RACHEL FINDS HER SPIRIT
Northward, ever northward, journeyed Rachel with the Ghost-priests; for
days and weeks they journeyed, slowly, and for the most part at night,
since these people dreaded the glare of the sun. Sometimes she was
borne along in a litter with Noie upon the shoulders of the huge
slaves, but more often she walked between the litters in the midst of a
guard of soldiers, for now she was so strong that she never seemed to
weary, nor even in the fever swamps where many fell ill, did any
sickness touch her. Also this labour of the body seemed to soothe her
wandering and tormented mind, as did the touch of Noie’s hand and the
sound of Noie’s voice. At times, however, her madness got hold of her
and she broke out into those bursts of wild laughter which had scared
the Zulus. Then Eddo would descend from his litter and lay his long
fingers on her forehead and look into her eyes in such a fashion that
she went to sleep and was at peace. But if Noie spoke to her in these
sleeps, she answered her questions, and even talked reasonably as she
had done before the people of Mafooti laid the body of Richard at her
feet, and she stood upon the roof of the hut which Ishmael strove to
climb.
Thus it was that Noie came to learn all that had happened to her since
they parted, for though she had gathered much from them, the Zulus
could not, or would not tell her everything. In past days she had heard
from Rachel of the lad, Richard Darrien, who had been her companion
years before through that night of storm on the island in the river,
and now she understood that her lady loved this Richard, and that it
was because of his murder by the wild brute, Ibubesi, that she had
become mad.
Yes, she was mad, and for that reason Noie rejoiced that the dwarf
people were taking her to their home, since if she could be cured at
all, they were able to heal her, they the great doctors. Moreover, if
these priests and the Zulus would have let her go, whither else could
she have gone whose parents and lover were dead, except to the white
people on the coast, who did not reverence the insane, as do all black
folk, but would have locked her up in a house with others like her
until she died. No, although she knew that there were dangers before
them, many and great dangers, Noie rejoiced that things had befallen
thus.
Also in her tender care already Rachel improved much, and Noie believed
that one day she would be herself again. Only she wished that she and
her lady were alone together; that there were no priests with them, and
above all no Eddo. For Eddo as she knew well was jealous of her
authority over Rachel; jealous too of the love that they bore one to
the other. He wished to use this crazed white chieftainess who had been
accepted as their Inkosazana by the great Zulu people, for his own
purposes. This had been clear from the beginning, and that was why when
he first heard of her he had consented to go on the embassy to Dingaan,
since by his magic he could foresee much of the future that was dark to
Noie, whose blood was mixed and who had not all the gifts of the
Ghost-kings.
Moreover, the Mother of the Trees was Noie’s great aunt, being the
sister of her grandfather, or of his father, Noie was not sure which,
for she had dwelt among them but a few days, and never thought to
inquire of the matter. But of one thing she was sure, that Eddo the
first priest, hated this Mother of the Trees, who was named Nya, and
desired that “when her tree fell” the next mother should be his
servant, which Nya was not. Perhaps, reflected Noie, it was in his mind
that her lady would fill this part, and being mad, obey him in all
things.
Still she kept a watch upon her words, and even on her thoughts, for
Eddo and his fellow-priests, Pani and Hana, were able to peer into
human hearts, and read their secrets. Also she protected Rachel from
him as much as she was able, never leaving her side for a moment,
however weary she might be, for she feared lest he should become the
master of her will. Only when the fits of madness fell upon her
mistress, she was forced to allow Eddo to quell them with his touch and
eye, since herself she lacked this power, nor dared she call the others
to her help, for they were under the hand of Eddo.
Northward, ever northward. First they passed through the Zulus and
their subject tribes who knew of them and of the Inkosazana. All of
these were suffering from the curse that lay upon the land because, as
they believed, there was blood between the Inkosazana and her people.
The locusts devoured their crops and the plague ravaged their cattle,
so that they were terrified of her, and of the little Grey-folk with
whom she travelled, the wizards who had shown fearful things to Dingaan
and left him sick with dread. They fled at their approach, only leaving
a few of their old people to prostrate themselves before this
Inkosazana who wandered in search of her own Spirit, and the Dream-men
who dwelt with the ghosts in the heart of a forest, and to pray her and
them to lift this cloud of evil from the land, bringing gifts of such
things as were left to them.
At length all the Zulus were passed, and they entered into the
territories of other tribes, wild, wandering tribes. But even these
knew of the Ghost-kings, and attempted nothing against them, as they
had attempted nothing against Noie and her escort when she travelled
through this land on her embassy to the People of the Trees. Indeed,
some of their doctors would visit them at their camps and ask an
oracle, or an interpretation of dreams, or a charm against their
enemies, or a deadly poison, offering great gifts in return. At times
Eddo and his fellow-priests would listen, and the giants would bring a
tiny bowl filled with dew into which they gazed, telling them the
pictures they saw there, though this they did but seldom, as the supply
of dew which they had brought with them from their own country ran low,
and since it could not be used twice they kept it for their own
purposes.
Next they came to a country of vast swamps, where dwelt few men and
many wild beasts, a country full of fevers and reeds and pools, in
which lived snakes and crocodiles. Yet no harm came to them from these
things, for the Ghost-priests had medicines that warded off sickness,
and charms that protected them from all evil creatures, and in their
bowls they read what road to take and how dangers could be avoided. So
they passed the swamps safely; only here that slave whom Eddo had
cursed at the kraal of Dingaan, and who from that day onward had wasted
till he seemed to be nothing but a great skeleton, sickened and died.
“Did I not tell you that it should be so?” said Eddo to the other
slaves, who trembled before him as reeds tremble in the wind. “Be
warned, ye fools, who think that the strength of men lies in their
bodies and their spears.” Then he kicked the corpse of the dead giant
gently with his sandalled foot, and bade his brothers throw him into a
pool for the crocodiles to eat.
Having passed the swamps and many rivers, at length they turned
westward, travelling for days over grassy uplands like to those of
Natal, among which wandered pastoral tribes with their herds of cattle.
On these plains were multitudes of game and many lions, especially in
the bush-clad slopes of great isolated mountains that rose up here and
there. These lions roared round them at night, but the priests did not
seem to be afraid, for when the brutes became overbold they placed
deadly poison in the carcases of buck that the nomad tribes brought
them as offerings, of which the lions ate and died in numbers. Also
they sold some of the poison to the tribe for a great price in cattle,
as to the delivery of which cattle they gave minute directions, for
they knew that none dared to cheat the Mother of the Trees and her
prophets.
After the plains were left behind, they reached a vast, fertile and
low-lying country that sloped upwards for miles and miles, which, as
Noie explained to Rachel, when she would listen, was the outer
territory of the Ghost-people, for here dwelt the race of the Umkulus,
or Great Ones, who were their slaves, that folk to which the soldiers
of their escort belonged. Of these there were thousands and tens of
thousands who earned their living by agriculture, since although they
were so huge and fierce-looking, they did not fight unless they were
attacked. The chiefs of this people had their dwellings in vast caves
in the sides of cliffs which, if need be, could be turned into
impregnable fortresses, but their real ruler was the Mother of the
Trees, and their office was to protect the country of the Trees and
furnish it with food, since the Tree-people were dreamers who did
little work.
While they travelled through this land all the headmen of the Umkulus
accompanied them, and every morning a council was held at which these
made report to the priests of all that had chanced of late, and laid
their causes before them for judgment. These causes Eddo and his
fellow-priests heard and settled as seemed best to them, nor did any
dare to dispute their rulings. Indeed, even when they deposed a high
chief and set another in his place, the man who had lost all knelt
before them and thanked them for their goodness. Also they tried
criminals who had stolen women or committed murder, but they never
ordered such men to be slain outright. Sometimes Eddo would look at
them dreamily and curse them in his slow, hissing voice, bidding them
waste in body and in mind, as he had done to the soldier at
Umgugundhlovu, and die within one year, or two, or three, as the case
might be. Or sometimes, if the crime was very bad, he would command
that they should be sent to “travel in the desert,” that is, wander to
and fro without food or water until death found them. Now and again
miserable-looking men, mere skeletons, with hollow cheeks, and eyes
that seemed to start from their heads, would appear at their camps
weeping and imploring that the curse which had been laid upon them in
past days should be taken off their heads. At such people Eddo and his
brother-priests, Pani and Hana, would laugh softly, asking them how
they throve upon the wrath of the Mother of the Trees, and whether they
thought that others who saw them would be encouraged to sin as they had
done. But when the poor wretches prayed that they might be killed
outright with the spear, the priests shrank up in horror beneath their
umbrellas, and asked if they were mad that they should wish them to
“sprinkle their trees with blood.”
One morning a number of these bewitched Umkulus, men, women and
children, appeared, and when the three priests mocked them, as was
their wont, and the guards, some of whom were their own relatives,
sought to beat them away with sticks, threw themselves upon the ground
and burst into weeping. Rachel, who was camped at a little distance
with Noie, in a reed tent that the guard had made for her, which they
folded up and carried as they did the umbrellas, heard the sound of
this lamentation, and came out followed by Noie. For a space she stood
contemplating their misery with a troubled air, then asked Noie why
these people seemed so starved and why they wept. Noie told her that
when she was on her embassy the head of their kraal, an enormous man of
middle age, whom she pointed out to Rachel, had sought to detain her
because she was beautiful, and he wished to make her his wife, although
he knew well that she was on an embassy to the Mother of the Trees. She
had escaped, but it was for this reason that the curse of which they
were perishing had been laid upon him and his folk.
Now Rachel went on to where the three priests sat beneath their
umbrellas dozing away the hours of sunlight, beckoning to the doomed
family to follow her.
“Wake, priests,” she cried in a loud voice, and they looked up
astonished, rubbing their eyes, and asked what was the matter.
“This,” said Rachel. “I command you to lift the weight of your
malediction off the head of these people who have suffered enough.”
“Thou commandest us!” exclaimed Eddo astonished. “And if we will not,
Beautiful One, what then?”
“Then,” answered Rachel, “_I_ will lift it and set it on to your heads,
and you shall perish as they are perishing. Oh! you think me mad, you
priests, who kill more cruelly than did the Zulus, and mad I am whose
Spirit wanders. Yet I tell you that new powers grow within me, though
whence they come I know not, and what I say I can perform.”
Now they stared at her muttering together, and sending for a wooden
bowl, peeped into it. Whatever it was they saw there did not please
them, for at length Eddo addressed the crowd of suppliants, saying:
“The Mother of the Trees forgives; the knot she tied she looses; the
tree she planted she digs up. You are forgiven. Bones, put on strength;
mouths, receive food; eyes, forget your blindness, and feet, your
wanderings. Grow fat and laugh; increase and multiply; for the curse we
give you a blessing, such is the will of the Mother of the Trees.”
“Nay, nay,” cried Rachel, when she understood their words, “believe him
not, ye starvelings. Such is the will of the Inkosazana of the Zulus,
she who has lost her Spirit and another’s, and travels all this weary
way to find them.”
Then her madness seemed to come upon her again, for she tossed her arms
on high and burst into one of her wild fits of laughter. But those whom
she had redeemed heeded it not, for they ran to her, and since they
dared not touch her, or even her robe, kissed the ground on which she
had stood and blessed her. Moreover from that moment they began to
mend, and within a few days were changed folk. This Noie knew, for they
followed up Rachel to the confines of the desert, and she saw it with
her eyes. Also the fame of the deed spread among the Umkulu people who
groaned under the cruel rule of the Ghost-kings, and mad or sane, from
that day forward they adored Rachel even more than the Zulus had done,
and like the Zulus believed her to be a Spirit. No mere human being,
they declared, could have lifted off the curse of the Mother of the
Trees from those upon whom it had fallen.
Thenceforward Eddo, Pani, and Hana hid their judgments from Rachel, and
would not suffer such suppliants to approach the camp. Also when they
seized a number of men because these had conspired together to rebel
against the Ghost-people, and brought them on towards their own country
for a certain purpose, they forced them to act as bearers like the
others, so that Rachel might not guess their doom. For now, with all
their power, they also were afraid of this white Inkosazana, as Dingaan
had been afraid.
So they travelled up this endless slope of fertile land, leaving all
the kraals of the giant Umkulus behind them, and one morning at the
dawn camped upon the edge of a terrible desert; a place of dry sands
and sun-blasted rocks, that looked like the bottom of a drained ocean,
where nothing lived save the fire lizards and certain venomous snakes
that buried themselves in the sand, all except their heads, and only
crawled out at night. After the people of the Umkulus this horrible
waste was the great defence of the Ghost-kings, whose country it ringed
about, since none could pass it without guides and water. Indeed, Noie
had been forced to stay here for days with her escort, until the Mother
of the Trees, learning of her coming in some strange fashion, had sent
priests and guards to bring her to her land. But the Zulus who were
with her they did not bring, except one witch-doctor to bear witness to
her words. These they left among the Umkulus till she should return,
nor were those Zulus sorry who had already heard enough of the magic of
the Ghost-kings, and feared to come face to face with them.
But it is true that they also feared the Umkulus, whom, because of
their great size and the fierceness of their air, the Zulus took to be
evil spirits, though if this were so, they could not understand why
they should obey a handful of grey dwarfs who lived far from them
beyond the desert. Still these Umkulus did them no harm, for on her
return Noie found them all safe and well.
That afternoon Rachel and the dwarfs plunged into the dreadful
wilderness, heading straight for the ball of the sinking sun. Here,
although she wished to do so, she was not allowed to walk, for fear
lest the serpents should bite her, said Eddo, but must journey in the
litter with Noie. So they entered it, and were borne forward at a great
pace, the bearers travelling at a run, and being often changed. Also
many other bearers came with them, and on the shoulders of each of them
was strapped a hide bag of water. Of this they soon discovered the
reason, for the sand of that wilderness was white with salt; the air
also seemed to be full of salt, so that the thirst of those who
travelled there was sharp and constant, and if it could not be
satisfied they died.
It was a very strange journey, and although she did not seem to take
much note of them at the time, its details and surroundings burned
themselves deeply into Rachel’s mind. The hush of the infinite desert,
the white moonlight gleaming upon the salt, white sand; the tall rocks
which stood up here and there like unfinished obelisks and colossal
statues, the snowy clouds of dust that rose beneath the feet of the
company; the hoarse shouts of the guides, the close heat, the halts for
water which was greedily swallowed in great gulps; the occasional cry
and confusion when a man fell out exhausted, or because he had been
bitten by one of the serpents—all these things, amongst others, were
very strange.
Once Rachel asked vaguely what became of these outworn and
snake-poisoned men, and Noie only shook her head in answer, for she did
not think fit to tell her that they were left to find their way back,
or to perish, as might chance.
All that night and for the first hours of the day that followed, they
went forward swiftly, camping at last to eat and sleep in the shadow of
a mass of rock that looked like a gigantic castle with walls and
towers. Here they remained in the burning heat until the sun began to
sink once more, and then went on again, leaving some of the bearers
behind them, because there was no longer water for so many. There the
great men sat in patient resignation and watched them go, they who knew
that having little or no water, few of them could hope to see their
homes again. Still, so great was their dread of the Ghost-priests, that
they never dared to murmur, or to ask that any of the store of water
should be given to them, they who were but cattle to be used until they
died.
The second night’s journey was like the first, for this desert never
changed its aspect, and on the following morning they halted beneath
another pile of fantastic, sand-burnished rocks, from some of which
hung salt like icicles. Here one of the bearers who had been denied
water as a punishment for laziness, although in truth he was sick,
began to suck the salt-icicles. Suddenly he went raving mad, and
rushing with a knife at Eddo, Pani, and Hana where they sat under their
cane umbrellas that, for the sake of coolness, were damped with this
precious water, he tried to kill them.
Then as they saw the knife gleaming, all their imperturbable calm
departed from these dwarfs. They squeaked in terror with thin voices as
rats speak; they rolled upon the ground yelling to the slaves to save
them from a “red death.” The man was seized and, though he fought with
all his giant strength, held down and choked in the sand. Once,
however, he twisted his head free, howling a curse at them. Also he
managed to hurl his knife at Eddo, and the point of it scratched him on
the hand, causing the pale blood to flow, a sight at which Eddo and the
other priests broke into tears and lamentations, that continued long
after the Umkulu was dead.
“Why are they such cowards?” asked Rachel, dreamily, for she had not
seen the murder of the slave, and thought that Eddo had only scratched
himself.
“Because they fear the sight of blood, Zoola,” answered Noie, “which is
a very evil omen to them. Death they do not fear who are already among
ghosts, but if it is a red death, their souls are spilt with their
life, or so they believe.”
Towards noon that day the sky banked up with lurid-coloured clouds; the
sun which should have shone so hotly, went out, and a hush that was
almost fearful in its heat and intensity, fell upon the desert. The
Umkulu bearers became disturbed, and gathered together into knots,
talking in low tones. Eddo and his brother priests who, either because
of the adventure of the morning or the oppressive air, could not sleep,
as was usual with them, were also disturbed. They crept from beneath
their umbrellas which, as the sun had vanished, were of no use to them,
and stood together staring at the salty plain, which under that leaden
and lowering sky looked white as snow, and at the brooding clouds
above. They even sent for their bowls to read in them pictures of what
was about to happen, but there was no dew left, so these could not be
used.
Then they consulted with the captains of the bearers, who told them
what no magic was needed to guess—that a mighty storm was gathering,
and that if it overtook them in the desert, they would be buried
beneath the drifting sand. Now this was a “white death” which the
dwarfs did not seem to desire, so they ordered an instant departure,
instead of delaying the start until sunset, as they had intended, for
then, if all went well, they would have arrived at their homes by dawn,
and not in the middle of the night. So that litters were made ready,
and they went forward through the overpowering heat, that caused the
bearers to hang out their tongues and reel as they walked.
Towards evening the storm began to stir. Little wandering puffs of wind
blew upon them and died away, and lightnings flickered intermittently.
Then a hot breeze sprang up that gradually increased in strength until
the sand rolled and rippled before it, now one way and now another, for
this breeze seemed to blow in turn from every quarter of the heavens.
Suddenly, however, after trying them all, it settled in the west, and
drove straight into their faces with ever increasing force. Now Eddo
thrust out his head between the curtains of his litter and called to
the bearers to hurry, as they had but a little distance of desert left
to pass, after which came the grass country where there would be no
danger from the sand. They heard and obeyed, changing the pole gangs
frequently, as those who carried the litters became exhausted.
But the storm was quicker than they; it burst upon them while they were
still in the waste, though not in its full strength. Then the darkness
came, utter darkness, for no moon or stars could be seen, and salt and
sand drove down on them like hail. Through it all, the bearers fought
on, though how they found their way Noie, who was watching them, could
not guess, since no landmarks were left to guide them. They fought on,
blinded, choked with the salt sand that drove into their eyes and
lungs, till man after man, they fell down and perished. Others took
their places, and yet they fought on.
It must have been near to midnight when the company, or those who were
left of them, staggered to the edge of that dreadful wilderness which
was but a vast plain of stone and sand, bordered on the west as on the
east by slopes of fertile soil. For a while the fierce tempest lifted a
little, and the light of the stars which struggled through breaks in
the clouds showed that they were marching down a steep descent of
grassland. Thus they went on for several more hours, till at length the
bearers of the litter in which were Rachel and Noie, who for a long
time had been staggering to and fro like drunken men, came to a halt,
and litter and all, sank to the ground, utterly exhausted.
Rachel and Noie disentangled themselves from the litter, for they were
unhurt, and stood by it, not knowing where to go, till presently two
other litters containing the priests came up, for the third had been
abandoned, and its occupant crowded in with Eddo. Now a great clamour
arose in the darkness, the priests hissing commands to the surviving
bearers to take up the litter and proceed. But great as was their
strength, this the poor men could not do. There they lay upon the
ground answering that Eddo might curse them if he wished, or even kill
them as their brothers had been killed, but they were unable to stir
another step until they had rested and drunk. Where they were, there
they must lie until rain fell. Then the priests wished Rachel to enter
one of their litters, leaving Noie to walk, which they were afraid to
do themselves. But when she understood, Rachel cut the matter short by
answering,
“Not so, I will walk,” and picking up the spear of one of the fallen
Umkulu to serve as a staff, she took Noie by the hand and started
forward down the hill.
One of the priests clasped her robe to draw her back, but she turned on
him with the spear, whereon he shrank back into his litter like a snail
into his shell and left her alone. So following the steep path they
marched on, and after them came the two litters with the priests,
carried by all the bearers who could still stand, for these old men
weighed no more than children. From far below them rose a mighty sound
as of an angry sea.
“What is that noise?” called Rachel into the ear of Noie, for the gale
was rising again.
“The sound of wind in the forest where the Tree-folk dwell,” she
answered.
Then the dawn broke, an awful, blood-red dawn, and by degrees they saw.
Beneath them ran a shallow river, and beyond it, stretching for league
upon league farther than the eye could see, lay the mighty forest
whereof the trees soared two hundred feet or more into the air; the
dark illimitable forest that rolled as the sea rolls beneath the
pressure of the gale, and indeed, seen from above, looked like a green
and tossing ocean. At the sight of the water Rachel and Noie began to
run towards it hand in hand, for they were parched with thirst whose
mouths were full of the salt dust of the desert. The bearers of the
litters in which were the three priests ran also, paying no heed to the
cries of the dwarfs within. At length it was reached, and throwing
themselves down they drank until that raging thirst of theirs was
satisfied; even Eddo and his companions crawled out of their litters
and drank. Then having washed their hands and faces in the cool water,
they forded the fleet stream, and, filled with a new life, followed the
road that ran beyond towards the forest. Scarcely had they set foot
upon the farther bank when the heart of the tempest, which had been
eddying round them all night long, burst over them in its fury. The
lightnings blazed, the thunder rolled, and the wild wind grew to a
hurricane, so fierce that the litters in which were Eddo, Pani, and
Hana were torn from the grasp of the bearers and rolled upon the
ground. From the wreck of them, for they were but frail things, the
little grey priests emerged trembling, or rather were dragged by the
hands of their giant bearers, to whom they clung as a frightened infant
clings to its mother. Rachel saw them and laughed.
“Look at the Masters of Magic!” she cried to Noie, “those who kill with
a curse, those who rule the Ghosts,” and she pointed to the tiny,
contemptible figures with fluttering robes being dragged along by those
giants whom but a little while before they had threatened with death.
“I see them,” answered Noie into her ear. “Their spirits are strong
when they are at peace, but in trouble they fear doom more than others.
Now, if I were those Umkulu, I would make an end of them while they
can.”
But these great, patient men did otherwise; indeed, when the dwarfs,
worn out and bewildered by the hurricane, could walk no more, they took
them up and carried them as a woman carries a babe.
Now they were passing a belt of open land between the river and the
forest in which terrified mobs of cattle rushed to and fro, while their
herds, slave-men of large size like the Umkulu, tried to drive them to
some place where they would be safe from the tempest. In this belt also
grew broad fields of grain, which furnished food for the Tree-folk. At
last they came to the confines of the forest, and Rachel, looking round
her with wondering eyes, saw at the foot of each great tree a tiny hut
shaped like a tent, and in front of the hut a dwarf seated on the
ground staring into a bowl of water, and beating his breast with his
hands.
“What do they?” she asked of Noie.
“They strive to read their fates, Lady, and weep because the wind
ripples the dew in their bowls, so that they can see nothing, and
cannot be sure whether their tree will stand or fall. Follow me, follow
me; I know the way, here we are not safe.”
The hurricane was at its height; the huge trees about them rocked and
bent like reeds, great boughs came crashing down; one of them fell upon
a praying dwarf and crushed him to a pulp. Those around him saw it and
uttered a wild shrill scream; Eddo, Pani, and Hana saw it and screamed
also, in the arms of their bearers, for this sight of blood was
terrible to them. The forest was alive with the voices of the storm, it
seemed to howl and groan, and the lightnings illumined its gloomy
aisles. The grandeur and the fearfulness of the scene excited Rachel;
she waved the spear she carried, and began to laugh in the wild fashion
of her madness, so that even the grey dwarfs, seated each at the foot
of his tree, ceased from his prayers to glance at her askance.
On they went, expecting death at every step, but always escaping it,
until they reached a wide clearing in the forest. In the centre of this
clearing grew a tree more huge than any that Rachel had ever dreamed
of, the bole of it, that sprang a hundred feet without a branch, was
thicker than Dingaan’s Great Hut, and its topmost boughs were lost in
the scudding clouds. In front of this tree was gathered a multitude of
people, men, women, and children, all dwarfs, and all of them on their
knees engaged in prayer. At its bole, by a tent-shaped house, stood a
little figure, a woman whose long grey hair streamed upon the wind.
“The Mother of the Trees,” cried Noie through the screaming gale. “Come
to her, she will shelter us,” and she gripped Rachel’s arm to lead her
forward.
Scarcely had they gone a step when the lightning blazed above them
fearfully, and with it came an awful rush of wind. Perhaps that flash
fell upon the tree, or perhaps the wind snapped its roots. At least its
mighty trunk burst in twain, and with a crash that for a moment seemed
to master even the roar of the volleying thunder, down it came to
earth. Two huge limbs fell on either side of Rachel and Noie, but they
were not touched. A bough struck the Umkulu slave who was carrying
Eddo, and swept off his head, leaving the dwarf unharmed. Another bough
fell upon Pani and his bearer, and buried them in the earth beneath its
bulk, so that they were never seen again. As it chanced the most of the
worshippers were beyond the reach of the falling branches, but some of
these that were torn loose in the fall, or shattered by the lightning,
the wind caught and hurled among them, slaying several and wounding
others.
In ten seconds the catastrophe had come and gone, the Queen-Tree that
had ruled the forest for a thousand years was down, a stack of green
leaves, through which the shattered branches showed like bones, and a
prostrate, splintered trunk. The shock threw Noie and Rachel to the
ground, but Rachel, rising swiftly, pulled Noie to her feet after her;
then, acting upon some impulse, leapt forward, and climbing on to the
trunk where it forked, ran down it till she almost reached its base,
and stood there against the great shield of earth that had been torn up
with the roots. After that last fearful outburst a stillness fell, the
storm seemed to have exhausted itself, at any rate for a while. Rachel
was able to get her breath and look about her.
All around were lines of enormous trees, solemn aisles that seemed to
lead up to the Queen of the Trees, and down these aisles, piercing the
shadows cast by the interlacing branches overhead, shone the lights of
that lurid morning. Rachel saw, and something struggled in the darkness
of her brain, as the light struggled in the darkness of the forest
aisles. She remembered—oh! what was it she remembered? Now she knew. It
was the dream she had dreamed upon the island in the river, years and
years ago, a dream of such trees as these, and of little grey people
like to these, and of the boy, Richard, grown to manhood, lashed to the
trunk of one of the trees. What had happened to her? She could recall
nothing since she saw the body of Richard upon its bier in the kraal
Mafooti.
But this was not the kraal Mafooti, nor had Noie, who stood at her
side, been with her there, Noie, who had gone on an embassy to her
father’s folk, the dwarf people. Ah! these people were dwarfs. Look at
them running to and fro screaming like little monkeys. She must have
been dreaming a long, bad dream, whereof the pictures had escaped her.
Doubtless she was still dreaming and presently would awake. Well, the
torment had gone out of it, and the fear, only the wonder remained. She
would stand still and see what happened. Something was happening now. A
little thin hand appeared, gripping the rough bark at the side of the
fallen tree.
She peeped over the swell of it and saw an old dwarf woman with long
white hair, whose feet were set in a cleft of the shattered bole, and
who hung to it as an ape hangs. Beneath her to the ground was a fall of
full thirty feet, for the base of the bole was held high up by the
roots, so that the little woman’s hair hung down straight towards the
ground, whither she must presently fall and be killed. Rachel wondered
how she had come there, if she had clung to the trunk when it fell, or
been thrown up by the shock, or lifted by a bough. Next she wondered
how long it would be before she was obliged to leave go, and whether
her white head or her back would first strike the earth all that depth
beneath. Then it occurred to her that she might be saved.
“Hold my feet,” she said to Noie, who had followed her along the trunk,
speaking in her own natural voice, at the sound of which Noie looked at
her in joyful wonder. “Hold my feet; I think I can reach that old
woman,” and without waiting for an answer she laid herself down upon
the bole, her body hanging over the curve of it.
Now Noie saw her purpose, and seating herself with her heels set
against the roughness of the bark, grasped her by the ankles.
Supporting some of her weight on one hand, with the other Rachel
reached downwards all the length of her long arm, and just as the grasp
of the old woman below was slackening, contrived to grip her by the
wrist. The dwarf swung loose, hanging in the air, but she was very
light, of the weight of a five-year-old child, perhaps, no more, and
Rachel was very strong. With an effort she lifted her up till the
monkey-like fingers gripped the rough bark again. Another effort and
the little body was resting on the round of the tree, one more and she
was beside her.
Now Rachel rose to her feet again and laughed, but it was not the mad
laughter that had scared Ishmael and the Zulus; it was her own
laughter, that of a healthy, cultured woman.
The little creature, crouching on hands and knees at Rachel’s feet,
lifted her head and stared with her round eyes. At that moment, too,
the sun broke out, and its rays, shining where they had never shone for
ages, fell upon Rachel, upon her bright hair, and the white robes in
which the dwarfs had clothed her, and the gleaming spear in her hand,
causing her to look like some ancient statue of a goddess upon a temple
roof.
“Who art thou,” said the dwarf woman in the hissing voice of her race,
“thou Beautiful One? I know! I know! Thou art that Inkosazana of the
Zulus of whom we have had many visions, she for whom I sent. But the
Inkosazana was mad, she had lost her Spirit; it has been seen here.
Beautiful One, _thou_ art not mad.”
“What does she say, Noie?” asked Rachel. “I can only understand some
words.”
Noie told her, and Rachel hid her eyes in her hand. Presently she let
it fall, saying:
“She is right. I lost my Spirit for a while; it went away with another
Spirit. But I think that I have found it again. Tell her, Noie, that I
have travelled far to seek my Spirit, and that I have found it again.”
Noie, who could scarcely take her eyes from Rachel’s face, obeyed, but
the old woman hardly seemed to heed her words; a grief had got hold of
her. She rocked herself to and fro like a monkey that has lost its
young, and cried out:
“My tree has fallen, the tree of my House, which stood from the
beginning of the world, has fallen, but that of Eddo still stands,” and
she pointed to another giant of the forest that soared up, unharmed, at
a little distance. “Nya’s tree has fallen—Eddo’s tree still stands. His
magic has prevailed against me, his magic has prevailed against me!”
As she spoke a man appeared scrambling along the bole towards them; it
was Eddo himself. His round eyes shone, on his pale face there was a
look of triumph, for whoever might be lost, the danger had passed him
by.
“Nya,” he piped, tapping her on the shoulder, “thy Ghost has deserted
thee, old woman, thy tree is down. See, I spit upon it,” and he did so.
“Thou art no longer Mother of the Trees; thou art only the old woman
Nya. The Ghost people, the Dream people, the little Grey people, have a
new queen, and I am her minister, for I rule her Spirit. Yonder she
stands,” and he pointed at the tall and glittering Rachel. “Now, thou
new-born Mother of the Trees, who wast the Inkosazana of the Zulus,
obey me. Give death to this old woman, the Red Death, that her spirit
may be spilt with her blood, and lost for ever. Give it to her with
that spear in thy hand, while I hide my eyes, and reign thou in her
place through me,” and he bowed his head and waited.
“Not the Red Death, not the Red Death,” wailed Nya. “Give me the White
Death and save my soul, Beautiful One, and in return I will give thee
something that thou desirest, who am still the wisest of them all,
although my Tree is down.”
Noie whispered for a while in Rachel’s ear. Then while all the dwarf
people gathered beneath them, watching, Rachel bent forward, and
putting her arms about the trembling creature, lifted her up as though
she were a child, and held her to her bosom.
“Mother,” she said, “I give thee no death, red or white; I give thee
love. Thy tree is down; sit thou in my shadow and be safe. On him who
harms thee”—and she looked at Eddo—“on him shall the Red Death fall.”