In the humid heat of the forenoon the small hills of Fort Eitel, as zu
Pfeiffer had renamed the Place of Kings, in the centre of the rased banana
plantations, resembled scabby pimples upon a shaven patch of a green head
seething with a verminous activity.
Across the ford of the river came a puckered-faced Bakuma in the train of
carriers and slaves of MYalu, who with Yabolo was coming to make obeisance
to Eyes-in-the-hands, under the protection of Sakamata. To Bakuma there
was no joy in the prospect of the sight of her old home; the bitter taste
of the oleander was in her mouth as she trudged despondently with downcast
head.
But the breast of MYalu was filled with the song of the cricket. The
terrors that had haunted him throughout the journey, of being overtaken by
the magic of Bakahenzie or his emissaries, for the sacrilege of stealing
the Bride of the Banana, began to evaporate at the approach to his village
where now dwelt a new god more powerful than any, from whom he was about
to gain protection, honours, and incidentally the ivory, which his anxious
eyes pictured still within his hut. But when they broke from the outer
banana plantation a mighty grunt was punched from the chests of Yabolo and
MYalu at the vision of the half-completed street of large huts in the
midst of desolation.
“Eh!” quoth Sakamata, “is not the way of the mighty one more wonderful
than he who is gone? Behold, he maketh a city like unto that of his
people, a city of gods!”
But MYalu had no admiration to spare, for to him the alleged beauty
thereof was fogged by the fact that his own huts were but blackened ruins.
The next moment MYalu, in spite of his native dignity, started as one of
those uniformed keepers of the coughing monsters barked at them magic
words.
Sakamata replied. Yabolo and MYalu stiffened as they observed the cringe
of the shoulders as he fumbled hastily within his loin-cloth and presented
a piece of hard substance, the colour of blue clay with magic marks upon
it. The demon grunted at them to proceed as if talking to a slave.
Followed in file the rest of the caravan. As Bakuma passed the uniformed
demon standing with the sword and gun with seven voices upon his shoulder,
leered, and grunting in a strange tongue, stepped forward and spun her
round by the shoulders. Bakuma cried out in terror and the carriers gasped
fearfully. MYalu and Yabolo wheeled. MYalu’s facial scar twitched with
rage as he raised his spear. But Sakamata clung to his arm as the soldier,
grinning, raised his rifle in their direction. Bakuma ran on. The man
laughed and turned his back to them, calling out something that the
Wongolo could not understand.
“Eh!” commented Sakamata indignantly, “the dog hath eaten poison grass! We
will tell his words to Eyes-in-the-hands and he will be beaten until he
stales.”
MYalu, slightly mollified by this promise of revenge, strode on in
silence, bewildered and resentful, wondering at these strange things in
the camp of the new god. In a large open space resembling a public square,
was a big unfinished hut: the guest house, Sakamata informed them, for
those who sought an audience with the Invincible One. As they squatted on
the floor waiting patiently until the sun was two hand’s-breadth above the
hill for the appointed time, food and beer were brought to them by a
Wamungo slave. Zu Pfeiffer was careful to foster the class distinction.
Sakamata duly held forth upon the generosity of Eyes-in-the-hands, the
wonder of his works and presence; but his words were received in
unsympathetic silence, for the incident on the road had wounded the
dignity of both chief and witch-doctor; raised dim fears and forebodings.
At length a strange sound rang out on the still hot air. The signal,
Sakamata explained, that Eyes-in-the-hands would receive his guests.
Leaving Bakuma squatted in the lethargy which appeared to be habitual to
her now, the three slowly mounted the sacred hill, marvelling greatly at
the black triangle of the roof of the new temple, gazing with veiled
suspicion at the gleaming brass fittings of the coughing monster in the
great gate, and eyeing uneasily the double lines of uniformed devils,
their bayonets flaming in the sun, who were drawn up outside the green
palace of Eyes-in-the-hands.
On each side of the tent door stood the two tallest men in the companies,
coal-black forms which towered above the slighter build of the Wongolo, as
rigid and as silent as trees. Through this terrifying guard walked
Sakamata leading his two compatriots, already startled and impressed.
Immediately within Sakamata fell upon his knees. Before them at the end of
the tent sat zu Pfeiffer in the full dress of his regiment, plumed helmet,
blazoned uniform and sword; and beside him, erect, the two sergeants
Schultz and Ludwig in full parade uniform. Above them was a blaze of red,
white and black and in the midst another splash of colour. But before this
vision had penetrated their brains, had risen the voice of Sakamata
bidding them to kneel likewise. Bewildered and awed they obeyed. Then came
a voice saying:
“Rise, approach, O chiefs!”
Accordingly they arose and following Sakamata, advanced and squatted,
their eyes dominated and held by those myriad gleams of magic “eyes” on
hands and wrists. Then the interpreter, standing at attention, spoke this
harangue tonelessly:
“Greeting and welcome, children of the Banana! Eyes-in-the-hands who is
known to the people where the sun rises as the Eater-of-Men, hath come
from afar, the messenger of a greater than he, the Lord of the World, the
Earthquake, the World Trembler, who eats up what he pleases, whose eyes
see all things, whose sword slays all things, whose breath is the rain,
whose voice is the thunder, whose teeth are the lightning, whose frown is
the earthquake, whose smile is the sun, whose ear is the moon, whose eyes
are the stars, whose body is the world! Look upon one soul of him which he
hath sent that ye may worship and know him!”
Zu Pfeiffer raised the jewelled hand above his shoulder as the man ceased.
From out the medley of colours to the unaccustomed native eyes grew slowly
the form and face of a white man as strangely clothed as
Eyes-in-the-hands, covered with amulets and charms upon his breast. For
four minutes by his wrist-watch, zu Pfeiffer sat silent and as frozen as
his sergeants; then secretly he pulled a string.
“Ehh!” grunted Yabolo and MYalu involuntarily, for before them appeared
even, as Sakamata had related, the two souls of every person present.
Stunned at such a manifestation of magic, they slowly turned from one to
the other. As silently as they had appeared did the visions vanish.
“O son of MYana, tell the tale of the possession of these thy friends and
allies,” commanded zu Pfeiffer.
Sakamata obeyed. But as he recited the approximate number of MYalu’s
followers, the number of his oxen and goats, the number of fine tusks and
small, the number of wives, concubines, and children, and slaves, the eyes
of MYalu grew unquiet. Had he known that he would be required to render an
account he would have computed at half the actual amount, whereas, in
order to impress Sakamata with his importance, he had exaggerated to
almost double what he had ever possessed. Then as Sakamata proceeded to
perform the same service for Yabolo, relating, by arrangement with his
relative, about one-third of his possession, MYalu observed in a corner a
man making magic upon a table, a native clerk keeping tally; for zu
Pfeiffer kept an exact record of every chief’s alleged possessions, as
given by Sakamata and corroborated—by silent consent—by the said chief, so
that when afterwards any discrepancy with the said list was discovered,
the chief was proven a liar and subject to the punishment of further
confiscation as such, and served as well to enhance the reputation for
omniscience of Eyes-in-the-hands.
At the end of the recitals of property, MYalu was told, not asked, to bow
his head to the ground in token of allegiance. He obeyed in bewilderment
which changed to rage when he was informed that the third of his property
must be rendered to the august being before one sun’s delay; that he was
to be ready at a summons to produce a given number of warriors; and that
his small and only son was immediately to be placed in the “village of
sons of chiefs” as guaranty of obedience and good behaviour.
In a mist of fright, anger and awe, he sat motionless. Sakamata proceeded
to relate the doings of Zalu Zako and those who had remained faithful to
him. Zu Pfeiffer had fairly precise information from spies of the
movements of the Wongolo since the return of Sergeant Ludwig, who had
burned the village of Yagonyana, but shortage of men and the serious
disadvantage of traversing and fighting in the forest had prevented him
from sending another punitive expedition. Also had he heard of a white man
who had passed through the country. Sakamata, native-like, eager to
placate, asserted that he had actually seen the white man who was called
Moonspirit, and from the same motive, ever wishing to flatter, announced
positively that he had no magic at all, was dark and small and a trader,
the only kind of white man other than the military at Ingonya of whom
Sakamata had ever seen.
Zu Pfeiffer stroked his left moustache and reflected. He had at first
thought that the man might possibly be Saunders, a trader who was in his
pay, but now decided that he was probably some new trader or hunter from
the Tanganyika district. He instructed Sakamata that he was to send a
messenger to this white man and command him to come to him immediately.
Then waving the imperious jewelled hand, he dismissed them. But noticing
the sullen countenance of MYalu, he drew Sergeant Schultz’s attention,
ordering him to mark the man and if the tax was not forthcoming quickly,
to have him given fifty lashes. Silently Schultz saluted.
So it was that MYalu, sulky, smouldering with anger against Sakamata, for
he felt that he had been betrayed into a trap, followed Yabolo out into
the sun. Not only had he not gotten back his ivory left in the village,
but he was ordered to pay much more than he actually possessed.
But when he had descended the hill to the guest house he came to the
weeping and wailing of his people, who informed him that Bakuma had been
taken away by three of the demon keepers of the coughing monsters.