At this time Golambolo did come to me, who had command of the scouts that occupied the outlying districts. He made his obeisance and said, “News, O Andubatil, of the Portuguese army!”
“And what is that, Golambolo?”
“That it has left Ndala Chosa, and begun to move through the countryside.”
“In which direction?” said I, much excited.
“They seem not to know themselves. First they go toward the great waterfall, and then they turn westward again, and south as if they would march upon Langere. I think they have no plan except to move across the land and hope to encounter enemies.”
“Ah. We must keep close watch on them.” I closed mine eyes, and summoned up the image of the region, and the place of each town alongside the River Kwanza, and of our own position well south of it. And said to Golambolo, “Send forth double the number of scouts, and check their movements every hour. And when there is a change in their march, send your men running in relays, that is, one runner bearing the news to another who is fresh, and him to the next along the route, so that the tale comes to me swift as the wind. I must know at once.”
He saluted and hastened to obey. And in the next day and the next the reports that he brought me were frequent, that the Portugals were moving swiftly though still without evident purpose, a large force of them marching in the territory that formed a triangle on the points of Ndala Chosa, Langere, and Agokayongo. There was no indication from this that they were aware of the force we had gathered at Agokayongo, nor had Golambolo’s men seen sign that the Portugals were scouting in this direction. Yet something was brewing, for now they were only a day’s march from us, or perhaps just a little more than that. Again I doubled the number of scouts under Golambolo’s command, so that we might have exact knowledge.
Calandola at this time was preoccupied by meeting with Kafuche Kambara, at a midway point outside Agokayongo between his army and that of the other lord. I was not privy to these meetings, nor were any of the other Jaqqa generals: it was just the two high masters, coming together to discuss their tactic for sacking São Paulo de Loanda. But I think there was some dispute of policy between them, and rising tempers that grew hotter with the continuing negotiation; for rumor did journey in the Jaqqa camp that the other force was going to sever its alliance with us, or even to renew an onslaught against us, and that Imbe Calandola was hard pressed to hold Kafuche to his treaty. Certainly the Imbe-Jaqqa was morose and distant when he returned to us, and closeted himself with some several of his wives, and we saw nothing of him.
Thus I did not report to him the movements of the Portuguese force. I took it purely as my province of authority, to keep watch over that force by means of Golambolo’s men, and to reserve all decision concerning it until its movements were clear. It was but a few hundred men, and we were many thousands: if they blundered within our neighborhood, we would easily be able to overwhelm them.
Then—the moon being still inauspicious—Calandola suddenly did summon me and declare, “Load your musket, Andubatil, for we will go to the wars tomorrow.”
“Lord Calandola, is this not hasty?”
He swung about on me like an enfuried coccodrillo, and gaped and bared his teeth. “What, do you tell me my own mind?”
“We have relaxed our fine edge of readiness,” I replied. “Surely we cannot regain it so swiftly!”
“We must,” said he. “I feel necessity rolling down upon us. If we make not the war against São Paulo de Loanda this day next, we will lose our moment entirely. Tonight we feast; tomorrow we break camp. I am making the order generally known.”
“The moon—”
“The moon will turn in our favor,” said he.
I dared not dispute with him further.
This was the time to tell him that a Portuguese army was not far away, and that we must enter it into our planning. But something held me from giving forth that news at just that instant, and in the next he drove it utterly from my mind by saying most offhandedly, “And also, we will deal with the Portugal woman tonight. I give you leave to pay your farewell to her, if you so desire.”
That struck me most heavily, for in recent days it had seemed to me that under the press of circumstance Calandola had forgotten Dona Teresa entirely, or else was no longer set on having her life. The force of his words must have had its conspicuous effect in my features, for he noted my look and said more gently, “She must die, Andubatil. There is no other way about it. Have you not resolved yourself to it?”
“That woman is most dear to me.”
“Aye, but she is a traitor, self-confessed. I cannot let her live, or it would be the end of all government among my nation. Kinguri cries for her blood.”
“And who is lord here, Kinguri or Calandola?”
“Calandola is lord!” he howled. “Calandola will have her slain! And take care, Andubatil, lest he take your life, too, for insolence if not for treason!”
“I meant no offense, my lord. You see how strong I regret her slaying, that I would speak that way?”
“She must die,” said he more calmly, though I knew I had wounded him deep and would not be soon forgiven. “Speak no folly, Andubatil. Go to her, bid her be resigned, comfort her, take what comfort you can yourself; for it is sealed.”
“There is no sparing her?”
“None.”
“I will go to her, then,” I said.
And as we parted he called after me, “Andubatil? Attempt no desperate treason, when you are with her. I pray you, do not do any foolish thing. It would grieve me to see you slaughtered beside her at the festival.”
“I shall not be rash, O Imbe-Jaqqa,” I did reply, though he had read my heart.
I went at once to the place where Dona Teresa was kept; and her guards, knowing that it was Calandola’s will, admitted me freely to her cage. Thus was it that our first meeting was reversed, she now being the prisoner and I the visitor, whereas in the presidio of São Paulo de Loanda upon my coming to this land it had been the other way.
Her captivity had gone severely with her. They had not starved her, for I saw food and drink within her cage; but she must have eaten little of it, and she was most haggard and diminished, as though the flame within her did burn low. Her garments, that had been in rents and tatters before, now were loose and soiled and she made no show of fastening them, so that her breasts and belly were all but bare, and her skin seemed slack to me, her bearing feeble, her nobility and beauty in retreat. When I entered I found her bent over, crouched over some small thing of twigs and straw, and muttering words to it, and she looked up, alarmed, and hid it behind her back.
“What is that, Teresa?” I asked.
“It is nothing, Andres.”
“Show it me.”
“It is nothing.”
“Show it.”
She shook her head; and when I reached for it, she hissed like an angry cat, and backed away from me to the corner of the cage.
“It is some idol, is it not?” I asked. “Some mokisso-thing that you have fashioned, and that you are praying to?”
“It does not concern you,” said she.
“This is no time for idols and witchcraft. This is a time for true prayer, Teresa.”
She looked toward me with dull and somber eyes and said, “They are to slay me tonight, Andres, are they not?”
“So the Imbe-Jaqqa declares.”
“And will they eat me afterward?”
“Speak not of such things, Teresa, I pray you.”