“Then, Hiya, this is the word of the People of Lulala, that we will not serve under him in the battle, and this also is their word that we will not go up against Rezu. That thou art mighty we know well, Hiya, also that thou canst slay if thou wilt, but we know also that Rezu is mightier and that against him thou hast no power. Therefore kill us if thou dost so desire, until thy heart is satisfied with death. For it is better that we should perish thus than upon the altar of sacrifice wearing the red-hot crowns of Rezu.”
“So say we all,” exclaimed the rest of the company when he had finished.
“The thought comes to me to begin to satisfy my heart with thy coward blood and that of thy companions,” said Ayesha contemptuously. Then she paused and turning to me, added, “O Watcher-by-Night, what counsel? Is there aught that will convince these chicken-hearted ones over whom I have spread my feathers for so long?”
I shook my head blankly, whereat they murmured together and made as though they would go.
Then it was that Hans, who understood something of Arabic as he did of most African tongues, pulled my sleeve and whispered in my ear.
“The Great Medicine, Baas! Show them Zikali’s Great Medicine.”
Here was an idea. The description of the article required, a “spirit-haunted shape of power” that spoke “both of the spirit and the body of man and yet of more than man,” was so vague that it might mean anything or nothing. And yet——
I turned to Ayesha and prayed her to ask them if what they wanted should be produced, whether they would follow me bravely and fight Rezu to the death. She did so and with one voice they replied,
“Aye, bravely and to the death, him and the Bearer of the Axe of whom also our legend tells.”
Then with deliberation I opened my shirt and holding out the image of Zikali as far as the chain of elephant hair would allow, I asked,