"And what became of the man?" Leonard asked, speaking as quietly as he could, for his excitement was great.
"Nay, I do not know," answered Olfan. "I only know that he was let down with ropes into the home of the Snake, and that he gained that holy place, for it was told to me that he dragged rope after him, perhaps as he fled before the Snake.
"Now it was promised to the man that when he had laid the bag of stones in the place of the Snake, for the Snake to guard for ever, his sins would be purged, and, if it pleased the Water–dweller to spare him, that he should be drawn up again. Thus Nam swore to him, but he did not keep his oath, for when the man had entered the cave he bade those who held the ropes to cast them loose, and I know not what happened to him, but doubtless he is food for the Snake. None who look upon that holy place may live to see the sun again."
"I only hope that the brute did not swallow the rubies as well as their bearer," said Leonard to Juanna; "not that there is much chance of our getting them, anyway."
Then Olfan went, nor did he return till the afternoon, when he announced that Nam and his two principal priests waited without to speak with them. Juanna ordered that they should be admitted, and presently they came in. Their air was humble, and their heads were bowed; but Leonard saw fury gleaming in their sombre eyes, and was not deceived by this mask of humility.
"We come, O ye gods," said Nam, addressing Juanna and Otter, who sat side by side on the throne–like chairs: "we come to ask your will, for ye have laid down a new law which we do not understand. On the third day from now is the feast of Jal, and fifty women are made ready to be offered to Jal that his wrath may be appeased with their blood, and that he may number their spirits among his servants, and withhold his anger from the People of the Mist, giving them a good season. This has been the custom of the land for many a generation, and whenever that custom was broken then the sun has not shone, nor the corn grown, nor have the cattle and the goats multiplied after their kind. But now, O ye gods, ye have proclaimed a new law, and I, who am yet your servant, come hither to ask your will. How shall the feast go, and what sacrifice shall be offered unto you?"
"The feast shall go thus," answered Juanna. "Ye shall offer us a sacrifice indeed; to each of us shall ye offer an ox and a goat, and the ox and the goat shall be given to the Snake to feed him, but not the flesh of men; moreover, the feast shall be held at noon and not in the night–time."
"An ox and a goat—to each an ox and a goat!" said Nam humbly, but in a voice of bitterest sarcasm. "As ye will so let it be, O ye gentle–hearted gods. And the festival shall be held at noon, and not in the night season as of old. As ye will, O ye kind gods. Your word is my law, O Aca, and O Jal;" and bowing to the ground the aged man withdrew himself, followed by his satellites.
"That devilish priest makes my flesh creep," said Juanna, when she had translated his words.
"Oh! Baas, Baas," echoed Otter, "why did you not shoot him while you might? Now he will surely live to throw us to the Snake."
As he spoke Soa advanced from behind the thrones where she had taken refuge when Nam entered.
"It is not well for a dog who gives himself out as a god to threaten the life of one whom he has tricked," said she meaningly. "Perchance the hour shall come when the true god will avenge himself on the false, and by the hand of his faithful servant, whom you would do to death, you base–born dwarf." And before anyone could answer she left the chamber, casting a malevolent look at Otter as she went.
"That servant of yours makes my flesh creep, Juanna," said Leonard. "One thing is clear enough, we must not allow her to overhear any more of our plans; she knows a great deal too much already."
"I cannot understand what has happened to Soa," said Juanna; "she seems so changed."
"You made that remark before, Juanna; but for my part I don't think she is changed. The sight of her amiable parent has developed her hidden virtues, that is all."
Chapter XXV
The Sacrifice After the New Order
The third day came, the day of sacrifice after the new order. Nothing particular had happened in the intervaclass="underline" Leonard and Francisco took some walks through the city, guarded by Peter and the Settlement men; that was all.
They did not see much there, except the exteriors of the houses built of stone and roofed with turves, and the cold stare of curiosity with which they were followed by hundreds of eyes gave them a sense of unrest that effectually checked their efforts at closer examination. Once indeed they halted in the market–place, which was thronged; whereon all business ceased, and seller, buyer, herdsmen, and presiding priests flocked around staring at them, half in fear and half in curiosity, for they had never seen white men before. This they could not bear, so they returned to the palace.
Of course Otter and Juanna, being divine, were not allowed to indulge in such recreations. They were gods and must live up to their reputation. For one day Otter endured it; on the second, in spite of Leonard's warnings, he sought refuge in the society of the bridge Saga. This was the beginning of evil, for if no man is a hero to his valet de chambre, much less can he remain a god for long in the eyes of a curious woman. Here, as in other matters, familiarity breeds contempt.
Leonard saw these dangers and spoke seriously to the dwarf on the subject. Still he could not conceal from himself that, putting aside the question of his ennui, which made his conduct natural, at any rate in a savage, Otter's position was a difficult one. So Leonard shrugged his shoulders and consoled himself as best he could with the reflection that, at least, his wife would teach the dwarf something of her language, which, by the way, he himself was practising assiduously under the tuition of Juanna and Soa.
At noon the party adjourned to the temple, escorted by a bevy of priests and soldiers, for in obedience to Juanna's commands the feast was to be celebrated in the daytime and not at night. As before, the vast amphitheatre was crowded with thousands of human beings, but there was a difference in the arrangements.
Juanna and Otter had declined to occupy their lofty thrones, and sat in chairs at the feet of the huge and hideous stone idol, almost on the edge of the pool, Nam alone standing before them, while Leonard, Francisco, and the Settlement men ranged themselves on either side. The day was cold and miserable, and snow fell from time to time in large flakes from an ashen sky.
Presently Nam addressed the multitude.
"People of the Mist," he cried, "ye are gathered here to celebrate the feast of Jal, according to ancient custom, but the gods have come back to you, as ye know, and the gods in their wisdom have changed the custom. Fifty women were prepared for the sacrifice; this morning they rose rejoicing, deeming that they were destined to the Snake, but now their joy is turned to sorrow, since the gods will not accept them, having chosen a new offering for themselves. Let it be brought forward."
At his word lads appeared from behind the idol, driving two lean bulls, and with them a pair of he–goats.
Whether by accident or design, they drove them so unskilfully that the animals blundered hither and thither over the rocky platform till they were finally despatched with blows from clubs and axes—that is, except one goat, which, escaping its pursuers, rushed down the amphitheatre and scrambled from seat to seat among the audience, uttering a succession of terrified "baa's." Indeed the scene was so comic that even that sombre and silent people began to laugh, accustomed as they were on these occasions to the hideous and impressive ceremonial of the midnight sacrifice of so many human beings.