Lord Tyger (27 page)

He had explained to Gilluk what would happen. Gilluk had not seemed to understand at first, but the second time around, he had nodded his head and said something in Wantso. It certainly had not been quite the Wantso Ras knew, which difference was explained when the king later told him that he spoke only a little of the language, which he had learned from
the slaves of the Sharrikt. The slaves had been descended from Wantso captives taken many generations before, and these slaves spoke a language that deviated from that used by the villagers Ras knew.

Ras had cooked some monkey meat, very rare, and offered it to Gilluk, who had refused it. Ras had not known whether monkey meat was tabu or if Gilluk had been afraid to eat a ghost's food. He had shrugged and left it to Gilluk to decide when--if ever--he would eat.

In the morning, Ras had started to learn the Sharrikt language. Gilluk had refused to talk until Ras told him that he would be released if he co-operated but would die if he did not. The king had decided to start talking at once. By noon, he had been eating. Ras let him out of the cage, at spearpoint, so that he would not continue to foul it with excrement.

The next evening, Ras had returned to the village. He had wanted to find out what kind of storm his passage through had left behind. He had climbed to a perch on the branch above Wuwufa's hut and, lying on it, had watched and listened. The entire adult male population, except for the guards, had been around a big fire in front of the chief's chair.

Bigagi, spear in hand, had been making a speech.

"This ghost is no ghost!"

"Ahh!" the men had said. "This ghost is no ghost?"

"This ghost is no ghost," Bigagi had said. "He comes from the Land of the Ghosts."

"He comes from the Land of the Ghosts?"

Bigagi had said, "He comes from the Land of the Ghosts. But this ghost is no ghost!"

"This ghost is no ghost!"

Bigagi had strode back and forth and brandished his spear at the darkness outside the walls.

"This ghost is no ghost. He is no ghost. He is the son of a female ape and of a tall spirit."

"He is the son of a female ape and of a tall spirit?" the crowd had chanted.

"He is the son of a female ape and of a tall spirit!" Bigagi had said. "The ghost himself told me so!"

"The ghost himself told you so?"

"The ghost who is no ghost told me so himself. That was when I was young, before I became a man. Wilida and Sutino and Fuwitha and Pathapi and I played with the ghost when he was a child. We played with him in the bushes on the bank of the river!"

"Ahh!" the men had breathed.

"Now Sutino is dead and is a ghost. You cannot ask him unless Wuwufa asks for us. But if you do not believe me, ask Wilida or those still alive."

"Ask Wilida or those still alive?" the men had said.

"They will tell you that I do not lie!"

"This ghost is named Lazazi Taigaidi!"

"The ghost is named Lazazi Taigaidi!"

"This ghost is no ghost!"

"This ghost is no ghost!"

"This ghost bleeds!"

"Ahh! This ghost bleeds!"

"I have seen him bleed! His blood is red!"

"His blood is red! Ahh!"

"Ghost blood is white! Ghost blood is white!"

"Ghost blood is white!"

"The ghost bleeds red blood!"

"This ghost bleeds red blood!"

"This ghost is no ghost! This ghost is the son of a female ape and of a tall spirit!"

Before the men could repeat, Tibaso, the chief, had interrupted. "Is not the son of a tall spirit a ghost?"

Bigagi had shouted, "This ghost can die! Thus, he is not a ghost!"

"This ghost can die?"

"Ahh!" Tibaso had said. "But this ghost lives in the Land of the Ghosts. Would a living man dare live in the Land of the Ghosts?"

Bigagi had shouted, "Shabagu, our great ancestor, led us into this land!"

"Shabagu, our great ancestor, led us into this land!"

"Shabagu was the son of a tall spirit," Bigagi had said. "His mother was Zudufa, a Wantso woman."

"Shabagu was the son of a tall spirit. His mother was Zudufa, a Wantso woman!"

Bigagi had yelled, "Shabagu died!"

"Ahh! Shabagu died! He did indeed die!"

"Lazazi Taigaidi is the son of a tall spirit! Shabagu was the son of a tall spirit! Shabagu died! Lazazi Taigaidi can die!"

"Ahh! He can die! He can die!"

The men had clashed their spears and shouted, over and over, "He can die!"

Wuwufa had sprung up from his squat and begun to dance.
He had shaken a rod on the end of which were three gourds containing pebbles.

"He can die!" he had groaned. "He can die! The Ghost-Boy can die!"

The others had stood up and begun to dance while they had chanted, "He can die!"

Tibaso had heaved himself up from his chair and banged the end of his wand on the earth platform. The men had stopped dancing.

"Who, then, will kill the ghost?"

Bigagi had said, "This ghost is no ghost! I will kill the son of a female ape and of a tall spirit! I, Bigagi, with my father's spear!"

The spear thrown by Ras had thudded a few seconds later into the earth before Bigagi. Its shaft had quivered. The men had fallen silent; they had looked at each other and around them, and their eyes had rolled. At that moment, Ras had given the shrill, ululating cry that Yusufu had taught him. The men had looked up and, by the light of the fire, had seen Ras's white figure on the branch above Wuwufa's hut.

They had shouted and screamed and knocked each other over in their bolt for their houses. Only Wuwufa had remained outside. The old man had lain on the ground, his eyes wide open, his mouth working, saliva spewing from his lips, his body jerking.

Ras had given the cry again and left.

On the next visit, he had found that Bigagi had appropriated his spear. Bigagi had now claimed that Lazazi Taigaidi could be killed with his own spear and that he, Bigagi, would do it.

Ras had gone into the village late that night and taken the spear from Bigagi's side. As he had circled in back of the outer
circle of houses to return to the sacred tree, he had stopped. Why not go into Wilida's house instead?

The more he had thought of it, the more excited he had become. He had walked back to her house, which had been in the inner circle, in front of the house closest to the western gate. As he had done, at Bigagi's, he had gently pulled out one side of the bamboo matting let down at night to form a door. It had been tied with cords at the bottom ends to two small posts. He had slipped sidewise between the end of the matting and the doorframe into the hut. He had waited there until his eyes had adjusted to the lesser light within. The hut had been split into two rooms by a bamboo wall not quite six feet high. Wilida's father and mother had slept in the inner room. Wilida and her brother, seven years old, had been sleeping on mats against opposite walls of the front room.

Ras had lain down beside her and whispered her name in her ear. On hearing her moan softly, he had put his hand over her mouth. She had become fully awake then and had tried to get up, but he had pushed her head back down and whispered savagely to her. She had quit struggling, although she had been quivering. His other hand, on her breast, had felt her heart violently squeezing out the juice of terror.

"I will not harm you, Wilida," he had said. "If you will not cry out, I will take my hand off."

She had nodded, and he had removed his hand. She had said, softly, "O Ras, what do you want?"

"I want you, Wilida! I have ached for you for a long time. Haven't you ached for me?"

She had kissed him, but, before he could kiss her back,
she had said, "Wait!"

She had risen and gone across the room, where she had fiddled around some pots, the clinking of which had made him nervous. She had returned, saying, "I have taken the potion that will keep me from conceiving."

"Why not bear my child?" he had said.

"Because they would know that it was the ghost's child, and they would throw it to the crocodiles and throw me into the fire."

An hour later, Wilida's brother had sat up and begun to cry. It was no wonder, Ras had thought, what with all the noise they had been making.

Wilida's mother had called out, and Wilida had answered, saying that she would comfort the child, who must have had a bad dream. Ras had rolled over to be hidden by her body. When she had left his side to go to her brother, she had exposed him, but he had lain still, hoping that Thizabi would not notice the white lump on the floor in the darkness.

Wilida had soothed her brother, and presently he had been sleeping again. She had urged Ras to leave then because it had been too dangerous for both of them. She had promised that she would meet him again, but outside the village, the first chance she got.

Then she had said, "I have heard the women talk. They think that Seliza has been meeting you out in the bush! Is that true?"

Ras was skillful in lying, since he had found it more convenient to do so when he wished to escape punishment from his parents.

"Ah, I would not touch Seliza if I ached so much that this thing were longer than my spear. I ache only for thee, Wilida!"

He had left the village an hour before dawn, just as a cry had risen from Bigagi's hut. The houses vomited people, who gathered around Bigagi. He had awakened, he had said, and had noticed at once that the Ghost-Boy's spear had been gone. Who had taken it?

Bigagi had no sooner asked the question than the spear had flown from the darkness into the center of the village, near the earthen platform, and been followed by the ululating cry. Within ten seconds, everybody, including Bigagi, had been back in the houses.

Ras had gone down the tree and back to the place where Gilluk had been caged. Gilluk had begun to get over his fear. He had taught Ras his language, so Ras had been able to carry on a fluent conversation on a simple level within twenty days. Gilluk had taken advantage of his captor's knowledge of Sharrikt to complain about being cramped. Ras had built a larger cage.

A month later, Gilluk had complained again. Ras erected a cage that had really been a house, twenty feet by twenty feet by ten feet. It had had a thatched roof and mats that could be unrolled to form walls.

Gilluk had complained that his food was not cooked enough. Thereafter, Ras had served him his meat well done.

Gilluk had complained that he was suffering because he had no women. At home, he had three wives, each of whom he must nightly satisfy, except, of course, during the forbidden menstrual periods. Or else...

"Or else what?" Ras had said.

"Or else I will be thought failing, and a weakening king means a weakening kingdom. And so I would be fed to our
god, the crocodile Baastmaast."

"There is nothing I can do about getting you women," Ras had said. "You will have to make love to your hand."

"A king does not do that," Gilluk had said. "Only little boys."

"Indeed?" Ras had said. "That may be true for the Sharrikt. But I have never seen why I should suffer, although my parents tell me I must. In some ways, you remind me of my parents. But tell me more of your curious customs."

One day, Ras had addressed him as king, and Gilluk had said, "I am no longer the king. The moment I lost Tookkaat, the divine sword, I ceased to be king. I could become king again, during the seventh new moon of the year, when the keeper of the sword, that is, the current king, must go alone into the Great Swamp and there defend himself for seven days against all comers."

Gilluk explained that anybody of royal blood who could kill the king during this time became king. Gilluk had slain all contenders in the Great Swamp for the past seven years. It seemed, though, that the sword had deserted him.

"If I let you loose, what would you do?" Ras had said.

"I would hide in the Great Swamp until the seventh new moon. Then I would kill whoever is king now and return to my village. But if I went back before then, the king would have me killed. He would be in his rights to do so, and he would be stupid if he didn't. There is no one of my people who is as great a warrior as I."

"How many men are there of royal blood?"

"All the Sharrikt are of royal blood."

"I am the son of God," Ras had said. "Would the Sharrikt accept me as king if I killed the man with the sword?"

Gilluk had taken so long answering that he must have been very surprised by the question, if not numbed. Finally, he had said, "How can a non-Sharrikt be king of the Sharrikt?"

"I can't see why not," Ras had said.

"It has never happened."

"Does that mean that it can't happen?"

"The hands of my mind cannot grasp the idea," Gilluk had said.

"What would happen if I killed the man with the sword and entered the Sharrikt village with the sword?"

"I don't think that the Sharrikt would know what to do. They would kill you, run away, or ignore you."

"I'm not easy to ignore," Ras had said.

A few weeks later, Gilluk had complained that he needed more space.

"But you have two rooms now," Ras had said. "You have as big a house as any Wantsb--except for their chief, and he lives in the Great House, which is also a place of worship."

"My house in my land has many rooms," the king had said. "It has more rooms than I have fingers and toes. It is made of stone, and it is three stories high. And it has a wide, wooden veranda that runs completely around the second story. And a wide court in its center."

"You had that when you were a king because it was the king's house," Ras had said. "You are no longer a king."

"Yes, but my ways are still kingly."

For some reason, Ras had felt compelled to build at least
another room. Gilluk had been a little happier, but he had not been completely satisfied. By then, Ras had been getting interested in the construction, and he had also been curious about how far Gilluk's requests would go. So he had built two more rooms.

Gilluk had said that it was a fine house, although it lacked a veranda on which he could take the outer air.

Ras had built the veranda. The king had watched him and now and then suggested improvements or ways to work more efficiently. When Ras had completed the veranda, he had had to construct a huge cage for the house. He could not allow Gilluk out on the veranda until he had some means of keeping him from walking away. He had had to construct it strongly, and then he had thatched a roof for the cage so that Gilluk could walk outside the house in the narrow yard during the rain.