XXXIV
THE BAR SENESTRO
It was a critical moment for Chick. Out of the impulse of his innernature he had chosen the odds that he must now uphold against thecombined wisdom of these intellectuals. He was alone, with no oneto guide him save Geos, who undoubtedly was his friend, but who asundoubtedly would desert him upon the slightest inkling of imposture.
He found himself in a great, round room, or rather an oval one, domed atthe top but tinted in a far more beautiful colouring--lazuli blue. Thewalls were cut by long, narrow windows reaching far up into the sweepwhere the side melted into the ceiling. The material of the windows wasof the same translucent substance already noted, but slightly tingedwith green, so that they shed a soft light, cooled and quiet, over thewhole assembly.
On the wall opposite the doorway was a large replica of the clover-leafdesign outside, even more gem-like in brilliance; its three colourswoven into a trinity almost of flame. Whether the light was artificialor intrinsic, Chick could not say. The floor of the place accommodatedsome three hundred tables, of the library type, and the same numberof men bearing the distinguished stamp of the Rhamda. All weresmooth-shaven, comparatively tall, and possessing the same aestheticmanner which impressed one with the notion of inherited, inherentculture. The entire hall had the atmosphere of learning, justice and thesupreme tribunal.
For a moment Watson felt weak and uncertain. He could hold up againstGeos and Avec, but in the face of such an array he wasn't so sure. Therewas but one thing to encourage him; the faces into which he looked. Allwere full of wonder and reverence.
Then he looked about him more carefully. He had come out upon a wideplatform, or rostrum. He now noticed that he was flanked on either sideby thrones--two of them; they seemed made of golden amber. The one onthe right was occupied by a man, the other by a woman. In the pause thatwas vouchsafed him Chick took note of these two, and wondered.
In the first place, the man was not a Rhamda. The jewelled semi-armourthat he wore was more significant than the dignified garb of theIntellectuals; at the same time, his accoutrements cheapened him, bycontrast. He was executive, princely, with the bearing that comes ofworldly ambitions and attainments; a man strangely handsome, vital,athletic; curling hair, dark, quick eyes and even features; exceptonly for the mouth he might have been taken as a model of the GreekAlexander.
The clothes he wore were classic, as was everything else about him, evento his sandals, his bare arms and his jewelled breastplate.
Watson had studied history. He had a quick impression of a composite--ofgenius, cruelty and sensuality. Here was one with three strong natures,a sort of Nero, Caligula and Alexander combined: the sensuality of thefirst, the cruelty of the second, and the instinctive fire and greatnessof the immortal Macedonian. The man was smiling; not an amused smile,but one of interest, humorous tolerance.
When their eyes met, Chick caught the magnetic current of personality,the same sense of illusiveness that he and Harry Wendel had noted inthe Nervina; only here it was negative, resisting instead of aiding.A number of the blue guard surrounded the throne, their faces dark,strong, and of unconquerable resolution, though slow to think.
On the other throne was a girl. Chick had heard enough from the Geos toguess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail, delicate, ablue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold hair hanging looselyabout her shoulders. She too was classically attired, although therewere touches of modernity here and there in the arrangement of ribbons;the garment matched her guards' crimson, and was draped about hershoulders so as to leave one bare, together with that arm. Across herforehead was a band of dark-blue gems, and she wore no other jewels.
She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, with eyes like bluebells,lips as red as poppies, features that danced with delight and laughterand all the innocence that one would associate with elfin royalty.Instinctively Chick compared her with the Nervina.
The senior queen had the subtle magnetism, the uncountable fascination,the poise and decision that held and dictated all things to her fancy.
Not so the Aradna. Hers was the strength of simplicity, the frank, opendelight of the maiden, and at the same time all the charm and suggestionof coming womanhood. When she caught Watson's eye she smiled; a smilefree and unrestrained, out of an open, happy heart. She made a remarkto one of her guards, who nodded a reply after the manner of a friend,rather than a courtier.
Watson turned to the Geos, who stood somewhat to one side, and a littleto the rear.
"The Aradna?"
"Yes. The queen of D'Hartia. The man on the other side is the BarSenestro."
Whatever feeling Chick entertained for the one was offset by what hefelt for the other. He was between two forces; his instinct warned himof the Bar, sceptical, powerful, ruthless, a man to be reckoned with;but his better nature went out to the young queen.
At a motion from Geos, the whole assembly of Rhamdas stood up. Theaction was both dignified and reverent. Though Chick was, in their eyes,a miracle, there was no unseemly staring nor jarring of curiosity; allwas quietness, ease, poise; the only sound was that of the constantsubtle music of those invisible bells.
Rhamda Geos began speaking. At the same time he placed a friendly handon Watson's shoulder, a signal for every other Rhamda to resume hisseat.
"The Fact and the Substance, my brothers."
Geos paused as he made use of the ultra-significant phrase. And then,in a few rapid sentences, he ran over the synopsis of that affair,beginning with some philosophy and other details that Watson could onlyhalf understand, making frequent allusions to the Jarados and otherwriters of prophecy; then he made some mention of his own particularbrand of spiritism and its stand on materialisation. This he followedwith an account of the finding of Watson in the temple, his long sleepand ultimate reviving. At greater length he repeated the gist of theirconversation.
Not until then was there a stir among the Rhamdas. Chick glanced over atthe Aradna. She was listening eagerly, her chin cupped in her hand,her blue eyes full of interest and wonder, and natural, unfeigned,child-like delight.
Then the Bar caught Chick's glance; the newcomer felt the cold chill ofcalculation, the cynical weight of the sceptic, and a queer forebodingof the future; no light glance, but one like fire and ice and iron.He wondered at the man's beauty and genius, and at his emotionalpreponderance manifest even here before the Rhamdas.
The Geos went on. His words, now, were simple and direct. Watson felthimself almost deified by that reverent manner. The Rhamdas listenedwith visibly growing interest; the Aradna leaned slightly forward; eventhe Bar dropped his interest in Watson to pay closer attention to thespeaker. For Geos had come to the Jarados; he was an orator as well asa mystic, and he was advancing Chick's words with all the skill of amaster of language, ascending effect--climax--the Jarados had come amongthem, and--They had missed him!
For a moment there was silence, then a rustle of general comment. Chickwatched the Rhamdas, leaning over to whisper to each other. Could hestand up against them?
But none of them spoke. After the first murmur of comment they lapsedinto silence again. It was the Bar Senestro who broke the tension.
"May I ask, Rhamda Geos, why you make such an assertion? What proof haveyou, to begin with, that this man," indicating Watson with a nod, "isnot merely one of ourselves: a D'Hartian or a Kospian?"
The Geos replied instantly: "You know the manner of his discovery, BarSenestro. Have you not eyes?" Geos seemed to think he had said the lastword.
"Surely," rejoined the Bar good-humouredly. "I have very good eyes,Rhamda Geos. Likewise I have a mind to reason with; but my imagination,I fear, is defective. What I behold is just such a creature as myself;not otherwise. How hold you that this one is proof out of the occult?"
"You are sceptical," returned the Rhamda, evenly. "Even as you beholdhim, you are full of doubt. But do you not recall the words of the greatAvec? Do you not know the Prophecy of the Jarados?"
"Truly, Ge
os; I remember them both. Especially the writing on the wallof the temple. Does not the prophet himself say: 'And behold, in thelast days there shall come among ye--the false ones. Them ye shallslay'?"
"All very true, Bar Senestro. But you well know--we all know--that thetrue prophecy was to be fulfilled when the Spot was opened. Did not thefulfilment begin when the Avec and the Nervina passed through to theother side?"
"The fulfilment, Geos? Perhaps it was the sign of the coming ofimpostors! The end may not be until ALL the conditions are compliedwith!"
But at this moment Aradna saw fit to speak.
"Senestro, would you condemn this one without allowing him a word in hisown defence? Is it fair? Besides, he does not look like an impostor tome. I like his face. Perhaps he is one of the chosen!"
At the last word the Bar frowned. His glance shifted suddenly to Watson,a swift look of ice-cold calculation.
"Very, very true, O Aradna. I, too, would have him speak in his ownbehalf. Let him amuse us with his tongue. What would your majesty careto hear, O Aradna, from this phantom?"
The words were of biting satire. Chick wheeled upon the Bar. Their eyesclashed; an encounter not altogether to Watson's credit. He was a bitunsteady, a trifle uncertain of his power. He had calculated on thesuperstition of the Rhamdas to hold him up until he caught his footing,and this unexpected scepticism was disconcerting. However, he was nocoward; the feeling passed away almost at once. He strode straight up tothe throne of the Bar; and once more he spoke from sheer impulse:
"The Aradna has spoken true, O Senestro, or sinister, or whatever youmay be called. I demand fair hearing! It is my due; for I have come fromanother world. I follow--the Jarados!"
If Watson had supposed that he had taken the Bar's measure, he wasmistaken. The prince's eyes suddenly glinted with a fierce pleasure.Like a flash his antagonism shifted to something astonishingly likeadmiration.
"Well spoken! Incidentally, you are well made and sound looking,stranger."
"Passably," replied Watson. "I do not care to discuss my appearance,however. I am certainly no more ill-favoured than some others."
"And impertinent," continued the other, quite without malice. "Do youknow anything about the Bar, to whom you speak so saucily?"
"I know that you have intimated that I may be an impostor. You have donethis, after hearing what the learned Rhamda Geos has said. You know thefacts; you know that I have come from the Jarados. I--"
But it wasn't Watson's words that held the Bar's attention. Chick'sstraight, well-knit form, his quick-trained actions, overbalancedthe question of the prophet in the mind of the man on the throne. Hisdelight was self-evident.
"Truly you are soundly built, stranger; you are made of iron andwhipcord, finely formed, quick and alert." He threw a word to one of hisheavy-faced attendants, then suddenly stood up and descended from histhrone. He came up and stood beside Watson.
Chick straightened. The prince was an inch the taller; his bare armslong-muscled, lithe, powerful; under the pink skin Chick could see thedelicate, cat-like play of strength and vitality. He sensed the strengthof the man, his quick, eager, instinctive glance, his panther-like stepand certainty of graceful movement.
"Stranger," spoke the Bar, "indeed you ARE an athlete! What is yournationality--Kospian?"
"Neither Kospian nor D'Hartian; I am an American. True, there are somewho have said that I am built like a man; I pride myself that I canconduct myself like one."
"And speak impertinently." Still in the best of humour, the princecoolly reached out and felt Watson's biceps. His eyes became stillbrighter. If not an admirer of decorum, he could appreciate firm flesh."Sirra! You ARE strong! Answer me--do you know anything about games ofviolence?"
"Several. Anything you choose."
But the prince shook his head. "Not so. I claim no unfair advantage; youare well met, and opportune. Let it be a contest of your own choosing.The greater honour to myself, the victor!"
But the little queen saw fit to interfere.
"Senestro, is this the code of the Bar? Is not your proposal unseemly toso great a guest? Restrain your eagerness for strength and for muscle!You have preferred charges against this man; now you would hurl yourbody as well. Remember, I am the queen; I can command it of you."
The Senestro bowed.
"Your wishes are my law, O Aradna." Then, turning to Watson: "I amover-eager, stranger. You are the best-built man I have seen for manya circle. But I shall best you." He paced to his throne and resumed hisseat. "Let him tell us his tale. I repeat, Geos, that for all his beautythis one is an impostor. When he has spoken I shall confute him. I askonly that in the end he be turned over to me."
It was plain that the Thomahlia was blest with odd rulers. If the BarSenestro was a priest, he was clearly still more of a soldier. The fierychallenge of the man struck an answering chord in Watson; he knew thetime must come when he should weigh himself up against this Alexander,and it was anything but displeasing to him.
"What must I say and do?" he asked the Rhamda Geos. "What do they wantme to tell them?"
"Just what you have told me: tell them of the Nervina, and of the RhamdaAvec. The prince is a man of the world, but from the Rhamdas you willhave justice."
Whereat Chick addressed the Intellectuals. They seemed accustomed to theoutbursts of the handsome Bar, and were now waiting complacently. Ina few words Watson described the Nervina and Avec; their appearance,manners--everything. Fortunately he did not have to dissemble. When hehad finished there was a faint murmur of approval.
"It is proven," declared the girl queen. "It is truly my cousin, theNervina. I knew not the Rhamda, but from your faces it must have beenhe, Senestro, what say you to this?"
But the Bar was totally unconvinced.
"All this is childish. Did I not say he is of our world--D'Hartian orKospian, or some other? Does not all Thomahlia know of the Nervina? Fewhave seen the Rhamda Avec, but what of it? Some have. What this strangersays proves nothing at all. I say, give him a test."
"The test?" from Geos, in a hushed tone.
"Just that. There is none who knows the likeness of the Jarados; nonebut the absent Avec. None among us has ever seen his image. It is asecret to all save the High Rhamda. Yet, in cases like this, well maythe Leaf be opened."
Watson, wondering what was meant, listened closely to the prince as hecontinued: "It is written that there are times when all may see. Surelythis is such a time.
"Now let this stranger describe the Jarados. He says that he had seenhim; that he is the Prophet's prospective son-in-law. Good! Let himdescribe the Jarados to us!
"Then open the Leaf! If he speaks true, we shall know him to be from theJarados. If he fail, then I shall claim him for purposes of my own."
Whatever the motives of the Senestro, he surely had the genius of quickdecision. Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to theuttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it. He said to theRhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference:
"I am willing."
Geos was distinctively relieved, "It is good, my lord. Tell us in simplewords. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you wouldhave us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf." And in a lowertone: "If you speak accurately I shall be vindicated, my lord. I doubtnot that you are a better man than the prince; but place your reliancein the Truth; it will be one more proof of the occult, and of the Dayapproaching."
Which is all that Watson told. But first he breathed a prayer to One whois above all things occult or physical. He did not understand where hewas nor how he had got there; he only knew that his fate was hanging ona toss of chance.
He faced the Rhamdas without flinching; and half closing his eyes andspeaking very clearly, he searched his memory for what he recalled ofthe old professor. He tried to describe him just as he had appeared thatday in the ethics class, when he made the great announcement; the trim,stubby figure of Professor Holcomb, the pink, healthy skin, the wise,grey, kindly eyes, and t
he close-cropped, pure white beard: all, just asChick had known him. One chance in millions; he took it.
"That is the Jarados as I have seen him; a short, elderly, wise, BEARDEDman."
There was not a breath or a murmur in comment. All hung upon his words;there was not a sound in the room as he ceased speaking, only the throbof his own heart and the subtle pounding of caution in his veins. He hadspoken. If only there might be a resemblance!
The Geos stepped forward a pace. "It is well said. If the truth has beenspoken, there shall be room for no dispute. It shall be known throughoutall Thomahlia that the Chosen of the Jarados has spoken. Let the Leaf beopened!"
Chick never knew just what happened, much less how it was accomplished.He knew only that a black, opaque wave ran up the long windows, shuttingoff the light, so that instantly the darkness of night envelopedeverything, blotting out all that maze of colour; it was the blacknessof the void. Then came a tiny light, a mere dot of flame, over on theopposite wall; a pin-point of light it was, seemingly coming out ofa vast distance like an approaching star, growing gradually larger,spreading out into a screen of radiance that presently was flashingwith intrinsic life. The corruscation grew brighter; little tufts ofbrilliance shot out with all the stabbing suddenness of shooting stars.To Chick it was exactly as though some god were pushing his way throughand out of fire. In the end the flame burst asunder, diminished into areceding circle and sputtered out.
And in the place of the strange light there appeared the illuminatedfigure of a man. Leaning forward, Chick rubbed his eyes and lookedagain.
It was the bust of Professor Holcomb.