uleg.thetombsofatuan-第1节

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　Prologue
　　
　　〃e　home；　Tenar！　e　home！〃
　　In　the　deep　valley；　in　the　twilight；　the　apple　trees　were　on　the　eve　of　blossoming；　here　and　there　among　the　shadowed　boughs　one　flower　had　opened　early；　rose　and　white；　like　a　faint　star。　Down　the　orchard　aisles；　in　the　thick；　new；　wet　grass；　the　little　girl　ran　for　the　joy　of　running；　hearing　the　call　she　did　not　e　at　once；　but　made　a　long　circle　before　she　turned　her　face　towards　home。　The　mother　waiting　in　the　doorway　of　the　hut；　with　the　firelight　behind　her；　watched　the　tiny　figure　running　and　bobbing　like　a　bit　of　thistledown　blown　over　the　darkening　grass　beneath　the　trees。
　　By　the　corner　of　the　hut；　scraping　clean　an　earthclotted　hoe；　the　father　said；　〃Why　do　you　let　your　heart　hang　on　the　child？　They're　ing　to　take　her　away　next　month。　For　good。　Might　as　well　bury　her　and　be　done　with　it。　What's　the　good　of　clinging　to　one　you're　bound　to　lose？　She's　no　good　to　us。　If　they'd　pay　for　her　when　they　took　her；　that　would　be　something；　but　they　won't。　They'll　take　her　and　that's　an　end　of　it。〃
　　The　mother　said　nothing；　watching　the　child　who　had　stopped　to　look　up　through　the　trees。　Over　the　high　hills；　above　the　orchards；　the　evening　star　shone　piercing　clear。
　　〃She　isn't　ours；　she　never　was　since　they　came　here　and　said　she　must　be　the　Priestess　at　the　Tombs。　Why　can't　you　see　that？〃　The　man's　voice　was　harsh　with　plaint　and　bitterness。　〃You　have　four　others。　They'll　stay　here；　and　this　one　won't。　So；　don't　set　your　heart　on　her。　Let　her　go！〃
　　〃When　the　time　es；〃　the　woman　said；　〃I　will　let　her　go。〃　She　bent　to　meet　the　child　who　came　running　on　little；　bare；　white　feet　across　the　muddy　ground；　and　gathered　her　up　in　her　arms。　As　she　turned　to　enter　the　hut　she　bent　her　head　to　kiss　the　child's　hair；　which　was　black；　but　her　own　hair；　in　the　flicker　of　firelight　from　the　hearth；　was　fair。
　　The　man　stood　outside；　his　own　feet　bare　and　cold　on　the　ground；　the　clear　sky　of　spring　darkening　above　him。　His　face　in　the　dusk　was　full　of　grief；　a　dull；　heavy；　angry　grief　that　he　would　never　find　the　words　to　say。　At　last　he　shrugged；　and　followed　his　wife　into　the　firelit　room　that　rang　with　children's　voices。
　
　The　Eaten　One
　　
　　One　high　horn　shrilled　and　ceased。　The　silence　that　followed　was　shaken　only　by　the　sound　of　many　footsteps　keeping　time　with　a　drum　struck　softly　at　a　slow　heartpace。　Through　cracks　in　the　roof　of　the　Hall　of　the　Throne；　gaps　between　columns　where　a　whole　section　of　masonry　and　tile　had　collapsed；　unsteady　sunlight　shone　aslant。　It　was　an　hour　after　sunrise。　The　air　was　still　and　cold。　Dead　leaves　of　weeds　that　had　forced　up　between　marble　pavement…tiles　were　outlined　with　frost；　and　crackled；　catching　on　the　long　black　robes　of　the　priestesses。
　　They　came；　four　by　four；　down　the　vast　hall　between　double　rows　of　columns。　The　drum　beat　dully。　No　voice　spoke；　no　eye　watched。　Torches　carried　by　black…clad　girls　burned　reddish　in　the　shafts　of　sunlight；　brighter　in　the　dusk　between。　Outside；　on　the　steps　of　the　Hall　of　the　Throne；　the　men　stood；　guards；　trumpeters；　drummers；　within　the　great　doors　only　women　had　e；　dark…robed　and　hooded；　walking　slowly　four　by　four　towards　the　empty　throne。
　　Two　came；　tall　women　looming　in　their　black；　one　of　them　thin　and　rigid；　the　other　heavy；　swaying　with　the　planting　of　her　feet。　Between　these　two　walked　a　child　of　about　six。　She　wore　a　straight　white　shift。　Her　head　and　arms　and　legs　were　bare；　and　she　was　barefoot。　She　looked　extremely　small。　At　the　foot　of　the　steps　leading　up　to　the　throne；　where　the　others　now　waited　in　dark　rows；　the　two　tall　women　halted。　They　pushed　the　child　forward　a　little。
　　The　throne　on　its　high　platform　seemed　to　be　curtained　on　each　side　with　great　webs　of　blackness　dropping　from　the　gloom　of　the　roof；　whether　these　were　curtains；　or　only　denser　shadows；　the　eye　could　not　make　certain。　The　throne　itself　was　black；　with　a　dull　glimmer　of　precious　stones　or　gold　on　the　arms　and　back；　and　it　was　huge。　A　man　sitting　in　it　would　have　been　dwarfed；　it　was　not　of　human　dimensions。　It　was　empty。　Nothing　sat　in　it　but　shadows。
　　Alone；　the　child　climbed　up　four　of　the　seven　steps　of　red…veined　marble。　They　were　so　broad　and　high　that　she　had　to　get　both　feet　onto　one　step　before　attempting　the　next。　On　the　middle　step；　directly　in　front　of　the　throne；　stood　a　large；　rough　block　of　wood；　hollowed　out　on　top。　The　child　knelt　on　both　knees　and　fitted　her　head　into　the　hollow；　turning　it　a　little　sideways。　She　knelt　there　without　moving。
　　A　figure　in　a　belted　gown　of　white　wool　stepped　suddenly　out　of　the　shadows　at　the　right　of　the　throne　and　strode　down　the　steps　to　the　child。　His　face　was　masked　with　white。　He　held　a　sword　of　polished　steel　five　feet　long。　Without　word　or　hesitation　he　swung　the　sword；　held　in　both　hands；　up　over　the　little　girl's　neck。　The　drum　stopped　beating。
　　As　the　blade　swung　to　its　highest　point　and　poised；　a　figure　in　black　darted　out　from　the　left　side　of　the　throne；　leapt　down　the　stairs；　and　stayed　the　sacrificer's　arms　with　slenderer　arms。　The　sharp　edge　of　the　sword　glittered　in　mid…air。　So　they　balanced　for　a　moment；　the　white　figure　and　the　black；　both　faceless；　dancer…like　above　the　motionless　child　whose　white　neck　was　bared　by　the　parting　of　her　black　hair。
　　In　silence　each　leapt　aside　and　up　the　stairs　again；　vanishing　in　the　darkness　behind　the　enormous　throne。　A　priestess　came　forward　and　poured　out　a　bowl　of　some　liquid　on　the　steps　beside　the　kneeling　child。　The　stain　looked　black　in　the　dimness　of　the　hall。
　　The　child　got　up　and　descended　the　four　stairs　laboriously。　When　she　stood　at　the　bottom；　the　two　tall　priestesses　put　on　her　a　black　robe　and　hood　and　mantle；　and　turned　her　around　again　to　face　the　steps；　the　dark　stain；　the　throne。
　　〃O　let　the　Nameless　Ones　behold　the　girl　given　to　them；　who　is　verily　the　one　born　ever　nameless。　Let　them　accept　her　life　and　the　years　of　her　life　until　her　death；　which　is　also　theirs。　Let　them　find　her　acceptable。　Let　her　be　eaten！〃
　　Other　voices；　shrill　and　harsh　as　trumpets；　replied：　〃She　is　eaten！　She　is　eaten！〃
　　The　little　girl　stood　looking　from　under　her　black　cowl　up　at　the　throne。　The　jewels　inset　in　the　huge　clawed　arms　and　the　back　were　glazed　with　dust；　and　on　the　carven　back　were　cobwebs　and　whitish　stains　of　owl　droppings。　The　three　highest　steps　directly　before　the　throne；　above　the　step　on　which　she　had　knelt；　had　never　been　climbed　by　mortal　feet。　They　were　so　thick　with　dust　that　they　looked　like　one　slant　of　gray　soil；　the　planes　of　the　red…veined　marble　wholly　hidden　by　the　unstirred；　untrodden　siftings　of　how　many　years；　how　many　centuries。
　　〃She　is　eaten！　She　is　eaten！〃
　　Now　the　drum；　abrupt；　began　to　sound　again；　beating　a　quicker　pace。
　　Silent　and　shuffling；　the　procession　formed　and　moved　away　from　the　throne；　eastward　towards　the　bright；　distant　square　of　the　doorway。　On　either　side；　the　thick　double　columns；　like　the　calves　of　immense　pale　legs；　went　up　to　the　dusk　under　the　ceiling。　Among　the　priestesses；　and　now　all　in　black　like　them；　the　child　walked；　her　small　bare　feet　treading　solemnly　over　the　frozen　weeds；　the　icy　stones。　When　sunlight　slanting　through　the　ruined　roof　flashed　across　her　way；　she　did　not　look　up。
　　Guards　held　the　great　doors　wide。　The　black　procession　came　out　into　the　thin；　cold　light　and　wind　of　early　morning。　The　sun　dazzled；　swimming　above　the　eastern　vastness。　Westward；　the　mountains　caught　its　yellow　light；　as　did　the　facade　of　the　Hall　of　the　Throne。　The　other　buildings；　lower　on　the　hill；　still　lay　in　purplish　shadow；　except　for　the　Temple　of　the　God…Brothers　across　the　way　on　a　little　knoll：　its　roof；　newly　gilt；　flashed　the　day　back　in　glory。　The　black　line　of　priestesses；　four　by　four；　wound　down　the　Hill　of　the　Tombs；　and　as　they　went　they　began　softly　to　chant。　The　tune　was　on　three　notes　only；　and　the　word　that　was　repeated　over　and　over　was　a　word　so　old　it　had　lost　its　meaning；　like　a　signpost　still　standing　when　the　road　is　gone。　Over　and　over　they　chanted　the　empty　word。　All　that　day　of　the　Remaking　of　the　Priestess　was　filled　with　the　low　chanting　of　women's　voices；　a　dry　unceasing　drone。
　　The　little　girl　was　taken　from　room　to　room；　from　temple　to　temple。　In　one　place　salt　was　placed　upon　her　tongue；　in　another　she　knelt　facing　west　while　her　hair　was　cut　short　and　washed　with　oil　and　scented　vinegar；　in　another　she　lay　face　down　on　a　slab　of　black　marble　behind　an　altar　while　shrill　voices　sang　a　lament　for　the　dead。　Neither　she　nor　any　of　the　priestesses　ate　food　or　drank　water　all　that　day。　As　the　evening　star　set；　the　little　girl　was　put　to　bed；　naked　between　sheepskin　rugs；　in　a　room　she　had　never　slept　in　before。　It　was　in　a　house　that　had　been　locked　for　years；　unlocked　only　that　day。　The　room　was　higher　than　it　was　long；　and　had　no　windows。　There　was　a　dead　smell　in　it；　still　and　stale。　The　silent　women　left　her　there　in　the　dark。
　　She　held　still；　lying　just　as　they　had　put　her。　Her　eyes　were　wide　open。　She　lay　so　for　a　long　time。
　　She　saw　light　shake　on　the　high　wall。　Someone　came　quietly　along　the　corridor；　shielding　a　rushlight　so　it　showed　no　more　light　than　a　firefly。　A