"Alas! I have nothing," she answered; "nothing but a strange ornament
which my father's mother gave to me immediately before she died, an hour
previous to the attack being made upon the village," and placing her
hand deep into the breast of her dress she drew forth a rough disc of
copper, about the size of a crown piece, with a hole in it, as if it had
been strung upon a thread.
"When she gave it to me she told me it had been in her possession for
years, that it was a talisman against terror, and that some curious
legend was attached to it, the nature of which I do not now recollect.
There is strange writing upon it in some foreign tongue of the Roumis
that no one has been able to decipher."
I looked, but unable to detect anything in the darkness, I assured her
that its possession would always remind me of her, and slipped it into
the pocket of my gandoura.
Then together we crept along under the shadow of the wall, and, gaining
the spot where the horse stood in readiness, I held her for a second
while she kissed my hand, uttering a fervent word of thanks, and
afterwards assisted her into the saddle. Then a moment later, with a
whispered "_Allah iselemeck_!" she sped away, with her unbound hair
flying behind her, and was instantly lost in the darkness.
On realising that she had gone I was seized with regret, but feeling
that at least I had saved her from a horrible doom, I returned to my
little shed and, wrapping myself in my burnouse, slept soundly until the
sun had risen high in the heavens.
Opening my eyes, I at once remembered Khadidja's quaint souvenir, and on
examining it, was astonished to find both obverse and reverse of the
roughly fashioned disc covered with an inscription in English crudely
engraved, or rather scratched, apparently with the point of a knife.
Investigating it closely I was enabled, after some difficulty, for I
have only an elementary knowledge of the tongue of the Roumis, to read
the following surprising words:--
"_This record I leave for the person into whose hands it may fall, for I
am starving. Whosoever reads this let him hasten to Zemnou, in the
Zelaf Desert, two days from the well of El Ameima, and from the
Bab-el-Oued pace twenty steps westward outside the city wall, and under
the second bastion let him dig. There will he be rewarded. John Edward
Chatteris, held captive in the Kasbah of Borku by order of the Sultan
'Othman, Sunday, June 13, 1843_."
Chatteris! Instantly it occurred to me that a celebrated English
explorer, archaeologist, and member of the Royal Geographical Society of
that name, had years ago been lost, and his fate had remained a complete
mystery. Inquiries for news of him had been circulated throughout the
great Desert among the wandering tribes, with an offer of a reward.
This, then, was a message inscribed, with apparent difficulty within the
impregnable citadel of the warrior Sultan of Borku, whose little
mountain kingdom was situate five hundred miles south of Mourzouk,
between the Tibesti Mountains and Lake Tsad; a secret that for half a
century had been in the keeping of those who could not decipher it.
What might not be buried at the spot indicated by this curious relic of
the great traveller? My curiosity was excited to the utmost. Impatient
to investigate the truth, but compelled, nevertheless, to remain patient
until such time as I could escape from my undesirable companions, I
concealed the disc and rose to join Abdul-Melik at his morning meal.
Khadidja's escape caused the old outlaw intense chagrin, and his anger
knew no bounds, but luckily no suspicion fell upon me, and having
remained with them during two whole moons I succeeded one day, when we
were near the town of Rhat, in evading them and getting away. As
quickly as possible I returned to In Salah, where I exhibited the metal
disc with its strange inscription to our three headmen, who became at
once interested in it, announcing their intention to accompany me next
day to investigate the truth of the engraved record.
With an escort of twenty of our men, all well mounted and armed, we rode
out of In Salah at dawn, and for nine days continued our journey across
the desert due eastward, first taking the caravan route to Tarz Oulli,
beyond the French boundary, and continuing through the rocky region of
the Ihehaonen and across the Djedid Oasis, until one evening, at the
_maghrib_ hour, the high white walls and three tall minarets of the
desert city of Zemnou came within view. It was unsafe to take our men
nearer, therefore we returned and bivouacked until darkness set in.
Then, dressed in the haick and burnouse of the Arab of the plain, the
three headmen with myself, carrying spades concealed beneath our flowing
drapery, approached the town and crept under the shadow of the walls,
until we reached the Bab-el-Oued, or principal gate. Guarded by strong
watch-towers on either side, the gate was closed, and silently we crept,
anxious and breathless, on over the sand westward until we had counted
twenty paces and reached the second bastion.
Then, after glancing eagerly around to reassure ourselves that we were
not observed, we all five commenced to dig beneath the wall. Discovery,
we knew, would mean death. The sand was loose, but full of stones, and
for some time we worked without result. Indeed, I began to fear that
someone had already been able to decipher the record and obeyed its
injunctions, when suddenly the spade of one of my companions struck
something hard, and he uttered an ejaculation. With one accord we
worked with a will, and within ten minutes were unearthing an object of
extraordinary shape.
At first it puzzled us considerably, but at length, when we had cleared
the earth sufficiently to remove it, we made a cursory examination by
the aid of wax tapers, and discovered that it was a kind of stool with a
semi-circular seat, supported by six short columns of twisted gold in
imitation of serpents, the seat itself being of gold inlaid with many
precious stones, while the feet consisted of six great yellow topazes,
beautifully cut and highly polished, held in the serpents' mouths. The
gold had become dimmed by long contact with the earth, but the gems, as
we rubbed off the dirt that clung to them, gleamed and sparkled in the
tapers' fitful rays.
The stool, or throne, was so heavy that it was with difficulty two men
dragged it out of the trench, and breathless with anxiety we all lent a
willing hand to carry it over the five miles of open desert to where the
men were awaiting us. Our arrival was greeted with cheers, but quickly
the strange relic was wrapped in saddlebags and secured upon the back of
a spare horse. At once we set out on the first stage of our return
journey, reaching In Salah in safety ten days later, and learning with
satisfaction on our arrival that Abdul-Melik had, during our absence,
been killed in a skirmish with the French Spahis in the Ahaggar.
Not until I had sent the jewelled seat to England, through an Arab
merchant whom I knew in Algiers, and it was exhibited before a meeting
of the Royal Geographical Society, was I aware of its real antiquarian
value. From the letters sent home by the intrepid Dr Chatteris, and
still preserved in the archives of the Society, it appeared that during
1839 Salman, the great Sheikh of Aujila, assembled a formidable
following, and proclaiming himself Sultan of Tunis, led an expedition
through the country, extorting money from the people by reason of
horrible tortures and fearful barbarities. While sentencing his
unfortunate victims, he always used a curiously-shaped judgment-seat,
which, for ages, had been the property of the Sultans of Sokoto, and it
thus became known and dreaded as the Throne of the Great Torture, it
only being used on occasions when he sentenced the unfortunate wretches
to torture for the purpose of extracting from them knowledge of where
their wealth was concealed.
Against this fierce rebel the Bey of Tunis was compelled to send a great
expedition, and after several sanguinary encounters at Sinaun, and in
the Um-el-Cheil, he was utterly routed and killed in his own stronghold
at Aujila. Dr Chatteris, in the last letter received from him,
mentioned that he had secured the jewelled throne, but that on account
of the superstitions of the Arabs it was an extremely difficult matter
to convey it to the coast.
Fearing lest he should lose it, he had apparently buried it, and soon
afterwards unfortunately fell into the hands of the Sultan of Borku, who
held him captive until his death.
Khadidja is still living in Ideles, where she is happily married to the
younger son of the Governor, but in the seclusion of her harem she is
still in ignorance that, by the curious little souvenir with which she
rewarded me, she added to England's national collection of antiquities a
valuable and highly interesting relic.
Visitors to the British Museum will experience but little difficulty in
finding it, for in the Oriental section at the present moment one of the
most frequently inspected and greatly admired treasures is the quaint,
historic, and bejewelled Throne of the Great Torture.
The End.