“Aye, thus shall it be done,” he assented reluctantly.
“It is agreed?” inquired Marufa.
“May my cord be lost!” swore MYalu, and gesturing to the slaves, hurried away.
A slight grin flecked the old man’s eyes as he turned into the hut.
“Already hath he drunken of her blood,” he mumbled. “Ya, Inkombana! take the tusk!”
When Marufa emerged, a head-dress of the tail feathers of the green parrot, professional uniform and potent specific against evil spirits, fluffed gently as he [pg 29] slowly stalked towards the council house. From the other side of a hut walked MYalu as if he had come from a different direction. In the open gate of the royal enclosure sat a muscular young man upon his haunches, tending the royal fire, which fed hungrily upon small faggots. Beyond him across the yellow glare upon the cleared ground beneath a thatched awning, stood an idol of wood, whose lopsided mouth snarled beneath a bridgeless nose; narrow slits for eyes squinted; baby arms stuck down beside triangular breasts above a melon belly having a protuberant navel like a small cucumber—the incarnation of the Snake-god, Usakuma.
Without the palisade of the sacred ground was a taller one, barring the doings of the council of witch-doctors and chiefs from the lay public, who were confined to their own huts under the penalty of a hideous death, or an enormous fine, as the witch-doctors should decide.
To the rear of the idol, cross-legged against the wall of the entrance to the conical hut, were the musicians beating a monotonous rhythm upon big and small drums and twanging a primitive lyre of five strings. Just as Marufa and MYalu took their respective places without among the wizards and the chiefs, a young goat skipped into the open and stared inquisitively at the Keeper of the Fires. As the man waved the animal back from the sacred ground, the goat lowered its head and threatened to charge, suddenly recollected its mate lying in the shade a few feet away, and began to bleat absent-mindedly.
Gravely and silently sat the assembly: continuously throbbed the drums. The sun beat diagonally. As a [pg 30] lizard darted like a flash of a prism from the grass palisade, the band ceased. A man emerged from behind the idol. Although the grey woolly tufts upon his chin, the sacred snake skin around his waist above the cat skin loin-cloth, the jingle of the ivory bangles on arms and ankles, and his stature, imparted an air of barbaric royalty, King MFunya MPopo advanced with the manner of a pariah dog ordered to his master’s side.
As the King approached, the Keeper of the Fires hastily threw on a handful of faggots and bowed his head. In the centre of the opening of the enclosure the King squatted down with his back to the fire which streamed blue smoke. Not a limb or a muscle moved among the group of wizards and chiefs in the council house. Attracted by the movement, the goat stopped bleating and stared at the King; then, putting down its head, charged him.