Setos, quick to turn an advantage to himself, came forward and claimed a hearing.
“The sacred traditions of past times,” he said, “lie deep in the hearts of the faithful, but justice demands much for posterity. The future is best served by full recognition of Monbas independence; they, in turn, must acquit themselves with honor. No man among the Azes desires to keep that which is not fairly won.”
“Dost thou dare to accuse us of unfairness?” cried Ben Hu Barabe, rising hastily.
“The Ians have long discoursed against the award of land made by us to the Azes. Much travail of spirit has befallen us because of our pledges to thy ancestry. Fie upon thee, for an ingrate!” he continued, hotly.
Yermah and Akaza were on their feet in an instant.
“Setos had spoken without consideration,” said Akaza, mildly. “No possible import of unfairness is due to either party here. The measurements are the only questions to consider. Now, as of old, the digit, the palm of the hand, the face, and the cubit are the only means of reckoning. The first joint of the finger is no longer; the middle of the palm no wider; the cubit from finger to elbow is the same. But the stars have changed their courses; even the zodiac has slipped its leashes. Man may profit by such example. Have done with this useless turmoil. Let the Ian have his due, and let the high-priestess Kerœcia, loose her own bonds.”
When he ceased speaking, the silence was intense.
“For this did I beseech thy presence,” said Yermah, aside to the agitated princess.
“We love the priestess Kerœcia, and we will obey her,” said Ben Hu Barabe, simply.
“The royal father and mother of the princess mourn continually. They beg and implore that she may be the light of their declining years. All Ian awaits an answer; and for that country I agree to abide by thy decision.” Eko Tanga bowed toward Kerœcia, appealingly.