They Found Atlantis

by Dennis Wheatley

  She shrugged her well-covered shoulders; “My mother carried out her ideas of my type quite well in me I think, but you may change your opinion when you see my companions. I would not change my nature with any of them but they are more beautiful. I am too short and lack the grace which they possess. Come now and wash.”

  He followed her to one of the blocks of buildings which faced each other across the pool, each of them had six curtained entrances. She pulled aside the hangings over one doorway and disclosed a large square room furnished with spartan simplicity. There was a couch against the far wall, a dressing-table to one side, above which was set a large metal mirror and against the other wall stood a single oblong coffer. In the middle of the floor was a low sunken bath.

  “This is my room.” announced Lulluma. “You are not afraid of me I hope like the little muscular man who nearly had a fit when he found that Nahou and I were about to remove his damp trousers.”

  Count Axel stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips and quite at his ease. “No.” he replied, passing his fingers over his chin. “If you do wish to eat me I am yours to eat, but first I would prefer to remove this beard—if that is possible. It would be more comfortable for us both.”

  “Later on, if I find that I like you I might try,” she said with delightful frankness, “but I would hardly care to touch you as you are. Look! Nahou has provided this sharp steel against your waking. In this vase you will find oil for lather and here is a linen towel. Water will enter the bath from the hot spring if you press down the Triton’s head which decorates its end. After you have finished remove the spigot from the bottom and it will drain away. On the bed there I have put out a selection of men’s garments. Since you are the first to wake you can choose which you like best. Now I will leave you to make yourself presentable.”

  As she turned to go he laid his hand gently on her arm to detain her. “Forgive me,” he said “but, since neither of us suffer from any shyness may I confess one thing to you? I have never found it altogether easy to wash my own back.”

  Lulluma looked at him for a moment and then she began to laugh again “Well really,” she declared, “you are almost civilised. Quite like one of us. I will bath you with pleasure if you like?”

  When Axel looked at himself in Lulluma’s highly polished metal mirror he saw that he was indeed a filthy sight, but after some initial difficulty with Nahou’s big hand-ground razor he got the hang of it and soon his chin was as smooth as silk. A good wash restored his face to its normal appearance and then he studied himself again. He saw a long humorous countenance smiling at him lazily and decided that his forty odd years had not treated him too harshly. He felt no more than thirty and the abnormally long sleep seemed to have removed half a dozen years of deepening wrinkles from round his eyes and mouth. With an impulsive gesture he swung round to Lulluma.

  “Well, how do I look now?”

  She was sitting on her divan polishing her toe-nails and she looked up with a start. “Why—you’re quite good-looking.” her big eyes widened, “I thought you were almost an old man and was only attracted by something about your mind which your friends do not possess … before!”

  As he turned on the water she stood up and added; “I only consented to bath you out of courtesy you know—but now I think it will be rather fun.”

  With a little wriggle of her shoulders she slipped off her red dress and picked up the vase of oil. Then amid splashings and laughter she scrubbed him so vigorously that he had to cry for mercy.

  He chose a green tunic and when she had helped him to adjust it they went outside together. The others were still sound asleep so she offered to show him the island and they strolled off side by side.

  In the grove of palm trees behind the temple there was another group of buildings. A wide kitchen, a small laundry, and a row of workshops for metallurgy, dyeing, weaving, and distilling. All were quite deserted and showed no signs of recent labour. The rows of golden plates and dishes were arranged neatly in the kitchen racks, every tool and implement in the shops occupied its special place; no trace of waste material marred the scrupulous cleanness in any corner.

  “You see, each of us make what we require for ourselves and nothing more,” Lulluma explained, “and when we wish to eat we gather whatever fresh fruit is in season from the trees or net a fish in the lake and cook it. All waste is consumed immediately after by the earthshine.”

  “How does that work?” he asked. “It seems to have all the properties of sunshine.”

  “It has.” She assured him. “You doubtless know that the centre of the earth is molten and gives off gases which are exactly similar to those which shoot out in great flames from the sun. Long ages ago our people tapped that source of heat and light and then it was a comparatively simple matter to conduct it through certain minerals so that it should give a steady glow. The circular arrangement round the roof enables the trees and plants to benefit from it at every angle in the same degree so that they are never distorted in one direction. The result is similar to that produced by the movement of your sun.”

  “Forgive me, but there are so many things I want to ask you,” he smiled down at her, “From the way you speak you are obviously familiar with our upper world?”

  “There is little to do here” she answered enigmatically “except make love!”

  “You find that pall at times?”

  “No, never—because we do not abuse our zest for it. Once every year or two each of us has some tremendous affair which lasts a few months, then when we are satiated for the moment, we go away. Later the urge rises again and when we feel it really strongly we take our happiness with another.”

  “You speak of going away. What do you mean by that?”

  “Two of us are always what you would call ‘on duty’ here. It was the turn of Nahou and myself when you arrived. The others spend most of the year in sleep. Sometimes we sleep for a month or more at a stretch, and during that time our spirit travels—as quickly as an ether wave. We have learned to direct it to the place where we wish to go. The eyes of our invisible bodies can observe your customs and our ears can hear your speech. That is how we have learned your languages and know quite a lot about you, but there are many things you do which puzzle us still.”

  Axel nodded. “That sounds amazing—but I understand it. In a rudimentary way the people of the upper world practise thought transference at times or visit their friends in dreams, so that they are able to listen to their speech and see what they are doing. Such things with us are rare, haphazard and chancy though, whereas you must have developed these faculties to a fine art.”

  “We have had an unbroken civilisation for twenty-nine thousand years in which to do it.” She said simply.

  “Twenty-nine … thousand … years! That makes us seem to be still in the embryo stage then—but tell me more of what you do?”

  “We remain here for a few days to renew our strength, then we set off again, and so life goes on until the love-urge is upon us once more; then, for a little while, we revel in what you would term a new honeymoon.”

  “I should have thought that your bodies would have wasted during those long periods of sleep.”

  “On the contrary. It is that which enables our tissues to restore themselves and rests the organs, so that we remain young and beautiful far longer than the people of your world above. Come now—I will show you what you would call our ‘Kitchen Garden’.”

  She pushed her arm impulsively through his and led him out of the palm grove to the far side of the island.

  Just as the flower garden behind the pool was different from any which Axel had ever seen before so this ‘Kitchen-Garden’ was quite unusual in its lay-out. It extended the whole breadth of the island between the ten-foot deep creeper-clad walls and covered about two acres of ground, but there were no large ugly patches of vegetables and it had been planned with the most skilful care.

  Its design was rigidly formal and the intersecting paths were bordered by succ
essive rows of different plants, each slightly higher than the one in front until the rearmost hedged in solid squares of cereals. On each side of the paved walks Axel noticed lines of low root-crops—types of radish, carrot, turnip and many others which he did not recognise. Further in there were lettuces, dwarf beans and peas, then potatoes, broccoli and cabbages until rows of tall artichokes and espaliered fruit trees fenced in the blocks of wheat, oats, barley and maize.

  He would never have believed that any purely utilitarian garden could be made so beautiful, yet the long lines of contrasting greens were worthy of Le Notre and the restful colouring gave a peace to the eyes which no massed ranks of flowers could have conveyed.

  Lulluma pointed to a low, square building at the far end. “That is where our roots and crops are stored—also it contains our wine-press and our mill. The wines of course have to be kept underground for many years before they are drinkable. Beyond is the enclosure where we pasture our herd of deer, and the fish-pond. Then at the extremity of the island is the jungle. Would you like to see those too?”

  “Please” Axel moved forward beside her, “I wish to admire everything. Your domain is more enchanting than any fairyland of which I have ever dreamed.”

  The vegetable garden ended in a metal fence almost entirely hidden by vines from which hung bunches of small unripe grapes. They passed through a gateway in it to a grassy, uncultivated wilderness. The island was slightly narrower here and a small stream, fed by some hidden spring meandered through the meadow to a lake fringed by tall reeds. As they walked forward a little herd of antelope, no more than twenty inches high, raised their heads to gaze at them with large liquid eyes, then scampered off to cover in the wall of greenness which kept the island secret and enclosed.

  Beyond the lake another fence cut off the far segment of the island which was entirely covered by dense jungle. At first, when they entered it through another gate it seemed a solid mass of flowering creepers so inextricably interwoven that it was difficult to see the tree trunks on which they climbed. Splashes of blossom, yellow, pink, blue, and scarlet stood out against the massed green of the background and scented the air with the fragrance of a perfume-maker’s laboratory.

  Lulluma pulled aside a bunch of hanging tendrils and Axel followed her into a cool dark maze gently dappled by the earthshine which penetrated in speckled patches between the leaves above. Hardly discernible paths wound in and out among the massed bushes and clumps of flowering vines while here and there were more open spaces and recesses which invited rest on their mossy banks among the warm shadows.

  “It is here” said Lulluma “that we often come to make love.”

  Axel felt his heart pounding beneath his ribs and his arm trembled as he put it round her shoulder, but a subtle instinct told him that she intended no invitation and that his only hope lay in exercising the greatest restraint. This small warm pagan goddess was no primitive creature to be taken by rough assault. Something told him that in spite of her apparent youth she knew the game of love even better than he did and could only be caressed at her own pleasure. When that time came he felt that she would show her desire as naturally as she would hunger or thirst.

  His blood was pounding heavily behind his temples and he knew that he must break the tension or else he might do something which he would ever afterwards regret, so he removed his arm and leaned against a tree trunk, then spoke unthinkingly of the first thing which came into his mind.

  “This is like Eden—to make it complete you only need the Serpent!”

  Instantly she sprang away from him with dark, fear-distended eyes.

  “What is it? … I’m sorry! … please, what have I done?” he exclaimed, holding out his hands to her in quick supplication.

  She shuddered and glanced over her shoulder fearfully. The jungle garden seemed very silent now as though every tree and vine were listening. Then she sighed and placed her hands in his.

  “You should not have said that.” She whispered, “Never—never speak of evil. It is almost our only rule but very strictly kept. The Ancient One has been barred out of here for countless centuries but he still waits, as he will wait until the end of time, for an invitation to enter in.”

  Her voice was so intensely earnest that he could find no adequate apology and only bowed his head as though guilty of having broken some fragile priceless treasure.

  She lifted a hand to his cheek and stroked it gently, seeking now to comfort him; “You spoke only thoughtlessly and in jest I know but words have such terrible power. They vibrate on the ether long, long after our ears have ceased to hear them and evil forces focus, unseen, all about them. I am so afraid that what you have said may, in some awful way, mar the wonderful happiness I foresee for us—but that which has been spoken can never be recalled. All I can do now is to throw my vibrations about us both and trust that they may prove an effectual barrier.

  In silence now they moved on again yet, after Lulluma’s outburst she soon seemed to push the episode into the back of her mind and regain her spirits. A few moments later she put her finger to her lips to enjoin quietness before drawing him round a corner of the maze.

  There, in a nook, a fully grown girl was sleeping at the foot of a stone pillar topped by a bust of the God Priapus. A garland hung from the age-old symbol by which Axel recognised the Deity. The girl wore only a light tunic of white linen edged with gold; her hair, a lustrous ash-blonde colour, contrasting also with Lulluma’s in that she wore it long, covered her shoulders and fell below her delicately modelled breasts. She was extremely lovely, with the milk and rose complexion of Axel’s own Nordic people and her limbs, scarcely veiled by the semi-transparent material of her dress were long and graceful. He could not remember ever seeing such a perfect example of her type.

  “Well, what do you say now?” Lulluma asked with a mocking glance, “Would you not rather make love to her than to me? Speak truthfully—I shall not bear any ill-will. No man could hesitate at such a choice for she is far lovelier than I.”

  Axel shook his head and his tone carried conviction: “Many men might judge her to be more beautiful,” he acknowledged. “But you have something which she lacks. Camilla is by no means perfect yet she might prove no mean rival to this girl, for the love of a man, whereas you are apart—infinitely rarer and more desirable. It is possible to meet such loveliness as hers on earth but yours only in the Garden of the Gods.”

  Lulluma accepted this praise but seemed only moderately pleased by it. She looked down on the sleeping girl and murmured: “I thought she was unique. I am intensely proud of her. She is Danöe—my daughter.”

  “What?” exclaimed Axel incredulously. “But that is impossible.”

  “Hush!” Lulluma drew him hurriedly back behind a screen of hanging creepers.

  “But you?” Axel lowered his voice. “I don’t understand—you can’t be more than twenty yourself—or let’s be lavish and say twenty-two.”

  “That is just it.” Lulluma smiled enigmatically. “You do not understand. In this place we come normally to maturity in twenty years but after that the fact that we pass two-thirds of each year in sleep preserves our youth almost indefinitely. Presently you will see another of us—Laötzii, a woman of ninety, but to you she will appear to be only a little over forty.”

  “But you?” persisted Axel, “perhaps it is rude to ask but—how old are you?”

  “I am young yet.” Lulluma gave her deep gurgling chuckle. “Only forty-four next birthday.”

  Axel surveyed again the warm loveliness which glowed before him; “I would have wagered a fortune that you could not be more than twenty-three.”

  “It is these long periods of sleep,” she repeated. “How old do you think Nahou is?”

  “If one judges by appearances I should say fifty. His muscles are so supple. There is not a single thread of grey in that fine straight black hair of his—he cannot be more.”

  Lulluma laughed at his indignant tone. “He has lived over one hundred years. If
I remember he is a hundred and four. He is my grandfather and, with the exception of Menes, the oldest man amongst us.… Also he is a most accomplished lover,” she added naively.

  “To what age do you live then?” Axel asked, ignoring her last remark.

  “A hundred and thirty-eight to a hundred and forty-five. The last is a record I think.”

  “How many are there of you here—awake or asleep?”

  “Twelve only. Six women and six men. That number was decided on within a few generations of the Flood and it has never been varied since except for brief periods when we are eleven or thirteen. A child is born to one of our women every twelve years and if the eldest of our community is not already dead, they die quite naturally within a few months of the birth because their time is done and they no longer wish to live. Semiramis is the oldest of our women now. She is about a hundred and forty and if she is not dead before she will die soon after my daughter Danöe bears her first child—which will be in about four years’ time.”

  “You speak as if that was quite certain. Have you the power to control such things?”

  She nodded. “With us the gift of life is at the discretion of the giver’s will. Such power was only achieved after innumerable generations of conscious effort by every mother, but concentrated thought is the greatest force in the world. By it we can heal very serious injuries when they occur in the mill or metallurgical workshop—although accidents are very rare with us.”

  “Yes—I understand that,” said Axel thoughtfully. “In the upper world there are now many people who follow a religion which centres largely round faith-healing. They are not always successful in fighting disease but they have worked a lot of cures where the doctors have failed. That you should have developed a similar faculty to a more perfect degree is not so surprising but the control of childbirth by will is a much greater problem, or have you reached that degree of evolution whereby only one sex is necessary for the reproduction of the species?”

  “Of course not, you dear fool!” Lulluma laughed as she opened the gate from the jungle to the meadow; “There was a lot of difficulty at first but our women had already progressed considerably in regulating the size of their families artificially even before the cataclysm. When they wholeheartedly desired to have a child it was considered a sin not to do so though, for only by intent can the most beautiful and balanced children be born.