“King Dahfu,” I said, “I hope you will consider me your friend. I am deeply affected by what you say. Though I am a little woozy from all the novelty-the strangeness. Nevertheless I feel lucky here. Yesterday I took a beating. Well, all right. Since I am a suffering type of man anyhow, I am glad at least it served a purpose for a change. But let me ask you, when the noble gets its turn-how is that ever going to take place?”
“You would like to know what gives me such a confidence that my prediction will ultimately come?” “Well, sure,” I said, “of course. I am curious as all get-out. I mean what practical approach do you recommend?” “I do not conceal, Mr. Henderson-Sungo, that I have a conception about it. As a matter of fact I do not wish it to be a secret with me. I am most eager to advance it to you. I am glad you want to consider me as a friend. Without reserve, I am developing a similar attitude toward you. Your coming has made me joyful. About the Sungo trouble I am genuinely very sorry. We could not refrain from making use of you. It was because of the circumstances. You will pardon me.” This was practically an order, but I was only too glad to obey it, and I pardoned the guy, all right. I was not too corrupted or beat on the head by life to identify the extraordinary. I saw that he was some kind of genius. Much more than that. I realized that he was a genius of my own mental type.
“Well, sure, Your Highness. No question about that. I wanted you to make use of me yesterday. I said so myself.” “Well, thank you, Mr. Henderson-Sungo. So that is over. Do you know from the flesh standpoint you are something of a figure? You are rather monumental. I am speaking somatically.”
At this I became somewhat stiff, as it had a dubious sound, and I said, “Is that so?”
The king exclaimed, “Do not let us go backward on our truth agreement, Mr. Henderson.”
At this I got off my high horse. “Oh, no, Your Highness. That stands,” I said. “Come what may. That was no bull. I meant every word and I want you to hold me to it.”
This pleased him, and he told me, “I observed before, as to truth, a person may be unready to receive except what he has anticipated as true. However, I was referring to your outer man as a formation. It speaks for itself in many ways.”
With his eyes he referred to the pile of books beside his seat as though they had a bearing on the matter. I turned my head to read the titles but the room was too obscurely lighted for that.
He said, “You are very fierce-looking.”
This is no news to me; nevertheless, from him, this observation hurt me. “Well, what do you want?” I said. “I am the type of guy who couldn’t survive without disfigurement. Life has worked me over. It wasn’t just the war, either … I got a bad wound, you know. But the shots of life … ” I gave myself a bang on the breast. “Right here! You know what I mean, King? But naturally I don’t want even such a life as mine to be thrown away, the fact that I have sometimes threatened suicide to the contrary notwithstanding. If I can’t make an active contribution at least I should illustrate something. Even that I don’t know anything about. I don’t seem to illustrate a thing.”
“Oh, this is erroneous of you. You illustrate volumes,” he said. “To me you are a treasure of illustrations. I do not condemn your looks. Only I see the world in your constitution. In my medical study this became the greatest of fascinations to me and independently I have made a thorough study of the types, resulting in an entire classification system, as: The agony. The appetite. The obstinate. The immune elephant. The shrewd pig. The fateful hysterical. The death-accepting. The phallic-proud or hollow genital. The fast asleep. The narcissus intoxicated. The mad laughers. The pedantics. The fighting Lazaruses. Oh, Henderson-Sungo, how many shapes and forms! Numberless!”
“I see. This is quite a subject.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. I have devoted years, and observed all the way from Lamu to Istanbul and Athens.”
“A big chunk of the world,” I said. “So tell me, what do I illustrate most?”
“Why,” he said, “everything about you, Henderson-Sungo, cries out, ‘Salvation, salvation! What shall I do? What must I do? At once! What will become of me?’ And so on. That is bad.”
At this moment I could not have concealed how astonished I was even if I had taken a Ph.D. degree in concealment, and I mused, “Yes. This was what Willatale was beginning to tell me, I guess. Grun-tu-molani was just a starter.”
“I know that Arnewi expression,” said the king. “Yes, I have been there, too, with Itelo. I understand what this grun-tu-molani implies. Indeed I do. And I know the lady also, a great success, a human gem, a triumph of the type — I refer to my system of classification. Granted, grun-tu-molani is much, but it is not alone sufficient. Mr. Henderson, more is required. I can show you something now — something without which you will never understand thoroughly my special aim nor my point of view. Will you come with me?”
“Where to?”
“I cannot say. You must trust me.”
“Well, sure. Okay. I guess …”
My consent was all he wanted and he rose, and Tatu, who had been sitting by the wall with the garrison cap over her eyes, got up too.
XVI
From this small room the door opened into a long gallery screened with thatch. Tatu, the amazon, let us out and then followed us. The king was already far ahead of me down this private gallery of his. I tried to keep up with him, and the necessity of walking faster made me feel how yesterday’s cuts had crippled my feet. So I hobbled and shambled while Tatu in her sturdy military stride came behind me. She had bolted the door of the small room from outside so that nobody could follow, and after we had crossed the gallery, which was about fifty feet long, she lifted another heavy wood bolt from the door at that end. This must have weighed like iron, for her knees sank, but the old woman had a powerful build and knew her job. The king went through, and I saw a staircase descending. It was wide enough, but dark-black ahead. A corrupt moldering smell rose from this darkness, which made me choke a little. But the king went right through into the moldering darkness and I thought, “What this calls for is a miner’s lamp or a cage of canaries,” trying to josh the fears out of my heart. “But okay,” I thought, “if I’ve got to go, down I go. One, two, three, and on your way, Captain Henderson.” You see, at such a moment, I would call on my military self. Thus I mastered my anxious feelings, chiefly by making my legs go, and entered this darkness. “King?” I said, when I was in. But there was no answer. My voice had a quaver, I heard it myself, and then I caught the rapid pounding of steps below. I extended both arms, but found no rail or wall. However, by the cautious use of my feet I discovered that the stairs were broad and even. All light from above was cut off when Tatu slammed the door. Next moment I heard a heavy bolt bump into place. Now I had no alternative except to follow downward or to sit down and wait until the king turned back to me. With which alternative I risked the loss of his respect and all the rest that I had gained yesterday by overcoming Mummah. Therefore I continued, while I told myself what a rare and probably great man that king was, how he must be nothing less than a genius, and how astonishing his personal beauty was, how the hum he made reminded me of that power station on 16th Street in New York on a hot night, how we were friends, and bound by a truth-telling agreement; finally, how he predicted that nobility had a greater future than ever. Of all the elements in the catalogue, this last had most appeal to me. Thus I groped with sore feet after him and kept saying to myself, “Have faith, Henderson, it’s about time you had some faith.” Presently there was some light and the end of the staircase came in view. The width of the stairs was due to the architectural crudeness of the palace. I was now beneath the building. Daylight came from a narrow opening above my head; this light was originally yellow but became gray by contact with stones. In the opening two iron spikes were set to keep even a child from creeping through. Examining my situation I found a small passage cut from the granite which led downward to another flight of stairs, which were of stone too. These were narrower and ran to a great depth, and soon I found them broken, with grass springing and soil leaking out through the cracks. “King,” I called, “King, hey, are you down there, Your Highness?”