At the Queen's Mercy

Lestrade and I looked about us. The face of Lah was still so potently present in my friend’s memory that he seemed hardly conscious of the aspect of this new prison. I am, however, of a colder nature, and I scanned with eager gaze the inner hall in which we found ourselves. The guards had halted without the veil that screened from the profane this entrance to the palace of the Queen.

We stood, therefore, quite alone, in a large recess, arched and windowless and tiled with bricks painted in bright colors that showed, I judged, a kind of sacred pictured story. Hanging lamps in red, green, and blue, curiously wrought and giving forth a sweet heavy perfume, depended from the roof above our heads. Another curtain, also formed of tiny rings of silk and steel, screened the further end of this strange anteroom.

I plucked Gaston by the arm, for he was still in a day-dream, and together we walked along, till I, stretching forth my hand, parted the heavy woven folds before us. A massive door of some dark metal that looked like bronze now barred the way, but only for an instant. Invisible hands touched some hidden spring, and again we entered. This time the chamber in which we found ourselves was far richer than the one which we had left, and to which we might not return, since the door had locked into place behind us. Here the floor was of sandalwood, and covered with a rug so thick that our feet sank deep as though we walked on moss, while fair flowers woven in soft hues, still further cheated the eye that gazed upon their beauty. The walls were hung with silken tapestries; four slaves marvellously carved in ebony and clothed in rich garments, stood each in his respective corner, and these held high in one hand a scented torch, while the other grasped a curved and glittering knife. There were couches also here and there, covered with rare stuffs, and a shimmering gauze enriched with silver and turquois veiled here, as before, the further end of the apartment.

Lestrade’s interest quickened. His swift gesture tore aside the curtain and revealed a gate of beaten gold.

My blood leaped at the sight. I put forth my hand and shook the massive bars about which twined garlands of yellow, yellow flowers. My clumsy fingers touched the delicate wreaths of roses and of leaves. They did not melt away before my eyes; not a petal, not a spray so much as trembled. It was all gold; solid, beautiful, wonderful gold.

I grasped Lestrade by the shoulder, but with an impatience new to him he shook off the touch and pointed to the gate. It was slowly opening; we passed, and it closed behind us. I saw pillars of ivory, the sheen of precious metal, the pink of tulip-wood walls inlaid with silver. I saw tiger skins upon the floor, and stuffed leopards bent to spring; I saw their jewelled eyes and claws of gold. Strange, sweet music floated through the air. I heard the tinkle of distant fountains. Then the blaze of light from the great star above ceased. The darkness of the pit wrapped us round, the thick hiss of a serpent pierced the night. I heard the rustle of garments and struck out valiantly.

There came a mocking peal of feminine laughter, then strong hands seized us from behind, and despite our struggles we were bound hand and foot and carried on and on through a tangled labyrinth, now to the right, now to the left, now doubling on our tracks, and all in the midnight darkness, with the indescribable noises in our ears of a silent attending multitude.

I thought the bearers walked along ground that gradually sloped downward. Afterward I found that I was right. At the moment there was so much else to think of that the true force of this fact did not strike me. I say this that you may note that I am a just man, as well as a modest, that I do not lay claim to a foresight or an understanding of the inwardness of things, over and above that which nature has bestowed on me. This I may say has so far been sufficient for the purpose, as indeed the event has in time borne out. And without former knowledge who could have guessed the hidden secrets of Lah’s palace, or the mysteries that gathered thick about the dwelling-place of Edba and of Hed.

I heard Lestrade whistling softly there in the darkness not ten paces away. The sound heartened me wonderfully. We were still together, and what might befall lost half its terror.

All at once our bearers halted. I was gently laid upon a couch. My bonds were loosened, and as I sprang to my feet a light flashed from above, and I found myself standing beside Lestrade. The throng had melted away as if by magic. A woman closely veiled and draped in a white garment, alone stood waiting. Ere I could speak she turned with a quick gesture and threw back the filmy covering that hid her face. Lestrade and I uttered a smothered exclamation, for the woman’s skin was fairer than our own, and as she spoke, we knew on the instant that the tale of Sagamoso was true, and that the daughter of the murdered explorer stood before us. The girl was trembling so that Gaston made haste to lead her to a couch, while I stood stolid, my eyes fixed upon her eyes, luminous and wide with mingled fear and joy, while I waited in breathless silence for her words.

“How I have suffered,” she said half to herself, and the English was sweet to me, and the sound of her voice yet sweeter. She looked about her as a frightened fawn looks when the dogs are upon her. “These walls have ears,” she said under her breath. “This horrible place is full of treachery. Still I must ask you, for I cannot wait. You are of my people. Have you come to save me?”

Lestrade took her hand in his and kissed it, and his voice was the voice of a mother soothing a tired child.

“It is our sacred purpose, and naught shall turn us,” he said.

“That and vengeance on your enemies,” I added.

“Hush!” she answered, with a warning gesture. She listened in silence for a moment, and then the folds of her veil once more hid her face, but I had seen the pretty color come back to her lips and cheek, and her smile of trust and gratitude had stirred me mightily. “I am Astolba, handmaid of Lah, the Queen,” she continued aloud, and with a subtile change of manner that Lestrade was quick to note and imitate.

As for me, I stood still gazing dumbly, yet drinking in the music of her speech.

“She, the beloved of the gods, has sent me hither, that you may learn from me the language of the people of the Walled City; that their customs and rites may be made known to you. So that, strangers though you be, you may yet stand within the inner circle,—if so the Queen will,—and bring knowledge and power to the followers of Edba and of Hed.”

She looked with pleading towards me, for with a woman’s quick instinct she saw that Gaston had no scruples at learning aught, let it but come from her fair lips.

For me, I have, thank the Lord, small stomach for heathen follies; little patience with holy serpents and sacred apes, with bloody chanting and such like deviltries.

Nevertheless, when Astolba added softly, “It is the Queen’s order; will you learn of me?” I nodded, and she, I think, was puzzled and not best pleased, not knowing for certain which argument had changed the habit of my mind. And that is, let me tell you, an excellent manner to deal with women.

Astolba, therefore,—for so she was called, and the word meaning “white dove” did indeed singularly befit her,—Astolba having told her errand and won consent, began at once her mission.

I cannot fit with nicety the meaning of all she told into the jewelled setting of her speech. I am, as I have said, a plain man, and can but repeat the substance of the strange lesson begun that hour, and continued in due order during many succeeding days, until the language and customs of this strange people became at length known to us.

For Astolba herself, her own story was simple. We already knew much from the dying words of the fugitive priest. Her future fate was to her, as to us, a sealed book, and we forbore to let her see the red light cast upon it by those same last words.

The maid had so far been treated well, with a kind of contemptuous pity, by her beautiful mistress. Lah was curious of all that pertained to Saxon life and usage. She had even learned the language; she had questioned her white prisoner closely about the arts, the doings, the manufactures of the stranger. She had copied in some measure, but secretly, such things as pleased her fancy, or seemed like to extend her power.

“She is wonderful,” said Astolba, “but she is terrible. The Queen’s nature is like a bottomless well. You drop a pebble into its depths, and you listen and listen, and you hear no sound. It is falling, falling, falling. And so with Lah. No one can judge that hidden depth. She is all in one. Childlike, lovable, gentle, then fierce, treacherous, and oh so unspeakably cruel!”

The girl covered her face with her hands as if to shut out some horrid sight.

“You could not bear, strong men that you are, the things that I have seen,” she said in a whisper. Then she went on more calmly, to speak of other matters, but the vision of the icy fear that had pierced her was by me not soon forgotten.

As I look back on it all now, I see how, little by little, we learned the belief of the people of the Walled City.

For better comprehension of this tale, I will now briefly set forth the substance of their strange faith.

Lah and her subjects worshipped chiefly, and with dread, two singular powers: Hed, the serpent god whose spirit dwelt in the body of a monstrous python, called the holy Snake; and Edba, the moon goddess.

Hed gave victory in battle, revenge over enemies, success in various undertakings. Edba gave the crops and increase to the people.

Hed was worshipped by bloody sacrifices; Edba, by offerings of fruit and flowers, save on the great yearly feast, when she, too, demanded that a human life be poured forth before her altar.

Hed was the god of fear; Edba, the goddess of love. Once every twelve months, a maiden, fair and without blemish, became the bride of the Snake. That is, with songs and rejoicing, the rose-crowned victim was thrown to the python, and crushed to death in the reptile’s horrid folds, in the presence of a frenzied multitude.

Two years before our coming a King had ruled with a heavy hand the people of the Walled City. Unlike his royal predecessors, he had made war upon the neighboring country, and he had brought home vast treasure and many slaves, so that the High Priest dared not lift his voice against the practice. To leave the City on any pretext whatsoever was a thing forbidden alike to the Ruler and his people; a thing unheard of for generations, and a thing accursed by Hed. But the King brooked no restraint; the masses were drunk with their new-found liberty, and Agno’s maledictions were looked upon as little more than the impotent murmurings of a feeble old man.

Then one day the King returned with a captive, none knew from whence, a woman who despised the customs of the people, the beauty of whose unveiled face made glad like wine the heart of him who beheld it. Her, the King married; one month from that day he died, suddenly, at a banquet, and Lah, upheld by the High Priest, had seized the sceptre.

No woman had ever sat before upon the throne, and the people and army rebelled, the priests alone remaining faithful to their new sovereign.

But Lah faced the rising storm with calm authority. She appealed to an ancient test almost forgotten. She became, by her own wish, the bride of the Snake, and before the very eyes of her wondering subjects, she came forth from the pit, not only alive, but unhurt.

From that moment she became a sacred person. The chief ringleaders of the revolt were cruelly butchered by their quondam followers, and Lah was Queen indeed.

So much for what had taken place before our coming. That there was no longer peace between the High Priest and his sovereign, I already guessed, but I did not know then how near the crisis was, or how the scale of power trembled in the balance.

This, for Astolba’s errand. I must now turn to the events that thickly followed on her coming.