Ivan Yefremov - The Land of Foam

Pandion grew ashamed and asked no more questions. Kidogo, who was sitting by the campfire, suddenly got up and shuffled over to a group of trees standing at a distance of two hundred cubits from the camp. The sinking sun turned the big oval leaves to gold and the thin branches quivered in the light breeze. Kidogo carefully examined the irregular, lumpy bark of their thin trunks, gave a shout of joy and pulled out his knife. A little later the Negro came back carrying two bunches of reddish-grey bark. One of the bunches he took to the leader of the caravan.

“Give this to the chief as Kidogo’s parting gift,” he said. “This medicine is quite as good as the magic grass from the blue plains. When he is sick or tired or sorrowing, let him crush the bark and make a decoction of it. He must drink only a little, if he drinks too much it will not act as medicine but as poison. This bark restores strength to the aged, brings joy to the depressed and new life to the weak. Take good note of that tree, you will be grateful for it.” (Corynanthe johimbe from the Rubiaceae family to which quinine and coffee trees also belong .)

The caravan leader took the gift with pleasure and immediately ordered his men to get more of the bark; Kidogo hid the second bunch in the skin of the gishu which Cavius carried with him.

The next day the elephants climbed on to a stony plateau overgrown with tall bushes so bent by the wind that they bowed down to the earth in green humps scattered about the grey dry grass.

Every breath of the wind that blew in their faces brought a pleasant freshness. Pandion brightened up. The air was filled with a strange fragrance, long forgotten yet still familiar and infinitely dear; but soon it was lost amongst the strong perfumes wind-carried from the sun-heated leaves of the forest that lay below them. Wide, easy slopes stretched to a great distance, dark strips and patches of forest thickets marring the even blue of their bare surface. Far away on the horizon a high mountain range loomed purple in the haze.

“Tengrela, my country, is over there!” screamed Kidogo in ecstasies of joy and the whole party turned to look in that direction.

Kidogo waved his arms, sobbed and laughed and his mighty shoulders shook with excitement. Pandion could well understand the feelings of his friend, but nevertheless an indeterminate sense of jealousy embittered him; Kidogo had reached his homeland, but how much had he, Pandion, to overcome before the great hour came when he, like his friend, would be able to say: “This is my native land!”

Unnoticed by the others, Pandion turned away and his head drooped; at that moment he could not share his friend’s joy.

The elephants descended a bare black slope of volcanic rock where no vegetation could get a foothold on the solidified lava. Their path crossed a level platform dotted with numerous small lakes. The gleaming stretches of clear, blue water stood out in sharp contrast to the black banks. Pandion gave a shudder as he suddenly saw before him Thessa’s deep blue eyes and black tresses. The blue lakes seemed to be looking at him in reproach like the eyes of Thessa herself. Pandion’s thoughts carried him back to Oeniadae, a vague but strong feeling of impatience filled his breast, and he moved over to his friend and embraced him. The tanned sinewy hand of Cavius lay in Kidogo’s black hand and the three friends joined their hands in a firm and joyous handshake.

The elephants were continuing the descent; the banks of a broad river-valley spread on both sides of them. A little farther on, it was joined by a similar valley on the right, and the two streams they carried, joining into a single river, raced on, gaining more water the farther they went. For a time the elephants followed the left bank, marching at the foot of a line of eroded cliffs. Ahead of them the cliffs dropped back from the river whose pure, clear water gurgled merrily as it rushed on through the shade of tall trees, that met in a green arch over the river which was here some fifteen cubits wide. The elephants halted before they reached the trees.

“This is the place,” said the caravan leader. “We don’t go any farther.”

The three friends descended from their elephant and said farewell to their hosts. The caravan crossed the river and the three friends stood for a long time watching the great grey beasts climb the slope leading to a flat-topped eminence to the north of the river. An involuntary sigh of regret broke from the lips of all three as the mighty animals disappeared into the distance. The friends lit signal fires to guide the party that was following behind on foot.

“Let us go and look for reeds and small trees to build rafts with,” said Kidogo to the Etruscan. “We can make the rest of the journey quickly by water. You, cripple, wait here by the fire and look after your leg,” said the Negro to Pandion with rough tenderness.

Pandion and Cavius left Kidogo on the bank of the river amongst his fellow-tribesmen.

The smell of the nearby sea intoxicated the two friends, who had grown up on its shores. They pushed off their raft and floated down the left-hand sleeve of the river. Soon the raft was brought to rest on a sand bar. The friends climbed up the steep bank, their feet and legs tangling in the tall grass. They made their way over a hilly ridge and, panting with excitement, hurried to the top and stood stock-still in silence, unable to speak or even to breathe.

They were overwhelmed by the endless expanse of the ocean; the gentle splashing of the waves sounded like thunder to them. Cavius and Pandion stood breast-high in the tall grass with the feathery leaves of palm-trees waving high over their heads. The line where the green of the foothills joined the burning sunlit sands of the seashore looked almost black. The golden sand was fringed with the silver line of the surf beyond which transparent green waves rose and fell. Farther out at sea a straight line marked the edge of the offshore reefs, dazzlingly white against the blue of the open sea. Light fluffy patches of cloud dotted the sky. On the beach, a clump of five palms leaned out over the water, the light even breeze opening their leaves out and then folding them again like the tattered wings of birds with dark-brown and golden feathers. The leaves of the palms, the colour of cast bronze, shut out the view of the sea and their sharp edges were tinged with brilliant fire, so great was the strength of the sun that shone through them. The moist wind, bringing with it the salt smell of the sea, flowed over Pandion’s face and bare breast as though it were embracing him after years of separation.

Cavius and Pandion sat down on the cool firm sand that was as level as the floor of a house.

After a short rest they threw themselves into the gently rolling waves and the sea welcomed them, tossing them tenderly on her bosom. Pandion and Cavius, their arms cutting through the sparkling crests of the waves, enjoyed to the full the smell of the salt spray until the sea-water began to make their healing wounds burn. When they left the water the two friends stood on the beach feasting their eyes on the distant ocean. It spread before them like a blue bridge that somewhere joined the waters of their native sea; at that very moment similar waves were rolling against the white cliffs of Hellas and the yellow rocks of Cavius’ native Etruria.

The young Hellene felt his eyes fill with tears of joyous excitement; he no longer thought of the tremendous distance that still separated him from his home. Here was the sea and beyond it Thessa was waiting for him; there awaited everything that was near and dear to him, abandoned and hidden by years of harsh trials and the countless stadia of wearisome journey.

The two friends stood on a narrow strip of beach, their faces to the sea. Behind them rose high mountains covered with ominous forests, the fringe of a strange land whose burning deserts, plains, dry plateaux and dark and humid forests had held them captive so long; a land that had taken years of life from them, years that could have been devoted to their families. Their liberation had been bought by a long heroic struggle and titanic effort. If all that effort had been devoted to their native lands, it would have earned them honour and glory.