Читать книгу Ancient Rites - Diale Tlholwe - Страница 4

Prologue

Prologue

From this place . . .

I came to a curve in the damp, cold wall of the tunnel, to a moment when the roar of the drums and stamping feet seemed to push me backwards, but the urgent, sweaty heat rolling out of the body of the large, over-muscled man behind me did not let me forget that there was no retreat. The only way was forward to the drums.

One more turn and our destination was nearer. I could now hear a low humming swirling just below the drumbeat. Then, as the tunnel narrowed, an inhumanly large eye seemed to come out of the darkness to examine me. I turned away from it, but the giant behind me simply grabbed my shoulders and spun me around like a feather in a high wind.

As he did so, a small boy wearing a loincloth appeared. With slow deliberation he set ablaze the candles that were hanging in recesses cut into the walls, conjuring the full, terrible beauty of a huge female face out of the nothing before my eyes.

It moved and shivered in the uneasy light. It called and repelled. It was frightening, erotic, triumphant and disdainful. But as we moved closer I could also see that the finely painted head covered a massive wooden door.

Even as I realised this the twin sections of the door swung open, bisecting the face and destroying the illusion, and we stepped into an immense cavern whose size challenged belief.

By now, the deep drumbeat and the low humming beneath it had ceased and I could hear a rushing stream to my left. Beyond the stream, I could see what looked like a traditional African village. It was almost too much to accept.

My escort now became insistent, hurrying me forward. Suddenly, a pool of water sparkled ahead of us, with a narrow rope bridge spanning it. On the other side, I could see a large group of people standing vigilantly around a high golden throne, richly draped with animal hides.

Having seen the face on the door I was not surprised to see the same face turning to look at me from the throne. I felt strangely reassured. A feeling of reaching a long anticipated destination trickled into my veins. Her near nudity was both an affirmation and an insult. Pride and insolence were the message of her one small, pointed breast.

I was halfway across the bridge when she stood and everything stopped. The order for silence was unmistakable as it was also beyond defiance.

“All those who assume that all things are settled,” she said, speaking in a rich contralto that swept towards me and upwards towards the invisible roof,

“all questions answered,

all truths revealed,

all histories recorded,

all mysteries explained,

all secrets unearthed,

all wounds healed,

all quests ended,

for all time, are deluded.

Their undoing assured.”

I agreed with everything she said.