「ソロモン王の洞窟」第19章・・・イグノシとの別離 IGNOSI'S FAREWELL

「ソロモン王の洞窟」第19章・・・イグノシとの別離

IGNOSI'S FAREWELL

Ten days from that eventful morning found us once more in our old
quarters at Loo; and, strange to say, but little the worse for our
terrible experience, except that my stubbly hair came out of the
treasure cave about three shades greyer than it went in, and that Good
never was quite the same after Foulata's death, which seemed to move
him very greatly. I am bound to say, looking at the thing from the
point of view of an oldish man of the world, that I consider her
removal was a fortunate occurrence, since, otherwise, complications
would have been sure to ensue. The poor creature was no ordinary
native girl, but a person of great, I had almost said stately, beauty,
and of considerable refinement of mind. But no amount of beauty or
refinement could have made an entanglement between Good and herself a
desirable occurrence; for, as she herself put it, "Can the sun mate
with the darkness, or the white with the black?"

I need hardly state that we never again penetrated into Solomon's
treasure chamber. After we had recovered from our fatigues, a process
which took us forty-eight hours, we descended into the great pit in
the hope of finding the hole by which we had crept out of the
mountain, but with no success. To begin with, rain had fallen, and
obliterated our spoor; and what is more, the sides of the vast pit
were full of ant-bear and other holes. It was impossible to say to
which of these we owed our salvation. Also, on the day before we
started back to Loo, we made a further examination of the wonders of
the stalactite cave, and, drawn by a kind of restless feeling, even
penetrated once more into the Chamber of the Dead. Passing beneath the
spear of the White Death we gazed, with sensations which it would be
quite impossible for me to describe, at the mass of rock that had shut
us off from escape, thinking the while of priceless treasures beyond,
of the mysterious old hag whose flattened fragments lay crushed
beneath it, and of the fair girl of whose tomb it was the portal. I
say gazed at the "rock," for, examine as we could, we could find no
traces of the join of the sliding door; nor, indeed, could we hit upon
the secret, now utterly lost, that worked it, though we tried for an
hour or more. It is certainly a marvellous bit of mechanism,
characteristic, in its massive and yet inscrutable simplicity, of the
age which produced it; and I doubt if the world has such another to
show.

At last we gave it up in disgust; though, if the mass had suddenly
risen before our eyes, I doubt if we should have screwed up courage to
step over Gagool's mangled remains, and once more enter the treasure
chamber, even in the sure and certain hope of unlimited diamonds. And
yet I could have cried at the idea of leaving all that treasure, the
biggest treasure probably that in the world's history has ever been
accumulated in one spot. But there was no help for it. Only dynamite
could force its way through five feet of solid rock.

So we left it. Perhaps, in some remote unborn century, a more
fortunate explorer may hit upon the "Open Sesame," and flood the world
with gems. But, myself, I doubt it. Somehow, I seem to feel that the
tens of millions of pounds' worth of jewels which lie in the three
stone coffers will never shine round the neck of an earthly beauty.
They and Foulata's bones will keep cold company till the end of all
things.

With a sigh of disappointment we made our way back, and next day
started for Loo. And yet it was really very ungrateful of us to be
disappointed; for, as the reader will remember, by a lucky thought, I
had taken the precaution to fill the wide pockets of my old shooting
coat and trousers with gems before we left our prison-house, also
Foulata's basket, which held twice as many more, notwithstanding that
the water bottle had occupied some of its space. A good many of these
fell out in the course of our roll down the side of the pit, including
several of the big ones, which I had crammed in on the top in my coat
pockets. But, comparatively speaking, an enormous quantity still
remained, including ninety-three large stones ranging from over two
hundred to seventy carats in weight. My old shooting coat and the
basket still held sufficient treasure to make us all, if not
millionaires as the term is understood in America, at least
exceedingly wealthy men, and yet to keep enough stones each to make
the three finest sets of gems in Europe. So we had not done so badly.

On arriving at Loo we were most cordially received by Ignosi, whom we
found well, and busily engaged in consolidating his power, and
reorganising the regiments which had suffered most in the great
struggle with Twala.

He listened with intense interest to our wonderful story; but when we
told him of old Gagool's frightful end he grew thoughtful.

"Come hither," he called, to a very old Induna or councillor, who was
sitting with others in a circle round the king, but out of ear-shot.
The ancient man rose, approached, saluted, and seated himself.

"Thou art aged," said Ignosi.

"Ay, my lord the king! Thy father's father and I were born on the same
day."

"Tell me, when thou wast little, didst thou know Gagaoola the witch
doctress?"

"Ay, my lord the king!"

"How was she then--young, like thee?"

"Not so, my lord the king! She was even as she is now and as she was
in the days of my great grandfather before me; old and dried, very
ugly, and full of wickedness."

"She is no more; she is dead."

"So, O king! then is an ancient curse taken from the land."

"Go!"

"/Koom!/ I go, Black Puppy, who tore out the old dog's throat.
/Koom!/"

"Ye see, my brothers," said Ignosi, "this was a strange woman, and I
rejoice that she is dead. She would have let you die in the dark
place, and mayhap afterwards she had found a way to slay me, as she
found a way to slay my father, and set up Twala, whom her black heart
loved, in his place. Now go on with the tale; surely there never was
its like!"

After I had narrated all the story of our escape, as we had agreed
between ourselves that I should, I took the opportunity to address
Ignosi as to our departure from Kukuanaland.

"And now, Ignosi," I said, "the time has come for us to bid thee
farewell, and start to see our own land once more. Behold, Ignosi,
thou camest with us a servant, and now we leave thee a mighty king. If
thou art grateful to us, remember to do even as thou didst promise: to
rule justly, to respect the law, and to put none to death without a
cause. So shalt thou prosper. To-morrow, at break of day, Ignosi, thou
wilt give us an escort who shall lead us across the mountains. Is it
not so, O king?"

Ignosi covered his face with his hands for a while before answering.

"My heart is sore," he said at last; "your words split my heart in
twain. What have I done to you, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, that
ye should leave me desolate? Ye who stood by me in rebellion and in
battle, will ye leave me in the day of peace and victory? What will ye
--wives? Choose from among the maidens! A place to live in? Behold,
the land is yours as far as ye can see. The white man's houses? Ye
shall teach my people how to build them. Cattle for beef and milk?
Every married man shall bring you an ox or a cow. Wild game to hunt?
Does not the elephant walk through my forests, and the river-horse
sleep in the reeds? Would ye make war? My Impis wait your word. If
there is anything more which I can give, that will I give you."

"Nay, Ignosi, we want none of these things," I answered; "we would
seek our own place."

"Now do I learn," said Ignosi bitterly, and with flashing eyes, "that
ye love the bright stones more than me, your friend. Ye have the
stones; now ye would go to Natal and across the moving black water and
sell them, and be rich, as it is the desire of a white man's heart to
be. Cursed for your sake be the white stones, and cursed he who seeks
them. Death shall it be to him who sets foot in the place of Death to
find them. I have spoken. White men, ye can go."

I laid my hand upon his arm. "Ignosi," I said, "tell us, when thou
didst wander in Zululand, and among the white people of Natal, did not
thine heart turn to the land thy mother told thee of, thy native
place, where thou didst see the light, and play when thou wast little,
the land where thy place was?"

"It was even so, Macumazahn."

"In like manner, Ignosi, do our hearts turn to our land and to our own
place."

Then came a silence. When Ignosi broke it, it was in a different
voice.

"I do perceive that now as ever thy words are wise and full of
reason, Macumazahn; that which flies in the air loves not to run along
the ground; the white man loves not to live on the level of the black
or to house among his kraals. Well, ye must go, and leave my heart
sore, because ye will be as dead to me, since from where ye are no
tidings can come to me.

"But listen, and let all your brothers know my words. No other white
man shall cross the mountains, even if any man live to come so far. I
will see no traders with their guns and gin. My people shall fight
with the spear, and drink water, like their forefathers before them. I
will have no praying-men to put a fear of death into men's hearts, to
stir them up against the law of the king, and make a path for the
white folk who follow to run on. If a white man comes to my gates I
will send him back; if a hundred come I will push them back; if armies
come, I will make war on them with all my strength, and they shall not
prevail against me. None shall ever seek for the shining stones: no,
not an army, for if they come I will send a regiment and fill up the
pit, and break down the white columns in the caves and choke them with
rocks, so that none can reach even to that door of which ye speak, and
whereof the way to move it is lost. But for you three, Incubu,
Macumazahn, and Bougwan, the path is always open; for, behold, ye are
dearer to me than aught that breathes.

"And ye would go. Infadoos, my uncle, and my Induna, shall take you by
the hand and guide you with a regiment. There is, as I have learned,
another way across the mountains that he shall show you. Farewell, my
brothers, brave white men. See me no more, for I have no heart to bear
it. Behold! I make a decree, and it shall be published from the
mountains to the mountains; your names, Incubu, Macumazahn, and
Bougwan, shall be "/hlonipa/" even as the names of dead kings, and he
who speaks them shall die.[*] So shall your memory be preserved in the
land for ever.

[*] This extraordinary and negative way of showing intense respect is
    by no means unknown among African people, and the result is that
    if, as is usual, the name in question has a significance, the
    meaning must be expressed by an idiom or other word. In this way a
    memory is preserved for generations, or until the new word utterly
    supplants the old.

"Go now, ere my eyes rain tears like a woman's. At times as ye look
back down the path of life, or when ye are old and gather yourselves
together to crouch before the fire, because for you the sun has no
more heat, ye will think of how we stood shoulder to shoulder, in that
great battle which thy wise words planned, Macumazahn; of how thou
wast the point of the horn that galled Twala's flank, Bougwan; whilst
thou stood in the ring of the Greys, Incubu, and men went down before
thine axe like corn before a sickle; ay, and of how thou didst break
that wild bull Twala's strength, and bring his pride to dust. Fare ye
well for ever, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, my lords and my
friends."

Ignosi rose and looked earnestly at us for a few seconds. Then he
threw the corner of his karross over his head, so as to cover his face
from us.

We went in silence.



Next day at dawn we left Loo, escorted by our old friend Infadoos, who
was heart-broken at our departure, and by the regiment of Buffaloes.
Early as was the hour, all the main street of the town was lined with
multitudes of people, who gave us the royal salute as we passed at the
head of the regiment, while the women blessed us for having rid the
land of Twala, throwing flowers before us as we went. It was really
very affecting, and not the sort of thing one is accustomed to meet
with from natives.

One ludicrous incident occurred, however, which I rather welcomed, as
it gave us something to laugh at.

Just before we reached the confines of the town, a pretty young girl,
with some lovely lilies in her hand, ran forward and presented them to
Good--somehow they all seemed to like Good; I think his eye-glass and
solitary whisker gave him a fictitious value--and then said that she
had a boon to ask.

"Speak on," he answered.

"Let my lord show his servant his beautiful white legs, that his
servant may look upon them, and remember them all her days, and tell
of them to her children; his servant has travelled four days' journey
to see them, for the fame of them has gone throughout the land."

"I'll be hanged if I do!" exclaimed Good excitedly.

"Come, come, my dear fellow," said Sir Henry, "you can't refuse to
oblige a lady."

"I won't," replied Good obstinately; "it is positively indecent."

However, in the end he consented to draw up his trousers to the knee,
amidst notes of rapturous admiration from all the women present,
especially the gratified young lady, and in this guise he had to walk
till we got clear of the town.

Good's legs, I fear, will never be so greatly admired again. Of his
melting teeth, and even of his "transparent eye," the Kukuanas wearied
more or less, but of his legs never.

As we travelled, Infadoos told us that there was another pass over the
mountains to the north of the one followed by Solomon's Great Road, or
rather that there was a place where it was possible to climb down the
wall of cliff which separates Kukuanaland from the desert, and is
broken by the towering shapes of Sheba's Breasts. It appeared, also,
that rather more than two years previously a party of Kukuana hunters
had descended this path into the desert in search of ostriches, whose
plumes are much prized among them for war head-dresses, and that in
the course of their hunt they had been led far from the mountains and
were much troubled by thirst. Seeing trees on the horizon, however,
they walked towards them, and discovered a large and fertile oasis
some miles in extent, and plentifully watered. It was by way of this
oasis that Infadoos suggested we should return, and the idea seemed to
us a good one, for it appeared that we should thus escape the rigours
of the mountain pass. Also some of the hunters were in attendance to
guide us to the oasis, from which, they stated, they could perceive
other fertile spots far away in the desert.[*]

[*] It often puzzled all of us to understand how it was possible that
    Ignosi's mother, bearing the child with her, should have survived
    the dangers of her journey across the mountains and the desert,
    dangers which so nearly proved fatal to ourselves. It has since
    occurred to me, and I give the idea to the reader for what it is
    worth, that she must have taken this second route, and wandered
    out like Hagar into the wilderness. If she did so, there is no
    longer anything inexplicable about the story, since, as Ignosi
    himself related, she may well have been picked up by some ostrich
    hunters before she or the child was exhausted, was led by them to
    the oasis, and thence by stages to the fertile country, and so on
    by slow degrees southwards to Zululand.--A.Q.

Travelling easily, on the night of the fourth day's journey we found
ourselves once more on the crest of the mountains that separate
Kukuanaland from the desert, which rolled away in sandy billows at our
feet, and about twenty-five miles to the north of Sheba's Breasts.

At dawn on the following day, we were led to the edge of a very
precipitous chasm, by which we were to descend the precipice, and gain
the plain two thousand and more feet below.

Here we bade farewell to that true friend and sturdy old warrior,
Infadoos, who solemnly wished all good upon us, and nearly wept with
grief. "Never, my lords," he said, "shall mine old eyes see the like
of you again. Ah! the way that Incubu cut his men down in the battle!
Ah! for the sight of that stroke with which he swept off my brother
Twala's head! It was beautiful--beautiful! I may never hope to see
such another, except perchance in happy dreams."

We were very sorry to part from him; indeed, Good was so moved that he
gave him as a souvenir--what do you think?--an /eye-glass/; afterwards
we discovered that it was a spare one. Infadoos was delighted,
foreseeing that the possession of such an article would increase his
prestige enormously, and after several vain attempts he actually
succeeded in screwing it into his own eye. Anything more incongruous
than the old warrior looked with an eye-glass I never saw. Eye-glasses
do not go well with leopard-skin cloaks and black ostrich plumes.

Then, after seeing that our guides were well laden with water and
provisions, and having received a thundering farewell salute from the
Buffaloes, we wrung Infadoos by the hand, and began our downward
climb. A very arduous business it proved to be, but somehow that
evening we found ourselves at the bottom without accident.

"Do you know," said Sir Henry that night, as we sat by our fire and
gazed up at the beetling cliffs above us, "I think that there are
worse places than Kukuanaland in the world, and that I have known
unhappier times than the last month or two, though I have never spent
such queer ones. Eh! you fellows?"

"I almost wish I were back," said Good, with a sigh.

As for myself, I reflected that all's well that ends well; but in the
course of a long life of shaves, I never had such shaves as those
which I had recently experienced. The thought of that battle makes me
feel cold all over, and as for our experience in the treasure
chamber--!



Next morning we started on a toilsome trudge across the desert, having
with us a good supply of water carried by our five guides, and camped
that night in the open, marching again at dawn on the morrow.

By noon of the third day's journey we could see the trees of the oasis
of which the guides spoke, and within an hour of sundown we were
walking once more upon grass and listening to the sound of running
water.