The valley of eyes unseen
'And when one of your wise ones has projected his soul,' I inquired,
'could he be seen by any person of the outer world?'
'Only to the eyes of the soul can the soul be visible. How many of your
outer world possess such vision? Yet to one possessing it, the vision
must seem as real as an actual bodily presence.'
'And could any other person see it?' I said, concealing my eagerness
with an effort.
The old man's glittering puce-black eyes were looking clean through me.
'The point is an obscure one,' he said, 'and our wise men hesitate to
pronounce upon it. We have strange evidence both for and against.'
There was again that unmistakable hint in his manner that to question
him further would be useless, and so far as solving the mystery of the
queer episode at Nanking went, I had to be content then with what I had
heard. I was determined to find out, however, how this people explained
Philipson's advent to them from the outer world. It was too much to
suppose that men so astonishingly advanced in exact knowledge would
base their expectations on the mere traditional prophecy of Alexander
before his death.
Kalliboas answered me without hesitation. 'Our wise ones suppose,'
he said, 'that this universe in which we live is composed of a
finite number of elementary forms, which act and react upon one
another perpetually. Therefore the number of possible regroupings and
chains of events is limited. But the time in which they so react is
infinite. Therefore every event which happens must have happened an
infinite number of times before, and will be repeated an infinite
number of times in the future--not only that exact event, but others
approximating to it in all degrees of similarity. Thus, the existence
of our great founder upon this earth, being one of that limited number
of possible events, is repeated after the comparatively short lapse of
twenty-two centuries, which in the life-history of the universe is a
mere moment. But there is a difference. Then he came to this valley a
great conqueror despairing of the world and mankind. Now he has come to
find his own lost people.'
Poyning glanced at me. 'Pretty odd,' he muttered in English, 'to meet
old Nietzsche's Eternal Recurrence so far from home as this!'
Kalliboas cocked his ear at the name. 'That philosopher of yours has
indeed rediscovered old truths,' he said. 'But it is better to discover
old truths than to repeat old lies.'
'Your people, then,' said Poyning, 'were looking for the return of the
King. Yet was it not strange they all should recognise him immediately
they saw his face?'
Kalliboas rose in silence and led the way to another part of the
courtyard, where we came in front of a grotto-like chamber. There
was only one object here--a statue about half life-size, apparently
in iron having the surface treated in some way to resist rust. The
features were a marvellously exact image of Saunders Philipson,
and that was startling enough; but what astonished me more was that
the statue seemed to be supported on one wire little thicker than a
knitting-needle.
'We have many images of our great founder,' said Kalliboas, 'with which
all our people are perfectly acquainted, but we value none so much as
this. It was made by his friend Deinokrates, the sculptor, one of that
faithful band who followed him here.'
'But--but how is it supported? One wire is not enough to hold its
weight?'
There was a fleeting light of amusement over the old man's austere
face. 'The wire is there to hold it down,' he said. 'It was an idle
fancy of the sculptor's. The roof of this chamber is of great slabs
of the stone that attracts iron, which was dug from the mountains
westward. Do not go near if you have anything of iron about your
persons.'
Before leaving Kalliboas that day we walked with him along the eastern
margin of the lake, and came to a tall circular tower in white marble,
which was visible from a considerable distance away. We ascended this
by an inner stairway and at last stood upon the roof, where we found a
sentinel and one of the most ingenious devices imaginable. The platform
was surrounded by a parapet about breast-high, topped by a continuation
in some transparent pebble-like rock, while outside this was a similar
parapet in the same material, the two arranged so as to act as a
continuous telescope. How the difficulty of varying focus was overcome
I couldn't understand, but the fact remains that in whatever direction
we looked the surrounding valleys and foothills--even the upper slopes
of the mountains themselves--seemed amazingly near to us.
The words of Kalliboas sounded behind us in a sort of grim caress. 'See
now, strangers,' he said, 'is it even as the student told when he cast
his mind out over the valley?'
Poyning was staring southward. 'There are men,' he said in a queer
voice. 'What do they do?'
'They build a wall to protect the tomb. Since the great snow fell, new
streams have burst out of the mountains in that quarter. Our engineers
are busy with works to direct the water down to the lake by channels
where it shall not injure the crops of our valley. Now it flows
lawlessly, and though the tomb which you see is founded in solid rock,
we have judged it wise to build the protecting wall.'
Poyning remained staring through the crystal for some time,
particularly towards the tomb and the direction from which we ourselves
had entered the valley. I imagine we were both thinking that probably
from this tower our first approach was signalled; and I know I was
wondering how it came about, since a watcher was apparently posted here
always, that the approach of the Tibetan, Sbrang Chikya, could have
escaped observation.
We descended from the tower and followed Kalliboas to a point on the
north-eastern bank of the lake. The stream which entered here was of
no great dimension, but even so, it flowed fast enough to have flooded
the entire valley in a few weeks but for--as I imagine--the enormous
degree of evaporation caused by the bone-dry climate, and the extensive
irrigation works into which the water of the lake was deflected.
Suddenly, with a heavy swirl, there arose in midstream a gigantic fish,
which made straight for the bank where we stood. So startling was the
creature's appearance and so swift its approach that I must confess
for an instant I'd half an inclination to run, and I noticed Poyning
took a quick step backwards from the water's edge. Then we realised
our mistake. It was no fish at all, but a man, completely clad in a
close-fitting diving costume; there were circles of transparent horn
over the eyes, and gloved receptacles for the arms, but the legs went
into one great sleeve stiffened to copy the tail of a fish; and we saw
it was from this the diver got his power in swimming, an evolution he
performed with singular ease and speed. How he was able to breathe and
to sink at will we had no thought to examine then: our attention was
very fully absorbed by a basket the man had been carrying in his hands
under water and now laid on the bank.
He rolled out, divested himself of the fish-like skin--which he was
able to do without assistance--and made a profound obeisance to
Kalliboas.
'This fellow,' said the latter, turning to us, 'is to our children the
most beloved man in the city. It is his duty to swim to the bed of the
river and the lake and gather for them these pretty playthings.'
Kalliboas stooped over the basket, took out a handful of pebbles, and
handed them to me. They were curious pebbles, looking like scarred
rough glass, but now and then out of the roughness came a fierce flash
of light as the sun's rays caught an exposed face. There was no room
for doubt about these things. They were large diamonds.
Poyning took one of them, as if to examine it, and as he did so I felt
him nudge me very gently.
'Would it not be easier,' he said, 'to get the stones by dragging the
river for them?'
Then for the first and last time in our acquaintance Kalliboas
chuckled. It was a grim chuckle, but the nearest approach to tenderness
I ever knew him show.
'The children value the stones more for having been obtained in this
way,' he said. 'Often they come to see Old Fish diving for them.'
He scooped up another large handful and gave me. 'Take as many as you
can carry,' he said, the grim half-smile still on his features. 'It may
be that children in the city will ask you for them. It is true that in
the world from which you have come men commit crimes to obtain these
things, but you at least are above such temptation.'
Was it a hint, a threat that we were never again to see lands where men
take the lives of their fellows for these bits of crystallised carbon?
CHAPTER XII
DISASTER
Strangely enough, from that day onwards our circumstances seemed to
improve all round. If we had seen ourselves encircled in mystery, and
detected vague menaces in what we had heard, now it became increasingly
apparent that for some reason or other we were looked on more
favourably by the people of the valley. That atmosphere of suspicion,
which I had come to feel no less than Poyning, was melting away. We had
several audiences with the "King," as we found ourselves dropping into
the way of calling Philipson, and though he said little to us of the
inner politics of the city, we gathered he was steadily consolidating
his position and winning over the disaffected party of Kalliphanes.
He even told us one day that he thought he could now count on the
unanimous support of the Nine Shadows, and considerably startled us by
mentioning that Kalliboas was one of that sinister secret body. The
names of the rest I never learned, though it is likely I saw and spoke
to all before the end of my sojourn in Hellas.
Towards his old comrades, in private at least, Philipson's manner was
always as affable and unpretending as if the great change had not come;
yet I couldn't help noticing as time went on that he was sinking deeper
and deeper into the austere spirit of this land and leaving off one by
one his old traits of an adventurer with a dim future. Also, behind
all his friendliness, there seemed to peep out a shadow of anxiety
for us; and though he never betrayed the fact in words, I felt he was
hoping that we, like himself and his Chinese servants, should gradually
throw down roots here and lose our desire to return to the outer world.
The notion appalled me, yet I couldn't doubt it had entered the mind
of Saunders Philipson. Everything that could be done to attract us
towards this land was being done; we were given more splendid quarters,
our servants were increased, we were presented to all the highest
nobles--and, as I noticed with alarm, to their daughters; during one
week of festival, when there were dramatic and musical performances and
banquets and exhibitions of dancing and Olympian games, we took our
place among the first of the land; and generally we were advanced to a
state little short of princely ourselves.
We were even instructed in the elements of mind-culture, though it must
be confessed our success was meagre. Clairvoyance and soul-projection
were utterly beyond us, and even as hypnotic subjects we were both
highly unsatisfactory. The professors complained of the difficulty
of putting us asleep, though it's true they never entirely failed
to do this, even at the first--that is, the most difficult trial, of
which I retain a most agonising recollection. I think the difficulty
of reducing me on that occasion was really responsible for the awful
sense of mental strangulation I felt: it was like being surrounded
by clouds of intense darkness, which seemed to _drench_ my brain and
bring all thought to a frozen standstill. Poyning was hypnotised at