THE MOTHER OF THE TREES
When Eddo understood these words he lifted his head and stared at
Rachel amazed.
“This is thy doing, Bastard,” he said savagely, addressing Noie, who
had translated them. “I have felt thee fighting against me for long,
and now thou causest this Inkosazana to defy me. It was thou who didst
work upon that old woman, thine aunt, to command that the white witch
should be brought hither, and because as yet I dared not disobey, I
made a terrible journey to bring her. Yes, and I did this gladly, for
when my eyes fell upon her, there in the town of Dingaan, I saw that
she was great and beautiful, but that her Spirit had gone, and I knew
that I could make her mouth to speak my words, and her pure eyes to see
things that are denied to mine, even the future as, when I bade her,
she saw it yonder in the court of Dingaan. But now it seems that her
Spirit has returned to her, so that there is no room for mine in her
heart, and she speaks her own words, not my words. And thou hast done
this thing, O Bastard.”
“Perhaps,” answered Noie unconcernedly.
“Thou thinkest,” went on Eddo, in his fury beating the bole on which he
sat, “thou thinkest to protect that old hag, Nya, because her blood
runs in thee. But, fool, it is in vain, for her tree is down, her tree
is down, and as its leaves wither, and its sap dries up, so must she
wither and her blood dry up until she dies, she who thought to live on
for many years.”
“What does that matter?” asked Noie, “seeing that then she will only
join the great company of the ghosts with whom she longs to be, and
return with them to torment thee, Eddo, until thou, too, art one of
them, and lookest on the face of Judgment.”
“Thou thinkest,” screamed the dwarf, ignoring this ominous suggestion,
“thou thinkest, when she is gone, to be queen in her place, or to rule
as high priestess through this White One.”
“If I do, that will be a bad hour for thee, Eddo,” replied Noie.
“It shall not be, woman. No bastard shall reign here as Mother of the
Trees while the nations round cringe before her feet. I have spells; I
have poisons; I have slaves who can shoot with arrows.”
“Then use them if thou canst, thou evil-doer,” said “Noie
contemptuously.
“Aye, I will use them all, and not on thee only, but on that white
witch whom thou lovest. She shall never pass living from this land that
is ringed in by the desert and the forest. She shall choose me to reign
through her as her high priest, or she shall die—die miserably. For a
little while that old hag, Nya, may protect her with her wisdom, but
when she passes, as she must, and quickly, for I will light fires
beneath this fallen tree of hers, then I tell thee the Beautiful One
shall choose between my rule and doom.”
Now Noie would hear no more.
“Dog,” she cried, “filthy night-bird, darest thou speak thus of the
Inkosazana? Another word and I will offer that heart of thine to the
sun thou hatest,” and snatching the spear from Rachel’s hand, she
charged at him, holding it aloft.
Eddo saw her come. With a scream of fear he leapt to his feet, and ran
swiftly along the bole till he reached the mass of the fallen branches.
Into these he sprang, swinging himself from bough to bough like an ape
until he vanished amongst the dark green foliage. Then, having quite
lost sight of him, Noie returned laughing to Rachel, by whom stood the
old Mother of the Trees who had slid from her arms, and gave her back
the spear, saying in the dwarf language:
“This Eddo speaks great words, but he is also a great coward.”
“Yes, yes,” answered the old woman, “he is a great coward, because like
all our folk he fears the Red Death; but, child, I tell thee he is
terrible. He hates me because I rule through the white art, not the
black, but while my tree stood he must obey me, and I was safe. Now it
is down, and he may kill me if he can, according to the custom of my
land, and set up another to be queen, she at whose feet my tree bowed
itself and fell by the will of the Heavens, and whom, therefore, the
people will accept. Through her he will wield all the power of the
Ghost-kings, over whom no man may rule, but a woman only. Come, Child,
and thou, White One, come also. I know where we may hide. Lady, the
power that was mine is thine; protect me till I die, and in payment I
will give thee whatever thy heart desires.”
“I ask no payment,” Rachel answered wearily, when she understood the
words; “and I think that it is I who need protection from that wicked
dwarf.”
Then, guided by Nya, who clung to Rachel’s hand, they walked down the
bole of the tree and along a great branch, till at length they reached
a place whence they could climb to the ground. Before they were clear
of the boughs the dethroned Mother, from whose round eyes the tears
fell, turned and kissed the bark of one of them, wailing aloud.
“Farewell, thou mighty one, under whose shade I, and the queens of my
race before me, have dreamed for centuries. Thou art fallen beneath the
stroke of Heaven, and great was thy fall, and I am fallen with thee.
Save me from the Red Death, O Spirit of my tree, that in the land of
ghosts I still may sleep beneath thy shade for ever.”
Then she ran to the very point of the tree and broke off its topmost
twig, which was covered with narrow and shining green leaves, and
holding it in her hand, returned to Rachel.
“I will plant it,” she said, “and perchance it will grow to be the
house of queens unborn. Come, now, come,” and she turned her face
towards the forest.
The thunder had rolled away, and from time to time the sun shone
fiercely, so fiercely that, unable to bear its rays, all the dwarfs who
were gathered about the fallen tree had retreated into the shadow of
the other trees around the open space. There they stood and sat
watching the three of them go by. Men, women and children, they all
watched, and Rachel they saluted with their raised hands; but to her
who had been their mother for unknown years they did no reverence. Only
one hideous little man ran up to her and called out:
“Thou didst punish me once, old woman, now why should I not kill thee
in payment? Thy tree is down at last.”
Nya looked at him sadly, and answered:
“I remember. Thou shouldst have died, for thy sin was great, but I laid
a lesser burden on thee. Man, thou canst not kill me yet; my tree is
down, but it is not dead.”
She held up the green bough in her hand and looked at him from beneath
it, then went on slowly: “Man, my wisdom remains within me, and I tell
thee that before I die thou shalt die, and not as thou desirest.
Remember my words, people of the Ghosts.”
Then she walked on with the others, leaving the dwarf staring after her
with a face wherein hate struggled with fear.
“Thou liest,” he screamed after her; “thy power is gone with thy tree.”
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when they heard a crash which
caused them to look round. A bough, broken by the storm, had fallen
from on high. It had fallen on to the head of the dwarf, and there he
lay crushed and dead.
“Ah!” piped the other dwarfs, pointing towards the corpse with their
fingers, and closing their eyes to shut out the sight of blood, “ah!
Nya is right; she still has power. Those who would kill her must wait
till her tree dies.”
Taking no heed of what had happened, Nya walked on into the forest. For
a while Rachel noted the little huts built, each of them, at the foot
of a tree. There were hundreds of these huts that they could see,
showing that the people were many, but by degrees they grew fewer, only
one was visible here and there, set beneath some particularly vigorous
and handsome timber. At last they ceased altogether; they had passed
through that city, the strangest city in the world.
Trees—everywhere trees, hundreds of trees, tens of thousands of trees
soaring up to heaven, making a canopy of their interlacing boughs,
shutting out the light so that beneath them was a deep oppressive
gloom. There was silence also, for if any beasts or birds dwelt there
the hurricane had scared them away, silence only broken from time to
time by the crash of some giant of the forest that, its length of days
fulfilled at last, sank suddenly to ruin, to be buried in a tomb of
brushwood whence in due course its successor would arise.
“Another life gone,” said the old woman, Nya, flitting before them like
a little grey ghost, every time that this weird sound struck upon their
ears; “whose was it, I wonder? I will look in my bowl, I will look in
my bowl.”
For, as Rachel discovered afterwards, these people believed that the
spirit of each tree of the forest is attached to the spirit of a human
being, although that being may dwell in other lands, far away, which
dies when the tree dies, sometimes slowly by disease, and sometimes in
swift collapse, so that they pass together into the world of ghosts.
On they flitted through the gloom, on for mile after mile. Although the
leaf-strewn ground showed no traces of it, evidently they were
following some kind of path, for no fallen trunks barred their
progress, nor were there any creepers or brushwood, although to right
and left of them all these could be seen in plenty. At last, quite of a
sudden, for the bole of a tree at the end of the path had hidden it
from them, they came upon a clearing in the forest. It seemed to be a
natural, or, at any rate, a very ancient clearing, since in it no
stumps were visible, nor any scrub, or creepers, only tall grass and
flowering plants. In the centre of this place, covering a quarter of
it, perhaps, was a vast circular wall, fifty feet or more in height,
and clothed with ferns. This wall, they noted, was built of huge blocks
of stone, so huge indeed that it seemed wonderful that they could have
been moved by human beings. At the sight of that marvellous wall Rachel
and Noie halted involuntarily, and Noie asked:
“Who made it, Mother?”
“The giants who lived when the world was young. Can our hands lift such
stones?” Nya answered, as, bending down, she thrust the top shoot from
her fallen tree deep into the humid soil, then added: “On, child; there
is danger here.”
As she spoke something hissed through the air just above her head, and
stuck fast in the bark of a sapling. Noie sprang forward and plucked it
out. It was a little reed, feathered with grasses, and having a sharp
ivory point, smeared with some green substance.
“Touch it not,” cried Nya, “it is deadly poison. Eddo’s work, Eddo’s
work! but my hour is not yet. Into the open before another comes.”
So they ran forward, all three of them, seeing and hearing nothing of
the shooter of the arrow. As they approached the titanic wall they saw
that it enclosed a mound, on the top of which mound grew a cedar-like
tree with branches so wide that they seemed to overshadow half of the
enclosure. There were no gates to this wall, but while they wondered
how it could be entered, Nya led them to a kind of cleft in its stones,
not more than two feet in width, across which cleft were stretched
strings of plaited grass. She pressed herself against them, breaking
them, and walked forward, followed by Rachel and Noie. Suddenly they
heard a noise above them, and, looking up, saw white-robed dwarfs
perched upon the stones of the cleft, holding bent bows in their hands,
whereof the arrows were pointed at their breasts. Nya halted, beckoning
to them, whereon, recognising her, they dropped the arrows into the
little quivers which they wore, and scrambled off, whither Rachel could
not see.
“These are the guardians of the Temple that cannot either speak or
hear, who were summoned by the breaking of the thread,” said Nya, and
went forward again.
Now to the right, and now to the left, ran the narrow path that wound
its way in the thickness of the mighty wall, which towered so high
above them that they walked almost in darkness, and at each turn of it
were recesses; and above these projecting stones, where archers could
stand for its defence. At length this path ended in a _cul-de-sac_, for
in front of them was nothing but blank masonry. Whilst Rachel and Noie
stared at it wondering whither they should go now, a large stone in
this wall turned, leaving a narrow doorway through which they passed,
whereon it shut again behind them, though by what machinery they could
not see.
Thus they passed through the wall, emerging, however, at a different
point in its circumference to that at which they had entered. In the
centre of the enclosure rose the hill of earth that they had seen from
without, which evidently was kept free from weeds and swept, and on its
crest grew the huge cedar-like tree, the Tree of the Tribe. Between the
base of this hill and the foot of the wall was a wide ring of level
ground, also swept and weeded, and on this space, neatly arranged in
lines, were hundreds of little hillocks that resembled ant-heaps.
“The burying-place of the Ghost-priests, Lady,” said Nya, nodding at
the hillocks. “Soon my bones will be added to them.”
Walking across this strange cemetery, they came to the foot of the
mound that was entirely overshadowed by the cedar above, from the
outspread limbs of which hung long grey moss, that swayed ceaselessly
in the wind. Here dwarfs appeared from right and left, the same whom
they had seen within the thickness of the wall, or others like to them,
some male and some female; melancholy-eyed little creatures who bowed
to Nya, and looked with fear and wonder at the tall white Rachel.
Evidently they were all of them deaf mutes, for they made signs to Nya,
who answered them with other signs, the purport of which seemed to
sadden and disturb them greatly.
“They have seen the fall of my tree in their bowls,” explained Nya to
Noie, “and ask me if it is a true vision. I tell them that I am come
here to die and that is why they are sad. This is the place of dying of
all the Ghost-priests, whence they pass into the world of spirits, and
here no blood may be shed, no, not that of the most wicked evil-doer.
If any one of the family of the priests reaches this place living, the
glory of the White Death is won. Follow and see.”
So they followed her up the mound, past what looked like the entrance
to a cave, until they reached a low fence of reeds whereof the gate
stood open.
“The gate is open, but enter not there,” whispered the old Mother of
the Trees, “for those who enter there live not long. Look, Lady, look.”
Rachel peered through the gate, but so dense was the gloom in that holy
spot that at first she could only see the enormous red bole of the
cedar, and the ghostly, moss-clad branches which sprang from it at no
great height above the ground. Presently, however, her eyes, grown
accustomed to the light, distinguished several little white-robed
figures seated upon the earth at some distance from the trunk staring
into vessels of wood which were placed before them. These figures
appeared to be those of both men and women, while one was that of a
child. Even as they watched, the figure nearest to them fell forward
over its bowl and lay quite still, whereon those around it set up a
feeble, piping cry, that yet had in it a note of gladness. The
dwarf-mutes who had accompanied them, and who alone seemed to have a
right of entry into this sad place, ran forward and looked. Then very
gently they lifted up the fallen figure and bore it out. As it was
carried past them Rachel noted that it was the body of quite a young
woman, whose little face, wasted to nothing, still looked sweet and
gentle.
“Was she ill?” asked Rachel in an awed voice.
“Perhaps,” answered the Mother, shaking her grey head, “or perhaps she
was very unhappy, and came here to die. What does it matter? She is
happy now.”
“Ask her, Noie, if all must die who sit beneath that tree,” said
Rachel.
“Aye,” answered Nya, “all save these dumb people who have been priests
of the Tree from generation to generation. To touch its stem is to
perish soon or late, for it is the Tree of Life and Death, and in it
dwells the Spirit of the whole race.”
“What then would happen if it fell down, or was destroyed like your
tree, Mother?”
“Then the race would perish also,” answered Nya, “since their Spirit
would lack a home and depart to the world of Ghosts, whither they must
follow. When it dies of old age, if it should ever die, then the race
will die with it.”
“And if someone should cut it down, Mother, what then?”
Now when Noie translated these words to her, the face of the old queen
was filled with horror, and as her face was, so was Noie’s face.
“White Maiden,” she gasped, “speak not such wickedness lest the very
thought of it should bring the curse upon us all. He who destroyed that
tree would bring ruin upon this people. They would fly away, every one
of them, far into the heart of the forest, and be seen no more by man.
Moreover, he who did this evil thing would perish and pass down to
vengeance among the ghosts, such vengeance as may not be spoken. Put
that thought from thy mind, I pray thee, and let it never pass thy lips
again.”
“Do you believe all this, Noie?” asked Rachel in English with a smile.
“Yes, Zoola,” answered Noie, shuddering, “for it is true. My father
told me of it, and of what happened once to some wild men who broke
into the sanctuary, and shot arrows at the Tree. No, no, I will not
tell the story; it is dreadful.”
“Yet it must be foolishness, Noie, for how can a tree have power over
the lives of men?”
“I do not know, but it has, it has! If I were but to cast a stone at
it, I should be dead in a day, and so would you—yes, even you—nothing
could save you. Oh!” she went on earnestly, “swear to me, Sister, that
you will never so much as touch that tree; I pray you, swear.”
So Rachel swore, to please her, for she was tired of this tree and its
powers.
Then they went down the hill again, till they came to the mouth of the
cave.
“Enter, Lady,” Nya said, “for this must be thy home a while until thou
goest to rule as Mother of the Trees after me, or, if it pleases thee
better, up yonder to die.”
They went into the cave, having no choice. It was a great place lit
dimly by the outer light, and farther down its length with lamps.
Looking round her, Rachel saw that its roof was supported by white
columns which she knew to be stalactites, for as a child she had seen
their like. At the end of it, where the lamps burned and a fountain
bubbled from the ground, rose a very large column shaped like the trunk
of a tree, with branches at the top that looked like the boughs of a
tree. Gazing at it Rachel understood why these dwarfs, or some ancient
people before them, had chosen this cave as their temple.
“The ghost Tree of my race,” said old Nya, pointing to it, “the only
tree that never falls, the Tree that lives and grows for ever. Yes, it
grows, for it is larger now than when my mother was a child.”
As they drew near to this wondrous and ghostly looking object Rachel
saw piled around and beyond it many precious things. There was gold in
dust and heaps, and rings and nuggets; there were shining stones, red
and green and white, that she knew were jewels; there were tusks of
ivory and carvings in ivory; there were karosses and furs mouldering to
decay; there were grotesque gods, fetishes of wood and stone.
“Offerings,” said Nya, “which all the nations that live in darkness
bring to the Mother of the Trees, and the priests of the Cave. Costly
things which they value, but we value them not, who prize power and
wisdom only. Yes, yes, costly things which they give to the Mother of
the Trees, the fools without a spirit, when they come here to ask her
oracle. Look, there are some of the gifts which were sent by Dingaan of
the Zulus in payment for the oracle of his death. Thou broughtest them,
Noie, my child.”
“Yes,” answered Noie, “I brought them, and the Inkosazana here, she
delivered the oracle. Eddo gave her the bowl, and she saw pictures in
the bowl and showed them to Dingaan.”
“Nay, nay,” said the old woman testily, “it was I who saw the pictures,
and I showed them to Eddo and to this white virgin. You cannot
understand, but it was so, it was so. Eddo’s gift of vision is small,
mine is great. None have ever had it as I have it, and that is why Eddo
and the others have suffered my tree to live so long, because the light
of my wisdom has shone about their heads and spoken through their
tongues, and when I am gone they will seek and find it not. In thee
they might have found it, Maiden, had thy heart remained empty, but
now, it is full again and what room is there for wisdom such as
ours?—the wisdom of the ghosts, not the wisdom of life and love and
beating hearts.”
Noie translated the words, but Rachel seemed to take no heed of them.
“Dingaan?” she asked. “Is Dingaan dead? He was well enough when—when
Richard came to Zululand, and since then I have seen nothing of him.
How did he die?”
“He did not die, Zoola,” answered Noie, “though I think that ere long
he will die, for you told him so. It was you who died for a while, not
Dingaan. By-and-bye you shall learn all that story. Now you are very
weary and must rest.”
“Yes,” said Rachel with a sob, “I think I died when Richard died, but
now I seem to have come to life again—that is the worst of it. Oh!!
Noie, Noie, why did you not let me remain dead, instead of bringing me
to life again in this dreadful place?”
“Because it was otherwise fated, Sister,” replied Noie. “No, do not
begin to laugh and cry; it was otherwise fated,” and bending down she
whispered something into Nya’s ear.
The old dwarf nodded, then, taking Rachel by the hand, led her to where
some skins were spread upon the floor.
“Lie down,” she said, “and rest. Rest, beautiful White One, and wake up
to eat and be strong again,” and she gazed into Rachel’s eyes as Eddo
had done when the fits of wild laughter were on her, singing something
as she gazed.
While she sang the madness that was gathering there again went out of
Rachel’s eyes, the lids closed over them, and presently they were fast
shut in sleep, nor did she open them again for many hours.
Rachel awoke and sat up looking round her wonderingly. Then by the dim
light of the lamps she saw Noie seated at her side, and the old
dwarf-woman, who was called Mother of the Trees, squatted at a little
distance watching them both—and remembered.
“Thou hast had happy dreams, Lady, and thou art well again, is it not
so?” queried Nya.
“Aye, Mother,” she answered, “too happy, for they make my waking the
more sad. And I am well, I who desire to die.”
“Then go up through the open gate which thou sawest not so long ago,
and satisfy thy desire, as it is easy to do,” replied Nya grimly.
“Nay,” she added in a changed voice, “go not up, thou art too young and
fair, the blood runs too red in those blue veins of thine. What hast
thou to do with ghosts and death, and the darkness of the trees, thou
child of the air and sunshine? Death for the dwarf-folk, death for the
dealers in dreams, death for the death-lovers, but for thee life—life.”
“Tell her, Noie,” said Rachel, “that my mother, who was fore-sighted,
always said that I should live out my days, and I fear that it is true,
who must live them out alone.”
“Yes, yes, she was right, that mother of thine,” answered Nya, “and for
the rest, who knows? But thou art hungry, eat; afterwards we will
talk,” and she pointed to a stool upon which was food.
Rachel tasted and found it very good, a kind of porridge, made of she
knew not what, and with it forest fruits, but no flesh. So she ate
heartily, and Noie ate with her. Nya ate also, but only a very little.
“Why should I trouble to eat?” she said, “I to whom death draws near?”
When they had finished eating, at some signal which Rachel did not
perceive, mutes came in who bore away the fragments of the meal. After
they had gone the three women washed themselves in the water of the
fountain. Then Noie combed out Rachel’s golden hair, and clothed her
again in her robe of silken fur that she had cleansed, throwing over it
a mantle of snowy white fibre, such as the dwarfs wove into cloth,
which she and Nya had made ready while Rachel slept.
As Noie put it about her mistress and stepped back to see how it became
her beauty, two of the dwarf-mutes appeared creeping up the cave, and
squatting down before Nya began to make signs to her.
“What is it?” asked Rachel nervously.
“Eddo is without,” answered the Mother, “and would speak with us.”
“I fear Eddo and will not go,” exclaimed Rachel.
“Nay, have no fear, Maiden, for here he can not harm thee or any of us;
it is the place of sanctuary. Come, let us see this priest; perhaps we
may learn something from him.”