 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. H. Rider Haggard Asha the Return of She Chapter 24 The Passing of Asha I heard Asha say presently, and the words struck me as dreadful in their hopeless acceptance of a doom against which even she had no strength to struggle. It seems that my Lord has left me for a while. I must hasten to my Lord afar. After that I do not quite know what happened. I had lost the man who was all in all to me, friend and child in one, and I was crushed as I had never been before. It seems so sad that I, old and outworn, should still live on whilst he, in the flower of his age, snatched from joy and greatness such as no man hath known, lay thus asleep. I think that by an afterthought Asha and Oros tried to restore him, tried without result, for here her powers were of no avail. Indeed, my conviction is that although some lingering life still kept him on his feet, Leo had really died at the moment of her embrace, since, when I looked at him before he fell, his face was that of a dead man. Yes, I believe that last speech of hers, although she knew it not, was addressed to his spirit, for in her burning kiss his flesh had perished. When at length I recovered myself a little, it was to hear Asha in a cold, calm voice, her face I could not see, for she had veiled herself, commanding certain priests who had been summoned to bear away the body of that accursed woman and bury her as befits her rank. Even then I bethought me, I remember, of the tale of Jehu and Jezebel. Leo, looking strangely calm and happy, lay now upon a couch the arms folded on his breast. When the priests had tramped away carrying their royal burden, Asha, who sat by his body brooding, seemed to awake, for she rose and said, I need a messenger, and for no common journey, since he must search out the habitations of their shades, and she turned herself towards Oros and appeared to look at him. Now, for the first time, I saw that priest change countenance a little, for the eternal smile, which even this scene had not quite ridded, left his face, and he grew pale and trembled. Thou art afraid, she said, contemptuously, be at rest, Oros, I will not send one who is afraid. Holly will thou go for me, and him? I, I answered, I am weary of life, and desire no other end, only let it be swift and painless. She mused a while, then said, Nay, thy time is not yet, thou still hast work to do, endure, my Holly, tis only for a breath. Then she looked at the shaman, the man turned to stone, who all this while had stood there as a statue stands, and cried, awake. Instantly, he seemed to thaw into life, his limbs relaxed, his breast heaved, he was as he had always been, ancient, gnarled, malevolent. I hear thee, mistress, he said, bowing as a man bows to the powers that he hates. Thou ceased simbrim, and she waved her hand. I see, things have befallen as Athena and I foretold, have they not? Along the corpse of a new crown-carn of Calun, and he pointed to the gold-circuit that Asha had set on Leo's brow, will lie upon the brink of the pit of flame. As I foretold, an evil smile crept into his eyes, and he went on, hadst thou not smote me dumb, I who watch could have warned thee that they would so befall. But great mistress, it pleased thee to smite me dumb, and so it seems, oh hess, that thou hast overshot thyself, and lies broken at the foot of that pinnacle, which step by step thou hast climbed for more than two thousand weary years. See what thou hast bought at the price of countless lives, that now before the throne of judgment bring accusations against thy powers misused, and cry out for justice on thy head. And he looked at the dead form of Leo. I sorrow for them. Yet, Simbri, they were well spent, Asha answered reflectively, who by their forewritten doom, as it was decreed, held thy knife from falling, and thus won me my husband. I and I am happy, happier than such blind bats as thou can see or guess, for know that now with him I have rewed my wandering soul divorced by sin from me. And that our marriage kiss, which burned his life away, there shall still be born to us children of forgiveness and eternal grace and all things that are pure and fair. Look thou, Simbri, I will honour thee. Thou shalt be my messenger. And beware, beware, I say, how thou dost fulfil thine office, since of every syllable thou must render an account. Go thou down the dark path of death, and since even my thought may not reach to where he sleeps tonight. Search out, my lord, and say to him that the feet of his spouse, Asha, are following fast. Bid him have no fear for me who by this last sorrow have atoned my crimes, and am in his embrace regenerate. Tell him that thus it was appointed, and thus is best, since now he is dipped indeed in the eternal flame of life. Now for him the mortal night is done, and the everlasting day arises. Command him that he await me in the gate of death, where he is granted that I greet him presently. Thou hearst, I hear, O Queen, mighty from old. One message more. Say to Athena that I forgive her. Her heart was high and greatly did she play her part. There in the gates we will balance our account. Thou hearst, I hear, O eternal star, that has conquered night. Then man, begun. As the word left Asha slips, Simbri leapt from the floor, grasping at the air as though he would clutch his own departing soul, staggered back against the board where Leo and I had eaten, overthrowing it, and amid a ruin of gold and silver vessels fell down and died. She looked at him, then said to me, See, though he ever hated me, this magician who was known Asha from the first did homage to my ancient majesty at last, when lies and defiance would serve his end no more. No longer now do I hear the name that his dead mistress gave to me. The star that has fallen in his lips and in very truth is become the star which has burst the bonds of night and re-arisen shines forever, shines with its twin immortal to set no more, my Holly. Well, he's gone, and ere now, those that serve me in the underworld. Does't remember? Thou sourced their captains in the sanctuary, bend the head at great Asha's word, and make her place ready near her spouse. But, oh, what folly has been mine, when even here my wrath can show such power, how could I hope that my lord would outlive the fires of my love? Still it was better so, for he sought not the pomp I would have given him, nor decide the death of men. Yet such pomp must have been his portion in his poor shadow of a world. And the steps that encircle on the earth's surface throne are ever slippery with blood. Thou art weary, my Holly. Go rest thee, tomorrow night with journey to the mountain, there to celebrate these obsequies. I crept into the room adjoining. It had been simplece, and laid me down upon his bed, but to sleep I was not able. Its door was open, and in the light of the burning city that shone through the casements, I could see Asha watching by her dead. Hour after hour she watched, her head resting on her hand. Silent, stirless, she wept not, no sigh escaped her. Only watched as a tender woman watches a slumbering babe that she knows will awake at dawn. Her face was unveiled, and I perceived that it had greatly changed. All pride and anger were departed from it. It was grown soft, wistful, yet full of confidence and quietness. For a while I could not think of what it reminded me, till suddenly I remembered. Now it was like indeed the counterpart almost, of the holy and majestic semblance of the statue of the mother in the sanctuary. Yes, with just such a look of love and power as that mother cast upon her frightened child, new resin from its stream of death did Asha gaze upon her dead, while her parted lips also seemed to whisper some tale of hope sure and immortal. At length she rose and came into my chamber. Thou thinkst me fallen and dost grieve for me, my holy? She said in a gentle voice, knowing my fears lest some such fate should overtake my lord. I, Asha, I grieve for thee as for myself. Spare then thy pity, holy, since although the human part of me would have kept him on the earth, now my spirit doth rejoice that for a while he has burst his mortal bonds for many an age, although I knew it not in my proud defiance of the universal law, I have fought against this true wheel and mine. Thrice have I and the angel wrestled, matching strength with strength, and Thrice has he conquered me, yet as he bore away his prize this night, he whispered wisdom in my ear. This was his message, that in death is love's home, in death its strength, that from the channel house of life this love springs again, glorified and pure, to reign and conquer forever. Therefore I wipe away my tears and crown once more a queen of peace. I go to join him whom we have lost. There where he awaits us, as it is granted to me that I shall do. But I am selfish and forgot, thou needst rest. Sleep, friend, I bid thee sleep, and I slept wandering as my eyes closed whence Asha drew this strange confidence and comfort. I know not, but it was there, real and not assumed. I can only suppose, therefore, that some illumination had fallen on our soul and that, as she stated, the love and end of Leo, in a way unknown, did suffice to satisfy her court of sins. At the least those sins and all the load of death that lay at her door never seemed to trouble her at all. She appeared to look upon them merely as events which were destined to occur, as inevitable fruits of a seed sowed long ago by the hand of fate for whose workings she was not responsible. The fears and considerations which weigh with mortals did not affect or oppress her. In this, as in other matters, Asha was a law unto herself. When I awoke, it was day, and through the window-place I saw the rain that the people of Calone had so long decide falling in one straight sheet. I saw also that Asha, seated by the shrouded form of Leo, was giving orders to her priests and captains and to some nobles who had survived the slaughter of Calone as to the new government of the land. Then I slept again. It was evening, and Asha stood at my bedside. All is prepared, she said, awake and ride with me. So we went, escorted by a thousand cavalry, for the rest stayed to occupy or perhaps to plunder the land of Calone. In front the body of Leo was borne by a relay of priests, and behind it rode the veiled Asha, I at her side. Strange was the contrast between this departure and our arrival. Then the rushing squadrons, the elements that raid, the perpetual sheen of lightnings seen through the swinging curtains of the hail, the voices of despair from an army rolled in blood beneath the chariot wheels of thunder. Now the white-tripped corpse, the slow-pacing horses, the riders with their spears reversed and on either side, seen in that melancholy moonlight, the women of Calone burying their innumerable dead. And Asha herself, just today a valkyrie crested with a star of flame, today but a bereaved woman, humbly following her husband to the tomb. Yet how they feared her. Some widow standing on the gray mold, she had dug, pointed as we passed to the body of Leo, uttering bitter words which I could not catch. Thereon her companions flung themselves upon her, and, felling her with fist and spade, prostrated themselves upon the ground, throwing dust on their hair in token of their submission to the priestess of death. Asha saw them and said to me with something over ancient fire and pride. I tread the plain of Calone no more, yet, as a parting gift, I have read this high-stomach people a lesson that they needed long. Not for many a generation, O Holly, will they dare to lift spare against the College of Hesse and its subject tribes. Again it was night, and were once lay that of the Caone, the man whom he had killed, flanked by the burning pillars, the bear of Leo stood in the inmost sanctuary before the statue of the mother, whose gentle, unchanging eyes seemed to search his quiet face. On her throne sat the veiled Hessea, giving commands to her priests and priestesses. I am wary, she said, and it may be that I leave you for a while to rest beyond the mountains, a year or a thousand years, I cannot say. If so, let Papave, with Oros as her counsellor and husband, and their seed hold my place till I return again. Priests and priestesses of the College of Hesse, the new territories have I held my hand, take them as an heritage from me, and rule them well and gently. Henceforth, let the Hessea of the Mountain be also the Caña of Cologne. Priests and priestesses of our ancient faith learn to look through its rites and tokens outwards and visible to the informing spirit. If Hesse, the goddess never ruled on earth, still pitting nature rules. If the name of Isis never rang through the courts of heaven, still in heaven, with all love fulfilled, nursing her human children on her breast, dwells the mighty motherhood where of this statue is the symbol. That motherhood, which bore us and, unforgetting, faithful, will receive us at the end. Before of the bread of bitterness we shall not always eat, of the water of tears we shall not always drink. Beyond the night the royal suns ride on, ever the rainbow shines around the rain. Though they slip from our clutching hands like melted snow, the lives we lose shall yet be found immortal, and from the burnt-out fires of our human hopes we will spring a heavenly star. She paused and waved her hand as though to dismiss them, then added by an afterthought, pointing to myself, This man is my beloved friend and guest. Let him be yours also. It is my will that thou tend and guard him here, and when the snows have melted and summer is at hand, let you fashion a way for him through the gulf and bring him across the mountains by which he came, till you leave him in safety. Here and forget not, for be sure that to me you shall give account of him. The night drew towards the dawn, and we stood upon the peak above the gulf of fire, four of us only, Asha and I and Oros and Papave. For the bears had laid down the body of Leo upon its edge and gone their way. The curtain of flame flared in front of us. Its crest bent over like a billow in the gale, and to leeward one by one floated the torn-off clouds and pinnacles of fire. By the dead Leo knelt Asha, gazing at that icy smiling face, but speaking no single word, at length she rose and said, Darkness draws near, my Holly, that deep darkness which forants the glory of the dawn. Now fare thee well for one little hour, when thou art about to die, but not before call me, and I will come to thee. Stir not and speak not till all be done, lest when I am no longer here to be thy God, some presence should pass on and slay thee. Think not that I am conquered, for now my name is victory. Think not that Asha's strength is spent, or her tale is done. For of it thou readst but a single page. Think not even that I am to-day that thing of sin and pride, that Asha thou didst adore and fear. I who in my Lord's love and sacrifice have again conceived my soul, for know that now once more as at the beginning his soul and mine are one. She thought a while and added, Friend, take this scepter in memory of me, but beware how thou uses it save at the last to summon me, for it has virtues, and she gave me the jeweled system that she bore. Then said, So kiss his brow, stand back, and be still. Now as once before the darkness gathered on the pit, and presently, although I heard no prayer, though now no mighty music broke upon the silence, through that darkness, beating up the gale, came the two-winged flame, and hooured where Asha stood. It appeared it banished, and one by one the long minutes crept away until the first spear or dawn lit upon the point of rock. Lo, it was empty, utterly empty and lonesome. Gone was the corpse of Leo, and gone too was Asha, the Imperial, the Divine. Wither had she gone, I know not, but this I know, that as the light returned and the broad sheet of flame fled out to meet it, I seemed to see two glorious shapes sweeping upward on its bosom, and the face that they wore were those of Leo and of Asha. Often, and often during the weary months that followed, whilst I wandered through the temple or amid the winter snows upon the mountainside, did I seek to solve this question. Wither had she gone, I asked it of my heart, I asked it of the skies, I asked it of the spirit of Leo, which often was so near to me. But no sure answer ever came, nor will I hazard one. As mystery wrapped Asha's origin and lies, for the truth of these things I never learnt, so did mystery wrap her death, or rather her departings, for I cannot think her dead. Surely she still is, if not on earth, then in some other sphere. So I believe, and when my own hours come, and it draws near swiftly, I shall know whether I believe in vain, or whether she will appear to be my guide as, with her last words, she swore that she would do. Then too I shall learn what she was about to reveal to Leo when he died, the purposes of their being, and of their love. So I can wait in patience who must not wait for long, though my heart is broken and I am desolate. Oros and all the priests were very good to me. Indeed, even had it been their wish they would have feared to be otherwise, who remembered and were sure that in some time to come they must render an account of this matter to their dreed queen. By way of return, I helped them as I was best able to draw up a scheme for the government of the conquered country of Kalu, and with my advice upon many other questions. And so at length the long month wore away till at the approach of summer the snows melted. Then I said that I must be gone. They gave me of their treasures in precious stones lest I should need money for my faring, since the gold which I had such plenty was too heavy to be carried by one man alone. They led me across the plains of Kalu, where now the husband men, those that were left of them, plowed the land and scattered seed, and so on to its city. But amidst those blackened ruins over which a tainless palace still frowned unharmed I would not enter, for to me it was, and always must remain, a home of death. So I camped outside the walls by the river just where Leo and I had landed after that poor mad con set us free, or rather loosed us to be hunted by his death hounds. Next day we took a boat and rode up the river past the place where we had seen a tainless cousin murdered till we came to the gatehouse. Here once again I slept, or rather did not sleep. On the following morning I went down into the ravine and found to my surprise that the rapid torrent, shallow enough now, had been roughly bridged, and that, in preparation for my coming, rude but sufficient ladders were built on the face of the opposing precipice. At the foot of these I bade farewell to Oros, who at our parting smiled benignantly, as on the day we met. We have seen strange things together, I said to him, not knowing what else to say. Very strange, he answered. At least, friend Oros, I went on awkwardly enough. Events have shaped themselves to your advantage, for you inherit a royal mantle. I wrap myself in a mantle of borrowed royalty, he answered with precision, how which doubtless one day I shall be stripped. You mean that the great Asher is not dead? I mean that she never dies. She changes, that is all. As the wind blows now hence now hither, so she comes and goes, and who can tell at what spot upon the earth, or beyond it, for a while that wind lies sleeping. But at sunset or at dawn, at noon or at midnight, it will begin to blow again, and then woe to those who stand across its path. Remember the dead heaped upon the plains of Kallun. Remember the departing of the Shaman's Simbri with this message, and the words that she spoke then. Remember the passing of the Hissia from the mountain point, stranger from the west, surely as tomorrow's sun must rise, as she went, so she will return again, and in my borrowed garment I await her advent. I also await her advent, I answered, and thus we parted. Accompanied by twenty-picked men, bearing provisions and arms, I climbed the ladders easily enough, and now that I had food and shelter, crossed the mountains without mishap. They even escorted me through the desert beyond, till one night we camped within sight of the gigantic Buddha that sits before the monastery, gazing eternally across the sands and snows. When I awoke next morning, the priests were gone. So I took up my pack and pursued my journey alone, and walking slowly came at sunset in the distant Lamasari. At its door an ancient figure, wrapped in a tattered cloak, was sitting engaged, apparently in contemplation of the skies. It was our old friend Ku'en. Adjusting his horn spectacles on his nose, he looked at me. I was awaiting you, brother, of the monastery called the world. He said in a voice, very ineffectually, to conceal his evident delight. Have you grown hungry there that you return to this poor place? I, most excellent Ku'en, I answered, hungry for a rest. It shall be yours for all the days of this incarnation. But say, where is the other brother? Dead, I answered. And therefore reborn elsewhere or perhaps dreaming in Devachan for a while? Well, doubtless we shall meet him later on. Come, eat, and afterwards tell me your story. So I ate, and that night I told him all. Ku'en listened with respectful attention, but the tale, strange as it might seem to most people, excited no particular wonder in his mind. Indeed, he explained it to me at such length by aid of some marvellous theory of incarnations that at last I began to do so. At least, I said sleepily, it would seem that we are all winning marriage on the everlasting plane. For I thought that favorite catchword would please him. Yes, brother of the monastery called the world, Ku'en answered in a severe voice. Doubtless you are all winning marriage, but if I may venture to say so, you are winning it very slowly, especially the woman or the sorceress or the mighty evil spirit whose names I understand you to tell me are she, Hesse, and Asha upon earth, and in Avicii, star that has fallen. Here Mr. Hollis' manuscript ends, its outer sheets having been burnt when he threw it onto the fire at his house in Cumberland. End of the book Asha, The Return of She by H. Ryder Haggard Read by Lars Rolander