The Book of the Heathen (27 page)

At the edge of the trees he turned and looked back at the quarry. The first of the workers had already climbed the walls and had gathered there, more shapes than men, and they all watched us go. Others struggled up through the mud to join them. Some pointed at us; others wandered aimlessly amid the abandoned machinery; and a group of them went to the empty shed and beat upon its tin door until it buckled and fell open.

I asked Fletcher if he thought they might follow us, but he simply shrugged. I walked close beside him until we re-entered the trees. Once inside them, he occasionally paused, raised a finger to his lips and turned slowly to search in a full, close circle around us, and though I did not say it, I sensed that we were observed – if not by the quarry men, then by some silent, watching others – along the whole of our route.

*   *   *

Two days later, I was interrupted by a single perfunctory rap on my door, followed immediately by Amon coming into the room.

‘Please, come in,' I said.

He looked at me, barely able to contain whatever it was he had come to tell me. There was never anything unprepared, unrehearsed about a visit by Amon.

‘I interrupt you,' he said.

‘Of course you do.' In truth, I had been doing little other than embellishing my finished charts, more often than not filling them far beyond their requirements. For all the good I did, I might just as well have been Ptolemy drawing his spouting whales on interminable, unfathomable oceans, or drawing his never-seen elephants according to the descriptions of others on his thousand-square-mile blanks of jungle or desert or plain.

Amon came to the desk and looked over my shoulder, turning his head from side to side to better understand what he saw.

‘The Ma'ata,' he said eventually.

‘Possibly,' I said. I was in no mood for his strategies.

‘A very profitable river, the Ma'ata,' he said. ‘The people there are very trusting. They jump out of the forest and into our boats.'

‘I'm sure they do,' I said.

He lifted a corner of the map to study the one which lay beneath it – the one upon which I had spent hours in the night trying to determine the course of Frere's wanderings away from us – and I slammed my hand down on his so that he might look no further.

He considered my reaction for a moment before withdrawing his hand, touching it to his lips as though to kiss away some pain, and then folding his arms across his chest.

‘Is there something I can do for you?' I said.

‘You? For me?'

‘I assumed you were here on behalf of your lord and master.'

‘I have come in advance of him,' he said, and he straightened slightly in recognition of the duty he performed.

‘We're honoured,' I said. ‘Once again, Hammad deigns to visit us here.'

He shook his head at the remark.

‘What did he send you ahead to tell us?'

‘Nothing. Merely to forewarn you of his arrival and to give you time to prepare yourselves.'

‘Prepare ourselves for what?'

‘For his—'

‘Arrival. You said.'

‘Your manner is both puzzling and offensive,' he

*   *   *

I refused to be drawn. If Hammad
was
coming, then anything else Amon had been told to impart to us, he would tell us well before the slaver's appearance. He was a bell rung in summons, and that was all.

One of the first tales I had heard of Hammad on coming here was that, upon reading a biography of Alexander the Great, he had stood outside the walls of Sokolo on the edge of the Sahara, had looked out over the expanse there and had wept. Just as Alexander had wept, gazing down from his mountain top and realizing there were no new worlds left for him to conquer. Cornelius had told me the story, adding that Hammad had wept because he knew he could not maintain his routes of supply over so vast and inhospitable an area on his slave-gathering forays. That, and the fact that the desert was so sparsely populated, and its people so evasive and fearsome, that attempting to enslave them would cost him too dear while others elsewhere continued to behave more compliantly, or were at least more easily and cheaply subdued.

Another story told to me by Cornelius concerned Hammad and the punishment he meted out to a garrison of slaves awaiting auction in Kabinda thirty years ago, some of whom had freed themselves from their chains and had attempted to escape. Several of the men were quickly captured and killed where they were found, but others – the number varied from a handful to a hundred – escaped. Seething at this, and wanting to quash all further attempt at revolt, Hammad had assembled his human cargo in its entirety and ringed them with armed men. He had then announced to all these gathered slaves that in Ancient Rome it had been the habit of the emperors to punish a defeated army by killing one in every ten of its beaten survivors. This, he said, as calmly as though he were announcing the arrival of a ship or the departure of a caravan the following morning, was what he now intended to do with those men who had not attempted to escape, but who might, encouraged by the success of the others, have considered making the attempt in the future. There was a great outcry at this and several of the chained men were shot where they sat on the ground. Hammad explained how the act of decimation worked, and said the only problem now was where to start counting from. It would be far too simple, he said, too predictable, to begin at the end of one row of men, count along it and then switch to another. Far too simple. Instead, he would bring in a priest, who would consider the eyes of each of the hundreds of men, and if he saw evil there, or resentment, or even anger, then that man would be chosen.

The upshot of the story was that in excess of fifty men were delivered to Hammad by his tame priest and these men were killed, one by one, in full view of the others, by being beheaded.

I was diverted from these thoughts by Amon who, having picked up a bottle of mapping ink, then dropped it, careful not to spill any of the liquid on my maps or desk, but for the bottle to spill only onto the floor. He considered this spreading stain for a moment before drawing his foot over it.

‘I came,' he said, ‘because Hammad is here to see Mr Nash. He has evidence he feels he needs to present to him.'

‘The torn pages,' I said.

He studied the sole of his boot, but with no concern for the stain there or on the floor. ‘Perhaps. I don't know. Whatever it is, he felt that he might be of great assistance in the enquiry. Apart from which—' He stopped abruptly, conscious, perhaps, of having exceeded his duties.

‘What?'

He looked back at the open doorway. From there he was able to see directly across the compound to the river. There was no sign of Hammad. A low mist lay over the river, belying the motion of the water beneath it.

‘Tell me,' I said. I picked up the empty bottle and stood it on the table.

‘There have been communications with Stanleyville and the coast.'

‘Concerning Frere?'

‘Frere? No, concerning Hammad.'

‘Communications saying what?'

‘Informing him of the changes taking place, offering him—' He stopped again.

‘Offering him a position in some new government, some new legislature, what? Are the Belgians selling us out again?'

‘The word is that Hammad will become Minister for the Interior.' He said the words slowly, rising to their capitals.

I concealed my surprise at the notion.

‘And so, naturally, he wishes to do all he can to assist Nash with his enquiry,' I said.

‘Don't we all? A great crime has been committed. Who among us would wish to see such a crime go unpunished?'

‘Perhaps Hammad could also become Minister for Law and Order. Perhaps he might one day even be crowned emperor.'

I saw by the way Amon considered these remarks that the same had already been suggested to him, perhaps by Hammad himself.

‘And what will that mean?' I said. ‘Minister for the Interior?'

‘Mean?'

‘What will his duties and responsibilities be?'

It was something he had not considered. My own assessment was that Hammad would continue to operate exactly as before, but that now all his operations would be cloaked in legitimacy, that he might even be shielded and aided by his new power and authority.

‘More importantly,' I said, ‘what will all these grandiose changes mean for
you?
Where will
you
stand when the emperor is crowned?'

‘Me? I am his right-hand man.'

‘A hand can be chopped off.'

‘My services … I am indispensable to Hammad.'

You are his monkey on a rope now, I thought, and you will be his monkey on a rope in his new court. Or perhaps once garlanded and crowned with all this new power, Hammad might wish to sever himself from those parts of his past trailing and shadowing him into his new life, into his new reign. I suggested none of this to Amon. I didn't need to; I saw that he too was making those same silent assessments.

‘When is he expected?' I said.

‘Noon.'

It was not yet ten o'clock.

We spent the remainder of the morning together, and I tried to determine what Hammad was going to reveal to Nash regarding Frere.

‘He'll tell Nash nothing Frere himself will not readily admit to,' I said.

‘He knows that. He knows your Mr Frere is an honourable man, a man who succumbed, perhaps in a moment of delirium or madness, to a grave error of judgement. Or perhaps a man who imagined that he could do what he did and that he would afterwards be neither apprehended nor punished for it. Perhaps he believed that living in such a corrupt and lawless place … Or, perhaps, as you say, he is already condemned by his own confession. However, I imagine the testimony of others might have an even greater weight in these proceeedings – in Mr Nash's investigation – than the confession of a man whom some might argue had lost the balance of his mind, a man who might not have known what he was doing, what he imagined he had done. There are some very clever lawyers, English lawyers, down on the coast. I am surprised your own employers have not appointed someone to act in his defence.'

The thought had long since occurred to me – as it must have done to the others, and to Frere himself – but I refused to reveal my feelings on the matter to Amon. Everything that was said to him would undoubtedly be repeated to Hammad on their return journey together.

Approaching midday, there was a growing commotion in the compound and at the jetties, and Hammad's steamer was closely watched throughout its short crossing. It was a powerful vessel and the strong current diverted it little as it came. I saw that it had been festooned with bunting and flags, and the master sounded his whistle every few seconds throughout the crossing. I knew that Hammad would not come without some further, louder announcement of his arrival, but I saw something more in all this noise and colour and flapping of flags: I saw a man already celebrating his endless good fortune, already flexing the first new muscle of his coming authority.

Amon insisted we went down to the river to be present when Hammad docked.

As I locked the door on my charts, he asked me not to repeat to Hammad anything he had told me. I told him I would say nothing, and in that simple exchange I saw that he was already preparing his own strategy of withdrawal from the man.

Neither Cornelius nor Fletcher came to the river. Only Abbot arrived, uncertain what was happening, why the crowd of traders and natives had appeared.

We saw Hammad emerge from his cabin to stand at the prow of the steamer as it slowed and manoeuvred towards the shore. He gave no indication of having seen us, looking instead to either side of us and to the men who gathered around us.

‘He was hoping Mr Nash would be here to greet him.'

‘Were you meant to have told Nash?'

‘I shall say he was busy with Frere and needed to prepare himself before the two of them met.'

As usual, Hammad had used the opportunity of crossing the river to bring trade goods with him, and his men leaped into the shallows and began unloading these long before Hammad himself disembarked.

Amon went immediately to him and made his excuses for Nash. Hammad walked quickly into the compound, causing Amon to run to keep up with him.

And then Hammad saw me and altered his course.

‘I appreciate your presence,' he said. ‘No doubt Amon has told you everything.'

‘That you wish to present your evidence to Nash, yes.'

‘Not
my
evidence, Mr Frasier, for I was not present to see anything.'

‘The pages,' I said.

‘Them? What do they prove? The ramblings of a madman.'

‘Perhaps. You still took them.'

‘Stole them, yes.' He laughed.

Amon, I saw, stood well beyond his reach.

‘You seem tired,' Hammad said to me.

‘I'm busy, working hard.'

‘Of course.' He continued to look around us.

The few boats at our wharves were empty and waiting for loads which promised to come, but never did. Men from the quarry now squatted in makeshift shelters erected against most of our buildings. The compound remained rutted and pocked with its dried mud, and the black pile of burned rubber still stood beside the warehouse.

‘Of course,' Hammad repeated. He said something to Amon in Arabic and the agent ran back to the steamer on an errand.

‘The man has such a tongue,' Hammad said, as much to himself as to me, glancing over his shoulder at the running figure.

‘He's told me nothing,' I said, knowing immediately it was the wrong thing to have said.

‘Of course he didn't. What does he know?'

‘We do hear of these things,' I said.

‘Of course you do.'

Amon ran along the wharf and climbed aboard the steamer.

He reappeared a few minutes later accompanied by another man. At first this second man seemed reluctant to come with him, having occasionally to be held by Amon as they returned to us. The man wore only a loincloth, and a rag fastened round his neck. His eyes were circled black, his teeth filed to points, and one of his arms and the opposing leg were painted white.