Heart of the World

by H. Rider Haggard

“It is not the vengeance of the people that we have to fear, Tikal,” she answered quietly, “but rather your hate.”

“Which it is in your power to appease, lady,” he said in a low voice.

“It may be in my power, but it is not in my will,” she answered, setting her lips. “Come, cousin, take us to the dungeon that you have prepared for us.”

“As you wish,” he said; “follow me.” And he led the way across the guard-house, through a sleeping-chamber of the priests that lay behind it, to the further wall that was hidden by a curtain.

This curtain, on being drawn, revealed a small stone door, which Mattai, having first lit some lamps that stood ready in the chamber, unlocked with a key which hung at his girdle. One by one we passed through the door, Tikal preceding us, and Mattai, with others of the great lords, to the number of six, following after us. Beyond the door lay a flight of twenty steps, then came a gate of copper bars. On the further side of this gate were flight upon flight of steps, joined together by landings, and running, now in this direction now in that, into the bowels of the mighty pyramid. At length, when my limbs were weary of descending so many stairs, we found ourselves in front of other gates, larger and more beautifully worked than those that we had already passed. Presently they clanged behind us, and we stood in a vast apartment or hall that was built in the heart of the pyramid. It would seem that this hall had been made ready for our coming, for it was lighted with many silver lamps, and in one part of it rugs were laid and on them stood tables and seats. So great was the place that the light of the lamps shone in it only as stars shine in the sky, still, as we passed down it, we saw that its roof was vaulted, and that its walls and floor were of white marble finely polished. Once, as we learned afterwards, it had served as the assembly-rooms for the priests of the temple, but now that they were so few it was not used, except from time to time as a prison for offenders of high rank. At intervals along its length were doors leading to sleeping and other chambers. Some of the doors were open, and as we passed them Mattai told us that these were to be our bed-chambers. Then, having announced that food would be brought to us, the nobles, headed by Tikal, withdrew, and we heard the copper gates clash and the echo of their footsteps die into nothingness upon the endless stairs.

For a while we stood staring at each other in silence. It was Zibalbay who broke it, and his voice rang strangely in the vaulted place.

“It is his hour now,” he said, shaking his fists towards the stair by which Tikal had left us, “but let him pray that mine may never come,” and suddenly he turned and, walking to a couch, flung himself upon it and buried his face in his hands.

Maya followed him and, bending down, strove to comfort him, but he waved her away and she came back to us.

“This is a gloomy place,” said the señor, in a half whisper, for here one scarcely dared to speak aloud because of the echoes that ran about the walls, “but, dark though it is, it seems safer than the summit of the pyramid, where sword-points are so many,” and he pointed to a little cut upon his throat.

“It is safe enough,” Maya answered, with a bitter laugh, “and safely will it keep our bones till the world’s end, for through those gates and the men that guard them there is no escape, and the death that threatened us in the sunshine shall overtake us in the shadow. Did I not warn you against this mad quest and the seeking of the city of my people? I warned you both, and you would not listen, and now the trouble is at hand and your lives will pay the forfeit for your folly and my father’s.”