He limped slowly back towards the river. The goose was gone and his arrow with it, but the kedana was still lying where it had fallen and he pulled out the arrow, heaved it under his good arm and made for the reeds. It was here that the delayed shock overtook him. He sank down, trembling and silently weeping by the water's edge. For a long time he lay prone, oblivious of his own safety. And slowly there came to him – not all at once, but brightening and burning up, littl by little, like a new-lit fire – the realization of what – of who – it must truly be that he had seen.
As a traveller in some far wilderness might by chance pick up a handful of stones from the ground, examine them idly and then, with mounting excitement, first surmise, next think it probable and finally feel certain that they must be diamonds; or as a sea-captain, voyaging in distant waters, might round an unknown cape, busy himself for an hour with the handling of the ship and only then, and gradually, realize that he – he himself – must have sailed into none other than that undiscovered, fabled ocean known to his forbears by nothing but legend and rumour; so now, little by little, there stole upon this hunter the stupefying, all-but-incredible knowledge of what it must be that he had seen. He became calm then, got up and fell to pacing back and forth among the trees by the shore. At last he stood still, faced the sun across the strait and, raising his unwounded arm, prayed for a long time: a wordless prayer of silence and trembling awe. Then, still dazed, he once more took up the ketlana and waded through the reeds. Making his way back along the shallows, he found the raft which he had moored that morning, loosed it and drifted away downstream.
4 The High Baron
It was late in the afternoon when the hunter, Kelderek, came at last in sight of the landmark he was seeking, a tall zoan tree some distance above the downstream point of the island. The boughs, with their silver-backed, fern-like leaves, hung down over the river, forming an enclosed, watery arbour inshore. In front of this the reeds had been cut to afford to one seated within a clear view across the strait. Kelderek, with some difficulty, steered his raft to the mouth of the channel, looked towards the zoan and raised his paddle as though in greeting. There was no response, but he expected none. Guiding the raft up to a stout post in the water, he felt down its length, found the rope running shorewards below the surface and drew himself towards land.
Reaching the tree, he pulled the raft through the curtain of pendent branches. Inside, a short, wooden pier projected from the bank and on this a man was seated, staring out between the leaves at the river beyond. Behind him a second man sat mending a net. Four or five other rafts were moored to the hidden quay. The look-out's glance, having taken in the single kedana and the few fish lying beside Kelderek, came to rest upon the weary, blood-smeared hunter himself.
'So. Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. You have little to show and less than usual. Where are you hurt?' 'The shoulder, shendron: and the arm is stiff and painful.' 'You look like a man in a stupor. Are you feverish?' The hunter made no reply. 'I asked, "Are you feverish?" ' He shook his head. 'What caused the wound?'
Kelderek hesitated, then shook his head once more and remained silent,
'You simpleton, do you suppose I am asking you for the sake of gossip? I have to learn everything – you know that. Was it a man or an animal that gave you that wound?' 'I fell and injured myself.' The shendron waited. 'A leopard pursued me,' added Kelderek.
The shendron burst out impatiently. 'Do you think you are telling tales now to children on the shore? Am I to keep asking "And what came next?" Tell me what happened. Or would you prefer to be sent to the High Baron, to say that you refused to tell?'
Kelderek sat on the edge of the wooden pier, looking down and stirring a stick in the dark-green water below. At last the shendron said, 'Kelderek, I know you are considered a simple fellow, with your "Cat Catch a Fish" and all the rest of it. Whether you are indeed so simple I cannot tell. But whether or not, you know well enough that every hunter who goes out has to tell all he knows upon return. Those are Bel-ka-Trazet's orders. Has the fire driven a leopard to Ortelga? Did you meet with strangers? What is the state of the western end of the island? These are the things I have to learn.' Kelderek trembled where he sat but still said nothing.
'Why,' said the net-mender, speaking for the first time, 'you know he's a simpleton – Kelderek Zenzuata – Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. He went hunting – he hurt himself – he's returned with littl to show. Can't we leave it at that? Who wants the bother of taking him up to the High Baron?'
The shendron, an older man, frowned. 'I am not here to be trifled with. The island may be full of all manner of savage beasts; of men, too, perhaps. Why not? And this man you believe to be a simpleton – he may be deceiving us. With whom has he spoken today? And did they pay him to keep silent?'
'But if he were deceiving us,' said the net-mender, 'would he not come with a tale prepared? Depend upon it, he -' The hunter stood up, looking tensely from one to the other.
'I am deceiving no one: but I cannot tell you what I have seen today.'
The shendron and his companion exchanged glances. In the evening quiet, a light breeze set the water clop-clopping under the platform and from somewhere inland sounded a faint call, 'Yasta! The firewood!'
'What is this?' said the shendron. 'You are making difficulties for me, Kelderek, but worse – far worse – for yourself.'
'I cannot tell you what I have seen,' repeated the hunter, with a kind of desperation.
The shendron shrugged his shoulders. 'Well, Taphro, since it seems there's no curing this foolishness, you'd better take him up to the Sindrad. But you are a great fool. Kelderek. The High Baron's anger is a storm that many men have failed to survive before now.' 'This I know. God's will must be done.'
The shendron shook his head. Kelderek, as though in an attempt to be reconciled to him, laid a hand on his shoulder; but the other shook it off impatiently and returned in silence to his watch over the river. Taphro, scowling now, motioned the hunter to follow him up the bank.
The town that covered the narrow, eastern end of the island was fortified on the landward side by an intricate defensive system, part natural and part artificial, that ran from shore to shore. West of the zoan tree, on the further side from the town, four lines of pointed stakes extended from the water-side into the woods. Inland, the patches of diicker jungle formed obstacles capable of little improvement, though even here the living creepers had been pruned and trained into almost impenetrable screens, one behind another. In the more open parts thorn-bushes had been planted – trazada, curlspike and the terrible ancottlia, whose poison burns and irritates until men tear their own flesh with their nails. Steep places had been made steeper and at one point the outfall of a marsh had been damned to form a shallow lake – shrunk at this time of year – in which small alligators, caught on the mainland, had been set free to grow and become dangerous. Along the outer edge of the line lay the so-called 'Dead Belt', about eighty yards broad, which was never entered except by those whose task it was to maintain it. Here were hidden trip-ropes fastened to props holding up great logs; concealed pits filled with pointed stakes – one contained snakes; spikes in the grass; and one or two open, smooth-looking paths leading to enclosed places, into which arrows and other missiles-could be poured from platforms constructed among the trees above. The Belt was divided by rough palisades, so that advancing enemies would find lateral movement difficult and discover themselves committed to emerge at points where they could be awaited. The entire line and its features blended so naturally with the surrounding jungle that a stranger, though he might, here and there, perceive that men had been at work, could form little idea of its full extent. This remarkable closure of an open flank, devised and carried out during several years by the High Baron, Bel-ka-Trazet, had never yet been put to the proof. But, as Bel-ka-Trazet himself had perhaps foreseen, the labour of making it and the knowledge that it was there had created among the Ortelgans a sense of confidence and security that was probably worth as much as the works themselves. The line not only protected the town but made it a great deal harder for anyone to leave it without the High Baron's knowledge.