The E. Nesbit Megapack: 26 Classic Novels and Stories (96 page)

The learned gentleman, now very pale, stumbled along in a dazed way, repeating:

‘Oricalchum—oricalchum.’

‘Don’t be frightened,’ said Anthea; ‘we can get home in a minute, just by holding up the charm. Would you rather go back now? We could easily come some other day without you.’

‘Oh, no, no,’ he pleaded fervently; ‘let the dream go on. Please, please do.’

‘The High Ji-Jimmy is perhaps weary with his magic journey,’ said the Captain, noticing the blundering walk of the learned gentleman; ‘and we are yet very far from the Great Temple, where today the Kings make sacrifice.’

He stopped at the gate of a great enclosure. It seemed to be a sort of park, for trees showed high above its brazen wall.

The party waited, and almost at once the Captain came back with one of the hairy elephants and begged them to mount.

This they did.

It was a glorious ride. The elephant at the Zoo—to ride on him is also glorious, but he goes such a very little way, and then he goes back again, which is always dull. But this great hairy beast went on and on and on along streets and through squares and gardens. It was a glorious city; almost everything was built of marble, red, or white, or black. Every now and then the party crossed a bridge.

It was not till they had climbed to the hill which is the centre of the town that they saw that the whole city was divided into twenty circles, alternately land and water, and over each of the water circles were the bridges by which they had come.

And now they were in a great square. A vast building filled up one side of it; it was overlaid with gold, and had a dome of silver. The rest of the buildings round the square were of oricalchum. And it looked more splendid than you can possibly imagine, standing up bold and shining in the sunlight.

‘You would like a bath,’ said the Captain, as the hairy elephant went clumsily down on his knees. ‘It’s customary, you know, before entering the Presence. We have baths for men, women, horses, and cattle. The High Class Baths are here. Our Father Poseidon gave us a spring of hot water and one of cold.’

The children had never before bathed in baths of gold.

‘It feels very splendid,’ said Cyril, splashing.

‘At least, of course, it’s not gold; it’s or—what’s its name,’ said Robert. ‘Hand over that towel.’

The bathing hall had several great pools sunk below the level of the floor; one went down to them by steps.

‘Jimmy,’ said Anthea timidly, when, very clean and boiled-looking, they all met in the flowery courtyard of the Public, ‘don’t you think all this seems much more like
now
than Babylon or Egypt—? Oh, I forgot, you’ve never been there.’

‘I know a little of those nations, however,’ said he, ‘and I quite agree with you. A most discerning remark—my dear,’ he added awkwardly; ‘this city certainly seems to indicate a far higher level of civilization than the Egyptian or Babylonish, and—’

‘Follow me,’ said the Captain. ‘Now, boys, get out of the way.’ He pushed through a little crowd of boys who were playing with dried chestnuts fastened to a string.

‘Ginger!’ remarked Robert, ‘they’re playing conkers, just like the kids in Kentish Town Road!’

They could see now that three walls surrounded the island on which they were. The outermost wall was of brass, the Captain told them; the next, which looked like silver, was covered with tin; and the innermost one was of oricalchum.

And right in the middle was a wall of gold, with golden towers and gates.

‘Behold the Temples of Poseidon,’ said the Captain. ‘It is not lawful for me to enter. I will await your return here.’

He told them what they ought to say, and the five people from Fitzroy Street took hands and went forward. The golden gates slowly opened.

‘We are the children of the Sun,’ said Cyril, as he had been told, ‘and our High Priest, at least that’s what the Captain calls him. We have a different name for him at home.’

‘What is his name?’ asked a white-robed man who stood in the doorway with his arms extended.

‘Ji-Jimmy,’ replied Cyril, and he hesitated as Anthea had done. It really did seem to be taking a great liberty with so learned a gentleman. ‘And we have come to speak with your Kings in the Temple of Poseidon—does that word sound right?’ he whispered anxiously.

‘Quite,’ said the learned gentleman. ‘It’s very odd I can understand what you say to them, but not what they say to you.’

‘The Queen of Babylon found that too,’ said Cyril; ‘it’s part of the magic.’

‘Oh, what a dream!’ said the learned gentleman.

The white-robed priest had been joined by others, and all were bowing low.

‘Enter,’ he said, ‘enter, Children of the Sun, with your High Ji-Jimmy.’

In an inner courtyard stood the Temple—all of silver, with gold pinnacles and doors, and twenty enormous statues in bright gold of men and women. Also an immense pillar of the other precious yellow metal.

They went through the doors, and the priest led them up a stair into a gallery from which they could look down on to the glorious place.

‘The ten Kings are even now choosing the bull. It is not lawful for me to behold,’ said the priest, and fell face downward on the floor outside the gallery. The children looked down.

The roof was of ivory adorned with the three precious metals, and the walls were lined with the favourite oricalchum.

At the far end of the Temple was a statue group, the like of which no one living has ever seen.

It was of gold, and the head of the chief figure reached to the roof. That figure was Poseidon, the Father of the City. He stood in a great chariot drawn by six enormous horses, and round about it were a hundred mermaids riding on dolphins.

Ten men, splendidly dressed and armed only with sticks and ropes, were trying to capture one of some fifteen bulls who ran this way and that about the floor of the Temple. The children held their breath, for the bulls looked dangerous, and the great horned heads were swinging more and more wildly.

Anthea did not like looking at the bulls. She looked about the gallery, and noticed that another staircase led up from it to a still higher storey; also that a door led out into the open air, where there seemed to be a balcony.

So that when a shout went up and Robert whispered, ‘Got him,’ and she looked down and saw the herd of bulls being driven out of the Temple by whips, and the ten Kings following, one of them spurring with his stick a black bull that writhed and fought in the grip of a lasso, she answered the boy’s agitated, ‘Now we shan’t see anything more,’ with—

‘Yes we can, there’s an outside balcony.’

So they crowded out.

But very soon the girls crept back.

‘I don’t like sacrifices,’ Jane said. So she and Anthea went and talked to the priest, who was no longer lying on his face, but sitting on the top step mopping his forehead with his robe, for it was a hot day.

‘It’s a special sacrifice,’ he said; ‘usually it’s only done on the justice days every five years and six years alternately. And then they drink the cup of wine with some of the bull’s blood in it, and swear to judge truly. And they wear the sacred blue robe, and put out all the Temple fires. But this today is because the City’s so upset by the odd noises from the sea, and the god inside the big mountain speaking with his thunder-voice. But all that’s happened so often before. If anything could make
me
uneasy it wouldn’t be
that
.’

‘What would it be?’ asked Jane kindly.

‘It would be the Lemmings.’

‘Who are they—enemies?’

‘They’re a sort of rat; and every year they come swimming over from the country that no man knows, and stay here awhile, and then swim away. This year they haven’t come. You know rats won’t stay on a ship that’s going to be wrecked. If anything horrible were going to happen to us, it’s my belief those Lemmings would know; and that may be why they’ve fought shy of us.’

‘What do you call this country?’ asked the Psammead, suddenly putting its head out of its bag.

‘Atlantis,’ said the priest.

‘Then I advise you to get on to the highest ground you can find. I remember hearing something about a flood here. Look here, you’—it turned to Anthea; ‘let’s get home. The prospect’s too wet for my whiskers.’ The girls obediently went to find their brothers, who were leaning on the balcony railings.

‘Where’s the learned gentleman?’ asked Anthea.

‘There he is—below,’ said the priest, who had come with them. ‘Your High Ji-Jimmy is with the Kings.’

The ten Kings were no longer alone. The learned gentleman—no one had noticed how he got there—stood with them on the steps of an altar, on which lay the dead body of the black bull. All the rest of the courtyard was thick with people, seemingly of all classes, and all were shouting, ‘The sea—the sea!’

‘Be calm,’ said the most kingly of the Kings, he who had lassoed the bull. ‘Our town is strong against the thunders of the sea and of the sky!’

‘I want to go home,’ whined the Psammead.

‘We can’t go without
him
,’ said Anthea firmly.

‘Jimmy,’ she called, ‘Jimmy!’ and waved to him. He heard her, and began to come towards her through the crowd. They could see from the balcony the sea-captain edging his way out from among the people. And his face was dead white, like paper.

‘To the hills!’ he cried in a loud and terrible voice. And above his voice came another voice, louder, more terrible—the voice of the sea.

The girls looked seaward.

Across the smooth distance of the sea something huge and black rolled towards the town. It was a wave, but a wave a hundred feet in height, a wave that looked like a mountain—a wave rising higher and higher till suddenly it seemed to break in two—one half of it rushed out to sea again; the other—

‘Oh!’ cried Anthea, ‘the town—the poor people!’

‘It’s all thousands of years ago, really,’ said Robert but his voice trembled. They hid their eyes for a moment. They could not bear to look down, for the wave had broken on the face of the town, sweeping over the quays and docks, overwhelming the great storehouses and factories, tearing gigantic stones from forts and bridges, and using them as battering rams against the temples. Great ships were swept over the roofs of the houses and dashed down halfway up the hill among ruined gardens and broken buildings. The water ground brown fishing-boats to powder on the golden roofs of Palaces.

Then the wave swept back towards the sea.

‘I want to go home,’ cried the Psammead fiercely.

‘Oh, yes, yes!’ said Jane, and the boys were ready—but the learned gentleman had not come.

Then suddenly they heard him dash up to the inner gallery, crying—

‘I
must
see the end of the dream.’ He rushed up the higher flight.

The others followed him. They found themselves in a sort of turret—roofed, but open to the air at the sides.

The learned gentleman was leaning on the parapet, and as they rejoined him the vast wave rushed back on the town. This time it rose higher—destroyed more.

‘Come home,’ cried the Psammead; ‘
that’s
the
last
, I know it is! That’s the last—over there.’ It pointed with a claw that trembled.

‘Oh, come!’ cried Jane, holding up the Amulet.

‘I
will see
the end of the dream,’ cried the learned gentleman.

‘You’ll never see anything else if you do,’ said Cyril. ‘Oh,
Jimmy
!’ appealed Anthea. ‘I’ll
never
bring you out again!’

‘You’ll never have the chance if you don’t go soon,’ said the Psammead.

‘I
will
see the end of the dream,’ said the learned gentleman obstinately.

The hills around were black with people fleeing from the villages to the mountains. And even as they fled thin smoke broke from the great white peak, and then a faint flash of flame. Then the volcano began to throw up its mysterious fiery inside parts. The earth trembled; ashes and sulphur showered down; a rain of fine pumice-stone fell like snow on all the dry land. The elephants from the forest rushed up towards the peaks; great lizards thirty yards long broke from the mountain pools and rushed down towards the sea. The snows melted and rushed down, first in avalanches, then in roaring torrents. Great rocks cast up by the volcano fell splashing in the sea miles away.

‘Oh, this is horrible!’ cried Anthea. ‘Come home, come home!’

‘The end of the dream,’ gasped the learned gentleman.

‘Hold up the Amulet,’ cried the Psammead suddenly. The place where they stood was now crowded with men and women, and the children were strained tight against the parapet. The turret rocked and swayed; the wave had reached the golden wall.

Jane held up the Amulet.

‘Now,’ cried the Psammead, ‘say the word!’

And as Jane said it the Psammead leaped from its bag and bit the hand of the learned gentleman.

At the same moment the boys pushed him through the arch and all followed him.

He turned to look back, and through the arch he saw nothing but a waste of waters, with above it the peak of the terrible mountain with fire raging from it.

He staggered back to his chair.

‘What a ghastly dream!’ he gasped. ‘Oh, you’re here, my—er—dears. Can I do anything for you?’

‘You’ve hurt your hand,’ said Anthea gently; ‘let me bind it up.’

The hand was indeed bleeding rather badly.

The Psammead had crept back to its bag. All the children were very white.

‘Never again,’ said the Psammead later on, ‘will I go into the Past with a grown-up person! I will say for you four, you
do
do as you’re told.’

‘We didn’t even find the Amulet,’ said Anthea later still.

‘Of course you didn’t; it wasn’t there. Only the stone it was made of was there. It fell on to a ship miles away that managed to escape and got to Egypt.
I
could have told you that.’

‘I wish you had,’ said Anthea, and her voice was still rather shaky. ‘Why didn’t you?’

‘You never asked me,’ said the Psammead very sulkily. ‘I’m not the sort of chap to go shoving my oar in where it’s not wanted.’

‘Mr Ji-Jimmy’s friend will have something worth having to put in his article now,’ said Cyril very much later indeed.

‘Not he,’ said Robert sleepily. ‘The learned Ji-Jimmy will think it’s a dream, and it’s ten to one he never tells the other chap a word about it at all.’

Robert was quite right on both points. The learned gentleman did. And he never did.

CHAPTER 10

THE LITTLE BLACK GIRL AND JULIUS CAESAR

A great city swept awa
y by the sea, a beautiful country devastated by an active volcano—these are not the sort of things you see every day of the week. And when you do see them, no matter how many other wonders you may have seen in your time, such sights are rather apt to take your breath away. Atlantis had certainly this effect on the breaths of Cyril, Robert, Anthea, and Jane.

They remained in a breathless state for some days. The learned gentleman seemed as breathless as anyone; he spent a good deal of what little breath he had in telling Anthea about a wonderful dream he had. ‘You would hardly believe,’ he said, ‘that anyone
could
have such a detailed vision.’

But Anthea could believe it, she said, quite easily.

He had ceased to talk about thought-transference. He had now seen too many wonders to believe that.