‘The King,’ Felipe said in a hushed voice.
Mrs Travers strained to see. Perspiration from the hot sun had dripped into her eyes, making them sting. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat away. Ah, that was better. As they approached, the giant tortoises grew larger and larger. Their faces had a timeless quality, age-worn, and their shells were smooth saddleback carapaces.
But which one was El Rey? They all looked the same to her.
Then they stopped. Just like that. Two hundred yards away. Then, swirling the dust like a cyclone, they began to move apart to form a pathway. And as soon as Mrs Travers saw him moving through their midst, she knew why he was called The King.
He was at least seven feet tall. He must have been six feet across the curvature of his shell. His face was incredibly wizened, his eyes huge and black. When he reached the front of the herd he opened the gash of his mouth and gave a loud, guttural roar.
He came nearer and nearer, a being that blotted out the rest of the world.
‘He’ll trample me!’ Mrs Travers cried to Felipe.
Then an extraordinary thing occurred. El Rey saw her, gave a deep sigh and then, thud, down came his shell, slamming tight around him and sealing him to the ground. The other giant tortoises in the front rank did the same.
Mrs Travers couldn’t help thinking with glee, ‘And I’m only a girl.’ Eyes wide with amazement, she stood up, wiped her dress and looked at Felipe.
He nodded. ‘That’s what they do! Isn’t it funny?’ He began to run within the herd, yelling and flapping his hands, and one by one others sighed, and down they went. They looked like huge cowpats.
‘But if you approach them from behind,’ Felipe said, ‘we can have a lot of fun. I show you.’
He sneaked up to a giant tortoise and jumped onto its back. And it didn’t even know! ‘They may seem mild-mannered now,’ Felipe said, ‘but you want to see them during the mating season. They roar and bellow and when the males fight …’ He motioned to her to pick one of the giant tortoises and ride it.
With great deliberation, she walked back through the herd.
‘No, not El Rey,’ Felipe shouted.
It was too late. Eyes bright and shining, Mrs Travers hopped on The King’s back. She laughed in triumph as he rose and walked on, blissfully unaware that he had a passenger. Or was he? The sun had made his carapace hot and the skin under her thighs was burning. His saddle wasn’t comfortable at all. Nevertheless, Mrs Travers stayed on him for as long as she could, riding El Rey through the sunlight.
Felipe had become bored. ‘Let’s go back to the shore,’ he said as he dismounted. ‘There is still much I can show you.’
She sidled off El Rey’s saddle and was suddenly overcome with embarrassment. For some reason, she did a little curtsey. Then she peered into El Rey’s left eye and said, ‘Thank you.’
And El Rey answered her, You are not the first and I expect you will not be the last to ride on me.
Mrs Travers stepped back with shock and fell into the dust. ‘What did you say?’
El Rey stopped and looked at her. Humans come, humans go. There have been many two-footed ones like yourself, child, but taller than you, who have walked among us.
‘Like my father,’ Mrs Travers answered proudly. ‘He’s a scientist. He’s come to collect herpetological specimens.’
El Rey’s eyes were dark, shining. I met a scientist once. He was a young Englishman. He also rode on me and, afterwards, like you, child, he thanked me. You are similar to him with your politeness and your manners.
‘His surname wasn’t Darwin, was it?’ Mrs Travers asked breathlessly.
Darwin? Why, yes! He was so polite that I granted him the gift that only tortoises like myself can offer. We can look back into the past. We can also look at the present and into the future. It is the gift of foresight, and I told him to choose a question and I would answer it. He sat where you are sitting now and he pondered for a long time before asking it. And when he did, the question was — El Rey suddenly withdrew his head and, thump, down came his shell. But his voice echoed from beneath the carapace — so simple but so terrible, so sacred, that I sobbed at the enormity of it. He should never have asked it. The dust swirled and drifted around Mrs Travers. After a long while, El Rey’s shell lifted, and his head appeared and began to weave back and forth.
‘What did you tell him?’ she asked.
I told him that I would visit him at the moment of his death. And then I would show him the answer. El Rey began to move to one side, as if intending to get past her.
Mrs Travers walked swiftly after him and hopped onto his shell again. Felipe was by now only a speck far away, waving to her. She waved back and he shrugged his shoulders and continued down to the beach.
I did not think I would lose you so easily, child, El Rey sighed. All you humans have such an insatiable curiosity. It is a hunger in you, but it will be your downfall and you have already taken many of us down with it. It will not be long before the rest of us follow.
Mrs Travers wasn’t about to be put off by a silly old tortoise, even if he was a giant — and a king. ‘The rest of us?’
We who live in Orbis Terrarium, El Rey explained, the Inhabited World, all the birds of the air, the plants and flowers and creatures of the land, and the inhabitants of the sea, sharing our world with you, the greatest predator the universe has ever known.
‘Predator?’ Mrs Travers pondered the word, lifting it, weighing it, looking under it as if it were a stone and something was hiding beneath it.
Did you know, El Rey continued, that hundreds of us have been taken over the centuries, by whalers, pirates and other sailors, for our delicate flesh and our oil? The sailors would come in gangs, some up to eight men, to lift us one by one into their ships, five hundred at a time. Because we could survive without water or food for many months we were an inexhaustible supply of fresh meat. And then we were also devastated by the dogs, cats, pigs and goats man brought to our islands, ravaging the vegetation on which we depend. The black rat pounced gladly on our hatchlings. Since then there have been poachers … and others … it’s the old, old story, my child.
‘But then Mr Darwin came,’ Mrs Travers said proudly. ‘On the Beagle. He saved you all, surely.’
Yes, the young Englishman came, El Rey acknowledged, and then he went. And after him came other scientists. They took hundreds more of us for their museums and zoos. One scientist is no better or worse than the rest.
‘My father is not like that,’ she said. Abruptly, she jumped off El Rey. ‘You should apologise,’ she ordered. ‘Didn’t you hear me? Say you’re sorry!’
But El Rey was silent.
In a temper, Mrs Travers kicked him. Hard. She bunched up her fists, pulled her sunhat tightly over her head and began to walk away. ‘In that case, goodbye.’
She was halfway along the canyon, heading towards the beach, when she stopped. A venal, greedy look, one tinged with the sense of revenge, came into her eyes. Turning, she stormed her way back to the herd. As she swept by, the giant tortoises thudded and fell, making obeisance to her. When she reached the front of the herd she turned and waited for El Rey to approach.
‘Stop,’ she commanded.
El Rey looked at her. Why did you not keep on walking, child? Why?
Mrs Travers looked hard at him. ‘I have a question,’ she said. The sun stopped, for just a moment, and the whole of the universe breathed in.