‘Are you afraid, Ntikima, to come with us to Adamawara?’ he asked, eventually.
‘Oh no,’ replied the boy. ‘When I met Aroni in the forest, many years ago, he told me that one day I must make this journey. I am not afraid, not even of the silver death.’
‘And will you come back with us, when we return? Or will you stay with the Mkumkwe, and hope to inherit the breath of life yourself?’ Noell watched carefully as the boy looked back at him, his big dark eyes apparently innocent of any confusion or intent to deceive.
‘I do not know,’ Ntikima said. ‘I will do as I am told.’
Not until the boy had disappeared did Noell realise that Ntikima had not specified whose instructions it was that he would obey.
Noell retired early to his bed, so that he might rise before dawn. He knew that while they travelled they must begin each day’s trek at first light, and stop soon after noon, if they were to conserve their strength. The sun could not be defied, and when its fiercest heat established its dominion, it was best for men to hide and wait. He slept very lightly, as he was always wont to do when new things were impending, and in his dreams he saw demons – not the Satanic demons of his own faith, but the stranger spirits of Africa, whose names and natures he had but recently learned. These phantoms of the night taunted him with the promise that their power to hurt him could only increase, the deeper into their realm he allowed himself to be led.
In spite of all this, the early hours of the next day found him already hard at work, arranging for the donkeys and their goods to be ferried across the river to the northern shore, from which the journey was to begin. He had decided that if they were to go, then they must go with determination, and that he, the strongest of them all, must be prepared to act the part of leader.
The expedition had twenty-two donkeys, all but three to be used as pack-animals, and the others only to be ridden if members of the party became too sick to walk. The expedition numbered sixteen in all, of which seven were whites. Langoisse had determined that Leilah and Selim must come with him, and those two of his sailors who were the most expert in the use of muskets. These were Englishmen named Eyre and Cory, the one small and wiry and the other a big man who had once been a marine soldier. Noell had questioned the pirate’s decision to include the woman, but Langoisse would not be without her, and swore that she was as clever as any man in all the work that would face them. There was certainly no doubt that she would far rather come with them than be left with the Stingray's sailors, and Noell had not pressed his complaint.
The seven settlement blacks who were to come with them were led by Ngadze, who had lived in the station longer than any, and who had learned English to complement his knowledge of half a dozen local languages; Mburrai and Ntikima were in this group. Ngadze’s authority was purely nominal, for Ghendwa easily assumed a hegemony over the blacks from the station which superseded that of the white men. They were willing to defer to Msuri too, which left Ngadze, tacitly, in the situation of third-in-command. It was clear to Noell that in any conflict of instruction that might arise, only Ngadze could be reckoned likely to hesitate, and even he would probably choose to obey the elemi.
The donkey-train eventually moved off three hours after dawn, with Quintus and the elemi marching at its head. Noell followed, leading the first donkey, which carried the monk’s and his own personal effects, including the box where the parts of the microscope were stowed. Langoisse and his men had charge of those animals which were carrying guns and powder, while the blacks brought up the rear, leading trains of two or three donkeys apiece, carrying supplies and trading goods which could be used to purchase food from native villages when the need arose.
Thus was the journey into the interior begun, and Noell found, looking back at the station which had been his home for many years, that he was not at all sorry to be going from it, even though he could not tell what future lay before him. Now that he was adrift on the sea of destiny, he felt calm and patient, ready to find whatever this strange continent had in store for him at its deepest heart. He felt, in fact, that this was the great adventure of his life, by which he might ever after be measured, in his own eyes and the estimation of other men.
FIVE
In the early days of the journey the progress which the expedition made seemed to Ntikima to be painfully slow. The difficulties involved in moving heavily-laden donkeys through the forest were great, and the frequent delays gave rise to much frustration. Noell Cordery and the white babalawo had known what it would be like, and were patient, but Langoisse and his sailors were free with their curses and complaints, and the boy soon learned to steer clear of them whenever he could.
They moved away from the shore of the watercourse on which Burutu stood, heading north-east toward the main stream of the Kwarra, but had to cross many rivulets and tributaries. These creeks were neither deep nor fast-flowing, but the crossings were hazardous because crocodiles were often to be found in the shallows, and had to be driven off with spears or guns. The land between these rivulets was marshy, swarming with biting insects. There were black leeches everywhere, and though the white men were relatively safe in their clothing the seamen became anxious to avoid them. Ntikima knew how to dislodge such creatures from his legs quickly and easily, but he was irritated nevertheless by the itchy sores which they left.
Once they were above the delta the way became easier for a while, but the path soon gave way to untracked coarse grass, which made a thick undergrowth between the palms. Walking was often difficult here, and their route was by necessity far from direct. There were many swamps and slowly-drying mud-flats which were even more troublesome. The larger swamps were dismal and noisome, and the travellers could not stop to make camp. On more than one occasion they had to keep up their march far longer than they wished, with the sun beating down relentlessly.
Apart from the crocodiles, the larger animals of the forest posed little threat, though when they came across pythons lolling from the branches the white men gave them a wide berth. They learned to ignore the monkeys and chimpanzees which chattered at them from the treetops. The tiny creatures were infinitely more troublesome. Ntikima had always ignored them, having grown used to their attentions, but Quintus had urged him to believe that they were, in their way, more dangerous than crocodiles. The babalawo had given his fellow whites thin veils to wear, to keep the biting insects from their faces, and insisted that they slept amid festoons of netting. Ghendwa told them that they had nothing to fear, and that the medicines which he and Msuri carried would protect them all, but the white men preferred to take their own precautions and Ntikima had sufficient respect for the white babalawo’s healing abilities to listen with one ear to each of his advisers. Quintus had told him to drink no water which was not boiled, because boiling drove diseaseful spirits from the water, and this he did. He looked forward with interest to the time when Quintus’s skills might be pitted against Msuri’s, to put their different methods to the test.
Langoisse had initially protested against the veils, but allowed himself to be persuaded. Even Selim disliked tiny insects and seemed to fear their stings far more than he hated or feared anything against which he could defend himself with his sword. For this reason he was quite ready to go veiled - which had the advantage, from the point of view of his fellow-travellers, of concealing his wrecked features.
Whether or not it was in consequence of these measures Ntikima could not tell, but the white men suffered no serious fevers while they trekked through the forest. They had problems with stomach-aches and diarrhoea in spite of driving the evil spirits from their drinking-water and making sure that they cooked their food most thoroughly. Several of the donkeys sickened, but they carried their packs regardless, and only one died. The only other loss which the expedition suffered at this stage was two of the Ibaus, who disappeared in the night, presumably finding the lure of their own villages more of a temptation than the prospect of a journey into unknown lands.
Now that the dry sea
son had begun the waters of the great river were in gradual recession, and the avenues of mud and sand which appeared on either side of the Kwarra became gradually more accommodating to their passage. There were many villages beside the banks, which now had fertile fields planted where the waters had receded, and food was abundant because the river supported many fishermen. Most of these villages were pleased to welcome the Oni-Osanhin, and though he sometimes had to linger to assist in secret ceremonies it was a great boon to the expedition that local priests and magicians were magnanimous in their attempts to claim him for a friend. Most were equally enthusiastic to be generous in their treatment of Msuri, who might one day return to this land as an Ibau elemi.
The shore was by no means so densely wooded when they went further beyond the delta, even where the banks were high and sheer. A cooling breeze blew along the river, easing the discomfort of the march and clearing away some few of the biting insects which clustered so thickly in the swamplands. The constant companions of the expedition in this region were the birds of the river - the cranes and the egrets which fed from its waters, and the vultures which picked the carrion left by crocodiles. The donkey-train was covering a good distance between each daybreak and noon; the hot afternoons could usually be spent in comfortable idleness, with friendly neighbours and plentiful food.
At night, when it became cold, the white men pitched their tents on open ground, preferring to do so even when a native village was near, where they might be allowed the use of wattled huts. On such nights, Ntikima would go with Ghendwa and Msuri to their meetings with the Ogbone, who were always aware of their approach. Sometimes the other blacks would go to the villages – except for Ngadze, who always stayed with the white men – but only Ntikima came to the secret conferences. He was disappointed, though, with what happened there, because very little magic was made.
The white men were wary of accepting the hospitality of the villages, save for obtaining supplies of food, and they never failed to post guards. Ntikima could see the wisdom in this; what their donkeys carried would be reckoned a substantial treasure by any chief. He doubted that their guns would have been adequate if the white men had not been under the protection of the Ogbone; no one would scruple to murder them in order to take possession of their goods, and many might be prepared to risk their guns. The villages here were a law unto themselves, and had far more respect for the person of Ghendwa and what he represented than they had for any distant authority such as the Oba of Benin.
As the days went by, and no hostile hand was raised against them, the white men became more confident of their safety. Noell no longer carried a musket, and became more adventurously curious about the places which they visited, and about the movements of the elemi. Quintus began to study Ghendwa closely, though covertly. When the elemi took blood, usually from Msuri but sometimes from Ntikima or one of the others, the sacrifice would often be discreetly observed. When Ghendwa, Msuri and Ntikima brought back plants from the forest which they had gathered to make medicines, Quintus would often ask Ntikima to tell him what was being made, and how. When Ghendwa offered sacrifices, or made magic, or simply sat by himself and chanted the measures of his wisdom, Quintus would usually be watching and listening. Ghendwa did not seem to mind this curiosity, and never forbade Ntikima to answer questions, though his own answers were always evasive.
When the elemi took blood from Ntikima he used a bronze-bladed knife to open a vein, and sucked patiently for a few minutes before dressing the wound with some kind of paste which he made from ingredients taken from his pouch. Ntikima had never made such a sacrifice before Ghendwa required it of him, but the sense of importance which it gave him soon wore off. None of the wounds made by the elemi ever became infected, and the elemi would sometimes dress ordinary abrasions on the bodies of the tribesmen in identical fashion, helping the wounds to heal.
Ghendwa never asked to take blood from any of the white men, and left the tending of stings and scratches suffered by the whites entirely to Quintus. Ntikima noticed, however, that just as the white men kept account of the results of the vampire’s medication, so Ghendwa would take some notice of the progress made by wounds which Quintus had treated. Ntikima wished that he knew more about the white men’s ways, in order to be useful to the elemi, and he began asking Quintus about the reasoning which supported his methods, struggling conscientiously to understand the replies which he obtained.
Langoisse and his musketeers could not hunt in the forest, and in any case were anxious to conserve their shot. Nor were the Ibaus, for all that they were forest men, skilled hunters with bow and arrow. Such meat as the travellers had came either from their own dwindling supplies, or from the local natives, who kept domestic fowl. Fish was in much better supply but the basis of the travellers’ diet was millet, in porridge or cakes, and soup made from sesame oil and earth-peas. The Ibaus were much better foragers than hunters, and they found fruits of various kinds, including bananas, paw-paws and yams, and also dazoes and ground-nuts. These were not abundant, but plentiful enough to make sure that the company was adequately fed when no village was near. Ngadze predicted dolefully, however, that such foraging would become much more difficult in the upland country.
When the forest thinned further the north-east wind began to carry a thin blue haze of dust; this was their first taste of the harmattan, which would blow throughout the season, making the air dry and thick. It painted the sunsets gloriously, but it made the days less comfortable, for the travellers often had to head directly into it, with the dust forever in their faces, hurting their eyes and their throats. Ntikima did not like this any more than the white men, but Ghendwa told him that this problem would only get worse; the further north they went, and the higher they went into the hills, the drier and dustier would the harmattan become.
There were rounded hills close to the shore of the river, with brown grass on their crests and ridges, while palms grew densely in the green valleys in between. In the mornings, the peaks of mountains could be seen in the north-west, but by midday the haze of the harmattan curtained them. From the hilltops at night the fires of dozens of villages could be seen scattered across the land, and once they saw the red glow of a great bush-fire in the west – the first of many which would devastate huge tracts of land in the coming months. Often they passed through regions where the trees were blackened and gnarled from the fires of former years.
Eventually they came out of the forest and into the plain which was the territory of the Nupai, who were cattle-keepers like the Mkumkwe. The Nupai men did not dress as extravagantly as the Mkumkwe warriors who had escorted the Oni-Olorun, and decorated themselves with ornaments rather than coloured scars. Noell Cordery seemed to regard the land of the Nupai as a less strange and hostile place than the forest but Ntikima was forest-born and forest-bred, and the open lands of the herdsmen were to him foreign and alien. He tried to give no sign of this, though, because he was Ogbone, and to the Ogbone, no land in this great continent should be alien.
Two of the blacks from the settlement were suffering from the disease which Quintus called yaws, which was common in these parts, especially among children; Ghendwa gave them medicine. Ntikima knew that most sufferers eventually recovered without treatment - even small children rarely died from the disease - but he also knew that it could be a sore trial, and often left men disfigured. He was not surprised when these two decided that they had had enough and deserted. This left only Ngadze, Mburrai and Ntikima of the tribesmen who had come from Burutu. Noell Cordery was annoyed by the loss, but not unduly dismayed. The donkeys were much easier to handle now that they were in open terrain.
Mburrai was slightly incapacitated too, his right arm affected by what he claimed to be a worm which had been growing inside it for some years. Quintus did not believe this at first, but in the course of their journey through the villages near to the river Ntikima was able to show him other men and women suffering from the same ailment. One of these had taken advantage of the fact that the
worm’s end had become briefly exposed in a sore near the wrist, and had begun to wind the creature inch by inch on to a stick. Ntikima assured Quintus that by this means the man would ultimately be able to dislodge the parasite, though it was a tortuous business. Mburrai asked whether the worm which afflicted him could somehow be drawn from his arm, but neither Quintus nor Ghendwa could offer an effective means of achieving that end.
With these exceptions, the worst problems the black men had suffered on the journey were caused by chigoes – burrowing insects which both Ghendwa and Quintus were equally adept at digging out with the point of a needle. There was thus no opportunity yet to test the black magician’s powers against the white’s.
The white men’s boots kept them safe from chigoes, but they had to be careful to shake the boots thoroughly before putting them on each morning, lest scorpions had crept into them. On one occasion the small man Eyre shouted out in blind panic because a huge fruit-spider had dropped on his back, but Ntikima was able to reassure him that such creatures were harmless. Ntikima had no fear of spiders, and would let them walk over him, rejoicing in the fact that even the noseless Turk considered this evidence of unusual courage and fortitude.
On the plain where the herdsmen lived Ntikima saw many animals which were as unusual and astonishing to him as they were to the white men. He was no less amazed than Noell Cordery when they first saw giraffes feeding from the foliage of tall trees. Strangely, some of these creatures which he had never seen were not new to Noell, who told Ntikima that he had seen lions and leopards, and even an elephant, in captivity in a place where he had once lived. Noell seemed to expect such creatures to be much in evidence now that he was in their native territory, and was disappointed that the big cats were too shy to be easily seen, though their cries could often be heard. Noell actually described lions to Ntikima before Ntikima had the opportunity to glimpse one, but the hyaenas and jackals which could often be seen scavenging among the rubbish outside the village compounds were as unfamiliar to the white man as to himself.
Empire of Fear Page 20
