, poor man!... Help him, All-Powerful One!”
The chief shaman put some water into hollow glass vessels formed like double convex chromo-lenses, and hung them in the sunlight. These were labeled according as they were yellow, blue, red, or violet-colored.
Later an attendant poured a few drops of aconite tincture into a blue glass bowl, and, mixing it with some water from the blue chromo-lens, gave Orondo some of it to drink. It was known that pure water under the chemical action of the blue rays of sunlight was a cooling, soothing nervine, and that it would greatly assist the bluish herb in reducing inflammation and temperature.
While Orondo slept a silver chafing-dish was brought into the room, and a decoction of dandelion was slowly simmered in water from the ambero, or yellow lens. The remainder of the water was mixed with equal parts of maguey spirits.
Induction belongs to the dominion of inanimate nature, to the magnetic, or cold; while deduction is the ruling force of animation or heat. To assist in producing reaction, the magnet already referred to, was fastened to the body, or hot pole, and immersed in snow for a cold pole, in order to oxygenize the blood.
During the sleeping hours this force worked steadily in conjunction with other remedies, and when Orondo awoke in the afternoon, he was rational and without fever. Noting his condition, the magnet was removed, and the patient lifted once more into the hammock, where he was thoroughly sponged with alcohol and water. After this, his throat, chest, and shoulders were vigorously rubbed with warm olive oil, perfumed with lavender. The odors of plants are antiseptic, and were much employed in sick rooms by the ancients.
While the physicians were busy, the tamanes in attendance changed the pallet and linen completely. Placing Orondo in it again and setting a lavender spray in motion near the window, they retired to bring in a lacquered tray of food. Freshly baked tortillas, young leeks, and pickled olives, with salted almonds and dried figs formed the principal part of the meal, while a dish of fresh cocoanut and oranges, sliced together, served for dessert.
The tray and dishes had scarcely been removed before Setos came bustling in. Sanitation was his hobby, and he was always urging the necessity for legislation against disease, which he considered was the result of criminal carelessness.
In Tlamco every bit of refuse was carefully collected and burned each day. A large section of the water-front, where the prevailing winds carried the smoke and odor well out to sea, was reserved for this purpose. The flood-gates of the entire water system were opened during certain hours of the night and all the waste canals cleansed thoroughly.
“By Him who is the breath of every living thing, tell me how affliction befell thee?” asked Setos, sitting down on the bed near the foot and searching Orondo’s face anxiously.
“By the only method possible,” answered Orondo. “Because I have violated the laws of harmony.”
“This is bad, very bad! It gives less favored men an excuse to neglect their bodies in an unwarrantable manner,” said Setos, warming up to his favorite theme. “If we could only send out an army to teach the people the possibilities of water, the difference between good and bad food, the necessity for proper rest, the inexorableness of natural laws, disease would become what it was intended to be—a brief, infrequent, reparative process.”
He pursed up his lips and sniffed loudly in self-satisfaction. It was so seldom that he had an opportunity to fittingly repeat this homily.
“I think that our laws are strictly and justly administered in this respect,” ventured Orondo. “The advocates and healers are supported by the state. Self-interest prompts the latter to report disease as they find it. They know enough of law to name the penalty attached to hereditary and contagious diseases. The advocates know enough of healing to detect symptoms of forbidden maladies. It is a capital offense for either party to conceal conditions of this kind. I do not see what more can be done.”
Utter weariness closed Orondo’s eyes for a moment, and Setos refrained from further speech.
“Let kindness of heart prompt thee to fill a pipe for me,” said the patient, presently.
When it was handed to him, he said with a wan smile:
“Let us indulge our nerves with a harmless sedative as a step in the right direction. I shall wait until thy bowl is filled.”
Setos hastened to comply, and after the first three whiffs, which were always silent fire-offerings, said:
“Ildiko refuses to be comforted because of thy continued absence from our house. She grieves for thy affliction, and sends her best thoughts.”
“Beauty and goodness are the crown of fair Ildiko. It is not possible for me to do more than receive such flattering unction. I am indeed undone,” he made answer, catching his breath painfully.
“The priestess Kerœcia, and her sweet maids are much concerned for thy misfortune. Hanabusa has already been twice to hear if reason came back to thee.”
“I pray thee leave me,” cried Orondo, piteously. “My heart!” he gasped, as the chief shaman bent over him hurriedly, in response to Setos’s call.
“All matters of importance must rest while this man regains control of his better physique,” said the shaman, authoritatively. “It were cruel to tax him at this time.”
“Nothing except friendly greeting passed between us,” declared Setos, much exercised at the sudden bad turn apparent in Orondo.
“I will come again at nightfall,” he said.
“Be thou content with inquiry, only,” returned the shaman, still frowning over the complete undoing of all his labor.
“The sun must be on the earth’s magnetic meridian before quiet will come again to our patient,” said the chief shaman, as he prepared to go out for an airing, after working over Orondo for one hour.
“The sun will not be below the horizon until the seventh marking of the gnomon, and until that time we can only wait and watch,” he said, in answer to Yermah’s anxious question. “Setos has injured his rest greatly, but he has asked for thee more than once. If thou wilt exercise caution, thou mayst go to him.”
“I understand Orondo,” replied Yermah. “I have stayed away because I feared to excite him. I am glad that I may see him.”
Yermah came quietly and put his hand on Orondo’s head. He knew how to still the throbbing, uncontrolled emotion dividing the sick man’s mental and physical self. Without a word, he willed him peace, and after a time Orondo opened his eyes and seemed to breathe easier.
“The Master of the Hidden Spheres, who causes the principles to arise, give thee peace, Orondo.”
Orondo made no reply; his lips quivered and his eyes filled. Yermah took both his hands, and, looking at him steadily, said:
“Part of thy burden falls upon me. I will share physical pain with thee.”
Soon the veins in Yermah’s hands, and then those in his forehead, stood out like whipcords. He experienced the same difficulty in breathing, the same spasmodic action of the heart, as had Orondo. He sighed deeply, and it was soon apparent that Orondo’s nervous tension was relieved. In the silence which followed both were busy with the same thoughts.
“When does she go?” Orondo asked, finally.
“The day following to-morrow.”
“Hast thou seen her since?”
“Once only. I have not had speech with her.”
“Twice has she sent to ask after me.”
“Which newly affirms the gentleness of her nature.”
The situation was trying for Yermah, but he humored his companion, as he saw that speech was a relief to him. He did not suspect Orondo of knowing that he, too, loved Kerœcia.
“When strength comes again, I must consider the work before me,” said Orondo, after an eloquent silence. “Duty lays a stern hand on both of us.”
“The shamans will cause public complaint if I indulge thee in that direction,” said Yermah. “A sharp reprimand rewarded Setos for his effort in that line.”
“Setos said nothing to me of that matter,” said Orondo, in surprise.
“But he said that to thee which taxed thy powers of control, and for this reason he is forbidden to see thee again, to-day. Dost thou wish me to have a similar experience?”
“The shamans will see that thou hast greatly aided me,” said Orondo, as the chief shaman came to his bedside accompanied by Akaza.
“The twilight hour approaches, and I have come to worship with thee,” said the hierophant, making the sign of benediction over Orondo. Turning to Yermah, he said:
“The Father of the Beginnings have thee in safe keeping.”
“The same rich blessing follow thee,” responded Yermah, as he took leave.
The principle of Life is alchemical. The chemical elements must be absorbed in order to give health. As making alchemical gold was really finding the Perfect Way, so the elixir of life is the proper use of the astral light composing the photosphere surrounding our physical bodies.
When the astral body is charged with oil, and the physical body is well supplied with electricity, the secret of magnetism is revealed. The gypsies are the only people who have preserved the knowledge necessary to produce this peculiar chemicalization.
The arrow shot by Orion, William Tell and others, is Thought, the Sagitur; the same as Heracles shot at Helios. The ability of the individual to project thought determines the possession of occult power. This force is gained by harmonizing the physical, mental and spiritual attributes, so that thought may function from any one of these planes. In other words, it is to have complete possession of all these faculties.
To project thought, is literally hitting the bull’s eye, as Orion did when he killed Taurus—the astronomical aspect of the world-old battle between the higher and the lower self.
The liberty which the original William Tell sought to achieve was not political, but a victory over his own lower nature—a battle which the men and women of Tlamco fought out in every phase.
“The water-holding capacity of the nerve-cells is much impaired,” said the chief shaman to his assistants, when giving directions for the night. “Nervous irritability follows. Sleep will be light and infrequent. Watch beside him. At every third marking let him sip liberally from the ambero lens. Between times, give him drink from the purpuro flagon.”
In company with Akaza, he left Iaqua.
It was as the chief shaman had predicted. Orondo failed to find refreshment in troubled sleep, so that the gray, foggy morning found him correspondingly wearied and depressed. Symptoms of pleuro-pneumonia were clearly established, and for three days he had a hard fight for life.
Finally, when well enough to dress himself, he resolutely put on the same clothes he had used such care in selecting for his memorable visit to Kerœcia. It tried him severely to reinvest himself with them, but this was in keeping with his stern resolution to crush out useless regret. He wisely concluded that the easiest way out of it was to accustom himself to the same routine as before. He must not yield to such weakness as to shrink from inanimate things which were associated with her memory.
Some carefully pressed blossoms of flax, fragile, delicate, little blue-cups, dedicated in thought to his love, were the only mementos he kept. These he hid away in an ivory dice-box given him by Ben Hu Barabe on taking leave.
Orondo had managed to listen to the words of greeting and farewell from Kerœcia, and had responded thereto manfully. What the effort cost him may be inferred from the fact that he kept his room closely for the week following, refusing to see any one save the tamanes who served him.
When he came again among his fellows, there was a stern, set look on his face, which was accentuated by the sunken eyes and sharpened cheek-bones, but there was no alteration in his manner of life. He began preparation for immediate departure.
Yermah lived in a rose-colored world of his own creation. He made pretty speeches to imaginary women, and never even in sleep lost the consciousness of Kerœcia’s presence. In his audience chamber during the day, he granted requests for her. His decisions were all for her benefit, and the directions for various public works were delivered as he fondly imagined he would do if she were present. Several times in affixing his signature to documents he came near to writing her name.
Yermah was singularly absent-minded, with all his amiability and politeness. He went among his pets with the air of a lover, and was entirely oblivious to the screech of the parrots and monkeys in and around the stables. He got on famously with Cibolo; and if the horse had understood him, he would have made a clean breast of the situation.
It would have been such a relief to talk about her.
The Dorado usually had dressed well, as became a man of his station; but now he was fussy and particular to a noticeable degree. He taxed Alcamayn’s ingenuity to the utmost in devising suitable gifts for Kerœcia and her attendants, and insisted upon superintending the enameling of the medallion-shaped mirror which he was to present to the priestess. The bits of blue, green, and black enamel must be as shiny and lustrous as the gems they surrounded, and the burnished gold rim and handle must be as fine as the skill of his workmen could make it.
This exchange of mirrors was a pretty compliment among the rulers of olden times—for by this flattering method each was assured of the faithful remembrance of the other. They had but to look into the mirror to discover the subject of the other’s thought—at least in theory.
An oval of burnished bronze, framed in silver filigree, enameled with black and white, and set with turquoise, coral, moonstones, and amethysts was the regulation gift from Kerœcia. It was mannish enough to suit the requirements, but it was too formal to express her feelings.
She made a strawberry of red cloth, and with fine brown floss dexterously worked in the seed specks. It was filled with fine sand and grains of musk. The little cup was cleverly imitated by green cloth, and the berry was fastened by a tiny eyelet to a piece of narrow red cord.
Consideration for Orondo, constrained Yermah’s impatience to seek Kerœcia immediately, and the preparations for her departure were of such public character that he had no further opportunity of seeing her alone, until his chariot stood before the door of Setos’s house, waiting for her.
Cibolo and his three companions tugged hard at their bridles, as a consequence of ten days’ idleness. They would have enjoyed kicking up their heels and running like the wind, especially when music, noise and confusion gave such warrant; but Yermah kept a vise-like grip on them, quieting them by a word now and then.
Kerœcia’s pride found complete satisfaction in his excellent horsemanship. There were no gloves on his strong, white hands, wound up in the reins, but the wrists were as firm and hard as steel. It was a master-hand that held the lines, and she was not in the least distressed or alarmed when the horses reared and plunged and stood on their hind feet.
The couple were nearing the round-house on the upper limit of the canal, and Yermah’s face was set and pale. He had suddenly forgotten all the pretty speeches he had intended to make. Finally, when there was not a minute to spare, he turned to Kerœcia with an agonized expression and tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them, as they fashioned the words: “I love thee!”
That was all he could remember to say, and he was dismayed when he realized that his voice had failed him.
His eyes swam, and he instinctively clutched at his heart as he swayed from side to side.
Kerœcia moved nearer to him helpfully, and with a smile of infinite tenderness slipped her hand into his. For a moment he did not return its pressure; then it seemed to nestle close to his palm, and, with a caressing touch, left something in his grasp when it was withdrawn. When he opened his hand he found the little strawberry.
“With all my heart,” she said in a whisper. He kissed the keepsake rapturously, and slipped it into a fold of his tunic in time to assist her to alight from the chariot. Etiquette forbade his accompanying her farther.
With straining eyes he stood watching and waving his hand to her, until the balsas put into the bay.