He was crying man’s tears—those that leave the eyelids dry, but drip inwardly and fall scalding hot on the heart. His poor routed will power interposed no opposition, while grief hurricaned through his non-resisting body. He was fighting the battle alone—facing the utter negation of self—the complete overthrow of desire.
Finally, overcome by physical exhaustion, he lay with his head at the feet of Orion, too weary to make an effort of any kind. After a while a sort of stupor came over him, and then he heard voices, while a cool breath of air fanned his heated cheek, and he felt the presence of his loved ones.
“Behold in tribulation the key which unlocks the mystery of the soul! The initiate cannot speak to the heart of man until he has himself drained to the dregs the bitter cup of life’s miseries.”
Yermah lifted a startled face, and peered intently about him in the vain hope of locating the speaker.
“Fear not, my beloved! Man is only what he thinks. He mingles his aura with that of his fellows, and the Redeemer becomes the fellow-sufferer, because the twain are made one in sorrow. Rise and go forth comforted. Thou hast loosed the belt of Orion. Thou hast crossed the bridge of Kinevat.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, and with implicit faith, Yermah obeyed. He had touched and rebounded from the lowest rung of personal grief and despair, and he would never again sink so deeply in the Slough of Despond.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A COMMEMORATION OF HUMILIATION AND DESPAIR
The Temple of Saturn, where the Festival of Humiliation was held, was situated on Park Hill, southeast of the center of the city, near Mount Olympus. It represented one of the rings of Saturn, while a hill now occupied by an iron water-tank gave the outer ring.
The temple itself marked the orbit of Saturn, the reaper who gathers the harvest of the dead. It was a square edifice, and had towers which were of the same form at the base, but became round as the tall spires rose skyward. A high arched entrance of elaborately carved sandstone led to a long quadrangular hall. The ceiling was of heavy paneled redwood, polished and treated with copal, while the walls were an elaborate mural broken, double and single key patterns, interspersed with squares, circles and triangles in porphyry bas-relief. The floor was a succession of interlaced hoops and balls of blue enamel on squares of white marble.
Unlike the other temples, there was but one entrance, which faced west, signifying that all who entered the Hall of Death came by the same road; and, also, that the sun going down in the west was typical of physical life departing from the body.