Ayesha, the Return of She by H. Rider Haggard (distant reading txt) 📕

curious change in it, no immediate change indeed, but one, I think, that had come upon him gradually, although I only fully appreciated it now, after our short separation. In addition to the thinness of which I have spoken, his handsome countenance had grown more ethereal; his eyes were full of the shadows of things that were to come.

His aspect pained me, I knew not why. It was no longer that of the Leo with whom I was familiar, the deep-chested, mighty-limbed, jovial, upright traveller, hunter and fighting-man who had chanced to love and be loved of a spiritual power incarnated in a mould of perfect womanhood and armed with all the might of Nature’s self. These things were still present indeed, but the man was changed, and I felt sure that this change came from Ayesha, since the look upon his face had become exceeding like to that which often hovered upon hers at rest.

She also was watching him, with speculative, dreamy eyes, till presently, as some thought swept through her, I saw those eyes blaze up, and the red blood pour to cheek and brow. Yes, the mighty Ayesha whose dead, slain for him, lay strewn by the thousand on yonder plain, blushed and trembled like a maiden at her first lover’s kiss.

Leo rose from the table. “I would that I had been with thee in the fray,” he said.

“At the drift there was fighting,” she answered, “afterwards none. My ministers of Fire, Earth and Air smote, no more; I waked them from their sleep and at my command they smote for thee and saved thee.”

“Many lives to take for one man’s safety,” Leo said solemnly, as though the thought pained him.

“Had they been millions and not thousands, I would have spent them every one. On my head be their deaths, not on thine. Or rather on hers,” and she pointed to the dead Atene. “Yes, on hers who made this war. At least she should thank me who have sent so royal a host to guard her through the darkness.”

“Yet it is terrible,” said Leo, “to think of thee, beloved, red to the hair with slaughter.”

“What reck I?” she answered with a splendid pride. “Let their blood suffice to wash the stain of thy blood from off these cruel hands that once did murder thee.”

“Who am I that I should blame thee?” Leo went on as though arguing with himself, “I who but yesterday killed two men—to save myself from treachery.”

“Speak not of it,” she exclaimed in cold rage. “I saw the place and, Holly, thou knowest how I swore that a hundred lives should pay for every drop of that dear blood of thine, and I, who lie not, have kept the oath. Look now on that man who stands yonder struck by my will to stone, dead yet living, and say again what was he about to do to thee when I entered here?”

“To take vengeance on me for the doom of his queen and of her armies,” answered Leo, “and Ayesha, how knowest thou that a Power higher than thine own will not demand it yet?”

As he spoke a pale shadow flickered on Leo’s face, such a shadow as might fall from Death’s advancing wing, and in the fixed eyes of the Shaman there shone a stony smile.

For a moment terror seemed to take Ayesha, then it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Nay,” she said. “I ordain that it shall not be, and save One who listeth not, what power reigns in this wide earth that dare defy my will?”

So she spoke, and as her words of awful pride—for they were very awful—rang round that stone-built chamber, a vision came to me—Holly.

I saw illimitable space peopled with shining suns, and sunk in the infinite void above them one vast Countenance clad in a calm so terrific that at its aspect my spirit sank to nothingness. Yes, and I knew that this was Destiny enthroned above the spheres. Those lips moved and obedient worlds rushed upon their course. They moved again and these rolling chariots of the heavens were turned or stayed, appeared or disappeared. I knew also that against this calm Majesty the being, woman or spirit, at my side had dared to hurl her passion and her strength. My soul reeled. I was afraid.

The dread phantasm passed, and when my mind cleared again Ayesha was speaking in new, triumphant tones.

“Nay, nay,” she cried. “Past is the night of dread; dawns the day of victory! Look!” and she pointed through the window-places shattered by the hurricane, to the flaming town beneath, whence rose one continual wail of misery, the wail of women mourning their countless slain while the fire roared through their homes like some unchained and rejoicing demon. “Look Leo on the smoke of the first sacrifice that I offer to thy royal state and listen to its music. Perchance thou deemst it naught. Why then I’ll give thee others. Thou lovest war. Good! we will go down to war and the rebellious cities of the earth shall be the torches of our march.”

She paused a moment, her delicate nostrils quivering, and her face alight with the prescience of ungarnered splendours; then like a swooping swallow flitted to where, by dead Atene, the gold circlet fallen from the Khania’s hair lay upon the floor.

She stooped, lifted it, and coming to Leo held it high above his head. Slowly she let her hand fall until the glittering coronet rested for an instant on his brow. Then she spoke, in her glorious voice that rolled out rich and low, a very paean of triumph and of power.

“By this poor, earthly symbol I create thee King of Earth; yea in its round for thee is gathered all her rule. Be thou its king, and mine!”

Again the coronet was held aloft, again it sank, and again she said or rather chanted—“With this unbroken ring, token of eternity, I swear to thee the boon of endless days. Endure thou while the world endures, and be its lord, and mine.”

A third time the coronet touched his brow.

“By this golden round I do endow thee with Wisdom’s perfect gold uncountable, that is the talisman whereat all nature’s secret paths shall open to thy feet. Victorious, victorious, tread thou her wondrous ways with me, till from her topmost peak at last she wafts us to our immortal throne whereof the columns twain are Life and Death.”

Then Ayesha cast away the crown and lo! it fell upon the breast of the lost Atene and rested there.

“Art content with these gifts of mine, my lord?” she cried.

Leo looked at her sadly and shook his head.

“What more wilt thou then? Ask and I swear it shall be thine.”

“Thou swearest; but wilt thou keep the oath?”

“Aye, by myself I swear; by myself and by the Strength that bred me. If it be ought that I can grant—then if I refuse it to thee, may such destruction fall upon me as will satisfy even Atene’s watching soul.”

I heard and