CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO SETOS AND RAHULA Setos could not refuse the Dorado an armed escort. But there was treachery in the very air, and Yermah did not retire when he found himself alone and safe inside the temple walls. He could hear Oghi howling dismally in the stable inclosure and in the intense stillness he heard Cibolo pawing the ground and snorting as if some one were prowling on the outside. Opening the door cautiously, the hierophant peeped into the long, empty aisles, dim and shadowy in the faint light flickering from the lamps overhead. None of his senses relaxed vigilance, as he pressed his ear close to the floor and listened intently. Yermah had not long to wait before he heard a grating sound, as if some heavy body were being pushed through the north gate. Returning to his room he hastily tied the leathern pouches around his waist containing the relics of Kerœcia and Akaza. He grasped his sword and came back to the door, and was horrified to find a catapult being dragged into position almost against it. Recognizing Imos, it flashed over him that the high-priest had seized upon Setos’s nuptial night to make himself hierophant; but his blood ran cold when he thought of the helplessness of the recluses around him. Fear and distrust counseled against apprising Setos of the situation, and his own loyal guards were fast asleep, believing him safe at Iaqua. His heart almost stopped its beating when he comprehended that his enemies were attempting to slip the bolts and chains of the door. Something caused him to turn his head in an opposite direction, and there he saw an apparition of Kerœcia, luminous and perfect in outline. He could only hold the image a moment; but she smiled and beckoned to him as she flitted through the doorway. Instinct bade him follow her. It was _his_ blood for which the rebels thirsted, and none of the other inmates would be disturbed—Yermah thought, as he ran along the aisle. While Yermah was unbolting the door, a projectile from the catapult shivered the northern entrance with a crash that rocked and shook the whole structure. The aisles filled immediately with half-awakened monks, but their voices were silenced by an explosion against the opposite wall, which sent the spikes flying in every direction and felled them with stifling and deadly odors. Yermah could never remember how he succeeded in reaching Cibolo’s stall. The sagacious animal seemed to help in getting into his trappings, and Oghi had already buried his teeth in the back of a miscreant slipping up to the half-opened door through which Yermah had passed. The ocelot darted out of the inclosure ahead of Yermah—all the tiger instincts in him aroused and ready to attack the first thing in sight.