She broke off and strained towards the sky. Her face was contorted. Her limbs shook. “O mighty Father,” she cried, “who hast made me a God and an equal, hear me! Hear me!”
Out of the black cloud overhead there came a blinding flash of light, which spat downwards on to the altar. The cloven-hoofed horse gave one shrill neigh, and one convulsion, and fell back dead. Flames crackled out from the wood pile, and the air became rich with the smell of burning flesh. And lo! in another moment the cloud above had melted into nothingness, and the flames burnt pale, and the smoke went up in a thin blue spiral towards the deeper blueness of the sky.
Phorenice, the Empress, stood there before the great stone, and before the snake and the outstretched hand of life which were inscribed upon it, flushed, exultant, and once more radiantly lovely; and the knot of priests within the circle, and the great mob of people without, fell to the ground adoring.
“Phorenice, Goddess!” they cried. “Phorenice, Goddess of all Atlantis!”
But for myself I did not kneel. I would have no part in this apostasy, so I stood there awaiting fate.
X
A Wooing
A murmur quickly sprang up round me, which grew into shouts. “Kneel,” one whispered, “kneel, sir, or you will be seen.” And another cried: “Kneel, you without beard, and do obeisance to the only Goddess, or by the old Gods I will make myself her priest and butcher you!” And so the shouts arose into a roar.
But presently the word “Deucalion” began to be bandied about, and there came a moderation in the zeal of these enthusiasts. Deucalion, the man who had left Atlantis twenty years before to rule Yucatan, they might know little enough about, but Deucalion, who rode not many days back beside the Empress in the golden castle beneath the canopy of snakes, was a person they remembered; and when they weighed up his possible ability for vengeance, the shouts died away from them limply.
So when the silence had grown again, and Phorenice turned and saw me standing alone amongst all the prostrate worshippers, I stepped out from the crowd and passed between two of the great stones, and went across the circle to where she stood beside the altar. I did not prostrate myself. At the prescribed distance I made the salutation which she herself had ordered when she made me her chief minister, and then hailed her with formal decorum as Empress.
“Deucalion, man of ice,” she retorted.
“I still adhere to the old Gods!”
“I was not referring to that,” said she, and looked at me with a sidelong smile.
But here Ylga came up to us with a face that was white, and a hand that shook, and made supplication for my life. “If he will not leave the old Gods yet,” she pleaded, “surely you will pardon him? He is a strong man, and does not become a convert easily. You may change him later. But think, Phorenice, he is Deucalion; and if you slay him here for this one thing, there is no other man within all the marches of Atlantis who would so worthily serve—”
The Empress took the words from her. “You slut,” she cried out. “I have you near me to appoint my wardrobe, and carry my fan, and do you dare to put a meddling finger on my policies? Back with you, outside this circle, or I’ll have you whipped. Ay, and I’ll do more. I’ll serve you as Zaemon served my captain, Tarca. Shall I point a finger at you, and smite your pretty skin with a sudden leprosy?”
The girl bowed her shoulders, and went away cowed, and Phorenice turned to me. “My lord,” she said, “I am like a young bird in the nest that has suddenly found its wings. Wings have so many uses that I am curious to try them all.”
“May each new flight they take be for the good of Atlantis.”
“Oh,” she said, with an eye-flash, “I know what you have most at heart. But we will go back to the pyramid, and talk this out at more leisure. I pray you now, my lord, conduct me back to my riding beast.”
It appeared then that I was to be condoned for not offering her worship, and so putting public question on her deification. It appeared also that Ylga’s interference was looked upon as untimely, and, though I could not understand the exact reasons for either of these things, I accepted them as they were, seeing that they forwarded the scheme that Zaemon had bidden me carry out.
So when the Empress lent me her fingers—warm, delicate fingers they were, though so skilful to grasp the weapons of war—I took them gravely, and led her out of the great circle, which she had polluted with her trickeries. I had expected to see our Lord the Sun take vengeance on the profanation whilst it was still in act; but none had come: and I knew that He would choose his own good time for retribution, and appoint what instrument He thought best, without my raising a puny arm to guard His mighty honour.
So I led this lovely sinful woman back to the huge red mammoth which stood there tamely in waiting, and the smell of the sacrifice came after us as we walked. She mounted the stair to the golden castle on the shaggy beast’s back, and bade me mount
