“Not so, Dogeetah. If the god dies, the Motombo dies. It is known from of old, and therefore the Motombo watches over the god as a mother over her child. Then, until a new god is found, the Mother of the Holy Flower rules, she who is merciful and will harm none, and I rule under her and will certainly put my enemies to death, especially that wizard Komba.”
Here I thought I heard a faint sound in the air like the hiss of a snake, but as it was not repeated and I could see nothing, concluded that I was mistaken.
“Moreover,” he went on, “I will load you with gold dust and any gifts you may desire, and set you safe across the water among your friends, the Mazitu.”
“Look here,” I broke in, “let us understand matters clearly, and, John, do you translate to Stephen. Now, friend Kalubi, first of all, who and what is this god you talk of?”
“Lord Macumazana, he is a huge ape white with age, or born white, I know not which. He is twice as big as any man, and stronger than twenty men, whom he can break in his hands, as I break a reed, or whose heads he can bite off in his mouth, as he bit off my finger for a warning. For that is how he treats the Kalubis when he wearies of them. First he bites off a finger and lets them go, and next he breaks them like a reed, as also he breaks those who are doomed to sacrifice before the fire.”
“Ah!” I said, “a great ape! I thought as much. Well, and how long has this brute been a god among you?”
“I do not know how long. From the beginning. He was always there, as the Motombo was always there, for they are one.”
“That’s a lie any way,” I said in English, then went on. “And who is this Mother of the Holy Flower? Is she also always there, and does she live in the same place as the ape god?”
“Not so, lord Macumazana. She dies like other mortals, and is succeeded by one who takes her place. Thus the present Mother is a white woman of your race, now of middle age. When she dies she will be succeeded by her daughter, who also is a white woman and very beautiful. After she dies another who is white will be found, perhaps one who is of black parents but born white.”
“How old is this daughter?” interrupted Brother John in a curiously intent voice, “and who is her father?”