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She, a novel by H. Rider Haggard

CHAPTER XII - "SHE"

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_ The first care of Job and myself, after seeing to Leo, was to wash
ourselves and put on clean clothing, for what we were wearing had not
been changed since the loss of the dhow. Fortunately, as I think that
I have said, by far the greater part of our personal baggage had been
packed into the whaleboat, and was therefore saved--and brought hither
by the bearers--although all the stores laid in by us for barter and
presents to the natives was lost. Nearly all our clothing was made of
a well-shrunk and very strong grey flannel, and excellent I found it
for travelling in these places, because though a Norfolk jacket,
shirt, and pair of trousers of it only weighed about four pounds, a
great consideration in a tropical country, where every extra ounce
tells on the wearer, it was warm, and offered a good resistance to the
rays of the sun, and best of all to chills, which are so apt to result
from sudden changes of temperature.

Never shall I forget the comfort of the "wash and brush-up," and of
those clean flannels. The only thing that was wanting to complete my
joy was a cake of soap, of which we had none.

Afterwards I discovered that the Amahagger, who do not reckon dirt
among their many disagreeable qualities, use a kind of burnt earth for
washing purposes, which, though unpleasant to the touch till one gets
accustomed to it, forms a very fair substitute for soap.

By the time that I was dressed, and had combed and trimmed my black
beard, the previous condition of which was certainly sufficiently
unkempt to give weight to Billali's appellation for me of "Baboon," I
began to feel most uncommonly hungry. Therefore I was by no means
sorry when, without the slightest preparatory sound or warning, the
curtain over the entrance to my cave was flung aside, and another
mute, a young girl this time, announced to me by signs that I could
not misunderstand--that is, by opening her mouth and pointing down it
--that there was something ready to eat. Accordingly I followed her
into the next chamber, which we had not yet entered, where I found
Job, who had also, to his great embarrassment, been conducted thither
by a fair mute. Job never got over the advances the former lady had
made towards him, and suspected every girl who came near to him of
similar designs.

"These young parties have a way of looking at one, sir," he would say
apologetically, "which I don't call respectable."

This chamber was twice the size of the sleeping caves, and I saw at
once that it had originally served as a refectory, and also probably
as an embalming room for the Priests of the Dead; for I may as well
say at once that these hollowed-out caves were nothing more nor less
than vast catacombs, in which for tens of ages the mortal remains of
the great extinct race whose monuments surrounded us had been first
preserved, with an art and a completeness that has never since been
equalled, and then hidden away for all time. On each side of this
particular rock-chamber was a long and solid stone table, about three
feet wide by three feet six in height, hewn out of the living rock, of
which it had formed part, and was still attached to at the base. These
tables were slightly hollowed out or curved inward, to give room for
the knees of any one sitting on the stone ledge that had been cut for
a bench along the side of the cave at a distance of about two feet
from them. Each of them, also, was so arranged that it ended right
under a shaft pierced in the rock for the admission of light and air.
On examining them carefully, however, I saw that there was a
difference between them that had at first escaped my attention, viz.
that one of the tables, that to the left as we entered the cave, had
evidently been used, not to eat upon, but for the purposes of
embalming. That this was beyond all question the case was clear from
five shallow depressions in the stone of the table, all shaped like a
human form, with a separate place for the head to lie in, and a little
bridge to support the neck, each depression being of a different size,
so as to fit bodies varying in stature from a full-grown man's to a
small child's, and with little holes bored at intervals to carry off
fluid. And, indeed, if any further confirmation was required, we had
but to look at the wall of the cave above to find it. For there,
sculptured all round the apartment, and looking nearly as fresh as the
day it was done, was the pictorial representation of the death,
embalming, and burial of an old man with a long beard, probably an
ancient king or grandee of this country.

The first picture represented his death. He was lying upon a couch
which had four short curved posts at the corners coming to a knob at
the end, in appearance something like written notes of music, and was
evidently in the very act of expiring. Gathered round the couch were
women and children weeping, the former with their hair hanging down
their backs. The next scene represented the embalmment of the body,
which lay stark upon a table with depressions in it, similar to the
one before us; probably, indeed, it was a picture of the same table.
Three men were employed at the work--one superintending, one holding a
funnel shaped exactly like a port wine strainer, of which the narrow
end was fixed in an incision in the breast, no doubt in the great
pectoral artery; while the third, who was depicted as standing
straddle-legged over the corpse, held a kind of large jug high in his
hand, and poured from it some steaming fluid which fell accurately
into the funnel. The most curious part of this sculpture is that both
the man with the funnel and the man who pours the fluid are drawn
holding their noses, either I suppose because of the stench arising
from the body, or more probably to keep out the aromatic fumes of the
hot fluid which was being forced into the dead man's veins. Another
curious thing which I am unable to explain is that all three men were
represented as having a band of linen tied round the face with holes
in it for the eyes.

The third sculpture was a picture of the burial of the deceased. There
he was, stiff and cold, clothed in a linen robe, and laid out on a
stone slab such as I had slept upon at our first sojourning-place. At
his head and feet burnt lamps, and by his side were placed several of
the beautiful painted vases that I have described, which were perhaps
supposed to be full of provisions. The little chamber was crowded with
mourners, and with musicians playing on an instrument resembling a
lyre, while near the foot of the corpse stood a man holding a sheet,
with which he was preparing to cover it from view.

These sculptures, looked at merely as works of art, were so remarkable
that I make no apology for describing them rather fully. They struck
me also as being of surpassing interest as representing, probably with
studious accuracy, the last rites of the dead as practised among an
utterly lost people, and even then I thought how envious some
antiquarian friends of my own at Cambridge would be if ever I found an
opportunity of describing these wonderful remains to them. Probably
they would say that I was exaggerating, notwithstanding that every
page of this history must bear so much internal evidence of its truth
that it would obviously have been quite impossible for me to have
invented it.

To return. As soon as I had hastily examined these sculptures, which I
think I omitted to mention were executed in relief, we sat down to a
very excellent meal of boiled goat's-flesh, fresh milk, and cakes made
of meal, the whole being served upon clean wooden platters.

When we had eaten we returned to see how Leo was getting on, Billali
saying that he must now wait upon /She/, and hear her commands. On
reaching Leo's room we found the poor boy in a very bad way. He had
woke up from his torpor, and was altogether off his head, babbling
about some boat-race on the Cam, and was inclined to be violent.
Indeed, when we entered the room Ustane was holding him down. I spoke
to him, and my voice seemed to soothe him; at any rate he grew much
quieter, and was persuaded to swallow a dose of quinine.

I had been sitting with him for an hour, perhaps--at any rate I know
that it was getting so dark that I could only just make out his head
lying like a gleam of gold upon the pillow we had extemporised out of
a bag covered with a blanket--when suddenly Billali arrived with an
air of great importance, and informed me that /She/ herself had
deigned to express a wish to see me--an honour, he added, accorded to
but very few. I think that he was a little horrified at my cool way of
taking the honour, but the fact was that I did not feel overwhelmed
with gratitude at the prospect of seeing some savage, dusky queen,
however absolute and mysterious she might be, more especially as my
mind was full of dear Leo, for whose life I began to have great fears.
However, I rose to follow him, and as I did so I caught sight of
something bright lying on the floor, which I picked up. Perhaps the
reader will remember that with the potsherd in the casket was a
composition scarabæus marked with a round O, a goose, and another
curious hieroglyphic, the meaning of which is "Suten se Ra," or "Royal
Son of the Sun." The scarab, which is a very small one, Leo had
insisted upon having set in a massive gold ring, such as is generally
used for signets, and it was this very ring that I now picked up. He
had pulled it off in the paroxysm of his fever, at least I suppose so,
and flung it down upon the rock-floor. Thinking that if I left it
about it might get lost, I slipped it on my own little finger, and
then followed Billali, leaving Job and Ustane with Leo.

We passed down the passage, crossed the great aisle-like cave, and
came to the corresponding passage on the other side, at the mouth of
which the guards stood like two statues. As we came they bowed their
heads in salutation, and then lifting their long spears placed them
transversely across their foreheads, as the leaders of the troop that
had met us had done with their ivory wands. We stepped between them,
and found ourselves in an exactly similar gallery to that which led to
our own apartments, only this passage was, comparatively speaking,
brilliantly lighted. A few paces down it we were met by four mutes--
two men and two women--who bowed low and then arranged themselves, the
women in front and the men behind of us, and in this order we
continued our procession past several doorways hung with curtains
resembling those leading to our own quarters, and which I afterwards
found opened out into chambers occupied by the mutes who attended on
/She/. A few paces more and we came to another doorway facing us, and
not to our left like the others, which seemed to mark the termination
of the passage. Here two more white-, or rather yellow-robed guards
were standing, and they too bowed, saluted, and let us pass through
heavy curtains into a great antechamber, quite forty feet long by as
many wide, in which some eight or ten women, most of them young and
handsome, with yellowish hair, sat on cushions working with ivory
needles at what had the appearance of being embroidery frames. These
women were also deaf and dumb. At the farther end of this great lamp-
lit apartment was another doorway closed in with heavy Oriental-
looking curtains, quite unlike those that hung before the doors of our
own rooms, and here stood two particularly handsome girl mutes, their
heads bowed upon their bosoms and their hands crossed in an attitude
of humble submission. As we advanced they each stretched out an arm
and drew back the curtains. Thereupon Billali did a curious thing.
Down he went, that venerable-looking old gentleman--for Billali is a
gentleman at the bottom--down on to his hands and knees, and in this
undignified position, with his long white beard trailing on the
ground, he began to creep into the apartment beyond. I followed him,
standing on my feet in the usual fashion. Looking over his shoulder he
perceived it.

"Down, my son; down, my Baboon; down on to thy hands and knees. We
enter the presence of /She/, and, if thou art not humble, of a surety
she will blast thee where thou standest."

I halted, and felt scared. Indeed, my knees began to give way of their
own mere motion; but reflection came to my aid. I was an Englishman,
and why, I asked myself, should I creep into the presence of some
savage woman as though I were a monkey in fact as well as in name? I
would not and could not do it, that is, unless I was absolutely sure
that my life or comfort depended upon it. If once I began to creep
upon my knees I should always have to do so, and it would be a patent
acknowledgment of inferiority. So, fortified by an insular prejudice
against "kootooing," which has, like most of our so-called prejudices,
a good deal of common sense to recommend it, I marched in boldly after
Billali. I found myself in another apartment, considerably smaller
than the anteroom, of which the walls were entirely hung with rich-
looking curtains of the same make as those over the door, the work, as
I subsequently discovered, of the mutes who sat in the antechamber and
wove them in strips, which were afterwards sewn together. Also, here
and there about the room, were settees of a beautiful black wood of
the ebony tribe, inlaid with ivory, and all over the floor were other
tapestries, or rather rugs. At the top end of this apartment was what
appeared to be a recess, also draped with curtains, through which
shone rays of light. There was nobody in the place except ourselves.

Painfully and slowly old Billali crept up the length of the cave, and
with the most dignified stride that I could command I followed after
him. But I felt that it was more or less of a failure. To begin with,
it is not possible to look dignified when you are following in the
wake of an old man writhing along on his stomach like a snake, and
then, in order to go sufficiently slowly, either I had to keep my leg
some seconds in the air at every step, or else to advance with a full
stop between each stride, like Mary Queen of Scots going to execution
in a play. Billali was not good at crawling, I suppose his years stood
in the way, and our progress up that apartment was a very long affair.
I was immediately behind him, and several times I was sorely tempted
to help him on with a good kick. It is so absurd to advance into the
presence of savage royalty after the fashion of an Irishman driving a
pig to market, for that is what we looked like, and the idea nearly
made me burst out laughing then and there. I had to work off my
dangerous tendency to unseemly merriment by blowing my nose, a
proceeding which filled old Billali with horror, for he looked over
his shoulder and made a ghastly face at me, and I heard him murmur,
"Oh, my poor Baboon!"

At last we reached the curtains, and here Billali collapsed flat on to
his stomach, with his hands stretched out before him as though he were
dead, and I, not knowing what to do, began to stare about the place.
But presently I clearly felt that somebody was looking at me from
behind the curtains. I could not see the person, but I could
distinctly feel his or her gaze, and, what is more, it produced a very
odd effect upon my nerves. I was frightened, I do not know why. The
place was a strange one, it is true, and looked lonely,
notwithstanding its rich hangings and the soft glow of the lamps--
indeed, these accessories added to, rather than detracted from its
loneliness, just as a lighted street at night has always a more
solitary appearance than a dark one. It was so silent in the place,
and there lay Billali like one dead before the heavy curtains, through
which the odour of perfume seemed to float up towards the gloom of the
arched roof above. Minute grew into minute, and still there was no
sign of life, nor did the curtain move; but I felt the gaze of the
unknown being sinking through and through me, and filling me with a
nameless terror, till the perspiration stood in beads upon my brow.

At length the curtain began to move. Who could be behind it?--some
naked savage queen, a languishing Oriental beauty, or a nineteenth-
century young lady, drinking afternoon tea? I had not the slightest
idea, and should not have been astonished at seeing any of the three.
I was getting beyond astonishment. The curtain agitated itself a
little, then suddenly between its folds there appeared a most
beautiful white hand (white as snow), and with long tapering fingers,
ending in the pinkest nails. The hand grasped the curtain, and drew it
aside, and as it did so I heard a voice, I think the softest and yet
most silvery voice I ever heard. It reminded me of the murmur of a
brook.

"Stranger," said the voice in Arabic, but much purer and more
classical Arabic than the Amahagger talk--"stranger, wherefore art
thou so much afraid?"

Now I flattered myself that in spite of my inward terrors I had kept a
very fair command of my countenance, and was, therefore, a little
astonished at this question. Before I had made up my mind how to
answer it, however, the curtain was drawn, and a tall figure stood
before us. I say a figure, for not only the body, but also the face
was wrapped up in soft white, gauzy material in such a way as at first
sight to remind me most forcibly of a corpse in its grave-clothes. And
yet I do not know why it should have given me that idea, seeing that
the wrappings were so thin that one could distinctly see the gleam of
the pink flesh beneath them. I suppose it was owing to the way in
which they were arranged, either accidentally, or more probably by
design. Anyhow, I felt more frightened than ever at this ghost-like
apparition, and my hair began to rise upon my head as the feeling
crept over me that I was in the presence of something that was not
canny. I could, however, clearly distinguish that the swathed mummy-
like form before me was that of a tall and lovely woman, instinct with
beauty in every part, and also with a certain snake-like grace which I
had never seen anything to equal before. When she moved a hand or foot
her entire frame seemed to undulate, and the neck did not bend, it
curved.

"Why art thou so frightened, stranger?" asked the sweet voice again--a
voice which seemed to draw the heart out of me, like the strains of
softest music. "Is there that about me that should affright a man?
Then surely are men changed from what they used to be!" And with a
little coquettish movement she turned herself, and held up one arm, so
as to show all her loveliness and the rich hair of raven blackness
that streamed in soft ripples down her snowy robes, almost to her
sandalled feet.

"It is thy beauty that makes me fear, oh Queen," I answered humbly,
scarcely knowing what to say, and I thought that as I did so I heard
old Billali, who was still lying prostrate on the floor, mutter,
"Good, my Baboon, good."

"I see that men still know how to beguile us women with false words.
Ah, stranger," she answered, with a laugh that sounded like distant
silver bells, "thou wast afraid because mine eyes were searching out
thine heart, therefore wast thou afraid. Yet being but a woman, I
forgive thee for the lie, for it was courteously said. And now tell me
how came ye hither to this land of the dwellers among the caves--a
land of swamps and evil things and dead old shadows of the dead? What
came ye for to see? How is it that ye hold your lives so cheap as to
place them in the hollow of the hand of /Hiya/, into the hand of
'/She-who-must-be-obeyed/'? Tell me also how come ye to know the
tongue I talk. It is an ancient tongue, that sweet child of the old
Syriac. Liveth it yet in the world? Thou seest I dwell among the caves
and the dead, and naught know I of the affairs of men, nor have I
cared to know. I have lived, O stranger, with my memories, and my
memories are in a grave that mine hands hollowed, for truly hath it
been said that the child of man maketh his own path evil;" and her
beautiful voice quivered, and broke in a note as soft as any wood-
bird's. Suddenly her eye fell upon the sprawling frame of Billali, and
she seemed to recollect herself.

"Ah! thou art there, old man. Tell me how it is that things have gone
wrong in thine household. Forsooth, it seems that these my guests were
set upon. Ay, and one was nigh to being slain by the hot-pot to be
eaten of those brutes, thy children, and had not the others fought
gallantly they too had been slain, and not even I could have called
back the life which had been loosed from the body. What means it, old
man? What hast thou to say that I should not give thee over to those
who execute my vengeance?"

Her voice had risen in her anger, and it rang clear and cold against
the rocky walls. Also I thought I could see her eyes flash through the
gauze that hid them. I saw poor Billali, whom I had believed to be a
very fearless person, positively quiver with terror at her words.

"Oh 'Hiya!' oh /She/!" he said, without lifting his white head from
the floor. "Oh /She/, as thou art great be merciful, for I am now as
ever thy servant to obey. It was no plan or fault of mine, oh /She/,
it was those wicked ones who are called my children. Led on by a woman
whom thy guest the Pig had scorned, they would have followed the
ancient custom of the land, and eaten the fat black stranger who came
hither with these thy guests the Baboon and the Lion who is sick,
thinking that no word had come from thee about the Black one. But when
the Baboon and the Lion saw what they would do, they slew the woman,
and slew also their servant to save him from the horror of the pot.
Then those evil ones, ay, those children of the Wicked One who lives
in the Pit, they went mad with the lust of blood, and flew at the
throats of the Lion and the Baboon and the Pig. But gallantly they
fought. Oh /Hiya/! they fought like very men, and slew many, and held
their own, and then I came and saved them, and the evildoers have I
sent on hither to Kôr to be judged of thy greatness, oh /She/! and
here they are."

"Ay, old man, I know it, and to-morrow will I sit in the great hall
and do justice upon them, fear not. And for thee, I forgive thee,
though hardly. See that thou dost keep thine household better. Go."

Billali rose upon his knees with astonishing alacrity, bowed his head
thrice, and his white beard sweeping the ground, crawled down the
apartment as he had crawled up it, till he finally vanished through
the curtains, leaving me, not a little to my alarm, alone with this
terrible but most fascinating person. _

Read next: CHAPTER XIII - AYESHA UNVEILS

Read previous: CHAPTER XI - THE PLAIN OF K&: 212;R

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