by Ruskin Bond
"Gaga!"
The word was a sharp command of outraged wrath. But the man did not heed, and his hands continued fumbling, fingering, searching.
Walkely stooped down to seize the kneeling mandor by the shoulder, then straightened up as the latter rose and, turning, showed a face pallid under the yellow of his skin, from which stark horror shone.
"The pandang, Tuan," he gasped. "The pandang! It has gone!"
Walkely looked at him in stupefaction.
"Gaga——" he began, but got no further, for the man, heedless of Walkely's upraised hand, broke in:
"The pandang, Tuan, the silver pandang that Jebee used to wear as token of her priesthood of the Gusi, has gone. The silver pandang is no more!"
He ceased, and for a moment there was silence among the three.
On Walkely's face there showed a blank amazement, but Dennis's brows had gathered in a frown and his lips had closed in a deep, straight line. He was the first to speak.
"Walkely," he said, "may I ask Gaga questions?"
Walkely nodded his assent, and Dennis turned to Gaga.
"Gaga, tell me, what makes you say the silver pandang is no more?"
"Because," Gaga stammered in his emotion, "because—when Tuan Glister was buried the pandang was buried, too—and—now…"
His gaze sought for the coffin for a moment, and he fingered a charm of monkeys' teeth that hung around his neck.
"Tell me, Gaga," Dennis's voice was very gentle, "all you know. Begin at the beginning."
Gaga looked relieved, for a native resents questioning and loves to tell a story in his own way.
"The Tuans know," he began, "that Tuan Glister had a myai named Jebee. She came to him when she was very young, but vowed by the oaths of her parents to the priesthood of the Gusi, the sacred jars we Dusuns worship, which only our womenkind may tend. But she was young and beautiful and full of life. Her beauty was unmatched in all this land of Sabah; her form was lithe, her footsteps light; her waist was small; yet she was vowed in wifehood to a jar, the sacred Gusi! Her lips and eyes, though warring with her blood, were innocent of love till Tuan Glister visited the village in search of coolies for the estate.
"Then"—Gaga paused, seeming for a moment at a loss to find his words—"then—the Tuan was tall and handsome, and possessed golden hair. He had a laughing, winning way and eyes that darted here and there and made the warm blood race within your veins when once his glance had rested on you. His eyes discovered Jebee, and——"
Gaga looked nervously from Dennis and Walkely as he shuffled his feet, frightened of saying too much concerning a white man before others of his race.
Dennis read the meaning of his glance.
"Yes, Gaga. You may speak," he said, "for the Tuan Besar and I are friends and we would give Tuan Glister's wandering spirit peace. Say all that is in your heart. We understand."
"Tuan!" Gaga's tone conveyed a depth of grateful meaning. "That night there was dancing and feasting in the village, and pitcher after pitcher of tapai was consumed. The Tuan drank, too, but none could stand against him, and one by one they sank into a heavy sleep. Only the Tuan remained. He left the headman's house, and going through the village reached Jebee's home.
"It was that darkest hour before dawn when the chill wind blows, yet she was seated on the topmost step. The light of the dying moon seemed focused on the silver buckle that she wore, hung from a rotan girdle around her waist.
"Their eyes met. No word was said. The Tuan stretched out his arms and Jebee went to him, and the Tuan's arms enfolded her."
Gaga ceased. The silence lengthened till the office gong, booming eight deep notes, shattered the spell.
"How do you know all this, Gaga?" Walkely asked at length. "You never mentioned it before!"
A look of surprise flitted over the mandor's face, then he quietly replied:
"The Tuan never asked me my story before, nor is it customary for the white man to discuss others of his race with natives. How do I know? Why, Tuan Besar, was I not present on that night, and is not Jebee my sister, though of a different mother?"
"The Tuan had saved my life, and Jebee was young. The warm blood danced in her veins, and her heart cried out for a mate. And so … The river, Tuan, flowed far from the village. The Tuan's boat was there. All in the village slept. The Tuan led her to the boat, while I stole up the steps, entered the house and made a bundle of her clothes. Then, to the waiting boat I followed. The Tuan had covered Jebee with his coat and she was sleeping, but the silver buckle hung round his neck. And, from that day it never left him. We three were alone in the boat. The Tuan and I picked up the paddles, and as their blades in silence touched the water the moon slipped beneath the earth and the Burong bantu hooted thrice. An evil omen, which the Tuan heeded not and Jebee did not hear.
"Till the sun was high we paddled and by noon were far beyond pursuit, for the river flowed very swiftly and one does not wake early from such a sleep as those in the village were sleeping."
Gaga paused, then he added:
"The rest of the story the Tuans know. For a little while the Tuan and Jebee were happy. But the omen of the Burong bantu and the dying moon would not be denied.
"And, the shadow of the Gusi lay between them. So, though the Tuan loved her he drank too deeply, and she found favour in another's sight and went away. But the Tuans know the rest. I buried him—there was no white man on the estate—and as he died he made me promise to bury the buckle with him, hanging round his neck. It was the only thing of Jebee's that he kept."
"And, now?"
Dennis put the question sharply, and his eyes held Gaga's gaze.
"I am afraid, Tuan—sore afraid."
"Of what?"
"I do not know; and the silver pandang has been stolen, though its hiding-place was unknown. To none has it value, save to my people, and for years now they have let it rest. But, Tuan, they never forget, and the Gusi is most sacred. In the great blue jar that Jebee used to tend, and should have wedded, Maboga, the bad Spirit, dwells. Of late evil has befallen my people: the buffaloes bring forth no young, and the crops refuse to ripen; so, Tuan, I am afraid."
Gaga ceased, and once again a silence fell upon the three.
Suddenly, it was broken by the hurrying footsteps and laboured breathing of a man who ran, and round the bend appeared an opas.
All three looked up at his approach and saw stark fear upon his face.
"Tuan! Tuan!" he gasped. "Tuan Glister cannot be found. His house is empty, and his bedroom disarranged, and on the floor is a pool of blood——"
His eyes caught sight of the open grave. The words faltered on his tongue, then ceased, and he stood silent, trembling like a leaf.
At the mention of that name Dennis started, but before he could speak Walkely answered the question hovering on his lips.
"Young Glister's my new assistant, Dennis," he spoke in a queer, strained voice; "he came only last month; you haven't met him yet."
"But——"
"He's a younger brother of …" Walkely looked toward the grave. "It's horrible!" he muttered.
In a flash the meaning of the rifled grave and Glister's disappearance grew plain, and the frown on Dennis's face grew deeper and his lips grew more compressed. Heedless of Walkely's questionings of the jibbering opas he turned to Gaga.
"Gaga," he said, "I see the hand of Maboga stretching out, seeking revenge for the insult of years ago. His arm is long. It stretches from the Tuan's grave to a village in the hills. Is it not so?"
"Tuan?" Gaga answered.
"It stretches," Dennis continued, "from the village to the new Tuan's house as well, for what the white man took must be repaid with interest. What think you, Gaga?"
"That the Tuan is wise and reads the Dusun as a book."
"Dennis!" Walkely had dismissed the opas, and putting out his hand, grasped Dennis's arm. "Dennis," he cried, "what do you mean? Glister has disappeared, there's blood upon his floor and we stand here while heaven knows what devil's wor
k is being done! What do you mean—with interest?"
"Listen, Walley." Dennis weighed his words and spoke with slow conviction. "I'm in the dark almost as much as you—but I know the Dusuns and the fetish of their Gusi worship. When Glister took Jebee from her people, she broke their vows and outraged the sacred jars; but while the years were plentiful and their calves were strong they did not worry; when, as now, the inevitable lean year comes they seek a reason for their troubles."
"You men…?" asked Walkely, still perplexed.
"That reason is Maboga. They think he will not be appeased unless…"
Dennis did not finish, but his glance wandered to the open grave and back to Walkely's strained white face, on which the dawning light of comprehension showed.
"Good heavens!" he muttered. "You really thing…?"
Dennis nodded, then turned to Gaga.
"Gaga," he said, "tell me exactly what happens at the Feast."
"The silver buckles of the priestesses, Tuan, are hung upon the Gusis' lips. Then, when the dying moon is half-way set, the mateless wives say prayers and wash the sacred jars, and call upon the spirits to come forth and give their judgment on the village for the year. This year I think Maboga's jar will once again be decked. But who will cleanse the sacred lips I cannot think, for while Jebee lives the pandang may be worn by no one else. Tuan Glister dared, and paid the price."
"And, Maboga?" Dennis's voice was low, almost a whisper.
For a moment Gaga hesitated, then he replied: "The Tuan himself has said: 'What the white man took must be repaid—with interest.'"
He paused; then he added: "A white man's head has never yet hung in a Dusuan house, but three days hence Maboga will decide."
The eyes of Dennis and Walkely met. Both seemed to hear again the shufflings in the night, the opening and the shutting of the drawers. Both understood the object of that search.
"I'll borrow Glister's revolver, Walley, for we'll go alone with only Gaga as our guide, and attend this Feast," said Dennis.
For hours the booming of gongs had been borne upon the breeze, yet though the three had been steadily ascending, the deep-toned notes still sounded far away.
On the crest of a hill Dennis and his companion halted for a brief rest, and then onward and upward the trio climbed, while the track grew narrower and stonier and the jungle pressed closer on every side, and long trailing thorn-edged creepers, hanging from the trees, whipped their faces and tore their clothes.
The leading beast stopped and Gaga raised his hand. Without a word the two white men drew level, for the path had widened out and they stood upon the border of a glade, dissected by a muddy stream, whose banks were scored with a myriad hoofmarks.
Gaga slipped from his animal and softly spoke.
"We are nearly there, Tuan. This is their grazing-ground, but all the animals are at the village, for all have ridden to the Feast."
Dennis nodded and proceeded, like the others, to tether his beast.
Then, on foot the three moved forward, but with a quicker pace, for the gongs were loudly booming with a beat that would not be denied. Even as they crossed the muddy stream, the swaying, rhythmic time, rising and falling with the cadence of a dance, gave place to an insistent note that rose and rose, till only one intense vibration, one single throbbing note, beat on the heavy air with a malignant strength sapping all kindly thoughts and fanning to flame the primal lusts of hate and vengeance.
A little farther and the path rose with a sudden precipitousness that forced them to mount the well-worn stones as though they climbed a stair. They reached the top, to stand upon a tiny plain, on which the shadows of the encircling trees were slowly lengthening.
Even as they rested to regain their breath that one insistent note ceased, and for an instant silence reigned.
Then, from the glade's farther end arose a cry, faint at first, then slowly louder, harsher, stronger, swelling to a might paean, to a tumultuous cry: "Maboga; Maboga! Aki Maboga!" And, stillness once again, save for the hurried padding of running feet as the three raced across the shadow-flecked glade.
Panting, they reached a wall of jungle, pierced by a sunken path that twined its short length through the heart of a moss-clad hill, whose riven sides were lit with weird, fantastic lights, thrown from countless torches that burned upon a plateau at its end.
In the shadow of a belt of trees they paused to take stock of their surroundings.
The plateau formed a horseshoe, and at its apex stood a native house built eight feet off the ground, whose length stretched three hundred feet. At either end, leading to the only doors, were rough-hewn steps, carved from solid logs of timber, and from these steps arose two poles, six feet in height, between which was stretched a length of knotted rotan. From this, like a gruesome necklace, hung two rows of ghastly human heads—blackened and dried from the smoke of years—save at each end. And, there hung two heads with staring, sightless eyes, and bared lips exposing whitened teeth; and from them the red blood dripped.
Upon the ground, placed in a semi-circle, stood the jars—the sacred Gusi—ranged in accordance with their height and rank. From either end they tapered up toward the central spot, where, side by side, rose two of flaming blue that reached the height of a man's shoulder.
The rim, or lip, of each was of a different hue—one black, one white—while from the neck of those whose lip was black grew four large ears, and in the lobes of each was placed a human skull.
Behind each jar, save one, a woman stood; her thick black hair piled high upon her head, framing her lime-washed face from which her dark eyes shone; her figure swathed from chin to toe in shrouded black, girt at the waist with a girdle of mice and monkeys' teeth.
A silver pandang hung under the lip of every jar but one, and resting on its swelling shoulder shimmered and winked in the torches' fantastic light.
Facing the jars, the Dusuns sat in rows, immobile and intent. There shone upon the face of everyone a strained expectancy, showing in the taut muscles of the back and the restless, twining fingers of the hands. Thus, they waited—in that strange, uncanny silence—for the answer to their cry, "Maboga, Maboga, Aki Maboga!"
Almost forgetful of the purpose of their errand, Dennis and Walkely watched, fascinated by the scene before them, lit by the waning moon and the lurid, flickering torches. Something of its primaeval instincts and the tension of the squatting natives crept into their veins and held them spellbound as they gazed upon the coloured jars, with their glittering, shining buckles, each with its dumb, attendant white-faced woman, backed by the long, unbroken shadow of the palm-roofed house.
While the moon sank slowly in the west, until its lower rim began to kiss the topmost ridge of the roof, the silence lengthened, till it seemed as if nature slept and those rows of squatting natives were graven images devoid of breath.
But all at once there came a creaking sound, and the tension snapped. A long, rippling murmur, half-sigh, half-gasp, filled the air, and Gaga's hand gripped Dennis's arm.
"Look, Tuan, look!" he whispered, and pointed to a hut which stood alone and almost hidden in the shade of a mighty billian tree.
The two men obeyed, following the line of Gaga's pointing finger.
The hut door opened slowly as the noise increased. But though no light burned within, a shadowy form was faintly visible moving toward the glade. Slowly, silently, though still half-hidden by the shade, the form drew near. Then, as all eyes were turned upon it a glinting speck of light winked in the gloom. And, as the figure moved the winking light moved, too.
Slowly, steadily from the shade into the flickering fringe of torches; from the fringe into the full lurid glare moved the figure and the light.
A quick intake of many breaths; a long, loud gasp of terrified surprise. Then silence—and a woman, with a silver buckle hanging from a girdle round her waist, stood before the great blue sacred jar, from under whose deep black lip no silver buckle hung.
Over the silence, that like a living spiri
t lay upon the glade, Gaga's excited whisper just reached Dennis's and Walkely's ears.
"Tuan, it is Jebee, and she wears the silver pandang that I buried in Tuan Glister's grave! Tuan, Tuan, I am afraid!"
Even as he spoke the woman raised her rounded arms, on which no gleaming bangles shone, and with a single gesture unloosed the coils of her high-wound hair. The long, thick tresses fell around her like a black cloak.
Again, she raised her arms, this time in supplication, and her low, clear voice went chanting through the glade.
"Aki Maboga of the Sacred Gusi, Spirit of Evil who dwelleth in the great blue jar, hear now thy erring daughter, thy forsworn priestess, and forgive. Here, in my shame I stand before thee and the assembled people, bearing the silver pandang, symbol of thy might and power, which in my youth and wilful love I disgraced.
"Thou, who for long has been neglected, till thy just wrath burst into flame, so that the crops no longer ripen and the herds cease to bring forth young, lift, I beseech thee, Aki Maboga, the shadow of thy anger from off my race.
"Through me and for my sin my people have been punished; through me, O Aki, pronounce the penance thou dost claim."
She ceased, and as a wailing cry rose from the assembled natives, slipped slowly to her knees, and flinging her arms round the greet jar's neck, rested her lips upon its blackened rim.
Walkely stirred, but Dennis's warning hand bade him keep still. Gaga, speechless and with bulging eyes, stared at the kneeling figure.
A wind was stirring in the trees. The moon had sunk completely out of sight, and here and there a flickering torch gutted and burnt out.
Thus, in the creeping darkness they waited, while the moments grew to minutes burdened with suspense—waited for Maboga's answer that his deep black lips would whisper in Jebee's listening ear.
At length, with infinite grace, she rose, and stood clothed in her long black hair behind the great blue jar; for on its swelling shoulders, glinting against its deep black lip, the silver pandang lay.
The wind was sighing in the trees. The rustling leaves made soft accompaniment to her voice, which trembled with emotion.