PART TWO
"I love to lose myself in a mystery: to pursue my reason to an O Altitudo!"
Religio Medici (sect. ix.).
I
How passing wonderful it is that I should be enabled to send another message to the Earth, and still more wonderful, wonderful out of all whooping, that I should be writing it not as sovereign of an unsuspected planet but as a humble member of the human hive on Earth itself, here in this mean Welsh sea-side inn! As to my former missive which I dispatched to my present abode through d'Aragno's kind offices some two years ago, I have, of course, no notion as to its final fate. That it really did reach the sphere of its destination I am convinced; but whether it is still lying unheeded on some rolling steppe or sterile mountain range; or whether it has been ascertained, deciphered, discussed, nay even printed, I am wholly in the dark.[1] Not that I seek to vex my mind in this matter. Nevertheless, it amuses me to assume that my former letter from Meleager has been duly found, debated and published, even though such assumption likewise includes the theory that its veracity is discredited by all who have cared to study its contents. Are we not assured in The Book that one arising specially from the dead and scorched with the flames of hell will not arouse belief in the living man? And if the mission of Dives to his careless brethren be a predestined failure, what chance of credence can possibly await such a message in manuscript from Meleager? Leaving these barren speculations, I intend to resume the tale of my adventures at the point where I halted—namely, on the eve of my entrusting my scroll to the custody of the Meleagrian councillor.
[1] This was obviously written before the interview described in a later chapter.—C.W.
It is not so easy to judge of the exact passage of time in Meleager, but I fancy about two years must have flowed past without any incident worthy of record since I parted with my cherished manuscript. The diurnal revolution of duty, sleep, exercise and meditation marched so smoothly onward that it came to my unprepared mind as a crashing shock to learn that my cycle of calm existence was liable to fierce disturbance. My sharp awakening was on this wise. For some days I had received no visit from my dear old friend, the Arch-priest (for by this time, in spite of certain barriers of circumstance and polity, he had grown very dear to me), and this omission caused me to feel some degree of anxiety concerning his absence. More curious than alarmed I therefore asked one of the hierarchy, Vaïlo, who was in attendance, the cause of this suspension of the usual visits. The councillor, discreetly casting his eyes to the ground, replied that the Arch-priest was expecting shortly to be absorbed into the family of the Sun-god. Albeit enigmatically thus expressed, I could not fail to realise the gravity of the news; in plain parlance, my friend and adviser was on the point of dissolution. A horrible chill invaded my heart, and I felt sick with a sense of genuine sorrow and of deep misgiving. I knew him to be old, and I ought therefore to have anticipated the propinquity of his death, but with blind egoism I had overlooked such eventualities. My first impulse was to ply Vaïlo with questions as to his condition and chance of recovery, but the guarded replies afforded me no ray of hope. I even begged to be conducted to the old man's bedside to take a last farewell, but this request Vaïlo (I think and trust with a touch of pity in his harsh voice) assured me was illegal. I then lapsed into sullen silence, whereupon the councillor took the opportunity to depart, leaving me a prey to unspeakable misery and agitation.
All that night I tossed and turned on my luxurious bed, and such short spells of sleep as I snatched only reflected the dour images that were passing through my brain. Mechanically I undertook my usual duties in the morning, and later in the day I was sitting beside a solitary and untasted meal in my balcony, moodily staring with fixed unseeing eyes at the beautiful prospect sweltering in the noontide sunshine, when Hiridia suddenly entered to announce that a litter was being borne up the palace steps. A moment later appeared a messenger with the request for an audience of the Arch-priest, who was too feeble to approach on foot. With my black despair of a moment past converted into temporary relief, I signed my assent, and all expectation I watched the palanquin being carried through the ante-chamber and finally set down on the pavement of the balcony. With my own hand I assisted its venerable occupant to alight and to install himself with some degree of comfort in a large chair. It was distressing to mark the changes that the past few days had wrought in my beloved friend, whom I had always regarded as a sublime picture of hale and hearty age, sound alike in body and intellect. Now the skin drawn taut over the face appeared like yellow parchment; the hands were dry and osseous; the gait was languid and hesitating; verily, the seal of impending death was firmly set alike on limb and lineament. So soon as we were left alone, the Arch-priest, gazing at me steadfastly with an expression in which were blended at once pity, affection and grave concern, held out his poor trembling arms towards me, whereupon I sank to the floor so as to lay my head on the thick white folds of the robe that covered his emaciated form. Long time he continued to stroke my hair or gently trace my features with his dry, feverish hands, much as a blind man might seek to feel or sense some precious object, the while I wept unrestrained tears, whose bitter flow seemed to relieve my heart of some of its accumulated anguish. Thus we remained, age comforting and supporting youth, and both finding mutual consolation in this belated concession and yielding to an open affection from which we had so long been debarred. At length a warning voice in gentle, feeble tones bade me dry my eyes and rise to my feet.
"My son," began the old man, "my son, for in my heart I have long adopted you as such, your image and your fate have been troubling me in dreams upon my bed. Be strong. Be prepared for evil tidings. My life is ebbing fast, as you may see, but there are matters I must announce to you before my small stock of vitality is exhausted. Seat yourself in that chair facing me, and give me your hand to clasp, whilst I tell you what I specially desire to impart....