The covenant - James A. Michener [23]
'What did you trade?' the old man asked.
'Cloth. The cloth we weave.'
The Old Seeker smiled to indicate his pleasure that this lad should know the provenance of things, but once he had done so, he frowned. 'If I had wanted iron from the mines at Phalaborwa, I would have gone directly there. Thaba!' he shouted. 'Bring me the staff!' And when his servant ran up, bearing the carefully wrapped iron staff, the old man uncovered it and thrust it at the boy.
'That's real iron. From our mines south of Zimbabwe. We have all we need,' and contemptuously he pushed aside Nxumalo's rude ingots. Then he drew out from inside his robe a small oval object such as Nxumalo had never seen before. It was a shimmering yellow that glistened when light fell upon it, and it was suspended from a chain, each careful link of which was made of the same substance. When the old man thrust it suddenly upon him, Nxumalo found that it was surprisingly heavy.
'What is it?' he asked.
'Amulet.' There came a long pause. 'From Persia.' Another pregnant halting, then: 'Gold.'
'What is gold?' the boy asked.
'Now, there's a question!' the old man said, sitting back on his haunches and staring at the lake. 'For forty travels of the moon through the stars it was my job to find gold, and like you, I never knew what it was. It's death at the bottom of a deep pit. It's fire engulfing the iron containers when the smithy melts the ore. It's men sitting day after day, hammering out these links. But do you know what it is most of all?'
Nxumalo shook his head, liking the feel of the heavy metal. 'In the end it's a mystery, son. It's magic, because it lures men from lands you never heard of to come to our shores, to ford our rivers, to climb our mountains, to come a journey of many moons to Zimbabwe to get our gold.' Gently, almost lovingly, he retrieved the amulet and placed the chain about his neck, hiding the golden pendant beneath his cotton robe.
That was the beginning of his attempt to persuade Nxumalo: 'What you must do, son, is find eight rhinos and take their horns, then follow my trail to Zimbabwe . . .'
'What is Zimbabwe?' the boy asked one evening.
'How sad,' the old man said with unfeigned regret. 'Not one person in this village has ever seen Zimbabwe!'
'What is it?'
'Towers and soaring walls.' He paused and pointed to the low stone wall that surrounded the cattle kraal and said in an awed voice, 'Walls ten, twenty times higher than that. Buildings that reach to the sky.' A group of elders shook their heads in disbelief and clucked among themselves, but the Old Seeker ignored them. 'Our king, lord of a thousand villages bigger than yours, the great one the spirits talk to, he lives in a kraal surrounded by walls higher than trees.' He placed his hand on Nxumalo's arm and said, 'Until you've seen Zimbabwe, you live, in darkness.'
Whenever he spoke like this, telling the boy of the grandness of the city from which he came, he reverted to the problem of the rhinoceros horns and the necessity of bringing them to the city, but one morning as he spoke with Nxumalo and his father he said abruptly, 'Ngalo, dear friend of many searchings, today I leave you to look for the Ridge-of-White-Waters, and I want Nxumalo to lead me.'
'He knows the way,' Ngalo said, pointing directly west to where the prominent ridge lay. It was a four-day journey which entailed some dangers, but the path was a pleasant one. 'Why do you wish to go?'
'In my day, Ngalo, I have sought many things. Women, high office, the path to Sofala, the king's good wishes. But the best thing I ever sought was gold. And I am convinced that in your terrain, there must be gold somewhere.' Contemptuously he dismissed the iron ingots that remained under the tree. Addressing only Nxumalo, he said, 'Iron gives temporary power. It can be made into spearheads and clubs. But gold gives permanent power. It can be fashioned into dreams, and men will come a long way to satisfy their dreams.'
On the third day of their journey west, after they had passed many