And the withered, ancient body - once huge - was that of the mystic descendant of the Coromanteen chieftains.
Acquaba.
The preserved remains of the progenitor... spanning the centuries. The true cross of the Tribe of Acquaba. For the believers to see. And sense.
'Down here,' Daniel's words were whispered, but Alex heard them clearly. 'You will sit with me. Please, hurry.'
McAuliff walked down the remaining staircase to the floor of the quarry shell and over to the Halidonite on the right side of the primitive stage. Jutting out from the wall were two stone blocks; Daniel pointed to one: the seat nearest the corpse of Acquaba, less than eight feet away.
McAuliff lowered himself on to the hard stone, his eyes drawn to the open catafalque of solid and webbed gold. The leathered corpse was dressed in robes of reddish black; the feet and hands were bare... and huge, as the head was huge. Allowing for the contraction of two centuries, the man must have been enormous - nearer seven feet than six.
The single torch below the coffin of gold shot flickering shadows against the wall; the thin reeds crisscrossing the front of the carved-out casket picked up the light in dozens of tiny reflections. The longer one stared, thought Alex, the easier it would be to convince oneself this was the shell of a god lying in state. A god who had walked the earth and worked the earth - two hundred years could not erase the signs on the enormous hands and feet. But this god, this man did not toil as other men...
He heard the sounds of muted steps and looked up into the small amphitheater. Through the entrance, hidden in darkness, and down the staircase they came, a procession of men and women separating and spreading throughout the lateral stone aisles, taking their seats.
In silence.
Those with torches stood equidistant from each other on graduating levels against opposite walls.
All eyes were on the withered body beyond the latticework of gold. Their concentration was absolute; it was as if they drew sustenance from it.
In silence.
Suddenly, without warning, the sound of the hollydawn shattered the stillness with the impact of an explosion. The thunderous, wailing lament seemed to burst from the bowels of rock-covered earth, crashing upward against the stone, thrusting out of the huge pit that was the grave of Acquaba.
McAuliff felt the breath leaving his lungs, the blood rushing to his head. He buried his face between his knees, his hands clamped over his ears, his whole body shaking.
The cry reached a crescendo, a terrible screaming rush of air that swelled to a pitch of frenzy. No human ears could stand it! thought Alex as he trembled... as he had never before trembled in his life.
And then it was over and the silence returned.
McAuliff slowly sat up, lowering his hands, gripping the stone beneath him in an effort to control the violent spasms he felt shooting through his flesh. His eyes were blurred from the blood which had raced to his temples; they cleared slowly, in stages, and he looked out at the row of Halidonites, at these chosen members of the Tribe of Acquaba.
They were - each one, all - still staring, eyes fixed on the ancient, withered body behind the golden reeds.
Alex knew they had remained exactly as they were throughout the shattering madness that had nearly driven him out of his mind.
He turned to Daniel; involuntarily he gasped. The Minister of Council, too, was transfixed, his black eyes wide, his jaw set, his face immobile. But he was different from all the others; there were tears streaming down Daniel's cheeks.
'You're mad... all of you,' said Alex quietly. 'You're insane...'
Daniel did not respond. Daniel could not hear him. He was in a hypnotic state.
They all were. Everyone in that carved-out shell beneath the earth. Nearly a hundred men and women inextricably held by some force beyond his comprehension.
Autosuggestion. Self-somnipathy. Group hypnosis. Whatever the catalyst, each individual in that primitive amphitheatre was mesmerized beyond reach. On another plane... time and space unfamiliar.
Alexander felt himself an intruder; he was observing a ritual too private for his eyes.
Yet he had not asked to be here. He had been forced in - ripped out of place - and made to bear witness.
Still, the witnessing filled him with sorrow. And he could not understand. So he looked over at the body that was once the giant, Acquaba.
He stared at the shrivelled flesh of the once-black face. At the closed eyes, so