Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [141]
‘He heard the names of the abbot and Prince Henry. He knows therefore the padre is a genuine priest who may carry back tales of his backsliding. He continues to pretend therefore that he is a sorcerer. Father Godscalc, will you permit Saloum to speak? Our lives are lost otherwise.’
‘He would kill a priest?’ Godscalc said.
‘No. He would let the leopard kill a priest,’ Loppe said softly. ‘And then he would make sure none escaped with the tale. Those on board the ship, too.’
He had to allow it. He had no idea how a marabout, a Muslim holy man whom – God in heaven – he had spent a week trying to convert to Christianity could save the lives of a boatload of men and women of the opposite faith. It was with amazement therefore that he saw the short Mandingua Saloum step forward with his fellow slave Ahmad – clever, polyglot Saloum with his curling black beard – and by merely naming himself and his companion, cause the vast, feathered figure before him to fling out his arms, and the twinkle of weapons to shiver and halt.
The King’s narrowed eyes studied the three black men before him, and he asked a question. It was directed at Loppe, but Saloum answered. He answered at length, during which a murmur passed through the armed men standing waiting. Then the King asked a last question, and was answered. For a long moment he stood, then, lifting his hands, he clapped them loudly. From somewhere behind, a horn wailed. Drums began to beat. The King tossed his head with its white feathers and, advancing, stopped before Nicholas, taking his hand and then releasing it. He snapped his fingers and spoke.
‘Gnumi Mansa says Peace, peace’ Loppe said. ‘Repeat it and bow.’
The King moved on, and stood before Godscalc, repeating the ceremony. Then the King clapped his hands once again, and this time a man came forward and laid before him a box. Once, it had been identical with that of Godscalc. Now the leather cover was frayed and furred over with fungus and the contents, when it was opened, were tarnished and sickly and crumbling from two years of insects and rot. The King spoke.
‘He has kept your God for you,’ Loppe said. ‘He wishes you to eat your God with him, and will have fresh blood brought, since the old blood has dried.’ And bending solemnly, he received from the King and held out a shallow worm-eaten receptacle in which still reposed the furred scum of wafers.
‘Tell him,’ said Father Godscalc, ‘that before God I commend his safe keeping of such articles, and will willingly celebrate the mysteries with him presently, using the box and the wine I have brought. Meanwhile, will he introduce me to the other Christian men of his following?’
They began to walk together among the chiefs and Godscalc, listening to the King and to Loppe, took the hand of smiling black men called Jacob and Nuño, who cracked their finger-bones at him and offered him all their houses and the houses of their grandfathers for his sole use. He was aware, as he smiled and blessed these black recipients of the evangelical doctrine, that many more of both sexes were pouring into the grassy space, both from its confines of high trees and bushes and from the village on top of the rise, and forming a circle were moving round the Baobab, ululating and clapping their hands, while others brought mats so that all the meeting-place under the tree became floored.
Then, accompanying the King back to his carpet, Godscalc saw that the horse left by Nicholas on the shore was now being led into the arena by Lázaro, the splendour of its harness disguising the state of its lubberly legs. And behind it, conducted by Vicente and carried on the stout shoulders of