<h3>XII - "SHE"</h3>
<p>The first care of Job and myself, after seeing to Leo, was to wash
ourselves and put on clean clothing, for what we were wearing had not
been changed since the loss of the dhow. Fortunately, as I think that
I have said, by far the greater part of our personal baggage had been
packed into the whaleboat, and was therefore saved—and brought hither
by the bearers—although all the stores laid in by us for barter and
presents to the natives was lost. Nearly all our clothing was made of a
well-shrunk and very strong grey flannel, and excellent I found it for
travelling in these places, because though a Norfolk jacket, shirt,
and pair of trousers of it only weighed about four pounds, a great
consideration in a tropical country, where every extra ounce tells on
the wearer, it was warm, and offered a good resistance to the rays of
the sun, and best of all to chills, which are so apt to result from
sudden changes of temperature.</p>
<p>Never shall I forget the comfort of the "wash and brush-up," and of
those clean flannels. The only thing that was wanting to complete my joy
was a cake of soap, of which we had none.</p>
<p>Afterwards I discovered that the Amahagger, who do not reckon dirt among
their many disagreeable qualities, use a kind of burnt earth for washing
purposes, which, though unpleasant to the touch till one gets accustomed
to it, forms a very fair substitute for soap.</p>
<p>By the time that I was dressed, and had combed and trimmed my black
beard, the previous condition of which was certainly sufficiently
unkempt to give weight to Billali's appellation for me of "Baboon," I
began to feel most uncommonly hungry. Therefore I was by no means sorry
when, without the slightest preparatory sound or warning, the curtain
over the entrance to my cave was flung aside, and another mute, a
young girl this time, announced to me by signs that I could not
misunderstand—that is, by opening her mouth and pointing down it—that
there was something ready to eat. Accordingly I followed her into the
next chamber, which we had not yet entered, where I found Job, who had
also, to his great embarrassment, been conducted thither by a fair mute.
Job never got over the advances the former lady had made towards him,
and suspected every girl who came near to him of similar designs.</p>
<p>"These young parties have a way of looking at one, sir," he would say
apologetically, "which I don't call respectable."</p>
<p>This chamber was twice the size of the sleeping caves, and I saw at once
that it had originally served as a refectory, and also probably as an
embalming room for the Priests of the Dead; for I may as well say at
once that these hollowed-out caves were nothing more nor less than vast
catacombs, in which for tens of ages the mortal remains of the great
extinct race whose monuments surrounded us had been first preserved,
with an art and a completeness that has never since been equalled,
and then hidden away for all time. On each side of this particular
rock-chamber was a long and solid stone table, about three feet wide by
three feet six in height, hewn out of the living rock, of which it had
formed part, and was still attached to at the base. These tables were
slightly hollowed out or curved inward, to give room for the knees of
any one sitting on the stone ledge that had been cut for a bench along
the side of the cave at a distance of about two feet from them. Each of
them, also, was so arranged that it ended right under a shaft pierced
in the rock for the admission of light and air. On examining them
carefully, however, I saw that there was a difference between them that
had at first escaped my attention, viz. that one of the tables, that
to the left as we entered the cave, had evidently been used, not to
eat upon, but for the purposes of embalming. That this was beyond all
question the case was clear from five shallow depressions in the stone
of the table, all shaped like a human form, with a separate place
for the head to lie in, and a little bridge to support the neck, each
depression being of a different size, so as to fit bodies varying in
stature from a full-grown man's to a small child's, and with little
holes bored at intervals to carry off fluid. And, indeed, if any further
confirmation was required, we had but to look at the wall of the cave
above to find it. For there, sculptured all round the apartment, and
looking nearly as fresh as the day it was done, was the pictorial
representation of the death, embalming, and burial of an old man with a
long beard, probably an ancient king or grandee of this country.</p>
<p>The first picture represented his death. He was lying upon a couch which
had four short curved posts at the corners coming to a knob at the end,
in appearance something like written notes of music, and was evidently
in the very act of expiring. Gathered round the couch were women and
children weeping, the former with their hair hanging down their backs.
The next scene represented the embalmment of the body, which lay stark
upon a table with depressions in it, similar to the one before us;
probably, indeed, it was a picture of the same table. Three men were
employed at the work—one superintending, one holding a funnel shaped
exactly like a port wine strainer, of which the narrow end was fixed in
an incision in the breast, no doubt in the great pectoral artery; while
the third, who was depicted as standing straddle-legged over the corpse,
held a kind of large jug high in his hand, and poured from it some
steaming fluid which fell accurately into the funnel. The most curious
part of this sculpture is that both the man with the funnel and the
man who pours the fluid are drawn holding their noses, either I suppose
because of the stench arising from the body, or more probably to keep
out the aromatic fumes of the hot fluid which was being forced into the
dead man's veins. Another curious thing which I am unable to explain is
that all three men were represented as having a band of linen tied round
the face with holes in it for the eyes.</p>
<p>The third sculpture was a picture of the burial of the deceased. There
he was, stiff and cold, clothed in a linen robe, and laid out on a stone
slab such as I had slept upon at our first sojourning-place. At his
head and feet burnt lamps, and by his side were placed several of
the beautiful painted vases that I have described, which were perhaps
supposed to be full of provisions. The little chamber was crowded with
mourners, and with musicians playing on an instrument resembling a lyre,
while near the foot of the corpse stood a man holding a sheet, with
which he was preparing to cover it from view.</p>
<p>These sculptures, looked at merely as works of art, were so remarkable
that I make no apology for describing them rather fully. They struck
me also as being of surpassing interest as representing, probably with
studious accuracy, the last rites of the dead as practised among
an utterly lost people, and even then I thought how envious some
antiquarian friends of my own at Cambridge would be if ever I found an
opportunity of describing these wonderful remains to them. Probably they
would say that I was exaggerating, notwithstanding that every page of
this history must bear so much internal evidence of its truth that it
would obviously have been quite impossible for me to have invented it.</p>
<p>To return. As soon as I had hastily examined these sculptures, which
I think I omitted to mention were executed in relief, we sat down to a
very excellent meal of boiled goat's-flesh, fresh milk, and cakes made
of meal, the whole being served upon clean wooden platters.</p>
<p>When we had eaten we returned to see how Leo was getting on, Billali
saying that he must now wait upon <i>She</i>, and hear her commands. On
reaching Leo's room we found the poor boy in a very bad way. He had woke
up from his torpor, and was altogether off his head, babbling about some
boat-race on the Cam, and was inclined to be violent. Indeed, when we
entered the room Ustane was holding him down. I spoke to him, and my
voice seemed to soothe him; at any rate he grew much quieter, and was
persuaded to swallow a dose of quinine.</p>
<p>I had been sitting with him for an hour, perhaps—at any rate I know
that it was getting so dark that I could only just make out his head
lying like a gleam of gold upon the pillow we had extemporised out of a
bag covered with a blanket—when suddenly Billali arrived with an air
of great importance, and informed me that <i>She</i> herself had deigned to
express a wish to see me—an honour, he added, accorded to but very
few. I think that he was a little horrified at my cool way of taking the
honour, but the fact was that I did not feel overwhelmed with gratitude
at the prospect of seeing some savage, dusky queen, however absolute
and mysterious she might be, more especially as my mind was full of
dear Leo, for whose life I began to have great fears. However, I rose to
follow him, and as I did so I caught sight of something bright lying on
the floor, which I picked up. Perhaps the reader will remember that with
the potsherd in the casket was a composition scarabæus marked with a
round O, a goose, and another curious hieroglyphic, the meaning of which
is "Suten se Ra," or "Royal Son of the Sun." The scarab, which is a very
small one, Leo had insisted upon having set in a massive gold ring, such
as is generally used for signets, and it was this very ring that I now
picked up. He had pulled it off in the paroxysm of his fever, at least
I suppose so, and flung it down upon the rock-floor. Thinking that if I
left it about it might get lost, I slipped it on my own little finger,
and then followed Billali, leaving Job and Ustane with Leo.</p>
<p>We passed down the passage, crossed the great aisle-like cave, and came
to the corresponding passage on the other side, at the mouth of which
the guards stood like two statues. As we came they bowed their heads in
salutation, and then lifting their long spears placed them transversely
across their foreheads, as the leaders of the troop that had met us
had done with their ivory wands. We stepped between them, and found
ourselves in an exactly similar gallery to that which led to our own
apartments, only this passage was, comparatively speaking, brilliantly
lighted. A few paces down it we were met by four mutes—two men and two
women—who bowed low and then arranged themselves, the women in front
and the men behind of us, and in this order we continued our procession
past several doorways hung with curtains resembling those leading to
our own quarters, and which I afterwards found opened out into chambers
occupied by the mutes who attended on <i>She</i>. A few paces more and we
came to another doorway facing us, and not to our left like the others,
which seemed to mark the termination of the passage. Here two more
white-, or rather yellow-robed guards were standing, and they too
bowed, saluted, and let us pass through heavy curtains into a great
antechamber, quite forty feet long by as many wide, in which some eight
or ten women, most of them young and handsome, with yellowish hair, sat
on cushions working with ivory needles at what had the appearance of
being embroidery frames. These women were also deaf and dumb. At the
farther end of this great lamp-lit apartment was another doorway closed
in with heavy Oriental-looking curtains, quite unlike those that hung
before the doors of our own rooms, and here stood two particularly
handsome girl mutes, their heads bowed upon their bosoms and their hands
crossed in an attitude of humble submission. As we advanced they each
stretched out an arm and drew back the curtains. Thereupon Billali did
a curious thing. Down he went, that venerable-looking old gentleman—for
Billali is a gentleman at the bottom—down on to his hands and knees,
and in this undignified position, with his long white beard trailing on
the ground, he began to creep into the apartment beyond. I followed him,
standing on my feet in the usual fashion. Looking over his shoulder he
perceived it.</p>
<p>"Down, my son; down, my Baboon; down on to thy hands and knees. We enter
the presence of <i>She</i>, and, if thou art not humble, of a surety she will
blast thee where thou standest."</p>
<p>I halted, and felt scared. Indeed, my knees began to give way of their
own mere motion; but reflection came to my aid. I was an Englishman,
and why, I asked myself, should I creep into the presence of some savage
woman as though I were a monkey in fact as well as in name? I would not
and could not do it, that is, unless I was absolutely sure that my life
or comfort depended upon it. If once I began to creep upon my knees I
should always have to do so, and it would be a patent acknowledgment of
inferiority. So, fortified by an insular prejudice against "kootooing,"
which has, like most of our so-called prejudices, a good deal of common
sense to recommend it, I marched in boldly after Billali. I found myself
in another apartment, considerably smaller than the anteroom, of which
the walls were entirely hung with rich-looking curtains of the same make
as those over the door, the work, as I subsequently discovered, of the
mutes who sat in the antechamber and wove them in strips, which were
afterwards sewn together. Also, here and there about the room, were
settees of a beautiful black wood of the ebony tribe, inlaid with ivory,
and all over the floor were other tapestries, or rather rugs. At the top
end of this apartment was what appeared to be a recess, also draped with
curtains, through which shone rays of light. There was nobody in the
place except ourselves.</p>
<p>Painfully and slowly old Billali crept up the length of the cave, and
with the most dignified stride that I could command I followed after
him. But I felt that it was more or less of a failure. To begin with, it
is not possible to look dignified when you are following in the wake
of an old man writhing along on his stomach like a snake, and then,
in order to go sufficiently slowly, either I had to keep my leg some
seconds in the air at every step, or else to advance with a full stop
between each stride, like Mary Queen of Scots going to execution in a
play. Billali was not good at crawling, I suppose his years stood in the
way, and our progress up that apartment was a very long affair. I was
immediately behind him, and several times I was sorely tempted to help
him on with a good kick. It is so absurd to advance into the presence of
savage royalty after the fashion of an Irishman driving a pig to market,
for that is what we looked like, and the idea nearly made me burst out
laughing then and there. I had to work off my dangerous tendency to
unseemly merriment by blowing my nose, a proceeding which filled old
Billali with horror, for he looked over his shoulder and made a ghastly
face at me, and I heard him murmur, "Oh, my poor Baboon!"</p>
<p>At last we reached the curtains, and here Billali collapsed flat on to
his stomach, with his hands stretched out before him as though he were
dead, and I, not knowing what to do, began to stare about the place. But
presently I clearly felt that somebody was looking at me from behind the
curtains. I could not see the person, but I could distinctly feel his
or her gaze, and, what is more, it produced a very odd effect upon my
nerves. I was frightened, I do not know why. The place was a strange
one, it is true, and looked lonely, notwithstanding its rich hangings
and the soft glow of the lamps—indeed, these accessories added to,
rather than detracted from its loneliness, just as a lighted street at
night has always a more solitary appearance than a dark one. It was
so silent in the place, and there lay Billali like one dead before the
heavy curtains, through which the odour of perfume seemed to float up
towards the gloom of the arched roof above. Minute grew into minute, and
still there was no sign of life, nor did the curtain move; but I felt
the gaze of the unknown being sinking through and through me, and
filling me with a nameless terror, till the perspiration stood in beads
upon my brow.</p>
<p>At length the curtain began to move. Who could be behind it?—some naked
savage queen, a languishing Oriental beauty, or a nineteenth-century
young lady, drinking afternoon tea? I had not the slightest idea,
and should not have been astonished at seeing any of the three. I was
getting beyond astonishment. The curtain agitated itself a little, then
suddenly between its folds there appeared a most beautiful white hand
(white as snow), and with long tapering fingers, ending in the pinkest
nails. The hand grasped the curtain, and drew it aside, and as it did so
I heard a voice, I think the softest and yet most silvery voice I ever
heard. It reminded me of the murmur of a brook.</p>
<p>"Stranger," said the voice in Arabic, but much purer and more classical
Arabic than the Amahagger talk—"stranger, wherefore art thou so much
afraid?"</p>
<p>Now I flattered myself that in spite of my inward terrors I had kept
a very fair command of my countenance, and was, therefore, a little
astonished at this question. Before I had made up my mind how to answer
it, however, the curtain was drawn, and a tall figure stood before us. I
say a figure, for not only the body, but also the face was wrapped up in
soft white, gauzy material in such a way as at first sight to remind me
most forcibly of a corpse in its grave-clothes. And yet I do not know
why it should have given me that idea, seeing that the wrappings were so
thin that one could distinctly see the gleam of the pink flesh beneath
them. I suppose it was owing to the way in which they were arranged,
either accidentally, or more probably by design. Anyhow, I felt more
frightened than ever at this ghost-like apparition, and my hair began
to rise upon my head as the feeling crept over me that I was in the
presence of something that was not canny. I could, however, clearly
distinguish that the swathed mummy-like form before me was that of a
tall and lovely woman, instinct with beauty in every part, and also
with a certain snake-like grace which I had never seen anything to
equal before. When she moved a hand or foot her entire frame seemed to
undulate, and the neck did not bend, it curved.</p>
<p>"Why art thou so frightened, stranger?" asked the sweet voice again—a
voice which seemed to draw the heart out of me, like the strains of
softest music. "Is there that about me that should affright a man? Then
surely are men changed from what they used to be!" And with a little
coquettish movement she turned herself, and held up one arm, so as
to show all her loveliness and the rich hair of raven blackness that
streamed in soft ripples down her snowy robes, almost to her sandalled
feet.</p>
<p>"It is thy beauty that makes me fear, oh Queen," I answered humbly,
scarcely knowing what to say, and I thought that as I did so I heard old
Billali, who was still lying prostrate on the floor, mutter, "Good, my
Baboon, good."</p>
<p>"I see that men still know how to beguile us women with false words. Ah,
stranger," she answered, with a laugh that sounded like distant silver
bells, "thou wast afraid because mine eyes were searching out thine
heart, therefore wast thou afraid. Yet being but a woman, I forgive thee
for the lie, for it was courteously said. And now tell me how came ye
hither to this land of the dwellers among the caves—a land of swamps
and evil things and dead old shadows of the dead? What came ye for to
see? How is it that ye hold your lives so cheap as to place
them in the hollow of the hand of <i>Hiya</i>, into the hand of
'<i>She-who-must-be-obeyed</i>'? Tell me also how come ye to know the tongue
I talk. It is an ancient tongue, that sweet child of the old Syriac.
Liveth it yet in the world? Thou seest I dwell among the caves and the
dead, and naught know I of the affairs of men, nor have I cared to know.
I have lived, O stranger, with my memories, and my memories are in a
grave that mine hands hollowed, for truly hath it been said that
the child of man maketh his own path evil;" and her beautiful voice
quivered, and broke in a note as soft as any wood-bird's. Suddenly
her eye fell upon the sprawling frame of Billali, and she seemed to
recollect herself.</p>
<p>"Ah! thou art there, old man. Tell me how it is that things have gone
wrong in thine household. Forsooth, it seems that these my guests were
set upon. Ay, and one was nigh to being slain by the hot-pot to be eaten
of those brutes, thy children, and had not the others fought gallantly
they too had been slain, and not even I could have called back the life
which had been loosed from the body. What means it, old man? What hast
thou to say that I should not give thee over to those who execute my
vengeance?"</p>
<p>Her voice had risen in her anger, and it rang clear and cold against the
rocky walls. Also I thought I could see her eyes flash through the gauze
that hid them. I saw poor Billali, whom I had believed to be a very
fearless person, positively quiver with terror at her words.</p>
<p>"Oh 'Hiya!' oh <i>She</i>!" he said, without lifting his white head from the
floor. "Oh <i>She</i>, as thou art great be merciful, for I am now as ever
thy servant to obey. It was no plan or fault of mine, oh <i>She</i>, it was
those wicked ones who are called my children. Led on by a woman whom thy
guest the Pig had scorned, they would have followed the ancient custom
of the land, and eaten the fat black stranger who came hither with these
thy guests the Baboon and the Lion who is sick, thinking that no word
had come from thee about the Black one. But when the Baboon and the Lion
saw what they would do, they slew the woman, and slew also their servant
to save him from the horror of the pot. Then those evil ones, ay, those
children of the Wicked One who lives in the Pit, they went mad with the
lust of blood, and flew at the throats of the Lion and the Baboon and
the Pig. But gallantly they fought. Oh <i>Hiya</i>! they fought like very
men, and slew many, and held their own, and then I came and saved them,
and the evildoers have I sent on hither to Kôr to be judged of thy
greatness, oh <i>She</i>! and here they are."</p>
<p>"Ay, old man, I know it, and to-morrow will I sit in the great hall and
do justice upon them, fear not. And for thee, I forgive thee, though
hardly. See that thou dost keep thine household better. Go."</p>
<p>Billali rose upon his knees with astonishing alacrity, bowed his head
thrice, and his white beard sweeping the ground, crawled down the
apartment as he had crawled up it, till he finally vanished through the
curtains, leaving me, not a little to my alarm, alone with this terrible
but most fascinating person.</p>
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