Chapter XII: The Appeal to Moûkara

In Da̤o, Oûman Mitsa̤ and the Nyassa̤s, in agonizing, trembling expectancy, awaited the decision of the Most High Priest Moûkara, in which was involved all that concerned the safety and happiness of themselves and their beloved children.

The critical moment having arrived, they found themselves in the presence of Moûkara, whose kindly smile and gracious manner afforded them assurance of at least a friendly hearing. To Lûvon and Dammā he expressed a desire that they should, as directly as possible, state the occasion of their seeking an audience with him.

Dammā, being the more fluent speaker, related with much earnestness and precision the events leading to their most unhappy condition, and with the passionate language of a loving father besought the most high priest to judge between them and the High Priest Zeydon's arbitrary views.

To this appeal Moûkara listened with most tolerant attention. Then, turning to Lûvon, Tillēne and Avānna̤, he closely interrogated them concerning the discharge of their religious duties, involving as they must their duties towards their children. Finally he asked: "Have you continually sought to teach your children, whom Andûmana̤ gave into your keeping, the obligations of our holy religion? Have you, at all times, made generous acknowledgment of all the bountiful blessings he has bestowed upon you and yours? Withholding naught that might be adverse to your cause, answer me truly."

Avānna̤, more impetuous than Tillēne, burst into such a torrent of eloquent assertion and fervent appeal that for a time the sympathy of the man so dominated the dignity and self-control of the priest that, to conceal his emotion, he turned his head aside.

In closing her unstudied appeal, Avānna̤, with most graceful movement, threw herself at Moûkara's feet and pressed the border of his robe to her quivering lips, murmuring: "O Most High Sacredness, in the early days of our wedded life thou didst bless the union of Lûvon and Tillēne, of Damma̤ and myself, and we pray that thou mayst not allow the inconsiderate act of one whose judgment was at fault to set at naught the benediction thou didst bestow upon us!"

Surely some pitiful god must have inspired Avānna̤ to utter these words, and, as she timidly and reverently raised her wondrously beautiful eyes towards Moûkara's, years vanished, and he recalled the memory of an almost divinely lovely bride, upon whose golden-haired head he had laid his hands in benediction.

Stooping from his majestic height he clasped her hands within his own and raised her to her feet. "Be at peace," he said. "Thou child of the One whose creative power hath made thee and me and these thy kindred of one flesh; if thou and these children of Andûmana̤ have suffered wrong at the hands of one who should protect thee and them, the just gods will right thee and them!"

Turning to Oûman Mitsa̤, upon whose benignant, handsome countenance varying emotions were paling and flushing by turns, Moûkara said: "Silence, my kinsman, sits well upon thy lips. But now I would hear thy speech in behalf of these, thy kindred and friends."

Among the distinguished personages of his day Oûman Mitsa̤'s eloquence was considered preeminent, and now, with his theme so near his heart, Moûkara listened to his words as though bereft of all sense save hearing; and, when, in concluding his appeal, he read to the shocked and astounded dignitary Frona̤'s piteous letter, such a rush of color overspread his fine face and such an indignant gleam enkindled his splendid eyes that, for a moment, his suppliants were alarmed lest some evil thing might befall him. But quickly he regained his composure, and with much suavity of manner said: "Oûman, my dear kinsman, I could not have expected less of thee than what thou art attempting to accomplish for these, thy peculiarly unfortunate relatives and friends. I recall that, at the time their children were placed in the Litzen Rinda̤, I was appealed to for a decision as to the propriety of their removal from the care of their parents, who were represented to me as having been remiss in their religious and parental obligations. I reproach myself that I permitted the stress of many cares to interfere with a closer scrutiny of the case, which I now perceive should have received my careful attention. Be assured that I shall not delay a righteous adjustment of this lamentable affair."

With further words of kindliest import Moûkara was about to dismiss them, when upon all ears fell a most alarming sound: the sonorous ringing of the great temple bell, indicating, through its peculiar signal strokes, that some imminent danger threatened some portion of Ento.

Instantly summoning an attendant, Moûkara received information which fell, for the moment, upon the ears of his suppliants with stupefying force.

An awful, an appalling tempest was sweeping over a portion of Lēonita Tylû and the country southwest of the city.

That was all that was yet known, but it was sufficient to fill the minds of the Nyassas and Oûman Mitsa̤ with direst apprehension for the safety of Inva̤loû, Frona̤ and many dear friends. With grateful but somewhat incoherent expressions of their appreciation of Moûkara's kindness and consideration, they received his blessing and hastened away to learn further of what had befallen the unfortunates of the storm-swept localities.