by John Buchan
III
The man who valeted me was Lawson's own servant. As he was laying outmy clothes I asked after the health of his master, and was told that hehad slept ill and would not rise till late. Then the man, ananxious-faced Englishman, gave me some information on his own account.Mr. Lawson was having one of his bad turns. It would pass away in aday or two, but till it had gone he was fit for nothing. He advised meto see Mr. Jobson, the factor, who would look to my entertainment inhis master's absence.
Jobson arrived before luncheon, and the sight of him was the firstsatisfactory thing about Welgevonden. He was a big, gruff Scot fromRoxburghshire, engaged, no doubt, by Lawson as a duty to his Borderancestry. He had short grizzled whiskers, a weatherworn face, and ashrewd, calm blue eye. I knew now why the place was in such perfectorder.
We began with sport, and Jobson explained what I could have in the wayof fishing and shooting. His exposition was brief and business-like,and all the while I could see his eye searching me. It was clear thathe had much to say on other matters than sport.
I told him that I had come here with Lawson three years before, when hechose the site. Jobson continued to regard me curiously. "I've heardtell of ye from Mr. Lawson. Ye're an old friend of his, I understand."
"The oldest," I said. "And I am sorry to find that the place does notagree with him. Why it doesn't I cannot imagine, for you look fitenough. Has he been seedy for long?"
"It comes and it goes," said Mr. Jobson. "Maybe once a month he has abad turn. But on the whole it agrees with him badly. He's no' the manhe was when I first came here."
Jobson was looking at me very seriously and frankly. I risked aquestion.
"What do you suppose is the matter?"
He did not reply at once, but leaned forward and tapped my knee. "Ithink it's something that doctors canna cure. Look at me, sir. I'vealways been counted a sensible man, but if I told you what was in myhead you would think me daft. But I have one word for you. Bide tillto-night is past and then speir your question. Maybe you and me willbe agreed."
The factor rose to go. As he left the room he flung me back a remarkover his shoulder--"Read the eleventh chapter of the First Book ofKings."
After luncheon I went for a walk. First I mounted to the crown of thehill and feasted my eyes on the unequalled loveliness of the view. Isaw the far hills in Portuguese territory, a hundred miles away,lifting up thin blue fingers into the sky. The wind blew light andfresh, and the place was fragrant with a thousand delicate scents.Then I descended to the vale, and followed the stream up through thegarden. Poinsettias and oleanders were blazing in coverts, and therewas a paradise of tinted water-lilies in the slacker reaches. I sawgood trout rise at the fly, but I did not think about fishing. I wassearching my memory for a recollection which would not come. By-and-byI found myself beyond the garden, where the lawns ran to the fringe ofAshtaroth's Grove.
It was like something I remembered in an old Italian picture. Only, asmy memory drew it, it should have been peopled with strangefigures-nymphs dancing on the sward, and a prick-eared faun peepingfrom the covert. In the warm afternoon sunlight it stood, ineffablygracious and beautiful, tantalising with a sense of some deep hiddenloveliness. Very reverently I walked between the slim trees, to wherethe little conical tower stood half in the sun and half in shadow.Then I noticed something new. Round the tower ran a narrow path, wornin the grass by human feet. There had been no such path on my firstvisit, for I remembered the grass growing tall to the edge of thestone. Had the Kaffirs made a shrine of it, or were there other andstrange votaries?
When I returned to the house I found Travers with a message for me.Mr. Lawson was still in bed, but he would like me to go to him. Ifound my friend sitting up and drinking strong tea,--a bad thing, Ishould have thought, for a man in his condition. I remember that Ilooked about the room for some sign of the pernicious habit of which Ibelieved him a victim. But the place was fresh and clean, with thewindows wide open, and, though I could not have given my reasons, I wasconvinced that drugs or drink had nothing to do with the sickness.
He received me more civilly, but I was shocked by his looks. Therewere great bags below his eyes, and his skin had the wrinkled puffyappearance of a man in dropsy. His voice, too, was reedy and thin.Only his great eyes burned with some feverish life.
"I am a shocking bad host," he said, "but I'm going to be still moreinhospitable. I want you to go away. I hate anybody here when I'm offcolour."
"Nonsense," I said; "you want looking after. I want to know aboutthis sickness. Have you had a doctor?"
He smiled wearily. "Doctors are no earthly use to me. There's nothingmuch the matter I tell you. I'll be all right in a day or two, andthen you can come back. I want you to go off with Jobson and hunt inthe plains till the end of the week. It will be better fun for you,and I'll feel less guilty."
Of course I pooh-poohed the idea, and Lawson got angry. "Damn it,man," he cried, "why do you force yourself on me when I don't want you?I tell you your presence here makes me worse. In a week I'll be asright as the mail and then I'll be thankful for you. But get away now;get away, I tell you."
I saw that he was fretting himself into a passion. "All right," I saidsoothingly; "Jobson and I will go off hunting. But I am horriblyanxious about you, old man."
He lay back on his pillows. "You needn't trouble. I only want alittle rest. Jobson will make all arrangements, and Travers will getyou anything you want. Good-bye."
I saw it was useless to stay longer, so I left the room. Outside Ifound the anxious-faced servant "Look here," I said, "Mr. Lawsonthinks I ought to go, but I mean to stay. Tell him I'm gone if he asksyou. And for Heaven's sake keep him in bed."
The man promised, and I thought I saw some relief in his face.
I went to the library, and on the way remembered Jobson's remark aboutIst Kings. With some searching I found a Bible and turned up thepassage. It was a long screed about the misdeeds of Solomon, and Iread it through without enlightenment. I began to re-read it, and aword suddenly caught my attention--
"For Solomon went after Ashtaroth, the goddess of the Zidonians."
That was all, but it was like a key to a cipher. Instantly thereflashed over my mind all that I had heard or read of that strangeritual which seduced Israel to sin. I saw a sunburnt land and a peoplevowed to the stern service of Jehovah. But I saw, too, eyes turningfrom the austere sacrifice to lonely hill-top groves and towers andimages, where dwelt some subtle and evil mystery. I saw the fierceprophets, scourging the votaries with rods, and a nation Penitentbefore the Lord; but always the backsliding again, and the hankeringafter forbidden joys. Ashtaroth was the old goddess of the East. Wasit not possible that in all Semitic blood there remained transmittedthrough the dim generations, some craving for her spell? I thought ofthe grandfather in the back street at Brighten and of those burningeyes upstairs.
As I sat and mused my glance fell on the inscrutable stone birds. Theyknew all those old secrets of joy and terror. And that moon ofalabaster! Some dark priest had worn it on his forehead when heworshipped, like Ahab, "all the host of Heaven." And then I honestlybegan to be afraid. I, a prosaic, modern Christian gentleman, ahalf-believer in casual faiths, was in the presence of some hoarymystery of sin far older than creeds or Christendom. There was fear inmy heart--a kind of uneasy disgust, and above all a nervous eeriedisquiet. Now I wanted to go away and yet I was ashamed of thecowardly thought. I pictured Ashtaroth's Grove with sheer horror.What tragedy was in the air? What secret awaited twilight? For thenight was coming, the night of the Full Moon, the season of ecstasy andsacrifice.
I do not know how I got through that evening. I was disinclined fordinner, so I had a cutlet in the library and sat smoking till my tongueached. But as the hours passed a more manly resolution grew up in mymind. I owed it to old friendship to stand by Lawson in thisextremity. I could not interfere--God knows, his reason seemed alreadyrocking, but I c
ould be at hand in case my chance came. I determinednot to undress, but to watch through the night. I had a bath, andchanged into light flannels and slippers. Then I took up my positionin a corner of the library close to the window, so that I could notfail to hear Lawson's footsteps if he passed.
Fortunately I left the lights unlit, for as I waited I grew drowsy, andfell asleep. When I woke the moon had risen, and I knew from the feelof the air that the hour was late. I sat very still, straining myears, and as I listened I caught the sound of steps. They werecrossing the hall stealthily, and nearing the library door. I huddledinto my corner as Lawson entered.
He wore the same towel dressing-gown, and he moved swiftly and silentlyas if in a trance. I watched him take the alabaster moon from themantelpiece and drop it in his pocket. A glimpse of white skin showedthat the gown was his only clothing. Then he moved past me to thewindow, opened it and went out.
Without any conscious purpose I rose and followed, kicking off myslippers that I might go quietly. He was running, running fast, acrossthe lawns in the direction of the Grove--an odd shapeless antic in themoonlight. I stopped, for there was no cover, and I feared for hisreason if he saw me. When I looked again he had disappeared among thetrees.
I saw nothing for it but to crawl, so on my belly I wormed my way overthe dripping sward. There was a ridiculous suggestion of deer-stalkingabout the game which tickled me and dispelled my uneasiness. Almost Ipersuaded myself I was tracking an ordinary sleep-walker. The lawnswere broader than I imagined, and it seemed an age before I reached theedge of the Grove. The world was so still that I appeared to be makinga most ghastly amount of noise. I remember that once I heard arustling in the air, and looked up to see the green doves circlingabout the tree-tops.
There was no sign of Lawson. On the edge of the Grove I think that allmy assurance vanished. I could see between the trunks to the littletower, but it was quiet as the grave, save for the wings above. Oncemore there came over me the unbearable sense of anticipation I had feltthe night before. My nerves tingled with mingled expectation anddread. I did not think that any harm would come to me, for the powersof the air seemed not malignant. But I knew them for powers, and feltawed and abased. I was in the presence of the "host of Heaven," and Iwas no stern Israelitish prophet to prevail against them.
I must have lain for hours waiting in that spectral place, my eyesriveted on the tower and its golden cap of moonshine. I remember thatmy head felt void and light, as if my spirit were becoming disembodiedand leaving its dew-drenched sheath far below. But the most curioussensation was of something drawing me to the tower, something mild andkindly and rather feeble, for there was some other and stronger forcekeeping me back. I yearned to move nearer, but I could not drag mylimbs an inch. There was a spell somewhere which I could not break. Ido not think I was in any way frightened now. The starry influence wasplaying tricks with me, but my mind was half asleep. Only I never tookmy eyes from the little tower. I think I could not, if I had wanted to.
Then suddenly from the shadows came Lawson. He was stark-naked, and hewore, bound across his brow, the half-moon of alabaster. He hadsomething, too, in his hand,--something which glittered.
He ran round the tower, crooning to himself, and flinging wild arms tothe skies. Sometimes the crooning changed to a shrill cry of passion,such as a maenad may have uttered in the train of Bacchus. I could makeout no words, but the sound told its own tale. He was absorbed in someinfernal ecstasy. And as he ran, he drew his right hand across hisbreast and arms, and I saw that it held a knife.
I grew sick with disgust,--not terror, but honest physical loathing.Lawson, gashing his fat body, affected me with an overpoweringrepugnance. I wanted to go forward and stop him, and I wanted, too, tobe a hundred miles away. And the result was that I stayed still. Ibelieve my own will held me there, but I doubt if in any case I couldhave moved my legs.
The dance grew swifter and fiercer. I saw the blood dripping fromLawson's body, and his face ghastly white above his scarred breast.And then suddenly the horror left me; my head swam; and for onesecond--one brief second--I seemed to peer into a new world. A strangepassion surged up in my heart. I seemed to see the earth peopled withforms not human, scarcely divine, but more desirable than man or god.The calm face of Nature broke up for me into wrinkles of wildknowledge. I saw the things which brush against the soul in dreams,and found them lovely. There seemed no cruelty in the knife or theblood. It was a delicate mystery of worship, as wholesome as themorning song of birds. I do not know how the Semites found Ashtaroth'sritual; to them it may well have been more rapt and passionate than itseemed to me. For I saw in it only the sweet simplicity of Nature, andall riddles of lust and terror soothed away as a child's nightmares arecalmed by a mother. I found my legs able to move, and I think I tooktwo steps through the dusk towards the tower.
And then it all ended. A cock crew, and the homely noises of earthwere renewed. While I stood dazed and shivering, Lawson plungedthrough the Grove toward me. The impetus carried him to the edge, andhe fell fainting just outside the shade.
My wits and common-sense came back to me with my bodily strength. Igot my friend on my back, and staggered with him towards the house. Iwas afraid in real earnest now, and what frightened me most was thethought that I had not been afraid sooner. I had come very near the"abomination of the Zidonians."
At the door I found the scared valet waiting. He had apparently donethis sort of thing before.
"Your master has been sleep-walking and has had a fall," I said. "Wemust get him to bed at once."
We bathed the wounds as he lay in a deep stupor, and I dressed them aswell as I could. The only danger lay in his utter exhaustion, forhappily the gashes were not serious, and no artery had been touched.Sleep and rest would make him well, for he had the constitution of astrong man. I was leaving the room when he opened his eyes and spoke.He did not recognize me, but I noticed that his face had lost itsstrangeness, and was once more that of the friend I had known. Then Isuddenly bethought me of an old hunting remedy which he and I alwayscarried on our expeditions. It is a pill made up from an ancientPortuguese prescription. One is an excellent specific for fever. Twoare invaluable if you are lost in the bush, for they send a man formany hours into a deep sleep, which prevents suffering and madness,till help comes. Three give a painless death. I went to my room andfound the little box in my jewel-case. Lawson swallowed two, andturned wearily on his side. I bade his man let him sleep till he woke,and went off in search of food.
