CHAPTER XXI

THE PROPHECY OF ATENE

On the day following this strange experience of the iron that was turned to gold some great service was held in the Sanctuary, as we understood, “to consecrate the war.”  We did not attend it, but that night we ate together as usual.  Ayesha was moody at the meal, that is, she varied from sullenness to laughter.

“Know you,” she said, “that to-day I was an Oracle, and those fools of the Mountain sent their medicine-men to ask of the Hesea how the battle would go and which of them would be slain, and which gain honour.  And I—­I could not tell them, but juggled with my words, so that they might take them as they would.  How the battle will go I know well, for I shall direct it, but the future—­ah! that I cannot read better than thou canst, my Holly, and that is ill indeed.  For me the past and all the present lie bathed in light reflected from that black wall—­the future.”

Then she fell to brooding, and looking up at length with an air of entreaty, said to Leo—­“Wilt thou not hear my prayer and bide where thou art for some few days, or even go a-hunting?  Do so, and I will stay with thee, and send Holly and Oros to command the Tribes in this petty fray.”

“I will not,” answered Leo, trembling with indignation, for this plan of hers that I should be sent out to war, while he bided in safety in a temple, moved him, a man brave to rashness, who, although he disapproved of it in theory, loved fighting for its own sake also, to absolute rage.

“I say, Ayesha, that I will not,” he repeated; “moreover, that if thou leavest me here I will find my way down the mountain alone, and join the battle.”

“Then come,” she answered, “and on thine own head be it.  Nay, not on thine beloved, on mine, on mine.”

After this, by some strange reaction, she became like a merry girl, laughing more than I have ever seen her do, and telling us many tales of the far, far past, but none that were sad or tragic.  It was very strange to sit and listen to her while she spoke of people, one or two of them known as names in history and many others who never have been heard of, that had trod this earth and with whom she was familiar over two thousand years ago.  Yet she told us anecdotes of their loves and hates, their strength or weaknesses, all of them touched with some tinge of humorous satire, or illustrating the comic vanity of human aims and aspirations.

At length her talk took a deeper and more personal note.  She spoke of her searchings after truth; of how, aching for wisdom, she had explored the religions of her day and refused them one by one; of how she had preached in Jerusalem and been stoned by the Doctors of the Law.  Of how also she had wandered back to Arabia and, being rejected by her own people as a reformer, had travelled on to Egypt, and at the court of the Pharaoh of that time met a famous magician, half charlatan and half seer who, because she was far-seeing, ‘clairvoyante’ we should call it, instructed her in his art so well that soon she became his master and forced him to obey her.