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HOME > Classical Novels > The Secret of Sarek > CHAPTER XVI THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA
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CHAPTER XVI THE HALL OF THE KINGS OF BOHEMIA
 Don Luis interrupted himself after delivering his opening sentence and stood enjoying the effect produced. Captain Belval, who knew his friend, was laughing heartily1. Stéphane continued to look anxious. All's Well had not budged2.  
Don Luis continued:
 
"Let me begin by confessing, ladies and gentlemen, that my object in fixing my date so precisely3 was to some extent to stagger you. In reality I could not tell you within a few centuries the exact date of the scene which I shall have the honour of describing to you. But what I can guarantee is that it is laid in that country of Europe which to-day we call Bohemia and at the spot where the little industrial town of Joachimsthal now stands. That, I hope, is fairly circumstantial. Well, on the morning of the day when my story begins, there was great excitement among one of those Celtic tribes which had settled a century or two earlier between the banks of the Danube and the sources of the Elbe, amidst the Hyrcanian forests. The warriors4, assisted by their wives, were striking their tents, collecting the sacred axes, the bows and arrows, gathering5 up the pottery6, the bronze and tin implements8, loading the horses and the oxen.
 
"The chiefs were here, there and everywhere, attending to the smallest details. There was neither tumult9 nor disorder10. They started early in the direction of a tributary11 of the Elbe, the Eger, which they reached towards the end of the day. Here boats were waiting, guarded by a hundred of the picked warriors who had been sent ahead. One of these boats was conspicuous12 for its size and the richness of its decoration. A long yellow cloth was stretched from side to side. The chief of chiefs, the King, if you prefer, climbed on the stern thwart13 and made a speech which I will spare you, because I do not wish to shorten my own, but which may be summed up as follows: the tribe was emigrating to escape the cupidity14 of the neighbouring populations. It is always sad to leave the places where one has dwelt. But it made no difference to the men of the tribe, because they were carrying with them their most valuable possession, the sacred inheritance of their ancestors, the divinity that protected them and made them formidable and great among the greatest, in short, the stone that covered the tomb of their kings.
 
"And the chief of chiefs, with a solemn gesture, drew the yellow cloth and revealed a block of granite15 in the shape of a slab16 about two yards by one, granular in appearance and dark in colour, with a few glittering scales gleaming in its substance.
 
"There was a single shout raised by the crowd of men and women; and all, with outstretched arms, fell flat on their faces in the dust.
 
"Then the chief of chiefs took up a metal sceptre with a jewelled handle, which lay on the block of granite, brandished17 it on high and spoke18:
 
"'The all-powerful staff shall not leave my hand until the miraculous19 stone is in a place of safety. The all-powerful staff is born of the miraculous stone. It also contains the fire of heaven, which gives life or death. While the miraculous stone was the tomb of my forefathers20, the all-powerful staff never left their hands on days of disaster or of victory. May the fire of heaven lead us! May the Sun-god light our way!'
 
"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey."
 
Don Luis struck an attitude and repeated, in a self-satisfied tone:
 
"He spoke: and the whole tribe set out upon its journey."
 
Patrice Belval was greatly amused; and Stéphane, infected by his hilarity21, began to feel more cheerful. But Don Luis now addressed his remarks to them:
 
"There's nothing to laugh at! All this is very serious. It's not a story for children who believe in conjuring22 tricks and sleight23 of hand, but a real history, all the details of which will, as you shall see, give rise to precise, natural and, in a sense, scientific explanations. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, scientific: I am not afraid of the word. We are here on scientific ground; and Vorski himself will regret his cynical24 merriment."
 
Don Luis took a second sip25 of water and continued:
 
"For weeks and months the tribe followed the course of the Elbe; and one evening, on the stroke of half-past nine, reached the sea-board, in the country which afterwards became the country of the[Pg 312] Frisians. It remained there for weeks and months, without finding the requisite26 security. It therefore determined27 upon a fresh exodus28.
 
"This time it was a naval29 exodus. Thirty boats put out to sea—observe this number thirty, which was that of the families composing the tribe—and for weeks and months they wandered from shore to shore, settling first in Scandinavia, next among the Saxons, driven off, putting to sea again and continuing their voyage. And I assure you it was really a strange, moving, impressive sight to see this vagrant30 tribe dragging in its wake the tombstone of its kings and seeking a safe, inaccessible31 and final refuge in which to conceal32 its idol33, protect it from the attack of its enemies, celebrate its worship and employ it to consolidate34 the tribal35 power.
 
"The last stage was Ireland; and it was here that, one day, after they had dwelt in the green isle36 for half a century or perhaps a century, after their manners had acquired a certain softening37 by contact with nations which were already less barbarous, the grandson or great-grandson of the great chief, himself a great chief, received one of the emissaries whom he maintained in the neighbouring countries. This one came from the continent. He had discovered the miraculous refuge. It was an almost unapproachable island, protected by thirty rocks and having thirty granite monuments to guard it.
 
"Thirty! The fateful number! It was an obvious summons and command from the mysterious deities38. The thirty galleys39 were launched once more and the expedition set forth40.
 
"It succeeded. They took the island by assault. The natives they simply exterminated41. The tribe settled down; and the tombstone of the Kings of Bohemia was installed . . . in the very place which it occupies to-day and which I showed to our friend Vorski. Here I must interpolate a few historical data of the greatest significance. I will be brief."
 
Adopting a professorial tone, Don Luis explained:
 
"The island of Sarek, like all France and all the western part of Europe, had been inhabited for thousands of years by a race known as the Liguri, the direct descendants of the cave-dwellers part of whose manners and customs they had retained. They were mighty42 builders, those Liguri, who, in the neolithic43 period, perhaps under the influence of the great civilizations of the east, had erected44 their huge blocks of granite and built their colossal45 funeral chambers46.
 
"It was here that our tribe found and made great use of a system of caves and natural crypts adapted by the patient hand of man and of a cluster of enormous monuments which struck the mystic and superstitious47 imagination of the Celts.
 
"We find therefore that, after the first or wandering phase, there begins for the God-Stone a period of rest and worship which we will call the Druidical period. It lasted for a thousand or fifteen hundred years. The tribe became mingled48 with the neighbouring tribes and probably lived under the protection of some Breton king. But, little by little, the ascendancy49 had passed from the chiefs to the priests; and these priests, that is to say, the Druids, assumed an authority which increased in the course of the generations that followed.
 
"They owed this authority, beyond all doubt, to the miraculous stone. True, they were the priests of a religion accepted by all and also the instructors50 of Gallic childhood (it seems certain, incidentally, that the cells under the Black Heath were those of a Druid convent, or rather a sort of university); true, in obedience51 to the practices of the time, they presided over human sacrifices and ordained52 the gathering of the mistletoe, the vervain and all the magic herbs; but, before all, in the island of Sarek, they were the guardians53 and the possessors of the stone which gave life or death. Placed above the hall of the underground sacrifices, it was at that time undoubtedly54 visible in the open air; and I have every reason to believe that the Fairies' Dolmen, which we now see here, then stood in the place known as the Calvary of the Flowers and sheltered the God-Stone. It was there that ailing55 and crippled persons and sickly children were laid to recover their health and strength. It was on the sacred slab that barren women became fruitful, on the sacred slab that old men felt their energies revive.
 
"In my eyes it dominates the whole of the legendary56 and fabled57 past of Brittany. It is the radiating centre of all the superstitions58, all the beliefs, all the fears and hopes of the country. By virtue59 of the stone or of the magic sceptre which the archdruid wielded60 and with which he burnt men's flesh or healed their sores at will, we see the beautiful tales of romance springing spontaneously into being, tales of the knights61 of the Round Table, tales of Merlin the wizard. The stone is at the bottom of every mystery, at the heart of every symbol. It is darkness and light in one, the great riddle62 and the great explanation."
 
Don Luis uttered these last words with a certain exaltation. He smiled:
 
"Don't let yourself be carried away, Vorski. We'll keep our enthusiasm for the narrative63 of your crimes. For the moment, we are at the climax64 of the Druidical period, a period which lasted far beyond the Druids through long centuries during which, after the Druids had gone, the miraculous stone was exploited by the sorcerers and soothsayers. And thus we come gradually to the third period, the religious period, that is to say, actually to the progressive decline of all that constituted the glory of Sarek: pilgrimages, commemorative festivals and so forth.
 
"The Church in fact was unable to put up with that crude fetish-worship. As soon as she was strong enough, she was bound to fight against the block of granite which attracted so many believers and perpetuated65 so hateful a religion. The fight was an unequal one; and the past succumbed66. The dolmen was moved to where we stand, the slab of the kings of Bohemia was buried under a layer of earth and a Calvary rose at the very spot where the sacrilegious miracles were once wrought67.
 
"And, over and above that, there was the great oblivion!
 
"Let me explain. The practices were forgotten. The rites68 were forgotten and all that constituted the history of a vanished cult69. But the God-Stone was not forgotten. Men no longer knew where it was. In time they even no longer knew what it was. But they never ceased to speak of and believe in the existence of something which they called the God-Stone. From mouth to mouth, from generation to generation, they handed down on to one another fabulous70 and terrible stories, which became farther and farther removed from reality, which formed a more and more vague and, for that matter, a more and more frightful71 legend, but which kept alive in their imaginations the recollection of the God-Stone and, above all, its name.
 
"This persistence72 of an idea in men's memories, this survival of a fact in the annals of a country had the logical result that, from time to time, some enquiring73 person would try to reconstruct the prodigious74 truth. Two of these enquiring persons, Brother Thomas, a member of the Benedictine Order, who lived in the middle of the fifteenth century, and the man Maguennoc, in our own time, played an important part. Brother Thomas was a poet and an illuminator75 about whom we possess not many details, a very bad poet, to judge by his verses, but as an illuminator ingenuous76 and not devoid77 of talent. He left a sort of missal in which he related his life at Sarek Abbey and drew the thirty dolmens of the island, the whole accompanied by instances, religious quotations78 and predictions after the manner of Nostradamus. It was this missal, discovered by Maguennoc aforesaid, that contained the famous page with the crucified women and the prophecy relating to Sarek; it was this missal that I myself found and consulted last night in Maguennoc's bedroom.
 
"He was an odd person, this Maguennoc, a belated descendant of the sorcerers of old; and I strongly suspect him of playing the ghost on more than one occasion. You may be sure that the white-robed, white-bearded Druid whom people declared that they had seen on the sixth day of the moon, gathering the mistletoe, was none other than Maguennoc. He too knew all about the good old recipes, the healing herbs, the way to work up the soil so as to make it yield enormous flowers. One thing is certain, that he explored the mortuary crypts and the hall of the sacrifices, that it was he who purloined79 the magic stone contained in the knob of the sceptre and that he used to enter these crypts by the opening through which we have just come, in the middle of the Postern path, of which he was obliged each time to replace the screen of stones and pebbles80. It was he also who gave M. d'Hergemont the page from the missal. Whether he confided81 the result of his last explorations to him and how much exactly M. d'Hergemont knew does not matter now. Another figure looms82 into sight, one who is henceforth the embodiment of the whole affair and claims all our attention, an emissary dispatched by fate to solve the riddle of the centuries, to carry out the orders of the mysterious powers and to pocket the God-Stone. I am speaking of Vorski."
 
Don Luis swallowed his third glass of water and, beckoning83 to the accomplice84, said:
 
"Otto, you had better give him a drink, if he's thirsty. Are you thirsty, Vorski?"
 
Vorski on his tree seemed exhausted85, incapable86 of further effort or resistance. Stéphane and Patrice once more intervened on his behalf, fearing an immediate87 consummation.
 
"Not at all, not at all!" cried Don Luis. "He's all right and he'll hold out until I've finished my speech, if it were only because he wants to know. You're tremendously interested, aren't you, Vorski?"
 
"Robber! Murderer!" spluttered the wretched man.
 
"Splendid! So you still refuse to tell us where François is hidden?"
 
"Murderer! Highwayman!"............
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