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_ It was half-past eight by my watch when I woke on the morning
following our arrival at Milosis, having slept almost exactly
twelve hours, and I must say that I did indeed feel better. Ah,
what a blessed thing is sleep! and what a difference twelve hours
of it or so makes to us after days and nights of toil and danger.
It is like going to bed one man and getting up another.
I sat up upon my silken couch--never had I slept upon such a bed
before--and the first thing that I saw was Good's eyeglass fixed
on me from the recesses of his silken couch. There was nothing
else of him to be seen except his eyeglass, but I knew from the
look of it that he was awake, and waiting till I woke up to
begin.
'I say, Quatermain,' he commenced sure enough, 'did you observe
her skin? It is as smooth as the back of an ivory hairbrush.'
'Now look here, Good,' I remonstrated, when there came a sound at
the curtain, which, on being drawn, admitted a functionary, who
signified by signs that he was there to lead us to the bath. We
gladly consented, and were conducted to a delightful marble
chamber, with a pool of running crystal water in the centre of
it, into which we gaily plunged. When we had bathed, we returned
to our apartment and dressed, and then went into the central room
where we had supped on the previous evening, to find a morning
meal already prepared for us, and a capital meal it was, though I
should be puzzled to describe the dishes. After breakfast we
lounged round and admired the tapestries and carpets and some
pieces of statuary that were placed about, wondering the while
what was going to happen next. Indeed, by this time our minds
were in such a state of complete bewilderment that we were, as a
matter of fact, ready for anything that might arrive. As for our
sense of astonishment, it was pretty well obliterated. Whilst we
were still thus engaged, our friend the captain of the guard
presented himself, and with many obeisances signified that we
were to follow him, which we did, not without doubts and
heart-searchings--for we guessed that the time had come when we
should have to settle the bill for those confounded hippopotami
with our cold-eyed friend Agon, the High Priest. However, there
was no help for it, and personally I took great comfort in the
promise of the protection of the sister Queens, knowing that if
ladies have a will they can generally find a way; so off we
started as though we liked it. A minute's walk through a passage
and an outer court brought us to the great double gates of the
palace that open on to the wide highway which runs uphill through
the heart of Milosis to the Temple of the Sun a mile away, and
thence down the slope on the farther side of the temple to the
outer wall of the city.
These gates are very large and massive, and an extraordinarily
beautiful work in metal. Between them--for one set is placed at
the entrance to an interior, and one at that of the exterior
wall--is a fosse, forty-five feet in width. This fosse is filled
with water and spanned by a drawbridge, which when lifted makes
the palace nearly impregnable to anything except siege guns. As
we came, one half of the wide gates were flung open, and we
passed over the drawbridge and presently stood gazing up one of
the most imposing, if not the most imposing, roadways in the
world. It is a hundred feet from curb to curb, and on either
side, not cramped and crowded together, as is our European
fashion, but each standing in its own grounds, and built
equidistant from and in similar style to the rest, are a series
of splendid, single-storied mansions, all of red granite. These
are the town houses of the nobles of the Court, and stretch away
in unbroken lines for a mile or more till the eye is arrested by
the glorious vision of the Temple of the Sun that crowns the hill
and heads the roadway.
As we stood gazing at this splendid sight, of which more anon,
there suddenly dashed up to the gateway four chariots, each drawn
by two white horses. These chariots are two-wheeled, and made of
wood. They are fitted with a stout pole, the weight of which is
supported by leathern girths that form a portion of the harness.
The wheels are made with four spokes only, are tired with iron,
and quite innocent of springs. In the front of the chariot, and
immediately over the pole, is a small seat for the driver, railed
round to prevent him from being jolted off. Inside the machine
itself are three low seats, one at each side, and one with the
back to the horses, opposite to which is the door. The whole
vehicle is lightly and yet strongly made, and, owing to the grace
of the curves, though primitive, not half so ugly as might be
expected.
But if the chariots left something to be desired, the horses did
not. They were simply splendid, not very large but strongly
built, and well ribbed up, with small heads, remarkably large and
round hoofs, and a great look of speed and blood. I have often
and often wondered whence this breed, which presents many
distinct characteristics, came, but like that of its owners, it
history is obscure. Like the people the horses have always been
there. The first and last of these chariots were occupied by
guards, but the centre two were empty, except for the driver, and
to these we were conducted. Alphonse and I got into the first,
and Sir Henry, Good, and Umslopogaas into the one behind, and
then suddenly off we went. And we did go! Among the Zu-Vendi it
is not usual to trot horses either riding or driving, especially
when the journey to be made is a short one--they go at full
gallop. As soon as we were seated the driver called out, the
horses sprang forward, and we were whirled away at a speed
sufficient to take one's breath, and which, till I got accustomed
to it, kept me in momentary fear of an upset. As for the
wretched Alphonse, he clung with a despairing face to the side of
what he called this 'devil of a fiacre', thinking that every
moment was his last. Presently it occurred to him to ask where
we were going, and I told him that, as far as I could ascertain,
we were going to be sacrificed by burning. You should have seen
his face as he grasped the side of the vehicle and cried out in
his terror.
But the wild-looking charioteer only leant forward over his
flying steeds and shouted; and the air, as it went singing past,
bore away the sound of Alphonse's lamentations.
And now before us, in all its marvellous splendour and dazzling
loveliness, shone out the Temple of the Sun--the peculiar pride
of the Zu-Vendi, to whom it was what Solomon's, or rather
Herod's, Temple was to the Jews. The wealth, and skill, and
labour of generations had been given to the building of this
wonderful place, which had been only finally completed within the
last fifty years. Nothing was spared that the country could
produce, and the result was indeed worthy of the effort, not so
much on account of its size--for there are larger fanes in the
world--as because of its perfect proportions, the richness and
beauty of its materials, and the wonderful workmanship. The
building (that stands by itself on a space of some eight acres of
garden ground on the hilltop, around which are the
dwelling-places of the priests) is built in the shape of a
sunflower, with a dome-covered central hall, from which radiate
twelve petal-shaped courts, each dedicated to one of the twelve
months, and serving as the repositories of statues reared in
memory of the illustrious dead. The width of the circle beneath
the dome is three hundred feet, the height of the dome is four
hundred feet, and the length of the rays is one hundred and fifty
feet, and the height of their roofs three hundred feet, so that
they run into the central dome exactly as the petals of the
sunflower run into the great raised heart. Thus the exact
measurement from the centre of the central altar to the extreme
point of any one of the rounded rays would be three hundred feet
(the width of the circle itself), or a total of six hundred feet
from the rounded extremity of one ray or petal to the extremity
of the opposite one. *{These are internal measurements. --A. Q.}
The building itself is of pure and polished white marble, which
shows out in marvellous contrast to the red granite of the
frowning city, on whose brow it glistens indeed like an imperial
diadem upon the forehead of a dusky queen. The outer surface of
the dome and of the twelve petal courts is covered entirely with
thin sheets of beaten gold; and from the extreme point of the
roof of each of these petals a glorious golden form with a
trumpet in its hand and widespread wings is figured in the very
act of soaring into space. I really must leave whoever reads
this to imagine the surpassing beauty of these golden roofs
flashing when the sun strikes--flashing like a thousand fires
aflame on a mountain of polished marble--so fiercely that the
reflection can be clearly seen from the great peaks of the range
a hundred miles away.
It is a marvellous sight--this golden flower upborne upon the
cool white marble walls, and I doubt if the world can show such
another. What makes the whole effect even more gorgeous is that
a belt of a hundred and fifty feet around the marble wall of the
temple is planted with an indigenous species of sunflower, which
were at the time when we first saw them a sheet of golden bloom.
The main entrance to this wonderful place is between the two
northernmost of the rays or petal courts, and is protected first
by the usual bronze gates, and then by doors made of solid
marble, beautifully carved with allegorical subjects and overlaid
with gold. When these are passed there is only the thickness of
the wall, which is, however, twenty-five feet (for the Zu-Vendi
build for all time), and another slight wall also of white
marble, introduced in order to avoid causing a visible gap in the
inner skin of the wall, and you stand in the circular hall under
the great dome. Advancing to the central altar you look upon as
beautiful a sight as the imagination of man can conceive. You
are in the middle of the holy place, and above you the great
white marble dome (for the inner skin, like the outer, is of
polished marble throughout) arches away in graceful curves
something like that of St Paul's in London, only at a slighter
angle, and from the funnel-like opening at the exact apex a
bright beam of light pours down upon the golden altar. At the
east and the west are other altars, and other beams of light stab
the sacred twilight to the heart. In ever direction, 'white,
mystic, wonderful', open out the ray-like courts, each pierced
through by a single arrow of light that serves to illumine its
lofty silence and dimly to reveal the monuments of the dead.
*{Light was also admitted by sliding shutters under the eaves of
the dome and in the roof. --A. Q.}
Overcome at so awe-inspiring a sight, the vast loveliness of
which thrills the nerves like a glance from beauty's eyes, you
turn to the central golden altar, in the midst of which, though
you cannot see it now, there burns a pale but steady flame
crowned with curls of faint blue smoke. It is of marble overlaid
with pure gold, in shape round like the sun, four feet in height,
and thirty-six in circumference. Here also, hinged to the
foundations of the altar, are twelve petals of beaten gold. All
night and, except at one hour, all day also, these petals are
closed over the altar itself exactly as the petals of a
water-lily close over the yellow crown in stormy weather; but
when the sun at midday pierces through the funnel in the dome and
lights upon the golden flower, the petals open and reveal the
hidden mystery, only to close again when the ray has passed.
Nor is this all. Standing in semicircles at equal distances from
each other on the north and south of the sacred place are ten
golden angels, or female winged forms, exquisitely shaped and
draped. These figures, which are slightly larger than life-size,
stand with bent heads in an attitude of adoration, their faces
shadowed by their wings, and are most imposing and of exceeding
beauty.
There is but one thing further which calls for description in
this altar, which is, that to the east the flooring in front of
it is not of pure white marble, as elsewhere throughout the
building, but of solid brass, and this is also the case in front
of the other two altars.
The eastern and western altars, which are semicircular in shape,
and placed against the wall of the building, are much less
imposing, and are not enfolded in golden petals. They are,
however, also of gold, the sacred fire burns on each, and a
golden-winged figure stands on either side of them. Two great
golden rays run up the wall behind them, but where the third or
middle one should be is an opening in the wall, wide on the
outside, but narrow within, like a loophole turned inwards.
Through the eastern loophole stream the first beams of the rising
sun, and strike right across the circle, touching the folded
petals of the great gold flower as they pass till they impinge
upon the western altar. In the same way at night the last rays
of the sinking sun rest for a while on the eastern altar before
they die away into darkness. It is the promise of the dawn to
the evening and the evening to the dawn.
With the exception of those three altars and the winged figures
about them, the whole space beneath the vast white dome is
utterly empty and devoid of ornamentation--a circumstance that to
my fancy adds greatly to its splendour.
Such is a brief description of this wonderful and lovely
building, to the glories of which, to my mind so much enhanced by
their complete simplicity, I only wish I had the power to do
justice. But I cannot, so it is useless talking more about it.
But when I compare this great work of genius to some of the
tawdry buildings and tinsel ornamentation produced in these
latter days by European ecclesiastical architects, I feel that
even highly civilized art might learn something from the Zu-Vendi
masterpieces. I can only say that the exclamation which sprang
to my lips as soon as my eyes first became accustomed to the dim
light of that glorious building, and its white and curving
beauties, perfect and thrilling as those of a naked goddess, grew
upon me one by one, was, 'Well! a dog would feel religious here.'
It is vulgarly put, but perhaps it conveys my meaning more
clearly than any polished utterance.
At the temple gates our party was received by a guard of
soldiers, who appeared to be under the orders of a priest; and by
them we were conducted into one of the ray or 'petal' courts, as
the priests call them, and there left for at least half-an-hour.
Here we conferred together, and realizing that we stood in great
danger of our lives, determined, if any attempt should be made
upon us, to sell them as dearly as we could--Umslopogaas
announcing his fixed intention of committing sacrilege on the
person of Agon, the High Priest, by splitting his head with
Inkosi-kaas. From where we stood we could perceive that an
immense multitude were pouring into the temple, evidently in
expectation of some unusual event, and I could not help fearing
that we had to do with it. And here I may explain that every
day, when the sunlight falls upon the central altar, and the
trumpets sound, a burnt sacrifice is offered to the Sun,
consisting generally of the carcase of a sheep or ox, or
sometimes of fruit or corn. This even comes off about midday; of
course, not always exactly at that hour, but as Zu-Vendis is
situated not far from the Line, although--being so high above the
sea it is very temperate--midday and the falling of the sunlight
on the altar were generally simultaneous. Today the sacrifice
was to take place at about eight minutes past twelve.
Just at twelve o'clock a priest appeared, and made a sign, and
the officer of the guard signified to us that we were expected to
advance, which we did with the best grace that we could muster,
all except Alphonse, whose irrepressible teeth instantly began to
chatter. In a few seconds we were out of the court and looking
at a vast sea of human faces stretching away to the farthest
limits of the great circle, all straining to catch a glimpse of
the mysterious strangers who had committed sacrilege; the first
strangers, mind you, who, to the knowledge of the multitude, had
ever set foot in Zu-Vendis since such time that the memory of man
runneth not to the contrary.
As we appeared there was a murmur through the vast crowd that
went echoing away up the great dome, and we saw a visible blush
of excitement grow on the thousands of faces, like a pink light
on a stretch of pale cloud, and a very curious effect it was. On
we passed down a lane cut through the heart of the human mass,
till presently we stood upon the brazen patch of flooring to the
east of the central altar, and immediately facing it. For some
thirty feet around the golden-winged figures the space was roped
off, and the multitudes stood outside the ropes. Within were a
circle of white-robed gold-cinctured priests holding long golden
trumpets in their hands, and immediately in front of us was our
friend Agon, the High Priest, with his curious cap upon his head.
His was the only covered head in that vast assemblage. We took
our stand upon the brazen space, little knowing what was prepared
for us beneath, but I noticed a curious hissing sound proceeding
apparently from the floor for which I could not account. Then
came a pause, and I looked around to see if there was any sign of
the two Queens, Nyleptha and Sorais, but they were not there. To
the right of us, however, was a bare space that I guessed was
reserved for them.
We waited, and presently a far-off trumpet blew, apparently high
up in the dome. Then came another murmur from the multitude, and
up a long lane, leading to the open space to our right, we saw
the two Queens walking side by side. Behind them were some
nobles of the Court, among whom I recognized the great lord
Nasta, and behind them again a body of about fifty guards. These
last I was very glad to see. Presently they had all arrived and
taken their stand, the two Queens in the front, the nobles to the
right and left, and the guards in a double semicircle behind
them.
Then came another silence, and Nyleptha looked up and caught my
eye; it seemed to me that there was meaning in her glance, and I
watched it narrowly. From my eye it travelled down to the brazen
flooring, on the outer edge of which we stood. Then followed a
slight and almost imperceptible sidelong movement of the head. I
did not understand it, and it was repeated. Then I guessed that
she meant us to move back off the brazen floor. One more glance
and I was sure of it--there was danger in standing on the floor.
Sir Henry was placed on one side of me, Umslopogaas on the other.
Keeping my eyes fixed straight before me, I whispered to them,
first in Zulu and then in English, to draw slowly back inch by
inch till half their feet were resting on the marble flooring
where the brass ceased. Sir Henry whispered on to Good and
Alphonse, and slowly, very very slowly, we shifted backwards; so
slowly that nobody, except Nyleptha and Sorais, who saw
everything seemed to notice the movement. Then I glanced again
at Nyleptha, and saw that, by an almost imperceptible nod, she
indicated approval. All the while Agon's eyes were fixed upon
the altar before him apparently in an ecstasy of contemplation,
and mine were fixed upon the small of his back in another sort of
ecstasy. Suddenly he flung up his long arm, and in a solemn and
resounding voice commenced a chant, of which for convenience'
sake I append a rough, a VERY rough, translation here, though, of
course, I did not then comprehend its meaning. It was an
invocation to the Sun, and ran somewhat as follows: --
There is silence upon the face of the Earth and the waters
thereof!
Yea, the silence doth brood on the waters like a nesting
bird;
The silence sleepeth also upon the bosom of the profound
darkness,
Only high up in the great spaces star doth speak unto star,
The Earth is faint with longing and wet with the tears of
her desire;
The star-girdled night doth embrace her, but she is not
comforted.
She lies enshrouded in mists like a corpse in the
grave-clothes,
And stretches her pale hands to the East.
Lo! away in the farthest East there is the shadow of a
light;
The Earth seeth and lifts herself. She looks out from
beneath the hollow of her hand.
Then thy great angels fly forth from the Holy Place, oh Sun,
They shoot their fiery swords into the darkness and shrivel
it up.
They climb the heavens and cast down the pale stars from
their thrones;
Yea, they hurl the changeful stars back into the womb of the
night;
They cause the moon to become wan as the face of a dying
man,
And behold! Thy glory comes, oh Sun!
Oh, Thou beautiful one, Thou drapest thyself in fire.
The wide heavens are thy pathway: thou rollest o'er them as
a chariot.
The Earth is thy bride. Thou dost embrace her and she
brings forth children;
Yea, Thou favourest her, and she yields her increase.
Thou art the All Father and the giver of life, oh Sun.
The young children stretch out their hands and grow in thy
brightness;
The old men creep forth and seeing remember their strength.
Only the dead forget Thee, oh Sun!
When Thou art wroth then Thou dost hide Thy face;
Thou drawest around Thee a thick curtain of shadows.
Then the Earth grows cold and the Heavens are dismayed;
They tremble, and the sound thereof is the sound of thunder:
They weep, and their tears are outpoured in the rain;
They sigh, and the wild winds are the voice of their
sighing.
The flowers die, the fruitful fields languish and turn pale;
The old men and the little children go unto their appointed
place
When Thou withdrawest thy light, oh Sun!
Say, what art Thou, oh Thou matchless Splendour--
Who set Thee on high, oh Thou flaming Terror?
When didst Thou begin, and when is the day of Thy ending?
Thou art the raiment of the living Spirit. *{This line is
interesting as being one of the few allusions to be found in the
Zu-Vendi ritual to a vague divine essence independent of the
material splendour of the orb they worship. 'Taia', the word
used here, has a very indeterminate meaning, and signifies
essence, vital principle, spirit, or even God.}
None did place Thee on high, for Thou was the Beginning.
Thou shalt not be ended when thy children are forgotten;
Nay, Thou shalt never end, for thy hours are eternal.
Thou sittest on high within thy golden house and measurest
out the centuries.
Oh Father of Life! oh dark-dispelling Sun!
He ceased this solemn chant, which, though it seems a poor enough
thing after going through my mill, is really beautiful and
impressive in the original; and then, after a moment's pause, he
glanced up towards the funnel-sloped opening in the dome and
added--
OH SUN, DESCEND UPON THINE ALTAR!
As he spoke a wonderful and a beautiful thing happened. Down
from on high flashed a splendid living ray of light, cleaving the
twilight like a sword of fire. Full upon the closed petals it
fell and ran shimmering down their golden sides, and then the
glorious flower opened as though beneath the bright influence.
Slowly it opened, and as the great petals fell wide and revealed
the golden altar on which the fire ever burns, the priests blew a
blast upon the trumpets, and from all the people there rose a
shout of praise that beat against the domed roof and came echoing
down the marble walls. And now the flower altar was open, and
the sunlight fell full upon the tongue of sacred flame and beat
it down, so that it wavered, sank, and vanished into the hollow
recesses whence it rose. As it vanished, the mellow notes of the
trumpets rolled out once more. Again the old priest flung up his
hands and called aloud--
WE SACRIFICE TO THEE, OH SUN!
Once more I caught Nyleptha's eye; it was fixed upon the brazen
flooring.
'Look out,' I said, aloud; and as I said it, I saw Agon bend
forward and touch something on the altar. As he did so, the
great white sea of faces around us turned red and then white
again, and a deep breath went up like a universal sigh. Nyleptha
leant forward, and with an involuntary movement covered her eyes
with her hand. Sorais turned and whispered to the officer of the
royal bodyguard, and then with a rending sound the whole of the
brazen flooring slid from before our feet, and there in its place
was suddenly revealed a smooth marble shaft terminating in a most
awful raging furnace beneath the altar, big enough and hot enough
to heat the iron stern-post of a man-of-war.
With a cry of terror we sprang backwards, all except the wretched
Alphonse, who was paralysed with fear, and would have fallen into
the fiery furnace which had been prepared for us, had not Sir
Henry caught him in his strong hand as he was vanishing and
dragged him back.
Instantly there arose the most fearful hubbub, and we four got
back to back, Alphonse dodging frantically round our little
circle in his attempts to take shelter under our legs. We all
had our revolvers on--for though we had been politely disarmed of
our guns on leaving the palace, of course these people did not
know what a revolver was. Umslopogaas, too, had his axe, of
which no effort had been made to deprive him, and now he whirled
it round his head and sent his piercing Zulu war-shout echoing up
the marble walls in fine defiant fashion. Next second, the
priests, baffled of their prey, had drawn swords from beneath
their white robes and were leaping on us like hounds upon a stag
at bay. I saw that, dangerous as action might be, we must act or
be lost, so as the first man came bounding along--and a great
tall fellow he was--I sent a heavy revolver ball through him, and
down he fell at the mouth of the shaft, and slid, shrieking
frantically, into the fiery gulf that had been prepared for us.
Whether it was his cries, or the, to them, awful sound and effect
of the pistol shot, or what, I know not, but the other priests
halted, paralysed and dismayed, and before they could come on
again Sorais had called out something, and we, together with the
two Queens and most of the courtiers, were being surrounded with
a wall of armed men. In a moment it was done, and still the
priests hesitated, and the people hung in the balance like a herd
of startled buck as it were, making no sign one way or the other.
The last yell of the burning priest had died away, the fire had
finished him, and a great silence fell upon the place.
Then the High Priest Agon turned, and his face was as the face of
a devil. 'Let the sacrifice be sacrificed,' he cried to the
Queens. 'Has not sacrilege enough been done by these strangers,
and would ye, as Queens, throw the cloak of your majesty over
evildoers? Are not the creatures sacred to the Sun dead? And is
not a priest of the Sun also dead, but now slain by the magic of
these strangers, who come as the winds out of heaven, whence we
know not, and who are what we know not? Beware, oh Queens, how
ye tamper with the great majesty of the God, even before His high
altar! There is a Power that is more than your power; there is a
Justice that is higher than your justice. Beware how ye lift an
impious hand against it! Let the sacrifice be sacrificed, oh
Queens.'
Then Sorais made answer in her deep quiet tones, that always
seemed to me to have a suspicion of mockery about them, however
serious the theme: 'Oh, Agon, thou hast spoken according to thy
desire, and thou hast spoken truth. But it is thou who wouldst
lift an impious hand against the justice of thy God. Bethink
thee the midday sacrifice is accomplished; the Sun hath claimed
his priest as a sacrifice.'
This was a novel idea, and the people applauded it.
'Bethink thee what are these men? They are strangers found
floating on the bosom of a lake. Who brought them here? How
came they here? How know you that they also are not servants of
the Sun? Is this the hospitality that ye would have our nation
show to those whom chance brings to them, to throw them to the
flames? Shame on you! Shame on you! What is hospitality? To
receive the stranger and show him favour. To bind up his wounds,
and find a pillow for his head, and food for him to eat. But thy
pillow is the fiery furnace, and thy food the hot savour of the
flame. Shame on thee, I say!'
She paused a little to watch the effect of her speech upon the
multitude, and seeing that it was favourable, changed her tone
from one of remonstrance to one of command.
'Ho! place there,' she cried; 'place, I say; make way for the
Queens, and those whom the Queens cover with their "kaf"
(mantle).'
'And if I refuse, oh Queen?' said Agon between his teeth.
'Then will I cut a path with my guards,' was the proud answer;
'ay, even in the presence of thy sanctuary, and through the
bodies of thy priests.'
Agon turned livid with baffled fury. He glanced at the people as
though meditating an appeal to them, but saw clearly that their
sympathies were all the other way. The Zu-Vendi are a very
curious and sociable people, and great as was their sense of the
enormity that we had committed in shooting the sacred
hippopotami, they did not like the idea of the only real live
strangers they had seen or heard of being consigned to a fiery
furnace, thereby putting an end for ever to their chance of
extracting knowledge and information from, and gossiping about
us. Agon saw this and hesitated, and then for the first time
Nyleptha spoke in her soft sweet voice.
'Bethink thee, Agon,' she said, 'as my sister Queen has said,
these men may also be servants of the Sun. For themselves they
cannot speak, for their tongues are tied. Let the matter be
adjourned till such time as they have learnt our language. Who
can be condemned without a hearing? When these men can plead for
themselves, then it will be time to put them to the proof.'
Here was a clever loophole of escape, and the vindictive old
priest took it, little as he liked it.
'So be it, oh Queens,' he said. 'Let the men go in peace, and
when they have learnt our tongue then let them speak. And I,
even I, will make humble supplication at the altar lest
pestilence fall on the land by cause of the sacrilege.'
These words were received with a murmur of applause, and in
another minute we were marching out of the temple surrounded by
the royal guards.
But it was not till long afterwards that we learnt the exact
substance of what had passed, and how hardly our lives had been
wrung out of the cruel grip of the Zu-Vendi priesthood, in the
face of which even the Queens were practically powerless. Had it
not been for their strenuous efforts to protect us we should have
been slain even before we set foot in the Temple of the Sun. The
attempt to drop us bodily into the fiery pit as an offering was a
last artifice to attain this end when several others quite
unsuspected by us had already failed. _
Read next: CHAPTER XV - SORAIS' SONG
Read previous: CHAPTER XIII - ABOUT THE ZU-VENDI PEOPLE
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