The Cache (7 page)

When he was mounted, he shouted, screamed, and rode among the other horses to spook them. Then, he urged his animal out into the forest while he held the reins of the horse on which the unconscious youth sagged.

He rode as swiftly as he dared in the night while behind him shouts arose. After an hour, he settled for a canter; another hour, for a walk. Morning saw them far away from the scene of the thievery.

By then, the black youth was awake. Benoni took him off his horse, hobbled the animal, and removed the gag from his captive. It took some time to convince the youth that Benoni did not intend to kill him. After he had calmed down through signs, Benoni started the task of learning the stranger’s language. He interrupted the lessons twice to feed the youth. After eating, the youth seemed to be less reticent.

Benoni speeded up his learning when he found that part of the strangeness of the youth’s speech came from a vowel shift. Also, that Zhem’s tongue had unvoiced all word-final voiced phonemes. Where Benoni said
dog,
Zhem said
dahk.
For
stown
(stone), Zhem said
stahn,
and for
leyt
(late),
liyt
(as in seat).
Kaw
(cow) he pronounced
ku.
Thin, in Benoni’s tongue, was
tin.
There were other differences. Some words were unknown to Benoni; he could not find any in his vocabulary to match Zhem’s.

The following morning, Benoni tied Zhem’s hands in front of him and allowed him to take the reins of his horse. He warned Zhem that if he tried to escape, he would be shot. They rode slowly, while Benoni practiced talking to the black youth. That night, he told Zhem why he had kidnapped him instead of killing him.

“I need someone who can tell me about this country,” he said, “And especially about the Great River.”

“The Great River?” said Zhem. “You mean the Mzibi? Or, as the Kay wo say, the Siy?”

“I don’t know what it’s called. But it’s supposed to be the biggest in the world. Some say it circles the edge of the world. That if you go to its other side, you fall off.”

Zhem laughed and then said, “
Ee
de bikmo ribe iy de weh.
It’s the biggest river in the world, yes. But there’s land on the other side. Tell me, white man. If I answer your questions, what you going to do with me?”

“I’ll let you go. Without a horse, of course. I don’t want you tracking me down and killing me.

“You’re not going to take my head home to show your folks, your woman?”

Benoni smiled and said, “No. I had thought of taking your scalp. It’d bring me much honor in Fiiniks because they’ve never seen one like that. But you’re not a Navaho; I’ve no reason to kill you. Maybe you’ll give me a reason.”

Zhem frowned and looked sad. “No,” he said, “if I did bring your head back with me, it wouldn’t do any good. I’m in disgrace because you captured me. No Mngumwa can never go home again if he is cowardly enough to be taken prisoner. When Mngumwa goes into battle, he either dies or wins the victory.”

“You mean your people won’t take you back? Why? It wasn’t your fault!”

Zhem shook his head and said, hollowly. “It makes no difference. If I tried to rejoin our war party or go home, I’d be stoned to death. They wouldn’t even dishonor their steel with my blood.”

“Perhaps you’d be better off dead,” said Benoni. “A man with no home is no man. And then your scalp . . . it’s so woolley.”

“I don’t want to die!” said Zhem. “Not as a captive, anyway with my hands tied. It’d be different in battle. And I feel sad because I’ll never make love to my wife again. But I want to live.”

“You might be a help to me,” said Benoni. “I don’t know the land. But why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” said Zhem. “I wouldn’t trust you either. But if we became blood-brothers . . .”

Benoni asked what blood-brothers meant, and Zhem explained. Benoni considered. He looked steadily at Zhem for a long time. Zhem fidgeted, frowned, smiled. Finally, Benoni said, “Very well. I don’t like the idea that I have to fight for you no matter what you do. I don’t know you. Maybe you’ll do things I won’t feel like defending you for . . .”

“You’ll be my older blood-brother,” said Zhem. “I will obey you in all things, unless you do something dishonorable.”

“O.K.” said Benoni. And he put out his arm for Zhem to cut and to apply his own wound to it . . . so their blood was red. He had thought it would be black; indeed, this thought had held him back from accepting Zhem’s offer. He had not liked the idea that he might become half-black.

But, now that he thought about it, Navahos were very dark, sometimes, and their blood was as red as his.

Zhem chanted some words so fast that Benoni could only understand several. Then, they applied clay to the cuts. And Benoni untied Zhem’s bonds. Until they were made blood-brothers, he had not trusted Zhem. He had watched him while he cut his, Benoni’s, arm for fear the youth would try to stab him. A hint of a wrong move would have sent Benoni’s knife plunging into the black skin. Zhem must have known this, for he had moved very slowly.

They mounted and rode on. Zhem explained that they were two days’ horse-travel from the Msibi. This country belonged to the Ekunsah, a white nation. To the northeast lay the great nation of Kaywo. Its capital city, Kaywo, was at the meeting place of the Msibi and Jo rivers. Or, as they were called in the Kaywo tongue,
Siy
and
Hayo.
The Kaywo were a mighty nation, they had huge houses and temples, roads of smooth stone, and a great navy and army. They had just won a ten-year war with Senglwi; they had slaughtered the citizens of that city. And now they were turning their attention to the great city of Skego. Skego, once a small town on the shores of the Miys Sea, had become big, too, and was extending its empire southwards, towards Kaywo.

“I would like to see this great city,” said Benoni, wondering if it were half as large as Fiiniks. “Can we go there without their killing us on sight or enslaving us?”

“I’ve been thinking that we could go there and enlist in the Foreign Legion,” said Zhem. “If we fight for Kaywo, we get much booty. Women, too. If a man serves five years in the Legion, he is made a citizen of Kaywo. That would be worth fighting for. A man would have a home again.”

“I would not mind going there if we would be allowed to leave again,” said Benoni. “But, I must get back to my home sometime.”

“You could always desert,” said Zhem. “But you will not be allowed to enter the country as a free man unless you join the Foreign Legion.”

Two days later, they reined their horses back upon the top of a high hill. Below was the Msibi, or Siy, the Great River. Benoni stared at it for a long time. He had never seen so much water before. It must be at least two miles, maybe more, wide. He shivered. It was like a giant snake, a snake of water. And that much water had to be dangerous.

“It’s worth walking across half the world to see this,” said Benoni. “Debra will never believe it when I tell her of it.”

“De
po e de wote,”
said Zhem. “The Father of the Waters. Do you want to ride toward Kaywo, elder brother?”

“Kaywo it is,” said Benoni. “I can’t wait.”

They rode northwards along the shore of the great river. After half a day, they came to a rough dirt road and followed it. They went around a small stockaded village. Zhem said they could skirt a certain number. However, according to what he understood, the villages and farms became very numerous. They would encounter an army fort. Then, what happened would be in the hands of The Great Black God.

Benoni was a little jolted to hear this. He had always thought of Jehovah as being white. But, now he thought about it he had never seen Jehovah. Nor did he know anyone who had seen Him. So, how did he know what He looked like?

Benoni and Zhem had crossed the Kaywo border at a point above the frontier forts. According to Zhem, there were forts along every major road in the empire. It was inevitable that soldiers would find them. So, it would be best to present themselves at the first fort they came to. After a half day’s riding, they found their chance. They came to a little valley the entrance of which was walled with boulders cemented to a height of twenty feet. Two guards challenged their right to go through the big iron gateway. Zhem, speaking Kaywo hesitantly, asked to see the officer of the guard. Two other soldiers were called. These conducted the strangers through the gateway. Outside a large stone building, Benoni and Zhem dismounted. They were led into the building, through several rooms, and finally faced the commandant of the fort.

The captain was a big dark man with a snub nose, thick. lips, and curly hair that hung down the back of his neck. He wore a shiny silver-embossed steel helmet topped by a scarlet roach of dyed horsehair, a cuirass molded to fit his torso, a green kilt, and yellow leggings. He asked them what they wanted. Benoni could understand a word here and there, but the main sense was lost to him. Zhem translated for him.

Zhem replied that he was from the kingdom of Mngumwa. His blood-brother came from a place nobody had ever heard of. It was called Fiiniks, and it lay in the middle of a burning desert a thousand miles or more to the southwest.

The captain, Viyya, looked at Benoni with interest. He rose from his desk and walked staring around Benoni. Then he laughed and said something to Zhem.

“He says he’s never seen anybody with skin like iron on the soles of his feet,” said Zhem. “He says your name should not be Rider, for he sees no callouses on your buttocks. It should be Ironfoot.”

“So you two want to join the Foreign Legion and fight for the glory of Kaywo and the Pwez Lezpet?” he said. “What crimes have you committed that you had to flee your native countries?”

Zhem told him the story of his capture by Benoni, though he neglected to mention that his war party had murdered a farmer and his family. He explained also the reasons for Benoni’s presence here.

“A strange tale,” said the captain. “A suspicious tale. If it were not for his ironshod feet, I might doubt it. However, we’ll see. You two will be conducted to the capital where the Usspika might be interested in your story. He had ordered that anybody from the unknown lands be taken to him. I do not know why, nor am I supposed to know.”

He then gave orders for the two to surrender their arms. Tomorrow, they would start their journey, under escort, to the capital. There, they could begin their training as rookies in the Foreign Legion. If they could qualify as worthy fighting men, they would be sworn. If they did not, they would be sold as slaves. If they misbehaved, their heads might be cut off and placed on poles.

Benoni did not understand the full meaning of the last remark. Next day, after he was put into a cage on a wagon, and the wagon drove along the smooth highway with its great slabs of stone, he understood. On both sides of the road, spaced every twenty feet, were ten-foot high wooden poles. A human head, in varying stages of rottenness, or a skull, topped every pole. Ravens flew around them or sat on the pates and picked off shreds of flesh. Along every one of the hundred miles to the capital, the skulls grinned and the heads stared emptily. Most of the heads were those of black men.

“The Fifth Army brought back thousands of captives when it defeated the invading barbarians of Juju,” said one of the prisoners sitting beside Benoni. “Many were sold, but over half were beheaded. We couldn’t afford to have so many savages working for us. If they revolted, they might cause us much trouble. We remember the slave revolt of six years ago.”

The prisoner added, proudly, “Kaywo is mighty indeed, wild-men. While the First, Second and Fourth Armies stormed Senglwi, the Fifth defeated the Juju in the south. And the Third hunted down and destroyed the Hayo River pirates.”

Fascinated and awed, Benoni watched the display of the might of Kaywo for a long while. Then, as the wagon rolled on, he began to notice the countryscape. The farms were becoming more numerous and closer together. The structure of the farmhouses and the barns remained fundamentally the same: very steep double roofs, no windows on the first story, narrow windows on the second story, a three or four-story narrow round stone tower, built for lookout purposes, near to every house. And, in every front yard, a twenty-foot high wooden totem pole on which were carved animal and human faces. Every pole was topped by the double-headed wolf, the patron beast of Kaywo.

He began to see more villages. These were always surrounded by high stone or wooden walls with many watchtowers. Every now and then he saw a small fort of stone on top of a hill; these, he was to find out, belonged to the
kefl’wiy,
the aristocrats. The kefl’wiy and their families and soldiers and their families lived in these.

The road followed the contour of the Great River, called
Siy
by the Kaywo. There were hundreds of boats, some military, most commercial, on the
Siy.
A few were sailing craft, but the majority were propelled by oars pulled by men.

Benoni talked, as well as he could, to the other occupants of the wagon. These were criminals going to the courts of the capital, where they would either be sentenced to serve in the galleys or mines or would be placed in a special work-battalion in the army.

By the time they reached the capital city, Benoni could speak Kaywo with fifty per cent efficiency, as long as the conversation stayed on a simple level.

On the evening of the fourth day, the wagon rolled through the famous Gate of Lions. Benoni stared at the towering limestone block statues of bearded lions guarding the gates, which were a hundred feet high.

“Dhu wya,”
he said to the man who sat next to him. “
Those lions.
Are they just figures of imagination? Or do lions with beards really exist?”

“Zhe,”
said the man.
“Yes.
I have seen them. They are like the lions of the great plains to the west except that they are smaller and have short dark-red beards, both male and female. There are some in the woods to the north, between Kaywo and Skego. But there are many in the forests of the east.”