A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder

by James De Mille

  CHAPTER IX

  THE CAVERN OF THE DEAD

  On going forth into the outer grotto I saw the table spread with asumptuous repast, and the apartment in a blaze of light. Almah was nothere; and though some servants made signs for me to eat, yet I couldnot until I should see whether she was coming or not. I had to waitfor a long time, however; and while I was waiting the chief entered,shading his eyes with his hand from the painful light. He bowedlow with the most profound courtesy, saying, "Salonla," to which Iresponded in the same way. He seemed much pleased at this, and made afew remarks, which I did not understand; whereupon, anxious to lose notime in learning the language, I repeated to him all the words I knew,and asked after others. I pointed to him and asked his name. He said,"Kohen." This, however, I afterward found was not a name, but a title.The "Kohen" did not remain long, for the light was painful. After hisdeparture I was alone for some time, and at length Almah made herappearance. I sprang to meet her, full of joy, and took her hand inboth of mine and pressed it warmly. She smiled, and appeared quitefree from the melancholy of the previous day.

  We ate our breakfast together, after which we went out into the worldof light, groping our way along through the dark passages amid thebusy crowd. Almah could see better than I in the darkness; but she wasfar from seeing well, and did not move with that easy step and perfectcertainty which all the others showed. Like me, she was a child oflight, and the darkness was distressing to her. As we went on we wereseen by all, but were apparently not considered prisoners. On thecontrary, all looked at us with the deepest respect, and bowed lowor moved aside, and occasionally made little offerings of fruit orflowers to one or the other of us. It seemed to me that we weretreated with equal distinction; and if Almah was their queen, I, theirguest, was regarded with equal honor. Whatever her rank might be,however, she was to all appearance the most absolute mistress ofher own actions, and moved about among all these people with theindependence and dignity of some person of exalted rank.

  At length we emerged into the open air. Here the contrast to thecavern gloom inside gave to the outer world unusual brightness andsplendor, so that even under the heavy overarching tree-ferns, whichhad seemed so dark when I was here before, it now appeared light andcheerful. Almah turned to the right, and we walked along the terrace.But few people were visible. They shrank from the light, and keptthemselves in the caverns. Then after a few steps we came to the baseof a tall half-pyramid, the summit of which was above the tops of thetrees. I pointed to this, as though I wished to go up. Almah hesitatedfor a moment, and seemed to shrink back, but at length, overcoming herreluctance, began the ascent. A flight of stony steps led up. Onreaching the top, I found it about thirty feet long by fifteen wide,with a high stone table in the middle. At that moment, however, Iscarce noticed the pyramid summit, and I only describe it now becauseI was fated before long to see it with different feelings. What I thennoticed was the vast and wondrous display of all the glories of naturethat burst at once upon my view. There was that same boundless sea,rising up high toward the horizon, as I had seen it before, andsuggesting infinite extent. There were the blue waters breaking intofoam, the ships traversing the deep, the far-encircling shores greenin vegetation, the high rampart of ice-bound mountains that shut inthe land, making it a world by itself. There was the sun, low on thehorizon, which it traversed on its long orbit, lighting up all thesescenes till the six-months day should end and the six-months nightbegin.

  For a long time I stood feasting my eyes upon all this splendor, andat length turned to see whether Almah shared my feelings. One look wasenough. She stood absorbed in the scene, as though she were drinkingin deep draughts of all this matchless beauty. I felt amazed at this;I saw how different she seemed from the others, and could not accountfor it. But as yet I knew too little of the language to question her,and could only hope for a future explanation when I had learned more.

  We descended at length and walked about the terrace and up and downthe side streets. All were the same as I had noticed before--terracedstreets, with caverns on one side and massive stone structures on theother. I saw deep channels, which were used as drains to carry downmountain torrents. I did not see all at this first walk, but Iinspected the whole city in many subsequent walks until its outlineswere all familiar. I found it about a mile long and about half amile wide, constructed in a series of terraces, which rose one aboveanother in a hollow of the mountains round a harbor of the sea. On mywalks I met with but few people on the streets, and they all seemedtroubled with the light. I saw also occasionally some more of thosegreat birds, the name of which I learned from Almah; it was "opkuk."

  For some time my life went on most delightfully. I found myselfsurrounded with every comfort and luxury. Almah was my constantassociate, and all around regarded us with the profoundest respect.The people were the mildest, most gentle, and most generous that I hadever seen. The Kohen seemed to pass most of his time in making newcontrivances for my happiness. This strange people, in their dealingswith me and with one another, seemed animated by a universal desire todo kindly acts; and the only possible objection against them was theirsingular love of darkness.

  My freedom was absolute. No one watched me. Almah and I could go wherewe chose. So far as I could perceive, we were quite at liberty, if wewished, to take a boat and escape over the sea. It seemed also quitelikely that if we had ordered out a galley and a gang of oarsmen, weshould have been supplied with all that we might want in the mostcheerful manner. Such a thought, however, was absurd. Flight! Whyshould I think of flying?

  I had long ago lost all idea of time; and here, where it was for thepresent perpetual day, I was more at a loss than ever. I supposed thatit was somewhere in the month of March, but whether at the beginningor the end I could not tell. The people had a regular system ofwake-time and sleep-time, by which they ordered their lives; butwhether these respective times were longer or shorter than the daysand nights at home I could not tell at that time, though I afterwardlearned all about it. On the whole, I was perfectly content--nay,more, perfectly happy; more so, indeed, than ever in my life, andquite willing to forget home and friends and everything in the societyof Almah. While in her company there was always one purpose upon whichI was most intent, and that was to master the language. I made rapidprogress, and while she was absent I sought out others, especially theKohen, with whom to practice. The Kohen was always most eager to aidme in every conceivable way or to any conceivable thing; and he hadsuch a gentle manner and showed such generous qualities that I soonlearned to regard him with positive affection.

  Almah was always absent for several hours after I rose in the morning,and when she made her appearance it was with the face and manner ofone who had returned from some unpleasant task. It always took sometime for her to regain that cheerfulness which she usually showed. Isoon felt a deep curiosity to learn the nature of her employment andoffice here, and as my knowledge of the language increased I beganto question her. My first attempts were vain. She looked at me withindescribable mournfulness and shook her head. This, however, onlyconfirmed me in my suspicions that her duties, whatever they might be,were of a painful nature; so I urged her to tell me, and asked her aswell as I could if I might not share them or help her in some way. Toall this, however, she only returned sighs and mournful looks for ananswer. It seemed to me, from her manner and from the general behaviorof the people, that there was no express prohibition on my learninganything, doing anything, or going anywhere; and so, after this, Ibesought her to let me accompany her some time. But this too sherefused. My requests were often made, and as I learned more and moreof the language I was able to make them with more earnestness andeffect, until at length I succeeded in overcoming her objections.

  "It is for your own sake," said she, "that I have refused, Atam-or. Ido not wish to lessen your happiness. But you must know all soon; andso, if you wish to come with me and see what I have to do, why, youmay come the next jom."

  This meant the next day, jom being the division of ti
me correspondingwith our day. At this promise I was so full of gratitude that I forgotall about the dark suggestiveness of her words. The next jom I arosesooner than usual and went forth. I found Almah waiting for me. Shelooked troubled, and greeted me with a mournful smile.

  "You will find pain in this," said she; "but you wish it, and if youstill wish it, why, I will take you with me."

  At this I only persisted the more, and so we set forth. We wentthrough the cavern passages. Few people were there; all seemed asleep.Then we went out-of-doors and came into the full blaze of that daywhich here knew no night, but prolonged itself into months. For awhile Almah stood looking forth between the trees to where the brightsunlight sparkled on the sea, and then with a sigh she turned tothe left. I followed. On coming to the next portal she went in. Ifollowed, and found myself in a rough cavern, dark and forbidding.Traversing this we came to an inner doorway, closed with a heavy mat.This she raised, and passed through, while I went in after her.

  I found myself in a vast cavern, full of dim, sparkling lights, whichserved not to illuminate it, but merely to indicate its enormousextent. Far above rose the vaulted roof, to a height of apparently ahundred feet. Under this there was a lofty half-pyramid with stonesteps. All around, as far as I could see in the obscure light, therewere niches in the walls, each one containing a figure with a lightburning at its feet. I took them for statues. Almah pointed in silenceto one of these which was nearest, and I went up close so as to seeit.

  The first glance that I took made me recoil with horror. It was nostatue that I saw in that niche, but a shrivelled human form--ahideous sight. It was dark and dried; it was fixed in a sittingposture, with its hands resting on its knees, and its hollow eyeslooking forward. On its head was the mockery of a wreath of flowers,while from its heart there projected the handle and half of the bladeof a knife which had been thrust there. What was the meaning of thisknife? It seemed to tell of a violent death. Yet the flowers mustsurely be a mark of honor. A violent death with honor, and theembalmed remains--these things suggested nothing else than the horridthought of a human sacrifice. I looked away with eager and terriblecuriosity. I saw all the niches, hundreds upon hundreds, all filledwith these fearful occupants. I turned again with a sinking heart toAlmah. Her face was full of anguish.

  "This is my duty," said she. "Every jom I must come here and crownthese victims with fresh flowers."

  A feeling of sickening horror overwhelmed me. Almah had spoken thesewords and stood looking at me with a face of woe. This, then, was thatdaily task from which she was wont to return in such sadness--anabhorrent task to her, and one to which familiarity had neverreconciled her. What was she doing here? What dark fate was it thatthus bound this child of light to these children of darkness? or whywas she thus compelled to perform a service from which all her naturerevolted? I read in her face at this moment a horror equal to my own;and at the sight of her distress my own was lessened, and there arosewithin me a profound sympathy and a strong desire to do something toalleviate her misery.

  "This is no place for you," continued Almah. "Go, and I will soon joinyou."

  "No," said I, using her language after my own broken fashion--"no, Iwill not go--I will stay, I will help, if you will permit."

  She looked at me earnestly, and seemed to see that my resolution wasfirmly fixed, and that I was not to be dissuaded from it.

  "Very well," said she; "if you do stay and help me, it will be a greatrelief."

  With these simple words she proceeded to carry out her work. At thefoot of the pyramid there was a heap of wreaths made out of freshflowers, and these were to be placed by her on the heads of theembalmed corpses.

  "This work," said she, "is considered here the highest and mosthonorable that can be performed. It is given to me out of kindness,and they cannot understand that I can have any other feelings in theperformance than those of joy and exultation--here among the dead andin the dark."

  I said nothing, but followed and watched her, carrying the wreaths andsupplying her. She went to each niche in succession, and after takingthe wreath off each corpse she placed a fresh one on, saying a briefformula at each act. By keeping her supplied with wreaths I was ableto lighten her task, so much so that, whereas it usually occupied hermore than two hours, on the present occasion it was finished in lessthan half an hour. She informed me that those which she crowned werethe corpses of men who had been sacrificed during the presentseason--by season meaning the six months of light; and that thoughmany more were here, yet they wore crowns of gold. At the end of tenyears they were removed to public sepulchres. The number of thosewhich had to be crowned by her was about a hundred. Her work was onlyto crown them, the labor of collecting the flowers and weaving thewreaths and attending to the lamps being performed by others.

  I left this place with Almah, sad and depressed. She had not told mewhy these victims had been sacrificed, nor did I feel inclined toask. A dark suspicion had come to me that these people, underneathall their amiable ways, concealed thoughts, habits, and motives ofa frightful kind; and that beyond all my present brightness andhappiness there might be a fate awaiting me too horrible for thought.Yet I did not wish to borrow trouble. What I had seen and heard wasquite enough for one occasion. I was anxious, rather, to forget itall. Nor did Almah's words or manner in any way reassure me. She wassilent and sad and preoccupied. It was as though she knew the worst,and knowing it, dared not speak; as though there was something morehorrible which she dared not reveal. For my part, I feared it so thatI dared not ask. It was enough for me just then to know that my mildand self-denying and generous entertainers were addicted to theabhorrent custom of human sacrifices.