The Wanderer's Necklace eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 348 pages of information about The Wanderer's Necklace.

Martina and I had made a plan.  Palka, after much coaxing, took us with her one evening when she went to place the accustomed offerings in the Valley of the Dead.  Indeed, at first she refused outright to allow us to accompany her, because, she said, only those who were born in the village of Kurna had made such offerings since the days when the Pharaohs ruled, and that if strangers shared in this duty it might bring misfortune.  We answered, however, that if so the misfortune would fall on us, the intruders.  Also we pointed out that the jars of water and milk were heavy, and, as it happened, there was no one from the hamlet to help to carry them this night.  Having weighed these facts, Palka changed her mind.

“Well,” she said, “it is true that I grow fat, and after labouring all day at this and that have no desire to bear burdens like an ass.  So come if you will, and if you die or evil spirits carry you away, do not add yourselves to the number of the ghosts, of whom there are too many hereabouts, and blame me afterwards.”

“On the contrary,” I said, “we will make you our heirs,” and I laid a bag containing some pieces of money upon the table.

Palka, who was a saving woman, took the money, for I heard it rattle in her hand, hung the jars about my shoulders, and gave Martina the meat and corn in a basket.  The flat cakes, however, she carried herself on a wooden trencher, because, as she said, she feared lest we should break them and anger the ghosts, who liked their food to be well served.  So we started, and presently entered the mouth of that awful valley which, Martina told me, looked as though it had been riven through the mountain by lightning strokes and then blasted with a curse.

Up this dry and desolate place, which, she said, was bordered on either side by walls of grey and jagged rock, we walked in silence.  Only I noted that the dog which had followed us from the house clung close to our heels and now and again whimpered uneasily.

“The beast sees what we cannot see,” whispered Palka in explanation.

At last we halted, and I set down the jars at her bidding upon a flat rock which she called the Table of Offerings.

“See!” she exclaimed to Martina, “those that were placed here three days ago are all emptied and neatly piled together by the ghosts.  I told Hodur that they did this, but he would not believe me.  Now let us pack them up in the baskets and begone, for the sun sets and the moon rises within the half of an hour.  I would not be here in the dark for ten pieces of pure gold.”

“Then go swiftly, Palka,” I said, “for we bide here this night.”

“Are you mad?” she asked.

“Not at all,” I answered.  “A wise man once told me that if one who is blind can but come face to face with a spirit, he sees it and thereby regains his sight.  If you would know the truth, that is why I have wandered so far from my own country to find some land where ghosts may be met.”

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The Wanderer's Necklace from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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