The Witch-doctor, Mamazda.

Like most soldiers and people who have not been very educated, Sinanda was very superstitious. He asked the advice of medicine men before he made any important decision. He also believed in ghosts. He knew what had happened to Fernando the Third. He was terrified that Fernando's ghost would haunt him.

In order to protect himself, Sinanda surrounded himself with witch-doctors, prophets, fortune-tellers, praise singers and even palace clowns. He blamed and punished these people for anything that happened.

The medicine men and the clowns waited anxiously for the king's summons. He might call them at any time during the night or day. He might suddenly wake up in bed after a nightmare. He would send Mirama to call one of the witch-doctors to give him something to make him sleep peacefully or to explain the meaning of the nightmare.

Although the king had many such advisers, the wisest of them was a man called Mamazda. Sinanda knew this and he consulted Mamazda every day.

Several times during the last few months, Sinanda had talked to Mamazda about the dangers facing him and the possible threats to his throne. Sinanda knew he had enemies. He killed as many of them as he could, but he seemed to find more and more enemies everywhere he looked.

He had looked at Mamazda and said, "I want to be king for ever. I want you to use your magic to make me king for ever."

Then he had waved his hand for Mamazda to leave the room.

A week later the king summoned Mamazda to another meeting, Mamazda collected all his fortune-teller's tools and hurried to the palace. He was taken to a secret room where the king was sitting on a low stool.

Mamazda carefully brushed clean a space on the carpeted floor. Then he spread a mat of very soft reeds on the floor. He poured very fine white sand on to the mat. The sand had been collected from the bed of the River Bamanga on the first night after a full moon and then specially sifted. Secret spells were spoken to make the magic in the sand more powerful.

Mamazda spread and smoothed the sand with the edge of his right hand and then made patterns in it. He gazed at the patterns. At the same time he put pinches of snuff on to the back of his hand and sniffed them deeply. He sat for a long time as if in a trance.

"Well?'' Sinanda said at last. His voice was hoarse with excitement and his eyes were glaring at Mamazda.

"If you want to be king for ever --" said Mamazda.

"I want! I want to be king for ever! I must be king for ever! Nobody shall succeed me ...if I die, Bamanga dies with me .. " The king's voice trembled as he spoke.

Mamazda gave him a curious look but said nothing.

Sinanda began to shout. "Without me there must be no Bamanga. Do you hear?''

His eyes flashed angrily and he brought his hands together with a loud crack.

"Your wish shall come true, O King - but there is a price to pay.''

''A price? Tell me, what price must the king pay?"

Mamazda heard the warning tone in the king's voice but he went on almost desperately.

"There is always a price to pay if you ask the gods for help. And in this case there is no other way. The sand tells me if we need the gods to help us, then we must pay their price."

He stopped for a moment and tried to think clearly.

The king was becoming angrier and angrier and Mamazda was more and more frightened, but he had to go on.

He knew there was only one way to make sure the king stayed alive.

"What you wish will come true ... but you must sacrifice ..." Mamazda paused again. "You must sacrifice something dear to you."

Sinanda jumped up in rage.

Mamazda lay on the floor in terror, raising his hands to try to protect himself.

''No! No! Not that. Not your son,'' he shouted in fear. "No, if Your Majesty wanted money, the gods might ask for your first-born son and heir as a sacrifice but Your Majesty does not want money. What you are asking for is much much more than money. What you want is eternal power and more power. To be like one of the gods themselves!"

''Get to the point!'' Sinanda shouted. ''What are you telling me?"

Mamazda was a brave man. He was a great witch- doctor and there was very little that he feared but he did fear the terrible anger of the King. He rose to his knees again and began to make patterns in the sand. He smoothed them out and made more. Then he took the. king's hand and pressed it into the sand. He began to recite strange words in a low voice. His chant rose almost to a shout. Suddenly he stopped.

A frown appeared on his face. "Your Majesty, your wish shall come true, if --"

"If what?'' Sinanda shouted. "Tell me, you idiot!"

Mamazda felt anger in his heart. A witch-doctor should be respected. It was bad to call a great medicine man an idiot. But Mamazda hid his anger and pointed at the patterns.

He began to trace the message of the spirits. His body started to shake as if he had a high fever. His voice seemed to come from beyond his body.

"I read what I see! The gods have spoken! You can rule for ever if that is your desire. The gods have spoken. If you want to rule for ever, you must never, never leave the palace or go outside the palace grounds again."

Sinanda stood quite still. For a long time, the full meaning did not seem to strike him. Then suddenly he drew himself up to his full height.

''Rubbish!" he shouted. ''Nonsense and rubbish!"

"That is what you must do - if you want to be king for ever.'' Mamazda shook his head. ''I have told you everything"

"Rubbish!" repeated Sinanda. ''It is impossible! Not to leave the palace! Me! Sinanda! A prisoner?" He began to laugh and slap his thigh.

Many people said that it was not a good sign

he laughed like this. Mamazda became frightened as he watched Sinanda rolling about in laughter.

"It is not a thing to laugh at,'' Mamazda said nervously. "You are a civilized king. You do not need to leave the palace. You can listen to the radio. You can speak on the radio and everyone will hear you. You have the telephone. You have commanders and officers, assistants and servants. They can carry out your every wish and command .."

"It's not the same thing,'' shouted Sinanda, still laughing. "It's not the same thing."

"You have to learn to trust people -"

"Trust? I trust nobody, you hear me? Sinanda trusts nobody!"

"You cannot do it all alone,'' Mamazda pleaded with the king.

"I don't care. There is nobody in the whole world I can trust with anything. Do you think I could trust anyone with my life?"

Mamazda was a patient man. "But - just think, O King! You need people!"

''Aha!'' said Sinanda. His eyes were blazing with rage now. "Now I understand. The servant wants to be master. Why don't you try to become king, Mamazda? Why don't you become king of Bamanga ... eh? I see now that's what you want!"

"Your Majesty - I am happy to be a medicine man. I do not want to be king. I believe I know my job well -"

"How dare you speak to King Sinanda like that!"

"Dear King, the truth is not always easy. Sometimes it is very bitter. If it is lies and sweet words you want do not send for Mamazda!" Mamazda's courage had returned.

He knew he was in terrible danger. He knew his life hung by a thread, but a great witch-doctor had to defend himself even against evil kings.

"Enough!" shouted the king. ''Go!"

Mamazda quickly picked up his things from the floor. He rolled his mat and corked his snuff bottle. He did not see a piece of cloth he had left on the ground but he did see the wicked gleam in the king's eyes and he trembled inwardly. Outwardly he remained calm.

"Your Majesty, if I may say one last thing," Mamazda spoke carefully. "If you accept the offer of the gods, please remember this. Never step outside the palace grounds again. If you do, you will surely die."

"Go! Go!'' screamed Sinanda. ''Get out of my sight!"

Sinanda seemed about to rush upon the witch-doctor and strike him.

Mamazda cowered where he was. All the evil stories he had heard about the king came rushing into his mind. That he was a killer That he hated to be told the truth if it was unpleasant. That if he was in a rage, he would attack people like a madman. That he was a man who surrounded himself with liars and favourites.

They were all men who would tell him what he wanted to hear - that he was the greatest man in Bamanga, and the greatest king on Earth.

When Mamazda had collected all his medicines, he slowly began to leave the palace. But in the secret room, Sinanda's anger grew until he almost burst. He walked to and fro muttering to himself.

"If there is a parade in town, I cannot go wearing my medals ... If there is a reception, I cannot attend it. He's telling me I must remain here in the palace! Me! Sinanda!"

He burst out again in a long wicked laugh. It was a laugh that did not touch his eyes. It was a laugh that sounded like Mamazda's death song.