While in prison under accusation of being a believer in the religion of the white man, he had debated much with himself as to what was his duty in the present distress. Was he bound to confess Christ and take the consequence—which, of course, he knew to be death? To deny Him was out of the question. He at once dismissed that idea as untenable. But was there no other mode of escape? Did not the Word itself advise that when persecuted in one city he was not only entitled but advised to escape to another? “But how am I to escape? Oh God, guide me!” he cried, lifting his clasped hands as he converted the question into a prayer.
The rattling of his chains seemed to bid him dismiss all hope, but he did not lose faith. He continued to pray and meditate. And the longer he meditated the more anxiously did he long to be back in the cave beside his Reni—his humble-minded loving little mother—and beside—yes, he made no attempt to conceal it from himself—beside the beautiful queen-like sister of Laihova. The more he meditated, however, the more hopeless did his case seem to become. To lie he would not—not even to gain Ramatoa. To die he would rather not! To escape he could not!
At last he hit upon an idea. He would refuse to answer. He would take refuge in absolute silence!
As might have been expected, this course of policy did not avail him much. When it was found that he would not say whether he was a Christian or not, it was resolved that the matter should be settled by an appeal to the ordeal of the Tangena.
This used to be a common and much-practised ordeal in Madagascar in days but recently past. It consisted in the administration of poison. Other ordeals existed in the island—such as passing a red-hot iron over the tongue, or plunging the naked arm into a large pot of boiling water and picking out a pebble thrown therein for the purpose of trial. Alas for both innocent and guilty subjected to either trial! But the ordeal most universally in favour was that of the Tangena.
The Tangena is in fact a poisonous nut about the size of a chestnut which derives its name from the tree that bears it. If taken in small doses it acts as an emetic; if in large doses it kills. Many pages would be required to give a full and particular account of all the Malagasy superstitions connected with the ordeal. Let it suffice to say, roughly, that previous to the poison being administered the accused person is obliged to swallow whole, or rather bolt, three pieces of the skin of a fowl, about the size of a dollar. Then the decoction of Tangena in rice-water is administered. If given strong it kills, and the unfortunate is held to have been guilty. If not too strong, and the sufferer be able to bear it, vomiting is the result, and the three pieces of skin are eagerly looked for. The finding of the pieces proves the accused to be innocent. The not finding of them proves him guilty, and at once, if he be a free man, he is killed, if a slave he is sold, and got rid of in some distant market. There was a very complex system of combined profit and superstition surrounding the whole affair which it is difficult as well as useless thoroughly to understand, but which it is easy to see afforded clever scoundrels the means of persecuting, defrauding, or killing any whom they chanced to dislike, or who stood in their way. Of course it was very easy to make the potion strong enough to kill, or to dilute it with rice-water until it became almost harmless.
Now, when Mark Breezy heard that Mamba was condemned to swallow the Tangena he went straight to his friend Rakota.
“Prince Rakota,” he said, earnestly, “if your expressions of gratitude to me are sincere you will save the life of this man.”
“I will try,” returned the Prince, “but the Queen is very angry just now!”
When the Prince pleaded for the man’s life Ranavalona asked of what he was accused.