By the time they arrived at the village the sun was getting high. Ntikima could see that Quintus and Noell hoped that the meeting would not be a long one. Once noon was past, the heat of day grew intense, and with the rainy season ending there were no longer any clouds to soak up the light of the sun. The walk back, if they had to come in mid-afternoon, would be an uncomfortable one for the white men.
The Ibau village was built close to the shore of the lake, though it had a palisade on that side as well on the others, to guard against crocodiles. The huts were tall, shaped after the fashion of squat clay bottles, their steeply-sloping conical roofs thick-thatched to withstand the lashing of the wet-season rains. The doorway of each hut faced south-west so as to be shielded from the harmattan: the dry season wind which often carried a fine, cloying dust, even as far south as this.
The Oni-Olorun was waiting in the square before the chief’s hut, and Ntikima looked at him as curiously as the white men. By comparison with his gaudy escort he seemed a dull bird, neither bedecked with feathers nor so lavishly decorated with coloured scars. It seemed, though, that he had once been tattooed in the same way, for there were traces of coloured lines still visible beneath his furrowed skin – lighter patterns set against the deep black. The Oni-Olorun was a small man, no more than five feet in height. Nevertheless, he had a commanding presence of his own, which demanded the kind of obeisance which the Ibau were only too delighted to show to him.
The Oni-Olorun was very old. There was no way to judge from mere appearance how long he had walked upon the earth, for that would depend on the age which he had reached before he became an elemi. It meant little that he had wispy, grizzled hair, and that his face was etched with lines, the places around his eyes much creased, or that his arms were very thin. His muscles looked wasted, as though they had shrivelled from their former substance, but there was something in the way he stood, and in the way he studied his visitors, which spoke to Ntikima of great age and great wisdom. This was a man who stood higher in the ranks of Ogbone than any other he had seen, near to Ekeji Orisha, the eldest among the elders.
The Oni-Olorun bowed, in dignified fashion, to the white men. Quintus bowed in return, and Noell Cordery too, while Ntikima, Ngadze and Mburrai all stood back. Then the Oni-Olorun sat down, indicating with his claw-like hand that Quintus should do likewise. The Oni-Olorun seemed hardly to notice Noell Cordery, but he sat too, cross-legged like them, slightly behind the monk as well as to the side of him.
The Oni-Olorun spoke in Uruba, just as the warriors had, having obviously been told that this was a tongue that the white babalawo understood. He began by expressing his hope that the white tribe which had come to live on the great river was flourishing within the great brotherhood of tribes. He was undoubtedly aware that frequent attacks had been made on the settlement in its early days, but the tribes of the great brotherhood were constantly at one another’s throats; it was part of the pattern of life. Ntikima was not surprised to hear Quintus assuring the elemi that the white tribe thrived, grateful for the amity of its neighbours.
‘It is decided,’ the Oni-Olorun remarked, ‘that you will soon journey to the north, beyond the great forest.’
At this, Noell Cordery showed some sign of surprise, though Ntikima had already told him that the Oni-Olorun knew of their plans. Though the white man did not know how far the elemi had come, he knew full well that the journey must have taken many months. He must be wondering whether the elemi of Adamawara had some miraculous gift of prescience which had told them about the white babalawo’s intentions before they were even formed in his own mind. Ntikima had no such cause for surprise; he was the chief’ source of the Ogbone’s knowledge of the white men’s schemes and desires.
‘That is so,’ Quintus replied, in a calm fashion. ‘We have heard much about the tribes of the interior, and of Adamawara itself. There is much that we would like to learn about the lands of the great River Kwarra, and the Benouai, and the Logone.’
The Oni-Olorun showed no surprise when Quintus named the three rivers which marked the way to Adamawara, but simply said that the white babalawo was known even in Adamawara as a wise man and a healer, and that the Ekeji Orisha made such as he most welcome in that land.
Quintus seemed to understand what was meant by Ekeji Orisha, though Ntikima had never spoken of that person; he would understand the Uruba words, which meant ‘next to the gods’, and had obviously inferred that in this case the phrase was used as a title.
The Oni-Olorun went on to tell Quintus that the journey to Adamawara would be very difficult, and that even the brave Mkumkwe did not like to travel certain parts of the way, which were inhabited by savage tribes, and haunted by demons and strange creatures. Quintus replied that tales of such wonders were all the more reason why a curious man should want to go there, and that he had brave companions of his own, who would dare to go anywhere in search of wisdom.
The Oni-Olorun complimented Quintus on the bravery of his companions, but told him that one such as he could not successfully cross the lifeless forest, and survive the silver death, except with the assistance of an elemi who had strong medicines and amulets to guard against witches and their supernatural evil.
Ntikima could see that the white babalawo hesitated here, knowing himself to be on perilous ground, and being afraid of giving offence. Finally, the white man replied: ‘We would consider ourselves the most fortunate of men, were we to find such a guide and protector’.
The Oni-Olorun replied, with condescension, that Ekeji Orisha would gladly extend his protection to a man as wise and good as the babalawo from the sea, and had appointed the elemi Ghendwa, a wise Oni-Osanhin and a wearer of the white cloth, to bring the white men to Adamawara.
Ntikima knew that the white men did not fully understand the business of offering and accepting gifts, which was was more complicated than the business of honest barter. The making of gifts was very much a trading in obligations, which could regulate the relations between different tribes, or spoil them almost beyond redemption. If a man wanted to live long in this part of the world, he must needs be careful in accepting gifts, and twice as careful in giving them. In either case he could set in train a pattern of implied promises which, if broken – however unwittingly – could provoke violence. He found himself holding his breath, hoping that the white babalawo would accept this offering with all due gratitude. He sighed with relief to hear Quintus expressing profuse thanks, acknowledging the great debt that he was incurring. Again, though, Ntikima looked at Noell Cordery, and saw his obvious anxiety. The white men did not like to be reminded of their dependence on the good will of the black tribes to whose land they had come.
The Oni-Olorun clapped his ancient hands together, and from the dark interior of the chief’s house there came another elemi, and with him an unfinished man, an Ibau magician. This elemi did not seem so ancient as the Oni-Olorun, though he was similarly wrinkled and thin. He was wearing a white robe, secured at the shoulder, and he carried leathern pouches of medicines.
‘I am Ghendwa,’ said the elemi.
‘I am Msuri,’ said the Ibau, who had the medicines which marked him an adept in healing magic. Ntikima guessed that Msuri was also to be taken to Adamawara, to be judged and, if found worthy, to be trained for eternal life.
‘These will be your guides,’ said the Oni-Olorun to Quintus. ‘They will bring you safe to Adamawara. The Mkumkwe must go with me, to the city of Benin, but I think you have your own warriors, who will guard you from savage men.’ He got to his feet when he had finished speaking, to signal that the interview was ended.
Quintus got to his feet also, and bowed. Noell Cordery scrambled up and did likewise. The Oni-Olorun went into the chief?s hut, leaving Ghendwa and Msuri behind.
‘I will come to you,’ said Ghendwa, ‘when the last of the rain has come and gone. You must prepare for a great journey, because we cannot return until the dry season comes again.’ Having completed this speech, the elemi bowed in his turn,
and returned with Msuri to his hut.
Dismissed, Quintus and Noell turned away to where Ntikima, Ngadze and Mburrai waited for them. The Mkumkwe had gone away, to seat themselves in a close huddle near to the palisade, where they were still stared at by a group of the village boys.
‘What do you make of it all?’ asked Noell of Quintus, as they left the village.
‘It might be a Godsend,’ Quintus told him, unsmilingly, ‘or a most subtle trick of Satan. Time will tell.’
Ntikima rejoiced at the apparent wisdom of his white babalawo, who knew that the Oni-Olorun was indeed the emissary of the god which he served, but who seemed also to understand that in the course of their journey they must have some intercourse with Shigidi, who had power over men while they slept – for surely it was Shigidi that white men called ‘Satan’.
Time would indeed tell, thought Ntikima, how these strangers from beyond the sea would be judged by the elders of Adamawara, and by Egungun, who was the voice of their ancestors.
FOUR
The elemi Ghendwa came to Burutu two days later. Noell watched while he was received with much ceremony by the native tribesmen, who made their own arrangements to accommodate him. He had little to say to the white men, and they – not altogether at ease – did not try to press him. They were instead content to watch him closely as he made his way about the settlement, inspecting the buildings and their contents. Whenever there was activity in the houses or about Langoisse’s ship, Ghendwa would be there, observing from a distance, usually with Msuri and Ntikima by his side. But wherever the elemi went there would also be many pairs of eyes observing him, with equal or greater fascination.
‘He has come to us not only to guide us, but to discover what we are like,’ Quintus declared to Noell and Langoisse as they supped that evening. ‘He is instructed to find out what we are, so that his Ogbone masters may decide what is to be done with us.’
‘And while his spying is done,’ said Langoisse acidly, ‘we may go with him to his home, and deliver ourselves into the hands of those vampire masters, as if to await their verdict meekly. But we have our guns, at any rate.’
‘This spying is a blade that cuts both ways,’ Noell pointed out. ‘We want to visit his land, and he will take us there. It is plain that we have more to gain from his protective presence than he from ours, and we may learn from him while he studies us.’
‘I believe we have the right to be anxious,’ Quintus said, in a vexed tone. ‘When I proposed that we set out to find this fabulous land, I did not think that it would promptly send emissaries to us to welcome our approach. This smacks just a little of the spider and the fly.’
‘These Ogbone know altogether too much of our affairs,’ said Langoisse, looking moodily into his empty cup.
‘We cannot tell how much they know,’ Quintus told him. it is only natural that they are curious about us, and sent a spy to investigate this station, but I do not think the old vampire set out on his journey only to seek us out. I surmise that he discovered our intention to visit his land only when he arrived here, and instantly built it into his own schemes. If the Ogbone meant us harm, they could destroy us very easily without bringing us to their own country. Should the elemi command it, all Benin would rise against us. If the Oni-Osanhin says that he will take us to Adamawara, I suppose he will take us there.’
‘But they have not said that they will let us out again,’ observed the pirate, ‘I had rather trust to my guns and powder for our best protection.’
‘Guns can only give us part of the protection that we need,’ said Noell. ‘I do not know what virtue there is in the medicines which these men have, but we will need all the help we can find if we are to survive the fevers which await us. What other perils there may be in this lifeless forest which Ntikima has mentioned, with its silver death, we cannot tell. Ghendwa is the one who knows these things, and we will need his knowledge as much as we need your guns.’
‘It is folly to trust a vampire,’ said Langoisse, uneasily.
‘We are in a land where vampires are trusted above ordinary men,’ Quintus reminded him, ‘and where they have no reputation for cruelty. It would be folly to oppose the elemi here as we once opposed the masters of Gaul. This is another world, where we live on the sufferance of the black men, who might all too easily turn against us.’
There was a brief silence, before Noell spoke again. ‘How different things would be in Europe,’ he said, ‘if the vampires there took the same part in the world’s affairs as the vampires here. Yet this Adamawara, we are told, is the land from which the vampires of our empires first came. How is it, I wonder, that the vampires of Africa are so very different from their bastard kin?’
‘Perhaps because they were differently received by men,’ said Quintus. ‘The black men have welcomed and revered the vampires, but the Arabs cast them out, and destroyed them whenever they could, with whatever fierce effort that required. Perhaps the vampires had no choice – if they were to cross the great desert at all, perhaps they could only do so by adopting new ways, and imposing the rule of force.’
‘More likely they are different vampires,’ said Langoisse. ‘I never did hear of a black vampire in Europe or the East, and there were no great ships in ancient times to carry men of our sort to this ugly coast.’
‘I am not certain of that,’ Quintus told him. ‘It has been written down that Christians and other white men reached the nations of the black vampires in ancient times, by more routes than one. I have read of a Greek captain who sailed around the foot of Africa, and the Phoenicians were fine sailors too. Christian missionaries from Syria went into the Ethiop lands in the third and fourth centuries – Ezana, the King of Axum, was converted by Frumentius and made Ethnarch of Ethiopia by St. Athanasius. Other missionaries doubtless went further to the south and west, and it is conceivable that because they were holy and learned men the vampires of Africa met them as equals.
‘Some historians suggest that certain of these would-be saints may have been converted, returning to Asia Minor as missionaries of a different kind, there to inspire the Black Huns with their dreams of conquest. Some say those Syrians still live, still invisible behind the thrones of Attila’s chain of empires; others contend that Attila, once made vampire, was greedy enough to destroy those who had brought him the gift, and conceal their part in his adventures.’
‘And is that the doctrine of the True Faith?’ asked the pirate.
‘No,’ said the monk, with equanimity. ‘It is the inference of the true historian.’
Noell had often heard Langoisse and Quintus dispute on matters of history and theology. Langoisse the great sinner was ever ready to find heresies in the ideas of Quintus the saintly.
‘If what you say is true,’ said Noell to Quintus, ‘what attitude might the vampires of Adamawara have toward their errant descendants? Perhaps it is to have news of them that they want us brought to their homeland. We must be very careful, I think, to conceal our true attitude to the vampires of Gaul and Walachia.’
‘It may be too late for that,’ said Quintus, contemplatively, ‘for I have noticed that the elemi spends a great deal of time with Ntikima, who has ever been anxious to learn what he can of our thoughts and ways. It is too late to keep secrets of that kind. But we do not know that the elemi of Adamawara would be any better pleased with their descendants the huns than were the common men they conquered.’
‘We know all too little,’ Langoisse lamented, ‘in spite of your long years of education.’
This remark annoyed Noell, but Quintus simply shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is because we know so little,’ he pointed out, ‘that we must be enthusiastic to travel in these alien lands. We seek not gold but understanding, which in my eyes is worth the greater risk. You have the Stingray, and may put to sea if you have changed your mind; but if you stay, then you must accept this Ghendwa as our guide, and submit to his advice.’
‘I am set on the adventure,’ Langoisse insisted. ‘The presence of thi
s vampire and his minion will only make me more careful to guard us all from treachery and harm. If what you say is true, there are no guns in Adamawara, and I will defend you there, and bring you out if the need arises.’
‘Ours will be a journey of many months,’ said the monk, ‘and in that time, much may happen to test us. We will surely need your guns, but we must not place too much faith in their power.’
‘I have faith enough for all of us,’ Langoisse assured him.
Here Noell intervened again. ‘I have watched this black vampire carefully,’ he said. ‘I know that he is far from being a fool. He is very curious about us, and has asked many questions of the Ibaus and the Edaus on the station. He has come to me while I was using my microscope, and watched so very carefully that I had to invite him to look into it. He said nothing, and I do not know what he thought, but he is learning all the while about us. We must try our best to match him. If we meet his questions with questions of our own, as so many of the tribesmen seem to do, we might win knowledge by the kind of barter in which we have become expert these last ten years. As we have exchanged needles and knives for gold and ivory, so we might exchange the wisdom of Gaul for the wisdom of Africa. No matter how much faith we have in our guns, let us arm ourselves as best we can in every other way.’
They had finished eating by now, and Quintus had pushed his chair back from the table. The monk nodded his head, soberly, to signify his agreement with all that Noell had said. Langoisse shoved his own chair back to give him space to stand, and shrugged his shoulders.
When the others went away, Noell did not immediately rise, but waited instead for Ntikima to come to clear the table. He watched the boy at his work, occasionally looking away to stare through the window at the darkening night.
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