Ama by Manu Herbstein Read Free Book Online Page A

expressed their appreciation of the Na's humour in a proper manner.
    â€œCurtail the poetry and proceed with your report,” ordered the King.
    The Chief of the Horses was a man of the old school. He had served the previous king, Na Gariba, and had somehow survived his late master’s undoing. Judging him incapable of modernising the army, Na Saa was actively seeking an opportunity to sack him.
    The Chief of the Horses suppressed his anger. He had served the great Na Gariba for many years. What right had this young upstart to treat him with such disrespect? He knew what custom demanded. It was the duty of elders such as he to act as custodians of the history and culture of the people. Traditional protocol could not be so lightly dismissed. Ignoring the Na, he proceeded with his formal litany of praise.
    Na Saa interrupted him for the second time. He spoke abruptly.
    â€œSit down, old man,” he ordered.
    â€œCommander,” he addressed Abdulai, “What is your name?”
    He knew very well who Abdulai was. He judged him a man of unquestionable loyalty, brave, a good leader, but brutal and, worse, obtuse. An unsuitable candidate for succession to the skin of the Chief of the Horses, he reflected.
    Abdulai’s peroration went on and on. He dealt with every unimportant detail of the expedition at great length. As he heard the blend of romance, boasting and equivocation issue from his own lips, his confidence grew. He contrived to tell his story without any mention of his losses.
    â€œHave you finished?” asked the Na at length. “You say that you captured twenty slaves, a woman, a boy and eighteen grown men. Is that correct?”
    Abdulai concurred. It was clear that the Na appreciated his achievements. Perhaps he would reward him with the gift of a new horse, he thought.
    â€œWhat were your casualties, men and horses?” Na Sa asked him quietly.
    He knew the answer. Damba had already reported to him, in private.
    Abdulai felt his world collapse about him.
    â€œTwo men killed; and two horses,” he replied.
    â€œThink carefully, Commander Abdulai,” said the King. “I ask you again. What were your casualties, men and horses? Tell me the truth, now. I shall not ask you a third time.”
    â€œThree men killed; and three horses,” replied Abdulai.
    He had made a mistake in underestimating the Na. The King must have powerful medicine at his disposal. It was uncanny how his question had addressed precisely the facts which Abdulai had resolved to conceal.
    â€œWhy did you fail to state this in your report? Why did you lie to me?”
    Abdulai hung his head. He knew that an attempt to answer could only exacerbate his predicament.
    â€œThe Council of Eunuchs will sit on this matter, examine all witnesses and report to me,” ordered the King. “Galidima, understood?”
    The Chief of the Eunuchs nodded gravely. Na Saa looked around to gauge reaction. He had not been on the skin long and still needed to consolidate his position. Every decision he made had a political dimension to it. Support had to be earned. He would not fall into the trap of complacency which had been Gariba's downfall.
    â€œNow send a message to Nana Koranten Péte. Tell the Asante Consul that the Ya Na invites him to join an inspection of the first consignment of slaves to arrive this season.”
    * * *
    The slaves were allocated a large compound.
    In the course of time it would become overcrowded, but the first twenty captives had plenty of space. Their bonds were untied and they were free to move at will within the prison walls.
    Nandzi had the small room set aside for female slaves all to herself. As the only woman she was expected to do the cooking. If the men had had their way, she would also have gathered the firewood and washed their ragged garments. They found it hard enough to come to terms with the psychic effects of capture and enslavement; that they should be further