“It was a wonderful thing to do,” his Majesty mused as we slowly went to the Council Chamber.
Something had given him a fearful blow, and I guessed it was the danger to which Lentala had been exposed. His face was haggard again; his gait was unsteady; he doddered and mumbled.
As we neared the Council Chamber, he said:
“Come in and stand near me, one on either side.”
We found the soldiers in a huddle near the door, the racial dulness of their faces somewhat keyed with expectancy. The king gave them but a glance as he passed them and ascended the throne,—to be more impressive, no doubt. Christopher and I stood as flanks.
“Form a line facing me,” the king sternly commanded.
The soldiers glanced at one another in wonder as they obeyed, and furtively had anxious eyes and ears for Gato. They were a fine crowd, selected for courage and dash.
“You understand,” the king said, “that I am always in supreme command of the army, including Gato and every other officer. Any person who may be in immediate charge of you is serving as my agent, and is appointed and removed by me at my pleasure. All your fealty and loyalty are for me. You will now acknowledge that with an obeisance to your king.”
The rascals were dazed. They might send shifting glances down the line if they liked, and wonder and waver if they pleased, but obey they must: every man felt it in his bones. The line went down.
Etiquette required the maintenance of the posture until the king gave the word to rise. The obeisance consisted in coming to the knees, resting the elbows, well advanced, on the floor, pressing the palms down, and rooting the floor with the forehead,—an easy performance if quickly finished, but a torturing one if sustained. On this occasion the king neglected the releasing command; and that was unheard of. In such a position the men could see nothing.