The Lost Continent by C. J. Cutcliffe Hyne (best desktop ebook reader TXT) 📕

old friend, I am ready to trust you with my life if you ask it. In fact, you do ask me that very thing when you tell me to speak all I know of Phorenice.”

I nodded. This was more like the old times, when there was full confidence between us. “The Gods will it now that I return to Atlantis,” I said, “and what happens after that the Gods alone know. But it would be of service to me if I could land on her shores with some knowledge of this Phorenice, for at present I am as ignorant concerning her as some savage from Europe or mid-Africa.”

“What would you have me tell?”

“Tell all. I know only that she, a woman, reigns, whereby the ancient law of the land, a man should rule; that she is not even of the Priestly Clan from which the law says all rulers must be drawn; and that, from what you say, she has caused the throne to totter. The throne was as firm as the everlasting hills in the old King’s day, Tatho.”

“History has moved with pace since then, and Phorenice has spurred it. You know her origin?”

“I know only the exact little I have told you.”

“She was a swineherd’s daughter from the mountains, though this is never even whispered now, as she has declared herself to be a daughter of the Gods, with a miraculous birth and upbringing. As she has decreed it a sacrilege to question this parentage, and has ordered to be burnt all those that seem to recollect her more earthly origin, the fable passes current for truth. You see the faith I put in you, Deucalion, by telling you what you wish to learn.”

“There has always been trust between us.”

“I know; but this habit of suspicion is hard to cast off, even with you. However, let me put your good faith between me and the torture further. Zaemon, you remember, was governor of the swineherd’s province, and Zaemon’s wife saw Phorenice and took her away to adopt and bring up as her own. It is said that the swineherd and his woman objected; perhaps they did; anyway, I know they died; and Phorenice was taught the arts and graces, and brought up as a daughter of the Priestly Clan.”

“But still she was an adopted daughter only,” I objected.

“The omission of the ‘adopted’ was her will at an early age,” said Tatho dryly, “and she learnt early to have her wishes carried into fact. It was notorious that before she had grown to fifteen years she ruled not only the women of the household, but Zaemon also, and the province that was beyond Zaemon.”

“Zaemon was learned,” I said, “and a devout follower of the Gods, and searcher into the higher mysteries; but, as a ruler, he was always a flabby fellow.”

“I do not say that opportunities have not come usefully in Phorenice’s way, but she has genius as well. For her to have raised herself at all from what she was, was remarkable. Not one woman out of a thousand, placed as she was, would have grown to be aught higher than a mere wife of some sturdy countryman, who was sufficiently simple to care nothing for pedigree. But look at Phorenice: it was her whim to take exercise as a man-at-arms and practise with all the utensils of war; and then, before anyone quite knows how or why it happened, a rebellion had broken out in the province, and here was she, a slip of a girl, leading Zaemon’s troops.”

“Zaemon, when I knew him, was a mere derision in the field.”

“Hear me on. Phorenice put down the rebellion in masterly fashion, and gave the conquered a choice between sword and service. They fell into her ranks at once, and were faithful to her from that moment. I tell you, Deucalion, there is a marvellous fascination about the woman.”

“Her present historian seems to have felt it.”

“Of course I have. Everyone who sees her comes under her spell. And frankly, I am in love with her also, and look upon my coming here as detestable exile. Everyone near to Phorenice, high and low, loves her just the same, even though they know it may be her whim to send them to execution next minute.”

Perhaps I let my scorn of this appear.

“You feel contempt for our weakness? You were always a strong man, Deucalion.”

“At any rate you see me still unmarried. I have found no time to palter with the fripperies of women.”

“Ah, but these colonists here are crude and unfascinating. Wait till you see the ladies of the court, my ascetic.”

“It comes to my mind,” I said dryly, “that I lived in Atlantis before I came out here, and at that time I used to see as much of court life as most men. Yet then, also, I felt no inducement to marry.”

Tatho chuckled. “Atlantis has changed so that you would hardly know the country today. A new era has come over everything, especially over the other sex. Well do I remember the women of the old King’s time, how monstrous uncomely they were, how little they knew how to walk or carry themselves, how painfully barbaric was their notion of dress. I dare swear that your ladies here in Yucatan are not so provincial today as ours were then. But you should see them now at home. They are delicious. And above all in charm is the Empress. Oh, Deucalion, you shall see Phorenice in all her glorious beauty and her magnificence one of these fine days soon, and believe me you will go down on your knees and repent.”

“I may see, and (because you say so) I may alter my life’s ways. The Gods make all things possible. But for the present I remain as I am, celibate, and not wishful to be otherwise; and so in the meantime I would hear the continuance of your history.”

“It is one long story of success. She deposed Zaemon from his