Doctor Nikola (Windsor Magazine, 1896)/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
THE MONASTERY.
WE stood and looked across the valley, hardly able to believe that we had at last arrived at the place of which we had heard so much. There it stood gaunt and lonely, on the edge of the ravine, a dark gray collection of roofs and towers surrounded by a lofty wall. But though we could discern it plainly enough before us the chief question was how we were to reach it? The canon, to employ an American term, stretched to right and left of us, as far as the eye could reach, in unbroken grandeur. Certainly on the side upon which we stood the cliff sloped enough for a careful man to climb down, but across the ravine it rose a sheer precipice for fully 1500 feet, and though I examined it carefully I could not see a single place where even a goat could find a footing.
“It would take us a week to go round,” said Nikola when he had carefully examined it, “and starving as we are we should be dead before we got half way.”
“Then what are we to do?”
“Climb down into the valley, I suppose. It's Hobson's choice.”
“It will be a terrible business” I said.
“You will find death up here equally undesirable,” he answered. “The worst of it is however, I don't see how we are going to reach it when we do get down there. But as it is within the sphere of practical politics, as they say, that we may break our necks on the way down, we had better postpone further argument until we know that we have arrived at the bottom with our lives. Come along then.”
For the next ten minutes we occupied ourselves looking along the cliff for the best practicable climbing place. That once discovered we crawled over the edge and began our descent. For the first 50 yards or so it was comparatively easy work; we had nothing to do but to drop from rock to rock. Then matters became more difficult. An unbroken face of cliff, with only one small foothold in nearly 40 feet, had to be negotiated. The wail at Pekin could not be compared with it for difficulty, and I knew to my cost I had found that quite hard enough. How we were to manage this seemed to me incomprehensible. But as usual Nikola was equal to the occasion.
“Take off your coat,” he said, “and give it to me.”
I did as he ordered me, whereupon he divested himself of his own and then tied the sleeves of the two garments together. This done we crawled along to the other end of the ledge, where grew one of the stunted trees which provided the only show of vegetation to he seen along the whole face of the cliff, and tied the end of the rope he had thus made to a long and thick root which had straggled over the face of the cliff in the hope of finding a holding place. Thus we obtained an additional 8 feet of rope, making in all nearly 15 feet, which, when we had added our own length, should carry us down to the ledge with a foot to spare.
As soon as these preparations were completed, we tossed up (strange relic of civilisation) for the honour of going first and testing its strength, and of course the position fell to Nikola whom Fate willed should be first in everything. Before setting off he carefully examined the strap by which his treasured medicine-chest was fastened round his neck, then with a nod of farewell to me knelt down upon the edge of the cliff, took the rope in his hands and began his descent. I have spent more pleasurable moments in my life than watching the strain upon that root. Of the coats themselves I had little fear; they were of the best silk and, save where the sleeves joined the body, were woven in one piece. However the root held, and presently I heard Nikola calling to me to follow him. Not without a little trepidation I lowered myself over and went down hand over hand. Though the rope was a comparatively short one it seemed centuries before I was anywhere near Nikola. Another 8 feet would find me on the ledge, and I was just congratulating myself on my cleverness when there was an ominous tearing noise on the cliff top, and the next moment I was falling backwards into mid-air. I gave myself up for lost, but fortunately the catastrophe was not as serious as it might have been, for with that presence of mind which never deserted him Nikola braced himself against the wall and clutched the rope as it slid by. The result was that the force of my fall was broken, and instead of falling on to the little plateau below, and probably breaking my neck, or at least an arm or leg, I swung against the cliff and then slipped gently to the ground.
“Are you hurt?” cried Nikola from his perch above.
“More frightened than hurt,” I replied.
“Now how are you going to get down?”
"Without vouchsafing any verbal reply Nikola turned his face to the wall, went down upon his knees once more, and then clutching at the ledge lowered himself and finally let go. He landed safely beside me, and having ascertained that his medicine chest was uninjured, went quietly across to where our coats had fallen and disengaged them from the broken root. Then having handed me mine he donned his own and suggested that we should continue our downward journey without more ado. I believe if Nikola fell by accident into the pit of Tophet, and by the exercise of superhuman ingenuity succeeded in scrambling out again, he would calmly seat himself on the brink of the crater and set to work to discover of what chemical substances the scum upon his garments was composed. I can assert with truth that in the whole of my experience of him I never once saw him disconcerted.
From the plateau to the bottom of the valley—though still sufficiently dangerous to render it necessary that we should exercise the greatest caution—our climb was not so difficult. At last we arrived at the foot and, having looked up at the towering heights on either side of us, began to wonder what we had better do next.
We had not long to wait however, for it appears our arrival had been witnessed. The bottom of the valley was covered with soft turf, dotted here and there with enormous rocks. We had just arranged to proceed in a westerly direction and were in the act of setting out, when our ears were assailed with a curious noise. It was more like the sound of a badly blown Alpine horn than anything else, and seemed to be echoed from side to side of the path. Then a voice coming from somewhere close to us, but whence we could not tell, said slowly—
“Who are ye who thus approach our dwelling by way of the cliff?”
“I am he whom ye expect,” said Nikola, and as he spoke he produced the little Chinese stick and held it above his head.
“Welcome,” said the same passionless voice. Then after a pause: “Go forward to yonder open space and wait.”
All the time that the voice had been speaking I had been carefully listening in the hope of being able to discern whence it came, but my exertions were useless. One moment it seemed to sound from my right, the next from my left. It had also a quaint metallic ring that made it still more difficult to detect its origin. To properly explain what I mean I might say that it was like the echo of a voice the original of which could not be heard. The effect produced was most peculiar.
When the voice had finished speaking Nikola moved forward in the direction indicated and I followed him.
Arriving at the place we stood in the centre of the open space and waited. For nearly ten minutes we looked about us wondering what would happen next. There was nothing to be seen in the valley save the green grass and the big rocks, and there was nothing to he heard but the wind through the grass and the occasional dismal note of a bird. Then from among the rocks to our right appeared one of the most extraordinary figures I have ever seen in my life. He was little more than three feet in height, his shoulders were abnormally broad, his legs were bowed so that he could only walk on the sides of his feet, while his head was so big as to be out of all proportion to his body. He was attired in Chinese dress, even to the extent of a pigtail and a little round hat. Waddling towards us he said in a shrill falsetto—
“Will your excellencies be honourably pleased to follow me?”
Thereupon he turned on his heel and preceded us up the valley for nearly a hundred yards. Then wheeling round to see that we were close behind him he marched towards what looked like a hole in the cliff and disappeared within. We followed to find him standing in a large cave, bowing on the sand as if in welcome. On either side in rows were at least a dozen dwarfs, dressed in exactly the same fashion, and every one as small and ugly as himself. They held torches in their hands, and as soon as they saw that we were following they set off up the cave headed by the little fellow who had come out to meets us.
When we had penetrated into the bowels of the cliff for what seemed to us nearly a hundred yards, we left the narrow passage and found ourselves confronted by a broad stone staircase which wound upwards in spiral form. The procession of dwarfs again preceded us, still without noise. It was all most uncanny, and had it not been for the reek of the torches and the fluttering of bats' wings as the beasts were disturbed by the flames and smoke, I should have been inclined to imagine it a dream; indeed more than once I felt an impulse to touch the stone wall in order to convince myself by its rough surface that I really was awake. I could see that Nikola was fully alive to all that was passing, and I noticed that he had adopted a demeanour consistent with the important position he was supposed to be filling. Up and up the stairs wound, twisting and twining this way and that, and never seeming to arrive at an end, till it almost made me giddy trying to remember how far we had come; indeed my legs were nearly giving way under me when we came to a halt. Then two large doors at the top of the stairs were thrown open and our party filed through. From the level of the doorway a dozen more steps conducted us to the floor above, and here we came to a second stop. On looking about us we discovered that we were in an enormous hall of almost cathedral proportions. The raftered roof towered more than a hundred feet above our heads; to right and left were vaulted arches of unique design, while at the further end was an exquisite window, the glass of which was stained blood red. The whole place was wrapt in semi-darkness, and though it had all the appearance of a place of worship I could distinguish no altar or anything that might be used as one.
As we reached the topmost step the dwarf who had met us in the valley and headed the procession up the stairs signed to his followers to fall back on either hand and then led the way between them to a small square of masonry at the top of two steps situated in the centre of the vast building. Arriving there he signed to us to take up our positions and himself mounted guard beside us.
For fully ten minutes we remained standing there looking towards the blood-red window and waiting for what should happen next. The silence was most weird, and I had to exercise all my powers of self-control to prevent my allowing some sign of nervousness to escape me.
Then without any warning a sound of softest music greeted our ears, which gradually rose from the faintest pianissimo to the crashing chords of a majestic march. It continued for nearly five minutes, and as it reached its finest parts two doors, one on either side of what might be called the chancel, opened, and a procession of men passed out. I called them men for the reason that I had no presumption to go upon that they were anything else, but there was nothing in their appearance to support that theory. Each was attired in a long black gown which reached to his feet, his hands were hidden in enormous sleeves, and the top of his head and face, from the nose upwards, was hidden in a thick veil thrown back to cover the poll and shoulders, with two round holes left for the eyes.
One after another they filed out and took up their positions in regular order on either hand of us, all facing towards the window.
When the last had entered and the doors were closed again an impressive service commenced. The effect of the semi-darkness, through which the great red window looked like an evil eye, the rows of black, weird figures, the mysterious chanting of the kneeling monks, and the recollection of the extraordinary character I had heard given to the place and its inmates, only increased the feeling of awe that possessed me.
When for nearly a quarter of an hour the monks had knelt at their devotions we could hear the muffled sounds of a great bell. Then with one accord they rose to their feet again and filed solemnly out by the door through which they had entered. When the last had disappeared we were left alone again for some minutes.
“What on earth does all this mean,” said Nikola in a whisper. “Why doesn't somebody come out to receive us?”
“There is a sort of charnel-house air about this place,” I answered, “which is the very reverse of pleasing.”
“Hush!” said Nikola; “someone is coming now.”
As he spoke a curtain in the chancel was drawn aside and a man, dressed in the same fashion as those we had seen at their devotions a few minutes since, came down the steps towards us. When he reached the place where we stood he bowed and beckoned to us with his finger to follow him. This we did up the steps by which he had descended and passed the curtain. On the other side was another flight of steps leading to a long corridor, on either hand of which were many small cells. The place was in total darkness, or rather it would have been in total darkness but for the torch which our guide had taken from a bracket on his way from the chancel and now carried in his hand.
Without stopping he led us along the whole length of the corridor, then turned to his right hand, descended three more steps, and having drawn hack another curtain, beckoned us to pass him into a narrow but lofty room. It was plainly furnished with a table, a couple of stools and a rough sort of bed, and was lighted by a narrow slit in the wall about 8 inches wide by 25 deep.
When we were both inside our guide turned and approaching me, pointed first to myself and then to the room, as if signifying that this was for my use, then taking Nikola by the arm he conducted him through another doorway in the corner to an inner apartment, which was evidently designed for his occupation. Presently he emerged again by himself and went out without further comment by the doorway through which we had entered. A moment later Nikola appeared at his doorway and invited me to inspect his apartment. It was like mine in every particular, even to to the bracket for a torch upon the wall.
“We are fairly inside now,” said Nikola, “and we shall either find out what we want to know within a very short space of time or be sent to explore the mysteries of another world.”
“It's more than possible we shall do both,” I answered.
“One thing, Bruce, before we go any farther,” he said, not heeding my remark, “you must remember that this place is not like an ordinary Shamanist or Buddhist monastery where things are carried on slipshod fashion. Here every man practises the most rigid self-denial possible, and among other things I have no doubt the meals will prove totally inadequate. We shall have to accustom ourselves to all sorts of peculiar virtues, and all the time we must keep our eyes wide open so that we may make the most of every chance that offers.”
“I don't mind the virtues,” I answered, “but am sorry for what you say about the meals, for to tell you the honest truth at the present moment I am simply starving.”
“It can't be helped,” replied Nikola. “Even if we don't get anything till to-morrow we shall have to grin and bear it.”
I groaned and went back to my room. It must have been nearly midday by this time, and we had had nothing to eat since daybreak. I seated myself on my bed and tried to reconcile myself to our position. Then a sudden fit of drowsiness came over me, and in less than ten minutes I was fast asleep.
For nearly two hours I must have remained in this condition. When I woke my hunger was more excruciating than ever. I rose from my bed and went in to look at Nikola, only to find that extraordinary man occupied in his favourite way, working out abstruse problems on the floor of his room. I did not disturb him but returned to my own apartment and fell to pacing the floor like a caged beast. I told myself that if I did not get something to eat pretty soon I should do something desperate.
My hunger however was not destined to last very much longer. Just about sundown I heard the noise of footsteps in the corridor and presently a barefooted monk, dressed all in black and wearing the same peculiar headdress we had first seen in the great hall, made his appearance carrying a large bowl in his hands. This he conveyed through my room and placed on Nikola's table.
When he entered the latter was down upon his knees busily engaged in his devotions, and I began to reproach myself for having allowed him to find me doing anything else.
The man had hardly left the room, and the shuffle of his footsteps had not died away on the stone steps, before I was in the inner room.
“Dinner is served,” said Nikola, and went across to the bowl upon the table. To my dismay it contained little more than a pint of the thinnest soup mortal man ever set eyes on. In this ungenerous fluid floated a few grains of rice, but of anything more substantial there was none. There was neither spoon nor bread, so how we were to drink it, unless we tilted the bowl up and poured it down our throats, I could not imagine. However Nikola solved the difficulty by taking from his medicine-chest a small travelling cup, which he placed in my hand. Thereupon I set to work upon the soup. Seeing that Nikola himself took scarcely more than a glassful, I argued with him, but in vain. He said he did not want it, and that settled the matter. I accordingly finished what remained, and when I had done so felt as hungry as ever. If this was to be the fare of the monastery, I argued, by the time we left it I should be reduced to a skeleton.
When I had finished my meal the long streak of light which had been under the window when we arrived and had gradually crossed the floor was now some feet up the opposite wall. A little later it vanished altogether. The room was left in total darkness, and I can assure you my spirits were as heavy as lead. I returned to Nikola's apartment not in the best of humours.
“This is very pleasant,” I said ironically. Are they never going to receive us properly?”
“All in good time,” he answered quietly. “We shall have enough excitement to last us a lifetime directly, and I don't doubt that we shall have some danger too.”
“I don't mind the danger,” I said; “it is this awful waiting that harasses my nerves.”
“Well you won't have long to wait. If I mistake not there is somebody coming for us now.”
“How do you know that?” I asked. “I can't hear anybody.”
“Still they are coming,” said Nikola. “If I were you I should go back into your room and be ready to receive them when they do.”
I took the hint, and went back to my apartment, where I waited with all the patience I could command.
How Nikola knew that someone was (coming to fetch us I cannot tell, but this is certain that within five minutes of his having warned me I heard a man come down the steps, then a lurid light appeared upon the wall, and a moment later the same dwarf who had ushered us into the monastery entered my room carrying a torch in his hand. Seeing that he desired speech with Nikola I held up my hand to him in warning, and then, assuming an air of the deepest reverence, signed him to remain where he was while I proceeded into the inner room. Nikola was on the alert and bade me call the man to him. This I did, and next moment the dwarf stood before him.
“I am sent, oh stranger,” said the latter, “to summon you to an audience with the Great Ones of the mountains.”
“I am prepared,” said Nikola solemnly. “Let us go.”
Thereupon the dwarf turned himself about and led the way out into the corridor. I had no desire to be left behind so I followed close at Nikola's heels.
We ascended first a long flight of steps, threaded the same corridor we had entered by, mounted another flight of stairs, crossed a large hall, and finally reached what was evidently a small ante-chamber. Here we were told to wait while the dwarf passed through a curtain and spoke to someone within. When he emerged again he drew back the covering of the doorway and signed us to enter. We complied with his request, to discover a rather larger apartment, which was guarded by a monk in the usual dress. He received us with a bow, and still without speaking, conducted us to another room, the door of which was guarded by yet another monk.
All this mystery and solemnity had a most lowering effect upon my nerves, and by the time we reached the last monk I was ready to be frightened by anything. I make these confessions, in the first place, because having set my hand to it I think I have no right to withhold anything connected with my adventures, and in the second, because I don't want to pose as a more courageous man than I really was. I have faced danger perhaps more often than most men, and I don't think my worst enemy could accuse me of cowardice, but I feel bound to confess that I was nervous. And who would not have been?
Nikola passed on ahead of me without looking to right or left, his head bent and his whole attitude suggestive of deep devotion and piety. When we reached the last ante-room we were told to wait. The monk disappeared and for nearly five minutes did not put in an appearance again. When he did he requested that we should follow him, and pointing to a door on the opposite side of the apartment requested that we would lose no time in entering.
We complied with his request to find ourselves in a large room, the hangings of which were all of the deepest black. By the light of the torches on the walls we could make out two men seated in quaintly carved chairs on a sort of dais at the further end. They were dressed after the same fashion as the monks, and for this reason it was quite impossible to discover whether they were young or old. As soon as we got inside the room I came stiffly to attention alongside the door, while Nikola advanced and stood before the silent couple on the dais. For some moments no one spoke. Then the man on the right rose, and looking towards Nikola said—
“Who are you who thus brave our solitude?”
“I am he of Hankow, of whom thou hast been informed,” answered Nikola humbly, with a low reverence.
“What proof have we of that?” inquired the first speaker.
“There is the letter sent forward by your messenger from the high priest of the Llamaserai in Pekin,” replied Nikola, “and I have this symbol that you sent to me.”
Here he exhibited the stick he had procured from Wetherell and held it up.
“And what may your business be with us?”
“I am here because you sent for me.”
“It is well,” said the first speaker, and sat down again.
For quite five minutes there was another silence, during which no one spoke, no one moved. I stood on one side of the door, the monk who had admitted us on the other; Nikola was before the dais, and on it, rigid and motionless, sat the two black figures. At the end of the time I began to feel if someone did not speak soon I should have to do so myself. The suspense was terrible, and yet Nikola stood rigid, never moving a muscle or showing a sign of embarrassment.
Then the man who had not yet spoken said quietly—
“Are you prepared for the office that awaits you?”
“If it should fall out as you intend,” said Nikola, “I am prepared.”
“Your spirit is what it should be, but are you certain that you have no fear?”
“I am certain,” he replied.
“And what knowledge have you of such things as will pertain to your office?”
To my surprise Nikola answered humbly: “I have no knowledge, but I have given my mind to the study of many things which are usually hidden from the brain of man.”
“It is well,” answered this second man, after the manner of the first.
There was another silence, and then the man who had first addressed Nikola said with an air of authority—
“To-morrow night we will test thy knowledge and thy courage. For the present prepare thyself and wait.”
As this was said the monk at the doorway beckoned to Nikola to follow him. He did so, and I passed out of the room at his heels. Then we were conducted back to our cells and left alone for the night.
When our guides had departed I went into Nikola's room.
“What do you think of our interview?” I inquired after a little conversation.
“That its successor to-morrow evening will prove of some real importance to us,” he answered. “Our adventure begins to grow interesting.”
“But do you think you are prepared for all the questions they will ask?”
“I cannot say,” said Nikola. “I am leaving it all to Fate. But the luck which has attended us hitherto ought surely to carry us on to the end.”
“Well, let us hope nothing will go wrong. I have seen more cheerful places than this monastery, and as far as diet is concerned, commend me to the cheapest Whitechapel restaurant.”
“Help me through all this and you shall live in luxury for the rest of your days.”
We talked for, a little while and then retired to bed.
Next day we rose early, breakfasted on a small portion of rice, received no visitors, and did not leave our rooms all day. Only the monk who had brought us our food on the previous evening came to see us, and, as on the previous occasion, he had nothing to say for himself. Our evening meal was served at sundown and consisted of the same meagre soup as before. Then darkness fell, and about the same time as on the previous occasion, the dwarf appeared to conduct us to the rendezvous.