Read Online The Romance of Atlantis by Taylor Caldwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Taylor Caldwell
Ads: Link
Does it not trouble thee that none of these work since the great cloud came?”
The Princess pouted prettily. “I am more concerned about my toilet,” said she, “than the greatest ship at sea.”
Salustra looked at her sister as if she were seeing her totally for the first time. “Dost thou put thy little conveniences ahead of thy proper concerns as one next to the throne?”
The Princess stifled a yawn. “Oh, sister mine, thou art but a handful of years older than I, and with the rejuvenation chamber, wilt go on forever.” She frowned. “Besides, this is a mere atmospheric condition, and will pass soon. All say as much.”
Salustra bit her lip. Her own propaganda, meant to quiet her people, ironically had boomeranged in the royal household. For a moment, she had the impulse to reveal her own vague uneasiness and that of her ministers, but one look at that vapid face convinced her that it would serve no useful purpose. Not for long did Tyrhia’s thoughts stray from pleasures and comforts.
5
The royal Palace stood upon an eminence in a great park, with luxurious hanging gardens, replete with statues and fountains and small artificial lakes fed by Lamora’s canals. From its south colonnade, a broad road ran from the great gates to the ocean moat. The road, over a mile long, provided a clear view of the ocean from the colonnade. Salustra had added a gallery to one of the upper floors, and here she often sought solitude.
While she carefully watched over Tyrhia, she was grateful they had different mothers. Her mother, Maxima, came of an older, more distinguished family than even her father’s. Lazar, a warrior Noble from the Fifth Province, had been adopted by the childless Emperor Clito. Lazar came of a melancholy strain and Salustra sometimes wondered whether her growing ennui was part of his legacy.
Tonight her mood was more somber than usual. Having obtained the guest list from a rebellious Tyrhia, she sent messages to the older and more sophisticated guests at the birthday party, bidding them remain after the younger fry had left.
It had occurred to her, disconcertingly, that she had no companion to share the later hours. She was almost tempted to recall Lustri. He had the faculty of arousing her to a superlative degree if she made her mind a perfect blank. She abandoned the thought with a sigh. How predictably tiresome he was. Then, who else? Mentally, she ran her eye over the guest roll, and her mouth drooped in distaste. Too young, too old, too anemic, too fat, too unsophisticated, too cynical, too ignorant, too desiccated by learning. Her mind even more than her body had to be intrigued, at least in the beginning.
She left the gallery for the banquet in bad humor. Fifty guests were awaiting the Empress’ arrival in the antechamber leading to the grand ballroom. Most were young, sons and daughters of Nobles and friends of Tyrhia. These included the sons of Cicio, King of Dimtri, and the children of Patus, King of Nahi. The young men were in white tunics, cinched at the waist with golden girdles. The young women were in translucent robes, through which shapely limbs gleamed with a subtle sensuality. The older guests, all men, were grave in their purple togas. They talked seriously among themselves, while glancing occasionally in amused indulgence at the callow young men. The young women received a more searching scrutiny, as practiced eyes appraised the gentle swell of a maidenly breast or sweetly enticing thigh.
In the midst of this byplay, the great bronze door at the end of the chamber opened softly, and the Empress, alone, unattended, stood in the high arched doorway. The corridor behind her was dim, but the blazing light from within struck her with a dazzling effect. She wore a long trailing robe of brilliant gold, bunched about her waist with a gem-studded sash. Her hair was entirely concealed by a close-fitting helmet, from which twelve golden spikes sprang some two feet. The dark brilliance of
The Princess pouted prettily. “I am more concerned about my toilet,” said she, “than the greatest ship at sea.”
Salustra looked at her sister as if she were seeing her totally for the first time. “Dost thou put thy little conveniences ahead of thy proper concerns as one next to the throne?”
The Princess stifled a yawn. “Oh, sister mine, thou art but a handful of years older than I, and with the rejuvenation chamber, wilt go on forever.” She frowned. “Besides, this is a mere atmospheric condition, and will pass soon. All say as much.”
Salustra bit her lip. Her own propaganda, meant to quiet her people, ironically had boomeranged in the royal household. For a moment, she had the impulse to reveal her own vague uneasiness and that of her ministers, but one look at that vapid face convinced her that it would serve no useful purpose. Not for long did Tyrhia’s thoughts stray from pleasures and comforts.
5
The royal Palace stood upon an eminence in a great park, with luxurious hanging gardens, replete with statues and fountains and small artificial lakes fed by Lamora’s canals. From its south colonnade, a broad road ran from the great gates to the ocean moat. The road, over a mile long, provided a clear view of the ocean from the colonnade. Salustra had added a gallery to one of the upper floors, and here she often sought solitude.
While she carefully watched over Tyrhia, she was grateful they had different mothers. Her mother, Maxima, came of an older, more distinguished family than even her father’s. Lazar, a warrior Noble from the Fifth Province, had been adopted by the childless Emperor Clito. Lazar came of a melancholy strain and Salustra sometimes wondered whether her growing ennui was part of his legacy.
Tonight her mood was more somber than usual. Having obtained the guest list from a rebellious Tyrhia, she sent messages to the older and more sophisticated guests at the birthday party, bidding them remain after the younger fry had left.
It had occurred to her, disconcertingly, that she had no companion to share the later hours. She was almost tempted to recall Lustri. He had the faculty of arousing her to a superlative degree if she made her mind a perfect blank. She abandoned the thought with a sigh. How predictably tiresome he was. Then, who else? Mentally, she ran her eye over the guest roll, and her mouth drooped in distaste. Too young, too old, too anemic, too fat, too unsophisticated, too cynical, too ignorant, too desiccated by learning. Her mind even more than her body had to be intrigued, at least in the beginning.
She left the gallery for the banquet in bad humor. Fifty guests were awaiting the Empress’ arrival in the antechamber leading to the grand ballroom. Most were young, sons and daughters of Nobles and friends of Tyrhia. These included the sons of Cicio, King of Dimtri, and the children of Patus, King of Nahi. The young men were in white tunics, cinched at the waist with golden girdles. The young women were in translucent robes, through which shapely limbs gleamed with a subtle sensuality. The older guests, all men, were grave in their purple togas. They talked seriously among themselves, while glancing occasionally in amused indulgence at the callow young men. The young women received a more searching scrutiny, as practiced eyes appraised the gentle swell of a maidenly breast or sweetly enticing thigh.
In the midst of this byplay, the great bronze door at the end of the chamber opened softly, and the Empress, alone, unattended, stood in the high arched doorway. The corridor behind her was dim, but the blazing light from within struck her with a dazzling effect. She wore a long trailing robe of brilliant gold, bunched about her waist with a gem-studded sash. Her hair was entirely concealed by a close-fitting helmet, from which twelve golden spikes sprang some two feet. The dark brilliance of
Similar Books
