It wasn’t long before the Pride Lands fell under an epidemic of sprains, bruises and coughs. The guards suspected that most were well-wishers, but they had no way to prove which ones were. His dwindling supplies of herbs would soon solve that problem anyhow, as he was not allowed to gather things beyond the boundaries of his restriction.
Rafiki despaired. Unless Aiheu sent him a way, he could quickly find himself without healing powers, a useless relic left over from happier days. He took some of his precious remaining ochre and painted an eye of Aiheu on the wall of his hollow tree. “Watch over me, Lord. I know in your good time there will be an answer to my problems.”
He had just finished his prayer when something happened to change his whole outlook. Krull, the leader of his hyena guard, came in complaining of a runny eye. “If you are good as your friends say you are, it won’t matter that I am a hyena.”
“I don’t know about good, ” Rafiki said. “But it does not matter what you are, as long as you feel suffering.”
“Why does Scar hate you so?”
“Hasn’t he told you?”
“Let’s say for now that he has not. What would you tell me?”
“I would tell you that I am partly to blame. I had toyed with powers I did not fully understand, and given a foothold to the curse that burns him.”
“Hfff! Honest little chap, aren’t you! And yet a half truth is like a half-carcass--it can be dragged twice as far. Tell me about this curse--help me to understand it.”
“The words alone are corban. If they are spoken aloud, they would rot your bones, but I may whisper it to you.”
Coming from the back, Rafiki leaned over and drew close to his ear. “What I do, ” he whispered, “is what I have to do.” Quickly Rafiki grabbed Krull’s forearm and pinched one of the nerves. With his other hand, he grabbed his muzzle to stifle a shriek of pain. The hyena struggled and whined, but Rafiki’s hold was secure. The jaws that closed so powerfully had weak muscles to open them, and Krull was not able to make more than a stifled moan. “Listen to me and listen well. When I release your jaw, the first words I want to hear are ‘I swear by my god that I will be your loyal servant.’ Agreed?”
The hyena struggled again, but whimpered pitifully as Rafiki tightened his hold. “I hate violence. I hate to cause pain, but by my gods I can and will kill you if you refuse me.”
The hyena relaxed a little and moaned again. Rafiki let loose his jaw.
“I swear by Aiheu that I will be your loyal servant.”
“You don’t believe in Aiheu. You will swear by Roh’kash.”
“I swear by Roh’kash! For God’s sake, let go of me! ”
Rafiki let go of him and rubbed the sore spot on the hyena’s shoulder. “Now I have need of an escort from time to time. I do not plan to stay cooped up in this tree like a woodpecker for the rest of my life. I need my herbs, and I need my sustenance. I must get Alba to nurse the wounded. You treat me well, and I will make you thank your Roh’kash for the day you met me. I am not evil. I will do nothing to harm you.” He got some ointment. “Now about that eye problem. Old Rafiki will fix you up in a jif, as I promised.”
SCENE: A VISITOR FROM THE EAST
Taka did not prove to be a popular ruler. His unpopular standing was for far more than the coming of the hyenas, though they were universally despised. His insecurity was overwhelming, and he sought to fight all threats real and perceived with savage force. Still under it all, Taka wanted to be liked. He would sometimes whisper a tender word to a lioness—wanting only a friendly reply--only to be rebuffed or simply ignored. At those moments he was most dangerous, for he would sometimes fly into a rage in frustration and hurt. Soon they learned that he could be placated by simple pleasantries, and they would return his greetings and agree that the weather was indeed fine today. But the very deep resentment crept out through their tone of voice, and he eventually stopped trying to speak with them rather than wince at their insincerity.
When Taka had been ruler of the Pride Lands for a year, a lioness named Kako had come out of the east seeking asylum for herself and her unborn child. Taka saw in her someone whose opinion of him was not already poisoned, and he felt that she had the sympathy of the other lionesses. So with little deliberation, and that mostly for show, he invited her to stay.
Kako was suitably grateful. She went on the hunt with Uzuri, even though her condition was less than ideal, and that overlooking her advanced pregnancy.
One night they were hunting wildebeests when Kako fell in agony. She was attended by two other lionesses while the others went on with the chase. It was there in an open savanna that she gave birth.
Like most lionesses who are not of royal blood, Kako was praying for a female. There is no difference in the love of a mother for a son or daughter, but a daughter does not grow up to be a lion, and she can be the comfort of a mother’s old age. So Kako was both happy and sad when Isha cleaned off the child and said, “Mother, behold your son.” He was small and wet and his nose was pushed in, the sort of beauty a lion could not appreciate, but a lioness worshipped. “Come, my son.” She took the small child and placed it against her where it took its first meal under the starry heavens.
Isha came and touched the small infant with her tongue. “Isn’t he beautiful! What are you going to call him?”
“He will be Mabatu, like his father.” That was the only part of her past that was not locked behind a door of silence.
SCENE: YOUNG MABATU
Taka found that he could speak to Kako without being reviled, though Kako was not overly friendly in return. Still, Kako would speak her mind, and to get more than two words out of her was Taka’s one great pleasure outside of his mate Elanna.
When Mabatu’s eyes first opened, the first thing he saw was his mother. And the second thing he saw was Taka peering down at him with an elated grin. “Look at him! Isn’t he a looker! ”
During the days of Mabatu’s milk, Taka would save choice portions of the kills for Kako. Later he would bring Mabatu tempting tidbits to eat. Baba, as he was often called, found Taka more than an Uncle, for indeed he was like a father to the cub. Love was a rare commodity for Taka, and he begged for it from those who could and would feel for him. Indeed, when it suited him, Taka could be capable of great tenderness on his own terms and at his own times. This patronage frightened the other lionesses, who knew that the strength of his love was only matched by the strength of his hate. Those who had betrayed his love were as likely as not to end up dead.
Still, his care of Mabatu was his one shred of respectability that commanded respect from the lionesses. They even began to speak to him as he passed. He was so surprised to have someone ask HIM if the weather wasn’t divine that he suspected a joke at first. But little by little the pleasantries sounded more and more sincere. If it only wasn’t for the hyenas, he might have made some friends.
When Mabatu was three moons old, it rained heavily. That rain would be remembered for a long time because it was the last rain before the drought.
It took a while for the sun to bake the remaining water out of the soil and dry up the grass. Dry spells were frequent on the savanna and only to be expected. For the first week, no one was alarmed. A week later, some of the lionesses remarked on it before the hunt. But after four weeks without rain, hunting began to suffer. Little Baba was now four moons old, and his appetite was growing along with his body. His “Uncle” had to work harder to find enough for him to eat. Once when game was very scarce, Taka brought him a couple of large fish that had been stranded in a pool once part of the river. When Mabatu started to turn up his nose at them, Taka looked hurt and said, “But I caught them myself just for you.”