In this manner we travelled at a slow pace along the undulating broad highroad that, nearly in a direct line, conducts us from Angolahlah to the edge of Tchakkah. We met some few travellers, who, as we passed, exchanged loud and long-continued salutations with Walderheros, kept up until they were out of all convenient speaking distance of each other. A moor, or extensive downs, would convey the best idea of the country around; but though no trees or bushes intercept the sight, the whole surface was well cultivated with wheat and barley, or preserved as grazing meadows for the feeding of cattle. Excepting one considerably excavated valley, two or three miles from Tchakkah, the original level of the table land is only altered in the places where it is traversed by shallow water-denuded channels, along which very frequently the road runs, and the traveller proceeds in a broad hollow way, the flat ridges on each side of him rising some ten or twenty feet above his head.
I was not sorry at seeing again the already familiar land-mark, Koom Dingi, although it reminded me of the steep descent beyond. On arriving at the edge of the table land, I followed the advice of Walderheros, and dismounted; for however sure-footed in such perilous descents mules may be, they sometimes slip, as was evidenced by the dead body of one that lay burst among the rocks below, from a slip over one of the precipices. I sat down a few minutes whilst my servant ran to a house in sight, and procured for me the loan of a long slender staff, of some tough wood, like a spearshaft, which the Shoans generally carry with them when travelling on foot. By the aid of this, I was enabled to get along pretty well, dropping carefully from one huge stone to another, and in this manner, by rough unequal steps, succeeded at length in reaching the stream of the Airahra. I now mounted again, and forded the stony bed of the stream, surmounting with some difficulty the miry bank on the farther side, where the deeply-sunken hoofs of my mule were pulled with successive snatches out of the soughing tenacious mud.
Half an hour’s ride brought me to the foot of the royal hill of Ankobar. As we ascend, the road passes midway along its steep side, which above and below the traveller slopes several hundred feet. Here we encountered a noisy crowd of chatting romping girls, with large jars slung between their shoulders by a leathern belt, or rope, which passes across the breast. They were proceeding to a meadow below, to fill their jars with water at a little clear stream that fell over a little ledge of stones as it proceeded to join the Airahra. As I passed them, I overheard some of them whispering to the other, “Missela Zingero,” a most complimentary speech certainly, meaning nothing less than that I was “like a baboon.” These girls were slaves of the Negoos, and their chief employment consisted of this daily duty of carrying water from the stream to the palace on the summit of the hill. No less than two hundred are so employed, and these supply all the water required for the use of the courtiers and guests, besides a body-guard of three hundred gunmen, all of whom are daily fed at the royal table.
On my arrival at the Residency, I was again entertained by Dr. Roth and Mr. Bernatz, who, during the four days I spent with them were as kind and as attentive as possible. At the end of that time I became much alarmed at feeling the approach of symptoms threatening a return of the intermittent fever, from which I had suffered so much during the previous eight months. I was not long in determining what course to pursue, but resolved upon leaving Ankobar immediately, and exchange its damp cold atmosphere for the more genial climate of Aliu Amba.
In Ankobar my time was principally occupied in receiving information respecting the character and customs of the inhabitants of Shoa, but these I had more opportunity subsequently of observing for myself.
Respecting the slaves of the Negoos, in addition to the water-bearers just spoken of, I learned that he possessed several hundreds of others. All the gunmen who constitute the body-guard are bondsmen, and of these there are at least one thousand. These are divided into three bodies, relieving each other in rotation after one week’s attendance at the palace; so that these men have entirely to themselves two weeks out of three, a period always spent with their families. As individuals distinguish themselves for bravery and loyalty, they obtain grants of houses and gardens, generally in the immediate neighbourhood of the royal residences. When they advance in years, or have sons old enough to attend in their places, larger quantities of land, apportioned according to merit, are given to them and they become tenants of the King, only called up for suite and service on the occasions of the “zemitcharoitsh,” or expeditions. The grown up sons who fill their places as guardsmen generally reside with their fathers, and in that case their guns are allowed to be taken home with them; but the general rule is, that they should deposit them, after the term of duty has expired, in the armouries attached to the palaces, where they remain under the charge of the Atta Habta, the chief blacksmith. The gunmen have but one superior officer, who is termed “Ullica,” or “Shoom.” The name of the present colonel, if he may be so termed, is Kattimah. By courtesy he is styled “Atta Kattimah,” Atta being a title of distinction applied generally to all courtiers of high rank.
The gunmen, whilst on duty at the palace, receive daily two double handsful of some kind of grain or other; a kind of admeasurement that reminded me strongly of a similar custom of giving rations to slaves among the ancient Romans. Beside this, however, they get one good meal a-day at the King’s own table; at least, in an apartment where he superintends this diurnal feast of his attendants, who are plentifully regaled with large teff crumpets and a quantity of ale. With the bread is always provided some cayenne paste, called “dillock,” composed of equal parts of the red pods of the pepper and common salt, mixed with a little “shrow,” or the meal of peas. This is placed in a number of saucers of red earthenware, which stand in the middle of oblong tables of wicker work, about one foot and a-half high. A number of these are placed in the form of a horse-shoe in the banquetting-room, and around, on both sides, sitting upon the ground, the gunmen range themselves, sometimes in double ranks. The King presides over all, reclining upon a yellow satin-covered couch, in a kind of recess, or alcove in one side of the apartment. The greatest order and decorum is preserved, but no restraint appears to be laid either upon appetite or quiet conversation.
Upon occasions of festivals, which are exceedingly numerous, an unlimited amount of raw meat is added to their usual fare. Slave boys carry about a large lump of flesh, held fast over one shoulder by a strong grip of both hands, whilst each of the dining party cuts with his knife such portion he may desire, and then dismisses the boy with his blessing to the next who requires a like uncooked steak. In addition to their entertainment by the King when on duty at the palace, the gunmen receive a monthly pay of from three to seven ahmulahs, or salt-pieces, according to their length of service. Besides the numerous gunmen who are generally slaves born in the service of the Negoos, there is an inferior class who have been purchased from dealers, or have come to the King as the import duty when Kafilahs of these unhappy creatures arrive in his dominions. The usual “assair,” or tithe, being taken as of every other kind of merchandize that is brought into Shoa. These slaves are employed generally as cutters of wood; and a most toilsome and ill-requited labour is that which they have to perform, for the country around Angolahlah and Debra Berhan is so bare of wood that the inhabitants have no other resource for fuel but the dung of cattle mixed with mire, which are formed into large flat cakes and heaped up in storehouses for protection from the weather. I believe that the quantity of potass in the soil in this part of the country, contributes considerably to the value of this strange kind of fuel, as its combination with sundry other elements contained in the dung saturates the mass with saltpetre.
The Negoos, however, does not employ this kind of fuel in his palaces, but is supplied by the wood-cutting slaves with the cedar-smelling pine-tree, called “ted,” or the more adapted for a bright warm fire, the oil-containing wood of the wild olive-tree; both of which grow abundantly in the forests of Kundee and Afrabinah, that occupy the head of some of the numerous valleys sloping towards the Hawash, on the east of the ridge in front of Ankobar. From these forests, the stalwart frames of the Shankalli slaves bear long and heavy burdens of the rended fire-wood up the steep rugged ascent, to the right of the Hill of Grace; and then, for twenty-five miles, to the palaces of Debra Berhan and Angolahlah. Upon this painful and laborious duty, not less than three hundred slaves are employed, who receive daily the most wretched fare, either a few handsful of parched wheat, or else, the sour and coarse refuse from the gunmen’s table. Still, these, I found, were far from being over-worked; for three days are allowed to each for the conveyance of the load, and the return back from the distant palaces to their homes, which even these are provided with for themselves and their families.
The female slaves are still more numerous; independent of the two hundred employed in supplying the King’s household with water, there are, at least, one hundred more, who assist in grinding flour, brewing, and making the “dillock,” or pepper-paste.