But the king had little life left in him now, and we soon parted. He was picked up by the beaters, the end of the hopo was opened and we started to go down the ravine among the cactuses toward that stone building I had first seen from the platform at the top of the wall. On the way he died of the hemorrhage.
This small house built of flat slabs had two wooden doors of the stockade type which opened into two chambers. His body was laid down in one of these. Into the other they put me. I scarcely knew what was happening anyway, and I let them lead me in and bolt the door.
XXI
At one time, much earlier in this life of mine, suffering had a certain spice. Later on it started to lose this spice; it became merely dirty, and, as I told my son Edward in California, I couldn’t bear it any more. Damn! I was tired of being such a monster Of grief. But now, with the king’s death, it was no longer a topic and it had no spice at all. It was only terrible. Weeping and mourning I was put into the stone room by the old Bunam and his white-dyed assistant. Though the words came out broken, I repeated the one thing, “It’s wasted on dummies.” (Life is.) “They give it to dummies and fools.” (We are where other men ought to be.) So they led me inside, crying my head off. I was too bereaved to ask any questions. By and by a person rising from the floor startled me. “Who the hell is that?” I asked. Two open, wrinkled hands were raised to caution me. “Who are you?” I said again, and then I recognized a head of hair shaped like an umbrella pine and big dusty feet as deformed as vegetable growths.
“Romilayu!”
“Me here too, sah.”
They hadn’t let him get off with the letter to Lily, but picked him up just as he was leaving town. So even before the hunt began they had decided that they didn’t want my whereabouts to be known to the world.
“Romilayu, the king is dead,” I said.
He tried to comfort me.
“That marvelous guy. Dead!”
“Fine gen’a’man, sah.”
“He thought he could change me. But I met him too late in life, Romilayu. I was too gross. Too far gone.”
All I had left in the way of clothing was shoes and helmet, T-shirt and the jockey shorts, and I sat on the floor, where I bent over double and cried without limit. Romilayu at first could not help me.
But maybe time was invented so that misery might have an end. So that it shouldn’t last forever? There may be something in this. And bliss, just the opposite, is eternal? That is no time in bliss. All the clocks were thrown out of heaven.
I never took another death so hard. As I had tried to stop his bleeding, there was blood all over me and soon it was dry. I tried to rub it off. Well, I thought, maybe this is a sign that I should continue his existence? How? To the best of my ability. But what ability have I got? I can’t name three things in my whole life that I did right. So I broke my heart over this, too.
Thus the day passed and the night passed, too, and in the morning I felt light, dry and hollow. As if I were drifting, like an old vat. All the moisture was on the outside. Inside, I was hollow, dark, and dry; I was sober and empty. And the sky was pink. I saw it through the bars of the door. The Bunam’s black-leather man, still in his coat of white, was our custodian, and brought us baked yams and other fruit. Two amazons, but not Tamba and Bebu, were his staff, and everyone treated me with peculiar deference. During the day I said to Romilayu, “Dahfu said that when he died I should be king.”
“Dem call you Yassi, sah.”
“Does that mean king?” That was what it meant. “Some king,” I said, musing. “It’s goofy.” Romilayu made no comment whatever. “I would have to be husband to all those wives.”
“You no like dat, sah?”
“Are you crazy, man?” I said. “How could I even think of taking over that bunch of females? I have all the wife I need. Lily is just a marvelous woman. Anyway, the king’s death has hurt me too much. I am stricken, can’t you see, Romilayu? I am stricken down and I can’t function at all. This has broken me.”
“You no look so too-bad, sah.”
“Oh, you want to make me feel better. But you should see my heart, Romilayu. I have a punchy heart. It’s had more beating than it can take. They’ve kicked it around far too much. Don’t let this big carcass of mine fool you. I am far too sensitive. Anyway, Romilayu, it’s true I shouldn’t have bet against the rain on that day. It didn’t look like good will on my part. But the king, God bless the guy, let me walk into a trap. I wasn’t really stronger than that man Turombo. He could have lifted up Mummah. He just didn’t want to become the Sungo. He faked himself out of it. It’s too dangerous a position. This the king did to me.”
“But him dange’ah too,” said Romilayu.
“Yes, and so he was. Why should I ask to have it better than he? You’re right, old fellow. Thanks for setting me straight.” I thought a while, then asked him, as a man of proven good sense, “Don’t you think I’d scare those girls?” I grimaced to illustrate my meaning somewhat. “My face is half the length of another person’s body.”
“I don’t t’ink so, sah.”
“Isn’t it?” I touched it. “Well, I won’t stay, anyhow. Though I will never have another chance to become a king, I guess.” And thinking deeply about the great man, just dead, just settled for good and all into nothing, into dark night, I felt he had picked me to step into his place. It was up to me, if I wanted to turn my back on home, where I had been nothing. He believed that I was royal material, and that I might make good use of a chance to start life anew. And so I sent my thanks to him, through the stone wall. But I said to Romilayu, “No, I’d break my heart here trying to fill his position. Besides, I have to go home. And anyway, I am no stud. No use kidding, I am fifty-six, or going on it. I’d shake in my boots that the wives might turn me in. And I’d have to live under the shadow of the Bunam and Horko and those people, and never be able to face old Queen Yasra, the king’s mother. I made her a promise. Oh, Romilayu, as if I had ability to promise anything on. Let’s get out of here. I feel like a lousy impostor. The only decent thing about me is that I have loved certain people in my life. Oh, the poor guy is dead. Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho! It kills me. It could be time we were blown off this earth. If only we didn’t have hearts we wouldn’t know how sad it was. But we carry around these hearts, these spotty damn mangoes in our breasts, which give us away. And it isn’t only that I’m scared of all those wives, but there’ll be nobody to talk to any more. I’ve gotten to that age where I need human voices and intelligence. That’s all that’s left. Kindness and love.” I fell into mourning again, for this was how I had gone on without intermission since being shut in the tomb, and I kept it up a while longer, as I recall. Then suddenly I said to Romilayu, “Pal, the king’s death was no accident.”
“What you mean, sah?”
“It was no accident. It was a scheme, I begin to be convinced of it. Now they can say he was punished for keeping Atti, having her under the palace. You know they wouldn’t hesitate to murder the guy. They thought I’d be more pliable than the king. Would you put this past these guys?”
“No sah.”
“You bet, no sah. If I ever get my hands on any of these characters I’ll crush them like old beer cans.” I ground my hands together to show what I would do, and bared my teeth and growled. Perhaps I had learned from lions after all, and not the grace and power of movement that Dahfu had got out of his rearing among them, but the more cruel aspect of the lion, according to my shorter and shallower experience. When you get right down to it, a fellow can’t predict what he will pick up in the form of influence. I think that Romilayu was somewhat upset by this jump from mourning to retribution, but he seemed to realize that I wasn’t myself, altogether; he was ready to make allowances for me, being really a very generous and understanding type, and quite a Christian fellow. I said, “We must think of crashing out of here. Let’s case the joint. Actually, where are we? And what can we do? And what have we got?”