“I want to make Gyzir the capital of Galade, because the man named king by the Galadians was born in that town, lives there and loves it. And I want to live in a palace worthy of the Galadians and their overlord, which I can leave to my successor, and in which the kings will live.
“All things considered, I have chosen as a location the part of the forest that surrounds the Anaide Grotto. You will fell some trees and leave others standing, which will make me a park. As for the Anaide Grotto, you will surround it with fountains, flowers and thick bushes, and everyone will refrain from going into it, if they want to live, because I know from a dream I have had that Goho sometimes haunts it.”
The Glorification of Harb
When the Galadians learned that the king wanted a palace they applauded unanimously. Even peasants who would have refused a place in their barn to a vagabond—for there were some in Galade—sent their obol gladly, too dull-witted to explain to themselves the pride that they felt in thinking about the King of Galade in his royal palace. Undoubtedly, national sentiment was, albeit subconsciously, already profound in the soul of the people.
Work was begun without delay. But the person who was horrified when he saw the builders coming toward his grotto, making measurements and drawing up plans was the Wise Man on guard duty—for one of them always remained in guard while another went in quest of food and the third worked.
“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to establish the limits of Harb’s palace,” one of the builders replied.
“Can’t you,” he said, “go somewhere away from the grotto?”
“As to that,” was the reply, “the king intends that it will be part of the palace.”
The Wise Man collapsed heavily on the threshold, stammering incomprehensible words, as anguish gripped his throat, caused his teeth to chatter, compressed the air in his chest, twisted his muscles and paralyzed his tongue.
“The king is good,” said a man who misinterpreted that great distress. “He’ll lodge you worthily if he dislodges you from here.”
But the Wise Man thought that he ought not, in such a grave circumstance, either say or attempt anything without the advice of his companions. He decided to await their return in order to discuss what they could do, and, sitting on the threshold, he folded his arms and watched the work without saying another word.
After having deliberated from the dusk that drove the builders away until the following morning as to what to do about the disastrous affair, the Wise Men decided that with the aid of irresistible speeches, vehement supplications, and even lies, they would strive to convince the king to take the location of his palace elsewhere.
Harb, however, was quick to interrupt them. He took the three of them to one side and, having made sure that no one could hear what was said between them, he made them a proposal.
“I know why you’ve come to implore me. I know the secret of your work, and no one apart from me can know it. In any case, if I’m the king, it’s because certain virtues and prerogatives make me a man different from others. That explains to you sufficiently how I can know, naturally, many hidden things.
“If, therefore, you want to continue piercing the mountain, not only will I not hinder you in any way, but I’ll do everything I can to help you—on the sole condition that you keep your endeavor as secret as before. As for the profit and glory for which you hope, have no fear that I’ll spoil it. From this day on, I appoint all three of you High Priests of Goho. You’ll live in the palace. The first apartments constructed will be for me, the king, and for you. Every night you’ll go to pierce the rock. When you’ve reached the other side of the mountain, come and tell me, and Galade will know when the next day breaks what a marvelous discovery has been made, and by whom.
“Don’t embrace my knees. What are all my exploits, compared with the silent and patient labor of your entire lives? It’s me, if my heavy mantle didn’t prevent me, who would bow down before you. Go. Don’t talk about this to anyone, and come back tomorrow to find here the three linen robes and three golden crowns of the supreme priesthood.”
Galade having accepted, without overmuch astonishment, the promotion to the pontificate that the king had given to the Wise Men, both because they respected them and because they had confidence in their king, no one worried any longer about the edification of the palace. Every Galadian contributed to it, and wanted to play some part in its elevation. It was marvelous to see, for forty-four years, sixteen days and nine hours, a people swarming delightedly, working, sweating and singing around enormous cubes that were ingeniously heaped on top of one another.
The workers in the porphyry quarries of Assanaan carved and transported themselves the blocks that would form the base of the peristyle and the foundations of the pillars. Singing hymns, the miners of Boudroude brought the masses of gold to make the external friezes. The vine-growers of Melydire, the market gardeners of Lunilon and the horticulturalists of Agrazzin, came laden with grapes, vegetables and flowers. Finally, the fishermen of the Blue Lake transported, in vast watertight tanks filled with fresh water, the most beautiful carp from their waters.
The fish from the Blue Lake were thrown into an immense pond that the king had established in his park, not far from the palace, a short distance from the Anaide grotto. For that pond it was necessary to dig out the soil to a depth of thirty meters, and such a quantity of earth was removed that a hill was made of it, still visible in the vicinity of Gyzir, in open country, which is known as Harb’s Pond Hill. The Jogne was deflected to fill the pond, and then continued its course as if nothing had happened.
On the day when the king said: “By Goho, that’s the royal palace finished!” there was such rejoicing throughout Galade that the Galadians, drunk and sated, exhausted by delight and festivity, slept thereafter, some for fourteen days and nights in succession, and others, more temperate, only for a week.
The three High Priests of Goho worked every night, in the deepest mystery, on the piercing of the mountain. In order to get the work done more rapidly, all three of them worked together.
People would have been very astonished to see their nocturnal accoutrement: thick clothing, masks over their eyes to protect them from splinters of rock, and iron spikes shining in their hands, after having seen them by day, sumptuously dressed in gold fabric in crowns studded with gems. But no one ever saw them like that. In fact, people rarely saw them at all, because they slept by day, exhausted by the labor of the night. “They’re praying to Goho for the salvation of Galade,” the king said—and the Galadians praised the fervor of the high priests with all their hearts.
“Most Serene Harb,” one of the Wise Men said to the king, finally, “my brothers and I have reached the miraculous goal. Under one of our pikes, a kind of luminous hole was made in the rock. We fell upon the hole and toward its light, and we saw the earth and the sky that are on the other side of the mountains. Stars were shining in the sky, exactly like those we see in Galade when we raise our heads by night. The earth extended like a vast plain, and we were scarcely able to distinguish anything but an undulation similar to that of our fields of wheat under the breeze...”
“You shall be glorified forever in the history of Galade, my brothers,” said the king, embracing them. “Have you enlarged the hole?”
“We thought it appropriate to enlarge it in the presence of our king,” they replied. “Let him deign to accompany us this evening. In three days, before dawn, we will reach the end of the road. We will then administer the last blows of the pick...and the mystery will be vanquished!”
“Be glorified all the more for that respectful thought! I shall accompany you, Brothers. and I shall salute with you the light of the strange dawn.”
On the night of his departure, the wise King Harb put on a corselet of fine steel mail under his royal tunic, because he feared, notwithstanding all the embraces, that the High Priests of Goho might have formed a plan to assassinate him at the portal to the new wo
rld, in order to claim all the glory of their discovery, utilize it for themselves alone, and to find, in order to explain the king’s death, some clever invention that their pontifical situation would ender easy enough.
On the afternoon of the expedition, he summoned his most faithful servant, whom he had tested in many circumstances, and said to him: “Anaigal, the words that you are about to hear are the result of my gravest thoughts, and my political desires most profitable to Galade. Whatever happens, do not repeat them to anyone in the world—not to your wife, your sons, nor even your animals, while caring for them, for beasts have been known to be transformed into human brings by the power of magic. Nor should the order that I am about to give you be revealed to anyone.
“This is it: tonight I am going into the Anaide Grotto with the three High Priests of Goho. They and I are going to spend three days and nights in the grotto praying. After the third day, go to post yourself immediately outside, and keep a careful watch. When you see me come out with them, wait until a sudden and rapid stride has placed me ahead of them; then appear, run toward them and shove them with all your might into the pond that we’ll be alongside. As for the rest, I’ll indicate it to you then.”
As soon as they had gone into the grotto the king made the three priests go ahead of him, saying to them: “As well as it being appropriate for me to walk behind you on a route that is unknown to me and which you know, I want you to be the first to go into the world that you have opened. If any danger threatens you, I shall throw myself before you, for all that is combat and struggle, where the strength of arms is necessary, is my concern. If not, although the first in Galade, I intend only to be the second with you.”
They marched thus, the Wise Men in front and the king behind. They broke the rock, penetrated into the new earth, and saw an immense plain that seemed limitless. However, monuments of gigantic proportions appeared on the very horizon. When the Wise Men wanted to go toward them, the king remarked to them that their garments might be surprising to the inhabitants of the distant city, that it was prudent not to draw the attention of any stranger to the road that might permit, if known, an invasion of calm Galade, and that they would have plenty of time to return later. In addition, they were exhausted by three days and nights of walking, without sleep, and the great work was now accomplished, the triumph assured.
“So well assured,” he added, “that I still want you to come back as the first in Galade, for it is elementary justice, on this occasion, that I should glorify you before all, and show myself humbly after you.”
He also added: “Let us charge ourselves with a few fragments of these immortal rocks. I intend to make a triumphant heap of them, which will be raised in the middle of the square of Gyzir, with your name engraved at the base in golden letters, with the date of my reign, which saw such a great deed.”
That was done. The company resumed marching, after having taken care to erect a pile of rocks in front of the great breach in the foot of the mountain, which would hide it from foreigners from beyond the mountain.
Scarcely had the three Wise Men crossed the threshold of the grotto than the faithful Anaigal hurled himself upon them as all three of them were marching in the lead and bustled them into the pond with a shove so unexpected and so prompt that they stumbled and fell into the deep water before even having time to be astonished.
As Anaigal, the faithful domestic, was braced on his robust legs, the upper part of his body leaning over, following his arms, which were shoving the last of the Wise Men, King Harb approached him, and with a violent thrust on the shoulders he sent him to join the high priests.
That was a fine splash!
Struggling in the water, each fighting the others in order to cling on to the most skilful swimmer, they sank abruptly, then reappeared and clustered together, blowing at their soaking hair, which had fallen over their eyes, in order to see more clearly, while they drew breath. The rocks that the high priests were carrying about their person dragged them irresistibly to the bottom of the pool. They finally drew apart for a moment, each of them going his own way, but Harb was on the bank, shoving them back with his foot, detaching their hands when they grabbed hold of roots, and soon, only funereal bubbles of air, bursting on the surface, testified that four human sighs had just been exhaled for the last time.
Then Harb, uttering loud cries, leapt into the water in his turn, dived, reappeared, raising his arms, streaming and clamoring, dived again for a few seconds, and then came up for air again just as the inhabitants of the palace were running toward the pool with great signs of hope, ladders and ropes.
“Alas,” said Harb, when he had been pulled out of the water, “look in the depths of the lake, where, in spite of my efforts, the three High Priests of Goho and my faithful Anaigal have remained. Perhaps they’re still alive. Alas, alas! Will I have tried to save them in vain?”
In the midst of sobs and exclamations of dolor, the four cadavers were brought up to the surface and deposited on the grass. But as Harb, the wise king, still dripping wet, started explaining how the catastrophe had occurred, voices rose up among the sobs, which soon became a unanimous concert. “Look,” they said, “look how good king Harb did not hesitate to throw himself into the pool to rescue his valet and the high priests! Instead of simply calling for help, as anyone else would have done, the sage king tried, at the risk of his august person, to be a hero once again! Glory to Harb, the father of the Galadians!”
“Sire, go home quickly and take off those wet clothes,” begged Xylis, the Master of Ceremonies. “Sire, you’ll have time to tell us how the catastrophe happened another day. Go and get dry, in the name of the supreme god, sire, and for love of your people and your friends.”
Thus spread the news of the mourning that struck at the same time the cult of Goho and the widow of Anaigal, and the new exploit of King Harb, who had thrown himself in the water to rescue his valet and the priests.
Thus Harb remained the sole master of the secret road that permitted travel through the mountain to the rest of the earth.
Summary of the History of Galade from the reign of Harb to the accession of Emmanuel
Harb, having created for his own usage the custom of Royal Retreats, which consisted of enclosing oneself for several weeks in the Anaide Grotto—which had become exceedingly holy since the death of the Wise Men—in order to meditate on all things and seek the advice of Goho, who took charge in the meantime of providing the king with sustenance, in order that no one should disturb the sublime conversation, dressed himself one day in an unostentatious costume, filled his pockets with gold coins, and set off across the world.
He was not overly amazed by what he saw there. The mores of the world contemporary with Harb were scarcely different from Galadian mores, except that the populations were more numerous, the cities more extensive and the edifices more ample. He brought back from that voyage the science of glassmaking, which he learned from the Phoenicians, and the ability to read in the stars, which was taught to him by the elders of Chaldea. Henceforth, people in Galade could drink from goblets and tankards, instead of coarse wooden bowls whose fibers always absorbed a part of the liquid that was poured into them.
He made several voyages of that sort and brought back practical and spiritual information every time, which his discernment alone indicated as the most useful for Galade of the inventions of other peoples.
He made a law by which all the dead, indifferently, had to be burned, for he feared privately that the Haint and the Jogne might carry cadavers out of the gulf of Aldegonde and cast them up in a neighboring nation, where they would surely cause astonishment, and a desire to know whence so many bodies came.
Harb died laden with age, wisdom and glory in his two hundred and fifth year—an age that no other Galatian had attained, and which was never attained thereafter.
Before he died he designated as his successor the first of his ministers, Galenide, a perfectly wise, upright and perspicacious man, to whom he revealed his sec
ret route through the mountain, and then passed away peacefully in the great respectful silence of all Galade. That proved, better than lamentations and funeral pomp, that a single heart beat for the king throughout the nation, and that that national heart, broken by such a loss, no longer had strength for anything, except to be completely what it was—which is to say, broken, which implies the fact of silence and annihilation.
Galenide founded a sect of initiates, among whom he recruited missionaries, who were secretly sent abroad to learn important discoveries. When they returned, they represented themselves as the inventors of what they brought back from their travels, and thus obtained a great deal of profit and renown.
That sect functioned until the epoch that corresponds to the fourteenth century, or thereabouts, of our history: the epoch of the regency of Mahara, the prime minister of King Dinion, who was a bad king, incapable and stupid. Mahara was the veritable king. He was very intelligent. It was under his government and by his will that a wall was built in front of the Anaide Grotto, thus sealing forever the marvelous route. He took the great secret to his grave, and you shall see for what motives he acted in that fashion; but first, it is necessary to sketch briefly the fall of the cult of the gods and the establishment of Christianity in Galade.
A young initiate by the name of Balbun had traversed, in the course of his voyage, a large country known as Gaul, and there he had witnessed the persecution of a sect that made a profession of worshiping a god crucified in the previous century by the Jews. A holy man named Pothin, Bishop of Lyon,3 traveled from city to city evangelizing the crowds for the glory of that god, the son of god. Great massacres bloodied all of Gaul and many other neighboring nations.
Balbun had it explained to him by the holy man himself that the religion was powerful because its members accepted dying as martyrs, and having seen with his own eyes the fervor of the martyrized he felt an enthusiastic faith in the new god awakening in his soul.
The Ark Page 3
