Anna counted fifteen armed warriors. She spoke calmly in Pahn, calling to several by name. “I am happy to greet you. I have returned as promised, bringing friends.”
Gardiah, Nana Mala’s son, stepped out from behind the wall of foot soldiers, and the strings of tension in Anna let loose.
Gardiah said, “I am happy to greet you, Mammy Anna. The children will be glad of your return. Who is this you bring? Have you taken a husband?”
Anna laughed. “No, Gardiah, I am still unmarried.” She motioned for Stewart to step up and spoke to him in English. “This is Gardiah, Nana Mala’s son. He speaks a little English, but for now, I’ll do all the talking.”
Turning back to Gardiah, she returned to Pahn. “This is my friend Stewart Hastings. He wishes to explore.”
The young warrior broke into a wary smile. “If his stories from the book are as good as yours, he is welcome at the fire. Tell me, why do you travel from a new direction? We expected to hear drums from Nynabo of your arrival.”
Anna weighed her words. “My plans changed because of Mr. Hastings, but he is not a missionary. He brings no stories from the book.”
Gardiah looked at Stewart with a questioning face. Anna asked, “Why are we greeted with so many warriors?”
“Much happened, Mammy Anna. We patrol to keep Leopard Men away, but also the district commissioner. Neither shall enter our territory.”
She translated for Stewart, who said, “Not surprising on the Leopards, but I thought the district commissioner or his soldiers never came here.”
“Nana Mala would make them pay dearly if they tried. Maybe there is a new push from the government to enforce the Hut Tax.” She turned back to Gardiah and asked in Pahn, “What is happening with the government men?”
He answered, “The drums tell of villages many days away where tax men come. We will not pay or allow them to take our people as slaves.”
Anna replied, “I see your concern.”
Gardiah grinned. “Today, no government men. Here we find happiness on our trails in our friend Mammy Anna. We will escort you back to the village.”
“Thank you. But tell me, how goes the harvest?” She hoped the keen ears of Gardiah didn’t hear her heart stutter to a stop waiting for his answer.
“The fields are ready soon. Does Mammy Anna wish to gather rice with the other women?”
A weight lifted. They’d arrived with time to spare before the bush school started. Thank you, Heavenly Father. “No. Mammy Anna wishes to teach as soon as my friend is settled.”
Practically giddy, Anna turned to Stewart. “Gardiah says the harvest hasn’t started yet.” She squeezed his arm in glee. “We’re in time.”
Stewart patted her hand. “I’m glad for your and Taba’s sakes.”
“I can’t wait to see him for myself.” Her gaze wandered to where a few abandoned packs lay on the ground. Most of the men remained, shifting from foot to foot beside their loads, exchanging silent glances. “First, I’d better take care of our men.”
Anna asked, “Gardiah, our men wish to leave. Can we get others to carry our belongings?”
He nodded. “We will leave a guard and send back for what cannot be carried now.”
Grateful bearers backed away, disappearing into the heavy overgrowth. With guard duties assigned, thirteen of the fifteen warriors took packs.
Gardiah asked, “We are ready, yes?”
Anna agreed and walked beside Gardiah. Stewart remained a steady few paces behind.
Gardiah looked back at Stewart. “Mammy Anna, why does this man walk behind? Do men in the white bush serve the women?”
Anna snorted and motioned for Stewart to flank her other side. “No, they do not. Mr. Hastings was a soldier in the white bush’s Great War. He probably believes it is better to guard us from that position, since most of your men walk ahead.”
Gardiah assessed Stewart with new respect. “He must think you valuable to take this position. Perhaps he wishes to be your husband.”
Gardiah was worse than Dr. Mary. “No, I’m sure he does not.”
Gardiah shook his head, disbelieving. “Men of the white bush cannot be so blind.”
Anna turned the subject. “Mr. Hastings comes to do business. To explore. He looks for iron, gold and things that are valuable in the white bush.”
The planes of Gardiah’s face sharpened. “Mammy Anna, I fear my father will not approve.” He swept an arm in a wide arc. “This is Pahn land. Everything here belongs to the people.”
“Of course, and the people will benefit if they do business with him.” Anna hesitated. The government licensing of this area had to come out at some time. “The people he works for have been given permission to seek these things.”
Gardiah stiffened and his eyes narrowed. “This permission means nothing to us.”
“Yes, I know, but the government is desperate for the money this would bring. They might send soldiers if you oppose them. But Mr. Hastings is not a government man. He means no harm. If he finds minerals here, the village gains prosperity. Think of how the money would pay taxes. Then the government wouldn’t have an excuse to take men away to work.”
“The Pahn have never had men stolen by the government for slaves to pay taxes. My father thinks not of wealth. His mind is on that which is denied him, a position as a Paramount Chief. You will find his mood little improved since you left.”
“I am sorry to hear so.”
“You should also know he is angry because your missionary god didn’t raise his status with the other villages.” He gave her a pointed look. “And you know how he has treated outsiders in the past.”
“Yes, I do.”
They walked on in silence. The scrub thinned out and the path widened. Anna sought the words to convince Gardiah to help gain his father’s trust. The smell of village cook fires grew stronger. “Gardiah, I need your help with this.”
Gardiah halted and smiled at Anna. “I must bow to the wisdom of my father and the elders, but I may know how to help them decide if your friend can stay.”
“I see your smile. You are ever the thinker and planner.”
Gardiah smiled more broadly. “Your father is far from here, Mammy Anna, and my father still embraces you as a daughter. If your Hastings asked to marry you and paid my father a bride price, then Hastings might be allowed to live.”
* * *
Stewart walked beside Anna while she bantered with the chief’s son. He was a strapping young fellow, a little taller than his men, but far shorter than Stewart. Gardiah appeared to be no more than twenty, and all warrior. His head was shaved, one short oval tuft remaining at the top. Nothing for an enemy to grab in combat. He wore a woven loincloth, tied at the sides. A necklace of animal teeth surrounding a small fetish pouch at its center partially obscured a strangely surgical-looking scar slashed across the right side of his chest. The mark crossed other more intentional scars. A patterned design started midchest and ran down his torso. When he smiled, teeth filed to sharp points issued a stark reminder of the Pahn’s true nature.
Despite his outward appearance, Gardiah seemed friendly enough. Stewart couldn’t understand a word, but the conversation frequently involved smiles and laughter. Then they both grew serious, Anna stiffened and glanced at Stewart.
“What’s wrong, Anna?”
She averted her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Miss Baldwin, let us not start to keep things from one another.”
“Gardiah proposed a solution for you to stay if his father does not first approve your visit.”
“What kind of solution?”
“Not a workable one, a measure of last resort.”
“What exactly does a cannibal consider a last resort?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure you want to know.”
“I prefer to know exactly what I’m walking into, Miss Baldwin. I’d not like to end up in this fellow’s cook pot.”
She lifted her skirt hem and accepted his arm as she maneuvered over a downed limb. “Gardiah tells me their patrols are actively watching for government agents. They wish to prevent any attempts to collect the Hut Tax.”
“Why should they pay taxes? If enforcing a tax on these people is an attempt to solve the government’s financial crisis, then the capital is in more trouble than I realized. Selling mining concessions is one thing, but taxing people without providing benefits in return?”
Anna responded, “I know, but it’s the law. The government boasts many members who are descendants of repatriated slaves, brought here by a group called the Maryland Society. Few of those immigrants ever had any ties to Liberia. The new colonists modeled their government after what they came from, not what they came to. Now it’s as if there are two separate societies in one and neither understands the other.”
“No wonder the Pahn fight to keep the government men out.”
“Politics to the side, what you need to understand is that more incursions by the government make Nana Mala more skittish about outsiders right now.”
“And Gardiah’s solution?” Stewart waited. Was a blush creeping across Anna’s cheeks?
She softly cleared her throat. “Since Nana Mala holds me in high regard, Gardiah suggests your marriage to me would offer protection from any drastic repercussions the chief might otherwise impose.”
Stewart choked.
Anna handed him a canteen. “Here, drink.”
The tepid water relieved the condition. He kept swallowing small sips while he collected his thoughts.
Gardiah looked amused.
Stewart tried for a mild tone. “I may not be religious, Miss Baldwin, but I consider marriage to be a serious undertaking.”
Anna nodded. “You know my thoughts on marriage, Mr. Hastings, but Gardiah worries over my unmarried state. He probably thinks this an ideal solution to finally securing me a husband and to save your job, possibly even your life in the process.”
A fist seized Stewart’s stomach. Marriage or death? What was he willing to do to secure the funds for his mother’s care? Or his life? If not for Anna’s beliefs, marriage to such a smart, beautiful, principled woman would be ideal. Knowing her, she would do whatever was required to save him, but what man wanted a wife to marry him out of sacrifice?
On the other hand, what man wanted to become a literal sacrifice? He’d conveniently put aside her admonition back in Monrovia about how this plan could turn deadly.
Anna interrupted his thoughts. “Not to worry, Mr. Hastings. An unmarried woman of my age goes against the customs of Gardiah’s world. He is constantly trying to rectify what he believes is a problem.”
Stewart’s face must have given away his feelings.
Anna laughed. “Oh, my. You look like a prisoner given a commuted sentence.”
Stewart found a chuckle. “Exactly how it feels.” As soon as the words left his lips, he realized how his words sounded. “I didn’t mean to imply marriage to you was a fate worse than death, Miss Baldwin.”
Anna smiled. “I took no offense, Mr. Hastings. We can remain on friendly terms and still agree that any union between the two of us would be disastrous.”
Disastrous? He struggled with a heart that grew more tender toward her every day. Clearly she didn’t have the same problem with him.
They walked on in silence until terrain fell away to a valley fronting the mountains. The palisade walls of the village came into sight. From the hilltop, he gained a clear overview. Off to one side, ripening rice fields. The village was large, with tall, heavy walls constructed with timber, not the flimsy barriers he’d seen elsewhere. Conical thatched huts were tightly packed around an open square, and more bled out from there. At the rear, there was a second gate, and inside to the right, a separate area walled four huts inside. “That’s some fortification.”
Anna nodded. “Matches their warlike reputation. The walls are a strong deterrent to their enemies, but past history alone keeps most at bay.”
Stewart whistled low as they moved closer. “Considering their wall decorations, I understand. Are those skulls?”
“They certainly put a hitch in my step when I arrived. Dr. Mary and her husband, William Mayweather, came close to becoming martyrs here.”
“What exactly happened to them?”
“Nana Mala tricked them into believing a baby Dr. Mary delivered was sick to get them to come to the village.”
So the chief was the devious type. “Why?”
“Egged on by the devilman, Nana Mala wanted to acquire what he believed was Dr. Mary’s magic. The possibility of acquiring the power he believed to exist in her medicine caused him to lure them here to get it any way he could, even through cannibalism.”
Stewart said, “Cannibalism is something I can’t fathom. But, in some ways, the Liberian people seem no different from people elsewhere. Everyone wants power or prestige.”
Anna said, “Human hearts are the same. Only the culture and customs change.”
Stewart considered the implications. “Good.”
Anna blinked. “Good? How is this good?”
Stewart answered, “Human motives being what they are, my plan to woo the chief with trade goods and future prosperity should work. With your help, of course.”
Anna countered, “Human nature aside, Mr. Hastings, you cannot count on your plan working. Nana Mala is not so predictable. If he decides you’re a threat...”
Stewart went straight for the humor that had served him so well in the past. “Then, my dear Miss Baldwin, you might have to resort to extraordinary measures to earn the other half of your fee. Should we negotiate a bonus now in case we’re forced to marry?”
* * *
Anna entered through the familiar gates of the Pahn compound and blinked back sudden tears. Several of her students, including Taba, had come out to greet her. She embraced each in turn, trying not to single Taba out from the others, and promised them all answers about the tall white man once school started.
Gardiah walked ahead and spoke to a warrior who’d come forward to greet him. She’d thought this place lost to her, and yet she was here, able to stay because of Stewart. He’d half joked about a bonus for marriage to keep him alive. For an instant she wondered exactly what she would do to keep Stewart from true jeopardy.
She’d refused a marriage to one man to serve her calling. Would she now be forced into a marriage to save a man’s life? The results for her mission work would be the same either way.
Stewart brought her back to the moment. Nodding toward the children scurrying off, he asked, “Your students seem quite happy you’ve returned. Which one was Taba?”
“See the tall, thin boy in the beaten bark cloth to the right of the others? That’s him. I’ll introduce you and show you my school later.”
“Will we be allowed to rest or do we go straight to the chief?”
Anna removed her pith helmet and smoothed her hair. “I’ll get you settled and then present myself to Nana Mala. I’d prefer to approach him alone at first.”
Gardiah returned, gripping his spear as if about to go into battle. What was bothering him? His face stoic, he spoke. Anna translated, trying to keep her features even and her silent prayers rapid. “Gardiah says we are both to go immediately to meet his father and the elders.”
Anna caught the slight narrowing of Stewart’s eyes as he said, “I’m guessing this isn’t another kola-nut and salt ceremony, from the look on Gardiah’s face.”
She motioned for Stewart to follow beside her as Gardiah led the way. “Mr. Hastings, let me speak to the chief first. You smile and follow my lead.”
“Don’t worry. Our trek together has taught me the folly of taking things into my own hands. This is your show.”
Anna prayed as they were escorted to stand just outside the sheltered palaver area. Fond of her or not, the chief would never allow a woman to breech the males-only space.
Nana Mala and the tribal elders stepped outside the space. The devilman exited last. The chief barked orders and Anna’s nervousness turned to horror. Warriors surrounded them; the ones in front directed their spear tips toward Stewart. Anna launched herself in front of him, a futile barrier to iron, and prayed she’d been wrong—not prophetic—when she’d told Stewart that the bishop’s plan might get him killed.
* * *
Stewart fought the cold sweat of fear and grabbed Anna’s arms from behind. He lifted her rigid body despite her resistance and shunted her behind him. “It’s my job to protect you, Miss Baldwin. At the very least, stand behind me for safety.”
She issued a terse whisper. “Do you have a death wish? Stop talking and leave this to me. If there is any part of you that does believe in God, I’d strongly suggest you pray.”
The temptation to fall back on making pleas to God was there. But prayer failed against the mustard gas. Iron was far more substantial. Right now the only thing he could focus on was the stubborn little missionary trying to place herself as a shield in front of him, as if the weapon tips wouldn’t pierce her just as easily.
Low murmurs carried through the crowd when she managed to succeed. He moved her again. As their silent tug-of-war continued, unexpected snickers came from the crowd. Spears pointed upward and a couple of the younger warriors grinned. “Miss Baldwin, I do believe we’ve gone from target to a source of amusement.”
She looked around. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she moved to his side. She smoothed her shirtwaist, a wasted attempt to regain dignity in the face of the crowd’s amusement. “We’re not out of danger yet, Mr. Hastings.”
The warriors facing them parted, revealing a man who could only be the much-vaunted Nana Mala. Even without knowing the man’s reputation, Stewart recognized the danger standing in front of him. Nana Mala, his face an angry mask, was shorter than Stewart expected. This was a man who’d go to fat soon, but for now the coming corpulence was only a hint layered over a muscled, squat physique. His oiled braids gleamed and were devoid of the top hats, bowlers and other Western wear chiefs in other villages prized.
Up close, Stewart counted every pore, noted each tattoo marking. Century-long seconds ticked by until the chief grunted and turned to Anna. He spoke in harsh, guttural tones. Stewart wanted to tell her to translate, but contained himself in mute frustration at the rapid concert of tones played back and forth. The chief’s staccato rang out and was answered by Anna’s even melody. After a battering of guttural tones, her melody shifted to carry a hint of desperate insistence. Enough. If his fate was being decided, he deserved to know. “Anna, what is he saying?”
Both parties and the surrounding crowd quieted and stared at him as if he’d declared God dead in a room full of preachers. Nana Mala crossed his arms across his bare, muscled chest and said something to Anna.
Anna paled, her eyes flared rounder, and she shook her head at the chief.
“Anna, translate.”
“He is angry you have come....” She spoke as if the words stuck sideways in her throat. “He says the government has no right to give you permission to the land of his ancestors.” She swallowed and dropped to almost a whisper. “He wants to kill you as an example to others who would try to come in the future.”
The last time such lead had filled his veins was when the mustard gas had hit his trench. He kept his tone even. “Is there any hope of negotiating further? The trade goods, a promise of riches to come?”
Looking again at the tattooed face, Stewart stopped. This was not the face of a man to be won over with novelties or promises. Stewart had miscalculated. Badly.
The chief leered and issued a guttural command. Warriors pushed Anna aside and placed his arms in grips like iron manacles. A sudden jerk backward threw off his balance. Dimly he saw the drag marks his boots were leaving. He struggled to regain his footing. Anna pleaded with the chief. Nana Mala ignored her, looking over her head and watching as Stewart was pulled away. Stewart’s last sight of the chief was of his satisfied smile and the two rows of gleaming pointed teeth he bared.