For nearly a week after this nothing of any particular import happened. Upon one pretext or another the queen sent for me every day, sometimes more than once, to converse with her; and by the end of the fifth day after my arrival I had practically forgotten Siluce’s charges against her, forgotten that she was an old woman—although on the occasion of our third interview she had permitted me to see her small, withered, wrinkled old face—forgotten everything, in fact, except that I had come to the conclusion that she was the most charming, delightful, and interesting, as well as the most friendless and vilely betrayed woman I had ever heard of. She had kept her word right royally in the matter of the diamonds, having sent me a goatskin sack full of the most magnificent stones, while I was led to understand that more were being diligently sought for; and as for gold, there was already enough of it in my apartment to tax the strength of my diminished team of oxen to the utmost to draw it when it should be loaded into the wagon.
On the sixth day after my arrival in Masakisale I encountered Anuti, the queen’s husband, while riding from the palace to the wagon, as was my daily wont. He joined me when I was about halfway down the valley, riding out from one of the side roads, which, it appeared, led to the house that he was then inhabiting, he having deserted the palace immediately after his quarrel with the queen. He approached and accosted me, introducing himself quite frankly; and upon learning that I was on my way to the lower end of the valley, asked permission to accompany me, which I accorded rather ungraciously, I am afraid, for I was by that time very bitterly prejudiced against him. Yet, as we rode, conversing together, I found it hard to maintain that prejudice, for he was as unlike the man I had pictured him as it was possible for a man to be; indeed, I was amazed at the frankness, geniality, and courteousness of his manner. He professed to be rejoiced at the opportunity that I was affording him to make my acquaintance, for which he thanked me; very delicately hinted his admiration of my prowess in killing the rhinoceros which had attacked the escort; and expressed an earnest desire that, despite the suspicion and dislike with which I at that moment regarded him, the time was not far-distant when we should be stanch friends. He added that there were several of Bandokolo’s most influential nobles and chiefs who were anxious to be made known to me; and when I received this intimation with a return to my original frigidity of manner he turned to me and exclaimed, with an almost startling earnestness of manner:
“Ah, Chia’gnosi, I would that you could be persuaded to lay aside your prejudices, and treat me and my friends fairly! Our conception of you has been that of a man who loves justice and fairness above all things, else would you never have been permitted to come hither. I know that you have been a sojourner in the palace for the last five days, and that you have been daily—ay, almost hourly—brought under the influence of the queen, consequently I fully understand your antagonism to me. She has told you her story, and has cunningly played upon your sympathy and the chivalry of your character, leading you to believe that she is the most unfortunate, most maligned and persecuted woman in the whole world. But that is only her version of the story; and I swear to you that it is false! I know the story which the lips of the dying Siluce whispered into your ears, for my spirit was with you both then, and I say that every word of it is true, although I know that Bimbane has asserted the contrary. Think of this, therefore, Chia’gnosi, and ask yourself whether you may not have been led by a cunning, unscrupulous, and lying old witch to give your sympathy to the wrong person. If you are capable of being convinced by the truth—as I believe you are—I can convince you. But you must give me the opportunity; and if you will but do this, I tell you that you will thank me for asking you to hear what I have to say.”
To say that I was amazed and shocked beyond all power of expression at the possibility that I had been hoodwinked and played with by a preternaturally plausible old woman is to put the matter very mildly; yet slowly the conviction dawned upon me that it might be so. I suddenly remembered my own youth and inexperience, and the tales that had been told me of Bimbane’s unnatural longevity; and gradually I came to realise how easy a woman of her prolonged and wide experience would find it to play upon my sympathy and credulity until she had brought me to a state of mind in which I should be prepared to believe whatever she might choose to tell me. She had indeed almost brought me to that state of mind, but not quite; I still retained sense enough to recognise that my judgment was not infallible, my wisdom not so great but that it might be possible for an exceedingly clever person to deceive me. And then it suddenly occurred to me that Bimbane’s version of the Siluce incident was entirely unsupported save by her own assertions, while the statement of Siluce herself—made with her dying breath, when, it might be assumed, she could have no possible motive for telling a falsehood—was fully confirmed by Anuti. Yes; the two stories differed so completely that one of them must necessarily be untrue, and I felt that I owed it to myself to discover which of them it was. It was all very well for me to pretend that I would not permit myself to be involved in a quarrel with which I had no concern, but I began to realise that possibly I might not be allowed any option in the matter, and that in spite of myself I might be compelled to take one side or the other; and if that should prove to be the case I must see to it that I was not inveigled into espousing the wrong side. Therefore, when I had reasoned the matter out in my own mind, somewhat after the above fashion, I turned to Anuti, and, giving him my hand, said:
“You are right, Anuti; you are entitled to demand that I shall afford you the opportunity to set forth your version of the dispute between the queen and yourself, and to bring forward proofs of the soundness and justice of your own contention, and you shall have it. Therefore, make such arrangements as you may deem necessary; and when you are ready I shall be prepared to listen to you. But, understand this: your proofs will have to be very full and complete to be wholly convincing, for, rightly or wrongly, I have been very strongly impressed with the conviction that the queen is the victim of a powerful band of thoroughly ruthless, unscrupulous conspirators.”
Anuti laughed heartily as he grasped my extended hand. “There was no need for you to tell me that, Chia’gnosi,” he said, “for I know Bimbane, and am fully aware of her extraordinary powers of persuasion. Her magic is potent and wonderful, ay, even to the extent of enabling her to persuade you that this blaze of sunlight is the darkness of the great cavern whence we obtain our shining stones, that yonder sun is the day-old moon, or that she herself is young and beautiful. Therefore I am in nowise astonished that you insist upon my proofs being complete. I am fully aware that they will have to be so in order to convince you; and I promise you that they shall be. And now, a word of warning. It may be that Bimbane is cognisant of what has passed between us, for I doubt not that she watches your every movement; and, if so, she will be fully aware, not only that we have met, but of every word that we have spoken. In that case, Chia’gnosi, you will be in some danger; and if I thought that you feared danger I would express my regret for having brought you within touch of it. But I know that you do not; therefore I will merely say to you, be on the watch, for when the peril comes it will come swiftly, without warning, and you will need all your courage and all your great strength to meet it. Farewell, Chia’gnosi, and thanks for the courtesy and fairness with which you have hearkened to me. I will collect my facts and my witnesses; and when all is ready you shall hear from me. Again, farewell!”