“Ay!” answered Noma, “but night follows dawn as the dawn follows night; and through the darkness and the daylight, I tell you, Wizard, henceforth I am haunted!  Also, be not so sure, for though I know not what the dead have spoken to you, yet it lingers on my mind that their words have many meanings.  Nay, speak to me no more, but let us fly from this dread home of ghosts, this habitation of the spirit-folk which we have violated.”

So the wizard and his wife crept from that solemn place, and as they went they saw the dawn-beams lighting upon the white cross that was reared in the Plain of Fire.

CHAPTER XII

THE MESSAGE OF HOKOSA

The weeks passed by, and Hokosa sat in his kraal weaving a great plot.  None suspected him any more, for though he did not belong to it, he was heard to speak well of the new faith, and to acknowledge that the god of fire which he had worshipped was a false god.  He was humble also towards the king, but he craved to withdraw himself from all matters of the State, saying that now he had but one desire—­to tend his herds and garden, and to grow old in peace with the new wife whom he had chosen and whom he loved.  Owen, too, he greeted courteously when he met him, sending him gifts of corn and cattle for the service of his church.  Moreover, when a messenger came from Hafela, making proposals to him, he drove him away and laid the matter before the council of the king.  Yet that messenger, who was hunted from the kraal, took back a secret word for Hafela’s ear.

“It is not always winter,” was the word, “and it may chance that in the springtime you shall hear from me.”  And again, “Say to the Prince Hafela, that though my face towards him is like a storm, yet behind the clouds the sun shines ever.”

At length there came a day when Noma, his wife, was brought to bed.  Hokosa, her husband, tended her alone, and when the child was born he groaned aloud and would not suffer her to look upon its face.  Yet, lifting herself, she saw.

“Did I not tell you it was accursed?” she wailed.  “Take it away!” and she sank back in a swoon.  So he took the child, and buried it deep in the cattle-yard by night.

After this it came about that Noma, who, though her mind owned the sway of his, had never loved him over much, hated her husband Hokosa.  Yet he had this power over her that she could not leave him.  But he loved her more and more, and she had this power over him that she could always draw him to her.  Great as her beauty had ever been, after the birth of the child it grew greater day by day, but it was an evil beauty, the beauty of a witch; and this fate fell upon her, that she feared the dark and would never be alone after the sun had set.

When she was recovered from her illness, Noma sat one night in her hut, and Hokosa sat there also watching her.  The evening was warm, but a bright fire burned in the hut, and she crouched upon a stool by the fire, glancing continually over her shoulder.