CHAPTER XVIII.ONRAI VISITS THE PRIEST.
Onrai hurried on to the city. At frequent intervals on his journey he met couriers from the city, all hurrying to give him the details of new discoveries of the storm’s devastation. The track of the tempest, as he now followed it, so shortly after its fearful advent, showed ruin and death everywhere. But so far no loss of human life had been reported and the King felt more than thankful for this. As the inhabitants would meet the King, they would look at him in the same wondering way as they had at the storm the night before, they were evidently seeking an explanation from their King, of the phenomenon. When they did ask him whysuch ruin had overtaken them, he would invariably answer by saying that there was sin among them. Then they would look one at the other as if wondering, if it were he or she who was guilty.
Arriving at the city, he found the populace awaiting him. On all previous occasions when Onrai had been away from the city for a season, upon his return the people had been glad to see him and had met him at the city limits with harps and glad songs. But now they stood and looked with no joy in their faces; but this was easy to account for. The people had never before in their lives had one little thing to occur to disturb the even tenor of their existence. Their lives were simply one long, happy or perfectly contented existence, they knowing no pains or sorrows.
The seasons came and went, each occupying just so many months, never varying greatly one from the other, for it was perpetual spring in this delightful country. But at one season more rain fell than at another, and for several months of each year rain never fell. Severe storms were very infrequent and such storms as the one of the night previous had never been known before. And this had happened right in the middle of the dry season. It was not so much this latter fact probably which made the people wonder, as it was the death and ruin which it left in its wake. This the people could not understand, for life to them was a sacred thing, even those animals of a meat-serving kind, never being allowed to be killed wantonly, or where there was no use in the slaughter. Why had the poor dumb beasts been killed in this way? There was a world of inquiry in their looks as they stood perfectly still, and saw the King pass.
But Onrai heeded them not. He hurried on past the great square and up the broad avenue to the Temple, where the head priest was awaiting him, and as the King drew up, the priest approached him, saying, “You have come, oh King. Throughout the night I have prayed for you and those with you. You are safe, God be praised,” and taking Onrai by the hand he led him into the Temple.
“It was your prayers then which brought us to shelter before the storm overtook us,” said the King. “But tell me, you who know all of the sacred writings, what has caused this death-dealing and destroying storm. I can only believe that our people are sinning. Tell me, do you not think this so?”
“I have made research, knowing that both you, King, and the people would want to know the cause of the storm, and I too have wished to learn the reason. I find among the sacred writings words admonishing us to do right at all times and if laws were broken and the inhabitants of this great Land of On treated lightly, the commands laid down for their good and prosperity, they would be made to suffer in such ways as God would devise. I also find that God will give warning to the good of coming events. I do not know what to think, but I hardly believe that our good people are sinning.”
“Are there any motives which might make us break the laws?” asked the King.
“I think not,” answered the priest, and as he said this, he looked at the King and was surprised to see his face so pale. “No, it must be a warning,” he continued.
“But what unusual event can come to our country?” asked Onrai.
“Was not the storm of last night an unusual event?” asked the priest, “and should this not be a sufficient warning to us to guard against all such? I believe that naught else can come to the Land of On but the wars of the elements, and if these visit us, it is God’s will and they purpose some good.”
“If it be God’s will, he must have some object in it,” said Onrai. “But tell me, priest, did the Kings of On ever marry?”
The question almost staggered the priest and he started back for the moment unable to answer. But controlling himself he came forward and looked Onrai straight in the eye, asking sternly, “Why do you ask? Do you not know that it means death to the King who even contemplates marriage? Were not the sacred teachings imparted to you when you were yet young, and have these not been told you many times since and expanded on, and explained? And does not the law say that the King shall not marry? I cannot understand you, King.”
Onrai’s face was puzzled as he looked at the priest as he spoke.
“I hardly understand myself,” said the King. “I have indeed read the great laws and have heard them read since my earliest childhood, and I know that the King cannot marry and that there are great and good reasons given for his not marrying. But God forgive me if I have thought for one moment that this law was unjust. I am King, chosen by the people because of my physical attainments and stature. I am strong, powerful; through my veins courses theblood of endless generations of perfect manhood; every nerve, every tissue, every muscle tingles with life; I have been trained until my naturally healthy sinews are as hard as the black metal which we dig out of the foothill of the cliffs; my whole being vibrates with health and vitality and for these reasons I am chosen King and denied a wife; I of all men who should be granted a mate,” and as he ceased speaking he strode up and down the Temple, his powerful form shaking like an aspen; his breath came quick and short; his hands opened and shut nervously.
The priest looked at him in wonderment and seemed at a loss to know how to answer him. But he must say something to this rash man, this ruler of the people, who was supposed to be pure, to be sinless. If others should hear him talk in this mad way the consequences might be fearful. He stepped in front of the King as he came near him and said, “Onrai, are you not mad? Do you not realize the consequences of such ravings? Do you not know that death awaits you if you give up to such sinful thoughts? Oh, Onrai, King, brother, great and good, strong and beautiful, drive these fearful thoughts from your mind; smother these emotions, which can only lead you to destruction. Remember that endless line of ancestors of whom you speak, and let not an act of yours disgrace their memory or make sorrowful the people who chose you for their King. Tell me, oh my brother, what it is which has wrought this great change in you,” and then, seeming to remember the strangers, he clutched Onrai’s arm nervously and said, “Tell me, is it they?”
“Of whom do you speak,” asked the King.
“Of the strangers,” answered the priest.
“Why should you suspicion our guests,” asked Onrai. “Is it just to them, who for the time may expect only the kindest treatment from us? I do not like this,” but as he spoke, his heart smote him for being the first to suspicion the good motives of the strangers.
“Forgive me, King,” said the priest. “I had but your interest at heart and thought only of you when I spoke; but I could not suspicion you of fostering such thoughts unless encouraged by some one. And I could not suspicion any of our people, for they have too great a reverence for our holy laws to ever speak on such subjects. Then, who could I think of but they of the fair skin? But I was wrong, forgive me.”
“No, it has been nature itself, this strong vital power which permeates my being, which has prompted the thoughts. I cannot be held responsible for these thoughts, but only for nurturing them, and allowing them to influence me in doing wrong. It has not reached this point yet and it never shall. If I am weak in the body I am strong here,” and Onrai tapped his forehead.
“Now, you are the Onrai I have known since a boy,” said the priest. “But Onrai be careful; guard against temptation, as our sacred writing commands us to do. Come to me and tell me if you are again tempted; I have never had such thoughts as yours and I can better counsel and advise you. And if others should hear you vent such thoughts, the whole populace would soon know it and the end would be death. Let me again admonish you, my King, to fortify your mind against such temptations. If certain ones create suchthoughts, go not near them,” and the priest, with this advice, left him.
Onrai walked down the main hall of the Temple, his mind trying to throw from it the gloomy thoughts which the priest’s negative assertion had raised. So the hope, which sprung into being when he saw Enola’s innocence, could not be cherished; the fulfilment of it could never be realized. The thought was maddening and Onrai groaned aloud in his fearful agony.
“God help me in this struggle,” he cried, “is it sin, can it be sin, this longing to be like other men, be allowed to take unto myself a wife? I cannot believe that it is, but the law says “No,” and I, with every impulse fighting against it, must comply.”
He now left the Temple and walked down the broad avenue. Word had gone forth that the King would speak at the large open square, and crowds who had seen the King come to the city had now, with their friends gathered and were waiting with those same wonder-depicting countenances, for the King to come and tell them why the strange storm had come and ruined the Land of On. Walking straight to the fountain, Onrai mounted the dais and glancing about him for a moment at the hushed, bewildered Onians, said:
“It has pleased our great God to give us a warning; this warning admonishes us to be careful, watchful and diligent. If any among you have sinned or are sinning, this fearful storm tells you to turn from the evil of your ways; if you have intentions of sinning, it speaks to you a warning, but I cannot believe that my people are sinning. I look among you to-day and see not one guilty face. You are bewildered, in wonderment,but this is not guilt. It can be a warning to us of some disastrous event which may visit our fair land. It may be that it will all be revealed to us later, but let us not be worried, but obeying the laws, go on in our happy way. The fearful storm has caused no loss of life of our people, and we may believe from this that God was not angry with us. Let us be watchful of coming harm, but let us not live in dread, for such will destroy happiness. The storm has left a vast track of ruin behind it, but ruin easily righted. We must, for the time, give up all other occupations and repair the damage done by the storm. Only let the food be furnished and the city kept clean. All traces of the devastation will soon be gone and we will forget, or it will only be a memory to us after a short time. Our guests from the far-away planet escaped injury, all but one and that one was the fair and sweet Enola, who is so much loved by you all. But I left her better and she will recover, for God would not take one of our guests, and leave our people unharmed.”
As if in denial of Onrai’s words, a messenger stepped to the edge of the crowd and waved a piece of papyrus over his head. Onrai saw him at once and raising his hand, said:
“A courier has just arrived from the villa in which lies the fair Enola. I must hasten to this villa as these people are our guests, and I should be with them. Again I pray of you, be watchful, and keeping from sin, be happy and contented as in the past.”
Onrai ceased speaking and descending to the pavement took the message from the courier. It read as follows:
“Enola lives, but her reason is dead.” His faceturned ashen and he jumped on to the zebra held for him by an attendant, and dashed off madly down the avenue. The populace watched his retreating figure in still greater wonderment, and the attendants who followed him were soon left far in the rear, as the zebra which he rode was fleeter than any other in the land. On the King rode, each moment urging the zebra to greater efforts, each moment shortening the distance between Enola and himself. The avenue had been almost cleared of fallen trees by the large body of men who had immediately gone to work after the storm, and Onrai hardly met with any obstructions in his mad rush. It was growing dark now and Onrai had ridden nearly fifty miles that day, but he showed no fatigue as he bent well over the zebra’s shoulders and urged it on. He had but one thought, an excruciating one: “Enola was mad.” The agony of that thought. She would no longer look at him with those beautiful eyes or speak to him in those charming accents, or smile on him with those lips which seemed only made to kiss. Mad, mad, mad; the word rang in his ears, the zebra’s hoofs seemed to pound it out of the flinty pavement, the birds in the air were screeching it; everything seemed to be telling him the fearful story. On, on he rushed with unabated speed, the zebra reeking with sweat and panting as if it would drop each moment, its eyes bulged and glaring, until, pulling up in front of the villa, and Onrai jumping from its back, the beast falls dead.