In the camp of Bakahenzie was the low mutter of the drums by day and
night. The village had straggled farther through the forest in each
direction save that of the sacred enclosure. Already were some five
hundred warriors there and more were pouring in every day. Busy were
Bakahenzie and wizards, great and small, in the preparing of amulets of
the hearts of lions, livers of leopards and galls of birds, and the
brewing of potent decoctions to be smeared with parrot feathers upon the
warriors old and young against the evil eye and the spirits of the night.
And dispensed by Bakahenzie and Marufa, from whom had come the original
idea, was a special and rather expensive charm against the coughing
monsters, which was made by, and invested with, the magic of the King-God
himself, a can key. That morning had there been a special meeting of the
craft and the chiefs before the sacred enclosure, where they had looked
upon the sacred form of the King-God and heard the magic elephant’s ear
give them instructions and a prophecy. Around and about a hundred fires,
flickering mystically in the moist cavern of the forest, shuffled and
chanted the warriors invoking the aid of Tarum, the spirit of their
ancestors.
On the threshold of his hut squatted a sullen Zalu Zako. He had discovered
that he had escaped from the river bearing him to the pool of celibacy to
find that the bird had been captured by another. Although he had known
that before attaining his desire he would have had to extricate Bakuma
from the net of the tabu, yet, lover-like and human, that task
unconsidered had seemed as easy as stalking a buck in a wood. But the joy
of his own release had been dissipated as a cloud of dust by a shower by
the news of MYalu’s abduction of the girl and his desertion. Zalu Zako was
so obsessed by chagrin at this wholly unexpected appearance of a rival
that he was inclined to regret that he had ever thought of the move by
which he could escape his late doom and rescue Bakuma at the same time.
The illusion of nearness to the desired object had served naturally to
whet his appetite; the balked love motive dominated him almost to the
exclusion of political affairs. What his official status was now that all
precedent had been broken Bakahenzie did not know and had not decided, and
Zalu Zako cared less.
Though his faith in most of the tribal theology was unshaken, he did not
believe in the sanctity, or the necessity, of the marriage of the Bride of
the Banana, because he had a defensive complex of desire for her that
inhibited that belief. Towards MYalu, Zalu Zako’s natural reaction was
revenge. The matter was how to accomplish that end. To reveal to
Bakahenzie that he was the lover of Bakuma would be tantamount to
admitting sacrilege in having a passion for the Bride of the Banana.
As Zalu Zako was unable to get at the person of his rival the most logical
method to his mind was by witchcraft. To obtain some relics of the body of
MYalu proved easy, as his wives and slaves being forced to flee, had been
unable to burn the deserted hut, thus leaving in the customary place in
the thatch some of the hair and nail clippings. Also to find an excuse for
the cursing of MYalu was still easier. So at a meeting of the chiefs he
rivalled Bakahenzie in denunciation of the absconding chief, insisted that
a mighty magic be made against him and produced the necessary corporeal
parts upon which to work. So it was that Bakahenzie and Marufa, a quiet
watchful Marufa, brewed the magic brew and condemned MYalu by the proxy of
his nail clippings to die, a process that took root in a very firm
conviction in the mind of Zalu Zako and the others that die MYalu would.
After this satisfaction of the first fierce instinct Zalu Zako was more at
liberty to consider other matters, which resulted in an effort to quicken
the collective will to recover the tribe’s country and possessions,
symbolised in Zalu Zako’s mind by the delicate figure of Bakuma.
The ceremony of the lighting of the new fires he had attended
perfunctorily. To have regret or pity for the white man, Moonspirit who
had taken over his doom, never occurred to Zalu Zako, for to him as to
Bakahenzie Moonspirit was a mighty magician who, if competent to effect
the magic he had already displayed, was capable of looking after himself;
moreover, as he had recalled the Unmentionable One, he stood as the
incarnation of the tribe, the god, therefore beyond human consideration.
Bakahenzie’s chief regard was, of course, to unify the tribe once more and
to rouse those who had submitted to Eyes-in-the-hands to rebellion, which
was but a projection of his desire, as that of all patriots, to
consolidate his own position and to regain his lost prestige. He had had
no need to command that the news be sent abroad. At the ceremony of the
Lighting of the Fires the drum notes had been picked up by the nearest
village and sent ricocheting across the length and breadth of the country,
rippling through the Court of the Son-of-the-Earthquake.
Bakahenzie’s confidence had increased tenfold since, by his clever coup,
he had locked up the white magician in the godhead. He believed that
Moonspirit was the mightiest magician the world had ever seen, a demi-god;
for had he, Bakahenzie, not seen these wondrous miracles with his own
eyes? Had not he, Bakahenzie, captured and tamed this marvellous power to
his own ends?
So absolute was this confidence in the powers of the white that Bakahenzie
was perfectly sincere, as Mungongo and Bakuma had been, in asserting that
the “son of the Lord-of-many-Lands” was pleased to pretend that “an
elephant was a mouse,” that he “tickled their feet.” The only doubt raised
in his mind at that interview was whether he could persuade this powerful
being to destroy the usurper “out of hand,” as it were, or even whether
Moonspirit could do so; for it was quite reasonable to him to suppose that
even a god, in fighting another god, might have to do battle for the
victory.
Not in spite of, but because of, this firm faith Bakahenzie took more
precautions than ever before to surround the captured god with the
toughest fibres of the tabu to keep him in isolation. Obviously such a
valuable prize demanded special precautions. He promulgated an ordinance,
in the amplitude of his regained power, that no lay man nor any wizard
save the inner cult, whom he dared not forbid, were to approach within
sight of the sacred enclosure. In the jungle of his mind lurked the fear
that the new god might be seen to leave the sacred ground and thus render
the penalty of death imperative according to the laws of the tabu upon a
god who jeopardised the tribal welfare as MFunya MPopo had done by his
failure to bring rain. The belief that he could control a force which he
admitted was infinitely greater than he, and of punishing it if it did not
behave, was not at all inconsistent to the native mind, nor more illogical
than many theological ideas of whites.
At the last interview Bakahenzie had tried to persuade Birnier to permit
him to speak into the mighty ear of the magic box; in effect an attempt to
gain complete control. But Birnier, when he at length had realised that
Bakahenzie’s mental development was little greater than Mungongo’s, and
keenly aware of the isolation to which he was to be subjected, as well as
the purpose in the witch-doctor’s mind, had resolutely refused. Bakahenzie
had accepted the intimation that the god would not work miracles through
any other mouth than that of his incarnation, and after a long cogitative
silence had departed without further comment.
But of course he came back again next day, as Birnier had known that he
would. Birnier hinted at the expected initiation into the “mysteries” of
the craft, particularly of the Festival of the Banana and the other
ceremonies connected with his rôle as King-God. But Bakahenzie’s gaze,
fixed upon an object on the toilet table, did not quiver. Birnier repeated
the inquiry more bluntly. Said Bakahenzie:
“The fingers of the son of Maliko are hungry to touch the magic knife of
the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”
“Damn it,” muttered Birnier. “That’s my favourite!” But he handed the
razor to Bakahenzie, saying: “Is not the porridge pot free to all
brothers?” Gravely Bakahenzie slipped the safety razor into his loin
cloth, mumbled the orthodox adieu and departed.
Although devoted to Birnier as much as ever, Mungongo was bound just as
much by the articles of the tabu as any other native; in fact, since his
appointment to the high office of Keeper of the Fires, he was if possible
more terrified by the bogies of their theology than before. Put one foot
out of the sacred ground he would not, for he was convinced that
immediately he did so, the ghosts of the dead kings would instantly
strangle him. Birnier attempted to persuade him to get into communication
with Marufa, but that wily gentleman, grieving over the failure of the
coup he had aided Birnier to make, and for the moment completely under the
domination of Bakahenzie, who, he knew, had him watched every moment of
the day and night, would never approach the Place of the Unmentionable
One. Nor dared Zalu Zako break the tabu placed by Bakahenzie. To
Bakahenzie and not to Birnier he owed his escape from the dreaded godhood.
One who had released him might quite reasonably have him back again if
annoyed. The few wizards who came to gaze at the imprisoned god like
children at the Zoo, as Birnier had commented, were deaf to any remark,
instruction, or plea of the Holy One. So it was that Birnier began to
realise that the functions of a god were so very purely divine that he
would never be allowed to interfere in human affairs at all except by
grace of the high priest, and possibly he was not the first god who had
found that out.
This jungle of secrecy and the denial of any active part in the organising
of the tribe began to irritate Birnier. Yet he perceived clearly enough
from his knowledge of the native mind that a premature effort to force
either confidence or action would end in disaster. Patience and
perseverance alone would bring success; and the moulding of the material
through forces which already controlled it. He must play the witch-doctor
to the full. Working upon this hypothesis he determined to control
Bakahenzie through “messages” from the spirit of Tarum. The trouble was to
find out whether Bakahenzie would obey him or not and to what extent.
So in the early hours of one morning Bakahenzie’s watchers in the forest
shuddered as they heard more of the mysterious voices of the Unmentionable
One making wondrous magic within the temple as Mungongo chanted, at
Birnier’s prompting, the god’s instructions to his high priest and people.
The form of the chant was not correct as Mungongo’s memory was very
unreliable, but as Birnier remarked to the portrait of Lucille, “I don’t
suppose Maestro Bakahenzie is such a stylist as he would have the public
suppose.” Afterwards, to Mungongo’s delight, who was never tired of any
manifestation of Moonspirit’s magic, he put out the light and lay upon his
bed within the temple listening to the voice of Lucille pouring out the
passion of “Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix,” in _Samson et Delilah_, to the
sleepy ears of the monkeys above the figure of the idol limned against the
moon-patterned roof of the forest.
But scarcely had the moist ultramarine shadows turned to mauve than the
voice of Bakahenzie hailed the god most punctiliously from without.
However Birnier happened to be sleepy, and the chance of the early hour
presented such an opportunity to gain prestige that he sent the Keeper of
the Fires to inform the High Priest that the god was not yet up and that
he must needs wait. And wait did Bakahenzie, like unto a graven image at
the gate until the sun was four hand’s-spans above the trees. When Birnier
had breakfasted upon broiled kid, eggs, banana and weak tea, Bakahenzie
was summoned to the august presence.
Wondering what new idea Bakahenzie had gotten into his head Birnier
solemnly talked the usual preliminaries, intending to announce in the best
manner that Tarum had a message for the son of Maliko; but to his
astonishment Bakahenzie forestalled him by demanding to know when the god
would speak again.
When Mungongo had gravely placed the machine at his feet Birnier set the
record. The chant bade the son of Maliko to summon the wizards and the
warriors of the tribe to the abode of the Unmentionable One; to send to
those who had fallen into the power of Eyes-in-the-hands instructions that
they were not to reveal by word or deed that the Unmentionable One had
been pleased to return, but to wait like a wild cat at a fish pool until a
signal was given through the drums, when they were to smite swiftly at
every keeper of the demons and to flee immediately to their brethren in
the forest; that they were on no account to kill or wound
Eyes-in-the-hands nor any white man that was his, lest their powerful
ghosts exact a terrible penalty and refuse to be propitiated; that when
these things had been done would the spirit of Tarum issue further
instructions.
In composing this message Bernier had sought to gain the advantage of a
surprise attack and to secure the massacre of as many of the askaris as
possible; to save zu Pfeiffer and his white sergeants from the fate which
would await them should they fall into the hands of the Wongolo; to
minimise the loss of men which would occur were the tribe to attempt to
face the guns; afterwards to lure zu Pfeiffer away from his fortifications
and the open country, in order to compel him to fight in the forest where
he could not ascertain what force was against him; and in the meantime to
slip round and establish the idol in the Place of Kings, which act would
consolidate the moral of the tribe as well as cut the line of zu
Pfeiffer’s communications with Ingonya.
As Bakahenzie listened gravely and attentively, Birnier keenly watched his
face. Although the mask did not quiver, a half suppressed grunt at the end
persuaded him that Bakahenzie was duly impressed, but he made no comment.
After regarding Mungongo solemnly putting away the machine Bakahenzie
remarked casually:
“In the village is a messenger from Eyes-in-the-hands who sends thee
greetings.”
This was the first news that Birnier had received since his ascent to the
godhood. He had expected that sooner or later zu Pfeiffer would hear of
the presence of a white man, but he was rather startled at the inference
that zu Pfeiffer knew who he was. He made no visible sign as he waited.
Bakahenzie took snuff interestedly and continued:
“Eyes-in-the-hands bids thee to go unto the Place of Kings to eat the dust
before him.”
Bakahenzie regarded him with keen eyes. Birnier considered swiftly. From
the latter part of the message he gathered that zu Pfeiffer was not aware
of his identity. His opinion of zu Pfeiffer’s character suggested certain
psychological possibilities. His policy was to lure him away from his
fort; to destroy his military judgment. Therefore to cause him at this
juncture to be violently disturbed by a personal emotion might tend to
confuse his mind. Enmity—fear—might equally serve as the lure required. In
spite of committing a breach of native etiquette Birnier could not resist
smiling. He reached for the “Anatomy” and as he scribbled two words he
said to Bakahenzie solemnly:
“O son of Maliko, say unto this man of many tongues as well as many eyes,
‘that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed upon his leavings; that
the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal.’ And shall the
slave take unto him that which is mighty magic, such magic that when
Eyes-in-the-hands doth but touch it shall he trumpet like unto a wounded
cow elephant. Bid him to mark that my words be white!”
And when Bakahenzie had gone Birnier turned to the portrait on the wall
and remarked as he indulged in the luxury of a grin: “Say, honey, but if
that doesn’t make him mad, I’ll—I’ll eat my own manuscripts!”