The Prophets(57)

Each member of the tribe took a moment to walk over to Elewa and Kosii and leave a gift with them: colorful feathers; headdresses made of dried, braided, and studded palm leaves; tall spears with elegantly pounded heads. A great pile formed around them and had to be moved in order for them to continue eating. King Akusa’s wives laughed as they cleared away the gifts and placed them near the entrance. They would help them take the gifts to their new dwelling in the morning.

The king, meanwhile, kept the three ghosts and their guide to her right, her spear-throwing arm, where she could keep close watch on them. The one called Brother Gabriel was talkative. He constantly turned to the Gussu chattering in an insufferable language that grated on her ears. How the Gussu could tolerate or decipher it she did not understand.

The Gussu—who said one of his names was Obosye, as the Gussu had many names for many different uses—seemed exasperated at one point.

“Enough,” King Akusa said to Obosye. “He will now direct all questions about my tribe to me. You will translate.”

Brother Gabriel spoke to her in very soft tones. Each word did not seem so much spoken as smiled. And although she did not immediately admit it to herself—and, later, would judge herself harshly for having missed it—his smiling frightened her.

“Queen Akusa,” Gabriel said, but Obosye had sense enough to change the title back to its appropriate form. “A lovely village you have here. And this ceremony—thank you for allowing us to partake.”

The king nodded.

“If I may be so bold as to ask: What is the nature of it?” he asked. He gestured toward Elewa and Kosii. “Are these two being initiated into manhood? Is this a warrior’s ritual?”

King Akusa nearly spit out her wine. She put down her cup and chuckled.

“How could it not be obvious even to a stranger? Does your own land lack even the most basic of traditions? Their courtship has been witnessed and approved by generations of ancestors. They are bonded.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened.

“Bonded? Does she mean wedded?” Gabriel looked to Obosye to clarify the translation. Obosye merely nodded.

“But they are two men,” Gabriel protested. “These are the seeds of Sodom.”

The dead are silly, the king thought. Silly, foolish, and reckless, which was perhaps why they intruded here now. Cast out from wisdom, they wandered, confusing everyone they encountered, like the Gussu who had forgotten who he was and stumbled his bare behind into the village without announcement and brought the skinless with him. She took a gulp of wine. She then pinched off a piece of fish and dipped it into some of the mashed yam. She put it in her mouth and then looked at Brother Gabriel. She chewed for a long while, so long that Obosye, Brother Gabriel, and the other two grew visibly uncomfortable.

“I do not know this word, Sodom. But I can tell by how it leaves your tongue that I do not like it. They are Elewa and Kosii as they have always been. Do you not see their bond? You will humble yourself before that.”

“But respectfully, Queen, they are two men.”

King Akusa would have regarded this as insolence had she not understood that this pale, pale man was evidently ignorant and knew nothing of the world as it actually existed. His vision was limited to this realm. “Two men?” These colorless people had the strangest system of grouping things together by what they did not understand rather than by what they did. He could see bodies, but it was clear that he could not see spirits. It was humorous to observe someone who did not know the terrain but refused to admit it, stumbling around, bumping into trees, then asking who put them in their path so suddenly.

“Impossible,” she said with a laugh. “They are bonded. Do you not see?”

“I think your people would benefit from our religion,” Brother Gabriel said.

The king was not bothered by this, for she believed she understood her own fortitude and that of her people. This Brother Gabriel, who called himself Portuguese—with his imprecise, bland, gibberish language—was a fool, a charlatan, and no number of his clan would move any Kosongo from their position. Besides, the wine had put her in an inquisitive, playful mood. She called to Ketwa and Nbinga and asked them to sit with her as she made room for them on either side. She held both of them by a hand and stared at Brother Gabriel.

“Who shall keep guard of the gates?” the king asked him, smiling. “You say Elewa and Kosii are some kind of problem. Who guards your gods’ gates, then?”

“The gates of Heaven? They don’t open upon blasphemy.”

“Heaven? What an unusual name. And what an unusual place that does not open its gates for its own guard.”

“Be that as it may—”

“Is that what happened to your skin,” King Akusa interrupted. “Did your gods snatch it away for treating the gates as a trivial matter?”

“Your Highness, I don’t think—”

“Enough.”

The king laughed and lay back into Ketwa’s full embrace and pulled Nbinga’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. King Akusa’s chuckle filled the room. She asked two other wives to prepare another round of food and drink for the visitors, who had already eaten what was previously placed before them. They would need to find a space for them to sleep in one of the greeting huts and then send them on their way in the morning. She reminded herself to also instruct Obosye to tell the Gussu chief to never allow his people to guide bad spirits to Kosongo land. Ever. Such behavior communicated disrespect and, in light of the long-planned ceremony, even contempt. She would be glad to never set eyes on these ugly-skinned people again.