The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Read online

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  THE KING'S SNAKE.

  A loud, awful hiss of ear-splitting stridency--and simultaneously thereshot up, from the very ground as it were, a long, writhing, sinuouslength of black neck, glistening as the half light played upon it--swaying in the gloom of the recess. It was surmounted by a horriblehead, with two scintillating eyes. The forked tongue was darting in andout between the widely parted fangs, as the head, waving to and fro wassuddenly drawn back as if to strike. And the man had been actuallystanding upon the hidden coils of this huge and terrible reptile.

  For a moment Blachland stood as one petrified, as well he might be bythe awfulness and suddenness of this blasting apparition. Then,instinctively, he drew his revolver, as being more sure at closequarters than the rifle, the while stepping back cautiously, and keepinghis face turned to the reptile.

  The fury of the latter seemed in no wise to diminish. Hissinghideously, its eyes glared, as more and more of its horrible length roseinto view, and the further floor of the cave heaved and trembled withthe still concealed coils.

  Blachland had now drawn back as far as he could, short of clambering outof the place altogether, and, his blood all curdling with horror anddread, he stood watching the monster with a kind of fell fascination.He dared not fire. The cavernous echoes of the report would go boomingforth over all the land so to say, and bring an entire hornet's nestabout his ears from which there would be no escape. The King's Snake!He recalled the utter derision wherewith he had received Sybrandt'sstatement on the subject--and yet it was only too fearfully true. Ablack _imamba_, Sybrandt had said, and this was one, and an enormous oneat that. He knew, moreover, that this species was the most deadly andferocious of serpents. No, he would stay here no longer--not anothermoment. Better meet death a hundred times in the ordinary way at thehand of enemies in the open, than remain here, shut up in a charnelhouse, with this awful black fiend.

  Acting on this idea, he began to feel for a firm hold of the stoneparapet, intending to spring out quickly and at all risks, but stillkeeping his eyes on the reptile. It, strange to say, still remainedwhere it was, just behind the skeleton of the King, and though stillhissing furiously, made no movement forward to attack him. Encouragedby this, he got a firm grip on the topmost stone, and hoisted himselfcarefully up. Then he let himself down again. For simultaneously withthe appearance of his head above the stones, a shout had broken forthfrom beneath, then another and another. His presence there had beendiscovered. Well, he had a choice of two deaths, both equally horrible.Was there not a third, however, which was less so? There was. Hemight blow out his own brains. That would be quicker at any rate.

  But almost immediately upon the idea came the consciousness that thesewere no hostile shouts that rose booming, full-voiced, to raise theechoes of the King's grave.

  "_Kumalo! Ho, inyoka 'nkulu! Ho, Inyoka 'mninimamdhla! Bayete_!"

  [See Note 1.]

  With a flash of returning hope, Blachland peered forth, trusting to thecombined effect of distance and shadow, to render his head invisiblefrom below. Two men were standing on the flat place beneath--where laythe heaps of charred bones--two old men, with right hand uplifted andfacing the tomb--and he recognised one as Umjane, a favourite andtrusted councillor of Lo Bengula's, the other as Faku, the old indunawho had intervened when the warriors were clamouring to be allowed tomassacre the four white men on the occasion of their last visit to theKing. Now they were here to give the _nbonga_ at the grave ofUmzilikazi, and the listener's heart sank again, for he had heard thatthis was a process which sometimes lasted for hours. But, as though incompensation, he noticed that the snake had abated its fury. It haddropped its hideous head, and lay there, in a shining, heaving coil asthe sonorous chant proceeded:

  "_Ho, Inyoka 'mnyama! Nkos' inyoka! Inyoka-ka-Matyobane! Ho, Inyoka yise wezulu! Bayete_!"

  [See Note 2.]

  Strophe by strophe, in a sort of antiphonal fashion, the two old indunascontinued this weird litany of the Snake. Then they changed to everykind of other title of _sibonga_, but always returning to the subject ofthe serpent. But the strange part of it to the human listener, was thecalming effect it seemed to have upon the black horror, then but a fewyards off--for the brute quieted down more and more as the voicesoutside were raised higher. What on earth could be the reason, thoughtBlachland? There was an idea abroad that reptiles were susceptible tomusic, but even if such were the case, this monotonous unvaryingintonation, never exceeding three notes, was not music. Could it bethat in reality the spirit of the dead King was transmigrated into thatserpent form? and again he recalled old Pemberton's rough and readywords:--"There's mighty rum things happen you can't explain nor scare upany sort of reason for." What if this were one of them? And with theidea, and aided by time and place, a kind of superstitious dread beganto steal over him with paralysing effect. The white skull, staring athim in the semi-gloom, seemed to take on a fell and menacing expression,and the fleshless face to frown; and beyond it the gliding restlessheave of the glistening coils, its terrible serpent guardian.

  The chant continued--on and on--now falling, then rising, with renewedattributes to the spirit of the mighty dead. The two old indunas werewalking to and fro now, and it seemed that each was striving to outdothe other in inventing fresh titles of praise. And what of the hiddengold? Not for all the wealth this world could produce would Blachlandhave meddled further with the mysteries of this gruesome tomb. His soleaspiration now was for an opportunity of getting outside of it, andslipping away in safety.

  Of this, however, there seemed but small prospect. Hours seemed to havegone by, and yet these two indefatigable old men showed no sign ofbringing their loyal, if posthumous, performance to a close. Then achange came over the aspect of affairs, but was it a change for thebetter?

  A party of warriors had appeared a little way behind them. Theyadvanced to the edge of the platform of rock and soil whereon the twoindunas were walking up and down--then, at a sign from these, drewnearer. Their assegais flashed in the sunlight: the shiny faces oftheir hide shields, too, caught the gleam. Then all weapons were letfall as with right hand upraised the new comers with one voice utteredaloud the salute royal:--

  "Kumalo!"

  And now the watcher became aware of something else. In the midst of thenew comers were three black heifers. These were dragged forward on tothe sacrifice ground--and thrown down. They bellowed and struggled, butin vain. Like ants besetting the unwary beetle or cricket which hasstrayed into the disturbed nest, the savages threw themselves upon theluckless animals, and drawing off, revealed these securely bound. Thenfollowed a scene which, his own peril notwithstanding, turned Blachlandsick. The wretched beasts were not merely slaughtered, but were halfflayed and cut to pieces alive. Quarters were torn off, amid thefrenzied bellowings of the tortured victims, and held up towards thetomb of the great King amid roaring acclamations of _sibonga_, andfinally a vast mass of dry brushwood and grass was collected, and beingheaped over and around the moaning, agonised creatures, was set alight.The red flames crackled, and roared aloft, and the smoke of theheathenish burnt offering, areek with the horrid smell of burning flesh,floated in great clouds right to the mouth of the cleft, and above andover all, now augmented to thunder tones by the voices of the laterarrivals, the strophes of their fierce and gloomy devil-worship--thepaeans in praise of the Snake, in whom now rested the spirit of the deadKing--arose in weird and deafening chorus above this holocaust of agonyand fire and blood.

  Transfixed with horror and disgust, Blachland watched this demoniacalorgy, the more so that in it he saw his own fate in the event ofdetection. Suddenly the great serpent at the back of the cleft, whichhad been quiescent for some time, emitted a loud hiss--rearing its headin startling suddenness. Was the brute going to attack him? Then adesperate idea came into his head. Under cover of the smoke would it bepracticable to slip out, and getting round the pile of boulders, liehidden in some crevice or c
ranny until dark? Again the monster emitteda hiss, this time louder, more threatening. And now he thought he sawthe reason. The smoke was creeping into the cleft, not thickly as yet,but enough of it to render the atmosphere unpleasant, and indeed hecould hardly stifle a fit of coughing. This would bring the reptileout, perhaps even it was partly designed to do so--in order to satisfythe heathenish watchers that their tutelary deity, the serpent ofUmzilikazi, was still there, was still watching over its votaries. Inthat ease, was he not in its way? It could only find egress by passingover him--and in that case, would it fail to strike him with itsvenomous deadly fangs? Outside, the assegais of the savages, the deathby torture. Within, the horrible repulsive strike of the fearfulreptile, the convulsions and agony attendant upon the victims of thebite of that species before death should claim them. It was a choice,but such a choice that the very moment of making might turn a man's hairwhite in the event of his surviving.

  And now the smoke rolled in thicker, and, noonday as it was, those belowwere quite invisible. A heavy gliding sound from the far end of thecleft was audible. The horror was drawing its fearful coils clear ofits covering. In a moment it would be upon him, mad, infuriated in itsfrenzied rush for the open air. It was now or never. A thick volume ofsmoke rolled up as Blachland scrambled over the piled stones, nearlychoking him, even in the open air. A sharp, sickening pain shot throughhis bruised ankle. Was it the fangs of the deadly _mamba_? Two orthree of the great stones, displaced, rattled loosely--but thethunderous Snake song raised below must have drowned the rattle.Heavens! the smoke was parting! Only for a moment though, but in thatmoment the desperate man caught sight of that which encouraged him. Thesavages were clustering around the burning holocaust, heaping on pilesof grass and brush. The concealing cloud closed in again thicker thanever, and under its friendly cover, he gained the rock at the foot ofthe _Kafferboen_; then, keeping his head comparatively clear, he creptround the upper side of the granite pile with the instinct of keeping itbetween himself and his enemies. This object once attained, hestaggered blindly forward, the shouting and the song growing fainterbehind him. Ha! This would do. A cranny between two boulders six oreight feet deep. He would lie here perfectly still until night. Theawful strain he had undergone, and the anguish of his contused ankle,now stiff and sore, rendered such a rest absolutely essential. Loweringhimself cautiously into the crevice he lay for a few moments unsteadilythinking. The pain of his ankle, intensified in its fierce throbbing--was it the _mamba_ poison after all? Then everything seemed to whirlround, and he lost consciousness.

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  Note 1.

  "Oh Great Serpent O, All powerful Serpent!"

  _Kumalo_ and _Bayete_ are both merely royal salutes.

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  Note 2.

  "Black Serpent! King Serpent! Serpent of Matyobane! Serpent, Father of the Zulus!"