The plain began to rise again in gentle undulations as their direction changed and they headed more to the east, skirting the cones of three ancient volcanoes. At one point they had to cross a deep gorge by way of a poor bridge made of rope and spars of wood which caused great distress to the donkeys, who had to be coaxed across it most carefully by Quintus and Ngadze. The territory was becoming very rough, with numerous rocky outcrops jutting from the parched soil, and rocky ridges winding in strange convolutions over the hills.
The tribesmen who populated this land were Jawara, who built larger settlements than the Kibun, sprawling over hilltops or clustering around shallow fertile valleys. Like the Kibun, the Jawara were reluctant to approach the travellers, and responded with reluctance to the vampire’s greetings until one day they came to an unusually large settlement in a wooded valley, where Ghendwa was greeted with enthusiasm. Noell realised why this was when they were conducted to a hut in a clearing, where dwelt the wise men of this tribe. They were elemi, three in number, all very ancient in appearance.
Here the expedition was able to renew its supplies, and partake in a feast prepared in honour of Ghendwa’s visit. Long into the night, Ghendwa and Msuri conferred with the Jawaran elemi, while the men, women and children of the tribe came to stare at the white men, whose like none of them had ever seen. No one had ever told them tales of the pale people whose ships were gradually extending links with the peoples of the African coast.
To Noell the Jawara seemed more civilized than most of the forest tribes. Though they did not work bronze in the clever manner of the craftsmen of Benin they washed tinstone from the sands of the semi-desert, smelting it in clay furnaces, and moulding it into wire and ornaments. Their fires and kilns, their hammers and workshops, aroused in Noell a curious sense of nostalgia. Here were men who were mechanicians of a sort, whose arts connected them with him in mysterious intellectual kinship.
But he did not spend much time watching the native workmen plying their trades. He was drawn instead to the huts of the elemi, to play the peeper in the hope of catching a glimpse of the loins of the Jawaran vampires. He had seen Ghendwa’s mutilated organ now, and was as anxious as Quintus to see whether these other elemi were likewise incomplete, wondering what really might be signified by the kind of finishing called tigu. This curiosity, and its exercise, made him feel a little contemptuous of himself, but he could not resist the temptation. Alas, he could find no opportunity see what he wanted to see.
The expedition had by now crossed the summit of the great plateau, and their route descended again from its heights. Eventually they came to the northern shore of a river which was obviously a major watercourse in the wet season, but which was now running low in its bed. Ghendwa called it the Gongola. They moved along a thinly-wooded margin between the flood-plain of the river and drier grasslands. This fertile margin was intensively grazed by the cattle of a nomadic people who called themselves Fulbai. The Fulbai were equally different from the forest blacks and the plateau-dwellers, their skin being coppery brown and their hair long and straight. Many were bearded, in contrast to the forest tribesmen, who plucked out the meagre hair which grew on their chins. These nomads and their compounds screened with zana matting dominated the region.
The Fulbai seemed to be on bad terms with their crop-growing neighbours, and the travellers found two villages which had been deserted and wrecked in the recent past, the gleaming bones of dead warriors scattered by vultures and jackals. Ghendwa would not go near the herds of the Fulbai, and Noell was advised by Ntikima that this was a time when Langoisse’s men must have their muskets ready for use. Even the elemi, it seemed, feared men as wild as these. Noell asked Ntikima whether the Fulbai had elemi of their own; he said that they did not.
The region was haunted by peculiar odours, apparently caused by the decay of vegetation left exposed to the sun’s cruel glare by the dwindling of the river. The stink reminded Noell of the fields around Aberteifi, and their seaweed manure. Here, for the first time, Noell saw considerable herds of antelope, though the greater part of the land was utterly dominated by the domestic herds of the tribesmen.
They followed the Gongola until it passed through a broad, flat-bottomed valley between two escarpments, after which its course swerved south, while Ghendwa headed east, taking them up to another plateau. This tableland was not as high as the summit of the Bauchi plateau, and was more wooded. The bush was thicker here, and the walls of the permanent towns – maintained by a people called the Tera – were strongly fortified against raids by the Fulbai. These towns had elemi, and Ghendwa was welcome there, so that the travellers suffered none of the hardships which they had lately been forced to endure. The white men pitched their tents inside the fortified compounds, to share the benefit of their defence, but after spending two nights inside such compounds they moved into barer territory.
Here they were quickly attacked by Fulbai marauders, who clearly did not understand how well-protected the expedition was. The first raiders to come at them rushed from a thicket to the side of the trail which the donkey-train was following. They had let the greater part of the train pass by before emerging, hurling their spears at the men walking beside the last three donkeys. Cory and Langoisse were carrying their muskets, and soon had them unslung, while Eyre, Selim and Noell came back as quickly as they could with their own guns. When the guns were fired two of the bearded raiders were felled, one by Langoisse, who had fired at close range, and one by Eyre, who hit a man as he threw back his arm to launch his spear.
The other raiders immediately turned and ran for the thicket, but one spear had hit a donkey in the flank, sending it mad with pain. Three animals, released by Cory and Langoisse, broke loose and ran, two of them into the thorn-scrub into which the Fulbai had vanished. Cory made as if to follow them, but Noell restrained him, urging him instead to get the remaining donkeys closer together. The expedition had too few members now to risk any in pursuit.
The raiders struck again that evening. This time, thirty or forty men charged from the bushes, howling and casting spears, and Langoisse was forced to form his men quickly into a rank, consisting of himself, Cory, Eyre and Selim, to fire a volley, while Noell, Quintus, Leilah and Ngadze waited behind, ready to take their place.
Though the distance which the attackers had to cover was more than seventy yards, only three fell quickly, and it seemed that the fighting must come to a hand-to-hand affair. But when the Fulbai came closer to the guns their charge slackened and their fear showed. They yelled their war-cries, but paused in their approach. The Turk Selim yelled back at them, more blood-curdlingly than they, and his companions were allowed one reloading more than they might have had, which they used to good effect. While the spears cascaded around them, they fired again, killing or wounding five more men. Eyre took a spear in his side, and two more donkeys were wounded, but again the raiders turned and ran.
At first, Noell thought that this was a lucky escape, but Eyre died in the night of his belly-wound, and when they tried to assemble the donkey-train they had to abandon the wounded animals, and parts of the packs which they had carried. Ghendwa, more anxious than they had ever seen him, urged them to make what hurry they could to escape this dangerous place, and Noell was inclined to agree with his judgement. It was a depleted expedition, therefore, which set out the next day, and Noell felt that luck had turned against them. It seemed that the perils which had so far stood back were now descending upon them in full force and fury.
And so it proved; for this was was the beginning of a bad time, when many things went wrong.
SEVEN
Ntikima was badly frightened by the Fulbai raids, not least because Ghendwa – whose infallibility he had not previously doubted – had been impotent to anticipate or deal with them. He could see that had it not been for Langoisse’s guns the expedition would have lost everything. He was glad that the gun which Eyre had carried was now given to him, at Noell Cordery’s insistence, and that Langoisse consented to gi
ve him lessons in the loading and firing of the weapon; though it proved that the lessons in question were indefinitely postponed.
Until they left the scrubland where the Fulbai had attacked them they moved quickly and nervously, but when several days had passed without incident Ntikima began to believe that the worst was past; the Fulbai were not seen again, and it seemed that they were content with what they had captured.
The travellers came now into a curiously varied territory, in which islands of forest interrupted a plain of high grass which was both difficult to traverse and dangerous. The grasses often grew to twice the height of a man, having sprouted lushly during the rainy season, and now that the heads of the stems were dry they were prone to catch fire. The blackened areas where fires had come and gone were easier to cross, though they were foul places thick with ashen dust, but those areas not yet burned were traps which placed the expedition in obvious hazard.
When they were four days into this territory, and had seen no other human for three of those four, they found themselves in the path of a fire blown towards them from the north, and had to run aslant, hoping to escape before it could catch them. There was no hope of stopping to avoid the sun’s worst heat, and the further they went, with the smoke billowing behind them and its acrid odour in the air, the more terrified their remaining pack-animals became. They kept going under the stars, as best they could, until they had crossed a wide and shallow stream into greener vegetation, where they were sure that they were safe.
By this time, the expedition had only seven donkeys remaining, virtually no food in stock, and all save the elemi were suffering from a frightful exhaustion. Ntikima had a hacking cough from the smoke which he had inhaled, and his chest hurt. Most of the tents were gone, and the protective netting which the white men used to keep insects away was lost – though there were far fewer insects about now than there had been in the forest. The greater part of their stock of blankets had been taken by the raiders, and the nights were still cold. He was afraid that his cough would get worse, but as things turned out he was rarely required to sleep without cover. Noell Cordery and the white babalawo were content with their clothing while he was ill.
The morning after the fire, Langoisse and Cory were showing signs of sunstroke. They made poor progress that day, and on the following morning, Langoisse developed a fever. Because they had so few pack animals left even the white men were carrying packs, so he could not ride, but an hour’s walking left him staggering and nearly helpless. Quintus rigged a stretcher, which Selim and Noell carried until noon. In the afternoon the black men went foraging for earth-peas and roots, and though they found food enough to make a good meal the entire party was in direly low spirits that evening.
On the next day, Cory too had the fever, and though Langoisse was a little better, Leilah was in more than a little distress. Ntikima had by now recovered from his cough, and surrendered his blanket to those in direr need. Quintus was tired and weak, though not ill, and it was obvious to Ntikima that Noell and Selim could not continue indefinitely to bear the burdens which were now falling to their lot. Now, it seemed to Ntikima, Ghendwa must prove the worth of his medicines, else his guidance would not suffice to bring them to Adamawara.
Ghendwa tended Langoisse and Cory with great patience while they waited throughout a long and painful day. He chanted prayers, and gave them medicines from his impoverished pouch, and then went away to sit by himself through the long darkness, squatting on the ground with his heels tucked together, singing softly: ‘A-da-ma! A-da- ma!’ This incantation he repeated, as was his habit, for hours on end, apparently having passed into some kind of trance. Ntikima watched curiously, and saw that Msuri was equally curious.
Despite these attentions the sick white men showed no sign of making an early recovery. Rather than deplete their equipment further the white men slowed their progress to a snail’s pace, and made only a few miles before pitching another camp. At dusk Ghendwa sent Ntikima to Noell and Quintus with an unprecedented summons, and they were taken to confront the elemi in a formal fashion which he had never permitted before.
‘There is no help nearby,’ said Ghendwa, speaking the Uruba tongue in a flat tone which sounded remote and strange to Ntikima. ‘It is dangerous to linger long, for there may be more fires, and if there are not, there is still the fever. We must travel quickly tomorrow – the men who are sick must walk. I will give them a new medicine, which will make them think they are strong, but there is danger in it. They might walk until they drop, and never get up again. I can do nothing else.’
‘How much further must we go,’ asked Quintus, ‘before we reach our destination?’
The elemi had never yet given a precise answer to the question of how far away Adamawara lay, but now he made a concession of sorts. ‘Between twelve days and twenty,’ he said. ‘Better twelve, but what my kind can do, yours cannot. Msuri is strong, but your companions are weak. It is for you to decide how much you will carry. It is for you to decide what the sick men will do. I will give medicine to all of you, but I warn you that when we reach the lifeless forest, there will be more sickness. The silver death is worse than these fevers, and the way will be difficult.’
‘If you are telling us that we might leave our friends,’ said Quintus quietly, ‘we cannot do it.’
Ntikima looked on as the elemi’s dark and ancient eyes stared into the face of the white magician. He could not tell what either man was thinking, but felt that some kind of battle was being fought as they tested one another’s gaze.
‘I will bring you to Adamawara,’ said the elemi, finally, ‘as I was told to do.’
‘We will measure our supplies most carefully,’ promised the monk, ‘but Langoisse will not abandon his guns and powder, and I would not have him do so. We will carry all that we can, and we will pray that your medicines will bring us alive to Adamawara.’
‘It shall be done,’ answered Ghendwa. ‘I do not ask you to throw away your weapons, nor the eye which sees into things. I only warn you that the journey will be hard, and that some may die though I do all that I can.’
‘Thank you,’ said the white babalawo to the elemi, bowing his head slightly. When he and Noell Cordery walked away, Ntikima went with them, and Noell drew him aside to question him.
‘I remember that you told us of the lifeless forest and the silver death,’ said the white man. ‘I wish you would tell me now any more that you know, for what the elemi says has troubled me.’
Ntikima looked up at the tall, bearded white man. ‘I know only what I have heard,’ he said. ‘The land about Adamawara is dark, and no birds sing there. Men are consumed by the silver death, which takes the feeling from their bodies.’
Noell Cordery frowned. ‘Like leprosy?’ he asked, but Ntikima could only shrug his shoulders.
‘Shigidi comes,’ Ntikima added, after a moment’s pause, in the sleep of the silver death, Shigidi comes.’
Ntikima had spoken before about Shigidi, who had power when men slept, and was a bringer of terror. He could not tell whether the white men truly understood him.
‘Ntikima,’ said Noell, ‘Will you tell me why the Ogbone have ordered that we be taken to Adamawara?’
Ntikima made as if to shrug his shoulders, but hesitated. The white men knew now that he was Ogbone, although they had never said so. They had known it for some time, and had not sought to conceal themselves from his curious eyes, or to refuse to answer his questions. He wished that he could give an answer, or the reassurance which was what Noell probably desired. But he could not. ‘You will be safe,’ he said, though he did not know for sure that it was true. ‘Adamawara was made by Shango, with a thunderbolt, but it is the Oni-Olorun who rule there now, and they are gentle. They do no harm. There is no evil in Adamawara, where the heart of Olorun is the food of man, and the breath of life preserves the finished, so that they need not go quickly to Ipo-oku.’
Noell Cordery shook his head. ‘It is all riddles, Ntikima,’ he told him. ‘All words
, empty of meaning. Do you hope that one day you will become a babalawo, and join the elemi, so that you too will be finished, and need not go to Ipo-oku?’
Ipo-oku was the land of the dead, to which even the finished went in the end. Ntikima did not want to go there sooner than he must. ‘Aroni, when I met him in the forest,’ he answered, ‘promised that I would learn the secrets of the plants, and wear the white cloth as the babalawos do. One day, I will have the heart of Olorun and receive the breath of life, and I will try to be the wisest of the wise. ’
‘And will you undergo the greater ikeyika, as Ghendwa has?’
‘I will be tigu,’ Ntikima told him, and then he went away, to help Ngadze cook food for the evening meal.
After the meal, Ntikima sat by himself, a little way from the fire, and watched to see what the others did. The cold of the night was not yet come, and it was too hot to huddle by the fire, so the white men dispersed. Langoisse and Cory were allotted the remaining tent, and went directly to lie down there. Quintus took Ngadze aside and entered into an intense conversation with him. The Turk Selim sat with his back to the bole of a tree, whittling at a piece of dry wood with a broad-bladed knife. Noell Cordery and the woman sat together, looking westward at the waving grasses and the ragged trees. Ntikima followed the direction of their gaze, and looked for a moment or two into the dust-clad face of the half-set sun, which shone blood red in a purple sky. It was quickly descending into a cleft between two hills on the horizon.
‘This is a terrible place,’ he heard Leilah say. ‘I had not imagined the heart of Africa to be like this. The travellers who told us tales spoke of steaming jungles and wild beasts, not yellow grass and black-burnt trees. Even the insects do not like it here, save for the scorpions.’
‘It is an unfortunate season,’ Noell agreed. ‘But in the wet season we could never have come through the forest, nor crossed the flood-plain of the Gongola. I believe we have faced the least of the possible evils, though they have been bad enough.’
Empire of Fear Page 22
