A STRANGE WEDDING
One person, however, did not succeed in getting out in time before the
gates were shut, and that was the High Priest Agon, who, as we had
every reason to believe, was Sorais’ great ally, and the heart and soul
of her party. This cunning and ferocious old man had not forgiven us
for those hippopotami, or rather that was what he said. What he meant
was that he would never brook the introduction of our wider ways of
thought and foreign learning and influence while there was a
possibility of stamping us out. Also he knew that we possessed a
different system of religion, and no doubt was in daily terror of our
attempting to introduce it into Zu-Vendis. One day he asked me if we
had any religion in our country, and I told him that so far as I could
remember we had ninety-five different ones. You might have knocked him
down with a feather, and really it is difficult not to pity a high
priest of a well-established cult who is haunted by the possible
approach of one or all of ninety-five new religions.
When we knew that Agon was caught, Nyleptha, Sir Henry, and I discussed
what was to be done with him. I was for closely incarcerating him, but
Nyleptha shook her head, saying that it would produce a disastrous
effect throughout the country. “Ah!” she added, with a stamp of her
foot, “if I win and am once really Queen, I will break the power of
those priests, with their rites and revels and dark secret ways.” I
only wished that old Agon could have heard her, it would have
frightened him.
“Well,” said Sir Henry, “if we are not to imprison him, I suppose that
we may as well let him go. He is of no use here.”
Nyleptha looked at him in a curious sort of way, and said in a dry
little voice, “Thinkest thou so, my lord?”
“Eh?” said Curtis. “No, I do not see what is the use of keeping him.”
She said nothing, but continued looking at him in a way that was as shy
as it was sweet.
Then at last he understood.
“Forgive me, Nyleptha,” he said, rather tremulously. “Dost thou mean
that thou wilt marry me, even now?”
“Nay, I know not; let my lord say,” was her rapid answer; “but if my
lord wills, the priest is there and the altar is there”—pointing to the
entrance to a private chapel—“and am I not ready to do the will of my
lord? Listen, oh my lord! In eight days or less thou must leave me and
go down to war, for thou shalt lead my armies, and in war—men sometimes
fall, and so I would for a little space have had thee all my own, if
only for memory’s sake;” and the tears overflowed her lovely eyes and
rolled down her face like heavy drops of dew down the red heart of a
rose.
“Mayhap, too,” she went on, “I shall lose my crown, and with my crown
my life and thine also. Sorais is very strong and very bitter, and if
she prevails she will not spare. Who can read the future? Happiness is
the world’s White Bird, that alights seldom, and flies fast and far
till one day he is lost in the clouds. Therefore should we hold him
fast if by any chance he rests for a little space upon our hand. It is
not wise to neglect the present for the future, for who knows what the
future will be, Incubu? Let us pluck our flowers while the dew is on
them, for when the sun is up they wither and on the morrow will others
bloom that we shall never see.” And she lifted her sweet face to him
and smiled into his eyes, and once more I felt a curious pang of
jealousy and turned and went away. They never took much notice of
whether I was there or not, thinking, I suppose, that I was an old
fool, and that it did not matter one way or the other, and really I
believe that they were right.
So I went back to our quarters and ruminated over things in general,
and watched old Umslopogaas whetting his axe outside the window as a
vulture whets his beak beside a dying ox.
And in about an hour’s time Sir Henry came tearing over, looking very
radiant and wildly excited, and found Good and myself and even
Umslopogaas, and asked us if we should like to assist at a real
wedding. Of course we said yes, and off we went to the chapel, where we
found Agon looking as sulky as any High Priest possibly could, and no
wonder. It appeared that he and Nyleptha had a slight difference of
opinion about the coming ceremony. He had flatly refused to celebrate
it, or to allow any of his priests to do so, whereupon Nyleptha became
very angry and told him that she, as Queen, was head of the Church, and
meant to be obeyed. Indeed, she played the part of a Zu-Vendi Henry the
Eighth to perfection, and insisted that, if she wanted to be married,
she would be married, and that he should marry her.[19]
[19] In Zu-Vendis members of the Royal House can only be married by
the High Priest or a formally appointed deputy.—A. Q.
He still refused to go through the ceremony, so she clinched her
argument thus—
“Well, I cannot execute a High Priest, because there is an absurd
prejudice against it, and I cannot imprison him because all his
subordinates would raise a crying that would bring the stars down on
Zu-Vendis and crush it; but I _can_ leave him to contemplate the altar
of the Sun without anything to eat, because that is his natural
vocation, and if thou wilt not marry me, O Agon! thou shalt be placed
before the altar yonder with nought but a little water till such time
as thou hast reconsidered the matter.”
Now, as it happened, Agon had been hurried away that morning without
his breakfast, and was already exceedingly hungry, so he presently
modified his views and consented to marry them, saying at the same time
that he washed his hands of all responsibility in the matter.
So it chanced that presently, attended only by two of her favourite
maidens, came the Queen Nyleptha, with happy blushing face and downcast
eyes, dressed in pure white, without embroidery of any sort, as seems
to be the fashion on these occasions in most countries of the world.
She did not wear a single ornament, even her gold circlets were
removed, and I thought that if possible she looked more lovely than
ever without them, as really superbly beautiful women do.
She came, curtseyed low to Sir Henry, and then took his hand and led
him up before the altar, and after a little pause, in a slow, clear
voice uttered the following words, which are customary in Zu-Vendis if
the bride desires and the man consents:—
“Thou dost swear by the Sun that thou wilt take no other woman to wife
unless I lay my hand upon her and bid her come?”
“I swear it,” answered Sir Henry; adding in English, “One is quite
enough for me.”
Then Agon, who had been sulking in a corner near the altar, came
forward and gabbled off something into his beard at such a rate that I
could not follow it, but it appeared to be an invocation to the Sun to
bless the union and make it fruitful. I observed that Nyleptha listened
very closely to every word, and afterwards discovered that she was
afraid lest Agon should play her a trick, and by going through the
invocations backwards divorce them instead of marry them. At the end of
the invocations they were asked, as in our service, if they took each
other for husband and wife, and on their assenting they kissed each
other before the altar, and the service was over, so far as their rites
were concerned. But it seemed to me that there was yet something
wanting, and so I produced a Prayer-Book, which has, together with the
“Ingoldsby Legends”, that I often read when I lie awake at night,
accompanied me in all my later wanderings. I gave it to my poor boy
Harry years ago, and after his death I found it among his things and
took it back again.
“Curtis,” I said, “I am not a clergyman, and I do not know if what I am
going to propose is allowable—I know it is not legal—but if you and the
Queen have no objection I should like to read the English marriage
service over you. It is a solemn step which you are taking, and I think
that you ought, so far as circumstances will allow, to give it the
sanction of your own religion.”
“I have thought of that,” he said, “and I wish you would. I do not feel
half married yet.”
Nyleptha raised no objection, fully understanding that her husband
wished to celebrate the marriage according to the rites prevailing in
his own country, and so I set to work and read the service, from
“Dearly beloved” to “amazement”, as well as I could; and when I came to
“I, Henry, take thee, Nyleptha,” I translated, and also “I, Nyleptha,
take thee, Henry,” which she repeated after me very well. Then Sir
Henry took a plain gold ring from his little finger and placed it on
hers, and so on to the end. The ring had been Curtis’ mother’s
wedding-ring, and I could not help thinking how astonished the dear old
Yorkshire lady would have been if she could have foreseen that her
wedding-ring was to serve a similar purpose for Nyleptha, a Queen of
the Zu-Vendi.
As for Agon, he was with difficulty kept calm while this second
ceremony was going on, for he at once understood that it was religious
in its nature, and doubtless bethought him of the ninety-five new
faiths which loomed so ominously in his eyes. Indeed, he at once set me
down as a rival High Priest, and hated me accordingly. However, in the
end off he went, positively bristling with indignation, and I knew that
we might look out for danger from his direction.
And off went Good and I, and old Umslopogaas also, leaving the happy
pair to themselves, and very low we all felt. Marriages are supposed to
be cheerful things, but my experience is that they are very much the
reverse to everybody, except perhaps the two people chiefly interested.
They mean the breaking-up of so many old ties as well as the
undertaking of so many new ones, and there is always something sad
about the passing away of the old order. Now to take this case for
instance: Sir Henry Curtis is the best and kindest fellow and friend in
the world, but he has never been quite the same since that little scene
in the chapel. It is always Nyleptha this and Nyleptha that—Nyleptha,
in short, from morning till night in one way or another, either
expressed or understood. And as for the old friends—well, of course
they have taken the place that old friends ought to take, and which
ladies are as a rule very careful to see they do take when a man
marries, and that is, the second place. Yes, he would be angry if
anybody said so, but it is a fact for all that. He is not quite the
same, and Nyleptha is very sweet and very charming, but I think that
she likes him to understand that she has married _him_, and not
Quatermain, Good, and Co. But there! what is the use of grumbling? It
is all very right and proper, as any married lady would have no
difficulty in explaining, and I am a selfish, jealous old man, though I
hope I never show it.
So Good and I went and ate in silence and then indulged in an extra
fine flagon of old Zu-Vendian to keep our spirits up, and presently one
of our attendants came and told a story that gave us something to think
about.
It may, perhaps, be remembered that, after his quarrel with
Umslopogaas, Alphonse had gone off in an exceedingly ill temper to sulk
over his scratches. Well, it appears that he walked right past the
Temple to the Sun, down the wide road on the further side of the slope
it crowns, and thence on into the beautiful park, or pleasure gardens,
which are laid out just beyond the outer wall. After wandering about
there for a little he started to return, but was met near the outer
gate by Sorais’ train of chariots, which were galloping furiously along
the great northern road. When she caught sight of Alphonse, Sorais
halted her train and called to him. On approaching he was instantly
seized and dragged into one of the chariots and carried off, “crying
out loudly”, as our informant said, and as from my general knowledge of
him I can well believe.
At first I was much puzzled to know what object Sorais could have had
in carrying off the poor little Frenchman. She could hardly stoop so
low as to try to wreak her fury on one whom she knew was only a
servant. At last, however, an idea occurred to me. We three were, as I
think I have said, much revered by the people of Zu-Vendis at large,
both because we were the first strangers they had ever seen, and
because we were supposed to be the possessors of almost supernatural
wisdom. Indeed, though Sorais’ cry against the “foreign wolves”—or, to
translate it more accurately, “foreign hyenas”—was sure to go down very
well with the nobles and the priests, it was not as we learnt, likely
to be particularly effectual amongst the bulk of the population. The
Zu-Vendi people, like the Athenians of old, are ever seeking for some
new thing, and just because we were so new our presence was on the
whole acceptable to them. Again, Sir Henry’s magnificent personal
appearance made a deep impression upon a race who possess a greater
love of beauty than any other I have ever been acquainted with. Beauty
may be prized in other countries, but in Zu-Vendis it is almost
worshipped, as indeed the national love of statuary shows. The people
said openly in the market-places that there was not a man in the
country to touch Curtis in personal appearance, as with the exception
of Sorais there was no woman who could compete with Nyleptha, and that
therefore it was meet that they should marry; and that he had been sent
by the Sun as a husband for their Queen. Now, from all this it will be
seen that the outcry against us was to a considerable extent
fictitious, and nobody knew it better than Sorais herself. Consequently
it struck me that it might have occurred to her that down in the
country and among the country people, it would be better to place the
reason of her conflict with her sister upon other and more general
grounds than Nyleptha’s marriage with the stranger. It would be easy in
a land where there had been so many civil wars to rake out some old cry
that would stir up the recollection of buried feuds, and, indeed, she
soon found an effectual one. This being so, it was of great importance
to her to have one of the strangers with her whom she could show to the
common people as a great Outlander, who had been so struck by the
justice of her cause that he had elected to leave his companions and
follow her standard.
This, no doubt, was the cause of her anxiety to get a hold of Good,
whom she would have used till he ceased to be of service and then cast
off. But Good having drawn back she grasped at the opportunity of
securing Alphonse, who was not unlike him in personal appearance though
smaller, no doubt with the object of showing him off in the cities and
country as the great Bougwan himself. I told Good that I thought that
that was her plan, and his face was a sight to see—he was so horrified
at the idea.
“What,” he said, “dress up that little wretch to represent me? Why, I
shall have to get out of the country! My reputation will be ruined for
ever.”
I consoled him as well as I could, but it is not pleasant to be
personated all over a strange country by an arrant little coward, and I
can quite sympathize with his vexation.
Well, that night Good and I messed as I have said in solitary grandeur,
feeling very much as though we had just returned from burying a friend
instead of marrying one, and next morning the work began in good
earnest. The messages and orders which had been despatched by Nyleptha
two days before now began to take effect, and multitudes of armed men
came pouring into the city. We saw, as may be imagined, but very little
of Nyleptha and not too much of Curtis during those next few days, but
Good and I sat daily with the council of generals and loyal lords,
drawing up plans of action, arranging commissariat matters, the
distribution of commands, and a hundred and one other things. Men came
in freely, and all the day long the great roads leading to Milosis were
spotted with the banners of lords arriving from their distant places to
rally round Nyleptha.
After the first few days it became clear that we should be able to take
the field with about forty thousand infantry and twenty thousand
cavalry, a very respectable force considering how short was the time we
had to collect it, and that about half the regular army had elected to
follow Sorais.
But if our force was large, Sorais’ was, according to the reports
brought in day by day by our spies, much larger. She had taken up her
headquarters at a very strong town called M’Arstuna, situated, as I
have said, to the north of Milosis, and all the countryside was
flocking to her standard. Nasta had poured down from his highlands and
was on his way to join her with no less than twenty-five thousand of
his mountaineers, the most terrible soldiers to face in all Zu-Vendis.
Another mighty lord, named Belusha, who lived in the great
horse-breeding district, had come in with twelve thousand cavalry, and
so on. Indeed, what between one thing and another, it seemed certain
that she would gather a fully armed host of nearly one hundred thousand
men.
And then came news that Sorais was proposing to break up her camp and
march on the Frowning City itself, desolating the country as she came.
Thereon arose the question whether it would be best to meet her at
Milosis or to go out and give her battle. When our opinion was asked
upon the subject, Good and I unhesitatingly gave it in favour of an
advance. If we were to shut ourselves up in the city and wait to be
attacked, it seemed to us that our inaction would be set down to fear.
It is so important, especially on an occasion of this sort, when a very
little will suffice to turn men’s opinions one way or the other, to be
up and doing something. Ardour for a cause will soon evaporate if the
cause does not move but sits down to conquer. Therefore we cast our
vote for moving out and giving battle in the open, instead of waiting
till we were drawn from our walls like a badger from a hole.
Sir Henry’s opinion coincided with ours, and so, needless to say, did
that of Nyleptha, who, like a flint, was always ready to flash out
fire. A great map of the country was brought and spread out before her.
About thirty miles this side of M’Arstuna, where Sorais lay, and ninety
odd miles from Milosis, the road ran over a neck of land some two and a
half miles in width, and flanked on either side by forest-clad hills
which, without being lofty, would, if the road were blocked, be quite
impracticable for a great baggage-laden army to cross. She looked
earnestly at the map, and then, with a quickness of perception that in
some women amounts almost to an instinct, she laid her finger upon this
neck of rising ground, and turning to her husband, said, with a proud
air of confidence and a toss of the golden head—
“Here shalt thou meet Sorais’ armies. I know the spot, here shalt thou
meet them, and drive them before thee like dust before the storm.”
But Curtis looked grave and said nothing.