The little girl had watched the scene with wondering eyes, and when she realized the whole purport, flung herself into Alan’s arms. The priest issued another quick command, and with the little one holding fast to her rescuer’s hand, she obviously told the story of her escape.
When she had finished the priest kissed her tenderly, and then knelt low before the two boys and kissed their feet. Then they were given places in a litter behind the high priests and were taken to the temple—this time as honoured guests.
They were led to the altar, and very suspiciously and timidly seated themselves on the steps, one on either side, which the high priest indicated to them. The ceremonial service was very long and tedious, but was unaccompanied by any sacrificial rites, much to the satisfaction of the two boys.
Then the priest stood facing the people, and held out a hand to each of the boys who stood shamefaced and awkwardly beside him. There followed an address, and the boys knew it was the story being told to the people of the rescue by Alan.
When the priest had finished speaking, he bent down and kissed their hands, and wildly the congregation flocked to the altar rail to follow his example. They were accepted by the whole community as friends. Their lives were no longer in jeopardy. Then the boys resumed their seats and the ceremony of the temple was concluded.
During the service Alan’s eyes were riveted on some peculiar characters that were inscribed on the walls, at intervals, as far as eye could reach. It was a group of hieroglyphics repeated over and over again, and there was something oddly familiar about them—yet he was unable to guess exactly what it was. Then the people’s voice rose in song—he listened intently. Again and again were the words repeated like a chorus and almost unconsciously he committed the sounds to memory.
Soon the service was ended and in triumph they were led back to Kaweeka’s house. She met them with renewed wiles and charm, but the boys were strong and she left them alone with rage in her heart. They ate the food that was placed before them in silence, a silence which Alan broke by saying abruptly, “Could you make out anything of the last hymn the people kept singing over and over again in the temple, Dez?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, could you understand it?”
Desmond looked surprised. “Of course not,” he laughed. “Could you?”