She: A History of Adventure

by H. Rider Haggard

  Job’s remarks were not exactly of a cheering order to a man who had just passed through such a night; and, what is more, they had the weight of truth. Taking one thing with another, it appeared to me to be an utter impossibility that we should escape from this place where we were. Supposing that Leo recovered, and supposing that She would let us go, which was exceedingly doubtful, and that she did not “blast” us in some moment of vexation, and that we were not “hot-potted” by the Amahagger, it would be quite impracticable for us to find our way across the network of marshes which, stretching for scores and scores of miles, formed a stronger and more impassable fortification round the various Amahagger “households” than any that could be built or designed by man. No, there was but one thing to do—face it out; and, speaking for my own part, I was so intensely interested in the whole weird story that, notwithstanding the shattered state of my nerves, I asked nothing better, even if my life paid forfeit to my curiosity. What man for whom physiology has charms could forbear to study such a character as that of this wonderful Ayesha when the opportunity presented itself? The very terror of the pursuit added to its fascination; moreover, as I was forced to own to myself even now in the sober light of day, the woman had attractions that I could not forget. Not even the dreadful sight which I had witnessed during the night could drive that folly from my mind; and, alas that I should have to admit it! it has not been driven thence to this hour.

  After I had dressed myself I passed into the eating, or rather embalming chamber, and took some food, which as before was brought to me by the girl mutes. When I had finished I went to see poor Leo, who was quite light-headed, and did not even know me. I asked Ustane how she thought he did; but she only shook her head and began to cry a little. Evidently her hopes were small; and then and there I made up my mind that, if it were possible, I would persuade She to come to see him. Surely she would cure him if she had the power—at any rate she said so. While I was in the room, Billali entered, and also shook his head.

  “He will die at nightfall,” he said.

  “God forbid, my father,” I answered, and turned away with a heavy heart.

  “She-who-must-be-obeyed commands thy presence, my Baboon,” said the old man so soon as we passed the curtain; “but, oh, my dear son, be more careful. Yesterday I made sure in my heart that She would blast thee when thou didst not crawl upon thy stomach before her. She will sit in the great hall presently to do justice upon those who would have smitten thee and the Lion. Come, my son; come swiftly.”

  I turned, and followed him down the passage, and when we reached the central cave I saw that many Amahagger, some robed, and some clad only in the sweet simplicity of a leopard skin, were hurrying along it. We mingled with the throng, and walked up the enormous and, indeed, almost interminable cavern. All its walls were most elaborately sculptured, and every twenty paces or so passages opened out of it at right angles, leading, Billali told me, to tombs, hollowed in the rock by “the people who were before.” Nobody visited those tombs now, he said; and I admit that my heart rejoiced when I thought of the opportunities of antiquarian research which lay open to me.

  At last we came to the head of the cave, where there was a rock daïs almost exactly similar to the one on which we had been so furiously attacked, a fact that proved to me that these daïs must have been used as altars, probably for the celebration of religious ceremonies, and more especially of rites connected with the interment of the dead. On either side of this platform were passages leading, Billali informed me, to other caves full of dead bodies. “Indeed,” he added, “the whole mountain is peopled with dead, and nearly all of them perfect.”

  In front of the daïs were gathered a great number of people of both sexes, who stood staring about in their peculiar gloomy fashion, which would have reduced Mark Tapley himself to misery within five minutes. On the platform was a rude chair of black wood inlaid with ivory, having a seat made of grass fibre, and a footstool formed of a wooden slab attached to the framework of the chair.

  Suddenly there rose a cry of “Hiya! Hiya!” (“She! She!”), whereupon the entire crowd of spectators instantly precipitated themselves to the ground, and lay still as though they were individually and collectively stricken dead, leaving me standing like some solitary survivor of a massacre. At that moment, too, a string of guards began to defile from a passage to the left, and ranged themselves on either side of the daïs. Then came about a score of male mutes, followed by as many women mutes bearing lamps, and lastly a tall white figure, swathed from head to foot, in whom I recognised She herself. She mounted the platform, and, sitting down upon the chair, spoke to me in Greek, I suppose because she did not wish those present to understand what she said.

  “Come hither, O Holly,” she said, “and sit thou at my feet, and see me do justice on those who would have slain thee. Forgive me if my Greek doth halt like a lame man; it is so long since I have heard the sound of it that my tongue is stiff, and will not bend rightly to the words.”

  I bowed, and, mounting the daïs, sat down at her feet.

  “How hast thou slept, my Holly?” she asked.

  “I slept not well, O Ayesha!” I answered with perfect truth, and with an inward fear that perhaps she knew how I had passed the heart of the night.

  “So,” she said, with a little laugh; “I, too, have not slept well. Last night I had dreams, and methinks that thou didst call them to me, my Holly.”

  “Of what didst thou dream, Ayesha?” I asked indifferently.

  “I dreamed,” she answered quickly, “of one I hate and one I love,” and then, as though to turn the conversation, she addressed the captain of her guard in Arabic, saying: “Let the men be brought before me.”

  The captain bowed low, for the guard and her attendants did not prostrate themselves, but remained standing, and departed with his underlings down a passage to the right.

  Then came a silence. She leaned her swathed head upon her hand and appeared to be lost in thought, while the multitude before her continued to grovel upon their stomachs, only twisting their heads round a little so as to have a view of us with one eye. It seemed that their Queen so rarely appeared in public that they were willing to undergo this inconvenience, and even graver risks, to gain the opportunity of looking on her, or rather on her garments, for no living man there except myself had ever seen her face. At last we caught sight of the waving of lights, and heard the tramp of men advancing down the passage. Then in filed the guard, and with them the survivors of our would-be murderers, to the number of twenty or more, on whose countenances a natural expression of sullenness struggled with the terror that evidently filled their savage hearts. They were ranged in front of the daïs, and would have cast themselves upon the floor of the cave like the spectators, but She stopped them.

  “Nay,” she said in her softest voice, “stand; I pray you stand. Perchance the time will soon come when ye shall grow weary of being stretched out,” and she laughed melodiously.

  I saw a cringe of terror run along the rank of the doomed wretches, and, wicked villains as they were, I felt sorry for them. Some minutes, perhaps two or three, passed before anything fresh occurred, during which She appeared from the movement of her head—for, of course, we could not see her eyes—to slowly and carefully examine each delinquent. At last she spoke, addressing herself to me in a quiet and deliberate tone.

  “Dost thou, O my guest, recognise these men?”

  “Ay, O Queen, nearly all of them,” I said, and I saw them glower at me as I said it.

  “Then tell to me, and this great company, the tale whereof I have heard.”

  Thus adjured, in as few words as I could I related the history of the cannibal feast, and of the attempted torture of our poor servant. The narrative was received in perfect silence, both by the accused and by the audience, and also by She herself. When I had done, Ayesha called upon Billali by name, and, lifting his head from the ground, but without rising, the old man confirmed my story. No further evidence was taken.r />
  “Ye have heard,” said She at length, in a cold, clear voice, very different from her usual tones—indeed, it was one of the most remarkable things about this extraordinary creature that her voice had the power of suiting itself in a wonderful manner to the mood of the moment. “What have you to say, ye rebellious children, why vengeance should not be done upon you?”

  For some time there was no answer, but at last one of the men, a fine, broad-chested fellow, well on in middle life, with deep-graven features and an eye like a hawk’s, spoke. He said that the orders which they had received were not to harm the white men; none were given as to their black servant, so, egged on thereto by a woman who was now dead, they proceeded to try to “hot-pot” him after the ancient and honourable custom of their country, with the view of eating him in due course. As for their attack upon ourselves, it was made in an access of sudden fury, and they deeply regretted it. He ended by humbly praying that mercy might be extended to them; or, at least, that they might be banished into the swamps, to live or die as it might chance; but I saw it written on his face that he had very little hope of mercy.

  Then came a pause, and the most intense silence reigned over the dim place, which, faintly illuminated by the flicker of the lamps striking out broad patterns of light and shadow upon the rocky walls, seemed strange as any I ever saw, even in that unholy land. Upon the ground before the daïs were stretched scores of the corpselike forms of the spectators, till at last the long lines of them were lost in the gloomy background. Before this prostrate audience were the knots of evildoers, trying to cover up their natural terrors with a brave appearance of unconcern. On the right and left stood the silent guards, robed in white and armed with great spears and daggers, and men and women mutes watching with hard, curious eyes. Then, seated in her barbaric chair above them all, with myself at her feet, was the veiled white woman, whose loveliness and awesome power seemed to shine visibly about her like a halo, or rather like the glow from some unseen light. Never have I seen her veiled shape look more terrible than it did at that time while she gathered herself up for vengeance.

  At last it came.

  “Dogs and serpents,” She began in a low voice that gradually gathered power as she went on, till the place rang with it—“Eaters of human flesh, two things have ye done. First, ye have attacked these strangers, being white men, and would have slain their servant, and for that alone death is your reward. But this is not all. Ye have dared to disobey me. Did I not send my word unto you by Billali, my servant, and the father of your household? Did I not bid you to hospitably entertain these strangers, whom now ye have striven to slay, and whom, had not they been brave and strong beyond the strength of men, ye would cruelly have murdered? Hath it not been taught to you from childhood that the law of Hiya is an ever-fixed law, and that he who breaketh it by so much as one jot or tittle shall perish? And is not my lightest word a law? Have not your fathers taught you this, I say, whilst as yet ye were but children? Do ye not know that as well might ye bid these great caves to fall upon you, or the sun to cease its journeying, as to hope to turn me from my courses, or make my word light or heavy, according to your minds? Well do ye know it, ye Wicked Ones. But ye are all evil—evil to the core—the wickedness bubbles up in you like a fountain in the springtime. Were it not for me, generations since ye had ceased to be, for of your own evil way ye had destroyed each other. And now, because ye have done this thing, because ye have striven to put these men, my guests, to death, and yet more because ye have dared to disobey my word, this is the doom whereto I doom you: That ye be taken to the cave of torture,* and given over to the tormentors, and that on the going down of to-morrow’s sun those of you who yet remain alive be slain, even as ye would have slain the servant of this my guest.”

  She ceased, and a faint murmur of horror ran round the cave. As for the victims, as soon as they knew the full hideousness of their doom their stoicism forsook them, and they flung themselves down upon the ground and wept, imploring for mercy in a way that was dreadful to behold. I, too, turned to Ayesha, and begged her to spare them, or at least to mete out their fate in some less awful way. But she proved hard as adamant.

  “My Holly,” she said, again speaking in Greek which, to tell the truth, although I have always been considered a better scholar of that language than most men, I found it rather difficult to follow, chiefly because of the change in the fall of the accent.† “My Holly, it cannot be. Were I to show mercy to those wolves, your lives would not be safe among this people for a day. Thou knowest them not. They are tigers to lap blood, and even now they hunger for your lives. How thinkest thou that I rule this people? I have but a regiment of guards to do my bidding, therefore it is not by force. It is by terror. My empire is of the imagination. Once in a lifetime mayhap I do as I have done but now, and slay a score by torture. Believe not that I would be cruel, or take vengeance on anything so low. What can it profit me to be avenged on such as these? Those who live long, my Holly, have no passions, save where they have interests. Though I may seem to slay in wrath, or because my mood is crossed, it is not so. Thou hast seen how in the heavens the little clouds blow this way and that without a cause, yet behind them is the great wind sweeping on its path whither it listeth. So is it with me, O Holly. My moods and changes are the little clouds, and fitfully these seem to turn; but behind them the great wind of my purpose blows ever. Nay, the men must die; and die as I have said.” Then, suddenly turning to the captain of the guard, she added:

  15.1 Ayesha gives judgment.

  “As my word is, so be it!”

  *“The cave of torture.”—I afterwards saw this dreadful place, also a legacy from the prehistoric people who lived in Kôr. The only objects in the cave itself were slabs of rock arranged in various positions to facilitate the operations of the torturers. Many of these slabs, which were of a porous stone, were stained quite dark with the blood of ancient victims that had soaked into them. Also in the centre of the room was a place for a furnace, with a cavity wherein to heat the historic pot. But the most dreadful thing about the cave was that over each slab was a sculptured illustration of the appropriate torment being applied. These sculptures were so awful that I will not harrow the reader by attempting a description of them.—L. H. H.

  †Ayesha, of course, talked with the accent of her contemporaries, whereas we have only tradition and the modern tongue to guide us as to the exact pronunciation.—L. H. H.

  XVI

  THE TOMBS OF KÔR

  After the prisoners had been removed Ayesha waved her hand, and the spectators, turning round, began to crawl away down the cave like a scattered flock of sheep. When they were at some distance from the daïs, however, they rose and walked, leaving their Queen and myself alone, with the exception of the mutes and a few guards, for the most of these had departed with the doomed men. Thinking this a good opportunity, I asked She to come to visit Leo, telling her of his serious condition; but she would not, saying that he certainly would not die before the evening, as people never died of that fever except at nightfall or the dawn. Also she said it would be better that the sickness should spend its course as much as possible before she cured it. Accordingly, I was rising to leave, when she bade me follow her, as she would talk with me, and show me the wonders of the caves.

  I was too much involved in the web of her fascinations to say her no, even had I wished it, so I bowed in assent; whereon she rose from her chair, and, making some signs to the mutes, descended from the daïs. As she came four of the girls took lamps, and ranged themselves two in front of and two behind us, but the others went away, as also did the guards.

  “Now,” she said, “wouldst thou see some of the wonders of this place, O Holly? Look upon this great cave. Sawest thou ever its like? Yet was it, and many others, hollowed out by the hands of the dead race that once lived here in the city on the plain. A great and a wonderful people they must have been, those men of Kôr, but, like the Egyptians they thought more of the dead than of the living. How man
y men, thinkest thou, working for how many years, did it need to the hewing of this cave and all its endless galleries?”

  “Tens of thousands,” I answered.

  “So, O Holly. This people was an old people before the Egyptians were. A little can I read of their inscriptions, having found the key to them—and, see thou here, this was one of the last of the caves that they fashioned,” and, turning to the rock beside her, she motioned the mutes to hold up the lamps. Carven over the daïs was the figure of an old man seated in a chair, with an ivory rod in his hand, and it struck me that his features were exceedingly similar to those of the man whose embalmment was represented in the chamber where we took our meals. Beneath the chair, that, by the way, was shaped exactly like the one in which Ayesha had sat to give judgment, was a short inscription in the extraordinary characters whereof I have already spoken, but which I do not remember sufficiently to reproduce. It looked more like Chinese writing than any other that I am acquainted with. This inscription, with some difficulty and hesitation, Ayesha proceeded to read aloud and to translate. It ran as follows:—