The roar of triumphant voices filled the house.
Four women, whispering incomprehensible words, lifted Iruma and carried her out of the circle of light. The ancient wooden statuette was immediately taken away. The women rose to their feet, all excited, their eyes blazing. They talked loudly amongst themselves, pointing to the stranger. The old women, guarding the door, made way for Kidogo and Cavius to enter; they rushed to their friend with questions. Pandion, however, could not and did not want to talk. The two friends took him home and he lay for a long time without sleep under the impression of that unusual dance.
Pandion began to recover. His young body regained its former strength with amazing rapidity.
Three days later he went without anybody’s help to the house of the hunter — he wanted to see Iruma. The girl was not at home, but her father received the guest in a friendly and tender manner, gave him good beer to drink and tried to explain something to him, gesticulating and slapping him on the shoulders and chest. The young Hellene ‘did not understand anything and left the hunter’s house with a vague feeling of chagrin.
Pandion’s rebirth had not been complete: he was free and convalescent, but the spiritual inhibition had not left him.
He himself realized that the trials and tribulations that had fallen to his lot had somehow shattered him. The terrific shake-up he had received during the tussle with the rhinoceros had proved more than he could stand. He had weakened and for a long time did not return to normality. But he must recover, he must be capable of further struggle on the road home. He made a tremendous effort and began gymnastic exercises in order to be the equal of his comrades as he formerly was.
Kidogo and Cavius were now quite satisfied with Pandion’s recovery and together with all the other former slaves and most of the local people they set out on a long hunt to round up giraffes, hoping that this would give them an opportunity to find out something about the road they were to travel and at the same time obtain more meat for their hospitable hosts.
To the amusement and good-natured jokes of his neighbours, Pandion, to strengthen his muscles, took to crushing grain for beer-making, despite the sneers of the men who regarded it as women’s work. Soon Pandion began to leave the confines of the village, taking with him a thin Egyptian spear. Out in the fields he practised running and throwing the spear, feeling that every day his muscles were hardening and that his untiring legs were once more carrying his body with their former ease.
At the same time he made a strenuous effort to study the native language, never for a moment forgetting Iruma. Time and again he repeated the unfamiliar but melodious words. His excellent memory helped him and in a week he was able to understand what was said to him.
Pandion had not seen Iruma for a fortnight, but did not venture to visit her in her father’s absence as he did not know the customs of these people. One day when he was on his way back from the fields, Pandion saw a figure in a blue mantle and his heart began to beat faster. He quickened his steps, overtook the girl and stood before her, smiling joyfully. He had made no mistake, it was Iruma. His first glance at the girl’s face excited Pandion. Uttering with difficulty words to which his tongue was not accustomed Pandion started to thank the confused Iruma. Pandion’s stock of words soon ran out, and he continued in his own language, realized that he was not understood and looked embarrassed at the girl’s coloured head-dress that just reached his shoulder. Iruma looked sideways at him with mischievous eyes and suddenly laughed. Pandion smiled, too, and then carefully pronounced a phrase that he had long since learned.
“May I come to see you?”
“Come,” answered the girl simply, “tomorrow to the edge of the forest, when the sun is behind the trees.”
Pandion was overjoyed but he did not know what else to say to her; he simply held out both hands to Iruma. The blue mantle flew open and two tiny strong hands lay trustfully in Pandion’s palms. He pressed them firmly but tenderly. At that moment he was not thinking of his distant Thessa. The girl’s hands trembled, her wide nostrils were dilated; with a gentle but strong movement she freed herself, covered her face with her mantle and strode swiftly away, down the slope of the hill. ‘Pandion realized that he must not follow her and remained standing where he was, watching the girl until she disappeared behind the houses. Smiling for no apparent reason Pandion walked down the street, jauntily swinging his spear.
For the first time Pandion noticed that the village was situated in a very picturesque spot; the houses were big and convenient, the streets wide.
Without realizing it Pandion compared the people here with the poorer inhabitants he had seen in the Land of Nub and with the poor people of Tha-Quem, the Chosen People of the Gods, on whose faces moroseness and indifference had left their stamp. There was something debased in bodies that had become exhausted with heavy toil and constant undernourishment. The people here were different; they walked with a light and easy freedom, even the old people retained their graceful bearing.
Pandion’s thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a young man, muscular and broad-shouldered, wearing a cap of leopard’s skin. He looked at the foreigner in an unfriendly manner, stretched out his hand with an imperious gesture and touched Pandion’s breast. Pandion stopped short in amazement, and the young man stood still in front of him, his hand dropped to his belt, in which he carried a broad knife, and took stock of the stranger with a challenging glance.
“I’ve noticed that you’re a good runner,” he said at last. “Will you compete with me? I am Fulbo, known as the Leopard,” he added as though the name would explain everything to Pandion.
Pandion answered him with a friendly smile and said that he had once been able to run much better and had not yet been able to reach his former standard on account of his illness. In response to this Fulbo showered him with malicious taunts that made the young Hellene’s blood boil. Pandion did not know any reason for the young man’s hating him and, with his arms akimbo as a mark of disdain, agreed to the contest. The opponents agreed that the race would take place that evening when it became cooler.
All the young people and a few of the elder ones gathered at the foot of the hill, on which the village stood, to watch the contest between Fulbo and the foreigner.
Fulbo pointed to a tree that stood alone in the distance; it was no less than ten thousand cubits from where they stood. The one who first ran to the tree, plucked a branch and returned with it would be considered the victor.
The signal to start was given by a handclap, and Pandion and Fulbo started out. Fulbo, trembling with impatience, immediately sprang forward in a series of long bounds. The youngster seemed to spread himself out and fly over the ground. The youths present encouraged him with shouts of approval.
Pandion had not fully recovered and realized that there was a danger of his being beaten. Still he was determined not to give way. He set out to run as his grandfather had taught him in the cool hours of morning on the narrow strip of seashore, near their home. He ran on, swaying slightly, making no sudden spurts and carefully reserving his breath. Fulbo was soon far ahead, but the young Hellene moved at a regular pace, making no effort to overtake his opponent. His chest gradually expanded, taking in greater quantities of air; his legs moved faster and the spectators, who had at first been sorry for the stranger, now saw that the distance between him and Fulbo was decreasing. The African looked round, let out a shout of anger and ran still faster. He reached the tree four hundred cubits ahead of Pandion, leaped high into the air, snatched off a branch and immediately turned back. Pandion passed him near the tree and as he passed noticed Fulbo’s stertorous breathing. Although Pandion’s own heart was beating faster than it should, he decided that he could count on victory over his far too hot-headed opponent, who knew little of the rules of running. Pandion continued to run with his former restraint and only increased his speed when a distance of no more than three thousand cubits was left between him and the spectators. He soon overtook Fulbo but the latter, ga
sping in huge quantities of air through his wide-open mouth, again leaped forward leaving the Hellene behind. Pandion did not give up. Although there were dark patches before his eyes and his heart beat faster than ever, he again drew ahead of his opponent. Fulbo was now running wildly, seeing nothing before him; unable to choose his road, he fell. Pandion ran on a few cubits, stopped and turned back to his fallen opponent to help him to rise. Fulbo pushed him angrily aside, staggered to his feet, looked Pandion straight in the face, and spoke with great difficulty:
“You — won — but — look out!… Iruma…”
In an instant Pandion understood everything and his feeling of triumph at his victory was mingled with an uncomfortable feeling of having insinuated himself into something that was not his and that was forbidden him.
Fulbo walked heavily away, his head hanging morosely, making no effort to run. Pandion returned leisurely to the finish and was greeted by the spectators. But the feeling of awkwardness did not leave him.
As soon as Pandion found himself alone in his empty house, he began to long for Iruma. The meeting appointed for the next day seemed very far away.
The hunters returned that evening. Pandion’s companions came home tired, loaded with the spoils of the chase and full of their adventures. Cavius and Kidogo were overjoyed at finding Pandion quite well. Jokingly, Kidogo suggested wrestling with the Hellene and soon Pandion and he were lolling in the dust, their bodies firmly locked in each other’s iron grip, while Cavius kicked and cursed them in an effort to get them apart.
The friends took part in the general feasting that had been arranged in honour of the returning hunters. The warriors, intoxicated with beer, tried to outdo each other in boasting of their exploits. Pandion sat apart from his companions, his eyes fixed on the glade in which the young people were dancing, striving to get a glimpse of Iruma in the procession of dancing youths and girls.
One of the chiefs, swaying slightly, rose to his feet to make a speech of congratulation, accompanying it with graceful gesticulations. Pandion could only catch the general sense of what he was saying — he praised the newcomers and regretted their early departure; the chief proposed that they stay and be accepted into the tribe.
The feast ended late at night when the hunters had eaten their fill of the tender young giraffe meat and the supplies of beer had given out. On the way home Kidogo announced that the former slaves, of whom twenty-seven were left, would next day hold a conference on their future plans. Kidogo had found an opportunity to talk to nomad hunters he had met in the forest. They were well acquainted with the region to the west of the village and told him which route to take. A great distance separated them from the sea and Kidogo’s home, but he now knew that even if they travelled slowly they would get there in three months. What could ‘hinder them now, experienced as they were in battle, and strong in their friendship? Each of the twenty-seven was worth five warriors! The Negro threw back his shoulders proudly and lifted his tipsy face to the stars; he threw his arms round Pandion and added:
“Now my heart is quiet. You are well — we must go! To the road — tomorrow, if you like!”
Pandion did not answer. For the first time he felt that his desires did not coincide with the aspirations of his comrades, but did not know how to be hypocritical.
Since his meeting with Iruma that day, he realized that the sorrow that was eating away at his heart was due to his love for her. The girl in the full bloom of her youthful beauty had come into his life immediately after the cruel years of slavery, when he stood on the threshold of liberty!
Was, then, this not enough for him who had but recently lain in a dark hole of a prison, clinging to the faintest hope of liberation? What more could he want, in the world and in life, when love called on him so imperatively to remain in that place, in the midst of the golden plain? The secret urge, which he tried to hide even from himself, to remain for ever with Iruma, grew stronger in his heart of hearts. He struggled against himself in an effort to test his love for her. The trustfulness of youth led him unnoticeably into the land of dreams where everything was so easy and simple.
The next day he would see Iruma and would tell her everything… And she… she loved him too!
The former slaves had arranged to meet at the opposite end of the village, where most of them lived in two big houses. Cavius, Kidogo and Pandion occupied a small separate house that had been allotted to them on account of Pandion’s illness.
Pandion, who had been sitting in the house sharpening a spear, got up and went to the door.
‘‘Where are you going?” asked the astonished Etruscan. “Aren’t you coming to the conference?”
“I’ll come later,” answered Pandion, turning away and hurriedly leaving the house.
Cavius looked keenly after the departing Hellene and turned in perplexity to Kidogo, who was sitting near the door working hard on a piece of thick hide he was making into a shield.
Pandion had not told his friends that Iruma was waiting for him at the forest edge. He realized that the return of his friends meant a threat to his new-found love but had not had strength enough to forego the meeting with Iruma. His justification was that he would know the result of the conference from his friends even if he were not present himself.
As he approached the forest Pandion searched with his eyes for Iruma; the smiling girl suddenly detached herself from the trunk of a tree and stood before him. She had put on her father’s hunting cloak of soft, grey bark which made her quite invisible against the background of the trees. The girl made a sign to Pandion to follow her and walked off along the edge of the forest to a place where the trees jutted out into the fields in a semicircle about three thousand cubits from the village. There she passed under the trees. Pandion, for the first time in an African forest, looked about him in curiosity. He had expected it to be quite different — the forest stretched in a narrow strip along the valley of the river that flowed round the village and was no more than two thousand cubits in width.
It consisted of high trees that met overhead in a huge vault forming a dark gallery over the eternal twilight of the river-bed.
Deeper in the forest the trees were higher, and on the steep bank of the river they bent downwards so that their branches intertwined overhead. The straight, graceful trunks with white, black and brown bark stretched upwards for a good hundred cubits, like the colonnade of some huge building. The branches were so intertwined in a thick leafy vault that the sun could not penetrate through them. The grey twilight streamed down from above and was lost in the deep hollows between strange roots that rose up like walls. The silence, broken by nothing but the faint gurgling of water, the semi-darkness and the tremendous height of the forest colonnade gave Pandion a feeling of oppression. He seemed like an uninvited guest who ‘had insinuated himself into the forbidden heart of a strange nature that was full of secrets.
Over the water there were narrow gaps in the foliage through which a perfect cascade of golden fire poured down. The golden sunlight clothed the trees in a hazy brilliance and was split up into vertical strips of light that gradually diminished deeper in the forest. The dark, mysterious temples of Aigyptos came to Pandion’s mind. Strings of creeping plants hung in free loops between the trees or hung down loosely forming a wavy curtain. The ground was covered with fallen leaves, rotted fruits and branches; it was soft and fluffy to the feet, and here and there brightly-coloured flowers gleamed like stars.
Long strips of rustling bark hung from the tree-trunks like skin torn from the body.
Huge butterflies fluttered noiselessly over the earth; the marvellous colour combinations of their trembling wings bright- velvet black, metallic blue, red, gold and silver — filled Pandion with amazement.
Iruma led the way confidently between the roots towards the river and brought Pandion to a level piece of ground, right beside the water, covered with a soft carpet of fluffy moss. Here stood a tree that had been blasted by lightning. In the gaping split in the hard yellow wood,
Pandion could see the outlines of a crudely carved human figure. The tree was apparently an object of worship — coloured rags and the teeth of wild beasts were hung all round it. Three blackened elephant’s tusks were stuck in the ground in front of it.
Iruma, her head bowed in reverence, approached the tree and motioned to Pandion to do the same.
“This is the ancestor of our tribe, born of a thunderbolt,” said the girl softly. “Give him something so that the ancients will be kind to us.”
Pandion looked himself over — he had nothing that he could give to that crude god, the alleged ancestor of Iruma. The smiling youth spread his hands to show that he had nothing, but the girl was implacable.
“Give him this.” She touched a belt of plaited giraffe tails that Kidogo had just made for him as a memento of the hunt.
The youth obediently unfastened the strip of leather and gave it to the girl. Iruma threw off her cloak. She was without bracelets and necklace, and wore nothing but a wide leather belt that dropped down over her left hip.
The girl rose up on tiptoe, reaching up to the splintered wood at the head of the idol where she hung Pandion’s tribute. Lower down Iruma fastened a piece of brightly-coloured leopard skin and a string of dark red berries that looked like beads. She sprinkled some millet at the foot of the idol and stepped back, satisfied.
Leaning back against the trunk of a low tree with hundreds of flowers amongst its leaves, (The tulip-tree from the family of Bignoniaceae.) she looked fixedly at Pandion. Hundreds of red lamps seemed to be burning over the girl’s head, while the sun’s rays played on the bronze of her skin.
Pandion stood looking at the girl in silent admiration. Her beauty seemed sacred to him in the silence of that forest of giant trees — the temple of unknown gods so completely different from the joyous divinities of his own land.
A bright, calm joy suddenly filled Pandion’s heart, he was once more the artist, his former strivings were reawakened within him.
The Land of Foam Page 21