THE BASKET OF FRUIT
Three days later it was announced that according to the custom of the
women of the People of Fire, Noma having given birth to a still-born
child, was about to start upon a journey to the Mount of Purification.
Here she would abide awhile and make sacrifice to the spirits of her
ancestors, that they might cease to be angry with her and in future
protect her from such misfortunes. This not unusual domestic incident
excited little comment, although it was remarked that the four matrons
by whom she was to be accompanied, in accordance with the tribal
etiquette, were all of them the wives of soldiers who had deserted to
Hafela. Indeed, the king himself noticed as much when Hokosa made the
customary formal application to him to sanction the expedition.
“So be it,” he said, “though myself I have lost faith in such rites.
Also, Hokosa, I think it likely that although your wife goes out with
company, she will return alone.”
“Why, King?” asked Hokosa.
“For this reason--that those who travel with her have husbands yonder at
the town of the Prince Hafela, and the Mount of Purification is on the
road thither. Having gone so far, they may go farther. Well, let
them go, for I desire to have none among my people whose hearts turn
otherwhere, and it would not be wonderful if they should choose to seek
their lords. But perchance, Hokosa, there are some in this town who may
use them as messengers to the prince”--and he looked at him keenly.
“I think not, King,” said Hokosa. “None but a fool would make use of
women to carry secret words or tidings. Their tongues are too long and
their memories too bad, or too uncertain.”
“Yet I have heard, Hokosa, that you have made use of women in many a
strange work. Say now, what were you doing upon a night a while ago
with that fair witch-wife of yours yonder in the burying-place of kings,
where it is not lawful that you should set your foot? Nay, deny it not.
You were seen to enter the valley after midnight and to return thence
at the dawn, and it was seen also that as she came homewards your wife
walked as one who is drunken, and she, whom it is not easy to frighten,
wore a face of fear. Man, I do not trust you, and were I wise I should
hunt you hence, or keep you so close that you could scarcely move
without my knowledge.
“Why should I trust you?” Nodwengo went on vehemently. “Can a wizard
cease from wizardry, or a plotter from his plots? No, not until the
waters run upward and the sun shines at night; not until repentance
touches you and your heart is changed, which I should hold as much a
marvel. You were my father’s friend and he made you great; yet you could
plan with my brother to poison him, your king. Nay, be silent; I know
it, though I have said nothing of it because one that is dear to me has
interceded for you. You were the priest of the false god, and with that
god are fallen from your place, yet you have not renounced him. You sit
still in your kraal and pretend to be asleep, but your slumber is that
of the serpent which watches his time to strike. How do I know that
you will not poison me as you would have poisoned my father, or stir up
rebellion against me, or bring my brother’s _impis_ on my head?”
“If the King thinks any of these things of his servant,” answered Hokosa
in a humble voice, but with dignity, “his path is plain: let him put me
to death and sleep in peace. Who am I that I should full the ears of
a king with my defence against these charges, or dare to wrangle with
him?”
“Long ago I should have put you to death, Hokosa,” answered Nodwengo
sternly, “had it not been that one has pleaded for you, declaring that
in you there is good which will overcome the evil, and that you who now
are an axe to cut down my throne, in time to come shall be a roof-tree
for its support. Also, the law that I obey does not allow me to take
the blood of men save upon full proof, and against you as yet I have
no proof. Still, Hokosa, be warned in time and let your heart be turned
before the grave claims your body and the Wicked One your soul.”
“I thank you, King, for your gentle words and your tender care for my
well-being both on earth and after I shall leave it. But I tell you,
King, that I had rather die as your father would have killed me in the
old days, or your brother would kill me now, did either of them hate or
fear me, than live on in safety, owing my life to a new law and a new
mercy that do not befit the great ones of the world. King, I am your
servant,” and giving him the royal salute, Hokosa rose and left his
presence.
“At the least there goes a man,” said Nodwengo, as he watched him
depart.
“Of whom do you speak, King?” asked Owen, who at that moment entered the
royal house.
“Of him whom you must have touched in the door-way, Messenger, Hokosa
the wizard,” answered the king, and he told him of what had passed
between them. “I said,” he added, “that he was a man, and so he is; yet
I hold that I have done wrong to listen to your pleading and to spare
him, for I am certain that he will bring bloodshed upon me and trouble
on the Faith. Think now, Messenger, how full must be that man’s heart of
secret rage and hatred, he who was so great and is now so little! Will
he not certainly strive to grow great again? Will he not strive to be
avenged upon those who humbled him and the religion they have chosen?”
“It may be,” answered Owen, “but if so, he will not conquer. I tell
you, King, that like water hidden in a rock there is good in this man’s
heart, and that I shall yet find a rod wherewith to cause it to gush out
and refresh the desert.”
“It is more likely that he will find a spear wherewith to cause your
blood to gush out and refresh the jackals,” answered the king grimly;
“but be it as you will. And now, what of your business?”
“This, King: John, my servant, has returned from the coast countries,
and he brings me a letter saying that before long three white teachers
will follow him to take up the work which I have begun. I pray that when
they come, for my sake and for the sake of the truth that I have taught
you, you will treat them kindly and protect them, remembering that at
first they can know little of your language or your customs.”
“I will indeed,” said the king, with much concern. “But tell me,
Messenger, why do you speak of yourself as of one who soon will be but a
memory? Do you purpose to leave us?”
“No, King, but I believe that ere long I shall be recalled. I have given
my message, my task is well-nigh ended and I must be turning home. Save
for your sakes I do not sorrow at this, for to speak truth I grow very
weary,” and he smiled sadly.
*****
Hokosa went home alarmed and full of bitterness, for he had never
guessed that the “servant of the Messenger,” as he called Nodwengo the
King, knew so much about him and his plans. His fall was hard to him,
but to be thus measured up, weighed, and contemptuously forgiven was
almost more than he could bear. It was the white prophet who had done
this thing; he had told Nodwengo of his, Hokosa’s, share in the plot to
murder the late King Umsuka, though how he came to know of that matter
was beyond guessing. He had watched him, or caused him to be watched,
when he went forth to consult spirits in the place of the dead; he had
warned Nodwengo against him. Worst of all, he had dared to treat him
with contempt; had pleaded for his life and safety, so that he was
spared as men spare a snake from which the charmer has drawn the fangs.
When they met in the gate of the king’s house yonder this white thief,
who had stolen his place and power, had even smiled upon him and greeted
him kindly, and doubtless while he smiled, by aid of the magic he
possessed, had read him through and gone on to tell the story to the
king. Well, of this there should be an end; he would kill the Messenger,
or himself be killed.
When Hokosa reached his kraal he found Noma sitting beneath a fruit tree
that grew in it, idly employed in stringing beads, for the work of the
household she left to his other wife, Zinti, an old and homely woman who
thought more of the brewing of the beer and the boiling of the porridge
than of religions or politics or of the will of kings. Of late Noma had
haunted the shadow of this tree, for beneath it lay that child which had
been born to her.
“Does it please the king to grant leave for my journey?” she asked,
looking up.
“Yes, it pleases him.”
“I am thankful,” she answered, “for I think that if I bide here much
longer, with ghosts and memories for company, I shall go mad,” and
she glanced at a spot near by, where the earth showed signs of recent
disturbance.
“He gives leave,” Hokosa went on, taking no notice of her speech, “but
he suspects us. Listen----” and he told her of the talk that had passed
between himself and the king.
“The white man has read you as he reads in his written books,” she
answered, with a little laugh. “Well, I said that he would be too clever
for you, did I not? It does not matter to me, for to-morrow I go upon my
journey, and you can settle it as you will.”
“Ay!” answered Hokosa, grinding his teeth, “it is true that he has read
me; but this I promise you, that all books shall soon be closed to him.
Yet how is it to be done without suspicion or discovery? I know many
poisons, but all of them must be administered, and let him work never so
cunningly, he who gives a poison can be traced.”
“Then cause some other to give it and let him bear the blame,” suggested
Noma languidly.
Hokosa made no answer, but walking to the gate of the kraal, which was
open, he leaned against it lost in thought. As he stood thus he saw a
woman advancing towards him, who carried on her head a small basket of
fruit, and knew her for one of those whose business it was to wait upon
the Messenger in his huts, or rather in his house, for by now he had
built himself a small house, and near it a chapel. This woman saw Hokosa
also and looked at him sideways, as though she would like to stop and
speak to him, but feared to do so.
“Good morrow to you, friend,” he said. “How goes it with your husband
and your house?”
Now Hokosa knew well that this woman’s husband had taken a dislike to
her and driven her from his home, filling her place with one younger and
more attractive. At the question the woman’s lips began to tremble, and
her eyes swam with tears.
“Ah! great doctor,” she said, “why do you ask me of my husband? Have you
not heard that he has driven me away and that another takes my place?”
“Do I hear all the gossip of this town?” asked Hokosa, with a smile.
“But come in and tell me the story; perchance I may be able to help you,
for I have charms to compel the fancy of such faithless ones.”
The woman looked round, and seeing that there was no one in sight, she
slipped swiftly through the gate of the kraal, which he closed behind
her.
“Noma,” said Hokosa, “here is one who tells me that her husband has
deserted her, and who comes to seek my counsel. Bring her milk to
drink.”
“There are some wives who would not find that so great an evil,” replied
Noma mockingly, as she rose to do his bidding.
Hokosa winced at the sarcasm, and turning to his visitor, said:--
“Now tell me your tale; but say first, why are you so frightened?”
“I am frightened, master,” she answered, “lest any should have seen
me enter here, for I have become a Christian, and the Christians are
forbidden to consult the witch-doctors, as we were wont to do. For my
case, it is----”
“No need to set it out,” broke in Hokosa, waving his hand. “I see it
written on your face; your husband has put you away and loves another
woman, your own half-sister whom you brought up from a child.”
“Ah! master, you have heard aright.”
“I have not heard, I look upon you and I see. Fool, am I not a wizard?
Tell me----” and taking dust into his hand, he blew the grains this way
and that, regarding them curiously. “Yes, it is so. Last night you crept
to your husband’s hut--do you remember, a dog growled at you as you
passed the gate?--and there in front of the hut he sat with his new
wife. She saw you coming, but pretending not to see, she threw her arms
about his neck, kissing and fondling him before your eyes, till you
could bear it no longer, and revealed yourself, upbraiding them. Then
your rival taunted you and stirred up the man with bitter words, till at
length he took a stick and beat you from the door, and there is a mark
of it upon your shoulder.”
“It is true, it is too true!” she groaned.
“Yes, it is true. And now, what do you wish from me?”
“Master, I wish a medicine to make my husband hate my rival and to draw
his heart back to me.”
“That must be a strong medicine,” said Hokosa, “which will turn a man
from one who is young and beautiful to one who is past her youth and
ugly.”
“I am as I am,” answered the poor woman, with a touch of natural
dignity, “but at least I have loved him and worked for him for fifteen
long years.”
“And that is why he would now be rid of you, for who cumbers his kraal
with old cattle?”
“And yet at times they are the best, Master. Wrinkles and smooth skin
seem strange upon one pillow,” she added, glancing at Noma, who came
from the hut carrying a bowl of milk in her hand.
“If you seek counsel,” said Hokosa quickly, “why do you not go to the
white man, that Messenger in whom you believe, and ask him for a potion
to turn your husband’s heart?”
“Master, I have been to him, and he is very good to me, for when I was
driven out he gave me work to do and food. But he told me that he had no
medicine for such cases, and that the Great Man in the sky alone could
soften the breast of my husband and cause my sister to cease from her
wickedness. Last night I went to see whether He would do it, and you
know what befell me there.”
“That befell you which befalls all fools who put their trust in words
alone. What will you pay me, woman, if I give you the medicine which you
seek?”
“Alas, master, I am poor. I have nothing to offer you, for when I would
not stay in my husband’s kraal to be a servant to his new wife, he took
the cow and the five goats that belonged to me, as, I being childless,
according to our ancient law he had the right to do.”
“You are bold who come to ask a doctor to minister to you, bearing no
fee in your hand,” said Hokosa. “Yet, because I have pity on you, I will
be content with very little. Give me that basket of fruit, for my wife
has been sick and loves its taste.”
“I cannot do that, Master,” answered the woman, “for it is sent by my
hand as a present to the Messenger, and he knows this and will eat of it
after he has made prayer to-day. Did I not give it to him, it would be
discovered that I had left it here with you.”
“Then begone without your medicine,” said Hokosa, “for I need such
fruit.”
The woman rose and said, looking at him wistfully:--
“Master, if you will be satisfied with other fruits of this same sort, I
know where I can get them for you.”
“When will you get them?”
“Now, within an hour. And till I return I will leave these in pledge
with you; but these and no other I must give to the Messenger, for he
has already seen them and might discover the difference; also I have
promised so to do.”
“As you will,” said Hokosa. “If you are with the fruit within an hour,
the medicine will be ready for you, a medicine that shall not fail.”