The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Read online

  CHAPTER TWO.

  BEFORE THE KING.

  "Tumble out, Blachland. We've got to go up and interview the King."Thus Sybrandt at an early hour on the following morning. "And," headded in a low voice, "I hope the _indaba_ will end satisfactorily,that's all."

  "Why shouldn't it?" was the rather sleepy rejoinder. And the speakerkicked off his blanket, and, sitting up, yawned and stretched himself.

  Three savage-looking Matabele were squatted on the ground just withinthe camp. They were _majara_, and were arrayed in full regimentals,i.e. fantastic bedizenments of cowhair and monkey-skin, and their headscrowned with the _isiqoba_, or ball of feathers; one long plume from thewing of a crested crane stuck into this, pointing aloft like a horn.The expression of their faces was that of truculent contempt, as theirglance roamed scornfully from the camp servants, moving about theirdivers occupations, to the white men, to whom they were bearers of aperemptory summons. It was significant of the ominous character of thelatter, no less than of the temper of arrogant hostility felt towardsthe whites by the younger men of the nation, that these sat there,toying with the blades of their assegais and battle-axes; for aremonstrance from Sybrandt against so gross a violation of etiquette asto enter a friendly camp with weapons in their hands had been met by acurt refusal to disarm, on the ground that they were King's warriors,and, further, that they were of the King's bodyguard, and, as such, werearmed, even in the presence of the Great Great One himself.

  "I only hope no inkling of what we were talking about yesterday has gotwind, Blachland," explained Sybrandt, seriously. "If Lo Ben got such anotion into his head--why then, good night. As to which, do you happento notice that one of our fellows is missing? No, no; don't say hisname. Those three jokers have got their ears wide open, and are smartat putting two and two together."

  Thoroughly awake now, Blachland, looking around, became aware of thesignificance of the other's statement. One of the "boys" was missing,and that the one who had seemed to be overhearing when they had talkedon that dangerous topic--Hlangulu, the Matabele.

  "Hurry now, Amakiwa," growled one of the messengers. "Is not the GreatGreat One waiting?"

  "He can wait a little longer, _umfane_," rejoined Pemberton, tranquillysipping his coffee, which was hot.

  "_Ah_! Who but a madman would provoke the wrath of the Black Bull?"growled the savage.

  Pemberton nodded. "The Black Bull in this case is no longer a calf," hereplied. "Therefore he will know that everything cannot be done in ahurry."

  The three savages scowled and muttered. In their heart of hearts theyhad an immense respect for these cool, imperturbable white men, soentirely but unobtrusively fearless.

  At last the latter arose, and, buckling on their bandoliers and takingtheir rifles, declared that they were ready.

  "Put those down. The Great Great One has sent for you. You cannot gobefore him armed," said one of the envoys insolently, pointing with hisknob stick. But for all the effect the injunction had upon those towhom it was addressed, it might just as well not have been uttered. Theslightest possible raising of an eyebrow alone showed that they had somuch as heard it. The horses were brought round saddled, and, mounting,they started, a kind of instinct moving them to outmanoeuvre eachattempt of their truculent summoners to bring up the rear. But as theymoved out of camp the idea was the same in all four minds--whether theywere destined ever to re-enter it.

  Lo Bengula was, at that time, friendly to the English. Sick of hagglingwith rival concession-mongers, he had finally concluded terms for theoccupation of adjacent Mashunaland, and, having made the best of a badjob, felt relieved that his lines were henceforth cast in peaceful andpleasant places. But he reckoned without the nation which producedDrake and Hawkins, Raleigh and Clive, and--Cecil Rhodes.

  He reckoned, also, without his own fighting men. The bumptiousness ofthese was inordinate, overwhelming. They were fully convinced theycould whip all creation--that agglomeration being represented hither toby the inferior tribes, which they had reduced and decimated ever sincethe exodus from Zululand. Now these troublesome whites were coming intothe country by threes and fours--why not make an end of them before theybecame too numerous? Umzilikazi would have done this--Umzilikazi, thatElephant who had made the nation what it was. So they murmured againstLo Bengula, in so far as they dared, and that was a good deal, for thevoice of a nation can make itself heard, even against a despot, when thepotentate thinks fit to run counter to its sense.

  Now, three out of the four knew the King intimately; the other,Blachland to wit, fairly well. They had frequently visited him atBulawayo, either spontaneously, or in compliance with a request. Butnever had they been sent for in such fashion that a trio of armed andinsolent youths were thought good enough to be the bearers of the King'smessage.

  Upon this circumstance, and the disappearance of Hlangulu, ChristianSybrandt was expatiating, as they took their way leisurely along theslope where the business part of the present town of Bulawayo nowstands, for Lo Bengula's great place crowned the rise some two miles tothe eastward. And here signs of busy life were already apparent. Filesof women, bearers of wood or water, were stepping along; bunches ofcattle being driven or herded; here and there, men, in groups or singly,proceeding to, or returning from the great kraal, their deep-tonedvoices rising upon the air in contrast to the clearer trebles of thefeminine ones, though none the less rich and melodious.

  And above the immense kraal, with its ring of clustering huts, a bluesmoke cloud, drifting lazily to leeward, as though the place were in astate of conflagration. A peaceful, pastoral scene, but that the sunglinted on the blades of the assegais carried by the men, and on thesheen of their miniature shields.

  Nor were other symptoms wanting, and those of a far more ominouscharacter, which should bring home to our party the full fact that theywere in the heart of a nation of turbulent and ruthless barbarians; foras they drew nearer to the great kraal, a mighty hubbub arose within itsprecincts, and there emerged from the stockade a dark surging crowd ofarmed warriors. These, uttering a ferocious shout, made straight forthe new arrivals.

  "Steady, Blachland," enjoined Sybrandt, in a low tone. "Don't lose yourhead, man; keep cool. It's the only thing to be done."

  The warning was needed, for he to whom it was addressed had alreadyshown signs of preparing to resist this hostile threateningdemonstration. The gravity of the tone in which it was uttered,however, went far to neutralise in his mind the reassuring effect of theimperturbable aspect of his companions.

  The swarm of savages came crowding round the four white men, brandishingtheir assegais and battle-axes, and frightening the horses not a little.But two Bechuana boys who were attendant upon their masters theymanaged to frighten a good deal more. These turned grey with terror,and really there was some excuse for it.

  For each had been seized by a tall ruffian, who, gripping him by thethroat, was making believe to rip him with a great assegai brandished infront of the miserable wretch's face, every now and then letting himfeel the point sufficiently to make him think the stroke already dealt,causing the victim to yell and whine with terror. The while his whitemasters could do nothing to protect him, their efforts being needed tocalm and restrain their badly-frightened horses: an element of thegrotesque which evoked roars of bass laughter from the boisterous andbloodthirsty crowd.

  "Cease this fooling!" shouted Sybrandt, in the Sindabele tongue. "Isthis how you treat the King's guests? Make way. We are bound upon theKing's business."

  "The King's business!" echoed the warriors. "The King's business! Ah!ah! We too are bound upon the King's business. Come and see, Amakiwa.Come and see how we black ones, the children of the King, the Eater-upof the Disobedient, perform his bidding."

  Then, for the first time, our party became aware that in the midst ofthe crowd were two men who had been dragged along by raw-hide thongsnoosed round their necks; and, their horses having quieted down, theywere able to observe what was to follow.
That the poor wretches wereabout to be sacrificed in some hideous and savage fashion was only tooobvious, and they themselves could not refuse to witness this horror,for the reason that to do so would be, in the present mood of thesefiends, almost tantamount to throwing away their own lives.

  "What is their offence, Sikala-kala?" asked Sybrandt, addressing a manhe knew.

  "Their offence? _Au_! it is great. They have gone too near the_Esibayaneni_, the sacred place where the King, the Great Great One,practises _mutt_. What offence can be greater than such?"

  The victims, their countenances set and stony with fear, were now seizedand held by many a pair of powerful and willing hands. Then, with theblade of a great assegai, their ears were deliberately shorn from theirheads. A roar of delight went up from the barbarous spectators, whoshouted lustily in praise of the King.

  "So said the Great Great One: `They had ears, but their ears heard whatit was not lawful they should hear, so they must hear no more!' Is henot wise? _Au_! the wisdom of the calf of Matyobane!"

  Again the executioners closed around their victims. A moment more andthey parted. They were holding up to the crowd their victims' eyes.The roars of delight rose in redoubled volume.

  "So said the Black One: `They had eyes, but they saw what it was notlawful for them to look upon. So they must see no more!' _Au_! thegreatness of the Elephant whose tread shaketh the world!"

  There was a tigerish note in the utterance of this horrible paean whichmight well have made the white spectators shudder. Whatever they felt,however, they must show nothing.

  "I shall be deadly sick directly," muttered Blachland; and all wonderedwhat horror was yet to come.

  The two blinded and mutilated wretches were writhing and moaning, andbegging piteously for the boon of death to end their terriblesufferings. But their fiendish tormentors were engaged in far toocongenial a task to be in any undue hurry to end it. It is only fair torecord that to the victims themselves it would have been equallycongenial were the positions reversed. At last, however, theexecutioners again stepped forward.

  "So said the Ruler of Nations," they bellowed, their short-handled heavyknob sticks held aloft: "These two had the power of thought. They usedthat power to pry into what it is not lawful for them even to thinkabout. A man without brains cannot think. Let them therefore think nomore."

  And with these two last words of the King's sentence--terse, remorselessin the simplicity of its barbarous logic--the heavy knob sticks sweptdown with a horrid crunch as of the pulverising of bones. Another andanother. The sufferings of the miserable wretches were over at last.Their death struggles had ceased, and they lay stark and motionless,their skulls literally battered to pieces.

  Not the most hardened and philosophical of the white spectators couldentirely conceal the expressions of loathing and repulsion which werestamped upon each countenance as they turned away from this horridsight. On that of Blachland it was far the most plainly marked, andseemed to afford the ferocious crowd the liveliest satisfaction.

  "See there, Amakiwa," they shouted. "Look and behold. It is not wellto pry into forbidden things. Behold the King's justice."

  And again they chorused forth volleys of _sibonga_, i.e. the royalpraises.

  Was it merely a coincidence that their looks and the significance of theremark seemed to be directed peculiarly at Blachland? He himself wasnot the only one who thought so.

  "What do you think now, Blachland?" said Young, dryly. "Better leavethat little exploration scheme you were planning strictly alone, eh?"

  "Well, I believe I had," was the answer.

  And now the armed warriors clustered round the white men. Some werechatting with Christian Sybrandt as they moved upward to the greatkraal, for they had insisted on forming a sort of escort for theirvisitors; or, as these far more resembled, their prisoners. They werein better humour now, after their late diversion, but still there wereplenty who shook their assegais towards the latter, growling outthreats.

  And as they approached the vast enclosure, the same thought was foremostin the minds of all four. Something had gone wrong. They could onlyhope it was not as they suspected. They were absolutely at the mercy ofa suspicious barbarian despot, the objects of the fanatical hate of hispeople. What that "mercy" might mean they had just had a grimlyconvincing object lesson.