The Triumph of Hilary Blachland

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER THREE.

  WHAT HAPPENED AT BULAWAYO.

  As they entered the outer enclosure, a deep humming roar vibrated uponthe air. Two regiments, fully armed, were squatted in a great crescent,facing the King's private quarters, and were beguiling the time with avery energetic war-song--while half a dozen warriors, at intervals ofspace apart, were indulging in the performance of _gwaza_, stabbingfuriously in the air, right and left, bellowing forth their deeds of"dering-do" and pantomiming how they had done them--leaping high off theground or spinning round on one leg. The while, the great crescent ofdark bodies, and particoloured shields, and fantastic headgear, swayingto the rhythmic chant; the sparkle and gleam of assegais; the entirelysavage note of anticipation conveyed by nearly two thousand excitedvoices, constituted a spectacle as imposing as it was indisputablyawe-inspiring.

  "The Imbizo and Induba regiments," said Sybrandt, with a glance at thismartial array.

  But with their appearance the song ceased, and the warriors composingthis end of the crescent jumped up, and came crowding around, in muchthe same rowdy and threatening fashion which had distinguished theexecution party down in the valley.

  "Lay down your arms, Amakiwa!" they shouted. "_Au_! it is death to comearmed within the gates of the Ruler of the World."

  "It has never been death before--not for us," replied Sybrandt. "At theinner gate, yes--we disarm; not at the outer."

  The answer only served to redouble the uproar. Assegais were flourishedin the faces of the four white men--for they had already dismounted--accompanied by blood-curdling threats, in such wise as would surely havetried the nerves of any one less seasoned. The while Sybrandt had beenlooking round for some one in authority.

  "Greeting, Sikombo," he cried, as his glance met that of a tallhead-ringed man, who was strolling leisurely towards the racket. "Theseboys of thine are in high spirits," he added good-humouredly.

  The crowd parted to make way for the new arrival, as in duty bound, forhe was an induna of no small importance, and related to the King bymarriage.

  "I see you, Klistiaan," replied the other, extending his greeting to therest of the party.

  But even the presence of the induna could not restrain the turbulentaggressiveness of the warriors. They continued to clamour against thewhite men, whom they demanded should disarm here instead of at the innergate.

  To this demand, Sybrandt, who was tacitly allowed by the others to takethe lead in all matters of native etiquette or diplomacy--did not deemit advisable to accede. But something in Sikombo's face caused him tochange his mind, and, having done so, the next best thing was to do itwith a good grace.

  "What does it matter?" he said genially. "A little way here, or alittle way there." And he stood his rifle against the fence, an examplewhich was followed by the others. The warriors then fell back, stillwith muttered threats; and, accompanied by the induna, the four whitemen crossed the open space to the gate of the King's stockade.

  There perforce they had to wait, for the barbarian monarch of Zuludescent and tradition is, in practice, in no greater hurry to receivethose who come to consult him than is the average doctor or lawyer oftwentieth-century England, however eager he may be in his heart ofhearts to do so, and the last of the Matabele kings was not the man toforget what was due to his exalted position.

  "What does it all mean, Sybrandt?" said Blachland, as, sitting down uponthe dusty ground, they lighted their pipes. "Why are the swine soinfernally aggressive? What does it mean anyhow?"

  "Mean?" returned Young, answering for Sybrandt, who was talking to theinduna, Sikombo. "Why, it means that our people yonder will soon haveto fight like blazes if they don't want their throats cut,"--with a jerkof the hand in the direction of the newly occupied Mashunaland. "The_majara_ are bound to force Lo Ben's hand--if they haven't already."

  From all sides of the great kraal the ground sloped away in gentledeclivity, and the situation commanded a wide and pleasant view in thegolden sunlight, and beneath the vivid blue of a cloudless subtropicalsky. To the north and west the dark, rolling, bush-clad undulationsbeyond the Umguza River--eastward again, the plain, dotted with severalsmall kraals, each contributing its blue smoke reek, led the eye on tothe long flat-topped Intaba-'Zinduna. Down in the valley bottom--wherenow stands the huge straggling town, humming with life and commerce--vast cornfields, waving with plumed maize and the beer-yielding_amabele_; and away southward the shining rocky ridge of theMatya'mhlope; while, dappling the plain, far and near, thousands ofmulti-coloured cattle--the King's herds--completed the scene of pleasantand pastoral prosperity. In strange contrast to which the cloud ofarmed warriors, squatted within the gates, chanting their menacing andbarbarous strophes.

  Suddenly these were hushed, so suddenly indeed as to be almoststartling. For other voices were raised, coming from the stockade whichrailed in the _esibayaneni_--the _sanctum sanctorum_. They were thoseof the royal "praisers" stentoriously shouting forth the king's_sibonga_:--

  "He comes--the Lion!"--and they roared.

  "Behold him--the Bull, the black calf of Matyobane!"--and at this theybellowed.

  "He is the Eagle which preys upon the world!"--here they screamed; andas each imitative shout was taken up by the armed regiments, goingthrough every conceivable form of animal voice--the growling ofleopards, the hissing of serpents, even to the sonorous croak of thebull-frog--the result was indescribably terrific and deafening. Then itceased as suddenly as the war-song had ceased.

  The King had appeared. Advancing a few steps from the gateway, hepaused and stood surveying the gathering. Then, cleaving the silence inthunder tones, there volleyed forth from every throat the salute royal--

  "Kumalo!"

  Over the wide slopes without it rolled and echoed. Voices far andnear--single voices, and voices in groups--the melodious voices of womenat work in the cornfields--all who heard it echoed it back, now clear,now faint and mellowed by distance--

  "_Kumalo_!"

  There was that in the aspect of the King as he stood thus, his massivefeatures stern and gloomy as he frowned down upon those whose homage hewas receiving, his attitude haughty and majestic to the last degree,which was calculated to strike awe into the white beholders if onlythrough the consciousness of how absolutely they were in his power. Hehad discarded all European attempts at adornment, and was clad innothing but the inevitable _mutya_ and a kaross made of the dressed skinof a lioness, thrown carelessly over his shoulders. His shaven head wassurmounted just above the forehead by the small Matabele ring, a farless dignified-looking form of crest than the large Zulu one. Then, ashe advanced a few steps further, with head thrown back, and his form,though bulky, erect and commanding, a more majestic-looking savage itwould be hard to imagine.

  A massive chair, carved out of a single tree stump, was now set by oneof the attendants, and as Lo Bengula enthroned himself upon it, againthe mighty shouts of praise rent the air--

  "Thou art the child of the sun!"

  "Blanket, covering thy people!"

  "King mountain of the Matopo!"

  "Elephant whose tread shaketh the world!"

  "Eater-up of Zwang'indaba!"

  "Crocodile, who maketh our rivers to flow clear water!"

  "Rhinoceros!"

  Such, and many more, were the attributes wherewith they hailed theirmonarch, who was, to all intents and purposes, their god. Then thechorus altered. A new and more ominous clamour now expressed itsburden. It became hostile and bloodthirsty in intent towards the whitestrangers within their gates.

  Who were these whites? chanted the warriors. It were better to make anend of them. They were but the advance-guard of many more--swarms uponswarms of them--even as the few locusts who constituted theadvance-guard of swarms upon swarms of that red locust, the devourer,which had not been known in the land before the Amakiwa had been allowedto come and settle in the land. The locusts had settled and weredevouring everything--the Amakiwa had settled and were devouringeverything.
Let them be stamped out.

  Those thus referred to sat still and said nothing. For all the effectthe bloodthirsty howling had upon them outwardly, they might just aswell not have heard it. Lo Bengula sat immovable in frowningabstraction. The two regiments, waxing more and more excited, began toclose in nearer. As warriors armed for some service, they were allowedto approach that near the King, with their weapons and shields. Theygrowled and mouthed around their white visitors, and one, at any rate,of these expected to feel the assegai through his back any moment.

  But at this juncture one of the indunas seated near the King leanedforward, and spoke. He was a very old man, lean and tall, and, beforethe stoop of age had overtaken him must have been very tall indeed.

  "Peace, children," he rebuked. "The dogs of the King have other game tohunt. These Amakiwa are not given to you to hunt. They are the friendsof the Black Elephant."

  Growls of dissatisfaction greeted this reproof, which seemed notsupported by Lo Bengula.

  "Have done, then," thundered the old induna. "Get back, dogs, who havebut yesterday learned to yap. Offend ye the ears of the Great Great Onewith your yelpings? Get back!"

  This time the rebuke answered. Respect for age and authority is amongthe Bantu races instinctive and immense, and the speaker in thisinstance represented both, for he had participated in the exodus fromZululand, under Umzilikazi, early in the century, and had been one ofthat potentate's most trusted indunas before Lo Bengula was born;wherefore the malcontents shrunk back, with stifled growlings, to takeup their former position at a distance.

  Order being restored, Sybrandt judged it time to open the proceedings.

  "Kumalo!" he began, saluting the King, his companions joining.

  "I see you, Klistiaan," returned Lo Bengula, somewhat surlily. "All ofyou."

  "The King has sent for us, and we have come," went on Sybrandt."Strange messengers entered our camp this morning, three _majara_,armed. Furthermore, they were rude."

  "_Au_!" exclaimed Lo Bengula, with a shake of the head. "See you not,Klistiaan, my fighting men love not white people just now. It would bebetter, indeed, if such were to leave the country. It is no longer thehealthy season for white people here."

  Which apparently commonplace remark conveyed to these experiencedlisteners, three distinct meanings--first, that their position wasexceedingly dangerous; secondly, that Lo Bengula was aware that even hisauthority might be insufficient to protect them from the fanatical hateof his warriors, but did not choose to say so in so many words; andlastly, the tone in which it was uttered conveyed a royal command. Butto the recipients of the latter, it was exceedingly distasteful. Anorder of a more startling nature was, however, to follow.

  "You, Isipau," addressing Blachland. "Turn your waggon wheels homeward,before the going down of the sun."

  "Isipau," signifying "mushroom," was Blachland's native name, and assuch he had been known among the natives on his first arrival in thecountry, years before, owing to his inordinate partiality for thatdelectable vegetable wherever it could be obtained.

  "When white people come into my country I welcome them as my friends,"went on the King. "When I give them leave to hunt and to trade, it iswell. It is not well when they seek to look into things for which Ihave given them no permission. Now I have given an order, and I givenot my orders twice. Fare ye well. _Hambani-gahle_."

  And without another word, Lo Bengula rose from his seat, and stalkedwithin the stockade.

  Blachland was the first to speak. "Damn!" he ejaculated.

  "Be careful, man, for Heaven's sake," warned Sybrandt. "If they gotwind you were cursing the King, then--good-night!" Then, turning to theold induna, who had quelled the outcry against them, "Who has poisonedthe heart of the Great Great One against us, Faku? Have we not alwaysbeen his friends, and even now we have done no wrong."

  The old induna shrugged his shoulders, as he answered--

  "Who am I that I should pry into the King's mind, Klistiaan? But his`word' has been spoken in no uncertain voice," he added significantly.

  This there was no denying, and they took their leave. As they passedout of the kraal, the lines of warriors glowered at them like wolves,for though the conversation had been inaudible to them, they divinedthat these whites had incurred the King's displeasure.

  "You've got us into a pretty kettle of fish, Blachland," said Young,rather curtly, as they rode in the direction of their camp.

  "Don't see it," was the reply. "Now, my belief is, Lo Ben is shirtyabout our gold-prospecting. My scheme had nothing to do with it."

  "Blachland's right, Young," cut in Pemberton. "If it had been the otherthing, we wouldn't have got off so cheaply. Eh, Sybrandt?"

  "Rather not. We may thank our stars it wasn't the other. That ripHlangulu must have been strung upon us as a spy. The old man is deadoff any gold-prospecting. Afraid it'll bring a swarm of whites into thecountry, and he's right. Why, what's this?"

  All looked back, and the same idea was in the mind of each. Had LoBengula thought better of it, and yielded to the bloodthirsty clamour ofhis warriors? For the gates of Bulawayo were pouring forth a denseblack swarm, which could be none other than the impi gathered there atthe time of their visit,--and this, clear of the entrance, was advancingat a run, heading straight for the four equestrians.

  These looked somewhat anxious. Their servants, the two Bechuana boys,went grey with fear.

  "Is it a case of leg-bail?" said Blachland, surveying the on-cominghorde.

  "No, we must face it anyhow," answered Pemberton, puffing at his pipetranquilly. "Besides, we can't leave these poor devils of boys to bemurdered. Eh, Sybrandt?"

  "Never run away, except in a losing fight and there's no help for it,"was the reply.

  Accordingly they kept their horses at a walk. But the moment was athrilling one. On swept the impi; but now it had drawn up into a walk,and from its ranks arose a song--

  "Uti mayihlome, mayihlome katese njebo! Ise nompako wayo namanyatelo ayo! Utaho njalo. Uti mayihlome katese njebo!"

  This strophe--which may be rendered roughly to mean, "He says (i.e. theKing), `Let it (the impi) arm. Let it arm at once. Come with its food,with its sandals.' He says always. He says, `Let it arm at once!'"--was boomed forth from nearly two thousand throats, deafening,terrifying. But the impi swept by, and, passing within a hundred yards,singing in mighty volume its imposing war-song, shields waving, andassegais brandished menacingly towards the white men, it poured up theopposite slope, taking a straight line, significantly symbolical of theunswerving purpose it had been sent to fulfil.

  An involuntary feeling of relief was upon the party, upon all but one,that is. For Hilary Blachland, noting the direction taken by this armyof destroyers, could not but admit a qualm of very real andsoul-stirring misgiving. That he had good grounds for the same we shallsee anon.