The Devil-Tree of El Dorado: A Novel

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Quite,” both said.

“And – me – a – I – myself, I mean; was I there too?”

Templemore’s manner when he asked this question was so humorously anxious that Ulama laughed – a joyous, ringing laugh, the token of a soul innocent and free from care.

“No, indeed,” she answered. “I never dreamed of you.”

“And you?” he asked, turning to Zonella.

“No, never;” and she too laughed merrily.

“It really doesn’t seem fair,” said Jack, with an injured air. “Waking or sleeping, my friend has been a dreamer all his life; when we met with Monella we found he was one of the same sort; so those two were on terms immediately; but I – I am out of it all. Never had a dream in my life worth remembering. Not only that, but – as it now seems – I can’t even get into other people’s. I put it to you, Princess, am I not a little hardly done by?”

Thus they laughed and chatted, and time passed on, and still Monella and the king were closeted together. It was more than an hour – nearer two – before the king returned; and then alone.

“My friends,” he said, “the audience is at an end. Affairs of state demand my earnest thought, and I must now dismiss you. But,” beckoning the two young men to him, and taking in his own a hand of each, “once more let me commend these strangers to your care and friendship. They have rendered me to-day a service that is beyond price, and in rendering it to me, they have rendered it to us all. More I need not say, except to charge you to make their stay with us a pleasant one.”

He withdrew, and, with his absence, the crowd began to thin; only those belonging to the court remaining.

And now Ulama spoke.

“I shall hand you over to my good friends here,” she said. “Doubtless you will wish to make a change in your apparel and – ”

“Unfortunately we brought no change with us,” said Jack.

“They will bring you a choice of vestments,” she answered, laughing. “You will surely find something to your taste.” She bowed courteously, and went out, followed by Zonella and her attendants.

They were now taken in charge by the high chamberlain, whom they already knew by name – Colenna. He, in turn, handed them over to his son Kalaima, a bright-eyed, fair, talkative young fellow with whom they quickly found themselves on pleasant terms. He conducted them to a suite of chambers which would be, he said, reserved to them. They found there various suits which he laid out for their selection, instructing them, with much good humour, in the way in which they should be worn. These were, so he told them, the distinctive dresses of a noble of high degree; and were presents from the king as a mark of his special favour.

Elwood laughed at Jack’s expression while he turned over the various articles after Kalaima had left them to themselves, examining in turn the white tunic of finest silk embroidered with strange devices, the cap with jewelled plume, the heavy belt of solid gold, and the short sword and dagger; all ornamented with precious stones of greater value than they could estimate.

“Are you really going to deck yourself out in these things, Leonard?” he asked, with a rueful look. “Am I expected to do so too? Great Scott! What would our friends in Georgetown say if they could see us masquerading in this toggery?”

“When at Rome you must do as Rome does, I suppose,” Elwood returned lightly. “After all, I don’t suppose it will seem half so strange to the good people here as would our continuing to wear our present dress.”

“There’s a good deal, no doubt, to be said for that view,” Jack said with resignation. “And, since it is intended as a compliment, I suppose we must e’en accept it as such. I only hope I shall be able to keep my countenance when I look at you – that is, before the king and others. At present I feel very much afraid that it may prove beyond my powers.”

In their suite of chambers was a bath, with water deep and broad enough to swim in. A refreshing plunge, a reclothing in the unfamiliar raiment, and they emerged from their apartments dressed as nobles of the country. The attempts, honest, but too often futile, made by Templemore to preserve his gravity, caused him at times more personal discomfort than did even the strange garb but, since use accustoms us to pretty nearly everything the efforts required became gradually less and less.

But what sobered him, so to speak, the most, was his meeting with Monella, who was now attired in like fashion to themselves. The change seemed to have made an extraordinary alteration in the man. He looked taller and more imposing than ever, and in his gait and manner there were an added grace and dignity. It could now be seen that his form was supple and muscular as that of a young man’s, graceful in the swing of the limbs and in every pose. His eyes retained their unique expression that seemed to magnetise those upon whom they fell; but his face had a greater gravity than ever, and something of a majesty that awed Templemore when he noted it.

“Of a truth,” he said to Elwood, “that man seems to alter from day to day even from hour to hour. He is just as kindly, as courteous, and as gentle; just as thoughtful – yet, I feel somehow that there is a gulf deepening between us, and that it is widening, slowly but surely. Yet not because one likes him less – that’s just it, you seem to like him and admire him more and more – but you feel you do it from afar – from a gradually increasing distance.”

And when, later in the day, they sat down to a banquet at the king’s table, and saw Monella seated beside the king, taking the post of honour and accepting it with the easy dignity of one who had been used to it all his life; not only the observant Jack, but the less seriously-minded Leonard, felt, with increasing force, the feeling the former had described.

During this repast they learned that the Manoans were vegetarians; though their cookery was so skilful that such dishes as the strangers tasted they found both appetising and satisfying. Not only that, but, as they soon discovered, these dishes were fully as invigorating and nourishing as a meat diet. This was due to the presence of some strange vegetable or herb in nearly every dish; but what this was they could not then determine.

At dusk, a new surprise awaited them; for, not only the palace, but the whole city was lighted up by what they quickly recognised as the electric light. They now could understand the brilliant aspect of the city as first seen by them at night from the head of the canyon.

After the meal, Templemore and Elwood went out, with many more, upon a terrace that overlooked the lake; where now boats were going to and fro, some paddled by oars, some drawn by the large white swans. But what at first puzzled the new-comers were the antics of some who threw themselves into the water from considerable heights. Instead of falling almost vertically, as a diver would, they swept down in a graceful curve, striking the water almost horizontally, then bounded up and flew through the air for a short distance, till once more they touched the water and bounded up again. Finally, when the impetus was expended, they swam back to shore or were taken thither in a boat. Of course this style of bathing could not be practised in puris naturalibus, or in ordinary bathing dress; so they were furnished with a kind of divided parachute, or twin parachutes, not unlike artificial wings; with these they could descend from towers and great heights and with a long swallow-like sweep, striking the water and rebounding again and again. By practice some had obtained a wonderful dexterity in this amusement, and their evolutions would have deceived a stranger, viewing them from a distance, into a belief that they were actual flying creatures. Some of the children – who chiefly delighted in this pastime – were very expert at it.

While watching the gay scene before them – a repetition of what they had witnessed from afar – Kalaima came to say that the king requested their presence in his council chamber. Following the young man they entered a hall, smaller than that in which they had first been received, and found the king throned under a canopy as before, and Monella seated near him. Around the hall were ten or twelve of his chief ministers and officers, each placed before a small table, Upon which were ink-horns, pens, and sheets of parchment.

Standing in the centre of the chamber was a man of swarthy skin and haughty mien, his expression cruel and deceitful. He wore a black tunic on which was worked a large golden star like that displayed by the ill-fated Zelus. Standing respectfully a short distance behind this man were two others, somewhat similarly attired.

The leader had just finished speaking when Templemore and Elwood entered, and he cast at them a scowl that was almost appalling in its malignity.

The king signed to the young men to seat themselves beside Monella; then, turning to the man who had just spoken, said,

“It avails nothing, Dakla, for thee to come to us with messages of this intent, and with presentments, void of truth, of what befell to-day. Here are the three strangers who, as thou sayest, opposed themselves to Zelus, the son of Coryon thy master. They slew him, it is true, and some of those who followed him, but it was to save my daughter from his violence.”

“It is false, O King! They lie, if they say so! For our lord Zelus had no thought of violence!” This from Dakla.

“If thine errand here is but to charge with falsehood these three men, I’ll grant thee audience no longer.” The kings voice was stern, and his eyes flashed angrily, so that Dakla trembled, and there was less confidence in his tone when he replied,

“But they are strangers whom the king knows not; wherefore should he accept their word before our trusted servants?”

“Because it is confirmed by mine own daughter, sirrah! And if thou darest again to say it is untrue that Zelus lifted his hand to take her life, thou shalt not return unpunished, be the consequences what they may!”

By the king’s impressive manner, and still more by the menace he had thus let fall, Dakla seemed daunted. He had expected to be able to carry things his own way. He hesitated, then said in a milder tone,

“But even so, they should not have taken the life of our lord Zelus, but have brought him before thee.”

“How could they do that when he had more than a score of men with him, and they were but three? Furthermore, there was no time for parley. An instant’s hesitation, my daughter saith, and it would have been too late.”

Dakla reflected; then he made a fresh suggestion.

“It will content us if the king remit to us for trial him who, with his own hand, did slay our lord. If, on due inquisition, it shall be found even as the king hath said, then shall he be returned unhurt.”

The king’s face clouded, and his lips curled with scorn as he replied,

“Out upon thee, with thy tricks and cunning snares! Thinkest thou we do not know thy master by this time? These strangers are my guests – under my protection! Hark ye! I say under my protection! If harm shall befall them, I will seize thyself, an’ thou comest again within my reach, or any others of thy master’s minions on whom I can lay hands, and their lives shall pay the forfeit.”

“Thy words will grieve my master, King Dranoa,” said Dakla, with a scarcely hidden sneer. “He careth only for the welfare of the king and of his people. But how shall there be safety for the dwellers in this land if such as these may go abroad and slay at will, and be protected by the king?”

“What safety is there now for any, when even the king’s daughter cannot walk near mine own palace without assailment?” the king wrathfully demanded. “Hold thy peace, sirrah! and quit my sight ere worse betide thee!”

At this Monella rose, and, bending towards the king, said something in a low tone to him; the king, assenting with a nod, Monella slowly turned his glance upon the henchman of the priest, and thus addressed him,

“I have the king’s permission to send a message of my own to Coryon, since the opportunity now offers. It is well that thou shouldst bear it, and better still if thou takest it to heart. I sent the same message by the murderous crew that followed at the heels of thy late shameful lord – as thou callest him – Zelus. It is this: that such things as he attempted will bring down vengeance and retribution on you all. Bid Coryon take heed and mend his ways; if not, his doom is fixed. We are but three; yet, if we chose, and the king so willed it, we could clear thee and thy master and his brood from off the land – aye, ere another sun has risen and set. And tell Coryon this, by the king’s permission we are here, and, as thou hast heard, under his protection. For that protection we are grateful, but we need it not. If thou, or any of thy serpent brood molest us, we will hold you all to such a vengeance as shall repay the wrongs of others and rid the earth of you. I sent this message by Zelus’s craven hounds, but my mind misgives me that in their flight they scarce remembered it; or, perchance, they feared to give it. Wilt thou now bear it to thy master?”

“Who art thou that dares to send a message of defiance to the great Coryon?” Dakla asked.

“One who can carry out his words; one who, as the ally of the king, will bring upon your heads that which has been so long deserved. One who, though he spared thy myrmidons to-day, will spare no more. Beware! Attack us, and we show no mercy!”

With each succeeding sentence he seemed taller, more imposing, and more menacing; until the last words were fairly thundered out, and his eyes flashed fire.

The countenance of Dakla fell before his gaze; he hesitated, panted, turned to go, then turned back, and finally, as one who spoke against his will, he said, with no show of his former mocking insolence,

“Sir, I will bear thy message.” Then, with an obeisance to the king, he and his attendants left the place.

“I would give something to know what the king and Monella talked about so long to-day,” said Elwood to Templemore that night, when they found themselves alone together.

“So far as I can gather,” Jack replied, “there is a grand old feud on here between these rascally old priests, on the one side, and the king and his followers on the other; and Monella, I suspect, has learnt enough concerning it to lead him to back up the king. Well! So far as I am concerned, I am game to back him up, too, against such a murdering lot as they seem to be. What say you?”

“You need not ask me,” Elwood answered with some surprise. “But I thought that you – well – that is – ”

“Would be rather more slow to get up enthusiasm, eh?” Jack interrupted with a laugh. “Not at all. Fooling about in a dark, gloomy forest, with no apparent end in view, was one thing; taking part in an adventure of this kind to help a lot of people who have received us kindly, is quite another; to say nothing of helping the king, who’s a regular brick, and his daughter, who’s – ”

“An angel!” put in Leonard.

And Jack laughed, but approvingly, and said good-night.

CHAPTER XV

MARVELS OF MANOA

During the following days Elwood and Templemore learned much of the strange land in which they found themselves; of its people, of their condition, and other details. But, since to give every separate conversation, incident, or other means by which they gained their information, would be tedious, it will suffice to cite some extracts from Templemore’s diary that summarise the knowledge then and subsequently obtained.

“I am able now to jot down some account of this strange place and its inhabitants, so far, at least, as my limited knowledge of its language and other means of information go.

“The people seem to be amiable, fairly intelligent – considering, of course, that they know nothing of the great world outside – and generally well disposed. Although they maintain a small force of ‘soldiers’ or ‘guards,’ and drill and discipline them with as much assiduity as though they might be called upon to engage in warfare, yet, as a matter of course, there are no people with whom they can go to war; nor is there any likelihood of their having to fight, except amongst themselves. And this, unfortunately, has not been unknown; moreover, there are ‘signs in the air’ that it may not be unknown again.

“An unexpected discovery we have made is, that this mountain is connected with another close to it and called ‘Myrlanda.’ The connection is underground, and was made originally in the course of mining operations.

“Undoubtedly, once these people were a great nation. Their arts and sciences, their buildings, their engineering works, and their knowledge of mechanics, all give evidence of this; but, since a nation, isolated as this has been for ages, must necessarily either progress or retrogress, the Manoans slowly, gradually, but surely, have done the latter. They have numerous museums which are full of wonders of all sorts, pointing to lost arts, lost sciences, lost inventions, lost knowledge of all kinds. The fact that the demand has fallen off with diminishing population has led to the discontinuance of manufactures; though, in the museums, there are evidences that they once existed.

“This is the case as regards chronometric instruments. Their occupations being desultory, they have little need to know the time of day; so the use of clocks and watches has ‘gone out of fashion,’ and there does not now exist a person in the two ‘islands’ – as they still call these two inaccessible mountains – who can make a clock or a watch. Yet, in their museums they have many ancient specimens of clocks and watches of various kinds.

“Like remarks apply to many other arts and sciences and manufactures. The cause is likely to be found in the fact of their non-intercommunication with other nations.

“But the most wonderful thing of all, in this land of marvels, is a plant or herb they call the ‘Plant of Life.’ This, I am assured (though it seems hardly credible), if taken from time to time in certain forms, combined with other plants found here, induces great longevity in the recipients. The king, for instance, who looks between fifty and sixty years of age, I am seriously told is three hundred and forty! Yet that, even, is nothing out of the way here; for – assuming that they speak the truth – there are among the priesthood a few who have lived in the land one thousand, fifteen hundred, and two thousand years and more! I should scarcely take the trouble to write this down, were it not that I find it a matter of such common belief on all sides that it is impossible to avoid regarding it seriously. When first these statements were made to me I sought Monella and reported to him what had been told me, remarking that I thought it somewhat in bad taste on the part of my informants to combine together – as it seemed to me they must have – to palm off such tales upon a stranger. To my utter astonishment, he replied that he had reason to believe that there was truth in what I had been told! He had doubtless heard the same thing – and he is so quick to probe to the very root of whatever excites his interest, and a man so difficult to deceive, that, on receiving his solemn assurance (I asked for it) that he was not jesting, I felt bound to regard the matter attentively. I, therefore, set to work to get at all the facts as well as I could, and to see and examine the wonderful plant for myself. In this way I have arrived at the following data: —

“The plant, which is called ‘karina’ in the language of the country, is of a curious delicate, clear, blue tint – almost transparent in appearance, and in texture smooth and glassy-looking as to the leaves. It grows to a height of two or three feet, and is succulent in character; exuding freely, when squeezed, a juice which has a very strong bitter-sweet taste. It is prepared in several ways – many having, it is believed, secret recipes which have been handed down from father to son from generation to generation; but they all relate more or less to a tea or infusion of the leaves, with or without the admixture of other herbs or drugs. To have the full effect it must be taken regularly, almost from infancy; indeed, it is so powerful that those not accustomed to it must take but very weak doses at first for a long time, till the system learns to assimilate it; otherwise, it may even act as a poison. Taken, however, regularly from childhood, it produces and maintains perfect health, defying all those usual fevers and diseases that afflict humanity in other parts of the world, and carrying the body unimpaired in all its functions – accidents, of course, excepted – into extreme age, without loss of vitality or strength.

“People do not, however, live for ever; there is one disease and only one that the ‘karina’ cannot cure. This is called the ‘falloa’; there is also another name for it signifying the ‘don’t care sickness.’ Those attacked with it gradually sink, and die painlessly and easily. This disease, no doubt, must come to all sooner or later; but it is generally believed that the priests – and they alone – are aware of some way of so preparing the ‘karina,’ that they can either cure even the ‘falloa,’ or keep it at bay for very much longer periods than other people succeed in doing.

“It is certainly a remarkable fact that throughout the land disease, in the sense in which we understand it, is unknown. Consequently, physical pain is almost absent, save in case of physical injury. Nor is it necessary to be continually taking the preparation of the ‘karina.’ When once the system becomes inoculated with it, as it were, it is sufficient, afterwards, to repeat the doses at long intervals; and a traveller, as I gather, might take sufficient of the dried plant with him on his travels to keep him in perfect health for many years in any part of the world.

“And when, at last, the ‘falloa’ attacks its victim, it causes neither pain nor suffering of any kind; only melancholy, and a distaste for life in general; while its approach is so gradual as often to be unnoticed.

“There is little doubt that the absence of ordinary diseases exerts a corresponding effect upon the physical development; and this alone is sufficient to account for a fact that is very noticeable here, viz., the beauty of the inhabitants. Both the women and the men are remarkable in this respect; and probably not in all the rest of the world put together could so many beautiful women and handsome men be found as one sees in this small, but strange country; and this applies to the old, in a measure, as well as to the young generally. Whether it also applies to the old amongst the priests, one cannot say, for they seem to keep entirely to themselves.

“As regards these ‘priests,’ there are two sects in the country, called respectively the ‘Dark,’ or ‘Black,’ and the ‘White.’

“The religion of the ‘White’ priests, or ‘Brotherhood,’ resembles, in many respects, that of the Hebrews, save that for ‘God’ they use the term ‘Great Spirit,’ or ‘Good,’ or ‘Almighty’ Spirit. These have, however, now no influence in the country, and have been exiled to Myrlanda, where they confine themselves to a small ‘domain,’ have few followers and very little communication with the general inhabitants. The chief of these is named Sanaima.

“The chief of the ‘Dark Brotherhood’ – as they denominate themselves, and well they deserve their name, from all I hear – is called Coryon; and he and Sanaima are both popularly supposed to be more than two thousand years old! But, since both these millenarian gentlemen keep themselves shut up amongst their own immediate adherents, and seldom show themselves to the people, it would not be very difficult to keep up a tradition of this sort without a word of truth to back it. It may be urged in support of it, however, that we see many going about who, we are assured, are three, four, or five hundred years old; and these assert that they have not the true secret of preparing the ‘karina’; this being known only to the priests.

“But whatever be the truth as to their longevity, the ‘Dark Brotherhood’ seem to be a set of bloodthirsty, licentious tyrants, ruling the people with a rod of iron, for the king, though nominally an autocrat, has but little real power; but his rule, so far as it extends, is mild, and his people appear loyal and well disposed towards him.

“The real ruler of the land is Coryon, the High Priest of the ‘Dark Brotherhood’; a man who, though never seen beyond the limits of his own domain, makes his power felt everywhere. What I have heard of him and his chosen band sounds too atrocious to be true; yet I am assured I have heard only a part; the whole truth is of such a nature that men shrink from speaking of it to one another.