THE GATE OF DEATH
Before turning in I examined these wounded men for myself. The truth is
that I was anxious to learn their exact condition in order that I might
make an estimate as to when it would be possible for us to leave this
valley or crater bottom of Kôr, of which I was heartily tired. Who
could desire to stay in a place where he had not only been involved in
a deal of hard, doubtful, and very dangerous fighting from which all
personal interest was absent, but where also he was meshed in a perfect
spider’s web of bewilderment, and exposed to continual insult into the
bargain?
For that is what it came to; this Ayesha took every opportunity to jeer
at and affront me. And why? Just because I had conceived doubts, which
somehow she discovered, of the amazing tales with which it had amused
her to stuff me, as a farmer’s wife does a turkey poult with meal
pellets. How could she expect me, a man, after all, of some experience,
to believe such lies, which, not half an hour before, in the coolest
possible fashion she had herself admitted to be lies and nothing else,
told for the mere pleasure of romancing?
The immortal Rezu, for instance, who had drunk of the Cup of Life or
some such rubbish, now turned out to be nothing but a brawny savage
descended from generations of chiefs also called Rezu. Moreover the
immemorial Ayesha, who also had drunk of Cups of Life, and according to
her first story, had lived in this place for thousands of years, had
come here with a mother, who filled the same mystic rôle before her for
the benefit of an extremely gloomy and disagreeable tribe of Semitic
savages. Yet she was cross with me because I had not swallowed her
crude and indigestible mixture of fable and philosophy without a
moment’s question.
At least I supposed that this was the reason, though another possible
explanation did come into my mind. I had refused to be duly overcome by
her charms, not because I was unimpressed, for who could be, having
looked upon that blinding beauty even for a moment? but rather because,
after sundry experiences, I had at last attained to some power of
judgment and learned what it is best to leave alone. Perhaps this had
annoyed her, especially as no white man seemed to have come her way for
a long while and the fabulous Kallikrates had not put in his promised
appearance.
Also it was unfortunate that in one way or another—how did she do it, I
wondered—she had interpreted Umslopogaas’ question to me about marrying
her, and my compromising reply. Not that for one moment, as I saw very
clearly, did she wish to marry me. But that fact, intuition suggested
to my mind, did not the least prevent her from being angry because I
shared her views upon this important subject.
Oh! the whole thing was a bore and the sooner I saw the last of that
veiled lady and the interesting but wearisome ruins in which she dwelt,
the better I should be pleased, although apparently I must trek
homewards with a poor young woman who was out of her mind, leaving the
bones of her unfortunate father behind me. I admitted to myself,
however, that there were consolations in the fact that Providence had
thus decreed, for Robertson since he gave up drink had not been a
cheerful companion, and two mad people would really have been more than
I could manage.
To return, for these reasons I examined the two wounded Zulus with
considerable anxiety, only to discover another instance of the
chicanery which it amused this Ayesha to play off upon me. For what did
I find? That they were practically well. Their hurts, which had never
been serious, had healed wonderfully in that pure air, as those of
savages have a way of doing, and they told me themselves that they felt
quite strong again. Yet with colossal impudence Ayesha had managed to
suggest to my mind that she was going to work some remarkable cure upon
them, who were already cured.
Well, it was of a piece with the rest of her conduct and there was
nothing to do except go to bed, which I did with much gratitude that my
resting place that night was not of another sort. The last thing I
remember was wondering how on earth Ayesha appeared and disappeared in
the course of that battle, a problem as to which I could find no
solution, though, as in the case of the others, I was sure that one
would occur to me in course of time.
I slept like a top, so soundly indeed that I think there was some kind
of soporific in the pick-me-up which looked like sherry, especially as
the others who had drunk of it also passed an excellent night.
About ten o’clock on the following morning I awoke feeling particularly
well and quite as though I had been enjoying a week at the seaside
instead of my recent adventures, which included an abominable battle
and some agonising moments during which I thought that my number was up
upon the board of Destiny.
I spent the most of that day lounging about, eating, talking over the
details of the battle with Umslopogaas and the Zulus and smoking more
than usual. (I forgot to say that these Amahagger grew some capital
tobacco of which I had obtained a supply, although like most Africans,
they only used it in the shape of snuff.) The truth was that after all
my marvellings and acute anxieties, also mental and physical exertions,
I felt like the housemaid who caused to be cut upon her tombstone that
she had gone to a better land where her ambition was to do nothing “for
ever and ever.” I just wanted to be completely idle and vacuous-minded
for at least a month, but as I knew that all I could expect in that
line was a single bank holiday, like a City clerk on the spree, of it I
determined to make the most.
The result was that before the evening I felt very bored indeed. I had
gone to look at Inez, who was still fast asleep, as Ayesha said would
be the case, but whose features seemed to have plumped up considerably.
The reason of this I gathered from her Amahagger nurses, was that at
certain intervals she had awakened sufficiently to swallow considerable
quantities of milk, or rather cream, which I hoped would not make her
ill. I had chatted with the wounded Zulus, who were now walking about,
more bored even than I was myself, and heaping maledictions on their
ancestral spirits because they had not been well enough to take part in
the battle against Rezu.
I even took a little stroll to look for Hans, who had vanished in his
mysterious fashion, but the afternoon was so hot and oppressive with
coming thunder, that soon I came back again and fell into a variety of
reflections that I need not detail.
While I was thus engaged and meditating, not without uneasiness, upon
the ordeal that lay before me after sunset, for I felt sure that it
would be an ordeal, Hans appeared and said that the Amahagger _impi_ or
army was gathered on that spot where I had been elected to the proud
position of their General. He added that he believed—how he got this
information I do not know—that the White Lady was going to hold a
review of them and give them the rewards that they had earned in the
battle.
Hearing this, Umslopogaas and the other Zulus said that they would like
to see this review if I would accompany them. Although I did not want
to go nor indeed desired ever to look at another Amahagger, I consented
to save the trouble of argument, on condition that we should do so from
a distance.
So, including the wounded men, we strolled off and presently came to
the crumbled wall of the old city, beyond which lay the great moat now
dry, that once had encircled it with water.
Here on the top of this wall we sat down where we could see without
being seen, and observed the Amahagger companies, considerably reduced
during the battle, being marshalled by their captains beneath us and
about a couple of hundred yards away. Also we observed several groups
of men under guard. These we took to be prisoners captured in the fight
with Rezu, who, as Hans remarked with a smack of his lips, were
probably awaiting sacrifice.
I said I hoped not and yawned, for really the afternoon was intensely
hot and the weather most peculiar. The sun had vanished behind clouds,
and vapours filled the still air, so dense that at times it grew almost
dark; also when these cleared for brief intervals, the landscape in the
grey, unholy light looked distorted and unnatural, as it does during an
eclipse of the sun.
Goroko, the witch-doctor, stared round him, sniffed the air and then
remarked ocularly that it was “wizard’s weather” and that there were
many spirits about. Upon my word I felt inclined to agree with him, for
my feelings were very uncomfortable, but I only replied that if so, I
should be obliged if he, as a professional, would be good enough to
keep them off me. Of course I knew that electrical charges were about,
which accounted for my sensations, and wished that I had never left the
camp.
It was during one of these periods of dense gloom that Ayesha must have
arrived upon the review ground. At least, when it lifted, there she was
in her white garments, surrounded by women and guards, engaged
apparently in making an oration, for although I could not hear a word,
I could see by the motions of her arms that she was speaking.
Had she been the central figure in some stage scene, no limelights
could have set her off to better advantage, than did those of the
heavens above her. Suddenly, through the blanket of cloud, flowing from
a hole in it that looked like an eye, came a blood-red ray which fell
full upon her, so that she alone was fiercely visible whilst all around
was gloom in which shapes moved dimly. Certainly she looked strange and
even terrifying in that red ray which stained her robe till I who had
but just come out of battle with its “confused noise,” began to think
of “the garments rolled in blood” of which I often read in my favourite
Old Testament. For crimson was she from head to foot; a tall shape of
terror and of wrath.
The eye in heaven shut and the ray went out. Then came one of the
spaces of grey light and in it I saw men being brought up, apparently
from the groups of prisoners, under guard, and, to the number of a
dozen or more, stood in a line before Ayesha.
Then I saw nothing more for a long while, because blackness seemed to
flow in from every quarter of the heavens and to block out the scene
beneath. At least after a pause of perhaps five minutes, during which
the stillness was intense, the storm broke.
It was a very curious storm; in all my experience of African tempests I
cannot recall one which it resembled. It began with the usual cold and
wailing wind. This died away, and suddenly the whole arch of heaven was
alive with little lightnings that seemed to strike horizontally, not
downwards to the earth, weaving a web of fire upon the surface of the
sky.
By the illumination of these lightnings which, but for the swiftness of
their flashing and greater intensity, somewhat resembled a dense shower
of shooting stars, I perceived that Ayesha was addressing the men that
had been brought before her, who stood dejectedly in a long line with
their heads bent, quite unattended, since their guards had fallen back.
“If I were going to receive a reward of cattle or wives, I should look
happier than those moon-worshippers, Baas,” remarked Hans reflectively.
“Perhaps it would depend,” I answered, “upon what the cattle and wives
were like. If the cattle had red-water and would bring disease into
your herd, or wild bulls that would gore you, and the wives were skinny
old widows with evil tongues, then I think you would look as do those
men, Hans.”
I don’t quite know what made me speak thus, but I believe it was some
sense of pending death or disaster, suggested, probably, by the ominous
character of the setting provided by Nature to the curious drama of
which we were witnesses.
“I never thought of that, Baas,” commented Hans, “but it is true that
all gifts are not good, especially witches’ gifts.”
As he spoke the little net-like lightnings died away, leaving behind
them a gross darkness through which, far above us, the wind wailed
again.
Then suddenly all the heaven was turned into one blaze of light, and by
it I saw Ayesha standing tall and rigid with her hand pointed towards
the line of men in front of her. The blaze went out, to be followed by
blackness, and to return almost instantly in a yet fiercer blaze which
seemed to fall earthwards in a torrent of fire that concentrated itself
in a kind of flame-spout upon the spot where Ayesha stood.
Through that flame or rather in the heart of it, I saw Ayesha and the
file of men in front of her, as the great King saw the prophets in the
midst of the furnace that had been heated sevenfold. Only these men did
not walk about in the fire; no, they fell backwards, while Ayesha alone
remained upon her feet with outstretched hand.
Next came more blackness and crash upon crash of such thunder that the
earth shook as it reverberated from the mountain cliffs. Never in my
life did I hear such fearful thunder. It frightened the Zulus so much,
that they fell upon their faces, except Goroko and Umslopogaas, whose
pride kept them upon their feet, the former because he had a reputation
to preserve as a “Heaven-herd,” or Master of tempests.
I confess that I should have liked to follow their example, and lie
down, being dreadfully afraid lest the lightning should strike me. But
there—I did not.
At last the thunder died away and in the most mysterious fashion that
violent tempest came to a sudden end, as does a storm upon the stage.
No rain fell, which in itself was surprising enough and most unusual,
but in place of it a garment of the completest calm descended upon the
earth. By degrees, too, the darkness passed and the westering sun
reappeared. Its rays fell upon the place where the Amahagger companies
had stood, but now not one of them was to be seen.
They were all gone and Ayesha with them. So completely had they
vanished away that I should have thought that we suffered from
illusions, were it not for the line of dead men which lay there looking
very small and lonesome on the veld; mere dots indeed at that distance.
We stared at each other and at them, and then Goroko said that he would
like to inspect the bodies to learn whether lightning killed at Kôr as
it did elsewhere, also whether it had smitten them altogether or leapt
from man to man. This, as a professional “Heaven-herd,” he declared he
could tell from the marks upon these unfortunates.
As I was curious also and wanted to make a few observations, I
consented. So with the exception of the wounded men, who I thought
should avoid the exertion, we scrambled down the débris of the tumbled
wall and across the open space beyond, reaching the scene of the
tragedy without meeting or seeing anyone.
There lay the dead, eleven of them, in an exact line as they had stood.
They were all upon their backs with widely-opened eyes and an
expression of great fear frozen upon their faces. Some of these I
recognised, as did Umslopogaas and Hans. They were soldiers or captains
who had marched under me to attack Rezu, although until this moment I
had not seen any of them after we began to descend the ridge where the
battle took place.
“Baas,” said Hans, “I believe that these were the traitors who slipped
away and told Rezu of our plans so that he attacked us on the ridge,
instead of our attacking him on the plain as we had arranged so nicely.
At least they were none of them in the battle and afterwards I heard
the Amahagger talking of some of them.”
I remarked that if so the lightning had discriminated very well in this
instance.
Meanwhile Goroko was examining the bodies one by one, and presently
called out,
“These doomed ones died not by lightning but by witchcraft. There is
not a burn upon one of them, nor are their garments scorched.”
I went to look and found that it was perfectly true; to all outward
appearance the eleven were quite unmarked and unharmed. Except for
their frightened air, they might have died a natural death in their
sleep.
“Does lightning always scorch?” I asked Goroko.
“Always, Macumazahn,” he answered, “that is, if he who has been struck
is killed, as these are, and not only stunned. Moreover, most of yonder
dead wear knives which should have melted or shattered with the sheaths
burnt off them. Yet those knives are as though they had just left the
smith’s hammer and the whet-stone,” and he drew some of them to show
me.
Again it was quite true and here I may remark that my experience
tallied with that of Goroko, since I have never seen anyone killed by
lightning on whom or on whose clothing there was not some trace of its
passage.
“_Ow!_” said Umslopogaas, “this is witchcraft, not Heaven-wrath. The
place is enchanted. Let us get away lest we be smitten also who have
not earned doom like those traitors.”
“No need to fear,” said Hans, “since with us is the Great Medicine of
Zikali which can tie up the lightning as an old woman does a bundle of
sticks.”
Still I observed that for all his confidence, Hans himself was the
first to depart and with considerable speed. So we went back to our
camp without more conversation, since the Zulus were scared and I
confess that myself I could not understand the matter, though no doubt
it admitted of some quite simple explanation.
However that might be, this Kôr was a queer place with its legends, its
sullen Amahagger and its mysterious queen, to whom at times, in spite
of my inner conviction to the contrary, I was still inclined to
attribute powers beyond those that are common even among very beautiful
and able women.
This reflection reminded me that she had promised us a further
exhibition of those powers and within an hour or two. Remembering this
I began to regret that I had ever asked for any such manifestations,
for who knew what these might or might not involve?
So much did I regret it that I determined, unless Ayesha sent for us,
as she had said she would do, I would conveniently forget the
appointment. Luckily Umslopogaas seemed to be of the same way of
thinking; at any rate he went off to eat his evening meal without
alluding to it at all. So I made up my mind that I would not bring the
matter to his notice and having ascertained that Inez was still asleep,
I followed his example and dined myself, though without any particular
appetite.
As I finished the sun was setting in a perfectly clear sky, so as there
was no sign of any messenger, I thought that I would go to bed early,
leaving orders that I was not to be disturbed. But on this point my
luck was lacking, for just as I had taken off my coat, Hans arrived and
said that old Billali was without and had come to take me somewhere.
Well, there was nothing to do but to put it on again. Before I had
finished this operation Billali himself arrived with undignified and
unusual haste. I asked him what was the matter, and he answered
inconsequently that the Black One, the slayer of Rezu, was at the door
“with his axe.”
“That generally accompanies him,” I replied. Then, remembering the
cause of Billali’s alarm, I explained to him that he must not take too
much notice of a few hasty words spoken by an essentially
gentle-natured person whose nerve had given way beneath provocation and
bodily effort. The old fellow bowed in assent and stroked his beard,
but I noticed that while Umslopogaas was near, he clung to me like a
shadow. Perhaps he thought that nervous attacks might be recurrent,
like those of fever.
Outside the house I found Umslopogaas leaning on his axe and looking at
the sky in which the last red rays of evening lingered.
“The sun has set, Macumazahn,” he said, “and it is time to visit this
white queen as she bade us, and to learn whether she can indeed lead us
‘down below’ where the dead are said to dwell.”
So he had not forgotten, which was disconcerting. To cover up my own
doubts I asked him with affected confidence and cheerfulness whether he
was not afraid to risk this journey “down below,” that is, to the Realm
of Death.
“Why should I fear to tread a road that awaits the feet of all of us
and at the gate of which we knock day by day, especially if we chance
to live by war, as do you and I, Macumazahn?” he inquired with a quiet
dignity, which made me feel ashamed.
“Why indeed?” I answered, adding to myself, “though I should much
prefer any other highway.”
After this we started without more words, I keeping up my spirits by
reflecting that the whole business was nonsense and that there could be
nothing to dread.
All too soon we passed the ruined archway and were admitted into
Ayesha’s presence in the usual fashion. As Billali, who remained
outside of them, drew the curtains behind us, I observed, to my
astonishment, that Hans had sneaked in after me, and squatted down
quite close to them, apparently in the hope of being overlooked.
It seemed, as I gathered later, that somehow or other he had guessed,
or become aware of the object of our visit, and that his burning
curiosity had overcome his terror of the “White Witch.” Or possibly he
hoped to discover whether or not she were so ugly as he supposed her
veil-hidden face to be. At any rate there he was, and if Ayesha noticed
him, as I think she did, for I saw by the motion of her head, that she
was looking in his direction, she made no remark.
For a while she sat still in her chair contemplating us both. Then she
said,
“How comes it that you are late? Those that seek their lost loves
should run with eager feet, but yours have tarried.”
I muttered some excuse to which she did not trouble to listen, for she
went on,
“I think, Allan, that your sandals, which should be winged like to
those of the Roman Mercury, are weighted with the grey lead of fear.
Well, it is not strange, since you have come to travel through the
Gates of Death that are feared by all, even by Ayesha’s self, for who
knows what he may find beyond them? Ask the Axe-Bearer if he also is
afraid.”
I obeyed, rendering all that she had said into the Zulu idiom as best I
could.
“Say to the Queen,” answered Umslopogaas, when he understood, “that I
fear nothing, except women’s tongues. I am ready to pass the Gates of
Death and, if need be, to come back no more. With the white people I
know it is otherwise because of some dark teachings to which they
listen, that tell of terrors to be, such as we who are black do not
dread. Still, we believe that there are ghosts and that the spirits of
our fathers live on and as it chances I would learn whether this is so,
who above all things desire to met a certain ghost, for which reason I
journeyed to this far land.
“Say these things to the white Queen, Macumazahn, and tell her that if
she should send me to a place whence there is no return, I who do not
love the world, shall not blame her overmuch, though it is true that I
should have chosen to die in war. Now I have spoken.”
When I had passed on all this speech to Ayesha, her comment on it was,
“This black Captain has a spirit as brave as his body, but how is it
with your spirit, Allan? Are you also prepared to risk so much? Learn
that I can promise you nothing, save that when I loose the bonds of
your mortality and send out your soul to wander in the depths of Death,
as I believe that I can do, though even of this I am not certain—you
must pass through a gate of terrors that may be closed behind you by a
stronger arm than mine. Moreover, what you will find beyond it I do not
know, since be sure of this, each of us has his own heaven or his own
hell, or both, that soon or late he is doomed to travel. Now will you
go forward, or go back? Make choice while there is still time.”
At all this ominous talk I felt my heart shrivel like a fire-withered
leaf, if I may use that figure, and my blood assume the temperature and
consistency of ice-cream. Earnestly did I curse myself for having
allowed my curiosity about matters which we are not meant to understand
to bring me to the edge of such a choice. Swiftly I determined to
temporise, which I did by asking Ayesha whether she would accompany me
upon this eerie expedition.
She laughed a little as she answered,
“Bethink you, Allan. Am I, whose face you have seen, a meet companion
for a man who desires to visit the loves that once were his? What would
they say or think, if they should see you hand in hand with such a
one?”
“I don’t know and don’t care,” I replied desperately, “but this is the
kind of journey on which one requires a guide who knows the road.
Cannot Umslopogaas go first and come back to tell me how it has fared
with him?”
“If the brave and instructed white lord, panoplied in the world’s last
Faith, is not ashamed to throw the savage in his ignorance out like a
feather to test the winds of hell and watch the while to learn whether
these blow him back unscorched, or waft him into fires whence there is
no return, perchance it might so be ordered, Allan. Ask him yourself,
Allan, if he is willing to run this errand for your sake. Or perhaps
the little yellow man——” and she paused.
At this point Hans, who having a smattering of Arabic understood
something of our talk, could contain himself no longer.
“No, Baas,” he broke in from his corner by the curtain, “not _me_. I
don’t care for hunting spooks, Baas, which leave no spoor that you can
follow and are always behind when you think they are in front. Also
there are too many of them waiting for me down there and how can I
stand up to them until I am a spook myself and know their ways of
fighting? Also if you should die when your spirit is away, I want to be
left that I may bury you nicely.”
“Be silent,” I said in my sternest manner. Then, unable to bear more of
Ayesha’s mockery, for I felt that as usual she was mocking me, I added
with all the dignity that I could command,
“I am ready to make this journey through the gate of Death, Ayesha, if
indeed you can show me the road. For one purpose and no other I came to
Kôr, namely to learn, if so I might, whether those who have died upon
the world, live on elsewhere. Now, what must I do?”