“Listen,” said a fellow.
“Yes,” said another.
At almost the same time I heard small bells. In a moment, too, I detected the odor of incense.
“They are here for their coins,” said a fellow.
“I think you had best kneel,” the fellow behind me said, kindly.
I knelt.
“I hate such parasites,” whispered a man.
“Hush,” said another, frightened. “They are the intermediaries between ourselves and the Priest-Kings.”
“So they say,” said another, under his breath.
Looking down the line I noted that a quiet had come over the crowd, and even over the victorious raiders. Not only had the slave girls knelt, but I noted, to, that the kneeling captives had now lowered their heads.
The ringing of the small bells could be heard quite clearly now. Once again I smelled the incense.
The crowd parted to my left and I saw, making its way through the crowd, some sort of standard, a golden staff surmounted by a golden circle. The circle I would later learn was the sign of the Priest-Kings, the symbol of eternity, that without beginning or end. Emerging through the crowd first were two boys, one ringing the bells and the other shaking a censer, wafting fumes of the incense about. Behind these two came another boy, he bearing the standard of the golden circle. Behind him came a gaunt, hideous man. His features frightened me. I did not doubt but what he was insane. Behind him in double file, side by side, came some twenty other men. Each carried, before him, a golden bowl. They made me uneasy. Something in their appearance seemed to me unhealthy. They seemed pathological. Some looked simple. Others appeared to be of unsound mind. Some mumbled to themselves, prayers perhaps. They certainly did not look much like the normal men of this world. They were too pale. Were they strangers to the sun and fresh air? They moved poorly. Did they never leap and run, and wrestle? Were they ashamed of having bodies, or of being alive? Had they somehow sought refuge in pathetic lies? Did they think that absurdities conferred dignity upon them? Such, I thought, might not function well in this demanding, hardy world. But then they had perhaps found a way of surviving. Perhaps they, who might otherwise have been dismissed as pathetic misfits, as simple failures in nature, had managed to construct a social niche for themselves, perhaps by inventing and providing a service. They seemed so smug, so furtive, so sly, so sanctimonious, so hypocritical! How serious they were. Did they fear that the world might suddenly find them out and burst into laughter? All these men had shaved heads. All wore robes of glistening white. These were, I gathered, “Initiates,” supposedly the highest of the high castes.
How odd, I thought, that it should supposedly be they who had the ear of the mighty and mysterious Priest-Kings. If there were Priest-Kings, I wondered if they knew about the caste of Initiates. Perhaps they would regard them as a joke. Why would the Priest-Kings, I wondered, if they really required intermediaries, and were unable to deal directly with men, and, indeed, if there was any point in them dealing with men at all, have chosen to achieve this end with so eccentric and improbably a caste? Why would they not have chosen some other caste, say, the Metal Workers or the Leather Workers, as intermediaries? Those casts, at least, seemed to be populated with men. The leather workers were excellent at piercing our ears, for example, the metal workers at fitting shackles to fair limbs.
Kneeling, partly bent over, I watched this procession wend its slow, solemn way, bells ringing, incense smoking, in front of the crowd. It went to the end of the docking area and then turned about, and made its way back, before the crowd, but between the tarns and raiders on one side and the captives, on the other. The captives, in their chains and shackles, kept their heads down. I noted, spying on their progress, that the members of the procession were fastidiously careful, even scrupulously careful, to avoid any contact with the captives, even so much as the casual brushing of a bared foot, a shackled ankle, a small shoulder, a lovely thigh, with the hem of a robe. Those in the crowd, too, with but few exceptions, exhibited extreme deference to these robed individuals, whom I took to be “Initiates,” both free men and women assuming attitudes of deference, most standing with heads respectfully inclined. The slave girls, those near the front of the crowd, whom I could see, as the procession passed, had thrust their heads down to the stones of the docking area. Some trembled. I gathered that a slave’s failure to yield suitable deference to such individuals might be regarded as a peculiarly heinous omission, one perhaps jeopardizing not only the girl, who, after all, was but a mere slave, but perhaps the city itself.
The procession had now stopped, in such a way that the twenty or so men with their golden bowls, on the other side of the captives, were now in a single line, all facing the crowd. Before them, toward the center, were the three boys, novices, I supposed. He with the golden standard, that surmounted with the golden circle, was in the center. To his right was the boy with the bells. To his left was he with the censer. Before them, now, was the gaunt man, the standard of the Priest-Kings behind him.
He lifted one thin arm to the sky. A clawlike hand was revealed, the sleeve of the robe falling back to the elbow.
“Praise be to the Priest-Kings!” he called. His voice was sonorous, and wild. In it I thought there was more than a bit of madness.
“Praise be to the Priest-Kings,” murmured the crowd.
“Behold,” cried the gaunt man. “We are favored by the Priest-Kings!” He half turned to his left, and then to his right, gesturing expansively behind him, first in one of these directions, and then the other, indicating accumulations of treasure, among and before the tarns and raiders, piles of it, boxes of it, chests of it, bulging sacks of it. He then faced the crowd and lifted his hands to the left and right, indicating the captives, now having been separated from the other loot and brought forward, closer to the crowd, both those in lines, they accounting for the largest number, and those kneeling separately, all bound, many in sirik, in the general vicinity of their captors.
“We thank the Priest-Kings for the favors they have bestowed upon us!” he cried.
“Thanks be to the Priest-Kings,” said the crowd.
“We thank them for the gifts they have given us!”
“Thanks be to the Priest-Kings!” said the crowd.
“We thank them for the riches they have given us!”
“Thanks be to the Priest-Kings!” said the crowd.
“And we thank them, too, for these slaves!”
A tremor and moan went through the captives. They were, at this point, of course, free women.
“Thanks be to the Priest-Kings!” said the crowd.
We were to be given to understand, I took it, that these various matters were to be viewed as having all proceeded in accordance with the will of the mysterious Priest-Kings. But who knew? Perhaps they were not even interested in things of this sort. Too, assuming them to be interested, I wondered if they were any independent way of finding out what might be the will of the Priest-Kings, short, that is, of waiting and finding out how things, in fact, came out. It was difficult to know, you see, how such a claim, that things proceeded in accordance with the will of the Priest-Kings, might be evaluated. To be sure, perhaps a Priest-King might show up and say, “No, that is not what I wanted, at all.” But how would you know it was a Priest-King? How would it establish its identity? Perhaps it could uproot trees, or kill people, or something. But, could Priest-Kings do such things? And, if so, was it only Priest-Kings who could do them? I expected that, here and there on this world, and doubtless on others, similar ceremonies might take place. The women of city A, for example, might be led to believe that it was the will of the Priest-Kings that they become the slaves of the men of city B, and the women of city B might be led to believe that it was the will of the Priest-Kings that they become the slaves of the men of city A.