Wallace Edgar
Bosambo of the River
"Lord king," said Ussuf, "this is a very great honour, and I am too mean and small a man to serve you. Yet it is true I know the ways of foreign people, and I am wise in the government of men."
"This also I say to you," the king went on slowly, "that I do not fear men or devils, yet I fear 'They,' because of their terrible cruelty. Now if you will serve me, so that I avert the wrath of these, you shall sit down here in peace and happiness."
Thus it came about that Ussuf, the Arab, became Prime Minister to the King of Akarti, and two days after his arrival the new witch-doctor was put away with promptitude and dispatch by a king who had no further use for him.
All the news that came from the territories to Sanders was that the country was being ruled with some wisdom. The fear of "They" was an ever-present fear with the king. The long evenings he sat with his Arab counsellor, thinking of that mysterious force which lay beyond the saw-back.
"I tell you this, Ussuf," he said, "that my heart is like water within me when I think of 'They,' for it is a terrible devil, and I make sacrifices at every new moon to appease its anger."
"Lord king," said Ussuf, "I am skilled in the way of 'They,' and I tell you that they do not love sacrifices."
The king shifted on his stool irritably.
"That is strange," he said, "for the gods told me in a dream that I must sacrifice Lapai."
He shot a swift glance at the Arab, for this Ussuf was the only man in the city who did not deal scornfully with the lonely, outcast woman, whose every day was a hell.
It was the king's order that she should walk through the city twice between sunrise and sunset, and it was the king's pleasure that every man she met should execrate her; and although the native memory is short, and the recollection of the tragedy had died, men feared the king too much to allow her to pass without a formal curse.
Ussuf alone had walked with her, and men had gasped to see the kindly Arabi at her side.
"You may have this woman," said the king suddenly, "and take her into your house."
The Arab turned his calm eyes upon the wizened face of the other.
"Lord," he said, "she is not of my faith, being an unbeliever and an infidel, and, according to my gods, unworthy."
He was wise to the danger his undiplomatic friendship had brought him. He knew the reigns of Prime Ministers were invariably short.
He had become less indispensable than he had been, for the king had regained some of his lost confidence in the loyalty of his people; moreover, he had aroused suspicion in the Akartis' mind, and that was fatal.
The king dismissed him, and Ussuf went back to his hut, where his six Arab followers were.
"Ahmed," he said to one of these, "it is written in the blessed Word that the life of man is very short. Now I particularly desire that it shall be no shorter than the days our God has given to me. Be prepared to-morrow, therefore, to leave this city, for I see an end to my power."
He rose early in the morning, and went to the palaver which began the day. He was not perturbed to discover the seat usually reserved on the right of the king occupied by a lesser chief, and his own stool placed four seats down on the left.
"I have spoken with my wise counsellors," said the king, "also with witch-doctors, and these wise men have seen that the crops are bad, and that there is no fortune in this land, and because of this we will make a great sacrifice."
Ussuf bowed his head.
"Now, I think," said King N'raki slowly, "because I love my people very dearly, and I will not take any young maidens, as is the custom, for the fire, and for the killing, that it would be good for all people if I took the woman Lapai."
All eyes were fixed on Ussuf. His face was calm and motionless.
"Also," the king went on, "I hear terrible things, which fill my stomach with sorrow."
"Lord, I hear many things also," said Ussuf calmly; "but I am neither sorry nor glad, for such stories belong to the women at their cooking-pots and to men who are mad because of sickness."
N'raki made a little face.
"Women or madmen," he said shortly, "they say that you are under the spell of this woman, and that you are plotting against this land, and have also sent secret messengers to 'They,' and that you will bring great armies against my warriors, eating up my country as Sandi ate up the Akasava and the lands of the Great King."
Ussuf said nothing. He would not deny this for many reasons.
"When the moon comes up," said the king, and he addressed the assembly generally, "you shall tie Lapai to a stake before my royal house, and all the young maidens shall dance and sing songs, for good fortune will come to us, as it came in the days of my father, when a bad woman died."
Ussuf made no secret of his movements that day. First he went to his hut at the far end of the village, and spoke to the six Arabs who had come with him into the kingdom.
To the headman he said:
"Ahmed, this is a time when death is very near us all, be ready at moonrise to die, if needs be. But since life is precious to us all, be at the little plantation at the edge of the city at sunset, as soon as darkness falls and the people come in to sacrifice."
He left them and walked through the broad, palm-fringed street of the Akarti city till he came to the lonely hut, where the outcast woman dwelt. It was such a hut as the people of Akarti built for those who are about to die, so that no dwelling-place might be polluted with the mustiness of death.
The girl was starting on her daily penance – a tall, fine woman. She watched the approach of the king's minister without expressing in her face any of the torments which raged in her bosom.
"Lapai," said Ussuf, "this night the king makes a sacrifice."
He made no further explanation, nor did the girl require one.
"If he had made this sacrifice earlier, he would have been kind," she said quietly, "for I am a very sorrowful woman."
"That I know, Lapai," said the Arab gently.
"That you do not know," she corrected. "I had sorrow because I loved a man and destroyed him, because I love my people and they hate me, and now because I love you, Ussuf, with a love which is greater than any."
He looked at her; there was a strange pity in his eyes, and his thin, brown hands went out till they reached to her shoulders.
"All things are with the gods," he said. "Now, I cannot love you, Lapai, although I am full of pity for you, for you are not of my race, and there are other reasons. But because you are a woman, and because of certain teachings which I received in my youth, I will take you out of this city, and, if needs be, die for you."
He watched her as she walked slowly down towards where the people of the Akarti waited for her, drawn by morbid curiosity, since the king's intention was no secret. Then he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
At nine o'clock, when the virgin guards and the old king went to find her for the killing, she had gone.
So also had Ussuf and his six Arabi. The king's lokali beat furiously, summoning all the country to deliver into his hands the woman and the man.
* * * * *
Sanders, at that moment, was hunting for the Long Man, whose name was O'Fasa. O'Fasa was twelve months gone in sleeping-sickness, and had turned from being a gentle husband and a kindly father into a brute beast. He had speared his wife, cut down the Houssa guard left by Sanders to keep the peace of his village, and had made for the forest.
Now, a madman is a king, holding his subjects in the thrall of fear, and since there was no room in the territory for two kings and Sanders, the Commissioner came full tilt up the river, landed half a company of black infantry, and followed on the ravaging trace of the madman.
At the end of eight days he came upon O'Fasa, the Long Man. He was sitting with his back against a gum-tree, his well-polished spears close at hand, and he was singing the death song of the Isisi, a long low, wailing, sorrowful song, which may be so translated into doggerel English:
Life is a thing so small
That you cannot see it at all;
Death is a thing so wise
That you see it in every guise.
Death is the son of life,
Pain is his favourite wife.
Sanders went slowly across the clearing, his automatic pistol in his hand.
O'Fasa looked at him and laughed.
"O'Fasa," said Sanders gently, "I have come to see you, because my King heard you were sick."
"O ko!" laughed the other. "I am a great man when kings send their messengers to me."
Sanders, his eye upon the spears, advanced warily.
"Come with me, O'Fasa," he said.
The man rose to his feet. He made no attempt to reach his spears. Of a sudden he ducked, and turned, running swiftly towards the black heart of the forest. Sanders raised his pistol, and hesitated a second – just too long. He could not kill the man, though by letting him live he might endanger the lives of his fellows and the peace of the land.
The Commissioner was in an awkward predicament. Ten miles beyond was the narrow gap which led into the territory of N'raki. To lead an armed expedition through that gap would bring about complications which it was his duty and desire to avoid. The only hope was that O'Fasa would double back, for the trail they followed left little doubt as to where he had gone. Unerringly, with the instinct of the hunted beast, he had made for the gap.
They came to the gorge, palm-fringed, and damp with the running waters, at sunset, and camped. They found the spoor of the hunted man, lost it, and picked it up again. At daybreak Sanders, with two men, pushed through the narrow pass and came into the forbidden territory. There was no sign of the fugitive.
Sanders's lokali beat out four urgent messages. They were addressed to a Mr. Grayson Smith, who might possibly be in that neighbourhood, but if he received them, he sent no reply.
Now, madmen and children have a rooted dislike for strange places, and Sanders, backing on this, fixed his ambush in the narrow end of the gorge. Sooner or later O'Fasa would return. At any rate, he decided to give him four days. Thus matters stood when the sometime minister, Ussuf, with a woman and five Arabi, made for the gap, with the swift and tireless guards of the king at their heels.
Three times the Arab had halted to fight off his pursuers, and in one of these engagements he had sustained his only casualty, and had left a dead Arab follower on the ground of his stand.
The gap was in sight, when a regiment of the north, summoned by lokali, swept down on his left and effectively blocked his retreat. Ussuf took up his position on a little rocky hill. His right was protected by swamp land, and his left and rear were open.
"Lapai," he said, when he had surveyed the position, "it seems to me that the death you desire is very close at hand. Now, I am very sorry for you, but God knows my sorrow can do little to save you."
The woman looked at him steadily.
"Lord," she said, "I am very glad if you and I go down to hell together, for in some new, strange world you might love me, and I should be satisfied."
Ussuf laughed, showing his straight rows of white teeth in genuine amusement.
"That we shall see," he said.
The attack came almost at once, but the rifles of the six shot back the assault. At the end of two hours the little party stood intact. A second attack followed; one man of the Arab guard went down with an arrow through his throat, but Ussuf's shooting was effective, and again the northern regiment drew off.
Before the hill, and in the direction of Akarti city, was the king's legion. It was from this point that Ussuf expected the last destroying assault.
"Lapai," he said, turning round, "I – "
The woman had gone! In the fury of the defence he had not noticed her slip away from him. Suddenly she appeared half-way down the hill and turned to him.
"Come back!" he called.
She framed her mouth with two hands that her words might carry better. In the still evening air every word came distinctly.
"Lord," she said, "this is best, for if they have me, they will let you go, and death will come some day to you, and I shall be waiting."
She turned and ran quickly down the hill towards the stiff lines of warriors below.
Then suddenly appeared out of the ground, as It seemed, a tall, lank figure right in her path. She stopped a moment, and the man sprang at her and lifted her without an effort. Ussuf raised his rifle and covered them, but he dare not shoot.
There was another interested spectator. King N'raki, a vengeful man, and agile despite his years, had followed as eagerly as the youngest of his warriors, and now stood in the midst of his counsellors, watching the scene upon the hill.
"What man is that?" he asked. "For I see he is not of our people."
Before the messengers he would have dispatched could be instructed, the tall man, running lightly with his burden, came towards him, and laid a dead woman almost at the king's feet.
"Man," he said insolently, "I bring you this woman, whom I have killed, because a devil put it into my heart to do so."
"Who are you?" asked N'raki. "For I see you are a stranger."
"I am a king," said O'Fasa, the Long Man; "greater than all kings, for I have behind me the armies of white men."
The humour of this twisted truth struck him of a sudden, for he burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"You have the armies of the white men behind you?" repeated N'raki slowly, and looked nervously from side to side.
"Behold!" said O'Fasa, stretching out his hand.
The king's eyes followed the direction of the hand. Far away across the bare plain he saw black specks of men advancing at regular intervals. The sinking sun set the bayonets of Sander's little force aglitter. The Commissioner had heard the firing, and had guessed much.
"It is 'They,'" said King N'raki, and blinked furiously at the Long Man, O'Fasa.
He turned swiftly to his guard.
"Kill that man!" he said.
* * * * *
Sanders brought his half-company of Houssas to the hill and was met half-way by Ussuf.
"I heard your rifles," he said. "Have you seen anything of a long chap, of wild and aggressive mien!" He spoke in English, and Ussuf replied in the same language.
"A tall man?" he asked, and Sanders wondered a little that a man so unemotional as was Grayson Smith, of the Colonial Intelligence, should speak so shakily.
"I think he is here," said the Englishman in Arab attire, and he led the way down the hill.
N'raki's armies had moved off swiftly. The fear of "They" had been greater in its effect than all its legions.
The Englishmen made their way to where two figures lay in a calm sleep of death.
"Who is the woman?" asked Sanders.
"A native woman, who loved me," said Grayson Smith simply, and he bent down and closed the eyes of the girl who had loved him so well.
CHAPTER XII
THE AMBASSADORS
There is a saying amongst the Akasava:
"The Isisi sees with his eyes, the N'gombi with his ears, but the Ochori sees nothing but his meat."
This is translated badly, but in its original form it is immensely subtle. In the old days before Bosambo became chief, king, headman, or what you will, of his people, the Ochori were quite prepared to accept the insulting description of their sleepiness without resentment.
But this was cala-cala, and now the Ochori are a proud people, and it is not good to throw insulting proverbs in their direction, lest they throw them back with something good and heavy at the end of it.
The native mind works slowly, and it was not until every tribe within three hundred miles had received some significant indication of the change which had come about in the spirit and character of this timorous people, that they realised the Ochori were no longer a race which might serve as butts for the shafts of wisdom.
There was a petty chief of the Isisi who governed a great district, for, although "Isisi" means "small" the name must not be taken literally. He had power under his king to call palavers on all great national questions, such as the failure of crops, the shifting of fishing-grounds, and the infidelities of highly-placed women.
One day he called his people together – his counsellors, his headmen, and all sons of chiefs – and he laid before them a remarkable proposition.
"In the days of my father," said Embed, "the Ochori were a weak and cowardly people; now they have become strong and powerful. Last week they came down upon our brothers of the Akasava and stole their goats and laid shame upon them, and behold! the Akasava, who are great warriors, did nothing more than send to Sandi the story of their sorrow. Now it seems to me that this is because Bosambo, the chief, has a devil of great potency, and I have sent to my king to ask him to entreat the lord Bosambo to tell us why these things should be."
The gathered counsellors nodded their heads wisely. There was no doubt at all that Bosambo had the advantage of communication with a devil; or if this were not so, he was blessed to a minor degree with a nodding acquaintance with one of those ghosts in which the forest of the Ochori abounded.
"And thus says my lord, the king of the Akasava, and of all the territories and the rivers and the unknown lands beyond the forest as far as the eye can see," the chief went on. "He sends me his message by his counsellor, saying: 'It is true Bosambo has a devil, and for the sake of my people I will send to him, asking him to put his strength in our hands, that we may be wise and bold.'"
Now this was a conclusion which had been arrived at simultaneously by the six nations, and, although the thoughts of their rulers were not communicated in such a public fashion, the faith in Bosambo's inspiration was universal, and the idea that Bosambo should be thus approached was a violent and shameless plagiarism on the part of the chief Emberi.
One morning in the late spring the ambassadors of the powers came paddling up to Ochori city in twelve canoes with their headmen, their warriors, their beaters of drums and their carriers. Bosambo, who had no faith whatever in humanity, was warned of their approach and threw the city into a condition of defence. He himself received the deputation on the foreshore, and the spokesman was Emberi.
"Lord Bosambo," said the chief, "we come in peace, and from the chief and the kings and all the peoples of these lands."
"That may be so," said Bosambo, "and my heart is full of joy to see you. But I beg of you that you land your spearmen and your warriors and your beaters of drums on the other side of the river, for I am a timorous man, and I fear that I cannot in this city show you the love and honour which Sandi has asked me to give even to common people."
"But, lord," protested the chief, who, to do him credit, had no warlike or injurious ideas concerning his host, "on the other side of the water there is only sand and water and evil spirits."
"That may be so," said Bosambo; "but on this side of the river there are me and my people, and we desire to live happily for many years. I tell you, that it is better that you should all die because of the sand and the water and the evil spirits, than that I should be slain by those who do not love me."
"My master," said Emberi pompously, "is a great king and a great lover of you."
"Your master," said Bosambo, "is a great liar."
"He loves you," protested Emberi.
"He is still a great liar," said Bosambo; "for the last time I met him he not only said that he would come with his legions and eat me up, but he also called me evil names, such as 'fish-eater' and 'chicken,' and 'fat dog.'"
Bosambo spoke without fear of consequences because he had a hundred of his picked men behind him, and all the advantage of the sloping beach. He would have turned the delegates back to their homes, but that the persistent and alarmed Emberi succeeded in interesting him in his announcements, and, more important, there were landed from one of the canoes, rich presents, including goats and rice and a looking-glass, which latter was, explained Emberi, the very core of his master's soul.
In the end Bosambo left his hundred men to hold the beach, and Emberi persuaded his reluctant followers to make their home on the sandy shore across the river.
Then, and only then, did Bosambo unbend, and had prepared one of his famous feasts, to which all the chiefs of the land contributed in the shape of meat and drink – all the chiefs, that is, except Bosambo, who made a point of giving nothing away to anybody in any circumstances.
The palaver that followed was very interesting, indeed, to the chief of the Ochori. One by one, from nine in the morning to four in the following morning, the delegates spoke.
Much of their speeches dealt with the superlative qualities which distinguished Bosambo's rule – his magnificent courage, his noble generosity – Bosambo glanced quickly round to see the faces of the counsellors who had reluctantly provided the feast – and to the future which awaited all nations which imitated all his virtues.
"Lord, I speak the truth," said Emberi, "and thus it runs that all people from the sea where the river ends, to the leopard's mouth from whence it has its source, know that you are familiar with devils that give you courage and cunning and tell you magic, so that you can make men from rats."
Bosambo nodded his head gravely.
"All this is true," he said. "I have several devils, although I do not always use them. For, as you know, I am a follower of a particular faith, and was for one life-time a Christian, believing in all manners of mysteries of which you know nothing – Marki, Luki, and Johnny Baptist, who are not for you."
He looked round at the awed men and shook his head.
"Nor do you know of the wonders they worked, such as curing burns, and striking dead, and cutting ears. Now I know these things," he continued impressively, "therefore Sandi loves me, for he also is a God-man, and often comes to me to speak with him concerning these white men."
"Lord, what are devils?" asked an impatient delegate.
"Of the devils," repeated Bosambo, "I have many."
He half closed his eyes and was silent for the space of two minutes. He gave the impression that he was counting his staff – and, indeed, this was the idea precisely that he wished to convey.
"O ko!" said Emberi in a hushed voice. "If it is true, as you say it is, then our master desires that you shall send us one devil or two that we might be taught the peculiar manner of these wonderful ghosts."
Bosambo coughed, and glanced round at the sober faces of his advisers.
"I have many devils who serve me," he began. "There is one I know who is very small and has two noses – one before him and one behind – so that he may smell his enemy who stalks him. Also there is one who is so tall that the highest trees are grass to his feet. And another one who is green and walks upside down."
For an hour Bosambo orated at length on dæmonology, even though he might never have known the word. He drew on the misty depths of his imagination. He availed himself of every recollection dealing with science. He spoke of ghosts who were familiar friends, and came to his bidding much in the same way that the civilised dog comes to his master's whistle.
The delegates retired to their huts for the night in a condition of panic when Bosambo informed them that he had duly appointed a particular brand of devil to serve their individual needs, and protect them against the ills which the flesh is heir to.
Now Ochori city and the Ochori nation had indeed awakened from the spell of lethargy under the beneficent and drastic government of Bosambo, and it is known in the history of nations, however primitive or however advanced they may be, that no matter how excellent may be the changes effected there will be a small but compact party who regard the reformer as one who encumbers the earth. Bosambo had of his own people a small but powerful section who regarded all changes with horror, and who saw in the new spirit which the chief had infused into the Ochori, the beginning of the end. This is a view which is not peculiar to the Ochori.
There were old chiefs and headmen who remembered the fat and idle days which preceded the upraising of Bosambo, who remembered how easy it was to secure slave service, and, remembering, spoke of Bosambo with unkindness. The chief might have settled the matter of devils out of hand in his own way, and would, I doubt not, have sent away the delegation happily enough with such messages of the Koran as he could remember written on the paper Sanders had supplied him for official messages.
But it was not Bosambo's way, nor was it the way with the men with whom he had to deal to expedite important palavers. Normally, such a conference as was now assembled, would last at least three days and three nights. It seemed that it would last much longer, for Bosambo had troubles of his own.
At dawn on the morning following the arrival of the delegation, a dust-stained messenger, naked as he was born, came at a jog-trot and panting heavily from the bush road which leads to the Elivi, and without ceremony stood at the door of the royal hut.
"Lord Bosambo," said the messenger, "Ikifari, the chief of Elivi, brings his soldiers and headmen to the number of a thousand, for a palaver."
"What is in his heart?" said Bosambo.
"Master," said the man, "this is in his heart: there shall be no roads in the Ochori, for the men of Elivi are crying out against the work. They desire to live in peace and comfort."
Bosambo had instituted a law of his own – with the full approval of Sanders – and it was that each district should provide a straight and well-made forest road from one city to another, and a great road which should lead from one district to its neighbour.
Unfortunately, every little tribe did not approach the idea with the enthusiasm which Bosambo himself felt, nor regard it with the approval which was offered to this most excellent plan by the King's Government.
For road-making is a bad business. It brings men out early in the morning, and keeps them working with the sweat running off their bare backs in the hot hours of the day. Also there were fines and levies which Bosambo the chief took an unholy joy in extracting whenever default was made.
Of all the reluctant tribes, the Elivi were the most frankly so. Whilst all the others were covered with a network of rough roads – slovenly made, but roads none the less – Elivi stood a virgin patch of land two hundred miles square in the very heart of make-shift civilisation.
Bosambo might deal drastically with the enemy who stood outside his gate. It was a more delicate matter when he had to deal with a district tacitly rebellious, and this question of roads threatened to develop, unhappily.
He had sent spies into the land of the Elivi and this was the first man back.
"Now it seems to me," said Bosambo, half to himself, "that I have need of all my devils, for Ikifari is a bitter man, and his sons and his counsellors are of a mind with him."
He sent his headman to his guests with a message that for the whole day he would be deep in counsel with himself over this matter of ghosts; and when late in the evening the van of the Elivi force was sighted on the east of the village, Bosambo, seated in state in his magnificent palaver-house, adorned with such Christmas plates as came his way, awaited their arrival.
Limberi, the headman, went out to meet the disgruntled force.
"Chief," he said, "it is our lord's wish that you leave your spears outside the city."
"Limberi," said Ikifari, a hard man of forty, all wiry muscle and leanness, "we are people of your race and your brothers. Why should we leave our spears – we who are of the Ochori?"
"You do not come otherwise," said Limberi decisively. "For across the river are many enemies of our lord, and he loves you so much, that for his own protection, he desired your armed men – your spearmen and your swordsmen – to sit outside. Thus he will be confident and happy."
There was no more to be done than to obey.
Ikifari with his counsellors followed the headman to the palaver, and his insolence was notable.
"I speak for all Elivi," he said, without any ceremonious preliminaries. "We are an oppressed people, lord Bosambo, and our young men cry out with great voices against your cruelty."
"They shall cry louder," said Bosambo, and Ikifari, the chief, scowled.
"Lord," he said sullenly, "if it is true that Sandi loves you, he also loves us, and no man is so great in this land that he may stir a people to rebellion."
Bosambo knew this was true – knew it without the muttered approval of Ikifari's headmen. He ran his eye over the little party. They were all there – the malcontents. Tinif'si, the stout headman, M'kera and Calasari, the lesser chiefs; and there was in their minds a certain defiance which particularly exasperated Bosambo. He might punish one or two who set themselves up against his authority, but here was an organised rebellion. Punishment would mean fighting, and fighting would weaken his position with Sanders.
It was the moment to temporise.
Fortunately the devil deputation was not present. It was considered to be against all etiquette for men of another nation to be present at the domestic councils of their neighbours. Otherwise some doubt might have been born in the bosom of Emberi as to the efficacy of Bosambo's devils at this particular moment.
"And this I would say to you, lord," said Ikifari, and Bosambo knew that the crux of the situation would be revealed. "We Elivi are your dogs. You do not send for us to come to your great feasts, nor do you honour us in any way. But when there is fighting you call up our spears and our young men, and you send us abroad to be eaten up by your terrible enemies. Also," he went on, "when you choose your chiefs and counsellors to go pleasant journeys to such places where they are honoured and feasted, you send only men of the Ochori city."
It may be said here that from whatever source Bosambo derived his inspiration, he had certainly acquired royal habits which were foreign to his primitive people. Thus he would dispatch envoys and ambassadors on ceremonious visits bearing gifts and presents which they themselves provided and returning with richer presents which Bosambo acquired. It was, if the truth be told, a novel and pleasant method of extracting blackmail – pleasant because it gave Bosambo little trouble, and afforded his subordinates titillation of importance, and no one had arisen to complain save these unfortunate cities of Akasava – Isisi and N'gombi – which entertained his representatives.
