The way of the spirit

by H. Rider Haggard

Then she led the way past certain built-up chambers in which, she informed him, her immediate predecessors lay uncoffined, to a recess where was a magnificent sarcophagus of alabaster. It was graved about with the usual texts from the Book of the Dead, but had several peculiarities. Thus in its great interior were places for two bodies with a little ridge of alabaster left to separate them. It was quite empty, the massive lid which stood by its side never having been put on. Also the spaces for the name, or names, of its occupants were left blank, showing that those for whom it was prepared rested elsewhere.

“Where are they?” asked Rupert, as with the help of Mea and his crutch he scrambled down from the pediment of the tomb.

“Don’t know,” she answered, “perhaps die somewhere else, or killed by enemy; perhaps quarrel, and no wish to be buried together. I take their house when my time comes; just fit me.”

“Then you mean your husband to lie there too?” blurted out Rupert, without thinking.

Holding the lamp in her hand she turned and looked at him with steady eyes.

“Understand, Rupert Bey,” she said, “I have no husband, never—never. All day I work alone, when night come I sleep alone. Then my people build up this place—all, all, for I the last and nobody ever come in here any more. Yes, build it up with stone of the temple and make it solid like the mountain, for I wish to sleep long and quiet.”

Such were the oasis Tama and its antiquities. Of its people there is little to say, save that they were grave in demeanour, rather light in colour and handsome in appearance, especially the women, looking much as the last descendants of an ancient and high-bred race might be expected to look. The men, as we have seen, were brave enough in war, suspicious and exclusive also, but indolent at home, doing no more work than was necessary, and for the most part lacking the energy to trade. Their customs as regards marriage and other matters were those common to Nubia and the Soudan, but although they talked of Allah they were not Mahommedans, and if they worshipped anything, it was God as symbolised by the sun. Indeed this was all that remained of their ancient faith, with the exception of certain feasts and days of mourning, whereof they had long forgotten the origin. Only a few of the old women before a marriage or a burial, or any other event of importance, would occasionally creep down to the vault and pour a libation to the statue of Osiris that wore the crown and feathers of Amen-Ra, as, in an hour of danger, Bakhita had made Mea do at Abu-Simbel.

This survival was interesting, but Rupert was never able to discover whether it had descended from the ancient days, or whether they had learnt the practice from the sculptures on the temple and the paintings in the vault, which showed the departed rulers and their wives and attendants pouring such libations before this very statue. At least, of the old religion nothing else remained, nor could anyone in Tama read the hieroglyphics. It was her desire to acquire this and other learning, and to become acquainted with those men and the wonderful outside world, whereof rumours had reached her in her isolated solitude, that had caused Mea to disguise herself and spend two years at the school at Luxor. Here, although, as she found to her disappointment, they did not teach hieroglyphics, she had accumulated a considerable quantity of miscellaneous knowledge of men and things, including a superficial acquaintance with the English tongue, in which she loved to talk.

Now she insisted upon continuing her education under Rupert’s guidance, and as they had only one book, the instruction took the form of lectures upon history, literature, art, and everything else under the sun with which he had the slightest acquaintance. It was a strange sight to see them in one of the big rooms of her house, Mea seated at a little table and Rupert limping to and fro upon his crutch, and holding forth on all things, human and Divine, such as Egyptology—of which he really knew something; modern political history, especially that of Africa, and religion. Indeed, the last played a large part in their studies, for as it happened among the few belongings that were saved from the saddle-bags of his camel was Rupert’s Bible, that same skin-bound volume which had excited Edith’s wonder and interest. Therefore it was out of this Bible that he made her read to him, with the result that she learned from it more than the letter. As he intended that she should, soon she began to appreciate the spirit also, and in its light to understand much that had puzzled her in Rupert’s conduct towards herself and others. But the knowledge did not teach her to love him less, only perhaps she honoured him the more.

So the weeks passed on, and strange as were the conditions of his life, not altogether unhappily for Rupert. As yet it was impossible for him to leave the oasis for the reasons that have been given, and sometimes with a sudden sense of shame, he awoke to the fact that this detention was no longer the agony to him that it had been at first; that now indeed he could endure it with patience. Of course the truth was that we are all of us very much the creatures of our immediate surroundings, and that the atmosphere of this peaceful desert home had crept into his being, bringing with it rest, if not content. He had suffered so much in mind and body, and now he was not called upon to suffer. So skilful was she in her dealings with him, so well did she veil her heart in its wrappings of courtesy and friendship, that he ceased even, or at any rate to a great extent, to be anxious about Mea.