Haggard Anthology Vol 7, page 17
"If you dare to wake her," hissed Jacob, "I tell you that she will die, and afterwards you shall die," and he fingered the pistol at his belt. "No harm shall come to her—I swear it! Follow and see. Man, man, be silent; our fortunes hang on it."
Then, overcome also by the strange fierceness of that voice and gaze, he followed.
On they go to the winding neck of the cavern, first Jacob walking backwards like the herald of majesty; then majesty itself in the shape of this long-haired, death-like woman, cloaked and bearing in her hand the light; and last, behind, the old, white-bearded man, like Time following Beauty to the grave. Now they were in the great cavern, and now, avoiding the open tombs, the well mouth and the altar, they stood beneath the crucifix.
"Be seated," said Meyer, and the entranced Benita sat herself down upon the steps at the foot of the cross, placing the lamp on the rock pavement before her, and bowing her head till her hair fell upon her naked feet and hid them. He held his hands above her for a while, then asked:
"Do you sleep?"
"I sleep," came the strange, slow answer.
"Is your spirit awake?"
"It is awake."
"Command it to travel backwards through the ages to the beginning, and tell me what you see here."
"I see a rugged cave and wild folk dwelling in it; an old man is dying yonder," and she pointed to the right; "and a black woman with a babe at her breast tends him. A man, it is her husband, enters the cave. He holds a torch in one hand, and with the other drags a buck."
"Cease," said Meyer. "How long is this ago?"
"Thirty-three thousand two hundred and one years," came the answer, spoken without any hesitation.
"Pass on," he said, "pass on thirty thousand years, and tell me what you see."
For a long while there was silence.
"Why do you not speak?" he asked.
"Be patient; I am living through those thirty thousand years; many a life, many an age, but none may be missed."
Again there was silence for a long while, till at length she spoke:
"They are done, all of them, and now three thousand years ago I see this place changed and smoothly fashioned, peopled by a throng of worshippers clad in strange garments with clasps upon them. Behind me stands the graven statue of a goddess with a calm and cruel face, in front of the altar burns a fire, and on the altar white-robed priests are sacrificing an infant which cries aloud."
"Pass on, pass on," Meyer said hurriedly, as though the horror of that scene had leapt to his eyes. "Pass on two thousand seven hundred years and tell me what you see."
Again there was a pause, while the spirit he had evoked in the body of Benita lived through those ages. Then slowly she answered:
"Nothing, the place is black and desolate, only the dead sleep beneath its floor."
"Wait till the living come again," he commanded; "then speak."
"They are here," she replied presently. "Tonsured monks, one of whom fashions this crucifix, and their followers who bow before the Host upon the altar. They come, they go—of whom shall I tell you?"
"Tell me of the Portuguese; of those who were driven here to die."
"I see them all," she answered, after a pause. "Two hundred and three of them. They are ragged and wayworn and hungry. Among them is a beautiful woman, a girl. She draws near to me, she enters into me. You must ask her,"—this was spoken in a very faint voice—"I am I no more."
Mr. Clifford attempted to interrupt, but fiercely Meyer bade him to be silent.
"Speak," he commanded, but the crouching figure shook her head.
"Speak," he said again, whereon another voice, not that of Benita, answered in another tongue:
"I hear; but I do not understand your language."
"Great Heaven!" said Meyer, "it is Portuguese," and for a while the terror of the thing struck him dumb, for he was aware that Benita knew no Portuguese. He knew it, however, who had lived at Lorenço Marquez.
"Who are you?" he asked in that tongue.
"I am Benita da Ferreira. I am the daughter of the Captain da Ferreira and of his wife, the lady Christinha, who stand by you now. Turn, and you will see them."
Jacob started and looked about him uneasily.
"What did she say? I did not catch it all," asked Mr. Clifford.
He translated her words.
"But this is black magic," exclaimed the old man. "Benita knows no Portuguese, so how comes she to speak it?"
"Because she is no longer our Benita; she is another Benita, Benita da Ferreira. The Molimo was right when he said that the spirit of the dead woman went with her, as it seems the name has gone," he added.
"Have done," said Mr. Clifford; "the thing is unholy. Wake her up, or I will."
"And bring about her death. Touch or disturb her, and I tell you she will die," and he pointed to Benita, who crouched before them so white and motionless that indeed it seemed as though already she were dead. "Be quiet," he went on. "I swear to you that no hurt shall come to her, also that I will translate everything to you. Promise, or I will tell you nothing, and her blood be on your head."
Then Mr. Clifford groaned and said:
"I promise."
"Tell me your story, Benita da Ferreira. How came you and your people here?"
"The tribes of Monomotapa rose against our rule. They killed many of us in the lower land, yes, they killed my brother and him to whom I was affianced. The rest of us fled north to this ancient fortress, hoping thence to escape by the river, the Zambesi. The Mambo, our vassal, gave us shelter here, but the tribes besieged the walls in thousands, and burnt all the boats so that we could not fly by the water. Many times we beat them back from the wall; the ditch was full of their dead, and at last they dared to attack no more.
"Then we began to starve and they won the first wall. We went on starving and they won the second wall, but the third wall they could not climb. So we died; one by one we laid ourselves down in this cave and died, till I alone was left, for while our people had food they gave it to me who was the daughter of their captain. Yes, alone I knelt at the foot of this crucifix by the body of my father, praying to the blessed Son of Mary for the death that would not come, and kneeling there I swooned. When I awoke again the Mambo and his men stood about me, for now, knowing us to be dead, the tribes had gone, and those who were in hiding across the river had returned and knew how to climb the wall. They bore me from among the dead, they gave me food so that my strength came back; but in the night I, who in my wickedness would not live, escaped from them and climbed the pillar of black rock, so that when the sun rose they saw me standing there. They begged of me to come down, promising to protect me, but I said 'No,' who in the evil of my heart only desired to die, that I might join my father and my brother, and one who was dearer to me than all. They asked of me where the great treasure was hidden."
At these words Jacob gasped, then rapidly translated them, while the figure before them became silent, as though it felt that for the moment the power of his will was withdrawn.
"Speak on, I bid you," he said, and she continued, the rich, slow voice dropping word after word from the lips of Benita in the alien speech that this Benita never knew.
"I answered that it was where it was, and that if they gave it up to any save the one appointed, then that fate which had befallen my people would befall theirs also. Yes, I gave it into their keeping until I came again, since with his dying breath my father had commanded me to reveal it to none, and I believed that I who was about to die should never come again.
"Then I made my last prayer, I kissed the golden crucifix that now hangs upon this breast wherein I dwell," and the hand of the living Benita was lifted, and moving like the hand of a dead thing, slowly drew out the symbol from beneath the cloak, held it for a moment in the lamplight, and let it fall to its place again. "I put my hands before my eyes that I might not see, and I hurled myself from the pinnacle."
Now the voice ceased, but from the lips came a dreadful sound, such as might be uttered by one whose bones are shattered upon rocks, followed by other sounds like those of one who chokes in water. They were so horrible to hear that Mr. Clifford nearly fainted, and even Jacob Meyer staggered and turned white as the white face of Benita.
"Wake her! For God's sake, wake her!" said her father. "She is dying, as that woman died hundreds of years ago."
"Not till she has told us where the gold is. Be quiet, you fool. She does not feel or suffer. It is the spirit within her that lives through the past again."
Once more there was silence. It seemed as though the story were all told and the teller had departed.
"Benita da Ferreira," said Meyer at length, "I command you, tell me, are you dead?"
"Oh! would that I were dead, as my body is dead!" wailed the lips of Benita. "Alas! I cannot die who suffer this purgatory, and must dwell on here alone until the destined day. Yes, yes, the spirit of her who was Benita da Ferreira must haunt this place in solitude. This is her doom, to be the guardian of that accursed gold which was wrung from the earth by cruelty and paid for with the lives of men."
"Is it still safe?" whispered Jacob.
"I will look;" then after a pause, "I have looked. It is there, every grain of it, in ox-hide bags; only one of them has fallen and burst, that which is black and red."
"Where is it?" he said again.
"I may not tell you; never, never."
"Is there anyone whom you may tell?"
"Yes."
"Whom?"
"Her in whose breast I lie."
"Tell her then."
"I have told her; she knows."
"And may she tell me?"
"Let her guard the secret as she will. O my Guardian, I thank thee. My burden is departed; my sin of self-murder is atoned."
"Benita da Ferreira, are you gone?"
No answer.
"Benita Clifford, do you hear me?"
"I hear you," said the voice of Benita, speaking in English, although Jacob, forgetting, had addressed her in Portuguese.
"Where is the gold?"
"In my keeping."
"Tell me, I command you."
But no words came; though he questioned her many times no words came, till at last her head sank forward upon her knees, and in a faint voice she murmured:
"Loose me, or I die."
XIX. The Awaking
Still Jacob Meyer hesitated. The great secret was unlearned, and, if this occasion passed, might never be learned. But if he hesitated, Mr. Clifford did not. The knowledge of his child's danger, the sense that her life was mysteriously slipping away from her under pressure of the ghastly spell in which she lay enthralled, stirred him to madness. His strength and manhood came back to him. He sprang straight at Meyer's throat, gripped it with one hand, and with the other drew the knife he wore.
"You devil!" he gasped. "Wake her or you shall go with her!" and he lifted the knife.
Then Jacob gave in. Shaking off his assailant he stepped to Benita, and while her father stood behind him with the lifted blade, began to make strange upward passes over her, and to mutter words of command. For a long while they took no effect; indeed, both of them were almost sure that she was gone. Despair gripped her father, and Meyer worked at his black art so furiously that the sweat burst out upon his forehead and fell in great drops to the floor.
Oh, at last, at last she stirred! Her head lifted itself a little, her breast heaved.
"Lord in Heaven, I have saved her!" muttered Jacob in German, and worked on.
Now the eyes of Benita opened, and now she stood up and sighed. But she said nothing; only like a person walking in her sleep, she began to move towards the entrance of the cave, her father going before her with the lamp. On she went, and out of it straight to her tent, where instantly she cast herself upon her bed and sank into deep slumber. It was as though the power of the drug-induced oblivion, which for a while was over-mastered by that other stronger power invoked by Jacob, had reasserted itself.
Meyer watched her for awhile; then said to Mr. Clifford:
"Don't be afraid and don't attempt to disturb her. She will wake naturally in the morning."
"I hope so for both our sakes," he answered, glaring at him, "for if not, you or I, or the two of us, will never see another."
Meyer took no notice of his threats; indeed the man seemed so exhausted that he could scarcely stand.
"I am done," he said. "Now, as she is safe, I don't care what happens to me. I must rest," and he staggered from the tent, like a drunken man.
Outside, at the place where they ate, Mr. Clifford heard him gulping down raw gin from the bottle. Then he heard no more.
All the rest of the night, and for some hours of the early morning, did her father watch by the bed of Benita, although, lightly clad as he was, the cold of dawn struck to his bones. At length, when the sun was well up, she rose in her bed, and her eyes opened.
"What are you doing here, father?" she said.
"I have come to see where you were, dear. You are generally out by now."
"I suppose that I must have overslept myself then," she replied wearily. "But it does not seem to have refreshed me much, and my head aches. Oh! I remember," she added with a start. "I have had such a horrid dream."
"What about?" he asked as carelessly as he could.
"I can't recall it quite, but it had to do with Mr. Meyer," and she shivered. "It seemed as though I had passed into his power, as though he had taken possession of me, body and soul, and forced me to tell him all the secret things."
"What secret things, Benita?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know now, but we went away among dead people, and I told him there. Oh! father, I am afraid of that man—terribly afraid! Protect me from him," and she began to cry a little.
"Of course I will protect you, dear. Something has upset your nerves. Come, dress yourself and you'll soon forget it all. I'll light the fire."
A quarter of an hour later Benita joined him, looking pale and shaken, but otherwise much as usual. She was ravenously hungry, and ate of the biscuits and dried meat with eagerness.
"The coffee tastes quite different from that which I drank last night," she said. "I think there must have been something in it which gave me those bad dreams. Where is Mr. Meyer? Oh, I know!" and again she put her hand to her head. "He is still asleep by the wall."
"Who told you that?"
"I can't say, but it is so. He will not come here till one o'clock. There, I feel much better now. What shall we do, father?"
"Sit in the sun and rest, I think, dear."
"Yes, let us do that, on the top of the wall. We can see the Makalanga from there, and it will be a comfort to be sure that there are other human beings left in the world besides ourselves and Jacob Meyer."
So presently they went, and from the spot whence Meyer used to shoot at the Matabele camp, looked down upon the Makalanga moving about the first enclosure far below. By the aid of the glasses Benita even thought that she recognised Tamas, although of this it was difficult to be sure, for they were all very much alike. Still, the discovery quite excited her.
"I am sure it is Tamas," she said. "And oh! how I wish that we were down there with him, although it is true that then we should be nearer to the Matabele. But they are better than Mr. Meyer, much better."
Now for a while they were silent, till at length she said suddenly:
"Father, you are keeping something back from me, and things begin to come back. Tell me; did I go anywhere last night with Mr. Meyer—you and he and I together?"
He hesitated and looked guilty; Mr. Clifford was not a good actor.
"I see that we did; I am sure that we did. Father, tell me. I must know, I will know."
Then he gave way.
"I didn't want to speak, dear, but perhaps it is best. It is a very strange story. Will you promise not to be upset?"
"I will promise not to be more upset than I am at present," she answered, with a sad little laugh. "Go on."
"You remember that Jacob Meyer wanted to mesmerize you?"
"I am not likely to forget it," she answered.
"Well, last night he did mesmerize you."
"What?" she said. "What? Oh! how dreadful! Now I understand it all. But when?"
"When you were sound asleep, I suppose. At least, the first I knew of it was that some noise woke me, and I came out of the hut to see you following him like a dead woman, with a lamp in your hand."
Then he told her all the story, while she listened aghast.
"How dared he!" she gasped, when her father had finished the long tale. "I hate him; I almost wish that you had killed him," and she clenched her little hands and shook them in the air.
"That is not very Christian of you, Miss Clifford," said a voice behind her. "But it is past one o'clock, and as I am still alive I have come to tell you that it is time for luncheon."
Benita wheeled round upon the stone on which she sat, and there, standing amidst the bushes a little way from the foot of the wall, was Jacob Meyer. Their eyes met; hers were full of defiance, and his of conscious power.
"I do not want any luncheon, Mr. Meyer," she said.
"But I am sure that you do. Please come down and have some. Please come down."
The words were spoken humbly, almost pleadingly, yet to Benita they seemed as a command. At any rate, with slow reluctance she climbed down the shattered wall, followed by her father, and without speaking they went back to their camping place, all three of them, Jacob leading the way.
