The Chariot of the Flesh

by Hedley Peek

"During our evening meal we discussed the situation. I must own that I tried to persuade Kanwick to give up the idea of forcing an entrance into these sacred precincts. Cut off as we should be from all possibility of rescue, the idea seemed foolhardy in the extreme; but seeing that my friend had determined to go, I decided to share the risk.

"As soon as it was dark we agreed to start; and watch the entrance, as our only chance of slipping through the tunnel unobserved would be during the night-time.

"We had been in our place of concealment about two hours, and it must have been nearly twelve o'clock when we heard steps approach. The night, fortunately for our purposes, was dark, as the moon had not yet risen. It was impossible therefore for us to see anything, but I judged from the sound that the man, whoever he might be, was alone. He passed about a hundred yards from our hiding-place, and the noise of the stream made it impossible for my companion to distinguish the footsteps. Had I not by this time been able to concentrate my sense of hearing on any particular sound, I should have been equally helpless; as it was, we had the advantage of being able to follow the stream without fear of detection.

"When we came to the outskirts of the wood and were about ten yards from the cliff, we paused. I could see the figure of a man standing by the side of the crevice, and it seemed to me that he was groping for something on the surface of the rock. In another moment the water began to sink, and the figure disappeared into the gully through which the stream had now ceased to flow. We ran quickly to the spot, and with no little feeling of dread, began to follow the priest through the dark channel. Fortunately he had struck a light which he held before him, or we certainly should either have been drowned or swept back into the plain, for instead of following the bed of the stream, he had turned up a steep narrow passage to the right, and was now disappearing round a sharp turning. The moment he was out of sight we hastened after him up the incline, and were only just in time. There was a rush of water behind us, which in a moment rose to our knees; the path through which we had entered was once more the bed of a boiling torrent, but for the time being we were safe. A few more steps and we were out of reach of the water, standing in pitch darkness on the dry rock which formed the footway of a winding tunnel.

"We waited a few moments, fearing to go further without a light, and thinking it safer to let our guide get some way ahead before we struck a match. We had thus far accomplished our purpose successfully, but I fancy neither of us felt very comfortable. To return was now impossible, and if the other end of this tunnel should be closed we might find ourselves like rats caught in a hole, and either be starved to death, or have to wait until we were found by the next party of priests, when our fate would probably be as bad or even worse. I felt for my pistol, and then by the light of a wax vesta we began to grope our way up the winding staircase which had been cut into the rock. We must have used about ten matches when a puff of wind extinguished the one last lighted, and taking this as a sign that we were near the mouth of the tunnel, we decided to finish our journey in the dark.

"I was a little ahead of my companion, and had felt my way carefully over eight or ten more steps, when my hand touched the stem of a tree, and looking up I could see the stars above me through some thick foliage. I slipped aside into the underwood, and in a few moments Kanwick was by my side. The wind blew freshly against our heated faces, and it was with no little feeling of pleasure we realized that our first great danger was past, and though we might be chained to a rock, we were at least chained outside, not inside.

"We waited for a short time, uncertain what course to pursue. As we thus stood talking in whispers, the moon rose, flooding the scene around with light.

"We were on the wooded side of a steep slope which evidently led up to the precipitous edge of the cliff. Some hundred feet below in a lovely glen, the bottom of which must have been nearly on a level with the surrounding plain, a stream flowed, and in one part widened out into a small lake. Out of the centre of this lake rose the snow-white marble walls of the temple. It is almost impossible to describe the beauty of this building, so unlike is its style of architecture to anything else I have ever seen. It is quite circular, and has been built on arches which are supported by seventy square massive columns that rise out of the lake. On the top of these arches is what may be called the ground-floor of the structure. Round the outside of this level platform, at equal distances apart, are seven hundred marble pillars, thirty feet in height, and carved so as to resemble the trunks of trees, very irregular in shape but of about equal girth. Resting on these pillars is another platform, in the centre of which is also built a similar structure of about half the size of the one on which it stands. This building again supports a third, still smaller, on the roof of which rise fourteen columns in a circle. From the top of each of these spring three boughs, one towards the centre, and one on either side, the side boughs meeting those from the adjacent columns, forming arches, and the centre boughs joining together in a kind of open-work dome. The details were of course indistinct, seen in the moonlight, but the exquisite proportion of every part, which is after all the chief charm, was clearly visible; the surroundings added also a kind of spiritual beauty to the scene, for as the moon rose the surface of the lake was divided by a silver line of light, the tropical foliage around cast a fairyland of shadows on the water, and from the temple rose the soft sound of music, the first chord of which had broken the silence of night when the moon's rays fell upon the marble dome.

"'The dream of my life is fulfilled,' my companion whispered as we looked out on the lovely scene. 'This is without doubt the temple of the moon, of which I once read an account in an old manuscript. It is reported to have been built by Zoroaster, and to have been kept in perfect repair up to the date when the manuscript was written. But I had supposed it to have been destroyed centuries ago, and there we see it to-day perfect in all its original loveliness. No doubt its preservation is due to its inaccessible position, and the care with which it has been watched over by the priests. Truly if the Oriental people know nothing else, they know how to preserve a secret. I am, however, inclined to think, from the dress of the priests we saw this morning, that the followers of Buddha must have now taken possession of it; but in this borderland of many religions, all founded more or less on Brahminism, we often find a combination of religious thoughts which more resembles the earlier faith, and this may prove to be the centre of some such creed; we shall doubtless soon have an opportunity of finding out.'

"Hardly had he finished speaking, when down the steps which led from the temple to the lake, a procession of white-robed priests could be seen moving slowly, and a long, curiously-shaped boat glided out from where it had been concealed by the trees. In a few moments it had reached the steps and the priests entered it. Then through the night air rose the sound of singing which harmonized with the music as the boat slowly glided out of our sight behind the massive columns on which the temple was built. Seven times the boat made a circle round the building, and then, with the priests still on board, turned towards the trees beneath us and was once more hidden from sight; the music and singing stopped, and all was again in silence.