CHAPTER XV.
When he arose in the morning he found that his own clothing had been replaced by silken garments fashioned as were Ai’s with the addition of golden clasps and belts. In place of his revolver was a jewelled dagger literally encrusted with gems.
After the bath and breakfast, Ai entered the room with his noiseless tread, and when the greetings had been said, invited him to go with him to visit the public buildings and works of Telassar. With a swift, phantomlike movement, Ai escorted his guest to the farther end of the great hall. Throwing aside a curtain of rich topaz silk which draped the large entrance doors he ushered him into another apartment opening out on a terrace with a garden at its foot—a garden where a marvellous profusion of flowers and foliage ran riot amid sparkling fountains and gleaming statuary.
Through a broad alley, lined with majestic palms, they passed to the extreme end of the terrace, and turning faced the building from which they had just issued. A smile quivered for a moment on Ai’s face as he noted Reuel’s ill-concealed amazement. He stood for a moment stock-still, overcome with astonishment at the size and splendor of the palace that had sheltered him over night. The building was dome-shaped and of white marble, surrounded by fluted columns, and fronted by courts where fountains dashed their spray up to the blue sky, and flowers blushed in myriadcolors and birds in gorgeous plumage flitted from bough to bough.
It appeared to Reuel that they were on the highest point of what might be best described as a horse-shoe curve whose rounded end rested on the side of a gigantic mountain. At their feet stretched a city beautiful, built with an outer and inner wall. They were in the outer city. Two streams descended like cataracts to the plain below, at some distance from each other, forming a triangle which held another city. Far in the distance like a silver thread, he could dimly discern where the rivers joined, losing themselves in union. As he gazed he recalled the description of the treasure city that Professor Stone had read to the explorers.
As far as the eye could reach stretched fertile fields; vineyards climbed the mountain side. Again Reuel quoted Milton in his thoughts, for here was the very embodiment of his words:
“Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose,Another side, umbrageous grots and cavesOf cool recess, o’er which the mantling vineLays forth her purple grape, and gently creepsLuxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fallDown the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake,That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown’dHer crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.The birds their choir apply; airs, vernal airs,Breathing the smell of field and grove, attuneThe trembling leaves, while universal Pan,Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,Led on th’ eternal spring.”
Far below he could dimly discern moving crowds; great buildings reared their stately heads towards a sky so blue and bewildering beneath the sun’s bright rays that the gazer was rendered speechless with amazement. Shadowy images of past scenes and happenings flitted across his brain like transient reflection of a past perfectly familiar to him.
“Do you find the prospect fair?” asked Ai at length, breaking the settled silence.
“Fairer than I can find words to express; and yet I am surprised to find that it all seems familiar to me, as if somewhere in the past I had known just such a city as this.”
Ai smiled a smile of singular sweetness and content; Reuel could have sworn that there was a degree of satisfaction in his pleasure.
“Come, we will go down into the city. You who know the wonders of modern life at its zenith, tell me what lesson you learn from the wonders of a civilization which had its zenith six thousand years before Christ’s birth.”
“Six thousand years before Christ!” murmured Reuel in blank stupidity.
“Aye; here in Telassar are preserved specimens of the highest attainments the world knew in ancient days. They tell me that in many things your modern world is yet in its infancy.”
“How!” cried Reuel, “do you then hold communion with the world outside your city?”
“Certain members of our Council are permitted to visit outside the gates. Do you not remember Ababdis?”
“Our camel-driver?”
Ai bowed. “He is the member who brought us news of your arrival, and the intention of the expedition to find our city for the sake of its treasure.”
More and more mystified by the words and manner of his guide, Reuel made no reply. Presently they entered a waiting palanquin and were borne swiftly toward the city. The silken curtains were drawn one side, and he coulddrink in the curious sights. They soon left the country behind them and entered a splendid square, where stately homes were outlined against the dense blue of the sky. A statue of an immense sphinx crouched in the center of the square, its giant head reaching far into the ethereal blue. Fountains played on either side, dashing their silvery spray beyond the extreme height of the head. Under umbrageous trees were resting-places, and on the sphinx was engraved the words: “That which hath been, is now; and that which is to be, hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.”
Suddenly a crowd of men surged into the square, and a deep-toned bell sounded from a distance. Swiftly sped the bearers, urged forward by the general rush. The booming of the bell continued. They reached the end of the avenue and entered a side street, through a court composed of statues. They paused before a stately pile, towering in magnificence high in the heavens, a pile of marvellously delicate architecture worked in stone. The entrance was of incomparable magnificence. Reuel judged that the four colossal statues before it represented Rameses the Great. They were each sculptured of a single block of Syene granite of mingled red and black. They were seated on cubical stones. The four Colosses sitting there before that glittering pile produced a most imposing effect.
The steps of the temple were strewn with flowers; the doors stood open, and music from stringed instruments vibrated upon the air. The bearers stopped at a side entrance, and at a sign from Ai, Reuel followed him into the edifice.
All was silence, save for the distant hum of voices, and the faint sound of music. They halted before a curtain which parted silently for their entrance. It was a small room, but filled with a light of soft colors; when Reuel could command his gaze, he beheld about twenty men prostrated before him. Presently they arose and each filed past him, reverently touching the hem of his white robe. Among them was Ababdis, so transformed by his gorgeous robes of office as to be almost unrecognizable.
Ai now assumed an azure robe embroidered in silver stars and crescents that formed a sunburst in shape of a Grecian cross. He then advanced towards Reuel bearing on a silken cushion a magnificent crown, where the principal aigrette was shaped as a cross set with gems priceless in value. Astounded at the sight, the young man stood motionless while it was adjusted by golden chains about his head. The gems blazed with the red of the ruby, the green of the emerald, the blue of the sapphire, the yellow of the topaz, the cold white of priceless diamonds. But dulling all the glories of precious stones, peerless in their own class, lay the center ornament—the black diamond of Senechus’s crown, spoken of in Professor Stone’s record. A white robe of silken stuff was added to his costume, and again his companions filed past him in deepest reverence. Reuel was puzzled to understand why so great homage was paid to him. While he turned the thought in his mind, a bugle sounded somewhere in the distance, sweet and high. Instantly, he felt a gliding motion as if the solid earth were slipping from beneath his feet, the curtains before him parted silently, and he found himself alone on a raised platform in the center of a vast auditorium, crowded with humanity. Lights twinkled everywhere; there was the fragrance of flowers, there were columns of marble draped in amber, azure and green, and glittering lamps encrusted with gems and swung by golden chains from the sides of the building. A blazing arch formed of brilliant lamps raised like a gigantic bowin the heavens and having in its center the words
“HAIL! ERGAMENES!”
in letters of sparkling fire, met his startled gaze. Then came a ringing shout from the throats of the assembled multitude, “Ergamenes! Ergamenes!” Again and again the throng lifted up the joyous cry. Presently as Reuel stood there undecided what to do—not knowing what was expected of him, as silently as he had come, he felt the motion of the platform where he stood. The crowd faded from sight, the curtains fell; once more he stood within the little room, surrounded by his companions.
“Ababdis, Ai,” he demanded, sternly, “What is the meaning of this strange happening, more like a scene from the Arabian Nights? Who is Ergamenes?”
“Thou art Ergamenes—the long-looked-for king of Ethiopia, for whose reception this city was built! But we will return to the palace, now that the people have satisfied somewhat their curiosity. At supper you shall know more.”
Once more the bearers carried them swiftly beyond the confines of the city, and soon the palace walls rose before them. Reuel had hardly collected his scattered wits before he found himself seated at table and on either side of the board the Council reclined on silken cushions. His own seat was raised and placed at the head of the table. There was no talking done while what seemed to be a solemn feast was in progress. Servants passed noiselessly to and fro attending to their wants, while from an alcove the music of stringed instruments and sweetest vocal numbers was borne to their ears.
After supper, they still reclined on the couches. Then from the hidden recesses the musicians came forth, and kneeling before Reuel, one began a song in blank verse, telling the story of Ergamenes and his kingdom.
“Hail! oh, hail, Ergamenes!The dimmest sea-cave below thee,The farthest sky-arch above,In their innermost stillness know thee,And heave with the birth of Love.All hail!We are thine, all thine, forevermore;Not a leaf on the laughing shore,Not a wave on the heaving sea,Nor a single sighIn the boundless sky,But is vowed evermore to thee!”
“Son of a fallen dynasty, outcast of a sunken people, upon your breast is a lotus lily, God’s mark to prove your race and descent. You, Ergamenes, shall begin the restoration of Ethiopia. Blessed be the name of God for ever and ever, for wisdom and might are His, and He changeth the times and seasons; He removeth kings and countries, and setteth them up again; He giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding! He revealeth the deep and secret things; He knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with Him!
“Great were the sins of our fathers, and the white stranger was to Ethiopia but a scourge in the hands of an offended God. The beautiful temples of Babylon, filled with vessels of silver and gold, swelled the treasures of the false god Bel. Babylon, where our monarchs dwelt in splendor, once the grandest city to be found in the world. Sixty miles round were its walls, of prodigious height, and so broad that seven chariots could be driven abreast on the summit! One hundred gates of solid brass gave entrance into the city, guarded by lofty towers. Beautiful buildings rose within, richly adorned and surrounded by gardens. One magnificent royal palace was girdled by three walls, the outermost of which was seven miles and a half in compass. In its grounds rose the far-famed hanging gardens, terracesbuilt one above another to the height of three hundred and fifty feet, each terrace covered with thick mould, and planted with flowers and shrubs, so that the skill of man created a verdant hill on a plain. Nearly in the centre rose the lofty temple of Belus, the tower of Babel, whose builders had hoped to make its summit touch the very skies. Millions of dollars in gold were gathered in the chambers of the temple. The wealth, power and glory of the world were centered in the mighty city of Babylon.
“On the throne of this powerful city sat your forefathers, O Ergamenes!”
Part of the story had been given in recitative, one rich voice carrying grandly the monotonous notes to the accompaniment of the cornet, flute, sackbut, dulcimer and harp. Reuel had listened to the finest trained voices attempting the recitative in boasted musical circles, but never in so stately and impressive a manner as was now his privilege to hear. They continued the story.
“And Meroe, the greatest city of them all, pure-blooded Ethiopian. Once the light of the world’s civilization, now a magnificent Necropolis.
“Standing at the edge of the Desert, fertile in soil, rich in the luxuries of foreign shores; into her lap caravans poured their treasures gathered from the North, South, East and West. All Africa poured into this queenly city ivory, frankincense and gold. Her colossal monuments were old before Egypt was; her wise men monopolized the learning of the ages, and in the persons of the Chaldeans have figured conspicuously the wisdom of ages since Meroe has fallen.
“Mother of ancient warfare, her horsemen and chariots were the wonder and terror of her age; from the bows of her warriors, the arrows sped like a flight of birds, carrying destruction to her foes,—a lamb in peace, a lion in time of war.”
Once more the measure changed, and another voice took up the story in verse.
“Who will assume the baysThat the hero wore?Wreaths on the Tomb of DaysGone evermore!Who shall disturb the braveOr one leaf of their holy grave?The laurel is vow’d to them,Leave the bay on its sacred stem!But hope, the rose, the unfading rose,Alike for slave and freeman grows!“On the summit, worn and hoary,Of Libya’s solemn hills,The tramp of the brave is still!And still is the poisoned dart,In the pulse of the mighty hearts,Whose very blood was glory!“Who will assume the baysThat the hero wore?Wreaths on the Tomb of DaysGone evermore!”
Upon Reuel a strange force seemed working. If what he heard were true, how great a destiny was his! He had carefully hidden his Ethiopian extraction from the knowledge of the world. It was a tradition among those who had known him in childhood that he was descended from a race of African kings. He remembered his mother well. From her he had inherited his mysticism and his occult powers. The nature of the mystic within him was, then, but a dreamlike devotion to the spirit that had swayed his ancestors; it was the shadow of Ethiopia’s power. The lotus upon his breast he knew to be a birthmark. Many a night he had been aroused from childhood’s slumbers, to find his mother bending above him, candle in hand, muttering broken sentences of prayer to Almighty God as she examinedhis bosom by the candle’s rays. He had wondered much; now he guessed the rest. Once more the clanging strings of the instruments chained his attention. The recitative was resumed.
“The Most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever He will. He delivereth and rescueth, and He worketh signs and wonders in heaven and in earth. Pre-eminent in peace, invincible in war—once the masters of mankind, how have we fallen from our high estate!
“Stiff-necked, haughty, no conscience but that of intellect, awed not by God’s laws, worshipping Mammon, sensual, unbelieving, God has punished us as he promised in the beginning. Gone are our ancient glories, our humbled pride cries aloud to God in the travail of our soul. Our sphinx, with passionless features, portrays the dumb suffering of our souls.
“Their look, with the reach of past ages, was wise,And the soul of eternity thought in their eyes.
“By divine revelation David beheld the present time, when, after Christ’s travail for the sins of humanity, the time of Ethiopia’s atonement being past, purged of idolatry, accepting the One Only God through His Son Jesus, suddenly should come a new birth to the descendants of Ham, and Ethiopia should return to her ancient glory! Ergamenes, all hail!
“You come from afarFrom the land of the stranger,The dreadful in war,The daring in danger;Before him our plainLike Eden is lying;Behind him remainBut the wasted and dying.“The weak finds not ruth,Nor the patriot glory;No hope for the youth,And no rest for the hoary;O’er Ethiop’s lost plainsThe victor’s sword flashes,Her sons are in chains,And her temples in ashes!“Who will assume the baysThat the hero wore?Wreaths on the Tomb of DaysGone evermore!”
Upon his companions the song of the past of Ethiopia had a strange effect. Soothing at times, at times exciting, with the last notes from the instruments the company sprang to their feet; with flashing dark eyes, faces reflecting inward passions, they drew their short, sabrelike arms and circled about Reuel’s throne with the shout “Ergamenes! Ergamenes!”