"The scheme is good, daughter; at the least, bearing my oath in mind, I have none better, though were it not for my oath, either I should kill them all or set them free. Yet who can say that it shall succeed? It is in the hands of fate, let it go as fate wills. And now follow me, that I may place you where you shall dwell in comfort, then after we have eaten I will speak with these gods whom you have let loose upon us."
That morning passed heavily enough to the four wretched prisoners in the palace. For some hours they sat together in the throne–room almost silent, for they were crushed by misfortune and fear; the toils were closing on them, and they knew it, nor could they lift a finger to save themselves.
Francisco knelt and prayed, Leonard and Juanna sat hand in hand listening to him, while Otter wandered to and fro like an unquiet spirit, cursing Soa, Saga, and all women in many languages and with a resource and vigour that struck his hearers as unparalleled. At length he vanished through the curtains, to get drunk probably, Leonard reflected.
However, the dwarf sought not drink, but vengeance. A few minutes later, hearing screams in the courtyard, Leonard ran out to find himself witness to a curious scene. There on the ground, surrounded by a group of other women, her companions, who were laughing at her discomfiture, lay the stately Saga, bride of the Snake. Over her stood her lord and master, the god Jal, his left hand twisted in her long hair, while with his right, in which he grasped a leather thong, despite her screams and entreaties, he administered to her one of the soundest and, be it added, best deserved thrashings that ever fell to the lot of erring woman.
"What are you doing?" said Leonard.
"I am teaching this wife of mine that it is not well to drug a god, Baas," gasped Otter; then added with a final and most ferocious cut, "There, get you gone, witch, and let me see your ugly face no more."
The woman rose and went, cursing and weeping, while the dwarf followed Leonard back into the throne–room.
"You have done it now, Otter," said Leonard. "Well, it does not much matter. I fancy she is gone for good, any way."
"Yes, Baas, she has gone, and she has gone sore," replied Otter with a faint grin.
At that moment a messenger arrived announcing that Nam was without waiting for an audience.
"Let him be admitted," said Juanna with a sigh, and seated herself on one of the thrones, Otter clambering into the other.
They had scarcely taken their places when the curtains were thrown back and the ancient priest entered, attended by about a score of his fellows. He bowed himself humbly before Juanna and the dwarf and then spoke.
"Oh! ye gods," he said, "I come in the name of the People of the Mist to take counsel with you. Why it is we do not know, but things have gone amiss in the land: the sun does not shine as in past years before you came to bless us, neither does the grain spring. Therefore your people are threatened with a famine, and they pray that you may comfort them out of the store of your wisdom."
"And if we have no comfort to give, Nam?"
"Then, Queen, the people ask that you will be pleased to meet them to–morrow in the temple at the moon–rise, when the night is one hour old, that they may talk with you there through the mouth of me, your servant."
"And if we weary of your temple and will not come, Nam?" asked Juanna.
"Then this is the command of the people, O Aca: that we bring you thither, and it is a command that may not be disobeyed," answered the high priest slowly.
"Beware, Nam," replied Juanna; "strange things happen here that call for vengeance. Our servants pass away like shadows, and in their place we find such weapons as you carry," and she pointed to the priests' knives. "We will come to–morrow night at the rising of the moon, but again I say to you, beware, for now our mercy is but as a frayed rope, and it were well for you all that the cord should not break."
"Ye know best whither your servants have wandered, O Aca," said the priest, stretching out his hands in deprecation, and speaking in a tone of which the humility did not veil the insolence, "for true gods such as ye are can guard their servants. We thank you for your words, O ye gods, and we pray you to be merciful to us, for the threats of true gods are very terrible. And now one little word. I ask justice of you, O ye gods. She who was given to be bride of the Snake, my niece who is named Saga, has been cruelly beaten by some evil–doer here in the palace, as I know, for but now I met her bruised and weeping. I ask of you then that ye search out this evil–doer and punish him with death or stripes. Farewell, O ye high gods."
Leonard looked at the priest as he bowed humbly before the thrones, and a desire to take Otter's advice and kill him entered his heart, for he knew that he had come to drag them to their trial and perhaps to doom. He still had his revolver, and it would have been easy to shoot him, for Nam's broad breast was a target that few could miss. And yet, what could it help them to shed his blood? There were many to fill his place if he died, and violence would certainly be answered with violence. No, he would let him be, and they must bide their fate.
Chapter XXVIII
Juanna Prevaricates
The morrow drew towards its evening. Like those that had gone before it, this day had been misty and miserable, only distinguished from its predecessors by the fall of some sharp showers of sleet. Now, as the afternoon waned, the sky began to clear in its accustomed fashion; but the bitter wind sweeping down the mountains, though it drove away the fog, gave no promise of any break in the weather. At sunset Leonard went to the palace gates and looked towards the temple, about the walls of which a number of people were already gathering, as though in anticipation of some great event. They caught sight of him, and drew as near to the gates of the palace as they dared, howling curses and shaking their fists.
"This is a foretaste of what we must expect to–night, I suppose," said Leonard to Francisco, who had followed him, as they retreated across the courtyard. "We are in trouble now, friend. I do not so much care for my own sake, but it breaks my heart to think of Juanna. What will be the end of it, I wonder?"
"For me, Outram, the end will be death, of that I am sure; well, I have long expected it, and I am ready to die. What your fate will be I cannot say; but as to the Senora, comfort yourself; for many weeks I have had a presentiment that she will escape safely."
"In that case I am ready enough to go," answered Leonard. "Life is as dear to me as to other men; but I tell you, Francisco, that I would pay mine down gladly to–night as the price of her deliverance."
"I know it, Outram; we are both of one mind there, and perhaps before many hours are over we shall be called upon to practise what we preach."
By now they had reached the throne–room, where Otter, who for the last twenty hours had been quite sober, was squatted on the floor at the foot of his throne, a picture of repentant misery, while Juanna walked swiftly up and down the long room, lost in reflection.
"Any news, Leonard?" she said as they came in.
"None, except that there are great preparations going on yonder," and he nodded towards the temple; "also a mob is howling at the gates."
"Oh!" groaned Otter, addressing Juanna, "cannot you, who are named Shepherdess of the Heavens, prophesy to these people that the weather will break, and so save us from the Snake?"
"I can prophesy," she answered; "but it will not change to–night, nor, I think, to–morrow. However, I will try."