“But,” I interrupted, at this point, “how could that be? The prince from whom Anuti descended must have lived—let me see—yes, more than one thousand six hundred moons ago. Surely your queen is not so old as that!”
“Ah, but she is, and infinitely older!” answered Siluce. “No man knows how old she is; there is no record of her birth and parentage; she has been queen of the Bandokolo for unnumbered ages.”
“Oh, but that is nonsense, you know!” I retorted; “unless of course your records have been very badly kept. Why, in my country, if a man lives to be thirteen hundred moons old we regard him as a marvel. Surely your queen cannot be older than that?”
“Yes,” answered Siluce; “indeed she is. You do not understand. Bimbane is a great magician, who keeps herself alive by certain secret arts unknown to the rest of us. And she does so, not only because she fears to die, but also because she is persuaded that somewhere in the world there is—or will be—a man who, if she can find him and induce him to become her spouse, will restore to her her long-lost youth and all the joy of life that she once knew. It is the great desire of her life to find this man, and no sooner did she see Anuti than the thought arose that he might be the one through whom she would attain the fulfilment of her desires; and by the exercise of her magic she stole his heart from me, and induced him to wed her. And because I protested she first caused me to be publicly whipped, and then ordered me to leave the country, saying that at sunrise of the following day she would send forth hunters to seek for and destroy me if they found me. And, knowing that Bimbane would keep her word, I fled forthwith, all smarting from my whipping as I was, and made southward, avoiding all villages on my way, and following the most lonely bypaths that I could find. For just half a moon have I maintained a continuous flight, living on such fruit and other food as I chanced to come upon while pursuing my way, hiding whenever I saw man or woman, and scarce daring to rest or sleep lest savage beasts or the still more savage hunters should come upon and slay me. And now all my strength has gone; the hardships of my flight have sapped my life; and naught remains for me but to die, glad that I am permitted to pass painlessly in your hands rather than by those of the cruel hunters, who would drain the last remnant of my miserable life from me by slow torture!” And as the unhappy creature uttered the last words she threw up her hands with a gesture of despair and burst into a passion of hysterical weeping which I made no effort to check, hoping that thus she might gain relief to her overwrought feelings.
But instead of that happening, the thoughts and memories which had been awakened during the recital of her terrible experiences only increased her excitement, until in the course of half an hour the unhappy girl was fighting us and screaming in high delirium. Yet through it all there was one idea that seemed to haunt her, for later on, during a comparatively quiet period, she looked up into my face, and, seizing me by the hand, said:
“O wonderful white man, great and strong, you are going to Masakisale,”—the capital of Bandokolo—“and will see Bimbane. Take notice, and you will see that on the thumb of her right hand she wears a ring in which is set a wonderful stone that shines like the sun at eventide. That stone is a magic stone, a potent amulet, by virtue of which she is able to do many marvellous things, and, among others, to win the hearts of men. Some think that it is the possession of that stone which enables her to prolong her life indefinitely. If it were taken from her, and she were to die, all Bandokolo would rejoice; for Bimbane is a cruel tyrant, grinding down the people, and making the lives of many an intolerable burden to them. There have been those who have sought to take the stone from her, but by the power of her magic she has discovered their purpose and has destroyed them. But it may be that her magic will have no power over you, O white man; therefore, if you can, take from her that stone, and so deliver Bandokolo from her merciless tyranny. You will do it? Promise me.”
“I promise you, Siluce, that, if I can, I will take the stone from her,” I answered, more to soothe the unhappy little creature’s consuming anxiety, I must confess, than with any serious intention at that moment of fulfilling my promise. I meant well, and I was glad to see that my promise had produced a beneficial effect, for her agitation gradually subsided, and a little later, after partaking of more broth, she sank into a slumber that, uneasy at first, gradually became quiet and profound.
But the improvement was only of brief duration, for in little more than an hour she was again awake and raving in high delirium, fighting with us more fiercely than ever, under the impression, apparently, that we were the hunters who had been sent out to destroy her. Fortunately, I possessed a very fair knowledge of the Bantu dialect that she seemed to understand, and, using this, I did my utmost to soothe her and calm her fears. But all my efforts were worse than unavailing, for they only seemed to increase her terror; moreover, she appeared now to have become raving mad: therefore, in despair, and because I saw that in her struggles with us she was rapidly wearing out what little strength remained to her, I suddenly released my hold upon her, and bade Piet and ’Mfuni do the same; whereupon she sprang from the cartel and dashed off down the valley with the speed of a hunted deer. There was nothing for it, of course, but to follow, and this I did on horseback, with Piet and the dogs accompanying me. We proceeded at an easy canter, taking care to maintain a good distance, so that she might not be conscious of being followed, but just keeping her in sight; and in this fashion the poor, demented creature ran quite two miles before she fell exhausted.
When we came up to where she lay, we found her doubled up in the long grass, apparently senseless, but moaning pitifully; and again, as on the previous day, I sent Piet off to the river for water with which to restore her. But all our efforts were vain, for in less than half an hour after we had come to her the unhappy girl died, without recovering consciousness. As soon as I was quite sure that she was dead I mounted my horse, and, bidding Piet place the poor scarred, emaciated corpse in my arms, rode back to the wagon; and, procuring the necessary tools, I dug a grave in which we laid the poor inanimate body to rest, covering it well with big boulders from the river to protect it from the ravages of the jackals and hyenas. Then, notwithstanding that it was by this time late in the afternoon, we inspanned and trekked a good ten miles up the valley; for there is nothing that a South African savage fears much more than a grave, and I knew that nothing would have induced my “boys” to pass the night within half a dozen miles of poor Siluce’s last resting place.
Two days later, about mid-afternoon, we outspanned close to the headwaters of the small stream, the course of which we had been following for so many days. It had its source in the slopes of the more eastern of the two mountains toward which we had been travelling, and we outspanned at the very base of the mountain and close to the margin of the rivulet, which at this point had dwindled to a width that I could easily leap across. And now, having arrived at a point where this particular stream would be of no further service to us, our first business, before continuing our journey, must be to find another stream, flowing northward in a direction corresponding generally with that which we desired to pursue. Accordingly, as there still remained to us some three hours of daylight, Piet and I, accompanied by ’Mfuni, who had by this time learned to sit a horse, set out upon a short exploring expedition northward.