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Selestor's Men of Atlantis, by Clara Iza von Ravn, [1937], at

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The crime of old King Osiris and the king Atlantis gave to Egypt.

The Priestess springeth to the thought of temples old and kings who are but dust, save that their souls died not. Yea, thus I speak.

The king who reigned in Egypt when the flood destroyed Atlantis was Osiris, son of him who reigned in that ripe age when law perfected brought to that doomed land all things of Earth. Son of him who died with terror in his rheumy eyes, who clung in mute despair, with tightening, trembling lips to hand of her who smote with sore disgrace the kingdom. Thrust from throne the son who thought to reign when he—the sire—had passed, but was driven into Egypt.

Egypt, land of sun, of sand, of mighty river which drank deep of blood of sacrifice! For he—Osiris, son—in that past day did offer to his gods a gift of life for preservation from that water-death which smote the land—that, cruel, thrust him forth! But later day he viewed with stern despair that impulse of his youth and placed a ban on such deep wrong.

Ask ye again how "lost Atlantis’" sons bent first their steps to Egypt? Ask ye not in vain, for such would be my question—was, in that dim age when youth held message of the olden line as something to be drunk with ecstasy.

The queen Osiris’ father wed, in age was not of his own land, but stranger to his people. A sage foretold a doom for him who thus perverted law and wed beyond the sea.

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Close ties were broken through his choice, for of his house he saw no soul of all who had before been welcome to the feast, these turned their faces from his city fair and sought a home afar, and she who filled another's stead had "welcome" boldly writ to all her house and name.

Of the three sons born to Osiris—king—but twain survived their infancy, and these were strong and beautiful as gods, ye speak. The eldest, for his father named, rebelled against the marriage of his sire when death had claimed the queen the law first gave him—king.

Fondly had he loved the one who gave him birth; And she foretold the fate which waited all when death had claimed her—Queen first chosen—banishment to all her house should he, the king, rued.

Osiris, old and doting, sent his ships afar to bring to him a daughter of that land which since that day Assyria claimed; the race which first inhabited had passed ere I had seen the light—a fairer race than mine whose origin none knew—a subtle race who sold as slaves their kindred, drank of blood and tilled no soil.

They passed as passeth hoar frost; none of earth do hold a record of that race today. One of this race—a monarch—once did seek Atlantis’ shore to barter slaves for fruits, or gold, or jewels, and with him in his train of slaves he bore a sister—beautiful as dawn. And thus the king of proud Atlantis craved another of that house when she, his queen, had passed, the wife he loved in youth. So galleys sailed and gifts were sent, and to the ancient monarch came a bride, more fair than she—the slave. It was then the elders of the council rose in great rebellion, but the king was strong in his determination—threatened death—and with his followers (followers

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hath every man) he quelled the rioters, restoring peace.

Yet did the prince, first to the monarch born, though banished from the palace of his sires until his sires’ death (and should another heir be born the banishment was for the prince's life and he an outcast), swear by his gods that so disgraced was he, and stung by taunts of them who looked upon the violation of Atlantian law as violation of God's chosen law, that he would never on the island reign, nor stand a subject of the kingdom till his father's death, so, firm, departing took the friends who bode within his halls.

Less than one hundred, ye the number speak, but chosen for their grace of heart and wisdom. Thus they went afar unto my land, a band of resolute and daring hearts who builded well a nation woe befell!

Ah, Egypt! when the heart of earth had ceased to beat within the body that I called my own, I deemed not that thy sun had set! I deemed not that the stranger's hand would rise against thy monuments, my very tomb and tomb of her I loved. That grovelling would become her sons, her daughters menial to an alien horde that writes but agitation on their shield!

Osiris reigned in Egypt first. His court, the rocks that made a mark indeed to them who bode on barren plains, for in that higher spot they first did set their sandaled feet—the feet of refugees. Of them who bowed in grief at thought of palace walls which, kissed by Sun, shot out such gleams of light as comes from towers fair set with polished stones.


I told the tale of how the monarch old made one a queen from out that far-off land, in later time

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Assyria, and of the son who might have reigned.

Reigned there? Ah, no! for waters licked the throne, and rotted ermine, silken jewelled robe which clung about a form called "king"! And he, the chastened son, had shared that fate had he but lingered on the mother isle where rosy dreams of power, greatness, marked the pathway of his youth.

I speak of friends assembling in the gloom; I tell of whispered discourse, stealthy setting sail by twos, by threes, the barges; of slaves with mouths embound so that no cry cast out upon the night did ring alarm. Osiris, prince, the future king, fared in the galley eighty manned—Aamhotep to the left, Usertsen at the right with men to battle seasoned.

In their rear the merchants, the craftsmen of the line of Har-Dom El; and in the boats of lesser worth and beauty rode the cooks, the slaves, the little beasts who loved the children smiting playfully, and wives and children, priests with altar stores, filled other barges.

Spoil they bore not. Not one grain of gold, one length of linen, silk one thread the more, nor lace one shuttle's length that was not theirs by right. For Justice was the watchword of that band, and also feared they swift and sure pursuit if so they bore them plunder from the state.

Proud, also, were the refugees and scorned the gifts from king degraded, hampered on his road to heights the soul must climb to reach that higher world portrayed by priest. For marriage was the law which brought men good or ill to soul—that roused or crushed all higher impulse, taught the priests.

Wives were thought to hold within their hands the gift of life to soul as body. From higher planes, etheric, did they spring, contended law of marriage

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read by priest at ceremony. Mismated ones were said to lose all gifts from higher planes.

Earth-trodden, hampered none might hope to reach the heights, and thus in secret did the priest read low—the doom of that old king as set by gods whose laws were violated.

And when afar the refugees did hear the fate befallen king and subjects, all, low spake they in their horror: "Thus the gods decree for violation of the marriage laws read from lips unseen by men of fleshly mood, but law imparted to such priest as sins not, fasts and peers into the higher world through eyes of soul alone.

Next: Chapter XIII. The flight of Prince Osiris. His Egyptian court.