Ayesha, the Return of She Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE DEATH-HOUNDS

  It may have been ten o'clock on the following morning, or a little pastit, when the Shaman Simbri came into my room and asked me how I hadslept.

  "Like a log," I answered, "like a log. A drugged man could not haverested more soundly."

  "Indeed, friend Holly, and yet you look fatigued."

  "My dreams troubled me somewhat," I answered. "I suffer from suchthings. But surely by your face, friend Simbri, you cannot have slept atall, for never yet have I seen you with so weary an air."

  "I am weary," he said, with a sigh. "Last night I spent up on mybusiness--watching at the Gates."

  "What gates?" I asked. "Those by which we entered this kingdom, for, ifso, I would rather watch than travel them."

  "The Gates of the Past and of the Future. Yes, those two which youentered, if you will; for did you not travel out of a wondrous Pasttowards a Future that you cannot _guess?_"

  "But both of which interest you," I suggested.

  "Perhaps," he answered, then added, "I come to tell you that within anhour you are to start for the city, whither the Khania has but now goneon to make ready for you."

  "Yes; only you told me that she had gone some days ago. Well, I am soundagain and prepared to march, but say, how is my foster-son?"

  "He mends, he mends. But you shall see him for yourself. It is theKhania's will. Here come the slaves bearing your robes, and with them Ileave you."

  So with their assistance I dressed myself, first in good, cleanunder-linen, then in wide woollen trousers and vest, and lastly in afur-lined camel-hair robe dyed black that was very comfortable to wear,and in appearance not unlike a long overcoat. A flat cap of the samematerial and a pair of boots made of untanned hide completed my attire.

  Scarcely was I ready when the yellow-faced servants, with many bows,took me by the hand and led me down the passages and stairs of theGate-house to its door. Here, to my great joy, I found Leo, lookingpale and troubled, but otherwise as well as I could expect after hissickness. He was attired like myself, save that his garments were of afiner quality, and the overcoat was white, with a hood to it, added, Isuppose, to protect the wound in his head from cold and the sun. Thiswhite dress I thought became him very well, also about it there wasnothing grotesque or even remarkable. He sprang to me and seized myhand, asking how I fared and where I had been hidden away, a greetingof which, as I could see, the warmth was not lost upon Simbri, who stoodby.

  I answered, well enough now that we were together again, and for therest I would tell him later.

  Then they brought us palanquins, carried, each of them, by two ponies,one of which was harnessed ahead and the other behind between longshaft-like poles. In these we seated ourselves, and at a sign fromSimbri slaves took the leading ponies by the bridle and we started,leaving behind us that grim old Gate-house through which we were thefirst strangers to pass for many a generation.

  For a mile or more our road ran down a winding, rocky gorge, tillsuddenly it took a turn, and the country of Kaloon lay stretched beforeus. At our feet was a river, probably the same with which we had madeacquaintance in the gulf, where, fed by the mountain snows, it had itssource. Here it flowed rapidly, but on the vast, alluvial landsbeneath became a broad and gentle stream that wound its way through thelimitless plains till it was lost in the blue of the distance.

  To the north, however, this smooth, monotonous expanse was broken bythat Mountain which had guided us from afar, the House of Fire. It wasa great distance from us, more than a hundred miles, I should say, yeteven so a most majestic sight in that clear air. Many leagues from thebase of its peak the ground began to rise in brown and rugged hillocks,from which sprang the holy Mountain itself, a white and dazzling pointthat soared full twenty thousand feet into the heavens.

  Yes, and there upon the nether lip of its crater stood the giganticpillar, surmounted by a yet more gigantic loop of virgin rock, whereofthe blackness stood out grimly against the blue of the sky beyond andthe blinding snow beneath.

  We gazed at it with awe, as well we might, this beacon of our hopes thatfor aught we knew might also prove their monument, feeling even thenthat yonder our fate would declare itself. I noted further that allthose with us did it reverence by bowing their heads as they caughtsight of the peak, and by laying the first finger of the right handacross the first finger of the left, a gesture, as we afterwardsdiscovered, designed to avert its evil influence. Yes, even Simbribowed, a yielding to inherited superstition of which I should scarcelyhave suspected him.

  "Have you ever journeyed to that Mountain?" asked Leo of him.

  Simbri shook his head and answered evasively.

  "The people of the Plain do not set foot upon the Mountain. Among itsslopes beyond the river which washes them, live hordes of brave and mostsavage men, with whom we are oftentimes at war; for when they are hungrythey raid our cattle and our crops. Moreover, there, when the Mountainlabours, run red streams of molten rock, and now and again hot ashesfall that slay the traveller."

  "Do the ashes ever fall in your country?" asked Leo.

  "They have been known to do so when the Spirit of the Mountain is angry,and that is why we fear her."

  "Who is this Spirit?" said Leo eagerly.

  "I do not know, lord," he answered with impatience. "Can men see aspirit?"

  "_You_ look as though you might, and had, not so long ago," replied Leo,fixing his gaze on the old man's waxen face and uneasy eyes. For nowtheir horny calm was gone from the eyes of Simbri, which seemed asthough they had beheld some sight that haunted him.

  "You do me too much honour, lord," he replied; "my skill and vision donot reach so far. But see, here is the landing-stage, where boats awaitus, for the rest of our journey is by water."

  These boats proved to be roomy and comfortable, having flat bows andsterns, since, although sometimes a sail was hoisted, they were designedfor towing, not to be rowed with oars. Leo and I entered the largest ofthem, and to our joy were left alone except for the steersman.

  Behind us was another boat, in which were attendants and slaves, andsome men who looked like soldiers, for they carried bows and swords. Nowthe ponies were taken from the palanquins, that were packed away, andropes of green hide, fastened to iron rings in the prows of theboats, were fixed to the towing tackle with which the animals had beenreharnessed. Then we started, the ponies, two arranged tandem fashionto each punt, trotting along a well-made towing path that was furnishedwith wooden bridges wherever canals or tributary streams entered themain river.

  "Thank Heaven," said Leo, "we are together again at last! Do youremember, Horace, that when we entered the land of Kor it was thus, in aboat? The tale repeats itself."

  "I can quite believe it," I answered. "I can believe anything. Leo,I say that we are but gnats meshed in a web, and yonder Khania isthe spider and Simbri the Shaman guards the net. But tell me all youremember of what has happened to you, and be quick, for I do not knowhow long they may leave us alone."

  "Well," he said, "of course I remember our arrival at that Gate afterthe lady and the old man had pulled us out of the river, and, Horace,talking of spiders reminds me of hanging at the end of that stringof yak's hide. Not that I need much reminding, for I am not likely toforget it. Do you know I cut the rope because I felt that I was goingmad, and wished to die sane. What happened to you? Did you slip?"

  "No; I jumped after you. It seemed best to end together, so that wemight begin again together."

  "Brave old Horace!" he said affectionately, the tears starting to hisgrey eyes.

  "Well, never mind all that," I broke in; "you see you were right whenyou said that we should get through, and we have. Now for your tale."

  "It is interesting, but not very long," he answered, colouring. "I wentto sleep, and when I woke it was to find a beautiful woman leaning overme, and Horace--at first I thought that it was--you know who, and thatshe kissed me; but perhaps it was all a dream."

  "It was no dream," I answe
red. "I saw it."

  "I am sorry to hear it--very sorry. At any rate there was the beautifulwoman--the Khania--for I saw her plenty of times afterwards, and talkedto her in my best modern Greek--by the way, Ayesha knew the old Greek;that's curious."

  "She knew several of the ancient tongues, and so did other people. Goon."

  "Well, she nursed me very kindly, but, so far as I know, until lastnight there was nothing more affectionate, and I had sense enough torefuse to talk about our somewhat eventful past. I pretended not tounderstand, said that we were explorers, etc., and kept asking her whereyou were, for I forgot to say I found that you had gone. I think thatshe grew rather angry with me, for she wanted to know something, and, asyou can guess, I wanted to know a good deal. But I could get nothing outof her except that she was the Khania--a person in authority. There wasno doubt about that, for when one of those slaves or servants came inand interrupted her while she was trying to draw the facts out of me,she called to some of her people to throw him out of the window, and heonly saved himself by going down the stairs very quickly.

  "Well, I could make nothing of her, and she could make little of me,though why she should be so tenderly interested in a stranger, I don'tknow--unless, unless--oh! who is she, Horace?"

  "If you will go on I will tell you what I think presently. One tale at atime."

  "Very good. I got quite well and strong, comparatively speaking, tillthe climax last night, which upset me again. After that old prophet,Simbri, had brought me my supper, just as I was thinking of going tosleep, the Khania came in alone, dressed like a queen. I can tell youshe looked really royal, like a princess in a fairy book, with a crownon, and her chestnut black hair flowing round her.

  "Well, Horace, then she began to make love to me in a refined sort ofway, or so I thought, looked at me and sighed, saying that we had knowneach other in the past--very well indeed I gathered--and implying thatshe wished to continue our friendship. I fenced with her as best Icould; but a man feels fairly helpless lying on his back with a veryhandsome and very imperial-looking lady standing over him and paying himcompliments.

  "The end of it was that, driven to it by her questions and to stop thatsort of thing, I told her that I was looking for my wife, whom Ihad lost, for, after all, Ayesha is my wife, Horace. She smiled andsuggested that I need _not_ look far; in short, that the lost wife wasalready found--in herself, who had come to save me from death in theriver. Indeed, she spoke with such conviction that I grew sure that shewas not merely amusing herself, and felt very much inclined to believeher, for, after all, Ayesha may be changed now.

  "Then while I was at my wits' end I remembered the lock of hair--allthat remains to us of _her_," and Leo touched his breast. "I drew itout and compared it with the Khania's, and at the sight of it she becamequite different, jealous, I suppose, for it is longer than hers, and notin the least like.

  "Horace, I tell you that the touch of that lock of hair--for she didtouch it--appeared to act upon her nature like nitric acid upon shamgold. It turned it black; all the bad in her came out. In her anger hervoice sounded coarse; yes, she grew almost vulgar, and, as you know,when Ayesha was in a rage she might be wicked as we understand it, andwas certainly terrible, but she was never either coarse or vulgar, anymore than lightning is.

  "Well, from that moment I was sure that whoever this Khania may be, shehad nothing to do with Ayesha; they are so different that they nevercould have been the same--like the hair. So I lay quiet and let hertalk, and coax, and threaten on, until at length she drew herself up andmarched from the room, and I heard her lock the door behind her. That'sall I have to tell you, and quite enough too, for I don't think that theKhania has done with me, and, to say the truth, I am afraid of her."

  "Yes," I said, "quite enough. Now sit still, and don't start or talkloud, for that steersman is probably a spy, and I can feel old Simbri'seyes fixed upon our backs. Don't interrupt either, for our time alonemay be short."

  Then I set to work and told him everything I knew, while he listened inblank astonishment.

  "Great Heavens! what a tale," he exclaimed as I finished. "Now, who isthis Hesea who sent the letter from the Mountain? And who, who is theKhania?"

  "Who does your instinct tell you that she is, Leo?"

  "Amenartas?" he whispered doubtfully. "The woman who wrote the _Sherd_,whom Ayesha said was the Egyptian princess--my wife two thousand yearsago? Amenartas re-born?"

  I nodded. "I think so. Why not? As I have told you again and again, Ihave always been certain of one thing, that if we were allowed to seethe next act of the piece, we should find Amenartas, or rather thespirit of Amenartas, playing a leading part in it; you will remember Iwrote as much in that record.

  "If the old Buddhist monk Kou-en could remember _his_ past, as thousandsof them swear that they do, and be sure of his identity continued fromthat past, why should not this woman, with so much at stake, helped asshe is by the wizardry of the Shaman, her uncle, faintly remember hers?

  "At any rate, Leo, why should she not still be sufficiently under itsinfluence to cause her, without any fault or seeking of her own, to fallmadly in love at first sight with a man whom, after all, she has alwaysloved?"

  "The argument seems sound enough, Horace, and if so I am sorry for theKhania, who hasn't much choice in the matter--been forced into it, so tospeak."

  "Yes, but meanwhile your foot is in a trap again. Guard yourself,Leo, guard yourself. I believe that this is a trial sent to you, anddoubtless there will be more to follow. But I believe also that it wouldbe better for you to die than to make any mistake."

  "I know it well," he answered; "and you need not be afraid. Whateverthis Khania may have been to me in the past--if she was anything atall--that story is done with. I seek Ayesha, and Ayesha alone, and Venusherself shall not tempt me from her."

  Then we began to speak with hope and fear of that mysterious Hesea whohad sent the letter from the Mountain, commanding the Shaman Simbri tomeet us: the priestess or spirit whom he declared was "mighty from ofold" and had "servants in the earth and air."

  Presently the prow of our barge bumped against the bank of the river,and looking round I saw that Simbri had left the boat in which he satand was preparing to enter ours. This he did, and, placing himselfgravely on a seat in front of us, explained that nightfall was comingon, and he wished to give us his company and protection through thedark.

  "And to see that we do not give him the slip in it," muttered Leo.

  Then the drivers whipped up their ponies, and we went on again.

  "Look behind you," said Simbri presently, "and you will see the citywhere you will sleep to-night."

  We turned ourselves, and there, about ten miles away, perceived aflat-roofed town of considerable, though not of very great size. Itsposition was good, for it was set upon a large island that stood ahundred feet or more above the level of the plain, the river dividinginto two branches at the foot of it, and, as we discovered afterwards,uniting again beyond.

  The vast mound upon which this city was built had the appearance ofbeing artificial, but very possibly the soil whereof it was formedhad been washed up in past ages during times of flood, so that froma mudbank in the centre of the broad river it grew by degrees to itspresent proportions. With the exception of a columned and towerededifice that crowned the city and seemed to be encircled by gardens, wecould see no great buildings in the place.

  "How is the city named?" asked Leo of Simbri.

  "Kaloon," he answered, "as was all this land even when my fore-fathers,the conquerors, marched across the mountains and took it more than twothousand years ago. They kept the ancient title, but the territoryof the Mountain they called Hes, because they said that the loop uponyonder peak was the symbol of a goddess of this name whom their generalworshipped."

  "Priestesses still live there, do they not?" said Leo, trying in histurn to extract the truth.

  "Yes, and priests also. The College of them was established by theconquerors, who subdued all the land.
Or rather, it took the place ofanother College of those who fashioned the Sanctuary and the Temple,whose god was the fire in the Mountain, as it is that of the people ofKaloon to-day."

  "Then who is worshipped there now?"

  "The goddess Hes, it is said; but we know little of the matter, forbetween us and the Mountain folk there has been enmity for ages. Theykill us and we kill them, for they are jealous of their shrine, whichnone may visit save by permission, to consult the Oracle and to makeprayer or offering in times of calamity, when a Khan dies, or the watersof the river sink and the crops fail, or when ashes fall and earthquakesshake the land, or great sickness comes. Otherwise, unless they attackus, we leave them alone, for though every man is trained to arms, andcan fight if need be, we are a peaceful folk, who cultivate the soilfrom generation to generation, and thus grow rich. Look round you. Is itnot a scene of peace?"

  We stood up in the boat and gazed about us at the pastoral prospect.Everywhere appeared herds of cattle feeding upon meadow lands, or troopsof mules and horses, or square fields sown with corn and outlined bytrees. Village folk, also, clad in long, grey gowns, were labouring onthe land, or, their day's toil finished, driving their beasts homewardsalong roads built upon the banks of the irrigation dykes, towards thehamlets that were placed on rising knolls amidst tall poplar groves.

  In its sharp contrast with the arid deserts and fearful mountainsamongst which we had wandered for so many years, this country struck usas most charming, and indeed, seen by the red light of the sinking sunon that spring day, even as beautiful with the same kind of beautywhich is to be found in Holland. One could understand too that theselandowners and peasant-farmers would by choice be men of peace, and whata temptation their wealth must offer to the hungry, half-savage tribesof the mountains.

  Also it was easy to guess when the survivors of Alexander's legionsunder their Egyptian general burst through the iron band of snow-cladhills and saw this sweet country, with its homes, its herds, and itsripening grass, that they must have cried with one voice, "We will marchand fight and toil no more. Here we will sit us down to live and die."Thus doubtless they did, taking them wives from among the women of thepeople of the land which they had conquered--perhaps after a singlebattle.

  Now as the light faded the wreaths of smoke which hung over the distantFire-mountain began to glow luridly. Redder and more angry did theybecome while the darkness gathered, till at length they seemed to becharged with pulsing sheets of flame propelled from the womb of thevolcano, which threw piercing beams of light through the eye of thegiant loop that crowned its brow. Far, far fled those beams, makinga bright path across the land, and striking the white crests of thebordering wall of mountains. High in the air ran that path, over thedim roofs of the city of Kaloon, over the river, yes, straight aboveus, over the mountains, and doubtless--though there we could not followthem--across the desert to that high eminence on its farther sidewhere we had lain bathed in their radiance. It was a wondrous and mostimpressive sight, one too that filled our companions with fear, for thesteersmen in our boats and the drivers on the towing-path groaned aloudand began to utter prayers. "What do they say?" asked Leo of Simbri.

  "They say, lord, that the Spirit of the Mountain is angry, and passesdown yonder flying light that is called the Road of Hes to work someevil to our land. Therefore they pray her not to destroy them."

  "Then does that light not always shine thus?" he asked again.

  "Nay, but seldom. Once about three months ago, and now to-night, butbefore that not for years. Let us pray that it portends no misfortune toKaloon and its inhabitants."

  For some minutes this fearsome illumination continued, then it ceasedas suddenly as it had begun, and there remained of it only the dull glowabove the crest of the peak.

  Presently the moon rose, a white, shining ball, and by its rays weperceived that we drew near to the city. But there was still somethingleft for us to see before we reached its shelter. While we sat quietlyin the boat--for the silence was broken only by the lapping of the stillwaters against its sides and the occasional splash of the slackenedtow-line upon their surface--we heard a distant sound as of a hunt infull cry.

  Nearer and nearer it came, its volume swelling every moment, till itwas quite close at last. Now echoing from the trodden earth of thetowing-path--not that on which our ponies travelled, but the other onthe west bank of the river--was heard the beat of the hoofs of a horsegalloping furiously. Presently it appeared, a fine, white animal, on theback of which sat a man. It passed us like a flash, but as he went bythe man lifted himself and turned his head, so that we saw his face inthe moonlight; saw also the agony of fear that was written on it and inhis eyes.

  He had come out of the darkness. He was gone into the darkness, butafter him swelled that awful music. Look! a dog appeared, a huge, reddog, that dropped its foaming muzzle to the ground as it galloped, thenlifted it and uttered a deep-throated, bell-like bay. Others followed,and yet others: in all there must have been a hundred of them, every onebaying as it took the scent.

  "_The death-hounds!_" I muttered, clasping Leo by the arm.

  "Yes," he answered, "they are running that poor devil. Here comes thehuntsman."

  As he spoke there appeared a second figure, splendidly mounted, a cloakstreaming from his shoulders, and in his hand a long whip, which hewaved. He was big but loosely jointed, and as he passed he turned hisface also, and we saw that it was that of a madman. There could beno doubt of it; insanity blazed in those hollow eyes and rang in thatsavage, screeching laugh.

  "The Khan! The Khan!" said Simbri, bowing, and I could see that he wasafraid.

  Now he too was gone, and after him came his guards. I counted eight ofthem, all carrying whips, with which they flogged their horses.

  "What does this mean, friend Simbri?" I asked, as the sounds grew faintin the distance.

  "It means, friend Holly," he answered, "that the Khan does justice inhis own fashion--hunting to death one that has angered him."

  "What then is his crime? And who is that poor man?"

  "He is a great lord of this land, one of the royal kinsmen, and thecrime for which he has been condemned is that he told the Khania heloved her, and offered to make war upon her husband and kill him, if shewould promise herself to him in marriage. But she hated the man, as shehates all men, and brought the matter before the Khan. That is all thestory."

  "Happy is that prince who has so virtuous a wife!" I could not helpsaying unctuously, but with meaning, and the old wretch of a Shamanturned his head at my words and began to stroke his white beard.

  It was but a little while afterwards that once more we heard the bayingof the death-hounds. Yes, they were heading straight for us, this timeacross country. Again the white horse and its rider appeared, utterlyexhausted, both of them, for the poor beast could scarcely struggle onto the towing-path. As it gained it a great red hound with a black eargripped its flank, and at the touch of the fangs it screamed aloud interror as only a horse can. The rider sprang from its back, and, to ourhorror, ran to the river's edge, thinking evidently to take refuge inour boat. But before ever he reached the water the devilish brutes wereupon him.

  What followed I will not describe, but never shall I forget the scene ofthose two heaps of worrying wolves, and of the maniac Khan, who yelledin his fiendish joy, and cheered on his death-hounds to finish their redwork.