THE FIRST ORDEAL
The shaman advanced to my side and asked me courteously how I fared.
I answered, “Better. Far better, oh, my host--but how are you named?”
“Simbri,” he answered, “and, as I told you by the water, my title is
Hereditary Guardian of the Gate. By profession I am the royal Physician
in this land.”
“Did you say physician or magician?” I asked carelessly, as though I had
not caught the word. He gave me a curious look.
“I _said_ physician, and it is well for you and your companion that I
have some skill in my art. Otherwise I think, perhaps, you would not
have been alive to-day, O my guest--but how are _you_ named?”
“Holly,” I said.
“O my guest, Holly.”
“Had it not been for the foresight that brought you and the lady Khania
to the edge of yonder darksome river, certainly we should _not_ have
been alive, venerable Simbri, a foresight that seems to me to savour
of magic in such a lonely place. That is why I thought you might have
described yourself as a magician, though it is true that you may have
been but fishing in those waters.”
“Certainly I was fishing, stranger Holly--for men, and I caught two.”
“Fishing by chance, host Simbri?”
“Nay, by design, guest Holly. My trade of physician includes the study
of future events, for I am the chief of the Shamans or Seers of this
land, and, having been warned of your coming quite recently, I awaited
your arrival.”
“Indeed, that is strange, most courteous also. So here physician and
magician mean the same.”
“You say it,” he answered with a grave bow; “but tell me, if you will,
how did you find your way to a land whither visitors do not wander?”
“Oh!” I answered, “perhaps we are but travellers, or perhaps we also
have studied--medicine.”
“I think that you must have studied it deeply, since otherwise you would
not have lived to cross those mountains in search of--now, what did you
seek? Your companion, I think, spoke of a queen--yonder, on the banks of
the torrent.”
“Did he? Did he, indeed? Well, that is strange since he seems to have
found one, for surely that royal-looking lady, named Khania, who sprang
into the stream and saved us, must be a queen.”
“A queen she is, and a great one, for in our land Khania means queen,
though how, friend Holly, a man who has lain senseless can have learned
this, I do not know. Nor do I know how you come to speak our language.”
“That is simple, for the tongue you talk is very ancient, and as it
chances in my own country it has been my lot to study and to teach
it. It is Greek, but although it is still spoken in the world, how it
reached these mountains I cannot say.”
“I will tell you,” he answered. “Many generations ago a great conqueror
born of the nation that spoke this tongue fought his way through the
country to the south of us. He was driven back, but a general of his of
another race advanced and crossed the mountains, and overcame the
people of this land, bringing with him his master’s language and his own
worship. Here he established his dynasty, and here it remains, for being
ringed in with deserts and with pathless mountain snows, we hold no
converse with the outer world.”
“Yes, I know something of that story; the conqueror was named Alexander,
was he not?” I asked.
“He was so named, and the name of the general was Rassen, a native of
a country called Egypt, or so our records tell us. His descendants hold
the throne to this day, and the Khania is of his blood.”
“Was the goddess whom he worshipped called Isis?”
“Nay,” he answered, “she was called Hes.”
“Which,” I interrupted, “is but another title for Isis. Tell me, is her
worship continued here? I ask because it is now dead in Egypt, which was
its home.”
“There is a temple on the Mountain yonder,” he replied indifferently,
“and in it are priests and priestesses who practise some ancient cult.
But the real god of this people now, as long before the day of Rassen
their conqueror, is the fire that dwells in this same Mountain, which
from time to time breaks out and slays them.”
“And does a goddess dwell in the fire?” I asked.
Again he searched my face with his cold eyes, then answered--“Stranger
Holly, I know nothing of any goddess. That Mountain is sacred, and to
seek to learn its secrets is to die. Why do you ask such questions?”
“Only because I am curious in the matter of old religions, and seeing
the symbol of Life upon yonder peak, came hither to study yours, of
which indeed a tradition still remains among the learned.”
“Then abandon that study, friend Holly, for the road to it runs through
the paws of the death-hounds, and the spears of savages. Nor indeed is
there anything to learn.”
“And what, Physician, are the death-hounds?”
“Certain dogs to which, according to our ancient custom, all offenders
against the law or the will of the Khan, are cast to be torn to pieces.”
“The will of the Khan! Has this Khania of yours a husband then?”
“Aye,” he answered, “her cousin, who was the ruler of half the land. Now
they and the land are one. But you have talked enough; I am here to say
that your food is ready,” and he turned to leave the room.
“One more question, friend Simbri. How came I to this chamber, and where
is my companion?”
“You were borne hither in your sleep, and see, the change has bettered
you. Do you remember nothing?”
“Nothing, nothing at all,” I answered earnestly. “But what of my
friend?”
“He also is better. The Khania Atene nurses him.”
“Atene?” I said. “That is an old Egyptian name. It means the Disk of the
Sun, and a woman who bore it thousands of years ago was famous for her
beauty.”
“Well, and is not my niece Atene beautiful?”
“How can I tell, O uncle of the Khania,” I answered wearily, “who have
scarcely seen her?”
Then he departed, and presently his yellow-faced, silent servants
brought me my food.
Later in the morning the door opened again, and through it, unattended,
came the Khania Atene, who shut and bolted it behind her. This action
did not reassure me, still, rising in my bed, I saluted her as best I
could, although at heart I was afraid. She seemed to read my doubts for
she said--“Lie down, and have no fear. At present you will come by no
harm from me. Now, tell me what is the man called Leo to you? Your son?
Nay, it cannot be, since--forgive me--light is not born of darkness.”
“I have always thought that it was so born, Khania. Yet you are right;
he is but my adopted son, and a man whom I love.”
“Say, what seek you here?” she asked.
“We seek, Khania, whatsoever Fate shall bring us on yonder Mountain,
that which is crowned with flame.”
Her face paled at the words, but she answered in a steady voice--“Then
there you will find nothing but doom, if indeed you do not find it
before you reach its slopes, which are guarded by savage men. Yonder is
the College of Hes, and to violate its Sanctuary is death to any man,
death in the ever-burning fire.”
“And who rules this college, Khania--a priestess?”
“Yes, a priestess, whose face I have never seen, for she is so old that
she veils herself from curious eyes.”
“Ah! she veils herself, does she?” I answered, as the blood went
thrilling through my veins, I who remembered another who also was
_so_ old that she veiled herself from curious eyes. “Well, veiled or
unveiled, we would visit her, trusting to find that we are welcome.”
“That you shall not do,” she said, “for it is unlawful, and I will not
have your blood upon my hands.”
“Which is the stronger,” I asked of her, “you, Khania, or this priestess
of the Mountain?”
“I am the stronger, Holly, for so you are named, are you not? Look you,
at my need I can summon sixty thousand men in war, while she has naught
but her priests and the fierce, untrained tribes.”
“The sword is not the only power in the world,” I answered. “Tell me,
now, does this priestess ever visit the country of Kaloon?”
“Never, never, for by the ancient pact, made after the last great
struggle long centuries ago between the College and the people of the
Plain, it was decreed and sworn to that should she set her foot across
the river, this means war to the end between us, and rule for the victor
over both. Likewise, save when unguarded they bear their dead to burial,
or for some such high purpose, no Khan or Khania of Kaloon ascends the
Mountain.”
“Which then is the true master--the Khan of Kaloon or the head of the
College of Hes?” I asked again.
“In matters spiritual, the priestess of Hes, who is our Oracle and the
voice of Heaven. In matters temporal, the Khan of Kaloon.”
“The Khan. Ah! you are married, lady, are you not?”
“Aye,” she answered, her face flushing. “And I will tell you what you
soon must learn, if you have not learned it already, I am the wife of a
madman, and he is--hateful to me.”
“I _have_ learned the last already, Khania.”
She looked at me with her piercing eyes.
“What! Did my uncle, the Shaman, he who is called Guardian, tell you?
Nay, you saw, as I knew you saw, and it would have been best to slay you
for, oh! what must you think of me?”
I made no answer, for in truth I did not know what to think, also
I feared lest further rash admissions should be followed by swift
vengeance.
“You must believe,” she went on, “that I, who have ever hated men, that
I--I swear that it is true--whose lips are purer than those mountain
snows, I, the Khania of Kaloon, whom they name Heart-of-Ice, am but a
shameless thing.” And, covering her face with her hand, she moaned in
the bitterness of her distress.
“Nay,” I said, “there may be reasons, explanations, if it pleases you to
give them.”
“Wanderer, there are such reasons; and since you know so much, you shall
learn them also. Like that husband of mine, I have become mad. When
first I saw the face of your companion, as I dragged him from the river,
madness entered me, and I--I----”
“Loved him,” I suggested. “Well, such things have happened before to
people who were not mad.”
“Oh!” she went on, “it was more than love; I was possessed, and that
night I knew not what I did. A Power drove me on; a Destiny compelled
me, and to the end I am his, and his alone. Yes, I am his, and I swear
that he shall be mine;” and with this wild declaration dangerous enough
under the conditions, she turned and fled the room.
She was gone, and after the struggle, for such it was, I sank back
exhausted. How came it that this sudden passion had mastered her? Who
and what was this Khania, I wondered again, and--this was more to the
point, who and what would Leo believe her to be? If only I could be with
him before he said words or did deeds impossible to recall.
Three days went by, during which time I saw no more of the Khania, who,
or so I was informed by Simbri, the Shaman, had returned to her city to
make ready for us, her guests. I begged him to allow me to rejoin Leo,
but he answered politely, though with much firmness, that my foster-son
did better without me. Now, I grew suspicious, fearing lest some harm
had come to Leo, though how to discover the truth I knew not. In my
anxiety I tried to convey a note to him, written upon a leaf of a
water-gained pocket-book, but the yellow-faced servant refused to touch
it, and Simbri said drily that he would have naught to do with writings
which he could not read. At length, on the third night I made up my mind
that whatever the risk, with leave or without it, I would try to find
him.
By this time I could walk well, and indeed was almost strong again. So
about midnight, when the moon was up, for I had no other light, I crept
from my bed, threw on my garments, and taking a knife, which was the
only weapon I possessed, opened the door of my room and started.
Now, when I was carried from the rock-chamber where Leo and I had
been together, I took note of the way. First, reckoning from my
sleeping-place, there was a passage thirty paces long, for I had counted
the footfalls of my bearers. Then came a turn to the left, and ten more
paces of passage, and lastly near certain steps running to some place
unknown, another sharp turn to the right which led to our old chamber.
Down the long passage I walked stealthily, and although it was pitch
dark, found the turn to the left, and followed it till I came to the
second sharp turn to the right, that of the gallery from which rose
the stairs. I crept round it only to retreat hastily enough, as well
I might, for at the door of Leo’s room, which she was in the act of
locking on the outside, as I could see by the light of the lamp that she
held in her hand, stood the Khania herself.
My first thought was to fly back to my own chamber, but I abandoned
it, feeling sure that I should be seen. Therefore I determined, if she
discovered me, to face the matter out and say that I was trying to find
Leo, and to learn how he fared. So I crouched against the wall, and
waited with a beating heart. I heard her sweep down the passage,
and--yes--begin to mount the stair.
Now, what should I do? To try to reach Leo was useless, for she had
locked the door with the key she held. Go back to bed? No, I would
follow her, and if we met would make the same excuse. Thus I might get
some tidings, or perhaps--a dagger thrust.
So round the corner and up the steps I went, noiselessly as a snake.
They were many and winding, like those of a church tower, but at length
I came to the head of them, where was a little landing, and opening from
it a door. It was a very ancient door; the light streamed through cracks
where its panels had rotted, and from the room beyond came the sound of
voices, those of the Shaman Simbri and the Khania.
“Have you learned aught, my niece?” I heard him say, and also heard her
answer---“A little. A very little.”
Then in my thirst for knowledge I grew bold, and stealing to the door,
looked through one of the cracks in its wood. Opposite to me, in the
full flood of light thrown by a hanging lamp, her hand resting on a
table at which Simbri was seated, stood the Khania. Truly she was a
beauteous sight, for she wore robes of royal purple, and on her brow a
little coronet of gold, beneath which her curling hair streamed down
her shapely neck and bosom. Seeing her I guessed at once that she had
arrayed herself thus for some secret end, enhancing her loveliness by
every art and grace that is known to woman. Simbri was looking at her
earnestly, with fear and doubt written on even his cold, impassive
features.
“What passed between you, then?” he asked, peering at her.
“I questioned him closely as to the reason of his coming to this
land, and wrung from him the answer that it was to seek some beauteous
woman--he would say no more. I asked him if she were more beauteous than
_I_ am, and he replied with courtesy--nothing else, I think--that it
would be hard to say, but that she had been different. Then I said that
though it behooved me not to speak of such a matter, there was no lady
in Kaloon whom men held to be so fair as I; moreover, that I was its
ruler, and that I and no other had saved him from the water. Aye, and I
added that my heart told me I was the woman whom he sought.”
“Have done, niece,” said Simbri impatiently, “I would not hear of the
arts you used--well enough, doubtless. What then?”
“Then he said that it might be so, since he thought that this woman
was born again, and studied me a while, asking me if I had ever ‘passed
through fire.’ To this I replied that the only fires I had passed were
those of the spirit, and that I dwelt in them now. He said, ‘Show me
your hair,’ and I placed a lock of it in his hand. Presently he let
it fall, and from that satchel which he wears about his neck drew out
another tress of hair--oh! Simbri, my uncle, the loveliest hair that
ever eyes beheld, for it was soft as silk, and reached from my coronet
to the ground. Moreover, no raven’s wing in the sunshine ever shone as
did that fragrant tress.
“‘Yours is beautiful,’ he said, ‘but see, they are not the same.’
“‘Mayhap,’ I answered, ‘since no woman ever wore such locks.’
“‘You are right,’ he replied, ‘for she whom I seek was more than a
woman.’
“And then--and then--though I tried him in many ways he would say no
more, so, feeling hate against this Unknown rising in my heart, and
fearing lest I should utter words that were best unsaid, I left him. Now
I bid you, search the books which are open to your wisdom and tell me of
this woman whom he seeks, who she is, and where she dwells. Oh! search
them swiftly, that I may find her and--kill her if I can.”
“Aye, if you can,” answered the Shaman, “and if she lives to kill. But
say, where shall we begin our quest? Now, this letter from the Mountain
that the head-priest Oros sent to your court a while ago?”--and he
selected a parchment from a pile which lay upon the table and looked at
her.
“Read,” she said, “I would hear it again.”
So he read: “From the Hesea of the House of Fire, to Atene, Khania of
Kaloon.
“My sister--Warning has reached me that two strangers of a western
race journey to your land, seeking my Oracle, of which they would ask a
question. On the first day of the next moon, I command that you and with
you Simbri, your great-uncle, the wise Shaman, Guardian of the Gate,
shall be watching the river in the gulf at the foot of the ancient road,
for by that steep path the strangers travel. Aid them in all things and
bring them safely to the Mountain, knowing that in this matter I shall
hold him and you to account. Myself I will not meet them, since to do so
would be to break the pact between our powers, which says that the Hesea
of the Sanctuary visits not the territory of Kaloon, save in war. Also
their coming is otherwise appointed.”
“It would seem,” said Simbri, laying down the parchment, “that these are
no chance wanderers, since Hes awaits them.”
“Aye, they are no chance wanderers, since my heart awaited one of them
also. Yet the Hesea cannot be that woman, for reasons which are known to
you.”
“There are many women on the Mountain,” suggested the Shaman in a dry
voice, “if indeed any woman has to do with this matter.”
“I at least have to do with it, and he shall not go to the Mountain.”
“Hes is powerful, my niece, and beneath these smooth words of hers lies
a dreadful threat. I say that she is mighty from of old and has servants
in the earth and air who warned her of the coming of these men, and
will warn her of what befalls them. I know it, who hate her, and to your
royal house of Rassen it has been known for many a generation. Therefore
thwart her not lest ill befall us all, for she is a spirit and terrible.
She says that it is appointed that they shall go----”
“And _I_ say it is appointed that he shall not go. Let the other go if
he desires.”
“Atene, be plain, what will you with the man called Leo--that he should
become your lover?” asked the Shaman.
She stared him straight in the eyes, and answered boldly--“Nay, I will
that he should become my husband.”
“First he must will it too, who seems to have no mind that way. Also,
how can a woman have two husbands?”
She laid her hand upon his shoulder and said--“I have no husband. You
know it well, Simbri. _I_ charge you by the close bond of blood between
us, brew me another draught----”
“That we may be bound yet closer in a bond of murder! Nay, Atene, I will
not; already your sin lies heavy on my head. You are very fair; take the
man in your own net, if you may, or let him be, which is better far.”
“I cannot let him be. Would that I were able. I must love him as I must
hate the other whom he loves, yet some power hardens his heart against
me. Oh! great Shaman, you that peep and mutter, you who can read the
future and the past, tell me what you have learned from your stars and
divinations.”
“Already I have sought through many a secret, toilsome hour and learned
this, Atene,” he answered. “You are right, the fate of yonder man is
intertwined with yours, but between you and him there rises a mighty
wall that my vision cannot pierce nor my familiars climb. Yet I am
taught that in death you and he--aye, and I also, shall be very near
together.”
“Then come death,” she exclaimed with sullen pride, “for thence at least
I’ll pluck out my desire.”
“Be not so sure,” he answered, “for I think that the Power follows
us even down this dark gulf of death. I think also that I feel the
sleepless eyes of Hes watching our secret souls.”
“Then blind them with the dust of illusions--as you can. To-morrow,
also, saying nothing of their sex, send a messenger to the Mountain and
tell the Hesea that two old strangers have arrived--mark you, _old_--but
that they are very sick, that their limbs were broken in the river, and
that when they have healed again, I will send them to ask the question
of her Oracle--that is, some three moons hence. Perchance she may
believe you, and be content to wait; or if she does not, at least no
more words. I must sleep or my brain will burst. Give me that medicine
which brings dreamless rest, for never did I need it more, who also feel
eyes upon me,” and she glanced towards the door.
Then I left, and not too soon, for as I crept down the darksome passage,
I heard it open behind me.