I wondered, having mind of the witch Kakula-banga’s warnings, what Calandola’s feeling toward me would be, since my joining of blood with Kinguri. I did not think Kinguri would have dared do such a thing without the Imbe-Jaqqa’s consent, but I did not know. And because the essence of his nature was so unlike that of other men, never was I sure how he responded to what we had done. On the day of my bonding to Kinguri, the Imbe-Jaqqa did embrace me in that crushing way of his, causing my new-healed wound to open, and he cried most roaringly, “The brother of my brother is my brother!” And called for blooded wine, and had me share it with him. Yet afterward I saw his face most somber and thoughtful, as though he brooded upon this matter, and did not like the new union between Kinguri and me.
In the days that followed, Calandola often had me by his side hours on end, and would not let me go from him. Sometimes he did not speak a word, only stared and drank; and I was silent alongside him, feeling the powerful emanations of his presence, that worked secretly and silently upon my spirit. Other times was he most garrulous, and boasted endlessly of past conquests, saying he had ruined this city and that, and roasted this chief and that, and laid waste this province and that. And still other times did he speak in a more reflective way, almost as deep as the wise Kinguri, on the purpose of his wrath, and on the hope he had of ending wickedness on earth—by which he meant settled civilization, that is—and on the differences between Africa as he perceived it and Europe as I described it. I think he had no real understanding of such places as England and France and Spain, and thought of them just as somewhat more busy places much like Angola and the Kongo. For he could not easily grasp my talk of roads and highways, of great harbors, of cathedrals and palaces, and all such things unknown to this land. He imagined he saw them when I spoke of them, but his own vision of them, as I understood it from his words, was very much smaller than the reality. Or did I misjudge him? Never truly do we see what is in another’s mind, but we must stumble about, doing our best to make our thoughts known, and always failing, until we come to Heaven, where all is transparent.
Often now did I go hunting with certain princes of the tribe, most usually Kinguri, but also sometimes his comrades Kulambo and Ngonga. These men were valiant and fierce, and said little, but moved with the strong and lethal speed of huge deadly cats. We would go apart from the tribe, taking with us lances or bows or swords, and for our pleasure fall upon the beasts of the field, the gazelles and zevveras and antelopes, and now and again a leopard prowling the treetops by night, or a young lion. Never did I use my musket in these exploits, the powder and shot being too difficult of replacement. But there was one time when I did regret its absence, when I hunted alone with great wide-shouldered Ngonga.
We had gone into the thickets to the east, pursuing the track of some swift creature, and getting ever closer to it, for its scent grew greater. But then suddenly we made our way into an opening between two thick vines that twined like angry serpents, and there was our beast fallen, and five men of some inland tribe gathered round it, pulling from it their spears.
Upon the sight of us they pointed and shouted in unknown jabber. I think they came from so far away that they knew not what a Jaqqa was, for they showed no fright of Ngonga for all his size and majesty and his Jaqqa emblems and his Jaqqa teeth. But any forest folk who knew they were with a Jaqqa would have fled at once. As for me, they were more perturbed, I suppose thinking me a spirit from the next world; but they displayed no fear of me, neither, so either they were most mightily valiant or else more than passing silly.
Still crying out their garboiled noises, thick-tonguedly, “Yagh ghagh ghaghyagh,” or the like, they rushed toward us with their weapons drawn. But their valor was not matched by their skill. I parried a thrust with my spear, and pushed the man away to Ngonga, who sliced him lustily upon his shoulder with the edge of his sword and cut him downward in two. And in the same moment Ngonga did jostle an attacker toward me, within range of my own blade, and swiftly I took the man’s head from his shoulders. The three remaining would not flee, but stubbornly renewed the onslaught: to their great cost, for that we cut them to pieces. All was done in a moment. The clearing was a charnel shambles, with heads here and legs there and blood bubbling everywhere, and Ngonga’s body and mine soaked and crimsoned with it, though we had neither of us been injured.
We looked toward one another, breathing hard, but joyous in the fine heat that comes from fighting well accomplished.
“Who are these foolish folk?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “They are meat,” he said. “That is all they are, and nothing more than that.”
“Do you think there are more of them nearby?”
“Most certainly I do,” said he. “They hide behind every tree. Come, let us show them what we are!”
And to my amaze he did slash open the belly of one of the dead men, and forage most expertly into that tangle of glistening various-colored gewgaws that we all of us carry in our middles. From amongst those things he plucked forth the man’s liver, and held it high, so that any concealed onlooker might have a good look. And then most coolly this Ngonga did sever the raw red liver into some smaller pieces and hand me mine, and he began to devour the fresh meat, which I did also. Slippery was it on my tongue, and hot and strange, but I bolted it down as though it were breast of partridge, or something even finer.
I think we were a most terrible sight to the unseen watchers. For in a quick while we heard rustlings out there, and saw a swaying of some treetops, and then all was silent: they were fleeing those eaters of human gore that had fallen so fiercely upon their fellows. It would not astonish me to hear that they were fleeing even unto this day, not daring to look back behind them lest we be following in our monstrous hunger.
In such ways did I pass the time as we camped outside the land of Makellacolonge. We did not attack, neither did we depart, and the air was troubled among my Jaqqa brothers, who grew tense and suspicious. They did not understand why we waited so long. Nor did Calandola give any clue: he was guided by his witches, and by the stars and the things he saw upon the horizon, and he kept his own counsel in these matters. So we diverted ourselves in whatever ways we could. But the death of Machimba-lombo overhung our minds, and created much unrest.
In this uncertain time there was revived in the Jaqqa camp a practice of which I had heard much, but had not yet witnessed here, which was, the trial by ordeal. I had seen such things among the people of Mofarigosat, where trial by poison was the customary measure. But that was only one of the many devilish forms of this manner of justice that the Jaqqas favored.
Moreover, they did not hold their trials merely when some issue at law had to be decided. Nay, they did them as general signs of innocence, as a grand show of bravery, to prove their loyalty to Imbe Calandola.
Perhaps ten days after my brothering with Kinguri came the first of these events, when all the Jaqqa lords marched before Calandola as he sat upon his high throne. The Imbe-Jaqqa did demand of them a renewing of homage, by means of the ordeal called chilumbo, which was done with fire. In this, a red-hot iron was passed over the thigh of each man, the reasoning being that any who are faithful to the Imbe-Jaqqa will be unharmed, but those who harbor secret discontents will be blistered and injured, and thereby their treachery exposed.
Thereupon the old wizard Kakula-banga, wearing his finest feathers and paints, and a coat of shining grease over his whole skin, did take a kind of holy hatchet which he had, and laid it in the fire. Then one by one every great man of the tribe did step forward, while musicians did make a horrid drumming to excite everyone the further.