When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and ArbuthnotHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Science
When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Adventure stories; Science fiction
She sped across the temple to where a chapel opened out of it, which
was full of the statues of dead kings, for here was the entrance to
their burial vault. We reached it and hid behind the base of one of
these statues. By standing to our full height, without being seen we
still could see between the feet of the statue that stood upon a
pedestal.
Then Oro came.
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Chariot of the Pit
Oro came and of necessity alone. Yet there was that in his air as he
advanced into the temple, which suggested a monarch surrounded by the
pomp and panoply of a great court. He marched, his head held high, as
though heralds and pursuivants went in front of him, as though nobles
surrounded him and guards or regiments followed after him. Let it be
admitted that he was a great figure in his gorgeous robes, with his
long white beard, his hawk-like features, his tall shape and his
glittering eyes, which even at that distance I could see. Indeed once
or twice I thought that he glanced out of the corners of them towards
the chapel where we were hid. But this I think was fancy. For as Yva
said, his thoughts were set elsewhere.
He reached the statue of Fate and stood for a while contemplating it
and the suppliant figures on either side, as though he were waiting for
his invisible court to arrange itself. Then he doffed his jewelled cap
to the effigy, and knelt before it. Yes, Oro the Ancient, the
Super-man, the God, as the early peoples of the earth fancied such a
being, namely, one full of wrath, revenge, jealousy, caprice and power,
knelt in supplication to this image of stone which he believed to be
the home of a spirit, thereby showing himself to be after all not so
far removed from the savages whose idol Bastin had destroyed. More, in
a clear and resonant voice which reached us even across that great
space, he put up his prayer. It ran something as follows, for although
I did not understand the language in which he spoke Yva translated it
to me in a whisper:
“God of the Sons of Wisdom, God of the whole earth, only God to whom
must bow every other Power and Dominion, to thee I, Oro the Great King,
make prayer and offer sacrifice. Twenty times ten thousand years and
more have gone by since I, Oro, visited this, thy temple and knelt
before this, thy living effigy, yet thou, ruler of the world, dost
remember the prayer I made and the sacrifice I offered. The prayer was
for triumph over my enemies and the sacrifice a promise of the lives of
half of those who in that day dwelt upon the earth. Thou heardest the
prayer, thou didst bow thy head and accept the sacrifice. Yea, the
prayer was granted and the sacrifice was made, and in it were counted
the number of my foes.
“Then I slept. Through countless generations I slept on and at my side
was the one child of my body that was left to me. What chanced to my
spirit and to hers during that sleep, thou knowest alone, but doubtless
they went forth to work thy ends.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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