Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard

‘Look here, old fellow,’ said Sir Henry, ‘just stop a minute. I have a little tale to tell you too.’ And he went on to narrate what had taken place on the previous day between Sorais and himself.

This was a finishing stroke to poor Good. It is not pleasant to any man to learn that he has been made a tool of, but when the circumstances are as peculiarly atrocious as in the present case, it is about as bitter a pill as anybody can be called on to swallow.

‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I think that between you, you fellows have about worked a cure,’ and he turned and walked away, and I for one felt very sorry for him. Ah, if the moths would always carefully avoid the candle, how few burnt wings there would be!

That day was a Court day, when the Queens sat in the great hall and received petitions, discussed laws, money grants, and so forth, and thither we adjourned shortly afterwards. On our way we were joined by Good, who was looking exceedingly depressed.

When we got into the hall Nyleptha was already on her throne and proceeding with business as usual, surrounded by councillors, courtiers, lawyers, priests, and an unusually strong guard. It was, however, easy to see from the air of excitement and expectation on the faces of everybody present that nobody was paying much attention to ordinary affairs, the fact being that the knowledge that civil war was imminent had now got abroad. We saluted Nyleptha and took our accustomed places, and for a little while things went on as usual, when suddenly the trumpets began to call outside the palace, and from the great crowd that was gathered there in anticipation of some unusual event there rose a roar of ‘Sorais! Sorais!’

Then came the roll of many chariot wheels, and presently the great curtains at the end of the hall were drawn wide and through them entered the ‘Lady of the Night’ herself. Nor did she come alone. Preceding her was Agon, the High Priest, arrayed in his most gorgeous vestments, and on either side were other priests. The reason for their presence was obvious — coming with them it would have been sacrilege to attempt to detain her. Behind her were a number of the great lords, and behind them a small body of picked guards. A glance at Sorais herself was enough to show that her mission was of no peaceful kind, for in place of her gold embroidered ‘kaf’ she wore a shining tunic formed of golden scales, and on her head a little golden helmet. In her hand, too, she bore a toy spear, beautifully made and fashioned of solid silver. Up the hall she came, looking like a lioness in her conscious pride and beauty, and as she came the spectators fell back bowing and made a path for her. By the sacred stone she halted, and laying her hand on it, she cried out with a loud voice to Nyleptha on the throne, ‘Hail, oh Queen!’

‘All hail, my royal sister!’ answered Nyleptha. ‘Draw thou near. Fear not, I give thee safe conduct.’

Sorais answered with a haughty look, and swept on up the hall till she stood right before the thrones.

‘A boon, oh Queen!’ she cried again.

‘Speak on, my sister; what is there that I can give thee who hath half our kingdom?’

‘Thou canst tell me a true word — me and the people of Zu-Vendis. Art thou, or art thou not, about to take this foreign wolf,’ and she pointed to Sir Henry with her toy spear, ‘to be a husband to thee, and share thy bed and throne?’

Curtis winced at this, and turning towards Sorais, said to her in a low voice, ‘Methinks that yesterday thou hadst other names than wolf to call me by, oh Queen!’ and I saw her bite her lips as, like a danger flag, the blood flamed red upon her face. As for Nyleptha, who is nothing if not original, she, seeing that the thing was out, and that there was nothing further to be gained by concealment, answered the question in a novel and effectual manner, inspired thereto, as I firmly believe, by coquetry and a desire to triumph over her rival.

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