Chapter XX: Inside the Temple

The dawn awoke Pierre with a start. He shivered and looked round him with an empty stare. Then, memory coming back to him suddenly, he got up and his eyes sought Father Ravennes but did not find him.

Beginning to be uneasy he called out:

"Ravennes!"

"Here.... Come to me."

Turning his head in the direction of the voice he saw the priest who, hidden between two lumps of rock some twenty yards to the left, was beckoning to him. Rapidly the young man crawled to his side and crouched down next to him.

The missionary explained:

"We are at the very base of the temple. Turn slightly to the right ... yes, there it is.... As an observation post we could not have thought of anything better than this. Now be silent and let us watch...."

Pierre asked:

"Nothing has stirred?"

"Nothing," said the missionary.

Carefully lifting his head Pierre looked round the scene. Day was coming--a dull, unpleasant day, shrouded in a thick fog through which the light could only penetrate very slowly. As the mist rose, the end of the ravine revealed itself. First of all, the rocky mass on which the temple was built became visible. Enormous blocks of stone heaped together rose towards the sky and at each side reached the very walls of the fissure which they here filled entirely. The ravine at this point was no more than a gorge, three hundred yards across, deeply overshadowed by its vertical walls. Out of this chaotic pile of rock the foundations of the temple rose. They gripped and mixed themselves with the stone, completing its rugged outline, and carrying it upwards with the very same rough gray exterior, so that in places Lursac could not even distinguish where the rock ended and the building began.

Gradually, as the mist lifted higher, the two men were able to perceive a dozen doors let into the stone at regular intervals in the foundation wall. The ensemble of the buildings, however, remained still invisible. For some little while longer they continued to be hidden; then a shaft of sunlight drove its way through the mist and splashed the cliff on the right with light. The mist drew away and the entire temple stood revealed before them little by little. First of all the four towers of unequal height, built up in tiers, and together resembling one of those slender tiaras worn by Cambodian and Siamese idols; then the long, irregular, clear line of the roofs, and finally the gigantic and wonderful façade, ornamented with porticoes, broken with chapels and pierced by innumerable windows all barred with rows of small columns.

The voice of the priest trembled with emotion.

"A Kmer temple," said he. "_The_ Temple ... purer in style and more magnificent than Angkor-Wat itself, and certainly more ancient!"

He had stood up and was staring at the enormous building framed between the cliffs of the ravine:

"One hundred and fifty yards high.... Prodigious!"

Forgetful of the place and of the circumstances, remembering no longer their danger or the sorceresses or Wanda, he gave himself up to the pride of his discovery, to the admiration which overcame him. He almost laughed.

"Yes.... _The_ Temple! The model, the jewel, the original which those that came after copied ... and that in the depths of the Lao-ese forest, among peoples as uncivilized and as primitive as the beasts! Well, then? Who undertook this gigantic and surpassing work.... Who ... and why _here_? I...."

He was suddenly silent. Pierre, pushing him back, whispered in his ear:

"Quiet! Be silent!..."

The priest saw him point with his finger towards the forest, on the edge of which a human being had just become visible. He was strangely clothed in a brown fur which covered his shoulders and waved about his figure. On his head was set the muzzle of an ox surmounted with horns curved in the form of a lyre. The man, walking along the edge of the wood, reached the foot of the wall, then he crossed the narrow belt of ground and came to the rocks. Standing upright on one of them he raised his head towards the façade of the sanctuary.

He was scarcely thirty yards from Lursac and Ravennes, and against the gray front of the temple his figure was silhouetted with precision. He was very tall, with astonishingly long legs, a narrow waist and large, strong shoulders. Turning towards the plain, he first of all watched the forest; then his glance slid along the cliff and came back to the buildings, ran over them rapidly and then fixed itself on one of the windows. He cried with a ringing, and surprisingly sweet, voice:

"_O ... ô ... iê ... iêp...._"

Pierre and the missionary recognized him at the same moment: the hunter with the club, the chief who had marched at the head of the clan on their return from the hunt on the evening before.

Suddenly he dashed forward and began to climb the stony blocks. He mounted towards the temple by supple and accurate leaps, bounding from one stone to the other and walking with long strides when the ground permitted it. Each one of his movements and of his attitudes gave a curious impression of strength and grace. He suggested one of those great animals of the cat tribe, fierce and full of vital strength at the same time: his powerful muscular body had the same sinuous movement combined with suddenness of action, the same sure and silent footfall.

He was now at the very foot of the temple. In front of him stood the foundation, with its rugged wall broken by the line of doorways; further up, on a jutting balcony, was another row of doors, of which each one was flanked by a window barred with small columns.

The Man looked at them carefully. He seemed to hesitate. Then deciding, he climbed the whole height of the foundation-wall. The irregularities of the stone which he gripped with his feet, his hands and his knees, were worn in places and gave way under him; but with a twist of his body he balanced himself afresh and continued to mount. At last he reached the cornice and drew himself up on it, and then ran along the narrow balcony, coming to a stop towards the middle of the façade under one of the windows.

Standing on tiptoes he raised his arms, seized the auroch's skin by the horns with which his head was ornamented, and with a sweeping gesture of one who makes an offering, he hung it up on a jutting piece of stone. Then he remained motionless, his face pressed against the columns of the window.

Lursac and Ravennes had breathlessly watched his ascent. With their eyes fixed on the opening under which the brown auroch's pelt was now hanging, they noticed with astonishment its extraordinary appearance. It was surrounded with peculiar offerings, great aurochs' muzzles, heads of stags, skins of enormous bears, bunches of half-faded flowers, bundles of fruit, barbaric collars of wild beasts' claws, and in an angle, set on the same support, a comb of honey from which bright yellow tears of juice were dropping. Pierre and the missionary looked at one another, the same question came to their minds: what was this strange worship? To whom was it addressed? These Red Gods, these prehistoric men miraculously preserved and perpetuated, these Gods which were worshipped, did they in their turn worship Something or Somebody?

With a shake of his head the priest signified the impossibility of solving the problem.

In any case they had not the time to think of it very much longer. The Man up there abandoned his position of contemplation, and their attention was once again concentrated on him. Without giving himself the trouble to climb down the whole height of the foundations, he calculated for a moment, leaped, and covering the ten feet or so which the wall measured, he recovered himself by a simple bending of the knees. Then, once again turned towards the buildings, he looked at the strange window. After which he set out towards the valley, disappeared between the rocky blocks and reappeared further off at the top of a rounded granite mass, ran down towards the plain, crossed it hurriedly and re-entered the forest.

The sun, by this time already hot, had dissipated the fog. Lursac pointed out to the priest the dozen doors set in the wall.

"There is the way we must enter the temple," said he.

With a nod the priest assented.

"Yes, we must try and force one of them at random, it doesn't matter which! Look, this one, which is opposite to us."

They had now risen and, in their turn hiding themselves as much as possible in their ascent, they climbed towards the temple.

A mass of granite formed a sort of narrow parapet in front of the door and on it they stopped bewildered: in the stupendous wall they could see the door in its doorway and it was half open. Pierre pushed it gently, and with his revolver drawn ready to fire entered it. Behind him, the missionary followed.

* * * * *

Thick gloom and clammy cold struck them in the face and clung to them as they entered. They shivered. Motionless, with every faculty on the stretch, they waited and listened. The heavy damp silence reassured them. The missionary struck a match. With a dry scratch the tiny flame ignited, lighting up dimly the rocky walls and discovering to them, close by the door by which they had entered, a tripod with its bundle of resinous branches and dry leaves prepared for lighting.

"Wait," said Pierre, "I will shut the door, then we will set fire to this."

A few minutes later, by the light of the fire they were able to examine the cell in which they found themselves. It turned out to be square and disproportionately high, practically forming a cube. The walls were gray, on the floor of beaten earth a lance and some hatchets with heavy flint heads were lying about. On one side was the door by which they had made their entrance: on the opposite side, a gallery was visible, separated from the cell by a row of columns set close together and reaching from the ground to the vaulted ceiling: on the left a stone wall: on the right a second wall, but pierced by another door, heavy and re-inforced with metal work, and furnished with a heavy iron lock. Pierre, going up to it looked at it closely, felt it and tried with the help of his pocketknife to make it work. The bolt of the lock rattled and moved. He tried harder, but the blade of his knife broke with a snap and he gave a growl of fury.

"Curse it!... One must use violence. So much the worse, but we have no choice."

He flung a look round and noticed the axes. But already the missionary, bending down, had picked one up. He swung it about for a moment and fitted the haft of it well into his hand.

Advancing, he pushed Pierre on one side.

"As soon as the door gives way," he said, "we will rush through. The main hall must be far enough away for us not to be heard. Anyhow we have no other way of doing it. Are you ready?"

He drew up his great body, raised his arms to their full height and then heavily brought the club down with his full strength. The lock rang and sparks flew, while fragments of the flint were scattered around. Without waiting, he repeated the action several times in succession with his full strength. Under the echoing vault the noise of the blows was magnified and made a shattering noise. The lock, injured and finally broken, gave way revealing its mechanism. With a last blow, which shattered the wood around it, he made it leap from the door. Flinging the axe behind him, the missionary, with a violent blow of his shoulder, pushed back the heavy door and flung himself forward followed by Pierre. The flickering light of the fire lighted up the entrance of a subterranean passage. They could distinguish the first steps of a narrow stairway of which the rest was lost in the darkness. They commenced to climb it cautiously and soon the shadows closed around them. The priest mounted slowly, trying the ground at each step. His hands stretched out before him, Pierre, his revolver ready to fire, counted the steps one by one.

"Eight ... nine ... ten ... eleven...."

"Lursac!"

The sharp call brought the young man to a sudden standstill; he cried excitedly:

"Ravennes!"

The cry of the priest, now indistinct, came twice more.

"Lursac!... Lursac!..."

Pierre ran forward and crashed into and thrust aside invisible forms. He heard the labored breathing of Father Ravennes, and a warning voice:

"Look out!... We are attacked!... Try to...."

At the same time, pushing on him from all directions, a mass of bodies suddenly materializing out of the night flung itself upon him, carried him off his feet and overthrew him. His head wrapped in a thick cloth, his legs encircled, he fell. About him other bodies, clinging to his, fell with him and rolled over him. There was the sound of stifled oaths, groans and curses. Then once more all was silent, and he felt that he was being carried away.