Lamekis

by Charles de Fieux

  My host, who had not forgotten, took me by the hand. The woman was busy plucking a kind of chicken with a cat’s head and before we left the man went up to her, put his hand on her head and whispered something. She stopped her work and with a gracious smile pulled a hair out of his head and tied it around her ankle where there were several others. I watched these things wide-eyed, but I was even more surprised to see him grab a vase and take out a kind of sponge and scrub my face and hands, which right away turned the same color as his.

  We left the grotto on a path hollowed out of the thick rock. The dog went ahead and guided us by his voice through about 400 feet of darkness. When we were out of the underground, we went up a natural slope that led us onto a platform where we could see the sea. On the right were some woods with trees reaching up to the clouds and on the left the view was cut off by a chain of small mountains whose tops were sparkling white. The ground we walked on was soft and so white that I bent down to touch it thinking it was covered with snow; it was very fine foam. My host smiled at my wonderment and said, “Piga, piga.”24 I repeated the words, which surprised him. Then he put his hand on the blue animal and said, “Falbao.”25 The word was barely out of my mouth when the dog jumped on me and almost knocked me down.

  The man was surprised at how easily I learned the words of his language and spoke a few others that I articulated with no problem. He put his hand on his head and hit his stomach, saying “Motacoa,” meaning that was his name. I repeated it and he smiled and squeezed my knee.26

  When we got to the end of the platform, facing the sea, we went down by a slope and ended up on the shore. We climbed into a small, round boat with a wheel attached to each side with blades that were used as oars; a double handle turned them both at the same time. He barely touched them and we were moving off so fast it scared me. Everything that had happened came rushing back to me and I started weeping. Motacoa27 left the oars, came over to me kindly, squeezed my knee again and said many things that I did not understand. Meanwhile Falbao jumped into the sea and started monkeying around so much that I laughed as hard as I had cried.

  My host was delighted, but the dog suddenly disappeared. Afraid that he had drowned, I screamed. Motacoa did not think so and started laughing. He touched his mouth and said, “Falbao, Falbao, tou-kat-zi.”28 The words were barely out of his mouth when the dog’s head popped up and quickly dove back down into the sea. A minute later he came back up and jumped into the boat holding a big fish in his mouth (or his muzzle, if the critics prefer). He dropped it at the feet of his master. The fish was huge and looked like nothing I had seen before. Motacoa petted the dog’s knees and he reciprocated in his way. Then Motacoa stuck his finger in the fish’s gills, took something out and threw it at Falbao, who gobbled it up with delight. When the meal, which I thought rather meager for its size, was finished, he jumped back into the sea and did not resurface for a long time, which worried me a lot since I had found an unusual attraction for the animal.

  Soon he came back with an even bigger fish than before. He kept this up for a few hours and when there was enough in the boat, Motacoa got under way and in no time at all we were almost back at the rocks I mentioned before. As we moved on, I noticed that the land was cultivated and must have been someone’s dwelling. We entered a little bay that brought us to a big area full of people the same color as Motacoa. But what was really surprising and remarkable to me was that the women were the same color, whereas my host’s wife looked nothing like them.

  We had just landed when a few people came up and touched Motacoa’s knee. When they saw my clothes, which were different from theirs, they stood arm in arm and spoke out. Then everyone came running up and pointed at me with their elbows,29 yelling “clao, clao.”30 One of them (whom I thought was the chief because when he appeared everyone stepped back) came up, touched my knee and plucked out one of my hairs.31 During the ceremony Motacoa fell on his back and spread his hands on his chest. Then he got up, grabbed the chief’s hair on the front of his head and shook it vigorously.32 The native was pleased with the courtesy and got in the boat where he picked out the biggest fish and then left.

  I was too young to pay much attention to everything. I only remember it later after I learned their language.

  The people were free to board the boat33 and they took the different foodstuffs that they needed. When the market ended and Motacoa had traded his fish, we got back in the boat and went back to our dwelling. His wife greeted us in all kinds of ways. When night fell they lit a kind of torch which gave off a bright light and whose odor was very sweet. Sitting on the edge of the fountain we had soup made of rice and the chicken I mentioned before. We drank the water from the rock, which was biting and spicy—I only had to drink three mouthfuls to feel a kind of drowsy drunkenness, which plunged me into a deep sleep.

  There’s no point, dear Sinouis, in telling you the details of the life I led for 10 years in that dwelling. I learned Motacoa’s language so quickly that at the end of two years I could speak as well as him. My host and his wife treated me so warmly that I forgot, in a way, my natural parents. I was raised in the religion and ways of the country and when I was initiated in their customs Motacoa put his complete and thorough trust in me.

  One day he said to me, “Lamekis, I want to prove my affection for you by telling you my story and your own glorious part in the most important event of my life. What concerns you is the most heart-rending: the death of your father.”

  “Oh Heavens!” I cried, “What are you saying? Lamekis is dead and you’ve been hiding it from me all this time! What horrible brutality…”

  “You have every right to yell at me,” the native interjected, “and to criticize what I’ve done, but I didn’t know you well enough to reveal the awful secret. This is not the time for revenge. It is coming and soon I will give you the means to punish the wicked murderers. Hear me out. My story will teach you about your father’s tragic end.

  The birth of Motacoa and the jealousy of the Houcaïs

  I am the son of the Houcaïs34 or King of the Abdalles.35 His kingdom was founded by the great Vilkonhis,36 whom you know as the Universal Being. The extent of his realm is vast: my father ruled all the people who lived between the rock that I showed you and the mountain Collira.37 His power had no limits. My mother, who was white, had been brought from far-off lands and he fell so madly in love with her that he married her.

  With this marriage love was coupled with intelligence. Their happiness was perfect. If they ever argued, it was only in their love for each other, fighting over who loved the other more. One day the Queen wanted to get the better of the King and said to him, “Well, the fruit that I bear will decide the matter. If the token of our mutual love is blue, it is undeniable proof that I love you more; and if the child is my color, I will consent that your love is greater than mine. The Houcaïs accepted the test and they waited impatiently for the moment that would decide the crucial issue.

  I was born white.

  “How can that be?” I interrupted. “You are the same color as the people here.”

  You will see in time. I use a trick to be blue and it’s only to protect your life that we have dyed you that color.

  My mother was carried away with joy when she saw me. She was delighted to lose the challenge because of her excessive love for my father. But the King took it very differently. He became glum and gloomy. His jealousy invented all kinds of suspicions about my birth. For some time he considered how to get revenge. From the fateful day that I came into the world, he stopped seeing the Queen, who dissolved in tears because she could not imagine how she had lost his love. Imagine her surprise when the head kirzif38 came to her one day with the dreadful kirmec39 in his hand.

  “What’s this I see?” the poor Princess screamed. “Is the grandeur of my love to be the height of my disgrace? Am I condemned to death?”

  “Ah, Madame,” the Kirzif cried, “I am so unhappy to be in this position! If only I could take your place in the dreadfu
l pit of Houzaïl!40 The Houcaïs sentences you and your son, the Prince, to this dreadful punishment. He thinks you committed adultery and has sworn to Vilkonhis that he will henceforth kill all whites who fall into his hands, supposing that of all the people who die, one of them must be the suspected perpetrator of his shame and the father of the Prince.”

  “Oh Heavens!” Hildaë cried out (that’s the name of my mother), “Oh height of despair! How much innocence and virtue must be sacrificed to so much ingratitude?”

  Her pleas were useless. The Houcaïs had gained so much power and it was so absolute that he answered only to himself. There was no point in the people moaning and groaning about such an unfair arrest, it was done. They lowered the Queen and me down into the deadly pit in a basket. As was the custom they gave us food for eight days and instead of 1,000 lengths of rope, which was usually used to lower the basket into the abyss, on behalf of the criminal’s status they gave us 3,000, which had never been done before and which eventually saved our lives.

  It took three days and nights to go down into the center of the Earth.41 On the fourth day the basket came to a stop on the top of a mountain. The Queen, who was thinking we would die at any moment, felt us land, took me in her arms, quickly got out of the basket and ran, afraid that the rope, which they usually dropped at the end, would kill us. It seemed that the Heavens wanted to preserve us by a miracle. It was a worthwhile precaution—an hour later the rope rained down with an awful racket.

  When Hildaë got over her first fear, she examined her surroundings. They were frightening. The ground was scattered with bones and skulls and the mountain looked like it was built of nothing but these poor bodies that had been thrown down there. It was a chilling sight for a woman in my mother’s situation. She hurried down the mountain and saw new, funny objects as she went. The variegated ground was oily and soft and the light that broke through created a play of shadows that would have charmed a less intimidated mind. But Hildaë was scared of the fate pursuing her and was so worried that she did not take 30 steps before she went back to where she started.

  “Oh gods!” she cried. “What is to become of me? Won’t the grand Vilkonhis be swayed by my innocence and by some strange miracle save us from this fatal fall?” This plea lifted her spirits and she looked more confidently at the wondrous things around her.

  She was surprised to see an incredibly high vault overhead that was cut with sideways openings spaced unequally apart. Waterfalls came out of some, reflecting the light in a multitude of colors. Others meandered down fissures that they seemed unable to escape. In a farther place a torrent of what looked like heavy silver42 flowed out of the vault. The liquid was so shiny that she could barely look at it. Hildaë enjoyed (if we can call it that) looking at these wonders for a little while, but many other things amazed her. Turning to the left she saw a sea of fire43 with many waves; everything around it was covered by dark, purple smoke and the restless flames moved the ground. Closer to us she saw columns of transparent and less restless water,44 some flowing down and others flowing up. All these miracles of nature were too strange for her to analyze in such a short time and her situation was too critical to ponder over them for long.

  Besides, I was weak because I had not eaten in such a long time. My mother saw this and noticed too late that in her desire to save us from the deadly falling rope she had forgotten to take the few provisions that they usually put in the basket. She became desperate and screamed frantically. She tried in vain to remedy the situation by scrambling back up to where it had fallen, but her search was fruitless and her weakness prevented her from continuing. She left the awful place wailing and was surprised to hear a distant voice in answer, “Patience, I’ll be with you right away.”

  She turned and saw a man on the other side of the stream coming quickly toward us. She jumped with joy. “Oh Vilkonhis!” she cried. “You are coming to save me.” She went to meet him and as she got closer she could see that he looked like the people who had just banished her. Ah, she told herself, it’s some poor creature like me who miraculously escaped the harsh fate to which he was, maybe, unjustly condemned. In the middle of this thought she found herself face to face with the stranger, who stepped back and said, “Oh Heavens, what’s this? The Queen! I don’t believe it! What awful deed has thrown you down here?”

  “Ah!” my mother replied, not remembering the stranger. “Who are you? And how is that I hear my name spoken in this disgraceful place that does not render me honor but rather that covers me in shame by recognizing me?”

  “Princess,” the stranger replied, “whatever the reason you are here, it can only be to your glory. The grand Vilkonhis does not protect criminals and does not perform miracles in vain. I was sentenced to the infamy of a sure death like you, but I escaped punishment. The Heavens saved me from the deadly fall and aided me in my helplessness. My virtue triumphed. My enemies believed they had destroyed me, but instead they gave me a life unbelievably more peaceful than the one they thought they were depriving me of. Come, Princess, put that precious package in my arms—why, it can only be the legitimate Prince, who is the unlucky partner of our misery.” He took me in his arms and bade my mother follow him, telling her how he survived in the unknown land.

  For five years since injustice had cast him down there, he had discovered all the monstrous ins and outs of the inner world. His adventures alone would fill volumes. His name was Lodaï and he was a minister of the Houcaïs. Being favored and fair had earned him enemies. His honesty and openness never made his master’s subordinates love him; being firm in his interests attracted them to him. He was too smart not to notice that they were trying to destroy him, but he asked only for the uprightness and kindness of the King to prevail over their calumnies. The King stood up to them for a long time, but in the end he fell victim to the suspicions they sowed in his mind. No people were ever more jealous of his authority than the Houcaïs. They made him believe that Lodaï was scheming to usurp his throne by leading a conspiracy. The minister of this complicated plot suggested the likelihood of treason and it worked as they expected. There was a trial and in spite of his innocence the wicked, corrupt judges convinced the King of the crime of high treason and he was sentenced to the pit of Houzaïl. His luck, or better said, the Heavens made it so that when they let go of the rope, it got caught on a branch growing out of a crack in the rock, which stopped the basket’s fall four feet above ground. It was easy to get out and jump onto the mountain. And by this unheard of miracle he was the first one up until then to live in the center of the Earth. He was the one who told us about the wonders that are so fascinating today and that I will tell about later.

  After Lodaï told my mother all these things, he led her to the banks of the stream whose rose-colored water flowed onto pure golden sand. This part of the Inner Earth was lit perpendicularly and the ceiling was so high that we could barely see it. A mountain of minerals, mainly sulfur and bitumen, rose up next to the stream. Lodaï had built a nice, comfortable dwelling inside it and since he knew so much about the environment he was able to get everything needed to live. He led Hildaë into the refuge and when he had put her on a bed made of the very finest moss, he gave me some water that I swallowed, which stopped my crying, and then he spoke to my mother.

  Lodaï’s story

  Here is the refuge, Oh great Princess, which I made with patience and skill and where I live infinitely happier than in the ranks I was in before. Here I am King. And from my studies since I was young I have knowledge of nature. When I saw that I was banished but safe, the desire to save my life, which the Heavens seemed to be protecting, compelled me to look for food. The few provisions they give to those they throw down here were barely enough to give me time to find something else. But can you die when the Heavens protect you?

  The third day I was wandering in this place I stopped on the banks of this stream. I saw a kind of chicken come out of the water, followed by a few others. I was transfixed by how strange it looked and by the nov
elty of the thing. I kept watching it and it beat its wings and the air was filled with the sweet smell of the water. All of them romped about for a little while on the golden sand of this little river. Their feathers and heads were crimson and black; they had two beaks with the lower one curving down; they walked pretty much like a duck and soon wandered far away from me. I followed them to find out what they would do. They jumped into a hollowed out path lined with pebbles that looked like mother-of-pearl and after a quarter karie45 they went into the trunk of a tree that six men holding hands would barely wrap around. The opening they entered was so small that they had to duck to get in. When I saw the chickens holed up in the tree I decided to try to catch one. I went up to the opening and looked inside. It was huge and completely hollow. By the light that entered in different places I could make out a large number of these animals each with their young and cooing like pigeons. After examining them for a while I closed the opening with some moss that covered the tree bark and thought about how I could catch one of them.

  Looking up I was surprised how beautiful and how high the tree was. Its branches were four times longer than an alder and twice as thick. I had to use my knife to cut one of them off because there was no way I could snap it. Just look (Lodaï continued) at the clothes and furniture I made and you can see for yourself what can be done with it. The discovery pleased me greatly, but not as much as the fruit that hung from it. I had quite a bit of trouble getting some down because they were so high. I had to throw rocks to knock them down and I spent a long time trying to gather them up. They fell and bounced like handballs except that they bounced so high and so crazily that whenever I got my hand under one, it slipped away. When I finally got hold of one of these fruits, I scrutinized it carefully. It was light and as fat as an Indian melon. When I split it open, a clear liquid came out. I was so thirsty that I couldn’t find enough of them to quench my thirst. I drank so much that I got kind of drunk and felt groggy. I stretched out at the foot of the tree and fell into a deep sleep.