I took it in my hands. This actual tangible relic of a bygone civilisation helped me to understand those emotions of “long, long ago,” about which Crystal had spoken. I looked at the circlet and then at the walls of granite, and a feeling of extreme age possessed me. Had I, too, perchance lived in that far time when Hinauri, the Bright One, had attempted to rule a violent people by the law of love? Had I been among her counsellors in that long ago—a man of humble aspect, nursing an unrequited love for his dark-eyed queen?
I cast out the thought, for my unrequited love for Crystal was a thing of which I could not yet think calmly,
“This,” I said, “conveys to my mind no proof except that it once had a wearer.”
“Wait,” she replied. “Tradition says it is a talisman whose virtue is restricted to the one for whom it was made. See! there are some characters engraven inside which are supposed to relate to this tradition. In times long since it pressed the brows of the ancient queen, and the legend runs that, on her return, it will not be until it is placed upon her head that she will recall the memory of her ancient life.”
“Let us place it on Crystal’s head now,” I said quickly, making a movement towards the outer cave.
“No,” she returned, detaining me by the arm; “not now. At sunset to-night Ngaraki returns to sing his karakias before the statue. It is the time of the year when for a few days the sun-ray strikes in through a rift in the outstanding crags. We will remove and conceal the statue, and when he comes he will find Crystal posed in its place; then, while I place this circlet upon her head, he and the event shall decide if she be Hinauri or only my child.”
“If the talisman should have lost its power!” I objected.
“Then the tradition will not be of a piece with the general body of tradition which has been handed down within the ancient walls of this temple,” she said. “I have learned step by step, by proofs which I cannot show you now, that there is truth in these priestly traditions. I will tell you one thing briefly: in a circular recess in the side of the wall of the great abyss are the preserved heads of men who at various times have found their way into this mountain to destroy the sacred stone which was supposed to contain the form of the Pure One. The faces of these I have recognised by their resemblances to the faces of the Vile Tohungas of the Pit—the Destroyers of Women—and I believe firmly that the ancient brotherhood of sorcerers exists to this day, their initiates returning again and again in the flesh to work out their destiny. Even quite lately one found his way into the lower part of the mountain, but he escaped after nearly killing Ngaraki, whom I nursed for many days, thinking he would die.”
“If they had caught him what would they have done with him?” I asked.
“His head would now be hanging among the others, where it ought to be.”