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_ Together we descended the multitudinous steps and passed the endless,
rock-hewn passages till we came to the door of the dwelling of the
high-priestess and were led through it into a hall beyond. Here Ayesha
parted from us saying that she was outworn, as indeed she seemed to be
with an utter weariness, not of the body, but of the spirit. For her
delicate form drooped like a rain-laden lily, her eyes grew dim as
those of a person in a trance, and her voice came in a soft, sweet
whisper, the voice of one speaking in her sleep.
"Good-bye," she said to us. "Oros will guard you both, and lead you to
me at the appointed time. Rest you well."
So she went and the priest led us into a beautiful apartment that
opened on to a sheltered garden. So overcome were we also by all that
we had endured and seen, that we could scarcely speak, much less
discuss these marvellous events.
"My brain swims," said Leo to Oros, "I desire to sleep."
He bowed and conducted us to a chamber where were beds, and on these
we flung ourselves down and slept, dreamlessly, like little children.
When we awoke it was afternoon. We rose and bathed, then saying that
we wished to be alone, went together into the garden where even at
this altitude, now, at the end of August, the air was still mild and
pleasant. Behind a rock by a bed of campanulas and other mountain
flowers and ferns, was a bench near to the banks of a little stream,
on which we seated ourselves.
"What have you to say, Horace?" asked Leo laying his hand upon my arm.
"Say?" I answered. "That things have come about most marvellously;
that we have dreamed aright and laboured not in vain; that you are the
most fortunate of men and should be the most happy."
He looked at me somewhat strangely, and answered--
"Yes, of course; she is lovely, is she not--but," and his voice
dropped to its lowest whisper, "I wish, Horace, that Ayesha were a
little more human, even as human as she was in the Caves of Kor. I
don't think she is quite flesh and blood, I felt it when she kissed me
--if you can call it a kiss--for she barely touched my hair. Indeed
how can she be who changed thus in an hour? Flesh and blood are not
born of flame, Horace."
"Are you sure that she was so born?" I asked. "Like the visions on the
fire, may not that hideous shape have been but an illusion of our
minds? May she not be still the same Ayesha whom we knew in Kor, not
re-born, but wafted hither by some mysterious agency?"
"Perhaps. Horace, we do not know--I think that we shall never know.
But I admit that to me the thing is terrifying. I am drawn to her by
an infinite attraction, her eyes set my blood on fire, the touch of
her hand is as that of a wand of madness laid upon my brain. And yet
between us there is some wall, invisible, still present. Or perhaps it
is only fancy. But, Horace, I think that she is afraid of Atene. Why,
in the old days the Khania would have been dead and forgotten in an
hour--you remember Ustane?"
"Perhaps she may have grown more gentle, Leo, who, like ourselves, has
learned hard lessons."
"Yes," he answered, "I hope that is so. At any rate she has grown more
divine--only, Horace, what kind of a husband shall I be for that
bright being, if ever I get so far?"
"Why should you not get so far?" I asked angrily, for his words jarred
upon my tense nerves.
"I don't know," he answered, "but on general principles do you think
that such fortune will be allowed to a man? Also, what did Atene mean
when she said that man and spirit cannot mate--and--other things?"
"She meant that she /hoped/ they could not, I imagine, and, Leo, it is
useless to trouble yourself with forebodings that are more fitted to
my years than yours, and probably are based on nothing. Be a
philosopher, Leo. You have striven by wonderful ways such as are
unknown in the history of the world; you have attained. Take the goods
the gods provide you--the glory, the love and the power--and let the
future look to itself."
Before he could answer Oros appeared from round the rock, and, bowing
with more than his usual humility to Leo, said that the Hesea desired
our presence at a service in the Sanctuary. Rejoiced at the prospect
of seeing her again before he had hoped to do so, Leo sprang up and we
accompanied him back to our apartment.
Here priests were waiting, who, somewhat against his will, trimmed his
hair and beard, and would have done the same for me had I not refused
their offices. Then they placed gold-embroidered sandals on our feet
and wrapped Leo in a magnificent, white robe, also richly worked with
gold and purple; a somewhat similar robe but of less ornate design
being given to me. Lastly, a silver sceptre was thrust into his hand
and into mine a plain wand. This sceptre was shaped like a crook, and
the sight of it gave me some clue to the nature of the forthcoming
ceremony.
"The crook of Osiris!" I whispered to Leo.
"Look here," he answered, "I don't want to impersonate any Egyptian
god, or to be mixed up in their heathen idolatries; in fact, I won't."
"Better go through with it," I suggested, "probably it is only
something symbolical."
But Leo, who, notwithstanding the strange circumstances connected with
his life, retained the religious principles in which I had educated
him, very strongly indeed, refused to move an inch until the nature of
this service was made clear to him. Indeed he expressed himself upon
the subject with vigour to Oros. At first the priest seemed puzzled
what to do, then explained that the forthcoming ceremony was one of
betrothal.
On learning this Leo raised no further objections, asking only with
some nervousness whether the Khania would be present. Oros answered
"No," as she had already departed to Kaloon, vowing war and vengeance.
Then we were led through long passages, till finally we emerged into
the gallery immediately in front of the great wooden doors of the
apse. At our approach these swung open and we entered it, Oros going
first, then Leo, then myself, and following us, the procession of
attendant priests.
As soon as our eyes became accustomed to the dazzling glare of the
flaming pillars, we saw that some great rite was in progress in the
temple, for in front of the divine statue of Motherhood, white-robed
and arranged in serried ranks, stood the company of the priests to the
number of over two hundred, and behind these the company of the
priestesses. Facing this congregation and a little in advance of the
two pillars of fire that flared on either side of the shrine, Ayesha
herself was seated in a raised chair so that she could be seen of all,
while to her right stood a similar chair of which I could guess the
purpose.
She was unveiled and gorgeously apparelled, though save for the white
beneath, her robes were those of a queen rather than of a priestess.
About her radiant brow ran a narrow band of gold, whence rose the head
of a hooded asp cut out of a single, crimson jewel, beneath which in
endless profusion the glorious waving hair flowed down and around,
hiding even the folds of her purple cloak.
This cloak, opening in front, revealed an undertunic of white silk cut
low upon her bosom and kept in place by a golden girdle, a double-
headed snake, so like to that which She had worn in Kor that it might
have been the same. Her naked arms were bare of ornament, and in her
right hand she held the jewelled sistrum set with its gems and bells.
No empress could have looked more royal and no woman was ever half so
lovely, for to Ayesha's human beauty was added a spiritual glory, her
heritage alone. Seeing her we could see naught else. The rhythmic
movement of the bodies of the worshippers, the rolling grandeur of
their chant of welcome echoed from the mighty roof, the fearful
torches of living flame; all these things were lost on us. For there
re-born, enthroned, her arms stretched out in gracious welcome, sat
that perfect and immortal woman, the appointed bride of one of us, the
friend and lady of the other, her divine presence breathing power,
mystery and love.
On we marched between the ranks of hierophants, till Oros and the
priests left us and we stood alone face to face with Ayesha. Now she
lifted her sceptre and the chant ceased. In the midst of the following
silence, she rose from her seat and gliding down its steps, came to
where Leo stood and touched him on the forehead with her sistrum,
crying in a loud, sweet voice--
"Behold the Chosen of the Hesea!" whereon all that audience echoed in
a shout of thunder--
"Welcome to the Chosen of the Hesea!"
Then while the echoes of that glad cry yet rang round the rocky walls,
Ayesha motioned to me to stand at her side, and taking Leo by the hand
drew him towards her, so that now he faced the white-robed company.
Holding him thus she began to speak in clear and silvery tones.
"Priests and priestesses of Hes, servants with her of the Mother of
the world, hear me. Now for the first time I appear among you as /I/
am, you who heretofore have looked but on a hooded shape, not knowing
its form or fashion. Learn now the reason that I draw my veil. Ye see
this man, whom ye believed a stranger that with his companion had
wandered to our shrine. I tell you that he is no stranger; that of
old, in lives forgotten, he was my lord who now comes to seek his love
again. Say, is it not so, Kallikrates?"
"It is so," answered Leo.
"Priests and priestesses of Hes, as ye know, from the beginning it has
been the right and custom of her who holds my place to choose one to
be her lord. Is it not so?"
"It is so, O Hes," they answered.
She paused a while, then with a gesture of infinite sweetness turned
to Leo, bent towards him thrice and slowly sank upon her knee.
"Say thou," Ayesha said, looking up at him with her wondrous eyes,
"say before these here gathered, and all those witnesses whom thou
canst not see, dost thou again accept me as thy affianced bride?"
"Aye, Lady," he answered, in a deep but shaken voice, "now and for
ever."
Then while all watched, in the midst of a great silence, Ayesha rose,
cast down her sistrum sceptre that rang upon the rocky floor, and
stretched out her arms towards him.
Leo also bent towards her, and would have kissed her upon the lips.
But I who watched, saw his face grow white as it drew near to hers.
While the radiance crept from her brow to his, turning his bright hair
to gold, I saw also that this strong man trembled like a reed and
seemed as though he were about to fall.
I think that Ayesha noted it too, for ere ever their lips met, she
thrust him from her and again that grey mist of fear gathered on her
face.
In an instant it passed. She had slipped from him and with her hand
held his hand as though to support him. Thus they stood till his feet
grew firm and his strength returned.
Oros restored the sceptre to her, and lifting it she said--
"O love and lord, take thou the place prepared for thee, where thou
shalt sit for ever at my side, for with myself I give thee more than
thou canst know or than I will tell thee now. Mount thy throne, O
Affianced of Hes, and receive the worship of thy priests."
"Nay," he answered with a start as that word fell upon his ears. "Here
and now I say it once and for all. I am but a man who know nothing of
strange gods, their attributes and ceremonials. None shall bow the
knee to me and on earth, Ayesha, I bow mine to thee alone."
Now at this bold speech some of those who heard it looked astonished
and whispered to each other, while a voice called--
"Beware, thou Chosen, of the anger of the Mother!"
Again for a moment Ayesha looked afraid, then with a little laugh,
swept the thing aside, saying--
"Surely with that I should be content. For me, O Love, thy adoration
for thee the betrothal song, no more."
So having no choice Leo mounted the throne, where notwithstanding his
splendid presence, enhanced as it was by those glittering robes, he
looked ill enough at ease, as indeed must any man of his faith and
race. Happily however, if some act of semi-idolatrous homage had been
proposed, Ayesha found a means to prevent its celebration, and soon
all such matters were forgotten both by the singers who sang, and us
who listened to the majestic chant that followed.
Of its words unfortunately we were able to understand but little, both
because of the volume of sound and of the secret, priestly language in
which it was given, though its general purport could not be mistaken.
The female voices began it, singing very low, and conveying a strange
impression of time and distance. Now followed bursts of gladness
alternating with melancholy chords suggesting sighs and tears and
sorrows long endured, and at the end a joyous, triumphant paean thrown
to and fro between the men and women singers, terminating in one
united chorus repeated again and again, louder and yet louder, till it
culminated in a veritable crash of melody, then of a sudden ceased.
Ayesha rose and waved her sceptre, whereon all the company bowed
thrice, then turned and breaking into some sweet, low chant that
sounded like a lullaby, marched, rank after rank, across the width of
the Sanctuary and through the carven doors which closed behind the
last of them.
When all had gone, leaving us alone, save for the priest Oros and the
priestess Papave, who remained in attendance on their mistress,
Ayesha, who sat gazing before her with dreaming, empty eyes, seemed to
awake, for she rose and said--
"A noble chant, is it not, and an ancient? It was the wedding song of
the feast of Isis and Osiris at Behbit in Egypt, and there I heard it
before ever I saw the darksome Caves of Kor. Often have I observed, my
Holly, that music lingers longer than aught else in this changeful
world, though it is rare that the very words should remain unvaried.
Come, beloved--tell me, by what name shall I call thee? Thou art
Kallikrates and yet----"
"Call me Leo, Ayesha," he answered, "as I was christened in the only
life of which I have any knowledge. This Kallikrates seems to have
been an unlucky man, and the deeds he did, if in truth he was aught
other than a tool in the hand of destiny, have bred no good to the
inheritors of his body--or his spirit, whichever it may be--or to
those women with whom his life was intertwined. Call me Leo, then, for
of Kallikrates I have had enough since that night when I looked upon
the last of him in Kor."
"Ah! I remember," she answered, "when thou sawest thyself lying in
that narrow bed, and I sang thee a song, did I not, of the past and of
the future? I can recall two lines of it; the rest I have forgotten--
"'Onward, never weary, clad with splendour for a robe!
Till accomplished be our fate, and the night is rushing down.'
"Yes, my Leo, now indeed we are 'clad with splendour for a robe,' and
now our fate draws near to its accomplishment. Then perchance will
come the down-rushing of the night;" and she sighed, looked up
tenderly and said, "See, I am talking to thee in Arabic. Hast thou
forgotten it?"
"No."
"Then let it be our tongue, for I love it best of all, who lisped it
at my mother's knee. Now leave me here alone awhile; I would think.
Also," she added thoughtfully, and speaking with a strange and
impressive inflexion of the voice, "there are some to whom I must give
audience."
So we went, all of us, supposing that Ayesha was about to receive a
deputation of the Chiefs of the Mountain Tribes who came to felicitate
her upon her betrothal. _
Read next: CHAPTER XVIII - THE THIRD ORDEAL
Read previous: CHAPTER XVI - THE CHANGE
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