Lamla, the High Priest of the Temple of the Ka-Bil, sat wrapped in his black cloak. He occupied the straight-backed chair in the corner of his cluttered room. Hepteidon, Deputy to the Temple Astronomer, sat opposite him in the chair Kandrigi had occupied earlier in the night, when he had drunk with Lamla.
The High Priest stared with sunken eyes at the floor between them. He sighed hugely as the question arose into his mind once again.
‘How could such a thing happen, Hepteidon?’ he asked for the hundredth time.
Hepteidon looked at his High Priest. His young face was impassive.
‘I do not know, Lamla,’ he replied for the hundredth time. ‘If it concerns the body, then I am not a practitioner of cures and the art of making well again. If it is the spirit, then I am not the practitioner of spells and incantations. My business is the movements of the stars in the heavens and the portents to be discovered therein. I chart the seasons and make harmonious the ordering of the Ka within their rhythms.’
Lamla threw a fleeting glance at the red-skinned mane but made sure to keep his eyes veiled, for Hepteidon was of the ruling race and had influence above his station in the Ka.
‘You do not give me much assistance, Hepteidon,’ he said wearily.
‘Then it is because I cannot,’ Hepteidon replied with a certain finality.
Lamla pulled his cloak more tightly about his shoulders.
‘Is is on this point that I disagree, Hepteidon,’ he said warily.
Hepteidon raised his brows a fraction. ‘You have said this before, Lamla – many times. Yet I cannot accept it. If I am an agent in this matter. I am an agent without my knowledge. Therefore, I cannot enlighten you. This I have previously explained.’
Lamla sighed again. The question was rising in his mind again: How could such a thing happen?
‘Oh, Hepteidon. How could such a thing happen?’
The Deputy to the Temple Astronomer compressed his lips a fraction. ‘I do not know, Lamla.’
Lamla raised his long thin hand to stop Hepteidon finishing his well-worn speech. He spoke himself.
‘Consider this, Hepteidon, as I have myself considered it many times during this night. The Temple Guest, Kandrigi, the Priest of the Briga, looks at the moon and is rendered deaf. Then he speaks in a strange voice, engaged, I believe, in a conversation with some unseen person, nothing of which he would afterwards divulge to me. Finally, when he sees you, he immediately becomes blind. I do not understand what has happened this night, nor will I pretend to understand. But between these three strange occurrences I sense there is a connection. Do you understand me?’
Hepteidon shifted in his chair. ‘I understand you, Lamla, However, it does not follow that I accept what you say.’
The High Priest allowed himself to betray an instant of impatience. ‘Can you offer a better explanation, Hepteidon?’
The young priest paused before replying. ‘I cannot, Lamla, nor will I pretend that I can.’
Lamla felt himself to be repulsed. Nevertheless, he made his face stern.
‘In that case, Hepteidon, I would be grateful if you would exercise patience and listen to what I have to say concerning my intuition.'
Hepteidon bent his head slightly and said in a noncommittal tone. ‘Because of my respect for you, High Priest, I am prepared to listen.’
‘You have my gratitude, Hepteidon. I will make no great demand on you.’
Hepteidon’s lips flickered in what appeared to be a smile. ‘And I will pay close attention to your words.’
‘First, Hepteidon. I want you to appreciate my assurance that I am not a superstitious man. I am a practical man who believes that the affairs of man are the sole concern of man. I have no interest in tales of miracles or visions, except where they are of use in guiding the affairs of man.’
‘I appreciate your assurance, Lamla, and accept it.'
‘I am glad, Hepteidon. We will therefore avoid misunderstanding. Now, while I am not superstitious, I am yet of the opinion that what we call religion contains elements that are superfluous to the ordinary, everyday needs of man. We may say sceptically that what is called religion is no more than the expression of man’s experience through the ages, or we might accept the tradition that tells us that it was the Great Mother who gave man this wisdom in the form of revelation and ritual. It is not important to my argument which you believe.’
Lamla paused. Hepteidon chose not to speak and instead merely stared unhelpfully at the old priest. Lamla took a deep breath and went on.
‘The religion of the Empire placates the terrors of its subjects: it can justify death, loss and pain to the comfort of those who suffer. It provides an outlet, a channel, for the expression of joy and happiness, to the satisfaction of those who wish to celebrate. These services form the greater part of the priests’ duties. In the history of the Empire no greater challenge has arisen to test the wisdom of our religion.
‘This is a source of pride and comfort. It is good that man can order his affairs in such a way. But what of the ages which preceded the establishment of the Empire? We know that man existed for generations before the founding of the Empire. We are told that they were days of darkness and chaos, when man was a savage fumbling in the dark of ignorance. There are legends to prove it, legends filled with barbarity and tumultuous events. But there are many strange things in these legends which we do not understand. And because we cannot understand them, we say therefore that the men of those times could not understand them either. That is false logic.’
Lamla wrinkled his face and sighed.
‘However, I am not concerned with these arguments. What I wish you to understand is that our religion contains not only the experience of the Empire but also the experience of the generations that went before it. This is what I mean when I say that there are elements in it that are apparently unnecessary for the ordering of our societies.’
Hepteidon rubbed his palms together with deliberation.
‘I understand your argument, Lamla, but I do not understand why you take the trouble to expound it.’
‘If you will forbear, Hepteidon. I will explain.’
The young priest sat straighter in his chair and folded his arms. Lamla felt a pang of unease. The gesture had been a fraction too exaggerated.
‘You must exercise patience with me, Hepteidon. I am an old man, who must sift his mind a great deal in order that he might make sense.’
Hepteidon slowly unfolded his arms. ‘I will be patient, Lamla. But I tell you bluntly that it is a hard thing.’
Lamla slumped and looked down at the floor. After a short while he looked up again. His eyes were more sunken and they glittered redly.
‘Very well, Hepteidon, I will also be blunt. You have studied the new star in the heavens? Will you tell me your opinion of it?’
Lamla was grimly appeased to see Hepteidon start.
‘It is no more than a curiosity,' he said with forced nonchalance.
Lamla decided to provide him with another shock:
‘The purpose of Kandrigi’s visit here was to seek advice about this star. He did not think it was merely a novelty.’
Hepteidon was better prepared this time. Nevertheless, his voice carried the tension of resentment.
‘And what is his opinion of the star?’
Lamla permitted himself the flicker of a smile.
‘I do not know, Hepteidon. But when you consider that he has come a great distance to seek our advice, it will become obvious that it is more than simple curiosity that brings him here.’
Hepteidon was still struggling to remain aloof and uninvolved.
‘He is surely unduly alarmed, What cause for fear can a simple priest of a barbarian tribe find in the appearance of this star that remains hidden from our great science? I am tempted to suspect superstition. Simple people are always alarmed by things they do not understand.’
Lamla’s smile widened.
‘Does it follow then that you know the cause for the appearance of the st
ar, Hepteidon?’
‘No,’ Hepteidon covered his confusion by means of a show of impatience, ‘it does not follow. But I do not find grounds for alarm and terror in its appearance.’
Lamla arched his brows: ‘A strange logic, Hepteidon. However, that is not important at the moment. I wish you now to consider the events of this night.’
Hepteidon’s sudden passion did not surprise Lamla.
‘I have told you many times since that Kandrigi’s afflictions are outside my province. If you believe that they are connected somehow with his mission concerning the strange star, why do you not ask Ma-Tin’s advice? He is the Astronomer of the Temple. His knowledge and experience far surpass mine.’
Lamla reached out and grasped Hepteidon’s hand.
‘I am glad you are beginning to understand, Hepteidon.’
‘I do not, Lamla, I swear I do not.’
‘Consider, Hepteidon, the course of events. Kandrigi is made deaf when he looks at the moon, and yet afterwards he hears the voice of someone unseen. He is deaf to nature and yet he hears a voice we do not hear. When you appear on the Khumsung he looks but once upon you and is immediately struck blind. It is as though be no longer needs his eyes because he has seen all that is needed to see. He now has but two senses remaining, those of touch and speech. Tell me, Hepteidon, what does that suggest to you?’
In his distraction Hepteidon clutched Lamla’s hand.
‘I do not know, Lamla. I do not know.’
‘You do, Hepteidon. You have known from the moment you first saw Kandrigi.’
Hepteidon was beside himself now. He bent down and kissed Lamla’s hand.
‘It has happened without my knowledge, Lamla. I do not know what I am to do.’
Lamla’s gaze became very gentle.
‘Then I will try to tell you, my young Hepteidon. From the beginning of these strange events, Kandrigi has been deaf. Therefore we are to understand that we have nothing of use to tell him. Yet we are made witnesses to his conversation with the unseen being. It was plain to me, at least to me if not also to Ma-Tin, that Kandrigi struggled mightily to refuse the task imposed upon him. He would tell me nothing afterwards, wishing rather to die instead. Lastly, his sight is taken away from him once he has seen you. Therefore we are to understand that there is nothing more for him to see in this world that would be of use to him. It is ironic, Hepteidon, and it is no harm if we see this irony and are amused, that the sense that Kandrigi would most want to lose, that of speech, remains with him, It follows from this that though there is nothing further for him to see or hear in this world, there is something he has to impart. And who is he to tell, Hepteidon?’
The young priest was weeping. His tears fell on to Lamla’s hand. He shook his head vigorously.
‘There is no need to be afraid, Hepteidon. It is a great honour to be chosen in this way. Have trust and you will not be afraid. But I must finish. Kandrigi has been left with the sense of touch. Therefore, a question must be put to him. And you, Hepteidon, must ask this question. I do not know what it is but perhaps I may discover it for you.’
Lamla was relieved. He stood up and placed his free hand on Hepteidon’s head. Slowly, Hepteidon quietened and then raised his face. Lamla stooped and kissed both his cheeks.
‘The sun is risen, my son. Eat with me and then sleep here in this room so I will be near if you should need me.’
Lamla produced his little bell and rang it incessantly until the shaven youth appeared, his eyes swollen with sleep.
‘Bring food and drink, and then prepare a couch for Hepteidon.’
Chapter Eight