They ordered him to be silent.
But he spoke.
Upon the Old Men he turned his back and his eyes sought those who but a short time before had been his comrades.
“Listen to me,” he implored. “Listen to me and be rejoiced. I have come back from beyond the mountains. My feet have trod a fresh soil. My hands have felt the touch of other races. My eyes have seen wondrous sights.
“When I was a child, my world was the garden of my father.
“To the west and to the east, to the south and to the north lay the ranges from the Beginning of Time.
“When I asked what they were hiding, there was a hush and a hasty shaking of heads. When I insisted, I was taken to the rocks and shown the bleached bones of those who had dared to defy the Gods.
“When I cried out and said, ‘It is a lie! The Gods love those who are brave!’ the Men Who Knew came and read to me from their sacred books. The Law, they explained, had ordained all things of Heaven and Earth. The Valley was ours to have and to hold. The animals and the flowers, the fruit and the fishes were ours, to do our bidding. But the mountains were of the Gods. What lay beyond was to remain unknown until the End of Time.
“So they spoke, and they lied. They lied to me, even as they have lied to you.
“There are pastures in those hills. Meadows too, as rich as any. And men and women of our own flesh and blood. And cities resplendent with the glories of a thousand years of labor.