Arrow of God (The African Trilogy 3)

‘Like him. No difference.’

The two policemen conferred in the white man’s tongue to the great admiration of the villagers.

‘Sometine na dat two porson we cross for road,’ said the corporal.

‘Sometine na dem,’ said his companion. ‘But we no go return back jus like dat. All dis waka wey we waka come here no fit go for nating.’

The corporal thought about it. The other continued:

‘Sometine na lie dem de lie. I no wan make dem put trouble for we head.’

The corporal still thought about it. He was convinced that the men spoke the truth but it was necessary to frighten them a little, if only to coax a sizeable ‘kola’ out of them. He addressed them in Ibo:

‘We think that you may be telling us a lie and so we must make quite sure otherwise the white man will punish us. What we shall do then is to take two of you – handcuffed – to Okperi. If we find Ezeulu there we shall set you free; if not…’ He completed with a sideways movement of the head which spoke more clearly than words. ‘Which two shall we take?’

The others conferred anxiously and Akuebue spoke again begging the representatives of ‘gorment’ to believe their story. ‘What would be the wisdom of deceiving messengers of the white man?’ he asked. ‘Where shall we run afterwards? If you go back to Okperi and Ezeulu is not there you can come back and take not two but all of us.’

The corporal thought about it and agreed. ‘But we cannot come and go for nothing. When a masked spirit visits you you have to appease its footprints with presents. The white man is the masked spirit of today.’

‘Very true,’ said Akuebue, ‘the masked spirit of our day is the white man and his messengers.’

Ezeulu’s head wife was asked to prepare yam pottage with chicken for the two men. When it was ready they ate and drank palm wine. Then they rested awhile and prepared to go. Akuebue thanked them for their visit and told them that if they had met the owner of the house at home he would have given them more hospitality. Anyhow would they accept this small ‘kola’ on his behalf?’ He placed two live cocks before them and Edogo placed beside the cocks a wooden bowl containing two shillings. The corporal thanked them but at the same time repeated his warning that if it turned out that they had been telling lies about Ezeulu, ‘gorment’ would make them see their ears with their own eyes.

The sudden collapse of Captain Winterbottom on the very day he sent policemen to arrest the Chief Priest of Umuaro was clearly quite significant. The first man to point the connection was John Nwodika, Second Steward to Captain Winterbottom himself. He said it was just as he feared; the priest had hit him with a potent charm. In spite of everything then, power still resided in its accustomed place.

‘Did I not say so?’ he asked the other servants after their master had been removed to hospital. ‘Was it for nothing I refused to follow the policemen? I told them that the Chief Priest of Umuaro is not a soup you can lick in a hurry.’ His voice carried a note of pride. ‘Our master thinks that because he is a white man our medicine cannot touch him.’ He switched over to English for the benefit of Clarke’s steward who came in just then and who did not speak Ibo.

‘I use to tellam say blackman juju no be someting wey man fit take play. But when I tellam na so so laugh im de laugh. When he finish laugh he call me John and I say Massa. He say You too talk bush talk. I tellam say O-o, one day go be one day. You no see now?’

The story of Ezeulu’s magical powers spread through Government Hill hand in hand with the story of Captain Winterbottom’s mysterious collapse. When Mr Clarke returned from hospital his steward asked how the big master was. He shook his head and said:

‘He’s pretty bad, I’m afraid.’

‘Sorry sah,’ said the steward, looking very worried. ‘Dey say na dat bad juju man for yonda wey…’

‘Go and get my bath ready, will you?’ Clarke was so exhausted that he was in no mood for stewards’ chit-chat. So he lost the opportunity of hearing the reason for the Captain’s illness which was circulating not just through Government Hill but very soon throughout Okperi. It was only two days later that Wright told him about it.

Other servants on Government Hill were waiting in his kitchen to hear the latest news from his steward. He went to get ready the bath and whispered to them that there was no hope, that Clarke had told him he was afraid.

Later in the evening Clarke and Wade drove to the hospital again. They did not see the patient or the doctor; but Sister Warner told them there was no change. For the first time since it all started Tony Clarke felt anxious. They drove back in silence.

There was a Court Messenger outside his bungalow when he got home.

‘’Deven sah,’ said the man.

‘Good evening,’ replied Clarke.

‘De witch-doctor from Umuaro don come.’ There was fear in his voice as though he was reporting the arrival of smallpox in the village.

‘I beg your pardon.’

The man gave more details and it was only then that Clarke understood he was talking about Ezeulu.

‘Lock him up in the guardroom till morning.’ Clarke made to enter the bungalow.

‘Massa say make I putam for gaddaloom?’

‘That’s what I said,’ shouted Clarke. ‘Are you deaf?’