Upon the site of Birnier’s old camp in the forest was a high palisade
built from tree to tree. Inside of the gate beside a small conical hut
burned the sacred fires tended by Mungongo; before a green canvas tent
stood the new idol, which differed from the original in having a better
perspective and proportion of features and body, yet lacked the master
touch of expression given by the subconscious fingers of the native
artist.
Against the wall were stacked uniform cases to make a table, upon which
were a hand-mirror and toilet articles; above a photograph of Lucille was
pinned upon the canvas. Upon the camp bed, screened by a mosquito net, lay
the new King-God, Moonspirit, the magic book in his hands.
“Kings, princes, monarchs, and magistrates seem to be most happy, but look
into their estate; you shall find them to be most cumbered with cares, in
perpetual fear, agony, suspicion, jealousy: that as he (Valer. i. 7, c. 3)
saith of a crown, if they but knew the discontents that accompany it, they
would not stoop to pick it up. Quem mihi regem dabis (saith Chrysostom)
non curis plenum?”
The Incarnation of the Unmentionable One smiled, put down the book and
glanced across at the photograph.
“And yet they still talk of the advantages of a monarchy!” he commented.
The original plan concocted with Marufa and Zalu Zako in the forest when
making the new idol was that Birnier should become chief witch-doctor and
Zalu Zako be anointed King-God, with Marufa as the power behind the
throne. Although Zalu Zako desired to escape the yoke, his protest was
enfeebled by the sense of fatality, and had been utterly squashed by the
promise of Marufa, at Birnier’s suggestion, that the sex tabu would be
lifted from the godhead. But the negligence of Marufa in allowing the
white man to carry the idol, arranged with the idea of investing
Moonspirit with greater prestige according to the prophecies already
announced by Tarum, had permitted Bakahenzie to make his _coup
d’état_—thrust the godhood upon the white and recover his own position.
Birnier in truth had little option of refusal as well as little time for
reflection upon a situation the possibility of which had not occurred to
him; for Marufa was completely out-manœuvred by his rival, and the
certainty of escape from his doom offered by Bakahenzie revived the image
of Bakuma in Zalu Zako and bought his partisanship instantly.
With Napoleonic swiftness to grasp the advantages gained Bakahenzie drove
the lay chiefs from the sacred presence, which he surrounded by a
bodyguard of the awed brethren; expelled the household from Zalu Zako’s
compound and hustled the incarnation, bearing the new god, into holy
isolation.
Bewildered by the rapidity of the moves Marufa and Zalu Zako were
separated from Moonspirit. In the general confusion, not knowing exactly
what was happening, Birnier complied with what he believed to be the
regulations regarding gods. But when he perceived that he was about to be
left alone he clutched Mungongo and refused to part with him. Bakahenzie,
compelled to avoid any delay before consolidating his position, instantly
shut up Mungongo in the same web by declaring him the Keeper of the Sacred
Fires and so disposed of any agent outside the tabu or craft. As soon as
this was accomplished and a dance to celebrate the lighting of the new
fires commanded, the wily chief witch-doctor approached Marufa who,
realizing that he was hopelessly outwitted, was only too eager to make the
best terms possible.
Birnier had known that the King-God was never allowed to be seen by the
populace except at the Harvest Festival, yet he accepted his isolation
philosophically, lured by the expectation of the secrets he was about to
learn, although his curiosity led sometimes to the vision of a god peeping
through a fence.
While the drums summoning the council of chiefs and wizards were muttering
through the moist air, to Birnier, squatting on the floor of Zalu Zako’s
hut with Mungongo beside him, came Bakahenzie to instruct him in his rôle.
To whet his curiosity still more he learned that from the moment of
appearance in the gate of the sacred enclosure for the ceremony of the
lighting of the royal fires, every movement of body and speech was
regulated as rigidly as the etiquette of the Court of Spain. At a signal
from the chief witch-doctor was the King-God to leave the hut and appear
from behind the idol; with arms in a certain position was he to approach
and squat at an exact spot. To Mungongo was given charge of the two fire
sticks, newly consecrated.
As the chief witch-doctor retired the chanting began. Interested to know
what was about to happen Birnier obeyed in the spirit of a game. So in the
warm darkness they squatted, these two, listening to the chanting, cries
and groans to the accompaniment of the drums and lyres and the perpetual
twitter of the forest. At last came a violent howl from Bakahenzie which
Mungongo declared was their cue.
Around the circle of the fence to avoid the eyes of the audience ran
Mungongo to the temporary Place of Fires. Feeling as if he were once more
playing in an amateur dramatic club, Birnier stalked with portentous
dignity from the hut, past the idol, and took his seat upon the enchanted
place. Without the palisade and within another squatted in correct order
the lines of wizards and chiefs, Zalu Zako retaining, rather by prestige
of his former holiness and indecision as to what his status really was,
his position at their head.
Upon his haunches before a large calabash upon a fire Bakahenzie finished
the mumbling of incantations over the sacred ingredients, and leaping to
his feet began a wild dance to the throb of the drums and the
diaphragmatic chorus of the assembled cult.… Swifter and swifter spun the
chief witch-doctor. The glow of the fire tinted his whirling bronze body
with flecks of green and red as he gyrated in and out of the shadows.
Suddenly he threw a handful of herbs upon the fire which was immediately
enveloped in a cloud of smoke, into which with a screech Bakahenzie
disappeared.… The drums and grunting ceased. Then in the swirling column
of blue appeared his figure holding something in his hands. To the wild
outburst of drums and groans he sprang towards the King-God elect and
anointed his breast and shoulders with a pungent compound, and leaped away
into another dance, while Mungongo plied the two fire sticks. When the
spark was blown upon the dry tinder and the first flame flickered
Bakahenzie dropped flat before the gate as from the wizards went up the
great shout:
“The fire is lighted!”
And from the mass of warriors and folk confined to their huts behind the
outer palisade the phrase was echoed in a mighty wail, startling monkeys
and parrots into as wild an acclamation of the new King-God.
Bakahenzie, rising to his haunches, began a chant in honour of the new
King, a chant based upon the song composed by Marufa and repeated on the
phonograph, but developing even stranger merits and attributes. Until the
first glimmer of dawn through the forest roof squatted Birnier, as
motionless as etiquette demanded, listening to the strange psalm of praise
with avid interest and observation.
Suddenly, amid a furious clamour of the drums, Bakahenzie, Marufa, and one
other of the inner cult of the five who had not deserted, led the body of
the doctors in a rush into the sacred enclosure, seized upon the startled
King and hustled him to the base of the idol where, yielding to the
whispered instructions of Marufa, he took the idol once more upon his
shoulders and guided by Bakahenzie, walked out of the gate and through the
village to the yelling and screaming of the wizards, some of whom,
according to precedent, ran about screeching and rattling hut doors,
pulling thatches and howling ferociously in search of any sacrilegious
peeper.
As he tramped on with his load Marufa yelled in his ear that he must carry
the Burden of the World no matter what happened to him, for if he let the
idol fall then would he be killed upon the spot to save the sky from
falling too. Wondering what this meant and where he was going, the cut of
thongs upon his legs surprised him into a halt. Immediately a terrific cry
went up:
“The Bearer of the World stumbles! Aie! Aieeeeeeeee!”
Despite the furious flogging the intellectual interest in this strange
conception distracted his mind from the pain of the blows; also his bare
back was protected by the idol and his leggings and trousers deadened the
lashes. A moment more he hesitated. But he was unarmed and had voluntarily
taken on the adventure, so he would see it through. As he broke into a
shuffling run, for the idol fortunately was lighter than the previous one
and he was a more powerful man than Kawa Kendi, another howl of joy and
relief echoed throughout the village.
So along the old forest trail he travelled as fast as he could, assisted
slightly by wizards’ hands as he crawled over clumps of undergrowth. The
intensity of the whipping had decreased as soon as they were out of the
village but throughout an occasional vicious whack testified to the
presence of some devout doctor. Thus it was that the white King-God came
to his throne and sat in state upon his bed to smile at the reflections of
a melancholic philosopher.
So far so good, reflected Birnier, although the enforced isolation and
strict curtailment of his actions had already begun to be irksome; yet to
attain so difficult a goal sacrifice must be borne, he argued
philosophically.
The royal larder, he noticed with thankfulness, was kept well stocked.
Every day appeared a slave who left just within the entrance chickens,
bananas, milk and fresh water, and sometimes a young goat. All such
provisions which he had happened to take into the forest with him and so
had escaped MYalu’s marauding hands had been placed in his tent with other
cases, as containing no man knew what mighty magic.
For three days he had been left utterly alone. Sounds of drums and
chanting from the distant village had reached them on the still air, but
what they were doing he could not discover. No layman was allowed to come
near the sacred enclosure. While he strolled, taking a smoke and
constitutional around and around his “pen,” as he put it, several of the
lesser wizards appeared and stood at a distance from the gate to stare at
him. When addressed they made no reply. On the second occasion he began to
be irritated, but he kept his temper and went to cover in his tent,
muttering: “Why the devil don’t they bring me some buns?”
On the fourth day patience began to fray. He had no notion of knowing how
long this quarantine was going to last. He was on the point of going to
find out, but Mungongo pleaded so earnestly that they would instantly be
killed if they did, that he desisted. So Birnier retired to the tent to
seek consolation from a record of Lucille’s voice.
Birnier attempted to cross-examine Mungongo to find out what was the
object of this isolation, but beyond the fact that strangers were never
permitted to behold the King-God, even lay natives, without special magic,
which was only made once a year at the Harvest Festival, lest evil be made
upon his person and so endanger the world, Mungongo did not know; merely,
that so it was. What power over the head witch-doctor the King really had,
Mungongo had no notion. The King-God was the most powerful magician known,
asserted Mungongo. Did he not make rain and bear the world upon his
shoulders? When Birnier unwisely denied this feat, Mungongo looked pained
and began a remark, but balked before the name Moonspirit to ask the name
of Birnier’s father.
At the mental image conjured up of a handsome white-haired planter and
ex-owner of many slaves Birnier smiled, but he knew the tabu regarding the
ban upon the names of the dead and that he, presumably, having ascended
into the divine plane, was therefore classed with the departed. He
recollected that the old man, who belonged to a cadet branch of a royalist
family, had been called “le Marquis,” of which he was excessively proud.
Birnier translated into the dialect the nearest possible rendition of the
title: The Lord-of-many-Lands.
“The son of the Lord-of-many-Lands,” continued Mungongo satisfied, “doth
but tickle the feet of his slave.”
On the fifth afternoon, while the god was engrossed in a cure for love
madness which, he reflected, might be of service to zu Pfeiffer, came a
voice without crying:
“The son of Maliko would speak with the Lord, the Bearer of the World!”
Birnier glanced across at the photograph of Lucille.
“Some job I’ve gotten!” he remarked as he rose. In the gate sat
Bakahenzie. Birnier was conscious of an idiotic impulse to rush forward to
greet him as an old and long lost friend. But remembering the dignity of
his godhood he remained in the tent doorway, bidding the chief
witch-doctor to advance.
Birnier retired backwards and sat beneath the net, for the mosquitoes were
as thick as they are on the bayou Barataria. Mungongo, possibly to prove
his erudition, sat upon one of the cases containing much magic, at which
Bakahenzie from the floor in the doorway looked askance. Birnier was
keenly anxious to know what was happening regarding the fortunes of the
tribe, hoping that with the restoration of the Unmentionable One that they
would return to their allegiance. According to etiquette he remained
silent, waiting for Bakahenzie to open the conversation, until, realizing
that he was a god and that the chief witch-doctor was doing the same
thing, reflected swiftly and desiring to make an impression, repeated
Bakahenzie’s mystic phrase which he had overheard whilst hiding in the
jungle previous to the dénouement:
“That which is and must be, shall be!” Bakahenzie grunted his
acknowledgment of the profundity of the statement. “He who would trap the
leopard must needs dig the pit!” Another uncompromising silence urged
Birnier to force the pace a little: “O son of Maliko, what say the omens
and the signs of the evil one, Eyes-in-the-hands?”
“When shall the Unmentionable One return unto the Place of Kings?”
demanded Bakahenzie.
“The Holy One returneth not unto the place appointed until that which
defileth is removed,” retorted Birnier.
Bakahenzie took snuff and appeared to consider. Then he glanced around the
tent as if in search of something.
“When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?”
Mungongo looked expectant and stood up. But Birnier ignored him.
“The fruit doth not fall until it be ripe. He would know what hath been
done by his slaves for the baiting of the pit for the unclean one.”
“Would the magician that cometh from the sea make pretence that an
elephant is a mouse?” inquired Bakahenzie.
For a moment Birnier was perplexed; then he realized that the chief
witch-doctor inferred that he, as King-God, mocked his priest by
pretending that he did not know all things.
“Doth the chief witch-doctor make magic for the curing of the scratch of a
girl of the hut thatch?” he retorted. “Lest thy heart wither like unto a
fallen leaf, know then that the soul of Tarum hath made words for the
return of the Unmentionable One to the Place of Kings, but that his
children may not be as the dogs of the village who are driven, he wills
that you prepare the pit for the trapping of the defiled one.”
Bakahenzie’s eyes stolidly regarded the tent wall. “O son of Maliko, hast
thou sent forth the sound of the drum throughout the land that the
children may know of the Coming?”
“When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?” demanded
Bakahenzie insistently.
Birnier sat motionless in the native manner. Irritated by this childish
tenacity to apparently a fixed idea, he yielded to an impulse which was
almost a weakness.
“O son of Maliko,” said he, “thou art a mighty magician!” Bakahenzie
grunted modest assent. “Even as I am.” Another grunt. “Give unto me thine
ears and thine eyes that I may reveal unto thee that which is known to the
mightiest of magicians.” Commanding the delighted Mungongo to bring out
the phonograph, he continued: “Thou hast heard of the mighty doings of the
unclean devourer of men, Eyes-in-the-hands. I have magic the like of which
man hath never seen. Is it not so?”
“Ough!”
“Yet will the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands make thee to see that which
is, is not!”
“That which is, is not,” repeated Bakahenzie, whose professional mind was
pleased with the phrase.
In the desire to explain rationally the mystery of a phonograph and
despairing of any attempt to describe the laws of vibration, Birnier
sought for a likely simile. Encouraged by the almost imperceptible fact
that he had awakened Bakahenzie’s visible interest, he plunged on: “Within
this piece of tree is there nought but many pieces of iron such as thy
spears are made of. Thou knowest that there are places by the river and in
the rocks where a man may speak and that his words will be returned to
him. Is it not so?”
“They are white words, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!” returned
Bakahenzie. “For the spirits of the river and the rocks mock the voices of
those who have not eaten of the Sacred Banana” (the uninitiated).
“But they mock thy voice as well,” protested Birnier.
“Are there not goats in ghostland who bleat at the wizard and the
peasant?”
“By the Lord!” murmured Birnier, although the mask of his face did not
change. “Ghostland is full of goats if one were to credit some of the most
modern witch-doctors! Still demonstration …
“Thou seest, fellow magician,” he continued, “the pod of the soul of
mighty Tarum, his ear like unto an elephant, his colour like unto a lion!”
Birnier got out of the mosquito net and knelt beside the phonograph in
front of Bakahenzie. Taking off the trumpet and cylinder carrier he opened
up the inside, revealing the clockwork motor, wound it up, stopped it and
released it. “Thine eyes see that my words are white. These things are but
as pieces of metal of thy spears. Is it not so?”
“Ough!”
Birnier closed the machine, adjusted the trumpet and put on the cylinder
of Marufa’s record.
“Aie! Aiee! I am the spirit of Kintu!
Aie! Aiee! I am he who first was!”
chanted the machine.
Birnier, noticing that the desired astonishment was registered by an
almost impalpable start, stopped the machine and changed the record.
“Rejoice, O my children, for he that is bidden shall come!
Rejoice, O ye warriors, for he that shall lead you shall come!
Rejoice, O ye wizards, for he that is greater than ye shall come!
Rejoice, O ye women, for he that fertilizes shall come!”
Birnier allowed the machine to run through the chant until the end:
“He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!
Hear ye, my people, and give voice to my word!”
The machine whirred and stopped. Birnier turned to Bakahenzie.
“Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that my words are white?”
“Ough!” assented Bakahenzie.
“Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that at the will of my finger upon
that which is made but of spear-heads that the voice of Tarum hath spoken,
the voice which is but the mocking voice of Marufa amid the trees of the
forest?”
“Ough!”
“Dost thou not know that he who knows the ways of rocks, who can make
pieces of spear into that which will say and do that which he wills, is a
greater magician than he who must needs go unto the rocks to be mocked?”
“Thou art the greatest of magicians, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands,”
responded Bakahenzie in a burst of eloquence. “For thou hast entrapped the
spirits of rocks and spears to do thy bidding.”
“O God!” sighed the professor, “what is the use of language?”