The next day he would see Iruma and would tell her everything… And she… she loved him too!
The former slaves had arranged to meet at the opposite end of the village, where most of them lived in two big houses. Cavius, Kidogo and Pandion occupied a small separate house that had been allotted to them on account of Pandion’s illness.
Pandion, who had been sitting in the house sharpening a spear, got up and went to the door.
‘‘Where are you going?” asked the astonished Etruscan. “Aren’t you coming to the conference?”
“I’ll come later,” answered Pandion, turning away and hurriedly leaving the house.
Cavius looked keenly after the departing Hellene and turned in perplexity to Kidogo, who was sitting near the door working hard on a piece of thick hide he was making into a shield.
Pandion had not told his friends that Iruma was waiting for him at the forest edge. He realized that the return of his friends meant a threat to his new-found love but had not had strength enough to forego the meeting with Iruma. His justification was that he would know the result of the conference from his friends even if he were not present himself.
As he approached the forest Pandion searched with his eyes for Iruma; the smiling girl suddenly detached herself from the trunk of a tree and stood before him. She had put on her father’s hunting cloak of soft, grey bark which made her quite invisible against the background of the trees. The girl made a sign to Pandion to follow her and walked off along the edge of the forest to a place where the trees jutted out into the fields in a semicircle about three thousand cubits from the village. There she passed under the trees. Pandion, for the first time in an African forest, looked about him in curiosity. He had expected it to be quite different — the forest stretched in a narrow strip along the valley of the river that flowed round the village and was no more than two thousand cubits in width.
It consisted of high trees that met overhead in a huge vault forming a dark gallery over the eternal twilight of the river-bed.
Deeper in the forest the trees were higher, and on the steep bank of the river they bent downwards so that their branches intertwined overhead. The straight, graceful trunks with white, black and brown bark stretched upwards for a good hundred cubits, like the colonnade of some huge building. The branches were so intertwined in a thick leafy vault that the sun could not penetrate through them. The grey twilight streamed down from above and was lost in the deep hollows between strange roots that rose up like walls. The silence, broken by nothing but the faint gurgling of water, the semi-darkness and the tremendous height of the forest colonnade gave Pandion a feeling of oppression. He seemed like an uninvited guest who ‘had insinuated himself into the forbidden heart of a strange nature that was full of secrets.
Over the water there were narrow gaps in the foliage through which a perfect cascade of golden fire poured down. The golden sunlight clothed the trees in a hazy brilliance and was split up into vertical strips of light that gradually diminished deeper in the forest. The dark, mysterious temples of Aigyptos came to Pandion’s mind. Strings of creeping plants hung in free loops between the trees or hung down loosely forming a wavy curtain. The ground was covered with fallen leaves, rotted fruits and branches; it was soft and fluffy to the feet, and here and there brightly-coloured flowers gleamed like stars.
Long strips of rustling bark hung from the tree-trunks like skin torn from the body.
Huge butterflies fluttered noiselessly over the earth; the marvellous colour combinations of their trembling wings bright- velvet black, metallic blue, red, gold and silver — filled Pandion with amazement.
Iruma led the way confidently between the roots towards the river and brought Pandion to a level piece of ground, right beside the water, covered with a soft carpet of fluffy moss. Here stood a tree that had been blasted by lightning. In the gaping split in the hard yellow wood, Pandion could see the outlines of a crudely carved human figure. The tree was apparently an object of worship — coloured rags and the teeth of wild beasts were hung all round it. Three blackened elephant’s tusks were stuck in the ground in front of it.
Iruma, her head bowed in reverence, approached the tree and motioned to Pandion to do the same.
“This is the ancestor of our tribe, born of a thunderbolt,” said the girl softly. “Give him something so that the ancients will be kind to us.”
Pandion looked himself over — he had nothing that he could give to that crude god, the alleged ancestor of Iruma. The smiling youth spread his hands to show that he had nothing, but the girl was implacable.
“Give him this.” She touched a belt of plaited giraffe tails that Kidogo had just made for him as a memento of the hunt.
The youth obediently unfastened the strip of leather and gave it to the girl. Iruma threw off her cloak. She was without bracelets and necklace, and wore nothing but a wide leather belt that dropped down over her left hip.
The girl rose up on tiptoe, reaching up to the splintered wood at the head of the idol where she hung Pandion’s tribute. Lower down Iruma fastened a piece of brightly-coloured leopard skin and a string of dark red berries that looked like beads. She sprinkled some millet at the foot of the idol and stepped back, satisfied.
Leaning back against the trunk of a low tree with hundreds of flowers amongst its leaves, (The tulip-tree from the family of Bignoniaceae.) she looked fixedly at Pandion. Hundreds of red lamps seemed to be burning over the girl’s head, while the sun’s rays played on the bronze of her skin.
Pandion stood looking at the girl in silent admiration. Her beauty seemed sacred to him in the silence of that forest of giant trees — the temple of unknown gods so completely different from the joyous divinities of his own land.
A bright, calm joy suddenly filled Pandion’s heart, he was once more the artist, his former strivings were reawakened within him.
Suddenly an exceptionally clear vision arose in his memory. Far away, in his distant homeland, to the noise of the sea and the pines, Thessa had stood like this in those far-off days that were never to come again…
Iruma placed her hands behind her head, bent slightly from the waist and sighed. Pandion was overwhelmed — Iruma had adopted exactly the pose as that in which he had tried to depict Thessa.
The whole past rose before Pandion’s eyes. With even greater strength he felt the urge to return to Oeniadae. To the road, forward to new battles, away from Iruma!… Pandion was tormented by desires that had formerly been so clear but were now doubled in his mind. He discovered contradictions in himself, that he had never before known, and they frightened him.
Here he felt the call of life — hot like the sun of Africa, youthful like the flowering plains after the rain, powerful like a swollen stream — the power of life. Far away there, in his homeland, were his brightest dreams of great creative art. But was not beauty itself standing before him, close and joyous? So different were Iruma and Thessa; they were in no way alike, yet in both of them there was true beauty.
Pandion’s alarm was transmitted to the girl. She drew near to him and the melodious tones of a strange language broke the silence.
“You are ours, Golden Eyes, I have danced the dance of the great goddess and our ancestor has accepted your gifts…” Iruma’s voice broke off, her long lashes covered her eyes. The girl threw her arms round Pandion’s neck and pressed tightly to him.