“But what unusual event can come to our country?” asked Onrai.
“Was not the storm of last night an unusual event?” asked the priest, “and should this not be a sufficient warning to us to guard against all such? I believe that naught else can come to the Land of On but the wars of the elements, and if these visit us, it is God’s will and they purpose some good.”
“If it be God’s will, he must have some object in it,” said Onrai. “But tell me, priest, did the Kings of On ever marry?”
The question almost staggered the priest and he started back for the moment unable to answer. But controlling himself he came forward and looked Onrai straight in the eye, asking sternly, “Why do you ask? Do you not know that it means death to the King who even contemplates marriage? Were not the sacred teachings imparted to you when you were yet young, and have these not been told you many times since and expanded on, and explained? And does not the law say that the King shall not marry? I cannot understand you, King.”
Onrai’s face was puzzled as he looked at the priest as he spoke.
“I hardly understand myself,” said the King. “I have indeed read the great laws and have heard them read since my earliest childhood, and I know that the King cannot marry and that there are great and good reasons given for his not marrying. But God forgive me if I have thought for one moment that this law was unjust. I am King, chosen by the people because of my physical attainments and stature. I am strong, powerful; through my veins courses the blood of endless generations of perfect manhood; every nerve, every tissue, every muscle tingles with life; I have been trained until my naturally healthy sinews are as hard as the black metal which we dig out of the foothill of the cliffs; my whole being vibrates with health and vitality and for these reasons I am chosen King and denied a wife; I of all men who should be granted a mate,” and as he ceased speaking he strode up and down the Temple, his powerful form shaking like an aspen; his breath came quick and short; his hands opened and shut nervously.
The priest looked at him in wonderment and seemed at a loss to know how to answer him. But he must say something to this rash man, this ruler of the people, who was supposed to be pure, to be sinless. If others should hear him talk in this mad way the consequences might be fearful. He stepped in front of the King as he came near him and said, “Onrai, are you not mad? Do you not realize the consequences of such ravings? Do you not know that death awaits you if you give up to such sinful thoughts? Oh, Onrai, King, brother, great and good, strong and beautiful, drive these fearful thoughts from your mind; smother these emotions, which can only lead you to destruction. Remember that endless line of ancestors of whom you speak, and let not an act of yours disgrace their memory or make sorrowful the people who chose you for their King. Tell me, oh my brother, what it is which has wrought this great change in you,” and then, seeming to remember the strangers, he clutched Onrai’s arm nervously and said, “Tell me, is it they?”
“Of whom do you speak,” asked the King.
“Of the strangers,” answered the priest.
“Why should you suspicion our guests,” asked Onrai. “Is it just to them, who for the time may expect only the kindest treatment from us? I do not like this,” but as he spoke, his heart smote him for being the first to suspicion the good motives of the strangers.