CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE VIRGIN EARTH WILL NOT SUBMIT TO MAN’S DEFILEMENT
Akaza tottered along the shore, shaken and agonized by Yermah’s anger. The wind tangled his thin locks, and played sad pranks with the mantle enveloping his body. Sometimes it seemed bent on snapping him in two, and then it almost whipped the life out of him—that life tenure which was feeble and old even when Yermah’s generation began.
The tears streamed down his withered cheeks and dripped unheeded from the snow-white beard. His breathing was labored and hard when he arrived at the entrance to the cave, and his slight frame shook with emotion as he turned toward the broad Pacific, seeking to calm his agitation.
He stretched out his hands imploringly to the vast deep spread out before him, as the waves, with a sullen roar, dashed their spray over the rocks at his feet.
“Great God!” he cried in a stricken voice, “My heart bleeds for Yermah. The rays of the sun should make a halo around his dear head.—How hard that there is no real strength except that born of suffering—no enduring experience except it be seared into the heart’s core!—I have tried not to attach myself to results; but how can I help it?—Oh, Amrah! I shall not fail thee! Amenti, thou canst trust me! My oath binds me for all time. This body may succumb in the trial, but I will deliver this trust back to thee as thou art expecting to receive it!—Give me strength to stand by helplessly while Yermah suffers! Oh, Brotherhood, give me the strength to endure!”
He sank down upon a rock from sheer exhaustion and was silent.
For a time there was no sign of life in the bent motionless figure peering far out into space, as if he were seeing the visioned future.
“Oh, woman!” he cried, “Divine part of creative wisdom!—Incarnation of man’s ideal of spiritual perfection! When will man recognize in thee the means of reorganizing the world, and place thee on the pedestal of his intellectual greatness! When will he cease to crucify thee on the diverse and conflicting polarity of his passional will? Woman lies a crushed and soiled lily; while man, the victim of vengeance to the powers of nature, wanders a fugitive on the earth, chained to the hell of his depraved imagination—The Great Spirit of Light and Wisdom is to him a tormenting fiend!”
After a time, Akaza went into the cave. The fire had warmed the interior, and the lamps shed a softened glow, which was comforting to the weary old man.
He was hungry, but the food seemed almost to choke him. It had pleased his fancy to have Yermah break bread and eat salt with him in this hidden retreat. In his weakness, he was sorely disappointed, and it cost him an effort to refrain from whimpering childishly.
Akaza awoke with a sudden start from a troubled sleep. It was with difficulty that he made his way to the mouth of the cavern and saw that the sun was hopelessly obscured by what appeared to be a heavy fog. He went back and threw himself down on the cushions and rugs where he had been sleeping, and there he would wait patiently until the time of sunset. If it were possible to get a glimpse of the Lord of Day at that hour, he would go back to the Temple of Neptune, where he lived.
Later, when Akaza was removing the temporary shutters at the entrance to the cave, a gust of wind blew the raindrops into his face. He knew at a glance that it would be a stormy night. The wind was rising, and the lowering, black clouds gave promise of a heavy downpour.
The sun crosses the earth’s magnetic meridian twice every twenty-four hours—once at sunrise, and again at sunset.
Akaza made three obeisances toward the west and stood motionless, drinking in the sweet influences of the sunset hour. His lips moved in silent prayer. For several minutes he communed with the subjective world, just coming into its waking activity. The physical world was falling asleep, and with it went the agitating thoughts of the day.
He was renewing his spiritual vigor, listening to the Voice of the Silence, holding converse with his own soul. As he took counsel of his higher self, the bells of the Observatory tower in Tlamco sounded like a silvery-tinkling sea-shell, faint but distinct to his clairaudient ear.
“Peace! peace! peace!” they seemed to say, while the lines of care slowly relaxed, and the face of the devotee was as serene and calm as a May morning.
The fireplace and entrance to the cave were so arranged that it was easy to produce a draught; so, when Akaza renewed by meditation and prayer, returned to the fire, the atmosphere surrounding him was fresh and pure. He made the door fast and prepared to remain for the night, for it would tax his physical strength too much to walk back to Tlamco in the storm. As familiar objects outside seemed to be swallowed up in a black pit, he drew a stool up beside the zodiacal wheel in the center of the living-room, and by the light of a lowered lamp began to carefully compare and compute the bearings of the planets and houses of the horoscope before him. Presently he looked up and listened intently. Could it be that he heard some one calling him? Was it an unseen entity, or was it the wind shrieking through the crevices about the entrance? Regaining his feet, he groped his way toward the sound. There could be no mistake—it was near the door.
“Akaza! Akaza! Hear me! Open—open the door, I beseech thee!”
It was a human voice in dynamic utterance, which the roar of the ocean nearly drowned, despite the efforts of the wind to hurl it through the doorway.
Akaza hastened to comply with the request. Suddenly he stood face to face with Yermah, shivering, wet and mud-stained.
“Oh, Akaza!” he cried, kneeling before the old man and kissing the hem of his garment, “say that thou wilt forgive me! I can have no peace until I am restored to thy favor.”
Akaza laid his hands upon the head that had been bared to the storm.
“Thou standest always in the shelter of my love, Yermah,” he said, gently. “Offense were not possible from thy lips. Be no longer humble in my presence.” He helped the Dorado to arise, and leading him toward the fire, continued:
“Let genial warmth restore thy peace of mind. The elements have undone thee.”
“Distemper vanished with reflection,” returned Yermah, anxiously, as he drew off his wet mantle and threw it to one side, “but remorse tortured me and drove me to thy feet, sad and repentant.”
Akaza patted him affectionately on the shoulder, and occupied himself with the change of clothing he was improvising from his own garments. He substituted a purple robe for the water-soaked tunic, gave Yermah sandals, and finally wrapped his own cloak around him.
“Thy attendants, Yermah? It were not well to leave them to the mercies of air and water lashed to fury.”
“None saw me leave Iaqua. Neither man nor beast shall suffer because of my misdeeds,” said the Dorado. “It has taken all this time to find my way. The dying day left me resolved.”
“Thy spirit called to mine at that hour,” said Akaza with a glad smile. “I felt it then.”
“And wilt thou have me for thy companion for the night?” questioned Yermah, happy in the restoration of harmony between them.
“That were the wish nearest my heart,” said Akaza, pouring hot water into a silver cup, into which he had already measured some spirits of maguey, some spices, and a bit of lemon.
“Sweeten as thy appetite dictates,” he continued, as he handed the cup to his visitor. “And may the Father of All Mysteries attend thy ventures in the future.”
Yermah arranged his disordered locks, and then nestled down beside Akaza in a caressing boyish fashion. It was plain that he had something on his mind. Finally, with considerable hesitation, he broke the silence by asking:
“Will the unbridled license of my tongue to-day count against me with the Brotherhood?”
His open countenance clearly showed what he feared.
“Only emotional natures make acceptable bearers of the Light,” responded Akaza. “A mean, starved love nature is never an acceptable sacrifice, nor can such an one be an ideal for other men.”
A troubled, hunted look overspread Akaza’s face, but Yermah’s gaze was bent on the horoscope, under the full glare of the lamp, and he did not notice it. He sighed contentedly when Akaza finished speaking, and for several minutes he tried to discern the meaning of the map.
“The portent of thy words concerning our fatherland lingers with me. Was it thy purpose to share thy knowledge with me?”
He looked up with a winning smile, and caught Akaza’s eyes fixed upon him in undisguised admiration. The lamplight brought out the sheen of his yellow hair, lying damp and wavy upon his shoulders, and the pointed beard was short enough to show his muscular white throat where the purple robe fell away, minus its jeweled gorget. A strawberry cleverly imitated in enamel, suspended from a gold chain around his neck had slipped out from the folds of his robe and dangled toward the table at which both were seated. Akaza pointed to it with a smile. He instinctively refrained from touching it, thinking it might be a cherished memento. As it lay on the palm of Yermah’s hand, he took note of the inscription: With all my heart.
Yermah saw it too, and pressing the words to his lips, slipped the trinket into his bosom.
“Now,” said Akaza, mindful of the movement, “lend thy attention, and I shall tell thee what the stars indicate is in store for our beloved country. First, let me make plain the signification of these figures,” he continued, using the ivory caduceus as a pointer.
“The great band, or circle, of the zodiac represents the circumference of the universe, which contains the essence of creation. It is the cosmic egg, holding the germ within itself. The center of the zodiacal ring is the sun, the former representing the casket, the latter the jewel.
“So is it with the physical form,” continued the hierophant. “It is not the mind, but that which contains it. Suppose we consider the motion of this dot within the circle when Desire has energized its movement. First a ray will shoot out in one direction, and another in an opposite direction, forming four angles constituting the four elements—hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, nitrogen.”
As Akaza spoke he rapidly sketched a swastika, the revolving cross, and then he drew a small circle, a crescent, or half-circle and a Maltese cross.
“These three factors represent spirit, soul and body,—or sun, moon and earth. In the circle we have spirit active; in the cross, latent. This is involution and evolution, pure and simple. The circle is the builder of new forms, the half-circle is the preserver, and the cross is the destroyer.”
Memphis, in Egypt, was the builder of a new civilization, receiving its impetus from the immigration and settlement of a band of white magicians from Atlantis, under the leadership of Amrah, the prophet of the hierarchy to which Akaza was attached.
The Llama City on the banks of the Brahmaputra River, in the fastnesses of the Himalaya Mountains, in Thibet, where none of the modern races have penetrated, was the preserver of arcane wisdom; while Tlamco under Akaza, represented the section of the earth which was to be destroyed. Akaza was the hierophant of the triad, and Kadmon was the patriarch whose faithful followers were to carry the light to India.
“We shall represent Desire, Force and Energy by placing the cross over the circle,” said Akaza still illustrating with a fragment of burned camphor and the pointed caduceus.
What he drew was the present symbol of the planet Mars.
“Here we have spirit pushing on toward manifestation, producing Experience—the supreme teacher. The negative is over the positive, and this gives us both construction and destruction. Let us destroy it—place the cross under the circle—and we have a true symbol of Love. Spirit has forced its way through matter, and it has become one with itself.”
He turned to Yermah and took both his hands in his own. Looking at him earnestly, Akaza said:
“Never forget what I am saying to thee now. Until love has entered our hearts, we are not in touch with anything in nature. Love is the soul; and until we feel its sweet influences in our lives, we go on seeking fresh experiences on the cross of discord. Love produces harmony. Desire produces discord. The sun represents the planet which sheds these influences, and therefore stands for Power. This is the golden bowl, the essence of Life itself. The cross and the circle are the hieroglyphs of our spiritual nature.”
Akaza’s look became abstracted and intense, and he mechanically pushed his hair up from his forehead.
“I see by a glance into the future that these symbols will become the phallic emblems of sex-worship, which will touch the lowest rung of the downward spiral. Woman is destined to suffer much on this account, and from another event which is close at hand.”
“Thou hast made plain the creative phase,” said Yermah, after a pause, wishing to bring Akaza back to the subject in hand.
“Let us concern ourselves with the mind, whose dual phases are shown by the half-circle. If we place the cross over the half-circle we have the Tempter of humanity, because this exalts matter over mind. It is the great centralizing of self.
“Every one must pass these limitations and meet the Great Judge,” the hierophant continued, “and He, in the heavens, guards Himself with triple rings. No spirit goes through the Gates of Light into His presence except he be well weighed in the balance of the seventh sign.”
“This is the same as initiation into the Brotherhood,” returned Yermah, involuntarily.
“It is the planetary aspect of the labor thou art soon to perform.”
Akaza did not wish to go more into detail; so he hastened to say:
“If we place the half-circle over the cross, we have mind risen over matter, and compassion is the result. Then we have learned the value of mercy. The true spirit of devotion comes from the belted planet. It abuses none who are struggling upward, but lends a helping hand to all.”
Seeing that Akaza laid down the caduceus and drew the horoscope closer to him, Yermah said:
“Thou hast given the symbol of only six planets. Hast thou forgotten the seventh?”
“No. That planet is made up of three factors combined; the circle is in the center; the cross, below; and the half-circle, above. This is the essence of wisdom. It is perfected manhood, and it flies through the cosmos in search of the Infinite, whose messenger it is.”
Uranus and Neptune are octaves of Mercury and Venus, and belong to the spiritual triad, Saturn being the first.
“Tell me of the duality of the spirit, soul and body?” asked Yermah, for the first time making it plain that he was thinking over what had been told him during the day.
“Spirit pure and simple is the Word which was in the Beginning. This has three phases, motion and breath being the other two. The Ineffable moved, breathed and spoke and the created universe, with all it contains, was the result.”
He spoke with caution, lest he should usurp divine power.
“In mankind, it is quite impossible to define or describe that subtle thing which is denoted by the word ‘spirituality,’” he continued, “the goal toward which so many efforts, such fervent aspirations are directed. Spirituality is something which differs from all these, an essence strange and deep, not expressible in other terms than itself—beyond mind, beyond thought, and, consequently, beyond speech. In the ardor of our present pursuit, we forget the fact that the spiritual can be used for evil no less than for good purposes. By failure to discriminate between the spiritual in the service of the divine and the same quality in the service of the dark powers, we may find ourselves at a point where, to regain the true path, we must with pain and agony retrace our steps and begin again.”
“And the soul?”
“Is mind in all its attributes. The animal soul, or vehicle of desire, is dominated by the phases and aspects of the moon, Mars and Venus. This is the psychic world. In the body we have the physical (or material) man and the astral prototype. The material man lives as long as the spirit functions through the psychic world into the astral body, which is a part of the physical man.”
“In what way dost thou mean to say creative energy contacts the body?”
“The astral body is the medium; the psychic, the positive; and the material, the negative polarity which attracts the magnetic current, or spirit. When the astral and physical bodies separate, death, or the loosing of the bands of Orion, in a physical sense, takes place.
“The life essence in the body,” the hierophant went on to explain, “is a lateral pulsation, which grows shorter and shorter as the impetus giving it motion in the beginning, is stilled. Its center is the solar plexus; but the divine spark is released through the cardiac plexus, the spiritual prototype of the solar.”
“What then becomes of the deathless spirit?”
“It returns to its native habitat in space, to assimilate the experiences through which it has just passed. This act has its fitting counterpart on the material plane. As the stomach digests the food it receives, and as the mind assimilates the ideas it conceives, so the divine self utilizes the experiences it gains. As the result of the physical function is bodily health, and that of the mental process is knowledge, so, also, the fruit of the spiritual operation is wisdom. To acquire wisdom, then, is manifestly the prime purpose of human existence.”
“Through what labyrinths we have to walk in order to find the Gates of Light!” said Yermah, deeply interested. “Existence is like chaos at first; and I begin to see that this is true on the three planes.”
“Certainly. Man has gone too far out in the life of the senses. It is only in his sleep that he perceives the manifestations of spirit. The true student must reëstablish the equilibrium of spirit and matter. Thereby he will obtain the ability to discern which are physical phenomena. He will perceive in the waking state such forms and apparitions as he saw before in dreams, and rise to the viewpoint where he realizes that physical forms are only the coarse and imperfect copies of those higher spiritual pictures presenting themselves to his interior senses.”
“Then our dreams are not without significance?”
“Their significance lies in the fact that they are the lowest state of spiritual life. In them a man is obliged to tolerate in himself the action of good and bad spiritual forces.”
Akaza arose, and picking up a small copper nut-oil lamp from a shelf-like projection of stalactite near at hand, he lighted it and led the way to a dim, shadowy cranny of the room.
Pausing before what appeared to be a pile of rush matting he handed the lamp to Yermah and began removing the outer layers. As soon as the rough-textured exterior was taken off, Yermah saw by the cloth wrappings that it was a figure of some kind. It proved to be a colossal head of diorite, a very hard variety of serpentine, or greenstone.
“This,” said Akaza, “is the head of Atlantis. It was contained in the ark which we have carried with us so long in our journeyings.”
“But the eyes are closed, the nostrils plugged, the mouth covered with a gag, and the ears padlocked. This is death!” cried Yermah, unable to control his emotion, shocked and awed by the spectacle. “She can neither tell her piteous story nor hear the supplications addressed to her.”
He examined the head closely, and saw that the countenance before him was that of a dead person. There was the relaxation of the upper eyelids which most forcefully expressed this idea. The head was covered with a skull-cap of shells and lines representing water. On the crown of the head was a rosette-like cap, with a button in the center.
There were four rows of these scallops. The skull-cap terminated at the sides in ear padlocks, finished with triangular appendages like that over the mouth. In each ear there was a massive bar of rounded metal inclosed within a broad, strong clasp.[6]
“Look closely at the three plates on the cheeks. They are precisely alike in form and lie over one another in the same way; so it is only necessary to examine one side.”
“On the first disk,” said Yermah, “is a cross, with four dots within the arms. The second one is blank, and the third has a peculiar vertical slit, which looks as if it had some connection with the arrow-head appendage—as if being slipped on to one of these, it could turn, and thus open the padlock.”
Yermah tried to do what he said, but the cold, immovable stone soon disabused his mind.
“Our prophet, now at Memphis, has the key to this mystery. But I know its interpretation. Come and be comforted by warmth and light, and I shall tell thee,” said Akaza, noting the shiver that involuntarily followed Yermah’s ineffectual effort, and who was still much shaken when he resumed his seat beside the table containing the zodiac and horoscope.
“The earth’s photosphere is really the seven cosmic serpents which enfold the planet in seven bands of race conditions. They have seven eyes, or windows, of occult perception. One of these windows closes every time there is a new race developed. Thou knowest that death in any form is but a new birth. Therefore, when a new race is born its predecessor dies, and the section of our globe inhabited by the dying race is purified by water and fire.”
This is what prompts the Aryan race to arise periodically and go from one part of the earth to the other. This impulse cast them out of Central Asia and Africa, where the great deserts of Sahara and Gobi now stretch their waste sands, where Assyrian plains are given over to desolation, and also left the Colorado, Arizona, and Alta California lying bleak and barren in company with the continent of Australia. This is the purification by fire, while tidal waves and the ice ages purify by water.
“The earth is a virgin,” continued Akaza, “and will not submit to the defilement of man. The first eye was in the south; the second was Lemuria, in the west; the third is Hyperboria, in the north, which is still open. This will close when the white magicians come out of Atlantis. Then its purification by water commences. The fourth window Atlantis herself will close, when the fifth race is born. The races will always reproduce themselves in a triad of ten each, divided into root, sub, and family branches. This unfolding will cause much sorrow and misery in the future. There will be for ages strong hatred between the black, red, yellow and white men. They will wage war upon each other unceasingly.”
“Since this is race destiny and cannot be avoided, of what use is the sacrifice and effort of the Brotherhood? It does not seem to make humanity either wiser or better.”
“Many an inquiring mind has thought the same, and many a time in future must this question be answered. Know, then, that individual man is the microcosm. He has within himself all the possibilities accorded to his race, and his own life must move in the same cycle. Initiation teaches him how to harmonize himself with these laws. The ten planets of the solar system correspond to the labors decreed for finding the Way. Astrology is simply the metaphysical aspect of astronomy. Before man becomes an adept, he must undergo the ten trials. When he has done this through three successive incarnations, he is allowed to personate the attributes of divinity, and becomes a real savior of the world.”
“Is he permitted to check the course of race condition itself?”
“He does not check it. He crystallizes the idea dominating the race, and transmutes it to higher planes. Under such conditions, what appears to be defeat is really victory. But thou art to remember that these heroes descend to the earth according to orderly periods of time. Frequently through one man countless multitudes are affected. Think, then, how important it is that a chosen one shall lead to the higher walks. Remember also the duality of everything.”
Tradition preserves the widespread results of this teaching. It is found first in the ten phases of the self-development of Ra, in the ten avatars of Vishnu, in the ten labors of Hercules, the ten Sephiroth, the ten Norse worlds, in the ten laws on the tablets of stone, wherever given, in the knighthoods of the Holy Grail and Golden Fleece. It was lost sight of when the age of chivalry passed. In geometry, it was encircling the square; in chemistry, it was the making of alchemical gold.
“The wise man rules his stars, the fool obeys them,” resumed Akaza, as he lifted the horoscope, and displayed the Grand Man of the Cosmos, figured in the center of the table by incised black lines on the ivory surface. The numbers and signs of the ten planets were marked on the left side. The numbers ran from top to bottom in succession, while the signs began at the bottom and ran upward.
A wide, round crown, like the rings of Saturn, surrounded the head. It emitted seven triangular rays, in the center of which was number one and the signet of the Brotherhood.
“We are all here,” said Yermah, smiling, but showing surprise in finding that the numbers and signs of the planets were marked in different parts of the body, accompanied by his own and his comrades’ names. It was a full-faced figure, and in the center of the forehead where the flowing hair parted, was Akaza’s name, a figure two, and the sign of Uranus.
“This is a Karmic chart,” said Akaza. “I aim by it to supply discriminative knowledge.”
“Over the heart thou hast the sign of Saturn, and the figure three with Kerœcia’s name. What does this signify?”
“Kerœcia typifies the occult mysteries. Her mission is to guide the world to love through chastening sorrows.”
“I am the crosier in the right hand,” exclaimed the Dorado, finding his name, the sign of Jupiter, and a figure four in the right hand of the drawing.
“Thou art Valor, and thy duty is to subdue the earth.”
“Orondo is the sword in the left hand. He has the sign of Mars and a figure five beneath his name.”
“Yes. Orondo is destructive force. His fate decrees that he shall disappear like illusory imagination.”
“Over the stomach is Ildiko’s name, the moon, and a figure six. Does that mean that she has designs on Mars?” asked Yermah, jokingly.
“Whatever glamour she casts will be in vain. It will avail her nothing,” responded Akaza, smiling, also. “Setos, thou seest, is the right knee. His number is seven, and his planet the earth itself. Desire for pomp and glory is his weakness.” Both men laughed heartily.
“Poor Setos,” said Yermah; “his vanity is prodigious.”
“Alcamayn is the left knee, marked number eight, and the planet Venus. Saturn will exterminate him, as the desire for sensuous beauty is destroyed by initiation. Over the generative organs is the sign Mercury and a figure nine, with Rahula’s name, as thou seest. She is my antipode,” said Akaza. “She is knowledge inverted, and what she bequeaths to men will prove fatal to them.”
“Atlantis is under the feet, marked number ten, with our beloved trident, and the cross and circle of love,” exclaimed the younger man with enthusiasm.
As Akaza replaced the horoscope, he said:
“We have been studying three triads, represented by our fellows. The upper one is thyself, Kerœcia and myself; the second, is Orondo, Ildiko and Setos; while the third is Rahula, Alcamayn and Atlantis. Dost thou understand the meaning of Azoth?”
“I fear to affirm knowledge of this, lest it have a hidden significance which is unknown to me.”
“Azoth is the space between the luminaries and the earth. Heat and light vibrate from the sun, but it must function through the photosphere of the earth before it is visible to us. Dost thou know that between the earth’s photosphere and the sun it is dark?”
“It appears to our eyesight as dark,” was the cautious answer. Akaza smiled.
“Well then, know that this nonluminous medium (astral light) preserves the imprint of things visible, and the aspect of the daily heavens is reflected there. It is in this substance that the mother’s fancy or cravings are transmitted and impressed upon the unborn child.
“The various atmospheric influences are conveyed through the same medium. By the fact of birth a child enters into universal harmony of the sidereal system. A net-work of light extends from sphere to sphere and there is no point on any planet or star to which one of these indestructible threads is not attached.[7]
“Men bear the seal of their planets on their foreheads, and especially on their hands; animals, in their entire shape and characteristics; plants, in their leaves and in their seeds; minerals, in their veins and peculiarities of fractures.
“Infancy is dedicated to the sun; childhood, to the moon; the age of puberty, to Mercury; youth, to Mars and Venus; mature years, to Jupiter; and old age, to Saturn.”
The head of man is shaped on the model of the starry spheres. It attracts and repels. It is this which is first formed, and appears in the gestation of the infant. The head is affected in an absolute manner by astral influences, and its diverse protuberances bear witness to the variety of these attractions.
“‘All the misery of the world is written in the northern sky,’” quoted Yermah, from a familiar saying. “But how fascinating is Nature’s book, with its golden letters! It was a poetic mind truly which gave us the science of astrology by tracing the lines from one star to another with his mind’s eye.”
“Shooting-stars are like the soul of desire and the Divine-self separated from our bodies. They always seek the center to recover equilibrium and motion. The soul, corresponding to the folds of Azoth (astral light) which surrounds and imprisons these meteors, must be disentangled, in order that the spirit may escape from the impurities still clinging to it. This is the magnum opus, or completed labor.”
Yermah moved a little nearer, to enable him to follow the direction of the caduceus in Akaza’s hand. He saw that the horoscope was for Atlantis in the near future.
“At the last vernal equinox the Lord of Day was about to leave the abode of the Lion. He now stands between this house and that of the Virgin in the celestial zodiac. In such aspect, he is approaching the fiery house of the Scorpion. When he has gone twenty-five times in the first lunation of cold and is still within two markings of the meridian, Poseidon’s reign will terminate.”
“Dost thou mean that I am then to become an actual ruler?” was the first question which came involuntarily to Yermah’s lips.
“Yes. The new moon at that time opens the way for the dispensation so long foretold by our prophets. We are about to see the literal interpretation of this revelation: ‘I will cause the sun to go down at noon, and I will darken the earth in the clear day. The moon shall change its laws, and not be seen at its proper period. Many chiefs among the stars of authority shall err, perverting their ways and works.’
“The comet, now faint above the horizon, comes forward with terrific force, and will cast its blight on Venus and Mars. Soon this portent will be discerned in the heavens and then the people must prepare for change.
“At the time of the full moon, Saturn rises in the first house, in conjunction with the visitor—presaging a national calamity. The path of the vagrant is such as to form conjunction with Venus, and, finally, to reach the vicinity of Mars—the fiery planet which rules Poseidon’s land.
“This configuration shows that the rulers have prostituted their authority, instead of leading men righteously by precept and example.
“The minds of all the people have become intensely evil, and they have been given to all forms of wickedness.
“The cohesive strength of Mars which binds the land, is broken and dispersed.
“At the new moon, seismic disturbances will be of continual occurrence; and as Mars is in the watery sign, so there is war in the earth’s interior between uncontrolled water and fire.”
“So,” said Yermah, “the elementals of earth, air, fire and water, that have been in sore bondage under black masters, are to gather and blend their forces to overthrow their former oppressors. So be it! Long hast thou waited for this.”
“At the full moon, when she meets the opposition of the sun, these forces culminate. Then the crest of angry waters, which the elements have lashed into fury, sweeps grandly and majestically onward. The new moon is formed while the luminaries are in opposition to Jupiter and Neptune. This is but another indication of trouble in the country, because Jupiter and Neptune are in the fourth house.”
Akaza indicated the places on the horoscope.
“Already this influence is beginning to be felt by Poseidon. He is encouraging our people to perform imposing magical incantations publicly. The first and second warnings were given when Ruta and Daitya sank beneath the ocean ages ago, one after another, with a long dispensation between. He should have known better than to trust the temporary defeat of our Brotherhood. It was an unfortunate day for Poseidon and Atlantis when the last remnant, led by the prophet, left there.”
“The mid-heavens show Uranus and Mercury in conjunction—or they will be so at the time midway between the new and the full moon,” said Yermah, as he hastily calculated the positions in the tenth house.
“This is a further token of the strained mental attitude of the rulers, who will make a frantic effort to retain their power. The exact conjunction marks the complete overthrow of the magicians, and frees the elemental slaves. The activity displayed by the physical world draws each one back to its own particular element, and a righteous judgment ensues.”
Akaza clasped his hands in front of him on the table, as Yermah shifted his position, and said:
“Thou art in truth fortunate, because the last decade has developed extreme luxury and selfishness in Atlantis.”
“The conjunction of Venus and Mars, afflicted by the comet, would indicate that,” responded Yermah, referring to the map.
“Mercury in sextile aspect to Venus, in the ninth house, implies a mental religion colored by the nature of Venus. The aspect of Mars adds to this a warlike element, and that which appeals to the passions.”
He paused for a moment in intense thought, then continued:
“As the conjunction of Mercury with Uranus is made, all religion is lost. The moon signifies the people—the sun, their rulers. Thou seest that both are opposed to justice and right (Jupiter) and true wisdom (Neptune). The power to remedy this situation is refused, and retribution advances unopposed.”
Seeing that Akaza had finished, Yermah ventured to ask:
“Does my future stand revealed in this calculation?”
“Jupiter speaks for thee in the fourth house. Thy physical body is linked with the land of thy birth, and thy return thereto denoted.”
“Thou hast my gratitude, Akaza. Grant that I may cross over the dark way; that I may enter and go out of the Hall of Truth with thee for a guide.”
“The Ineffable One, Maker of all things, be thy protection,” responded Akaza, as both men arose.
“Thou wilt smoke and so will I, while I make ready for our repose,” said Yermah, moving about. “I have husks and tobacco in my discarded mantle,” he continued, trying to find its pockets.
“I can please my fancy better,” said Akaza, going back to a plain cupboard, and producing from its shelves two bronze water-pipes, identical with those used by the Chinese to-day. He found also, a chamois pouch of fine-cut tobacco. Filling the bowl with water, he put a tiny pinch of tobacco in the top of the tube, and lighted it by the lamp sitting near. He puffed three times, emptied the pipe, and repeated the process.
Yermah denied himself until he had spread out the rugs, and had placed the cushions so that he and Akaza could sleep side by side.
When he sat down to smoke, the young man realized how tired he was. The excitement of the day, his exertion, and the rain, caused him to yawn frequently. It was a sign of healthy reaction which pleased the hierophant.
Finally, unable to fight drowsiness longer, Yermah threw himself down, and was soon in deep slumber. He stretched out with the abandon and relaxation of a contented mind, throwing one arm up above his head, while his hair spread over the cushions.
Akaza watched beside him for a long time. He slept like a child, and the old man looked at him with as much tenderness as ever a mother displayed over the cradle of her first-born.
Fondness for Yermah was his one weakness. Alone in the cave at midnight, he indulged it. Without balance and discrimination, this might be mere sentimentality or mawkish sweetness. In the spiritual man, however, balance and discrimination must of necessity be present.
Therefore, in Akaza love was strong and firm, as well as tender, wise and far-sighted. Seeing clearly amid the illusions around him, his love welcomed even pain for its object, when by suffering Yermah could gain treasures, and powers and gifts everlasting. He would lift no finger to frustrate the needful work, yet was rent by greater anguish than Yermah himself.
Seeing farther and more clearly, he had strength to await the end, giving meanwhile all the sympathy and help of the truest affection.
Akaza was sitting with his eyes closed—really dozing when he became suddenly aware of a presence. He looked toward the entrance of the cave, and encountered a pair of yellow eyes glaring at him in the semi-darkness.
He was so startled that he gained his feet in an attitude of defense. The eyes gradually lowered, and in a moment Akaza heard a sniffing noise. Before he could cry out the long, tawny body of Oghi came into full view.
The animal had its head down and was tracking its master. Akaza watched Oghi approach the sleeping man with unerring instinct.
“What is it, Akaza? Dear master, why hast thou not slept?” Yermah asked, sitting bolt upright, not more than half-awake. Oghi beat the ground with his tail, and made a peculiar sneezing sound to attract attention. It was his way of showing pleasure.
“He loves thee, also,” said Akaza, as Yermah patted the animal on the head. He was on his feet in a moment.
“Oghi! Here, sir!” called the Dorado, recovering the chain which had been dragged through the mud. “How could he get in here?”
“We will tie him to one of the brass staples leaded into the wall at the entrance,” returned Akaza, “and then we can find out.”
Oghi made no resistance as he was led to the spot indicated.
“He has dug in under these shutters,” said Yermah, as he held the light so that his companion could see. “How could he have known I was here?”
As he spoke the ocelot shook himself, and was about to lie down.
“Let me fix him a bed,” said his master; “he is a good fellow. There sir!”
Hastily gathering up some rush mats, Yermah threw them down in a pile. Oghi could not say “Thank you,” but he signified it the best way that he could. With a final affectionate pat on the head, Yermah turned and followed Akaza.
“Come to bed with me,” he urged. “Conscience forbids my sleeping while thou art denied rest.”
Akaza yielded to persuasion; and when Yermah had deftly tucked the rugs about him, and placed the cushions, after shaking them up thoroughly, so that Akaza declared himself comfortable, he extinguished all lights but one, and cuddled up close beside the elder man, with his right arm thrown protectingly over him.
A few moments afterward, both were fast asleep.