1891: Solomon and Mary
Three days later, Solomon Effiong of Etoi was in deep commune with the forces of darkness. The secret things are prepared after a manner never so utilized before. It is for a larger scale of soul trade; a covenant to bind the people. It is brilliant, sadistic, legalistic, an evolved form of entrapment. Their symbol of Canaan remains the Tribe Custodian, the only way to dissolve the contract remains within the status of the Tribe Custodian, but if Idara Eyam Attah ever broke free of the bonds, her descendants, her lineage, her blood therefore will suffice as representative of the people, therefore they must ensure continuity of the custodial line, whom will be trained by Itu's loyalists. The boon her father will be instructed to deliver to Itu through the Talking Tree is her blood. Her blood, after she accepts Burning Claws. Upon it, Solomon of Etoi's master stakes his claim.
But who will wait in the dark shadows of time, to watch over her bloodline, in order for captivity to remain in it's place, and the terms of this contract, well maintained? The beautiful, luminescent white stones he'd gotten from the copper canyon lit up the shrine quite nicely. Not too dim, not too bright. While humming old sailor songs, he gathered together and arranged his special items. The African Codex in all it's basic essence remains unchanged, waiting for the blood of the chosen one.
He didn't hear the feather light footsteps enter his cave, not even when she moved to stand before him. Such is the way of things, between the darkness, and the light. But before she can speak, he picks up the rythim of her heart beat. It is a very loud presence, the sudden pulsing vibrations of her anger. His head lifts up sharply in reflex. He did not have time to shade the wild yellow flames burning around his eye balls.
She took a step back in fear, but does not run, watching the unholy fires fade out, the oily black orbs of his pupils regaining their natural shape, focusing on her in a deep, penetrating gaze. Grudgingly, Solomon admits to himself, that she is quite brave. Crazed laughter fills the dark enclave, "And what do we see before us? A seed gentile! Coming with a zeal half grown, indeed!"
Mary does not pretend to understand him. She gathers the thick skirts of her yellow gown closer, "Solomon...my name is-"
"It's an honour, my dear miss Mary Wallace. Allow me, to introduce... us," he points his right hand, a thin hand riddled with fat veins and dirty long nails, at the surrounding cave walls, "-my royal companions are many, among whom is Schizo, the moon Gorgon," he points at the wall behind her, "-and Legion, that is, a huge body of devils too numerous to mention," then he pats an empty spot somewhere beside his cane chair, "-and of course, my master, our Corruption, the General to this side of the Atlantic," his mysterious gaze returns to her face, "I'm afraid, you are visiting at a busy time."
Goose bumps race up her arms, she silently questions the wisdom of coming to his shrine, "-I'll make it brief, Solomon. I've come with God's Word to you."
A hostile, hissing sound slithers round the cave. She stands her ground, refusing to tremble. In response, Solomon gets to his feet, presenting his bare, battle scarred back to her as he considers the cave walls, "I have chosen a side in this war, Mary."
"Why? Do you hate your fellow men so much, that you do all that you do?"
If only she knew how much he hated them. They judged him for what happened to his wife. They took away his only child. They banished him from his tribe, making him an outcast. They came to him for help in secret, but disdained him openly. If only she knew how much he hated them, his hypocritical species, mankind! His thoughts vexed him, even as he appeared to be struggling within himself, his hands fisted, his arms shaking slightly as if under much strain, "I seem to have-" his neck bent at an odd angle, before snapping back uprightly, "-given you the impression-" his shoulders rolled, expanding, "-that it's a good time to chat," he began to turn to face her, "I'm very sorry for that..." She gasped, her right hand pressing down on her thumping heart. His eyes were on fire again. His voice suddenly amplified, the tumultuous sound of many different voices, "Mary; you cannot deceive the darkness. Be very careful, in this game you play, between the Order and the Mission. You stand in error, you are in danger," he advanced slowly, even as she took steps back, inching closer to the Cave's exit, "But if you will hear it: from the darkness, to the original gentile... it was not too long ago that you were part of our great genealogy; for Cain is our son, and he was your father," she stumbled on something she knew not what but quickly steadied herself, crazed laughter bouncing off the walls while the voices sneered, "-you ignorantly pride yourself in the impersonating identity of your race, but youre nothing more than a heathen, placed unexpectedly, favourably positioned for His adoption, opportune, as it were, as a function of mercy..." the voices grew louder, angrier, "-We had no mercy. There is no blood of His Son for us. There is no forgiveness for us," the voices were horrible, terrible, alternating deep tones and high, shrilly screeches, "If you will sit as judge, first, exist for thousands of years, knowing that every day brings you one step closer to eternal damnation; knowing, that no amount of tears will change the conclusion; no form of repentance is acceptable," they roared at her through the mouth of Solomon of Etoi, "-this is our lot, and in His eyes, it is just!"
She ran out, stumbling again halfway down the mountain, falling, tumbling, and hitting her head against a rock. The wind twirled from the mouth of his cave, stretching, rotating violently like a horizontal tornado, spreading at it's tip to form a smokey hand, palm up, breaking her free fall and carrying her unconscious body gently to a path in the valley below. Then the wind unwound itself, racing swiftly back to Solomon's hand as he stood watch from his entrance.
His long dreadlocks lifting in the strong breeze, his eyes seeing beyond the valley, noting in satisfaction, the two maidens about to stroll down the path where Mary lay.
He turned back to his lifetime companions, to his duties, his mind a labyrinth vortex of heightened awareness, duplicates of separate consciousness in simultaneous conversations, in different realms. The General wanted the souls of Canaan, and beyond. This was a long term project, for an early harvestation, to wipe out lineages, cutting people down before their appointed time, their souls conscripted into the slavery of marine underworlds. Schizo wanted to live in the lives of beautiful women, who were intelligent. Hogan's robotic devotion bored her. He was a bit of an idiot, and his daughters became mad too soon without being of much use. Between these two of the fallen; the Legion were their slaves for two centuries. They'd brokered that global network deal seventeen moons ago...
The thoughts kept coming faster and faster, like bolts of lightning re arranging the cosmos of his brain. And yet, within all the complicated chaos, there was a very quiet room inside the labyrinth vortex, a very small square space, drifting, dark and gloomy, with iron bars all round fencing off tunnels of ceaseless activity. He went there, in yet another separate consciousness, to look at his image, at his soul, to try to talk to it, to attempt to understand it. The image behind the iron bars was diaphanous, like a looking Glass, in it's translucence he could see his father, and his father's father before him, all high priests, all serving The General in their life times, all sacrificed to flames, to be one with pain, the ultimate achievement.
"Pain is closed off; there is no way inside. It cannot merge with anyone. We cannot escape it, we cannot conquer it, we cannot become it, we cannot get used to it."
"Can we enjoy it?"
"They lie. Nobody can enjoy the flames. They lie."
"Can we come out? Can we go back?"
His image repeated, "Can we come out? Can we go back?" over and over again, walking to and fro in the small, quiet space the other separate beams of consciousness did not know existed. His image was altered; it was changed in a way that he could not undo, although, he often wondered when and how it happened. It was like stepping through a curtain and the curtain vanishes. He couldn't remember what things were like, before stepping through. He just knew that he was changed. It was a thing of great sorrow. And yet, how could he lament the loss of what he could not remember? He watched his soul mutter disjointed phrases, even as he listened to The General's plan, and Schizo's wishes, and Legion's mission reports, and their projections into the appointed year of 2001, the year of The Custodian, even as he sat before his special items, the secret things, his physical body internally combustive and seemingly engulfed in cold fire.
The fire burned brightly like a beacon, and hunters passing by the mountain side who saw the eerie golden light, knew better than to go to the cave of Solomon Effiong of Etoi at this time. It was three days, before the strange golden light began to fade. Six days, since news of the white men arriving on big ships came; two days, since their formal introduction to the chiefs at the market square, one day, since their monumental closed door meeting with the Obong, the Tripod King, and twelve hours, since the mocking drums of the Akata Boys shocked the village, with the echoing announcements of the king's final decision, not to investigate into the sudden death of Unwannah, high priestess of Canaan.
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1891: The Ephraim Brothers
The first rains that fall in a year are symbolic to the people of Canaan. For the farmers it brings good will, it means crops will harvest at a certain time, without fail, and to others, it means the start of a calendar reckoning of time, when the wise old sages gather to count the full and half moons, as at when they appear, it is a time, also, of prophetic revelations. It is in fact, twenty-nine days to the night of the first rain, when an absolute face-off between Ibibio boys, and the Efik village Master Builder comes to a boiling point.
Nsidung Edet Hogan Bassey looks at the Ephraim clan surrounding him and concedes that he is greatly outnumbered. He glances at the unique beauty still shaking in his arms and leers at her. The Ibibio Chief's daughter shields her face with her hands. For a dangerous split second Hogan is tempted to damn the consequences and kill them all. He will have her; if not today, tomorrow. There is nobody alive in this village or the next who can defeat him in combat.
But then he remembers his suit for the right to the crown of the Tripod. These men, these brave warriors, he needs their support at the council meeting. Gently, he loosens his embrace and watches as she hurriedly slips away from him, picking up her empty water calabash and racing away on the path to the healing caves.
The Custodian, fifteenth Shield maiden and an expert warrior in her own right, is no match for his herculean strength, but she will birth him many strong sons... Solomon told him as much.
He heaves his chest and shouts his salutation, "Akpan Ephraim!"
"Nsidung Edet!" The first son, Akpan, hails back, raising his spear.
"Ephraim Udoh!"
"Nsidung Edet!" The second son, Udeme responds, his spear raised in like manner.
"Ephraim Udoh-Udoh!"
The salutation of the third son, Eddidiong, returns grudgingly, "Hogan...it is not our culture to molest women, and that, is the daughter of Chief Attah!" The other four sons, Uduak, Obot, Idongesit and Nsimah, heave their chests in agreement, and they did not raise their spears. Nsidung Edet laughed, amused.
"Did I molest her? Since when is it a crime for the kings champion to woo a maiden? And who made all seven of you her watch dogs?"
The answering silence was proof that all was not well. Nsidung Edet was a big man; nearly seven feet tall, with muscles bulging like boulders. He was known to be a cruel man, a ruthless man, a sadist of the worst kind. Being the last surviving descendant of Aka Nso Ko; a fierce, northern clan of Canaan, head hunters who mysteriously perished in a landslide, his origins preceded his reputation, and the people feared him.
The Ephraim clan had a strict family code of honour, which was to defend the weak from oppressors, and to defend the truth even under pain of death. They parted way for him to walk past them, his eyes challenging each one of them, his mind hot from plotting their bitter demise. They watched him walk away solemnly, knowing that they had made an enemy of him.
Hogan did not take criticism well. He didn't care if you were elderly or deserving, he made a quick end of all who dared to challenge him in anything, and by any means necessary. Some people's farms got burnt overnight; some people met with mysterious deaths; whether you fell out of favour with the king, or you lost your prized possessions, if you have crossed Hogan, he is behind each and every misfortune. Why was he like this? Who knew! The people who could have shed more light on this, all perished in a landslide, the northern clan of Aka Nso Ko; and was Hogan to blame for that, too? He was not a man to cross, but what were the Ephraim brothers to have done?
When they heard the voice of the Custodian, screaming so loudly for help, they all rushed to the other end of the stream to see her painfully wrestling with this beast, already sporting multiple bruises. They could not just gaze at her pitiful attempts to bite his ear off without doing anything to help. She is of Ibibio, their own tribeswoman, This beast has no respect for the social norms or the hierarchy of leadership in the land. He was steadily getting out of control...
Later that night, the first born gathered all his brothers together for a deep discussion under the moonlight. Their cluster of huts was at the very top of a hill, and from their compound, they could see all of central Canaan, spread round about them, with some of the people by their evening fires, eating roasted meats, drinking fresh palm wine, merry making, while the shield maidens, as was their new duty, kept watch round the village, changing guard every shadow stretching, which is the space of three hours.
Many things are changing in the village; the cold weather should be damp with a promise of the year's first rain, but it is brittle dry, as though somewhere in the great cosmos an imbalance has occurred, and instead of a cough or runny nose, most people's minds receive this infectious imbalance, making them to act in bouts of extremes: till today, the sudden demise of high priestess Unwannah remains a mystery, a puzzle that nobody cares to try to solve. Extreme passiveness!
Another curious thing is that no high priestess is being named as successor. This should have put the people in a state of protest; a high priestess in Canaan is not only the oracle, but healer, spiritual advisor to the king, the authority in marriage issues, child birth and farm counseling; she is the first mediator in tribal conflict; but since Unwannah's very mysterious death, only the new Custodian is allowed personal occupancy of the healing caves. and this fact is rather worrisome, but it does not warrant several council debates against her authority or, does it? Extreme aggressiveness!
The Ephraim brothers built a fire from stones, with heaps of dry, scented firewood, passing round a fresh keg of palm wine, as is the custom at this time of night. Akpan Udoh was not happy in Canaan.
"They will never accept us, Ibibio," he said, confirming what was on all their minds.
Udeme reminded them, "But, my brothers, we can't just go back to Ibom Nation; let us remember, we were sent on a secret mission by our leader, to bring the truth of the Hebrew scrolls to Efik lands."
Akpan Udoh nods in assent, "True, Udy, but more than this, we can't abandon Chief Eyam Attah, or his daughter, to the wicked intentions of that beast, Hogan."
Edidiong heaves a sigh, "Big brother; what are you saying here, what do you suggest?"
"I feel like, in time, he will attack us, and he will make another attempt at Idara Eyam Attah, also. I have been thinking all day, and I have come up with a plan."
This excited them, it was one of the reasons why they all loved him so much. Akpan Udoh always had a plan, "Go on, Akpan."
Urged on by his brothers, the first born laid bare his strategy, "Have you seen how Chief Eyam abandons Yeshua so easily, running to Solomon of Etoi for help? It will bring no good!"
Idongesit and Obot murmur their surprise; what a taboo! For a son of the soil, of Ibom nation, to seek the damned in spite of commandments from Yah to His people!
"Yes; I have seen his comings and goings up the forbidden path on prayer mountain," the last born, Nsimah, confirmed. Akpan patted his baby brother's shoulder and said,
"You will do us proud, Nsimah; you must hide in the caves of the shadows of mist, from tonight, even for a fortnight. If what I suspect happens, you might be the only one who can save Idara Eyam Attah. The rest of us will stay behind to face that beast and his men."
"Tonight...?"
"Tonight, Nsimah. Don't return, no matter what you hear, no matter how worried you are. Stay in the upper levels as I taught you; don't let the shadows see you unless absolutely necessary. They are a suspicious bunch; though nobody has ever seen them before, I suspect they are spirits, not flesh and blood. I passed through there yesterday and kept three bunches of plantain, along with eight tubers of yam. There are enough food supplies there to last you... Remember, your mission is to be on the look out for Idara Eyam Attah."
Nsimah did not like this plan at all! He pouted, looking every bit the fourteen year old boy that he was, "Why can't I stay here with all of you to fight Hogan when he comes?"
Udeme laughed, "You are too young, and if he comes, he will come with his warriors."
Edidiong heaved a sigh, "But big brother, why? Why are we still helping the Attah's?"
Why were they getting involved in what was so obviously a suicide mission? What about their primary mission, to bring the truth of the Hebrew scrolls to Efik lands? Akpan answered,
"Because we defend our brethren, and the truth. It is our family creed." That was how it had always been, for centuries. They were fit as fiddles, they were defenders of Ibom Nation; for The Owner, for His Word, and for His people.
Idongesit sneezes and claps his hands, his eyes close, his voice slurs, "I see a big house like a big mountain, like... iron," he sings in discordant tunes, "Here, brothers of courage, here on this our hill top!" His brothers continued to drink their palm wine, partially ignoring his outburst. It was his habit to slip into a vision and sing to them, about things that never happen,
"I see the hall of it, like a town hall, yes, they all call it Justice Hall; Justice Hall on Ephraim Hill; Canaan Metropolis..."
"What's a Metropolis?" Obot asked him, but Idongesit didn't know, and in fact fell asleep right after that. It is something he always did. But Nsimah left them as he was bid, carefully and silently creeping through the night, stealthily as he had been taught over a hundred times, black as the night, softly as the breeze.