“Then on the morrow we may need to defend this place until the battle be decided down there in the valley.” And he added fervently, “It will be a joy to fight for you, O Queen of the Earth, and even to die for you!”
Gustasp began immediate preparations for defense and secretly brought up a bundle of keen javelins, several heavy spears, and a huge bronze battle-ax, which they concealed behind curtains and furniture. He also brought a supply of bread and fruit.
From her window Athura saw that preparations were being made in the courtyard for the sacrifice spoken of by Gustasp. First, a square altar of stones was erected. Around this, at a distance of twenty feet, a circle of flat stones was placed. A priest clothed in long robes then drew geometrical figures with a sword-point on the ground within the circle. Other priests brought out twenty tall jars of soma and placed them at intervals touching the circle. Still others brought wood and piled it in four heaps at the corners of a square inclosing the circle. Many soldiers of the garrison gathered around, uneasily and fearfully watching the preparations, but they were not allowed to come within twenty paces of the circle.
The preparations were completed when the sun was yet half an hour high. Then the rumble and boom of drums and the shrill scream of trumpets announced the beginning of the services. A procession of priests, twenty in number, headed by Patatheites and followed by Gaumata, who led a beautiful white stallion, appeared from the northern portion of the castle-yard. Seven times they silently marched around on the outer side of the circle of stones. Then they halted and a priest took station at each of the jars of soma. Every one held a large, keen knife in one hand and a goblet in the other. The chief priest, Patatheites, took station at the right of the altar and raised his hand toward the setting sun in prayer. All the others imitated his action. Their invocation was silent and lasted a full minute. Then Patatheites placed a bundle of fagots on the altar and again raised his hands to the sun, and his lips moved in recital of an invocation. Instantly a spiral of smoke ascended from the fagots and a flame burst forth. The soldiers, stricken with awe, fell on their knees at sight of this miracle. The sun-god had answered, unless the dexterous priest, having a knowledge of phosphorus and sulphur, had ignited the wood as he placed it on the altar.
Gaumata now led the white stallion into the charmed circle near to the high priest. The beautiful animal trembled and sniffed at the altar and the blazing wood, then raised his noble head and whinnied. As he did so, the chief priest, with a powerful slash of his sharp knife, cut the animal’s throat so deeply across as almost to sever the head. At the same moment, Gaumata drove his knife deep into the horse’s chest through his proud heart. With a convulsive backward movement, the noble beast sought to break away, but Gaumata clung to it and its knees gave away suddenly and it fell. The chief priest took a stone vessel and caught the blood spouting from the severed throat. When the vessel was filled, he presented it to Gaumata, who lifted it on high before the fire and towards the setting sun, then poured some of the blood on the altar and some on the earth while he muttered a prayer. The chief priest then took a bundle of rods, known as the baresma, and, dipping it in the blood, sprinkled the King and the twenty priests, chanting a hymn as he slowly performed his labor. Then four of the priests attacked the carcass of the horse with their knives and rapidly dismembered it. A portion of flesh from the chest was taken by the King and placed on the burning wood of the altar. The savor of it went up to heaven just as the rim of the sun disappeared behind the western hills, while the priests broke forth into a barbaric chant in praise of Mithra. The limbs and body of the animal were then cut in bits and distributed by the priests to the soldiers. The piles of wood were set on fire by coals from the altar, and the men roasted the horseflesh at these and ate of it. Thus far the ceremony had been conducted with some decorum.
Then the bloody-handed priests dipped goblets into the jars and brought them forth filled to the brim with a white, acid liquor, the sacred juice of the soma plant. First, the chief priest drank a huge goblet of the liquor. The King followed suit. Then the priests drank, and as they drank they began a serpentine march, following the lines of the geometrical figures drawn in the circle, weaving in and out and crossing back and forth, chanting in time to their movements. The chief priest led the weird dance. The King followed at the rear. Ever and anon, as their movements brought them near the jars, the priests replenished their goblets. Gradually their chant became louder and wilder, and was addressed to the gods of the sun, of the moon, of the stars, of the earth, and of the seas, entreating them to be present and to give counsel and wisdom to the King.
Darkness fell upon the earth, but the fires partially dispelled the gloom in the courtyard. The crowd of soldiers drew well back from the enchanted circle, dreading they knew not what, and fearing the unknown powers of earth and sky. Suddenly one of the priests ceased marching and, with a scream, rent the clothes from his body. Stark naked he began to dance furiously, leaping in the air, frothing at the mouth, and uttering wild words of prophecy. Another imitated him and still another, until a score of naked, leaping, shouting madmen, brandishing knives and soma-pots, encircled the chief priest, who, having drunk but little of the powerful liquor, had remained comparatively sober, and who now took his station with folded arms and bowed head before the altar, listening intently to the ravings of his helpers. The King took his place on the opposite side of the altar and sought to preserve a semblance of dignity, but he swayed to and fro under the influence of the liquor or of excitement while he also listened to the ravings of the prophets.
The Princess and her maids were curious observers of the ceremonies, but their curiosity turned to horror as the last act of the drunken priests began. Nevertheless, they watched and listened.
One of the priests, bellowing for silence, stood before the chief priest and shouted: “I am Melchior of the Hills! Say to this King, he lacks courage! Say to him that instead of entreating the proud woman in yonder castle, he should take her by force, lest there come an eagle out of the south and carry her away! Let him now act! Now! Now! Now!”
Another shouted: “I am sent from Mithra to say, The day comes when the Kings of the earth shall meet in death struggle! To him of stout heart and quick mind will the victory be! Up and act!”