was of the same tall tribe as the soldiers. Since he was seated, it was difficult to calculate his size, but he looked enormous, though that, too, could be the effect of the robe and the hat. Commandant MauriceMbembelé and the sorcerer Sombe were nowhere to be seen.
There were no women or Pygmies in the royal entourage, but behind the male members of the court were some twenty young girls, distinguished from the other inhabitants of Ngoubé by their brightly colored clothes and heavy gold jewelry. In the wavering light of the torches, the yellow metal gleamed against their dark skin. Some of the young women held infants in their arms, and a few small children were playing around their feet. It was easy to deduce that this was the family of the king, and it was striking that the women seemed as submissive as the Pygmies. Apparently their social position provided no sense of pride, only fear.
Brother Fernando informed his fellows that polygamy is common in Africa, and that often the number of wives and children indicates the level of a man’s economic power and prestige. In the case of a king, the more children he has, the more prosperous his nation. In this tradition, as in many others, the influence of Christianity and of Western culture had not made much of a dent in local customs. The missionary ventured that Kosongo’s women had perhaps not chosen their fate but had been forced to marry him.
The four towering soldiers prodded the foreigners, indicating that they should prostrate themselves before the king. When Kate tried to look up, a blow to her head stopped her immediately. There they lay, swallowing the dust of the square, humiliated and trembling, for long, uncomfortable minutes, until the beating of the musicians’ sticks ended and a metallic sound put an end to their waiting. The prisoners dared glance toward the throne: The bizarre monarch was ringing a gold bell.
As the echo of the bell died away, one of the counselors walked forward and the king said something into his ear. That man then spoke to the foreigners in a jumble of French, English, and Bantu to announce, as introduction, that Kosongo had been chosen by God and had a divine mission to govern. The foreigners again buried their noses in the dust, with no desire to express any doubt about that affirmation. They realized that they were listening to The Royal Mouth, just as Beyé-Dokou had described. Then the emissary asked them the purpose of their visit to the domain of the magnificent sovereign Kosongo. His threatening tone left no question in regard to his opinion of their presence. No one answered. The only ones who understood what he’d said were Kate and Brother Fernando, but they were confused. They didn’t know the protocol, and didn’t want to risk doing something inappropriate; perhaps the question was merely rhetorical, and Kosongo didn’t expect an answer.
The king waited a few seconds in the midst of absolute silence, then again rang the bell, which was interpreted by the people as a command. The entire village, except for the Pygmies, began to shout and wave their fists, closing in a circle around the group of visitors. Curiously, their actions did not have the feeling of a spontaneous uprising; it seemed more like a bit of theater executed by bad actors. There was no trace of excitement in the shouting, and some were even laughing when their backs were turned. The soldiers who had firearms crowned the collective demonstration with an unexpected salvo aimed into the air, which produced a stampede in the square. Adults, children, monkeys, dogs, and hens ran to hide as far away as possible. The only persons remaining beneath the tree were the king, his reduced court, his terrorized harem, and the prisoners, still on the ground, arms covering their heads, sure that this was their last moment on earth.
Gradually calm returned to the village. Once the firing had stopped and the noise had faded, The Royal Mouth repeated the question.
There were no women or Pygmies in the royal entourage, but behind the male members of the court were some twenty young girls, distinguished from the other inhabitants of Ngoubé by their brightly colored clothes and heavy gold jewelry. In the wavering light of the torches, the yellow metal gleamed against their dark skin. Some of the young women held infants in their arms, and a few small children were playing around their feet. It was easy to deduce that this was the family of the king, and it was striking that the women seemed as submissive as the Pygmies. Apparently their social position provided no sense of pride, only fear.
Brother Fernando informed his fellows that polygamy is common in Africa, and that often the number of wives and children indicates the level of a man’s economic power and prestige. In the case of a king, the more children he has, the more prosperous his nation. In this tradition, as in many others, the influence of Christianity and of Western culture had not made much of a dent in local customs. The missionary ventured that Kosongo’s women had perhaps not chosen their fate but had been forced to marry him.
The four towering soldiers prodded the foreigners, indicating that they should prostrate themselves before the king. When Kate tried to look up, a blow to her head stopped her immediately. There they lay, swallowing the dust of the square, humiliated and trembling, for long, uncomfortable minutes, until the beating of the musicians’ sticks ended and a metallic sound put an end to their waiting. The prisoners dared glance toward the throne: The bizarre monarch was ringing a gold bell.
As the echo of the bell died away, one of the counselors walked forward and the king said something into his ear. That man then spoke to the foreigners in a jumble of French, English, and Bantu to announce, as introduction, that Kosongo had been chosen by God and had a divine mission to govern. The foreigners again buried their noses in the dust, with no desire to express any doubt about that affirmation. They realized that they were listening to The Royal Mouth, just as Beyé-Dokou had described. Then the emissary asked them the purpose of their visit to the domain of the magnificent sovereign Kosongo. His threatening tone left no question in regard to his opinion of their presence. No one answered. The only ones who understood what he’d said were Kate and Brother Fernando, but they were confused. They didn’t know the protocol, and didn’t want to risk doing something inappropriate; perhaps the question was merely rhetorical, and Kosongo didn’t expect an answer.
The king waited a few seconds in the midst of absolute silence, then again rang the bell, which was interpreted by the people as a command. The entire village, except for the Pygmies, began to shout and wave their fists, closing in a circle around the group of visitors. Curiously, their actions did not have the feeling of a spontaneous uprising; it seemed more like a bit of theater executed by bad actors. There was no trace of excitement in the shouting, and some were even laughing when their backs were turned. The soldiers who had firearms crowned the collective demonstration with an unexpected salvo aimed into the air, which produced a stampede in the square. Adults, children, monkeys, dogs, and hens ran to hide as far away as possible. The only persons remaining beneath the tree were the king, his reduced court, his terrorized harem, and the prisoners, still on the ground, arms covering their heads, sure that this was their last moment on earth.
Gradually calm returned to the village. Once the firing had stopped and the noise had faded, The Royal Mouth repeated the question.
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