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CHAPTER XIX
Koyala's Ultimatum
The house of Lkath, chief of the Sadong Dyaks, stood on a rocky eminence at the head of Sabu bay. The bay is a narrow arm of the Celebes Sea, whose entrance is cunningly concealed by a series of projecting headlands and jealously guarded by a triple row of saw-tooth rocks whose serrated edges, pointed seaward, threaten mischief to any ship that dares attempt the channel.
Huge breakers, urged on by the southeast monsoon, boil over these rocks from one year's end to the next. The headlands drip with the unceasing spray, and at their feet are twin whirlpools that go down to the very bowels of the earth, according to tradition, and wash the feet of Sangjang, ruler of Hades, himself. Certain it is that nothing ever cast into the whirlpools has returned; certain it is, too, say the people of Bulungan, that the Sang-sangs, good spirits, have never brought back any word of the souls of men lost in the foaming waters.
In their rocky citadel and rock-guarded harbor the Sadong people have for years laughed at their enemies, and combed the seas, taking by force when they could, and taking in trade when those they dealt with were too strong for them. None have such swift proas as they, and none can follow them into their lair, for only the Sadong pilots know the intricacies of that channel. Vengeful captains who had permitted their eagerness to outrun discretion found their ships in the maelstrom and rent by the rocks before they realized it, while the Sadongers in the still, landlocked waters beyond, mocked them as they sank to their death.
Two days after Koyala had reported the murder of the Sadonger to Peter Gross a swift proa approached the harbor. Even an uncritical observer would have noticed something peculiar in its movements, for it cut the water with the speed of a launch, although its bamboo sails were furled on the maze of yards that cluttered the triangle mast. As it neared the channel its speed was reduced, and the chug-chug of a powerful gasoline motor became distinctly audible. The sentinel on the promontory gesticulated wildly to the sentinels farther inland, for he had distinguished his chief, Lkath, at the wheel.
Under Lkath's trained hand the proa skipped through the intricate channel without scraping a rock and shot the length of the harbor. With shouts of "salaamat" (welcome) the happy Sadongers trooped to the water-front to greet their chief. Lkath's own body-guard, fifty men dressed in purple, red, and green chawats and head-dresses and carrying beribboned spears, trotted down from the citadel and cleared a space for the voyagers to disembark from the sampans that had put out for them.
As the royal sampan grounded, Lkath, with a great show of ceremony, assisted out of the craft a short, heavy-jowled Chinaman with a face like a Hindoo Buddha's. A low whisper of awe ran through, the crowd – this was the great Datu himself. The multitude sank to its knees, and each man vigorously pounded his head on the ground.
The next passenger to leave the sampan was the Rajah Wobanguli, tall, a trifle stoop-shouldered, and leering craftily at the motley throng, the cluster of houses, and the fortifications. A step behind him Captain Van Slyck, dapper and politely disdainful as always, sauntered along the beach and took his place in one of the dos-à-dos that had hastened forward at a signal from Lkath. The vehicles rumbled up the hill.
When they neared the temple that stood close to Lkath's house at the very summit of the hill an old man, dressed in long robes, stepped into the center of the band and lifted his hand. The procession halted.
"What is it, voice of Djath?" Lkath asked respectfully.
"The bilian is here and awaits your presence," the priest announced.
Lkath stifled an exclamation of surprise.
"Koyala is here," he said to his guests. Ah Sing's face was expressionless. Wobanguli, the crafty, smiled non-committally. Van Slyck alone echoed Lkath's astonishment.
"A hundred miles over jungle trails in less than two days," he remarked, with a low whistle. "How the devil did she do it?"
There was no doubting the priest's words, however, for as they entered the temple Koyala herself came to meet them.
"Come this way," she said authoritatively, and led them into a side-chamber reserved for the priests. The room was imperfectly lit by a single window in the thick rock walls. A heavy, oiled Chinese paper served as a substitute for glass.
"He will be here to-morrow," she announced. "What are you going to do with him?"
There was no need for her to mention a name, all knew whom she referred to. A silence came upon them. Van Slyck, Wobanguli, and Lkath, with the instinct of lesser men who know their master, looked at Ah Sing. The Chinaman's eyes slumbered between his heavy lids.
"What are you going to do with him, Datu?" Koyala demanded, addressing Ah Sing directly.
"The Princess Koyala is our ally and friend," he replied gutturally.
"Your ally waits to hear the decision of the council," Koyala retorted coldly.
Wobanguli interposed. "There are things, bilian, that are not fitting for the ear of a woman," he murmured suavely, with a sidelong glance at Ah Sing.
"I am a warrior, Rajah, as well as a woman, with the same rights in the council that you have," Koyala reminded.
Wobanguli smiled his pleasantest. "True, my daughter," he agreed diplomatically. "But he is not yet ours. When we have snared the bird it is time enough to talk of how it shall be cooked."
"You told me at Bulungan that this would be decided on shipboard," Koyala replied sharply. A tempest began to kindle in her face. "Am I to be used as a decoy and denied a voice on what shall be done with my prisoner?"
"We haven't decided – " Van Slyck began.
"That is false!"
Van Slyck reddened with anger and raised his hand as though to strike her. Koyala's face was a dusky gray in its pallor and her eyes blazed with contempt.
"Peace!" Ah Sing rumbled sternly. "He is my prisoner. I marked him for mine before he was named resident."
"You are mistaken, Datu," Koyala said significantly. "He is my prisoner. He comes here upon my invitation. He comes here under my protection. He is my guest and no hostile hand shall touch him while he is here."
Ah Sing's brow ridged with anger. He was not accustomed to being crossed. "He is mine, I tell you, woman," he snarled. "His name is written in my book, and his nails shall rest in my cabinet."
The Dyak blood mounted to Koyala's face.
"He is not yours; he is mine!" she cried. "He was mine long before you marked him yours, Datu."
Wobanguli hastened to avoid a rupture. "If it is a question of who claimed him first, we can lay it before the council," he suggested.
"The council has nothing to do with it," Koyala retorted. There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "I marked him as mine more than a year ago, when he was still a humble sailor with no thought of becoming resident. His ship came to the mouth of the Abbas River, to Wolang's village, and traded for rattan with Wolang. I saw him then, and swore that one day he would be mine."
"You desire him?" Ah Sing bellowed. The great purple veins stood out on his forehead, and his features were distorted with malignancy.
Koyala threw back her head haughtily.
"If I do, who is going to deny me?"
Ah Sing choked in inarticulate fury. His face was black with rage.
"I will, woman!" he bawled. "You are mine – Ah Sing's – "
He leaped toward her and buried his long fingers, with their sharp nails, in the soft flesh of her arm. Koyala winced with pain; then outraged virginity flooded to her face in a crimson tide. Tearing herself away, she struck him a stinging blow in the face. He staggered back. Van Slyck leaped toward her, but she was quicker than he and backed against the wall. Her hand darted inside her kabaya and she drew a small, silver-handled dagger. Van Slyck stopped in his tracks.
Ah Sing recovered himself and slowly smoothed his rumpled garments. He did not even look at Koyala.
"Let us go," he said thickly.
Koyala sprang to the door. She was panting heavily.
"You shall not go until you pledge me that he is mine!" she cried.
Ah Sing looked at her unblinkingly. The deadly malignancy of his face caused even Van Slyck to shiver.
"You may have your lover, woman," he said in a low voice.
Koyala stared at him as though turned to stone. Suddenly her cheeks, her forehead, her throat even, blazed scarlet. She flung her weapon aside; it clattered harmlessly on the bamboo matting. Tears started in her eyes. Burying her face in her arms, she sobbed unrestrainedly.
They stared at her in astonishment. After a sidelong glance at Ah Sing, Wobanguli placed a caressing hand on her arm.
"Bilian, my daughter – " he began.
Koyala flung his arm aside and lifted her tear-stained face with a passionate gesture.
"Is this my reward?" she cried. "Is this the return I get for all I have done to drive the orang blanda out of Bulungan? My lover? When no lips of man have ever touched mine, shall ever touch mine – " She stamped her foot in fury. "Fools! Fools! Can't you see why I want him? He laughed at me – there by the Abbas River – laughed at my disgrace – yea, I know he was laughing, though he hid his smile with the cunning of the orang blanda. I swore then that he would be mine – that some day he should kneel before me, and beg for these arms around his, and my kiss on his lips. Then I would sink a dagger into his heart as I bent to kiss him – let him drink the deep sleep that has no ending outside of Sangjang."
Her fingers clenched spasmodically, as though she already felt the hilt of the fatal blade between them.
Van Slyck drew a deep breath. The depth of her savage, elemental passion dazed him. She looked from man to man, and as he felt her eyes upon him he involuntarily stepped back a pace, shuddering. The doubt he had of her a few moments before vanished; he did not question but what he had glimpsed into her naked soul. Lkath and Wobanguli were convinced, too, for fear and awe of this wonderful woman were expressed on their faces. Ah Sing alone scanned her face distrustfully.
"Why should I trust you?" he snarled.
Koyala started, then shrugged her shoulders indifferently and flung the door open for them to pass out. As Ah Sing passed her he halted a moment and said significantly:
"I give you his life to-day. But remember, Bintang Burung, there is one more powerful than all the princes of Bulungan."
"The god Djath is greater than all princes and Datus," Koyala replied quietly. "I am his priestess. Answer, Lkath, whose voice is heard before yours in Sadong?"
Lkath bowed low, almost to the ground.
"Djath rules us all," he acknowledged.
"You see," Koyala said to Ah Sing, "even your life is mine."
Something like fear came into the eyes of the Chinaman for the first time.
"I go back to Bulungan," he announced thickly.
CHAPTER XX
Lkath's Conversion
The afternoon sun was waning when Peter Gross's sailing proa arrived at Sadong. The resident had been fortunate in finding a Sadonger at Bulungan, and a liberal promise of brass bracelets and a bolt of cloth persuaded the rover to pilot them into Sadong harbor. Paddy Rouse accompanied his chief.
A vociferous crowd of Dyaks hastened to the beach under the misapprehension that the proa was a trader. When shouts from the crew apprised them that the orang blanda chief was aboard, their cries of welcome died away. Glances of curious and friendly interest changed to glances of hostility, and men on the edges of the crowd slunk away to carry the news through the village. The inhospitable reception depressed Peter Gross, but he resolutely stepped into one of the sampans that had put off from shore at the proa's arrival and was paddled to the beach.
"We must be awfully popular here," Paddy remarked cheerfully, and he looked unabashed into the scowling faces of the natives. He lifted his hat. Rays from the low-hanging sun shone through his ruddy, tousled hair, making it gleam like living flame. A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd. Several Dyaks dropped to their knees.
"They're beginning to find their prayer-bones, Mr. Gross," Paddy pointed out, blissfully unconscious that it was he who had inspired their reverence.
At that moment Peter Gross saw a familiar girlish figure stride lightly down the lane. His face brightened.
"Good-afternoon, juffrouw!" he exclaimed delightedly as she approached. "How did you get here so soon?"
He offered his hand, and after a moment's hesitation Koyala permitted his friendly clasp to encircle the tips of her fingers.
"Lkath has a house ready for you," she said. "The dos-à-dos will be here in a moment." They chatted while the natives gaped until the jiggly, two-wheeled carts clattered toward them.
Lkath received them at the door of his house. Peter Gross needed only a glance into his face to see that Koyala had not been mistaken in her warning. Lkath entertained no friendly feeling toward him.
"Welcome to the falcon's nest," Lkath said.
The words were spoken with a stately courtesy in which no cordiality mingled. Dyak tradition forbade closing a door to a guest, however unwelcome the guest might be.
Seized with a sudden admiration of his host, who could swallow his prejudices to maintain the traditional hospitality of his race, Peter Gross resolved to win his friendship at all costs. It was his newborn admiration that inspired him to reply:
"Your house is well named, Gusti. None but eagles would dare roost above the gate to Sangjang."
Lkath's stern features relaxed with a gratified smile, showing that the compliment had pleased him. There was more warmth in his voice as he said:
"My poor house and all that is in it is yours, Mynheer Resident."
"There is no door in Borneo more open than Lkath's," Peter responded. "I am happy to be here with you, brother."
The words were the signal, according to Dyak custom, for Lkath to step forward and rub noses. But the chief drew back.
"The blood of one of my people is between us, Mynheer Resident," he said bluntly. "There can be no talk of brother until the Sadong Dyaks are avenged."
"Am I not here to do justice?" Peter Gross asked. "To-morrow, when the sun is an hour high, we will have a council. Bring your people who know of this thing before me at that time."
Lkath bowed and said: "Very good, Mynheer Resident."
Having performed his duty as head of his nation, Lkath the chief became Lkath the host, and ushered Peter Gross, Rouse, and Koyala into the house. Peter Gross was surprised to find the dwelling fitted out with such European conveniences as chandelier oil-lamps, chairs, and tables, and even a reed organ. Boys dressed in white appeared with basins of water and napkins on silver salvers for ablutions. The dinner was all that an epicure could desire. Madeira and bitters were first offered, together with a well-spiced vegetable soup. Several dishes of fowls and other edible birds, cooked in various ways, followed. Then a roast pig, emitting a most savory odor, was brought in, a fricassée of bats, rice, potatoes, and other vegetables, stewed durian, and, lastly, various native fruits and nuts. Gin, punch, and a native beer were served between courses.
Lkath's formal dignity mellowed under the influence of food and wine, and he became more loquacious. By indirect reference Peter Gross obtained, piece by piece, a coherent account of the hunting trip on which the Sadonger had lost his life. It confirmed his suspicion that the brother knew far more about the murder than he had admitted, but he kept his own counsel.
The next morning the elders assembled in the balais, or assembly-hall. Peter Gross listened to the testimony offered. He said little, and the only man he questioned was the Sadonger's brother, Lkath's chief witness.
"How did they know it was Jahi who was responsible?" he asked the Sadongers who had accompanied Lkath on the search. "They broke into voluble protestations. Did they use the sumpitan? Was it not exclusively a weapon of the hill Dyaks? Did not the feathers on the arrow show that it came from Jahi's tribe? And did they not find a strip of red calico from a hillman's chawat in the bush?"
Peter Gross did not answer their questions. "Show me where the body was found," he directed.
Paddy Rouse, usually bold to temerariousness, protested in dismay, pointing out the danger in venturing into the jungle with savages so avowedly unfriendly.
"There is no middle course for those who venture into the lion's den," Peter Gross replied. "We will be in no greater danger in the jungle than here, and I may be able to solve the mystery and do our cause some good."
"I'm with you wherever you go," Paddy said loyally.
Lkath led the expedition in person. To Peter Gross's great relief, Koyala went also. The journey took nearly five hours, for the road was very rugged and there were many détours on account of swamps, fallen trees, and impenetrable thickets. Koyala rode next to Peter Gross all the way. He instinctively felt that she did so purposely to protect him from possible treachery. It increased his sense of obligation toward her. At the same time he realized keenly his own inability to make an adequate recompense. Old Sachsen's words, "If you can induce her to trust us, half your work is done," came to him with redoubled force.
They talked of Bulungan, its sorry history, its possibilities for development. Koyala's eyes glowed with a strange light, and she spoke with an ardency that surprised the resident.
"How she loves her country!" he thought.
They were riding single file along a narrow jungle-path when Koyala's horse stumbled over a hidden creeper. She was not watching the path at the moment, and would have fallen had not Peter Gross spurred his animal alongside and caught her. Her upturned face looked into his as his arm circled about her and held her tightly. There was a furious rush of blood to her cheeks; then she swung back into the saddle lightly as a feather and spurred her horse ahead. A silence came between them, and when the path widened and he was able to ride beside her again, he saw that her eyes were red.
"These roads are very dusty," he remarked, wiping a splinter of fine shale from his own eyes.
When they reached the scene of the murder Peter Gross carefully studied the lay of the land. Lkath and the dead man's brother, upon request, showed him where the red calico was found, and how the body lay by the water-hole. Standing in the bush where the red calico strip had been discovered, Peter Gross looked across the seven or eight rods to the water-hole and shook his head.
"There is some mistake," he said. "No man can blow an arrow that far."
Lkath's face flashed with anger. "When I was a boy, Mynheer Resident, I learned to shoot the sumpitan," he said. "Let me show you how a Dyak can shoot." He took the sumpitan which they had taken with them at Peter Gross's request, placed an arrow in the orifice, distended his cheeks, and blew. The shaft went across the water-hole.
"A wonderful shot!" Peter Gross exclaimed in pretended amazement. "There is none other can shoot like Lkath."
Several Sadongers offered to show what they could do. None of the shafts went quite so far as their chief's. Taking the weapon from them, Peter Gross offered it to the dead Sadonger's brother.
"Let us see how far you can shoot," he said pleasantly.
The man shrank back. Peter Gross noticed his quick start of fear. "I cannot shoot," he protested.
"Try," Peter Gross insisted firmly, forcing the sumpitan into his hand. The Sadonger lifted it to his lips with trembling hands, the weapon shaking so that careful aim was impossible. He closed his eyes, took a quick half-breath, and blew. The arrow went little more than half the distance to the water-hole.
"You did not blow hard enough," Peter Gross said. "Try once more." But the Sadonger, shaking his head, retreated among his companions, and the resident did not press the point. He turned to Lkath.
"It is time to start, if we are to be back in Sadong before malam" (night) "casts its mantle over the earth," he said. Well content with the showing he had made, Lkath agreed.
They were passing the temple; it was an hour before sundown when Peter Gross said suddenly:
"Let us speak with Djath on this matter." He singled out Koyala, Lkath, and the Sadonger's brother, inviting them to enter the temple with him. A dusky pallor came over the Sadonger's face, but he followed the others into the enclosure.
"The great god Djath is not my god," Peter Gross said, when they had entered the silent hall and stood between the rows of grinning idols. "Yet I have heard that he is a god who loves the truth and hates falsehood. It seems good to me, therefore, that the Bintang Burung call down Djath's curse on this slayer of one of your people. Then, when the curse falls, we may know without doubt who the guilty one is. Is it good, Lkath?"
The chief, although plainly amazed at hearing such a suggestion from a white man, was impressed with the idea.
"It is good," he assented heartily.
Peter Gross looked at Koyala. She was staring at him with a puzzled frown, as if striving to fathom his purpose.
"Invoke us a curse, O Bintang Burung, on the slayer," he asked. "Speak your bitterest curse. Give him to the Budjang Brani, to the eternal fires at the base of the Gunong Agong."
Koyala's frown deepened, and she seemed on the point of refusal, when Lkath urged: "Call us down a curse, daughter of Djath, I beg you."
Seeing there was no escape, Koyala sank to her knees and lifted her hands to the vault above. A vacant stare came into her eyes. Her lips began to move, first almost inaudibly; then Peter Gross distinguished the refrain of an uninterpretable formula of the Bulungan priesthood, a formula handed down to her by her grandfather, Chawatangi. Presently she began her curse in a mystic drone:
"May his eyes be burned out with fire; may the serpents devour his limbs; may the vultures eat his flesh; may the wild pigs defile his bones; may his soul burn in the eternal fires of the Gunong Agong – "
"Mercy, bilian, mercy!" Shrieking his plea, the dead Sadonger's brother staggered forward and groveled at Koyala's feet. "I will tell all!" he gasped. "I shot the arrow; I killed my brother; for the love of his woman I killed him – "
He fell in a fit, foaming at the mouth.
There was utter silence for a moment. Then Peter Gross said to the aged priest who kept the temple:
"Call the guard, father, and have this carrion removed to the jail." At a nod from Lkath, the priest went.
Neither Lkath nor Koyala broke the silence until they had returned to the former's house. Peter Gross, elated at the success of his mission, was puzzled and disappointed at the look he surprised on Koyala's face, a look of dissatisfaction at the turn of events. The moment she raised her eyes to meet his, however, her face brightened.
When they were alone Lkath asked:
"How did you know, O wise one?" His voice expressed an almost superstitious reverence.
"The gods reveal many things to those they love," was Peter Gross's enigmatical reply.
To Paddy Rouse, who asked the same question, he made quite a different reply.
"It was really quite simple," he said. "The only man with a motive for the crime was the brother. He wanted the wife. His actions at the water-hole convinced me he was guilty; all that was necessary was a little claptrap and an appeal to native superstition to force him to confess. This looked bad for us at the start, but it has proven the most fortunate thing that could have happened. Lkath will be with us now."
