Chapter 17

[pg 185]Chapter 17In his favourite seat by the door of his hut sat Zalu Zako waiting as patiently as only a native can to see the white man, symbol of a subconscious hope. The fact that Bakuma had not been found by the emissaries of the bloodthirsty Bakahenzie evoked a sensation of pleasure which was expressed merely in a feeling of well-being. Of her in person he thought consciously little; his attitude was much as a white lover who might discover his loved one to be a sister, and hence, by consanguinity, barred from him for ever, a terrible fact of fate; but, lacking the sentimental inhibition, Zalu Zako did not disguise the death wish because she was denied him. Desires are simpler in the savage, yet the driving motives are the same as in the“cultured”ex-animal overlaid with generations of inhibitions—tabus—which form complex strata making the truth more and more difficult to recognise. From that very obfuscation of motives arises civilisation.Then from the blue depths of the humid green came a great outcry, answered by the ululation of the women in warning.“Eyes-in-the-hands!”grunted Zalu Zako, voicing the perpetual fear of the camp, as he leaped for his gun which Moonspirit had sent him.Above the medley of sounds arose an articulate shout:[pg 186]“He has bewitched our souls! He has bewitched our souls!”Zalu Zako paused and listened; replaced the gun and squatted, resuming his pose of dignity before the first man made entrance. For a few moments the shrilling of the women and the wild jabber continued. Then entered a slave followed by a warrior who, excitedly falling upon his knees, gasped out:“He hath bewitched our souls! He hath bewitched our souls! Our spears were blunted by his magic! Our swords were turned by the wall of his soul! He is a mighty magician!”“Of whom speakest thou, fool?”As Zalu Zako put the question the tall figure of Bakahenzie stalked slowly into the courtyard. The warrior rose and fled at a command from Zalu Zako. Bakahenzie greeted him gravely and very elaborately took snuff in order to show how casual the matter was. When he had meticulously restored the cork of twisted leaves, he announced slowly:“As I have prophesied the breaking of the sacred circle has delivered us into the hands of the false magician, Eyes-in-the-hands. The daughter of Bakala is even now at the camp of the white man, whom they call Moonspirit.”“Ehh!”commented Zalu Zako.“The brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath taken her in concubinage,”continued Bakahenzie.Zalu Zako made no response. Grimly approached Marufa and squatted beside them.“Even as I have prophesied,”commented Marufa, who never failed to seize an opportunity of suggestion.“I bade him render up the Bride of the Banana;[pg 187]but she hath bitten his soul in his sleep. He held her in his arms. He breathed upon her so that she would not obey. The magic of this brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath indeed rotted the livers of our people, for they fled like young jackals.”“Eh!”Zalu Zako stared cautiously at the compound fence; Marufa regarded Bakahenzie’s left knee with interest. For fully five minutes no word was said. Then Bakahenzie portentously:“Tarum demands the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands, this Moonspirit, for if one be taken then will the other, Eyes-in-the-hands, wither away and the Unmentionable One will be revealed.”“Thou hast spoken!”assented Marufa.But Zalu Zako continued to stare blankly at the fence. His mind was aflame for Bakuma. Bakahenzie had no suspicion of his passion, yet the fear of his enmity acted like a douche of water in spite of the fact that the implicit faith in the doctors had been weakened. But disbelief was not positive enough to stimulate action. However, from the news of Bakuma’s proximity, he had gotten strength to doubt the efficacy of Bakuma’s sacrifice to restore the kingdom, a strength which prompted him to say:“Who is he that has said that Moonspirit be the twin of Eyes-in-the-hands? Enemies there are even among whites. If he be an enemy of Eyes-in-the-hands and he be a great magician, as they say, then through his magic may not Eyes-in-the-hands be slain?”“He hath but young words,”asserted Bakahenzie stonily.[pg 188]“But Mungongo, the son of Marula, saith that——”“Dost thou ask an infant to teach thee to hunt?”retorted Bakahenzie.“Doth a warrior ask his women to mend his wounds?”added Marufa, putting in a gentle reminder that Zalu Zako was merely a chief and not of the craft.“He hath been exorcised, let him be brought and put to the test before me,”persisted Zalu Zako.“That may not be,”objected Bakahenzie,“for thou art not yet anointed.”“But that which is necessary has not yet been done,”objected Zalu Zako obstinately.“If he have no magic and his heart be not white, then let him be doomed for the Feast of the Moon.”And gaining courage, added the royal phrase:“I have spoken.”The three sat motionless. The silence twittered and hummed. The shadows swelled. Bakahenzie rose slowly and stalked away through the compound. Zalu Zako watched his departure without remark or expression. After an interval, Marufa also went.Another person upon whom the news of the discovery had had a similar reaction was MYalu. Her proximity released the primitive desire to go forth and seize her. But such action was arrested by fear of the consequences from his fellows to whom the tabu was still real, and of the white man, Moonspirit. MYalu could never overcome the fiat of the witch-doctors while he remained with them. Yonder—his decision to go with Yabolo and Sakamata was clinched, but—he would take Bakuma with him.Straight to the hut of Bakahenzie, who seemed to be expecting him, stalked Marufa. Marufa squatted[pg 189]solemnly near to him. These catastrophic events had caused a general unrest which had weakened the discipline of superstition.There are two types of magicians: those who are partially conscious hypocrites, and those who are gulled by their own fakes; for he who makes magic must be ever ready with an explanation of failure and very ingenious in the making. The fool, believing in his own medicine, is as much astounded at failure as the victim is angry. Bakahenzie and Marufa belonged to the first class; yet being of their particular mental development they were possessed of beliefs just as deeply as the most credulous layman. That the wizard, personally, of his own individual power could slay an enemy by incantation they did not believe; but that the spirit of the Banana or of other inanimate objects could do so, they believed most profoundly. Their creed was a form of pure animism; the storms, the winds, the lightning, trees, rocks, rivers had separate and conscious souls; other inanimate objects not included in an arbitrary list, had unconscious souls, each and every one capable of doing mischief or of good; hence the essence of religion in the act of imploring the good offices of the most powerful spirits, or in moments of exasperation of threatening them with dire punishments. Their hypocrisy lay not in disbelief but in pretending to the people that their intercession with the gods was infallible; they knew only too well that the said gods would seldom incline an ear to the magician.Of course nearly every doctor had a slightly different dogma, usually based upon an incorrect deduction from a false premise. One doctor would place all his[pg 190]confidence in the spirit of the Banana—the most popular spirit; and another in the spirit of the river, because out of a dozen times that he had implored aid, five“miracles”at least had been vouchsafed, therefore, argued he, the spirit of the river is the true and most powerful god. The arguments of others were equally unsound as they were dominated by some hidden desire, much as reputable scientists, while rejecting phenomena accepted by the populace, cling fatuously to a belief in spooks in order to satisfy a subconscious desire for immortality, fear of death.Hence the confusion in the heart of Bakahenzie. To him it appeared that the spirits had deserted him entirely; to him it seemed that perhaps these white men had indeed the true“magic,”the art of controlling the spirits to their will. This terror had urged him to the destruction of the white man, Moonspirit. Now Zalu Zako had mutinied, and being unaware of the powerful impulse from which Zalu Zako had gotten this sudden strength, Bakahenzie attributed it to the magic influence of Moonspirit. At any cost, he argued, must Zalu Zako and the white man be kept apart.But other pressing points were how to accomplish the slaughter of the white man, and what he should do now after the attempt to kill him had failed. Either Moonspirit would flee, which would be most happy proof to Bakahenzie that he was an impostor and no magician, or he would seek revenge immediately. No other action was conceivable to Bakahenzie. Therefore in such a case the obvious act was to strike the quicker. He contemplated his colleague without looking at him. What was his attitude? Bakahenzie, on general[pg 191]principles, was suspicious. If Marufa thought that by supporting the white man he might be able to attain Bakahenzie’s overthrow and gain the position of chiefwitch-doctor, he would do it, even as he, Bakahenzie, would have done in his place. Therefore upon these matters did he talk very guardedly with Marufa, who was unusually reticent. However, after communing with himself in sphinx-like gravity, Marufa assented to the proposal that Zalu Zako be isolated in the godhood immediately.So the slow rhythmic beat, which was the summons to the craft to assemble, throbbed in the clammy air. Before the humid shadows had lengthened a hand’s breadth, were some twenty wizards, greater and lesser, fully dressed in the green feathers of the order, collected within the compound of Bakahenzie. Silently and woodenly they squatted in a half circle before the chief witch-doctor, each and every one excited by the marvellous stories circulated by the warriors returned from the camp of Moonspirit, stories which amply corroborated the tales of Mungongo. Those who supported Bakahenzie’s party believed implicitly, because they wished so to do, the“reason”for the impotence of their united magic to be the breaking of the magic circle by Bakuma. But others who cherished personal ambitions for the head witch-doctorship were suspicious of each other and of Bakahenzie, each one according to his grade and consequent knowledge in the craft.When the drum had ceased and they sat in impressive silence, Bakahenzie, squatting motionless on the threshold of his hut, began to mutter incantations and to rock from side to side. Now every one of the inner[pg 192]cult knew well enough that this performance was merely a ceremony prescribed by tradition and expediency; yet for that very reason and particularly for the benefit of the lesser wizards, they solemnly accepted it, grunting in chorus as heartily as the others to the chant of Bakahenzie. As suddenly as dramatically, Bakahenzie stopped with eyes staring upon another world and fell upon his back, to scream and to writhe realistically as practice assured him. Then when the mouth was flecked with foam, the spirit of Tarum spake through the rigid body which lay as in catalepsy with eyes inverted:“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!Aie! Aie! I am the banana from whom I was made!Aie! Aie! The time of the nuptial draweth nigh!Aie! Aie! But where is the bride of my bed?Aie! Aie! Let her be found and prepared!Aie! Aie! For my lips are athirst for her blood!Aie! Aie! Let the son of the Snake be anointed!Aie! Aie! Let him be ready to assist at my feast!Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the father of Men!Aie! Aie! I, Tarum, the soul of your ancestors!”From the assembly came the low belly grunt of acceptance, for they were, by suggestion, infected with the induced hysteria almost as much as the superb actor himself; they believed; even the members of the inner cult were convinced for the moment that indeed the mighty spirit of their ancestors was speaking.Slowly, with many prodigious grunts and twists, did[pg 193]Bakahenzie’s soul return to his body. He sat up and after a long pause said impressively:“What hath He said unto you?”And Marufa, as solemnly, related all that He had said.“Eh!”said Bakahenzie tonelessly,“it is even as I have prophesied. These indeed are the words of wisdom. Is it not so, O my brethren?”Again came the low grunt of assent.“Let us obey, that these foul spirits may pass and the Unmentionable One return unto his children!”Then, according to custom, all save those of the inner cult arose and went forth silently. In the heart of Yabolo, as he squatted as expressionless as the others, was satisfaction, for he saw, or thought he saw, that Eyes-in-the-hands would be pleased with the destruction of a man who might possibly become his rival; and on that principle imagined himself introduced by his relative, Sakamata, to Eyes-in-the-hands as the slayer, or initiator of the slaying, of his rival, Moonspirit. That Zalu Zako should be anointed King-God suited him as well as the other wizards and for the same reason. Therefore Yabolo for once raised no objection to the behests of Bakahenzie.Already from the encampment rose the excited voices of the warriors who had been informed of the decision of the assembly of wizards. But the shadows were long. The forest was even more thickly peopled with spirits than their own park-like country. One of the inner cult of five suggested that the attack be made at dawn; but Bakahenzie, still baited by uncertainty regarding the reality of the magic of Moonspirit and the possible influence of Zalu Zako now that he[pg 194]had apparently developed a will of his own before they could shut him up in the godhead, was for immediate action, and insisted that they call together the warriors and make special magic to protect them from the forest demons. Yabolo, as anxious as Bakahenzie, became his ally in urging that this be done. But Marufa was not at all of this way of thinking. While the fate of Zalu Zako was quite immaterial, his attitude to Moonspirit was much the same as the young man’s, but prompted by a different motive; a power possible to utilize for his benefit. But he said no word, listening indifferently apparently to the throbbing of the drums summoning the warriors. When the inner circle broke up he stalked solemnly to his own hut, but when he was within he took from a gourd a special amulet, slipped through a hole in the palisade behind the hut, and disappeared into the forest.[pg 195]Chapter 18Meanwhile the object of Bakahenzie’s political perplexities was also holding a council of war. Mungongo and Bakuma were divided in opinion. The former had recovered his complete confidence in Moonspirit. After the repulse of the greatest magician and his warriors he became filled with a martial ardour and strongly advocated advancing upon the village immediately. Birnier smiled and considered. As a matter of fact the plan was not so utterly insane as it appeared. Did he follow up swiftly upon the heels of the terror-stricken warriors the probability was that the whole camp would be infected by the spirit of panic and bolt. However, he could not see any object to be attained by stampeding the village. Mungongo, ever eager for a miracle, urged that Moonspirit should take upon him the spirit form and descend upon them at night. To his disgust Moonspirit refused, so Mungongo retired to the fire and consoled himself by another vivid description of the powers of his master—growing every day!—to Bakuma, who sat and listened dully with ever an anxious eye and ear upon the forest trail.Bakuma was obsessed by terror inspired by the fact that Bakahenzie had discovered her presence; the inherent awe of the witch-doctor which had been temporarily allayed by the presence of the white, was revived, as well as the inevitability of her doom. Only[pg 196]the strict injunctions of Moonspirit prevented her fleeing through the jungle to take refuge in some distant goatherd village. She was convinced the wizard would soon find out where she had gone; for she was persuaded that Bakahenzie had discovered her former hiding place by magic divination, maintaining as proof that although she had been as usual completely hidden in the undergrowth, Bakahenzie had walked directly to her.Birnier foresaw that the situation might become serious. Bakahenzie’s attitude was one of suspicion based, he guessed correctly, on professional jealousy. The finding of Bakuma had probably been more of an excuse to assail the possible rival and thus to satisfy this subconscious death wish. Now, reckoned Birnier, Bakahenzie would probably be more exasperated than ever at the triumph of the said rival’s magic. He would therefore, knowing the strength of the driving force of religious conviction, endeavour to play upon the emotions of the tribe by advocation of the efficacy of appeasing their fallen god by the sacrifice of the girl, and so work them up to an exalted state of fanaticism to attack in force; an additional stimulant to such action on their part would be the unconscious satisfaction in slaying the“brother”of the one who had invaded their country, Eyes-in-the-hands.Another point was that the more a person is scared the less easy it is for him to forgive, hence the greater resistance to the overtures of amity. Beyond the partially formed idea to overset zu Pfeiffer’s petty sovereignty was the strictly professional one of studying from the most intimate view-point possible a system of primitive theology of a most complex and illuminating[pg 197]kind. The main object to be attained therefore was resolved by the best method calculated to win the friendship and confidence of all concerned, particularly of Bakahenzie. To Birnier, who was not as yet conversant with the system, Bakahenzie seemed of less importance than Zalu Zako, the King-God, or potential King-God. Yet apparently he could not hope to approach Zalu Zako without overcoming the opposition offered by Bakahenzie. To give up little Bakuma to the sacrificial orgy was unthinkable; such an act would have appeared to him tantamount to sacrificing the girl to attain his own ends.For precaution he placed two of his men as pickets in the jungle to give warning of any surprise, although he did not consider that they would be likely to renew the attack that day; then, as usual when in difficulties, he retired to his tent for a smoke. As he browsed upon his estimable friend Burton, his eyes caught a paragraph upon cures for love melancholy recommended by the amiable doctor.“Lemnius, imstit. cap 58. admires rue and commends it to have excellent virtues, to expel vain imaginations, devils and to … Other things are much magnified by writers, as an old cock, a ram’s head, a wolf’s heart borne or eaten, which Mercurialis approves: Prosper Altinus, the water of the Nile; Gomesius, all sea water, and at seasonable times to be sick … the bone in a stag’s heart, a monocerot’s horn …”He glanced up to see Bakuma squatting disconsolately by the fire listening to the hundredth repetition[pg 198]of his wonder working according to Mungongo. The outline of her rounded back and hunched shoulders, the bronze hands clasped beneath the chin and the misty brown eyes apprehensively regarding the trail was a sculpture of melancholy. He smiled as he reflected that the devils and witches of Chrysostom and Paracelsus were as real to them as the forest spirits and the magic of Bakahenzie to this girl. After all some of these concoctions sounded as if they should most certainly appeal to Bakahenzie and his brethren of the craft. He wandered off into a reverie, wondering why it was that superstition is so hard to eradicate from the human mind. In Birnier was a strain of humorous melancholy which appreciated the comedy of human marionettes made to dance to the legion of devils and bugaboos invented by themselves, and as a stimulant to the dominant scientific absorption was the knowledge that upon him and his fellows depended their only hope of release—which was the greater reason that Bakahenzie should slay him, he added whimsically, did he but know it!Moved by the ever-present curiosity to know what was going on inside other people’s minds, he called Bakuma and Mungongo to him, observing the sprightly action of the boy moved by his faith in him for his good in contrast to the dull movements of the girl in her lack of confidence to make for her good. And when they were come to him and were seated on the ground at his feet he said to Bakuma:“Wherefore hast thou the black bird within thy breast, O Bakuma?”She gazed up at him with the pathetic pleading of a gazelle.[pg 199]“Do not birds seek the broken twigs for the building of nests, O Moonspirit?”“Truly, but why are the branches of thy tree rotted and broken?”“When the axe of the peasant pecks at the roots of the tree dost thou think then that the sap runs the more swiftly, knowing?”“A devil hast told thee this thing, O Bakuma. When the sun was but a man’s height did not a jackal break out of the forest seeking to devour, and yet the chicken was neither hurt nor taken. Are these not white words?”“Truly, O Moonspirit,”acknowledged Bakuma reluctantly.“Was not then the magic of Moonspirit more potent than that of thy wizards?”“Thy words are white,”she admitted.“Wherefore then hast thou ashes in thy mouth?”Bakuma dismally contemplated Birnier’s booted leg.“Eh!”grunted the sophisticated Mungongo,“to those who live on the mountain the crocodile is not!”“Open thy breasts unto me, O Bakuma,”said Birnier.“Clk!”she gasped, making a little gesture of hopelessness.“When the sun shines are not the flowers open? But when the night hath come where are the flowers? The deer feed on sweet pastures, but when the shadow of the lion falleth upon the grass hath not a great cloud come over the world?”“But thy lion hath fled, O Bakuma!”She gazed at the white man with curious wonderment[pg 200]at the stupidity of one failing to comprehend the simplest problem. She sighed and then as if with much patience for another’s shortcomings:“Thou hast strong magic, O white man,”said she,“magic that makes the magic of Bakahenzie to fall as water. Yet was the daughter of Bakala not found by divination? Was the daughter of Bakala not revealed to be the bride of the Banana by divination? There shall be made magic that the voice of the one shall be obeyed. Eh! Aiee! Aie!”The brown eyes welled opals which splashed upon a bronze breast. As Birnier watched her, pity stimulated a desire to relieve this symbol of self-torture, and he thought of a favourite passage in the“Anatomy”:“Ay, but we are more miserable than others, what shall we do? Beside private miseries, we live in perpetual fear and danger; for epithalamiums, for pleasant music, that fearful noise of ordnance, drums, and warlike trumpets still sounding in our ears; instead of nuptial torches, we have the firing of towns and cities; for triumph, lamentations; for joy, tears.”“Well, Bakuma,”said he in English, smiling covertly,“we’ll see if we can’t get you the nuptial torches!”Bakuma gazed at him perplexedly with big eyes.“Already Moonspirit begins the incantation of mighty magic,”explained Mungongo solemnly.“Eh!”murmured Bakuma expectantly.Birnier smoked and pondered. The walls of the forest were growing closer in the beginning of twilight. The soul of fear, reflected Birnier, dwells in the[pg 201]unknown. Reveal the god in the machine and the mystery dies. To Bakuma he said:“Listen, O Bakuma, I would speak heavy words to thee. When thou puttest the seed of the gourd into the ground then within half a moon there appears the plant of the gourd; is it not so?”“Truly,”answered Bakuma disinterestedly.“Is that then magic?”“Eh!”commented Bakuma, as in astonishment.“Nay, how could that be? Does not the soul of the plant grow even as a child grows?”“Good. Turn thine eyes to me.”Bakuma watched the operation of striking and lighting a match with indifference.“Then is this fire which I make done by magic?”“Truly.”“And thou, Mungongo, what thinkest thou?”“Moonspirit tickles the souls of my feet!”“H’m.”Birnier repressed a smile.“Thou knowest that my words are white?”“Truly.”“Then I tell thee that this is not done by magic.”“Ehh! Ehh!”chorused the twain.“This thing on the end of this thing which you call a magic fire twig is made of—of—is made of several kinds of—of earth found in the—earth, and when—and when——”He sought frantically for native words which were not,“the two are brought together—as one strikes a spear——”Birnier hesitated, finding himself as perplexed as a psychologist endeavouring to explain the abstract working of consciousness in concrete words.“When one strikes a spear upon a rock there is an eye of fire, is it not so?”[pg 202]Mungongo’s eyes dimly reflected a growing horror. Bakuma stared.“The magic of Bakahenzie,”murmured Mungongo.“Already is his soul bewitched,”muttered Bakuma.“Is it not so?”persisted Birnier.“Aye,”admitted Mungongo, moving uneasily and speaking as if humouring a dangerous lunatic.“It is the eye of the angry spirit of the rock.”Birnier saw his danger and made another effort.“Even so. Also thou knowest that thou canst make fire by the rubbing together of two sticks. Is that then magic also?”“Truly,”continued Mungongo in the same tone.“Can the spirits of the souls of the twigs be summoned without the incantations by the Keeper of Fires?”“O my God!”groaned Birnier, sotto voce, and he abandoned the effort to explain combustion.“Thus is it then with these that ye call the magic fire twigs.”“Even as we have said,”asserted Mungongo triumphantly.Birnier lapsed into silent defeat. Bakuma began to edge away. As Mungongo rose came a stifled scream from Bakuma who sprang to her feet and dashed towards the tent; then as if recollecting that her saviour had been bewitched by Bakahenzie, fled into the gloom beyond. Mungongo had seized a spear stuck in the earth near to him. As appeared the wizened figure of Marufa, who saluted as he squatted in the native manner, Birnier recollected that he had been with Bakahenzie and wondered what he wanted. Mungongo replaced his spear and came to the tent.“Greeting, O son of MTungo!”[pg 203]Marufa mumbled the orthodox return.“Thou hast need of Moonspirit?”demanded Mungongo, some of his officious confidence in Birnier returning.“Doth the leopard go to the goat pen to seek nuts?”grumbled the old man. He tapped out snuff slowly and grunted.Presently said Marufa:“Moonspirit is the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands?”“Nay,”answered Birnier, wondering at the persistency of this idea.“Eyes-in-the-hands is of another tribe ten moons distant from Moonspirit.”Marufa grunted. Another long pause. Then:“The magic of Moonspirit hath blunted the spears of Bakahenzie?”“Even so,”said Birnier modestly.“The son of Maliko maketh much magic that the bride of the Banana be taken from the white stranger.”“The monkey makes many faces and much noise, but does he eat up the leopard?”“The bite of the spear is more deadly than the bleat of a goat,”retorted Marufa.“Doth the wise man eat the heart of a goat to gain courage?”“The louder the lion roars the less teeth has he!”“But only the fool opens his mouth to see how many he has!”“The wise father examines the grain of the tusks before he sells his daughter.”“But the wise man sees the daughter before he offers the tusks!”“Ugm!”Marufa took more snuff and contemplated the[pg 204]interior of the tent where a native was lighting a lamp. Birnier reflected. Evidently Marufa had come with an object and had inferred that he had something to bargain about. What was it? Also he wanted to be sure that he was setting his trap at the right pool. Birnier decided that he was probably acting on his own initiative and willing to conspire against Bakahenzie. An impulse to experiment upon him as he had upon Mungongo and Bakuma was repressed, for from the previous effort he had cemented the conclusion that it was impossible to explain rational phenomena to irrational minds; that as ever the adventurous champion of reason would be either regarded as insane or inspired; that which is not comprehended is divine or ridiculous. However, through Marufa might come a suggestion for the tactics of campaign to gain the good-will of Bakahenzie or Zalu Zako and the attainment of his scientific object—as well as to give Bakuma the torches he had promised her. Whether I will or no, he reflected smiling in the dark, must I be either a magician or a fool. Fools get nowhere; witch-doctors do here as elsewhere. He saw that in order to influence these peoples or any others, he had perforce to work in terms of their own understanding, as the early Christian missionaries practised in their conversion of the Teutons, the Scandinavians and the Britons. A nucleus of a plan had been given by Mungongo’s impetuous suggestion. He decided to develop it. But through Marufa, who first of all must be impressed with the fact that Moonspirit was the greatest magician the world had ever seen. So therefore he called to the native within:“O Bakombi, put out the light.”And to Marufa:“O wise man,[pg 205]thunder has not always lightning. Behold! I am part of that which is and is not!”“Clk!”A click of astonishment was squeezed from Marufa by the chance mystic phrase which was interpreted by him as referring to the Unmentionable One.Then taking out his metal box of vestas Birnier moistened one. As he rubbed around his eyes Marufa, who was expecting a miracle, observed the growing phosphorescence in stoical calm, while Mungongo, delighted at the long deferred proof of his boasts, grunted admiringly.But when a glowing skeleton hand, which Birnier had prepared behind his back, hovered over the old wizard’s head, he grunted and made a slight convulsive movement.“Have no fear, O my friend,”came Birnier’s voice,“the spirit loves my friends and destroys my enemies.”That belly grunt had registered the degree of impression that Birnier sought. So he lighted the lamp, bade the excited Mungongo to bring out the phonograph, a machine adjusted with the recording cylinders as well as the reproduction, and after a successful demonstration of magic, discussed with Marufa a certain scheme to which the old wizard, quick to see the possibilities, afforded many invaluable suggestions.[pg 206]Chapter 19When Zalu Zako was notified of the verdict of the Council and the words of Tarum the sense of the inevitable returned, extinguishing the spark of rebellion that had been kindled by his passion for Bakuma. To Bakahenzie, or to the wizards separately, or collectively, he had had the strength to voice his own desires, but to the veritable voice of Tarum was no resistance dared. He was bidden to preside by right and precedent at the anointing of the warriors. He did not make any feint at refusal, for his will was crushed, as it had been weeks before by the doom of godhood and celibacy.Beyond the fact that Bakuma would soon be forbidden to him for ever, he did not think; desire was strangled. Even the recollection that Bakahenzie had stated that Moonspirit had taken her gave him no reaction. To him as to his brethren, while in physical love is bound up the control of the universe, because it is vaguely apprehended as a creative force, it is of no importance to the individual lover unless he be guilty of breaking the sexual tabu: if the girl is not a consenting party to the illicit union then she is free; if she is, then it is death to both of them, for as every one knows, such criminal action endangers the balance of the burden of the world upon the shoulders of the King-God. Thus it was that the words of Bakahenzie had produced no reaction against Moonspirit in the[pg 207]mind of Zalu Zako; indeed, if the words were true and he could yet obtain Bakuma, she might have a son by the white which would obviously bring the marvellous power of white magic to his successor, the next King-God; and possibly, had mused Zalu Zako, dimly straining at such a radical thought against the influence of the priesthood, make the king more powerful a magician than the witch-doctors themselves.But he obeyed the mandate and took his place as bidden. Bakahenzie had caused preparation to be begun immediately for the ceremony of making enchantment against the spirits of the night. In the circle of cleared ground, where sat the temporary Council of Elders, big fires were lighted as the dark wall of the forest drew in upon them. Bakahenzie squatted before a big calabash, specially reserved and enchanted for the making of magic, in which a mess of certain herbs whose spirits were violent haters of the demons of all trees, rocks and streams, were to be released from the vegetable bondage by stewing that they might be distributed among the warriors for the night assault. These warriors, some fifty chosen from the followers of Bakahenzie and Marufa, sat on their hams within the circle of fires, uneasily casting glances behind them at the deepening sepia, from whence arose the nocturnal chant of the spirits of the forest. In order to insure no interference from malign animals, Bakahenzie caused to be brought a pure white goat whose throat was cut and bled into the cauldron; for as any one knows, that soul which is white must necessarily fight well against anything that be black. Yet in spite of this potent magic the warriors grew unquiet; they felt, rather than thought,[pg 208]that if the magic of their witch-doctors had failed against one white why should it succeed against another like unto him? And their faith thus weakened, doubts regarding the efficacy of the same magic against spirits of the forest bred as mosquitoes after rain.Bakahenzie remarked the uneasiness, but the stronger grew his need to restore the waning confidence in his powers by removing the white; the blood desire had now been transferred from Bakuma to Moonspirit as the most effective demonstration possible to him.The fires smouldered and flickered yellow tongues upon the greens of the warriors’ bodies and the blues of the wizards’ head-dresses. Faint blue vapour swirled around the scarlet feather above Bakahenzie’s graven face as he muttered incantations and stirred the cauldron. Then as the drums throbbed and the warriors grunted rhythmically to Bakahenzie’s song of enchantment came a squawk as of a parrot. The chant ceased. Branches rustled. Every head quirked automatically towards the sound. Came a low belly grunt of terror as if an invisible hand had punched them in their solarplexus.Just in the shadow line where the glow of the fires faintly tinted and greened the curves of his bronze body against the sepia of his feathers, appeared the figure of Marufa, his spear lifted on high as he cried out in a loud voice:“Greetings, O people of the Banana, I bring you tidings of him who is and is not, of him who was lost and yet is come. ‘Behold, I show you a sign!’”Against the gloom his left arm and hand glowed with a strange light. An unanimous“Ehh!”rose from the assembled warriors and wizards alike.[pg 209]“Raise your ears!”continued Marufa,“that the Voice may speak unto you!”In the silence came a subdued click and commenced a high-pitched voice in the dialect:“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!Aie! Aie! I am the Banana from whom I was made!”Whites of eyes glimmered like butterflies in starlight. Nothing was visible. The voice appeared to rise from every direction. The new miracle petrified the limbs of all.“Aie! Aie! My soul is defiled and my children enslaved!Aie! Aie! My face hath been scratched by an alien claw!Aie! Aie! I send you the revenge which is white!Aie! Aie! I send you the One who is bidden!Aie! Aie! Let that One arise who is I!Aie! Aie! The mighty One who will blot out the curse!Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the Father of Men!Aie! Aie! I, Tarum; the soul of your Ancestors!”A faint whirr as of wings was drowned in the automatic grunt of acceptance squeezed from all the warriors and the wizards by the sacred chant, except those of the inner circle. In dread sat the warriors of the terrible magic of their doctors which they had once doubted. But the minds of Bakahenzie, Yabolo, and the other two master craftsmen were stunned. The[pg 210]phenomenon of the glowing hand had they never seen before, but they recollected the stones of Mungongo. Even was Sakamata, sophisticated to the wonders of Eyes-in-the-hands, impressed and bewildered. Dormant awe for the Unmentionable One was awakened in every one of them. Zalu Zako felt that his doom was upon him; that the Unmentionable One was about to call him to his duty, which invoked fear for the sacrilege he had committed in entertaining such radical thoughts in the immediate past. But in Bakahenzie was a streak of suspicion; how was it that Marufa was thus chosen as the divine messenger? Yet perhaps the veritable god was, or gods were, speaking! Doubt held him silent.“O my brethren, would ye that we seek the voice of the Unmentionable One?”cried Marufa.“Ough! Ough!”grunted the wizards.Marufa stalked slowly to the nearest fire, muttering a spell. From his loin cloth he took the three digital bones of an enemy and proceeded to discover the whereabouts by geomancy. And behold! the fingers pointed in one direction which all could see. Oblivious to the tight indifference of Bakahenzie the old man rose and began to gyrate, mumbling incantations, towards a thicket of grass on the fringe of the undergrowth, holding aloft the magic bones in the glowing hand. Anxiously the assembly watched the skinny figure, half bent, glide out from the glow of the fires into the blue shadows. A small log collapsed, throwing a red gleam upon the form poised upright before the clump of grass as Marufa cried out:“Let him who-may-not-be-mentioned speak that his children may hear!”[pg 211]Immediately commenced a high voice chanting:“Take up, O Marufa, the wise, the pod of my soul!”Then in the sight of every man Marufa bent upon his knees, muttering, and arose unharmed. Save for the slow turn of each head the better to follow the progress of the magician no limb nor muscle moved as in silence Marufa bore the like of which had never before been seen; a thing like unto a stone, having an ear almost as large and as erect as an angry elephant, the colour of a lion yet hairless.“The pod of the soul”Marufa placed within the circle of the fires so that all should see. More incantations did Marufa make, sitting fearlessly; he caressed it as a young man caresses a maid and came forth again the voice of Tarum:“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!He shall eat up your enemies as a lion eateth buck.He shall make your dead to be seen and your phantoms to talk!He shall give to your women to have sons of your breed!He shall give you that which was slain on the hill!He that walks in a flame in the night!He that is whiter than the flesh of the baobab!He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!He shall come forth bearing that which is yours!Hear me, my people, and give voice to my word!”[pg 212]“Ough! Ough!”came the chorus of assent.Not a limb nor a hand moved among the concourse of warriors and wizards until a new voice, deep, as one who commands, cried out:“Let the son of Kawa Kendi, the son of MFunya MPopo, the son of MKoffo, move not; neither he nor Marufa, the son of MTungo! Unto ye others we say unto you, depart that we speak in peace with this our son and priest!”And simultaneously appeared in the gloom of the undergrowth three pairs of eyes as luminous as the glowworm, vaster than any human; and beside the souls of the dead King-Gods were terrible hands. Warriors and wizards, all save Bakahenzie and Zalu Zako, literally leaped for the forest and village in one convulsive bound and grunt. Zalu Zako had remained upon the ground, green with terror. Bakahenzie stood upright, his scarlet feather fluorescent in the fire-glow. The anthem of the forest was only broken by the rustle of branches and the breathing of Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie. A harsh voice cried:“Begone, Bakahenzie, son of a dog! Lest we take thy soul to be with us!”The eyes appeared to float nearer; hands pointed menacingly. Bakahenzie boggled; hesitated; then the dignity of his pose melted into the graceful bounds of a fleeing leopard. Even for the professional ghost manipulator, such a phenomenon of the spirits, with whom he was supposed to be on familiar terms, was demoralizing. But half-way through a thicket of undergrowth, where he could no longer see the horrific eyes, his courage began to return.To his ears came a new voice chanting:[pg 213]“Sweeter than warm honey is the scent of my man!Fiercer than scorpions is the grip of his hand!Whiter than a spear flash is the gleam of his teeth!Smoother than river stone is the feel of his chest!Bakuma rejoices!”Peering through the interstices Bakahenzie could see the gleam of the fire upon the bangles of the Son-of-the-Snake and the blue flash upon his spear as he melted into the forest wall.

In his favourite seat by the door of his hut sat Zalu Zako waiting as patiently as only a native can to see the white man, symbol of a subconscious hope. The fact that Bakuma had not been found by the emissaries of the bloodthirsty Bakahenzie evoked a sensation of pleasure which was expressed merely in a feeling of well-being. Of her in person he thought consciously little; his attitude was much as a white lover who might discover his loved one to be a sister, and hence, by consanguinity, barred from him for ever, a terrible fact of fate; but, lacking the sentimental inhibition, Zalu Zako did not disguise the death wish because she was denied him. Desires are simpler in the savage, yet the driving motives are the same as in the“cultured”ex-animal overlaid with generations of inhibitions—tabus—which form complex strata making the truth more and more difficult to recognise. From that very obfuscation of motives arises civilisation.

Then from the blue depths of the humid green came a great outcry, answered by the ululation of the women in warning.

“Eyes-in-the-hands!”grunted Zalu Zako, voicing the perpetual fear of the camp, as he leaped for his gun which Moonspirit had sent him.

Above the medley of sounds arose an articulate shout:

“He has bewitched our souls! He has bewitched our souls!”

Zalu Zako paused and listened; replaced the gun and squatted, resuming his pose of dignity before the first man made entrance. For a few moments the shrilling of the women and the wild jabber continued. Then entered a slave followed by a warrior who, excitedly falling upon his knees, gasped out:

“He hath bewitched our souls! He hath bewitched our souls! Our spears were blunted by his magic! Our swords were turned by the wall of his soul! He is a mighty magician!”

“Of whom speakest thou, fool?”

As Zalu Zako put the question the tall figure of Bakahenzie stalked slowly into the courtyard. The warrior rose and fled at a command from Zalu Zako. Bakahenzie greeted him gravely and very elaborately took snuff in order to show how casual the matter was. When he had meticulously restored the cork of twisted leaves, he announced slowly:

“As I have prophesied the breaking of the sacred circle has delivered us into the hands of the false magician, Eyes-in-the-hands. The daughter of Bakala is even now at the camp of the white man, whom they call Moonspirit.”

“Ehh!”commented Zalu Zako.

“The brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath taken her in concubinage,”continued Bakahenzie.

Zalu Zako made no response. Grimly approached Marufa and squatted beside them.

“Even as I have prophesied,”commented Marufa, who never failed to seize an opportunity of suggestion.

“I bade him render up the Bride of the Banana;[pg 187]but she hath bitten his soul in his sleep. He held her in his arms. He breathed upon her so that she would not obey. The magic of this brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath indeed rotted the livers of our people, for they fled like young jackals.”

“Eh!”

Zalu Zako stared cautiously at the compound fence; Marufa regarded Bakahenzie’s left knee with interest. For fully five minutes no word was said. Then Bakahenzie portentously:

“Tarum demands the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands, this Moonspirit, for if one be taken then will the other, Eyes-in-the-hands, wither away and the Unmentionable One will be revealed.”

“Thou hast spoken!”assented Marufa.

But Zalu Zako continued to stare blankly at the fence. His mind was aflame for Bakuma. Bakahenzie had no suspicion of his passion, yet the fear of his enmity acted like a douche of water in spite of the fact that the implicit faith in the doctors had been weakened. But disbelief was not positive enough to stimulate action. However, from the news of Bakuma’s proximity, he had gotten strength to doubt the efficacy of Bakuma’s sacrifice to restore the kingdom, a strength which prompted him to say:

“Who is he that has said that Moonspirit be the twin of Eyes-in-the-hands? Enemies there are even among whites. If he be an enemy of Eyes-in-the-hands and he be a great magician, as they say, then through his magic may not Eyes-in-the-hands be slain?”

“He hath but young words,”asserted Bakahenzie stonily.

“But Mungongo, the son of Marula, saith that——”

“Dost thou ask an infant to teach thee to hunt?”retorted Bakahenzie.

“Doth a warrior ask his women to mend his wounds?”added Marufa, putting in a gentle reminder that Zalu Zako was merely a chief and not of the craft.

“He hath been exorcised, let him be brought and put to the test before me,”persisted Zalu Zako.

“That may not be,”objected Bakahenzie,“for thou art not yet anointed.”

“But that which is necessary has not yet been done,”objected Zalu Zako obstinately.“If he have no magic and his heart be not white, then let him be doomed for the Feast of the Moon.”And gaining courage, added the royal phrase:“I have spoken.”

The three sat motionless. The silence twittered and hummed. The shadows swelled. Bakahenzie rose slowly and stalked away through the compound. Zalu Zako watched his departure without remark or expression. After an interval, Marufa also went.

Another person upon whom the news of the discovery had had a similar reaction was MYalu. Her proximity released the primitive desire to go forth and seize her. But such action was arrested by fear of the consequences from his fellows to whom the tabu was still real, and of the white man, Moonspirit. MYalu could never overcome the fiat of the witch-doctors while he remained with them. Yonder—his decision to go with Yabolo and Sakamata was clinched, but—he would take Bakuma with him.

Straight to the hut of Bakahenzie, who seemed to be expecting him, stalked Marufa. Marufa squatted[pg 189]solemnly near to him. These catastrophic events had caused a general unrest which had weakened the discipline of superstition.

There are two types of magicians: those who are partially conscious hypocrites, and those who are gulled by their own fakes; for he who makes magic must be ever ready with an explanation of failure and very ingenious in the making. The fool, believing in his own medicine, is as much astounded at failure as the victim is angry. Bakahenzie and Marufa belonged to the first class; yet being of their particular mental development they were possessed of beliefs just as deeply as the most credulous layman. That the wizard, personally, of his own individual power could slay an enemy by incantation they did not believe; but that the spirit of the Banana or of other inanimate objects could do so, they believed most profoundly. Their creed was a form of pure animism; the storms, the winds, the lightning, trees, rocks, rivers had separate and conscious souls; other inanimate objects not included in an arbitrary list, had unconscious souls, each and every one capable of doing mischief or of good; hence the essence of religion in the act of imploring the good offices of the most powerful spirits, or in moments of exasperation of threatening them with dire punishments. Their hypocrisy lay not in disbelief but in pretending to the people that their intercession with the gods was infallible; they knew only too well that the said gods would seldom incline an ear to the magician.

Of course nearly every doctor had a slightly different dogma, usually based upon an incorrect deduction from a false premise. One doctor would place all his[pg 190]confidence in the spirit of the Banana—the most popular spirit; and another in the spirit of the river, because out of a dozen times that he had implored aid, five“miracles”at least had been vouchsafed, therefore, argued he, the spirit of the river is the true and most powerful god. The arguments of others were equally unsound as they were dominated by some hidden desire, much as reputable scientists, while rejecting phenomena accepted by the populace, cling fatuously to a belief in spooks in order to satisfy a subconscious desire for immortality, fear of death.

Hence the confusion in the heart of Bakahenzie. To him it appeared that the spirits had deserted him entirely; to him it seemed that perhaps these white men had indeed the true“magic,”the art of controlling the spirits to their will. This terror had urged him to the destruction of the white man, Moonspirit. Now Zalu Zako had mutinied, and being unaware of the powerful impulse from which Zalu Zako had gotten this sudden strength, Bakahenzie attributed it to the magic influence of Moonspirit. At any cost, he argued, must Zalu Zako and the white man be kept apart.

But other pressing points were how to accomplish the slaughter of the white man, and what he should do now after the attempt to kill him had failed. Either Moonspirit would flee, which would be most happy proof to Bakahenzie that he was an impostor and no magician, or he would seek revenge immediately. No other action was conceivable to Bakahenzie. Therefore in such a case the obvious act was to strike the quicker. He contemplated his colleague without looking at him. What was his attitude? Bakahenzie, on general[pg 191]principles, was suspicious. If Marufa thought that by supporting the white man he might be able to attain Bakahenzie’s overthrow and gain the position of chiefwitch-doctor, he would do it, even as he, Bakahenzie, would have done in his place. Therefore upon these matters did he talk very guardedly with Marufa, who was unusually reticent. However, after communing with himself in sphinx-like gravity, Marufa assented to the proposal that Zalu Zako be isolated in the godhood immediately.

So the slow rhythmic beat, which was the summons to the craft to assemble, throbbed in the clammy air. Before the humid shadows had lengthened a hand’s breadth, were some twenty wizards, greater and lesser, fully dressed in the green feathers of the order, collected within the compound of Bakahenzie. Silently and woodenly they squatted in a half circle before the chief witch-doctor, each and every one excited by the marvellous stories circulated by the warriors returned from the camp of Moonspirit, stories which amply corroborated the tales of Mungongo. Those who supported Bakahenzie’s party believed implicitly, because they wished so to do, the“reason”for the impotence of their united magic to be the breaking of the magic circle by Bakuma. But others who cherished personal ambitions for the head witch-doctorship were suspicious of each other and of Bakahenzie, each one according to his grade and consequent knowledge in the craft.

When the drum had ceased and they sat in impressive silence, Bakahenzie, squatting motionless on the threshold of his hut, began to mutter incantations and to rock from side to side. Now every one of the inner[pg 192]cult knew well enough that this performance was merely a ceremony prescribed by tradition and expediency; yet for that very reason and particularly for the benefit of the lesser wizards, they solemnly accepted it, grunting in chorus as heartily as the others to the chant of Bakahenzie. As suddenly as dramatically, Bakahenzie stopped with eyes staring upon another world and fell upon his back, to scream and to writhe realistically as practice assured him. Then when the mouth was flecked with foam, the spirit of Tarum spake through the rigid body which lay as in catalepsy with eyes inverted:

“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!Aie! Aie! I am the banana from whom I was made!Aie! Aie! The time of the nuptial draweth nigh!Aie! Aie! But where is the bride of my bed?Aie! Aie! Let her be found and prepared!Aie! Aie! For my lips are athirst for her blood!Aie! Aie! Let the son of the Snake be anointed!Aie! Aie! Let him be ready to assist at my feast!Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the father of Men!Aie! Aie! I, Tarum, the soul of your ancestors!”

“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!

Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!

Aie! Aie! I am the banana from whom I was made!

Aie! Aie! The time of the nuptial draweth nigh!

Aie! Aie! But where is the bride of my bed?

Aie! Aie! Let her be found and prepared!

Aie! Aie! For my lips are athirst for her blood!

Aie! Aie! Let the son of the Snake be anointed!

Aie! Aie! Let him be ready to assist at my feast!

Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the father of Men!

Aie! Aie! I, Tarum, the soul of your ancestors!”

From the assembly came the low belly grunt of acceptance, for they were, by suggestion, infected with the induced hysteria almost as much as the superb actor himself; they believed; even the members of the inner cult were convinced for the moment that indeed the mighty spirit of their ancestors was speaking.

Slowly, with many prodigious grunts and twists, did[pg 193]Bakahenzie’s soul return to his body. He sat up and after a long pause said impressively:

“What hath He said unto you?”

And Marufa, as solemnly, related all that He had said.

“Eh!”said Bakahenzie tonelessly,“it is even as I have prophesied. These indeed are the words of wisdom. Is it not so, O my brethren?”Again came the low grunt of assent.“Let us obey, that these foul spirits may pass and the Unmentionable One return unto his children!”

Then, according to custom, all save those of the inner cult arose and went forth silently. In the heart of Yabolo, as he squatted as expressionless as the others, was satisfaction, for he saw, or thought he saw, that Eyes-in-the-hands would be pleased with the destruction of a man who might possibly become his rival; and on that principle imagined himself introduced by his relative, Sakamata, to Eyes-in-the-hands as the slayer, or initiator of the slaying, of his rival, Moonspirit. That Zalu Zako should be anointed King-God suited him as well as the other wizards and for the same reason. Therefore Yabolo for once raised no objection to the behests of Bakahenzie.

Already from the encampment rose the excited voices of the warriors who had been informed of the decision of the assembly of wizards. But the shadows were long. The forest was even more thickly peopled with spirits than their own park-like country. One of the inner cult of five suggested that the attack be made at dawn; but Bakahenzie, still baited by uncertainty regarding the reality of the magic of Moonspirit and the possible influence of Zalu Zako now that he[pg 194]had apparently developed a will of his own before they could shut him up in the godhead, was for immediate action, and insisted that they call together the warriors and make special magic to protect them from the forest demons. Yabolo, as anxious as Bakahenzie, became his ally in urging that this be done. But Marufa was not at all of this way of thinking. While the fate of Zalu Zako was quite immaterial, his attitude to Moonspirit was much the same as the young man’s, but prompted by a different motive; a power possible to utilize for his benefit. But he said no word, listening indifferently apparently to the throbbing of the drums summoning the warriors. When the inner circle broke up he stalked solemnly to his own hut, but when he was within he took from a gourd a special amulet, slipped through a hole in the palisade behind the hut, and disappeared into the forest.

[pg 195]Chapter 18Meanwhile the object of Bakahenzie’s political perplexities was also holding a council of war. Mungongo and Bakuma were divided in opinion. The former had recovered his complete confidence in Moonspirit. After the repulse of the greatest magician and his warriors he became filled with a martial ardour and strongly advocated advancing upon the village immediately. Birnier smiled and considered. As a matter of fact the plan was not so utterly insane as it appeared. Did he follow up swiftly upon the heels of the terror-stricken warriors the probability was that the whole camp would be infected by the spirit of panic and bolt. However, he could not see any object to be attained by stampeding the village. Mungongo, ever eager for a miracle, urged that Moonspirit should take upon him the spirit form and descend upon them at night. To his disgust Moonspirit refused, so Mungongo retired to the fire and consoled himself by another vivid description of the powers of his master—growing every day!—to Bakuma, who sat and listened dully with ever an anxious eye and ear upon the forest trail.Bakuma was obsessed by terror inspired by the fact that Bakahenzie had discovered her presence; the inherent awe of the witch-doctor which had been temporarily allayed by the presence of the white, was revived, as well as the inevitability of her doom. Only[pg 196]the strict injunctions of Moonspirit prevented her fleeing through the jungle to take refuge in some distant goatherd village. She was convinced the wizard would soon find out where she had gone; for she was persuaded that Bakahenzie had discovered her former hiding place by magic divination, maintaining as proof that although she had been as usual completely hidden in the undergrowth, Bakahenzie had walked directly to her.Birnier foresaw that the situation might become serious. Bakahenzie’s attitude was one of suspicion based, he guessed correctly, on professional jealousy. The finding of Bakuma had probably been more of an excuse to assail the possible rival and thus to satisfy this subconscious death wish. Now, reckoned Birnier, Bakahenzie would probably be more exasperated than ever at the triumph of the said rival’s magic. He would therefore, knowing the strength of the driving force of religious conviction, endeavour to play upon the emotions of the tribe by advocation of the efficacy of appeasing their fallen god by the sacrifice of the girl, and so work them up to an exalted state of fanaticism to attack in force; an additional stimulant to such action on their part would be the unconscious satisfaction in slaying the“brother”of the one who had invaded their country, Eyes-in-the-hands.Another point was that the more a person is scared the less easy it is for him to forgive, hence the greater resistance to the overtures of amity. Beyond the partially formed idea to overset zu Pfeiffer’s petty sovereignty was the strictly professional one of studying from the most intimate view-point possible a system of primitive theology of a most complex and illuminating[pg 197]kind. The main object to be attained therefore was resolved by the best method calculated to win the friendship and confidence of all concerned, particularly of Bakahenzie. To Birnier, who was not as yet conversant with the system, Bakahenzie seemed of less importance than Zalu Zako, the King-God, or potential King-God. Yet apparently he could not hope to approach Zalu Zako without overcoming the opposition offered by Bakahenzie. To give up little Bakuma to the sacrificial orgy was unthinkable; such an act would have appeared to him tantamount to sacrificing the girl to attain his own ends.For precaution he placed two of his men as pickets in the jungle to give warning of any surprise, although he did not consider that they would be likely to renew the attack that day; then, as usual when in difficulties, he retired to his tent for a smoke. As he browsed upon his estimable friend Burton, his eyes caught a paragraph upon cures for love melancholy recommended by the amiable doctor.“Lemnius, imstit. cap 58. admires rue and commends it to have excellent virtues, to expel vain imaginations, devils and to … Other things are much magnified by writers, as an old cock, a ram’s head, a wolf’s heart borne or eaten, which Mercurialis approves: Prosper Altinus, the water of the Nile; Gomesius, all sea water, and at seasonable times to be sick … the bone in a stag’s heart, a monocerot’s horn …”He glanced up to see Bakuma squatting disconsolately by the fire listening to the hundredth repetition[pg 198]of his wonder working according to Mungongo. The outline of her rounded back and hunched shoulders, the bronze hands clasped beneath the chin and the misty brown eyes apprehensively regarding the trail was a sculpture of melancholy. He smiled as he reflected that the devils and witches of Chrysostom and Paracelsus were as real to them as the forest spirits and the magic of Bakahenzie to this girl. After all some of these concoctions sounded as if they should most certainly appeal to Bakahenzie and his brethren of the craft. He wandered off into a reverie, wondering why it was that superstition is so hard to eradicate from the human mind. In Birnier was a strain of humorous melancholy which appreciated the comedy of human marionettes made to dance to the legion of devils and bugaboos invented by themselves, and as a stimulant to the dominant scientific absorption was the knowledge that upon him and his fellows depended their only hope of release—which was the greater reason that Bakahenzie should slay him, he added whimsically, did he but know it!Moved by the ever-present curiosity to know what was going on inside other people’s minds, he called Bakuma and Mungongo to him, observing the sprightly action of the boy moved by his faith in him for his good in contrast to the dull movements of the girl in her lack of confidence to make for her good. And when they were come to him and were seated on the ground at his feet he said to Bakuma:“Wherefore hast thou the black bird within thy breast, O Bakuma?”She gazed up at him with the pathetic pleading of a gazelle.[pg 199]“Do not birds seek the broken twigs for the building of nests, O Moonspirit?”“Truly, but why are the branches of thy tree rotted and broken?”“When the axe of the peasant pecks at the roots of the tree dost thou think then that the sap runs the more swiftly, knowing?”“A devil hast told thee this thing, O Bakuma. When the sun was but a man’s height did not a jackal break out of the forest seeking to devour, and yet the chicken was neither hurt nor taken. Are these not white words?”“Truly, O Moonspirit,”acknowledged Bakuma reluctantly.“Was not then the magic of Moonspirit more potent than that of thy wizards?”“Thy words are white,”she admitted.“Wherefore then hast thou ashes in thy mouth?”Bakuma dismally contemplated Birnier’s booted leg.“Eh!”grunted the sophisticated Mungongo,“to those who live on the mountain the crocodile is not!”“Open thy breasts unto me, O Bakuma,”said Birnier.“Clk!”she gasped, making a little gesture of hopelessness.“When the sun shines are not the flowers open? But when the night hath come where are the flowers? The deer feed on sweet pastures, but when the shadow of the lion falleth upon the grass hath not a great cloud come over the world?”“But thy lion hath fled, O Bakuma!”She gazed at the white man with curious wonderment[pg 200]at the stupidity of one failing to comprehend the simplest problem. She sighed and then as if with much patience for another’s shortcomings:“Thou hast strong magic, O white man,”said she,“magic that makes the magic of Bakahenzie to fall as water. Yet was the daughter of Bakala not found by divination? Was the daughter of Bakala not revealed to be the bride of the Banana by divination? There shall be made magic that the voice of the one shall be obeyed. Eh! Aiee! Aie!”The brown eyes welled opals which splashed upon a bronze breast. As Birnier watched her, pity stimulated a desire to relieve this symbol of self-torture, and he thought of a favourite passage in the“Anatomy”:“Ay, but we are more miserable than others, what shall we do? Beside private miseries, we live in perpetual fear and danger; for epithalamiums, for pleasant music, that fearful noise of ordnance, drums, and warlike trumpets still sounding in our ears; instead of nuptial torches, we have the firing of towns and cities; for triumph, lamentations; for joy, tears.”“Well, Bakuma,”said he in English, smiling covertly,“we’ll see if we can’t get you the nuptial torches!”Bakuma gazed at him perplexedly with big eyes.“Already Moonspirit begins the incantation of mighty magic,”explained Mungongo solemnly.“Eh!”murmured Bakuma expectantly.Birnier smoked and pondered. The walls of the forest were growing closer in the beginning of twilight. The soul of fear, reflected Birnier, dwells in the[pg 201]unknown. Reveal the god in the machine and the mystery dies. To Bakuma he said:“Listen, O Bakuma, I would speak heavy words to thee. When thou puttest the seed of the gourd into the ground then within half a moon there appears the plant of the gourd; is it not so?”“Truly,”answered Bakuma disinterestedly.“Is that then magic?”“Eh!”commented Bakuma, as in astonishment.“Nay, how could that be? Does not the soul of the plant grow even as a child grows?”“Good. Turn thine eyes to me.”Bakuma watched the operation of striking and lighting a match with indifference.“Then is this fire which I make done by magic?”“Truly.”“And thou, Mungongo, what thinkest thou?”“Moonspirit tickles the souls of my feet!”“H’m.”Birnier repressed a smile.“Thou knowest that my words are white?”“Truly.”“Then I tell thee that this is not done by magic.”“Ehh! Ehh!”chorused the twain.“This thing on the end of this thing which you call a magic fire twig is made of—of—is made of several kinds of—of earth found in the—earth, and when—and when——”He sought frantically for native words which were not,“the two are brought together—as one strikes a spear——”Birnier hesitated, finding himself as perplexed as a psychologist endeavouring to explain the abstract working of consciousness in concrete words.“When one strikes a spear upon a rock there is an eye of fire, is it not so?”[pg 202]Mungongo’s eyes dimly reflected a growing horror. Bakuma stared.“The magic of Bakahenzie,”murmured Mungongo.“Already is his soul bewitched,”muttered Bakuma.“Is it not so?”persisted Birnier.“Aye,”admitted Mungongo, moving uneasily and speaking as if humouring a dangerous lunatic.“It is the eye of the angry spirit of the rock.”Birnier saw his danger and made another effort.“Even so. Also thou knowest that thou canst make fire by the rubbing together of two sticks. Is that then magic also?”“Truly,”continued Mungongo in the same tone.“Can the spirits of the souls of the twigs be summoned without the incantations by the Keeper of Fires?”“O my God!”groaned Birnier, sotto voce, and he abandoned the effort to explain combustion.“Thus is it then with these that ye call the magic fire twigs.”“Even as we have said,”asserted Mungongo triumphantly.Birnier lapsed into silent defeat. Bakuma began to edge away. As Mungongo rose came a stifled scream from Bakuma who sprang to her feet and dashed towards the tent; then as if recollecting that her saviour had been bewitched by Bakahenzie, fled into the gloom beyond. Mungongo had seized a spear stuck in the earth near to him. As appeared the wizened figure of Marufa, who saluted as he squatted in the native manner, Birnier recollected that he had been with Bakahenzie and wondered what he wanted. Mungongo replaced his spear and came to the tent.“Greeting, O son of MTungo!”[pg 203]Marufa mumbled the orthodox return.“Thou hast need of Moonspirit?”demanded Mungongo, some of his officious confidence in Birnier returning.“Doth the leopard go to the goat pen to seek nuts?”grumbled the old man. He tapped out snuff slowly and grunted.Presently said Marufa:“Moonspirit is the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands?”“Nay,”answered Birnier, wondering at the persistency of this idea.“Eyes-in-the-hands is of another tribe ten moons distant from Moonspirit.”Marufa grunted. Another long pause. Then:“The magic of Moonspirit hath blunted the spears of Bakahenzie?”“Even so,”said Birnier modestly.“The son of Maliko maketh much magic that the bride of the Banana be taken from the white stranger.”“The monkey makes many faces and much noise, but does he eat up the leopard?”“The bite of the spear is more deadly than the bleat of a goat,”retorted Marufa.“Doth the wise man eat the heart of a goat to gain courage?”“The louder the lion roars the less teeth has he!”“But only the fool opens his mouth to see how many he has!”“The wise father examines the grain of the tusks before he sells his daughter.”“But the wise man sees the daughter before he offers the tusks!”“Ugm!”Marufa took more snuff and contemplated the[pg 204]interior of the tent where a native was lighting a lamp. Birnier reflected. Evidently Marufa had come with an object and had inferred that he had something to bargain about. What was it? Also he wanted to be sure that he was setting his trap at the right pool. Birnier decided that he was probably acting on his own initiative and willing to conspire against Bakahenzie. An impulse to experiment upon him as he had upon Mungongo and Bakuma was repressed, for from the previous effort he had cemented the conclusion that it was impossible to explain rational phenomena to irrational minds; that as ever the adventurous champion of reason would be either regarded as insane or inspired; that which is not comprehended is divine or ridiculous. However, through Marufa might come a suggestion for the tactics of campaign to gain the good-will of Bakahenzie or Zalu Zako and the attainment of his scientific object—as well as to give Bakuma the torches he had promised her. Whether I will or no, he reflected smiling in the dark, must I be either a magician or a fool. Fools get nowhere; witch-doctors do here as elsewhere. He saw that in order to influence these peoples or any others, he had perforce to work in terms of their own understanding, as the early Christian missionaries practised in their conversion of the Teutons, the Scandinavians and the Britons. A nucleus of a plan had been given by Mungongo’s impetuous suggestion. He decided to develop it. But through Marufa, who first of all must be impressed with the fact that Moonspirit was the greatest magician the world had ever seen. So therefore he called to the native within:“O Bakombi, put out the light.”And to Marufa:“O wise man,[pg 205]thunder has not always lightning. Behold! I am part of that which is and is not!”“Clk!”A click of astonishment was squeezed from Marufa by the chance mystic phrase which was interpreted by him as referring to the Unmentionable One.Then taking out his metal box of vestas Birnier moistened one. As he rubbed around his eyes Marufa, who was expecting a miracle, observed the growing phosphorescence in stoical calm, while Mungongo, delighted at the long deferred proof of his boasts, grunted admiringly.But when a glowing skeleton hand, which Birnier had prepared behind his back, hovered over the old wizard’s head, he grunted and made a slight convulsive movement.“Have no fear, O my friend,”came Birnier’s voice,“the spirit loves my friends and destroys my enemies.”That belly grunt had registered the degree of impression that Birnier sought. So he lighted the lamp, bade the excited Mungongo to bring out the phonograph, a machine adjusted with the recording cylinders as well as the reproduction, and after a successful demonstration of magic, discussed with Marufa a certain scheme to which the old wizard, quick to see the possibilities, afforded many invaluable suggestions.

Meanwhile the object of Bakahenzie’s political perplexities was also holding a council of war. Mungongo and Bakuma were divided in opinion. The former had recovered his complete confidence in Moonspirit. After the repulse of the greatest magician and his warriors he became filled with a martial ardour and strongly advocated advancing upon the village immediately. Birnier smiled and considered. As a matter of fact the plan was not so utterly insane as it appeared. Did he follow up swiftly upon the heels of the terror-stricken warriors the probability was that the whole camp would be infected by the spirit of panic and bolt. However, he could not see any object to be attained by stampeding the village. Mungongo, ever eager for a miracle, urged that Moonspirit should take upon him the spirit form and descend upon them at night. To his disgust Moonspirit refused, so Mungongo retired to the fire and consoled himself by another vivid description of the powers of his master—growing every day!—to Bakuma, who sat and listened dully with ever an anxious eye and ear upon the forest trail.

Bakuma was obsessed by terror inspired by the fact that Bakahenzie had discovered her presence; the inherent awe of the witch-doctor which had been temporarily allayed by the presence of the white, was revived, as well as the inevitability of her doom. Only[pg 196]the strict injunctions of Moonspirit prevented her fleeing through the jungle to take refuge in some distant goatherd village. She was convinced the wizard would soon find out where she had gone; for she was persuaded that Bakahenzie had discovered her former hiding place by magic divination, maintaining as proof that although she had been as usual completely hidden in the undergrowth, Bakahenzie had walked directly to her.

Birnier foresaw that the situation might become serious. Bakahenzie’s attitude was one of suspicion based, he guessed correctly, on professional jealousy. The finding of Bakuma had probably been more of an excuse to assail the possible rival and thus to satisfy this subconscious death wish. Now, reckoned Birnier, Bakahenzie would probably be more exasperated than ever at the triumph of the said rival’s magic. He would therefore, knowing the strength of the driving force of religious conviction, endeavour to play upon the emotions of the tribe by advocation of the efficacy of appeasing their fallen god by the sacrifice of the girl, and so work them up to an exalted state of fanaticism to attack in force; an additional stimulant to such action on their part would be the unconscious satisfaction in slaying the“brother”of the one who had invaded their country, Eyes-in-the-hands.

Another point was that the more a person is scared the less easy it is for him to forgive, hence the greater resistance to the overtures of amity. Beyond the partially formed idea to overset zu Pfeiffer’s petty sovereignty was the strictly professional one of studying from the most intimate view-point possible a system of primitive theology of a most complex and illuminating[pg 197]kind. The main object to be attained therefore was resolved by the best method calculated to win the friendship and confidence of all concerned, particularly of Bakahenzie. To Birnier, who was not as yet conversant with the system, Bakahenzie seemed of less importance than Zalu Zako, the King-God, or potential King-God. Yet apparently he could not hope to approach Zalu Zako without overcoming the opposition offered by Bakahenzie. To give up little Bakuma to the sacrificial orgy was unthinkable; such an act would have appeared to him tantamount to sacrificing the girl to attain his own ends.

For precaution he placed two of his men as pickets in the jungle to give warning of any surprise, although he did not consider that they would be likely to renew the attack that day; then, as usual when in difficulties, he retired to his tent for a smoke. As he browsed upon his estimable friend Burton, his eyes caught a paragraph upon cures for love melancholy recommended by the amiable doctor.

“Lemnius, imstit. cap 58. admires rue and commends it to have excellent virtues, to expel vain imaginations, devils and to … Other things are much magnified by writers, as an old cock, a ram’s head, a wolf’s heart borne or eaten, which Mercurialis approves: Prosper Altinus, the water of the Nile; Gomesius, all sea water, and at seasonable times to be sick … the bone in a stag’s heart, a monocerot’s horn …”

He glanced up to see Bakuma squatting disconsolately by the fire listening to the hundredth repetition[pg 198]of his wonder working according to Mungongo. The outline of her rounded back and hunched shoulders, the bronze hands clasped beneath the chin and the misty brown eyes apprehensively regarding the trail was a sculpture of melancholy. He smiled as he reflected that the devils and witches of Chrysostom and Paracelsus were as real to them as the forest spirits and the magic of Bakahenzie to this girl. After all some of these concoctions sounded as if they should most certainly appeal to Bakahenzie and his brethren of the craft. He wandered off into a reverie, wondering why it was that superstition is so hard to eradicate from the human mind. In Birnier was a strain of humorous melancholy which appreciated the comedy of human marionettes made to dance to the legion of devils and bugaboos invented by themselves, and as a stimulant to the dominant scientific absorption was the knowledge that upon him and his fellows depended their only hope of release—which was the greater reason that Bakahenzie should slay him, he added whimsically, did he but know it!

Moved by the ever-present curiosity to know what was going on inside other people’s minds, he called Bakuma and Mungongo to him, observing the sprightly action of the boy moved by his faith in him for his good in contrast to the dull movements of the girl in her lack of confidence to make for her good. And when they were come to him and were seated on the ground at his feet he said to Bakuma:

“Wherefore hast thou the black bird within thy breast, O Bakuma?”

She gazed up at him with the pathetic pleading of a gazelle.

“Do not birds seek the broken twigs for the building of nests, O Moonspirit?”

“Truly, but why are the branches of thy tree rotted and broken?”

“When the axe of the peasant pecks at the roots of the tree dost thou think then that the sap runs the more swiftly, knowing?”

“A devil hast told thee this thing, O Bakuma. When the sun was but a man’s height did not a jackal break out of the forest seeking to devour, and yet the chicken was neither hurt nor taken. Are these not white words?”

“Truly, O Moonspirit,”acknowledged Bakuma reluctantly.

“Was not then the magic of Moonspirit more potent than that of thy wizards?”

“Thy words are white,”she admitted.

“Wherefore then hast thou ashes in thy mouth?”

Bakuma dismally contemplated Birnier’s booted leg.

“Eh!”grunted the sophisticated Mungongo,“to those who live on the mountain the crocodile is not!”

“Open thy breasts unto me, O Bakuma,”said Birnier.

“Clk!”she gasped, making a little gesture of hopelessness.“When the sun shines are not the flowers open? But when the night hath come where are the flowers? The deer feed on sweet pastures, but when the shadow of the lion falleth upon the grass hath not a great cloud come over the world?”

“But thy lion hath fled, O Bakuma!”

She gazed at the white man with curious wonderment[pg 200]at the stupidity of one failing to comprehend the simplest problem. She sighed and then as if with much patience for another’s shortcomings:

“Thou hast strong magic, O white man,”said she,“magic that makes the magic of Bakahenzie to fall as water. Yet was the daughter of Bakala not found by divination? Was the daughter of Bakala not revealed to be the bride of the Banana by divination? There shall be made magic that the voice of the one shall be obeyed. Eh! Aiee! Aie!”

The brown eyes welled opals which splashed upon a bronze breast. As Birnier watched her, pity stimulated a desire to relieve this symbol of self-torture, and he thought of a favourite passage in the“Anatomy”:

“Ay, but we are more miserable than others, what shall we do? Beside private miseries, we live in perpetual fear and danger; for epithalamiums, for pleasant music, that fearful noise of ordnance, drums, and warlike trumpets still sounding in our ears; instead of nuptial torches, we have the firing of towns and cities; for triumph, lamentations; for joy, tears.”

“Well, Bakuma,”said he in English, smiling covertly,“we’ll see if we can’t get you the nuptial torches!”

Bakuma gazed at him perplexedly with big eyes.

“Already Moonspirit begins the incantation of mighty magic,”explained Mungongo solemnly.

“Eh!”murmured Bakuma expectantly.

Birnier smoked and pondered. The walls of the forest were growing closer in the beginning of twilight. The soul of fear, reflected Birnier, dwells in the[pg 201]unknown. Reveal the god in the machine and the mystery dies. To Bakuma he said:

“Listen, O Bakuma, I would speak heavy words to thee. When thou puttest the seed of the gourd into the ground then within half a moon there appears the plant of the gourd; is it not so?”

“Truly,”answered Bakuma disinterestedly.

“Is that then magic?”

“Eh!”commented Bakuma, as in astonishment.“Nay, how could that be? Does not the soul of the plant grow even as a child grows?”

“Good. Turn thine eyes to me.”Bakuma watched the operation of striking and lighting a match with indifference.“Then is this fire which I make done by magic?”

“Truly.”

“And thou, Mungongo, what thinkest thou?”

“Moonspirit tickles the souls of my feet!”

“H’m.”Birnier repressed a smile.“Thou knowest that my words are white?”

“Truly.”

“Then I tell thee that this is not done by magic.”

“Ehh! Ehh!”chorused the twain.

“This thing on the end of this thing which you call a magic fire twig is made of—of—is made of several kinds of—of earth found in the—earth, and when—and when——”He sought frantically for native words which were not,“the two are brought together—as one strikes a spear——”Birnier hesitated, finding himself as perplexed as a psychologist endeavouring to explain the abstract working of consciousness in concrete words.“When one strikes a spear upon a rock there is an eye of fire, is it not so?”

Mungongo’s eyes dimly reflected a growing horror. Bakuma stared.

“The magic of Bakahenzie,”murmured Mungongo.

“Already is his soul bewitched,”muttered Bakuma.

“Is it not so?”persisted Birnier.

“Aye,”admitted Mungongo, moving uneasily and speaking as if humouring a dangerous lunatic.“It is the eye of the angry spirit of the rock.”

Birnier saw his danger and made another effort.

“Even so. Also thou knowest that thou canst make fire by the rubbing together of two sticks. Is that then magic also?”

“Truly,”continued Mungongo in the same tone.“Can the spirits of the souls of the twigs be summoned without the incantations by the Keeper of Fires?”

“O my God!”groaned Birnier, sotto voce, and he abandoned the effort to explain combustion.“Thus is it then with these that ye call the magic fire twigs.”

“Even as we have said,”asserted Mungongo triumphantly.

Birnier lapsed into silent defeat. Bakuma began to edge away. As Mungongo rose came a stifled scream from Bakuma who sprang to her feet and dashed towards the tent; then as if recollecting that her saviour had been bewitched by Bakahenzie, fled into the gloom beyond. Mungongo had seized a spear stuck in the earth near to him. As appeared the wizened figure of Marufa, who saluted as he squatted in the native manner, Birnier recollected that he had been with Bakahenzie and wondered what he wanted. Mungongo replaced his spear and came to the tent.

“Greeting, O son of MTungo!”

Marufa mumbled the orthodox return.

“Thou hast need of Moonspirit?”demanded Mungongo, some of his officious confidence in Birnier returning.

“Doth the leopard go to the goat pen to seek nuts?”grumbled the old man. He tapped out snuff slowly and grunted.

Presently said Marufa:

“Moonspirit is the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands?”

“Nay,”answered Birnier, wondering at the persistency of this idea.“Eyes-in-the-hands is of another tribe ten moons distant from Moonspirit.”

Marufa grunted. Another long pause. Then:

“The magic of Moonspirit hath blunted the spears of Bakahenzie?”

“Even so,”said Birnier modestly.

“The son of Maliko maketh much magic that the bride of the Banana be taken from the white stranger.”

“The monkey makes many faces and much noise, but does he eat up the leopard?”

“The bite of the spear is more deadly than the bleat of a goat,”retorted Marufa.

“Doth the wise man eat the heart of a goat to gain courage?”

“The louder the lion roars the less teeth has he!”

“But only the fool opens his mouth to see how many he has!”

“The wise father examines the grain of the tusks before he sells his daughter.”

“But the wise man sees the daughter before he offers the tusks!”

“Ugm!”

Marufa took more snuff and contemplated the[pg 204]interior of the tent where a native was lighting a lamp. Birnier reflected. Evidently Marufa had come with an object and had inferred that he had something to bargain about. What was it? Also he wanted to be sure that he was setting his trap at the right pool. Birnier decided that he was probably acting on his own initiative and willing to conspire against Bakahenzie. An impulse to experiment upon him as he had upon Mungongo and Bakuma was repressed, for from the previous effort he had cemented the conclusion that it was impossible to explain rational phenomena to irrational minds; that as ever the adventurous champion of reason would be either regarded as insane or inspired; that which is not comprehended is divine or ridiculous. However, through Marufa might come a suggestion for the tactics of campaign to gain the good-will of Bakahenzie or Zalu Zako and the attainment of his scientific object—as well as to give Bakuma the torches he had promised her. Whether I will or no, he reflected smiling in the dark, must I be either a magician or a fool. Fools get nowhere; witch-doctors do here as elsewhere. He saw that in order to influence these peoples or any others, he had perforce to work in terms of their own understanding, as the early Christian missionaries practised in their conversion of the Teutons, the Scandinavians and the Britons. A nucleus of a plan had been given by Mungongo’s impetuous suggestion. He decided to develop it. But through Marufa, who first of all must be impressed with the fact that Moonspirit was the greatest magician the world had ever seen. So therefore he called to the native within:“O Bakombi, put out the light.”And to Marufa:“O wise man,[pg 205]thunder has not always lightning. Behold! I am part of that which is and is not!”

“Clk!”

A click of astonishment was squeezed from Marufa by the chance mystic phrase which was interpreted by him as referring to the Unmentionable One.

Then taking out his metal box of vestas Birnier moistened one. As he rubbed around his eyes Marufa, who was expecting a miracle, observed the growing phosphorescence in stoical calm, while Mungongo, delighted at the long deferred proof of his boasts, grunted admiringly.

But when a glowing skeleton hand, which Birnier had prepared behind his back, hovered over the old wizard’s head, he grunted and made a slight convulsive movement.

“Have no fear, O my friend,”came Birnier’s voice,“the spirit loves my friends and destroys my enemies.”

That belly grunt had registered the degree of impression that Birnier sought. So he lighted the lamp, bade the excited Mungongo to bring out the phonograph, a machine adjusted with the recording cylinders as well as the reproduction, and after a successful demonstration of magic, discussed with Marufa a certain scheme to which the old wizard, quick to see the possibilities, afforded many invaluable suggestions.

[pg 206]Chapter 19When Zalu Zako was notified of the verdict of the Council and the words of Tarum the sense of the inevitable returned, extinguishing the spark of rebellion that had been kindled by his passion for Bakuma. To Bakahenzie, or to the wizards separately, or collectively, he had had the strength to voice his own desires, but to the veritable voice of Tarum was no resistance dared. He was bidden to preside by right and precedent at the anointing of the warriors. He did not make any feint at refusal, for his will was crushed, as it had been weeks before by the doom of godhood and celibacy.Beyond the fact that Bakuma would soon be forbidden to him for ever, he did not think; desire was strangled. Even the recollection that Bakahenzie had stated that Moonspirit had taken her gave him no reaction. To him as to his brethren, while in physical love is bound up the control of the universe, because it is vaguely apprehended as a creative force, it is of no importance to the individual lover unless he be guilty of breaking the sexual tabu: if the girl is not a consenting party to the illicit union then she is free; if she is, then it is death to both of them, for as every one knows, such criminal action endangers the balance of the burden of the world upon the shoulders of the King-God. Thus it was that the words of Bakahenzie had produced no reaction against Moonspirit in the[pg 207]mind of Zalu Zako; indeed, if the words were true and he could yet obtain Bakuma, she might have a son by the white which would obviously bring the marvellous power of white magic to his successor, the next King-God; and possibly, had mused Zalu Zako, dimly straining at such a radical thought against the influence of the priesthood, make the king more powerful a magician than the witch-doctors themselves.But he obeyed the mandate and took his place as bidden. Bakahenzie had caused preparation to be begun immediately for the ceremony of making enchantment against the spirits of the night. In the circle of cleared ground, where sat the temporary Council of Elders, big fires were lighted as the dark wall of the forest drew in upon them. Bakahenzie squatted before a big calabash, specially reserved and enchanted for the making of magic, in which a mess of certain herbs whose spirits were violent haters of the demons of all trees, rocks and streams, were to be released from the vegetable bondage by stewing that they might be distributed among the warriors for the night assault. These warriors, some fifty chosen from the followers of Bakahenzie and Marufa, sat on their hams within the circle of fires, uneasily casting glances behind them at the deepening sepia, from whence arose the nocturnal chant of the spirits of the forest. In order to insure no interference from malign animals, Bakahenzie caused to be brought a pure white goat whose throat was cut and bled into the cauldron; for as any one knows, that soul which is white must necessarily fight well against anything that be black. Yet in spite of this potent magic the warriors grew unquiet; they felt, rather than thought,[pg 208]that if the magic of their witch-doctors had failed against one white why should it succeed against another like unto him? And their faith thus weakened, doubts regarding the efficacy of the same magic against spirits of the forest bred as mosquitoes after rain.Bakahenzie remarked the uneasiness, but the stronger grew his need to restore the waning confidence in his powers by removing the white; the blood desire had now been transferred from Bakuma to Moonspirit as the most effective demonstration possible to him.The fires smouldered and flickered yellow tongues upon the greens of the warriors’ bodies and the blues of the wizards’ head-dresses. Faint blue vapour swirled around the scarlet feather above Bakahenzie’s graven face as he muttered incantations and stirred the cauldron. Then as the drums throbbed and the warriors grunted rhythmically to Bakahenzie’s song of enchantment came a squawk as of a parrot. The chant ceased. Branches rustled. Every head quirked automatically towards the sound. Came a low belly grunt of terror as if an invisible hand had punched them in their solarplexus.Just in the shadow line where the glow of the fires faintly tinted and greened the curves of his bronze body against the sepia of his feathers, appeared the figure of Marufa, his spear lifted on high as he cried out in a loud voice:“Greetings, O people of the Banana, I bring you tidings of him who is and is not, of him who was lost and yet is come. ‘Behold, I show you a sign!’”Against the gloom his left arm and hand glowed with a strange light. An unanimous“Ehh!”rose from the assembled warriors and wizards alike.[pg 209]“Raise your ears!”continued Marufa,“that the Voice may speak unto you!”In the silence came a subdued click and commenced a high-pitched voice in the dialect:“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!Aie! Aie! I am the Banana from whom I was made!”Whites of eyes glimmered like butterflies in starlight. Nothing was visible. The voice appeared to rise from every direction. The new miracle petrified the limbs of all.“Aie! Aie! My soul is defiled and my children enslaved!Aie! Aie! My face hath been scratched by an alien claw!Aie! Aie! I send you the revenge which is white!Aie! Aie! I send you the One who is bidden!Aie! Aie! Let that One arise who is I!Aie! Aie! The mighty One who will blot out the curse!Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the Father of Men!Aie! Aie! I, Tarum; the soul of your Ancestors!”A faint whirr as of wings was drowned in the automatic grunt of acceptance squeezed from all the warriors and the wizards by the sacred chant, except those of the inner circle. In dread sat the warriors of the terrible magic of their doctors which they had once doubted. But the minds of Bakahenzie, Yabolo, and the other two master craftsmen were stunned. The[pg 210]phenomenon of the glowing hand had they never seen before, but they recollected the stones of Mungongo. Even was Sakamata, sophisticated to the wonders of Eyes-in-the-hands, impressed and bewildered. Dormant awe for the Unmentionable One was awakened in every one of them. Zalu Zako felt that his doom was upon him; that the Unmentionable One was about to call him to his duty, which invoked fear for the sacrilege he had committed in entertaining such radical thoughts in the immediate past. But in Bakahenzie was a streak of suspicion; how was it that Marufa was thus chosen as the divine messenger? Yet perhaps the veritable god was, or gods were, speaking! Doubt held him silent.“O my brethren, would ye that we seek the voice of the Unmentionable One?”cried Marufa.“Ough! Ough!”grunted the wizards.Marufa stalked slowly to the nearest fire, muttering a spell. From his loin cloth he took the three digital bones of an enemy and proceeded to discover the whereabouts by geomancy. And behold! the fingers pointed in one direction which all could see. Oblivious to the tight indifference of Bakahenzie the old man rose and began to gyrate, mumbling incantations, towards a thicket of grass on the fringe of the undergrowth, holding aloft the magic bones in the glowing hand. Anxiously the assembly watched the skinny figure, half bent, glide out from the glow of the fires into the blue shadows. A small log collapsed, throwing a red gleam upon the form poised upright before the clump of grass as Marufa cried out:“Let him who-may-not-be-mentioned speak that his children may hear!”[pg 211]Immediately commenced a high voice chanting:“Take up, O Marufa, the wise, the pod of my soul!”Then in the sight of every man Marufa bent upon his knees, muttering, and arose unharmed. Save for the slow turn of each head the better to follow the progress of the magician no limb nor muscle moved as in silence Marufa bore the like of which had never before been seen; a thing like unto a stone, having an ear almost as large and as erect as an angry elephant, the colour of a lion yet hairless.“The pod of the soul”Marufa placed within the circle of the fires so that all should see. More incantations did Marufa make, sitting fearlessly; he caressed it as a young man caresses a maid and came forth again the voice of Tarum:“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!He shall eat up your enemies as a lion eateth buck.He shall make your dead to be seen and your phantoms to talk!He shall give to your women to have sons of your breed!He shall give you that which was slain on the hill!He that walks in a flame in the night!He that is whiter than the flesh of the baobab!He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!He shall come forth bearing that which is yours!Hear me, my people, and give voice to my word!”[pg 212]“Ough! Ough!”came the chorus of assent.Not a limb nor a hand moved among the concourse of warriors and wizards until a new voice, deep, as one who commands, cried out:“Let the son of Kawa Kendi, the son of MFunya MPopo, the son of MKoffo, move not; neither he nor Marufa, the son of MTungo! Unto ye others we say unto you, depart that we speak in peace with this our son and priest!”And simultaneously appeared in the gloom of the undergrowth three pairs of eyes as luminous as the glowworm, vaster than any human; and beside the souls of the dead King-Gods were terrible hands. Warriors and wizards, all save Bakahenzie and Zalu Zako, literally leaped for the forest and village in one convulsive bound and grunt. Zalu Zako had remained upon the ground, green with terror. Bakahenzie stood upright, his scarlet feather fluorescent in the fire-glow. The anthem of the forest was only broken by the rustle of branches and the breathing of Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie. A harsh voice cried:“Begone, Bakahenzie, son of a dog! Lest we take thy soul to be with us!”The eyes appeared to float nearer; hands pointed menacingly. Bakahenzie boggled; hesitated; then the dignity of his pose melted into the graceful bounds of a fleeing leopard. Even for the professional ghost manipulator, such a phenomenon of the spirits, with whom he was supposed to be on familiar terms, was demoralizing. But half-way through a thicket of undergrowth, where he could no longer see the horrific eyes, his courage began to return.To his ears came a new voice chanting:[pg 213]“Sweeter than warm honey is the scent of my man!Fiercer than scorpions is the grip of his hand!Whiter than a spear flash is the gleam of his teeth!Smoother than river stone is the feel of his chest!Bakuma rejoices!”Peering through the interstices Bakahenzie could see the gleam of the fire upon the bangles of the Son-of-the-Snake and the blue flash upon his spear as he melted into the forest wall.

When Zalu Zako was notified of the verdict of the Council and the words of Tarum the sense of the inevitable returned, extinguishing the spark of rebellion that had been kindled by his passion for Bakuma. To Bakahenzie, or to the wizards separately, or collectively, he had had the strength to voice his own desires, but to the veritable voice of Tarum was no resistance dared. He was bidden to preside by right and precedent at the anointing of the warriors. He did not make any feint at refusal, for his will was crushed, as it had been weeks before by the doom of godhood and celibacy.

Beyond the fact that Bakuma would soon be forbidden to him for ever, he did not think; desire was strangled. Even the recollection that Bakahenzie had stated that Moonspirit had taken her gave him no reaction. To him as to his brethren, while in physical love is bound up the control of the universe, because it is vaguely apprehended as a creative force, it is of no importance to the individual lover unless he be guilty of breaking the sexual tabu: if the girl is not a consenting party to the illicit union then she is free; if she is, then it is death to both of them, for as every one knows, such criminal action endangers the balance of the burden of the world upon the shoulders of the King-God. Thus it was that the words of Bakahenzie had produced no reaction against Moonspirit in the[pg 207]mind of Zalu Zako; indeed, if the words were true and he could yet obtain Bakuma, she might have a son by the white which would obviously bring the marvellous power of white magic to his successor, the next King-God; and possibly, had mused Zalu Zako, dimly straining at such a radical thought against the influence of the priesthood, make the king more powerful a magician than the witch-doctors themselves.

But he obeyed the mandate and took his place as bidden. Bakahenzie had caused preparation to be begun immediately for the ceremony of making enchantment against the spirits of the night. In the circle of cleared ground, where sat the temporary Council of Elders, big fires were lighted as the dark wall of the forest drew in upon them. Bakahenzie squatted before a big calabash, specially reserved and enchanted for the making of magic, in which a mess of certain herbs whose spirits were violent haters of the demons of all trees, rocks and streams, were to be released from the vegetable bondage by stewing that they might be distributed among the warriors for the night assault. These warriors, some fifty chosen from the followers of Bakahenzie and Marufa, sat on their hams within the circle of fires, uneasily casting glances behind them at the deepening sepia, from whence arose the nocturnal chant of the spirits of the forest. In order to insure no interference from malign animals, Bakahenzie caused to be brought a pure white goat whose throat was cut and bled into the cauldron; for as any one knows, that soul which is white must necessarily fight well against anything that be black. Yet in spite of this potent magic the warriors grew unquiet; they felt, rather than thought,[pg 208]that if the magic of their witch-doctors had failed against one white why should it succeed against another like unto him? And their faith thus weakened, doubts regarding the efficacy of the same magic against spirits of the forest bred as mosquitoes after rain.

Bakahenzie remarked the uneasiness, but the stronger grew his need to restore the waning confidence in his powers by removing the white; the blood desire had now been transferred from Bakuma to Moonspirit as the most effective demonstration possible to him.

The fires smouldered and flickered yellow tongues upon the greens of the warriors’ bodies and the blues of the wizards’ head-dresses. Faint blue vapour swirled around the scarlet feather above Bakahenzie’s graven face as he muttered incantations and stirred the cauldron. Then as the drums throbbed and the warriors grunted rhythmically to Bakahenzie’s song of enchantment came a squawk as of a parrot. The chant ceased. Branches rustled. Every head quirked automatically towards the sound. Came a low belly grunt of terror as if an invisible hand had punched them in their solarplexus.

Just in the shadow line where the glow of the fires faintly tinted and greened the curves of his bronze body against the sepia of his feathers, appeared the figure of Marufa, his spear lifted on high as he cried out in a loud voice:

“Greetings, O people of the Banana, I bring you tidings of him who is and is not, of him who was lost and yet is come. ‘Behold, I show you a sign!’”

Against the gloom his left arm and hand glowed with a strange light. An unanimous“Ehh!”rose from the assembled warriors and wizards alike.

“Raise your ears!”continued Marufa,“that the Voice may speak unto you!”

In the silence came a subdued click and commenced a high-pitched voice in the dialect:

“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!Aie! Aie! I am the Banana from whom I was made!”

“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!

Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!

Aie! Aie! I am the Banana from whom I was made!”

Whites of eyes glimmered like butterflies in starlight. Nothing was visible. The voice appeared to rise from every direction. The new miracle petrified the limbs of all.

“Aie! Aie! My soul is defiled and my children enslaved!Aie! Aie! My face hath been scratched by an alien claw!Aie! Aie! I send you the revenge which is white!Aie! Aie! I send you the One who is bidden!Aie! Aie! Let that One arise who is I!Aie! Aie! The mighty One who will blot out the curse!Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the Father of Men!Aie! Aie! I, Tarum; the soul of your Ancestors!”

“Aie! Aie! My soul is defiled and my children enslaved!

Aie! Aie! My face hath been scratched by an alien claw!

Aie! Aie! I send you the revenge which is white!

Aie! Aie! I send you the One who is bidden!

Aie! Aie! Let that One arise who is I!

Aie! Aie! The mighty One who will blot out the curse!

Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the Father of Men!

Aie! Aie! I, Tarum; the soul of your Ancestors!”

A faint whirr as of wings was drowned in the automatic grunt of acceptance squeezed from all the warriors and the wizards by the sacred chant, except those of the inner circle. In dread sat the warriors of the terrible magic of their doctors which they had once doubted. But the minds of Bakahenzie, Yabolo, and the other two master craftsmen were stunned. The[pg 210]phenomenon of the glowing hand had they never seen before, but they recollected the stones of Mungongo. Even was Sakamata, sophisticated to the wonders of Eyes-in-the-hands, impressed and bewildered. Dormant awe for the Unmentionable One was awakened in every one of them. Zalu Zako felt that his doom was upon him; that the Unmentionable One was about to call him to his duty, which invoked fear for the sacrilege he had committed in entertaining such radical thoughts in the immediate past. But in Bakahenzie was a streak of suspicion; how was it that Marufa was thus chosen as the divine messenger? Yet perhaps the veritable god was, or gods were, speaking! Doubt held him silent.

“O my brethren, would ye that we seek the voice of the Unmentionable One?”cried Marufa.

“Ough! Ough!”grunted the wizards.

Marufa stalked slowly to the nearest fire, muttering a spell. From his loin cloth he took the three digital bones of an enemy and proceeded to discover the whereabouts by geomancy. And behold! the fingers pointed in one direction which all could see. Oblivious to the tight indifference of Bakahenzie the old man rose and began to gyrate, mumbling incantations, towards a thicket of grass on the fringe of the undergrowth, holding aloft the magic bones in the glowing hand. Anxiously the assembly watched the skinny figure, half bent, glide out from the glow of the fires into the blue shadows. A small log collapsed, throwing a red gleam upon the form poised upright before the clump of grass as Marufa cried out:

“Let him who-may-not-be-mentioned speak that his children may hear!”

Immediately commenced a high voice chanting:

“Take up, O Marufa, the wise, the pod of my soul!”

Then in the sight of every man Marufa bent upon his knees, muttering, and arose unharmed. Save for the slow turn of each head the better to follow the progress of the magician no limb nor muscle moved as in silence Marufa bore the like of which had never before been seen; a thing like unto a stone, having an ear almost as large and as erect as an angry elephant, the colour of a lion yet hairless.“The pod of the soul”Marufa placed within the circle of the fires so that all should see. More incantations did Marufa make, sitting fearlessly; he caressed it as a young man caresses a maid and came forth again the voice of Tarum:

“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!He shall eat up your enemies as a lion eateth buck.He shall make your dead to be seen and your phantoms to talk!He shall give to your women to have sons of your breed!He shall give you that which was slain on the hill!He that walks in a flame in the night!He that is whiter than the flesh of the baobab!He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!He shall come forth bearing that which is yours!Hear me, my people, and give voice to my word!”

“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!

He shall eat up your enemies as a lion eateth buck.

He shall make your dead to be seen and your phantoms to talk!

He shall give to your women to have sons of your breed!

He shall give you that which was slain on the hill!

He that walks in a flame in the night!

He that is whiter than the flesh of the baobab!

He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!

He shall come forth bearing that which is yours!

Hear me, my people, and give voice to my word!”

“Ough! Ough!”came the chorus of assent.

Not a limb nor a hand moved among the concourse of warriors and wizards until a new voice, deep, as one who commands, cried out:

“Let the son of Kawa Kendi, the son of MFunya MPopo, the son of MKoffo, move not; neither he nor Marufa, the son of MTungo! Unto ye others we say unto you, depart that we speak in peace with this our son and priest!”

And simultaneously appeared in the gloom of the undergrowth three pairs of eyes as luminous as the glowworm, vaster than any human; and beside the souls of the dead King-Gods were terrible hands. Warriors and wizards, all save Bakahenzie and Zalu Zako, literally leaped for the forest and village in one convulsive bound and grunt. Zalu Zako had remained upon the ground, green with terror. Bakahenzie stood upright, his scarlet feather fluorescent in the fire-glow. The anthem of the forest was only broken by the rustle of branches and the breathing of Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie. A harsh voice cried:

“Begone, Bakahenzie, son of a dog! Lest we take thy soul to be with us!”

The eyes appeared to float nearer; hands pointed menacingly. Bakahenzie boggled; hesitated; then the dignity of his pose melted into the graceful bounds of a fleeing leopard. Even for the professional ghost manipulator, such a phenomenon of the spirits, with whom he was supposed to be on familiar terms, was demoralizing. But half-way through a thicket of undergrowth, where he could no longer see the horrific eyes, his courage began to return.

To his ears came a new voice chanting:

“Sweeter than warm honey is the scent of my man!Fiercer than scorpions is the grip of his hand!Whiter than a spear flash is the gleam of his teeth!Smoother than river stone is the feel of his chest!Bakuma rejoices!”

“Sweeter than warm honey is the scent of my man!

Fiercer than scorpions is the grip of his hand!

Whiter than a spear flash is the gleam of his teeth!

Smoother than river stone is the feel of his chest!

Bakuma rejoices!”

Peering through the interstices Bakahenzie could see the gleam of the fire upon the bangles of the Son-of-the-Snake and the blue flash upon his spear as he melted into the forest wall.

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