Drome/Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Drorathusa
And so it was that we reached, there in the palace of the Droman queen, our journey's end—certainly a stranger journey than any I ever have heard of and one that ought to prove of even greater interest to science than to the world in general. If, however, what they tell of the region is true, an expedition to the mysterious land that the Dromans call Grawngrograr would make our fearful journey to Drome look like a promenade to fairyland.
But there our journey ended, and now it is that my story rapidly draws to a close.
Probably you will think that, here under the egis of Lathendra Lepraylya, we found ourselves in clover. And, in a way, this was undoubtedly so. We were given each a splendid suite of rooms, in the palace itself, and our lives were as the lives of princes—save that the close guard always kept over us was a reminder that there was such a personage in the world as one Brendaldoombro. If it had not been for that vulture shadow, how wonderful those days would have been!
But that shadow was there, and it never lifted. And the worst of it was that everything was involved in the deepest mystery and gloom, what with our ignorance of the Droman language. Forsooth, however, had we been masters of that language, we could not have known the plots that were hatching in the dark skull of Brendaldoombro.
As for the language, we were studying it with diligence and really had. cause to be astonished at the rapidity of our progress. As to the high priest, crafty and consummate villain though he was, that worthy-found that Lathendra Lepraylya was quite his match and more than his match, as, indeed, was Drorathusa. Against the queen he was powerless to take any repressive measure; but the case was very different with regard to Drorathusa. He could act in this way, and he did.
She was sent to a distant, lonely, forsaken place on the very outskirts of the empire. According to all accounts, that spot is really a terrible one. Drorathusa was, in fact, in exile—though Brendaldoombro did not like to hear anyone call it that. But almost everybody did or regarded it as such, and there were murmurs, not only amongst the Droman people, but even amongst those priestesses, and priests whom the old villain had counted upon to applaud his every word and act.
Nor did time still those murmurs. On the contrary, they grew louder, more persistent. Brendaldoombro was learning that it is one thing to send a person into exile and quite another to banish that person from the popular esteem. Nor did he stop at banishment; he had recourse to the assassin's dagger and the arts of the poisoner. But, in all these attempts upon the life of Drorathusa, he was thwarted by the agents of the queen. Lepraylya knew her opponent, and she had at once taken measures to safeguard the life of the exiled priestess, who held as high a place in the esteem of her sovereign as she did in the hearts of the people.
How strange it seems to be writing of things like these in this the Twentieth Century, the Golden Age of Science. But, as I believe I have already remarked, Science hasn't discovered everything yet. This is a stranger, a more wonderful, a more mysterious old globe than even Science herself dreams it to be.
When our acquisition of the language became a real one, we began to learn something of the science of Drome and to impart a knowledge of the wonderful science of our own world. Never shall I forget the amazement of the queen and those learned men of Drome when Rhodes brought his mathematics into play. Problems that only a Droman Archimedes could solve, and that only after much labor (what with their awful notation) Rhodes solved, presto—just like that! So unwieldy was the system of notation employed by these Hypogeans that not even their greatest mathematicians had been able to do more than roughly approximate pi.
When Rhodes proceeded to the solution of trigonometrical problems, their amazement knew no bounds. And when he explained to them that all they had to do to become masters of such problems was to discard their cumbersome notation and adopt the simple numerals used by ourselves—well, I do actually believe that that was the straw that broke the back of Brendaldoombro's power! For (strange though it may seem to a world that is more interested in moonshine than it is in science) that brought over to our side every learned man in Drome and a majority of the people themselves. Nor should I forget the priests and priestesses. Your average Droman is much interested in all things of a scientific nature, and no one more so than the true priest or priestess—though there are, of course, some lamentable exceptions.
Yes, clearly we were men and not demons, else never would we have brought such wonders as these to offer them as gifts to the Dromans. But old Brendaldoombro had his answer ready.
"Instead," said he, "that proves they are not men; only devils could be such wizards!"
I have often wondered what dark thoughts would have passed through that dark brain of his had he been there the day that Rhodes showed Lepraylya, all those learned men and all those grand lords and ladies (ladies and lords, a Droman would say) the marvels of a steam-engine. Yes, there the little thing was, only two feet or so high but perfect in all its parts, puffing away merrily, and puffing and puffing, and all those Dromans looking on in wonder and delight.
Even as we sat there, came word that Brendaldoombro was dead. He had died suddenly and painlessly just after placing his hand in blessing on the head of a little child.
Well, they gave him a magnificent funeral. Peace to his soul!
On the death of the Droman high priest (or priestess) a successor is chosen, in the great temple in the Golden City, by a synod composed of exactly five hundred, the majority of whom are usually priestesses. On the very first ballot, Drorathusa (who was already on her way back from her lonely place of exile) was chosen.
Priests and priestesses, I should perhaps remark, are free to marry, unless they have taken the vow of celibacy. This (voluntarily, of course) many of them do. Drorathusa, by the way, had not done so.
We had now been in Drome a little
over seven months. It was
not very long afterward that Rhodes
told me he was going to get married—to
Lathendra Lepraylya herself!
The news, however, was not
wholly unexpected. Well, not every
man of us can marry a queen—though
of queens there are plenty.
I take the following from my journal for May the 10th:
"They were married today, about 10 o'clock, in the great temple; and a very grand wedding it was, too. Drorathusa herself spoke the words that made them man and wife, for the queen of Drome can be married by the high priestess or priest only.
"Now, as she proceeded with the ceremony, which was a very long one, I thought that that pale face of Drorathusa's grew paler still and that a distraught look was coming into her eyes. Then I told myself that 'twas only a fancy. But it was not fancy. For of a sudden her lip began to tremble, her voice faltered, the look in her eyes became wild and helpless—and she broke down.
"A moment or two, however, and that extraordinary woman had got control over herself again. She motioned the attendant priestesses and priests aside; a wan smile touched her lips as she pressed a hand to her side and said: 'It was my heart—but I am better now.'
"She at once proceeded with the ceremony, voice and features under absolute control. Again she was Drorathusa the Sibylline.
"And so they were married. And may they live happy and happily ever after!"
And then, after the great nuptial banquet in the palace, off went the happy pair in the queen's barge for Leila Nuramanistherom, a lovely royal suite some thirty miles down the river; whilst I betook myself to the solitude of my rooms, there to ponder on the glad-sad lot of man, to hear over and over, and over again, those low tragic words: "It was my heart—but I am better now."
Sibylline, noble, poor Drorathusa!