“Such was, and may be still, the town of Mtakatifuni, as I shall call it. Do you know Ki-Swahili?”
I shook my head.
“Then the name will do, and not spoil my tale. Let me but tell you how I came to be there and I will make haste about it. I was exploring. Ah, but once in all the years have I been able to explore! Usually we missionaries hurry from place to place on an unending round till the circle is as big as we can possibly manage. Then a new centre must be made, and it was because my Order had determined on a new centre that my opportunity came. The Vicar Apostolic was doubtful as to the direction in which we should expand. He sent me, therefore, west beyond Mweru to see what could be seen, and another farther south on the same errand. The folk were few about Mweru, but I heard a rumour of Mtakatifuni, much exaggerated, and set out to find it. Foolishly I went west until supplies were so low that it would have been fatal to turn back over the bare mountains by which we had come, and our only hope lay in pushing on. And so I reached my hidden town, stayed a while, and returned another way, to find that the other explorer had a report to make of more peopled and easier lands which found greater favour with his lordship. And rightly. When labourers are so few and the field is so big, it is necessary to settle where the work offers most prospect of large returns. So was I permitted to see, but not to enter in.”
He leant forward to knock out his pipe, blew down it, refused more tobacco, and re-settled himself. “Ah, well,” he said philosophically, “le Bon Dieu knows best. I do not believe He has forgotten Mtakatifuni.
“Where was I? Oh yes, I remember. We saw the place then, in the evening, and next morning journeyed early towards it. You must understand that we were spent. I cannot recall better water than that at the source of that little river, and the roasted mealies they gave us, and sour milk, how good it all was! The chief had sent word that we were to be fed and given an empty house, and after I had eaten I went to see and thank him. I put on my cassock and with it my beads about my waist, and I carried my breviary in my hand, for I thought he might keep me waiting in the native fashion and that I could say my office in the meantime.
“But he received me at once. The ground rose a little and was built up too before his group of huts, terraced roughly and faced with stone, with steps at one end. A big block of stone stood near the edge of it, so that standing behind one looked east over the town to the mountains, and it was there, after a little, that I offered the Holy Sacrifice each remaining day of my stay. There was little linen in the place, and he stood to greet me at the top of the steps, clad in prepared skins, a youngish man and a fine figure of a savage king. He gave me later the twisted iron spear of state that he carried that day. It hangs in our church of the Holy Cross now, behind the altar of the Sacred Heart. Surely the Good God will not forget Mtakatifuni.
“Well, he greeted me courteously, with reserve, but with a suggestion of curious eagerness. I marked it at once. Not, however, till the usual questions as to my journeys and so on were over, did I get a clue to the cause of it. But then, when we were seated on stools by the great stone I have mentioned, big clay beakers of thin, delicious light beer beside us, he put a question. ‘Why have you been so long a time coming, my father?’ he asked. ‘A little later and you would have been too late.’
“I was slightly puzzled, but I supposed he referred to the length of my journey. ‘The way was long and rough, chief,’ said I.
“‘But why were you so long in setting out?’ he persisted. ‘Mwezi has been expecting you for many years.’ He turned to an old councillor. ‘How many years has Mwezi been expecting the father?’
“‘Since the days of the Great One, the father of the King,’ said the old man. ‘Mwezi came first among us when I was a boy.’