THE FEAST
When they were within a few paces of us the men halted, apparently
astonished at our appearance, which certainly did not compare
favourably with their own, for they were all of the splendid Walloo
type. Evidently what astonished them still more was the match with
which I was lighting my pipe, and indeed the pipe itself, for although
these people grew tobacco, they only took it in the form of snuff.
That match went out and I struck another, and at the sight of the
sudden appearance of fire they stepped back a pace or two. At length
one of them, pointing to the burning match, asked in the same tongue
that was used by the Walloos,
“What is that, O Stranger?”
“Magic fire,” I answered, adding by an inspiration, “which I
am bringing as a present to the great god Heu-Heu.”
This information seemed to mollify them, for, lowering their spears,
they turned to speak to another man who at this moment arrived upon the
scene. He was a stout, fine-looking man of considerable presence, with
a hooked nose and flashing black eyes. Also he wore a priestly cap upon
his head and his white robes were broidered.
“Very big fellow, this, Baas,” Hans whispered to me, and I nodded,
observing as I did so that the other priests bowed as they addressed
him.
“Dacha in person,” thought I to myself, and sure enough Dacha it
was.
He advanced and, looking at the wax match, said:
“Where does the magic fire of which you speak live, Stranger?”
“In this case covered with holy secret writing,” I replied, holding
before his eyes a box labelled “Wax Vestas, Made in England,” and
adding solemnly, “Woe be to him that touches it or him that bears it
without understanding, for it will surely leap forth and consume that
foolish man, O Dacha.”
Now Dacha followed the example of his companions and stepped back a
little way, remarking,
“How do you know my name, and who sends this present of self-conceiving
fire to Heu-Heu?”
“Is not the name of Dacha known to the ends of the earth?” I
asked—a remark which seemed to please him very much; “yes, as far
as his spells can travel, which is to the sky and back again. As to who
sends the magic fire, it is a great one, a wizard of the best, if not
quite so good as Dacha, who is named Zikali, who is named the
‘Opener-of-Roads,’ who is named ‘the
Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.’”
“We have heard of him,” said Dacha. “His messengers were here
in our fathers’ day. And what does Zikali want of us, O Stranger?”
“He wants leaves of a certain tree that grows in Heu-Heu’s garden,
that is called the Tree of Visions, that he may mix them with his
medicines.”
Dacha nodded and so did the other priests. Evidently they knew all
about the Tree of Visions, as I, or rather Zikali, had named it.
“Then why did he not come for them himself?”
“Because he is old and infirm. Because he is detained by great affairs.
Because it was easier for him to send me, who, being a lover of that
which is holy, was anxious to do homage to Heu-Heu and to make the
acquaintance of the great Dacha.”
“I understand,” the priest replied, highly gratified, as his face
shewed. “But how are you named, O Messenger of Zikali?”
“I am named ‘Blowing-Wind’ because I pass where I would, none
seeing me come or go, and therefore am the best and swiftest of
messengers. And this little one, this small but great-souled one with
me”—here I pointed to the smirking Hans, who by now was quite alive
to the humours of the situation and to its advantages from our point of
view—“is named ‘Lord-of-the-Fire’ and
‘Light-in-Darkness’” (this was true enough and worked in very
well) “because it is he who is guardian of the magic fire” (also
true, for he had half a dozen spare boxes in his pockets that he had
stolen at one time or another) “of which, if he is offended, he can
make enough to burn up all this island and everyone thereon; yes, more
than is hidden in the womb of that mountain.”
“Can he, by Heu-Heu!” said Dacha, regarding Hans with great
respect.
“Certainly he can. Mighty though I be, I must be careful not to anger
him lest myself I should be burnt to cinders.”
At this moment a doubt seemed to strike Dacha, for he asked:
“Tell me, O Blowing-Wind and O Lord-of-Fire, how you came to this
island? We observed a canoe manned with some of our rebellious subjects
who serve that old usurper the Walloo, which is being hunted that they
may be killed for their sacrilege in approaching this holy place. Were
you perchance in that canoe?”
“We were,” I answered boldly. “When we arrived at yonder town
I met a lady, a very beautiful lady, named Sabeela, and asked her where
dwelt the great Dacha. She said here—more, that she knew you and that
you were the most beautiful and noblest of men, as well as the wisest.
She said also that with some of her servants, including a stupid fellow
called Issicore, of whom she never can be rid wherever she goes, she
herself would paddle us to the island on the chance of seeing your face
again.” (I may explain to you fellows that this lie was perfectly safe,
as I knew Issicore and his people had escaped.) “So she brought us here
and landed us that we might look at the ruined city before coming on to
see you. But then your people roughly hunted her away, so that we were
obliged to walk to your town. That is all.”
Now Dacha became agitated. “I pray Heu-Heu,” he said, “that
those fools may not have caught and killed her with the others.”
“I pray so also, since she is too fair to die,” I answered,
“who would be a lovely wife for any man. But stay, I will tell you what
has chanced. Lord-of-the-Fire, make fire.”
Hans produced a match and lit it on the seat of his trousers, which was
the only part of him that was not damp. He held it in his joined hands
and I stared at the flame, muttering. Then he whispered:
“Be quick, Baas, it is burning my fingers!”
“All is well,” I said solemnly. “The canoe with Sabeela the
Beautiful escaped your people, since other canoes, seven—no, eight of
them,” I corrected, studying the ashes of the match, also the blister
on Hans’s finger, “came out from the town and drove yours away just
as they were overtaking the Lady Sabeela.”
This was a most fortunate stroke, for at that moment a messenger
arrived and gave Dacha exactly the same intelligence, which he
punctuated with many bows.
“Wonderful!” said the priest. “Wonderful! Here we have
magicians indeed!” and he stared at us with much awe. Then again a
doubt struck him.
“Lord,” he said, “Heu-Heu is the ruler of the savage Hairy
People who live in the woods and are named Heuheuas after him. Now a
tale has reached us that one of these people has been mysteriously
killed with a noise by some strangers. Had you aught to do with her
death, Lord?”
“Yes,” I answered. “She annoyed the Lord-of-the-Fire with her
attentions, so he slew her, as was right and proper. I cut off the
finger of another who wished to shake hands with me when I had told him
to go away.”
“But how did he slay her, Lord?”
Now I may explain that there was one inhabitant of this place that
greeted us with no cordiality at all, namely a large and particularly
ferocious dog, that all this while had been growling round us and
finally had got hold of Hans’s coat, which it held between its teeth,
still growling.
“_Scheet!_ Hans, _scheet een dood!_” (“Shoot! Hans,
shoot him dead!”) I whispered, and Hans, who was always quick to catch
an idea, put his hand into his pocket where he kept his pistol, and
pressing the muzzle against the brute’s head, fired through the cloth,
with the result that this dog went wherever bad dogs go.
Then there was consternation. Indeed, one of the priests fell down with
fear and the others turned tail, all of them except Dacha, who stood
his ground.
“A little of the magic fire!” I remarked airily, “and there
is plenty more where that came from,” at the same time, as though by
accident, slapping Hans’s pocket, which I saw was smouldering. “And
now, noble Dacha, it is setting in wet and we are hungry. Be pleased to
give us shelter and food.”
“Certainly, Lord, certainly!” he exclaimed, and started off with
us, keeping me well between himself and Hans, while the others, who had
returned, followed with the dead dog.
Presently, recovering from his fear, he asked me whether the Lady
Sabeela had said anything more about him.
“Only one thing,” I answered: “that it was a pity that a
maiden should be obliged to marry a god when there were such men as you
in the world.”
Here I stopped and watched the effect of my shot out of the corner of
my eye.
His coarse but handsome face grew cunning, and he smacked his lips.
“Yes, Lord, yes,” he said hurriedly. “But who knows? Things
are not always what they seem, Lord, and I have noted that sometimes
the faithful servant tithes the master’s offering.”
“By Jingo! I’ve got it!” thought I to myself.
“_You,_ my friend, are Heu-Heu, or at any rate his business
part.” But aloud, glancing at the redoubtable Hans, I only remarked
something to the effect that Dacha’s powers of observation were keen
and that, like the Lord-of-the-Fire himself, as he said truly, things
were not always what they seemed.
We crossed a bare platform of rock, to the right of which, beyond a
space of garden, I observed the mouth of a large cave. At the edge of
this platform a strange sight was to be seen, for here, just on the
borders of the lake, at a distance of about twenty paces from each
other, burned two columns of flame which hitherto had been hidden from
us by the lie of the ground and trees, between which columns was a
pillar or post of stone.
“The ‘eternal fires,’” thought I to myself, and then
inquired casually what they were.
“They are flames which have always burned in that place from the
beginning; we do not know why,” Dacha replied indifferently. “No
rain puts them out.”
“Ah!” I reflected, “natural gas coming from the volcano, such
as I have heard of in Canada.”
Then we turned to the right along the outer wall of the garden I have
mentioned, and came to some fine houses, that, to my fancy, had a kind
of collegiate appearance, all one-storied and built against the rock of
the mountain. As a matter of fact, I was right, for these were the
dwellings of the priests of Heu-Heu and their numerous female
belongings. These priests, I should say, had their privileges, for
whereas the people on the mainland for the most part married only one
wife, they were polygamous, the ladies being supplied to them through
spiritual pressure put upon the unfortunate Walloos, or, if that
failed, by the simple and ancient expedient of kidnapping. Once,
however, they had arrived upon the island and thus became dedicated to
the god, they vanished so far as their kinsfolk were concerned, and
never afterwards were they allowed to cross the water or even to
attempt any communication with them. In short, those who became alive
in Heu-Heu, became also dead to the world.
Hans and I were led to the largest of this group of houses, that
abutting immediately on to the garden wall, the inhabitants of which
apparently had already been advised of our coming by messenger, since
we found them in a bustle of preparation. Thus I saw handsome,
white-robed women flitting about and heard hurried orders being given.
We were taken to a room where a driftwood fire had been lighted on the
hearth because the night was damp and chill, at which we warmed and
dried ourselves after we had washed. A while later a priest summoned us
to eat and then retired outside the door awaiting our convenience.
“Hans,” I said, “all has gone well so far; we are accepted as
the friends of Heu-Heu, not as his enemies.”
“Yes, Baas, thanks to the cleverness of the Baas about the matches and
the rest. But what has the Baas in his mind?”
“This, Hans; that all must continue to go well, for remember what is
our duty, namely, to save the lady Sabeela, if we can, as we have sworn
to do. Now if we are to bring this about we must keep our eyes open and
our wits sharp. Hans, I daresay that they have strange liquors in this
place which will be offered to us to make us talk. But while we are
here we must drink nothing but water. Do you understand, Hans?”
“Yes, Baas, I understand.”
“And do you swear, Hans?”
Hans rubbed his middle reflectively, and replied:
“My stomach is cold, Baas, and I should like a glass of something more
warming than water after all this damp and the sight of those stone
men. Yet, Baas, I swear. Yes, I swear by your Reverend Father that I
will only drink water, or coffee if they make it, which, of course,
they don’t.”
“That is all right, Hans. You know that if you break your oath my
Reverend Father will certainly come even with you, and so shall I in
this world or the next.”
“Yes, Baas. But will the Baas please remember that a gin bottle is not
the only bait that the devil sets upon his hook. Different men have
different tastes, Baas. Now if some pretty lady were to come and tell
the Baas that he was oh! so beautiful and that she loved him, oh! ever
so much, someone like that Mameena, for instance, of whom old Zikali is
always talking as having been a friend of yours, will the Baas swear by
his Reverend Father——”
“Cease from folly and be silent,” I said majestically. “Is
this the time and place to chatter of pretty women?”
Nevertheless, in myself I appreciated the shrewdness of Hans’s
repartee, and as a matter of fact an attempt was made to play off that
trick on me, though if I am to get to the end of this story, I shall
have no time to tell you about it.
Our compact sealed, we went through the door and found the priest
waiting outside. He led us down a passage into a fine hall plentifully
lit with lamps for now the night had fallen. Here several tables were
spread, but we were taken to one at the head of the hall where we were
welcomed by Dacha dressed in grand robes, and some other priests; also
by women, all of them handsome and beautifully arrayed in their wild
fashion, whom I took to be the wives of these worthies. One of them, I
noticed, had a singular resemblance to the Lady Sabeela, although she
appeared to be her elder by some years.
We sat down at the table in curious, carved chairs, and I found myself
between Dacha and this lady, whose name, I discovered, was Dramana. The
feast began, and I may say at once that it was a very fine feast, for
it appeared that we had arrived upon a day of festival. Indeed, I had
not eaten such a meal for years.
Of course, it was barbaric in its way. Thus the food was served in
great earthenware dishes, all ready cut up; there were no knives or
forks, the fingers of the eaters taking their place, and the plates
consisted of the tough green leaves of some kind of waterlily that grew
in the lake, which were removed after each course and replaced by fresh
ones.
Of its sort, however, it was excellent and included fish of a good
flavour, kid cooked with spices, wild fowl, and a kind of pudding made
of ground corn and sweetened with honey. Also, there was plenty of the
strong native beer, which was handed round in ornamented earthenware
cups that were, however, inlaid not with small diamonds and rubies, but
with pearls found, I was informed, in the shells of freshwater mussels,
and set in the clay when damp.
These pearls were irregular in shape and for the most part not large,
but the effect of them thus employed, was very pretty. Still, some
attained to a considerable size, since Dramana and other women wore
necklaces of them bored and strung upon fibres. Without going into
further details, I may say that this feast and its equipment convinced
me more than ever that these people had once belonged to some unknown
but highly civilized race which was now dying out in this its last home
and sinking into barbarism before it died.
In pursuance of our agreement Hans, who squatted on a stool behind me,
for he would not sit at the table, and I, saying that we were bound by
a vow to touch nothing else, drank water only, although I heard him
groan each time the beer cups went round. I may add that this happened
frequently, and the amount of liquor consumed was considerable, as
became evident by the behaviour of the drinkers, many of whom grew more
or less intoxicated, with the usual unpleasant results that I need not
describe. Also they grew affectionate, for they threw their arms about
the women and began to kiss them in a way which I considered improper.
I observed, however, that the lady called Dramana drank but little.
Also, as she sat between me and an extremely deaf priest who became
sleepy in his cups, she was, of course, freed from any such unwelcome
attentions.
All these circumstances, and especially the fact that Dacha was much
occupied with a handsome female on his left, gave Dramana and myself
opportunities of conversation which I think were welcome to her. After
a few general remarks, presently she said in a low voice:
“I hear, Lord, that you have seen Sabeela, the daughter of the Walloo,
chief of the mainland. Tell me of her, for she is my sister on whom I
have not looked for a long while, for we never visit the mainland, and
those who dwell there never visit us—unless they are obliged,” she
added significantly.
“She is beautiful but lives in great terror because she, who desires to
be married to a man, must be married to a god,” I answered.
“She does well to be afraid, Lord, for by you sits that god,” and
with a shiver of disgust and the slightest possible motion of her head,
she indicated Dacha, who had become quite drunken and at the moment was
engaged in embracing the lady on his left, who also seemed to be
somewhat the worse for alcoholic wear, or to put it plainly, “half seas
over.”
“Nay,” I answered, “the god I mean is called Heu-Heu, not
Dacha.”
“Heu-Heu, Lord! You will learn all about Heu-Heu before the night is
over. It is Dacha whom she must marry.”
“But Dacha is your husband, lady.”
“Dacha is the husband of many, Lord,” and she glanced at several of
the most handsome women present, “for the god is liberal to his high
priest. Since I was bound between the eternal fires there have been
eight such marriages, though some of the brides have been handed on to
others or sacrificed for crimes against the god, or attempting to
escape, or for other reasons.
“Lord,” she went on, dropping her voice till I could scarcely catch
what she said, although my hearing is so keen, “be warned by me. Unless
you are indeed a god greater than Heu-Heu, and your companion also,
whatever you may see or hear, lift neither voice nor hand. If you do,
you will be rent to pieces without helping any one and perhaps bring
about the death of many, my own among them. Hush! Speak of something
else. He is beginning to watch us. Yet, O Lord, help me if you can.
Yes, save me and my sister if you can.”
I glanced round. Dacha, who had ceased embracing the lady, was looking
at us suspiciously, as though he had caught some word. Perhaps Hans
thought so as well, for he managed to make a great clatter, either by
tumbling off his stool or dropping his drinking cup, I know not which,
that drew away Dacha’s half-drunken attention from us and prevented him
from hearing anything.
“You seem to find the Lady Dramana pleasant, O Lord Blowing-Wind,”
sneered Dacha. “Well, I am not jealous and I would give such guests of
the best I have, especially when the god is going to be so good to me.
Also the Lady Dramana knows better than to tell secrets and what
happens here to those who do. So talk to her as much as you like,
little Blowing-Wind, before you blow yourself away,” and he leered at
me in a manner that made me feel very uncomfortable.
“I was asking the Lady Dramana about the sacred tree of which the great
wizard, Zikali, desires some of the leaves for his medicine,” I said,
pretending not to understand.
“Oh!” he answered, with a change of manner which suggested that his
suspicions were in course of being dissipated, “oh, were you? I thought
you were asking of other things. Well, there is no secret about that,
and she shall show it to you to-morrow, if you like; also anything else
you wish, for I and my brethren will be otherwise engaged. Meanwhile,
here comes the Cup of Illusions that is brewed from the fruit of the
tree of which you must taste though you be a water-drinker, yes, and
the yellow dwarf, Lord-of-the-Fire, also, for in it we pledge the god
into whose presence we must enter very soon.”
I answered hurriedly that I was weary and would not trouble the god by
paying my respects to him at present.
“All who come here must pass the god, Lord Blowing-Wind,” he
answered, glaring at me, and adding: “Either they must pass the god
living, or, if they prefer it, they may pass him dead. Did not Zikali
tell you that, O Blowing-Wind? Choose, then. Will you wait upon the god
living, or will you wait upon him dead?”
Now I thought it was time to assert myself, and looking this
ill-conditioned brute in the eyes, I said slowly:
“Who is this that talks to me of death, not knowing perchance that I am
a lord of death? Does he seek such a fate as that which befell the
hound without your doors? Learn, O Priest of Heu-Heu, that it is
dangerous to use ill-omened words to me or to the Lord-of-the-Fire,
lest we should answer them with lightnings.”
I suppose that these remarks, or something in my eye, impressed him. At
any rate, his manner became humble, almost servile indeed, especially
as Hans had risen and stood at my side, holding in his extended hand
the box of matches, at which all stared suspiciously. Well they might
have stared, had they known that his other hand, innocently buried in
his pocket, grasped the butt of an excellent Colt revolver. I should
have told you, by the way, that as we could not bring them with us to
the feast we had left our rifles hidden in our beds, loaded and full
cocked, so that they would be sure to go off if any thief began to
finger them.
“Pardon, Lord, pardon,” said Dacha. “Could I wish to insult
one so powerful? If I said aught to offend, why, this beer is strong.”
I bowed benignantly, but remembered the old Latin saying to the effect
that drink digs out the truth. Then, by way of changing the subject, he
pointed to the end of the room. Here appeared two pretty women dressed
in exceedingly light attire and with wreaths upon their heads, who bore
between them a large bowl of liquor in which floated red flowers. (The
whole scene, I should say, much resembled some picture I had seen of an
ancient Roman—or perhaps it was Egyptian feast taken from a fresco.)
They brought the bowl to Dacha, and with a simultaneous movement of
their graceful forms lifted it up, whereon all of the company who were
not too drunk rose, bowed towards the bowl and twice cried out
together:
“The Cup of Illusions! The Cup of Illusions!”
“Drink,” said Dacha to me. “Drink to the glory of
Heu-Heu.” Then observing that I hesitated, he added: “Nay, I will
drink first to show that it is not poisoned,” and muttering, “O
Spirit of Heu-Heu, descend upon thy priest!” drink he did, a
considerable quantity.
Then the women brought the bowl, which reminded me of the loving-cup at
a Lord Mayor’s feast, and held it to my lips. I took a pull at it,
making motions of my throat as though it were a long one, though in
reality I only swallowed a sip. Next it was handed to Hans to whom I
murmured one Boer Dutch word over my shoulder. It was
“_Beetje,_” which means “little,” and as I turned
my head to watch him, I think he took the advice.
After this the bowl, in which, I should add, the liquor was of a
greenish colour and tasted something like Chartreuse, was taken from
one to another till all present had drunk of it, the girls who bore it
finishing up the little that was left.
This I saw, but after it I did not see much else for a while, for,
small as had been my draught, the stuff went to my head and seemed to
cloud my brain. Moreover, all kinds of queer visions, some of them not
too desirable, sprang up in my mind, and with them a sense of vastness
that was peopled by innumerable forms; beautiful forms, grotesque
forms, forms of folk that I had known, now long dead, forms of others
whom I had never seen, all of whom had this peculiarity, that they
seemed to be staring at me with a strange intentness. Also these forms
grouped themselves together and began to enact dramas of one kind or
another, dramas of war and love and death that had all the vividness of
a nightmare.
Presently, however, these illusions passed away and I remained filled
with a great calm and a wonderful sense of well-being, also with my
powers of observation rendered most acute.
Looking about me, I noted that all who had drunk seemed to be
undergoing similar experiences. At first they showed signs of
excitement; then they grew very still and sat like statues with their
eyes fixed on vacancy, speaking not a word, moving not a muscle.
This state lasted quite a long time, till at length those who had drunk
first appeared to awake, for they began to talk to each other in low
tones. I noted that every sign of drunkenness had vanished; one and all
they looked as sober as a whole Bench of Judges; moreover, their faces
had grown solemn and their eyes seemed to be filled with some cold and
fateful purpose.