The valley of eyes unseen
dropped him into the wrong courtyard--I didn't think worth while to let
him know the views of Kalliboas on this point--he said little.
The second day passed in the same way, without event or visitors,
but during the second night a rather unusual thing happened. I heard
Poyning talking in his sleep. Our bedchambers lay cheek to cheek, and
we always slept with merely a hanging curtain over the doorways--there
were, indeed, no internal doors in the building; and as I lay awake
somewhere after midnight I caught a distinct whisper of talk from
Poyning's room. I had slept by his side for many weeks during our
journey across the mountains, and had often listened to his small
lady-like snores; but never in all my experience of him had I heard
Poyning utter one word of dream-talk. What struck me as additionally
strange about the affair of this night was the way the sound came to
me. Generally, I have found that when a man talks in his sleep the
talk is continuous. Poyning's was disjointed, for all the world like a
dialogue of which the one half has been blotted out.
On the morrow I watched him closely, for I was greatly curious to see
whether that post-hypnotic suggestion the physician had left imprinted
on his mind was going to work. Normally, of course, I should have
had no doubt of it, for I know something of the queer phenomena of
hypnotism; but it is one thing to be enjoined to wind up the clock or
post letters, and quite another to be told that in three days you will
recover from a broken ankle. Very soon I saw something was stirring in
Stephen Poyning. His manner became more and more excited, and at last,
about eleven o'clock, he threw the sheet off his injured foot and felt
it tentatively.
'It's sheer black magic and devilry, of course,' he muttered, 'but--'
He was tugging at the fastenings of the splint. I next heard that
ingenious contrivance clatter on the marble as he tossed it out of bed.
'I shan't want _that_ any more, I can feel. Now let's see--'
He had set his foot to the floor and was very gingerly trying his
weight upon it. The next moment he was standing. I hurried to him and
gave him my arm.
'For God's sake be easy on it!' I cried. 'If you break the bone again
it'll take months to mend.'
He threw off my arm impatiently. 'Many thanks, Mirlees,' he said, 'but
I don't think I require any. Isn't it amazing? The Princess Helene said
I would walk again in three days, and--'
'How do you know her name is Helene?' I demanded.
Poyning gave me a queer look. 'Eh? That is her name, anyhow,' he said.
'Didn't you know?'
'I didn't. And I'm hanged if I can fathom how you did. I've never heard
her name mentioned.'
He ran his fingers through his hair in a curiously abstracted manner.
'That's odd,' he muttered. 'You must have forgotten. If Kalliboas
hadn't mentioned the name to the pair of us I should hardly know it
myself, should I? But I say, look at this, Mirlees!'
He was skipping round the floor, pausing now and then on one leg to
flex and unflex the ankle which three days ago had been broken.
We were so familiar with the city by this time that we often went out
without Kalliboas or any other attendant, but up to the present, save
on one occasion, it had always been by day. That one exception was a
week or two before Poyning's accident. Where he went I don't know, but
he told me next day--I was abed and asleep before he came back--that he
had been out to see the valley by moonlight. Now, on the first night
after his recovery, I noticed he had again left the house by himself.
The same thing happened on the following night, and once or twice again
afterwards. I began to get uneasy. I was still sore, I suppose, over
the wigging he'd let me in for by foolishly flying over the city, but
there was more in it than that. For some time past I had been conscious
of a change in Stephen Poyning. That overlay of "exquisiteness" the boy
had had when we brought him out of China was pretty well all rubbed
off; he was hardening up under experience, developing a will of his
own--and a secretive one, it seemed to me; and with Ronald Mirlees,
at least, he was drifting out of touch. It seemed incredible this
could happen with two men living together as we were in the midst of a
strange race, but it was a palpable fact nevertheless, and it hurt me
a little, though naturally my own pride kept me from saying anything
to Poyning on the subject. When, however, about the eighth night in
succession he took himself off alone after dark, and I saw one of
our attendants slip out behind him, I judged the affair had gone far
enough. If there was any spying to be done, I would take a hand in it
myself.
I slid noiselessly out into the courtyard and the street, which was
fickly illuminated by a young horned moon. Poyning I couldn't see; but
the attendant was just ahead of me, advancing furtively and taking
advantage of the shadow of every building he passed. To move silently
in the sandals worn in the valley was easy enough; moreover, there were
still a few belated foot-passengers abroad--it was only about eleven
o'clock, but the city folk were for the most part early bedgoers and
early risers--and I don't think the watcher suspected he was being
himself watched. After some while, however, the chase brought me to a
quarter of the city entirely deserted, and I had to let him get farther
and farther ahead. I noticed, too, that the moon was now in front of
me instead of behind, as at starting; our course had swept round in
a half-circle. He disappeared under a dark portico and was entirely
lost to my view for about two minutes. I edged nearer, keeping as much
as possible in under walls and trees of the roadside. At last, some
thirty yards ahead, a figure emerged and peered in every direction
as if to satisfy himself he was not observed. A wall here ruled off
the broad street into a sort of blind square. I saw the figure draw
in under that wall, set his foot, apparently, on a plinth about three
feet from the ground, then swing himself to the top and disappear over
the other side. I may say, however, that I can be none too sure of his
movements, for the moonlight was treacherous, and the effect of the
man's white garments against the all-prevailing marble of the city was
such that I had often to strain my eyes to keep him in view at all.
I crept up to the wall and listened, but could hear no sound. Now it
seemed I must take a bold step or lose my quarry altogether. I found
the plinth, rested my foot on it, and threw myself up. The wall, I
found, was surmounted by a feather-edged coping so broad and gently
sloped that it might have been the glacis of a fortification rather
than the sept of a courtyard. As a point to spy from it was ideal. I
lay quite still, peeping over the inner edge. At some way off rose the
mass of a block of buildings, glistening white and majestic in the
silvery light, but nearer to where I lay was a small pavilion with
domed roof supported by fluted pillars. Out of the shadow of this
structure suddenly emerged a figure, but I was now so near that I saw
immediately by his height it wasn't our tall attendant. An instant
later I had recognised the man as Stephen Poyning. Of the attendant I
could see no vestige either in the courtyard inside the wall or the
street without.
Then, from the far side of the court, appeared another figure--a
woman's. She swept across the gleaming marble pavement with the grace
of a goddess and the silence of a ghost, and soon I knew who she was,
for with that superb face turned towards me, what light there was
fell directly upon it. This was the woman who had come to Poyning's
help on the day of his accident, whom he called the Princess Helene,
Philipson's plighted queen.
Now followed the queerest part of the whole affair. To say I was
embarrassed would be scarcely correct: it frightened me.
With a little cry of joy the woman ran up to Poyning and folded him in
her arms and kissed him passionately on the lips. Poyning reached up
his arms, and placed them round her neck, and kissed her again; and
there the pair remained, locked in one another's embrace, for fully
a minute. I imagine that no scene in which that superb creature took
part could appear undignified, or this would have appeared so--even
ludicrous, for the crown of Poyning's head could hardly have reached
higher than the level of her lips, and as she stooped to kiss him he
seemed literally lost in the loose shimmer of her white robe. I could
hear nothing of what Poyning said, if he said anything, but from her
came the repeated cry, accented in an ecstasy of tenderness:
'My little one! My little one!'
They withdrew into the shadow of the domed pavilion, and I heard their
voices in low, earnest talk. I had seen enough--too much; I dropped
noiselessly into the street and stood there under the wall, quivering
with astonishment and alarm.
What utter folly, what unheard-of treachery was this? Of the woman
I knew nothing definitely beyond that she was betrothed to the
new sovereign of the state. Yet from vague allusions dropped by
Kalliboas--though Poyning was wrong in stating that Kalliboas had ever
mentioned the woman's name in my hearing--I had gathered something
regarding her status. There dwelt in the palaces, it seemed, several
maidens of the ancient blood royal in its purest. By long tradition
they were vowed to take no husband but the reigning prince, who chose
from among their number on ascending the throne, and this, as we had
seen, happened recently at the time of the abdication ceremony. The
rest would now remain true to a vow of celibacy till a new prince
succeeded. How the line was maintained, or what happened to these
maidens with their advancing years I never discovered, though I suspect
there was a mystery enshrouding them more amazing than any other in
all this amazing land, and that by some wizard tampering with what we
regard as nature's laws they preserved their youth far beyond the span
given to mortal women. But now, with this woman newly betrothed, or it
may have been wedded--the exact force of the union I didn't know--to
the man we had called Philipson, and indulging a secret passion with
Poyning--a mere adventurer like myself--I could see nothing ahead of
us but certain destruction, from which it would be equally futile and
monstrous to expect the Prince to save us.
I was so staggered by what I had seen that I even forgot the need of
concealment; and when, some minutes later, Poyning made his retreat by
the way he had come, he almost fell on me. He recoiled in astonishment,
and something he was carrying tinkled to the ground.
'Mirlees!' he gasped. 'What are you after here?'
'I ought to ask you that,' I retorted. 'Good God, man, d'you want to
ruin the pair of us?'
'I see,' he almost sneered. 'My coming here is likely to run you into
danger too. Is that the reason you thought it worth while to spy on me?'
'Not altogether,' I said, keeping my temper with difficulty. 'You were
followed from the house by one of our servants. I followed him, to see
what he was up to. I thought it was him I'd tracked here. Not until I
got to the top of that wall did I see it was you. And I'd give a good
deal _not_ to have seen what I've seen to-night.'
'Really? I don't understand how it concerns you.'
'Good God!' I cried hotly. 'I should have thought Philipson was worth a
little better treatment than that. He's kept pretty much on the square
with us--'
'Philipson? What's he to do with it?'
'_What!_ If a man I'd thought my friend fooled around with _my_ wife--'
'Wife? You're mistaken, Mirlees. The lady I've just left is not
Philipson's wife.'
'Huh! Affianced wife, then. What's the use in quibbling?'
'She is not even that.'