The Story of the Amulet - E. Nesbit (smart books to read TXT) 📗

doors, and twenty enormous statues in bright gold of men and women. Also an immense pillar of the other precious yellow metal.

They went through the doors, and the priest led them up a stair into a gallery from which they could look down on to the glorious place.

“The ten Kings are even now choosing the bull. It is not lawful for me to behold,” said the priest, and fell face downward on the floor outside the gallery. The children looked down.

The roof was of ivory adorned with the three precious metals, and the walls were lined with the favourite oricalchum.

At the far end of the Temple was a statue group, the like of which no one living has ever seen.

It was of gold, and the head of the chief figure reached to the roof. That figure was Poseidon, the Father of the City. He stood in a great chariot drawn by six enormous horses, and round about it were a hundred mermaids riding on dolphins.

Ten men, splendidly dressed and armed only with sticks and ropes, were trying to capture one of some fifteen bulls who ran this way and that about the floor of the Temple. The children held their breath, for the bulls looked dangerous, and the great horned heads were swinging more and more wildly.

Anthea did not like looking at the bulls. She looked about the gallery, and noticed that another staircase led up from it to a still higher storey; also that a door led out into the open air, where there seemed to be a balcony.

So that when a shout went up and Robert whispered, “Got him,” and she looked down and saw the herd of bulls being driven out of the Temple by whips, and the ten Kings following, one of them spurring with his stick a black bull that writhed and fought in the grip of a lasso, she answered the boy’s agitated, “Now we shan’t see anything more,” with⁠—

“Yes we can, there’s an outside balcony.”

So they crowded out.

But very soon the girls crept back.

“I don’t like sacrifices,” Jane said. So she and Anthea went and talked to the priest, who was no longer lying on his face, but sitting on the top step mopping his forehead with his robe, for it was a hot day.

“It’s a special sacrifice,” he said; “usually it’s only done on the justice days every five years and six years alternately. And then they drink the cup of wine with some of the bull’s blood in it, and swear to judge truly. And they wear the sacred blue robe, and put out all the Temple fires. But this today is because the City’s so upset by the odd noises from the sea, and the god inside the big mountain speaking with his thunder-voice. But all that’s happened so often before. If anything could make me uneasy it wouldn’t be that.”

“What would it be?” asked Jane kindly.

“It would be the Lemmings.”

“Who are they⁠—enemies?”

“They’re a sort of rat; and every year they come swimming over from the country that no man knows, and stay here awhile, and then swim away. This year they haven’t come. You know rats won’t stay on a ship that’s going to be wrecked. If anything horrible were going to happen to us, it’s my belief those Lemmings would know; and that may be why they’ve fought shy of us.”

“What do you call this country?” asked the Psammead, suddenly putting its head out of its bag.

“Atlantis,” said the priest.

“Then I advise you to get on to the highest ground you can find. I remember hearing something about a flood here. Look here, you”⁠—it turned to Anthea; “let’s get home. The prospect’s too wet for my whiskers.”

The girls obediently went to find their brothers, who were leaning on the balcony railings.

“Where’s the learned gentleman?” asked Anthea.

“There he is⁠—below,” said the priest, who had come with them. “Your High Ji-jimmy is with the Kings.”

The ten Kings were no longer alone. The learned gentleman⁠—no one had noticed how he got there⁠—stood with them on the steps of an altar, on which lay the dead body of the black bull. All the rest of the courtyard was thick with people, seemingly of all classes, and all were shouting, “The sea⁠—the sea!”

“Be calm,” said the most kingly of the Kings, he who had lassoed the bull. “Our town is strong against the thunders of the sea and of the sky!”

“I want to go home,” whined the Psammead.

“We can’t go without him,” said Anthea firmly.

“Jimmy,” she called, “Jimmy!” and waved to him. He heard her, and began to come towards her through the crowd.

They could see from the balcony the sea-captain edging his way out from among the people. And his face was dead white, like paper.

“To the hills!” he cried in a loud and terrible voice. And above his voice came another voice, louder, more terrible⁠—the voice of the sea.

The girls looked seaward.

Across the smooth distance of the sea something huge and black rolled towards the town. It was a wave, but a wave a hundred feet in height, a wave that looked like a mountain⁠—a wave rising higher and higher till suddenly it seemed to break in two⁠—one half of it rushed out to sea again; the other⁠—

“Oh!” cried Anthea, “the town⁠—the poor people!”

“It’s all thousands of years ago, really,” said Robert but his voice trembled. They hid their eyes for a moment. They could not bear to look down, for the wave had broken on the face of the town, sweeping over the quays and docks, overwhelming the great storehouses and factories, tearing gigantic stones from forts and bridges, and using them as battering rams against the temples. Great ships were swept over the roofs of the houses and dashed down halfway up the hill among ruined gardens and broken buildings. The water ground brown fishing-boats to powder on the golden roofs of Palaces.

Then the wave swept back towards the sea.

“I want to go home,” cried the Psammead fiercely.

“Oh, yes,