The Priestess sent word to Katalat to perform the burial service at the cave, but he returned no answer and appointed an inferior to attend to the obsequies. Hearing of this Ama dispatched a messenger requesting the High Priest to attend her at once; but he disregarded the order.
This conduct was so unusual, so rebellious and exasperating that the High Priestess became very angry and ordered the Waba Pagatka to seize Katalat and bring him to her presence. The Captain respectfully bowed, but said:
“I shall not be able to do that, your Highness. Strange tales have been told our people by the High Priest, and these tales have inflamed the populace against you.”
“Against me — the High Priestess of the Sun, the Supreme Ruler of the Vale of Tcha!” she exclaimed, indignantly.
“Even so, your Highness,” was the calm response.
“Then,” said Paul, who was present, “it is even more necessary than before to arrest this rebellious priest.”
Pagatka remained silent.
“Do as I command you, Waba,” said Ama.
“My men will not obey me,” he returned.
“Is the army in revolt, then?” inquired Chaka.
“All the valley is in revolt against the High Priestess,” declared Pagatka. “I am sorry,” he added; “I do not believe the tales myself; but the people all side with Katalat, and I alone am powerless.”
When asked what the tales were, the captain would not say, so finally Ama dismissed him.
Then she turned to us a white and startled face and asked if we knew anything of the matter; but of course we were as ignorant as herself. Nor were any of the priestesses wiser than their mistress. While Ama had been secluded in her palace, from whence she strove to issue orders for the disposal of the dead and the welfare of her stricken kingdom, old Katalat had taken advantage of the people’s despair and grief to rouse them to rebellion against the girl. It did not surprise us much; we had sized up this fellow correctly from the very beginning.
One of the priestesses had a brother who was an intelligent and faithful youth, and proposed sending him out to gain information as to what conspiracy was going on. Ama caught at the suggestion and the boy was sent on his mission.
He returned in little more than an hour with the information that Katalat had called a meeting of the Tcha at the theatre for that very morning, and already the citizens were flocking to the place.
“I also will go,” announced the High Priestess.
“Better not, Ama,” said Paul. “Let our party of men go instead, and return to you with news of what Katalat proposes to do.”
“No,” she returned positively; “they might prevent your return, these lawless ones. I cannot understand it at all, my friends. Ever have the Tcha been a loyal and law-abiding people until now. It is their duty to obey me, as their hereditary Supreme Ruler, descended from the first Ama who ever reigned in this valley. That Katalat should dare defy me is not so strange as that my people support him in his rebellion. Have I not done my full duty in these trying times? Can anything be justly urged against me? But even so, I am supreme in the Vale of Tcha! My word is as powerful as the law itself, for it is the law.”
She was getting angry, and I did not blame her much. But it was time for us to start for the theatre, if we were to take part in the meeting that had been called, so we waited for Ama to arrange her robe of state — feminine fussiness being the same in every country — and then all followed her in a procession to the theatre, her thirty priestesses forming an imposing train in our wake.
The theatre was two-thirds full when we arrived, and I think those present represented about all the able-bodied population remaining in the valley — some four or five hundred, all told. Misfortune, desolation and ruin had told upon their iron nerves at last and deprived them of their boasted self-control, for as we entered the place only scowling faces greeted us.
On the platform, in full view of the audience, stood Katalat. At his left the aged members of the Tribunal sat in a row upon their golden bench. I think they were all surprised at the sudden entrance of the High Priestess, and the Tribunal especially became visibly agitated; but the High Priest merely cast a cold glance at the girl and thereafter ignoring her presence began an address to the people.
Ama flushed and her eyes flashed. Mounting the steps of the platform she took her stand proudly beside Katalat, reading the countenances of the people as she faced them. Our party remained in a group at one side, midway between the stage and the audience. The Virgins of the Sun sat upon the lower tier of benches, wonderingly regarding the scene.
“People of Tcha,” began the priest, “I have called you here to confer with me upon a very important matter — a matter that affects your lives and future welfare — a matter that has caused the death of hundreds of your relatives and friends and laid your fair city in ruins.”
A murmur of anger ran through the assemblage, but Katalat raised his hand and silenced it.
“Our laws are centuries old,” he resumed, “and they are so wise and just that we have always prospered in obeying them. One of our principal laws is that the legitimate daughter of the High Priestess, descended in a direct line from our first Ama, shall rule supreme in our beautiful valley.”
Every eye was now turned upon the girl, and I was puzzled to understand why the rebellious priest should have rendered her this tribute.
“Until a few weeks ago,” continued Katalat.” peace and comfort reigned in the Vale of Tcha. We were enjoying the reward of ages of honest labor and obedience to the laws of our race. Then there descended upon us these strangers.” Here his eyes flashed upon us wickedly, and another vicious demonstration broke from the crowd, which was quickly suppressed by the speaker.
“Then began our misfortunes,” said the priest. “Our mother, Ama, whom we had all revered and trusted, fell under the evil influence of these vile foreigners. She saved three of them from the sacrifice and made them all her friends, favoring them above her own subjects. They were constantly admitted to her palace, where men are not allowed except to discuss important matters of state with the Ruler. I admit that our Ama counseled with these strangers day by day, disregarding the advice of her faithful priests and her Tribunal, and so bringing countless disasters upon us. By our laws any outsiders who dare intrude upon the Tcha must be put to death; yet Ama has made them her friends and counselors. You know the result. Death and desolation for our people and honors and preference for our enemies.”
Another burst of rage greeted this tirade, but now the High Priestess stepped forward and held up her hand with a regal gesture that quelled the tumult as if by magic.
“People of Tcha,” said she in her clear voice, “you listen to lies and to evil suggestions. These strangers have defended you from harm even when you sought their death. Their power alone saved you from the Itzaex invasion; twice have they saved the life of your Ama. Shall we be ungrateful for this? Shall we let unreasoning anger make us inhuman beasts?”
“The white strangers are intruders!” cried Katalat fiercely, as if fearing the influence of her argument.
“Listen!” said the girl. “How many of you have heard your mothers say that whenever a white stranger finds a way to enter this valley he will become the saviour of our people and the master of our race? The prophecy has been handed down from generation to generation, and at last it has been fulfilled. This man,” here she pointed to Paul, “the leader of those you call intruders, but yesterday saved our race from annihilation; therein has he become our saviour.” Now she drew herself up proudly as she continued with sparkling eyes: “And he is to be my chosen husband, thus becoming the master of us all, as the prophecy saith. Citizens and subjects, I call upon you all to honor this man!”
“Not so!” shouted Katalat, raising a clenched fist. “I declare that this man’s evil arts brought upon us the earthquakes. Never have we suffered such disasters until the strangers came among us, encouraging our High Priestess to disregard the laws and rob our mighty
and glorious god of his rightful sacrifices.”
“I will disregard the law no longer,” said Ama, turning suddenly upon the priest. “Any disrespect to the Supreme Ruler of the Tcha is by our law severely punished. Waba Pagatka, I order you to arrest this false and rebellious priest!”
The captain glanced toward Katalat, but did not move to obey. Advancing a step the priest said in an impressive voice:
“Had the Supreme Ruler of the Tcha issued that order, the Waba Pagatka would at once execute it. But this girl is not our Supreme Ruler — she never has been!”
This assertion fairly took Ama’s breath away. It even made me gasp, and Paul’s eyes seemed about to pop out of their sockets.
“Explain your statement, sir!” cried the High Priestess, quickly recovering herself.
“I will,” he replied. “The explanation is due to all the people and should have been made before. You will all remember that ere I became a priest I kept the historic Records of our Library, wherein is written on imperishable parchment every incident that transpires in our valley. In reading these records years ago I discovered an important secret. Our former Ama was childless. She had no daughter to succeed her.”
A murmur of astonishment came from the assembled people. The girl facing them never flinched a muscle.
“Fearing she would be condemned and hated for her failure to supply a successor to the long line of hereditary rulers,” continued Katalat, calmly, “the High Priestess secretly took a child of one of her former priestesses into her palace and proclaimed the infant as her own daughter. When she died, some five years ago, the girl who now stands beside me — the fraudulent substitute — took her place, and none suspected the imposture.
“For myself, I had taken an oath to keep silent unless some act of the false Priestess imperiled the welfare of the nation. In protecting these invaders, our natural enemies, and so bringing upon us the wrath of our justly incensed god, the destruction of our city and the death of hundreds of loyal subjects, this girl has indeed released me from my oath. At last you know the truth — that there is no hereditary High Priestess now living to rule over you, and that therefore her power and supremacy devolve upon me, the lawful High Priest of the Sun.”
That last statement impressed me with the belief that the man was lying. So evidently thought Ama. She drew a breath of relief and actually smiled into the stern faces confronting her — a dazzling, brilliant smile that should have won her case then and there.
“You have listened, my subjects, to this false and absurd accusation,” she said. “Now I ask you to demand from Katalat the proofs of his assertion.”
“The proofs have been submitted to the Triumvirate, to the Counselors and to the Waba Pagatka,” was the quiet rejoinder. “In the Book of Records is the signed confession of our last High Priestess and a copy of the oath she obliged me to take.”
One of the aged Triumvir arose from his seat.
“I have seen and examined the Book of Records, and I testify that the statement of the High Priest is true,” said he.
“I also vouch for the truth of the statement,” said another.
“And I,” added the third.
“If any citizen should still doubt me,” continued the priest, “the record will be shown to him. I have no personal enmity against this girl, who, alas, is now nameless. It was my duty to expose her at this time, and I have done so only to promote the future welfare of the Tcha.”
Ama, who had stood proudly erect until now, suddenly reeled and would have fallen had not both Chaka and Paul leaped upon the platform and supported her. As they led her away Katalat smiled his evil smile and turned to Pagatka.
Arrest those intruders and confine them securely in the House of Seclusion,” he commanded.
If he tries that dodge we’ll paralyze him!” I shouted, angrily.
But the waba advanced calmly toward us, and a file of his men followed him.
Come, boys; let’s beat a retreat,” whispered Paul. “We must get Ama back to her palace.”
We turned to obey, Paul and Chaka going first and hurrying the half fainting girl between them. Ned and Archie backed them up, with Nux and Bryonia just behind. Pedro had no electrite, so Joe and I took charge of the rear.
I had scarcely taken three steps when the waba leaped forward and seized my arm. Whirling around I flashed my electrite and tumbled him into a heap. But the current spread and shot far beyond Pagatka, catching unawares old Katalat as he stood grinning on the platform. He threw up his arms and made a dive into the arena, where he lay as one dead.
A roar of fury burst from the throng. Every able-bodied man present sprang from his seat and rushed toward us, and so bitterly were they incensed that I am sure they would have torn us to pieces could they have laid hands on us.
But we fought a good fight, keeping them off with our electrites while we beat an orderly retreat toward the city. The powerful electric charges stunned them by the dozens, and more would have suffered had not the Tribune called aloud for them to desist.
Let them go! Let them go!” I heard one of the old men cry. “They cannot escape from the valley.”
Believing this to be true, the Tcha held back, for they were not especially anxious to be knocked senseless; and they knew from experience that our weapons, although not deadly, were very effective at close range.
So we gained the temple enclosure and Ama’s palace without further trouble; but no sooner were we inside the building than it was surrounded by the ranks of the Tcha. They camped there, too, as if they had no intention of going away until they forced us to surrender.
Ama’s apartments were at the front of the palace on the second floor, at the end of a narrow hallway. When we had securely barricaded the door into this hall we were shut off from communication with any other part of the building. Two of the priestesses had entered with us to wait upon their mistress, and when Ama had retired to her chamber, sobbing as if broken hearted, we took possession of the big reception room and prepared for defense.
“It’s no use, though,” said Paul gloomily. “We’ll have to give in sooner or later. If only we had our gas-jackets it would be a different story.”
“We have one,” returned Chaka significantly.
Yes; we had one. Joe was wearing it to-day, for we had made it a rule that some one of the party should wear the extra jacket constantly, to use in case of emergency.
“Ama must be saved,” remarked Paul, with decision. “I don’t believe that cowardly priest’s story. I am quite sure he forged that record to ruin the girl and give himself supreme power. But the Tcha believe him, and they will be sure to do Ama some mischief if she remains here, because she had been our friend, if for no other reason.”
“That’s true,” I agreed. “But the gas-jacket won’t carry two very far, as we know, and the girl can’t very well go alone.”
Allerton was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said:
“Chaka is a little too heavy for this task, as has been proven. We must select the lightest of our party to carry Ama away to the Seagull, where Captain Steele will take good care of her. One of you three boys — ”
“Joe’s the lightest,” I said.
“I think you are, Sam.”
“Well, I’m not going,” I declared. “You don’t weigh a pound more than I do, Joe.”
“Don’t argue, Sam,” exclaimed Allerton, sternly. “This is not a matter of choice, but of necessity. You must be far lighter in weight than any of us, and I command you to save Ama.”
“Well, there’s lots of time to decide,” I returned. “We’re all safe enough in this fortress for the present.”
They took this for an admission that I consented; but I had not the slightest intention of deserting my comrades for the sake of a girl.
We now began to examine our arms and equipment, to see how much fight there was left to us. In our storage belts were only a couple of dozen charges for the electrites, all told. Some had four or five, some less. There we
re extra belts in our room in the wing of the priests’ palace, but we could not get at them now. Our firearms were in even worse condition. There were four shots in Ned’s repeating rifle and one in Paul’s. Every revolver was emptied but mine, and I had just one cartridge to the good.
Not a very encouraging prospect for a party hemmed in by a crowd of enemies eager for their lives; but we must make the best of it.
CHAPTER 27
WE SETTLE AN OLD SCORE
After three hours Ama came to us. She had exchanged her regal robes for a simple white toga, in which she appeared very charming in spite of her reddened eyelids and trembling lips. She was a brave girl, I willingly confess, and bore the terrible blow as well as any woman could have done.
Perhaps the bitterness of her disappointment and chagrin was lessened by the thought that her friendship for Paul had brought it upon her. Girls like to make sacrifices for the man they love, I’m told. Repudiated and scorned by the people she had so faithfully served, Ama naturally turned to those who had stood by her in her trouble, and she must have known that every one of us was a faithful friend and devoted to her cause.
Chaka’s conduct filled me with admiration With all his heart and soul he loved this beautiful girl; yet when he saw that “his brother Paul” loved her, too, and that Ama turned more readily to Allerton than she did to him, he had never faltered in his steadfast affection for them both. The girl’s admission in the theatre that she would accept Paul as her husband settled Chaka’s chances for good and all, and he never whispered or wavered an eyelash. He was a savage, this handsome, dignified young fellow, born in savagery and even yet only half civilized. I wish there were more civilized whites as noble as he.
Ama was able to discuss the day’s events with a fair amount of composure.
“My heart is aching and my head whirls,” she said pitifully; “but one cannot die because an ungrateful people has bitterly wronged her.”
“We may all die soon,” remarked Archie, gruffly.
“Not all,” said Ama, with a wan smile. “When you, my friends, have made your escape from this valley, I will go out and deliver myself up to the cruel vengeance of the Tcha.”
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 715