The ladies bore in their hands more
gold-leaf, that they might acquire merit by offering this for the
service of the Master of the Law, and indeed this temple was the
offering of the Queen herself, who, because she bore the name of
the Mother of the Lord, excelled in good works and was the Moon
of this lower world in charity and piety.
Though wan with grief and anxiety, this Queen was beautiful. Her
eyes, like mournful lakes of darkness, were lovely in the pale
ivory of her face. Her lips were nobly cut and calm, and by the
favour of the Guardian Nats, she was shaped with grace and
health, a worthy mother of kings. Also she wore her jewels like a
mighty princess, a magnificence to which all the people shikoed
as she passed, folding their hands and touching the forehead
while they bowed down, kneeling.
Before the colossal image of the Holy One she made her offering
and, attended by her women, she sat in meditation, drawing
consolation from the Tranquillity above her and the silence of
the shrine. This ended, the Queen rose and did obeisance to the
Lord and, retiring, paced back beneath the White Canopy and
entered the courtyard where the palace stood - a palace of noble
teakwood, brown and golden and carved like lace into strange
fantasies of spires and pinnacles and branches where Nats and
Tree Spirits and Beloos and swaying river maidens mingled and met
amid fruits and leaves and flowers in a wild and joyous
confusion.
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