THE CAVERN OF THE DEAD
On going forth into the outer grotto I saw the table spread with a
sumptuous repast, and the apartment in a blaze of light. Almah was not
here; and though some servants made signs for me to eat, yet I could
not until I should see whether she was coming or not. I had to wait
for a long time, however; and while I was waiting the chief entered,
shading his eyes with his hand from the painful light. He bowed
low with the most profound courtesy, saying, "Salonla," to which I
responded in the same way. He seemed much pleased at this, and made a
few remarks, which I did not understand; whereupon, anxious to lose no
time in learning the language, I repeated to him all the words I knew,
and asked after others. I pointed to him and asked his name. He said,
"Kohen." This, however, I afterward found was not a name, but a title.
The "Kohen" did not remain long, for the light was painful. After his
departure I was alone for some time, and at length Almah made her
appearance. I sprang to meet her, full of joy, and took her hand in
both of mine and pressed it warmly. She smiled, and appeared quite
free from the melancholy of the previous day.
We ate our breakfast together, after which we went out into the world
of light, groping our way along through the dark passages amid the
busy crowd. Almah could see better than I in the darkness; but she was
far from seeing well, and did not move with that easy step and perfect
certainty which all the others showed. Like me, she was a child of
light, and the darkness was distressing to her. As we went on we were
seen by all, but were apparently not considered prisoners. On the
contrary, all looked at us with the deepest respect, and bowed low
or moved aside, and occasionally made little offerings of fruit or
flowers to one or the other of us. It seemed to me that we were
treated with equal distinction; and if Almah was their queen, I, their
guest, was regarded with equal honor. Whatever her rank might be,
however, she was to all appearance the most absolute mistress of
her own actions, and moved about among all these people with the
independence and dignity of some person of exalted rank.
At length we emerged into the open air. Here the contrast to the
cavern gloom inside gave to the outer world unusual brightness and
splendor, so that even under the heavy overarching tree-ferns, which
had seemed so dark when I was here before, it now appeared light and
cheerful. Almah turned to the right, and we walked along the terrace.
But few people were visible. They shrank from the light, and kept
themselves in the caverns. Then after a few steps we came to the base
of a tall half-pyramid, the summit of which was above the tops of the
trees. I pointed to this, as though I wished to go up. Almah hesitated
for a moment, and seemed to shrink back, but at length, overcoming her
reluctance, began the ascent. A flight of stony steps led up. On
reaching the top, I found it about thirty feet long by fifteen wide,
with a high stone table in the middle. At that moment, however, I
scarce noticed the pyramid summit, and I only describe it now because
I was fated before long to see it with different feelings. What I then
noticed was the vast and wondrous display of all the glories of nature
that burst at once upon my view. There was that same boundless sea,
rising up high toward the horizon, as I had seen it before, and
suggesting infinite extent. There were the blue waters breaking into
foam, the ships traversing the deep, the far-encircling shores green
in vegetation, the high rampart of ice-bound mountains that shut in
the land, making it a world by itself. There was the sun, low on the
horizon, which it traversed on its long orbit, lighting up all these
scenes till the six-months day should end and the six-months night
begin.
For a long time I stood feasting my eyes upon all this splendor, and
at length turned to see whether Almah shared my feelings. One look was
enough. She stood absorbed in the scene, as though she were drinking
in deep draughts of all this matchless beauty. I felt amazed at this;
I saw how different she seemed from the others, and could not account
for it. But as yet I knew too little of the language to question her,
and could only hope for a future explanation when I had learned more.
We descended at length and walked about the terrace and up and down
the side streets. All were the same as I had noticed before--terraced
streets, with caverns on one side and massive stone structures on the
other. I saw deep channels, which were used as drains to carry down
mountain torrents. I did not see all at this first walk, but I
inspected the whole city in many subsequent walks until its outlines
were all familiar. I found it about a mile long and about half a
mile wide, constructed in a series of terraces, which rose one above
another in a hollow of the mountains round a harbor of the sea. On my
walks I met with but few people on the streets, and they all seemed
troubled with the light. I saw also occasionally some more of those
great birds, the name of which I learned from Almah; it was "opkuk."
For some time my life went on most delightfully. I found myself
surrounded with every comfort and luxury. Almah was my constant
associate, and all around regarded us with the profoundest respect.
The people were the mildest, most gentle, and most generous that I had
ever seen. The Kohen seemed to pass most of his time in making new
contrivances for my happiness. This strange people, in their dealings
with me and with one another, seemed animated by a universal desire to
do kindly acts; and the only possible objection against them was their
singular love of darkness.
My freedom was absolute. No one watched me. Almah and I could go where
we chose. So far as I could perceive, we were quite at liberty, if we
wished, to take a boat and escape over the sea. It seemed also quite
likely that if we had ordered out a galley and a gang of oarsmen, we
should have been supplied with all that we might want in the most
cheerful manner. Such a thought, however, was absurd. Flight! Why
should I think of flying?
I had long ago lost all idea of time; and here, where it was for the
present perpetual day, I was more at a loss than ever. I supposed that
it was somewhere in the month of March, but whether at the beginning
or the end I could not tell. The people had a regular system of
wake-time and sleep-time, by which they ordered their lives; but
whether these respective times were longer or shorter than the days
and nights at home I could not tell at that time, though I afterward
learned all about it. On the whole, I was perfectly content--nay,
more, perfectly happy; more so, indeed, than ever in my life, and
quite willing to forget home and friends and everything in the society
of Almah. While in her company there was always one purpose upon which
I was most intent, and that was to master the language. I made rapid
progress, and while she was absent I sought out others, especially the
Kohen, with whom to practice. The Kohen was always most eager to aid
me in every conceivable way or to any conceivable thing; and he had
such a gentle manner and showed such generous qualities that I soon
learned to regard him with positive affection.
Almah was always absent for several hours after I rose in the morning,
and when she made her appearance it was with the face and manner of
one who had returned from some unpleasant task. It always took some
time for her to regain that cheerfulness which she usually showed. I
soon felt a deep curiosity to learn the nature of her employment and
office here, and as my knowledge of the language increased I began
to question her. My first attempts were vain. She looked at me with
indescribable mournfulness and shook her head. This, however, only
confirmed me in my suspicions that her duties, whatever they might be,
were of a painful nature; so I urged her to tell me, and asked her as
well as I could if I might not share them or help her in some way. To
all this, however, she only returned sighs and mournful looks for an
answer. It seemed to me, from her manner and from the general behavior
of the people, that there was no express prohibition on my learning
anything, doing anything, or going anywhere; and so, after this, I
besought her to let me accompany her some time. But this too she
refused. My requests were often made, and as I learned more and more
of the language I was able to make them with more earnestness and
effect, until at length I succeeded in overcoming her objections.
"It is for your own sake," said she, "that I have refused, Atam-or. I
do not wish to lessen your happiness. But you must know all soon; and
so, if you wish to come with me and see what I have to do, why, you
may come the next jom."
This meant the next day, jom being the division of time corresponding
with our day. At this promise I was so full of gratitude that I forgot
all about the dark suggestiveness of her words. The next jom I arose
sooner than usual and went forth. I found Almah waiting for me. She
looked troubled, and greeted me with a mournful smile.
"You will find pain in this," said she; "but you wish it, and if you
still wish it, why, I will take you with me."
At this I only persisted the more, and so we set forth. We went
through the cavern passages. Few people were there; all seemed asleep.
Then we went out-of-doors and came into the full blaze of that day
which here knew no night, but prolonged itself into months. For a
while Almah stood looking forth between the trees to where the bright
sunlight sparkled on the sea, and then with a sigh she turned to
the left. I followed. On coming to the next portal she went in. I
followed, and found myself in a rough cavern, dark and forbidding.
Traversing this we came to an inner doorway, closed with a heavy mat.
This she raised, and passed through, while I went in after her.
I found myself in a vast cavern, full of dim, sparkling lights, which
served not to illuminate it, but merely to indicate its enormous
extent. Far above rose the vaulted roof, to a height of apparently a
hundred feet. Under this there was a lofty half-pyramid with stone
steps. All around, as far as I could see in the obscure light, there
were niches in the walls, each one containing a figure with a light
burning at its feet. I took them for statues. Almah pointed in silence
to one of these which was nearest, and I went up close so as to see
it.
The first glance that I took made me recoil with horror. It was no
statue that I saw in that niche, but a shrivelled human form--a
hideous sight. It was dark and dried; it was fixed in a sitting
posture, with its hands resting on its knees, and its hollow eyes
looking forward. On its head was the mockery of a wreath of flowers,
while from its heart there projected the handle and half of the blade
of a knife which had been thrust there. What was the meaning of this
knife? It seemed to tell of a violent death. Yet the flowers must
surely be a mark of honor. A violent death with honor, and the
embalmed remains--these things suggested nothing else than the horrid
thought of a human sacrifice. I looked away with eager and terrible
curiosity. I saw all the niches, hundreds upon hundreds, all filled
with these fearful occupants. I turned again with a sinking heart to
Almah. Her face was full of anguish.
"This is my duty," said she. "Every jom I must come here and crown
these victims with fresh flowers."
A feeling of sickening horror overwhelmed me. Almah had spoken these
words and stood looking at me with a face of woe. This, then, was that
daily task from which she was wont to return in such sadness--an
abhorrent task to her, and one to which familiarity had never
reconciled her. What was she doing here? What dark fate was it that
thus bound this child of light to these children of darkness? or why
was she thus compelled to perform a service from which all her nature
revolted? I read in her face at this moment a horror equal to my own;
and at the sight of her distress my own was lessened, and there arose
within me a profound sympathy and a strong desire to do something to
alleviate her misery.
"This is no place for you," continued Almah. "Go, and I will soon join
you."
"No," said I, using her language after my own broken fashion--"no, I
will not go--I will stay, I will help, if you will permit."
She looked at me earnestly, and seemed to see that my resolution was
firmly fixed, and that I was not to be dissuaded from it.
"Very well," said she; "if you do stay and help me, it will be a great
relief."
With these simple words she proceeded to carry out her work. At the
foot of the pyramid there was a heap of wreaths made out of fresh
flowers, and these were to be placed by her on the heads of the
embalmed corpses.
"This work," said she, "is considered here the highest and most
honorable that can be performed. It is given to me out of kindness,
and they cannot understand that I can have any other feelings in the
performance than those of joy and exultation--here among the dead and
in the dark."
I said nothing, but followed and watched her, carrying the wreaths and
supplying her. She went to each niche in succession, and after taking
the wreath off each corpse she placed a fresh one on, saying a brief
formula at each act. By keeping her supplied with wreaths I was able
to lighten her task, so much so that, whereas it usually occupied her
more than two hours, on the present occasion it was finished in less
than half an hour. She informed me that those which she crowned were
the corpses of men who had been sacrificed during the present
season--by season meaning the six months of light; and that though
many more were here, yet they wore crowns of gold. At the end of ten
years they were removed to public sepulchres. The number of those
which had to be crowned by her was about a hundred. Her work was only
to crown them, the labor of collecting the flowers and weaving the
wreaths and attending to the lamps being performed by others.
I left this place with Almah, sad and depressed. She had not told me
why these victims had been sacrificed, nor did I feel inclined to
ask. A dark suspicion had come to me that these people, underneath
all their amiable ways, concealed thoughts, habits, and motives of
a frightful kind; and that beyond all my present brightness and
happiness there might be a fate awaiting me too horrible for thought.
Yet I did not wish to borrow trouble. What I had seen and heard was
quite enough for one occasion. I was anxious, rather, to forget it
all. Nor did Almah's words or manner in any way reassure me. She was
silent and sad and preoccupied. It was as though she knew the worst,
and knowing it, dared not speak; as though there was something more
horrible which she dared not reveal. For my part, I feared it so that
I dared not ask. It was enough for me just then to know that my mild
and self-denying and generous entertainers were addicted to the
abhorrent custom of human sacrifices.