The King here, even making full allowance for the peculiar bonds wherein he is tied and bound to the hierarchy, wields considerable powers. He is, as I have already shown, the judge of the people in their courts, and to them his decisions are final and undisputed. The belief and devotion of the populace are therefore wholly concentrated in their resident King, who appears to them—and who can marvel at it?—as the authentic Child of the Sun, whose father they daily worship and praise for the light whereby they live, for the food they eat, and for the warmth they enjoy. I can easily understand the strong temptation that has driven one, and probably more, of my predecessors to utilise the undoubted credulity and loyalty of the populace in a struggle against the repressive influence of the ruling caste, and I can also, for I am fair-minded, perceive the reasonableness of the continual panic that animates the hierarchy with regard to the relations existing between an alleged semi-divine monarch and a blindly adoring multitude. Any prospective understanding or union between these two forces of King and people is a constant source of jealousy and alarm to the priesthood, who are ever on the watch to prevent and stifle such intrigue should it arise. Yet, on the other hand, if once the King were goaded by indiscreet espionage or by harsh interference into revolt against official tutelage, then a personal appeal by the outraged Child of the Sun to his faithful people might very possibly result in the overthrow within a few hours of the whole fabric of government that it has taken so many centuries to rear. The open policy of the senators therefore must not tend to thwart or irritate the King; it must merely keep the sharpest outlook without awakening his suspicions; yet it must always be ready to guard against any sudden plot or combination between an ambitious King and a subservient populace. On the contrary, there must exist a mutual but unspoken compact between the monarch and the priesthood, in which the former should clearly and willingly realise his complete dependence on the latter, and submit in all things with a good grace. He is to be particeps fraudis, a sharer in the Great Imposture with its contrivers, and if he is content to play this rôle, well and good; but if he elects to kick against this tacit arrangement, the situation thus created must prove equally dangerous both to King and hierarchy, and in such a crisis the priesthood never mean the King to triumph, no matter what measures they may be reduced to take in order to preserve their ascendency. For my own part I have done my utmost to make the priesthood realise that I comprehend and agree in and respect this silent bargain. Some of the councillors are however too suspicious and nervous by nature to appraise my attitude at its true value; and though I am on fairly friendly terms with the majority of my masters, there are certain members of the council whose evident hostility I can never hope to disarm.
From the deliberations in the council chamber in the Temple of the Sun I am invariably excluded, yet no measure within the realm is essayed without my knowledge, the Arch-priest acting as intermediary in all such cases. I am always permitted, and even encouraged, to work with the hierarchy, but I could never work against them, even if I would. The peculiar relations between our two sets of authority must necessarily always be most precarious and delicate, and call for the utmost exercise of patience, restraint and self-effacement on my part. Fortunately, so long as it is realised on both sides that our mutual powers are intermingled and interdependent, there is little fear of a collision such as either party would naturally seek to avoid in its own interests.
Except for the short ceremony observed on the morning of each weekly feast-day, the King rarely visits the temple. Twice a year however, at the seasons of mid-summer and mid-winter, prior to the great public acts of worship before the crystal altar, I am subjected to a lengthy course of manipulation, followed by a dipping in the Fountain of Rejuvenation. In spite of the invigorating after-effects of this treatment, I confess I detest these two occasions most cordially, and their approach always fills my heart with intense bitterness at the thought of the humiliation that awaits me; nor can I shake off my feeling of chagrin for many days afterwards. Yet never a hint is uttered in my presence as to my dependence on the will of the hierarchy, nor has the Arch-priest ever alluded even in our most confidential talks to the intricacies of our unique relationship. To bear and forbear has therefore been the guiding note of my reign so far, and I earnestly hope that by following a similar course of conduct in the future I may contrive to continue thus on the throne of Meleager, for despite its many limitations and objections I am tolerably happy in my present situation. I have frankly accepted my anomalous position from the first, and as time progresses I find my perilous curiosity to peer behind the veil of The Secret grow less persistent and irksome.
I hope I have now explained with some degree of clarity the exact nature of the tie binding myself to the College of Seventy. The worst feature of my own position—and perhaps the worst also from the point of view of the hierarchy—is the haunting sense of uncertainty, or rather the knowledge that I myself, my aims, my motives and my deeds are continually under discussion by this mysterious band of priestly potentates, with whom I am really unable to get into touch and to whom I cannot explain satisfactorily any matters that may arouse their distrust or suspicion. I often wish the members, at least of the outer circle, of the council would decide to take me into their complete confidence, so that we could all open our hearts freely to one another. I feel sure in such an event all cause of misunderstanding on their part would be speedily removed, whilst a greater feeling of security would result to themselves from this open alliance. But I know only too well that at present any such arrangement is utterly impossible, so I have to abide in the same uncomfortable and strained position which has already, I have every reason to believe, proved too onerous and exasperating for more than one of my fore-runners on the throne of Meleager.
With the nobility my part is naturally a far less difficult one to play. In the eyes of my courtiers, and of the many leading nobles who have access to my personal society, I am regarded not merely in theory but in very deed as a semi-divine creature, and am treated with the requisite degree of honour. But so natural and well bred are the manners of the Meleagrian aristocracy that this intense deference never sinks to fawning, nor becomes personally inconvenient, so that I can associate on terms of easy familiarity with many of them. With their private affairs I have no great concern, seeing how strong is the patriarchal rule in each family; but sometimes as a last resort my opinion is invited, especially by the younger nobles, and such advice as I deign to supply is invariably regarded as the acme of wisdom and is promptly acted on.
With the commercial class I am brought much less into contact, so that I have smaller opportunity of observing its members. From time to time, however, I take pleasure in receiving accounts of travel by land and sea from some of the more intrepid merchant adventurers who sail the southern ocean, or penetrate the bleak hinterland of Barbaria. I have also acquired some merit in their eyes by making an expedition to the Barbarian coast, and visiting some of the settlements whence timber, furs and fish are exported to the south. The Arch-priest has never expressed any opposition to this display of interest on my part, and he certainly encouraged my voyage to Barbaria; but I know well some members of the College of Seventy at the time objected to my proposed tour of inspection of the northern colonies. Their arguments, no doubt voiced in the council chamber, must however have been over-ruled, for my expedition was permitted.
By the third estate, as also by the large mass of indentured slaves or servants, I am of course adored, worshipped and regarded as a Divine Incarnation. My appearance in the judgment hall calls forth diurnal blessings on my head, and persons of this class seek to kiss the hem of my robe in passing, or even manœuvre so that my shadow may fall upon them, much as the sick and decrepit of antique Asia Minor sought a blessing in the shadows of the early Apostles. I need not pursue this matter, for I have already made clear elsewhere the whole-hearted loyalty of the populace towards their King.
Apart from this deep attachment to my person of the commonalty of the kingdom, I possess too a certain amount of real power in the household of the palace and in the regiments of horse and foot that form my personal guards. All these wear my royal colour of blue in their livery or uniform, together with my badge of the sun in splendour. I can therefore well imagine the consequent jealousy and alarm of some members of the hierarchy being aroused by such an exhibition of potential strength, and I feel pretty sure of the presence of a number of spies both among my domestics and in the ranks of the military, who are constantly on the watch lest I should show any sign of pushing my advantage by these means. As such never has been, is not and never will be my intention, these official eavesdroppers can have nothing but what is reassuring to report to their employers. Nevertheless, the thought of this particular form of distrust is not pleasant, and it looms large among the various trials and disadvantages I have to endure in my exalted office.
VIII
Undoubtedly the most important feature in the whole body politic of Meleager is the ruling caste of the priests. I have at different times described these personages as a hierarchy of priests, as a college of senators, as a Council of Seventy, as a committee of councillors; but in reality none of these titles exactly expresses the nature or powers of this small executive clique selected from the nobility. The form, moreover, under which they are universally saluted or addressed in Meleager is simply "Arxattra," which signifies "Master." I had therefore better open with an account of the choice and composition of this body, whose sole check consists in the King whom they themselves call into being and can presumably dispose of in certain events. The priesthood (to use a convenient though inexact term) consists of never more than seventy-seven members nor less than seventy, and these are recruited solely from the aristocracy. The admission to this body is by election of the whole, and the candidates for this honour are confined to a number of probationers of the seminary that is situated within the precincts of the Temple of the Sun. These probationers are jealously excluded from all outside social intercourse, and are carefully educated for at least five years with the object in view by members of the council itself. No one under the age of thirty-five may be admitted for election, and it is usual, though not essential, for the candidate to be a bachelor or a widower. On his election, the successful candidate quits his college and retires to the Temple of the Sun, where apartments exist for every member of the council. This severe regulation as to age and family ties is obviously intended to preserve the conservative traditions of the hierarchy, for the human mind naturally is inclined to hark back affectionately to the conditions prevailing in youth and to prefer such to any later standard of morals and administration. At the same time the many services and duties to be performed by the junior councillors require the election of active and able-bodied members, for though the Temple of the Sun is the headquarters and official home of these councillors, yet many of them are in constant peregrination throughout the kingdom. Four priests reside at Zapyro; three at Fúfani; two are said to be in residence within the forbidden temple on Mount Crystal. All have their proper spheres of work assigned to them, and membership of this all-powerful council, far from being the sinecure I once conceived it, entails an immense amount of exertion, both mental and physical.