CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE FEASTING—THE DANCING AND THE BETROTHAL CUP
The sun was inclining well toward the west, and there was a savory smell of roasted meats, steaming vegetables and ripe fruits assailing the olfactory nerves, and appealing strongly to the inner man—the unchained tiger of the stomach.
The children set up an impatient clamor for something to eat, as they caught sight of the long, low tables spread under the trees; but, there was a decorum to be observed, which the elders rigidly enforced.
Whole animals had been roasting through the previous night in trenches twelve feet long, two feet wide, and two feet deep. Fires were built in them, and when thoroughly dried out, great spits were put in half-way to the top, and over a bed of red-hot charcoal the meat was cooked. During this process it was moistened frequently with spiced vinegar, and a sauce piquante of chili, with which salt had been freely mixed.
Beef, venison and bear-meat were prepared in this way, while rabbits, wild turkeys, geese, ducks, quail and small birds were roasted and stewed by separate methods. Near the trenches, pots of curry, rice and mutton were simmering over slow fires. Deep brass cylinders, with glowing charcoal in the bottom, kept steaming tamales ready for instant service.
There were great ash-heaps filled with sweet potatoes roasted to a turn. Huge chafing-dishes contained beans, tomatoes, stuffed cucumbers and stews of all kinds, while lettuce, cresses, red peppers, radishes, leeks and onions were heaped upon the tables in profusion.
Nasturtium seeds, capers and olives were among the relishes. Great brick ovens hid many a fruit confection and pastry, and there were stacks of tortillas fresh from the hands of the baker. Fresh curds and honey were in liberal allowance on each table, while large wicker baskets groaned with their burden of ripe peaches, pears, apples, guavas, bananas, tunas and pineapples.
On clean grass mats were water-melons, cantaloupes and grapes while oranges, lemons, pomegranates and quinces were among the candied and preserved fruits.
Walnuts, peanuts, filberts and pine-nuts by the bushel, were at hand for service, while immense jars were filled with pulque, metheglin, tequila and koumiss. These drinks were called “zadar” meaning to spin, as the head feels after indulging in them. For the more soberly inclined there was chocolate flavored with vanilla, and piled high with whipped cream, served either hot or cold.
Cotton napkins and pottery ewers filled with water were beside each earthenware plate. Despite their impatience, the children were compelled to perform ablutions the same as their elders, before sitting to eat. For their use, lacquerware dishes were provided.
Gay-colored silk lanterns hung from the trees, which were also garlanded overhead with ropes of flowers, filling all gaps for the nonce and excluding the too-searching sunlight. All made haste to sit, while lips moved in silent thank-offerings.
The musicians played softly as Kerœcia passed rapidly along the lines, hospitably sprinkling ashes of aloes and rosewater over the people. Many kissed the hem of her garments, or murmured blessings or good wishes for her health and happiness.
With a bound she was up the steps of the canopied dais upon which the tables were laid for herself and special guests. Civil and military officers filled the outer seats, while the priests and healers faced them.
At the inner table, Yermah sat on the right of Kerœcia, and Cezardis on the left. Facing them at the opposite end was Alcyesta, with Zoyara and Ben Hu Barabe. The intervening spaces were occupied by Setos, Rahula, Alcamayn, Ildiko, Zombra, Suravia, Hanabusa and Mineola.
Fragrant blossoms in the form of globes, stars and crescents hung from the blue domelike canopy, while fern brakes and loose bracken wound around the supporting columns. Vases of silver, gold and onyx, set with jewels, supported the daintier blooms that adorned the table, and plates and spoons of tortoise-shells, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, contrasted sharply with the white cloth.
Drinking-cups of polished horn, ewers of gold and silver inlaid together, and hand basins of bright enamel, made the table both elegant and luxurious.
As Kerœcia approached, her guests arose and joined in the shout “Ho-ra! Ho-ra! Ho-ra!” which went up from the multitude. With a simple gesture, Kerœcia bade them be seated. Then, with a sign of benediction to the four cardinal points, during which time all joined in her prayer, she seated herself, and the feast began.
For three hours they ate, drank and made merry, passing compliments and toasts along the lines of tables, calling pretty sentiments across to one another, until the verge of temperate indulgence was fully reached. Long before this, the children had been released from the table refreshed and ready for a romp under the shade-trees. With a sigh of satisfaction, their elders waited for a signal to rise.
“A libation to the Ineffable One, the Indivisible, I-am-I,” called Ben Hu Barabe, standing back of his wife, holding a patera cup of ivory, having a gold tracery over its surface, and filled to the brim with pulque.
“Om-ah! Om-ah! Om-ah!” was the reverential response.
Ben Hu Barabe faced west, and with a graceful sweep of the arm, poured the liquid on the ground.
“A libation to the Trinity, whose creative, destructive and preservative aspects are everywhere manifest,” said Yermah, as he stood behind Kerœcia, and held up a jeweled cup evenly full of metheglin.
“Om-ah! Om-ah! Om-ah!” responded the assemblage, as Yermah made a low obeisance to the east, and poured out the offering with a wide splash.
“A libation to the four elements of the All Powerful—to earth, air, fire and water—to the four parts of the heavens where His kingdoms are,” said Cezardis, rising, followed immediately by Zoyara, Setos and Hanabusa, each holding an onyx and silver cup brimming over with koumiss.
Each faced a cardinal point and quickly emptied his cup.
A crash of music mingled with the “Om-ahs!” and every eye turned expectantly toward Kerœcia.
At this anniversary each year since Kerœcia had been among them, a betrothal cup had been set in the center of her table. It was the one day in the year when she was privileged to choose a husband. The marriageable men loyally showed themselves, but stood with averted faces lest their intent gaze should embarrass and disconcert her. Every one withdrew from the table and left her free to act.
Would she merely bow her head and follow her maidens, as she had done before, or would she return the confidence of her people in full? She was still standing as they left her, amid a feeling, impressive, and intense silence.
Quickly she called:
“Alcyesta, Suravia, Mineola, intercede for me!”
Then she hastily signed to the musicians, and, soft as a breath of Æolian harps, came the answering notes. The three priestesses intoned in low, sweet voices, stretching out their arms in supplication to the north, west and south. Their bodies swayed forth and back as they brought their open hands even with their foreheads, palms downward, and then opened their arms as wide as possible again, repeating the process continually. Many of the women were moved to tears as they heard the familiar strains, while some of them mechanically joined in the chant.
Since freedom and unconsciousness are the only expressions of modesty, why, in the name of all that is simple, sincere, and natural, is it considered wrong for a woman to give expression to affection. As well might it be held a shame to live and breathe because uninvited to be born. It may be that it is for the harmony, delicacy, joy, mystery and beauty of love that the differences of sex should be recognized in the right of initiative. Or the notion may lie in the atavism of human nature which stands trembling between the glory of its destiny and the meanness of its achievement.
Kerœcia had a naïve, tender, shrinking, sensitive nature, but one in which love clothed itself with many charms and graces. There was no sense of original sin hanging over her head to suppress, intimidate and pervert her love nature. She knew no reason why she should not select a mate. With the confidence of this assurance, she picked up the betrothal cup.
The act combined the strength of the sea, the firmness of the mountains, the freedom of the winds, with all the shy grace of the violet hidden by tall grasses and veiled with dew.
The cup, a pale violet stone which had been blocked out and ground down, was supported by a slender golden stem, twisted and set with pearls and emeralds.
Something of the import of Kerœcia’s action dawned upon Yermah as he stood transfixed, pale and agitated, while his very life seemed to hang upon her every movement.
It was a woman’s courage, born of love—the love of giving herself wholly to the object of her choice. Nerved by this feeling, she came toward him confidently, but with a timid smile and rising color, and gave the cup into his trembling hands.
For a moment, he shrank back from her.
“O God! My oath!” was wrung from his lips. It was for an instant only.
“But I love her with all my soul!” he cried, as he knelt and kissed the proferred hand.
Ignorant and innocent alike of the cause of his emotion, Kerœcia sought to reassure him.
“The Monbas will love thee, too,” she said. “Hear their assenting shouts.”
“Atlantis and her dependencies shall worship and adore thee, as I do. Kerœcia, my love, I shall be a loyal husband to thee.”
“As I shall be a dutiful and loving wife to thee!”
The betrothed couple were nearly swept off their feet by the crowds which surged around them. The Monbas and Azes embraced each other, called one another brother, and pledged fealty to the new alliance.
Thus was the compact ratified.
Every one was anxious to talk the matter over with his neighbor. So, they all sought their homes in animated groups, leaving behind a scene of disorder. Napkins were scattered wherever the last ablutions were performed. Ewers and cups with their contents had been frequently overturned. Fragments of food, cooked and uncooked, some untouched and others partly eaten, were abandoned by the sated appetite, and left without further thought, until hunger should recall their excellence.
In a short time the streets were silent and deserted, the remaining hours of the day being devoted to a siesta indoors. No one issued from his house again until night unpinned a black curtain and rolled it down over the earth.
When God had hung His lanterns in the sky, the people came together again. They went back to the pavilion which was now a blaze of light from the many flambeaux stuck into brass urns around the high walls, augmented by hundreds of silk lanterns festooned on wires stretching across to the center pole. There was breeze enough to keep the flags in motion, and to cause the lights to flicker fitfully, adding to the fairy-like beauty of the scene.
The character of the music had entirely changed. The kettle-drums were muffled and beaten with the fingers only. Instead of the blare of trumpets, there were harps such as the Yaqui Indians use, and differing but little from the modern instruments.
Slabs of black and white marble covered the ring floor, save where a wide passageway had been left on all sides for use of the people in seating themselves. The pavilion had been transformed into a bower of roses and artificial trees.
Under a floral canopy, Kerœcia, dressed in white and silver gauze, sat with one of the judges on either side of her. She was waiting to crown the victors. The musicians made victory, love and triumph their theme, as Yermah, escorted by Ben Hu Barabe, approached and knelt to receive a crown of lilies and a palm.
“Rise in thy majesty, bearer of the victorious palm! Go forth and renew thy triumphs, until the sun comes again to strengthen thy lion heart. Peace be with thee!”
“Hear me, O Priestess! Grant thy servant leave to encircle thy slender fingers with a set of rings made for thee, having the virtues of the planets and sent with the blessings of the people of Tlamco,” entreated Yermah, kneeling.
“Thy wishes and those of thy people are law unto me,” responded Kerœcia, giving him her hand.
Alcamayn presented him with a cushion of purple silk on which lay the seven rings.
“A sapphire set in gold, worn on the first finger, brings the blessing of the sun,” said the Dorado, slipping the ring on her finger. “Beside it I place a bloodstone set in tin, to enlist Jupiter in thy welfare; the cautious guardianship of Saturn is in the turquoise and lead, with which I encircle thy middle finger; Venus, the goddess of love, governs the third finger, and for an amulet demands an amethyst set in copper; the moon inclines the heart of thy people toward thee, and will bless thee with children, if a diamond in silver setting is also placed on this finger.”
Yermah lingered a moment over his task, and looked up at Kerœcia for approval.
“This curiously wrought band contains a magnet, and is intended for the little finger, the throne of Mercury, the wise one, who stands as an outer sentinel to guard and strengthen love,” he continued.
“The seat of will-power is in the thumb. Let this serpent of iron with an emerald eye bring to thee the warrior spirit of the planet Mars, subdued and sweetened by the quality of Venus. May the All-Seeing Eye supply thy inner vision, and may every craving of thy heart be satisfied.”
“Then must thou express the gratitude oppressing me, when next thy voice is heard in the Llama city,” replied Kerœcia, as she motioned Yermah to rise.
Wreaths of bay-tree, of laurel in berry (whence the term baccalaureate comes when it is given to young physicians), olive, myrtle, and nasturtium vines were bestowed and proudly worn by men who had contested for them earlier in the day. To the less successful, were given ribbons of red, blue, and green.
The whole scene was animated and brilliant. The gayly dressed throng pushed and elbowed one another, paying little or no attention to the award of prizes, in their desire to see and to be seen.
The dances were about to begin, and there was a bevy of pretty girls ready to do their share. Up the steps of the pavilion, dancing on their way, came boys dressed as birds and butterflies, in garments of blue, green, and yellow plumes. They ascended into the artificial trees, moving from branch to branch, pretending to sip dew from the flowers. Then came the special guests, who were garbed like gods, having blow-guns in their hands, with which they feigned to shoot the birds.
Kerœcia invited the visitors into her bower, and gave them a mixture of rose-leaves and tobacco to smoke.
Immediately the familiar strains of the harvest dances were heard, and the people began to clap their hands in accompaniment. From the four cardinal points a line of dancers was forming, composed of young girls dressed as fairies. The sylphs came from the east, dressed in sheer white, made short and very full, with graduated spangles of gold coming out like a sunburst from the gold band at the waist. Orange and jasmine blossoms wreathed their heads. They danced quickly up to the pole in the center, and took the yellow streamer hanging from the immense flower parasol suspended over the top. Joining hands, they waited for their companions.
Next came the salamanders, in parti-colored dresses of flame-red and black, so thickly spangled with mica that in the flaring light they looked as if sparks had been showered over them. Their long black hair was full of diamond powder, and they had red roses and carnations on their heads. The same dainty steps, with the hems of their stiff skirts in their fingers, brought them to the center where they secured a red streamer.
Then came the undines, the water-sprites, dressed in Nile-green gauze liberally trimmed with silver, while their girdles were of silver filigree, shaped like serpents. Their fluffy white hair was crowned with lemon and citron blooms, and agraffes of silver were also worn. They came from the west, and selected a white streamer.
From the north came queer little hunchbacked creatures, wearing conical caps which terminated in sharp points. These gnomes sparkled with mineral wealth, in jeweled bodices and caps, while their skirts were earth-colored gauze, brightened by iridescent sequins and embroideries. These dancers picked up the remaining black streamer.
Slowly the columns began to circle around the pole, going faster and faster until the streamers were wound around it, and as often reversing the process. Forming a square, they began a basket weave, during which time little children ran forth and back to represent the shuttle.
With a grand apotheosis of the seasons, during which each group danced separately, and, finally, all together, they bowed, threw kisses to Kerœcia, and ran off the platform.
A few minutes afterward, each square of marble was occupied by a young woman dressed as a priestess, in long, voluminous robes of pale pink, lavender, blue, and white, with double and single key patterns marked out in black. The necks, the bottoms of the skirts, and the edges of the sleeves were so ornamented. Gold bands coiled around the back part of the head and held the long hair in place. Sandals, having pointed toes curling well up over the foot, and laced together with gold cords, completed their costumes.
The dancers were placed so as to form a representation like the maze of Dædalus, and each whirled separately and at such a rate as to confuse the beholder.
Ildiko took a parti-colored handkerchief and challenged Alcamayn to follow her. The dancers kept up the whirling wherever she was, while the others held their interlaced hands high over their heads and danced in an indescribable labyrinth.
In and out darted Ildiko, with a tantalizing fling of the handkerchief, taxing all Alcamayn’s ingenuity to follow, especially when the spectators sought to mislead him by an incessant clamor of gratuitous advice over and above the hand-clapping. Finally, he succeeded in securing a corner of the square, which he retained, dancing with Ildiko up in front of the pavilion.
As soon as Kerœcia recognized them, the whole group prostrated themselves before her, and then rising simultaneously, executed a serpentine dance, in which all the colors were beautifully blended.
As the music ceased, the crowd began moving toward the gates, and soon after, quiet reigned supreme.
Yermah gained courage from the unfailing kindness shown him everywhere. It loosed his tongue, and he longed to talk of his hopes and plans. Lover-like, he was tormented with curiosity concerning the minutiæ of Kerœcia’s life; so he lingered the greater portion of the next day at her house.
These two indulged in the dearest, sweetest possible exchange of confidences. The revelations they made amounted to nothing in themselves, yet were priceless treasures to the recipients.
Halting sentences, eloquent silences, phrases broken by kisses sweeter than honey of Hybla, explanations emphasized by a caressing touch of the hand, tones and accents whose inner meaning was made plain by a love-lit eye, all the sweet nothings talked heart-to-heart by lovers gave them several hours of unalloyed happiness.
“I am of the same descent as thou art, my beloved,” said Kerœcia, as Yermah drew her head toward him, and kissed the hair where it parted on her forehead.
“How art thou related to me except by the silken cords of affection?” he asked, ready to indulge her for the sake of hearing her talk.
“Because years ago, my ancestry came from Atlantis.”
“Very true, the Ians were originally from Atlantis, but they have long made war on Nimrod’s descendants.”
“Oppression and ill-use drove them to rebellion. They were forbidden to worship as I do, and for this reason they set themselves free.”
“I went directly to Nineveh, a callow youth, ungainly, beardless and without discretion—”
“Wouldst thou have me quarrel with thee?” demanded Kerœcia, as she held her hand tightly over Yermah’s mouth. He shook his head, and with his hands imprisoned the audacious member.
“Then thou must not abuse my property,” she continued, with an engaging pout.
“Wouldst thou have loved me then?” he asked. Being satisfied with her reply, he added: “There I performed the first labor of initiation.”
“What meanest thou, by initiation? Is it something Akaza teaches thee?”
“Initiation is a task imposed upon me by the Brotherhood of the White Star in my father’s court. When I have finished the labors I shall be of the Brotherhood myself. This is necessary for a Grand Servitor.”
“Tell me of thy journeyings,” she said, nestling close beside him, yet with a coyness and reserve all her own. “Thou hast traveled very far.”
“The second year was spent at[8]Memphis, Egypt, where I performed the second labor. Then I went among our colonists in [8]Phœnicia; thence to the [8]Etruscans, where I learned to work in metals; then among the [8]Kelts, where I learned bow-craft; thence to the [8]Vikings and the land of the [8]Basques. Returning to Poseidon’s kingdom, I set sail for the land of the [8]Incas; and from there I came to Tlamco, the last outlying colony of the [8]Toltecs, one of the three main tributaries to the Grand Servitor Poseidon. Art thou satisfied?” he asked.
“Not quite. Hast thou loved no one all these years?”
“Yes; and very much,” confidently assented Yermah.
Kerœcia shrank back as if a blow had been dealt her. Everything swam before her, and she was faint and wan.
“Whom?” she gasped.
“Myself,” said Yermah, holding her tightly. “Art thou jealous?”
“Not now,” she replied, with a look that enchanted her admirer.
“Wilt thou hear other confessions? I can accuse myself of much more.”
“And compel me to love thee the more for them all. Thou shalt leave me sufficient mind for besetting affairs,” answered Kerœcia.
“Wouldst thou have me for thy slave?”
“No. But I would be thine.”
“Lend thy confidence fully, that I may worship where thou art pleased, and abhor that which offends thee.”
“That which I value most of all my possessions is this distaff given me by my mother,” said Kerœcia, bringing forward a slender strip of bamboo, not much larger than a darning-needle, lightly weighted with pellets of clay.
It had a jeweled handle and a wheel of hardwood, polished and set with mother-of-pearl. A tiny shell served for a socket, should the weight of the spindle prove too heavy for the gossamer threads used.
“Wilt thou spin?” asked her companion, placing a seat for her.
With girlish eagerness and gratified pride, Kerœcia sat down so intent upon a display of dexterity and skill that she was unconscious of the fact that her soft clinging skirts were tightly drawn over one leg the entire length, and high enough to reveal the ankle and instep to good advantage. With the other foot she set the treadle going, and soon her shapely arms were following the flying shuttle. The well-poised head, the long, slender throat, and the regular rise and fall of a perfect bosom helped to complete the poetry of her motions, and Yermah feasted his eyes while she worked.
Glancing upward by chance, Kerœcia caught the expression of his face, but was by no means displeased because she saw desire mirrored there.
Who can resist the intoxication of the senses?—especially their instinctive pledge, which does not rise to the mental plane, but is merely a matter of exquisite feeling on both sides.
In his agitation, Yermah busied himself clumsily with the spider-web threads, and soon had them hopelessly entangled. He was so genuinely distressed when they broke that his companion hastily put the wheel away and substituted an instrument like the zither, only much larger, played with thimbles of tortoise-shell fastened to the fingers.
Kerœcia sang a plaintive love-song to her own accompaniment. When she had finished, Yermah sat down beside her and slipped his arm around her waist.
“Something in thy song makes me sad. Tell me again that thou wilt be happy as my wife.”
She patted his cheek tenderly and gave the assurance.
“And wilt thou pray that children may bless and sweeten our lives together?”
Kneeling beside him, she promised. Seeing that he was still in a serious mood, she said soothingly:
“Let not ungentle doubt knit thy brow. For all time, and for all eternity, I give myself to thee absolutely and without reserve.”
“And I bind my soul to cherish and love thee always. Thou art a jewel imbedded in my very heart’s core. Hast thou a wish in my power to grant?”
She stroked his temples gently for a moment, and then said:
“Thou art both skilled and learned, and I delight in thy achievements. Hast thou shown all thy quality? Thou art as modest as a violet, but thou hast said that thou wilt do much to please me. Make me to know thy handiwork, and it shall be to me above rubies.”
It was such artless flattery that Yermah promised with swelling pride and an inward conviction that his every thought and wish would find a quick response and ready sympathy in her companionship.
After this they talked but little, much of their time being spent in the strange silent awe of perfect love.
With a pretty show of confidence which thrilled Yermah, Kerœcia lifted his disengaged hand and carried it to its fellow, which was yet about her waist, and of her own accord added slightly to the pressure. Baffled by the subtle change of expression which accompanied this movement, Yermah asked quickly:
“What is it, loved one?”
“I feel securely sheltered from all the world,” she said, “when thy strong arms enfold me. I wonder if thou canst realize what a complete haven I feel that I have in thee?”
“Not more than I find in thy sweet mind, thy pure soul, and thy warm heart,” he answered, as he kissed her forehead, eyes and lips.
He had taken her fully into his protecting care. She leaned on him without restraint and suffered her eyelids to droop for a moment. Gradually both of them yielded to a sense of weariness—a reaction inevitable from the tension of the previous days.
Drowsiness came on apace, but sleep claimed Yermah an instant only. With a tenderness akin to holiness, he occupied himself with Kerœcia’s comfort. He was completely subdued by her helplessness, and she was in every sense sacred to him.
“She trusts me,” he whispered softly, as he observed the relaxation of her pose.
In his gentleness and solicitude, there was that incipient quality indicated which would make him a kind and indulgent father.
She was to him still such a wonderful being that he was intensely interested in her personality. Curious as a boy with a new toy, he longed to arouse her, yet hesitated to do so. He felt diffident about touching her. Before he could decide what to do, she had opened her eyes with a start.
“Beloved, I thought thou hadst left me,” she murmured, only half-awake.
“No. I am still beside thee. We have both been in dreamland, but thou art more laggard than I.”
“I am much refreshed,” she said, apologetically. “Thou wilt pardon my neglect?”
“I, too, am renewed,” he answered, stroking her hair affectionately.
“Thou wilt not forget me when thou art engrossed with affairs of state?” she asked wistfully, as they stood together in the twilight taking leave of each other.
He was to go away at daybreak the following morning, and she clung to him in longing farewell.
“Remember this,” he answered, taking her face in his hands, and looking deep into her eyes: “Nothing can for one moment blot out thy dear image. The first thought of the day, the last thought of the night is of thee.”
“Thou art my whole desire and inspiration. Memory serves thee faithfully. May the energy of the cosmos conserve thy strength of purpose, thy health and happiness,” was Kerœcia’s reply.
“To Him who was in the beginning, and shall endure to the end without mutation or change, I commend my sweet love. May angels of content hover over thee, Kerœcia, my treasure!”
A tender, lingering embrace, a shower of kisses on eyelids and lips, and then the princess stood alone, straining her eyes into the dark, trying to retain a glimpse of her departing lover.