The Valley of the Sorcerer
I placed the book on the little table on which the shaded lamp rested
and moved the screen to one side. Thus I could have the light on my
book; and by looking up, see the bed, and the Nurse, and the door. I
cannot say that the conditions were enjoyable, or calculated to allow
of that absorption in the subject which is advisable for effective
study. However, I composed myself to the work as well as I could. The
book was one which, on the very face of it, required special attention.
It was a folio in Dutch, printed in Amsterdam in 1650. Some one had
made a literal translation, writing generally the English word under
the Dutch, so that the grammatical differences between the two tongues
made even the reading of the translation a difficult matter. One had
to dodge backward and forward among the words. This was in addition to
the difficulty of deciphering a strange handwriting of two hundred
years ago. I found, however, that after a short time I got into the
habit of following in conventional English the Dutch construction; and,
as I became more familiar with the writing, my task became easier.
At first the circumstances of the room, and the fear lest Miss Trelawny
should return unexpectedly and find me reading the book, disturbed me
somewhat. For we had arranged amongst us, before Doctor Winchester had
gone home, that she was not to be brought into the range of the coming
investigation. We considered that there might be some shock to a
woman’s mind in matters of apparent mystery; and further, that she,
being Mr. Trelawny’s daughter, might be placed in a difficult position
with him afterward if she took part in, or even had a personal
knowledge of, the disregarding of his expressed wishes. But when I
remembered that she did not come on nursing duty till two o’clock, the
fear of interruption passed away. I had still nearly three hours
before me. Nurse Kennedy sat in her chair by the bedside, patient and
alert. A clock ticked on the landing; other clocks in the house
ticked; the life of the city without manifested itself in the distant
hum, now and again swelling into a roar as a breeze floating westward
took the concourse of sounds with it. But still the dominant idea was
of silence. The light on my book, and the soothing fringe of green
silk round the shade intensified, whenever I looked up, the gloom of
the sick-room. With every line I read, this seemed to grow deeper and
deeper; so that when my eyes came back to the page the light seemed to
dazzle me. I stuck to my work, however, and presently began to get
sufficiently into the subject to become interested in it.
The book was by one Nicholas van Huyn of Hoorn. In the preface he told
how, attracted by the work of John Greaves of Merton College,
Pyramidographia, he himself visited Egypt, where he became so
interested in its wonders that he devoted some years of his life to
visiting strange places, and exploring the ruins of many temples and
tombs. He had come across many variants of the story of the building
of the Pyramids as told by the Arabian historian, Ibn Abd Alhokin, some
of which he set down. These I did not stop to read, but went on to the
marked pages.
As soon as I began to read these, however, there grew on me some sense
of a disturbing influence. Once or twice I looked to see if the Nurse
had moved, for there was a feeling as though some one were near me.
Nurse Kennedy sat in her place, as steady and alert as ever; and I came
back to my book again.
The narrative went on to tell how, after passing for several days
through the mountains to the east of Aswan, the explorer came to a
certain place. Here I give his own words, simply putting the
translation into modern English:
“Toward evening we came to the entrance of a narrow, deep valley,
running east and west. I wished to proceed through this; for the sun,
now nearly down on the horizon, showed a wide opening beyond the
narrowing of the cliffs. But the fellaheen absolutely refused to enter
the valley at such a time, alleging that they might be caught by the
night before they could emerge from the other end. At first they would
give no reason for their fear. They had hitherto gone anywhere I
wished, and at any time, without demur. On being pressed, however,
they said that the place was the Valley of the Sorcerer, where none
might come in the night. On being asked to tell of the Sorcerer, they
refused, saying that there was no name, and that they knew nothing. On
the next morning, however, when the sun was up and shining down the
valley, their fears had somewhat passed away. Then they told me that a
great Sorcerer in ancient days—‘millions of millions of years’ was the
term they used—a King or a Queen, they could not say which, was buried
there. They could not give the name, persisting to the last that there
was no name; and that anyone who should name it would waste away in
life so that at death nothing of him would remain to be raised again in
the Other World. In passing through the valley they kept together in a
cluster, hurrying on in front of me. None dared to remain behind. They
gave, as their reason for so proceeding, that the arms of the Sorcerer
were long, and that it was dangerous to be the last. The which was of
little comfort to me who of this necessity took that honourable post.
In the narrowest part of the valley, on the south side, was a great
cliff of rock, rising sheer, of smooth and even surface. Hereon were
graven certain cabalistic signs, and many figures of men and animals,
fishes, reptiles and birds; suns and stars; and many quaint symbols.
Some of these latter were disjointed limbs and features, such as arms
and legs, fingers, eyes, noses, ears, and lips. Mysterious symbols
which will puzzle the Recording Angel to interpret at the Judgment Day.
The cliff faced exactly north. There was something about it so
strange, and so different from the other carved rocks which I had
visited, that I called a halt and spent the day in examining the rock
front as well as I could with my telescope. The Egyptians of my
company were terribly afraid, and used every kind of persuasion to
induce me to pass on. I stayed till late in the afternoon, by which
time I had failed to make out aright the entry of any tomb, for I
suspected that such was the purpose of the sculpture of the rock. By
this time the men were rebellious; and I had to leave the valley if I
did not wish my whole retinue to desert. But I secretly made up my
mind to discover the tomb, and explore it. To this end I went further
into the mountains, where I met with an Arab Sheik who was willing to
take service with me. The Arabs were not bound by the same
superstitious fears as the Egyptians; Sheik Abu Some and his following
were willing to take a part in the explorations.
“When I returned to the valley with these Bedouins, I made effort to
climb the face of the rock, but failed, it being of one impenetrable
smoothness. The stone, generally flat and smooth by nature, had been
chiselled to completeness. That there had been projecting steps was
manifest, for there remained, untouched by the wondrous climate of that
strange land, the marks of saw and chisel and mallet where the steps
had been cut or broken away.
“Being thus baffled of winning the tomb from below, and being
unprovided with ladders to scale, I found a way by much circuitous
journeying to the top of the cliff. Thence I caused myself to be
lowered by ropes, till I had investigated that portion of the rock face
wherein I expected to find the opening. I found that there was an
entrance, closed however by a great stone slab. This was cut in the
rock more than a hundred feet up, being two-thirds the height of the
cliff. The hieroglyphic and cabalistic symbols cut in the rock were so
managed as to disguise it. The cutting was deep, and was continued
through the rock and the portals of the doorway, and through the great
slab which formed the door itself. This was fixed in place with such
incredible exactness that no stone chisel or cutting implement which I
had with me could find a lodgment in the interstices. I used much
force, however; and by many heavy strokes won a way into the tomb, for
such I found it to be. The stone door having fallen into the entrance
I passed over it into the tomb, noting as I went a long iron chain
which hung coiled on a bracket close to the doorway.
“The tomb I found to be complete, after the manner of the finest
Egyptian tombs, with chamber and shaft leading down to the corridor,
ending in the Mummy Pit. It had the table of pictures, which seems
some kind of record—whose meaning is now for ever lost—graven in a
wondrous colour on a wondrous stone.
“All the walls of the chamber and the passage were carved with strange
writings in the uncanny form mentioned. The huge stone coffin or
sarcophagus in the deep pit was marvellously graven throughout with
signs. The Arab chief and two others who ventured into the tomb with
me, and who were evidently used to such grim explorations, managed to
take the cover from the sarcophagus without breaking it. At which they
wondered; for such good fortune, they said, did not usually attend such
efforts. Indeed they seemed not over careful; and did handle the
various furniture of the tomb with such little concern that, only for
its great strength and thickness, even the coffin itself might have
been injured. Which gave me much concern, for it was very beautifully
wrought of rare stone, such as I had no knowledge of. Much I grieved
that it were not possible to carry it away. But time and desert
journeyings forbade such; I could only take with me such small matters
as could be carried on the person.
“Within the sarcophagus was a body, manifestly of a woman, swathed with
many wrappings of linen, as is usual with all mummies. From certain
embroiderings thereon, I gathered that she was of high rank. Across
the breast was one hand, unwrapped. In the mummies which I had seen,
the arms and hands are within the wrappings, and certain adornments of
wood, shaped and painted to resemble arms and hands, lie outside the
enwrapped body.
“But this hand was strange to see, for it was the real hand of her who
lay enwrapped there; the arm projecting from the cerements being of
flesh, seemingly made as like marble in the process of embalming. Arm
and hand were of dusky white, being of the hue of ivory that hath lain
long in air. The skin and the nails were complete and whole, as though
the body had been placed for burial over night. I touched the hand and
moved it, the arm being something flexible as a live arm; though stiff
with long disuse, as are the arms of those faqueers which I have seen
in the Indees. There was, too, an added wonder that on this ancient
hand were no less than seven fingers, the same all being fine and long,
and of great beauty. Sooth to say, it made me shudder and my flesh
creep to touch that hand that had lain there undisturbed for so many
thousands of years, and yet was like unto living flesh. Underneath the
hand, as though guarded by it, lay a huge jewel of ruby; a great stone
of wondrous bigness, for the ruby is in the main a small jewel. This
one was of wondrous colour, being as of fine blood whereon the light
shineth. But its wonder lay not in its size or colour, though these
were, as I have said, of priceless rarity; but in that the light of it
shone from seven stars, each of seven points, as clearly as though the
stars were in reality there imprisoned. When that the hand was lifted,
the sight of that wondrous stone lying there struck me with a shock
almost to momentary paralysis. I stood gazing on it, as did those with
me, as though it were that faded head of the Gorgon Medusa with the
snakes in her hair, whose sight struck into stone those who beheld. So
strong was the feeling that I wanted to hurry away from the place. So,
too, those with me; therefore, taking this rare jewel, together with
certain amulets of strangeness and richness being wrought of
jewel-stones, I made haste to depart. I would have remained longer,
and made further research in the wrappings of the mummy, but that I
feared so to do. For it came to me all at once that I was in a desert
place, with strange men who were with me because they were not
over-scrupulous. That we were in a lone cavern of the dead, an hundred
feet above the ground, where none could find me were ill done to me,
nor would any ever seek. But in secret I determined that I would come
again, though with more secure following. Moreover, was I tempted to
seek further, as in examining the wrappings I saw many things of
strange import in that wondrous tomb; including a casket of eccentric
shape made of some strange stone, which methought might have contained
other jewels, inasmuch as it had secure lodgment in the great
sarcophagus itself. There was in the tomb also another coffer which,
though of rare proportion and adornment, was more simply shaped. It
was of ironstone of great thickness; but the cover was lightly cemented
down with what seemed gum and Paris plaster, as though to insure that
no air could penetrate. The Arabs with me so insisted in its opening,
thinking that from its thickness much treasure was stored therein, that
I consented thereto. But their hope was a false one, as it proved.
Within, closely packed, stood four jars finely wrought and carved with
various adornments. Of these one was the head of a man, another of a
dog, another of a jackal, and another of a hawk. I had before known
that such burial urns as these were used to contain the entrails and
other organs of the mummied dead; but on opening these, for the
fastening of wax, though complete, was thin, and yielded easily, we
found that they held but oil. The Bedouins, spilling most of the oil
in the process, groped with their hands in the jars lest treasure
should have been there concealed. But their searching was of no avail;
no treasure was there. I was warned of my danger by seeing in the eyes
of the Arabs certain covetous glances. Whereon, in order to hasten
their departure, I wrought upon those fears of superstition which even
in these callous men were apparent. The chief of the Bedouins ascended
from the Pit to give the signal to those above to raise us; and I, not
caring to remain with the men whom I mistrusted, followed him
immediately. The others did not come at once; from which I feared that
they were rifling the tomb afresh on their own account. I refrained to
speak of it, however, lest worse should befall. At last they came.
One of them, who ascended first, in landing at the top of the cliff
lost his foothold and fell below. He was instantly killed. The other
followed, but in safety. The chief came next, and I came last. Before
coming away I pulled into its place again, as well as I could, the slab
of stone that covered the entrance to the tomb. I wished, if possible,
to preserve it for my own examination should I come again.
“When we all stood on the hill above the cliff, the burning sun that
was bright and full of glory was good to see after the darkness and
strange mystery of the tomb. Even was I glad that the poor Arab who
fell down the cliff and lay dead below, lay in the sunlight and not in
that gloomy cavern. I would fain have gone with my companions to seek
him and give him sepulture of some kind; but the Sheik made light of
it, and sent two of his men to see to it whilst we went on our way.
“That night as we camped, one of the men only returned, saying that a
lion of the desert had killed his companion after that they had buried
the dead man in a deep sand without the valley, and had covered the
spot where he lay with many great rocks, so that jackals or other
preying beasts might not dig him up again as is their wont.
“Later, in the light of the fire round which the men sat or lay, I saw
him exhibit to his fellows something white which they seemed to regard
with special awe and reverence. So I drew near silently, and saw that
it was none other than the white hand of the mummy which had lain
protecting the Jewel in the great sarcophagus. I heard the Bedouin tell
how he had found it on the body of him who had fallen from the cliff.
There was no mistaking it, for there were the seven fingers which I had
noted before. This man must have wrenched it off the dead body whilst
his chief and I were otherwise engaged; and from the awe of the others
I doubted not that he had hoped to use it as an Amulet, or charm.
Whereas if powers it had, they were not for him who had taken it from
the dead; since his death followed hard upon his theft. Already his
Amulet had had an awesome baptism; for the wrist of the dead hand was
stained with red as though it had been dipped in recent blood.
“That night I was in certain fear lest there should be some violence
done to me; for if the poor dead hand was so valued as a charm, what
must be the worth in such wise of the rare Jewel which it had guarded.
Though only the chief knew of it, my doubt was perhaps even greater;
for he could so order matters as to have me at his mercy when he would.
I guarded myself, therefore, with wakefulness so well as I could,
determined that at my earliest opportunity I should leave this party,
and complete my journeying home, first to the Nile bank, and then down
its course to Alexandria; with other guides who knew not what strange
matters I had with me.
“At last there came over me a disposition of sleep, so potent that I
felt it would be resistless. Fearing attack, or that being searched in
my sleep the Bedouin might find the Star Jewel which he had seen me
place with others in my dress, I took it out unobserved and held it in
my hand. It seemed to give back the light of the flickering fire and
the light of the stars—for there was no moon—with equal fidelity; and
I could note that on its reverse it was graven deeply with certain
signs such as I had seen in the tomb. As I sank into the
unconsciousness of sleep, the graven Star Jewel was hidden in the
hollow of my clenched hand.
“I waked out of sleep with the light of the morning sun on my face. I
sat up and looked around me. The fire was out, and the camp was
desolate; save for one figure which lay prone close to me. It was that
of the Arab chief, who lay on his back, dead. His face was almost
black; and his eyes were open, and staring horribly up at the sky, as
though he saw there some dreadful vision. He had evidently been
strangled; for on looking, I found on his throat the red marks where
fingers had pressed. There seemed so many of these marks that I
counted them. There were seven; and all parallel, except the thumb
mark, as though made with one hand. This thrilled me as I thought of
the mummy hand with the seven fingers.
“Even there, in the open desert, it seemed as if there could be
enchantments!
“In my surprise, as I bent over him, I opened my right hand, which up
to now I had held shut with the feeling, instinctive even in sleep, of
keeping safe that which it held. As I did so, the Star Jewel held
there fell out and struck the dead man on the mouth. Mirabile dictu
there came forth at once from the dead mouth a great gush of blood, in
which the red jewel was for the moment lost. I turned the dead man
over to look for it, and found that he lay with his right hand bent
under him as though he had fallen on it; and in it he held a great
knife, keen of point and edge, such as Arabs carry at the belt. It may
have been that he was about to murder me when vengeance came on him,
whether from man or God, or the Gods of Old, I know not. Suffice it,
that when I found my Ruby Jewel, which shone up as a living star from
the mess of blood wherein it lay, I paused not, but fled from the
place. I journeyed on alone through the hot desert, till, by God’s
grace, I came upon an Arab tribe camping by a well, who gave me salt.
With them I rested till they had set me on my way.
“I know not what became of the mummy hand, or of those who had it.
What strife, or suspicion, or disaster, or greed went with it I know
not; but some such cause there must have been, since those who had it
fled with it. It doubtless is used as a charm of potence by some
desert tribe.
“At the earliest opportunity I made examination of the Star Ruby, as I
wished to try to understand what was graven on it. The symbols—whose
meaning, however, I could not understand—were as follows...”
Twice, whilst I had been reading this engrossing narrative, I had
thought that I had seen across the page streaks of shade, which the
weirdness of the subject had made to seem like the shadow of a hand.
On the first of these occasions I found that the illusion came from the
fringe of green silk around the lamp; but on the second I had looked
up, and my eyes had lit on the mummy hand across the room on which the
starlight was falling under the edge of the blind. It was of little
wonder that I had connected it with such a narrative; for if my eyes
told me truly, here, in this room with me, was the very hand of which
the traveller Van Huyn had written. I looked over at the bed; and it
comforted me to think that the Nurse still sat there, calm and wakeful.
At such a time, with such surrounds, during such a narrative, it was
well to have assurance of the presence of some living person.
I sat looking at the book on the table before me; and so many strange
thoughts crowded on me that my mind began to whirl. It was almost as
if the light on the white fingers in front of me was beginning to have
some hypnotic effect. All at once, all thoughts seemed to stop; and
for an instant the world and time stood still.
There lay a real hand across the book! What was there to so overcome
me, as was the case? I knew the hand that I saw on the book—and loved
it. Margaret Trelawny’s hand was a joy to me to see—to touch; and yet
at that moment, coming after other marvellous things, it had a
strangely moving effect on me. It was but momentary, however, and had
passed even before her voice had reached me.
“What disturbs you? What are you staring at the book for? I thought
for an instant that you must have been overcome again!” I jumped up.
“I was reading,” I said, “an old book from the library.” As I spoke I
closed it and put it under my arm. “I shall now put it back, as I
understand that your Father wishes all things, especially books, kept
in their proper places.” My words were intentionally misleading; for I
did not wish her to know what I was reading, and thought it best not to
wake her curiosity by leaving the book about. I went away, but not to
the library; I left the book in my room where I could get it when I had
had my sleep in the day. When I returned Nurse Kennedy was ready to go
to bed; so Miss Trelawny watched with me in the room. I did not want
any book whilst she was present. We sat close together and talked in a
whisper whilst the moments flew by. It was with surprise that I noted
the edge of the curtains changing from grey to yellow light. What we
talked of had nothing to do with the sick man, except in so far that
all which concerned his daughter must ultimately concern him. But it
had nothing to say to Egypt, or mummies, or the dead, or caves, or
Bedouin chiefs. I could well take note in the growing light that
Margaret’s hand had not seven fingers, but five; for it lay in mine.
When Doctor Winchester arrived in the morning and had made his visit to
his patient, he came to see me as I sat in the dining-room having a
little meal—breakfast or supper, I hardly knew which it was—before I
went to lie down. Mr. Corbeck came in at the same time; and we resumed
out conversation where we had left it the night before. I told Mr.
Corbeck that I had read the chapter about the finding of the tomb, and
that I thought Doctor Winchester should read it, too. The latter said
that, if he might, he would take it with him; he had that morning to
make a railway journey to Ipswich, and would read it on the train. He
said he would bring it back with him when he came again in the evening.
I went up to my room to bring it down; but I could not find it
anywhere. I had a distinct recollection of having left it on the little
table beside my bed, when I had come up after Miss Trelawny’s going on
duty into the sick-room. It was very strange; for the book was not of
a kind that any of the servants would be likely to take. I had to come
back and explain to the others that I could not find it.
When Doctor Winchester had gone, Mr. Corbeck, who seemed to know the
Dutchman’s work by heart, talked the whole matter over with me. I told
him that I was interrupted by a change of nurses, just as I had come to
the description of the ring. He smiled as he said:
“So far as that is concerned, you need not be disappointed. Not in Van
Huyn’s time, nor for nearly two centuries later, could the meaning of
that engraving have been understood. It was only when the work was
taken up and followed by Young and Champollion, by Birch and Lepsius
and Rosellini and Salvolini, by Mariette Bey and by Wallis Budge and
Flinders Petrie and the other scholars of their times that great
results ensued, and that the true meaning of hieroglyphic was known.
“Later, I shall explain to you, if Mr. Trelawny does not explain it
himself, or if he does not forbid me to, what it means in that
particular place. I think it will be better for you to know what
followed Van Huyn’s narrative; for with the description of the stone,
and the account of his bringing it to Holland at the termination of his
travels, the episode ends. Ends so far as his book is concerned. The
chief thing about the book is that it sets others thinking—and acting.
Amongst them were Mr. Trelawny and myself. Mr. Trelawny is a good
linguist of the Orient, but he does not know Northern tongues. As for
me I have a faculty for learning languages; and when I was pursuing my
studies in Leyden I learned Dutch so that I might more easily make
references in the library there. Thus it was, that at the very time
when Mr. Trelawny, who, in making his great collection of works on
Egypt, had, through a booksellers’ catalogue, acquired this volume with
the manuscript translation, was studying it, I was reading another
copy, in original Dutch, in Leyden. We were both struck by the
description of the lonely tomb in the rock; cut so high up as to be
inaccessible to ordinary seekers: with all means of reaching it
carefully obliterated; and yet with such an elaborate ornamentation of
the smoothed surface of the cliff as Van Huyn has described. It also
struck us both as an odd thing—for in the years between Van Huyn’s
time and our own the general knowledge of Egyptian curios and records
has increased marvellously—that in the case of such a tomb, made in
such a place, and which must have cost an immense sum of money, there
was no seeming record or effigy to point out who lay within. Moreover,
the very name of the place, ‘the Valley of the Sorcerer’, had, in a
prosaic age, attractions of its own. When we met, which we did through
his seeking the assistance of other Egyptologists in his work, we
talked over this as we did over many other things; and we determined to
make search for the mysterious valley. Whilst we were waiting to start
on the travel, for many things were required which Mr. Trelawny
undertook to see to himself, I went to Holland to try if I could by any
traces verify Van Huyn’s narrative. I went straight to Hoorn, and set
patiently to work to find the house of the traveller and his
descendants, if any. I need not trouble you with details of my
seeking—and finding. Hoorn is a place that has not changed much since
Van Huyn’s time, except that it has lost the place which it held
amongst commercial cities. Its externals are such as they had been
then; in such a sleepy old place a century or two does not count for
much. I found the house, and discovered that none of the descendants
were alive. I searched records; but only to one end—death and
extinction. Then I set me to work to find what had become of his
treasures; for that such a traveller must have had great treasures was
apparent. I traced a good many to museums in Leyden, Utrecht, and
Amsterdam; and some few to the private houses of rich collectors. At
last, in the shop of an old watchmaker and jeweller at Hoorn, I found
what he considered his chiefest treasure; a great ruby, carven like a
scarab, with seven stars, and engraven with hieroglyphics. The old man
did not know hieroglyphic character, and in his old-world, sleepy life,
the philological discoveries of recent years had not reached him. He
did not know anything of Van Huyn, except that such a person had been,
and that his name was, during two centuries, venerated in the town as a
great traveller. He valued the jewel as only a rare stone, spoiled in
part by the cutting; and though he was at first loth to part with such
an unique gem, he became amenable ultimately to commercial reason. I
had a full purse, since I bought for Mr. Trelawny, who is, as I suppose
you know, immensely wealthy. I was shortly on my way back to London,
with the Star Ruby safe in my pocket-book; and in my heart a joy and
exultation which knew no bounds.
“For here we were with proof of Van Huyn’s wonderful story. The jewel
was put in security in Mr. Trelawny’s great safe; and we started out on
our journey of exploration in full hope.
“Mr. Trelawny was, at the last, loth to leave his young wife whom he
dearly loved; but she, who loved him equally, knew his longing to
prosecute the search. So keeping to herself, as all good women do, all
her anxieties—which in her case were special—she bade him follow out
his bent.”