When James translated, Grace said, "You can't mean that! Surely you aren't going to just let Gachiku die?"
Wachera spoke, and James said, "She says it is the will of God."
"But that's monstrous! We must do something."
"Yes, of course. But it is tricky. Once the spirits of the ancestors have decided someone must die, it's the worst of taboos to defy them. They believe Gachiku has a curse on her, and nothing can break a Kikuyu curse."
"I'm not afraid of any curse. Mario, run back to the house and fetch my sterile obstetrics kit."
He hesitated.
"Go on!"
The youth looked at Sir James, who said, "Do as she says, lad."
"Yes, bwana."
"And ether," she called after him. "And the spare sheets from my bed!"
Grace went back into the hut. Her examinations of the villagers had so far been cursory: a feel of the forehead; a counting of the pulse. Kikuyu women were modest and shied away from strangers' eyes. But since Gachiku was in no position to protest, Grace was able to lay her hands on the swollen belly and feel for the position of the baby. It was a transverse presentation, which meant that the baby lay across the birth canal. In order to deliver it, and quickly, Grace would have to reach up and turn it by hand. She lifted up Gachiku's leather aprons.
Grace stared in shock.
She fell back on her heels and felt the hut tilt around her. Then she jumped up and ran outside.
"Dear God," she whispered when James took her arm to steady her.
"What is it?"
"I've never seen anything like it! Gachiku is ... deformed."
To her surprise, James said, "Yes, but it's not a congenital defect."
"What do you mean?"
"You're not aware of it? The initiation?"
"Initiation—"
"It's what the young people go through when they come of age. The boys are circumcised, and the girls—"
She regarded him in horror. "That was done to her?"
"All women undergo the operation in their teens. It marks their entry into the tribe. It is also a test of courage and resistance to pain. Any girl who flinches or cries out is cast out of the clan, cursed."
Grace pressed her hand to her forehead. Then she felt James's strong grip on her arm, and she was able to steady herself. "No wonder she is unable to give birth. She cannot possibly, not with that..."
"A lot of Kikuyu women die in childbirth because of the mutilation. The missionaries are trying to abolish the practice, but the Africans have been doing it for hundreds of years."
"I'm going to have to do something to help her, James. And I don't have much time. Will you and Lucille help me?"
"What can you possibly do?"
"A Caesarean section. I will operate and remove the baby abdominally."
His hand fell away from her arm.
"You said you would help me!"
"There are limits to our interference, Grace. You'll have the whole clan up in arms if you attempt something as drastic as that."
"I'm going to try it."
Lucille said, "I'll help you, Grace," and swung the canvas bag off her shoulder.
"You're making a grave mistake," said James.
"Have someone find me the woman's husband. I'll get his permission. Then the clan can't crucify me."
James stepped close to her, angry. "Don't meddle, Grace!"
"I'm not going to stand by and let her die, damn it!"
"All right, supposing you get the husband's permission. If you attempt the operation and Gachiku dies, he'll kill you, Grace. And I assure you there will be nothing the authorities can do to save you."
"But if I do nothing, then she will surely die!"
"And no one will blame you. Leave her alone, and the clan will let you go in peace. Otherwise, you will never gain their confidence and your clinic will always stand empty."
She glared at him. "Please ask them who the husband is. I'll talk to him. I'll convince him. James, ask them who owns Gachiku."
He asked Wachera, and when the reply came, Grace did not need a translation. Gachiku was the second wife of the clan's chief.
Mathenge.
GRACE HAD WANTED to move Gachiku to her clinic, where there was a proper operating table and good light, but since Wachera would not allow the woman to be moved, and time was growing short, Grace decided to attempt the procedure in the hut. Her wartime reflexes came to her aid; she had performed surgery on a ship that was being bombed, with lights flickering and her only assistant a seasick news correspondent.
James stood outside the hut while Grace and Lucille worked inside. Through the mysterious bush telegraph, women from the neighboring villages heard of what was happening and began to appear in great numbers. So, too, had Mathenge heard, and he now strode through the entrance arch.
The gathering of women and children parted like a sea before the young chief and fell back to close behind him. There was nothing hurried in his step; his face was set in an indifferent expression. But James braced himself. Mathenge was not like the peaceful Kikuyu who attended mission schools.
They greeted each other in the usual complex ritual, mentioning ancestors and crops as if they were two old friends idling the time away. From within the hut came the periodic moans and cries of Gachiku, but Mathenge gave no indication of noticing.
Finally he squatted in the dust and invited James to do the same. The women looked on as their chief and the white bwana gradually moved in on the issue at hand.
"You sit before the hut of a lady mine," Mathenge said.
"It is so," James replied in Kikuyu. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades.
"There is someone inside the hut with the woman I own."
Blast you, thought James. You know damn well what's going on inside that hut.
"The mother's mother of first wife has said the ancestors have put thahu on second wife. Perhaps Memsaab Daktari does not know this."
James scooped up some dirt and let it sift through his fingers. A show of nonchalance was vital. Mathenge was offering Grace a way out that would save face for both of them, but James knew she would refuse it.
They continued to sit in silence with not even the jingle of goats' bells disturbing the air. The sun grew hot. The eyes of the many women remained fast on the two men. Mathenge sat as still as a statue, while James listened to his own pulse thunder in his ears.
Lucille was in that hut....
"She is my favorite wife," Mathenge said.
Startled, James looked up, and for an instant the bold warrior's gaze met his. Then Mathenge averted his eyes, as if embarrassed at being caught in an emotion, and he said quietly, "It troubles me that there is thahu on Gachiku."
James felt a flutter of hope. "Could Wachera be wrong about the ancestors?" he ventured. "Perhaps there is no thahu."
But Mathenge shook his head. Despite the love in his heart for second wife, his fear of the medicine woman was stronger. "Memsaab Daktari must stop."
Christ, thought James. And he wants me to do it! "I haven't the authority to stop her."
The chief tossed him a look of disdain. "The bwana cannot control his women?"
"I do not own the memsaab. She belongs to Bwana Lordy."
Mathenge thought about this. Then he turned, barked an order into the crowd, and bare feet were heard running out of the compound.
To James he said, "Second wife must not be touched. She is under thahu."
"Kikuyu thahu cannot harm Memsaab Daktari."
"Thahu harms everyone, bwana. You know that. Kikuyu thahu will destroy the memsaab."
James swallowed. The order that Mathenge had given was to fetch the warriors who were working on Lord Treverton's house. The tension in the air mounted until he thought he could feel it crackle, and James wondered if Grace was about to trigger an "incident."
Suddenly Mathenge stood. The women fell back. James also rose and, being as tall as the chief, met him eye to eye. "I swear by Ngai, Mathenge, th
at the memsaab is only trying to save the lives of your wife and baby. If you order her out, Gachiku will die."
"The ancestors have said she must die. But if she dies under the hand of the memsaab, then it will not have been an honorable death, and I will seek revenge."
"And if Gachiku lives?"
"She will not live."
"The memsaab's medicine is very strong. Perhaps it is stronger than Wachera's."
Mathenge's eyes narrowed. He strode past James and entered the hut. Everyone looked on with held breath; even the hut stood in a strange silence. James frowned. He didn't hear Grace or Lucille. Nor, for that matter, did Gachiku make a sound. What had happened?
Finally the chief came out of the hut and said to the crowd, "The woman I own is dead."
"What!" James turned and went inside. What he saw made him stop short.
Lucille was at Gachiku's head, holding an ether cone over her sleeping face, while Grace knelt at the young woman's side. She had already made the incision; the sheets were soaked with blood.
"You're in the light," Grace said, and James stepped to one side.
He had seen blood before, had watched army surgeons perform during the war, had even witnessed childbirth, but nothing had prepared him for this.
Grace's hands flew. Her rubber gloves snapped as she picked up instruments, used them, dropped them, snatched up towels, sponges, cut, and sewed. The air in the hut was hot and close and heady with ether fumes. Lucille calmly regulated the anesthetic drip on Gachiku's face while Grace worked with such concentration that her blouse was soaked through with perspiration.
It seemed hours to him, yet it was a quick operation. It had to be. Once the baby was out and in Lucille's hands, the blood had to be stopped and Gachiku kept alive. James watched in fascination as the two women worked rapidly, as if they had done this together a hundred times, their heads bowed over the young woman, hands fluttering, caring, restoring to whole. When the last abdominal suture was in and Lucille was patting Gachiku's face to waken her, James found that he was pressed against the mud wall and his back hurt.
Grace finally turned and looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes, caused by what he didn't know. "James," she whispered, and he reached down to help her up.
"Will she live?"
Grace nodded and leaned against him. She trembled in his arms; her skin smelled of iodine and Lysol. Then she took hold of herself and walked out into the sunshine. The lookers-on murmured in horror; taboo of taboos, she had the blood of another person on her clothes.
"You have a daughter," Grace said to Mathenge, "and your wife is alive."
He turned away.
"Listen to me!" she cried.
He spun around. "You lie!"
"Go inside and see for yourself."
His eyes flickered to the hut and then came back to her face. There was no politeness in him now, no show of manners. He had to demonstrate his superiority over this interfering mzunga, who clearly needed a husband to beat her. He stared down at Grace, who came as high as his shoulders and threatened her with his strength. In the days of the great raids his father had carried off many Masai women, subjugating them in the way Mathenge would like to break this memsaab.
To his fury, she met his gaze equally.
Inside the hut Lucille finished washing the baby and wrapped her in a small blanket. When she started for the door, James stopped her.
"Why not show the baby to the father? When Mathenge sees—"
"He'll kill it. We have to wait for him to come into the hut on his own. It's the Kikuyu way."
Lucille took the baby to sleeping Gachiku and placed it at her breast.
When James and Lucille came out of the hut, it was in time to see a line of men file into the compound, many still carrying hammers and saws.
James felt the back of his neck prickle. "Jesus," he whispered, "we've got to get word somehow to the District Police."
There was a stirring in the crowd, and those closest stepped aside to allow Wachera into the circle. She came slowly forward, her venomous gaze fixed on Grace. "The hut is cursed!" she cried. "It has been defiled, and it must be burned."
"What?" said Grace. "Surely you're not going to—"
"There is thahu here! Bring fire!" To her granddaughter's husband the old woman said, "You must burn the hut with the bodies of your dead wife and child inside. Then you must slay these two memsaabs who caused this sacrilege."
"Wait a minute!" shouted James, stepping forward. "The woman and child are not dead! Go and see for yourself, Lady Wachera. You will see that I do not lie."
"How can they be alive? The baby could not come out. This I felt with my own hands."
"I brought the baby out," said Grace.
"No one has the power to do that."
"The white man's medicine does. Listen!"
They all turned toward the hut. A mewling sound came from within. The cries of a newborn.
"But Gachiku was dead!" said Mathenge. "I saw with my own eyes. Her belly was cut open!"
"She was not dead, merely asleep. Go and see. She will waken. Your favorite woman, Mathenge!"
He was caught in indecision. "You haven't the power to bring the dead back to life."
But Grace said, "I have and I did."
"Not even Ngai has that power," he said, but his tone was cautious. Lucille spoke up then, her voice ringing. "Our God has that power! Our Lord died and came back!"
Mathenge considered this, his look suspicious. Then he turned to Mario. "You worship the white God, toad. Is what they say true? Does He make the dead live again?"
"The mission fathers taught me so."
Mathenge turned to Grace. "Prove it."
"Go inside the hut and see with your own eyes."
But the young chief would not be tricked. He knew that to enter the hut would mean an admission that he thought the white man's medicine was stronger than his own. "We will kill someone," he said, "and you will bring him back to life."
In front of the excited onlookers Mathenge gestured for Mario to step up, and when the young man didn't move, two men seized him and threw him to the ground.
"Kill him," said Mathenge.
One of the men raised a hammer, and Grace shouted, "Stop! I will do it."
"You?"
"It is my medicine that you question. It was I who put Gachiku into the sleep like death and I who gave her life again. You wanted proof of my power, Mathenge."
Their eyes locked for an instant. Then he nodded once, and Grace went into the hut for the cone and bottle of ether.
Mario shook terribly, and his eyes rolled in fear. "Don't be afraid," she said in English, smiling to comfort him. "You will sleep only; then I will waken you."
"I am afraid, Memsaab Daktari."
Lucille said, "Trust in the Lord, Mario. He will not forsake you." As added solace she pressed the Kikuyu Bible into his hands; he clutched it as he lay down.
A strange stillness descended upon the village. Grace knelt at Mario's head, uncorked the bottle, placed the cone over his nose and mouth, and slowly poured. When the pungent fumes rose up, everyone retreated in fear.
They all watched as Mario's eyes closed and his body relaxed, the book falling from his hands. Finally Grace sat back and said, "He sleeps. Just as Gachiku slept."
Mathenge studied the recumbent body. Then he gave an order and a glowing ember was brought. Before Grace could stop him, Mathenge stamped the hot coal onto Mario's neck and held it there until the flesh was seared. The young man did not stir.
A murmur went through the crowd. Mathenge then called for a knife.
"No," said Grace. "Do no more. You have your proof. He feels no pain. He sleeps deeper than the sleep of night."
"Now waken him," said the chief.
Grace chewed her lip. Her shaking hand had not controlled the ether dosage with the exactness it required. A few extra drops had fallen....
"Why does he not wake up?"
"He will," she said.
/> A few minutes passed; Mario did not move.
"I do not see him coming to life."
"He will." Grace leaned forward and placed an ear to Mario's chest. There was a heartbeat, slow and weak. Had she given him too much? Did Africans, for some reason, require smaller doses?
Mathenge called for a torch, and Wachera smiled in triumph.
"Wait," said James. "It takes time. He must travel through the spirit world before he comes back to this one."
Mathenge gave that some thought. When the torch was brought, burning high and bright, he took it in his right hand and held it in readiness.
Still, Mario did not move.
James knelt next to Grace. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked softly in English.
"I don't know. Perhaps these people are highly sensitive to anesthesia—" Wake him now!" came Mathenge's sharp voice.
Grace patted the boy's cheek and called his name.
"Behold the white man's medicine!" cried Wachera, and she received a rumble of approval from the onlookers.
A baby's cry came from within the hut, and when Mathenge turned in its direction, the medicine woman said, "A trick! That is the cry of an evil spirit to lure you into thahu. Your child is dead, my son!"
"His child is alive!"
"And what about the boy at your feet?"
Grace looked down at Mario's face. Please wake up, she thought. Open your eyes. Show them the power we have.
"Mario!" she said out loud. "Wake up!"
James took the boy by the shoulders and shook him. The eyes remained closed.
"Dear God," whispered Grace, "what have I done?"
"Come along, Mario," said James, slapping him smartly on the cheek. "Wake up now! Naptime's over!"
In disgust Mathenge turned away and strode to the hut with the torch held high.
Grace shot to her feet. "No!" she screamed. "Your wife lives! Go and see for yourself!"
"You have lied. Your medicine is powerless. The ancestors have put thahu on us."
Grace reacted before she could think. Her hand shot out and sent the torch flying away from the hut. Stunned, Mathenge stared at her. For a woman to strike a man, a chief...
"Memsaab Daktari," came a weak voice.
All eyes switched to Mario. His head was rolling from side to side.
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