Chapter 23
Upon the site of Birnier’s old camp in the forest was a high palisade built from tree to tree. Inside of the gate beside a small conical hut burned the sacred fires tended by Mungongo; before a green canvas tent stood the new idol, which differed from the original in having a better perspective and proportion of features and body, yet lacked the master touch of expression given by the subconscious fingers of the native artist.
Against the wall were stacked uniform cases to make a table, upon which were a hand-mirror and toilet articles; above a photograph of Lucille was pinned upon the canvas. Upon the camp bed, screened by a mosquito net, lay the new King-God, Moonspirit, the magic book in his hands.
“Kings, princes, monarchs, and magistrates seem to be most happy, but look into their estate; you shall find them to be most cumbered with cares, in perpetual fear, agony, suspicion, jealousy: that as he (Valer. i. 7, c. 3) saith of a crown, if they but knew the discontents that accompany it, they would not stoop to pick it up. Quem mihi regem dabis (saith Chrysostom) non curis plenum?”
The Incarnation of the Unmentionable One smiled, [pg 238] put down the book and glanced across at the photograph.
“And yet they still talk of the advantages of a monarchy!” he commented.
The original plan concocted with Marufa and Zalu Zako in the forest when making the new idol was that Birnier should become chief witch-doctor and Zalu Zako be anointed King-God, with Marufa as the power behind the throne. Although Zalu Zako desired to escape the yoke, his protest was enfeebled by the sense of fatality, and had been utterly squashed by the promise of Marufa, at Birnier’s suggestion, that the sex tabu would be lifted from the godhead. But the negligence of Marufa in allowing the white man to carry the idol, arranged with the idea of investing Moonspirit with greater prestige according to the prophecies already announced by Tarum, had permitted Bakahenzie to make his coup d’état—thrust the godhood upon the white and recover his own position.
Birnier in truth had little option of refusal as well as little time for reflection upon a situation the possibility of which had not occurred to him; for Marufa was completely out-manœuvred by his rival, and the certainty of escape from his doom offered by Bakahenzie revived the image of Bakuma in Zalu Zako and bought his partisanship instantly.
With Napoleonic swiftness to grasp the advantages gained Bakahenzie drove the lay chiefs from the sacred presence, which he surrounded by a bodyguard of the awed brethren; expelled the household from Zalu Zako’s compound and hustled the incarnation, bearing the new god, into holy isolation.
Bewildered by the rapidity of the moves Marufa and [pg 239] Zalu Zako were separated from Moonspirit. In the general confusion, not knowing exactly what was happening, Birnier complied with what he believed to be the regulations regarding gods. But when he perceived that he was about to be left alone he clutched Mungongo and refused to part with him. Bakahenzie, compelled to avoid any delay before consolidating his position, instantly shut up Mungongo in the same web by declaring him the Keeper of the Sacred Fires and so disposed of any agent outside the tabu or craft. As soon as this was accomplished and a dance to celebrate the lighting of the new fires commanded, the wily chief witch-doctor approached Marufa who, realizing that he was hopelessly outwitted, was only too eager to make the best terms possible.
Birnier had known that the King-God was never allowed to be seen by the populace except at the Harvest Festival, yet he accepted his isolation philosophically, lured by the expectation of the secrets he was about to learn, although his curiosity led sometimes to the vision of a god peeping through a fence.
While the drums summoning the council of chiefs and wizards were muttering through the moist air, to Birnier, squatting on the floor of Zalu Zako’s hut with Mungongo beside him, came Bakahenzie to instruct him in his rôle. To whet his curiosity still more he learned that from the moment of appearance in the gate of the sacred enclosure for the ceremony of the lighting of the royal fires, every movement of body and speech was regulated as rigidly as the etiquette of the Court of Spain. At a signal from the chief witch-doctor was the King-God to leave the hut and [pg 240] appear from behind the idol; with arms in a certain position was he to approach and squat at an exact spot. To Mungongo was given charge of the two fire sticks, newly consecrated.
As the chief witch-doctor retired the chanting began. Interested to know what was about to happen Birnier obeyed in the spirit of a game. So in the warm darkness they squatted, these two, listening to the chanting, cries and groans to the accompaniment of the drums and lyres and the perpetual twitter of the forest. At last came a violent howl from Bakahenzie which Mungongo declared was their cue.
Around the circle of the fence to avoid the eyes of the audience ran Mungongo to the temporary Place of Fires. Feeling as if he were once more playing in an amateur dramatic club, Birnier stalked with portentous dignity from the hut, past the idol, and took his seat upon the enchanted place. Without the palisade and within another squatted in correct order the lines of wizards and chiefs, Zalu Zako retaining, rather by prestige of his former holiness and indecision as to what his status really was, his position at their head.
Upon his haunches before a large calabash upon a fire Bakahenzie finished the mumbling of incantations over the sacred ingredients, and leaping to his feet began a wild dance to the throb of the drums and the diaphragmatic chorus of the assembled cult.… Swifter and swifter spun the chief witch-doctor. The glow of the fire tinted his whirling bronze body with flecks of green and red as he gyrated in and out of the shadows. Suddenly he threw a handful of herbs upon the fire which was immediately enveloped in a cloud of smoke, [pg 241] into which with a screech Bakahenzie disappeared.… The drums and grunting ceased. Then in the swirling column of blue appeared his figure holding something in his hands. To the wild outburst of drums and groans he sprang towards the King-God elect and anointed his breast and shoulders with a pungent compound, and leaped away into another dance, while Mungongo plied the two fire sticks. When the spark was blown upon the dry tinder and the first flame flickered Bakahenzie dropped flat before the gate as from the wizards went up the great shout:
“The fire is lighted!”
And from the mass of warriors and folk confined to their huts behind the outer palisade the phrase was echoed in a mighty wail, startling monkeys and parrots into as wild an acclamation of the new King-God.
Bakahenzie, rising to his haunches, began a chant in honour of the new King, a chant based upon the song composed by Marufa and repeated on the phonograph, but developing even stranger merits and attributes. Until the first glimmer of dawn through the forest roof squatted Birnier, as motionless as etiquette demanded, listening to the strange psalm of praise with avid interest and observation.
Suddenly, amid a furious clamour of the drums, Bakahenzie, Marufa, and one other of the inner cult of the five who had not deserted, led the body of the doctors in a rush into the sacred enclosure, seized upon the startled King and hustled him to the base of the idol where, yielding to the whispered instructions of Marufa, he took the idol once more upon his shoulders and guided by Bakahenzie, walked out of the gate and [pg 242] through the village to the yelling and screaming of the wizards, some of whom, according to precedent, ran about screeching and rattling hut doors, pulling thatches and howling ferociously in search of any sacrilegious peeper.
As he tramped on with his load Marufa yelled in his ear that he must carry the Burden of the World no matter what happened to him, for if he let the idol fall then would he be killed upon the spot to save the sky from falling too. Wondering what this meant and where he was going, the cut of thongs upon his legs surprised him into a halt. Immediately a terrific cry went up:
“The Bearer of the World stumbles! Aie! Aieeeeeeeee!”
Despite the furious flogging the intellectual interest in this strange conception distracted his mind from the pain of the blows; also his bare back was protected by the idol and his leggings and trousers deadened the lashes. A moment more he hesitated. But he was unarmed and had voluntarily taken on the adventure, so he would see it through. As he broke into a shuffling run, for the idol fortunately was lighter than the previous one and he was a more powerful man than Kawa Kendi, another howl of joy and relief echoed throughout the village.
So along the old forest trail he travelled as fast as he could, assisted slightly by wizards’ hands as he crawled over clumps of undergrowth. The intensity of the whipping had decreased as soon as they were out of the village but throughout an occasional vicious whack testified to the presence of some devout doctor. Thus it was that the white King-God came [pg 243] to his throne and sat in state upon his bed to smile at the reflections of a melancholic philosopher.
So far so good, reflected Birnier, although the enforced isolation and strict curtailment of his actions had already begun to be irksome; yet to attain so difficult a goal sacrifice must be borne, he argued philosophically.
The royal larder, he noticed with thankfulness, was kept well stocked. Every day appeared a slave who left just within the entrance chickens, bananas, milk and fresh water, and sometimes a young goat. All such provisions which he had happened to take into the forest with him and so had escaped MYalu’s marauding hands had been placed in his tent with other cases, as containing no man knew what mighty magic.
For three days he had been left utterly alone. Sounds of drums and chanting from the distant village had reached them on the still air, but what they were doing he could not discover. No layman was allowed to come near the sacred enclosure. While he strolled, taking a smoke and constitutional around and around his “pen,” as he put it, several of the lesser wizards appeared and stood at a distance from the gate to stare at him. When addressed they made no reply. On the second occasion he began to be irritated, but he kept his temper and went to cover in his tent, muttering: “Why the devil don’t they bring me some buns?”
On the fourth day patience began to fray. He had no notion of knowing how long this quarantine was going to last. He was on the point of going to find out, but Mungongo pleaded so earnestly that they would [pg 244] instantly be killed if they did, that he desisted. So Birnier retired to the tent to seek consolation from a record of Lucille’s voice.
Birnier attempted to cross-examine Mungongo to find out what was the object of this isolation, but beyond the fact that strangers were never permitted to behold the King-God, even lay natives, without special magic, which was only made once a year at the Harvest Festival, lest evil be made upon his person and so endanger the world, Mungongo did not know; merely, that so it was. What power over the head witch-doctor the King really had, Mungongo had no notion. The King-God was the most powerful magician known, asserted Mungongo. Did he not make rain and bear the world upon his shoulders? When Birnier unwisely denied this feat, Mungongo looked pained and began a remark, but balked before the name Moonspirit to ask the name of Birnier’s father.
At the mental image conjured up of a handsome white-haired planter and ex-owner of many slaves Birnier smiled, but he knew the tabu regarding the ban upon the names of the dead and that he, presumably, having ascended into the divine plane, was therefore classed with the departed. He recollected that the old man, who belonged to a cadet branch of a royalist family, had been called “le Marquis,” of which he was excessively proud. Birnier translated into the dialect the nearest possible rendition of the title: The Lord-of-many-Lands.
“The son of the Lord-of-many-Lands,” continued Mungongo satisfied, “doth but tickle the feet of his slave.”
On the fifth afternoon, while the god was engrossed in a cure for love madness which, he reflected, might be of service to zu Pfeiffer, came a voice without crying:
“The son of Maliko would speak with the Lord, the Bearer of the World!”
Birnier glanced across at the photograph of Lucille.
“Some job I’ve gotten!” he remarked as he rose. In the gate sat Bakahenzie. Birnier was conscious of an idiotic impulse to rush forward to greet him as an old and long lost friend. But remembering the dignity of his godhood he remained in the tent doorway, bidding the chief witch-doctor to advance.
Birnier retired backwards and sat beneath the net, for the mosquitoes were as thick as they are on the bayou Barataria. Mungongo, possibly to prove his erudition, sat upon one of the cases containing much magic, at which Bakahenzie from the floor in the doorway looked askance. Birnier was keenly anxious to know what was happening regarding the fortunes of the tribe, hoping that with the restoration of the Unmentionable One that they would return to their allegiance. According to etiquette he remained silent, waiting for Bakahenzie to open the conversation, until, realizing that he was a god and that the chief witch-doctor was doing the same thing, reflected swiftly and desiring to make an impression, repeated Bakahenzie’s mystic phrase which he had overheard whilst hiding in the jungle previous to the dénouement:
“That which is and must be, shall be!” Bakahenzie grunted his acknowledgment of the profundity of the statement. “He who would trap the leopard must needs dig the pit!” Another uncompromising silence [pg 246] urged Birnier to force the pace a little: “O son of Maliko, what say the omens and the signs of the evil one, Eyes-in-the-hands?”
“When shall the Unmentionable One return unto the Place of Kings?” demanded Bakahenzie.
“The Holy One returneth not unto the place appointed until that which defileth is removed,” retorted Birnier.
Bakahenzie took snuff and appeared to consider. Then he glanced around the tent as if in search of something.
“When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?”
Mungongo looked expectant and stood up. But Birnier ignored him.
“The fruit doth not fall until it be ripe. He would know what hath been done by his slaves for the baiting of the pit for the unclean one.”
“Would the magician that cometh from the sea make pretence that an elephant is a mouse?” inquired Bakahenzie.
For a moment Birnier was perplexed; then he realized that the chief witch-doctor inferred that he, as King-God, mocked his priest by pretending that he did not know all things.
“Doth the chief witch-doctor make magic for the curing of the scratch of a girl of the hut thatch?” he retorted. “Lest thy heart wither like unto a fallen leaf, know then that the soul of Tarum hath made words for the return of the Unmentionable One to the Place of Kings, but that his children may not be as the dogs of the village who are driven, he wills that you prepare the pit for the trapping of the defiled [pg 247] one.” Bakahenzie’s eyes stolidly regarded the tent wall. “O son of Maliko, hast thou sent forth the sound of the drum throughout the land that the children may know of the Coming?”
“When will the voice of Tarum speak through the pod of the soul?” demanded Bakahenzie insistently.
Birnier sat motionless in the native manner. Irritated by this childish tenacity to apparently a fixed idea, he yielded to an impulse which was almost a weakness.
“O son of Maliko,” said he, “thou art a mighty magician!” Bakahenzie grunted modest assent. “Even as I am.” Another grunt. “Give unto me thine ears and thine eyes that I may reveal unto thee that which is known to the mightiest of magicians.” Commanding the delighted Mungongo to bring out the phonograph, he continued: “Thou hast heard of the mighty doings of the unclean devourer of men, Eyes-in-the-hands. I have magic the like of which man hath never seen. Is it not so?”
“Ough!”
“Yet will the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands make thee to see that which is, is not!”
“That which is, is not,” repeated Bakahenzie, whose professional mind was pleased with the phrase.
In the desire to explain rationally the mystery of a phonograph and despairing of any attempt to describe the laws of vibration, Birnier sought for a likely simile. Encouraged by the almost imperceptible fact that he had awakened Bakahenzie’s visible interest, he plunged on: “Within this piece of tree is there nought but many pieces of iron such as thy spears are made of. Thou knowest that there are [pg 248] places by the river and in the rocks where a man may speak and that his words will be returned to him. Is it not so?”
“They are white words, O son of the Lord-of-many-Lands!” returned Bakahenzie. “For the spirits of the river and the rocks mock the voices of those who have not eaten of the Sacred Banana” (the uninitiated).
“But they mock thy voice as well,” protested Birnier.
“Are there not goats in ghostland who bleat at the wizard and the peasant?”
“By the Lord!” murmured Birnier, although the mask of his face did not change. “Ghostland is full of goats if one were to credit some of the most modern witch-doctors! Still demonstration …
“Thou seest, fellow magician,” he continued, “the pod of the soul of mighty Tarum, his ear like unto an elephant, his colour like unto a lion!” Birnier got out of the mosquito net and knelt beside the phonograph in front of Bakahenzie. Taking off the trumpet and cylinder carrier he opened up the inside, revealing the clockwork motor, wound it up, stopped it and released it. “Thine eyes see that my words are white. These things are but as pieces of metal of thy spears. Is it not so?”
“Ough!”
Birnier closed the machine, adjusted the trumpet and put on the cylinder of Marufa’s record.
“Aie! Aiee! I am the spirit of Kintu!
Aie! Aiee! I am he who first was!”
chanted the machine.
Birnier, noticing that the desired astonishment was [pg 249] registered by an almost impalpable start, stopped the machine and changed the record.
“Rejoice, O my children, for he that is bidden shall come!
Rejoice, O ye warriors, for he that shall lead you shall come!
Rejoice, O ye wizards, for he that is greater than ye shall come!
Rejoice, O ye women, for he that fertilizes shall come!”
Birnier allowed the machine to run through the chant until the end:
“He shall come forth bearing that which ye seek!
Hear ye, my people, and give voice to my word!”
The machine whirred and stopped. Birnier turned to Bakahenzie.
“Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that my words are white?”
“Ough!” assented Bakahenzie.
“Thou hast seen, O my brother magician, that at the will of my finger upon that which is made but of spear-heads that the voice of Tarum hath spoken, the voice which is but the mocking voice of Marufa amid the trees of the forest?”
“Ough!”
“Dost thou not know that he who knows the ways of rocks, who can make pieces of spear into that which will say and do that which he wills, is a greater magician than he who must needs go unto the rocks to be mocked?”
“Thou art the greatest of magicians, O son of the [pg 250] Lord-of-many-Lands,” responded Bakahenzie in a burst of eloquence. “For thou hast entrapped the spirits of rocks and spears to do thy bidding.”
“O God!” sighed the professor, “what is the use of language?”