The Treasures of Suleiman

by The Treasures of Suleiman (retail) (epub)

  Brandon looked up into the face of Kosta, who raised his head slightly to meet Brandon’s gaze.

  ‘It looks like you were wrong, Kosta,’ said Brandon. ‘Say hello to the devil for me.’

  Blood oozed from Kosta’s mouth as he reached forward to grab Brandon’s throat, but Ricardo wrenched the spear sideways, forcing him to fall off Brandon’s exhausted body. Brandon struggled to his knees and knelt over the dying man.

  ‘That’s it, Kosta,’ he gasped. ‘We are done here.’ He stood up and staggered back across the clearing to where Ricardo had joined India.

  ‘Brandon, thank God,’ sobbed India. ‘I thought he had killed you.’

  ‘Don’t thank God, thank Ricardo,’ said Brandon.

  They both looked at the boy, who was staring across the clearing toward the dead Saljik.

  ‘Ricardo,’ said Brandon, ‘are you OK?’

  Ricardo looked at Brandon with tears flowing down his face. His eyes were wide in fear and he was mumbling incoherently, retreating into the woods.

  ‘Ricardo, it’s OK,’ said Brandon. ‘You saved our lives.’ He could see the boy was on the verge of panic and stepped forward to calm him down.

  ‘Nooo,’ screamed Ricardo, and turned to run into the forest.

  ‘Ricardo, wait,’ shouted Brandon, but the boy had disappeared. For a moment he considered chasing him but India needed his help.

  ‘What’s the matter with him?’ asked India.

  ‘Just fright,’ said Brandon. ‘He has just killed a man. Everyone deals with it differently.’

  ‘Will he be all right?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Brandon, ‘but I’m more worried about you, we have to get you out of here.’ He picked up another branch for a makeshift crutch and with India leaning heavily on his shoulder, they made their way slowly in the direction of the road.

  * * *

  Two hours later they found themselves in a single-room hut at the edge of a small forest village. India had her leg raised and placed on a soft, handmade cushion while Brandon stood to one side, talking to one of the village elders.

  Earlier, they had managed to reach the road without any further incident and though there seemed to be no traffic, eventually an open-back truck chugged up the road and stopped alongside them. The driver had not been surprised to see them and it turned out that it was Ricardo’s father, sent there to help by his distraught son. After a bumpy ride where India felt every tiny ripple in the unmaintained tarmac, they arrived at the village and a group of concerned villagers helped the injured woman into a hut. They had been given tea and some fruit and were told that someone had been sent to bring the village elders. Finally, a group of three men arrived and after speaking to Ricardo’s father in their own strange language that seemed to be a mix of French and English, the oldest had come to talk to Brandon.

  Brandon held out his hand and it was taken weakly by the elderly man.

  ‘Hello,’ said Brandon. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. We really appreciate it, but my friend is in pain and we need to get her to hospital.’

  ‘No,’ said the man, ‘no hospital.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ said Brandon, ‘she needs medical attention. Also, there is a dead man out there, we should call the police.’

  ‘No police,’ said the man. ‘You stay here. Elders will meet and decide fate. Bad things happen, men die. Boy is scared.’

  ‘I understand.’ said Brandon, ‘but we will vouch for him. He saved our lives and he won’t be punished for that, I promise you.’

  ‘You wait,’ said the man and ordered the rest of the group out of the hut. ‘Back soon,’ he said and disappeared from view.

  Brandon sighed and returned to India.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked India.

  ‘Not much,’ said Brandon. ‘It seems we have to wait here until they make a decision. I think they are worried about Ricardo.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Whichever way you look at it,’ said Brandon, ‘he just killed a man by spearing him through his back. That won’t look like self-defence to the authorities.’

  ‘But he saved our lives,’ said India. ‘Won’t that count for something?’

  ‘Who knows how the police on this island will view it,’ said Brandon. ‘A man is dead, at the very least there has to be an investigation, and something tells me that whatever it was the boy was up to, it won’t be looked on favourably by the authorities.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘India, this is not some backwater Amazonian tribe we are dealing with here. Dominica is a modern country with a proper government. The people may celebrate their traditions but at the end of the day, they are members of the modern world. Don’t let all this window dressing fool you,’ he said, looking around the seemingly authentic hut. ‘I think we are in some sort of unopened tourist attraction and are being held here until they decide what to do. Don’t you think the fact that Ricardo was wearing a grass skirt and carrying an ancient spear is a bit weird?’

  ‘I never thought about it,’ said India, ‘but now you have pointed it out, I suppose it is a bit strange.’

  Brandon peered through a gap in the timber walls.

  ‘They seem to be deep in conversation and are very animated,’ he said.

  Outside, a group of men stood in a circle having a heated argument. They presented a very strange image as some were in grass skirts and headdresses, some were in shorts and T-shirts and there was even one in a suit. Finally, an agreement seemed to be made and the one in the suit ducked inside and after nodding an acknowledgement toward India, he held out his hand for Brandon to shake. Brandon shook the hand and felt a much firmer grip. This was a man who was used to making decisions.

  ‘Hello,’ said the man, in a deep baritone growl. ‘My name is Miguel and I am the chief of this village.’

  ‘Hello, Miguel,’ said Brandon. ‘My name is Brandon, and this is India. I hope you have come in here with good news.’

  ‘Good to meet you, Miss India,’ answered Miguel before turning back to Brandon.

  ‘Mr Brandon, I am honoured to hold the title of chief, but it is a ceremonial title only, specifically for use in Kalinago celebrations. Our town is further along the road and is a cosmopolitan township that enjoys all the luxuries you would expect in this day and age. We can be there in twenty minutes.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Brandon. ‘We need to get India to medical help as soon as possible.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ said Miguel. ‘First there are things you should know and things you should see.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Everything will be made clear soon enough, but for now, I need you to stay here and be a little patient. I do not believe Miss India’s life is at risk, so a few more hours won’t make much difference.’

  ‘Miguel, you seem to be a sensible man. We have been held prisoner by certain parties for many days. We have travelled halfway across the world and were almost murdered by a madman. We have had about as much as we can take, so please, just take us to the nearest police station and all this will be over.’

  ‘Mr Brandon,’ said Miguel, ‘would you agree you are only standing here due to the actions of Ricardo?’

  ‘I would,’ said Brandon. ‘Without his intervention we would probably be dead. He is a hero.’

  ‘So it is fair to say he was there when you needed help most?’

  ‘It is. What are you getting at?’

  ‘Well he now has need of your help. What he has done will have a terrible effect on him and we need your assistance to help him through this terrible ordeal.’

  ‘Look, if you want me to speak up for him,’ said Brandon, ‘I can assure you I will do whatever it takes to clear his name.’

  ‘It is not his physical state that is a concern,’ said Miguel, ‘but his spiritual well-being.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Mr Brandon, you are in the middle of the Kalinago territory. We nurture our c
ulture and observe many traditions that have often been forgotten by many other Carib. To this end, there are some practices that are not encouraged by the authorities. These are not displayed to the world but practised in secret amongst the Kalinago.’

  ‘What sort of practices?’ asked Brandon.

  ‘Nothing too dreadful, I assure you, but we would rather avoid the stares of those who do not understand our ways. What has happened is a terrible, terrible thing; a man has died and we deeply regret the passing of a life. However, there is something more spiritual happening here, something that can have a dreadful effect on an entire nation.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Mr Brandon, all I ask is that you trust me for a little while longer. Tonight, I will reveal everything you wish to know, and I promise that first thing in the morning, I will drive you to Roseau myself.’

  Brandon turned to India.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘Can you last one more night?’

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ said India. ‘Ricardo saved our lives, so if there is something we can do for him in return, then I think it is the least we can do.’

  Brandon turned back to Miguel.

  ‘OK,’ he sighed. ‘We will do it.’

  ‘Good,’ said Miguel. ‘I will have some hot food arranged and will return later to make the necessary arrangements.’

  ‘What arrangements?’

  ‘All in good time, Mr Brandon,’ he replied. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go.’ The man ducked out of the door and closed it tightly behind him.

  ‘Well,’ said Brandon, ‘I don’t know what he wants us to do, but whatever it is, I think it will be unforgettable.’

  * * *

  The drums started at about nine o’clock, their incessant beating muffled by the cushion of rainforest between them and the hut.

  ‘God, they’re getting on my nerves,’ said Brandon, after a couple of hours. ‘I wonder what they mean?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of Voodoo ceremony,’ said India. ‘We aren’t that far from Haiti and these things do travel.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is,’ said Brandon, ‘we are about to find out.’ He stood back from the door as it opened and Miguel walked in once more. At first, Brandon didn’t recognise him due to the full ceremonial dress and the tribal make-up. He wore a long grass skirt and was bare-chested. His face was smeared with white ash from a fire and his bloodshot eyes were fiercely circled with black dye. Brandon suspected drugs of some sort were involved but kept his silence.

  ‘Don’t be put off by the theatrics, Mr Brandon,’ said Miguel, ‘it is necessary for the magic to work. Now, please, the both of you must come with me.’

  They followed him out into the night and were immediately joined by six more men, dressed just as dramatically, forming a guard to either side. Slowly, they walked into the jungle at the edge of the village. The drums got louder and ten minutes later, they entered a clearing and stared at the sight before them.

  The clearing was ringed with people, each wearing the traditional garb of the Kalinago and holding a burning torch to light the scene. To one side, a single flat rock the size of a large dining table was ringed with a circle of burning candles and before it lay an unknown item, covered with a blanket.

  Brandon and India were led to the blanket and told to stay there. The drumbeats increased and Miguel took his place up on the rock, intoning something in a language Brandon had never heard before. Gradually the atmosphere intensified and smoke drifted eerily across the clearing. Suddenly the drums stopped and Miguel pointed across the clearing.

  ‘Bring him forth,’ he screamed.

  Two men dragged Ricardo forward and held him before Miguel.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, the boy looks terrified,’ said Brandon. ‘How is this supposed to help him?’

  ‘Be patient,’ said India. ‘This is their culture, and Miguel seemed quite genuine. We can’t interfere.’

  Miguel recited some more undecipherable words before jumping down to stand behind India and Brandon. Two dozen men ran forward and threw thick ropes around the flat rock and as the drumbeats started once more, they started to pull on the ropes.

  ‘What are they doing?’ asked India.

  ‘Opening the gates of hell,’ said Miguel from behind them.

  Chapter 22

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Is it?’ asked Miguel. ‘Let me take you on a journey, Mr Brandon. Many, many years ago, legend has it that a young boy speared the heart of Satan on this very spot. The story goes that the devil was offering temptation and the villagers were worshipping him as the true god. Luckily, a young boy saw through him and pierced his heart with a spear. Now, you may not be a superstitious man, Mr Brandon, but don’t you think that is a bit of a coincidence?’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Brandon. ‘Are you suggesting that history is repeating itself here?’

  ‘Put yourself in our shoes, Mr Brandon. My people believe in the legend wholeheartedly. Fast forward a few hundred years and one of our boys, on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, kills a stranger in exactly the same manner, using exactly the same spear. Now to me that is a hell of a coincidence.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ hissed Brandon, watching as the slab slowly eased sideways from its location. ‘That’s exactly what it is, just coincidence. Kosta was from an entirely different culture, and though he was a murderer, he was no more the devil than you or me.’

  ‘Really?’ said Miguel, and stepped forward to pull the blanket from whatever lay on the ground before them. Brandon gasped as he saw the dead body of Kosta staring up at him. The face had swollen up completely and the whole of his body was covered with dried blood from the wound on his forehead. Worse than that, Brandon could see dozens of lacerations where he had obviously been stabbed many times, albeit after his death. Overall the sight was indeed terrifying and Brandon could see how the situation could be misinterpreted. Across the clearing, the slab suddenly broke free of the undergrowth and slid aside to reveal a gaping hole.

  ‘I know it looks bad,’ said Brandon, ‘but he was a man, nothing more.’

  ‘You and I know this,’ said Miguel quietly, ‘but our people think he is the devil. Now, earlier on you said you owed Ricardo a debt. This is where you repay it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked India.

  ‘Hundreds of years ago, they sent the devil back to hell and sealed the gates behind him. That way, God forgave the boy and the people were saved. We have to do the same now or the devil’s spirit will rise again and eat Ricardo’s soul.’

  India stared at the hole in the ground.

  ‘We have to throw the body in there?’ she said.

  ‘You do,’ said Miguel, ‘it is the only way.’

  ‘Miguel, we can’t just hide a body,’ said Brandon. ‘There has to be an inquest.’

  ‘Mr Brandon,’ hissed Miguel, ‘whether you believe this or not is immaterial, the people around you do and Ricardo himself does. He believes that if we don’t send the devil back to hell, he will be dead within a month. If we don’t do this, the psychological impact alone will ensure that is exactly what happens. Voodoo works by threats and belief, Mr Brandon; Obeah is very similar. Look at the people around you. We struggle enough to maintain what little tradition we have left but if we throw this one back in their faces, then it is all over. Within a generation, our traditions will disappear and our people will be scattered across the islands. I cannot allow this to happen.’

  ‘Miguel,’ said Brandon, ‘I understand your reasoning, but what you are proposing is illegal.’

  ‘The boy saved your life,’ shouted Miguel. ‘Is it too much to ask that you now save his?’

  Brandon fell silent, as did the drums and the rest of the watchers. Finally, India broke the silence.

  ‘We’ll do it,’ she said.

  ‘India,’ started Brandon.

  ‘We’ll do it,’ repeated India, and turned
to face Brandon.

  ‘We owe Ricardo our lives, Brandon,’ she said. ‘Kosta would have killed me as well as you. I think that burying the body of a murderer is a small price to pay.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive,’ said India, and turned to Miguel.

  ‘What do we have to do?’

  ‘We will carry the body to the pit,’ said Miguel, ‘and leave him there. It cannot be our hands that cast him in, it has to be Ricardo’s. He will not be able to do this alone, so one of you must help him. Who was the closest to the man when he died?’

  ‘Me,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Then I suggest that it is you that helps Ricardo,’ said Miguel. ‘It has to be one who witnessed the death.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Brandon. ‘OK, ready when you are.’

  Miguel gave the command and four men dragged the body to the pit edge. Brandon and Ricardo followed until they were standing alongside the corpse at the edge of the pit.

  ‘Are you OK?’ asked Brandon.

  Ricardo nodded but didn’t speak. His tear-stained face betrayed the fear he felt.

  ‘OK,’ said Brandon. ‘Let’s do it.’ They both knelt down and with a coordinating nod from Brandon, rolled Kosta’s body into the pit.

  Ricardo immediately stood up to run back to the circle of watchers and the protection of his father. A group of men came forward to replace the stone, but as they took their places on the ropes, Brandon walked over and took a burning torch from one of the surrounding watchers.

  ‘Brandon, what are you doing?’ asked India.

  ‘I’ve never looked into hell before,’ he said. ‘Aren’t you intrigued?’

  He walked back to the pit and crouched down to peer into the darkness.

  For a few moments he couldn’t see anything, but then made out the shape of Kosta’s body a few feet lower down. Beside him were the skeletal remains of another body, obviously hundreds of years old. At first he was shocked but reality kicked in and he realised that all it meant was the story was based on fact and that some poor soul had been interred there many years ago. As the slab eased back into place Brandon saw something else, and this time his brow creased in confusion.