She and Allan. Генри Райдер Хаггард

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СКАЧАТЬ remained with me and would not be abated. I consulted a clergyman of my acquaintance, a good and spiritually-minded man, but he could only shrug his shoulders and refer me to the Bible, saying, quite rightly I doubt not, that with what it reveals I ought to be contented. Then I read certain mystical books which were recommended to me. These were full of fine words, undiscoverable in a pocket dictionary, but really took me no forwarder, since in them I found nothing that I could not have invented myself, although while I was actually studying them, they seemed to convince me. I even tackled Swedenborg, or rather samples of him, for he is very copious, but without satisfactory results. [Ha!—JB]

      Then I gave up the business.

      Some months later I was in Zululand and being near the Black Kloof where he dwelt, I paid a visit to my acquaintance of whom I have written elsewhere, the wonderful and ancient dwarf, Zikali, known as “The-Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” also more universally among the Zulus as “Opener-of-Roads.” When we had talked of many things connected with the state of Zululand and its politics, I rose to leave for my waggon, since I never cared for sleeping in the Black Kloof if it could be avoided.

      “Is there nothing else that you want to ask me, Macumazahn?” asked the old dwarf, tossing back his long hair and looking at—I had almost written through—me.

      I shook my head.

      “That is strange, Macumazahn, for I seem to see something written on your mind—something to do with spirits.”

      Then I remembered all the problems that had been troubling me, although in truth I had never thought of propounding them to Zikali.

      “Ah! it comes back, does it?” he exclaimed, reading my thought. “Out with it, then, Macumazahn, while I am in a mood to answer, and before I grow tired, for you are an old friend of mine and will so remain till the end, many years hence, and if I can serve you, I will.”

      I filled my pipe and sat down again upon the stool of carved red-wood which had been brought for me.

      “You are named ‘Opener-of-Roads,’ are you not, Zikali?” I said.

      “Yes, the Zulus have always called me that, since before the days of Chaka. But what of names, which often enough mean nothing at all?”

      “Only that I want to open a road, Zikali, that which runs across the River of Death.”

      “Oho!” he laughed, “it is very easy,” and snatching up a little assegai that lay beside him, he proffered it to me, adding, “Be brave now and fall on that. Then before I have counted sixty the road will be wide open, but whether you will see anything on it I cannot tell you.”

      Again I shook my head and answered,

      “It is against our law. Also while I still live I desire to know whether I shall meet certain others on that road after my time has come to cross the River. Perhaps you who deal with spirits, can prove the matter to me, which no one else seems able to do.”

      “Oho!” laughed Zikali again. “What do my ears hear? Am I, the poor Zulu cheat, as you will remember once you called me, Macumazahn, asked to show that which is hidden from all the wisdom of the great White People?”

      “The question is,” I answered with irritation, “not what you are asked to do, but what you can do.”

      “That I do not know yet, Macumazahn. Whose spirits do you desire to see? If that of a woman called Mameena is one of them, I think that perhaps I whom she loved——“[*]

      [*] For the history of Mameena see the book called “Child of

       Storm.”—Editor.

      “She is not one of them, Zikali. Moreover, if she loved you, you paid back her love with death.”

      “Which perhaps was the kindest thing I could do, Macumazahn, for reasons that you may be able to guess, and others with which I will not trouble you. But if not hers, whose? Let me look, let me look! Why, there seems to be two of them, head-wives, I mean, and I thought that white men only took one wife. Also a multitude of others; their faces float up in the water of your mind. An old man with grey hair, little children, perhaps they were brothers and sisters, and some who may be friends. Also very clear indeed that Mameena whom you do not wish to see. Well, Macumazahn, this is unfortunate, since she is the only one whom I can show you, or rather put you in the way of finding. Unless indeed there are other Kaffir women——”

      “What do you mean?” I asked.

      “I mean, Macumazahn, that only black feet travel on the road which I can open; over those in which ran white blood I have no power.”

      “Then it is finished,” I said, rising again and taking a step or two towards the gate.

      “Come back and sit down, Macumazahn. I did not say so. Am I the only ruler of magic in Africa, which I am told is a big country?”

      I came back and sat down, for my curiosity, a great failing with me, was excited.

      “Thank you, Zikali,” I said, “but I will have no dealings with more of your witch-doctors.”

      “No, no, because you are afraid of them; quite without reason, Macumazahn, seeing that they are all cheats except myself. I am the last child of wisdom, the rest are stuffed with lies, as Chaka found out when he killed every one of them whom he could catch. But perhaps there might be a white doctor who would have rule over white spirits.”

      “If you mean missionaries——” I began hastily.

      “No, Macumazahn, I do not mean your praying men who are cast in one mould and measured with one rule, and say what they are taught to say, not thinking for themselves.”

      “Some of them think, Zikali.”

      “Yes, and then the others fall on them with big sticks. The real priest is he to whom the Spirit comes, not he who feeds upon its wrappings, and speaks through a mask carved by his father’s fathers. I am a priest like that, which is why all my fellowship have hated me.”

      “If so, you have paid back their hate, Zikali, but cease to cast round the lion, like a timid hound, and tell me what you mean. Of whom do you speak?”

      “That is the trouble, Macumazahn. I do not know. This lion, or rather lioness, lies hid in the caves of a very distant mountain and I have never seen her—in the flesh.”

      “Then how can you talk of what you have never seen?”

      “In the same way, Macumazahn, that your priests talk of what they have never seen, because they, or a few of them, have knowledge of it. I will tell you a secret. All seers who live at the same time, if they are great, commune with each other because they are akin and their spirits meet in sleep or dreams. Therefore I know of a mistress of our craft, a very lioness among jackals, who for thousands of years has lain sleeping in the northern caves and, humble though I am, she knows of me.”

      “Quite so,” I said, yawning, “but perhaps, Zikali, you will come to the point of the spear. What of her? How is she named, and if she exists will she help me?”

      “I will answer your question backwards, Macumazahn. I think that she will help you if you help her, in what way I do not know, because although witch-doctors СКАЧАТЬ