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Burton mopped Speke's brow, feeling the heat radiating from hisskin.
“It's all right, John,” he soothed.
“They aren't human! They are crawling into my head! Oh, Jesus,get them out of me, Dick! Get them out! They are putting theirclaws into me! Dragging me away from it, across the cavern, by thelegs!”
Away from what? Burton wondered.
Speke's body arched and he shook violently, gripped by anepileptic fit. Burton called Sidi Bombay over and they forced aleather knife sheath between the lieutenant's teeth to prevent himfrom biting his tongue. They held him down as spasms twisted andcontorted him.
Eventually, Speke fell into a stupor and lay semiconscious,muttering to himself.
“Hobgoblins,” he whispered. “Great crowds of them spilling fromthe temple. Heaven help me, I have them inside my soul! They aresetting loose their dragons!”
His face was suddenly wrenched out of shape by a ferociouscramp, his eyes became glassy, and he began to bark like a dog. Hewas almost entirely unrecognisable, and Sidi Bombay backed awayhastily, wearing an expression of superstitious dread.
“It is kichyomachyoma,” he said. “He attack by bad spirits! Hedie!”
Speke screamed. He screamed ceaselessly for an entire day-but hedidn't die.
Eventually he quieted, lapsed in and out of consciousness, andfinally slept.
Another week slipped by.
John Speke was sitting up, sipping at a cup of tea, when Burtonentered the tent.
“How are you feeling, John?”
“Better, Dick. I think we'll be able to move on soon. Maybe in acouple of days.”
“When you're ready, but not before.”
Speke put down his cup and looked Burton squarely in the eyes.“You shouldn't have said it.”
Burton frowned, puzzled. “Said what?”
“At Berbera. When we were attacked. You said: ‘Don't step backor they'll think we're retiring.’ I'm not a coward.”
“A coward? What are you talking about? Berbera was three yearsago!”
“You thought I was retreating in fear.”
Burton's eyebrows rose. He was amazed, shocked. “I-what? Ididn't-”
“You accused me.”
“John! You have it all wrong! I did no such thing! I have never,not for a single moment, considered you anything other thancourageous in the face of danger!”
Speke shook his head. “I know what you think.”
“John-” Burton began, but Speke interrupted: “I'll restnow.”
He lay down and turned his face away. Burton stood looking athim, then quietly left the tent.
After a further three days, the safari got moving again, withthe lieutenant being carried on a stretcher. The long line ofmen-the two explorers and their porters-wound like a snake throughthe undulating landscape. They seemed to make no progress, seeingonly sun-baked grass for mile after mile after mile.
In fact, they were wending their way up onto higher ground, andthe gradual change of air did Burton and Speke a world of good,driving the fevers, diseases, pains, and infections from theirravaged bodies, though they continued to suffer from terribleheadaches.
Christmas Day came and went. By this time, they were maintaininga polite but cold relationship. Speke's excursion to the great lakewas never spoken of.
Desertions and disobedience among the porters halted them foranother fortnight. Burton warned the men that they'd forfeit theirpay if they didn't pick up their packs and start moving. Theyrefused. He rounded up the troublemakers and dismissed them, hiringnine new men from a passing caravan.
They moved on.
Walking, walking, walking! Would it never end?
It did.
On the 2nd of February, 1859, they climbed to the top of a hilland saw the blue sea scintillating in the far distance.
They threw their caps into the air and cheered.
“Hip, hip, hurrah!” John Speke hollered. “Let's get ourselvesoff this filthy damned continent, and I pray to God that my blastedheadache stays behind!”
“We reached Zanzibar and from there sailed to Aden, where Idecided to lay up awhile to recover my strength. John, meanwhile,jumped onto the first available Europe-bound ship. He promised toawait my arrival in London, so we could report our findings to theRoyal Geographical Society together. In any event, he went therealone and claimed sole credit for the discovery of the source ofthe Nile.”
Burton flicked his cigar stub into the hearth.
“It was a terrible betrayal,” Swinburne said.
“The worst. I was his commanding officer. It was my expedition.His evidence was so incompetent that he made an embarrassment ofthe entire endeavour.”
A short silence settled over the two men.
Burton ran the tip of his right index finger along the scar onhis cheek, as if reminded of that old, mind-numbing pain.
“Of course,” he continued, “in going to the RGS, he wasn'tacting entirely of his own volition. He'd been mesmerised duringthe voyage home by the leader of the Rakes, Laurence Oliphant.”
He stood, crossed to the window, and looked down at the trafficthat clanked and steamed and rolled and rumbled along MontaguPlace. Almost inaudibly, he said: “You think John betrayed me evenbefore we left Africa, don't you? At Tanganyika.”
“Yes, I'm sorry, Richard, but it all adds up. I think Spekelearned from Sheikh Hamed that the Mountains of the Moon werenowhere near, but far away to the northeast; that the tribes to thenorth of Ujiji were hostile; and that the Rusizi flows into, notout of, the lake. He then set about convincing you of the exactopposite, so that you'd waste time and resources and be forced toreturn to Zanzibar.”
Burton sighed. “A lust for glory. He wanted to be John Ha
“It would seem so, and though his map didn't fool you-you're toogood a geographer to be taken in by absurdly misplacedmountains-the rest of it worked. Your attempts to see the Rusiziprecluded any further explorations.”
The king's agent clenched his fists and leaned with his knucklesagainst the window frame and his forehead touching the glass.
“So,” the poet continued, “you began the long journey backeastward and when you reached Kazeh, Speke dosed you up withSaltzma
Burton pushed himself back upright, turned, frowned, and said:“You're referring to his subsequent hallucinations?”
Swinburne nodded. “You said he ranted and raved about dragonsdragging him away from something. Dragons, Richard-mythicalreptiles, just like the Shayturay, the African Naga. Is that acoincidence, do you think?”
“And the Naga are associated with a fabled black diamond thatfell from the sky and gave rise to the Nile,” Burton whispered.“Bloody hell, Algy, did he see the African stone?”
“It would certainly account for his subsequent actions.”
Burton whistled and ran his fingers through his hair. He pacedover to the fireplace, took another cigar from the box on themantelpiece, and immediately forgot it, holding it unlit while hegazed thoughtfully at Swinburne.
“When Babbage said the Technologists had become aware of theblack diamonds, I wondered how. Now we know: Speke told Oliphantand Oliphant told the Technologists.”
“Yes, and that's when the whole game changed. Let me ask you aquestion: why did Speke receive Murchison's backing for a secondexpedition? He's an inept geographer, a terrible public speaker, abad writer, and has proven himself thoroughly unreliable. Yet hewas chosen over you. Why?”
Burton's jaw dropped. The cigar fell from his fingers.
“My God,” he whispered. “My God. At last it's making sense. TheRakes and Technologists must have offered to fund him!”