A wonderful copy of the New Testament had also been taken; it was written on parchment in Amharic language, was profusely illustrated and illuminated, and bound in a triple leather cover; then there was a gold watch marked "Crosdi, Paris," which showed the day of the week and the month of the year; a telescope, and also an original letter from Her Majesty Queen Victoria to King John, dated November 1887. I myself read this letter, in which the Queen inquired after King John's health, and asked him how he and his family were; that England having occupied Egypt had become a near neighbour to Abyssinia, and that it was Her Majesty's earnest wish to continue to live on terms of peace and friendship with the Negûs. The letter concluded with good wishes for the King's health, happiness, and long life, and was signed by Lord Salisbury. Amongst other things I also saw the King's tent and a number of richly jewelled crosses.
On the same day of its arrival, the Khalifa ordered the King's head to be sewn in a piece of leather and sent it on to Dongola, from whence it was to be sent on to Wadi Halfa as a warning to the Khedive and the English that a like fate would await them if they did not at once submit.
It now seemed that the Khalifa was at the very zenith of his power. There in a dirty pit near the market-place lay the decaying heads of all his principal enemies, the Sultan Yusef, Abu Gemaizeh, the Abyssinians, Sayidna Isa, all huddled up together in a heap, and I could not help reflecting deeply on all these strange events every time I passed that pit. Gradually the skin and hair dropped off, leaving only the bare white skulls, deep eye-holes, and grinning teeth, and yet these were the skulls of crowned heads, prophets, and patriarchs gathered together in a narrow pit from far-distant countries—a solemn evidence indeed of the far-reaching power of Mahdiism. Passers-by struck them with their sticks, and yet for what thousands of lives had these now empty brain-pans been responsible, which lay rotting on far-distant battlefields—proof in truth of God's judgment on the Sudan!
Abdullah now thought himself master of the whole world. In his moments of wildest enthusiasm he had never dreamt of gaining such a tremendous victory over the Abyssinians, and yet another such victory would have almost destroyed his power; he had lost thousands of his best warriors, and the women and cattle captured could never compensate him for such a loss. Of course Zeki and his emirs did not always adhere to the truth in writing to the Khalifa, nor was the latter anxious they should do so—indeed, it would have been tantamount to a crime on Zeki's part to report that the Galabat garrison was weak; had he done so, and even if he had been the Khalifa's own relative, he would probably have been relegated to prison. It would have been treason to have said anything which would detract from the Khalifa's idea of his own power, and he was surrounded by wretched flatterers and trimmers who were the last to tell him the truth.
But all these wars and disturbances had now almost completely ruined the country, and then came the terrible famine, which lasted almost a year and brought untold sufferings on the people. The Khalifa, however, was blind to all this misery and distress. His only idea was self-aggrandisement, and he did not realize that hunger was likely to prove by far the worst and most dangerous enemy with which Mahdieh had to cope; but this he eventually learnt by bitter experience.
After the death of King John there was a certain amount of intercourse between the Dervishes and Abyssinians, and not a few of the latter used to come to Galabat and promise to lead Zeki to where the late king's treasures had been hidden; but this they probably did with the intention of trying to draw him into an ambush. It was eventually hunger which compelled Zeki to take some active measures. He despatched Abdullah Ibrahim into Abyssinia with several thousand men, and a few words respecting the career of this emir may not be amiss.
He was a nephew of Ahmed Bey Dafallah, of Kordofan, and had come to notice during the siege of El Obeid. Whenever he saw any cattle near the town he was always on the watch with his slaves, and generally succeeded in making a successful sortie, capturing them and bringing them into the fort. It was said that on one occasion, when the Mahdi was approaching El Obeid, Ibrahim left the fort and made straight for him, intending to kill him, but was twice wounded by his revolver; he however succeeded in returning to the fort, and after its fall the Mahdi, already greatly impressed by his bravery, pardoned him, and placed him in command of a division under Abu Anga. He accompanied his chief in all his numerous fights, and displayed even greater bravery in fighting for the Mahdieh than he did in fighting for the Government. Had he only been a Baggara he would undoubtedly have succeeded Abu Anga in command.
This Abdullah now penetrated Abyssinia; for a long time nothing was heard of him, and it was thought he must have been annihilated; but at length he returned to Galabat, having lost a large portion of his force. The actual events which happened in this expedition are wrapped in obscurity, and it is more than probable that it fared badly.
After the King's death Abyssinia became a prey to civil and internecine war, which left the inhabitants no time to revenge themselves for the death of their King. The Dervishes, too, were quite exhausted, and had to combat a terrible famine, which swept them off in thousands. This famine induced the sensible emirs at Galabat, such as Abderrahman Wad Abu Degel, to enter into commercial relations with Abyssinia, which have continued uninterrupted up to the present time.