THE MARRIAGE
“And thou, oh, stranger, who dost hail from the foot of the throne
of Osiris, who art the son of Ra, the emissary of Horus, the beloved
of all the gods, tell Isis, the mysterious goddess, why thou art
here.”
“I am here to crave of Isis the pure, Isis the beloved, Isis the most
holy, that she deign to pour the fruits of her blessing upon me, for I
would take this woman to be my wife.”
It was Hugh’s voice which spoke slowly and solemnly, and which was the
first sound that penetrated to my brain, still wandering in the realms
of cloud-land.
Through the window of my prison an intense flood of light filtered
brilliantly, illuminating the granite floor and walls. A strong scent
of incense and myrrh had driven away the stupefying fumes of that
burning herb which had lulled me to sleep. I tried to collect my
scattered senses, but a terrible pain in my head and eyes still kept
me half-stupefied. And yet I heard Hugh’s voice speaking strange and
momentous words, and a dull instinct whispered to me that I must get
to him, somehow, for a reason, of which I was not as yet fully
conscious. A raging thirst had made my tongue swell and parched my
throat: the events of the last few hours danced before my clouded
brain like some weird phantasmagoria.
The Pharaoh… dead! murdered! his body lying close to me, when last I
had opened my eyes, but now, carried away, while I had been asleep…
Maat-kha!… the murderess!… Hugh’s promised bride! Ur-tasen, the evil
plotter!… who had done… I knew not what… something that would wreck
Hugh’s life as well as his honour.… Neit-akrit!… who might be a
friend, and yet was a foe!… and I… a helpless prisoner, stupid,
senseless, half-drowsy still, after a drugged and heavy sleep!
“And thou, Maat-kha, who art daughter of Uah-ab-ra, the son of
Ach-mes, the son of Ne-ku, tell Isis, the mysterious goddess, why thou
art here.”
I did not know that voice, some priest probably… no concern of mine… I
could perhaps get another half-hour’s sleep… I was still so tired.
“I came here to crave of Isis the pure, Isis the beloved, Isis the
most holy, that she deign to pour upon me the fruits of her blessing,
for I would swear fealty to this man, and be his wife.”
That was Queen Maat-kha’s voice, and just now I had heard that of
Hugh… the pain in my head was intolerable… my limbs felt weak and
stiff: there was the whole length of my prison between me and the
aperture, through which probably I should be able to see those who had
spoken. I began to drag myself along, but I was only half awake, my
limbs only just managed to bear me along, and I did not know if I
should ever reach that aperture.
“_Art awake, oh, Isis, who art daughter of Ra?_
“_Art awake, oh, Isis, who art sister and bride of Osiris?_
“_Art awake, oh, Isis, who art mother of Horus?_
“_Oh, Isis, give life to this man and to this woman, who have sought
the sanctity of thy temple!_
“_The gods above do rejoice! the glorious company is full of joy,
giving praise to thee, oh, Isis, who art pure!_
“_Isis who art beloved!_
“_Isis who art most holy!_”
I had at last, after terrible difficulties, succeeded in reaching the
window; with infinite pain I struggled to my feet, but I could not
stand: my head was heavy and my knees shook under me. Twice I fell
down, but at the third struggle my hands convulsively fastened on the
marble ledge, and steadying myself as best I could, I looked out,
dazed, before me.
The sanctuary and the temple beyond it were one dazzling mass of
lighted lamps and torches. The gossamer curtain had been drawn aside,
and I could see the interminable vista of snow-white columns, on which
the silver inlay glistened with a thousand sparks. Between the
pillars, a sea of dark heads, adorned with gaily-coloured caps and
kerchiefs, amongst which, occasionally, I caught sight of the glitter
of a golden uræus, or elaborately jewelled belt.… I could distinguish
no details: my eyes were blurred, my brain overclouded. I remember
that gorgeous picture only as one remembers a dream.
Immediately before me Isis towered, wrapped in her sacred mantle,
which hand of man has never dared to touch. On her head a gigantic
pair of snow-white horns, between which glittered the silver disc of a
huge full moon. Immediately at her feet a group of priests, with
shaven crowns and long flowing robes of white, stood in a semi-circle,
in the middle of which the high-priest of the goddess stood with arms
outstretched, reciting the invocations.
Beneath the many hanging lamps, wherein burned lights of different
colours, the other priests of the gods of Kamt were massed in imposing
groups: the priests of Ra with yellow robes and leopard skins round
their bodies: those of Phtah, with monstrous scarabæus of iridescent
blue and green enamel on the top of their heads: those of Thot, with
masks of apes entirely covering their faces, and those of Hor, with
masks of sparrow-hawks, while the jackal’s head hid the features of
the priests of Anubis. Immediately to the right of the officiating
high priests stood Ur-tasen, the high priest of Ra.
“_Isis is strong!_
“_Isis is great!_
“_Isis is living and mighty!_”
The various attributes of the goddess reached my dull ears only as the
sound of muffled drums.
At the foot of the sanctuary steps, against a background of men and
women in gorgeous raiments, and beneath a canopy of white lilies,
stood Hugh Tankerville and his promised wife. His face was even paler
than when I had seen it last: his eyes gleamed darkly and with an
unnatural fire. He held his arms tightly crossed over his chest, and
in his whole attitude there was the expression of an indomitable will
triumphing over an overwhelming passion.
I saw him, as I had seen the sanctuary, the goddess, the crowds of
people, only as one sees a vivid dream. It seemed to me as if he were
not really there, but that slowly, very slowly, I was waking from that
sleep which had held me enthralled for months, and that when I was
fully awake I should look round me, and see myself sitting in the dear
old Museum, at The Chestnuts, with Mr. Tankerville sitting beside me,
telling me of beautiful, mysterious, legendary Neit-akrit.
I tried to speak to Hugh, for he was not far from me, but my tongue
seemed rooted to my palate, and, as in a dream, not a sound escaped my
throat. Clouds of incense rose all around, and when the high priest
had ceased to laud the magnificence of his goddess, the priestesses,
clad all in white, with their huge, disfiguring wigs over their heads,
began a sweet and monotonous chant, accompanying themselves upon their
crescent-shaped harps, and beating upon the sistrum and the drum.
Beside Hugh, underneath that same canopy of lilies, and with her hand
holding his, was Queen Maat-kha. She had discarded her gorgeous
funereal draperies, and was standing clad all in white, her regal
crown over her low, square brow, her great black tresses descending
each side of her pale face, almost to her knees, and intertwined with
ropes of pearls. And I, in my dream, thought that I could see,
clinging to her finger tips, the last drops of her murdered son’s
blood.
Again I tried to scream, but my throat seemed paralysed. Gradually
memory, as a vague, still indistinct shadow, began to creep back into
my mind. Hugh was before me clad in sumptuous robes, his dark head
uncovered, his tall figure erect, ready to plight his troth, to pledge
that word, which he worshipped as a divinity, to the vile murderess by
his side. Twice a murderess, since having slain her son she would
ruthlessly sacrifice her lover to save herself from the tortures of
jealousy. Yes, I did remember! It was imperative that I should warn
Hugh of some terrible danger which the woman beside him and the high
priest of Ra had placed across his path.
“Oh, thou who art beloved of the gods, and thou who art Queen of Kamt,
behold! Isis the goddess is awakened!
“Ra, all-creating, all-powerful and mighty, doth descend to earth!
“Phtah, the mysterious, and Osiris, the bounty-giver, do hover
invisibly over your heads!
“But Hapi, who proceedeth from Ra, who, in his divine person, is the
living representative of Isis, of Osiris, and of Phtah, Hapi himself
will pass before your eyes!
“With the finger of your right hand ye may touch the sacred star upon
his brow!
“With both your eyes ye may gaze upon him!
“But, ye all, children of Kamt! veil ye your countenance! the god will
pass amongst you, and the sight of him gives blindness to those who
are not wholly pure!”
A terrific cloud of incense rose from every corner of the edifice.
Hugh and the Queen mounted two of the steps which led up to the
sanctuary, and behind them the silver tissue of the veil fell together
with a prolonged and softly sighing sound. Immediately underneath the
window where I was a bowl full of incense must have been burning, for
a cloud rose like a curtain between me and the sanctuary. Through it I
could see Hugh, not twenty yards away from me, and I tried to scream…
and my throat was absolutely paralysed.
Now, there was great tramping of feet, and opposite to me a brilliant
_cortège_ came slowly towards the bridal pair. Adorned with bunches
of gardenias and tuberoses, but with heavy chains round his feet and
head, a gigantic ox was being dragged along. He was black, save for a
white spot upon his forehead, and a patch upon his back: his horns
were silvered, and he was led by ten priests of Isis, who held him by
heavy silver chains. The great beast, snorting and puffing and
evidently much annoyed at having been dragged from his stable, allowed
himself to be taken fairly peacefully along, until he was brought to a
standstill in the middle of the sanctuary, immediately at the foot of
the throne of Isis. All the priests had prostrated themselves face
downwards on the ground. Hugh and Maat-kha alone remained standing. At
a sign from the high priest they both placed their hand upon the
forehead of the beast, while the priestesses intoned a triumphal
march. Then, as stolidly as he had come, the god Hapi retired from the
gaze of his worshippers.
“Oh thou, the son of Ra! the emissary of Osiris! the beloved of the
gods! art ready to take the oath which will bind thee, thy body and
thy soul, the breath within thy body and the blood beneath thy flesh,
to the woman who is to be thy wife?”
And I, in this strange and vivid dream, which was so real, and which I
could not grasp, heard Hugh’s voice clear and distinct:
“I am ready.”
And I, his friend, his chum, his schoolfellow, I, Mark Emmett, who
would have given at any time my life for his, could not succeed in
giving one warning shout to stop this monstrous deed.
The poison--whatever it was--was still in my veins… my limbs felt like
lead… I could not keep my head erect.… I could see all, hear every
word, and smell the incense… but I could not utter a sound.
“Oh! son of Ra, beloved of the gods, at dawn when anon, Isis, the
pure, sinks fainting into the arms of Osiris, her beloved and glorious
spouse, thou wilt stand beside the sacred cataract, where since five
times a thousand years the kings of Kamt have given the first kiss to
their bride!
“Oh then! oh, son of Ra, wilt swear to give thy bride that kiss and to
take her for wife?”
“I swear!” said Hugh, earnestly.
“Oh, son of Ra, beloved of the gods, having taken unto thee a wife,
wilt swear to be true to her with thy soul and with thy body?”
“I swear!”
“Oh, son of Ra, beloved of the gods, dost swear before all men that
thou wilt be true to her, whom thou wilt take to thyself as wife?”
“I swear!”
“Wilt swear it on the names of the gods of Kamt, of Ra, of Osiris and
of Horus? of Anubis and Set? Wilt swear it upon thy manhood and upon
thy honour?”
“I swear it!”
Hugh Tankerville, calm and impassive, had pledged his honour to be
true to her who even now was plotting his death and his shame.
I seemed to remember all now as in a flash. The sight of Ur-tasen’s
face as he watched the high priest of Isis administering this oath to
my friend, for the space of a second, illumined a corner of my dulled
intellect. I saw it all with the vividness of reality: the murdered
Pharaoh lying beside the cataract; Hugh wandering unsuspectingly
thither, with the shaven priests of Isis creeping on his trail, like
jackals after their prey: then the mob yelling and cursing: Hugh,
helpless in the face of the terrible accusations; the hall of justice:
the doom from which probably even his own personality could not save
him: and all the while I tried to shriek. I opened my parched lips,
and but a few dull, guttural sounds escaped my throat, and Hugh could
not hear. He was there within a few yards of me, pledging his manhood,
his honour, to a pagan murderess, and I could do nothing, for I was in
a dream, which gripped my throat and numbed my limbs. Once it seemed
to me as if Hugh held up his head suddenly, while a look of surprise
came into his eyes: encouraged, I tried again; my head fell back as if
weighted with lead, the lids closed over my aching eyes, the vision of
the snow-white temple, the brilliant crowd, the gorgeous and motley
group of priests became more and more dim. With a feeble effort, I
tried to raise my hand, and beat childishly, impotently, against the
immovable and cold stone walls of my prison; but even that effort
proved too great: my grip on the marble relaxed, my knees absolutely
gave way under me, and stupefied, drowsy, sleepy still under the
potency of the mysterious drug, I sank again into heavy, dreamless
sleep.…