The Great White Queen: A Tale of Treasure and Treason Read online

  CHAPTER VII.

  SAMORY'S STRONGHOLD.

  THROUGH dense dark forests and over great open grass-lands, passingseveral villages, we were carried forward many days, still bound andnever allowed to have our hands free except during our meals.

  The face of Kouaga grew more brutal and fierce as we proceeded, and heurged on the carriers until we found ourselves travelling at a pace thatfor African natives was amazing.

  Omar spoke little. He was always pre-occupied and thoughtful. He had toldme that he now regretted having brought me with him from England, but Iassured him that our misfortunes were not of our own seeking, and urgedhim to be of good cheer.

  Truth to tell, my heart was full of dark forebodings. I saw in the uglycountenance of Kouaga expressions of deadly hatred, and I knew that theywere of ill-portent. Yet to escape in that deadly bush, extending forhundreds and hundreds of miles, dark, monotonous and impenetrable, meantcertain death even if we eluded the watchful vigilance of this muscularnegro.

  One day, when passing through a forest village, a half-naked savagerushed towards us brandishing his spear and uttering a loud yell, butwhether expressive of hatred or joy I knew not. Suddenly, as heapproached the hammock in which Omar was lying, my friend addressed himin some tongue that was strange to me, but to which the native answeredreadily.

  "As I thought, Scars!" Omar shouted to me in English a moment later. "Wehave travelled away from Mo, crossed Tieba's territory, and have nowentered the country of the great Mohammedan chief Samory, my nation'sbitterest enemy. It was he who seized my father by a ruse and sent hishead back to my mother as a hideous souvenir."

  "But what object has Kouaga in bringing us here?" I asked.

  "I cannot imagine," he answered. "Unless he travelled to England, for thesole purpose of delivering me into the hands of our enemies. Three timeswithin the last five years has Samory attempted to invade our country,but each time has been repulsed with a loss that has partially paralysedhis power. All along the right bank of the Upper Niger his bands ofhirelings and mercenaries, whom we call Sofas, are constantly raiding forslaves. Indeed Samory's troops are the fiercest and most merciless inthis country. They are the riff-raff of the West Soudan and are a terrorto friend and foe, a bar to the peaceful settlement of all lands withinthe range of their devastating expeditions."

  "Do they make raids towards your country?" I inquired, for I had heardlong ago of this notorious slave-dealing chief.

  "Yes, constantly. They are pitiless marauders who lay waste wholekingdoms and transform populous districts into gloomy solitudes. While onmy way from Mo to England we passed through Sati, a large market town atthe convergence of several caravan routes, which was only three monthsbefore a prosperous and wealthy place situated fifty miles south of ourborder. We found everything had been raided by the Sofas, who had sacked,burned or destroyed what they were unable to take away. Heaps of cindersmarked the sites of former homesteads, the ground was strewn withpotsherds, rice and other grain trodden under foot, while our horsesmoved forward knee deep in ashes. The whole land, lately very rich,prosperous and thickly peopled, was a melancholy picture of utterdesolation."

  "Do you think we have actually fallen into Samory's hands?" I asked.

  "I fear so."

  "But is not Kouaga Grand Vizier of Mo? Surely he would not dare to takeus through the enemy's land," I said.

  "Do you not remember that when he met us at Eastbourne he forbade us toinform Makhana of our intended departure?" he answered. "He had someobject in securing our silence and getting us away from England secretly.It now appears more than probable that my mother has dismissed andbanished him, and he has gone over to our enemy, Samory, who desires toseize our country."

  "In that case our position is indeed serious," I observed. "We must dosomething to escape."

  "No," he said. "We cannot escape. Let's put on a bold front, and if wefind ourselves prisoners of the slave-raiding chief, I, at least, willshow him that I am heir to the Emerald Throne of Mo."

  As each day dawned we still held upon our way, until at length, under abroiling noon-day sun, we crossed a wide stretch of fertile grass-landwhere cattle were grazing, and there rose high before us the whitefortified walls of a large town of flat-roofed Moorish-looking houses. Itwas, we afterwards learnt, called Koussan, one of Samory's principalstrongholds.

  As we approached the open gate, flanked on either side by watch-towersand guarded by soldiers wearing Arab fezes and loose white garments, agreat rabble came forth to meet us. We heard the din of tom-toms beatenwithin the city, joyous shouts, and loud ear-piercing blasts upon thosegreat horns formed out of elephant tusks.

  Thus, in triumph, amid the howls and execrations of the mob, Omar, son ofSanom, and myself, were marched onward through the gate and up a steepnarrow winding street, where the solidly-built houses were set closetogether to obtain the shade, to the market-place. Here, amid thepromiscuous firing of long flint-lock guns and quaint ancient pistols,such as one sees in curiosity shops at home, a further demonstration washeld, our carriers themselves infected by the popular enthusiasm, seemingalso to lose their senses. They heaped upon Omar every indignity, scoffedand spat at him, while my own pale face arousing the ire of the fanaticalMohammedan populace, they denounced me as an infidel accursed of Allah,and urged my captors to kill me and give my flesh to the dogs.

  Truly we were in pitiable plight.

  I looked at Omar, but heedless of all their threats and jeers, he walkedwith princely gait. His hands were tied behind his back, his head erect,and his eyes flashed with scorn upon those who sought his death.Presently, turning sharply to the left, we found ourselves in anothersquare which we crossed, entering a great gateway guarded by soldiers,and as soon as we were inside the heavy iron-studded doors closed with anominous clang. I glanced round at the thick impregnable walls and knewthat we were in the Kasbah, or citadel. Gaily-dressed soldiers wereleaning or squatting everywhere as we crossed the several court-yards,one after the other, until, by the direction of one of the officials whohad joined us on entering, we were led through a low arched door, andthence a dozen soldiers who had come forward hurried us down a flight ofdark damp steps into a foul noisome chamber below.

  Struggles and protestations were useless. We were pushed forward into adeep narrow cell lit only by a tiny crack in the paving of the courtabove and the door quickly bolted upon us.

  "Well, this is certainly a dire misfortune," I said, when we had bothwalked round inspecting the black dank walls of our prison. "I wonderwhat fate is in store for us?"

  "Though they destroyed my jujus, they cannot invoke the curses of Zomaraupon me," he said. "The Crocodile-god will not hear any enemies of theNaya."

  "But have you no idea whatever of the motive Kouaga has had in bringingyou hither?" I asked.

  "Not the slightest," he answered, seating himself at last on the stonebench to rest. "It is evident, however, that he is a traitor in the payof Samory. On each occasion when the Moslem chief endeavoured to conquerour country, it was Kouaga who assumed the generalship of our troops; itwas Kouaga who fought valiantly for his queen with his own keen sword; itwas Kouaga who drove back the enemy and urged our hosts to slaughter themwithout mercy; and it was Kouaga who, with fiendish hatred, put theprisoners to the torture. In him my mother had a most trusted servant."

  "He doesn't seem very trustworthy now," I observed. "It seems to me weare caught like rats in a trap."

  "True," he said. "We are beset by dangers, but may the blessings of theirAllah turn to curses upon their heads. It may be that our ignominioussituation will not satisfy the malice that Samory has conceived againstme, but if a single hair of the head of either of us is injured, Zomara,the Crocodile-god, will punish those who seek our discomfiture."

  It occurred to me that it was all very well to speak in this strain, butas no man is a prince except in his own country, it seemed idle to expectmercy or pity. Omar was in prison for some unknown offence, and I washeld captive with a well-remembere
d threat from Kouaga that my lifeshould be sacrificed.

  For six hours we remained without food, but when the light above hadquite faded, three soldiers with clanging swords unbarred the door andpushed through some water in an earthen vessel and some _fufu_, a kind ofdumpling made of mashed African potato. During the night, disturbed byvermin of all sorts, including some horrible little snakes, we sleptlittle, and at dawn we were again visited by our captors. The next dayand the next passed uneventfully. For exercise we paced our cell timeswithout number, and when tired would seat ourselves on the rough stonebench and calmly discuss the situation.

  The Naya, the mysterious Great White Queen, had ordered Omar to returnwith all haste, yet already two moons had run their course since we hadlanded in Africa. This troubled my companion even more than the fact ofbeing betrayed into the hands of his enemies.

  The tiny streak of light that showed high above our heads grew brightertowards noon, then began slowly to decline. Before the shadows hadlengthened in the court above, however, the sound of our door beingunbarred aroused us from our lethargy, and a moment later, three soldiersentered and told us to prepare to go before the great ruler Samory. Omar,attired only in a small garment of bark-cloth, took no heed of histoilet, therefore we at once announced our readiness to leave theloathsome place with its myriad creeping things, and it was with afeeling of intense relief that a few minutes later we ascended to theblessed light of day.

  Marched between a small posse of soldiers, we crossed the court to alarger and more handsome square, decorated in Arab style with horseshoearches and wide colonnades, until at the further end a great curtain ofcrimson velvet was drawn aside and we found ourselves in a spacious hall,wherein many gorgeously attired persons had assembled and in the centreof which was erected a great canopy of amaranth-coloured silk supportedby pillars of gold surmounted by the crescent. Beneath, reclining on adivan, slowly fanned by a dozen gaudily-attired negroes, was adark-faced, full-bearded man of middle age, whose black eyes regarded uskeenly as we entered. He was dressed in a robe of bright yellow silk, andin his turban there glittered a single diamond that sparkled and gleamedwith a thousand iridescent rays. His fat brown hand was loaded withrings, and jewels glittered everywhere upon his belt, his sword, and hisslippers of bright green.

  It was the notorious and dreaded chieftain, Samory.