“No, I just got jolted,” I said.
Then he began to explain. “I intend to loosen you up, Sungo, because you are so contracted. This is why we were running. The tendency of your conscious is to isolate self. This makes you extremely contracted and self-recoiled, so next I wish—”
“Next?” I said. “What next? I’ve had it. I’m humbled to the dust already. What else am I supposed to do, King, for heaven’s sake? First I was stuck with a dead body, then thrown into the cattle pond, clobbered by the amazons. Okay. For the rain. Even the Sungo pants and all that. Okay! But now this?”
With much forbearance and sympathy he answered, picking up a pleated corner of his velvet headgear, the color of thick wine, “Patient, Sungo,” he said. “Those aforementioned things were for us, for the Wariri. Do not think I am ever ingrate. But this latter is for you.”
“That’s what you keep saying. But how can this lion routine cure what I’ve got?”
The forward slope of the king’s face suggested, as his mother’s did, that it was being offered to you. “Oh,” he said, “high conduct, high conduct! There will never be anything but misery without high conduct. I knew that you went out from home in America because of a privation of high conduct. You have met your first opportunities of it well, Henderson-Sungo, but you must go on. Take advantage of the studies I have made, which by chance are available to you.”
I licked my hand, for I had scratched it in falling, and then I sat up, brooding. He squatted opposite me with his arms about his knees. He looked steadily at me across his large folded arms while he tried to make me meet his gaze.
“What do you want me to do?”
“As I have done. As Gmilo, Suffo, all the forefathers did. They all acted the lion. Each absorbed lion into himself. If you do as I wish, you too will act the lion.”
If this body, if this flesh of mine were only a dream, then there might be some hope of awakening. That was what I thought as I lay there smarting. I lay, so to speak, at the bottom of things. Finally I sighed and started to get up, making one of the greatest efforts I have ever made. At this he said, “Why rise, Sungo, since we have you in a prone position?”
“What do you mean, prone position? Do you want me to crawl?”
“No, naturally not, crawl is for a different order of creature. But be on all the fours. I wish you to assume the posture of a lion.” He got on all fours himself, and I had to admit that he looked very much like a lion. Atti, with crossed paws, only occasionally looked at us.
“You see?” he said.
And I answered, “Well, you ought to be able to do it. You were brought up on it. Besides, it’s your idea. But I can’t.” I slumped back on the ground.
“Oh,” he said. “Mr. Henderson, Mr. Henderson! Is this the man who spoke of rising from a grave of solitude? Who recited me the poem of the little fly on the green leaf in the setting sun? Who wished to end Becoming? Is this the Henderson who flew half around the world because he had a voice which said I want? And now, because his friend Dahfu extends a remedy to him, falls down? You dismiss my relationship?”
“Now, King, that’s not true. It’s just not true, and you know it. I’d do anything for you.”
To prove this, I rose up on my hands and feet and stood there with knees sagging, trying to look straight ahead and as much like a lion as possible.
“Oh, excellent,” he said. “I am so glad. I was sure you had sufficient flexibility in you. Settle on your knees now. Oh, that is better, much better.” My paunch came forward between my arms. “Your structure is far from ordinary,” he said. “But I offer you sincerest congratulations on laying aside the former attitude of fixity. Now, sir, will you assume a little more limberness? You appear cast in one piece. The midriff dominates. Can you move the different portions? Minus yourself of some of your heavy reluctance of attitude. Why so sad and so earthen? Now you are a lion. Mentally, conceive of the environment. The sky, the sun, the creatures of the bush. You are related to all. The very gnats are your cousins. The sky is your thoughts. The leaves are your insurance, and you need no other. There is no interruption all night to the speech of the stars. Are you with me? I say, Mr. Henderson, have you consumed much amounts of alcohol in your life? The face suggests you have, the nose especially. It is nothing personal. Much can be changed. By no means all, but very very much. You can have a new poise, which will be your own poise. It will resemble the voice of Caruso, which I have heard on records, never tired because the function is as natural as to the birds. However,” he said, “it is another animal you strongly remind me of. But of which?”
I wasn’t going to tell him anything. My vocal cords, anyway, seemed stuck together like strands of overcooked spaghetti.
“Oh, truly! How very big you are,” he said. He went on in this vein.
At last I found my voice and asked him, “How long do you want me to hold this?”
“I have been observing,” he said. “It is very important that you feel something of a lion on your maiden attempt. Let us start with the roaring.”
“It won’t excite her, you think?”
“No, no. Now look, Mr. Henderson, I wish you to picture that you are a lion. A literal lion.”
I moaned.
“No, sir. Please oblige me. A real roar. We must hear your voice. It tends to be rather choked. I told you the tendency of your conscious is to isolate self. So fancy you are with your kill. You are warning away an intruder. You may begin with a growl.”
Having come so far with the guy there was no way to back out. Not one single alternative remained. I had to do it. So I began to make a rumble in my throat. I was in despair.
“More, more,” he said impatiently. “Atti has taken no notice, therefore it is far from the thing.”
I let the sound grow louder.
“And glare as you do so. Roar, roar, roar, Henderson-Sungo. Do not be afraid. Let go of yourself. Snarl greatly. Feel the lion. Lower on the forepaws. Up with hindquarters. Threaten me. Open those magnificent mixed eyes. Oh, give more sound. Better, better,” he said, “though still too much pathos. Give more sound. Now, with your hand-your paw-attack! Cuff! Fall back! Once more-strike, strike, strike, strike! Feel it. Be the beast! You will recover humanity later, but for the moment, be it utterly.”
And so I was the beast. I gave myself to it, and all my sorrow came out in the roaring. My lungs supplied the air but the note came from my soul. The roaring scalded my throat and hurt the corners of my mouth and presently I filled the den like a bass organ pipe. This was where my heart had sent me, with its clamor. This is where I ended up. Oh, Nebuchadnezzar! How well I understand that prophecy of Daniel. For I had claws, and hair, and some teeth, and I was bursting with hot noise, but when all this had come forth, there was still a remainder. That last thing of all was my human longing.
As for the king, he was in a state of enthusiasm, praising me, rubbing his hands together, looking into my face. “Oh, good, Mr. Henderson. Good, good. You are the sort of man I took you to be,” I heard him say when I stopped to draw breath. I might as well go the whole way, I thought, as I was crouching in the dust and the lion’s offal, since I had come so far; therefore I gave it everything I had and roared my head off. Whenever I opened my bulging eyes I saw the king in his hat rejoicing by my side, and the lioness on the trestle staring at me, a creature entirely of gold sitting there.
When I could do no more I fell flat on my face. The king thought I might have passed out, and he felt my pulse and patted my cheeks saying, “Come, come, dear fellow.” I opened my eyes and he said, “Ah, are you okay? I worried about you. You went from crimson to black starting from the sternum and rising into the face.”