“Henderson is the name,” I said. Because of the way he lolled, and the way he drew on his pipe, I somehow felt that I was being particularly tested.
“Mr. Henderson. Yes, I should have asked you. I am very sorry for neglecting the civility. But I could hardly contain myself that you were here, sir, a chance for conversation in English. Many things since my return I have felt lacking which I would not have suspected while at school. You are my first civilized visitor.”
“Not many people come here?”
“It is by our preference. We have preferred a seclusion, for many generations now, and we are beautifully well hidden in these mountains. You are surprised that I speak English? I assume no. Our friend Itelo must have told you. I adore that man’s character. We were steadfastly together through many experiences. It is an intense disappointment to me not to have surprise you more,” he said.
“Don’t worry, I’m plenty surprised. Prince Itelo told me all about that school that he and you attended in Malindi.” As I have emphasized, I was in a peculiar condition, I had an anxious fever, and I was perplexed by the events of last night. But there was something about this man that gave me the conviction that we could approach ultimates together. I went only by his appearance and the tone of his voice, for thus far it seemed to me that there was a touch of frivolousness in his attitude, and that he was trying me out. As for the remoteness of the Wariri, this morning, owing to the peculiarity of my mental condition, the world was not itself; it took on the aspect of an organism, a mental thing, amid whose cells I had been wandering. From mind the impetus came and through mind my course was set, and therefore nothing on earth could really surprise me, utterly.
“Mr. Henderson, I would appreciate if you would return a candid answer to the question I am about to put. None of these women can understand, therefore no hesitancy is required. Do you envy me?”
This was not the moment to tell lies.
“Do you mean would I change places with you? Well, hell, Your Highness-no disrespect intended-you seem to me to be in a very attractive position. But then, I couldn’t be at more of a disadvantage,” I said. “Almost anyone would win a comparison with me.”
His black face had a cocked nose, but it was not lacking in bridge. The reddened darkness of his eyes must have been a family trait, as I had observed it also in his Uncle Horko. But in the king there was a higher quality or degree of light. And now he wanted to know, pursuing the same line of inquiry, “Is it because of all these women?”
“Well, I have known quite a few myself, Your Highness,” I said, “though not all at the same time. That seems to be your case. But at present I happen to be very happily married. My wife’s a grand person, and we have a very spiritual union. I am not blind to her faults; I sometimes tell her she is the altar of my ego. She is a good woman, but something of a blackmailer. There is such a thing as scolding nature too much. Ha, ha.” I have told you I was feeling a little displaced in my mind. And now I said, “Why do I envy you? You are in the bosom of your people. They need you. Look how they stick around and attend to your every need. It’s obvious how much they value you.”
“While I am in possession of my original youthfulness and strength,” he said, “but have you any conception of what will take place when I weaken?”
“What will …?”
“These same ladies, so inordinate of attention, will report me and then the Bunam who is chief priest here, with other priests of the association, will convey me out into the bush and there I will be strangled.”
“Oh, no, Christ!” I said.
“Indeed so. I am telling you with utmost faithfulness what a king of us, the Wariri, may look forward to. The priest will attend until a maggot is seen upon my dead person and he will wrap it in a slice of silk and bring it to the people. He will show it in public pronouncing and declaring it to be the king’s soul, my soul. Then he will re-enter the bush and, a given time elapsing, he will carry to town a lion’s cub, explaining that the maggot has now experienced a conversion into a lion. And after another interval, they will announce to the people the fact that the lion has converted into the next king. This will be my successor.”
“Strangled? You? That’s ferocious. What sort of an outfit is this?”
“Do you still envy me?” said the king, making the words softly with his large, warm, swollen-seeming mouth.
I hesitated, and he observed, “My deduction from brief observation I give you as follows-that you are probably prone to such a passion.”
“What passion? You mean I’m envious?” I said touchily, and forgot myself with the king. Hearing a note of anger, the amazons of the guard who were arrayed behind the wives along the walls of the room, began to stir and grew alert. One syllable from the king quieted them. He then cleared his throat, raising himself upon his sofa, and one of the naked beauties held a salver so that he might spit. Having drawn some tobacco juice from his pipe, he was displeased and threw the thing away. Another lady retrieved it and cleaned the stem with a rag.
I smiled, but I am certain my smile looked like a grievance. The hairs about my mouth were twisted by it. I was aware, however, that I could not demand an explanation of that remark. So I said, “Your Highness, something very irregular happened last night. I don’t complain of having fallen into a trap on arrival or my weapons being swiped, but in my hut last night there was a dead body. This is not exactly in the nature of a complaint, as I can handle myself with the dead. Nevertheless I thought you ought to know about it.”
The king looked really put out over this; there wasn’t the least flaw of insincerity in his indignation and he said, “What? I am sure it is a confusion of arrangements. If intentional, I will be very put out. This is a matter I must have looked into.”
“I’m obliged to confess, Your Highness, I felt a certain amount of inhospitality and I was put out. My man was reduced to hysterics. And I might as well make a clean breast. Though I didn’t want to tamper with your dead, I took it upon myself to remove the body. Only what does it signify?”
“What can it?” he said. “As far as I am aware, nothing.”
“Oh, then I am relieved,” I said. “My man and I had a very bad hour or two with it. And during the night it was brought back.”
“Apologies,” said the king. “My most sincere. Genuine. I can see it was horrible and also discommoding.”
He didn’t ask me for any particulars. He did not say, “Who was it? What was the man like?” Nor did he even seem to care whether it was a man, a woman, or a child. I was so glad to escape the anxiety of the thing that at the time I didn’t note this peculiar lack of interest.
“There must be quite a number of deaths among you at this time,” I said. “On the way over to the palace I could have sworn I saw some fellows hanging.”
He did not answer directly, but only said, “We must get you out of the undesirable lodging. So please be my guest in the palace.”
“Thank you.”
“Your things will be sent for.”
“My man, Romilayu, has already brought them, but he hasn’t had breakfast.”
“Be assured, he will be taken care of.”
“And my gun …”
“Whenever you have occasion to shoot, it will be in your hands.”
“I keep hearing a lion,” I said. “Does this have anything to do with the information you gave me about the death of …” I did not complete the question.
“What brings you here to us, Mr. Henderson?”
I had an impulse to confide in him-that was how he made me feel, trusting-but as he had steered away the subject from the roaring of the lions, which I clearly heard beneath, I couldn’t very well start, just like that, to speak openly and so I said, “I am just a traveler.” My position on the three-legged stool suggested that I was crouching there in order to avoid questioning. The situation required an amount of equipoise or calm of mind which I lacked. And I kept wiping or rubbing my nose with my Woolworth bandanna. I tried to figure, “Which of these women might be the queen?” Then, as it might not be polite to stare at the different members of the harem, most of them so soft, supple, and black, I turned my eyes to the floor, aware that the king was watching me. He seemed all ease, and I all limitation. He was extended, floating; I was contracted and cramped. The undersides of my knees were sweating. Yes, he was soaring like a spirit while I sank like a stone, and from my fatigued eyes I could not help looking at him grudgingly (thus becoming actually guilty of the passion he had seen in me), in his colors surrounded by cherishing attention. Suppose there was ultimately such a price to pay? To me it seemed that he was getting full value.