The old man lifted the necklace over his own head and let it lie against the snowy fall of his beard. It was only then that Zouga realized that there was a pendant on the string of golden beads.
it was in the shape of a bird, a stylized falcon-like shape with folded wings. It was seated upon a rounded plinth that was decorated with a triangular design, like a row of sharks' teeth. The figure was the size of a man's thumb. The gold metal was polished by the touch of human skin over the ages so that some of the detail had been lost. The eyes of the bird were glassy green chips. It was a gift from Mzilikazi. He has no use for gold, nor for emeralds, yes, the stones are emeralds, ' Harkness nodded. One of Mzilikazi's warriors killed an old woman in the Burnt Land. They found the leather pouch on her body.'
Where is the Burnt Land? ' Zouga asked. I'm sorry. ' Harkness fiddled with the little golden bird. 'I should have explained. King Mzilikazi's impis have laid waste to the land along his borders, in some places to a depth of a hundred miles and more. They have killed all who lived there and they maintain it as a buffer strip against any hostile force. The Boer commandos from the south particularly, but from any other hostile invader also. Mzilikazi calls it the Burnt Land, and it was here, to the east of his kingdom, that his border guards killed this solitary old woman. They described her as a very strange old woman, not of any known tribe, speaking a language they did not understand.'
Harkness lifted the necklace from his neck and dropped it carelessly back into the bag, and Zouga felt bereft.
He would have liked to feel the full weight and the texture of the metal in his hands for a little longer. Harkness went on quietly:Of course you have heard the talk of gold and walled cities, like everybody else. But that is the closest I have ever come to corroboration.'
Did my father know about the necklace? ' Zouga.
asked, and Harkness nodded. 'Fuller wanted to purchase it, he offered me almost twice its gold value.'
They were both silent for a long while, each brooding on his own thoughts until Zouga stirred. How would a man like my father try to reach the Monomatapa? 'Not from the south nor from the west. Mzilikazi, the Matabele king, will let no man pass through the Burnt Land. I feel that Mzilikazi has some deep superstition attached to the land beyond his eastern border. He does not venture there himself, nor does he allow others to do so. ' Harkness shook his head. 'No, Fuller would have to try from the east, from the Portuguese coast, from one of their settlements. ' Harkness began to trace out the possible approach marches on the linen chart. 'Here there are high mountains. I have seen them at a distance and they seemed a formidable barrier. ' Outside, night had already fallen, and Harkness interrupted himself to order Zouga, 'Tell your groom to off-saddle the horses and take them to the stables. It is too late to return. You will have to stay overnight.'
When Zouga returned a Malay servant had drawn the curtains, lit the lanterns and laid a meal of yellow rice and chicken cooked in a fiery curry, and Harkness had opened another bottle of the Cape brandy. He went on talking as though there had been no interruption. They ate the meal and pushed the enamelled tin plates away to return to the map, and the hours passed unnoticed by either of them.
In the intimate lantern light, the sense of drama and excitement that gripped them both was heightened by the brandy they drank. Once in a while Harkness would rise to fetch some souvenir of his travels to reinforce a point, a sample of quartz rock in which the seams of native gold were clearly visible in the lamplight.
If there is visible gold, it's rich, Harkness told Zouga. Why did you never mine the reefs you found? 'I could never stay long enough in one place, Harkness grinned ruefully. 'There was always another river to cross, a range of mountain or a lake that I had to reach or I was following a herd of elephant. There was never time to sink a shaft, or build a house, or raise a herd.'
When the dawn was rising, peeping into the huge gloomy room around the curtains, Zouga exclaimed suddenly, 'Come with me. Come with me to find Monomatapa! 'And Harkness laughed. I thought it was your father you were intent on finding. You know better! ' Zouga laughed with him. Somehow he felt at home with the old man as if he had known him all his life. 'But can you imagine my father's face when you come to rescue him? 'It would be worth it, Harkness admitted, and then the laughter faded, and gave way to an expression of such deep regret, of such consuming sorrow that Zouga felt a compulsion to reach out across the table and touch the misshapen shoulder.
Harkness pulled away from his touch. He had lived alone too long. He would never again be able to take comfort from a fellow man. Come with me, ' Zouga repeated, letting his hand drop to the table-top between them. I have made my last journey into the interior, Harkness said tonelessly. 'Now all I have are my paint pots and my memories.'
He lifted his eyes to the ranks of framed canvas with their brilliant joyous images. You are still strong, vital, Zouga insisted. 'Your mind is so clear. 'Enough! ' Harkness' voice was harsh, bitter. 'I am tired now. You must go. Now, immediately.'
Zouga felt his anger rise hotly to his cheeks at the abrupt rejection, this sudden change of mood, and he stood quickly. For a few seconds he stood looking down at the old man.
Go! ' said Harkness again.
Zouga nodded abruptly. 'Very well. ' His eyes slid down to the map. He knew he must have it at any price, though he sensed that there was no price that Harkness would accept. He must plan and scheme for it, but he would have it.
He turned and strode to the front door, and the dogs that had slept around their feet rose and followed him. Gamiet! ' Zouga shouted angrily. 'Bring the horses.'
And he stood in the doorway rocking impatiently on his toes and heels, hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders stiff, not looking around at the thin stooped figure who still sat at the table in the lamp-light.
The groom brought the horses at last, and still without turning Zouga called roughly, 'Good day to you, Mr. Harkness.'
The reply was in a frail old man's quaver that he hardly recognized.
Come again. We have more to discuss. Come back in two days.
The stiffness went out of Zouga's stance. He started to turn back, but the old man waved him away with a brusque gesture and Zouga stamped down the front steps, vaulted into the saddle and whipped his mount into a gallop along the narrow rutted track.
Harkness sat at the table until long after the hoof beats had faded. Strange that the pain had receded to the very back of his consciousness during the hours that he had sat with the youngster. He had felt young and strong, as though he had suckled upon the vigour and the youth of the other.
