The Ivory Child

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"And if we make these promises how are we to know that you will keep
yours?" I interrupted.

"Because the oath that we shall give you will be the oath of the Child
that may not be broken."

"Then give it," I said, for although I did not altogether like the
security, obviously it was the best to be had.

So very solemnly they laid their right hands upon the altar and "in the
presence of the Child and the name of the Child and of all the White
Kendah people," repeated after Harut a most solemn oath of which I
have already given the substance. It called down on their heads a very
dreadful doom in this world and the next, should it be broken either in
the spirit or the letter; the said oath, however, to be only binding if
we, on our part, swore to observe their terms and kept our engagement
also in the spirit and the letter.

Then they asked us to fulfil our share of the pact and very
considerately drew out of hearing while we discussed the matter; Harut,
the only one of them who understood a word of English, retiring behind
the sanctuary. At first I had difficulties with Ragnall, who was most
unwilling to bind himself in any way. In the end, on my pointing out
that nothing less than our lives were involved and probably that of his
wife as well, also that no other course was open to us, he gave way, to
my great relief.

Hans announced himself ready to swear anything, adding blandly that
words mattered nothing, as afterwards we could do whatever seemed best
in our own interests, whereon I read him a short moral lecture on the
heinousness of perjury, which did not seem to impress him very much.

This matter settled, we called back the priests and informed them of our
decision. Harut demanded that we should affirm it "by the Child," which
we declined to do, saying that it was our custom to swear only in the
name of our own God. Being a liberal-minded man who had travelled, Harut
gave way on the point. So I swore first to the effect that I would fight
for the White Kendah to the finish in consideration of the promises that
they had made to us. I added that I would not attempt either to see or
to interfere with the lady here known as the Guardian of the Child until
the war was over or even to bring our existence to her knowledge, ending
up, "so help me God," as I had done several times when giving evidence
in a court of law.

Next Ragnall with a great effort repeated my oath in English, Harut
listening carefully to every word and once or twice asking me to explain
the exact meaning of some of them.

Lastly Hans, who seemed very bored with the whole affair, swore, also
repeating the words after me and finishing on his own account with
"so help me the reverend Predikant, the Baas's father," a form that he
utterly declined to vary although it involved more explanations. When
pressed, indeed, he showed considerable ingenuity by pointing out to
the priests that to his mind my poor father stood in exactly the same
relation to the Power above us as their Oracle did to the Child. He
offered generously, however, to throw in the spirits of his grandfather
and grandmother and some extraordinary divinity they worshipped, I think
it was a hare, as an additional guarantee of good faith. This proposal
the priests accepted gravely, whereon Hans whispered into my ear in
Dutch:

"Those fools do not remember that when pressed by dogs the hare often
doubles on its own spoor, and that your reverend father will be very
pleased if I can play them the same trick with the white lady that they
played with the Lord Igeza."

I only looked at him in reply, since the morality of Hans was past
argument. It might perhaps be summed up in one sentence: To get the
better of his neighbour in his master's service, honestly if possible;
if not, by any means that came to his hand down to that of murder. At
the bottom of his dark and mysterious heart Hans worshipped only one
god, named Love, not of woman or child, but of my humble self. His
principles were those of a rather sly but very high-class and exclusive
dog, neither better nor worse. Still, when all is said and done, there
are lower creatures in the world than high-class dogs. At least so
the masters whom they adore are apt to think, especially if their
watchfulness and courage have often saved them from death or disaster.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE EMBASSY

The ceremonies were over and the priests, with the exception of Harut
and two who remained to attend upon him, vanished, probably to inform
the male and female hierophants of their result, and through these the
whole people of the White Kendah. Old Harut stared at us for a little
while, then said in English, which he always liked to talk when Ragnall
was present, perhaps for the sake of practice:

"What you like do now, eh? P'r'aps wish fly back to Town of Child, for
suppose this how you come. If so, please take me with you, because that
save long ride."

"Oh! no," I answered. "We walked here through that hole where lived the
Father of Snakes who died of fear when he saw us, and just mixed with
the rest of you in the court of the temple."

"Good lie," said Harut admiringly, "very first-class lie! Wonder how
you kill great snake, which we all think never die, for he live there
hundred, hundred years; our people find him there when first they come
to this country, and make him kind of god. Well, he nasty beast and best
dead. I say, you like see Child? If so, come, for you our brothers now,
only please take off hat and not speak."

I intimated that we should "like see Child," and led by Harut we entered
the little sanctuary which was barely large enough to hold all of us.
In a niche of the end wall stood the sacred effigy which Ragnall and I
examined with a kind of reverent interest. It proved to be the statue of
an infant about two feet high, cut, I imagine, from the base of a single
but very large elephant's tusk, so ancient that the yellowish ivory had
become rotten and was covered with a multitude of tiny fissures. Indeed,
for its appearance I made up my mind that several thousands of years
must have passed since the beast died from which this ivory was taken,
especially as it had, I presume, always been carefully preserved under
cover.

The workmanship of the object was excellent, that of a fine artist who,
I should think, had taken some living infant for his model, perhaps a
child of the Pharaoh of the day. Here I may say at once that there could
be no doubt of its Egyptian origin, since on one side of the head was a
single lock of hair, while the fourth finger of the right hand was
held before the lips as though to enjoin silence. Both of these
peculiarities, it will be remembered, are characteristic of the infant
Horus, the child of Osiris and Isis, as portrayed in bronzes and temple
carvings. So at least Ragnall, who recently had studied many such
effigies in Egypt, informed me later. There was nothing else in the
place except an ancient, string-seated chair of ebony, adorned with
inlaid ivory patterns; an effigy of a snake in porcelain, showing that
serpent worship was in some way mixed up with their religion; and two
rolls of papyrus, at least that is what they looked like, which were
laid in the niche with the statue. These rolls, to my disappointment,
Harut refused to allow us to examine or even to touch.

After we had left the sanctuary I asked Harut when this figure was
brought to their land. He replied that it came when they came, at what
date he could not tell us as it was so long ago, and that with it came
the worship and the ceremonies of their religion.

In answer to further questions he added that this figure, which seemed
to be of ivory, contained the spirits which ruled the sun and the moon,
and through them the world. This, said Ragnall, was just a piece of
Egyptian theology, preserved down to our own times in a remote corner
of Africa, doubtless by descendants of dwellers on the Nile who had been
driven thence in some national catastrophe, and brought away with them
their faith and one of the effigies of their gods. Perhaps they fled at
the time of the Persian invasion by Cambyses.

After we had emerged from this deeply interesting shrine, which was
locked behind us, Harut led us, not through the passage connecting it
with the stone house that we knew was occupied by Ragnall's wife in her
capacity as Guardian of the Child, or a latter-day personification of
Isis, Lady of the Moon, at which house he cast many longing glances, but
back through the two courts and the pylon to the gateway of the temple.
Here on the road by which we had entered the place, a fact which we did
not mention to him, he paused and addressed us.

"Lords," he said, "now you and the People of the White Kendah are one;
your ends are their ends, your fate is their fate, their secrets are
your secrets. You, Lord Igeza, work for a reward, namely the person of
that lady whom we took from you on the Nile."

"How did you do that?" interrupted Ragnall when I had interpreted.

"Lord, we watched you. We knew when you came to Egypt; we followed you
in Egypt, whither we had journeyed on our road to England once more to
seek our Oracles, till the day of our opportunity dawned. Then at night
we called her and she obeyed the call, as she must do whose mind we have
taken away--ask me not how--and brought her to dwell with us, she who
is marked from her birth with the holy sign and wears upon her breast
certain charmed stones and a symbol that for thousands of years have
adorned the body of the Child and those of its Oracles. Do you remember
a company of Arabs whom you saw riding on the banks of the Great River
on the day before the night when she was lost to you? We were with that
company and on our camels we bore her thence, happy and unharmed to this
our land, as I trust, when all is done, we shall bear her back again and
you with her."

"I trust so also, for you have wrought me a great wrong," said Ragnall
briefly, "perhaps a greater wrong than I know at present, for how came
it that my boy was killed by an elephant?"

"Ask that question of Jana and not of me," Harut answered darkly. Then
he went on: "You also, Lord Macumazana, work for a reward, the countless
store of ivory which your eyes have beheld lying in the burial place of
elephants beyond the Tava River. When you have slain Jana who watches
the store, and defeated the Black Kendah who serve him, it is yours and
we will give you camels to bear it, or some of it, for all cannot be
carried, to the sea where it can be taken away in ships. As for the
yellow man, I think that he seeks no reward who soon will inherit all
things."

"The old witch-doctor means that I am going to die," remarked Hans
expectorating reflectively. "Well, Baas, I am quite ready, if only Jana
and certain others die first. Indeed I grow too old to fight and travel
as I used to do, and therefore shall be glad to pass to some land where
I become young again."

"Stuff and rubbish!" I exclaimed, then turned and listened to Harut who,
not understanding our Dutch conversation, was speaking once more.

"Lords," he said, "these paths which run east and west are the real
approach to the mountain top and the temple, not that which, as I
suppose, led you through the cave of the old serpent. The road to
the west, which wanders round the base of the hill to a pass in those
distant mountains and thence across the deserts to the north, is so easy
to stop that by it we need fear no attack. With this eastern road the
case is, however, different, as I shall now show you, if you will ride
with me."

Then he gave some orders to two attendant priests who departed at a run
and presently reappeared at the head of a small train of camels which
had been hidden, I know not where. We mounted and, following the road
across a flat piece of ground, found that not more than half a mile away
was another precipitous ridge of rock which had presumably once formed
the lip of an outer crater. This ridge, however, was broken away for a
width of two or three hundred yards, perhaps by some outrush of lava,
the road running through the centre of the gap on which schanzes had
been built here and there for purposes of defence. Looking at these I
saw that they were very old and inefficient and asked when they had been
erected. Harut replied about a century before when the last war took
place with the Black Kendah, who had been finally driven off at this
spot, for then the White Kendah were more numerous than at present.

"So Simba knows this road?" I said.

"Yes, Lord, and Jana knows it also, for he fought in that war and still
at times visits us here and kills any whom he may meet. Only to the
temple he has never dared to come."

Now I wondered whether we had really seen Jana in the forest on the
previous night, but coming to the conclusion that it was useless to
investigate the matter, made no inquiries, especially as these would
have revealed to Harut the route by which we approached the temple. Only
I pointed out to him that proper defences should be put up here without
delay, that is if they meant to make a stronghold of the mountain.

"We do, Lord," he answered, "since we are not strong enough to attack
the Black Kendah in their own country or to meet them in pitched battle
on the plain. Here and in no other place must be fought the last fight
between Jana and the Child. Therefore it will be your task to build
walls cunningly, so that when they come we may defeat Jana and the hosts
of the Black Kendah."

"Do you mean that this elephant will accompany Simba and his soldiers,
Harut?"

"Without doubt, Lord, since he has always done so from the beginning.
Jana is tame to the king and certain priests of the Black Kendah, whose
forefathers have fed him for generations, and will obey their orders.
Also he can think for himself, being an evil spirit and invulnerable."

"His left eye and the tip of his trunk are not invulnerable," I
remarked, "though from what I saw of him I should say there is no doubt
about his being able to think for himself. Well, I am glad the brute is
coming as I have an account to settle with him."

"As he, Lord, who does not forget, has an account to settle with you and
your servant, Light-in-Darkness," commented Harut in an unpleasant and
suggestive tone.

Then after we had taken a few measurements and Ragnall, who understands
such matters, had drawn a rough sketch of the place in his pocket-book
to serve as data for our proposed scheme of fortifications, we pursued
our journey back to the town, where we had left all our stores and there
were many things to be arranged. It proved to be quite a long ride, down
the eastern slope of the mountain which was easy to negotiate, although
like the rest of this strange hill it was covered with dense cedar
forests that also seemed to me to have defensive possibilities. Reaching
its foot at length we were obliged to make a detour by certain winding
paths to avoid ground that was too rough for the camels, so that in the
end we did not come to our own house in the Town of the Child till about
midday.

Glad enough were we to reach it, since all three of us were tired out
with our terrible night journey and the anxious emotions that we had
undergone. Indeed, after we had eaten we lay down and I rejoiced to
see that, notwithstanding the state of mental excitement into which the
discovery of his wife had plunged him, Ragnall was the first of us to
fall asleep.

About five o'clock we were awakened by a messenger from Harut,
who requested our attendance on important business at a kind of
meeting-house which stood at a little distance on an open place where
the White Kendah bartered produce. Here we found Harut and about twenty
of the headmen seated in the shade of a thatched roof, while behind
them, at a respectful distance, stood quite a hundred of the White
Kendah. Most of these, however, were women and children, for as I have
said the greater part of the male population was absent from the town
because of the commencement of the harvest.

We were conducted to chairs, or rather stools of honour, and when we two
had seated ourselves, Hans taking his stand behind us, Harut rose and
informed us that an embassy had arrived from the Black Kendah which was
about to be admitted.

Presently they came, five of them, great, truculent-looking fellows of
a surprising blackness, unarmed, for they had not been allowed to bring
their weapons in to the town, but adorned with the usual silver chains
across their breasts to show their rank, and other savage finery. In the
man who was their leader I recognized one of those messengers who had
accosted us when first we entered their territory on our way from the
south, before that fight in which I was taken prisoner. Stepping forward
and addressing himself to Harut, he said:

"A while ago, O Prophet of the Child, I, the messenger of the god Jana,
speaking through the mouth of Simba the King, gave to you and your
brother Marut a certain warning to which you did not listen. Now Jana
has Marut, and again I come to warn you, Harut."

"If I remember right," interrupted Harut blandly, "I think that on that
occasion two of you delivered the message and that the Child marked one
of you upon the brow. If Jana has my brother, say, where is yours?"

"We warned you," went on the messenger, "and you cursed us in the name
of the Child."

"Yes," interrupted Harut again, "we cursed you with three curses. The
first was the curse of Heaven by storm or drought, which has fallen upon
you. The second was the curse of famine, which is falling upon you; and
the third was the curse of war, which is yet to fall on you."

"It is of war that we come to speak," replied the messenger,
diplomatically avoiding the other two topics which perhaps he found it
awkward to discuss.

"That is foolish of you," replied the bland Harut, "seeing that the
other day you matched yourselves against us with but small success. Many
of you were killed but only a very few of us, and the white lord whom
you took captive escaped out of your hands and from the tusks of Jana
who, I think, now lacks an eye. If he is a god, how comes it that he
lacks an eye and could not kill an unarmed white man?"

"Let Jana answer for himself, as he will do ere long, O Harut.
Meanwhile, these are the words of Jana spoken through the mouth of Simba
the King: The Child has destroyed my harvest and therefore I demand this
of the people of the Child--that they give me three-fourths of their
harvest, reaping the same and delivering it on the south bank of the
River Tava. That they give me the two white lords to be sacrificed to
me. That they give the white lady who is Guardian of the Child to be a
wife of Simba the King, and with her a hundred virgins of your people.
That the image of the Child be brought to the god Jana in the presence
of his priests and Simba the King. These are the demands of Jana spoken
through the mouth of Simba the King."

Watching, I saw a thrill of horror shake the forms of Harut and of
all those with him as the full meaning of these, to them, most impious
requests sank into their minds. But he only asked very quietly:

"And if we refuse the demands, what then?"

"Then," shouted the messenger insolently, "then Jana declares war upon
you, the last war of all, war till every one of your men be dead and the
Child you worship is burnt to grey ashes with fire. War till your women
are taken as slaves and the corn which you refuse is stored in our grain
pits and your land is a waste and your name forgotten. Already the hosts
of Jana are gathered and the trumpet of Jana calls them to the fight.
To-morrow or the next day they advance upon you, and ere the moon is
full not one of you will be left to look upon her."

Harut rose, and walking from under the shed, turned his back upon the
envoys and stared at the distant line of great mountains which stood out
far away against the sky. Out of curiosity I followed him and observed
that these mountains were no longer visible. Where they had been was
nothing but a line of black and heavy cloud. After looking for a while
he returned and addressing the envoys, said quite casually:

"If you will be advised by me, friends, you will ride hard for the
river. There is such rain upon the mountains as I have never seen
before, and you will be fortunate if you cross it before the flood comes
down, the greatest flood that has happened in our day."

This intelligence seemed to disturb the messengers, for they too stepped
out of the shed and stared at the mountains, muttering to each other
something that I could not understand. Then they returned and with a
fine appearance of indifference demanded an immediate answer to their
challenge.

"Can you not guess it?" answered Harut. Then changing his tone he drew
himself to his full height and thundered out at them: "Get you back
to your evil spirit of a god that hides in the shape of a beast of the
forest and to his slave who calls himself a king, and say to them: 'Thus
speaks the Child to his rebellious servants, the Black Kendah dogs: Swim
my river when you can, which will not be yet, and come up against me
when you will; for whenever you come I shall be ready for you. You are
already dead, O Jana. You are already dead, O Simba the slave. You are
scattered and lost, O dogs of the Black Kendah, and the home of such
of you as remain shall be far away in a barren land, where you must dig
deep for water and live upon the wild game because there little corn
will grow.' Now begone, and swiftly, lest you stop here for ever."

So they turned and went, leaving me full of admiration for the
histrionic powers of Harut.

I must add, however, that being without doubt a keen observer of the
weather conditions of the neighbourhood, he was quite right about
the rain upon the mountains, which by the way never extended to the
territory of the People of the Child. As we heard afterwards, the flood
came down just as the envoys reached the river; indeed, one of them was
drowned in attempting its crossing, and for fourteen days after this it
remained impassable to an army.



That very evening we began our preparations to meet an attack which was
now inevitable. Putting aside the supposed rival powers of the tribal
divinities worshipped under the names of the Child and Jana, which,
while they added a kind of Homeric interest to the contest, could, we
felt, scarcely affect an issue that must be decided with cold steel
and other mortal weapons, the position of the White Kendah was serious
indeed. As I think I have said, in all they did not number more than
about two thousand men between the ages of twenty and fifty-five, or,
including lads between fourteen and twenty and old men still able-bodied
between fifty-five and seventy, say two thousand seven hundred capable
of some sort of martial service. To these might be added something under
two thousand women, since among this dwindling folk, oddly enough, from
causes that I never ascertained, the males out-numbered the females,
which accounted for their marriage customs that were, by comparison with
those of most African peoples, monogamous. At any rate only the
rich among them had more than one wife, while the poor or otherwise
ineligible often had none at all, since inter-marriage with other races
and above all with the Black Kendah dwelling beyond the river was so
strictly taboo that it was punishable with death or expulsion.

Against this little band the Black Kendah could bring up twenty thousand
men, besides boys and aged persons who with the women would probably
be left to defend their own country, that is, not less than ten to one.
Moreover, all of these enemies would be fighting with the courage of
despair, since quite three-fourths of their crops with many of their
cattle and sheep had been destroyed by the terrific hail-burst that
I have described. Therefore, since no other corn was available in the
surrounding land, where they dwelt alone encircled by deserts, either
they must capture that of the White Kendah, or suffer terribly from
starvation until a year later when another harvest ripened.

The only points I could see in favour of the People of the Child
were that they would fight on the vantage ground of their mountain
stronghold, a formidable position if properly defended. Also they would
have the benefit of the skill and knowledge of Ragnall and myself.
Lastly, the enemy must face our rifles. Neither the White nor the
Black Kendah, I should say, possessed any guns, except a few antiquated
flintlock weapons that the former had captured from some nomadic tribe
and kept as curiosities. Why this was the case I do not know, since
undoubtedly at times the White Kendah traded in camels and corn with
Arabs who wandered as far as the Sudan, or Egypt, nomadic tribes to whom
even then firearms were known, although perhaps rarely used by them. But
so it was, possibly because of some old law or prejudice which forbade
their introduction into the country, or mayhap of the difficulty of
procuring powder and lead, or for the reason that they had none to teach
them the use of such new-fangled weapons.