Lord of Darkness

  The Imbe-Jaqqa now turned toward me. “And you, Andubatil, you are charged with conspiring also with her in this treason.”

  “I know not a thing of it, O Lord Imbe-Jaqqa.”

  “He lies,” said Kinguri.

  “Do I, now? And did the slave name me? Did he speak of me before I came, yet in my presence did not know me?”

  “Your guilt is known to us,” said Kinguri.

  “Not so, brother, not so!”

  “You are no brother of mine.”

  “By this scar I bear, and yours also, Kinguri! What, will you reject me now, that you fondly once spoke with so late into the night, about the kingdoms and laws of Christendom, and so much else?”

  “I am no brother to a liar and traitor,” said he, all ice and contempt. To Calandola he did cry, “You who are my brother of the flesh, do you not see the guilt of Andubatil?”

  “I see it not,” said Calandola.

  “They had conspired together, the woman and the man! They both must die, O lord!”

  “Andubatil has done no treason,” the Imbe-Jaqqa said.

  “Nor has my woman!” I said, perhaps too rashly. “There is no proof! The slave was paid to perjure upon her!”

  “The woman,” said Calandola, “surely has hatred for us. You take grave risk by defending her, except if you do it out of love. We think her guilt is certain, and we will put her to the trial to demonstrate it.”

  “I beg you, good my lord, by all that passed between us on that night you remember, spare her!”

  This I said in a low voice, to him alone. But he did not look pleased at being conjured by the force of that rite we had shared. Glowering most saturninely at me, he did continue, “She is a traitor. You stand accused by my brother of the same offense, the which you deny. It is a heavy charge, that may not be ignored. This must we examine with care, and there will be consultation of the witches. You will be prisoned until we arrive at our proper path.”

  He lifted his hand, and Teresa and I were dragged away from that place, I to a wickerwork enclosure not far from the place of the great kettles, which was not a cheering sight unto me, and she elsewhere, beyond my vision. There I was left to ruminate in solitude upon these latest turns of fate.

  It enraged me that she had forsworn me so, and, after I had given pledge she would do no harm, had tried to send word to her people of our attack on São Paulo de Loanda. For such a thing could only work my downfall along with hers, if it miscarried, and it had miscarried.

  Of her guilt I had no doubt. Plainly she had hired that man to bear the warning to the Portugals; and plainly she would die for it. She stood incriminated and had no defense, nor would she attempt to devise one, whether out of overarching pride or a submission to inevitable destiny. She was in the hands of Jaqqas, and no claim of innocence would save her. She would die. And for all the pain she had given me, I found myself sore stricken with grief over that. How could she perish? She was so vital, so deep with life, so magnificent of beauty: if she was not a witch, then she was some sort of goddess. And yet she would die, nor was I at all sure I would survive this attainder of treason myself, with Kinguri now become my implacable foe. Surely he saw me as rival for Calandola’s affections, and enemy to his own ambitions; and with so potent an enemy at the court of the Imbe-Jaqqa, I would be hard put to come forth of this with my life.

  For a day, and half a day more, I did remain in my cage, guarded all the while by silent Jaqqas and giving myself over to the most melancholy of thoughts, and to occasional moments of prayer. Then was I summoned once again to the council-hearth, where the same great Jaqqas as before were in their positions of state. And thither also was Dona Teresa brought, with her arms bound behind her, though I was unchained.

  She looked to me, and in her eyes I saw no fear, but only strength, resignation, courage.

  Imbe Calandola said, “My brother Kinguri has spoken with the nganga-men. They are of the verdict that treason is likely here, and must be searched out by the trial of ordeal.”

  “Ah, then I am a dead man!” I cried.

  “If there has been treason, then that is so,” replied Calandola most serenely.

  “And which of us is to have the ordeal first, the woman or I?”

  “There is only you to be tried,” said the Imbe-Jaqqa, “for the woman’s guilt is certain, and her doom is fixed.”

  At this, Dona Teresa did utter the smallest of sounds of despair, a mere issuing-forth of air, quickly cut off; and then she did resume her staunch demeanor.

  And I, seeing myself standing at the veritable brink of extinction, with the earth crumbling before me and bidding fair to pitch me into the abyss, what then did I feel? Why, once again I felt nothing at all, no fear, no dismay, I who had been at the same fatal brink so many times before: I was cold in my heart, numb like one who has clasped himself to the great ice-floes of the north, but I was wholly still at the center of my soul, and calm. For one can face death only so many times, and then the fear of it is gone from the spirit, and one becomes void and wholly at ease, like one who is so fatigated by constant warfare that he takes no notice of the deadly arrows singing past his cheeks. They would give me the ordeal by poison, which I knew from the testimony of Kinguri, when his lips were unsealed by wine, to be concocted aforehand by the will of the king. So the only question to be answered was whether the fraudulence of the ordeal would be the fraudulence of Kinguri, who wished me dead, or that of Calandola, who I believed did not associate me with Teresa’s treason, and meant to preserve me. Calandola was mightier; Kinguri was craftier; I had no notion which of them would prevail. But though I had not lost the love of life that has imbued me deeply since my first years, though I longed as passionately as ever to go on and on, and see what lay beyond the next headland and the next, yet was I untroubled by distress over the outcome of this test: whatever would befall would take its own course the same way, whether I fretted and worried over it or no. And so I was wholly tranquil.

  “Bring now the fruit of the embá,” said Calandola.

  So it was to be the poisoned fruit, and not the snailshells to my forehead, nor the boiling water that I must drink, nor the singeing of my flesh with the red-hot iron.

  A nganga in heavy paint and glistening grease did step forward, carrying with him the bowl of the fruits of these palm-trees, which were about the size and shape of a small peach-fruit, but smooth and shining of skin, with a golden hue and faint red streaks in it. As I had seen that time before, the witch-man did draw from the bowl one of these fruits and eat it himself for show, and spit out the hard kernel of it, and stand before us unpoisoned and hale, and smiling. Then did a second of these witches advance to him with a flask made of highly polished dark wood, that was meant to contain the poison, and he did dip a great lengthy black thorn into the flask, bringing it out dripping with a fluid, and this he thrust deep within one of the embá-fruits, and a second, and a third.

  Imbe Calandola did extend his scepter of bone to me from his high throne to say, “You are accused, Andubatil, of treasonably betraying our intent to the Portugals of São Paulo de Loanda. What say you to this charge?”

  “This I wholly deny.”

  “Make an oath upon this rod.”

  I did touch his scepter, just at the tip. Which made me faintly shudder to think that next week someone might be swearing by some bone of mine. I said most loudly, “Be it known by this that I have done no treason ever against the Jaqqa nation, nor against Imbe Calandola its master, nor Kinguri his brother and mine.”

  And so saying, I looked deep at Imbe Calandola and then at Kinguri, who looked back at me with eyes that were like fiery coals, all blazing and hateful.

  Calandola gestured. The witch who held the bowl did say to me, “We have mixed within this bowl three fruits that bear a killing poison. Seek, and take, and eat, and if you have done no crime your mokisso will guard you from harm.”

  And now my strange tranquility fell from me like a discarded cloak, and I felt great fear
from crown to toes, I that had thought I had outlived the sensation of mortal dread; for I did remember that time I had seen this oath administered to Jaqqas, and how the man designated for death had made terrible noises, and had swollen in his throat and died choking, which is a horrible way to die. But I did present myself boldly as I advanced to select the fruit. The nganga-man held the bowl high, to give me no clue by way of mark or puncture on the fruit, and I reached in, and again I grew calm and easy, saying to myself that I had been ready many times to pay God the death that is owing by me, and if this were the moment, so be it, since that if it were not now, it would merely be later. And took a fruit and put it to my mouth, and found it passing sweet and comforting to the taste, with no hint of venom in it, and ate it down and spat forth the kernel, and grinned most widely and said, “There, it is shown now that I had no complicity.”

  “Draw another,” said the witch-man.

  “I have drawn!”

  “The trial calls for three,” said Kinguri.

  “It was not so the other time, when three fruits were presented,” said, I, “and only one was poisoned, and the accused did take the jeopardy but once—”

  “This is a trial of another sort,” said Kinguri, and when I looked in appeal to Imbe Calandola, he met my gaze without response, and waited like a stone statue for my next taking of fruit.

  The nganga did proffer me the bowl. And I did choose again.

  I was sure now that they would do me to death this day, that Kinguri would have me go on choosing until I hit one of the venomed ones; and to make a haste for the outcome I bit and spat kernel and swallowed, and stood, and wondered, and felt no murder in my veins.

  “Again my innocence is proven, Imbe Calandola!”

  “Draw one more,” said the witch most inexorably.

  Ah, then, so the sleight of hand would be practiced on me now, and they had saved the poison for the last, to heighten the game for themselves! The bowl was on high. I reached to it and made my choice.

  “Jesu guard me,” I said. “The Lord bring mercy upon me. The angels defend me.”

  And took the third fruit into my mouth.

  This time did I have the pure certainty that I had come to my final moment, and would soon be gathered to my last repose, and walk in Heaven with my father and my dead brothers. And I knew no tremor of fear, but only the greatest assurance that the Savior is the Resurrection and the Life, and that my Redeemer liveth, and that although now I did walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I need fear no evil, for He was with me, and His rod and His staff did comfort me. I consumed the fruit and spat forth the kernel, and looked toward Kinguri, my dark brother that was now become mine enemy, and saw the fire of his eyes, and the sternness of his gaze that did run like a cable taut between his soul and mine. And a moment passed, and I did not fall, and I did not choke and swell, and I did not perish; and there was a snapping of that cable between Kinguri and me, for he sat slumping backward in the greatest of disappointment and the deepest of dejection, snarling a little to see that I lived. From Calandola came a thundering laugh, and the Imbe-Jaqqa did stand and clap his hands, and cry out, “It is done, Andubatil! Thy mokisso is with thee, and proclaims thy innocence!” And taking the bowl of palm-fruit from his witch, he hurled the remainder into the bushes, and reached out his arm toward me in jubilance of fellowship.

  TWELVE

  THUS WAS I returned back into the good graces of the Imbe-Jaqqa, and lay no longer at risk of my life. I was set free, and carried up beside Imbe Calandola to share his wine, and all men of the Jaqqa nation hailed me once again as one of their lords. All save Kinguri, who drew apart, sulking, as had Achilles in his tent; for Kinguri’s former love for me now was turned entirely to enmity, and he could not bear that I was a favorite of his brother.

  There was still the matter of Dona Teresa to be played out: for she was under mortal sentence, and that could not be appealed. Nor did I have enough credit with Calandola to win her free, since that she had committed indisputable treachery, and would have worked the ruin of his scheme of war, had her slave managed to bring the warning to the Portugals. So she would perish, without further trial, but not until the nganga-men said that it was an auspicious moment for the execution.

  Calandola’s plan of marching upon São Paulo de Loanda had been entirely put into abeyance and suspension by these recent events, and now was further suspended, for the moon had passed into an improper phase. No heavy action now might be taken until the sorcerers gave their consent. The moon does have great import to these Jaqqas, who think it has forcible operation in the body of man, and is the planet most prejudicial to his health, and to be shunned. On nights when the moon is fullest they do utter special prayers to their mokissos, and postpone any major deeds. Indeed, Kinguri once did tell me that he had forgotten his prayer of a certain time, and the moon shining upon his shoulder left him with such an extraordinary pain, and furious burning in it, that he was like to run mad, but in the end, with force of medicines and cures, after long torment was he eased. The slaying of Dona Teresa required a grand feast, and the feast could not just then be held owing to the moon, and the war could not begin until the feast, and therefore all stood still, held unmoving upon the brink.

  God’s blood, but I would not have her slain!

  She was huge in my mind, and for all that she had done against me, I could not forget how she had cared for me in that ancient illness of mine, and our early love, and the closeness we once had had; nor was I unmindful of her beauty and the fire that it kindled in me; and I think that even though I had hurled her carven image into the river, yet even now it still held a power over me, reaching forth across many leagues to impinge upon my soul. How could I let her perish? I had vowed to protect her; that vow still bound me; and if I stood idly by and let her die the death, I should be no man. Yet she was doomed, and she was well guarded, and it would be worth both our lives for me to make any sort of rash attempt at freeing her. Nor could I win her pardon from the Imbe-Jaqqa. So I did brood a day and a second day, without reaching a resolution, and time was running short for Dona Teresa. Soon I should have to act, or know that I had failed her. He that is in the dance must needs dance on, though he do but hop.

  At this time Golambolo did come to me, who had command of the scouts that occupied the outlying districts. He made his obeisance and said, “News, O Andubatil, of the Portuguese army!”

  “And what is that, Golambolo?”

  “That it has left Ndala Chosa, and begun to move through the countryside.”

  “In which direction?” said I, much excited.

  “They seem not to know themselves. First they go toward the great waterfall, and then they turn westward again, and south as if they would march upon Langere. I think they have no plan except to move across the land and hope to encounter enemies.”

  “Ah. We must keep close watch on them.” I closed mine eyes, and summoned up the image of the region, and the place of each town alongside the River Kwanza, and of our own position well south of it. And said to Golambolo, “Send forth double the number of scouts, and check their movements every hour. And when there is a change in their march, send your men running in relays, that is, one runner bearing the news to another who is fresh, and him to the next along the route, so that the tale comes to me swift as the wind. I must know at once.”

  He saluted and hastened to obey. And in the next day and the next the reports that he brought me were frequent, that the Portugals were moving swiftly though still without evident purpose, a large force of them marching in the territory that formed a triangle on the points of Ndala Chosa, Langere, and Agokayongo. There was no indication from this that they were aware of the force we had gathered at Agokayongo, nor had Golambolo’s men seen sign that the Portugals were scouting in this direction. Yet something was brewing, for now they were only a day’s march from us, or perhaps just a little more than that. Again I doubled the number of scouts under Golambolo’s command, so that we might have exact
knowledge.

  Calandola at this time was preoccupied by meeting with Kafuche Kambara, at a midway point outside Agokayongo between his army and that of the other lord. I was not privy to these meetings, nor were any of the other Jaqqa generals: it was just the two high masters, coming together to discuss their tactic for sacking São Paulo de Loanda. But I think there was some dispute of policy between them, and rising tempers that grew hotter with the continuing negotiation; for rumor did journey in the Jaqqa camp that the other force was going to sever its alliance with us, or even to renew an onslaught against us, and that Imbe Calandola was hard pressed to hold Kafuche to his treaty. Certainly the Imbe-Jaqqa was morose and distant when he returned to us, and closeted himself with some several of his wives, and we saw nothing of him.

  Thus I did not report to him the movements of the Portuguese force. I took it purely as my province of authority, to keep watch over that force by means of Golambolo’s men, and to reserve all decision concerning it until its movements were clear. It was but a few hundred men, and we were many thousands: if they blundered within our neighborhood, we would easily be able to overwhelm them.

  Then—the moon being still inauspicious—Calandola suddenly did summon me and declare, “Load your musket, Andubatil, for we will go to the wars tomorrow.”

  “Lord Calandola, is this not hasty?”

  He swung about on me like an enfuried coccodrillo, and gaped and bared his teeth. “What, do you tell me my own mind?”

  “We have relaxed our fine edge of readiness,” I replied. “Surely we cannot regain it so swiftly!”

  “We must,” said he. “I feel necessity rolling down upon us. If we make not the war against São Paulo de Loanda this day next, we will lose our moment entirely. Tonight we feast; tomorrow we break camp. I am making the order generally known.”

  “The moon—”

  “The moon will turn in our favor,” said he.

  I dared not dispute with him further.