CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“DOWN WITH THE APOSTATE, YERMAH”—STRIFE IN TLAMCO
“Thou knowest, Imos, how I execrate the memory of Akaza,” said Setos, as the two sat in conference, at the high-priest’s house, shortly after Orondo’s burial.
“So do I. How often has he come between the sacred hierarchy and their rights. He was always intent upon the spirit rather than on the ritual practice of our faith. By his will Yermah is made hierophant, and I, who have served a lifetime, am cast aside with scant courtesy.”
Imos was a man advanced in years, having a broad high forehead, aquiline nose, square-cut eye-brows, and thin, finely compressed lips. His bald head, protruding like the knob of a knee, revealed a combative and tyrannical disposition.
Setos had much ado to conceal a grin of satisfaction, as the high-priest bared his secret ambition. He was unusually affable as he answered:
“Thou art shamefully ill-used, but I am thy brother in misfortune. When war devastated Atlantis, Akaza stood continually before the rabble, out-tonguing them in demands. The powers of right were on our side; but in the third day’s battle he turned the tide of victory by his infernal enchantments. Our gallant spearsmen were advancing two deep, when he charged them with three bodies of horsemen.
“‘It is Akaza!’” cried our leader, Poseidon. “‘The traitor comes to certain death.’ Some say that bolts from a mangonel struck through our ranks; others, that he cut off the spear-heads. Of this I know not. Poseidon rode at him in mortal combat, but fell uninjured at Akaza’s feet. Failing to kill him, he was obliged to give the Dorado as hostage. Ichanor, the war-chief of Poseidon, was compelled to surrender his son Orondo. By this means the schemer contrived to gain supremacy in Atlantis and all her dependencies. So long as he lived oppression hung over me. Thou mayst judge what love I bear his successor.”
The two men gave each other a searching glance, which said as plainly as words, “How shall we be rid of him?”
“We must be masters of caution,” said the wily priest.
“Suspicion abides not with Yermah and he knows nothing of black art.”
A loud rapping at the front door and hurrying feet along the passageway caused both to rise and listen intently. Simultaneously with the permit to enter, came Cezardis, flushed and in breathless haste.
“Exigency compels the waiving of ceremony,” said he. “A great concourse are in the theater listening to Rahula’s arraignment of Yermah. By a cunningly contrived tragedy, called ‘The Lost Soul’ she scores him without mercy, and has given utterance to all that Alcamayn confided to her concerning the Dorado having concealed his divinity in a ruby which he sent to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.
“Yermah broke his vow, and was blaspheming violently when the swift and terrible punishment came. Alcamayn heard his awful words, but feared even to repeat them, lest we be doomed to suffer again. Rahula has inflamed the populace against him, and they are running through the streets shouting: ‘Down with the apostate, Yermah! He has committed unpardonable sin against the Ineffable! He shall no longer rule Tlamco!’ Dost thou not hear the bugle calls? Signals are flashing from the forts, and the whole city is in uproar.”
Many extraneous sounds bore out this testimony; but neither auditor evinced surprise, though both showed concern.
“So,” said Setos presently, “the prophecy concerning the lost planet has come true. A great and momentous change is upon us.”
“Hast thou not heard the Blessed Books read in the temples?”
“Thou shouldst remember that I have been in the house of enemies. It would have been unsafe for me. Wilt thou refresh early recollections now and hurriedly?”
As far as he was capable, Setos was devout, and was always comforted by the rumble of long words.
Imos had a voice which fitted him for such an occasion, and he was much pleased to have the opportunity to use it. With the proper degree of solemnity, he crossed to the east side of the room, where the books lay, and then making three profound genuflections, he began reading promptly:
In the beginning the Great Spirit, surnamed Cohesion, breathed into chaotic disorder the fire of life. Verily, it grew to mighty proportions. It had two arms dividing the Supernal from the light of this world, which is darkness to the ones reposing in the sunshine of eternal peace. So vast was the chasm yawning between Spirit and Matter, that no mortal crossed the void for a million years. Then the twilight changed into morning, and there arose from the Celestial Shore an Archangel strong and mighty.
Hirach was his name. May it ever more be blessed! And a great voice was heard in the expanse like unto the sound of a trumpet, saying:
“Who is able to cross the chasm, to give to souls unborn the Key? To open the book to them that therein they may read the Way of life?”
And the bodiless and formless ones sounded the Æolian harps, and sang:
“Hirach is his name! Thrice blessed is he—Hirach of two threefold wings, encircling heaven, earth and the vast ocean! He alone is great; he is able to cross the vast abyss.”
Then Hirach called unto himself a great Red Dragon, whose name was Marah—for he shall deceive the nations, and they shall war with one another. He who sat on the dragon was calm and silent. His lofty, godlike brow was wrapped in the golden splendor of the morning sun. Over the deep chasm which divides mortals from the highest thrones swirled the Red Dragon, and the worlds trembled and feared. And the mountains from before whose eyes the clouds had vanished said to the stars shining in the majesty of their being: “Who is the terrible Red Dragon, and whose splendor anointeth the brow of him sitting thereon?”
The stars answered: “From infinity to infinity we roll in our courses; ages on ages have spent themselves in our existence, yet we remember not when the Red Dragon rose into life; neither can we comprehend the splendor on the brow of him who sitteth thereon.”
Now as the Dragon gyrated in his course, his fiery breath caused new suns to spring into existence, and new planets rolled in their orbits around them, peopled with living beings. Then the Dragon exalted himself in pride, and puffed out his cheeks, saying:
“Behold the glorious suns which I have created, to give light and life to all creatures, that they may praise me and give glory for that which I have done.”
Then he who sat on the head of the Dragon, clothed in splendor, rose and smote the ugly beast, whose death-agony dashed into pieces the beautiful planet circling between Mars and Jupiter, thus forever destroying the equilibrium between War and Justice. The souls thereon were drawn into the vortex of the earth. With his two tails he laid hold of Mars and Venus, seeking to destroy them also; but Hirach raised the great two-edged sword in his hands and cleft asunder the tails of the Dragon. He cut the body into five pieces, which fell to the earth, and the Dragon was no more.
“Such,” said Imos, “is the account of the Red Dragon. It is said that the chain of hills which encircle Tlamco are the remains of his body. Yonder hill to the east, is his skull, and is called Calvu. It is furthermore stated that Hirach shall at the end of the cycle come from a cavern beneath it. Akaza—curses be his portion! says that the Blessed Story is an allegory. He, a viler apostate than his pupil, claimed that he would come again, as Hirach incarnate, to break the power of the black brotherhood.”
“Rather let us exterminate the last remnant of them, and give their bodies to the fishes!” was his companion’s intemperate rejoinder.
“Face thy duty resolutely, and may victory be on thy side!” said Imos, piously, as Setos hurried out of the house.
“He who holds our destiny, plans all things well. May thy hopes find fruition also!”
Setos knew that his seditious work among the warriors was ready to bear fruit, but he was gratified that Rahula had provoked the outburst. She had been in a frenzy of rage since her defeat in the judgment hall, and this was her revenge. Setos was determined to take advantage of it and be made Grand Servitor of the Azes.
The theater stood on a sloping hill southeast of Lone Mountain. It faced the south, shielding the spectators from the north wind. They had a commanding view of the bay and islands in the foreground and the tawny leonine hills in the distance.
The edifice was a semi-circle, provided with tiers of seats, and would accommodate many thousand people. It was an earth embankment fitted with stone seats and a sanded floor, with an open roof, supported by stout poles. An arch under the right wing marked the entrance to the stage, and led to subterranean dressing-rooms. There was small provision for artificial setting, the beauty of natural scenery being deemed sufficient.
“Haille! Haille! Haille! Setos sent to deliver us from peril!” cried a company of warriors who were escorting Rahula home from the theater.
“Haille, Setos! Chief of the Turghati—men loyal to the true faith of Atlantis!” exclaimed Rahula, whose disordered dress, sparkling eyes, and flushed cheeks, bespoke her excitement. When she approached Setos, she was trembling violently, but every sense was on the alert.
“Thou who art the man of destiny, come with me,” she continued. “I will tell thee all that has happened.”
“Rahula, the silver-tongued, is thy worthy forerunner, as Mercury is of the sun. Go with her and then come to the Observatory. Thy presence will put heart into the wavering ones, who are in consultation. Thou mayst depend upon us.”
The crowd was noisy and unruly, but Setos understood that the warriors would hold them in check. He followed Rahula indoors. Acting on the impulse of the moment, Setos drew Rahula to him and kissed her passionately.
If he had been blind before, he certainly knew now, and he suddenly realized that she was necessary to his success.
“Thou art worthy of my best love,” he said, “and thou shalt command it. Open thy heart to me.”
“Thou hast surprised its secret, and made me forget our danger. Death were not unwelcome in this guise,” she murmured, nestling down closer in his arms.
“Thy lips must pay forfeit for speech once more, and then thy sweet voice must quell this inward tumult. I could drowse like a sleepy god in thy embrace.”
“Duty stern and uncompromising faces us, and we must yield to other influences,” said Rahula, slipping out of his arms. “The die is cast, and thou must not falter or linger in sweet dalliance.”
“Pearls of wisdom ever fall from thy lips, Rahula. Thy well-chosen words sober me again. What dost thou know?”
She held both his hands to her breast, and looked at him steadfastly.
“I am aware that discontent has been flourishing like a poisonous weed in Tlamco. It needed but a spark to fan it to a blaze and I have produced that spark. It is in the suspicion that Yermah is an accursed and lost soul. Thou knowest the tradition concerning other calamities in the dim ages. Fan this flame judiciously, and thou wilt sit in the seat of power.”
He would have strained her to his breast again, but she eluded him. She was certain of her hold upon him, and was anxious to strengthen it.
“Thou canst not be sure of unqualified support,” she went on. “If thou canst not silence Yermah’s adherents in argument, then thou must resort to arms.”
“Thou art my love, and a wise counselor,” he answered, still actuated by gratitude and what he called love. “Go thou to the Camp of Mars, and I will be guided by thee,” he added, aiding her in the readjustment of her mantle.