Then she gave her hand to Oliver, and with his assistance crept through the hole. We followed, to find ourselves in another cavern, where, as she had said, the temperature was much hotter than that without.
“What is this place?” asked Orme in a low voice, for its aspect seemed to awe him.
“The tomb of the old kings of Mur,” she replied. “Presently you shall see,” and once more she took his hand, for the slope was sharp and slippery.
On we went, always descending, for perhaps four hundred yards, our footfalls echoing loudly in the intense silence, and our lamps, round which the bats circled in hundreds, making four stars of light in the utter blackness, till at length the passage widened out into what appeared to be a vast circular arena, with a lofty dome-like roof of rock. Maqueda turned to the right, and, halting before some objects that glimmered whitely, held up her light, saying, “Look!”
This was what we saw: A great stone chair and, piled upon its seat and upon its base, human bones. Amongst these was a skull, and on it, grotesquely tilted, a crown of gold, while other ornaments—sceptres, rings, necklaces, weapons and armour—were mingled with the bones. Nor was this all, for in a wide circle round the chair were other skeletons, fifty or more of them, and amongst them the ornaments that their owners had worn.
Also, in front of each stood a tray of some metal, which we afterwards discovered to be silver or copper, and heaped upon it every kind of valuable, such as golden cups and vases, toilet utensils, necklaces, pectorals, bracelets, leglets, earrings and beads that seemed to be cut from precious stones, piles of ring money, and a hundred other things such as have been prized by mankind since the beginning of civilization.
“You understand,” said Maqueda, as we stared, open-mouthed at this awful and marvellous sight, “he in the chair was the king. Those about him were his officers, guards, and women. When he was buried they brought his household here, bearing his wealth, sat them down about him, and killed them. Blow away the dust, and you will see that the rock beneath is still stained with their blood; also, there are the sword-marks on their skulls, and neckbones.”
Quick, who was of an inquiring mind, stepped forward and verified these statements.
“Golly!” he said, throwing down the skull of a man over whom the tired executioners had evidently bungled badly, “I’m glad I didn’t serve the old kings of Mur. But the same game goes on in a small way to-day in Africa, for when I was campaigning on the West Coast I came across it not a fortnight old, only there they had buried the poor beggars living.”
“Perhaps,” said Maqueda, when the Sergeant’s remarks had been translated to her. “Yet I do not think the custom is one that my people would love,” and she laughed a little, then added, “forward, friends, there are many more of these kings and oil does not burn for ever.”