An attentive and populous group of Ponukeleans followed all his performances.
Annoyed by this distracting audience, the great artiste looked for a solitary, welcoming retreat in which to practice, safe from unwelcome eavesdroppers.
Carrying his zither and the foldable stand designed to hold it, he reached the Behuliphruen and marched swiftly forward beneath its tall trees, with no apparent hesitation about which direction to follow.
After a fairly long walk, he halted at the edge of a spring in a charming, picturesque spot.
Skariovszki already knew of this isolated, mysterious place; once he had even tried to bathe in the limpid stream, which flowed with a million glints over shimmering mica rocks. But to his great surprise, he could not overcome the surface tension of the water, whose remarkable density prevented him from penetrating to any appreciable depth. Dropping to his hands and knees, he had managed to cross the heavy stream in both directions without wetting his body, which remained on the surface.
Ignoring the strange waterway this time, Skariovszki quickly set up his zither and stand before a low rock that could serve as his bench.
Soon, seated before the instrument, the virtuoso began playing a slow Hungarian melody full of tender yearning.
After several measures, although fully absorbed in the rise and fall of his hammers, Skariovszki intuited a slight movement coming from near the river.
A rapid glance revealed a giant earthworm, which, emerging from the water, began crawling onto the bank.
Without breaking his rhythm, the gypsy, with a series of furtive glances, watched the newcomer as it gently approached the zither.
Stopping beneath the stand, the worm curled up unafraid between the Hungarian’s feet, who, gazing down, saw it lying still on the ground.
Soon putting the incident out of his mind, Skariovszki continued his labors, and for three long hours waves of harmony flowed continuously from his poetic instrument.
When evening fell, the performer finally stood up; looking at the clear sky harboring no threat of rain, he decided to leave the zither in situ for his next session.
As he was leaving his retreat, he noticed the worm, which, heading back the way it came, slid toward the bank and soon disappeared into the depths of the river.
The next day, Skariovszki again settled next to the bizarre stream and began practicing a difficult slow waltz.
During the first refrain, the virtuoso was somewhat distracted by the colossal worm, which, rising from the currents, returned directly to its place from the day before, where it remained gracefully coiled until the end of the performance.
Once more, before leaving, Skariovszki watched the inoffensive, melody-sated annelid as it noiselessly slid back into the calm brook.
The same thing happened for several days running. Like a snake charmer, the Hungarian, by his talent, infallibly attracted the music-loving worm, which once captured could not tear itself away from its ecstasy.
The gypsy grew keenly interested in the creature, whose trusting nature astounded him. One evening, his day’s work over, he blocked its path with his hand in an attempt to tame it.
The worm, with no apprehension whatsoever, scaled the fingers offered to him, then wrapped itself several times around the Hungarian’s wrist as he progressively rolled up his sleeve.
The formidable load Skariovszki felt on his arm amazed him. Adapted to the dense environment provided by the water of the stream, the worm, despite its suppleness, was of considerable weight.
This first experiment was followed by many others. The worm soon recognized its master and could obey the slightest command from his voice.
Such docility inspired in the gypsy’s mind a plan that might yield valuable results.
The trick was to train the worm to produce sounds from the zither on its own, by patiently cultivating its mysterious passion for the sonorous disturbance of air currents.
After lengthy deliberation, Skariovszki imagined a device that could exploit the peculiar weight of the special waters the creature inhabited.
The rocks in the stream provided him with four solid, transparent slabs of mica, which, when sliced thin and sealed with clay, formed a receptacle well suited to certain goals. Two sturdy branches with forked ends, planted vertically in the ground on either side of the zither, supported the device that was built like a trough with a long, tapering base.
Skariovszki trained the worm to slide into the mica receptacle and stretch out, thereby stopping up a gap in the bottom edge.
Using a large fruit husk, he soon drew from the river several pints of water, which he poured into the transparent trough.
After this, with the end of a twig, he lifted, for a fraction of a second, an infinitesimal fragment of the worm’s recumbent body.
A drop of water slipped through and fell onto a zither string, which vibrated quite clearly.
The experiment, renewed several times in neighboring areas, produced a series of notes that formed a ritornello.
Suddenly the same musical formation was repeated by the worm, which all by itself created paths for the liquid through a series of tremors accomplished flawlessly in all the correct places.
Never would Skariovszki have dared count on such rapid comprehension. At this point his task struck him as simple and infallible.
Measure by measure, he taught the worm several lively or wistful Hungarian melodies.
The gypsy began by using the twig to educate the animal, which then reproduced the given fragment on its own.
Seeing that water was dripping inside the zither through its two sound holes, Skariovszki, with a pin, bored an imperceptible drain in the bottom of the instrument that allowed the excess liquid to escape in a fine stream.
Occasionally more water was collected from the nearby river, and the work continued without interruption.
Soon, driven by his growing ambition, the Hungarian, a twig in each hand, tried to obtain two notes simultaneously.
As the worm lent itself at once to this new demand, every zither composition, invariably based on the sometimes coincident strike of two hammers, was now within their reach.
Deciding to perform at the gala as a trainer rather than a performer, for the next several days the gypsy applied himself fanatically to his pedagogic task.
In the end, raising the difficulty level, he tied a long twig to each of his ten fingers and could thereby teach the worm many polyphonic acrobatics generally excluded from his repertoire.
Now certain of being able to exhibit the astonishing creature, Skariovszki thought up various refinements to improve the overall apparatus.
At his request, Chènevillot replaced the two forked branches that had until then supported the mica trough with a twin metallic mount, attached directly to the zither’s stand.
In addition, a partial felt lining was added to the instrument to gently absorb the echoing drip of the heavy water droplets.
To avoid drenching Trophy Square, an earthenware vessel with felt-lined channel would receive the thin stream escaping from the zither.
These preparations finished, Skariovszki completed the education of his worm, which every day, at the first sounds of the zither, emerged promptly from the dense river, into which the Hungarian personally hastened to plunge it again at the end of their lessons.
XVII
OF ALL THE EMPEROR’S sons, the twelve-year-old Rhejed was the most mischievous and rambunctious.
He spent his days inventing odd and rather outlandish games whose seeming intent was to put his life in danger.
The Behuliphruen, the usual scene of his hijinks, provided ample opportunity to give his impetuosity free rein. Sometimes the agile black child scaled a tall tree to pluck nests from the highest branches; sometimes he threw stones to chase away birds or quadrupeds, which he also knew how to catch with ingenious traps.
One day, emerging into a narrow clearing, Rhejed noticed a red-furred rodent that seemed to be sniffing the ground to find its way.
The child was holding a heavy stick he’d recently torn from a bush. With a sharp throw of the primitive weapon he slaughtered the rodent, which fell to its side on the bare ground.
Moving closer, Rhejed noticed an abundant puddle of drool leaking from the corpse’s mouth that gave off a remarkably strong and peculiar odor; disgusted by the sight, he crossed the clearing and continued on his way.
Suddenly he heard a violent beating of wings; turning around, he saw a formidable bird of prey with long waderlike claws, which, after describing several concentric circles, alit next to the rodent.
Rhejed retraced his steps, thinking he might also kill the bird, which was already attacking the carcass with its beak.
Wanting to get a bead on the especially vulnerable head, he softly approached from the front while the bird’s neck was lowered.
The boy was then surprised to see two olfactory openings above the beak that, no doubt picking up the smell of the strange drool from a distance, had alerted and then guided the bird in its rush to taste the promised feast.
Still armed with his stick, Rhejed ran up and struck the bird full in the occiput; it dropped without a sound.
But when he went to examine his new victim more closely, he felt himself held fast to the ground by a powerful magnetic force.
His right foot was resting on a heavy flat stone covered in the rodent’s drool.
Already half dry, this substance formed an irresistibly powerful glue, and Rhejed was able to dislodge his bare foot only at the price of violent efforts that left deep, painful abrasions on his sole.
When he was finally free, the little scamp, fearing he’d be trapped a second time, thought only of getting away from that dangerous place as fast as possible.
But a moment later, a distant shuddering of wings made him turn his head, and he saw in the sky a second raptor of the same race, which, attracted by the ever more pungent odor, was speeding toward the enticing bait.
Rhejed then conceived a bold plan, based on the adhesive properties of the astonishing drool and on the effect its smell clearly had on certain kinds of birds with mighty wingspans.
Some freshly trampled herbs showed him the path the rodent had recently taken.
At one point along these tracks, which another animal of the same species would likely soon follow, Rhejed dug a small hole that he concealed with delicate branches.
The next day, delighted by the success of his trap, the boy pulled from the tight excavation a red-furred rodent identical to the first, which he brought back alive to his hut.
Inspired by Fogar’s project and wishing to do something similar, the adventurous Rhejed planned to enliven the gala by having one of the nostril-birds that nested throughout the Behuliphruen lift him into the air.
The rodent, killed at the last moment, would furnish abundant drool that would both attract the required raptor and help quickly fashion an aerial harness.
This latter condition required a flat object that could hold the animal adhesive, which if simply spread on the ground would have been useless.
Exploring the wreckage of the Lynceus, Rhejed discovered a lightweight cabinet door perfectly suited to his purposes.
The boy revealed only a portion of his plan; fearing the inevitable paternal veto, he kept to himself anything related to his voyage into the wild blue yonder.
XVIII
IT HAD BEEN TWO MONTHS since Seil-kor’s departure and we were impatiently awaiting his return: with preparations for the gala now complete, we feared that boredom, thus far kept at bay by rehearsals or playing our stock market, would soon regain its hold.
Fortunately, a wholly unexpected event provided a powerful distraction.
One evening, Sirdah came to tell us of a serious incident that had occurred earlier that day.
At around three o’clock, an ambassador from King Yaour, crossing the Tez in a dugout, had been admitted to Talou’s hut, where he relayed some glad tidings: the sovereign of Drelchkaff, having got wind of events in Ejur, keenly desired to hear the emperor sing in falsetto, dressed in his fabulous attire. He would unconditionally grant Sirdah’s cure if the blind girl’s father consented to get up on the Incomparables’ stage for him and sing Dariccelli’s Aubade in his female voice.
Flattered by the request and delighted at the prospect of restoring his daughter’s sight so cheaply, Talou was already formulating an affirmative reply when Gaiz-duh—for such was the Negro ambassador’s name—came forward and whispered some secret revelations. The supposed desire so ardently expressed was merely a ruse to allow Yaour to freely enter Ejur at the head of a sizeable entourage. Aware of Talou’s pride and predicting that his fearsome neighbor, wishing to dazzle his guest, would receive him surrounded by his entire army, the king planned to catch the enemy forces in a trap in the relatively confined space of Trophy Square. While the populace of Ejur would be drawn to the esplanade by the performance, the Drelchkaffian army would cross the Tez on a makeshift bridge of dugout canoes, then spread around the capital like a human cincture and invade the square from all sides at once. Just then, Yaour would give his entourage the signal to attack, and the Ponukelean warriors, squeezed as if in a vise, would be massacred by their fierce aggressors, who among many advantages would have that of surprise. As clear victor, Yaour would proclaim himself emperor, reducing Talou and all his lineage to slavery.
Gaiz-duh thus remorselessly betrayed his master, who had been rewarding him poorly for his services and often treated him cruelly. As to the price for this information, he deferred to Talou’s generosity.
Taking advantage of this forewarning, the emperor sent Gaiz-duh back with the mission to summon King Yaour the next day at sunset. Scenting in advance a magnificent recompense, the ambassador went off filled with hope, while Talou was already formulating in his head an entire plan of defense and attack.
The next day, on the emperor’s orders, half the Ponukelean troops hid in the vegetation of the Behuliphruen, while the rest took shelter in small groups in the huts of Ejur’s southernmost quarter.
At the appointed hour, Yaour and his entourage, led by Gaiz-duh, stood in a dozen dugouts and crossed the Tez.
Posted on the right bank, Rao, Mossem’s successor, awaited their landing; he led the king to Trophy Square, where Talou was waiting for him unarmed, decked out in his feminine toilette and surrounded by only a handful of guards.
On his arrival, Yaour glanced about him, looking disconcerted by the absence of the warriors whom he expected to catch unawares. Talou walked before him, and the two monarchs exchanged greetings that Sirdah, who remained with us, translated in a murmur.
First, Yaour, ill concealing his discomfiture, asked if he wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing the handsome Ponukelean troops, reputed far and wide for their courage and proud bearing. Talou replied that his guest had come a little before the designated hour, and that his warriors, presently adjusting their finery, would assemble on the esplanade momentarily to enhance the splendor of the performance with their presence. Reassured, but fearing he’d roused the emperor’s suspicions with his imprudent question, Yaour immediately feigned preoccupation with trifles. He began extravagantly admiring Talou’s outfit and announcing his keen desire to own one just like it.
At these words, the emperor, who was seeking an occasion to gain time until the enemy army’s arrival, abruptly turned toward our group and, through Sirdah, ordered us to find in our trunks an outfit similar to his.
Accustomed to playing Goethe’s Faust on all her tours, Adinolfa ran off and returned after a moment, cradling in her arms the gown and wig she wore as Gretchen.
At the sight of the gift he was being offered, Yaour emitted yelps of joy. He laid his weapons on the ground and, thanks to his extremely svelte build, easily donned the gown, which fastened above his loincloth; then, putting on the blonde wig with its two thick braids, he took several majestic steps, evidently thrilled by the effect his bizarre get-up produced.
Suddenly there
came the sound of an immense clamor outside the square, and Yaour, sensing a betrayal, quickly leapt to his weapons and tried to flee with his entourage. Only Gaiz-duh, switching to the ranks of his enemies, joined with the Ponukelean warriors who flew off in pursuit of the king, following Talou and Rao. Immediately attracted by the exciting spectacle taking place before our eyes, all of us ran in the same direction and soon reached the southern border of Ejur.
We could easily piece together what had just occurred. The Drelchkaffian army, following the royal directive, had crossed the Tez on a bridge of canoes; just as the last man set foot on the right bank, Talou’s forces, with a rallying cry, had surged simultaneously from the huts of Ejur and the bushes of the Behuliphruen to encircle the foe on all sides, profiting from the very tactic Yaour had envisioned. Already the ground was littered with Drelchkaffian casualties, and victory for the emperor’s men seemed assured.
Yaour, still decked out in his gown and wig, had bravely thrown himself into the fray and fought alongside his men. Armed with a lance, Talou rushed him, carrying his train on his left arm, and a strange duel was fought by these two monarchs of carnavalesque appearance. At first the king managed to parry several thrusts, but soon the emperor, after a clever feint, drove his shaft into his opponent’s breast.
Disheartened by the killing of their chief, the decimated Drelchkaffians lost little time in surrendering and were brought to Ejur as captives.
All the corpses except Yaour’s were thrown into the Tez, which dutifully washed them out to sea.
XIX
SHORTLY BEFORE TALOU’S VICTORY, an astonishing piece of news had spread as far as Ejur: people were talking of a European couple at Yaour’s side, a young woman and her brother whose meanderings had led them across the Tez.
The brother seemed to keep a discreet profile, but the beautiful and captivating female traveler was openly conducting an affair with Yaour, on whom her powerful charms had produced a deep and lasting effect.
Impressions of Africa (French Literature Series) Page 25
