Two Moons by J. Raymond Ractliffe - Chapter 39

Two Moons is a new novel by J. Raymond Ractliffe that explores the inner spirit life of Africa, her people and their powerful faith in the world of the Unseen.

The Mark of the Two Moons
Chapter 39

     Jeremy sensed the coming light before he could actually see it from his silent darkness. From beyond the mists that swirled around him, he was drawn to its gentle warmth that calmed his spirit and brought peace to his trembling body. The nightmare visions of his blood battles, lay just beyond his exhausted mind where their reality remained like water, slipping away between his fingers when he tried to touch them.

He could not see the outside world, but he sensed he was home at the farm, the linen sheets pressing against his skin as he lay in the arms of morphia and the soft healing caresses of Claire. Her whispered words floated around him like gentle smoke, their love and tenderness reaching through his delirium to calm his wounded body.

As the light grew around him, his feet could suddenly feel soft earth beneath him, grasses and dried leaves touching the underside of his bare soles, he was aware he was now standing outside the farmhouse, between the open veranda and the gentle swaying tall blue gums that loved to play in the evening winds that came from the rolling hills in the east.

Jeremy could see a warm orange glow coming out of the night, it seemed to float in the air as it came towards him. He could hear music made of hushed voices that lingered in the cool air, but he did not know the songs or words, they were not known to him. He heard the shuffling of many feet raising the sleeping dust around him but his eyes could not find any form that walked out of the darkness into his light.

From this parade of warm lights, hushed songs and gentle dust, Konjaru suddenly materialize out of the air, walking towards him in that easy stride he had come to know over the years.

Jeremy's mind flashed back to a terrorizing moment suspended in time. His own final scream as long yellow teeth tore into his shoulder, became woven with the battle cry of another who had come charging the great lion with spear and painted shield.

The voice of the charging warrior had been Konjaru.

Now he came walking towards him in this strange place, his radiant smile flashing against the darkness of the African night while the moonlight danced off his wrist as he raised his hand in greeting.

"Come in peace, Bwana."

"Come in peace, Konjaru."

"We have come from a far off place, you and I." Konjaru said smiling.

"Are you alright?" Jeremy asked mystified.

"I am not here, Bwana, I have already gone to the other place in the stars. You are here on the farm where you belong, with your wife."

"This is our time to say farewell as friends."

Jeremy sighed. In his heart he understood without knowing the final outcome of their battle. Somehow he had survived the lion's attack to return to the farm, Konjaru had paid for their friendship with his life.

"I have come to speak of our sons." Konjaru said.

"What do you mean Konjaru?"

"Etona and Matthew are marked by the sign of the Two Moons."

"They have been chosen to be as brothers under the African sky."

"They are to follow each other's path, growing strong until they are as men. And like the sun and moon who fight each other for their place in the heavens, they will set their eyes on each other for battle, until the bones cast on their lives has been completed."

The light around them had begun to fade and the arms of the blue gum trees began to merge with the dark African sky.

"Bwana, you must be the father of Etona. Your brother's son and Etona will rise together like the sun and the moon, and if they are wise, they will find their own places in the sky, or fight until there is only one."

Konjaru raised his open palm in his final farewell, his smile now tinged with sadness that touched Jeremy in his heart. Their eyes locked together once last time, the silent words of men lingering between them as they spoke of their love and friendship over the years.

"Bwana, it is time, I must go."

"Go in peace, kwa heri - good bye."

"Go in peace, my friend."

As suddenly as Konjaru had come, he was gone.

Only the warmth of his faded smile remained.

Jeremy stood watching the long darkness until sleep and the dreams of Claire finally closed his mind and the last memory of Konjaru was burned into his heart.

Claire watched as the burning torches wound their way up from the African compound, past the blue gum trees and up to the side veranda of the house. They came with their songs of mourning to find the body of their husband and friend. They were afraid Konjaru would be placed in the ground like the white man. The ground covering his decaying body, a tall stone holding down his spirit, so he could not join his ancestors in the sky.

Konjaru's wives were both Masai and Kikuyu, they understood and honoured the traditions of their husband and would not see his last voyage disrespect the traditions of his people.

While the mourners waited by the veranda, the billowing smoke of their warm torches rising in the cooler night air, Thomas had been called and together with Simon, they had gone to the cold shed to bring Konjaru out into the night.

The songs of the grieving rose higher into the stars as Konjaru's wrapped form was carried out of the darkness on the stretcher, where their orange flickering lights could touch his still body and witness their loss. They pressed themselves around him, their bodies shielding him from the night.

As one, they suddenly paused for a moment, holding Konjaru between them as the smoke from their torches rose in the sky. Their songs suddenly stilled on their lips, bare feet shuffling, the night time dust rising into the air.

Only the crackle of the flames broke the silence, the living and the dead together before the last journey home. Those on the veranda watched quietly as the minutes ticked by, their own silence adding to those honouring their fallen warrior.

Claire had returned with Jeremy and the bloodied body of Konjaru. She did not know she had brought them together one last time, to walk under the tall swaying trees and share the smile of their friendship and talk of the things to come.

As they turned silently to return to their compound, the stretcher was suddenly jostled by the bearers carrying Konjaru and a cold hand slipped out from under the blanket that had covered him for his journey home. Wrapped around his wrist on a thin leather riempie was a small kudu horn, a rare ornament worn on the end of a woman's braided hair. No one noticed the white horn as it glistened in the moonlight. It carried its own gentle song of the ancient Masai Warriors warning the Ancestors of his coming.

"I call out at twilight as well as the morn

I am the warrior of the long thin spear

So that neither the heavens nor the earth should say

I am arrogant for not calling out loud enough like the others."

They would rise in the morning before the last star had faded from the sky. Konjaru was to be returned to his final battleground and the bloodied sand where the lion had died from his spear.

The king of beast and the son of their chief should leave their bones together, growing white under the sun. To die in battle was a great thing. To lie together with your enemy, who you had killed, was worthy of song and praise.

Majura's Milk Eye watched through the sacred fire as the procession wound its way back down the long road of swaying blue gum trees. Her hair remained silent as she bowed her head, her own sigh muffled by the smoke that carried her prayers to the heavens.

Her gift to Konjaru sang her own blessings into the night as Ngai welcomed another of his Chosen.