Страница 103 из 110
Burton gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and sat down.
There was an occasional table beside Speke's chair. He took a decanter of brandy from it, poured two glasses, and handed one to his guest.
“Do you consider me guilty, Dick?”
“Absolutely not,” Burton responded.
“Good. I don't care about anyone else. But I must ask your forgiveness. A weakness in my character caused me to take umbrage with you during our exploration of Berbera, and everything we've endured since stems from that act. I thought you considered me a coward. I was angry and resentful.”
“And wrong, John. I never thought of you that way. But if it's forgiveness you need, then consider it granted.”
“Thank you.”
Hesitantly, Speke raised his glass. Burton leaned forward, clinked his own against it, and they drank.
“Do you remember all those dreadful days of illness in Ujiji?” Speke asked, referring to 1857, when they'd discovered Lake Tanganyika.
“How could I forget, John? I thought we were goners for sure.”
“When I was at my lowest ebb, you used to sit beside my cot and read to me from Camoens. Would you do so again? I'd gain much comfort from it. They allowed me a volume of The Lusiad.”
“Certainly.”
Speke stood, crossed to a bookshelf, and returned with a book in his hand. He passed it to Burton and sat down.
“I've marked a page.”
Burton nodded then opened the book where a loose leaf of paper poked out from the pages. He saw Speke's handwriting on the sheet and glanced up at his friend.
Speke met his eyes and held them a moment. His lens glinted.
Burton returned his attention to the book. He began to read aloud.
“'Ah, strike the notes of woe!' the siren cries;
‘A dreary vision swims before my eyes.
To Tagus’ shore triumphant as he bends,
Low in the dust the hero's glory ends-'”
Such was his familiarity with the Portuguese poet that he continued automatically, reciting the verse, expressively and faultlessly, though his eyes and mind were on Speke's note. He read:
Dick,
I have told no one of what occurred in the temple. Nor have we ever spoken to each other about it, for we were in no fit condition to converse in the days subsequent to those events, and, besides, I had little recollection of anything other than a bright flash and a deafening gunshot.
But in recent days, the veil of light that blinded me seems to have lifted. What I witnessed has gained clarity in my mind, and I feel instinctively that it might be of importance to you.
I shall try to describe what happened in its proper sequence, though, in truth, these are but facets of an instant.
Dick, this thing that Darwin and his cronies attached to my head, this babbage device, contains ante
Simultaneously, a pale-blue lightning flashed from the diamond at the tip of the pyramid and jumped to the brass man's head, then from his to yours. In the slightest fraction of a second, your appearance altered-your hair became white, your clothes changed, and a rifle appeared beside you-and the energy then reversed direction, jumping from you back to the brass man, then to the diamond.
As I say, this all occurred in a single moment, and I don't know what to make of it, except-this may be nonsense, but it seemed to me that the clockwork man somehow cha
I wish I could be of more help to you, but my time has run out.
I ca
Your old friend,
John Ha
Burton continued to recite Camoens, but his eyes flicked up and signalled gratitude to the other man. Surreptitiously, he slipped the letter into his pocket.
The half-hour ended and the door opened. Damien Burke leaned in and said: “Captain?”
Burton closed the book, put it down, stood, and shook Speke's hand.
“Goodbye, old fellow,” he said.
Speke's mouth moved but he could find no words, and with his eye glistening, he turned away.
It was past three o'clock by the time the king's agent left the tower. He whistled for a hansom cab and ordered the driver to take him to Battersea.
“Bless me, sir! That's a relief!” the man said, climbing down from his seat. He took a couple of lumps of Formby coal from the scuttle at the back of the vehicle's steam-horse and put them into the furnace.
“Why so?” Burton asked.
“South of the river, ain't it! A lot less traffic south of the river! Can't move for love nor money on the main roads north o' the Thames, but south-we'll have you on your merry way, no trouble at all, sir. In you go. There's a blanket under the seat if you feel the chill.”
The driver climbed back up to his seat, waited for Burton to settle, then-with an u
As the cab rattled along Lower Thames Street and turned left onto London Bridge, the king's agent sat back, tied Gregory Hare's perfumed handkerchief around the lower half of his face, and focused on his breathing. Keeping it slow and steady, he imagined each breath entering first his left lung, then his right. He matched his respiration to the rhythm of a Sufi chant:
Allahu Allahu Allahu Haqq.
Allahu Allahu Allahu Haqq.
Allahu Allahu Allahu Haqq.
He started to complicate the exercise, altering the tempo, establishing a cycle of four breaths, visualising oxygen saturating different parts of his body.
At the same time, he listened only to the chugging of the hansom's steam-horse, allowing it to block out all other noises.
By the time the vehicle reached the junction of Bankside and Blackfriars Road, Burton had slipped into a Sufi trance.
His mind drifted.
He saw formless light and colour; heard water and snatches of conversation:
“-According to the evidence John Speke presented to the Society, the Nile runs uphill for ninety miles-”
“-The lake he discovered was, indeed, the source of the Nile-”
The lights coalesced into a single bright ribbon, broad, snaking away through darkness, disappearing into the distance. He flew over it, following its course upstream.
“-Captain Burton! Did you pull the trigger? — ”
“-Is there shooting to be done? — ”
“-I rather suppose there is! — ”
“-The source! — ”
“-Don't step back! They'll think that we're retiring! — ”
From far off to either side, he saw more ribbons of light. The farther upstream he flew, the closer they came.
“-Don't step back! — ”
“-Step back! — ”
“-Pull the trigger! — ”
“-Step back! — ”
“-The source! — ”
Shining intensely, as if reflecting the sun, the ribbons began to converge around him.
“-Step back! — ”
“-The source! — ”
“-Needs pruning, hard against the stem-”
“-How can I reverse the damage? — ”