Читать книгу Drums of Mer - Ion Idriess - Страница 12

The sun gleamed brightly on Maiad Bay with its beach like a crescent moon clouded with palms. An expectant throng waited, all shining eyes and laughter and singing. Everywhere strong men and lithe women and rollicking children and excitement. Even the trees on the hill-sides whispered it! For Kebisu was coming; Kebisu the Brave, who led in war and the larger tribal raids; Kebisu who had looted Lamar ships; Kebisu the Undefeated.

Reverberations boomed over the sea to a tattooing of the drums of Mer. For Kebisu’s sail was sighted, and a mighty shout arose. Again boomed the welcome of the drums, vigorous yet queer of note, like thunder muffled by the beat. The canoes sailed prettily upon the blue of the sea, picturesque in their barbaric strength. As their tall bows foamed through the surf, the people plunged towards them and rushed the big vessels high up on the sands, while the women pelted the laughing warriors with hibiscus and russet blossoms. The song of the clans echoed the throbbing of the drums.

Then the chief Mamoose of the Island nations stepped ashore, and Mer thundered to roars of “Kebisu! Kebisu! Kebisu!” Far above the din, within the crater-top in welcoming crescendo came the sound of the drums of Mer, while the Miriam-le and the emissaries of Eroob and of Ugar massed around the war Mamoose and waved the cruel shark-tooth swords and spun their killing clubs to the frenzied sway of bodies. It needed but a spark to set these inflammable savages at one another’s throats in a bacchanalian riot of clannish feuds. The women, crushed, yet not to be denied, fought their way into the crowd, shrieking adoration of Kebisu’s proud warriors while their gestures and voice inflamed the blood of their own. Then called the harsh voice of the Mamoose of Mer. “C’Zarcke! C’Zarcke awaits.”

Instant silence: a sigh arose as if from some vast animal. Grudgingly they stood back, light badinage broke out, and from heaving chests escaped laughter as animals became human again.

Kebisu stood out big even among the striking men there, his stature emphasized by enormous shoulder muscles; his limbs long and powerful, his bearing sheer untamed arrogance, his face unexpectedly pleasing because of a boyish happiness which occasionally lightened the grim jaw and broad, savage cheeks. The full brow was noticeable between the ringlets that fell upon his shoulders, arranged to hide the fact that the left ear was missing, bitten off in a fight. When he was angered, Kebisu’s face flushed red, particularly around that part where the ear had been; and at that ominous sign his savage warriors grew subdued and mild. Worthily accounted the brainiest chief of the Island nations, this man was possessed of unbridled ferocity, and yet he had been known to cry because he could not relieve a child in pain. Apart from the supermen of culture who had come with the Bomai-Malu, and of C’Zarcke in the present age, this man was the greatest organizing genius that the Torres Strait Islands had ever known. Both for war and for trade he had made his own tiny island of Tutu the key position for all commerce and war that came from far down the Australian coast, right across the length and breadth of the Strait, to New Guinea’s shores. Nothing could come, nothing could pass, nothing could go across the seas, without paying heavy tribute to Kebisu of Tutu on his tiny sandbank by the historic Warrior Reefs. His men were better fighters than those of Mer. He had an alliance with the Eastern Group because of their numbers and their importance for trade. Had it not been for the supernatural power which C’Zarcke wielded over all the Strait, Kebisu would long ago have taken Mer by force. He stood now with eyes gleaming in pride at his reception.

Then Bogo, the Mamoose of Mer, strode heavily forward. They greeted by lifting outstretched arms and placing the hands on each other’s shoulders, smiling with a side touch of the face to each cheek; but only the highly initiated few noted the secret signs of the Bomai-Malu that passed between them. Then Beizam, proudly erect and smiling shyly, stepped forward. His hawklike eyes shone as the people shouted his name, and he trembled with happiness when the great Kebisu smilingly touched his head-mai. The youth thrilled when the crowd shouted in renewed approbation; an ecstatic premonition of greatness to come coursed madly through his brain and heart. Then out strode Kesu, Mamoose of Eroob, as “broad as he was long,” with arms knobbed like the roots of trees and paws that swung at a level with his knees. His face was that of a killer who could accept death with a laugh. Kebisu greeted him with the geniality of long friendship, then turned to Orama, Mamoose of Naghir. This man was tall, a fitting representative of the towering, needle-like peak which marked his own cold grey island. He walked with stealthy litheness. His form was splendid, his face should have been that of a god. So it was-a devil-god! Cruelty personified, his handsome features expressed a vindictiveness that had never shown mercy to any living thing. His piercing eyes adored Kebisu, but only as the Killer. Next came Maros, Mamoose of Ugar, idol of his people, unadulterated bad man. Of all the unscrupulous scoundrels known to the Islanders, Maros was the worst. He was fairly tall, and his body was nuggety and muscled like that of a horse. He stepped forward with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. An ugly man, his grim face was rendered striking by the menace in the rolling black eyes which could, however, twinkle into laughter in a second. Maros lived! He did not know what fear was, found joy in daily life, and loved a fight even more than he loved women.

Then out stepped Jakara, with a devil-may-care defiance, with head erect and smiling face, a strongly-formed man of living bronze. His steel-grey eyes and long brown hair contrasted strangely with the black eyes and hair of the mixed tribes. Kebisu joined with unfeigned approval in the shouts, “Jakara the Wise!” “Jakara the Lamar of Cunning!” “When will Jakara flash Lightning again?” And in varying degrees of high estate among this throng were those of the Bomai-Malu. By secret signs these also Kebisu greeted, but they alone knew when and how.

Then the Island Mamooses and village chiefs and councillors formed a body-guard and escorted Kebisu along the pleasant village street towards the Sacred Grove where the Zogo-le and attendant Tami-le priests were waiting.

The people thronged around the Tutu men and laughingly quarrelled over their entertainment, as with songs and joking they led them across the village street to where the feast was hot in the kop-maori ovens. And Jakara was at liberty to notice Eyes of the Sea.

Eyes of the Sea, in the centre of an admiring group, was all vivacious movement and gay repartee under the excitement; her sweet little laugh echoed in Jakara’s heart as he pushed in among the crowd. She was small compared with the girls around, her skin was berry-brown, her body slim and rounded, with the silken strength of the dancer. She had come arrayed in the softest though shortest of skirts, with a necklet of mother-of-pearl round her comely throat. Her restless limbs were braceleted with mottled tortoise-shell: rich brown hair played upon little round breasts. Her face was a cameo of happiness made startlingly beautiful with eyes of intense blue – laughing eyes under long black lashes, mischievous and roguish. Obviously a happy girl.

She smiled impulsively at Jakara, saying demurely, “Greeting to Jakara of Mer,” and he smiled back with a wealth of good wishes in eyes that had grown very kind. Shyly, but serenely, she gazed at this Lamar of whom she had heard so much. The on-lookers watched delightedly. Jakara laughed boyishly amid the sudden silence, and took her hand and turned, leading the way into the village.

A boisterous shout arose as the people scrambled to tear down palm-branches to wave over them. The girl’s blood quickened, for among this people such a proceeding was a sign: when a man boldly took the hand of a girl, he was bidding for the possession of her. No one guessed at the hurt in the heart of the Pretty Lamar.

But Eyes of the Sea broke away with a prevaricating laugh that hid her quickened thoughts. She instinctively realized that something would come of this. The world, as she knew it, had been her playground. All her wild life she had been the independent favourite of a people who determinedly suppress their women when possible, and now she felt, though without understanding, that the playground held other players, perhaps a master.

Jakara leaned against a palm. Life was suddenly interesting. His world had changed, too; a brightness had come into it, something pleasant to think about, something to look forward to – it felt nearly like happiness.

The vivid blue of the girl’s eyes had surprised and enchanted, as her brown skin had shocked him. He remembered his dreams of a white-skinned girl, forgetting that the sun and sea had browned her ever since childhood. And the gold fringing of her hair! Constant sea-diving turned the ends of the native girls’ hair a bright brown, but this girl’s hair was fringed with gold. Above mere prettiness, she represented something very dear – the heart and mind of a white girl. So he held a wealth of reverie until sundown, to stare uncomprehending into the harsh eyes of a Maid-le messenger. Quickly he woke. That whispered name busied his mind as he strode through the palms, then up the hill-side track that vanished within the Wongai grove. It was oppressively silent and gloomy in there, for Wongai-trees are rugged and almost squat, and their lowlying, grey limbs carpeted the ground with shadows. Finally, across the open of the tree-walled amphitheatre he hurried, guessing with certainty what was required of him, yet not thinking of it, for he was planning to keep Eyes of the Sea now that she was here. Almost subconsciously, he noticed Beizam standing alone among the Wongai-trees and gazing longingly towards the Zogo-house. “The black pup would love to bark inside among the Council,” thought Jakara. “Mer will crown a Caesar when Beizam gains the crescent-mai – though not if I can help it.”

The Zogo-house doors opened to Jakara, and then shut noiselessly. He strode forward and saluted the Au-gud. He could never make cringing obeisance to this thing, but he gave it military salute in recognition of the undoubted powers behind it. And the ways of Jakara the Strange were accepted.

He gazed boldly around. An alien though he was within this chamber of terrorism and of material and spiritual power, he felt the glow of a new feeling, a challenging defiance. He did not realize that it was because he now fondly imagined he had someone else to fight for beside himself.

C’Zarcke regarded him from black eyes as wise as the crocodiles’ teeth plaited in his beard were grotesque. On a coloured mat of sacred patterns he was sitting before the great Au-gud. To his right and left sat the two others of the Island nations, and the Bomai-Malu Zogo-le. Joined with them, and completing the circle, were the lesser Zogo-le of the allied Island groups. Attendant Maid-le priests stood statuesque between the mummies. Old Passi, the chief medicine-man, was there – a slight figure, but the brain within had an expert knowledge of herbs, and the kindly eyes were piercing with hypnotic light. Kebisu, with Bogo and Kesu, sat fronting C’Zarcke. High above all, out over the Council, there floated a pale blue light.

Quietly Jakara, with the grace of long practice, sat in his place on the mat beside Kebisu. A brooding silence was within the Zogo-house. It framed C’Zarcke’s deep voice.

“Jakara, we wish to exterminate the people of the Two Brothers. Their Maid-le are clever men, with doctrines at various points not harmonizing with ours of the Bomai-Malu; also they are a warlike people and ambitious. They have interfered, and cleverly plan to interfere still further with our trade-canoes coming north from Spirit Island and the canoes coming from far south up the coast of the Great South Land. Also, in speedy fighting-canoes, they are beginning to intercept our heavily laden canoes that carry trade and payment to the south. Now, during a recent voyage Bogo sailed round the Two Brothers, so that you could see it closely. You remember! From the sea he pointed out to you the nature of their land, their principal fighting hills, and the approximate position of their villages. Your eyes have always had a keenness for an unexpected landing-place: we know that your brain sees differently from ours and can therefore plan forms of attack wholly unforeseen by Island peoples. We trust in you for a plan to cripple our enemies, if not to wipe them out with one blow. And – the Au-gud wants heads, many heads, for the monsoonal ceremonies so nearly due.”

A chill crept upon Jakara.

“Kebisu will now give you all information,” continued the deep persuasive voice; “then we will command the silence in which your plan will be born.”

Kebisu gripped Jakara’s shoulder. With expressive eyes and nods of emphasis, and an occasional broad smile, he spoke eagerly and rapidly, his voice booming in the quiet of the Zogo-house.

“You have seen the place, Jakara, and know how its teeth can be drawn. We can quickly muster a thousand men; everything except the fall of the blow is planned and ready-canoes, men, water, all waiting to be collected as we sail. Winds are propitious: everyone is lusting for a fight. Show me, Jakara, exactly where I must strike to shatter these people into the sea.”

Jakara leaned back, and the brooding face of the Au-gud stared down into his. As brutal as the certainty of destiny, that face yet wore an almost wistful smile, as if wearied of the puny arrogance of man. It held an expression of life, that huge mottled face, a frightening expression of quiet, living thought. The very mummies round the walls seemed to be listening in the silence. Wonderful how he could think: on these occasions! His brain cleared and worked smoothly into coherent thought, free of all effort. He felt that around him were waves of brain-force coming out to him, which, with but the indrawing of the breath, he blended perfectly with the essence of his own thought. He seized the opportunity, for intermixed with the planning of the raid came an inspiration which he hoped would please C’Zarcke and gain a little of his friendship. The minutes passed as if in that atmosphere time were non-existent.

Jakara sighed. As if tired, he stroked the back of his head. A Maid-le stepped from the shadows and placed before him a white square of bark and a charcoal pencil. C’Zarcke looked on silently; Kebisu and the Mamooses leaned eagerly forward. Jakara spoke in a droning voice, mapping the bark and explaining his plan clearly and in detail. The night wore on, until Kebisu laughed. The spell was broken, for when Kebisu laughed the hills heard it, and, if he was in a house, the walls boomed. His great hands thumped Jakara’s shoulders, his fine black eyes were rolling in unholy glee. The Mamooses joined in congratulation, while Maros pulled Jakara’s hair in bovine play. Jakara, flushed with the praise and the creation of a plan which was excellent in every detail, smiled up at C’Zarcke, and immediately remembered. Every man present, except C’Zarcke and Jakara, arose and quietly left the Zogo-house. Jakara uneasily realized that C’Zarcke had read his mind, and that a secret sign of the Bomai-Malu had dismissed the others.

“You have something to ask of me, something to give,” insinuated C’Zarcke softly.

Jakara stared, and then leaned forward impressively: “I should waste words in talk with you, C’Zarcke, who can read my very thoughts. I will just say that I crave something of you, and in return I will give you my greatest treasure. I will bring it now, and then you can judge. Afterwards, I pray you to grant me my wish.”

He hurried from the Zogo-house, away through the chilly Wongai grove, then up a hill-side path toward his Lookout. As he climbed, the revelry from the villages fringing the island shores came singing up to him – most of the villages of Mer were right on the sea-shore. Many pandanus torches twinkled deep down among the coco-palms. As he climbed higher still, the voices became indistinct and were lost as the path wound through the dark jungle where flashed and vanished and flashed again blue and yellow diamonds within the gloom. Out on the forest patches the night was open and beautiful: the moon, and clusters of God’s lovely stars: the air sweet and cool and whispering over the grassy slopes: the sea dark and peaceful.

Jakara walked more slowly, for he was about to part with the companion of years. It had shown him the ships of his countrymen; he had drawn a comradeship through the distance until they dimmed away. He remembered the agonized hours of hope while a ship drew slowly near, only to glide by. Several had actually anchored, but the hand of the all seeing C’Zarcke had reached between him and rescue. This sea-battered telescope had been his chief friend. Countless hours had he spent here with his mind abstracted from the island below. Of these passing ships, two had sailed so close that he had actually distinguished their white crew – white men, white men, white men! Jakara sighed; for nothing of value is gained without sacrifice.

C’Zarcke was waiting in the shadows outside the Zogo-house. And Jakara spoke: “C’Zarcke, you know the stars in their courses, you study the heavens, continually seeking guidance of the weather as affecting the fishing-season and the crops. This, my present, will help you. It will show you wonders invisible to our naked eyes-wonders on the sea and upon the land. Much more, this is the eye of a god which will show you worlds in the highest skies.”

He trained the telescope on a cloud whose edges were brightening with molten light.

“There, C’Zarcke, watch the moon as it peeps from behind that cloud. Hold the telescope so. No, this way! Why, I believe you are trembling! Ah, that is right! Now move these ‘tubes,’ as we call them, in or out, like this, until your eye sees perfectly.”

The moon peeped, then rose from the clouds all burnished silver. Majestically it glided up across the sky. Still C’Zarcke gazed on, and Jakara grew impatient. Besides, his fear had given place to a satisfying certainty. He spoke. He spoke again! C’Zarcke took not the slightest notice. Jakara spoke loudly, then with a curious thrill touched one of the big muscles. C’Zarcke might have been a mummy, except that his arm felt warm and firm. Jakara touched the telescope. Instantly he was thrown to the ground, with C’Zarcke’s weight crushing him and the dreadful face glaring into his. Jakara was a powerful man, but the chief priest of the Bomai-Malu simply twisted Jakara’s windpipe; he snarled like a bear as Jakara struggled to gouge his eyes.

Suddenly C’Zarcke’s face changed into something pathetically human, he whimpered like a child, and, running into the Zogo-house, laid Jakara upon the mats. He touched the Au-gud, and a long blue flame shot above the fainting man. Jakara struggled to consciousness with his head pillowed upon C’Zarcke’s arm. Big eyes gazed into his with almost a mother’s anxiety for her child.

“Forgive, Jakara,” he whispered, urgently. “I thought you were going to take the wonderful thing away. But it is mine – and are all its powers intact?” There was a pitiful questioning in his eyes.

Jakara nodded weakly. C’Zarcke sighed, and then smiled warmly. “I was a fool, Jakara, but I knew not what I did. Tell me your wish; it is already granted.”

A great fear slipped from Jakara. He looked up and managed to whisper: “I – want – Eyes of the Sea.” C’Zarcke gazed astounded, then his big head went back and he laughed until the Zogo-house vibrated and the Wongai-trees echoed back the voice and threw it down the little hill-sides. On the beaches below the dancing people halted, amazed. It was the only time in its history that Mer had heard C’Zarcke laugh! He shook Jakara’s shoulders as a playing child shakes a doll; then, sobered: “She is yours,” he said with a smile. “Take her! If you want her to wife, I will marry you now.”

Jakara sat up, coughing but smiling. He grasped C’Zarcke’s hands. “Thanks with all my heart, C’Zarcke! But I must woo her first. We are both Lamars, you know, and it is our custom. Afterwards –”

“Well,” protested C’Zarcke, “surely you want more than that! Pick out any girl, any number of girls! They are yours for the asking. Or if you have seen any maid among our enemies, name her, if it costs the lives of a hundred men.”

Jakara shook his head vigorously. “There is only one that I want, C’Zarcke; just Eyes of the Sea. I have a notion that she will keep me busy, too.”

C’Zarcke was disappointed. Gravely he spoke: “You have given me a wondrous thing, Jakara. You do not understand how I have dreamed of such a thing. I had thought that such knowledge was only the property of the spirit world. And I was partly right, for you are a Lamar, though I know you are no spirit. Your wish is granted. Take Eyes of the Sea whenever you wish, and no man dare say you nay. Can you not ask for something more worthy of this great gift?”

Jakara’s brain worked quickly. He hesitated, then whispered breathlessly: “Give me my freedom, C’Zarcke. When I have won the girl, give me a loaded canoe and let me sail to the first passing Lamar ship.” C’Zarcke’s lips opened to say “Yes.” He thought soberly for a moment, and then said with growing emphasis: “It is granted, Jakara, on one condition, and you can easily grant me that, for you have the knowledge. Tell me, Jakara,” he leaned forward and whispered with a terrible earnestness, “tell me of the Maker of the world! Does He live beyond the stars? Who is He? What are we for? Why does He let us live? What is He going to make of us? To what does the spirit-life lead us? And shall we ever know all? What power made us? Why?”

Jakara stared in incredulous astonishment. C’Zarcke watched him with blazing eyes. Striving for time, Jakara’s wits whispered that he must be very careful. “C’Zarcke,’ he said slowly, “you have asked me questions that the wisest men of the Lamars have striven for thousands of years to answer. I am not a learned man, and I can only repeat what our wise men tell us. To explain would take many nights of talk. Let me go now, and I will think over all these things.”

C’Zarcke stood erect, disappointed. “But, Jakara,” he pleaded, “you know who made the world. Tell me!”

“God,” said Jakara, as if unaware of himself.

Instantly C’Zarcke’s eyes blazed. “God! Who is God? What is He? Where is he?” And Jakara gazed into a face quivering in its lust for knowledge.

“C’Zarcke, you ask me questions that are as vast as the limit of time. I am only a worm. We are all insects, and God made every one of us. How, then, can I tell you of God! When you make a bow, can that bow sing to other bows of you who made it? Heavens alive! Let me go, and I will try to explain in the nights to come.”

C’Zarcke rose and half turned his face. His lip quivered sulkily, and Jakara thought that this curious giant was about to cry like a disappointed child. But he turned and asked quietly, “What are ‘heavens?’ ”

Jakara waved helplessly towards the Zogo-house roof. “You saw the heavens to-night, C'Zarcke; you peeped into them through the present I gave you.”

C’Zarcke’s face brightened instantly. He lifted Jakara to his feet and patted his shoulders, smiling as a happy boy might smile. He took him to the door and stretched out his hand towards the Wongai glade. “C’Zarcke is now Jakara’s friend for all time,” he said warmly. “Whatever you wish for, whatever you desire, take it, or do it without fear of any man. Tell your wish to the Mamoose, and see me at all times, if you should want something that the Mamoose cannot give. Go now, and in your own time explain to me the knowledge of the Lamars. And I will seek within the ‘heavens!’ ”

Jakara went, a very subdued Jakara, painfully aware that in this queer world there are matters of greater importance than Love.