“The Queen of Babylon found that too,” said Cyril; “it’s part of the magic.”
“Oh, what a dream!” said the learned gentleman.
The white-robed priest had been joined by others, and all were bowing low.
“Enter,” he said, “enter, Children of the Sun, with your High Ji-jimmy.”
In an inner courtyard stood the Temple—all of silver, with gold pinnacles and 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.”
“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.