I was not present at this parleying, though all the other Jaqqa high lords did attend. As I was making ready to set forth with them Calandola said, “Nay, not you, Andubatil.”
“And why is that?”
“Because of our skin that is dark, and yours that is white.”
“This I do not understand,” said I. “Am I not a Jaqqa?”
“You are Jaqqa within, by right of initiation, and blood-brothering, and marriage. But yet are you still a white man to the outer semblance, and I fear you will give dismay to Kafuche Kambara on that score.”
“Do you, then? Even though I wear Jaqqa emblems?”
“Even though,” said he, and I knew there was no appeal from that. So I withdrew my pleading, much as I did resent to be excluded from the meeting. And in this I think Calandola was not wrong. This Kafuche was a man of quick suspicions, who was known to have no liking for whites, and I would be far too strange an article for him to accept with ease. Therefore did I yield, although feeling shamed by my having to remain behind.
I did have one glimpse of the formidable Kafuche, as he came out from his city to meet with the Jaqqa lords. He was a splendid figure indeed, being very tall and strong, though old, with whitened hair, and when he came forth it was in such state as befitted a king. For he did ride upon an elephanto in great pomp and majesty, and on either side of the elephanto he had six lordly warriors, and there were slaves who carried a high golden canopy as it were a cloth of state above his head, and some five hundred archers as his guard came before him.
More than that I did not see, for Calandola had another task for me, that took me into new and grievous adventure. This was that we were to prepare the way for the invasion of the Portuguese territories, and so I was sent to explore the lands that lay between this place and Masanganu, and be a spy against the number of Portugals who defended the presidio there.
To accomplish this the Imbe-Jaqqa gave me for my protection some ninety fine warriors, of whom one, a tall and slender man that was called Golambolo, came to me with a great laugh and said, “Do you not know me, Andubatil?”
“Aye, you are the warrior Golambolo,” said I.
“So I am. But does nothing else concerning me come to your mind, now that we are about to cross this dry wasteland together?”
“I do not take your meaning,” I said.
“Have you no remembering of five Jaqqas that found you wandering in this same desert, after the Portugals had been smashed by the army of Kafuche Kambara?”
“That escorted me safe over the dry lands to Masanganu?”
“Indeed,” said Golambolo.
I looked close at him, and feigned that I recognized him; but in truth I did not, since that in those early days one Jaqqa had looked much like another to me.
“My gratitude is great,” said I. “To you I owe my life.”
“The life of Andubatil is precious to us all.”
“But I was not then Andubatil. Why did you save me, then?”
He smiled and pointed to my hair, and said he had thought me to be some powerful mokisso, or at the very least an important witch belonging to the Portugals, and he had not wanted to risk the enmity of the spirit world by letting me come to harm. Which was the confirming of what I had long suspected. I took from my neck the beads I was wearing, white with inlays of jet, and placed them about his throat, and he took both my elbows in his hands, which is a Jaqqa embrace of loyalty and affection, and we smiled upon one another for the sake of that other time.
With Golambolo and my ninety warriors did I now set forth to the direction of the River Kwanza, across Kisama province by way of a place called Agokayongo, where a lord subject to Kafuche Kambara did reign. At this town we were greeted with a hospitality of an uneasy sort—for none of these villagers relished the sight of Jaqqas ever, be they one Jaqqa or ninety-one—but they fed us and gave us to drink, and then they told us that a party of Portugals had passed just that way, traveling from the presidio of Ndemba to the west, and heading for Masanganu, where they proposed to take ship back to the coast.
This news gave me some alarm. “How many were there?” I asked.
“Not many,” replied the lord of Agokayongo. “Less than the fingers of two hands.”
“And said they anything about events in the Kisama province? Of a Jaqqa army, or of warfare in the south?”
“I heard from them not a thing of such matters,” answered that lord.
But the Portugals, had they known Calandola was moving through the province, might not have deemed it important to share that news with the lord of Agokayongo. Nor, even if he did know it, was he necessarily telling me the truth. And if there were Portuguese travelers moving through these regions, who knew of Imbe Calandola’s movements, it would go hard for us if they conveyed word of this to the forces of Masanganu. So I did summon Golambolo and my other lieutenants and say, “We must overtake these Portugals and make them prisoners, and keep them from bearing tales of us to their countrymen.”
At once did we set forth in their pursuit. Which did not seem to me to be any easy matter, for there is no fixed road in this part, and the terrain is much broken. But when we were only a league beyond Agokayongo we came upon the first sign of them: a dead horse by the base of a cliff, most pitiful to behold, for it was shrunken and withered and lying flat with sprawled limbs, like some cast-off doll out of which all the straw has fallen.
“They travel by horse?” Golambolo said. “Ah, then they are undone!”
I felt the same. For it is a risky thing to travel by horse in this torrid country; there is sparse forage for the poor beasts, and the air itself does suck the life from their lungs. Better by far is it to go afoot, and be light of burden, for there are some places, and this is one, where a man can go and a horse is only a drain and a disadvantage.
Indeed that had been the case amongst these Portugals. For we proceeded onward, and surmounted a steep rise in the valley, and looked down a short way to the west into a deep cleft between two sharp hills, and there they were. They sat gathered by the shade of a broad-spreading tree that was rooted in a small brackish pond. There were six of them, and four horses, and one of the horses looked to Golambolo’s keen eyes as being near unto death, and the other three not much more vigorous. Plainly the Portugals had made camp to allow their steeds to regain strength: and a somber error it had been for them, since that it had delivered them up into our hands.
“I will take them,” Golambolo said.
“Aye. Choose nine men, and ride down there and seize them, and return them to Lord Calandola for safekeeping. Tell him that upon my coming back from Masanganu, I will question them and get from them valuable information about the dealings of the Portugals in this province. And when you have done that, proceed onward and meet me by the town of Ndala Chosa.”
“So shall I do,” answered Golambolo.
With his nine men he moved out and down into the valley where the six Portugals lay. I knew I could trust him to accomplish the task with ease; therefore I did not wait, but continued on northward with the remainder of my force. We saw nothing of note in the bleak country ahead, until that we came to the place called Ndala Chosa, which lieth on the south side of the River Kwanza a few leagues upstream from Masanganu. For a day or two I rested in this village, for I had had the misfortune of twisting my foot and injuring it most sorely, so that I could not walk. While I lay in this fashion I sent forth scouts, who came back to me swiftly with news of the district that runs from Ndala Chosa to the great waterfall. There was a Portugal army ahead, they said: not just the usual complement of Masanganu, but some hundreds of troops camped outside that place, as though they were contemplating a war.