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At the Queen's Mercy

Chapter 13: Chapter XI The Treasure House of Edba and of Hed
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About This Book

A narrator and his companion, stranded in the African interior, become involved with a dying priest who reveals the secret of a queen, a captive woman, and a hidden treasure. Their tale moves through ambushes, poisoned arrows, and tense encounters with hostile tribes, while rituals, witchcraft, and a high priestly council complicate every step. Episodes alternate daring errands, imprisonments, feats of strength, and strange revelations as allies and enemies shift around them. The narrative culminates in direct confrontations that test loyalty and courage and in a final struggle to secure life, love, and freedom.

Chapter XI
The Treasure House of Edba and of Hed

As a man in a dream, I rose at her behest, and found that little of my old strength had left me. Only my feet and legs prickled as though I walked through nettles, but this in turn passed off.

Hubla, the witch, had vanished into the darkness of the cavern’s other end. I followed, stumbling over bones and other litter that strewed the earthen floor, and once something slipped, all too softly, out from beneath my tread. I am no coward, as I have said, but I take no shame to myself that I was glad when I felt the cool night air upon my face, and saw that I had left the cave’s mouth.

The red witch still appeared some paces ahead, and old as she was, I had all that I cared to do to keep the distance from widening between us. She walked on and on, evenly, and without word or sign to me who followed. Once she stopped and listened with head raised and nostrils distended like a beast. Our course was winding, and I thought we doubled on our tracks. Sometimes it was grass that my feet walked upon, sometimes smooth rock, and again we crossed a torrent bridged by a single tree trunk.

All at once Hubla vanished. I stared stupidly at the empty air, and I think another in my place would have run with all good speed from the spot where such devil’s tricks and things of ill omen could happen. I did indeed commend me to the holy four, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, as is my wont before I lay me to rest. It is a worthy practice, and a comfort to a man in my evil case. And that it was Hubla, the red witch, who answered, shakes not my faith, seeing even the end with the beginning. Her words coming almost from beneath my feet did both startle and enrage me. It was, indeed, well for her who spoke that she was old, and if a foul she-monster, that she still wore the shape of woman.

“Son of a pig! Why standest thou staring? Is the golden apple of fortune overripe that it should fall into that gaping mouth of thine?”

At the same time I felt an iron clutch about my ankle, and the solid earth gave way beneath my feet. Also, at the moment, a chain slipped through my fingers.

“Struggle not and hold, on your life,” said the same voice in my ear, and I obeyed, because it was borne in upon me, that to obey was all that there was left to do. I felt about me the swift fall of gravel and small stones that went tinkling down into some abyss on which I dared not think.

Then once again I found a foothold, and clung to it with vigor and all earnestness. I stood now upon a narrow platform bridging a bottomless well, and the chain had vanished, pulled from my grasp by the turn of an invisible windlass. At the opening far above me I saw the dark blue sky and a single golden star.

There was many a thing a man might have said to such a guide as this, but Hubla waited not the hot words that burned upon my tongue. Instead, she thrust into my hand a crooked piece of iron, and by signs showed me how it might be made to fit an opening in the rock before me. She had held her claw-like hand like a vice upon my wrist, but now she relaxed her hold, and in another instant had gone, cat-like,—only no cat could have done it,—up and up the side of this strange prison, until, reaching the top, she sprang over the edge, without so much as a backward glance, and I was left alone.

Then, as one having no other outlet, I put my shoulder against the rock, and with all my might I leaned upon the bar of iron that I held. Slowly, slowly the great stone yielded to the strain, and presently there yawned an opening big enough for a man of substance, like myself, to crawl through. I had no stomach for further acquaintance with my latest dungeon, so, grasping the iron as my one hope and weapon, I plunged feet foremost through the hole. I swung for a moment thus, helpless, with no resting-place within reach; then, as I could not hope to better my lot by such procedure, I commended my soul to Heaven, and loosed my fingers from their hold upon the ledge. Fortunately, the fall was not a bad one. I picked myself up but little bruised and shaken, and found that I was in a narrow passage whose sides I could touch on either hand.

Walking thus, and moving with all caution, I advanced, until at length further progress was barred by a door of stone. I went carefully over its surface with my fingers and found a small opening. Into this I thrust my strange key, and the rock giving way on a sudden to my touch, I fell headlong into the next chamber. For a moment I was blinded by the dazzle of light with which the room was flooded. But after a little I opened my eyes, and as I did so, my heart leaped in my breast, and a sudden faintness seized me, for I saw that I stood on the threshold of the hidden storehouse, and the treasure of the kings of the people of the Walled City, aye, and of their gods, had been delivered into my hand.

I am an old man now, but my pulse beats faster even to this day, when I think of what it was mine to see in that same wondrous treasure house. I noted not that the door had closed behind me, and that there was no opening on the inner side into which my key might fit. I saw only that I stood on piled-up ingots of yellow yellow gold; that bags of skins lay bursting and brimming over with pearls by my side; that half-opened wooden chests held each its store of many-colored jewels; that the gem-encrusted weapons, crowns, and girdles of a dead and bygone royalty littered the very floor. I saw great rough-hewn blocks of silver, curios of many kinds, and mass on mass of ivory tusks. There were, also, beautiful woven tapestries, and rugs of silken lustre, and great sealed jars that I found held wine, fragrant and honey-colored, and fit for an emperor’s banquet.

The room was an exact circle, not over large, and lighted from above by countless hanging lamps. The roof of solid rock was held up by massive pillars. A hollowed block of stone made a kind of altar at one side. It was like the altar in the Council Chamber, and it had the same red stain. Above it leered the serpent god, a brazen image with emerald eyes, and bracelets on wrists and ankles of diamonds, such as Lah in all her magnificence had never worn.

Twelve tiger skins, twelve lion skins, and twelve skins of the panther, each one beyond common size, of great beauty and quite perfect, lay spread upon the rocky floor. With some of these I made a couch, and, wearied, sat me down to muse upon the secret of the storehouse and to plan how I might best escape with some prudently chosen portion of the treasure; how meet Astolba and Lestrade, and so journey swiftly and safely away from this wicked city and its people, whose mad lust for blood had well-nigh ended all our lives.

It was sweet to dream of a peaceful homecoming, and rare sport to let handful after handful of glittering jewels trickle through my fingers, as thus I sat and pondered. I am not, I hope, a man covetous above my fellows, but my soul within me warmed at the sight of all this countless treasure, and the gold and gems were as meat and drink to my body. Neither felt I now any weariness or fear. I laughed aloud, and the sound echoed back from the rocky walls, and again I laughed, and Hed the serpent god laughed too, but silently.

And then, even then, I felt the touch of a hand upon my shoulder, and looking upward I saw Lah, the Queen! She stood smiling and without words, for a moment, and I, not knowing what the visit might portend, spoke not.

Being a woman I knew she must soon have speech with me, and that I should then find whether the future should make peace between us, or war.

When at length she did open her lips, I found too that I had forgotten the power of that musical voice; at least its tones sent a sudden thrill through all my being, and I listened, spellbound, against my will.

“Thou art a man,” said Lah; “therefore I say not to thee, let fear slip from thee as a garment. Fear lodges not in this breast of thine, else thou hadst not thrust thyself, by what means I know not, thus into the jaws of death; aye! into the secret storeroom of the Kings of the House, where lies the very treasure of the gods themselves.”

Now I liked not much this address, for I saw the lady meant not all she said. Nevertheless the time was ripe for action, and so with a swift movement I put my arm about the Queen’s waist, and pulled her gently but firmly down beside me.

Then I slipped my hand beneath her chin, and looked straight into her eyes. You who have looked without blanching into the eyes of a lioness aroused will know that I did this deed yet boast not.

“Come you as friend or as foe?” I said.

I saw the Queen’s hand tremble as she grasped the hilt of the dagger at her girdle. Then she relaxed her hold, and her beautiful head bent with a kind of proud humility.

“My lord himself shall say,” she answered. Then swifter than an arrow’s flight her mood changed. With a regal gesture she drew back from my embrace.

“Tell me, stranger to me and to my people. Lay bare thy heart and lie not. Is it I whom you love, or does thy fancy hold yet to that weak thing, that white-faced girl Astolba?”

The attack was so sudden that I knew not well how to stand against it. For the first time in my life I wished for the nimble tongue of my friend Lestrade, and somewhat too of his wider knowledge of the wiles of women.

“Answer, slave!” cried Lah, imperiously.

I looked up, and the half-contemptuous tone stung me to a sullen defiance.

“I love neither you nor the other,” I said doggedly.

“By Edba and by Hed!” breathed the Queen sharply, and I saw her face grow ashen.

She laughed, but not loudly, and I misliked the sound; and again silence fell upon us. Then once more Lah’s voice, cruel, beautiful as her face, and as calmly cold:—

“Thou shalt die a dog’s death,” she said. “Even now is thy doom upon thee,” and she pointed to the place where we stood.

I looked down, and saw as I did so that a thin stream of water crawled upon the floor and now had reached and wet the sole of my sandal.

“What does this mean?” I asked, with strange foreboding, and again the Queen laughed noiselessly at the question.

The stream slowly widened; now it lapped the foot of the altar of stone; a little further and an ingot of gold blocked its course, but only for an instant. The emerald-eyed god looked on, serenely pitiless.

Then the horrible truth flashed across me. I seized the Queen by the arm, and she swayed backward and forward in my grasp.

“Woman,” I cried in my despair, “what devil’s work is this?”

Then, because I could not bear the terrible joy in her eyes, I became by a mighty effort calm once more.

“Little by little, and this rock-hewn chamber shall be filled even to the roof with water, as thou seest,” said Lah, smiling. “I was passing by a secret way, and I heard the noise of a fall in this the treasure house. Without delay I touched the spring that sets free the waters that they may do their work, avenge the gods, keep clean from the touch of thieves, this my heritage and theirs. Then! O stranger, it was borne in upon me that I should see the face in life of him who thus boldly dared entrance to this place. The face was thine.” She was silent for a moment. “And there was time for flight, for freedom before the waters came.”

“And you?” I asked.

“The first thin stream locked fast the door behind me,” she calmly answered. “What matters it? I also meet my doom.” She turned and held forth her hand. “We die—together.”

There was silence for a space, and then her voice fell again on my ear, and now sweet beyond human fancying.

“See,” she said softly. “The time is short; we were mated from the beginning. O lion heart, since so soon we both must pass, forgive me, even as thus I forgive you.”

She stooped and kissed me once upon the forehead, and I in a frenzy born of the hour and of her beauty, caught her to me, and kissed her also, not once, but many times, on hair and hands and lips.

And all the time the water rose with a swift relentless quiet that knew no rest. No rest till its murderous task was done, and I, fool that I was, and she, the Queen, should die, like rats in a trap, inglorious, if together.

My brief passion grew cold at the thought. Yet my despair was not all for myself. It seemed too cruel a thing for truth, that one like to this woman, so splendidly alive, so perfect a work of nature, should be blotted out of existence by this cold, creeping, ignorant, pitiless force.

For now the water was ankle deep. I looked into the eyes of Lah, and they met mine with a soft serenity. Women are queer creatures. I do not doubt that in the very face of this slow and evil death, she, the Queen, was altogether happy.

I could not bear her gaze. Neither could I stand idle, while the treacherous flood rose about us.

It was wild and useless labor, but with a frenzy of energy I pulled together two jewel chests, piled on blocks of silver that felt like featherweights to my mad strength, took ivory tusks and casks of wine, and built a throne higher than his who sat unmoved, the serpent god looking upon our misery. Then, bearing her in my arms, on the topmost part I set the Queen, and she, seeing that I would have it so, obeyed, while I, a little lower, took my stand by her side.

And still the water rose, and still with wide-open eyes, all undismayed, sat Lah, while our swift heart-beats measured off the time,—the all too little time that for us two meant the whole remaining span of life.

The flood now had reached my knees, and had wet the hem of the Queen’s garment. It seemed to rise more quickly. I measured the space left to the roof of the storehouse and saw that soon our torture would be over.

Then a great rage took hold on me that thus we two should perish. I would at least make one more try for life. I would swim close to the walls of this infernal trap and see if somewhere, somehow, there lay not a chance of rescue.

I turned to the Queen and told her of my purpose. She smiled, but forbade me not. “There is no hope,” she said, “or I should know of it. But see, take this my dagger, and just before the end—promise me—I would go first along the dark way that leads to the gate of Shimra. Swear to me. I would not die alone.”

I was no Christian in that hour. I take shame to me that it was so. The Queen had her will with me, and I gave her the promise that she craved.

Then I struck out boldly, for the time was short. Round and round I circled, swimming slowly and looking well for any crack or fissure in stone or pillar. But the walls were as smooth as glass to my touch, and I found no opening.

He of the emerald eyes gloated over me, over us two. His massive knees lent me a moment’s foothold, and in childish rage I struck him furiously across the face with my dagger’s hilt. And at the sound the Queen sprang to her feet.

“Look!” she cried breathlessly; “look, the god is hollow!”

Men’s wits work nimbly at such a time as this. Without pausing, I swam behind the great metal image—and it was true: cleverly hidden in the back I saw a door. But the water had now reached its base.

“Swim for your life!” I called to the Queen, but she shook her head.

“I know not how the trick is done,” she answered steadily. “Save then yourself.”

But I was half-way across the space between. The rest seems now like some fantasy of the brain. I have said evil things of Hed. Let me now put down in black and white one good thing to his memory: the door that saved us was not locked.

’Twas like the heathenish way of the priests who set it there to taunt with bolts the maddened wretch who thus sought safety. Yet it was so, even as I have written it. The door yielded to my pressure and revealed a small winding staircase.

Already the water flowed a torrent through the opening, but I had the Queen safe in, and now had followed. Quickly I shut the barrier in place behind me. And then—then safe at last in the darkness it was Lah who sighed, so strange are the ways of women:—

“I know not. But I had joy in death, and now life has been yet once more thrust upon me.”