Mark of the Lion (16 page)

The big Winchester .38-55 was a gift from her affectionate parents many years ago and had quickly become her favorite rifle. With it, she felt safe from any danger posed by an irritated and hungry male black bear or an overprotective mother bear. She’d bagged her first elk with that rifle and now her first, and hopefully last, hyena. Jade’s father had taught her the value of a well-maintained firearm, and the black powder used in these cartridges left a residue that needed to be cleaned thoroughly after shooting.

Biscuit rolled over on his back and flashed his pale underbelly just like her old tomcat, Rupert, back home. She rubbed the cheetah’s tummy and murmured a few of the usual nonsensical things that most people said to their pets when engaged in such undignified activities. The cheetah responded by closing its eyes and promptly fell asleep, purring contentedly.

“Duma nzuri,”
Jade said to Ruta while she pointed to the cheetah. “Cheetah pretty.” The tall, slender Maasai looked at her but didn’t respond. Next she smiled her friendliest smile, pointed at Ruta, and asked,
“Laibon?”
Ruta’s mouth tightened a fraction, but he made no reply. Frustrated, Jade tried one more phrase, one that she trusted would gain a response simply because it sounded more urgent, which in fact it was.
“Choo kiko wapi?”
Where are the toilets? At this request, the warrior grinned and pointed to an outhouse behind the main house. Jade thanked him and handed him Biscuit’s leash. Harry was right. Ruta understood Swahili and possibly English. She wondered what else he knew but kept hidden.

JOTTING NOTES ON THE PREVIOUS EVENING’S events in her leather notebook helped Jade pass most of the lazy afternoon. Finally everyone, including Hascombe’s neighbor, Roger, gathered for an early dinner of wildebeest steaks and garden vegetables. Mr. Hascombe had sent a runner to him with the invitation not only to dinner but to the
ngoma
as well.

Roger Forster looked as young as Jade remembered him from the generator flume. His limpid blue eyes and upturned brows carried a confused puppy look. He stood in the doorway with his hands in his jodphur pockets and waited for an invitation to enter. All in all, he struck Jade as one pitiful young man. In fact, she mused, he hardly seemed capable of making his earlier cold comment on native deaths. Jade wondered if perhaps she had misheard him.

“Roger. About time you got here,” said Harry. “Don’t just stand there, man. Get in here and greet my guests.”

Roger removed his broad-brimmed felt hat and stepped softly into the living room. His sandy-brown hair flopped over his forehead from a crooked side part. “Hello,” he said and nodded to everyone. He noticed Jade and, for an instant, stared at her before he recollected himself and dropped his gaze to his dusty boots.

“Roger, you know Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. This young lady is Miss Jade del Cameron. She’s an American doing a story on the protectorate for some magazine.”

Jade extended her right hand and, after a brief hesitation, he shook it gently. “Very nice to meet you, Miss del Cameron,” Roger said. “You’ll pardon my earlier rude stare, but I believe I recognized you from the generator flume.” Jade nodded.

“Miss del Cameron is a crack shot, Rog,” said Harry. “She killed a hyena yesterday with a Winchester .38. Same weapon Roosevelt used when he came through here.”

“No,” corrected Roger before Jade could reply. “Mr. Roosevelt’s Winchester took a .406 caliber cartridge.”

“Exactly,” said Jade, impressed by his knowledge. “And I have a model 94, not a 95. But how did you know about President Roosevelt’s rifle?”

“As an aspiring safari leader, I’ve made a point to learn what others have successfully used. I read his account in
African Game Trails
. Most interesting.”

The dinner conversation tended towards safari talk. Harry suggested that Roger also lead her safari to Tsavo. Jade agreed and asked Madeline and Neville to come along. They discussed options and supplies until the time came to ride to the Kikuyu village. Roger rode up front with Mr. Hascombe. The Thompsons flanked Jade until the trail narrowed and they rode single file.

Jelani stood watch for their arrival and ran back into the village to announce them. He looked ghostly, and Jade initially thought he’d taken ill with an infection from the hyena scrape. Then she discovered he had covered himself in a pale, reddish chalk, as had the rest of the villagers. The chief greeted them and paid particular attention to Jade. Harry explained Lord Colridge’s absence, and everyone in their party was invited to sit on logs around an open flat area. A pile of wood had been laid in the center and several small fires were lit nearby.

One young maiden dressed in a traditional leather apron and a large quantity of copper and bead ornaments brought a banana leaf with roasted meat first to Jade and then to the others. Harry explained that the Kikuyu rarely ate meat except on ceremonial or celebratory occasions. Then a ram would be killed. Judging by the toughness of the meat, Jade decided they had killed the old nanny goat destined originally for the hyena.

A grizzled old man with piercing black eyes pointed a bony finger at Jade, and Jelani ran forward to fetch her. Jade went willingly and followed the old man into a dimly lit hut with the usual dirt floor and thatched roof that rustled from the resident lizards. He squatted down on the floor and with a hand motion bade her do the same. Jelani stood beside her.

“This man is the
mundu-mugo
,” Jelani explained. “He is a good sorcerer, not like the
laibon
, who is evil.”

Jade greeted him respectfully in Swahili, and the man grunted his acknowledgment. He set several long gourds in front of him, each plugged with a stopper made of an animal tail. Two small gourds hung from a leather cord around his scrawny neck. He removed them and set them beside him. Next he scooped out a small depression in the dirt and placed a banana leaf in it. Into the leaf went several finely ground powders out of the large gourds, a few drops of liquid from the small ones, and the coarse hair of some unnamed animal.

Jade longed to ask Jelani what the man was doing but didn’t dare break the reverent mood. Instead, she squatted patiently and watched as the sorcerer built a small
boma
of twigs around the banana leaf and muttered several incantations. Then he stirred the mixture into a thick paste and smeared a small amount on Jade’s hat, belt, and boots.

The paste smelled rancid with an acrid tinge, but Jade didn’t protest or flinch. Finally, the old man bundled the remainder of the paste in the banana leaf, secured it with a creeper vine, and handed it to her. He spoke at length in the Kikuyu language, nodding to her and to the bundle, as if explaining its power. Then he sat back and waited. Jade looked to Jelani for a translation.

“The
mundu-mugo
has protected you from the witch who will seek revenge for killing his animal. You must keep the paste with you at all times. He smeared it on your clothes instead of on you because he knows that white women would wash it off and forget to put it on again.”

“Jelani, please thank the
mundu-mugo
for me. Tell him that I will do as he says. I would like to ask him some questions, if I may.” She bowed respectfully to the old man, who nodded after Jelani finished. “Please ask the
mundu-mugo
how the witch can hurt me if his hyena is dead.”

Jelani winced. “Memsabu, the witch can do anything.”

“Then ask him who this witch is so I can stop him.”

Jelani posed the question to the old man, who shook his head and answered at length. Finally the ancient healer stopped and waved his bony hand for the boy to translate.

“Memsabu, he says an evil witch has many animals. The witch can become an animal if his heart is black enough. He does not know this witch, but he has seen something when his soul walks in his sleep.”

Jade looked inquiringly at the old man’s withered face and read pity in his eyes. He spoke again briefly, and Jelani gasped.

“Memsabu, he says he saw two witches. One was an old black lion who taught a man. He says he fears for you because the new witch is younger and very powerful.”

“Jelani, tell the
mundu-mugo
that I want to find out what happened to a white man at the start of the big war. He died in the hotel you work at. A hyena killed him there. I have heard that a young Kikuyu had been his friend there. He would be a young warrior now.”

The old healer spoke a few words to Jelani, who left the hut and returned shortly with a youth of about fifteen years of age. The
mundu-mugo
spoke to the youth briefly and nodded to Jade. The young man related his tale to her in a mix of English and Swahili, while Jelani knelt near the old man and whispered a translation in his ear.

“I am called Wachiru. I knew this Bwana Gil that you ask of. He gave me a paper box to take to the Englishman’s post. He said to send it away across the ocean so it would be safe. Bwana Gil was worried about it.”

“Do you know why he was worried?” asked Jade.

The youth shrugged and then thought a moment. “Evil things?” he suggested. “I sent this box away and I came back to his room to give the rest of his money to Bwana Gil, but I heard strange noises in his room. It sounded like a man struggling to breathe. Then I heard a growl. The door was shut, so I peeked through the keyhole and saw a demon on top of Bwana Gil.”

“A demon? Can you describe what this demon looked like?”

The youth glanced at the old man, who nodded again. “It looked like a hyena, memsabu. But I saw something around its neck. Something Englishmen wear. I was afraid, so I hid in an empty room.” The young man hung his head with shame to admit his fear.

“Did you have a knife or a spear with you?” asked Jade. The youth shook his head. “Then you were wise to hide. What happened next?”

Reassured, Wachiru went on with his story. “Later, I went back to Bwana Gil’s room. He was dead, but in his hand was the chain that the demon wore around its neck. I took it and bwana’s important paper from his desk so no one would steal it.”

“Do you still have them?”

The
mundu-mugo
interrupted and gave some orders for the young man. Wachiru left the hut and returned with an animal-skin pouch, which he handed to Jade. Inside she found a gold chain with a small carved bone strung on it. The carvings were geometric zigzags like the ones found on this latest hyena’s fur. Could it have been the same beast? Next to the chain lay a folded paper that opened into a map showing Kilimanjaro, the Tsavo River, and the Chyulu Hills. At the bottom were the words:
Kruger, Dolie,
and
Abel, my second son.

Jade felt a shiver race down her arms as she read the names, but before she could ask anything else, the old man dismissed the youth. Then the
mundu-mugo
took a small thorn and dipped it into a pot of dark liquid. He gripped Jade’s left arm in his bony hand and traced what looked like a sickle blade on her inner wrist. The
mundu-mugo
spoke once more, this time in halting Swahili. He pointed to Jade and said, “Msabu Simba Jike.” Jade recognized
msabu
as yet another variation on the original Hindu phrase
memsahib
, which had been incorporated into Swahili as a term meaning mistress.
Simba
meant lion, but
jike
? Again she looked to Jelani, who grinned widely.

“Memsabu has a new name. You are the lioness. You fight the hyena to protect us.” He pointed to her wrist. “That is a lion’s tooth.”

The aging sorcerer took Jade by the arm and led her outside, where he loudly announced her name to the village. Jade returned to her seat feeling very conspicuous. Madeline’s and Neville’s mouths hung wide open in astonishment, Roger watched her with something akin to silent respect, but Harry’s well-chiseled face bore a trace of a mocking sneer at the proceedings. Both Roger and Harry wrinkled their noses at the new smell, though, and Roger went so far as to sit on the other side of Madeline.

“Well,” said Madeline. “Lioness. Very appropriate with those green eyes of yours, although I suppose most lions have golden-colored ones. I’m very jealous,” she teased. “I’m only known as Mrs. Ostrich, and I’ve lived here for eight years.”

“Ugh,” said Harry after Jade sat down. “You smell like old piss.” He shifted farther away.

“Harry!” scolded Neville. “There are ladies present.”

“I daresay they’re all familiar with the subject, Thompson,” said Harry. “But no offense meant.”

“It’s this paste on my hat and belt,” explained Jade. “It’s to protect me from the witch.” She decided not to show them the mark on her wrist. She had no idea what their reaction to it would be, and it would probably wear off in a day or two, anyway.