Blood Diamond Chapter 12

The Princess walked past the two guards without deigning to glance in their direction. They stood to greater attention and focused their eyes at a point an inch above her head - the custom of the Annuba lower castes in the presence of royalty. Daniel walked past them with the sudden elevation of spirits that men experience when enjoying the fruits of power, even when that power belongs to someone else.

They stepped inside. He had the sense of entering the silent, mysterious atmosphere of a grand cathedral. There were a number of low lamps burning, fuelled by sweet, perfumed animal fat, with censers of aromatic herbs smouldering in the corners. The flames from the lamps caused low shadows to leap up and down the walls in a ceaseless dumb show. The first thing Daniel noticed was the casket. It was propped against the far wall, but one side had been slid free to reveal the hollowed interior. It was empty. The Princess paid no attention to the casket. She sunk reverentially to her knees and bowed her head in the direction of a small pedestal. Upon the pedestal, flanked by two of the low oil-burning lamps, was a statue.

It was a kind of bird, standing perhaps the height of a man’s knees, carved from a smooth, shiny green stone. The Bird was angled to face east, the direction of the rising sun, and seemed to be an eagle or bird of prey, sitting upright with a long neck, powerful legs and a beak that jutted out horizontally. But it was not the Bird that caused a low gasp to rise in Daniel’s throat. Around its elongated neck was a necklace made from what appeared to be links of yellow, beaten gold and, suspended from this chain, set in a golden orb, was an enormous diamond.

As the flame of the lamps leapt and died and danced, the light seemed to burn inside the diamond as though there were another oil-flame at the heart of it. Daniel was struck dumb by the green Bird with the white Stone with the flame-red heart. This was not his faith, these were not his beliefs, but as the Princess Kamelka dropped to her knees before the eerie beauty of the Bird, so he felt himself following, his knees buckling, sinking to the earth in what he now realised was not just a shelter or even a shrine, but a temple.

Copyright Rannulph Moore

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Ranulph Moore describes himself as an explorer, who became a writer to purge himself of the adventures that were crowding his life. He says he has seen it all, in a life spent observing the lives of others.
He will travel anywhere – as long as he can make a decent cup of tea and launder a linen jacket. He describes Africa as one of his great loves. He has spent time in every country on the continent.
If he can’t find a good champagne, he has been known to resort to gin. He has homes in Paris, Jura and Cape Town. At present, he lives in Madagascar, where he is researching his latest book.
Read an interview with Rannulph Moore.