Allan Quatermain · Chapter 17 (1/2)

XVII

The Storm Breaks

And now it was that the trouble which at first had been but a cloud as large as a man’s hand began to loom very black and big upon our horizon, namely, Sorais’s preference for Sir Henry. I saw the storm drawing nearer and nearer; and so, poor fellow, did he. The affection of so lovely and highly-placed a woman was not a thing that could in a general way be considered a calamity by any man; but, situated as Curtis was, it was a grievous burden to bear.

To begin with, Nyleptha, though altogether charming, was, it must be admitted, of a rather jealous disposition, and was sometimes apt to visit on her lover’s head her indignation at the marks of what Alphonse would have called the “distinguished consideration” with which her royal sister favoured him. Then the enforced secrecy of his relation to Nyleptha prevented Curtis from taking some opportunity of putting a stop, or trying to put a stop, to this false condition of affairs, by telling Sorais, in a casual but confidential way, that he was going to marry her sister. A third sting in Sir Henry’s honey was that he knew that Good was honestly and sincerely attached to the ominous-looking, but most attractive, Lady of the Night. Indeed, poor Bougwan was wasting himself to a shadow of his fat and jolly self about her, his face getting so thin that his eyeglass would scarcely stick in it; while she, with a sort of careless coquetry, just gave him encouragement enough to keep him going, thinking, no doubt, that he might be useful as a stalking-horse. I tried to give him a hint, in as delicate a way as I could; but he flew into a huff and would not listen to me, so I determined to let ill alone, for fear of making it worse. Poor Good, he really was very ludicrous in his distress, and went in for all sorts of absurdities, under the belief that he was advancing his suit. One of them was the writing⁠—with the assistance of one of the grave and revered seigniors who instructed us, and who, whatever may have been the measure of his erudition, did not understand how to scan a line⁠—of a most interminable Zu-Vendi love song, of which the continually recurring refrain was something about “I will kiss thee; oh yes, I will kiss thee!” Now among the Zu-Vendi it is a common and most harmless thing for young men to serenade ladies at night, as I believe they do in the southern countries of Europe, and sing all sorts of nonsensical songs to them. The young man may or may not be serious; but no offence is meant and none is taken, even by ladies of the highest rank, who accept the whole thing as an English girl would a gracefully-turned compliment.

Availing himself of this custom, Good bethought him that he would serenade Sorais, whose private apartments, together with those of her maidens, were exactly opposite our own, on the farther side of a narrow courtyard which divided one section of the great palace from another. Accordingly, having armed himself with a native zither, on which, being an adept with the light guitar, he had easily learned to strum, he proceeded at midnight⁠—the fashionable hour for this sort of caterwauling⁠—to make night hideous with his amorous yells. I was fast asleep when they began, but they soon woke me up⁠—for Good possesses a tremendous voice and has no notion of time⁠—and I ran to my window-place to see what was the matter. And there, standing in the full moonlight in the courtyard, I perceived Good, adorned with an enormous ostrich feather headdress and a flowing silken cloak, which it is the right thing to wear upon these occasions, and shouting out the abominable song which he and the old gentleman had evolved, to a jerky, jingling accompaniment. From the direction of the quarters of the maids of honour came a succession of faint sniggerings; but the apartments of Sorais herself⁠—whom I devoutly pitied if she happened to be there⁠—were silent as the grave. There was absolutely no end to that awful song, with its eternal “I will kiss thee!” and at last neither I nor Sir Henry, whom I had summoned to enjoy the sight, could stand it any longer; so, remembering the dear old story, I put my head to the window opening, and shouted, “For Heaven’s sake, Good, don’t go on talking about it, but kiss her and let’s all go to sleep!” That choked him off, and we had no more serenading.

The whole thing formed a laughable incident in a tragic business. How deeply thankful we ought to be that even the most serious matters have generally a silver lining about them in the shape of a joke, if only people could see it. The sense of humour is a very valuable possession in life, and ought to be cultivated in the Board schools⁠—especially in Scotland.

Well, the more Sir Henry held off the more Sorais came on, as is not uncommon in such cases, till at last things got very queer indeed. Evidently she was, by some strange perversity of mind, quite blinded to the true state of the case; and I, for one, greatly dreaded the moment of her awakening. Sorais was a dangerous woman to be mixed up with, either with or without one’s own consent. At last the evil moment came, as I saw it must come. One fine day, Good having gone out hawking, Sir Henry and I were sitting quietly talking over the situation, especially with reference to Sorais, when a Court messenger arrived with a written note, which we with some difficulty deciphered, and which was to the effect that “the Queen Sorais commanded the attendance of the Lord Incubu in her private apartments, whither he would be conducted by the bearer.”

“Oh my word!” groaned Sir Henry. “Can’t you go instead, old fellow?”

“Not if I know it,” I said with vigour. “I had rather face a wounded elephant with a shotgun. Wash up your own dirty dishes, my boy. If you will be so fascinating you must take the consequences. Ain’t you just in for it for now, that’s all!”

“You remind me of when I was going to be flogged at school and the other boys came to console me,” he said, gloomily. “What right has this confounded Queen to command my attendance, I should like to know? I won’t go.”

“But you must; you are one of her officers and bound to obey her, and she knows it. And after all it will soon be over.”

“That’s just what they used to say,” he said again. “I only hope she won’t put a knife into me. I believe that she is quite capable of it.” And off he started very faintheartedly, and no wonder.

I sat and waited, and at the end of about forty-five minutes he returned, looking a good deal worse than when he went.

“Give me something to drink,” he said, hoarsely.

I got him a cup of wine, and asked what was the matter.

“What is the matter? Why if ever there was trouble there’s trouble now. You know when I left you? Well, I was shown straight into Sorais’s private chamber, and a wonderful place it is; and there she sat, quite alone, upon a silken couch at the end of the room, playing gently upon that zither of hers. I stood before her, and for a while she took no notice of me, but kept on playing and singing a little, and very sweet music it was. At last she looked up and smiled.

“ ‘So thou art come,’ she said. ‘I thought perchance thou hadst gone about the Queen Nyleptha’s business. Thou art ever on her business, and I doubt not a good servant and a true.’

“To this I merely bowed, and said I was there to receive the Queen’s word.

“ ‘Ah yes, I would talk with thee, but be thou seated. I cannot lift my neck so high,’ and she made room for me beside her on the couch, placing herself with her back against the end, so as to have a view of my face.

“ ‘It is not meet,’ I said, ‘that I should make myself equal with the Queen.’

“ ‘I said be seated,’ was her answer; so I sat down, and she set to work to look at me with those dark eyes of hers. There she sat like an incarnate spirit of beauty, hardly talking at all, and when she did, very low, but all the while looking at me. There was a white flower in her black hair, and I tried to keep my eyes on it and count the petals, but it was of no use. At last, whether it was her gaze, or the perfume on her hair, or what I do not know, but I began to feel as though I was being mesmerized. At last she roused herself.

“ ‘Incubu,’ she said, ‘lovest thou power?’

“I replied that I supposed all men loved power of one sort or another.

“ ‘Thou shalt have it,’ she said. ‘Lovest thou wealth?’

“I said I liked wealth for what it brought.

“ ‘Thou shalt have it,’ she said. ‘And lovest thou beauty?’

“To this I replied that I was very fond of statuary and architecture, or something of that sort, at which she frowned, and there was a pause. By this time my nerves were on such a stretch that I was shaking like a leaf. I knew that something awful was going to happen, but she held me under a kind of spell, and I could not help myself.

“ ‘Incubu,’ she said at length, ‘wouldst thou be a king? Listen, wouldst thou be a king? Behold, stranger, I am minded to make thee king of all Zu-Vendis, ay and husband of Sorais of the Night. Nay, peace and hear me. To no man among my people had I thus opened out my secret heart, but thou art an outlander and therefore do I speak without shame, knowing all I have to offer and how hard it had been to thee to ask. See, a crown lies at thy feet, my lord Incubu, and with that fortune a woman whom some have wished to woo. Now mayst thou answer.’

“ ‘Oh, Sorais,’ I said, ‘pray do not speak thus’⁠—you see I had not time to pick and choose my words⁠—‘because you are putting us both in an awkward position. I am going to marry your sister, Nyleptha, Sorais, and I love her.’

“Next moment it struck me that I had said an awful thing, and I looked up to see the results. When I spoke, Sorais’s face was hidden in her hands, and as my words reached her she slowly raised it, and I shrank back dismayed. It was ashy white, and her eyes were flaming. She got on to her feet and seemed to be choking, but the awful thing was that she was so quiet about it all. Once she looked at a side table, on which lay a dagger, and from it to me, as though she thought of killing me; but she did not take it up. At last she spoke one word, and one only⁠—

“ ‘Go!’

“And I went, and glad enough I was to get out of it, and here I am. Give me another cup of wine, there’s a good fellow, and tell me what is to be done?”

I shook my head, for the affair was indeed serious. As one of the poets says,

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,”

more especially if the woman is a queen and a Sorais, and indeed I feared the very worst, including imminent danger to ourselves.

“Nyleptha must be told of all this at once,” I said, “and perhaps I had better tell her; she might receive your account with suspicion.”

“Who is captain of her guard tonight?” I went on.

“Good.”

“Very well, then, there will be no chance of her being got at. Don’t look surprised. I don’t think that her sister would stick at that. I suppose one must tell Good of what has happened.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sir Henry. “It would hurt his feelings, poor fellow! You see, he takes a lively personal interest in Sorais.”

“That’s true; and after all, perhaps there is no need to tell him. He will find out the truth soon enough. Now, you mark my words: Sorais will throw in her lot with Nasta, who is sulking up in the North there, and there will be such a war as has not been known in Zu-Vendis for centuries. Look there!” and I pointed to two Court messengers, who were speeding away from the door of Sorais’s private apartments. “Now follow me,” and I ran up a stairway into an outlook tower that rose from the roof of our quarters, taking the spyglass with me, and looked out over the palace wall. The first thing we saw was one of the messengers speeding towards the Temple, bearing, without any doubt, the Queen’s word to the High Priest Agon, but for the other I searched in vain. Presently, however, I spied a horseman riding furiously through the northern gate of the city, and in him I recognized the other messenger.

“Ah!” I said, “Sorais is a woman of spirit. She is acting at once, and will strike quick and hard. You have insulted her, my boy, and blood will flow in rivers before the stain is washed away, and yours with it, if she can get hold of you. Well, I’m off to Nyleptha. Just you stop where you are, old fellow, and try to get your nerves straight again. You’ll need them all, I can tell you, unless I have observed human nature in the rough for fifty years for nothing.” And off I went accordingly.

I gained audience of the Queen without trouble. She was expecting Curtis, and was not best pleased to see my mahogany-coloured face instead.

“Is there aught wrong with my lord, Macumazahn, that he waits not upon me? Say, is he sick?”

I said that he was well enough, and then, without further ado, I plunged into my story and told it from beginning to end. Oh, what a rage she flew into! It was a sight to see her, she looked so lovely.

“How darest thou come to me with such a tale?” she cried. “It is a lie to say that my lord was making love to Sorais, my sister.”

“Pardon me, O Queen,” I answered; “I said that Sorais was making love to your lord.”

“Spin me no spiders’ webs of words. Is not the thing the same thing? The one giveth, the other taketh; but the gift passes, and what matters it which is the most guilty? Sorais⁠—oh I hate her!⁠—Sorais is a queen and my sister. She had not stooped so low had he not shown the way. Oh, truly hath the poet said that man is like a snake, whom to touch is poison, and whom none can hold.”

“The remark, O Queen, is excellent, but methinks thou hast misread the poet. Nyleptha,” I went on, “thou knowest well that thy words are empty foolishness, and that this is no time for folly.”

“How darest thou?” she broke in, stamping her foot. “Has my false lord sent thee to me to insult me also? Who art thou, stranger, that thou shouldst speak to me, the Queen, after this sort? How darest thou?”

“Yea, I dare. Listen. The moments which thou dost waste in idle anger may well cost thee thy crown and all of us our lives. Already Sorais’s horsemen go forth and call to arms. In three days’ time Nasta will rouse himself in his fastnesses like a lion in the evening, and his growling will be heard throughout the North. The ‘Lady of the Night’ (Sorais) hath a sweet voice, and she will not sing in vain. Her banner will be borne from range to range and valley to valley, and warriors will spring up in its track like dust beneath a whirlwind; half the army will echo her war-cry; and in every town and hamlet of this wide land the priests will call out against the foreigner and will preach her cause as holy. I have spoken, O Queen!”

Nyleptha was quite calm now; her jealous anger had passed; and putting off the character of a lovely, headstrong lady, she, with a rapidity and completeness that distinguished her, put on that of a queen and a woman of business. The transformation was sudden but entire.

“Thy words are very wise, Macumazahn. Forgive me my folly. Ah, what a Queen I should be if only I had no heart! To be heartless⁠—that is to conquer all. Passion is like the lightning; it is beautiful, and it links the earth to heaven, but alas, it blinds!

“And thou thinkest that my sister Sorais would levy war upon me. So be it. She shall not prevail against me. I, too, have my friends and my retainers. There are many, I say, who will shout ‘Nyleptha!’ when my pennon runs up on peak and pinnacle, and the light of my watch-fires leaps tonight from crag to crag, bearing the message of my war. I will break her strength and scatter her armies. Eternal night shall be the portion of the ‘Lady of the Night.’ Give me that parchment and the ink. So. Now summon the officer in the anteroom. He is a trusty man.”

I did as I was bid, and the man, a veteran and quiet-looking gentleman of the guard, named Kara, entered, bowing low.