Up sprang Altorius in a towering rage. "Sirrah! Dost dare make threats to thy liege lord?"
ire flashed from the young Emperor's bright blue eyes, and under their fierce glare the old man quailed and stepped back with eyes lowered.
"Altorius keeps his word," the Emperor thundered. "The strangers shall go, though all the black-robed kites in the realm say me nay. The word of a Hudsonian prince is as sure as the fire of Pelion. Get thee gone, rash priest!"
A long moment, the two strangely contrasting figures glared at each other, the young, splendid Emperor and the malevolent, withered old man.
"The Gods demand their daughter," cried Heracles in parting, "and woe to him who says them nay!"
With this parting shot, the arch-priest turned and, scarlet faced, stalked from the council room, while Altorius threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Come, oh ye Heroes, ye princes and captains! Come, let us make festival before these mighty wanderers go their way!"
Roar upon roar of enthusiasm echoed through the marble throne room, and Nelson would have felt wholly at ease had not that little knot of priests remained gathered like ill-omened carrion crows about the door. Muttering among themselves, they were watching him with a curious intentness that aroused deep misgivings in the American's mind, and it was with something like a sigh that he joined the procession forming to proceed to the triumphal feast on which the wealth and luxury of the whole empire of Atlans had been lavished.