CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
MEPHISTO--IN BLACK.
The aspect of the two natives into whose power she had fallen was notsuch as to inspire Nidia with any great degree of reassurance. Theyformed an evil-looking pair; the tall one, heavy, sullen, scowling; theshort one, lithe, lean, very black, with hawk-like features and sunkencruel eyes. One circumstance, however, she did not fail to note, and itinspired her with a momentary gleam of hope. The big man was clad inthe uniform of the Native Police, very much soiled and worn, and hardlylooking identical with the smart get-up she had noticed in members ofthe same corps at Bulawayo, yet the uniform for all that. If he was apoliceman she was safe. He would be bound to protect her, and guide herto some place of safety. To this end she addressed him.
"You are a policeman, are you not?"
"Where you go?" was the gruff reply.
"To Sikumbutana. You must show me the way, and I will give yousomething you will like--money."
"Sikumbutana? Kwa Jonemi?" repeated the man.
"Jonemi?"--wonderingly. "John Ames! Yes; that is the name," sheexclaimed, eagerly recognising it. "How much you give me?"
"A pound. Twenty shillings."
"Give me now"--stretching out his hand.
Could she trust him? She would willingly have given twenty--fifty--pounds to find herself in a place of safety, but the gruff offhandmanner, so different to the smooth deferential way in which natives werewont to treat their white conquerors, inspired her with distrust andalarm. But she was in their power absolutely.
She took out her purse--a dainty, silver-rimmed, snake-skin affair--which contained some loose silver and a couple of sovereigns, and openedit. The big native snatched it roughly from her hand.
She started back, flushing with anger, less at the robbery than at theruffianly manner of its perpetration, but her anger was dashed with achill, sinking feeling of terror. She was so entirely within the powerof these two savages. Then she remembered how John Ames had laid down,in the course of one of their numerous conversations, that in dealingwith natives it never did to let them think you were afraid of them.
"Why did you do that?" she said, looking him straight in the face, hereyes showing more contempt than anger. "You--a policeman? I would havegiven you all that money if you had asked me, and more, too, when youhad taken me where I wanted to go."
Her utterance was purposely slow, clear and deliberate. The big nativehad sufficient knowledge of English to enable him to understand at anyrate the gist of her rebuke. But he only scowled, and made no reply.Then the small man began to address her volubly in Sindabele, but toeach of his remarks or questions Nidia could only shake her head. Sheunderstood not one word of them. Having satisfied himself to thatextent, he left off talking to her, and, turning to the other, began along and earnest discussion, of which it was just as well that Nidiacould not understand a word.
"See, Nanzicele," the short man was saying. "This woman has walkedright into our hands. The whites are all killed. Now, kill her."
But the other shook his head with a dissentient grunt.
"One blow of that heavy stick in thy belt, and that head will fly topieces like a pumpkin rolling down a hill. Or why not cut that whitethroat and see the red blood flow? _Au_! The red blood, flowing over awhite skin--a skin as white as milk--and the red of the blood--ah--ah!It will be acceptable to Umlimo, that blood. See, Nanzicele, thou hasta knife that is sharp. The red blood will flow as it did from thethroat of the wife of thy captain in the hut but two nights ago."
Again the tall barbarian grunted dissent.
"I like not this killing of women, Umtwana 'Mlimo," he answered. "Thiswoman has never harmed me. I will not kill her."
"What about Nompiza?" said the small demon, with his head on one side."_Au_! thou didst laugh when she splashed into the water-hole in themoonlight."
"She did harm me, in that she scorned and mocked me. Yet, I liked notthat deed either, Shiminya."
"Yonder dogs, shall we call them and set them on to devour this whitewitch?" went on the sorcerer. "They are hungry, and she is defenceless.We shall laugh at her face of terror when they attack her on all sides,and then, when they rend her limb from limb--they shall eat white meatfor once. _Au_! It will be a sacrifice pleasing to Umlimo."
"I never heard of a sacrifice pleasing to Umlimo, or any other GreatGreat One, that was offered through a dog's maw, Shiminya," cried theother, with a great jeer; for too much association had somewhat sappedNanzicele's respect for the redoubted magician. The latter, consciousof having made a slip, went on.
"Nompiza scorned thee when thou wouldst take her to wife, Nanzicele.Thou art large and strong, but thou hast no cattle, son of Fondosi,therefore thou hast no wives. Here is one who comes straight to thee.She is white, it is true, yet take her."
Of all these atrocious suggestions Nidia, standing there, was of courseblissfully ignorant. The sun was declining, and she was inwardlygrowing somewhat impatient. Would they never have finished their_indaba_? Was it, perhaps, her look of absolute unconsciousness, hervery helplessness, that appealed to some spark of manliness within theheart of that rough savage, as he replied?
"No, no. I want not such. They are _tagati_, these white women. TheAmakiwa are the wisest people in the world, yet they treat such women asthese as though they were gods. I have seen it--yes, I, myself. Look,too, at this woman. She is not afraid. There is a power behind her,and I will not offer her violence."
Then the abominable wizard deemed it time to throw his trump card.
"Where is she going? To Sikumbutana," he said, lapsing into aprofessional oracularism. "To whom is she going? To Jonemi. Nanzicelewas a chief in the _Amapolise_, but he is not now. Why not? AskJonemi. This woman knows Jonemi--belongs to him, it may be; perhaps hissister--perhaps his wife. Jonemi was in our power, but he escaped fromus. This woman is in our power; shall we let her go?"
This recapitulation of his wrongs and appeal to his vengeful feelingswas not entirely without effect upon Nanzicele. He hated John Ames,whom he regarded, and rightly, as the main instrument of his owndegradation. He had only spared him, in the massacre of Inglefield'shut, for a worse fate, intending to convey him to Shiminya's _muti_kraal, and put him to death in the most atrocious form that the fiendishbrain of the wizard could devise. Then they had all become drunk, andJohn Ames had escaped, and for all the trace he had left behind himmight just as well have disappeared into empty air. And now, here,ready to his hand, was a scheme of vengeance upon the man he hated.Turning his head, he looked intently at Nidia. But the aspect of her,standing there calm and fearless--fearless because entirely ignorant ofwhat had happened at Sikumbutana, and still regarding this man, rough ashe had shown himself, as her protector by reason of his Police uniform--appealed to the superstitious nature of the savage. He felt that it waseven as he had said. There was a power behind her.
"I will not harm her, Shiminya," he growled. "_Au_! I am sick of allthis killing of women. It will bring ill chance upon us. They ought tohave been shown a broad road out of the country."
"To show a broader road to more whites to come into it by? Thy wordsare not words of sense, Nanzicele. Have it as thou wilt, however," saidthe crafty wizard, who knew when to humour the savage and stubborntemperament of his confederate. "We will take care of her this night--ah--ah! in the only safe and secure place"--with a sinister chuckle.
"Be it so. I will not have her harmed, Shiminya," declared the other."It may be we shall yet obtain large reward for delivering her back toher own people in safety."
"Will the reward be of lead or of raw-hide?" said the sorcerer,pleasantly. "And who will give it when there are no more whites in theland?"
"No more whites in the land? That will be never," returned Nanzicele,with a great laugh. "That is a good tale for the people, Umtwana'Mlimo. But for thee and for me--_au_! we know. When Makiwa sets hisfoot in any land, that foot is never taken up. It never has been, andnever wi
ll be."
Yes, decidedly in this case familiarity had bred contempt. Theex-police sergeant had "got behind" the mysterious cult, through hisclose association with one of its most influential exponents. Shiminya,for his part, was aware of this, and viewed the situation with someconcern. Now he only said--
"Talk not so loudly, my son, lest ears grow on yonder bushes as well asthorns. Now we will go home."
A look of relief came into Nidia's face as she knew, by the rising ofthe two, that their conference was at an end. Then Nanzicele said--
"You go with we."
"Can we get there to-night?" she asked eagerly.
"We try. Where you from?"
Then she told him, and about the murder of the Hollingworths; and hervoice shook and her eyes filled. To her listener it was all a hugejoke. He knew she was tinder the impression that she was talking to aloyal policeman. Then she began asking questions about John Ames. Washe at home? and so forth. But Nanzicele suddenly became afflicted by astrange density, an almost total ignorance of English.
For upwards of an hour they journeyed on, leaving the cultivated lands,and striking into wilder country. Once a great snake rose in theirpath, and went gliding away, hissing in wrath, and bright-plumaged birdsdarted overhead. Vast thickets of "wacht-een-bietje" thorns lined theriver-bank, and these they skirted.
Nidia was becoming exhausted. So far excitement and nervous tension hadkept her up. Now she felt she could hold out no longer. Just then theyhalted.
In front was the vast thicket. Shiminya, bending down, crawled intowhat was nothing more nor less than a tunnel piercing the dense thornsand just wide enough to admit the body of a man. There was somethingsinister in its very aspect. Nidia drew back.
"Go after him. Go after that man," ordered Nanzicele, roughly.
"No. I don't like it. I can't get through there," she answered. "Thiscan't be the way to Sikumbutana."
Nanzicele snatched out the short-handled heavy knob kerrie stuck throughhis belt.
"Go after that man," he roared, flourishing it over her head.
The aspect of the great savage was so terrific, the sudden change sostartling, that Nidia put her hands over her eyes and shrank back with afaint cry, expecting every moment to feel the hard wood crash down uponher head. Trembling now in every limb, she obeyed without hesitationthe command so startlingly emphasised, and crawled as best she could inthe wake of Shiminya, Nanzicele bringing up the rear.
The tunnel did not last long, and soon they were able to proceedupright, but still between high walls of the same impenetrable thorn.Lateral passages branched out on either side in such labyrinthinetortuosity of confusion that Nidia's first thought was how it would bepossible for any one to find his way through here a second time.
Soon a low whining sound was heard in front; then the thorns seemed tomeet in an arch overhead. Passing beneath this, the trio stood in acircular open space, at the upper end of which were three huts, "Whatplace is this?" exclaimed Nidia, striving not to allow her alarm to showin her voice, for in her heart was a terrible sinking. There was thatabout this retreat which suggested the den of a wild beast rather thanan abode of human beings, even though barbarians. How helpless, howcompletely at the mercy of these two she felt.
"You stay here," replied Nanzicele. "Sikumbutana too far. Go thereto-morrow. Plenty Matabele about make trouble. You stay here."
There was plausibility about the explanation which went far to satisfyher. The situation was a nervous one for a solitary unprotected woman;but she had been through so much within the last twenty-four hours thather sensibilities were becoming blunted. They offered her some boiledcorn, but she was too tired to eat. She asked for water, and theybrought her some, greasy, uninviting, in a clay bowl, but her thirst wasintense.
"You go in there--go to sleep," said Nanzicele, opening one of the huts.
"But I would rather sleep outside."
"You go in there," he repeated, more threateningly. And Nidia,recollecting the knobstick argument, obeyed.
The hut was stuffy and close; suggestive, too, of creeping things bothsmall and great; but, fortunately, she was too completely exhausted toallow room for nervous fears, and sleep overwhelmed her. Sleep! Theghosts of former victims done to death amid every circumstance of horrorwithin that den arose not to appal her. She slept on in blissfulignorance; slept--within the scarce-known retreat of one of the mostatrocious monsters of cruelty that ever flourished amid even a barbarousrace--slept--within the web of the crafty blood-sucking human spider.
Nanzicele departed, and the sorcerer, having secured the entrances tohis den with thick thorn branches, sat crouching over a small red fire,his plotting brain ever at work. He was in high good humour, for herewas a new victim for him to practise some of his favourite barbaritiesupon. In this case they must be refined forms of barbarity, such aswould torture the mind rather more acutely than the red-hot iron wouldthe body, and a better subject for such he thought he had never seen.So he squatted there, and gleefully chuckled. Beside him crouched thewolf. "Ah, ah, Lupiswana!" he exclaimed, addressing his familiarspirit. "It may be that thou shalt sink thy fangs into white flesh--dainty delicate flesh, Lupiswana. White blood, too--white red blood--richer, more rare than that of Nompiza, and such. It is sleeping now.Come, Lupiswana; we will go forth and see."
Taking one of the red faggots from the fire, he blew it into flame;then, rising, he went to the door of the hut wherein Nidia was asleep.Softly undoing the fastenings, he entered. The light flickered fitfullyon the horrible trophies disposed around. The evil beast at his sidewas emitting a low, throaty growl; but neither that nor the proximity ofthis demon availed to awaken the sleeping girl. Calm, peaceful, sheslumbered on amid her hideous surroundings. The wizard went forthagain, "Ah, ah, Lupiswana! She knows not what is before her. To-morrowI think thou must have one taste of this white flesh--perhaps two."
And the four-footed demon growled in response to the biped one.
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising Page 16