The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ from outlying villages seeking redress against their enemies.”

      “Very good,” said Sanders. “Today I will sit at the king’s right hand and learn of his wisdom.” The boy stood on one leg in his embarrassment, and eyed Sanders askance.

      There is a hillock behind the town. A worn path leads up to it, and atop is a thatched hut without sides. From this hillock you see the broad river with its sandy shoals, where the crocodiles sleep with open mouth; you see the rising ground toward Akasava, hills that rise one on top of the other, covered with a tangle of vivid green. In this house sits the king in judgment, beckoning the litigants forward. Sato-Koto was wont to stand by the king, bartering justice. Today Sato-Koto was preparing to depart and Sanders sat by the king’s side.

      There were indeed many litigants.

      There was a man who had bought a wife, giving no less than a thousand rods and two bags of salt for her. He had lived for three months with her, when she departed from his house.

      “Because,” said the man philosophically, “she had a lover. Therefore, Mighty Sun of Wisdom, I desire the return of my rods and my salt.”

      “What say you?” said Sanders.

      The king wriggled uncomfortably.

      “What says the father?” he said hesitatingly, and Sanders nodded.

      “That is a wise question,” he approved, and called the father, a voluble and an eager old man.

      “Now, king,” he said hurriedly, “I sold this woman, my daughter; how might I know her mind? Surely I fulfil my contract when the woman goes to the man. How shall a father control when a husband fails?” Sanders looked at the king again, and the boy drew a long breath.

      “It would seem, M’bleni, that the woman, your daughter, lived many years in your hut, and if you do not know her mind you are either a great fool or she is a cunning one. Therefore, I judge that you sold this woman knowing her faults. Yet the husband might accept some risk also. You shall take back your daughter and return 500 rods and a bag of salt, and if it should be that your daughter marries again, you shall pay one-half of her dowry to this man.” Very, very slowly he gave judgment, hesitatingly, anxiously, glancing now and again to the white man for his approval.

      “That was good,” said Sanders, and called forward another pleader.

      “Lord king,” said the new plaintiff, “a man has put an evil curse on me and my family, so that they sicken.” Here was a little poser for the little judge, and he puzzled the matter out in silence, Sanders offering no help.

      “How does he curse you?” at last asked the king.

      “With the curse of death,” said the complainant in a hushed voice.

      “Then you shall curse him also,” said the king, “and it shall be a question of whose curse is the stronger.” Sanders grinned behind his hand, and the king, seeing the smile, smiled also.

      From here onward Peter’s progress was a rapid one, and there came to headquarters from time to time stories of a young king who was a Solomon in judgment.

      So wise he was (who knew of the formula he applied to each case?), so beneficent, so peaceable, that the chief of the Akasava, from whom was periodically due, took advantage of the gentle administration, and sent neither corn nor fish nor grain. He did this after a journey to faraway Ikan, where he met the king’s uncle, Sato-Koto, and agreed upon common action. Since the crops were good, the king passed the first fault, but the second tribute became due, and neither Akasava nor Ikan sent, and the people of Isisi, angry at the insolence, murmured, and the king sat down in the loneliness of his hut to think upon a course which was just and effective.

      *

      “I really am sorry to bother you,” wrote Sanders to the Administrator again, “but I shall have to borrow your Houssas for the Isisi country. There has been a tribute palaver, and Peter went down to Ikan and wiped up his uncle; he filled in his spare time by giving the Akasava the worst licking they have ever had. I thoroughly approve of all that Peter has done, because I feel that he is actuated only by the keenest sense of justice and a desire to do the right thing at the right time — and it was time Sato-Koto was killed — though I shall have to reprimand Peter for the sake of appearances. The Akasava chief is in the bush, hiding.” Peter came back to his capital after his brief but strenuous campaign, leaving behind him two territories that were all the better for his visit, though somewhat sore.

      The young king brought together his old men, his witchdoctors, and other notabilities.

      “By all the laws of white men,” he said, “I have done wrong to Sandi, because he has told me I must not fight, and, hold, I have destroyed my uncle, who was a dog, and I have driven the chief of the Akasava into the forest. But Sandi told me also that I must do what was just, and that I have done according to my lights, for I have destroyed a man who put my people to shame. Now, it seems to me that there is only one thing to do, and that is to go to Sandi, telling the truth and asking him to judge.”

      “Lord king,” said the oldest of his councillors, “what if Sandi puts you to the chain-gang?”

      “That is with tomorrow,” quoth the king, and gave orders for preparations to be made for departure.

      Halfway to headquarters the two met; King Peter going down and Sanders coming up. And here befell the great incident.

      No word was spoken of Peter’s fault before sunset; but when blue smoke arose from the fires of Houssa and warrior, and the little camp in the forest clearing was all a-chatter, Sanders took the king’s arm and led him along the forest path.

      Peter told his tale and Sanders listened.

      “And what of the chief of the Akasava?” he asked.

      “Master,” said the king, “he fled to the forest cursing me, and with him went many bad men.” Sanders nodded again gravely.

      They talked of many things till the sun threw long shadows, and then they turned to retrace their footsteps. They were within half a mile of the camp and the faint noise of men laughing, and the faint scent of fires burning came to them, when the chief of the Akasava stepped out from behind a tree and stood directly in their path.

      With him were some eight fighting men fully armed.

      “Lord king,” said the chief of the Akasava, “I have been waiting for you.” The king made neither movement nor reply, but Sanders reached for his revolver.

      His hand closed on the butt, when something struck him and he went down like a log.

      “Now we will kill the king of the Isisi, and the white man also.” The voice was the chief’s, but Sanders was not taking any particular interest in the conversation, because there was a hive of wild bees buzzing in his head, and a maze of pain; he felt sick.

      “If you kill me it is little matter,” said the king’s voice, “because there are many men who can take my place; but if you slay Sandi, you slay the father of the people, and none can replace him.”

      “He whipped you, little king,” said the chief of the Akasava mockingly.

      “I would throw him into the river,” said a strange СКАЧАТЬ