Henderson the Rain King (13 page)

XII

I swore. "This is brainwashing." And I resolved that they would never drive me out of my mind. I had seen dead men before this, plenty of them. In the last year of the war I shared the European continent with about fifteen million of them, though it's always the individual case that's the worst. The corpse was sadly covered with the dust into which I had thrown it, and now that they had fetched him back, my relations with him were no secret, and I decided to sit tight and await the outcome of events. There was nothing more for me to do. Romilayu was still asleep, his hand pressed between his knees, the other under his wrinkled cheek. I saw no reason to wake him. And leaving him in the hut with the dead man, I went into the open air. I was aware of a great peculiarity either in myself or in the day, or in both. I must have been getting the fever from which I was to suffer for a while. It was accompanied by a scratchy sensation in my bosom, a little like eagerness or longing. In the nerves between my ribs this was especially noticeable. It was one of those mixed sensations, comparable to what one feels when smelling the fumes of gasoline. The air was warm and swooning about my face; the colors were all high. Those colors were extraordinary. No doubt my impressions were a consequence of stress and of lack of sleep. As this was a day of festival the town was already beginning to jump, people were running about, and whether or not they knew whom Romilayu and I had in our hut was never revealed to me. A sweet, spicy smell of native beer burst from the straw walls. The drinking here began apparently at sunrise; there was also a certain amount of what seemed to be drunken noise. I took a cautious walk around and no one paid any particular attention to me, which I interpreted as a good sign. There appeared to be quite a few family quarrels, and some of the older people were particularly abusive and waspish. At which I marveled. A small stone struck me in the helmet, but I assumed it was not aimed at me, for kids were throwing pebbles at one another and tussling, rolling in the dust. A woman ran from her hut and swept them away, screaming and cuffing them. She did not seem particularly astonished to find herself face to face with me, but turned around and re-entered her house. I peeked in and saw an old fellow lying there on a straw mat. She trod on his back with her bare feet in a kind of massage calculated to straighten out his spinal column, after which she poured liquid fat on him and she skillfully rubbed him, ribs and belly. His forehead wrinkled and his grizzled beard parted. Baring his great old teeth he smiled at me, rolling his eyes toward the doorway where I was standing. "What gives here?" I was thinking, and I went about the small, narrow lanes and looked into the yards and over fences, cautiously, of course, and mindful of the sleeping Romilayu and the dead man sitting against the wall. Several young women were gilding the horns of cattle and painting and ornamenting one another too, putting on ostrich feathers, vulture feathers, and ornaments. Some of the men wore human jaw bones as neckpieces under their chins. The idols and fetishes were being dressed up and whitewashed, receiving sacrifices. An ancient woman with hair in small and rigid braids had dumped yellow meal over one of these figures and was swinging a freshly killed chicken over it. Meanwhile the noise grew in volume, every minute something new added, a rattle, a snare drum, a deeper drum, a horn blast, or a gunshot. I saw Romilayu come from the door of our hut, and you didn't have to be a fine observer to see what a state he was in. I went toward him and when he caught sight of me above the gathering crowd, probably spotting that white shell on my head, the helmet, before any other portion, he put his hand to his cheek wincingly. "Yes, yes, yes," I said, "but what can we do? We'll just have to wait. It may not mean a thing. Anyway, the king--what's his name, Itelo's friend, we're supposed to see him this morning. Any minute now he'll send for us and I'll take it up with him. Don't you worry, Romilayu, I'll soon find out what gives. Don't you let on to a thing. Bring our stuff out of the hut and keep an eye on it." Then with a sort of fast march which was played on the drums, deep drums carried by women of unusual stature, the female soldiers or amazons of the king, Dahfu, there came into the street a company of people carrying large state umbrellas. Under one of these, a large fuchsia-colored business of silk, marched a burly man. One of the other umbrellas had no user and I reckoned, correctly, that it must have been sent for me. "See," I said to Romilayu, "they wouldn't send that luxurious-looking article for a man they were going to frame up. That's a lightning deduction. Just an intuition, but I think we have nothing to worry about, Romilayu." The drummers marched forward rapidly, the umbrellas twirling and dancing roundly and heavily, keeping time. As these huge fringed and furled silk canopies advanced the Wariri got out of the way. The heavily built man, smiling, had already seen me and extended his burly arms toward me, holding his head and smiling in such a way as to show that he was welcoming me affectionately. He was Horko, who turned out to be the king's uncle. The dress he wore, of scarlet broadcloth, was banded about from his ankles over his chest and up to the armpits. This wrapping was so tight as to make the fat swell upward under his chin and into his shoulders. Two rubies (garnets, maybe?) dragged down the soft flesh of his ears. He had a powerful, low-featured face. As he stepped out of the shade of his state umbrella, the sun flared richly into his eyes and made them seem as much red as black. When he raised his brows the whole of his scalp also moved backward and made a dozen furrows all the way up to the occiput. His hair grew tight and small, peppercorn style, in tiny droplike curls. Genial, he gave me his hand to shake, in civilized manner, and laughed. He showed a broad, happy-looking, swollen tongue, dyed red as though he had been sucking candy. Adapting my mood to his, I laughed too, corpse or no corpse, and I poked Romilayu in the ribs and said, "See? See? What did I tell you?" Cautious, Romilayu refused to be reassured on such slight evidence. Villagers came about us, laughing with us, although more wildly than Horko, shrugging their shoulders and making pantomimes about me. Many-were drunk on pombo, the native beer. The amazons, dressed in sleeveless leather vests, pushed them away. They weren't to get too close to Horko and myself. Corset-like vests were the only garments worn by these large women, who were rather heavy or bunchy in build, and unusually expanded behind. "Shake, shake," I said to Horko, and he invited me to take my place under the vacant umbrella. It was a real luxury article, a million-dollar umbrella if I ever saw one. "The sun's hot," I said, "though it can't be eight o'clock in the morning. I appreciate the courtesy." I wiped my face, making looks of friendship, in other words exploiting the situation as much as possible and trying to put the greatest possible distance between us and the corpse. "Me Horko," he said. "Dahfu uncle." "Oh, you speak my language," I said, "how lucky for me. And King Dahfu is your nephew, is he? Hey, what do you know? And are we going to visit him now? The gentlemen who questioned us last night said so." "Me uncle, yes," he said. Then he gave a command to the amazons, who at once made an about-face which would have been noisy had they worn boots, and began to pummel out the same march rhythm on the bass drums. The great umbrellas began again to flash and sway and the light played beautifully on the watered silk as they wheeled. Even the sun seemed to lie down greedily on them. "Go to palace," said Horko. "Let's," I said. "Yes, I am eager. We passed it yesterday coming into town." Why shouldn't I admit it, I was worried still. Itelo seemed to think the world and all of his old school friend, Dahfu, and had spoken of him as though he were one in a million, but on the basis of my experience thus far with the Wariri I had little reason to feel comfortable. I said, above the drums, "Romilayu, where is my man Romilayu?" I was worried, you see, lest they decide to hold him in connection with the body. I wanted him by my side. He was allowed to walk behind me in the procession, carrying all the gear. Tried in strength and patience, he bent under his double burden; it was out of the question for me to carry anything. We marched. Considering the size of the umbrellas and the drums, it was marvelous what speed we made. We flew forward, the drumming amazons before us and behind. And how different the town was today. Our route was lined with spectators, some of them bending over to spy out my face under the combined cover of umbrella and helmet. Thousands of hands, of restless feet, I saw, and faces glaring with heat and curiosity or intensity or holiday feeling. Chickens and pigs rushed across the route of the march. Shrill noises, squeals, and monkey shrieks swirled over the pounding of drums. "This is certainly a contrast," I said, "to yesterday when everything was so quiet. Why was that, Mr. Horko?" "Yestahday, sad day. All people fast." "Executions?" I suddenly said. From a scaffold at some distance to the left of the palace I saw, or thought I saw, bodies hanging upside down. Through a peculiarity of the light they were small, like dolls. The atmosphere sometimes will act as a reducing and not only as a magnifying glass. "I certainly hope those are effigies," I said. But my misgiving heart said otherwise. It was no wonder they hadn't made any inquiry about their corpse. What was one corpse to them? They appeared to deal in them wholesale. With this my feverishness increased, plus the scratchiness in my breast, and within my face itself a curious over-ripe sensation developed. Fear. I don't hesitate to admit it. I turned my eyes backward toward Romilayu, but he was lagging under the weight of the equipment and we were separated by a rank of drumming amazons. So I said to Horko, and was compelled to yell because of the drums, "Seem to be a lot of dead people." We had left the narrow lanes and were in a large thoroughfare approaching the palace. He shook his big head, smiling with his red-stained tongue, and touched one of his ears, from the lobe of which there dragged a red jewel. He did not hear me. "Dead people!" I said. And then I told myself, "Don't ask for information with such despair." My face was indeed hot and huge and anxious. Laughing, he could not admit that he had understood me, not even when I made a pantomime of hanging at the end of a rope. I would have paid four thousand dollars in spot cash for Lily to have been brought here for one single instant, to see how she would square such things with her ideas of goodness. And reality. We had had that terrific argument about reality as a consequence of which Ricey had run away and returned to school with the child from Danbury. I have always argued that Lily neither knows nor likes reality. Me? I love the old bitch just the way she is and I like to think I am always prepared for even the very worst she has to show me. I am a true adorer of life, and if I can't reach as high as the face of it, I plant my kiss somewhere lower down. Those who understand will require no further explanation. It consoled me for my fears to imagine that Lily would be unable to reply. Though at the present moment I can't for one instant believe that anything would stump her. She'd have an answer all right. But meanwhile we had crossed the parade ground and the sentries had opened the red gate. Here were the hollow stone bowls of yesterday with their hot flowers resembling geraniums, and here was the interior of the palace; it was three stories high with open staircases and galleries, quadrangular and barnlike. At ground level the rooms were doorless, like narrow stalls, open and bare. Here there could be no mistake about it--I heard the roar of a wild beast underneath. No creature but a lion could possibly make such a noise. Otherwise, relative to the streets of the town, the palace was quiet. In the yard were two small huts like doll-houses, each occupied by a horned idol, newly whitewashed this morning. Between these two was a trail of fresh calcimine. A rusty flag which had had too much sun was hung from the turret. It was diagonally divided by a meandering white line. "Which way to the king?" I said. But Horko was bound by the rules of etiquette to entertain me and visit with me before my audience with Dahfu. His quarters were on the ground floor. With high ceremony the umbrellas were planted and an old bridge table was brought out by the amazons. It was laid with a cloth of the type that Syrian peddlers used to deal in, red and yellow with fancy Arabic embroideries. Then a silver service was brought, teapot, jelly dishes, covered dishes, and the like. There was hot water, and a drink made of milk mixed with the fresh blood of cattle, which I declined, dates and pineapple, pombo, cold sweet potatoes, and other dishes--mouse paws eaten with a kind of syrup, which I also took a raincheck on. I ate some sweet potatoes and drank the pombo, a powerful beverage which immediately acted on my legs and knees. In my excitement and fever I swallowed several cups of this, since nothing external gave me support, the bridge table being highly rickety; I needed something inside, at least. Half hopefully I thought I was going to be sick. I cannot endure such excitement as I then felt. I did my best to perform the social rigmarole with Horko. He wished me to admire his bridge table, and to oblige him I made him several compliments on it, and said I had one just like it at home. As indeed I do, in the attic. I sat under it when attempting to shoot the cat. I told him it wasn't as nice as his. Ah, it was too bad we couldn't sit as two gentlemen of about the same age, enjoying the fine warm blur of a peaceful morning in Africa. But I was a fugitive and multiple wrong-doer and greatly worried because of the events of the night before. I anticipated that I could hear myself with the king, and several times I thought it was time to rise, and I stirred my large weight and made a start, but the protocol didn't yet allow it. I tried to be patient, cursing the vain waste of fear. Horko, puffing, bent across the frail table, his knuckles like boles, clasping the handle of the silver pot. He poured a hot drink that tasted like steamed hay. Bound by a thousand restraints, I lifted the cup and sipped with utmost politeness. At last my reception by Horko was completed and he indicated that we should rise. The amazons, in record time, moved away the table and the things, and lined up in formation ready to escort us to the king. Their behinds were pitted like
colanders. I set my helmet straight and hiked up my short pants and wiped my hands on my T-shirt, for they were damp and I wanted to give the king a dry warm handshake. It means a lot. We started to march toward one of the staircases. Where was Romilayu? I asked Horko. He smiled and said, "Oh, fine. Oh, oh, fine." We were mounting the staircase, and I saw Romilayu below, waiting, dejected, his hands, discouraged, hanging over his knees, and his bent spine sticking out. Poor guy! I thought. I've got to do something for him. Just as soon as this is cleared up I will. I absolutely will. After the catastrophes I've led him into I owe him a real reward. The outdoor staircase, wide, leisurely, and rambling, took a turn and brought us to the other side of the building. A tree was there and it was shaking and creaking because several men were engaged in a curious task, raising large rocks into the branches with ropes and crude wooden pulleys. They yelled at the ground crew who were pushing these boulders upward and their faces shone with the light of hard work. Horko said to me, and I didn't quite understand how he meant it, that these stones were connected with clouds for the rain they expected to make in the ceremony soon to come. They all seemed very confident that rain would be made today. The examiner last night with his expression, "Wak-ta," had described the downpour with his fingers. But there was nothing in the sky. It was bare of all but the sun itself. There were only, so far, these round boulders in the branches, apparently intended to represent rain clouds. We came to the third floor, where King Dahfu had his quarters. Horko led me through several wide but low-pitched rooms which seemed to be obscurely supported from beneath; I wouldn't have answered for the beams. There were hangings and curtains. But the windows were narrow, and little could be seen except when a ray of sun would break in here and there and show a rack of spears, a low seat, or the skin of an animal. At the door of the king's apartment, Horko withdrew. I had not expected that and I said, "Hey, where're you going?" But one of the amazons took me by the bare arm and passed me through the door. Before I saw Dahfu himself, I was aware of numbers of women--twenty or thirty was my first estimate--and the density of naked women, their volupt�only a French word would do the job here), pressed upon me from all sides. The heat was great and the predominant odor was feminine. The only thing I could compare it to in temperature and closeness was a hatchery--the low ceiling also is responsible for this association. Seated by the door on a high stool, a stool that resembled an old-fashioned bookkeeper's, was a gray, heavy old woman in the amazon's vest plus a garrison cap of the sort which went out of date with the Italian army at the turn of the century. On behalf of the king she shook my hand. "How do you do?" I said. The king! His women cleared a path for me, moving slowly from my way, and I saw him at the opposite end of the room, extended on a green sofa about ten feet in length, crescent-shaped, with heavy upholstery, deeply pocketed and bulging. On this luxurious article he was fully at rest, so that his well-developed athletic body, in knee-length purple drawers of a sort of silk crepe, seemed to float, and about his neck was wrapped a white scarf embroidered in gold. Matching slippers of white satin were on his feet. For all my worry and fever I felt admiration as I sized him up. Like myself, he was a big man, six feet or better by my estimate, and sumptuously at rest. Women attended to his every need. Now and then one wiped his face with a piece of flannel, and another stroked his chest, and one kept his pipe filled and lit and puffed at it for him to keep it going. I approached or blundered forward. Before I could come too close a hand checked me and a stool was placed for me about five feet from this green sofa. I sat. Between us in a large wooden bowl lay a couple of human skulls, tilled cheek to cheek. Their foreheads shone jointly at me in the yellow way skulls have, and I was confronted by the united eye sockets and nose holes and the double rows of teeth. The king observed how warily I looked at him and appeared to smile. His lips were large and tumid, the most negroid features of his face, and he said, "Do not feel alarm. These are for employment in the ceremony of this afternoon." Some voices once heard will never stop resounding in your head, and such a voice I recognized in his from the first words. I leaned forward to get a better look. The king was much amused by my spreading my hands over my chest and belly as if to retain something, and raised himself to examine me. A woman slipped a cushion behind his head, but he knocked it to the floor and lay back again. My thought was, "I haven't run out of luck yet." For I saw that our ambush and capture and interrogation and all the business of billeting us with the dead man, could not have originated with the king. He was not that sort, and although I did not know yet precisely what sort he might be, I was already beginning to rejoice in our meeting. "Yesterday afternoon, I have receive report of your arrival. I have been so excited. I have scarcely slept last night, thinking about our meeting � Oh, ha, ha. It positively was not good for me," he said. "That's funny, I didn't get too much sleep myself," I said. "I've had to make do with only a few hours. But I am glad to meet you, King." "Oh, I am very please. Tremendous. I am sorry over your sleep. But on my own I am please. For me this is a high occasion. Most significant. I welcome you." "I bring you regards from your friend Itelo," I said. "Oh, you have encountered with the Arnewi? I see it is your idea to visit some of the remotest places. How is my very dear friend? I miss him. Did you wrestle?" "We certainly did," I said. "And who won?" "We came out about even." "Well," he said, "you seem a mos' interesting person. Especially in point of physique. Exceptional," he said. "I am not sure I have ever encountered your category. Well, he is very strong. I could not throw him, which gave him very high pleasure. Invariably did." "I'm beginning to feel my age," I said. The king said, "Oh, why, nonsense. I think you are like a monument. Believe me, I have never seen a person of your particular endowment." "I hope you and I do not have to go to the mat, Your Highness," I said. "Oh, no, no. We have not that custom. It is not local with us. I must request forgiveness from you," he said, "for not arising to a handshake. I ask my generaless, Tatu, to act for me because I am so reluctant to rise. In principle." "Is that so? Is that so?" I said. "The less motion I expend, and the more I repose myself, the easier it is for me to attend to my duties. All my duties. Including also the prerogatives of these many wives. You may not think so on first glance, but it is a most complex existence requiring that I husband myself. Sir, tell me frankly--" "Henderson is the name," I said. Because of the way he lolled, and the way he drew on his pipe, I somehow felt that I was being particularly tested. "Mr. Henderson. Yes, I should have asked you. I am very sorry for neglecting the civility. But I could hardly contain myself that you were here, sir, a chance for conversation in English. Many things since my return I have felt lacking which I would not have suspected while at school. You are my first civilized visitor." "Not many people come here?" "It is by our preference. We have preferred a seclusion, for many generations now, and we are beautifully well hidden in these mountains. You are surprised that I speak English? I assume no. Our friend Itelo must have told you. I adore that man's character. We were steadfastly together through many experiences. It is an intense disappointment to me not to have surprise you more," he said. "Don't worry, I'm plenty surprised. Prince Itelo told me all about that school that he and you attended in Malindi." As I have emphasized, I was in a peculiar condition, I had an anxious fever, and I was perplexed by the events of last night. But there was something about this man that gave me the conviction that we could approach ultimates together. I went only by his appearance and the tone of his voice, for thus far it seemed to me that there was a touch of frivolousness in his attitude, and that he was trying me out. As for the remoteness of the Wariri, this morning, owing to the peculiarity of my mental condition, the world was not itself; it took on the aspect of an organism, a mental thing, amid whose cells I had been wandering. From mind the impetus came and through mind my course was set, and therefore nothing on earth could really surprise me, utterly. "Mr. Henderson, I would appreciate if you would return a candid answer to the question I am about to put. None of these women can understand, therefore no hesitancy is required. Do you envy me?" This was not the moment to tell lies. "Do you mean would I change places with you? Well, hell, Your Highness--no disrespect intended--you seem to me to be in a very attractive position. But then, I couldn't be at more of a disadvantage," I said. "Almost anyone would win a comparison with me." His black face had a cocked nose, but it was not lacking in bridge. The reddened darkness of his eyes must have been a family trait, as I had observed it also in his Uncle Horko. But in the king there was a higher quality or degree of light. And now he wanted to know, pursuing the same line of inquiry, "Is it because of all these women?" "Well, I have known quite a few myself, Your Highness," I said, "though not all at the same time. That seems to be your case. But at present I happen to be very happily married. My wife's a grand person, and we have a very spiritual union. I am not blind to her faults; I sometimes tell her she is the altar of my ego. She is a good woman, but something of a blackmailer. There is such a thing as scolding nature too much. Ha, ha." I have told you I was feeling a little displaced in my mind. And now I said, "Why do I envy you? You are in the bosom of your people. They need you. Look how they stick around and attend to your every need. It's obvious how much they value you." "While I am in possession of my original youthfulness and strength," he said, "but have you any conception of what will take place when I weaken?" "What will �?" "These same ladies, so inordinate of attention, will report me and then the Bunam who is chief priest here, with other priests of the association, will convey me out into the bush and there I will be strangled." "Oh, no, Christ!" I said. "Indeed so. I am telling you with utmost faithfulness what a king of us, the Wariri, may look forward to. The priest will attend until a maggot is seen upon my dead person and he will wrap it in a slice of silk and bring it to the people. He will show it in public pronouncing and declaring it to be the king's soul, my soul. Then he will re-enter the bush and, a given time elapsing, he will carry to town a lion's cub, explaining that the maggot has now experienced a conversion into a lion. And after another interval, they will announce to the people the fact that the lion has converted into the next king. This will be my successor." "Strangled? You? That's ferocious. What sort of an outfit is this?" "Do you still envy me?" said the king, making the words softly with his large, warm, swollen-seeming mouth. I hesitated, and he observed, "My deduction from brief observation I give you as follows--that you are probably prone to such a passion." "What passion? You mean I'm envious?" I said touchily, and forgot myself with the king. Hearing a note of anger, the amazons of the guard who were arrayed behind the wives along the walls of the room, began to stir and grew alert. One syllable from the king quieted them. He then cleared his throat, raising himself upon his sofa, and one of the naked beauties held a salver so that he might spit. Having drawn some tobacco juice from his pipe, he was displeased and threw the thing away. Another lady retrieved it and cleaned the stem with a rag. I smiled, but I am certain my smile looked like a grievance. The hairs about my mouth were twisted by it. I was aware, however, that I could not demand an explanation of that remark. So I said, "Your Highness, something very irregular happened last night. I don't complain of having fallen into a trap on arrival or my weapons being swiped, but in my hut last night there was a dead body. This is not exactly in the nature of a complaint, as I can handle myself with the dead. Nevertheless I thought you ought to know about it." The king looked really put out over this; there wasn't the least flaw of insincerity in his indignation and he said, "What? I am sure it is a confusion of arrangements. If intentional, I will be very put out. This is a matter I must have looked into." "I'm obliged to confess, Your Highness, I felt a certain amount of inhospitality and _I__ was put out. My man was reduced to hysterics. And I might as well make a clean breast. Though I didn't want to tamper with your dead, I took it upon myself to remove the body. Only what does it signify?" "What can it?" he said. "As far as I am aware, nothing." "Oh, then I am relieved," I said. "My man and I had a very bad hour or two with it. And during the night it was brought back." "Apologies," said the king. "My most sincere. Genuine. I can see it was horrible and also discommoding." He didn't ask me for any particulars. He did not say, "Who was it? What was the man like?" Nor did he even seem to care whether it was a man, a woman, or a child. I was so glad to escape the anxiety of the thing that at the time I didn't note this peculiar lack of interest. "There must be quite a number of deaths among you at this time," I said. "On the way over to the palace I could have sworn I saw some fellows hanging." He did not answer directly, but only said, "We must get you out of the undesirable lodging. So please be my guest in the palace." "Thank you." "Your things will be sent for." "My man, Romilayu, has already brought them, but he hasn't had breakfast." "Be assured, he will be taken care of." "And my gun �" "Whenever you have occasion to shoot, it will be in your hands." "I keep hearing a lion," I said. "Does this have anything to do with the information you gave me about the death of �" I did not complete the question. "What brings you here to us, Mr. Henderson?" I had an impulse to confide in him--that was how he made me feel, trusting--but as he had steered away the subject from the roaring of the lions, which I clearly heard beneath, I couldn't very well start, just like that, to speak openly and so I said, "I am just a traveler." My position on the three-legged stool suggested that I was crouching there in order to avoid questioning. The situation required an amount