'Don't see why,' grumbled an elderly priest at the back of the crowd. 'Bloody knife and fork artist.'
They grabbed him, still protesting, and hurled him into the river.
'All hail-' They paused. 'Who was he high priest of, anyway?'
'Bunu, the Goat-headed God of Goats? Wasn't he?'
'All hail Bunu, probably,' they chorused, as the sacred crocodiles homed in like submarines.
Koomi raised his hands, imploring. It is said that the hour brings forth the man. He was the kind of man that is brought forth by devious and unpleasant hours, and underneath his bald head certain conclusions were beginning to unfold, like things imprisoned for years inside stones. He wasn't yet sure what they were, but they were broadly on the subject of gods, the new age, the need for a firm hand on the helm, and possibly the inserting of Dios into the nearest crocodile. The mere thought filled him with forbidden delight.
'Brethren!' he cried.
'Excuse me,' said the priestess of Sarduk.
'And sistren-'
'Thank you.'
'-let us rejoice!' The assembled priests stood in total silence. This was a radical approach which had not hitherto occurred to them. And Koomi looked at their upturned faces and felt a thrill the like of which he had never experienced before. They were frightened out of their wits, and they were expecting him - him - to tell them what to do.
'Yea!' he said. 'And, indeed, verily, the hour of the gods-'
'-and goddesses-'
'-yes, and goddesses, is at hand. Er.'
What next? What, when you got right down to it, was he going to tell them to do? And then he thought: it doesn't matter. Provided I sound confident enough. Old Dios always drove them, he never tried to lead them. Without him they're wandering around like sheep.
'And, brethren - and sistren, of course - we must ask ourselves, we must ask ourselves, we, er, yes.' His voice waxed again with new confidence. 'Yes, we must ask ourselves why the gods are at hand. And without doubt it is because we have not been assiduous enough in our worship, we have, er, we have lusted after graven idols.'
The priests exchanged glances. Had they? How did you do it, actually?
'And, yes, and what about sacrifices? Time was when a sacrifice was a sacrifice, not some messing around with a chicken and flowers.'
This caused some coughing in the audience.
'Are we talking maidens here?' said one of the priests uncertainly.
'Ahem.'
'And inexperienced young men too, certainly,' he said quickly. Sarduk was one of the older goddesses, whose female worshippers got up to no good in sacred groves; the thought of her wandering around the landscape somewhere, bloody to the elbows, made the eyes water.
Koomi's heart thumped. 'Well, why not?' he said. 'Things were better then, weren't they?'
'But, er, I thought we stopped all that sort of thing. Population decline and so forth.'
There was a monstrous splash out in the river. Tzut, the Snake-Headed God of the Upper Djel, surfaced and regarded the assembled priesthood solemnly. Then Fhez, the Crocodile-Headed God of the Lower Djel, erupted beside him and made a spirited attempt at biting his head off. The two submerged in a column of spray and a minor tidal wave which slopped over the balcony.
'Ah, but maybe the population declined because we stopped sacrificing virgins - of both sexes, of course,' said Koomi, hurriedly. 'Have you ever thought of it like that?' They thought of it. Then they thought of it again.
'I don't think the king would approve-' said one of the priests cautiously.
'The king?' shouted Koomi. 'Where is the king? Show me the king! Ask Dios where the king is!'
There was a thud by his feet. He looked down in horror as the gold mask bounced, and rolled towards the priests. They scattered hurriedly, like skittles.
Dios strode out into the light of the disputed sun, his face grey with fury.