THE FESTIVAL OF THE FOUNDATION OF ABIBAH.

It was the festival of the foundation of the city of Abibah. The festival was always celebrated on the ninety-sixth day of the year,[38] and it was an occasion upon which the King was expected to speak very frankly to his people, and to declare to them his hopes, his fears, and his wishes for the future.

Footnote 38:

The manner in which the day for holding this anniversary was fixed upon was by calculating as follows:--three fours were _multiplied_ together; and to their product was added the sum of eight fours, thus making the total 96.

Whether Realmah felt that his health was in a precarious state (though no man dared to say that he was not as young and vigorous as ever), or whether he feared any quarrel amongst his allies and tributaries (and he was well aware that what he intended to do could only be done in a time of profound peace), he resolved that at this festival he would declare his great project to the people. His recent wounds, he knew, would not be otherwise than most serviceable to him on this occasion. In fact this may have determined him, as he was well aware that his people were much afraid that they had not yet earned his forgiveness, and would therefore be most anxious to conciliate him, and to make their peace at any sacrifice.

Now Realmah was a great orator--a born orator. After the first moments of abject nervousness, which all men of fine temperament experience at beginning a speech, Realmah was never greater, never more self-possessed, than when he was addressing a multitude of his subjects.

The thousands of eyes looking up at him seemed to endow him with a part of their own magnetic force. He felt that he could move his audience to tears, to laughter, and even, what is more difficult still, to self-abnegation. He was well aware that on this great occasion he must tax his powers to the utmost, and either win or lose the cause which, for thirty-five years, he had set his heart upon.

It was from a platform ascended by steps in the centre of the great market-place of Abibah, that the King was accustomed to address the assembled people on the auspicious day of the anniversary of the founding of their city.

Slowly and painfully did the King ascend the steps on this memorable day. He smiled a strange, ghastly smile, composed partly of pain, partly of a wish to appear very gracious and very much delighted at meeting the assembled people. In the distance the smile looked very well, and seemed all graciousness; but to the faithful Omki, his foster-brother, this set smile brought tears to the heart. And, strange to say (which was only too painfully noticed by Omki), the King, in the middle of the ascent, laid hold of his arm, and leant heavily upon it. “Keep close to me, dear Omki,” he said; and Omki shuddered, for the King was not wont to say “dear,” or to be so openly affectionate, even to him.

A word or two must be said of Omki before we proceed to give an account of the royal speech, and of its direful results.

There is much hero-worship even in these days, but, alas, of what a different kind to that of this faithful foster-brother! It is the hero-worship of asking the hero out to unwelcome festivity, in order to show him off, of invading his privacy, of molesting him in every way: it is not the hero-worship of devoting labour and time, and fortune and self-sacrifice, and life itself, to a great man, who would be worth it all. Now it is little to say that Omki would have given his life for his foster-brother the King: he would have waded deep in blood, regardless of his own soul, to obey any order of the King. I am describing a pagan, and not a Christian; but there is great merit in such self-devotion, in whatever way it may be shown.

The King gained the platform, and wearily threw his jasper-studded robes behind him.

His great Council followed--a body of venerable men, who looked as if the cares of state were deeply marked in their expressive countenances. There was a flourish of trumpets, or of the instruments that corresponded with trumpets, which was by no means ineffective, for the Sheviri were an eminently musical people, and, in their rude instruments, there were the beginnings of all the instruments that are now most potent in the expression of musical ideas. The people were hushed into a supreme silence.

_Milverton._ I reserve the speech for a new chapter; and, before describing its effect upon the men of Abibah, would like to hear what the guests at Worth-Ashton have to say further upon Realmah’s great project.

Here there was a pause for a time, but nobody chose to make any remark, and then Mr. Milverton resumed.