Peter Paul Rubens Samson and Delilah

Peter Paul Rubens Samson and DelilahJohn William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse OpheliaJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs
a time of crisis, possibly any high-born minister of state would suffice,' she went on.
Dios looked up, his face mirroring the agony of his tendons.
'I see,' he said. 'And who would be high priest then?'
'The gods would choose,' said Koomi.
'I daresay 'Very well, then,' he said. 'I have one final request.'
'Yes?' Koomi's voice had timbre now, it was already a high priest's voice.
'I wish to be interred in the-' Dios began, and was cut off by a murmur from those priests who could look out across the river. All eyes turned to the distant, inky shore.they would,' said Dios sourly. 'I am in some doubt as to the wisdom of their choice.' 'The dead can speak to the gods in the netherworld,' said the priestess. 'But the gods are all here,' said Dios, fighting against the throbbing in his legs, which were insisting that, at this time, they should be walking along the central corridor en route to supervise the Rite of the Under Sky. His body cried out for the solace over the river. And once over the river, never to return . . . but he'd always said that. 'In the absence of the king the high priest performs his duties. Isn't that right, Dios?' said Koomi. It was. It was written. You couldn't rewrite it, once it was written. He'd written it. Long ago. Dios hung his head. This was worse than plumbing, this was worse than anything. And yet, and yet. . . to go across the river . . .