Chapter Eleven.I fight the Champion of the Mashona Army.In obedience to the king’s command, Mapela left his place among his fellow indunas, and, stalking across the intervening space, handed his bangwan—a spear with a stout haft about three and a half feet long, to which was attached a head some eighteen inches long by seven and a half inches wide, the two edges of which were almost razor keen—to ’Mfuni. And while he was doing this, and whispering a few hurried words to my prospective antagonist, I divested myself of my jacket, and handing it and my rifle to Piet, who all this while had stood motionless as a statue, said:“Take these and hold them for me, Piet. And if I should be killed, make your way at once to the place where I have left my horse, shooting any man who may attempt to stop you—the rifle is loaded—and mount and ride for your life to the wagon. And if you are fortunate enough to reach it alive, you, with Jan and ’Ngulubi, had better take all the horses, all the guns, and as much ammunition as you may have time to lay your hands on, and ride for your lives back to the Limpopo, on the other side of which you will be reasonably safe. After which, you must do the best you can for yourselves. And if you should be lucky enough to get back home, find Major Henderson and tell him all that has happened and—how I died.”“All right, baas,” answered Piet cheerfully, as he took my coat and rifle from me; “I’ll remember all that you say. But I ain’t afraid, baas; you’re not goin’ to die just yet. You’ll beat that black nigger all right.” (The fellow was himself as black as the ace of spades.) “All you got to do, baas, is to take care that he don’ work roun’ you so’s to get the sun in your eyes, that’s all.”By this time ’Mfuni was once more armed, while Mapela had left him and was wending his way back to his place among his fellow indunas, whose eyes, like those of the king, and indeed every man in the square, were now intently watching every movement of their champion and myself. As I walked leisurely toward ’Mfuni, rolling up my right shirt sleeve the while, I saw that the fellow was watching me keenly as a cat watches a mouse, and, despite my apparent unconcern, I kept an equally wary eye upon him, knowing, from his tense attitude, that he might attack me at any moment. As I now approached him, the sun was immediately behind me, and, mindful of Piet’s advice, I was determined to keep it there, if possible; although there was this disadvantage about the arrangement, that the king, with his group of indunas, was far enough forward on my left front to be just within my range of vision, and any sudden movement upon the part of any of them was liable to attract my attention from my antagonist and leave me open to his attack. But I quickly made up my mind to dismiss them altogether from my thoughts; and at the instant when I came to this resolution ’Mfuni, with a sudden spring, leapt within arm’s length of me, with his spear upraised in the act of striking.Instantly I threw up my blade in position, ready to parry; but beyond this, and coming to a halt, I took no notice of my antagonist’s movement, for I had already made my plans for the fight, these consisting simply in acting upon the defensive until a favourable opportunity should reveal itself—and keeping my back to the sun. But ’Mfuni was as quick as myself to recognise the advantage that the latter would give me, and did his utmost to deprive me of it by springing first to one side and then to the other, hoping no doubt that I should be tempted to turn and face him, until, by repeated turns, he should contrive to get the sun in my eyes. I defeated this amiable project, however, by keeping my eyes steadfastly fixed upon his, and thus reading and forestalling his intentions—for I have found that the eye is the one feature of the human countenance that will not lend itself to deception; and thus for several minutes we danced hither and thither, right and left, my opponent continually flashing his spear before my eyes and making feints, while I simply held myself ready to parry his stroke the moment that I should see it coming. And presently it came in good earnest, for the patience of the savage is soon worn down—came with the quickness of a lightning flash. But, quick as it was, I intercepted it; the moment I saw that it was really coming, round whirled my blade, and down fell the point of the spear, shorn clean off at its junction with the haft, and ’Mfuni stood disarmed before me.For the fraction of a second he stood gazing with dilated eyes, apparently unable to realise that he was beaten; then, to my amazement, he stooped swiftly and snatched the severed spearhead from the ground. Unprepared as I was for the action, I yet had enough presence of mind to spring back and away from him; and well wasit for me that I did so, for almost before I could recover from my astonishment the man was upon me, stabbing furiously at me with the spearhead in one hand, while with his shield in the other he covered his body. So sudden and furious was the onslaught that, in spite of myself, I was driven back some half a dozen paces, while a low murmur from the onlookers rapidly strengthened to a deafening roar of applause and encouragement; then, in parrying an unusually vicious stab, I unwittingly slashed the poor fellow across the right hand so severely that he incontinently dropped his blade and once more stood disarmed before me: whereupon, driving him back by threatening him with my point, I stepped forward and placed my foot upon the spearhead.“Do you yield and admit yourself beaten, ’Mfuni?” I demanded in a low voice.“I yield; I am beaten, ’Nkos’,” answered the man, lowering his hands. “Strike me now through the heart, I pray thee, and save me from the torture of the ants.”“Wait!” I enjoined him briefly. Then, turning to the king, I said—the shouts of applause and encouragement having ceased on the instant of ’Mfuni’s discomfiture:“Thou hast seen, O King! Although thy chosen champion fought well and did his best, I have conquered him with this weapon, of which thou wert inclined to think so little. Art thou still inclined to think lightly of it; or art thou convinced that it is a good weapon, capable of protecting a man’s life in the heat of battle?”“Nay,” answered Lomalindela, “it is a good weapon; thou hast proved it to be so at the risk of thy life, and I thank thee for the gift. Ask me now what shall I give thee in return for it? Wilt thou have gold or cattle? Thou hast but to say, and it shall be thine; for thy gift is good, and mine shall equal it.”This answer, by good luck, afforded me the very opening that I wanted, and at once I replied:“I thank thee, Great, Great One, and take thee at thy word. I want none of the things that thou hast named; but if thou dost really value my gift to thee I ask thee to give me in return the life of ’Mfuni, the man who fought with me and whom I conquered by the might and magic of this sword. He fought bravely and well; worthily did he uphold the finest traditions of the Mashona warriors: but against this sword he had no chance; he could not conquer me. Therefore, because it is not his fault that he has been beaten—your soldiers and indunas, to a man, will admit that—I ask you to give the man his life, free from all stigma or disgrace of defeat; and to repeal your sentence that, if conquered, he should be given to the ants.”The silence that followed this bold request of mine was so intensely profound that when it had endured for a minute or more at its full tension I began to suspect that I had unwittingly committed some utterly unpardonable offence, and that all nature was breathlessly awaiting the fall of the avenging thunderbolt. For it was not only that every man present in that great open space seemed tongue-tied, they seemed to be not even drawing their breath; they were as absolutely motionless as so many statues; there was not even the faint sound of a man shifting his weight from one leg to the other, not even the scarcely perceptible touch of a spear-haft upon a shield, nor even the faint rustle of the warriors’ plumes in the wind, for, strangely enough, at that precise moment even the wind itself seemed to pause in its breathing: and glancing round me in vague discomfiture I perceived that every man in the square was staring blankly before him, right into space. The fact was—as I subsequently learned—that in preferring my request I had asked the king, in so many words, to break the most sacred oath known to the Mashonas, and had he risen in his wrath and plunged his bangwan through my heart, nobody would have been in the least degree surprised; that, indeed, was the logical sequence for which everybody was at that moment waiting. But my request must have touched some hitherto hidden and unsuspected chord in the king’s heart, for presently, when the tension had become almost unendurable, Lomalindela raised his head and said, in so gentle a tone of voice that it electrified everybody:“Au, white man, you know not what you ask! I have sworn by the bones of my royal father that if that man was conquered, and survived the fight, I would give him to the ants; and that is an oath which I dare not break, for otherwise great evils would fall upon the house of Lomalindela, King of the Mashona.”“Doubtless, O King, what thou sayest is true—under ordinary circumstances,” I replied. “But these circumstances are not ordinary; on the contrary, they are so exceptional that they will probably never again occur. The oath which you took was taken in ignorance. You did not know that, in taking that oath, you were virtually condemning a man to a dreadful death for failing to accomplish an impossibility, did you?”“That is true, white man; I did not know it,” answered the king.“Therefore,” I continued, with increasing confidence, “by every law of right and equity your ignorance of that important fact absolves you from your oath, and you are entitled to break it, if you please. And I ask you to break it, knowing that you may certainly do so with impunity, because, in demanding that ’Mfuni should conquer me—or, rather, the sword which I gave you—you demanded of him that which neither he nor any other warrior could possibly accomplish.”Then ensued another tense silence, during which the king appeared to be meditating upon what I had said. Presently he beckoned to Mapela, “the Wise One”, and conferred with him in a low voice for a brief space. Then, turning to me, he said:“I am inclined to believe that what thou hast said as to the impossibility of ’Mfuni conquering the sword is true; for Mapela informs me that he chose the man because of his reputation as the most skilled fighter in the whole Mashona army. Therefore, because of what thou hast said, I would willingly break my oath, if I could but be sure that, in so doing, I should not be bringing evil upon myself and my house. But how can I be sure?”That was a puzzler, with a vengeance; and I looked about me in perplexity, searching earth and sky for an answer. As I did so, I saw, far away in the northern sky, a filmy something that, even as I looked, resolved itself into a flock of rock pigeons coming directly toward us. I knew, from long experience, the propensity of these birds to fly straight, and I felt sure that, unless something happened to divert their course, they would presently pass right over our heads; therefore, since a man’s life was hanging in the balance and only I could save it, I determined to take a chance, and called to Piet to hand me my rifle. Then, with it in my hand, I turned to the king and said:“Behold, Lomalindela! yonder is a flight of rock pigeons about to pass over our heads. If one of them should fall dead in this square, would you believe that I have told you the truth, and that you may break your oath with impunity?”“Yea, I will,” answered the king, looking in the direction toward which I was pointing, “for why should one of them fall dead, seeing that their flight is strong and full of life?”“You shall see,” said I, and slowly raised my rifle. The birds were flying very high, and I foresaw that the shot would be a difficult one, but I had accomplished others quite as difficult in my time, and was determined that I would not fail now; therefore, holding my breath as the pigeons drew overhead, I sighted about six inches ahead of the leader and pulled the trigger. A low-murmured ejaculation of surprise followed the report of the piece, and simultaneously with it the leading pigeon was seen to spring convulsively upward about a foot, a feather or two detached themselves from its body, and then its wings collapsed and down it came, hurtling through the air, and falling, as luck would have it, within a few inches of the king’s feet!And, as though the soft thud of its body upon the ground had been a signal, up went the hand of every man present to his mouth, and a low “Au!” of awe and amazement rolled round the square like the mutter of distant thunder.“Is it enough, O King; and are you satisfied?” I demanded, as I stepped forward and, picking up the bird, handed it to the monarch for his inspection.“It is enough, and I am satisfied,” answered the king. “I recall my oath, and the man’s life is yours, to do as you will with it.”“I thank thee most heartily, O Great, Great One,” answered I. Then, turning to ’Mfuni, I said: “Return now to your place in the ranks, ’Mfuni, and to your friends. You fought well, and it was through no fault of yours that you were defeated. And when you are dismissed from duty, come to my wagon, and I will see what may be done toward mending the wound that the king’s sword inflicted upon you.”“’Nkos’!” answered ’Mfuni, throwing up his hand in salute as he swung round upon his heel and marched back to his place in the ranks. And as he went there gradually arose from the assembled troops a sound like the pattering of rain upon a roof, caused by the drumming of spear-haft upon shield, beginning so gently that at first it was scarcely audible, but rapidly swelling in volume until it became almost deafening, when it as rapidly subsided into silence. I did not understand the meaning of it at the moment; but, later on, when I questioned Mapela, he informed me that it was the method adopted by the Mashona warriors to express admiration, approval, and appreciation of any act of an exceptionally generous and noble character, and had been evoked by my treatment in general of the ’Mfuni incident, and especially by my successful intervention to save the man from the most horrible form of death known among them.From the fact that the scowl had vanished from the king’s brow I surmised that he, too, was well pleased at the final outcome of the matter; and when presently the sound of the peculiar salute to which I have referred had died away, he pointed to the rifle in my hand and said:“Is that the magic fire tube which kills from afar, of which thy servant spoke when he came hither to crave my permission that thou shouldst enter my country and visit me here?”“Even so,” I answered, offering it for examination, for I had not reloaded it, and knew that, however carelessly he might handle it, he could do no mischief. But he declined to touch it, saying:“Nay, it is great and terrible magic, and I will have naught to do with it. And thou, white man with the unpronounceable name, art also a great and wonderful magician, for at thy will the lightning flashes from thy fire tube and the very birds of the air fall dead at thy feet. Also, when thou didst fight ’Mfuni, thou didst cause the sword in thy hand to flash lightnings about thee by the swiftness with which thou didst wield it. Therefore I give thee a new name; and henceforth thou shalt be known as Chia’gnosi (The Smiter with Lightning). Go now, in peace, Chia’gnosi. I thank thee for the splendid gifts which thou hast bestowed upon me, and especially for the lightning-flashing sword, as also for saving the life of one of my warriors. And to-morrow thou shalt sit beside me, here in this great square, and witness the annual festival of the Mashona nation. Sala guhli!”Accepting this as my dismissal, I saluted, and, wheeling round, beckoned Piet to follow me to the place where I had left my horse, at the entrance to the square. But I had not gone six steps upon my way when—whether spontaneously or in response to some signal I know not—up went the spear of every warrior present, in salute, and a great shout of “Chia’gnosi—Chia’gnosi—’Nkos’!” rent the air, to which I, as in duty bound, responded by halting for a moment and raising my hand to my hat-brim in a military salute.About twenty minutes after my return to the wagon, ’Mfuni, my late antagonist, put in an appearance, in obedience to my instructions. He was still in full panoply of war, as he had appeared on parade, and had provided himself with a new bangwan, or stabbing spear, which, with his shield, war club, and a sheaf of hunting assagais, he respectfully laid at my feet as he halted before me.“Why do you do that, ’Mfuni?” I asked, regarding the man with some surprise.“Because henceforth I am thy man, O Chia’gnosi,” he answered. Then, in reply, I suppose, to my look of continued astonishment, he added: “The ’Nkosi spared my life, and the king gave me to him; therefore henceforth I am his man.”“Do you mean that you intend to attach yourself to me, to become one of my servants?” I demanded.“Even so, ’Nkos’,” he answered simply.“But,” I said, “the king will never permit that, ’Mfuni; he would be very angry indeed with me should he discover that I had carried off one of his warriors. Probably he would send an impi after us to eat us up.”“Nay, O Chia’gnosi, he would not; for it was the Great One himself who ordered me to come to thee,” replied ’Mfuni. “He gave me to thee; and the king does not go back from his word.”“Very well. In that case thou mayst remain, and glad shall I be to have thee,” said I. “And now, let me look at thy hand; I must see what can be done to heal the hurt that the sword inflicted upon thee.”The gash seemed to be a rather severe one, practically incapacitating the member for the time being, and it took me the best part of half an hour to extract the splinters of bone and bind up the wound, during which time I must have inflicted a good deal of pain upon the poor fellow, for the perspiration streamed down his face like rain. Yet all the time he sat motionless and impassive as a statue, never moving a muscle or shrinking in the least.Before I had finished with my surgery, Mapela and the rest of the chiefs turned up, in response to my invitation to call at the wagon to receive the gifts which I proposed to distribute among them; and I soon gathered, from their conversation, that ’Mfuni’s story was perfectly true, and that the king had indeed given the man to me as a present.To distribute gifts to nearly one hundred chiefs proved to be a somewhat lengthy business, also it made a pretty severe inroad into my stock of “truck”; still, it had to be done, and I could only hope that, in the long run, my generosity would not be without its reward. I treated them all alike, or practically so, giving each man a yard of thin copper wire, a gill measure of mixed beads, and either a bandana handkerchief or a yard of printed calico.And while the distribution was proceeding my visitors chatted volubly with me, and still more volubly with each other, the principal topic of interest, I soon discovered, being the festival which was to commence one hour after daybreak on the morrow, and to last all through the day and well on into the hours of the succeeding night. The chiefs conversed with the utmost freedom in my presence and hearing, but at the outset I was too much engrossed in the business of distributing gifts to pay very much attention to what was said, a stray word or two here and there being all that I caught at first. At length, however, it began to dawn upon me that the so-called “festival” promised to be anything rather than festive, if I had not completely misunderstood the trend of certain of the remarks which had attracted my attention, and accordingly I pricked up my ears, and began to ask a few questions. And then I learned, to my horror, that the first feature of the festival, namely, the “smelling out” of the king’s secret enemies by the witch doctors, was more likely to resemble closely an orgy of wholesale murder than anything else that I could imagine.The ceremony, I gathered, was somewhat as follows. The “witch doctors” or magicians of the nation—numbering in all something over a hundred—all of whom were then in Gwanda for the purposes of the ceremony, would assemble at sunset that same evening in a sort of fetish house; and there, under the leadership and direction of one Machenga, the head or chief witch doctor, would perform certain mysterious rites, and submit themselves to a certain mysterious form of treatment, lasting the entire night, which, it was generally understood, would enable them infallibly to “smell out” or detect every individual who might harbour evil thoughts or designs against the king. And these unfortunates, it appeared, would, upon detection, be haled forth and summarily executed there and then! I learned, further, that while the king put the most implicit faith in the infallibility of the witch doctors, and especially in that of Machenga, the head or chief of them, a few of the indunas who were then talking to me held rather strongly to the opinion that the selection of victims was not so much the result of supernatural guidance and wisdom vouchsafed to the witch doctors, as it was—at least in the case of the more important and distinguished victims—governed rather by Machenga’s personal hatred, or his cupidity; a few of the shrewder observers having noticed, each year, that the chosen victims invariably included certain men toward whom the head witch doctor was well known to cherish a feeling of strong enmity, while other victims comprised those chiefs who were numbered among the richest men in the community—the law being that, while the property of the alleged traitors was forfeited to the king, half of it was surrendered to the head witch doctor, as his fee for the detection of the criminals. Mapela, “the Wise One”, was one of the strongest upholders of the above theory, and in support of the soundness of it he whispered to me:“You see that tall induna yonder, talking with two others? Yes, the man with the necklace of lions’ teeth. He is Logwane, reputed to be the most wealthy induna. For a number of years he has paid heavy tribute to Machenga, thus purchasing immunity from being ‘smelled out’; but during this last year he has become a favourite of the Great, Great One, and presuming upon this, I understand that now he has refused to pay further tribute to Machenga, and has defied him.Mark my words: he will be among those smelled out to-morrow!”“You think so?” I whispered back. “And, if so, what will be his fate?”“Chiele (slain)!” answered Mapela tersely, accompanying the word with an expressive movement of his right hand, imitative of a man stabbing another.“What! notwithstanding the fact that he is a favourite of the king?” I demanded incredulously.“Neither that nor the fact that he is highly esteemed by us all and is well known to be absolutely loyal to the king will save him. You will see,” replied Mapela.“But,” I exclaimed hotly, “that would be monstrous—nothing short of deliberate, cold-blooded murder! Do you really think that the king will permit it? And if he should, will none of you intervene?”“The king will permit it, because he has absolute faith in Machenga,” answered Mapela. “And, as for us, who are we that we should intervene to prevent that which the Great, Great One permits?”“And are the victims killed there and then, on the spot?” demanded I. “Have they no chance given them to appeal against Machenga’s judgment, no opportunity to produce proof of their innocence?”“None,” answered Mapela. “They are dragged forth; the executioners take them; and—they die! You will see; for the king has bidden you to be present to-morrow.”“I shall not see,” I retorted, “for I shall decline to be present. Nothing shall induce me to countenance by my presence such a scene of cold-blooded atrocity!”“Nay, my friend,” answered Mapela, laying his hand impressively upon my arm, “you must not dream of attempting to evade the king’s command. To do so would be fatal to you and your followers, for it would be interpreted to mean that in your heart you cherish evil thoughts against the king, and fear to face the ordeal. And an impi would instantly be dispatched with orders to ‘eat up’ you and yours! No; however disagreeable to you may be the sights which you will witness to-morrow, you must on no account seek to evade them. I tell you this as your friend, because I wish you well, and because my snake tells me that in some way—how I know not—your presence at the ‘smelling out’ to-morrow will be the means whereby many valuable lives will be saved. And now it is time that we should depart; we have been with you long enough. Sala guhli, Chia’gnosi, until to-morrow. And bear well in mind my caution to you,” he concluded in a whisper. Then, rising, he made a sign to the rest of the chiefs, who sprang to their feet, saluted, and retired in a body, after reiterating their thanks for the “splendid” gifts I had bestowed upon them.
In obedience to the king’s command, Mapela left his place among his fellow indunas, and, stalking across the intervening space, handed his bangwan—a spear with a stout haft about three and a half feet long, to which was attached a head some eighteen inches long by seven and a half inches wide, the two edges of which were almost razor keen—to ’Mfuni. And while he was doing this, and whispering a few hurried words to my prospective antagonist, I divested myself of my jacket, and handing it and my rifle to Piet, who all this while had stood motionless as a statue, said:
“Take these and hold them for me, Piet. And if I should be killed, make your way at once to the place where I have left my horse, shooting any man who may attempt to stop you—the rifle is loaded—and mount and ride for your life to the wagon. And if you are fortunate enough to reach it alive, you, with Jan and ’Ngulubi, had better take all the horses, all the guns, and as much ammunition as you may have time to lay your hands on, and ride for your lives back to the Limpopo, on the other side of which you will be reasonably safe. After which, you must do the best you can for yourselves. And if you should be lucky enough to get back home, find Major Henderson and tell him all that has happened and—how I died.”
“All right, baas,” answered Piet cheerfully, as he took my coat and rifle from me; “I’ll remember all that you say. But I ain’t afraid, baas; you’re not goin’ to die just yet. You’ll beat that black nigger all right.” (The fellow was himself as black as the ace of spades.) “All you got to do, baas, is to take care that he don’ work roun’ you so’s to get the sun in your eyes, that’s all.”
By this time ’Mfuni was once more armed, while Mapela had left him and was wending his way back to his place among his fellow indunas, whose eyes, like those of the king, and indeed every man in the square, were now intently watching every movement of their champion and myself. As I walked leisurely toward ’Mfuni, rolling up my right shirt sleeve the while, I saw that the fellow was watching me keenly as a cat watches a mouse, and, despite my apparent unconcern, I kept an equally wary eye upon him, knowing, from his tense attitude, that he might attack me at any moment. As I now approached him, the sun was immediately behind me, and, mindful of Piet’s advice, I was determined to keep it there, if possible; although there was this disadvantage about the arrangement, that the king, with his group of indunas, was far enough forward on my left front to be just within my range of vision, and any sudden movement upon the part of any of them was liable to attract my attention from my antagonist and leave me open to his attack. But I quickly made up my mind to dismiss them altogether from my thoughts; and at the instant when I came to this resolution ’Mfuni, with a sudden spring, leapt within arm’s length of me, with his spear upraised in the act of striking.
Instantly I threw up my blade in position, ready to parry; but beyond this, and coming to a halt, I took no notice of my antagonist’s movement, for I had already made my plans for the fight, these consisting simply in acting upon the defensive until a favourable opportunity should reveal itself—and keeping my back to the sun. But ’Mfuni was as quick as myself to recognise the advantage that the latter would give me, and did his utmost to deprive me of it by springing first to one side and then to the other, hoping no doubt that I should be tempted to turn and face him, until, by repeated turns, he should contrive to get the sun in my eyes. I defeated this amiable project, however, by keeping my eyes steadfastly fixed upon his, and thus reading and forestalling his intentions—for I have found that the eye is the one feature of the human countenance that will not lend itself to deception; and thus for several minutes we danced hither and thither, right and left, my opponent continually flashing his spear before my eyes and making feints, while I simply held myself ready to parry his stroke the moment that I should see it coming. And presently it came in good earnest, for the patience of the savage is soon worn down—came with the quickness of a lightning flash. But, quick as it was, I intercepted it; the moment I saw that it was really coming, round whirled my blade, and down fell the point of the spear, shorn clean off at its junction with the haft, and ’Mfuni stood disarmed before me.
For the fraction of a second he stood gazing with dilated eyes, apparently unable to realise that he was beaten; then, to my amazement, he stooped swiftly and snatched the severed spearhead from the ground. Unprepared as I was for the action, I yet had enough presence of mind to spring back and away from him; and well wasit for me that I did so, for almost before I could recover from my astonishment the man was upon me, stabbing furiously at me with the spearhead in one hand, while with his shield in the other he covered his body. So sudden and furious was the onslaught that, in spite of myself, I was driven back some half a dozen paces, while a low murmur from the onlookers rapidly strengthened to a deafening roar of applause and encouragement; then, in parrying an unusually vicious stab, I unwittingly slashed the poor fellow across the right hand so severely that he incontinently dropped his blade and once more stood disarmed before me: whereupon, driving him back by threatening him with my point, I stepped forward and placed my foot upon the spearhead.
“Do you yield and admit yourself beaten, ’Mfuni?” I demanded in a low voice.
“I yield; I am beaten, ’Nkos’,” answered the man, lowering his hands. “Strike me now through the heart, I pray thee, and save me from the torture of the ants.”
“Wait!” I enjoined him briefly. Then, turning to the king, I said—the shouts of applause and encouragement having ceased on the instant of ’Mfuni’s discomfiture:
“Thou hast seen, O King! Although thy chosen champion fought well and did his best, I have conquered him with this weapon, of which thou wert inclined to think so little. Art thou still inclined to think lightly of it; or art thou convinced that it is a good weapon, capable of protecting a man’s life in the heat of battle?”
“Nay,” answered Lomalindela, “it is a good weapon; thou hast proved it to be so at the risk of thy life, and I thank thee for the gift. Ask me now what shall I give thee in return for it? Wilt thou have gold or cattle? Thou hast but to say, and it shall be thine; for thy gift is good, and mine shall equal it.”
This answer, by good luck, afforded me the very opening that I wanted, and at once I replied:
“I thank thee, Great, Great One, and take thee at thy word. I want none of the things that thou hast named; but if thou dost really value my gift to thee I ask thee to give me in return the life of ’Mfuni, the man who fought with me and whom I conquered by the might and magic of this sword. He fought bravely and well; worthily did he uphold the finest traditions of the Mashona warriors: but against this sword he had no chance; he could not conquer me. Therefore, because it is not his fault that he has been beaten—your soldiers and indunas, to a man, will admit that—I ask you to give the man his life, free from all stigma or disgrace of defeat; and to repeal your sentence that, if conquered, he should be given to the ants.”
The silence that followed this bold request of mine was so intensely profound that when it had endured for a minute or more at its full tension I began to suspect that I had unwittingly committed some utterly unpardonable offence, and that all nature was breathlessly awaiting the fall of the avenging thunderbolt. For it was not only that every man present in that great open space seemed tongue-tied, they seemed to be not even drawing their breath; they were as absolutely motionless as so many statues; there was not even the faint sound of a man shifting his weight from one leg to the other, not even the scarcely perceptible touch of a spear-haft upon a shield, nor even the faint rustle of the warriors’ plumes in the wind, for, strangely enough, at that precise moment even the wind itself seemed to pause in its breathing: and glancing round me in vague discomfiture I perceived that every man in the square was staring blankly before him, right into space. The fact was—as I subsequently learned—that in preferring my request I had asked the king, in so many words, to break the most sacred oath known to the Mashonas, and had he risen in his wrath and plunged his bangwan through my heart, nobody would have been in the least degree surprised; that, indeed, was the logical sequence for which everybody was at that moment waiting. But my request must have touched some hitherto hidden and unsuspected chord in the king’s heart, for presently, when the tension had become almost unendurable, Lomalindela raised his head and said, in so gentle a tone of voice that it electrified everybody:
“Au, white man, you know not what you ask! I have sworn by the bones of my royal father that if that man was conquered, and survived the fight, I would give him to the ants; and that is an oath which I dare not break, for otherwise great evils would fall upon the house of Lomalindela, King of the Mashona.”
“Doubtless, O King, what thou sayest is true—under ordinary circumstances,” I replied. “But these circumstances are not ordinary; on the contrary, they are so exceptional that they will probably never again occur. The oath which you took was taken in ignorance. You did not know that, in taking that oath, you were virtually condemning a man to a dreadful death for failing to accomplish an impossibility, did you?”
“That is true, white man; I did not know it,” answered the king.
“Therefore,” I continued, with increasing confidence, “by every law of right and equity your ignorance of that important fact absolves you from your oath, and you are entitled to break it, if you please. And I ask you to break it, knowing that you may certainly do so with impunity, because, in demanding that ’Mfuni should conquer me—or, rather, the sword which I gave you—you demanded of him that which neither he nor any other warrior could possibly accomplish.”
Then ensued another tense silence, during which the king appeared to be meditating upon what I had said. Presently he beckoned to Mapela, “the Wise One”, and conferred with him in a low voice for a brief space. Then, turning to me, he said:
“I am inclined to believe that what thou hast said as to the impossibility of ’Mfuni conquering the sword is true; for Mapela informs me that he chose the man because of his reputation as the most skilled fighter in the whole Mashona army. Therefore, because of what thou hast said, I would willingly break my oath, if I could but be sure that, in so doing, I should not be bringing evil upon myself and my house. But how can I be sure?”
That was a puzzler, with a vengeance; and I looked about me in perplexity, searching earth and sky for an answer. As I did so, I saw, far away in the northern sky, a filmy something that, even as I looked, resolved itself into a flock of rock pigeons coming directly toward us. I knew, from long experience, the propensity of these birds to fly straight, and I felt sure that, unless something happened to divert their course, they would presently pass right over our heads; therefore, since a man’s life was hanging in the balance and only I could save it, I determined to take a chance, and called to Piet to hand me my rifle. Then, with it in my hand, I turned to the king and said:
“Behold, Lomalindela! yonder is a flight of rock pigeons about to pass over our heads. If one of them should fall dead in this square, would you believe that I have told you the truth, and that you may break your oath with impunity?”
“Yea, I will,” answered the king, looking in the direction toward which I was pointing, “for why should one of them fall dead, seeing that their flight is strong and full of life?”
“You shall see,” said I, and slowly raised my rifle. The birds were flying very high, and I foresaw that the shot would be a difficult one, but I had accomplished others quite as difficult in my time, and was determined that I would not fail now; therefore, holding my breath as the pigeons drew overhead, I sighted about six inches ahead of the leader and pulled the trigger. A low-murmured ejaculation of surprise followed the report of the piece, and simultaneously with it the leading pigeon was seen to spring convulsively upward about a foot, a feather or two detached themselves from its body, and then its wings collapsed and down it came, hurtling through the air, and falling, as luck would have it, within a few inches of the king’s feet!
And, as though the soft thud of its body upon the ground had been a signal, up went the hand of every man present to his mouth, and a low “Au!” of awe and amazement rolled round the square like the mutter of distant thunder.
“Is it enough, O King; and are you satisfied?” I demanded, as I stepped forward and, picking up the bird, handed it to the monarch for his inspection.
“It is enough, and I am satisfied,” answered the king. “I recall my oath, and the man’s life is yours, to do as you will with it.”
“I thank thee most heartily, O Great, Great One,” answered I. Then, turning to ’Mfuni, I said: “Return now to your place in the ranks, ’Mfuni, and to your friends. You fought well, and it was through no fault of yours that you were defeated. And when you are dismissed from duty, come to my wagon, and I will see what may be done toward mending the wound that the king’s sword inflicted upon you.”
“’Nkos’!” answered ’Mfuni, throwing up his hand in salute as he swung round upon his heel and marched back to his place in the ranks. And as he went there gradually arose from the assembled troops a sound like the pattering of rain upon a roof, caused by the drumming of spear-haft upon shield, beginning so gently that at first it was scarcely audible, but rapidly swelling in volume until it became almost deafening, when it as rapidly subsided into silence. I did not understand the meaning of it at the moment; but, later on, when I questioned Mapela, he informed me that it was the method adopted by the Mashona warriors to express admiration, approval, and appreciation of any act of an exceptionally generous and noble character, and had been evoked by my treatment in general of the ’Mfuni incident, and especially by my successful intervention to save the man from the most horrible form of death known among them.
From the fact that the scowl had vanished from the king’s brow I surmised that he, too, was well pleased at the final outcome of the matter; and when presently the sound of the peculiar salute to which I have referred had died away, he pointed to the rifle in my hand and said:
“Is that the magic fire tube which kills from afar, of which thy servant spoke when he came hither to crave my permission that thou shouldst enter my country and visit me here?”
“Even so,” I answered, offering it for examination, for I had not reloaded it, and knew that, however carelessly he might handle it, he could do no mischief. But he declined to touch it, saying:
“Nay, it is great and terrible magic, and I will have naught to do with it. And thou, white man with the unpronounceable name, art also a great and wonderful magician, for at thy will the lightning flashes from thy fire tube and the very birds of the air fall dead at thy feet. Also, when thou didst fight ’Mfuni, thou didst cause the sword in thy hand to flash lightnings about thee by the swiftness with which thou didst wield it. Therefore I give thee a new name; and henceforth thou shalt be known as Chia’gnosi (The Smiter with Lightning). Go now, in peace, Chia’gnosi. I thank thee for the splendid gifts which thou hast bestowed upon me, and especially for the lightning-flashing sword, as also for saving the life of one of my warriors. And to-morrow thou shalt sit beside me, here in this great square, and witness the annual festival of the Mashona nation. Sala guhli!”
Accepting this as my dismissal, I saluted, and, wheeling round, beckoned Piet to follow me to the place where I had left my horse, at the entrance to the square. But I had not gone six steps upon my way when—whether spontaneously or in response to some signal I know not—up went the spear of every warrior present, in salute, and a great shout of “Chia’gnosi—Chia’gnosi—’Nkos’!” rent the air, to which I, as in duty bound, responded by halting for a moment and raising my hand to my hat-brim in a military salute.
About twenty minutes after my return to the wagon, ’Mfuni, my late antagonist, put in an appearance, in obedience to my instructions. He was still in full panoply of war, as he had appeared on parade, and had provided himself with a new bangwan, or stabbing spear, which, with his shield, war club, and a sheaf of hunting assagais, he respectfully laid at my feet as he halted before me.
“Why do you do that, ’Mfuni?” I asked, regarding the man with some surprise.
“Because henceforth I am thy man, O Chia’gnosi,” he answered. Then, in reply, I suppose, to my look of continued astonishment, he added: “The ’Nkosi spared my life, and the king gave me to him; therefore henceforth I am his man.”
“Do you mean that you intend to attach yourself to me, to become one of my servants?” I demanded.
“Even so, ’Nkos’,” he answered simply.
“But,” I said, “the king will never permit that, ’Mfuni; he would be very angry indeed with me should he discover that I had carried off one of his warriors. Probably he would send an impi after us to eat us up.”
“Nay, O Chia’gnosi, he would not; for it was the Great One himself who ordered me to come to thee,” replied ’Mfuni. “He gave me to thee; and the king does not go back from his word.”
“Very well. In that case thou mayst remain, and glad shall I be to have thee,” said I. “And now, let me look at thy hand; I must see what can be done to heal the hurt that the sword inflicted upon thee.”
The gash seemed to be a rather severe one, practically incapacitating the member for the time being, and it took me the best part of half an hour to extract the splinters of bone and bind up the wound, during which time I must have inflicted a good deal of pain upon the poor fellow, for the perspiration streamed down his face like rain. Yet all the time he sat motionless and impassive as a statue, never moving a muscle or shrinking in the least.
Before I had finished with my surgery, Mapela and the rest of the chiefs turned up, in response to my invitation to call at the wagon to receive the gifts which I proposed to distribute among them; and I soon gathered, from their conversation, that ’Mfuni’s story was perfectly true, and that the king had indeed given the man to me as a present.
To distribute gifts to nearly one hundred chiefs proved to be a somewhat lengthy business, also it made a pretty severe inroad into my stock of “truck”; still, it had to be done, and I could only hope that, in the long run, my generosity would not be without its reward. I treated them all alike, or practically so, giving each man a yard of thin copper wire, a gill measure of mixed beads, and either a bandana handkerchief or a yard of printed calico.
And while the distribution was proceeding my visitors chatted volubly with me, and still more volubly with each other, the principal topic of interest, I soon discovered, being the festival which was to commence one hour after daybreak on the morrow, and to last all through the day and well on into the hours of the succeeding night. The chiefs conversed with the utmost freedom in my presence and hearing, but at the outset I was too much engrossed in the business of distributing gifts to pay very much attention to what was said, a stray word or two here and there being all that I caught at first. At length, however, it began to dawn upon me that the so-called “festival” promised to be anything rather than festive, if I had not completely misunderstood the trend of certain of the remarks which had attracted my attention, and accordingly I pricked up my ears, and began to ask a few questions. And then I learned, to my horror, that the first feature of the festival, namely, the “smelling out” of the king’s secret enemies by the witch doctors, was more likely to resemble closely an orgy of wholesale murder than anything else that I could imagine.
The ceremony, I gathered, was somewhat as follows. The “witch doctors” or magicians of the nation—numbering in all something over a hundred—all of whom were then in Gwanda for the purposes of the ceremony, would assemble at sunset that same evening in a sort of fetish house; and there, under the leadership and direction of one Machenga, the head or chief witch doctor, would perform certain mysterious rites, and submit themselves to a certain mysterious form of treatment, lasting the entire night, which, it was generally understood, would enable them infallibly to “smell out” or detect every individual who might harbour evil thoughts or designs against the king. And these unfortunates, it appeared, would, upon detection, be haled forth and summarily executed there and then! I learned, further, that while the king put the most implicit faith in the infallibility of the witch doctors, and especially in that of Machenga, the head or chief of them, a few of the indunas who were then talking to me held rather strongly to the opinion that the selection of victims was not so much the result of supernatural guidance and wisdom vouchsafed to the witch doctors, as it was—at least in the case of the more important and distinguished victims—governed rather by Machenga’s personal hatred, or his cupidity; a few of the shrewder observers having noticed, each year, that the chosen victims invariably included certain men toward whom the head witch doctor was well known to cherish a feeling of strong enmity, while other victims comprised those chiefs who were numbered among the richest men in the community—the law being that, while the property of the alleged traitors was forfeited to the king, half of it was surrendered to the head witch doctor, as his fee for the detection of the criminals. Mapela, “the Wise One”, was one of the strongest upholders of the above theory, and in support of the soundness of it he whispered to me:
“You see that tall induna yonder, talking with two others? Yes, the man with the necklace of lions’ teeth. He is Logwane, reputed to be the most wealthy induna. For a number of years he has paid heavy tribute to Machenga, thus purchasing immunity from being ‘smelled out’; but during this last year he has become a favourite of the Great, Great One, and presuming upon this, I understand that now he has refused to pay further tribute to Machenga, and has defied him.Mark my words: he will be among those smelled out to-morrow!”
“You think so?” I whispered back. “And, if so, what will be his fate?”
“Chiele (slain)!” answered Mapela tersely, accompanying the word with an expressive movement of his right hand, imitative of a man stabbing another.
“What! notwithstanding the fact that he is a favourite of the king?” I demanded incredulously.
“Neither that nor the fact that he is highly esteemed by us all and is well known to be absolutely loyal to the king will save him. You will see,” replied Mapela.
“But,” I exclaimed hotly, “that would be monstrous—nothing short of deliberate, cold-blooded murder! Do you really think that the king will permit it? And if he should, will none of you intervene?”
“The king will permit it, because he has absolute faith in Machenga,” answered Mapela. “And, as for us, who are we that we should intervene to prevent that which the Great, Great One permits?”
“And are the victims killed there and then, on the spot?” demanded I. “Have they no chance given them to appeal against Machenga’s judgment, no opportunity to produce proof of their innocence?”
“None,” answered Mapela. “They are dragged forth; the executioners take them; and—they die! You will see; for the king has bidden you to be present to-morrow.”
“I shall not see,” I retorted, “for I shall decline to be present. Nothing shall induce me to countenance by my presence such a scene of cold-blooded atrocity!”
“Nay, my friend,” answered Mapela, laying his hand impressively upon my arm, “you must not dream of attempting to evade the king’s command. To do so would be fatal to you and your followers, for it would be interpreted to mean that in your heart you cherish evil thoughts against the king, and fear to face the ordeal. And an impi would instantly be dispatched with orders to ‘eat up’ you and yours! No; however disagreeable to you may be the sights which you will witness to-morrow, you must on no account seek to evade them. I tell you this as your friend, because I wish you well, and because my snake tells me that in some way—how I know not—your presence at the ‘smelling out’ to-morrow will be the means whereby many valuable lives will be saved. And now it is time that we should depart; we have been with you long enough. Sala guhli, Chia’gnosi, until to-morrow. And bear well in mind my caution to you,” he concluded in a whisper. Then, rising, he made a sign to the rest of the chiefs, who sprang to their feet, saluted, and retired in a body, after reiterating their thanks for the “splendid” gifts I had bestowed upon them.
Chapter Twelve.Machenga, the chief Witch Doctor of the Mashona.It was about mid-afternoon of that same day when, as I sat in the shadow of the wagon tent, pondering upon the possibility of my being able successfully to approach the king upon the question of a concession to mine gold in Mashonaland, Piet informed me that certain men, whom ’Mfuni recognised as messengers from the king, were coming toward the wagon from Gwanda; and some five minutes later they arrived.There were six of them, and they were laden with goods which I needed not their explanation to assure me were presents from the king. One bore a complete Mashona warrior’s panoply, consisting of plumed headdress, leopard-skin mantle, mucha of leopards’ tails, armlets, anklets, and garters of cows’ tails, a necklace consisting of about forty gold nuggets, bored and strung upon a strip of rimpi, shield, war club, and an immense bangwan, or stabbing spear. This gift was of course to be regarded as a logical sequence and appropriate return for the uniform which I had presented to His Majesty that morning. But there were other gifts as well, and exceedingly valuable ones, too, three of the other messengers being bearers each of a most magnificent kaross, or skin rug, one being made of lions’ skins, one of leopards’ skins, and one—the finest of all—of monkeys’ skins of some species unknown to me, the black fur being extraordinarily long, thick, and glossy. The remaining two men carried, each of them, a leather bag weighing about sixty pounds, one bag containing coarse gold dust, while the other was full of small, rough nuggets of gold. These two men were also the bearers of a message of apology from the king, to the effect that, since I seemed to have a liking for gold, he regretted that he had no more to offer me, but that as gold was of no value in the country, and was not particularly sought after, it was only occasionally that a stray nugget or a handful of dust was found; and that the contents of the bags represented the casual findings of many years.It was somewhat disappointing to learn that here, in Gwanda, where I had confidently anticipated that gold in practically unlimited quantity might be had almost for the asking, there should be so little; yet the situation was not without its compensations, for if the natives attached so little value to the metal that they would not even take the trouble to hunt for it, there ought to be all the more for me—if I could but coax the king into granting me a concession. So I dissembled my disappointment, handed over the gifts to Piet, with instructions to pack them away in the rear of the wagon, rewarded the messengers who had brought them, and dismissed them, happy in the possession of a few mixed beads.About half-past ten o’clock that night I was sitting in my wagon, reading by the light of the all but full moon—for, this being the eve of the great annual festival, the town was in an uproar, and the volume of sound emanating from it and from the temporary encampments outside it rendered sleep impossible—when I became aware of a figure muffled in a great kaross in such a manner as to render identification impossible. Apart from this circumstance, however, there was a certain suggestion of furtiveness in the movements of the figure, a something indicative of a desire to avoid observation, that attracted my attention from my book and aroused my curiosity. It seemed to be wandering about aimlessly; but when I had been watching it for some ten minutes I became convinced that, erratic as its movements seemed to be, they were not without method; and that method, I soon saw, was causing the unknown one—a man—to gravitate slowly but surely toward the wagon. So I waited patiently, and a quarter of an hour later he accomplished a masterly movement which brought him within the shadow of the wagon.“S’a bona muntu,” I remarked quietly. “What is the business that brings you by such a crooked path to my wagon to-night?”“Au!” ejaculated the mysterious one in some confusion. “Chia’gnosi has good eyes; nothing escapes him; he sees even the little red ticks that hide themselves on the blades of the grass. If his ears are as good as his eyes he will perchance have heard of one named Machenga.”“I have heard of such an one,” I answered cautiously.“What have you heard of him?” demanded the unknown.“I have heard that Machenga is the name of the king’s chief witch doctor,” I replied, with still greater caution. “But who are you, and why have you come to my wagon at this time of night? Is it to talk to me of Machenga?”“Machenga is a very great man,” observed my visitor. “Next to the king, he is the greatest man in all Mashonaland. Also, he is the king’s friend: the friends of the king are his friends; and the enemies of the king are his enemies.”“Come you to me with a message from Machenga?” I demanded. “If so, proceed; my ears are open.”“Au!” ejaculated the unknown one. “Chia’gnosi is very wise; he understands. He understands that when Machenga speaks the king listens; and those who—like Chia’gnosi—are wise and desire the king’s favour, do well first to secure the favour of Machenga.”“Piet,” I called, “come hither and open for me the bale containing the handkerchiefs and printed calico; also find for me the pliers and the brass chain.”The articles named were duly produced, and I selected two of the most brilliant bandanas I could find, added thereto a couple of yards of calico, printed with a tasteful design in crimson and blue consisting of an alternation of horseshoes and running horses carrying their heads and tails very high, cut off a yard of brass chain to which I attached a shaving mirror as a pendant, filled a brass box with mixed beads, and arranged the whole in a tasteful little heap on the top of the voorkissie. Then I turned to my visitor and, pointing to the heap, said:“Friend, your words are words of wisdom. You see these gifts? Take them and place them in the hut of Machenga, saying that I, Chia’gnosi, send them in token of my goodwill. Say also that I have here many other gifts, equally precious, and that, if the king continues to regard me with favour, and grants me a certain request which I think of preferring, a generous share of these gifts shall find their way to the hut of Machenga.”For an instant my visitor leaned forward, his gleaming eyes fixed avariciously upon the little pile of trumpery spread out temptingly upon the lid of the chest, and, as he did so, the upper folds of his kaross slipped apart, and I caught a momentary glimpse of a most extraordinary countenance. It was that of an old man, so old that the head was quite bald and the wrinkled face entirely devoid of hair; but the deeply sunken eyes glowed like those of a leopard in the dark, the forehead was broad and high, the nose thin and crooked like the beak of an eagle, the mouth a mere straight slit, and the thin lips were drawn back in a sort of incipient snarl. But it was the expression of the face that particularly arrested my attention, for never before had I beheld a human countenance on which unimaginable cruelty and boundless rapacity were so clearly and strongly written. This was no common, ordinary individual, I at once told myself: there could be but one man in all Gwanda with such a countenance as that, and I instantly guessed the truth, that my visitor was none other than Machenga himself.For a moment or two the talon-like right hand of the man hovered greedily over the little display; then it flashed back and was lost in the folds of the kaross, which were quickly drawn round the head again, all but concealing it from view. The man stepped back a pace and drew himself up haughtily, and, with a gesture of contempt, pointed to the gifts.“Au!” he exclaimed. “Think ye that Machenga craves such baubles as those? They are well enough for children and fools, but Machenga accepts only gifts of real value.”“Such, for instance, as—” I suggested.“One of the magic fire tubes with which you caused a flying pigeon to fall dead at the king’s feet to-day,” answered my visitor.“Nay,” said I, “that may not be. It would be no kindness on my part to give Machenga a fire tube, for he would not know how to use it—”“But you could teach him,” hastily interposed the stranger.“Nay,” answered I, “not so, for it is a thing of magic; and the magic of the white man is unlike that of the black man, nor can the black man learn it. Were Machenga to take one of my fire tubes in his hand, one of two things would happen. Either the tube would refuse to slay at all, or it would turn upon Machenga and kill him.”“Au! white man, that is not true, and when you speak lies you talk as a fool,” exclaimed my visitor, displaying much righteous indignation. “I know, for I have seen the magic fire tubes before. Many moons ago—ay, before you were born, and before Lomalindela was king—two white men came into Mashonaland, and only one of them went out again. They, too, possessed fire tubes, and one of them, an Amaboona (Boer)—the man who did not go out—once put his fire tube into my hands and showed me how to use it. The magic lies not in the tube itself, but in the few grains of black powder that are poured into it and the round lump of metal that is thrust down on the top of the powder. Au! I know. Though so many moons have passed I remember quite well. Ay, and I remember many other things also, things that happened here long before the Mashona arrived in the land, things that happened when the Monomotapa dwelt here and great cities of stone and brick covered the face of the country, when men dug gold out of the rocks and made it into ornaments for the arms, necks, and ankles of their women—”“What foolishness is this that thou art talking?” I interrupted angrily, for it was growing late and I was beginning to feel tired, while there seemed to be no sign of an intention on the part of my unwelcome visitor to leave. “Return now to Machenga,” I continued, “describe to him the gifts which I have set aside for him, and say that if he will send thee for them to-morrow at sunrise they shall be his. But if he wants them not, it is well: I have no others for him.”“Then thou wilt not give him one of thy fire tubes, with a supply of the magic powder and enough of the round lumps of metal to kill one hundred—pigeons?” demanded my visitor.“I will not,” I replied shortly, “and that is my last word.”“Au!” retorted the man. “Very well, white man, I hear thee and I go. But it may be that to-morrow thou wilt be sorry that thou didst refuse.” And, so saying, he wrapped his kaross still more closely about him and strode away into the moonlight with the light, springy step of a young man.As for me, I was now quite ready for bed, therefore I undressed and turned in without further delay, expecting to fall asleep on the instant. Yet I did nothing of the kind, for when I stretched myself out upon my cartel I found my thoughts dwelling upon my mysterious visitor, who I felt sure could be none other than Machenga himself, stolen surreptitiously away from the mysterious rites of the fetish house in the hope of cajoling a rifle out of me; and I began to wonder whether the two white men to whom he had referred as having visited Mashonaland many moons ago—one only of whom went out of the country again—could by any chance have been my friend Henderson and his Boer partner, Van Raalte. And I also greatly wondered what the fellow could possibly have meant by his mysterious talk of a time before the Mashonas came to the country, when it was inhabited by a people whom he named the Monomotapa, who built great cities of brick and stone, worked the gold mines, and made gold ornaments for their women. Pondering thus, I became a little vexed with myself for my untactful treatment of the man, whom I had permitted to leave me in a distinctly bad temper, instead of humouring and conciliating him, as I felt persuaded I might easily have done.However, I was not altogether without hope that, after a night’s reflection, the fellow might reopen negotiations, when I would do my best to establish friendly relations with him, if only for the purpose of learning a little more about the mysterious Monomotapa, the ruins of one of whose towns I had actually seen and examined. And, so thinking, I gradually dropped off to sleep; and, as was not very surprising, dreamed a wonderful dream, wherein I found myself living and moving among the Monomotapa, who proved to be a very highly civilised race, possessing a vast amount of knowledge of many things that we moderns only guessed at in the most vague fashion. And I was plunged deep in the midst of a most astounding adventure when Piet awoke me with the intelligence that it was sunrise, and that the regiments in the outlying cantonments were already astir and preparing to enter Gwanda, to assist in the celebration of the great annual festival. I enquired whether there was any sign of our visitor of the previous night, and was told that there was not, at which information I was sorrier than ever for my hasty behaviour; for it was now evident that Machenga definitely refused the gifts that I had set out for his acceptance, and for a savage to refuse a gift is tantamount to a declaration of enmity, and I could ill afford to make an enemy of anyone in Mashonaland, still less of so powerful a personage as Machenga, the chief witch doctor and confidential adviser of the king.It was by then too late, however, to mend matters, unless I were prepared to make an unconditional surrender by sending Machenga the particular gifts that he coveted; and it is always unwise in the extreme to surrender to the demands of a savage. I therefore decided to let matters take their course, but to be prepared as fully as possible for any untoward contingency. Therefore, as soon as I had bathed and breakfasted, I directed Piet first to feed and water the horses, then have them brought back to the wagon, saddle and bridle them, leaving the girths loose but ready to be drawn tight at any moment, and tie them up in the shadow of the wagon, so that, if necessary, the entire party could mount and ride at a moment’s notice. Next I had five parcels of ammunition prepared, each parcel weighing about thirty pounds, and placed in readiness in the wagon, so that, if occasion should arise, we could each snatch a parcel and secure it round our waists before abandoning all our other belongings. Then I had each gun loaded and placed with the parcels of ammunition, indicating the particular weapon which each man was to take charge of should it perchance become necessary for us to make a hurried flight for our lives. And finally, I loaded my own pet rifle and a brace of pistols, thrust the latter in my belt, and, carrying the rifle in my hand, mounted Prince and rode off unaccompanied to be present at the festival, since, according to Mapela, failure to comply with the king’s command would inevitably result in myself and my following being “eaten up”—otherwise destroyed—by an impi.As I swung into the saddle the rear companies of the last regiments of warriors to enter Gwanda were winding snake-like through the four entrance gates; therefore, to give them time to reach their appointed positions in the great square before my arrival, I proceeded at a foot-pace, with the result that I was the last person to enter the town: and immediately I had passed in through the south gateway the massive gates were swung to and barred behind me, while a company of some fifty warriors drew up across the face of the closed gates, barring all possibility of exit—to my great inward discomposure. I was careful, however, not to permit any smallest outward indication of that inward discomposure to manifest itself, but proceeded onward up the long street, still riding at a foot-pace, and wearing as complete an air of nonchalance as I was able to assume under the somewhat disconcerting circumstances. During my progress through the town I glanced right and left about me from time to time, but saw not a solitary man in any of the narrow lanes between the huts—they were evidently all congregated in the great square in the centre of the town; but here and there I caught a passing glimpse of a woman or two, or a little group of children, peering curiously at me from the interior of the huts as I passed. Finally, I reached the junction of the square with the street which I was traversing, and, dismounting, turned over my horse to the care of a lad of about fourteen, directing the umfaan to lead the animal into the shadow of a certain hut which I indicated, and there carefully hold him by the bridle until I should return. Then, on foot, I passed through a narrow gap in a solid phalanx of warriors, and found myself in the square, with Mapela waiting to conduct me to the place which had been assigned to me, and from which I was unwillingly to witness the forthcoming spectacle.Imposing as had been the scene in the great square on the preceding day, it was as nothing compared to what I now beheld; for, with the exception of a small open space about one hundred feet in diameter in the north-west corner of the square, the vast quadrangle was literally packed with warriors, all in full war equipment, regiment after regiment being drawn up in such close order that there was only a narrow space of less than a yard in width between the ranks. As Mapela conducted me through the serried ranks I idly wondered what these narrow spaces were for. I was to learn their purpose all too soon.“I am glad that thou hast come, Chia’gnosi,” murmured my companion in my ear, as we made our way slowly toward the small open space. “Nevertheless, I say unto thee, be watchful, and do nothing that may by any chance anger the Great, Great One, for he is in a black mood to-day—why, I know not—and when the king frowns it means death! This is thy place,” indicating a stool placed close to the king’s empty throne. “Stand here until the king is seated, for it is not lawful for any man to sit until he is bidden to do so by the king. Farewell!”So saying, Mapela saluted and withdrew, making his way toward the regiment of which he was induna.And now, left absolutely to myself in that vast space, I became acutely conscious of the terribly oppressive silence that prevailed, notwithstanding the fact that, according to my estimate, there must have been nearly fifty thousand men in the enclosure. But every one of them stood straight up, staring intently into space immediately in front of him, moving not so much as a muscle, scarcely daring to breathe—as it seemed to me—and mute as a figure carved in stone.For perhaps ten minutes—although it seemed more like half an hour to me—this dreadful, breathless stillness remained unbroken; then a faint sound, like that of a sudden breeze sweeping over grass, but which was in reality an involuntary sigh of relief from suspense emanating from fifty thousand breasts, stirred the air as the curtain veiling the entrance to the itunkulu, or king’s house, was drawn aside, and the figure of Lomalindela, fully clad in his hussar uniform, sword included, appeared. For a brief space he stood there in the doorway, glowering; then, doubtless in obedience to some signal that I failed to note, the spear which every warrior held in his right hand was raised aloft, and the royal salute of “Bayete! Bayete! Bayete!” pealed out like a thunderclap on the startled air, and all was silent again.For a moment the king’s brow cleared, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his countenance: I would defy any man living, civilised or savage, to remain entirely indifferent to such a tremendous outburst of homage—all the more intense because of the imposing figure which His Majesty cut in his new rig-out. Then the smile passed, the scowl returned, and, with a glare that seemed to be concentrated especially on me, Lomalindela strode majestically forward, and, scarcely deigning to acknowledge my salute, slowly seated himself in his chair, or throne. And, as he did so, a company of a hundred picked warriors—His Majesty’s own bodyguard—marched out from behind the itunkulu, and, under an induna in an especially imposing war dress, ranged themselves in a semicircle round and immediately behind the king’s person.Then, from somewhere in the rear of where I was sitting, there suddenly came leaping and bounding into the small open space a most extraordinary and horrible figure. It was that of a man—the man who had visited me at my wagon on the previous night, I presently perceived, although I did not immediately recognise him; for his dark body was painted, back and front, from head to foot, in white, in such a manner as to represent, with considerable skill and fidelity, a fleshless skeleton. His head was decorated with a pair of bullock’s horns, firmly secured by means of straps; round his neck he wore a necklace composed entirely of skeleton human hands, which had been severed at the wrists; about his waist was a girdle of animals’ teeth and claws, supporting a mucha, or rather a short petticoat made of dry grass, from beneath the rear portion of which dangled a bullock’s tail; and in his right hand he carried a formidable bangwan or stabbing spear.Notwithstanding his great age, this man—who, of course, was Machenga, the dreaded chief witch doctor—capered and pirouetted with astounding agility in the centre of the arena for fully five minutes; then he suddenly dashed forward, and, prostrating himself at Lomalindela’s feet, proceeded to do bonga, or homage, by shouting the various titles of the king, and exalting His Majesty to the skies as the greatest, most potent, most wonderful, most glorious monarch in the universe, the only king, in fact, worthy of serious mention. This sort of thing, punctuated at intervals by thunderous shouts of acclamation from the troops, continued until the king, satiated with praise, put a stop to it, when the man, after a brief interval of silence, rose to his feet and stood staring intently for a few minutes up into the rich blue splendour of the cloudless sky.Then, gliding meanwhile slowly hither and thither in a series of narrow circles and turns and twists, in a kind of slow waltz step, Machenga began a song, the burden of which was the glory, majesty, and power of the king, and the inexpressible wickedness of those who presumptuously dared to entertain evil thoughts of him. This continued for about twenty minutes, during which the singer gradually worked himself up into a state of excitement and exaltation that finally became a perfect frenzy, under the influence of which his voice rose to a piercing shriek, while he dashed hither and thither with a display of strength, agility, and fury that seemed to me incredible. Finally, the man collapsed and sank to the ground exhausted, and foaming at the mouth; and at the same instant out from the rear dashed the entire company of subordinate witch doctors, in number fully one hundred, who, forming up about their prostrate chief, began to dance madly round him, singing a weird song of which I could make nothing except an occasional word, here and there, that conveyed no particular meaning to me.These men were all decorated and garbed exactly like their chief, excepting that, instead of a bangwan, each carried a slender white wand, about twelve feet in length, in his right hand. For a period of about five minutes these terrible beings whirled and flashed hither and thither in bewildering confusion; then, with the precision of highly trained soldiers, they suddenly halted, and I became aware that Machenga, their chief, was again upon his feet, standing in their midst. Then, while the cloud of dust raised by their mad gyrations still hovered in the air, half obscuring the company, the tramp of feet was heard, and into the small arena marched twenty stalwarts, ten of whom were armed with enormous bangwans, while the remainder carried heavy, straight-bladed knives, about two feet long, and some six inches wide at the hilt, tapering away from there to a sharp point. These twenty—whom Lomalindela grimly condescended to inform me were the Slayers—halted on the king’s left, just clear of the left wing of His Majesty’s bodyguard, arranging themselves in pairs—a spearman and a knife-bearer alternately—as they did so. Then Machenga, at a nod from the king, raised his bangwan, and immediately his satellites began to circle hither and thither, with a slow, waltz-like movement, similar to that with which he had begun his own mad dance; and as they moved, gradually widening their circles until they were strung out all along the face of the motionless regiments, they hummed a low, weird, wordless song that was somehow inexpressibly suggestive of vague, nameless horror. As for Machenga, after watching his assistants for a minute or two, he stalked slowly toward the king and seated himself at His Majesty’s feet, where, after a time, he seemed to lose all consciousness of outward things, and to sink into a state of profound and anxious thought. Meanwhile the general company of the witch doctors had separated into units who were slowly working their way along the front ranks of the closely packed regiments, pausing occasionally as though in doubt, and then passing on again, to the obvious relief of the individuals before whom the ominous pause had been made. For a little while, possibly five or six minutes, matters proceeded thus, and nothing happened; then I observed that one of the witch doctors had halted, with his head thrown up, and was sniffing the air, like a dog that has scented game. He turned his head eagerly here and there, as though trying the air, seemed to get the scent for which he was seeking, and then looked square into the eyes of a man in the ranks, who visibly quailed beneath his gaze. Then, sniffing again, the witch doctor suddenly sprang forward, thrust his face close to that of the man who seemed to have incurred his suspicion, and, after a momentary pause, as though to make quite sure of what he suspected, stepped back a pace, and, stretching forth the wand in his hand, lightly touched the unfortunate warrior on the breast with it.Instantly the man’s comrades to right and left of him seized the unhappy wight by the arms and led him forward unresisting to within about ten paces of the king. For a moment the king regarded the supposed culprit with a cold, frowning stare: then he turned toward where the Slayers were drawn up and nodded, upon which a pair of them stepped forward and stationed themselves, the bangwan-bearer in front and the knife-bearer behind the doomed man, who stood with his hands clenched by his sides, his comrades having, at the king’s nod, taken from him his spear and shield and laid them at His Majesty’s feet. Then, as I saw the right arms of the executioners raised to strike, I shut my eyes. A moment later I heard the dull sound of a blow, followed by the thud of a falling body; and when I opened my eyes the first victim of the diabolical rite of “smelling out” lay stretched out upon his face, dead, with skull cloven and a bangwan wound that must have cut his heart in twain. It was a sickening sight; but there was one redeeming feature about it, the mode of death was at least merciful, for the Slayers had done their work so well and so quickly that the unhappy man must have died instantly, with perhaps scarcely a pang to mark his dissolution. He was a mere nobody, just a common soldier from the ranks, who had probably never harboured in his simple heart a single thought disloyal to the king; but Machenga was cunning enough to realise that a certain number of such unconsidered and inconspicuous victims must be sacrificed if he would avoid attracting undue attention to the fact that the holocaust included all those whose death advantaged him either pecuniarily or as the gratification of his revenge.
It was about mid-afternoon of that same day when, as I sat in the shadow of the wagon tent, pondering upon the possibility of my being able successfully to approach the king upon the question of a concession to mine gold in Mashonaland, Piet informed me that certain men, whom ’Mfuni recognised as messengers from the king, were coming toward the wagon from Gwanda; and some five minutes later they arrived.
There were six of them, and they were laden with goods which I needed not their explanation to assure me were presents from the king. One bore a complete Mashona warrior’s panoply, consisting of plumed headdress, leopard-skin mantle, mucha of leopards’ tails, armlets, anklets, and garters of cows’ tails, a necklace consisting of about forty gold nuggets, bored and strung upon a strip of rimpi, shield, war club, and an immense bangwan, or stabbing spear. This gift was of course to be regarded as a logical sequence and appropriate return for the uniform which I had presented to His Majesty that morning. But there were other gifts as well, and exceedingly valuable ones, too, three of the other messengers being bearers each of a most magnificent kaross, or skin rug, one being made of lions’ skins, one of leopards’ skins, and one—the finest of all—of monkeys’ skins of some species unknown to me, the black fur being extraordinarily long, thick, and glossy. The remaining two men carried, each of them, a leather bag weighing about sixty pounds, one bag containing coarse gold dust, while the other was full of small, rough nuggets of gold. These two men were also the bearers of a message of apology from the king, to the effect that, since I seemed to have a liking for gold, he regretted that he had no more to offer me, but that as gold was of no value in the country, and was not particularly sought after, it was only occasionally that a stray nugget or a handful of dust was found; and that the contents of the bags represented the casual findings of many years.
It was somewhat disappointing to learn that here, in Gwanda, where I had confidently anticipated that gold in practically unlimited quantity might be had almost for the asking, there should be so little; yet the situation was not without its compensations, for if the natives attached so little value to the metal that they would not even take the trouble to hunt for it, there ought to be all the more for me—if I could but coax the king into granting me a concession. So I dissembled my disappointment, handed over the gifts to Piet, with instructions to pack them away in the rear of the wagon, rewarded the messengers who had brought them, and dismissed them, happy in the possession of a few mixed beads.
About half-past ten o’clock that night I was sitting in my wagon, reading by the light of the all but full moon—for, this being the eve of the great annual festival, the town was in an uproar, and the volume of sound emanating from it and from the temporary encampments outside it rendered sleep impossible—when I became aware of a figure muffled in a great kaross in such a manner as to render identification impossible. Apart from this circumstance, however, there was a certain suggestion of furtiveness in the movements of the figure, a something indicative of a desire to avoid observation, that attracted my attention from my book and aroused my curiosity. It seemed to be wandering about aimlessly; but when I had been watching it for some ten minutes I became convinced that, erratic as its movements seemed to be, they were not without method; and that method, I soon saw, was causing the unknown one—a man—to gravitate slowly but surely toward the wagon. So I waited patiently, and a quarter of an hour later he accomplished a masterly movement which brought him within the shadow of the wagon.
“S’a bona muntu,” I remarked quietly. “What is the business that brings you by such a crooked path to my wagon to-night?”
“Au!” ejaculated the mysterious one in some confusion. “Chia’gnosi has good eyes; nothing escapes him; he sees even the little red ticks that hide themselves on the blades of the grass. If his ears are as good as his eyes he will perchance have heard of one named Machenga.”
“I have heard of such an one,” I answered cautiously.
“What have you heard of him?” demanded the unknown.
“I have heard that Machenga is the name of the king’s chief witch doctor,” I replied, with still greater caution. “But who are you, and why have you come to my wagon at this time of night? Is it to talk to me of Machenga?”
“Machenga is a very great man,” observed my visitor. “Next to the king, he is the greatest man in all Mashonaland. Also, he is the king’s friend: the friends of the king are his friends; and the enemies of the king are his enemies.”
“Come you to me with a message from Machenga?” I demanded. “If so, proceed; my ears are open.”
“Au!” ejaculated the unknown one. “Chia’gnosi is very wise; he understands. He understands that when Machenga speaks the king listens; and those who—like Chia’gnosi—are wise and desire the king’s favour, do well first to secure the favour of Machenga.”
“Piet,” I called, “come hither and open for me the bale containing the handkerchiefs and printed calico; also find for me the pliers and the brass chain.”
The articles named were duly produced, and I selected two of the most brilliant bandanas I could find, added thereto a couple of yards of calico, printed with a tasteful design in crimson and blue consisting of an alternation of horseshoes and running horses carrying their heads and tails very high, cut off a yard of brass chain to which I attached a shaving mirror as a pendant, filled a brass box with mixed beads, and arranged the whole in a tasteful little heap on the top of the voorkissie. Then I turned to my visitor and, pointing to the heap, said:
“Friend, your words are words of wisdom. You see these gifts? Take them and place them in the hut of Machenga, saying that I, Chia’gnosi, send them in token of my goodwill. Say also that I have here many other gifts, equally precious, and that, if the king continues to regard me with favour, and grants me a certain request which I think of preferring, a generous share of these gifts shall find their way to the hut of Machenga.”
For an instant my visitor leaned forward, his gleaming eyes fixed avariciously upon the little pile of trumpery spread out temptingly upon the lid of the chest, and, as he did so, the upper folds of his kaross slipped apart, and I caught a momentary glimpse of a most extraordinary countenance. It was that of an old man, so old that the head was quite bald and the wrinkled face entirely devoid of hair; but the deeply sunken eyes glowed like those of a leopard in the dark, the forehead was broad and high, the nose thin and crooked like the beak of an eagle, the mouth a mere straight slit, and the thin lips were drawn back in a sort of incipient snarl. But it was the expression of the face that particularly arrested my attention, for never before had I beheld a human countenance on which unimaginable cruelty and boundless rapacity were so clearly and strongly written. This was no common, ordinary individual, I at once told myself: there could be but one man in all Gwanda with such a countenance as that, and I instantly guessed the truth, that my visitor was none other than Machenga himself.
For a moment or two the talon-like right hand of the man hovered greedily over the little display; then it flashed back and was lost in the folds of the kaross, which were quickly drawn round the head again, all but concealing it from view. The man stepped back a pace and drew himself up haughtily, and, with a gesture of contempt, pointed to the gifts.
“Au!” he exclaimed. “Think ye that Machenga craves such baubles as those? They are well enough for children and fools, but Machenga accepts only gifts of real value.”
“Such, for instance, as—” I suggested.
“One of the magic fire tubes with which you caused a flying pigeon to fall dead at the king’s feet to-day,” answered my visitor.
“Nay,” said I, “that may not be. It would be no kindness on my part to give Machenga a fire tube, for he would not know how to use it—”
“But you could teach him,” hastily interposed the stranger.
“Nay,” answered I, “not so, for it is a thing of magic; and the magic of the white man is unlike that of the black man, nor can the black man learn it. Were Machenga to take one of my fire tubes in his hand, one of two things would happen. Either the tube would refuse to slay at all, or it would turn upon Machenga and kill him.”
“Au! white man, that is not true, and when you speak lies you talk as a fool,” exclaimed my visitor, displaying much righteous indignation. “I know, for I have seen the magic fire tubes before. Many moons ago—ay, before you were born, and before Lomalindela was king—two white men came into Mashonaland, and only one of them went out again. They, too, possessed fire tubes, and one of them, an Amaboona (Boer)—the man who did not go out—once put his fire tube into my hands and showed me how to use it. The magic lies not in the tube itself, but in the few grains of black powder that are poured into it and the round lump of metal that is thrust down on the top of the powder. Au! I know. Though so many moons have passed I remember quite well. Ay, and I remember many other things also, things that happened here long before the Mashona arrived in the land, things that happened when the Monomotapa dwelt here and great cities of stone and brick covered the face of the country, when men dug gold out of the rocks and made it into ornaments for the arms, necks, and ankles of their women—”
“What foolishness is this that thou art talking?” I interrupted angrily, for it was growing late and I was beginning to feel tired, while there seemed to be no sign of an intention on the part of my unwelcome visitor to leave. “Return now to Machenga,” I continued, “describe to him the gifts which I have set aside for him, and say that if he will send thee for them to-morrow at sunrise they shall be his. But if he wants them not, it is well: I have no others for him.”
“Then thou wilt not give him one of thy fire tubes, with a supply of the magic powder and enough of the round lumps of metal to kill one hundred—pigeons?” demanded my visitor.
“I will not,” I replied shortly, “and that is my last word.”
“Au!” retorted the man. “Very well, white man, I hear thee and I go. But it may be that to-morrow thou wilt be sorry that thou didst refuse.” And, so saying, he wrapped his kaross still more closely about him and strode away into the moonlight with the light, springy step of a young man.
As for me, I was now quite ready for bed, therefore I undressed and turned in without further delay, expecting to fall asleep on the instant. Yet I did nothing of the kind, for when I stretched myself out upon my cartel I found my thoughts dwelling upon my mysterious visitor, who I felt sure could be none other than Machenga himself, stolen surreptitiously away from the mysterious rites of the fetish house in the hope of cajoling a rifle out of me; and I began to wonder whether the two white men to whom he had referred as having visited Mashonaland many moons ago—one only of whom went out of the country again—could by any chance have been my friend Henderson and his Boer partner, Van Raalte. And I also greatly wondered what the fellow could possibly have meant by his mysterious talk of a time before the Mashonas came to the country, when it was inhabited by a people whom he named the Monomotapa, who built great cities of brick and stone, worked the gold mines, and made gold ornaments for their women. Pondering thus, I became a little vexed with myself for my untactful treatment of the man, whom I had permitted to leave me in a distinctly bad temper, instead of humouring and conciliating him, as I felt persuaded I might easily have done.
However, I was not altogether without hope that, after a night’s reflection, the fellow might reopen negotiations, when I would do my best to establish friendly relations with him, if only for the purpose of learning a little more about the mysterious Monomotapa, the ruins of one of whose towns I had actually seen and examined. And, so thinking, I gradually dropped off to sleep; and, as was not very surprising, dreamed a wonderful dream, wherein I found myself living and moving among the Monomotapa, who proved to be a very highly civilised race, possessing a vast amount of knowledge of many things that we moderns only guessed at in the most vague fashion. And I was plunged deep in the midst of a most astounding adventure when Piet awoke me with the intelligence that it was sunrise, and that the regiments in the outlying cantonments were already astir and preparing to enter Gwanda, to assist in the celebration of the great annual festival. I enquired whether there was any sign of our visitor of the previous night, and was told that there was not, at which information I was sorrier than ever for my hasty behaviour; for it was now evident that Machenga definitely refused the gifts that I had set out for his acceptance, and for a savage to refuse a gift is tantamount to a declaration of enmity, and I could ill afford to make an enemy of anyone in Mashonaland, still less of so powerful a personage as Machenga, the chief witch doctor and confidential adviser of the king.
It was by then too late, however, to mend matters, unless I were prepared to make an unconditional surrender by sending Machenga the particular gifts that he coveted; and it is always unwise in the extreme to surrender to the demands of a savage. I therefore decided to let matters take their course, but to be prepared as fully as possible for any untoward contingency. Therefore, as soon as I had bathed and breakfasted, I directed Piet first to feed and water the horses, then have them brought back to the wagon, saddle and bridle them, leaving the girths loose but ready to be drawn tight at any moment, and tie them up in the shadow of the wagon, so that, if necessary, the entire party could mount and ride at a moment’s notice. Next I had five parcels of ammunition prepared, each parcel weighing about thirty pounds, and placed in readiness in the wagon, so that, if occasion should arise, we could each snatch a parcel and secure it round our waists before abandoning all our other belongings. Then I had each gun loaded and placed with the parcels of ammunition, indicating the particular weapon which each man was to take charge of should it perchance become necessary for us to make a hurried flight for our lives. And finally, I loaded my own pet rifle and a brace of pistols, thrust the latter in my belt, and, carrying the rifle in my hand, mounted Prince and rode off unaccompanied to be present at the festival, since, according to Mapela, failure to comply with the king’s command would inevitably result in myself and my following being “eaten up”—otherwise destroyed—by an impi.
As I swung into the saddle the rear companies of the last regiments of warriors to enter Gwanda were winding snake-like through the four entrance gates; therefore, to give them time to reach their appointed positions in the great square before my arrival, I proceeded at a foot-pace, with the result that I was the last person to enter the town: and immediately I had passed in through the south gateway the massive gates were swung to and barred behind me, while a company of some fifty warriors drew up across the face of the closed gates, barring all possibility of exit—to my great inward discomposure. I was careful, however, not to permit any smallest outward indication of that inward discomposure to manifest itself, but proceeded onward up the long street, still riding at a foot-pace, and wearing as complete an air of nonchalance as I was able to assume under the somewhat disconcerting circumstances. During my progress through the town I glanced right and left about me from time to time, but saw not a solitary man in any of the narrow lanes between the huts—they were evidently all congregated in the great square in the centre of the town; but here and there I caught a passing glimpse of a woman or two, or a little group of children, peering curiously at me from the interior of the huts as I passed. Finally, I reached the junction of the square with the street which I was traversing, and, dismounting, turned over my horse to the care of a lad of about fourteen, directing the umfaan to lead the animal into the shadow of a certain hut which I indicated, and there carefully hold him by the bridle until I should return. Then, on foot, I passed through a narrow gap in a solid phalanx of warriors, and found myself in the square, with Mapela waiting to conduct me to the place which had been assigned to me, and from which I was unwillingly to witness the forthcoming spectacle.
Imposing as had been the scene in the great square on the preceding day, it was as nothing compared to what I now beheld; for, with the exception of a small open space about one hundred feet in diameter in the north-west corner of the square, the vast quadrangle was literally packed with warriors, all in full war equipment, regiment after regiment being drawn up in such close order that there was only a narrow space of less than a yard in width between the ranks. As Mapela conducted me through the serried ranks I idly wondered what these narrow spaces were for. I was to learn their purpose all too soon.
“I am glad that thou hast come, Chia’gnosi,” murmured my companion in my ear, as we made our way slowly toward the small open space. “Nevertheless, I say unto thee, be watchful, and do nothing that may by any chance anger the Great, Great One, for he is in a black mood to-day—why, I know not—and when the king frowns it means death! This is thy place,” indicating a stool placed close to the king’s empty throne. “Stand here until the king is seated, for it is not lawful for any man to sit until he is bidden to do so by the king. Farewell!”
So saying, Mapela saluted and withdrew, making his way toward the regiment of which he was induna.
And now, left absolutely to myself in that vast space, I became acutely conscious of the terribly oppressive silence that prevailed, notwithstanding the fact that, according to my estimate, there must have been nearly fifty thousand men in the enclosure. But every one of them stood straight up, staring intently into space immediately in front of him, moving not so much as a muscle, scarcely daring to breathe—as it seemed to me—and mute as a figure carved in stone.
For perhaps ten minutes—although it seemed more like half an hour to me—this dreadful, breathless stillness remained unbroken; then a faint sound, like that of a sudden breeze sweeping over grass, but which was in reality an involuntary sigh of relief from suspense emanating from fifty thousand breasts, stirred the air as the curtain veiling the entrance to the itunkulu, or king’s house, was drawn aside, and the figure of Lomalindela, fully clad in his hussar uniform, sword included, appeared. For a brief space he stood there in the doorway, glowering; then, doubtless in obedience to some signal that I failed to note, the spear which every warrior held in his right hand was raised aloft, and the royal salute of “Bayete! Bayete! Bayete!” pealed out like a thunderclap on the startled air, and all was silent again.
For a moment the king’s brow cleared, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his countenance: I would defy any man living, civilised or savage, to remain entirely indifferent to such a tremendous outburst of homage—all the more intense because of the imposing figure which His Majesty cut in his new rig-out. Then the smile passed, the scowl returned, and, with a glare that seemed to be concentrated especially on me, Lomalindela strode majestically forward, and, scarcely deigning to acknowledge my salute, slowly seated himself in his chair, or throne. And, as he did so, a company of a hundred picked warriors—His Majesty’s own bodyguard—marched out from behind the itunkulu, and, under an induna in an especially imposing war dress, ranged themselves in a semicircle round and immediately behind the king’s person.
Then, from somewhere in the rear of where I was sitting, there suddenly came leaping and bounding into the small open space a most extraordinary and horrible figure. It was that of a man—the man who had visited me at my wagon on the previous night, I presently perceived, although I did not immediately recognise him; for his dark body was painted, back and front, from head to foot, in white, in such a manner as to represent, with considerable skill and fidelity, a fleshless skeleton. His head was decorated with a pair of bullock’s horns, firmly secured by means of straps; round his neck he wore a necklace composed entirely of skeleton human hands, which had been severed at the wrists; about his waist was a girdle of animals’ teeth and claws, supporting a mucha, or rather a short petticoat made of dry grass, from beneath the rear portion of which dangled a bullock’s tail; and in his right hand he carried a formidable bangwan or stabbing spear.
Notwithstanding his great age, this man—who, of course, was Machenga, the dreaded chief witch doctor—capered and pirouetted with astounding agility in the centre of the arena for fully five minutes; then he suddenly dashed forward, and, prostrating himself at Lomalindela’s feet, proceeded to do bonga, or homage, by shouting the various titles of the king, and exalting His Majesty to the skies as the greatest, most potent, most wonderful, most glorious monarch in the universe, the only king, in fact, worthy of serious mention. This sort of thing, punctuated at intervals by thunderous shouts of acclamation from the troops, continued until the king, satiated with praise, put a stop to it, when the man, after a brief interval of silence, rose to his feet and stood staring intently for a few minutes up into the rich blue splendour of the cloudless sky.
Then, gliding meanwhile slowly hither and thither in a series of narrow circles and turns and twists, in a kind of slow waltz step, Machenga began a song, the burden of which was the glory, majesty, and power of the king, and the inexpressible wickedness of those who presumptuously dared to entertain evil thoughts of him. This continued for about twenty minutes, during which the singer gradually worked himself up into a state of excitement and exaltation that finally became a perfect frenzy, under the influence of which his voice rose to a piercing shriek, while he dashed hither and thither with a display of strength, agility, and fury that seemed to me incredible. Finally, the man collapsed and sank to the ground exhausted, and foaming at the mouth; and at the same instant out from the rear dashed the entire company of subordinate witch doctors, in number fully one hundred, who, forming up about their prostrate chief, began to dance madly round him, singing a weird song of which I could make nothing except an occasional word, here and there, that conveyed no particular meaning to me.
These men were all decorated and garbed exactly like their chief, excepting that, instead of a bangwan, each carried a slender white wand, about twelve feet in length, in his right hand. For a period of about five minutes these terrible beings whirled and flashed hither and thither in bewildering confusion; then, with the precision of highly trained soldiers, they suddenly halted, and I became aware that Machenga, their chief, was again upon his feet, standing in their midst. Then, while the cloud of dust raised by their mad gyrations still hovered in the air, half obscuring the company, the tramp of feet was heard, and into the small arena marched twenty stalwarts, ten of whom were armed with enormous bangwans, while the remainder carried heavy, straight-bladed knives, about two feet long, and some six inches wide at the hilt, tapering away from there to a sharp point. These twenty—whom Lomalindela grimly condescended to inform me were the Slayers—halted on the king’s left, just clear of the left wing of His Majesty’s bodyguard, arranging themselves in pairs—a spearman and a knife-bearer alternately—as they did so. Then Machenga, at a nod from the king, raised his bangwan, and immediately his satellites began to circle hither and thither, with a slow, waltz-like movement, similar to that with which he had begun his own mad dance; and as they moved, gradually widening their circles until they were strung out all along the face of the motionless regiments, they hummed a low, weird, wordless song that was somehow inexpressibly suggestive of vague, nameless horror. As for Machenga, after watching his assistants for a minute or two, he stalked slowly toward the king and seated himself at His Majesty’s feet, where, after a time, he seemed to lose all consciousness of outward things, and to sink into a state of profound and anxious thought. Meanwhile the general company of the witch doctors had separated into units who were slowly working their way along the front ranks of the closely packed regiments, pausing occasionally as though in doubt, and then passing on again, to the obvious relief of the individuals before whom the ominous pause had been made. For a little while, possibly five or six minutes, matters proceeded thus, and nothing happened; then I observed that one of the witch doctors had halted, with his head thrown up, and was sniffing the air, like a dog that has scented game. He turned his head eagerly here and there, as though trying the air, seemed to get the scent for which he was seeking, and then looked square into the eyes of a man in the ranks, who visibly quailed beneath his gaze. Then, sniffing again, the witch doctor suddenly sprang forward, thrust his face close to that of the man who seemed to have incurred his suspicion, and, after a momentary pause, as though to make quite sure of what he suspected, stepped back a pace, and, stretching forth the wand in his hand, lightly touched the unfortunate warrior on the breast with it.
Instantly the man’s comrades to right and left of him seized the unhappy wight by the arms and led him forward unresisting to within about ten paces of the king. For a moment the king regarded the supposed culprit with a cold, frowning stare: then he turned toward where the Slayers were drawn up and nodded, upon which a pair of them stepped forward and stationed themselves, the bangwan-bearer in front and the knife-bearer behind the doomed man, who stood with his hands clenched by his sides, his comrades having, at the king’s nod, taken from him his spear and shield and laid them at His Majesty’s feet. Then, as I saw the right arms of the executioners raised to strike, I shut my eyes. A moment later I heard the dull sound of a blow, followed by the thud of a falling body; and when I opened my eyes the first victim of the diabolical rite of “smelling out” lay stretched out upon his face, dead, with skull cloven and a bangwan wound that must have cut his heart in twain. It was a sickening sight; but there was one redeeming feature about it, the mode of death was at least merciful, for the Slayers had done their work so well and so quickly that the unhappy man must have died instantly, with perhaps scarcely a pang to mark his dissolution. He was a mere nobody, just a common soldier from the ranks, who had probably never harboured in his simple heart a single thought disloyal to the king; but Machenga was cunning enough to realise that a certain number of such unconsidered and inconspicuous victims must be sacrificed if he would avoid attracting undue attention to the fact that the holocaust included all those whose death advantaged him either pecuniarily or as the gratification of his revenge.