“Atene?” I said.  “That is an old Egyptian name.  It means the Disk of the Sun, and a woman who bore it thousands of years ago was famous for her beauty.”

“Well, and is not my niece Atene beautiful?”

“How can I tell, O uncle of the Khania,” I answered wearily, “who have scarcely seen her?”

Then he departed, and presently his yellow-faced, silent servants brought me my food.

Later in the morning the door opened again, and through it, unattended, came the Khania Atene, who shut and bolted it behind her.  This action did not reassure me, still, rising in my bed, I saluted her as best I could, although at heart I was afraid.  She seemed to read my doubts for she said—­“Lie down, and have no fear.  At present you will come by no harm from me.  Now, tell me what is the man called Leo to you?  Your son?  Nay, it cannot be, since—­forgive me—­light is not born of darkness.”

“I have always thought that it was so born, Khania.  Yet you are right; he is but my adopted son, and a man whom I love.”

“Say, what seek you here?” she asked.

“We seek, Khania, whatsoever Fate shall bring us on yonder Mountain, that which is crowned with flame.”

Her face paled at the words, but she answered in a steady voice—­“Then there you will find nothing but doom, if indeed you do not find it before you reach its slopes, which are guarded by savage men.  Yonder is the College of Hes, and to violate its Sanctuary is death to any man, death in the ever-burning fire.”

“And who rules this college, Khania—­a priestess?”

“Yes, a priestess, whose face I have never seen, for she is so old that she veils herself from curious eyes.”

“Ah! she veils herself, does she?” I answered, as the blood went thrilling through my veins, I who remembered another who also was so old that she veiled herself from curious eyes.  “Well, veiled or unveiled, we would visit her, trusting to find that we are welcome.”

“That you shall not do,” she said, “for it is unlawful, and I will not have your blood upon my hands.”

“Which is the stronger,” I asked of her, “you, Khania, or this priestess of the Mountain?”

“I am the stronger, Holly, for so you are named, are you not?  Look you, at my need I can summon sixty thousand men in war, while she has naught but her priests and the fierce, untrained tribes.”

“The sword is not the only power in the world,” I answered.  “Tell me, now, does this priestess ever visit the country of Kaloon?”

“Never, never, for by the ancient pact, made after the last great struggle long centuries ago between the College and the people of the Plain, it was decreed and sworn to that should she set her foot across the river, this means war to the end between us, and rule for the victor over both.  Likewise, save when unguarded they bear their dead to burial, or for some such high purpose, no Khan or Khania of Kaloon ascends the Mountain.”