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Updated: June 18, 2025
At length, when I was almost tired out and Maqueda was so breathless that she was obliged to lean on Oliver, dragging me behind her like a dog on a string, of a sudden we saw a glimmer of daylight that crept into the tunnel through a small hole. By the mouth of yet another pit or shaft, we found Shadrach and the others waiting for us.
At this spot, if Oliver's instruments and calculations could be trusted, we were within about two hundred feet of the floor of the den of lions, to which it seemed probable that the passage once led, and of course the question arose as to what should be done. A Council was held to discuss this problem, at which Maqueda and a few of the Abati notables were present.
In the foreground lay more dead men, all of them wearing the livery of Prince Joshua. Beyond was Sergeant Quick, seated on a chair. He seemed to be literally hacked to pieces. An arrow that no one had attempted to remove was fast in his shoulder; his head, which Maqueda was sponging with wet cloths well, I will not describe his wounds.
"Drop that sword," he said, "or you'll never hear the end of the story," and he obeyed, whereupon Quick came back. Now Maqueda began to speak, quietly enough, although I could see that she was quaking with passion. "These men are our guests," she said, "come hither to serve us. Do you desire to murder our guests? Moreover, of what use would that be?
"Thank God, she's safe!" muttered Oliver with a gasp of relief. "Yes," answered Higgs, "but what's she doing there? She ought to be in the dock, too, not on the Bench." We reached the open space, and were thrust by soldiers armed with swords to where we must stand, and although each of us bowed to her, I observed that Maqueda took not the slightest notice of our salutations.
So vast was it, indeed, that the feeble light of our lamps did not suffice to reach the roof, and only dimly showed to right and left the outlines of what appeared to be shattered buildings of rock. "Behold the cave city of Mur," said Maqueda, waving the lamp she held. "Here it was that the ancients whom we believe to have been the forefathers of the Fung, had their secret stronghold.
There, then, that matter ended. Now an officer cried: "Walda Nagasta speaks!" whereon every one repeated, "Walda Nagasta speaks," and was silent. Then Maqueda began to address us in her soft and pleasant voice. "Strangers from the Western country called England," she said, "be pleased to hear me. You know our case with the Fung that they surround us and would destroy us.
"Thought there was something wrong with the blooming thing," said the Sergeant, "but couldn't turn it up, as it hasn't got a screw, without which these old-fashioned colza oils never were no good. Hullo! Doctor, there goes yours," and as he spoke, go it did. "The wicks!" exclaimed Maqueda, "we forgot to bring new wicks, and without them of what use is oil?
But the Sergeant, who has extraordinarily sharp eyes, thought that he saw you kissing Maqueda, a supposition that your relative attitudes seemed to confirm, which explains, moreover, some of the curious sounds we heard before he lit the torches. That's why he asked me to turn my back. But, of course, we may have been mistaken. Do I understand you to say that the Sergeant was mistaken?"
"Who told you that, O Tongue of Barung?" asked Maqueda in a low voice, speaking for the first time. "The man of the West whom you took prisoner he whom you call Fat One?" "No, no, O Walda Nagasta, the lord Black Windows has told us nothing as yet, except sundry things about the history of our god, with whom, as we said, he seems to be familiar, and to whom, therefore, we vowed him at once.
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