Ignatious spotted his colleague, Father Ottomier, breaking from the jungle and into the village compound. As he moved forward, Ottomier cast a couple of furtive glances behind as though fearing something was to follow him, something unwanted. He then disappeared into the tribal dwellings and was lost from sight.
Dismissing the incident from his mind, Ignatious carried on. The project had been thought out by Karakta and Ignatious and discussed with the Elder, who had approved of the plan without hesitation.
The idea was to provide a constant water supply to the village, taken from the clear-water river nearby. A ditch, some two-feet wide and four-feet deep had been dug out close to the flowing river and extended to the beginning of the village, which lay several feet below the river’s water-line. It then led into the tower, which would act as a storage tank.
The water was to be lifted to this by means of a cleverly constructed Archimedes Screw turned by the pressure of the onrushing stream. The supply would then be directed towards the dwellings to be joined by several narrower and shallower grooves. These led into wide bamboo tubes sealed together at various points and directed into each home, culminating in a primitive kind of sink, or washbasin, raised to around three feet from the floor.
A simple tap had been fashioned at the back of the sink that could be turned left or right to allow a flow of water and also to stem it. The water received would be pure, as the ditch and the grooves had been lined with the same substance as that used on the outer side of the ‘God’s’ pyramids. After supplying each dwelling, the liquid would run to a central point from which led a single pipe directed back to the river and into it, thus maintaining a continuing flow.
Finishing his work, Ignatious signalled to the helpers below and one ran off to fetch the Elder. After descending the ladder, Ignatious met up with Karakta and they, with the remaining men, moved to the start of the project, next to the river. Here, the workers inserted a strong board into the riverbank, immediately adjacent to the excavated ditch. They then dug out the remaining earth, the board preventing the water from entering, and installed another clever device, activated on the pressure principle, so that, if the water in the tank reduced due to use in the village, a ‘shutter’ would rise to allow more from the river and close if the pressure built due to the tank being full. The tribes-people were to be admired for their cleverness and adaptability.
As the Elder arrived, accompanied by many of the villagers, the work was completed. The Elder inspected the device and the channels before speaking a few words of congratulations to all concerned and explaining the advantages of having such a system. Their customary, and religious practice of taking a sip of water as soon as awake would now be made that much easier. He then ceremoniously raised the separating board and the water began to run into the system. Some villagers ran; some walked fast, including Ignatious and Karakta, all heading for the dwellings to watch the miracle take place.
Entering the first available house, as most were filled with people, they joined a group of half a dozen people who were just in the act of turning on the tap. The clear water gushed out into the bowl and was scooped into excited hands to be gulped down, splashing chins and chests, falling to the ground. Ignatious took his turn and was delighted at the absolute purity of the liquid as it slaked his thirst.
That night, the tribe organised a large party, attended by every single person. The food was plentiful and delicious. Alcohol, fermented from a variety of plants and berries was in never-ending supply, as were the strange drugs, several of hallucinatory properties.
Although severely affected by the abuse, there was no arguing or fighting as there would surely have been in the so-called developed societies. In fact, the opposite was in evidence, lovemaking becoming the chief activity as the night wore on. Even Ignatious, though not inebriated in any way, forsook his self imposed celibacy and took a delightful nineteen year-old girl to his dwelling, after first seeking the usual permission from the white-bearded Elder, who was never seen with any company other than his own. On his way home with the girl, he spotted Ottomier escorting a young girl to his place and Christian openly engaged in a close embrace with one who would be around sixteen. Looking around for the Sister, he spotted Vasquez ambling towards her dwelling with one of either sex clutched in her arms. Ignatious began to wonder just how far the group had allowed themselves to fall. The feel and the aromatic scent of the girl holding his hand helped him to quickly vanquish the guilt.
The following morning, rough hands, grabbing him where he lay, tossing the girl to one side, and dragging him, naked, from his home, awakened Ignatious. Carted along by arms and hair, he looked through bleary eyes to see that four tribesmen had gripped him, bearing grim expressions on painted faces.
‘Painted faces?? Why are they painted?’ Ignatious wondered. He had never seen them that way before. “Wait. Stop! What’s going on?” he called out to his captors, but received no response. He was dragged along to the village square where he was pulled forcefully to his feet.
Before him stood four sturdy poles set firmly into the ground. Christian and Ottomier were lashed to two of these, also naked and looking equally bewildered and scared.
As Ignatious was being bound to one of the posts, a shrieking rent the air and Sister Vasquez was dragged into view, naked and struggling frantically. It was all to no avail, as she was unceremoniously pulled to her feet and thrust against the remaining pole where she, too, was secured into place.
The missionaries looked to the one nearest to them, seeking a reason for this worrying predicament. All, that is, apart from Ottomier, who looked straight ahead. The four were, understandibly, very frightened.
The sun was rising above the horizon and Ignatious judged the time to be around six-thirty, the sounds of the awakening jungle echoing around the village as the animals searched for their early morning meals.
All the tribe had gathered before them now, the men with white-painted faces, large circles being left around the eyes and mouth, presenting a chilling sight. They all held short spears, the ones immediately in front of the captives jabbing them menacingly towards various parts of their bodies, without quite touching. A weird hissing accompanied the gestures and this somehow increased the terror.
Then the Elder arrived. The throngs of people parted to allow passage to the shivering prisoners. He stood before them, his height and immaculate garb, together with his startling white beard and golden skin, impressing his authority upon the bewildered missionaries.
For minutes, he simply stood before them, not speaking, looking into their eyes, into their souls. None of the missionaries spoke although they were desperate to know why they were being treated in this way. Then, moving close, he confronted Christian who was on the first post in line.
He studied deeply for several seconds before moving onto the next in line, which was Vasquez. Studying her in the same manner, he ignored her questions, thrown at him in a high-pitched, near-hysterical voice.
Ignatious was next and the imposing figure looked into him as with the others. This time, however, he spoke. “You, my friend, are of a different species than your comrades,” he said in his mixed dialect. “You have powers they cannot understand and you are a good man.” His tone was flat and without emotion. “A terrible crime has been committed against our society and punishment will be dealt in the appropriate manner. As part of the group, you, too, must suffer the same fate no matter the good work you have so far performed.”
He passed on to Ottomier, imprisoned next to Ignatious. The Elder stood, looking into the priest’s eyes for many moments. Reaching out, he placed a hand flat against the trembling Ottomier’s forehead, again for many moments, not a word escaping. Stepping back a pace, he then spoke: “You are the guilty one.”
“But…but…no…no…I haven’t done anything!” he whined, unconvincingly.
Ignoring the comments, the Elder, Kaba, spoke to all, looking directly at Ignatious. “Your companion has sinned against this tribe in the worst manner possible. By this, he has put you all in peril. You will die as a result of his actions and, by the time you do, you will be happy to go to the next level. Tribal customs, centuries old, are still practiced here and I cannot interfere. The two concessions I will make, are that Gawain,” he used the current name, “will be last to die with less punishment until that time, and Vasquez, the female will die instantly and without pain.”
Ignatious turned angrily within his bonds, to Ottomier. “What have you done, Gerard?” he asked. “What is it that has put us in this predicament?”
