> Then, as we walked forward along the way kept clear for us through the

enormous crowd of curious citizens, Babila at last met the tall,

patriarchal-looking man in command of the city-gate.



"Lo!" he cried. "With our Prince Omar there returneth a retinue of

strangers. This one," indicating myself, "is from the land of the white

men that lieth beyond the great black water. The others are from the

borders of Prempeh's kingdom."



"Art thou certain there are no spies among them?" asked the man, glancing

at me keenly in suspicion.



"I, Omar, Prince of Mo, vouch for each man's honesty," exclaimed my

friend, interrupting. At these words the chief guardian of the gate bowed

until his long white beard swept the ground, and we passed on, followed

by Kona and our black companions, in whom the denizens of the mysterious

place seemed highly interested, never before having seen negro savages.



Now and then as we passed along voices raised in dissension that

strangers should be admitted to the inaccessible kingdom reached our

ears, but these were drowned by the wild plaudits of the crowd. On every

hand Omar was greeted with an enthusiasm befitting the heir to the

Emerald Throne, and he, in response, bowed his head from side to side, as

with royal gait he strode down the broad handsome thoroughfare. The

buildings on either hand were magnificent in their proportions, built of

enormous blocks of grey stone finely sculptured, with square ornamented

windows. Apparently the manufacture of glass was unknown, for all the

windows were uniformly latticed. Here and there through the open doors

we caught sight of cool courtyards, with trees and plashing fountains

beyond, while from the flat roofs that here seemed to be the principal

promenade of the ladies, as in Eastern lands, white hands and bejewelled

arms waved us dainty welcome.



Across a great market square, where slaves were being bought and sold,

and business was proceeding uninterruptedly, we passed, and as we glanced

at the unfortunate ones huddled up in the scanty shadow, we remembered

the day when we, too, had been sold by our bitter and well-hated enemy,

Samory. I smiled as I reflected what terrible revenge this great army of

the Naya could wreak upon the Arab chief, and found myself anticipating

the day when the soldiery of Mo should gather before the old villain's

stronghold.



Kona, who had come up beside me, walked on in silent amazement. He knew

nothing of civilization, and the sights he now witnessed held him dumb.

The African mind is slow to understand the benefits of civilization and

modern progress, unless it be the substitution of guns for bows and

bullets for arrows. At last we turned a corner suddenly, and saw before

us, rising against the intensely blue sky and flashing in the brilliant

sunlight, the three great gilded domes of the royal palace.



"Gold!" cried Kona, in an awed tone. "See!" and he turned to several of

his sable brethren. "See! they build their great huts of solid gold! What

treasure they must have!"



As we advanced in imposing procession, the great gate of this royal

residence, grim and frowning as a fortress, over which a large flag was

floating, bearing the sign of the vampire bat, opened wide, and,

unchallenged by the crowds of gaily-dressed soldiers drawn up in line

and saluting, we went forward amid vociferous cheering.



Ours was indeed a progress full of triumph and enthusiasm. The heir to

the throne, long since mourned for as lost, had returned, and the loyal

people were filled with great rejoicing. Through one spacious courtyard

after another we passed, always between long lines of stalwart

men-at-arms, bearing good English rifles and well-made accoutrements,

until, ascending a short flight of wide steps of polished black stone, we

found ourselves in a great hall beneath one of the gilded domes that had

so impressed our head-man. Before us was a huge curtain of purple velvet

that screened from view the further end of the hall, but when all had

assembled and stood grouped together, this drapery was suddenly lifted,

disclosing to our gaze a sight that filled us with greatest wonder and

amazement.



The central object was the historic Emerald Throne, a wonderful golden

seat so thickly encrusted with beautiful green gems as to appear entirely

constructed of them. Some of the stones were of enormous size,

beautifully cut, of amazing brilliance and fabulous value. Above, was

suspended a golden representation of a crocodile--the god Zomara. Lolling

lazily among the pink silk cushions was a woman, tall, thin-faced and

ascetic, with a complexion white as my own, high cheek bones, small

black, brilliant eyes, and hair plentifully tinged with grey. Her

personality was altogether a striking one, for her brow was low, her face

hawk-like, and her long, bony hands resting on the arms of the seat of

royalty seemed like the talons of the bird to which her face bore

resemblance.



It was the Naya, the dreaded Great White Queen!



Her robes of rich brocaded silk were of a brilliant golden yellow,

heavily embroidered with gold thread, and thickly studded with various

jewels. In the bright flood of sunlight that struck full upon her from

the painted dome above, the diamonds and rubies enriching her handsome

corsage gleamed and flashed white, green and blood-red. Indeed, so

covered was her breast by the fiery gems that as it heaved and fell their

flashing dazzled us; yet in her eyes was a cruel, crafty gleam that from

the first moment I saw her roused instinctively within me fear and

suspicion.



No smile of welcome crossed her cold, implacable features as her gaze met

that of her son Omar; no enthusiastic or maternal greeting passed her

lips. Her maids of honour and courtiers grouped about her murmured

approbation and welcome as the heavy curtains fell aside, but frowning

slightly she raised her bejewelled claw-like hand impatiently with a

gesture commanding silence, darting hasty glances of displeasure upon

those who had, by applauding, lowered her regal dignity. On either side

black female slaves in garments of crimson silk and wearing golden

girdles, massive earrings and neck chains, slowly fanned the ruler of Mo

with large circular fans of ostrich feathers, and from a pedestal near

her a tiny fountain of some fragrant perfume shot up and fell with faint

plashing into its basin of marvellously-cut crystal. The splendour was

barbaric yet refined, illustrative everywhere of the tastes of these

denizens of the unknown kingdom. The walls of the great hall were

strangely sculptured with colossal monstrosities, mostly hideous designs,

apparently intended to depict the awful wrath of the deity Zomara, while

here and there were curious frescoes of almost photographic finish, the

execution of which had been accomplished by some art quite unknown to

European civilization. The paving whereon we stood was of jasper, highly

polished, with here and there strange outlines inlaid with gold. These

outlines, a little crude and unfinished, were mostly illustrative of the

power of the Nayas, depicting scenes of battle, justice and execution.



"Let our son Omar stand forth and approach our Emerald Throne," exclaimed

the Naya at last, in a thin, rasping voice, moving slightly as she bent

forward, fixing her shining eyes upon us. They glittered with evil.



At the royal command all bowed low in submission, it being etiquette to

do this whenever the Naya expressed command or wish, and Omar, leaving my

side, strode forward with becoming hauteur, and, crossing the floor as

highly polished as glass, advanced to his royal mother, and, bending upon

his knee, pressed her thin, bony hand to his lips.



But even then no expression of pleasure crossed her stony features. I had

expected to witness an affectionate meeting between mother and son, and

was extremely surprised at the coldness of my friend's reception, having

regard to his long absence and the many perils we had together faced on

our entry into Mo.



"News was flashed unto me last night that thou hadst crossed the Thousand

Steps," the Queen said, slowly withdrawing her bony hand. "Why hast thou

returned from the land of the white men, and why, pray, hast thou brought

hither strangers with thee?"



"These strangers are heroes, each one of them," Omar answered, rising,

and standing before the throne. "Every man has already fought for thee,

and for Mo."



"For me? How?"



Then briefly he related how we had met the remnant of Samory's invading

force and defeated them, so that not a single fugitive remained.



"These savages fought merely for their own lives, not for me," she said

with a supercilious sneer, regarding the half-clad natives with disdain.

"We in Mo desire not the introduction of such creatures as these."



"Are not my friends welcome?" Omar asked, pale with anger. "A Sanom hath

never yet turned from his palace those who have proved themselves his

friends."



"Neither hath a Sanom sought the aid of savages," answered the Great

White Queen, with a glance of withering scorn.



"Adversity sometimes causeth us to seek strange alliances," my friend

argued. "These men of the Dagomba, Kona, their head man, and Scarsmere,

my friend from the land of the white men, have given me aid, and if thou

accordest them no welcome, then I, Omar, in the name of my ancestors, the

Nabas and the Nayas, will give them greeting, and provide them with

befitting entertainment while they are within our walls."



His words caused instant consternation. The will of the Naya was not to

be thwarted. Her every wish was law; a single word from her meant life or

death. This openly-expressed opposition was, to the court, a most

terrible offence, punishable by death to all others save the heir.



The Naya, her thin lips tightly set and cruelty lurking in the corners of

her mouth, rose slowly with an air of terrible anger.



"Does our son Omar thus defy us?" she asked with grim harshness.



"I defy thee not O queen-mother," answered my friend, clasping his hands

resolutely behind his back, and standing with his legs slightly apart. "I

bring unto thee those who have fought for me, and have been my companions

through many perils, expecting welcome. Were it not for them I, the last

of our regal line, would be no longer living, and at thy death our

kingdom would have been without a ruler."



"Son, the claim of these, thy friends, to my protection is admitted;

nevertheless, the stranger, whoever he may be, is by the law of our

kingdom that hath been rigorously observed for a thousand years, debarred

from traversing the Thousand Steps."



As the queen spoke I noticed two gorgeously-attired men behind her,

probably her chief advisers, exchange whispers with smiles of evident

satisfaction.



"Then I am to understand that the Naya of Mo absolutely refuseth to

sanction these my friends to dwell within our walls?" Omar said.



"We forbid these strangers to remain," answered the Queen, crimsoning

with anger that her son should have thus argued with her. "They are

granted until noon to-morrow to quit our city. Those found within our

land after three suns have set will be held as slaves. I, the Naya, have

spoken."



"As thou willest it, so it will be," answered her son, bowing very

stiffly. Then, turning to us, he said:



"Friends, the people give you cordial welcome, even though the Naya may

refuse to grant you peace. You shall remain----"



"Thou insultest us publicly," cried the Great White Queen, still standing

erect, her black eyes flashing beneath the wisp of scanty grey hair, and

her talon-like hand uplifted. "To utter such words hast thou returned

from the land beyond the black seas? True, thou art my son, and some day

will sit upon this my stool, but for thus opposing my will thou shalt be

banished from Mo until such time as I am carried to the tombs of my

fathers. Then, when thou returnest hither, thy reign shall be one of

tumults and evil-doing. The people who now shout themselves hoarse

because their idol Omar hath returned to them, shall, in that day, curse

thee, and heap upon thee every indignity. May the Great Darkness

encompass thee, may thine enemies break and crush thee, and may Zomara,

the One of Power, smite and devour thee," and as she uttered these words

she held up her long skinny arms to the hideous golden crocodile

suspended over her, muttering some mystic sentences the while.



Her slaves and courtiers held their breath. The Great White Queen was

cursing her only son. The Dagombas understood this action and stood

aghast, while across the faces of the court dignitaries a few moments

later there flitted faint sickly smiles. The scene was impressive, more

so perhaps than any I had before witnessed. In her sudden ebullition of

anger the Naya was indeed terrible.



From her thin blue lips curses most fearful rolled until even her

courtiers shuddered. As she stood, her bony arms uplifted to the image of

what was to her the greatest and most dreaded power on earth, she

screamed herself hoarse, uttering imprecations until about her mouth

there hung a blood-flecked foam, and her long finger-nails were driven

deep into the flesh of her withered palms. All quaked visibly at her

wrath, for none knew who might next offend her and pay the penalty for so

doing with their lives: none knew who might next fall victim to her

insane passion for causing suffering to others.



Omar alone stood calmly watching her; all others remained terrified,

fearing to utter a single word.



Suddenly, in her mad passion, she shrieked:



"Gankoma! Gankoma! Come hither. There is still work for thee."



In an instant the chief executioner, a man of giant stature, gaudily

attired and bearing a huge curved sword that gleamed ominously in the

sunlight, stood before her, and bowing, answered:



"Your majesty is obeyed."



"There is one who hath betrayed his trust," cried the angry ruler. "To

Babila, guardian of the Gate, we owe this intrusion of strangers in our

land and these insults from the mouth of one who is unworthy to be called

son. Bring forth Babila."



The executioner, sword in hand, advanced to where the trusty old

custodian stood. At mention of his name a despairing cry had escaped him.

He knew, alas! his fate was sealed.



Pale, trembling in the iron grip of the executioner, he was hurried

forward before the dazzling Emerald Throne.



"See! he flinches, the perfidious old traitor!" the Naya cried. "His duty

was to prevent any stranger from entering Mo, yet he actually assisted

yonder horde of savages to gain access to our innermost courts. He----"



"Mercy, your majesty! mercy!" implored the unhappy man, falling prone at

her feet. "I have guarded the Gate with my life always. I believed that

thy son's friends were thine also."



"Silence!" shrieked the Naya. "Let not his voice again fall upon our

ears. Let him die now, before our eyes, and let his carcase be given as

offal to the dogs. Let one hundred of his guards die also. Others who

would thwart us will thus be warned."



"Mercy!" screamed the wretched old fellow hoarsely, clasping his hands in

fervent supplication.



"Gankoma, I have spoken," cried the Great White Queen, majestically

waving her hand.



Babila, inactive by age, struggled to regain his feet, but ere he could

do so, or before Omar could interfere, the executioner had lifted his

sword with both hands. The sound of a dull blow was heard, and next

second the head of the Queen's faithful servant rolled across the

polished floor, while from the decapitated trunk the blood gushed forth

and ran in an ugly serpentine stream over the jasper slabs.



A sudden thrill of horror ran through the crowd at this summary execution

of one who had hitherto been implicitly trusted, but only for an instant

was the ghastly body allowed to remain before the eyes of Queen and

court, for half a dozen slaves had been standing in readiness with bowls

of water, and some of these rushing forward carried away the head and

body and flung it to the dogs, while others swiftly removed all traces of

the gruesome spectacle.



Little wonder therefore that the great Naya should be held in awe by all

her subjects, for in her anger she seemed capable of the most fiendish

cruelty. As in Kumassi, so also in Mo, death seemed to come quickly, and

for any paltry offence. Gankoma, executioner to the Great White Queen,

was, I afterwards learnt, continually busy obeying the royal commands,

and the rapidly increasing number of victims whose heads fell beneath his

terrible knife was causing most serious discontent.