Lord of Darkness

by Robert Silverberg

  For reply, he spat at my feet, and made a snorting in his nostrils, and whirled, and most pompously marched away.

  My first impulsion was to laugh: for he was so comic, so puffed with pride, with his strutting and his caressing his sword and his threats, and his “Lutheran dog” and other such ponderous menacing expressions, that it was tempting to take him for a clown. Yet I knew that to be error. It is just such men—inflated like pig-bladders, puffed with pride of their own breeding and merit—that are most dangerous, for they are weak, and do cover their weakness with such action as they deem to look bold in the eyes of other men. One who is truly strong can shrug, and laugh, and walk away from strife that is beneath his honor; but the weakling who must feign strength has no such wisdom, and it is he who strikes the coward’s blow in the dark, he who pursues his enemy with mean vindictive whining persistence until, by deceit or malign conspiracy, he attains the triumph he must have. Another man, learning how his brother had perished, would grieve for the loss of his kinsman but hold no malice against the slayer. But I had in sooth won me a perilous enemy here. One oftimes must fear the hornet more than the lion.

  Yet if I guarded myself, I might not for a time need to face warfare with him. Like his brother, he was vain and idle and craven, and also I think was in so precarious a state of exile that he could afford no more crimes on his hands. He hoped the inquest would condemn me and save him the trouble. But afterward, if I emerged with my acquittal, it would be a different matter, and I could expect much trouble from him.

  I put him for the moment from my mind.

  The inquest now was delayed. For, as Don João de Mendoça had predicted, the authority of Governor d’Almeida was wholly shattered by the excommunication. It was not at all the same thing as a King Henry or a Queen Elizabeth having been condemned by a distant Pope, while yet remaining secure and powerful in England. São Paulo de Loanda was then a small city; everyone in it professed to be a loyal Catholic, save for those blacks who were secret pagans and the one English Protestant unwillingly in residence; it was impossible for d’Almeida to carry out his civil functions while he remained outside the communion of his faith. Anyone who dealt with him or did his bidding risked the same dread excommunication: therefore was he isolate. If he emerged into the city he would seem an unapproachable figure, like some leper, or a carrier of plague: therefore he remained immured in his palace. And a governor who may not go forth, and who cannot lawfully be served, is no governor at all.

  For several weeks the city was nigh a city of the dead. No business was conducted and the streets were empty. Neither the Jesuits nor the governor were seen at all. There were meetings of the powerful men of the place, one faction led by Don Jeronymo d’Almeida and the other by Don João, but what took place at these conferences, I know not. My only news came from Dona Teresa, but even she was little apprised of what was happening, except that a negotiation was in progress to determine who should be the new governor of Angola, Don Francisco’s rule being entirely ended.

  I went quietly about my business, taking care not to involve myself in the fractions, and keeping a wary eye out for Gaspar Caldeira de Rodrigues and his friends. Now and again I crossed their paths, and there was sour glaring aplenty, but they took no action against me.

  The ship from Brazil arrived in the midst of this, bearing some few new colonists and also none other than the gentle Barbosa, who had returned to oversee the taxation of the colony. By chance I was at the docks as he came ashore, and he looked at me with such amazement as though he beheld a ghost.

  “What, Battell, here still, and alive?”

  “Aye. Would a small thing like a shipwreck injure my health, d’ye think?”

  “Shipwreck? What shipwreck? It was the bloody flux I thought would carry you off. They said you would not live.”

  “Ah, but I did, and much has happened since that time!”

  We embraced each other warmly. It was two years since last I had seen him, this now being the April of ’93. He seemed leaner and more than two years older, but he was as elegantly dressed as ever, in sea-green breeches and a fine light cloak of lavender hue, and a high-crowned narrow-brimmed hat.

  He drew back and inspected me and said, “You look healthy enough. What is this, now, have you been to sea?”

  “Aye. When I came forth from my illness I went to prison awhile, and was forgotten there, and then was drawn up from oblivion and hired by Don João to pilot his pinnace along the coast, in the ivory trade. The which pinnace was lost in my most recent voyage, coming home from Loango, but as you see I stayed afloat, and I think will be sailing again before long.”

  “This is not the fate I thought was marked out for you,” said he. “You have your freedom, then?”

  “Freedom of sorts,” I answered. “I have a house and servants, and they tell me that on my next voyage I am to be given a share of the profits, which be kind of them, though not a tenth so kind as simply letting me go home to England. That thing will they not do, although they have made airy promise of it, if only I undertake a few more voyages for them first. But I think there will be neither voyages nor profits this season, owing to the civil war that we soon will have.”

  That startled Barbosa. “Civil war?”

  “Aye,” I said, and told him of the troubles between Don Francisco and the Jesuits, and now this maneuvering between Don João and Don Jeronymo. All this he heard with much show of dismay and distress, for Barbosa was a decent man, and strife among Portugals gave him much pain. At the end of my recital he shook his head most sadly, and walked about in a small circle.

  Then he said, “They are fools to do these things. With so many enemies gathering outside the city, they cannot allow themselves the luxury of contending for power within. I will speak with Don João.”

  “Telling him what, may I ask?”

  “To give over, and wait his time. The faction of d’Almeida holds the royal commission, for the moment. Don João is the best ruler for this place, but only if he come to power by legitimate means.” Barbosa seemed journeying in thought a moment. Then he smiled and took his arm and said, “How strange it is, and how fine, that you who came here as a scorned prisoner should live, and even thrive, and have servants! I am greatly joyed to see your good fortune. Will you dine with me tomorrow night?”

  “Most gladly,” said I. “I would take high pleasure in your company, and I hope you will share with me such news as you bring from the world without. For I am mightily curious about events.” And I did laugh. “How strange it is, yes, Senhor Barbosa, that I endure here, and prosper, and now am even invited to dine with an official of the Portuguese court! It was not what I imagined when first I set sail for America. There are times, senhor, when this adventure seems but a dream to me.”

  “From which you would readily awaken, I venture, and find yourself in your bed in England.”

  “Aye, perhaps. But instead when I wake I feel the heat and moisture close against my skin, and see the strange heavy trees of scarlet blossoms beyond my window, and hear the beasts of Africa bellowing in their jungle. And I know it is no dream.”

  “Say, then, it is a dream within a dream. You are in England still.”

  “That is a pretty fancy, Senhor Barbosa,” I said, smiling with it. “Would that it were so!”

  Barbosa’s goods now had been unladed from the ship, and slaves were come to fetch him into town, carrying him in a sort of litter made of cords, much like a hammock. Throughout Angola and the Kongo it is the custom for great personages to be borne in such hammocks when they go about, especially in the rainy season, when the paths are muddy underfoot. Barbosa asked me to accompany him; but there was no other litter to hand, and we did not care to wait while the blacks returned to town to fetch a second one, and Barbosa would not have me walk alongside whilst he was borne. Then the head slave proposed that I be carried in the arms of two or three of the strongest blacks, but that seemed absurd to me and most objectionable. So in the end we dismissed the carri
ers and walked to the town upon our own legs, which I suppose was not the proper deportment for a man of Barbosa’s rank.

  While we were still some distance out, a young Portugal of the militia appeared, running, who halted when he saw Barbosa. He was in full armor and did stream with his sweat. Looking somewhat surprised to discover us going by foot, he saluted and said, much troubled by hard breathing, “I seek the fiscal registrar Lourenço Barbosa, newly arrived from Brazil.”

  “I am he,” said Barbosa.

  “I am instructed to tell you that Governor Don Francisco d’Almeida has resigned his post this morning, and that you are to report with the most extreme swiftness to his brother Don Jeronymo, who at the urgent request of the council has taken up the reins of government.”

  “Ah,” said Barbosa, and he and I did exchange glances. “Is all peaceful in the city, then?”

  “All is peaceful,” the soldier said.

  “And how fares it with Don João de Mendoça?” I asked.

  The soldier looked toward me as though I were some serpent with legs. “I have no instruction to speak with you, Englishman.”

  For that disdain I would readily have slain him, were I not unarmed and he encased in leather and steel. But Barbosa diverted my sudden rage by mildly saying, “His question also has interest for me. I pray you speak.”

  “Don João has been detained for his own safety, since there are those of the d’Almeida faction that have made threats against him. But he is unharmed and in no peril.”

  “Ask now about the Jesuit fathers,” I requested of Barbosa.

  But the soldier now deigned to reply to me direct. “The Jesuits are within their compound. Don Jeronymo will meet with them tomorrow to discuss a reconciliation of the civil and spiritual powers of the city.”

  “Then all is well,” Barbosa said. “Come: let us proceed to the new governor and pay our respects.”

  “Have you no bearers?” asked the soldier.

  “They have been dismissed. I have spent these many weeks past aboard a small vessel; my legs need stretching.” With this Barbosa smiled most graciously, and we continued onward, escorted now by the soldier and by half a dozen other Portugals who, I discovered, had been waiting a short distance along the road.

  The city was peaceful indeed. Soldiers stood posted at each corner of the plaza and outside every of the municipal buildings, and in front of the Jesuit compound as well, and before the palace of Don João. No one other was in sight, nor was there any sign of any strife. Whatever upheaval had taken place in São Paulo de Loanda that morning had been swift; and, I learned shortly thereafter, it had as well been entirely bloodless, which was an amazement to me.

  The situation was much as the soldier had described. Disgraced and most utter disheartened, Don Francisco had resigned his governorship that morning, or had had it taken from him. He was now in seclusion and did make ready to leave Africa for Brazil upon that ship that had newly arrived. There had been a brief but somewhat stormy meeting of the council, at which the names of Don Jeronymo and Don João had been proposed for the office, and it was made clear by the supporters of Don Jeronymo that they held a stronger position. Don João had caused his name to be withdrawn, but not before there had been angry words and even a brandishing of knives between a cousin of Don Jeronymo, Balthasar d’Almeida, and a certain João de Velloria. This Velloria, a Spaniard, had been a soldier in Angola for many years and was deemed one of the most valiant warriors there, having distinguished himself greatly in battle against the natives. He was, as well, a devoted ally of the Jesuits. For that reason he abhorred the entire clan of d’Almeida and had thrown his support to the side of Don João de Mendoça, to no avail; and in the words that followed, either he or Balthasar, it is not known, did curse each other’s mothers, and the like. Don João, urging Velloria and Balthasar most strongly to put their weapons by, had stopped the quarrel and, for the sake of tranquility in the city, did offer his allegiance to Don Jeronymo. Now Don João was confined to his own residence under guard, João de Velloria was under more grievous arrest in the fortress, and Don Jeronymo d’Almeida held control of the city.

  My own condition, I saw, was precarious. From the harsh tone of that soldier’s voice to me when I was walking with Barbosa, it plainly seemed that I was listed as an adherent to the side of Don João, and therefore I must be far out of favor. Which proved to be the case. When I reached my little cottage I found all my servants gone, and two dour Portugals posted as guards on my doorstep.

  “Do you keep my house safe from lions for me?” I asked in a pleasant way.

  Not so pleasantly they made reply, “Get ye inside, and remain within, English!”

  I did as they bade me. This was no occasion for heroism. Officially I was yet a prisoner of war in this place, for all that I had been allowed to live in the semblance of freedom for a long while. My privileges had grown out of the happenstance that Governor Serrão had taken me into Portuguese service by first using me as a pilot, and Don João had renewed then those privileges by sending me on my two trading voyages northward; but Serrão was long dead, Don João now was fallen, and quite likely I was fallen with him. I counted it fortune that I was merely under house arrest. It might well be, I thought, that by nightfall I would be back in chains, in the familiar old dungeon on the hill. Don Jeronymo had no great reason, after all, to take to his bosom an Englishman, most especially one that was affiliated in loyalty to his enemy Don João.

  That I did not go to the dungeon was entirely the working of the good tax-collector Barbosa. All that afternoon and night I did remain in my house, visited by no one and without food or drink; and in the morning I was summoned forth, in tones less rough than before, and conducted to the hall of government. In the room of the tax-roll keeper I found Barbosa, looking weary and unaccustomedly shabby in yesterday’s clothes, as though he had not slept at all. He beckoned me sit and said, “Have you been mistreated?”

  “Other than some starvation and thirst, I would not say so.”

  “They have not fed you?”

  “Not even prisoner slops. I’ve been penned in my own home, or what I call my home, in this land.”

  Barbosa gave signal to a slave that he should bring a meal for me.

  “It has been a busy night,” he said. “I am supposed to be a financial officer and not some keeper of the peace. But I think I have drawn all these contending sides together. Do you hold any hatred for Don Jeronymo d’Almeida?”

  “I know the man not at all. I have had no dealings with any of the d’Almeidas.”

  “Nay, you are Don João’s man. Well, and that must be at an end. You must swear yourself loyal to Don Jeronymo, or I cannot protect you further.”

  Somewhat overzealously I did reply, “I will swear loyalty to anyone, so long as it will keep me out of that dungeon!” And I said, “Was it you, then, that had me set free this time?”

  “It was.”

  “Again I must thank you. I have from you a great overplus of kindly treatment, Senhor Barbosa.”

  He shrugged my thanks aside. The slave entered with a tray of food and a beaker of palm-wine for me, and whilst I ate Barbosa said, “This colony can afford none of these disputes over the holding of power. During the quarrel of Don Francisco with the Jesuits, the sobas of the province of Kisama, which lies to the south and the east of us, have broken themselves free of their allegiances, and we must pacify them anew. Don Jeronymo knows this. At this moment he is closeted with the Jesuit Father Affonso, repairing that breach. When he has Father Affonso’s blessing, he will gain the allegiance of Velloria and the other soldiers who are respectful of the Jesuits, and everything will be healed, so that we can send armies into the field.”

  “And what role have you designed in this for me?” I asked.

  “Why, you are the pilot of our navy! Don Jeronymo means for you to sail to the island of São Tomé, and obtain fresh soldiers to aid him in his warfares.”

  “Then I am to be trusted, even though
I am known friendly to Don João?”

  Barbosa said, “Don João is to be leaving Angola shortly. He has agreed to undertake a mission to the court at Lisbon, to seek more troops for this colony, and weapons and horses.”

  That news was most disagreeable to me. I had not thought Don João could be dislodged from this place. It was still my hope that he would come into the government, and show favor to me, and permit me to take my departure for England. His going from Angola could only be a calamity for me, especially in that the inquest over the death of Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues still awaited me.

  I said, “Don João allows himself so easily to have Don Jeronymo rid himself of him? I am surprised.”

  “There is no room in São Paulo de Loanda now for Don Jeronymo and Don João both. Yet Don Jeronymo dares not raise his hand against Don João, who has many friends. Therefore he finds a pretext for Don João to take himself to Portugal, and Don João finds an honorable way to leave a place where he has lost all his power, and both men are spared further conflict.”

  “And when Don João returns? Will there not be strife all over again, then?”

  “Ah, that will not be for many months, or even longer. Much can happen in that time, and it is idle to speculate upon it so soon.” Barbosa put his thumbs to his eyes and stroked them, and delicately yawned. “It is agreed, then, that you will serve the new governor most faithfully?”

  “It matters not to me who is governor,” I said. “Only that I do remain alive and out of the dungeon, until such time as I can find my passage to my own country.”

  “You are a wise man, Andrew Battell.”

  “Be I, now?”

  “You live not by pride but by good sense. You see your true goal far in the distance, and you make your way toward it shrewdly and without confusion. That I do admire.”

  “No sailor ever reached home by sailing into the jaws of a storm,” said I. “I try to keep my sheets aligned so that I will move ever forward, or at least not find myself capsized. Shall we dine tonight as we first discussed, Senhor Barbosa?”