At the opposite end of the hall from the great double doors through which we entered, stood a dais carpeted in zebra skin, and upon the dais (I was reminded, for a moment, of the King of East Grinstead) was placed a throne of carved ebony, its scarlet, quilted back bearing the lion motif one saw everywhere in New Kumasi.
Dressed in a casual, white tropical suit, Cicero Hood stood near his throne, looking out of a tall window. He turned when we were announced, dismissing the guards with one hand while keeping the other in his trouser pocket, crossing with a light step to a table where there had been arranged a variety of drinks and non-alcoholic beverages (Hood had doubtless been informed that there were several in our party who did not drink). He served each of us personally and then moved about the hall arranging chairs so that we might all be seated close together. No European king could have behaved with greater courtesy to guests he was determined to honour (and yet equally determined to impress, for he had made sure we saw all the outward signs of his power!).
He had taken the trouble to find out the names of each individual in our party and to know something of their interests and special responsibilities in Bantustan and he chatted easily with them, showing a good knowledge of most subjects and ready to admit ignorance where he had it. Again, I was surprised. These were by no means the swaggering ill-manners of a parvenu monarch. There had been kings and emperors in my own world who might have learned much of the art of noblesse oblige from the Black Attila.
He did not address me individually until he had talked for a while with the others, then he grinned at me and shook me warmly by the hand and I had the unmistakable impression that the tyrant actually liked me - a feeling I could not reciprocate and could not equate with my knowledge of his much-publicized hatred of the white race. My own response was polite, self-controlled, but reserved.
'I am so glad, Mr Bastable, that you could agree to come,' he said.
'I was not aware, sir, that I had a great deal of choice,' I answered. 'President Gandhi seemed to be under the impression that you had insisted on my being part of the mission.'
'I expressed the hope that you might be able to join it, certainly. After all, I must show impartiality.' This was said with a smile which doubtless he hoped would disarm me. 'The token European, you know.'
Deliberately or not, he had made me feel self-conscious by referring to the colour of my skin. Even a joke had the effect of emphasizing the difference we both felt, and it would not have mattered if the man who made it had been my best friend, I should still have had the same feelings, particularly since there were no other whites in the room.
Noting my discomfort, Cicero Hood patted me on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Mr Bastable. A remark in bad taste. But hard for the son of a slave to resist, I'm sure you'd agree.'
'It would seem to me, sir, that your own success would be sufficient to help you forget any stigma…'
'Stigma, Mr Bastable?' His voice hardened. 'I assure you that I do not feel it as a stigma. The stigma, surely, belongs to those who enslaved my people in the first place.'
It was a good point. 'Perhaps you are right, sir,' I mumbled. I was no match for Hood's intellectual swiftness.
Hood's manner instantly became condescending again. 'But you are right. I have mellowed in the last year or two, thanks, in some measure, to the good fortune I have had. I have only one goal left and then I shall be content. However, that goal is the most difficult I have set myself, and I have a feeling I shall meet strong resistance from a certain Power which has, up to now, remained neutral.'
'You mean the Australasian-Japanese Federation, sir?' This was Field-Marshal Akari, the man we had elected as chief spokesman for our mission. A distinguished officer and one of President Gandhi's oldest friends and supporters, he was owed much by Bantustan and had frequently acted as the President's deputy in the past. 'Surely they would not risk everything they have built up over the last few years? They cannot feel threatened by Ashanti!'
'I am afraid that they do, field-marshal,' said Hood in a tone of the utmost regret. 'It would seem that they regard the Pacific as their territory and they have had some news of my plans - I have made no secret of them - and feel that if my ships begin to sail "their" ocean it will only be a matter of time before I cast greedy eyes upon their islands.'
Mrs Nzinga, but lately Minister of Communications in Gandhi's government, said quietly: 'Then you intend to attack the United States? Is that what you mean, sir?'
Hood shrugged. 'Attack is not the word I would choose, Mrs Nzinga. My intention is to liberate the black peoples of the United States, to help them build a new and lasting civilization there. I know that I am thought of as a senseless tyrant by many - embarked upon a crazy course of genocide -a war of attrition against the whites - but I think there is a method to my "madness". For too long the so-called "coloured" peoples of the world have been made to feel inferior by the Europeans. In many parts of Africa an awful, soul-destroying apathy existed until I began to show those I led that the whites had no special skills, no special intelligence, no special rights to rule. My speeches against the whites were calculated, just as my nationalism was calculated. I knew that there was little time, after the War, to make the gains I had to make. I had to use crude methods to build up my resources, my territory, the confidence of those I led. I happen to believe, rightly or wrongly, that it is time the black man had a chance to run the world. I think if he can rid himself of the sickness of European logic, he can make a lasting Utopia. I admire President Gandhi, Mrs Nzinga - though you might find that strange in a "bloody-handed tyrant". I have not threatened Bantustan because I fear your military strength. I want Bantustan to continue to exist because it is a symbol to the rest of the world of an ideal state. But it is Bantustan's good fortune, not any special virtue, which has made it what it is. The rest of the world is not so fortunate and if President Gandhi tried to set up his state, say, in India he would find that it would not last for long! First the world must be united - and the way to unite it is to form large empires - and the way to form large empires, I regret, madam, is by war and bloodshed - by ferocious conquest.'
'But violence will be met by violence,' said Professor Hira, whose university programme had been such a success in Bantustan. A small, tubby man, his shiny face positively glowed with emotion. 'Those you conquer will, sooner or later, try to rise up against you. It is in the nature of things.'
'Risings of the sort you describe, professor,' said General Hood grimly, 'are only successful where the government is weak. Tyrannies can last for centuries - have lasted for centuries - if the administration remains firmly in control. If it cultivates in itself the Stoic virtues. If it is, in its own terms, just. My Empire has been compared with that of Rome. The Roman Empire did not fall - it withered away when it was no longer of any use. But it left behind it a heritage of philosophy alone which has continued to influence us all.'
'But you saw Western thinking as having brought us to the brink of world annihilation,' I put in.
'In some ways only. That is not the point, however. I described an example. I believe that African thinking will produce a saner, more lasting civilization than that of the West.'
'You have no proof of this,' I said.
'No. But a theory must be tested to be duproved, Mr Bas-table. I intend to test the theory and to ensure that the test is thorough. The experiment will continue long after my death.'
There was nothing much I could reply to this without getting involved in abstractions. I subsided.