Robin Hood
by
H. Rider Haggard
Part 1 out of 4
Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz
Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com
THE WIZARD
by H. RIDER HAGGARD
DEDICATION
To the Memory of the Child
Nada Burnham,
who "bound all to her" and, while her father cut his way through
the hordes of the Ingobo Regiment, perished of the hardships of
war at Buluwayo on 19th May, 1896, I dedicate these tales--and
more particularly the last, that of a Faith which triumphed over
savagery and death.
H. Rider Haggard.
Ditchingham.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Of the three stories that comprise this volume[*], one, "The
Wizard," a tale of victorious faith, first appeared some years ago
as a Christmas Annual. Another, "Elissa," is an attempt, difficult
enough owing to the scantiness of the material left to us by time,
to recreate the life of the ancient Phœnician Zimbabwe, whose
ruins still stand in Rhodesia, and, with the addition of the
necessary love story, to suggest circumstances such as might have
brought about or accompanied its fall at the hands of the
surrounding savage tribes. The third, "Black Heart and White
Heart," is a story of the courtship, trials and final union of a
pair of Zulu lovers in the time of King Cetywayo.
[*] This text was prepared from a volume published in 1900 titled
"Black Heart and White Heart, and Other Stories."--JB.
THE WIZARD
CHAPTER I
THE DEPUTATION
Has the age of miracle quite gone by, or is it still possible to the
Voice of Faith calling aloud upon the earth to wring from the dumb
heavens an audible answer to its prayer? Does the promise uttered by
the Master of mankind upon the eve of the end--"Whoso that believeth
in Me, the works that I do he shall do also . . . and whatsoever ye
shall ask in My name, that will I do"--still hold good to such as do
ask and do believe?
Let those who care to study the history of the Rev. Thomas Owen, and
of that strange man who carried on and completed his work, answer this
question according to their judgment.
*****
The time was a Sunday afternoon in summer, and the place a church in
the Midland counties. It was a beautiful church, ancient and spacious;
moreover, it had recently been restored at great cost. Seven or eight
hundred people could have found sittings in it, and doubtless they had
done so when Busscombe was a large manufacturing town, before the
failure of the coal supply and other causes drove away its trade. Now
it was much what it had been in the time of the Normans, a little
agricultural village with a population of 300 souls. Out of this
population, including the choir boys, exactly thirty-nine had elected
to attend church on this particular Sunday; and of these, three were
fast asleep and four were dozing.
The Rev. Thomas Owen counted them from his seat in the chancel, for
another clergyman was preaching; and, as he counted, bitterness and
disappointment took hold of him. The preacher was a "Deputation," sent
by one of the large missionary societies to arouse the indifferent to
a sense of duty towards their unconverted black brethren in Africa,
and incidentally to collect cash to be spent in the conversion of the
said brethren. The Rev. Thomas Owen himself suggested the visit of the
Deputation, and had laboured hard to secure him a good audience. But
the beauty of the weather, or terror of the inevitable subscription,
prevailed against him. Hence his disappointment.
"Well," he thought, with a sigh, "I have done my best, and I must make
it up out of my own pocket."
Then he settled himself to listen to the sermon.
The preacher, a battered-looking individual of between fifty and sixty
years of age, was gaunt with recent sickness, patient and
unimaginative in aspect. He preached extemporarily, with the aid of
notes; and it cannot be said that his discourse was remarkable for
interest, at any rate in its beginning. Doubtless the sparse
congregation, so prone to slumber, discouraged him; for offering
exhortations to empty benches is but weary work. Indeed he was
meditating the advisability of bringing his argument to an abrupt
conclusion when, chancing to glance round, he became aware that he had
at least one sympathetic listener, his host, the Rev. Thomas Owen.
From that moment the sermon improved by degrees, till at length it
reached a really high level of excellence. Ceasing from rhetoric, the
speaker began to tell of his own experience and sufferings in the
Cause amongst savage tribes; for he himself was a missionary of many
years standing. He told how once he and a companion had been sent to a
nation, who named themselves the Sons of Fire because their god was
the lightning, if indeed they could be said to boast any gods other
than the Spear and the King. In simple language he narrated his
terrible adventures among these savages, the murder of his companion
by command of the Council of Wizards, and his own flight for his life;
a tale so interesting and vivid that even the bucolic sleepers
awakened and listened open-mouthed.
"But this is by the way," he went on; "for my Society does not ask you
to subscribe towards the conversion of the Children of Fire. Until
that people is conquered--which very likely will not be for
generations, seeing that they live in Central Africa, occupying a
territory that white men do not desire--no missionary will dare again
to visit them."
At this moment something caused him to look a second time at Thomas
Owen. He was leaning forward in his place listening eagerly, and a
strange light filled the large, dark eyes that shone in the pallor of
his delicate, nervous face.
"There is a man who would dare, if he were put to it," thought the
Deputation to himself. Then he ended his sermon.
That evening the two men sat at dinner in the rectory. It was a very
fine rectory, beautifully furnished; for Owen was a man of taste which
he had the means to gratify. Also, although they were alone, the
dinner was good--so good that the poor broken-down missionary, sipping
his unaccustomed port, a vintage wine, sighed aloud in admiration and
involuntary envy.
"What is the matter?" asked Owen.
"Nothing, Mr. Owen;" then, of a sudden thawing into candour, he added:
"that is, everything. Heaven forgive me; but I, who enjoy your
hospitality, am envious of you. Don't think too hardly of me; I have a
large family to support, and if only you knew what a struggle my life
is, and has been for the last twenty years, you would not, I am sure.
But you have never experienced it, and could not understand. 'The
labourer is worthy of his hire.' Well, my hire is under two hundred a
year, and eight of us must live--or starve--on it. And I have worked,
ay, until my health is broken. A labourer indeed! I am a very hodman,
a spiritual Sisyphus. And now I must go back to carry my load and roll
my stone again and again among those hopeless savages till I die of it
--till I die of it!"
"At least it is a noble life and death!" exclaimed Owen, a sudden fire
of enthusiasm burning in his dark eyes.
"Yes, viewed from a distance. Were you asked to leave this living of
two thousand a year--I see that is what they put it at in Crockford--
with its English comforts and easy work, that /you/ might lead that
life and attain that death, then you would think differently. But why
should I bore you with such talk? Thank Heaven that your lines are
cast in pleasant places. Yes, please, I will take one more glass; it
does me good."
"Tell me some more about that tribe you were speaking of in your
sermon, the 'Sons of Fire' I think you called them," said Owen, as he
passed him the decanter.
So, with an eloquence induced by the generous wine and a quickened
imagination, the Deputation told him--told him many strange things and
terrible. For this people was an awful people: vigorous in mind and
body, and warriors from generation to generation, but superstition-
ridden and cruel. They lived in the far interior, some months' journey
by boat and ox-waggon from the coast, and of white men and their ways
they knew but little.
"How many of them are there?" asked Owen.
"Who can say?" he answered. "Nearly half-a-million, perhaps; at least
they pretend that they can put sixty thousand men under arms."
"And did they treat you badly when you first visited them?"
"Not at first. They received us civilly enough; and on a given day we
were requested to explain to the king and the Council of Wizards the
religion which we came to teach. All that day we explained and all the
next--or rather my friend did, for I knew very little of the language
--and they listened with great interest. At last the chief of the
wizards and the first prophet to the king rose to question us. He was
named Hokosa, a tall, thin man, with a spiritual face and terrible
calm eyes.
"'You speak well, son of a White Man,' he said, 'but let us pass from
words to deeds. You tell us that this God of yours, whom you desire
that we should take as our God, so that you may become His chief
prophets in the land, was a wizard such as we are, though grater than
we are; for not only did He know the past and the future as we do, but
also He could cure those who were smitten with hopeless sickness, and
raise those who were dead, which we cannot do. You tell us, moreover,
that by faith those who believe on Him can do works as great as He
did, and that you do believe on Him. Therefore we will put you to the
proof. Ho! there, lead forth that evil one.'
"As he spoke a man was placed before us, one who had been convicted of
witchcraft or some other crime.
"'Kill him!' said Hokosa.
"There was a faint cry, a scuffle, a flashing of spears, and the man
lay still before us.
"'Now, followers of the new God,' said Hokosa, 'raise him from the
dead as your Master did!'
"In vain did we offer explanations.
"'Peace!' said Hokosa at length, 'your words weary us. Look now,
either you have preached to us a false god and are liars, or you are
traitors to the King you preach, since, lacking faith in Him, you
cannot do such works as He gives power to do to those who have faith
in Him. Out of your own mouths are you judged, White Men. Choose which
horn of the bull you will, you hang to one of them, and it shall
pierce you. This is the sentence of the king, I speak it who am the
king's mouth: That you, White Man, who have spoken to us and cheated
us these two weary days, be put to death, and that you, his companion
who have been silent, be driven from the land.'
"I can hardly bear to tell the rest of it, Mr. Owen. They gave my poor
friend ten minutes to 'talk to his Spirit,' then they speared him
before my face. After it was over, Hokosa spoke to me, saying:--
"'Go back, White Man, to those who sent you, and tell them the words
of the Sons of Fire: That they have listened to the message of peace,
and though they are a people of warriors, yet they thank them for that
message, for in itself it sounds good and beautiful in their ears, if
it be true. Tell them that having proved you liars, they dealt with
you as all honest men seek that liars should be dealt with. Tell them
that they desire to hear more of this matter, and if one can be sent
to them who has no false tongue; who in all things fulfills the
promises of his lips, that they will hearken to him and treat him
well, but that for such as you they keep a spear.'"
"And who went after you got back?" asked Owen, who was listening with
the deepest interest.
"Who went? Do you suppose that there are many mad clergymen in Africa,
Mr. Owen? Nobody went."
"And yet," said Owen, speaking more to himself than to his guest, "the
man Hokosa was right, and the Christian who of a truth believes the
promises of our religion should trust to them and go."
"Then perhaps you would like to undertake the mission, Mr. Owen," said
the Deputation briskly; for the reflection stung him, unintentional as
it was.
Owen started.
"That is a new idea," he said. "And now perhaps you wish to go to bed;
it is past eleven o'clock."
CHAPTER II
THOMAS OWEN
Thomas Owen went to his room, but not to bed. Taking a Bible from the
table, he consulted reference after reference.
"The promise is clear," he said aloud presently, as he shut the book;
"clear and often repeated. There is no escape from it, and no
possibility of a double meaning. If it is not true, then it would seem
that nothing is true, and that every Christian in the world is tricked
and deluded. But if it /is/ true, why do we never hear of miracles?
The answer is easy: Because we have not faith enough to work them. The
Apostles worked miracles; for they had seen, therefore their faith was
perfect. Since their day nobody's faith has been quite perfect; at
least I think not. The physical part of our nature prevents it. Or
perhaps the miracles still happen, but they are spiritual miracles."
Then he sat down by the open window, and gazing at the dreamy beauty
of the summer night, he thought, for his soul was troubled. Once
before it had been troubled thus; that was nine years ago, for now he
was but little over thirty. Then a call had come to him, a voice had
seemed to speak to his ears bidding him to lay down great possessions
to follow whither Heaven should lead him. Thomas Owen had obeyed the
voice; though, owing to circumstances which need not be detailed, to
do so he was obliged to renounce his succession to a very large
estate, and to content himself with a younger son's portion of thirty
thousand pounds and the reversion to the living which he had now held
for some five years.
Then and there, with singular unanimity and despatch, his relations
came to the conclusion that he was mad. To this hour, indeed, those
who stand in his place and enjoy the wealth and position that were his
by right, speak of him as "poor Thomas," and mark their disapprobation
of his peculiar conduct by refusing with an unvarying steadiness to
subscribe even a single shilling to a missionary society. How "poor
Thomas" speaks of them in the place where he is we may wonder, but as
yet we cannot know--probably with the gentle love and charity that
marked his every action upon earth. But this is by the way.
He had entered the Church, but what had he done in its shadow? This
was the question which Owen asked himself as he sat that night by the
open window, arraigning his past before the judgment-seat of
conscience. For three years he had worked hard somewhere in the slums;
then this living had fallen to him. He had taken it, and from that day
forward his record was very much of a blank. The parish was small and
well ordered; there was little to do in it, and the Salvation Army had
seized upon and reclaimed two of the three confirmed drunkards it
could boast.
His guest's saying echoed in his brain like the catch of a tune--"that
/you/ might lead that life and attain that death." Supposing that he
were bidden so to do now, this very night, would he indeed "think
differently"? He had become a priest to serve his Maker. How would it
be were that Maker to command that he should serve Him in this extreme
and heroic fashion? Would he flinch from the steel, or would he meet
it as the martyrs met it of old?
Physically he was little suited to such an enterprise, for in
appearance he was slight and pale, and in constitution delicate. Also,
there was another reason against the thing. High Church and somewhat
ascetic in his principles, in the beginning he had admired celibacy,
and in secret dedicated himself to that state. But at heart Thomas was
very much a man, and of late he had come to see that which is
against nature is presumably not right, though fanatics may not
hesitate to pronounce it wrong. Possibly this conversion to more
genial views of life was quickened by the presence in the
neighbourhood of a young lady whom he chanced to admire; at least it
is certain that the mere thought of seeing her no more for ever smote
him like a sword of sudden pain.
*****
That very night--or so it seemed to him, and so he believed--the Angel
of the Lord stood before him as he was wont to stand before the men of
old, and spoke a summons in his ear. How or in what seeming that
summons came Thomas Owen never told, and we need not inquire. At the
least he heard it, and, like the Apostles, he arose and girded his
loins to obey. For now, in the hour of trial, it proved that this
man's faith partook of the nature of their faith. It was utter and
virgin; it was not clogged with nineteenth-century qualifications; it
had never dallied with strange doctrines, or kissed the feet of
pinchbeck substitutes for God. In his heart he believed that the
Almighty, without intermediary, but face to face, had bidden him to go
forth into the wilderness there to perish. So he bowed his head and
went.
On the following morning at breakfast Owen had some talk with his
friend the Deputation.
"You asked me last night," he said quietly, "whether I would undertake
a mission to that people of whom you were telling me--the Sons of
Fire. Well, I have been thinking it over, and come to the conclusion
that I will do so----"
At this point the Deputation, concluding that his host must be mad,
moved quietly but decidedly towards the door.
"Wait a moment," went on Owen, in a matter-of-fact voice, "the dog-
cart will not be round for another three-quarters of an hour. Tell me,
if it were offered to you, and on investigation you proved suitable,
would you care to take over this living?"
"Would I care to take over this living?" gasped the astonished
Deputation. "Would I care to walk down that garden and find myself in
Heaven? But why are you making fun of me?"
"I am not making fun of you. If I go to Africa I must give up the
living, of which I own the advowson, and it occurred to me that it
might suit you--that is all. You have done your share; your health is
broken, and you have many dependent upon you. It seems right,
therefore, that you should rest, and that I should work. If I do no
good yonder, at the least you and yours will be a little benefited."
*****
That same day Owen chanced to meet the lady who has been spoken of as
having caught his heart. He had meant to go away without seeing her,
but fortune brought them together. Hitherto, whilst in reality leading
him on, she had seemed to keep him at a distance, with the result that
he did not know that it was her fixed intention to marry him. To her,
with some hesitation, he told his plans. Surprised and frightened into
candour, the lady reasoned with him warmly, and when reason failed to
move him she did more. By some subtle movement, with some sudden word,
she lifted the veil of her reserve and suffered him to see her heart.
"If you will not stay for aught else," said her troubled eyes, "then,
love, stay for me."
For a moment he was shaken. Then he answered the look straight out, as
was his nature.
"I never guessed," he said. "I did not presume to hope--now it is too
late! Listen! I will tell you what I have told no living soul, though
thereafter you may think me mad. Weak and humble as I am, I believe
myself to have received a Divine mission. I believe that I shall
execute it, or bring about its execution, but at the ultimate cost of
my own life. Still, in such a service two are better than one. If you
--can care enough--if you----"
But the lady had already turned away, and was murmuring her farewell
in accents that sounded like a sob. Love and faith after this sort
were not given to her.
Of all Owen's trials this was the sharpest. Of all his sacrifices this
was the most complete.
CHAPTER III
THE TEMPTATION
Two years have gone by all but a few months, and from the rectory in a
quiet English village we pass to a scene in Central, or South Central,
Africa.
On the brow of a grassy slope dotted over with mimosa thorns, and
close to a gushing stream of water, stands a house, or rather a hut,
built of green brick and thatched with grass. Behind this hut is a
fence of thorns, rough but strong, designed to protect all within it
from the attacks of lions and other beasts of prey. At present, save
for a solitary mule eating its provender by the wheel of a tented ox-
waggon, it is untenanted, for the cattle have not yet been kraaled for
the night. Presently Thomas Owen enters this enclosure by the back
door of the hut, and having attended to the mule, which whinnies at
the sight of him, goes to the gate and watches there till he sees his
native boys driving the cattle up the slope of the hill. At length
they arrive, and when he has counted them to make sure that none are
missing, and in a few kind words commended the herds for their
watchfulness, he walks to the front of the house and, seating himself
upon a wooden stool set under a mimosa tree that grows near the door,
he looks earnestly towards the west.
The man has changed somewhat since last we saw him. To begin with, he
has grown a beard, and although the hot African sun has bronzed it
into an appearance of health, his face is even thinner than it was,
and therein the great spiritual eyes shine still more strangely.
At the foot of the slope runs a wide river, just here broken into
rapids where the waters make an angry music. Beyond this river
stretches a vast plain bounded on the horizon by mountain ranges, each
line of them rising higher than the other till their topmost and more
distant peaks melt imperceptibly into the tender blue of the heavens.
This is the land of the Sons of Fire, and yonder amid the slopes of
the nearest hills is the great kraal of their king, Umsuka, whose
name, being interpreted, means The Thunderbolt.
In the very midst of the foaming rapids, and about a thousand yards
from the house lies a space of rippling shallow water, where, unless
it chances to be in flood, the river can be forded. It is this ford
that Owen watches so intently.
"John should have been back twelve hours ago," he mutters to himself.
"I pray that no harm has befallen him at the Great Place yonder."
Just then a tiny speck appears far away on the plain. It is a man
travelling towards the water at a swinging trot. Going into the hut,
Owen returns with a pair of field-glasses, and through them
scrutinises the figure of the man.
"Heaven be praised! It is John," he mutters, with a sigh of relief.
"Now, I wonder what answer he brings?"
Half an hour later John stands before him, a stalwart native of the
tribe of the Amasuka, the People of Fire, and with uplifted hand
salutes him, giving him titles of honour.
"Praise me not, John," said Owen; "praise God only, as I have taught
you to do. Tell me, have you seen the king, and what is his word?"
"Father," he answered, "I journeyed to the great town, as you bade me,
and I was admitted before the majesty of the king; yes, he received me
in the courtyard of the House of Women. With his guards, who stood at
a distance out of hearing, there were present three only; but oh!
those three were great, the greatest in all the land after the king.
They were Hafela, the king that is to come, the prince Nodwengo, his
brother, and Hokosa the terrible, the chief of the wizards; and I tell
you, father, that my blood dried up and my heart shrivelled when they
turned their eyes upon me, reading the thoughts of my heart."
"Have I not told you, John, to trust in God, and fear nothing at the
hands of man?"
"You told me, father, but still I feared," answered the messenger
humbly. "Yet, being bidden to it, I lifted my forehead from the dust
and stood upon my feet before the king, and delivered to him the
message which you set between my lips."
"Repeat the message, John."
"'O King,' I said, 'beneath those footfall the whole earth shakes,
whose arms stretch round the world and whose breath is the storm, I,
whose name is John, am sent by the white man whose name is Messenger'
--for by that title you bade me make you known--'who for a year has
dwelt in the land that your spears have wasted beyond the banks of the
river. These are the words which he spoke to me, O King, that I pass
on to you with my tongue: "To the King Umsuka, lord of the Amasuka,
the Sons of Fire, I, Messenger, who am the servant and the ambassador
of the King of Heaven, give greeting. A year ago, King, I sent to you
saying that the message which was brought by that white man whom you
drove from your land had reached the ears of Him whom I serve, the
High and Holy One, and that, speaking in my heart, He had commanded me
to take up the challenge of your message. Here am I, therefore, ready
to abide by the law which you have laid down; for if guile or lies be
found in me, then let me travel from your land across the bridge of
spears. Still, I would dwell a little while here where I am before I
pass into the shadow of your rule and speak in the ears of your people
as I have been bidden. Know, King, that first I would learn your
tongue, and therefore I demand that one of your people may be sent to
dwell with me and to teach me that tongue. King, you heard my words
and you sent me a man to dwell with me, and that man has taught me
your tongue, and I also have taught him, converting him to my faith
and giving him a new name, the name of John. King, now I seek your
leave to visit you, and to deliver into your ears the words with which
I, Messenger, am charged. I have spoken."'
"Thus I, John, addressed the great ones, my father, and they listened
in silence. When I had done they spoke together, a word here and a
word there. Then Hokosa, the king's mouth, answered me, telling the
thought of the king: 'You are a bold man, you whose name is John, but
who once had another name--you, my servant, who dare to appear before
me, and to make it known to me that you have been turned to a new
faith and serve another king than I. Yet because you are bold, I
forgive you. Go back now to that white man who is named Messenger and
who comes upon an embassy to me from the Lord of Heaven, and bid him
come in peace. Yet warn him once again that here also we know
something of the Powers that are not seen, here also we have our
wizards who draw wisdom from the air, who tame the thunderbolt and
compel the rain, and that he must show himself greater than all of
these if he would not pass hence by the bridge of spears. Let him,
therefore, take counsel with his heart and with Him he serves, if such
a One there is, and let him come or let him stay away as it shall
please him.'"
"So be it," said Owen; "the words of the king are good, and to-morrow
we will start for the Great Place."
John heard and assented, but without eagerness.
"My father," he said, in a doubtful and tentative voice, "would it not
perhaps be better to bide here awhile first?"
"Why?" asked Owen. "We have sown, and now is the hour to reap."
"It is so, my father, but as I ran hither, full of the king's words,
it came into my mind that now is not the time to convert the Sons of
Fire. There is trouble brewing at the Great Palace, father. Listen,
and I will tell you; as I have heard, so I will tell you. You know
well that our King Umsuka has two sons, Hafela and Nodwengo; and of
these Hafela is the heir-apparent, the fruit of the chief wife of the
king, and Nodwengo is sprung from another wife. Now Hafela is proud
and cruel, a warrior of warriors, a terrible man, and Nodwengo is
gentle and mild, like to his mother whom the king loves. Of late it
has been discovered that Hafela, weary of waiting for power, has made
a plot to depose his father and to kill Nodwengo, his brother, so that
the land and those who dwell in it may become his without question.
This plot the king knows--I had it from one of his women, who is my
sister--and he is very wroth, yet he dare do little, for he grows old
and timid, and seeks rest, not war. Yet he is minded, if he can find
the heart, to go back upon the law and to name Nodwengo as his heir
before all the army at the feast of the first-fruits, which shall be
held on the third day from to-night. This Hafela knows, and Nodwengo
knows it also, and each of them has summoned his following, numbering
thousands and tens of thousands of spears, to attend this feast of the
first-fruits. That feast may well be a feast of vultures, my father,
and when the brothers and their regiments rush together fighting for
the throne, what will chance to the white man who comes at such a
moment to preach a faith of peace, and to his servant, one John, who
led him there?"
"I do not know," answered Owen, "and it troubles me not at all. I go
to carry out my mission, and in this way or in that it will be carried
out. John, if you are fearful or unbelieving leave me to go alone."
"Nay, father, I am not fearful; yet, father, I would have you
understand. Yonder there are men who can work wizardry. /Wow!/ I know,
for I have seen it, and they will demand from you magic greater than
their magic."
"What of it, John?"
"Only this, my father, that if they ask and you fail to give, they
will kill you. You teach beautiful things, but say, are you a wizard?
When the child of a woman yonder lay dead, you could not raise it as
did the Christ; when the oxen were sick with the pest, you could not
cure them; or at least, my father, you did not, although you wept for
the child and were sorry at the loss of the oxen. Now, my father, if
perchance they ask you to do such things as these yonder, or die, say
what will happen?"
"One of two things, John: either I shall die or I shall do the
things."
"But"--hesitated John--"surely you do not believe that----" and he
broke off.
Owen turned round and looked at his disciple with kindling eyes. "I do
believe, O you of little faith!" he said. "I do believe that yonder I
have a mission, and that He Whom I serve will give me power to carry
out that mission. You are right, I can work no miracles; but He can
work miracles Whom everything in heaven and earth obeys, and if there
is need He will work them through me, His instrument. Or perhaps He
will not work them, and I shall die, because thus His ends will best
be forwarded. At the least I go in faith, fearing nothing, for what
has he to fear who knows the will of God and does it? But to you who
doubt, I say--leave me!"
The man spread out his hands in deprecation; his thick lips trembled a
little, and something like a tear appeared at the corners of his eyes.
"Father," he said, "am I a coward that you should talk to me thus? I,
who for twenty years have been a soldier of my king and for ten a
captain in my regiment? These scars show whether or no I am a coward,"
and he pointed to his breast, "but of them I will not speak. I am no
coward, else I had not gone upon that errand of yours. Why, then,
should you reproach me because my ears are not so open as yours, as my
heart has not understanding? I worship that God of Whom you have
taught me, but He never speaks to me as He does to you. I never meet
Him as I walk at night; He leaves me quite alone. Therefore it is that
I fear that when the hour of trial comes He may desert you; and unless
He covers you with His shield, of this I am sure, that the spear is
forged which shall blush red in your heart, my father. It is for you
that I fear, who are so gentle and tender; not for myself, who am well
accustomed to look in the eyes of Death, and who expect no more than
death."
"Forgive me," said Owen hastily, for he was moved; "and be sure that
the shield will be over us till the time comes for us to pass whither
we shall need none."
*****
That night Owen rose from the task at which he was labouring slowly
and painfully--a translation of passages from the Gospel of St. John
into the language of the Amasuka--and going to the open window-place
of the hut, he rested his elbows upon it and thought, staring with
empty eyes into the blackness of the night. Now it was as he sat thus
that a great agony of doubt took possession of his soul. The strength
which hitherto had supported him seemed to be withdrawn, and he was
left, as John had said, "quite alone." Strange voices seemed to
whisper in his ears, reproaching and reviling him; temptations long
ago trampled under foot rose again in might, alluring him.
"Fool," said the voices, "get you hence before it is too late. You
have been mad; you who dreamed that for your sake, to satisfy your
pride, the Almighty will break His silence and strain His law. Are you
then better, or greater, or purer than millions who have gone before
you, that for you and you alone this thing should be done? Why, were
it not that you are mad, you would be among the chief of sinners; you
who dare to ask that the Powers of Heaven should be set within your
feeble hand, that the Angels of Heaven should wait upon your mortal
breath. Worm that you are, has God need of such as you? If it is His
will to turn the heart of yonder people He will do it, but not by
means of /you/. You and the servant whom you are deluding to his death
will perish miserably, and this alone shall be the fruit of your
presumptuous sin. Get you back out of this wilderness before the
madness takes you afresh. You are still young, you have wealth; look
where She stands yonder whom you desire. Get you back, and forget your
folly in her arms."
These thoughts, and many others of like nature, tore Owen's soul in
that hour of strange and terrible temptation. He seemed to see himself
standing before the thousands of the savage nation he went to save,
and to hear the mocking voices of their witch-finders commanding him,
if he were a true man and the servant of that God of Whom he prated,
to give them a sign, only a little sign; perhaps to move a stone
without touching it with his hand, or to cause a dead bough to
blossom.
Then he would beseech Heaven with frantic prayers, and in vain, till
at length, amidst a roar of laughter, he, the false prophet and the
liar, was led out to his doom. He saw the piteous wondering look of
the believer whom he had betrayed to death; he saw the fierce faces
and the spears on high. Seeing all this his spirit broke, and, just as
the little clock in the room behind him struck the first stroke of
midnight, with a great and bitter cry to God to give him back the
faith and strength that he had lost, Owen's head fell forward and he
sank into a swoon there upon the window-place.
CHAPTER IV
THE VISION
Was it swoon or sleep?
At least it seemed to Owen that presently once again he was gazing
into the dense intolerable blackness of the night. Then a marvel came
to pass, for the blackness opened, or rather on it, framed and
surrounded by it, there appeared a vision. It was the vision of a
native town, having a great bare space in the centre of it encircled
by hundreds or thousands of huts. But there was no one stirring about
the huts, for it was night--not this his night of trial indeed, since
now the sky was strewn with innumerable stars. Everything was silent
about that town, save that now and again a dog barked or a fretful
child wailed within a hut, or the sentries as they passed saluted each
other in the name of the king.
Among all those hundreds of huts, to Owen it seemed that his attention
was directed to one which stood apart surrounded with a fence. Now the
interior of the hut opened itself to him. It was not lighted, yet with
his spirit sense he could see its every detail: the polished floor,
the skin rugs, the beer gourds, the shields and spears, the roof-tree
of red wood, and the dried lizard hanging from the thatch, a charm to
ward off evil. In this hut, seated face to face halfway between the
centre-post and the door-hole, were two men. The darkness was deep
about them, and they whispered to each other through it; but in his
dream this was no bar to Owen's sight. He could discern their faces
clearly.
One of them was that of a man of about thirty-five years of age. In
stature he was almost a giant. He wore a kaross of leopard skins, and
on his wrists and ankles were rings of ivory, the royal ornaments. His
face was fierce and powerful; his eyes, which were set far apart,
rolled so much that at times they seemed all white; and his fingers
played nervously with the handle of a spear that he carried in his
right hand. His companion was of a different stamp; a person of more
than fifty years, he was tall and spare in figure, with delicately
shaped hands and feet. His hair and little beard were tinged with
grey, his face was strikingly handsome, nervous and expressive, and
his forehead both broad and high. But more remarkable still were his
eyes, which shone with a piercing brightness, almost grey in colour,
steady as the flame of a well-trimmed lamp, and so cold that they
might have been precious stones set in the head of a statue.
"Must I then put your thoughts in words?" said this man in a clear
quick whisper. "Well, so be it; for I weary of sitting here in the
dark waiting for water that will not flow. Listen, Prince; you come to
talk to me of the death of a king--is it not so? Nay do not start. Why
are you affrighted when you hear upon the lips of another the plot
that these many months has been familiar to your breast?"
"Truly, Hokosa, you are the best of wizards, or the worst," answered
the great man huskily. "Yet this once you are mistaken," he added with
a change of voice. "I came but to ask you for a charm to turn my
father's heart----"
"To dust? Prince, if I am mistaken, why am I the best of wizards, or
the worst, and why did your jaw drop and your face change at my words,
and why do you even now touch your dry lips with your tongue? Yes, I
know that it is dark here, yet some can see in it, and I am one of
them. Ay, Prince, and I can see your mind also. You would be rid of
your father: he has lived too long. Moreover his love turns to
Nodwengo, the good and gentle; and perhaps--who can say?--it is even
in his thought, when all his regiments are about him two days hence,
to declare that you, Prince, are deposed, and that your brother,
Nodwengo, shall be king in your stead. Now, Nodwengo you cannot kill;
he is too well loved and too well guarded. If he died suddenly, his
dead lips would call out 'Murder!' in the ears of all men; and,
Prince, all eyes would turn to you, who alone could profit by his end.
But if the king should chance to die--why he is old, is he not? and
such things happen to the old. Also he grows feeble, and will not
suffer the regiments to be doctored for war, although day by day they
clamour to be led to battle; for he seeks to end his years in peace."
"I say that you speak folly," answered the prince with vehemence.
"Then, Son of the Great One, why should you waste time in listening to
me? Farewell, Hafela the Prince, first-born of the king, who in a day
to come shall carry the shield of Nodwengo; for he is good and gentle,
and will spare your life--if I beg it of him."
Hafela stretched out his hand through the darkness, and caught Hokosa
by the wrist.
"Stay," he whispered, "it is true. The king must die; for if he does
not die within three days, I shall cease to be his heir. I know it
through my spies. He is angry with me; he hates me, and he loves
Nodwengo and the mother of Nodwengo. But if he dies before the last
day of the festival, then that decree will never pass his lips, and
the regiments will never roar out the name of Nodwengo as the name of
the king to come. He must die, I tell you, Hokosa, and--by your hand."
"By /my/ hand, Prince! Nay; what have you to offer me in return for
such a deed as this? Have I not grown up in Umsuka's shadow, and shall
I cut down the tree that shades me?"
"What have I to offer you? This: that next to myself you shall be the
greatest in the land, Hokosa."
"That I am already, and whoever rules it, that I must always be. I,
who am the chief of wizards; I, the reader of men's hearts; I, the
hearer of men's thoughts! I, the lord of the air and the lightning; I,
the invulnerable. If you would murder, Prince, then do the deed; do it
knowing that I have your secret, and that henceforth you who rule
shall be my servant. Nay, you forget that I can see in the dark; lay
down that assegai, or, by my spirit, prince as you are, I will blast
you with a spell, and your body shall be thrown to the kites, as that
of one who would murder his king and father!"
The prince heard and shook, his cheeks sank in, the muscles of his
great form seemed to collapse, and he grovelled on the floor of the
hut.
"I know your magic," he groaned; "use it for me, not against me! What
is there that I can offer you, who have everything except the throne,
whereon you cannot sit, seeing that you are not of the blood-royal?"
"Think," said Hokosa.
For a while the prince thought, till presently his form straightened
itself, and with a quick movement he lifted up his head.
"Is it, perchance, my affianced wife?" he whispered; "the lady Noma,
whom I love, and who, according to our custom, I shall wed as the
queen to be after the feast of first-fruits? Oh! say it not, Hokosa."
"I say it," answered the wizard. "Listen, Prince. The lady Noma is the
only child of my blood-brother, my friend, with whom I was brought up,
he who was slain at my side in the great war with the tribes of the
north. She was my ward: she was more; for through her--ah! you know
not how--I held my converse with the things of earth and air, the very
spirits that watch us now in this darkness, Hafela. Thus it happened,
that before ever she was a woman, her mind grew greater than the mind
of any other woman, and her thought became my thought, and my thought
became her thought, for I and no other am her master. Still I waited
to wed her till she was fully grown; and while I waited I went upon an
embassy to the northern tribes. Then it was that you saw the maid in
visiting at my kraal, and her beauty and her wit took hold of you; and
in the council of the king, as you have a right to do, you named her
as your head wife, the queen to be.
"The king heard and bowed his head; he sent and took her, and placed
her in the House of the Royal Women, there to abide till this feast of
the first-fruits, when she shall be given to you in marriage. Yes, he
sent her to that guarded house wherein not even I may set my foot.
Although I was afar, her spirit warned me, and I returned, but too
late; for she was sealed to you of the blood-royal, and that is a law
which may not be broken.
"Hafela, I prayed you to return her to me, and you mocked me. I would
have brought you to your death, but it could not have availed me: for
then, by that same law, which may not be broken, she who was sealed to
you must die with you; and though thereafter her spirit would sit with
me till I died also, it was not enough, since I who have conquered
all, yet cannot conquer the fire that wastes my heart, nor cease to
long by night and day for a woman who is lost to me. Then it was,
Hafela, that I plotted vengeance against you. I threw my spell over
the mind of the king, till he learnt to hate you and your evil deeds;
and I, even I, have brought it about that your brother should be
preferred before you, and that you shall be the servant in his house.
This is the price that you must pay for her of whom you have robbed
me; and by my spirit and her spirit you shall pay! Yet listen. Hand
back the girl, as you may do--for she is not yet your wife--and choose
another for your queen, and I will undo all that I have done, and I
will find you a means, Hafela, to carry out your will. Ay, before six
suns have set, the regiments rushing past you shall hail you King of
the Nation of the Amasuka, Lord of the ancient House of Fire!"
"I cannot," groaned the prince; "death were better than this!"
"Ay, death were better; but you shall not die, you shall live a
servant, and your name shall become a mockery, a name for women to
make rhymes on."
Now the prince sprang up.
"Take her!" he hissed; "take her! you, who are an evil ghost; you,
beneath whose eyes children wail, and at whose passing the hairs on
the backs of hounds stand up! Take her, priest of death and ill; but
take my curse with her! Ah! I also can prophecy; and I tell you that
this woman whom you have taught, this witch of many spells, whose
glance can shrivel the hearts of men, shall give you to drink of your
own medicine; ay, she shall dog you to the death, and mock you while
you perish by an end of shame!"
"What," laughed the wizard, "have I a rival in my own arts? Nay,
Hafela, if you would learn the trade, pay me well and I will give you
lessons. Yet I counsel you not; for you are flesh, nothing but flesh,
and he who would rule the air must cultivate the spirit. Why, I tell
you, Prince, that even the love for her who is my heart, the lady whom
we both would wed, partaking of the flesh as, alas! it does, has cost
me half my powers. Now let us cease from empty scoldings, and strike
our bargain.
"Listen. On the last day of the feast, when all the regiments are
gathered to salute the king there in his Great Place according to
custom, you shall stand forth before the king and renounce Noma, and
she shall pass back to the care of my household. You yourself shall
bring her to where I stand, and as I take her from you I will put into
your hand a certain powder. Then you shall return to the side of the
king, and after our fashion shall give him to drink the bowl of the
first-fruits; but as you stir the beer, you will let fall into it that
powder which I have given you. The king will drink, and what he leaves
undrunk you will throw out upon the dust.
"Now he will rise to give out to the people his royal decree, whereby,
Prince, you are to be deposed from your place as heir, and your
brother, Nodwengo, is to be set in your seat. But of that decree never
a word shall pass his lips; if it does, recall your saying and take
back the lady Noma from where she stands beside me. I tell you that
never a word will pass his lips; for even as he rises a stroke shall
take him, such a stroke as often falls upon the fat and aged, and he
will sink to the ground snoring through his nostrils. For a while
thereafter--it may be six hours, it may be twelve--he shall lie
insensible, and then a cry will arise that the king is dead!"
"Ay," said Hafela, "and that I have poisoned him!"
"Why, Prince? Few know what is in your father's mind, and with those,
being king, you will be able to deal. Also this is the virtue of the
poison which I choose, that it is swift, yet the symptoms of it are
the symptoms of a natural sickness. But that your safety and mine may
be assured, I have made yet another plan, though of this there will be
little need. You were present two days since when a runner came from
the white man who sojourns beyond our border, he who seeks to teach
us, the Children of Fire, a new faith, and gives out that he is the
messenger of the King of heaven. This runner asked leave for the white
man to visit the Great Place, and, speaking in the king's name, I gave
him leave. But I warned his servant that if his master came, a sign
should be required of him to show that he was a true man, and had of
the wisdom of the King of Heaven; and that if he failed therein, then
that he should die as that white liar died who visited us in bygone
years.
"Now I have so ordered that this white man, passing through the Valley
of Death yonder, shall reach the Great Place not long before the king
drinks of the cup of the first-fruits. Then if any think that
something out of nature has happened to the king, they will surely
think also that this strange prayer-doctor has wrought the evil. Then
also I will call for a sign from the white man, praying of him to
recover the king of his sickness; and when he fails, he shall be slain
as a worker of spells and the false prophet of a false god, and so we
shall be rid of him and his new faith, and you shall be cleared of
doubt. Is not the plan good, Prince?"
"It is very good, Hokosa--save for one thing only."
"For what thing?"
"This: the white man who is named Messenger might chance to be a true
prophet of a true God, and to recover the king."
"Oho, let him do it, if he can; but to do it, first he must know the
poison and its antidote. There is but one, and it is known to me only
of all men in this land. When he has done that, then I, yes, even I,
Hokosa, will begin to inquire concerning this God of his, who shows
Himself so mighty in person of His messenger." And he laughed low and
scornfully.
"Prince, farewell! I go forth alone, whither you dare not follow at
this hour, to seek that which we shall need. One word--think not to
play me false, or to cheat me of my price; for whate'er betides, be
sure of this, that hour shall be the hour of your dooming. Hail to
you, Son of the King! Hail! and farewell." Then, removing the door-
board, the wizard passed from the hut and was gone.
*****
The vision changed. Now there appeared a valley walled in on either
side with sloping cliffs of granite; a desolate place, sandy and, save
for a single spring, without water, strewn with boulders of rock, some
of them piled fantastically one upon the other. At a certain spot this
valley widened out, and in the mouth of the space thus formed, midway
between the curved lines of the receding cliffs, stood a little hill
or koppie, also built up of boulders. It was a place of death; for all
around the hill, and piled in hundreds between the crevices of its
stones, lay the white bones of men.
Nor was this all. Its summit was flat, and in the midst of it stood a
huge tree. Even had it not been for the fruit which hung from its
branches, the aspect of that tree must have struck the beholder as
uncanny, even as horrible. The bark on its great bole was leprous
white; and from its gaunt and spreading rungs rose branches that
subdivided themselves again and again, till at last they terminated in
round green fingers, springing from grey, flat slabs of bark, in shape
not unlike that of a human palm. Indeed, from a little distance this
tree, especially if viewed by moonlight, had the appearance of bearing
on it hundreds or thousands of the arms and hands of men, all of them
stretched imploringly to Heaven.
Well might they seem to do so, seeing that to its naked limbs hung the
bodies of at least twenty human beings who had suffered death by order
of the king or his captains, or by the decree of the company of
wizards, whereof Hokosa was the chief. There on the Hill of Death
stood the Tree of Death; and that in its dank shade, or piled upon the
ground beneath it, hung and lay the pitiful remnants of the multitudes
who for generations had been led thither to their doom.
Now, in Owen's vision a man was seen approaching by the little pathway
that ran up the side of the mount--the Road of Lost Footsteps it was
called. It was Hokosa the wizard. Outside the circle of the tree he
halted, and drawing a tanned skin from a bundle of medicines which he
carried, he tied it about his mouth; for the very smell of that tree
is poisonous and must not be suffered to reach the lungs.
Presently he was under the branches, where once again he halted; this
time it was to gaze at the body of an old man which swung to and fro
in the night breeze.
"Ah! friend," he muttered, "we strove for many years, but it seems
that I have conquered at the last. Well, it is just; for if you could
have had your way, your end would have been my end."
Then very leisurely, as one who is sure that he will not be
interrupted, Hokosa began to climb the tree, till at length some of
the green fingers were within his reach. Resting his back against a
bough, one by one he broke off several of them, and averting his face
so that the fumes of it might not reach him, he caused the thick milk-
white juice that they contained to trickle into the mouth of a little
gourd which was hung about his neck by a string. When he had collected
enough of the poison and carefully corked the gourd with a plug of
wood, he descended the tree again. At the great fork where the main
branches sprang from the trunk, he stood a while contemplating a
creeping plant which ran up them. It was a plant of naked stem, like
the tree it grew upon; and, also like the tree, its leaves consisted
of bunches of green spikes having a milky juice.
"Strange," he said aloud, "that Nature should set the bane and the
antidote side by side, the one twined about the other. Well, so it is
in everything; yes, even in the heart of man. Shall I gather some of
this juice also? No; for then I might repent and save him, remembering
that he has loved me, and thus lose her I seek, her whom I must win
back or be withered. Let the messenger of the King of Heaven save him,
if he can. This tree lies on his path; perchance he may prevail upon
its dead to tell him of the bane and of the antidote." And once more
the wizard laughed mockingly.
*****
The vision passed. At this moment Thomas Owen, recovering from his
swoon, lifted his head from the window-place. The night before him was
as black as it had been, and behind him the little American clock was
still striking the hour of midnight. Therefore he could not have
remained insensible for longer than a few seconds.
A few seconds, yet how much he had seen in them. Truly his want of
faith had been reproved--truly he also had been "warned of God in a
dream,"--truly "his ears had been opened and his instruction sealed."
His soul had been "kept back from the pit," and his life from
"perishing by the sword"; and the way of the wicked had been made
clear to him "in a dream, in a vision of the night when deep sleep
falleth upon men."
Not for nothing had he endured that agony, and not for nothing had he
struggled in the grip of doubt.
CHAPTER V
THE FEAST OF THE FIRST-FRUITS
On the third morning from this night whereof the strange events have
been described, an ox-waggon might have been seen outspanned on the
hither side of those ranges of hills that were visible from the river.
These mountains, which although not high are very steep, form the
outer barrier and defence of the kingdom of the Amasuka. Within five
hundred yards of where the waggon stood, however, a sheer cliffed
gorge, fire-riven and water-hewn, pierced the range, and looking on
it, Owen knew it for the gorge of his dream. Night and day the mouth
of it was guarded by a company of armed soldiers, whose huts were
built high on outlook places in the mountains, whence their keen eyes
could scan the vast expanses of plain. A full day before it reached
them, they had seen the white-capped waggon crawling across the veldt,
and swift runners had reported its advent to the king at his Great
Place.
Back came the word of the king that the white man, with the waggon and
his servant, were to be led on towards the Great Place at such speed
as would bring him there in time for him to behold the last ceremony
of the feast of first-fruits; but, for the present, that the waggon
itself and the oxen were to be left at the mouth of the gorge, in
charge of a guard, who would be answerable for them.
Now, on this morning the captain of the guard and his orderlies
advanced to the waggon and stood in front of it. They were splendid
men, armed with great spears and shields, and adorned with feather
head-dresses and all the wild finery of their regiment. Owen descended
from the waggon and came to meet them, and so for a few moments they
remained, face to face, in silence. A strange contrast they presented
as they stood there; the bare-headed white man frail, delicate,
spiritual of countenance, and the warriors great, grave, powerful, a
very embodiment of the essence of untamed humanity, an incarnate
presentation of the spirit of savage warfare.
"How are you named, White Man?" asked the captain.
"Chief, I am named Messenger."
"The peace of the king be with you, Messenger," said the captain,
lifting his spear.
"The peace of God be with you, Chief," answered Owen, holding up his
hands in blessing.
"Who is God?" asked the captain.
"Chief, He is the King I serve, and His word is between my lips."
"Then pass on, Messenger of God, and deliver the word of God your King
into the ears of my king, at his Great Place yonder. Pass on riding
the beast you have brought with you, for the way is rough; but your
waggon, your oxen, and your servants, save this man only who is of the
Children of Fire, must stay here in my keeping. Fear not, Messenger, I
will hold them safe."
"I do not fear, Chief, there is honour in your eyes."
*****
Some hours later, Owen, mounted on his mule, was riding through the
gorge, a guard in front of and behind him, and with them carriers who
had been sent to bear his baggage. At his side walked his disciple
John, and his face was sad.
"Why are you still afraid?" asked Owen.
"Ah! father, because this is a place of fear. Here in this valley men
are led to die; presently you will see."
"I have seen," answered Owen. "Yonder where we shall halt is a mount,
and on that mount stands a tree; it is called the Tree of Death, and
it stretches a thousand hands to Heaven, praying for mercy that does
not come, and from its boughs there hangs fruit, a fruit of dead men--
yes, twenty of them hang there this day."
"How know you these things, my father," asked the man amazed, "seeing
that I have never spoken to you of them?"
"Nay," he answered, "God has spoken to me. My God and your God."
Another hour passed, and they were resting by the spring of water,
near to the shadow of the dreadful tree, for in that gorge the sun
burned fiercely. John counted the bodies that swung upon it, and again
looked fearfully at Owen, for there were twenty of them.
"I desire to go up to that tree," Owen said to the guard.
"As you will, Messenger," answered their leader; "I have no orders to
prevent you from so doing. Still," he added with a solemn smile, "it
is a place that few seek of their own will, and, because I like you
well, Messenger, I pray it may never be my duty to lead you there of
the king's will."
Then Owen went up to the tree and John with him, only John would not
pass beneath the shadow of its branches; but stood by wondering, while
his master bound a handkerchief about his mouth.
"How did he know that the breath of the tree is poisonous?" John
wondered.
Owen walked to the bole of the tree, and breaking off some of the
finger-like leaves of the creeper that twined about it, he pressed
their milky juice into a little bottle that he had made ready. Then he
returned quickly, for the sights and odours of the place were not to
be borne.
Outside the circle of the branches he halted, and removed the
handkerchief from his mouth.
"Be of good cheer," he said to John, "and if it should chance that I
am called away before my words come true, yet remember my words. I
tell you that this Tree of Death shall become the Tree of Life for all
the children of your people. Look! there above you is its sign and
promise."
John lifted his eyes, following the line of Owen's outstretched hand,
and saw this. High up upon the tree, and standing clear of all the
other branches, was one straight, dead limb, and from this dead limb
two arms projected at right angles, also dead and snapped off short.
Had a carpenter fashioned a cross of wood and set it there, its
proportions could not have been more proper and exact. It was very
strange to find this symbol of the Christian hope towering above that
place of human terror, and stranger still was the purpose which it
must serve in a day to come.
Owen and John returned to the guard in silence, and presently they set
forward on their journey. At length, passing beneath a natural arch of
rock, they were out of the Valley of Death, and before them, not five
hundred paces away, appeared the fence of the Great Place.
This Great Place stood upon a high plateau, in the lap of the
surrounding hills, all of which were strongly fortified with schanses,
pitfalls, and rough walls of stone. That plateau may have measured
fifteen miles in circumference, and the fence of the town itself was
about four miles in circumference. Within the fence and following its
curve, for it was round, stood thousands of dome-shaped huts carefully
set out in streets. Within these again was a stout stockade of timber,
enclosing a vast arena of trodden earth, large enough to contain all
the cattle of the People of Fire in times of danger, and to serve as a
review ground for their /impis/ in times of peace or festival.
At the outer gate of the kraal there was a halt, while the keepers of
the gate despatched a messenger to their king to announce the advent
of the white man. Of this pause Owen took advantage to array himself
in the surplice and hood which he had brought with him in readiness
for that hour. Then he gave the mule to John to lead behind him.
"What do you, Messenger?" asked the leader of the guard, astonished.
"I clothe myself in my war-dress," he answered.
"Where then is your spear, Messenger?"
"Here," said Owen, presenting to his eyes a crucifix of ivory, most
beautifully carved.
"I perceive that you are of the family of wizards," said the man, and
fell back.
Now they entered the kraal and passed for three hundred yards or more
through rows of huts, till they reached the gate of the stockade,
which was opened to them. Once within it, Owen saw a wonderful sight,
such a sight as few white men have seen. The ground of the enormous
oval before him was not flat. Either from natural accident or by
design it sloped gently upwards, so that the spectator, standing by
the gate or at the head of it before the house of the king, could take
in its whole expanse, and, if his sight were keen enough, could see
every individual gathered there.
On the particular day of Owen's arrival it was crowded with regiments,
twelve of them, all dressed in their different uniforms and bearing
shields to match, not one of which was less than 2500 strong. At this
moment the regiments were massed in deep lines, each battalion by
itself, on either side of the broad roadway that ran straight up the
kraal to where the king, his sons, his advisers and guards, together
with the company of wizards, were placed in front of the royal house.
There they stood in absolute silence, like tens of thousands of bronze
statues, and Owen perceived that either they were resting or that they
were gathered thus to receive him. That the latter was the case soon
became evident, for as he appeared, a white spot at the foot of the
slope, countless heads turned and myriads of eyes fastened themselves
upon him. For an instant he was dismayed; there was something
terrifying in this numberless multitude of warriors, and the thought
of the task that he had undertaken crushed his spirit. Then he
remembered, and shaking off his fear and doubt, alone, save for his
disciple John, holding the crucifix aloft, he walked slowly up the
wide road towards the place where he guessed that the king must be.
His arm was weary ere ever he reached it, but at length he found
himself standing before a thickset old man, who was clad in leopard
skins and seated upon a stool of polished wood.
"It is the king," whispered John behind him.
"Peace be to you," said Owen, breaking the silence.
"The wish is good, may it be fulfilled," answered the king in a deep
voice, sighing as he said the words. "Yet yours is a strange
greeting," he added. "Whence came you, White Man, how are you named,
and what is your mission to me and to my people?"
"King, I come from beyond the sea; I am named Messenger, and my
mission is to deliver to you the saying of God, my King and--yours."
At these words a gasp of astonishment went up from those who stood
within hearing, expecting as they did to see them rewarded by instant
death. But Umsuka only said:--
"'My King and yours'? Bold words, Messenger. Where then is this King
to whom I, Umsuka, should bow the knee?"
"He is everywhere--in the heavens, on the earth, and below the earth."
"If He is everywhere, then He is here. Show me the likeness of this
King, Messenger."
"Behold it," Owen answered, thrusting forward the crucifix.
Now all the great ones about the king stared at this figure of a dying
man crowned with thorns and hanging on a cross, and then drew up their
lips to laugh. But that laugh never left them; a sudden impulse, a
mysterious wave of feeling choked it in their throats. A sense of the
strangeness of the contrast between themselves in their armed
multitudes and this one white-robed man in his loneliness took hold of
them, and with it another sense of something not far removed from
fear.
"A wizard indeed," they thought in their hearts, and what they thought
the king uttered.
"I perceive," he said, "that you are either mad, White Man, or you are
a prince of wizards. Mad you do not seem to be, for your eyes are
calm, therefore a wizard you must be. Well, stand behind me: by-and-by
I will hear your message and ask of you to show me your powers; but
before then there are things which I must do. Are the lads ready? Ho,
you, loose the bull!"
At the command a line of soldiers moved from the right, forming itself
up in front of the king and his attendants, revealing a number of
youths, of from sixteen to seventeen years of age, armed with sticks
only, who stood in companies outside a massive gate. Presently this
gate was opened, and through it, with a mad bellow, rushed a wild
buffalo bull. On seeing them the brute halted, and for a few moments
stood pawing the earth and tearing it with its great horns. Then it
put down its head and charged. Instead of making way for it, uttering
a shrill whistling sound, the youths rushed at the beast, striking
with their sticks.
Another instant, and one of them appeared above the heads of his
companions, thrown high into the air, to be followed by a second and a
third. Now the animal was through the throng and carrying a poor boy
on its horn, whence presently he fell dead; through and through the
ranks of the regiments it charged furiously backward and forward.
Watching it fascinated, Owen noted that it was a point of honour for
no man to stir before its rush; there they stood, and if the bull
gored them, there they fell. At length, exhausted and terrified, the
brute headed back straight up the lane where the main body of the
youths were waiting for it. Now it was among them, and, reckless of
wounds or death, they swarmed about it like bees, seizing it by legs,
nose, horns and tail, till with desperate efforts they dragged it to
the ground and beat the life out of it with their sticks. This done,
they formed up before the king and saluted him.
"How many are killed?" he asked.
"Eight in all," was the answer, "and fifteen gored."
"A good bull," he said with a smile; "that of last year killed but
five. Well, the lads fought him bravely. Let the dead be buried, the
hurt tended, or, if their harms are hopeless, slain, and to the rest
give a double ration of beer. Ho, now, fall back, men, and make a
space for the Bees and the Wasps to fight in."
Some orders were given and a great ring was formed, leaving an arena
clear that may have measured a hundred and fifty yards in diameter.
Then suddenly, from opposite sides, the two regiments, known as the
Bees and the Wasps respectively, rushed upon each other, uttering
their war-cries.
"I put ten head of cattle on the Bees; who wagers on the Wasps?" cried
the king.
"I, Lord," answered the Prince Hafela, stepping forward.
"You, Prince!" said the king with a quick frown. "Well, you are right
to back them, they are your own regiment. Ah! they are at it."
By this time the scene was that of a hell broken loose upon the earth.
The two regiments, numbering some 5000 men in all, had come together,
and the roar of their meeting shields was like the roar of thunder.
They were armed with kerries only, and not with spears, for the fight
was supposed to be a mimic one; but these weapons they used with such
effect that soon hundreds of them were down dead or with shattered
skulls and bruised limbs. Fiercely they fought, while the whole army
watched, for their rivalry was keen and for many months they had known
that they were to be pitted one against the other on this day.
Fiercely they fought, while the captains cried their orders, and the
dust rose up in clouds as they swung to and fro, breast thrusting
against breast. At length the end came; the Bees began to give, they
fell back ever more quickly till their retreat was a rout, and,
leaving many stretched upon the ground, amid the mocking cries of the
army they were driven to the fence, by touching which they obtained
peace at the hands of their victors.
The king saw, and his somewhat heavy, quiet face grew alive with rage.
"Search and see," he said, "if the captain of the Bees is alive and
unhurt."
Messengers went to do his bidding, and presently they returned,
bringing with them a man of magnificent appearance and middle age,
whose left arm had been broken by a blow from a kerry. With his right
hand he saluted first the king, then the Prince Nodwengo, a kindly-
faced, mild-eyed man, in whose command he was.
"What have you to say?" asked the king, in a cold voice of anger.
"Know you that you have cost me ten head of the royal white cattle?"
"King, I have nothing to say," answered the captain calmly, "except
that my men are cowards."
"That is certainly so," said the king. "Let all the wounded among them
be carried away; and for you, captain, who turn my soldiers into
cowards, you shall die a dog's death, hanging to-morrow on the Tree of
Doom. As for your regiment, I banish it to the fever country, there to
hunt elephants for three years, since it is not fit to fight with
men."
"It is well," replied the captain, "since death is better than shame.
Only King, I have done you good service in the past; I ask that it may
be presently and by the spear."
"So be it," said the king.
"I crave his life, father," said the Prince Nodwengo; "he is my
friend."
"A prince should not choose cowards for his friends," replied the
king; "let him be killed, I say."
Then Owen, who had been watching and listening, his heart sick with
horror, stood forward and said:--
"King, in the name of Him I serve, I conjure you to spare this man and
those others that are hurt, who have done no crime except to be driven
back by soldiers stronger than themselves."
"Messenger," answered the king, "I bear with you because you are
ignorant. Know that, according to our customs, this crime is the
greatest of crimes, for here we show no mercy to the conquered."
"Yet you should do so," said Owen, "seeing that you also must ere long
be conquered by death, and then how can you expect mercy who have
shown none?"
"Let him be killed!" said the king.
"King!" cried Owen once more, "do this deed, and I tell you that
before the sun is down great evil will overtake you."
"Do you threaten me, Messenger? Well, we will see. Let him be killed,
I say."
Then the man was led away; but, before he went he found time to thank
Owen and Nodwengo the prince, and to call down good fortune upon them.
CHAPTER VI
THE DRINKING OF THE CUP
Now the king's word was done, the anger went out of his eyes, and once
more his countenance grew weary. A command was issued, and, with the
most perfect order, moving like one man, the regiments changed their
array, forming up battalion upon battalion in face of the king, that
they might give him the royal salute so soon as he had drunk the cup
of the first-fruits.
A herald stood forward and cried:--
"Hearken, you Sons of Fire! Hearken, you Children of Umsuka, Shaker of
the Earth! Have any of you a boon to ask of the king?"
Men stood forward, and having saluted, one by one asked this thing or
that. The king heard their requests, and as he nodded or turned his
head away, so they were granted or refused.
When all had done, the Prince Hafela came forward, lifted his spear,
and cried:--
"A boon, King!"
"What is it?" asked his father, eyeing him curiously.
"A small matter, King," he replied. "A while ago I named a certain
woman, Noma, the ward of Hokosa the wizard, and she was sealed to me
to fill the place of my first wife, the queen that is to be. She
passed into the House of the Royal Women, and, by your command, King,
it was fixed that I should marry her according to our customs
to-morrow, after the feast of the first-fruits is ended. King, my
heart is changed towards that woman; I no longer desire to take her to
wife, and I pray that you will order that she shall now be handed back
to Hokosa her guardian."
"You blow hot and cold with the same mouth, Hafela," said Umsuka, "and
in love or war I do not like such men. What have you to say to this
demand, Hokosa?"
Now Hokosa stepped forward from where he stood at the head of the
company of wizards. His dress, like that of his companions, was
simple, but in its way striking. On his shoulders he wore a cloak of
shining snakeskin; about his loins was a short kilt of the same
material; and round his forehead, arms and knees were fillets of
snakeskin. At his side hung his pouch of medicines, and in his hand he
held no spear, but a wand of ivory, whereof the top was roughly carved
so as to resemble the head of a cobra reared up to strike.
"King," he said, "I have heard the words of the prince, and I do not
think that this insult should have been put upon the Lady Noma, my
ward, or upon me, her guardian. Still, let it be, for I would not that
one should pass from under the shadow of my house whither she is not
welcome. Without my leave the prince named this woman as his queen, as
he had the right to do; and without my leave he unnames her, as he has
the right to do. Were the prince a common man, according to custom he
should pay a fine of cattle to be held by me in trust for her whom he
discards; but this is a matter that I leave to you, King."
"You do well, Hokosa," answered Umsuka, "to leave this to me. Prince,
you would not wish the fine that you should pay to be that of any
common man. With the girl shall be handed over two hundred head of
cattle. More, I will do justice: unless she herself consents, she
shall not be put away. Let the Lady Noma be summoned."
Now the face of Hafela grew sullen, and watching, Owen saw a swift
change pass over that of Hokosa. Evidently he was not certain of the
woman. Presently there was a stir, and from the gates of the royal
house the Lady Noma appeared, attended by women, and stood before the
king. She was a tall and lovely girl, and the sunlight flashed upon
her bronze-hued breast and her ornaments of ivory. Her black hair was
fastened in a knot upon her neck, her features were fine and small,
her gait was delicate and sure as that of an antelope, and her eyes
were beautiful and full of pride. There she stood before the king,
looking round her like a stag. Seeing her thus, Owen understood how it
came about that she held two men so strangely different in the hollow
of her hand, for her charm was of a nature to appeal to both of them--
a charm of the spirit as well as of the flesh. And yet the face was
haughty, a face that upon occasion might even become cruel.
"You sent for me and I am here, O King," she said, in a slow and quiet
voice.
"Listen, girl," answered the king. "A while ago the Prince Hafela, my
son, named you as her who should be his queen, whereon you were taken
and placed in the House of the Royal Women, to abide the day of your
marriage, which should be to-morrow."
"It is true that the prince has honoured me thus, and that you have
been pleased to approve of his choice," she said, lifting her
eyebrows. "What of it, O King?"
"This, girl: the prince who was pleased to honour you is now pleased
to dishonour you. Here, in the presence of the council and army, he
prays of me to annul his sealing to you, and to send you back to the
house of your guardian, Hokosa the wizard."
Noma started, and her face grew hard.
"Is it so?" she said. "Then it would seem that I have lost favour in
the eyes of my lord the prince, or that some fairer woman has found
it."
"Of these matters I know nothing," replied the king; "but this I know,
that if you seek justice you shall have it. Say but the word, and he
to whom you were promised in marriage shall take you in marriage,
whether he wills or wills it not."
At this speech, the face of Hafela was suddenly lit up as with the
fire of hope, while over that of Hokosa there passed another subtle
change. The girl glanced at them both and was silent for a while. Her
breast heaved and her white teeth bit upon her lip. To Owen, who noted
all, it was clear that rival passions were struggling in her heart:
the passion of power and the passion of love, or of some emotion which
he did not understand. Hokosa fixed his calm eyes upon her with a
strange intensity of gaze, and while he gazed his form quivered with a
suppressed excitement, much as a snake quivers that is about to strike
its prey. To the careless eye there was nothing remarkable about his
look and attitude; to the observer it was evident that both were full
of extraordinary purpose. He was talking to the girl, not with words,
but in some secret language that he and she understood alone. She
started as one starts who catches the tone of a well-remembered voice
in a crowd of strangers, and lifting her eyes from the ground, whither
she had turned them in meditation, she looked up at Hokosa.
Instantly her face began to change. The haughtiness and anger went out
of it, it grew troubled, the lips parted in a sigh. First she bent her
head and body towards him, then without more ado she walked to where
he stood and took him by the hand. Here, at some whispered word or
sign, she seemed to recover herself, and again resuming the character
of a proud offended beauty, she curtseyed to Umsuka, and spoke:--
"O King, as you see, I have made my choice. I will not force myself
upon a man who scorns me, no, not even to share his place and power,
though it is true that I love them both. Nay, I will return to Hokosa
my guardian, and to his wife, Zinti, who has been as my mother, and
with them be at peace."
"It is well," said the king, "and perhaps, girl, your choice is wise;
perhaps your loss is not so great as you have thought. Hafela, take
you the hand of Hokosa and release the girl back to him according to
the law, promising in the ears of men before the first month of winter
to pay him two hundred head of cattle as forfeit, to be held by him in
trust for the girl."
In a sullen voice, his lips trembling with rage, Hafela did as the
king commanded; and when the hands of the conspirators unclasped, Owen
perceived that in that of the prince lay a tiny packet.
"Mix me the cup of the first-fruits, and swiftly," said the king
again, "for the sun grows low in the heavens, and ere it sinks I have
words to say."
Now a polished gourd filled with native beer was handed to Nodwengo,
the second son of the king, and one by one the great councillors
approached, and, with appropriate words, let fall into it offerings
emblematic of fertility and increase. The first cast in a grain of
corn; the second, a blade of grass; the third, a shaving from an ox's
horn; the fourth, a drop of water; the fifth, a woman's hair; the
sixth, a particle of earth; and so on, until every ingredient was
added to it that was necessary to the magic brew.
Then Hokosa, as chief of the medicine men, blessed the cup according
to the ancient forms, praying that he whose body was the heavens,
whose eyes were lightning, and whose voice was thunder, the spirit
whom they worshipped, might increase and multiply to them during the
coming year all those fruits and elements that were present in the
cup, and that every virtue which they contained might comfort the body
of the king.
His prayer finished, it was the turn of Hafela to play his part as the
eldest born of the king. Kneeling over the cup which stood upon the
ground, a spear was handed to him that had been made red hot in the
fire. Taking the spear, he stabbed with it towards the four quarters
of the horizon; then, muttering some invocation, he plunged it into
the bowl, stirring its contents till the iron grew black. Now he threw
aside the spear, and lifting the bowl in both hands, he carried it to
his father and offered it to him.
Although he had been unable to see him drop the poison into the cup, a
glance at Hafela told Owen that it was there; for though he kept his
face under control, he could not prevent his hands from twitching or
the sweat from starting upon his brow and breast.
The king rose, and taking the bowl, held it on high, saying:--
"In this cup, which I drink on behalf of the nation, I pledge you, my
people."
It was the signal for the royal salute, for which each regiment had
been prepared. As the last word left the king's lips, every one of the
thirty thousand men present in that great place began to rattle his
kerry against the surface of his ox-hide shield. At first the sound
produced resembled that of the murmur of the sea; but by slow and just
degrees it grew louder and ever louder, till the roar of it was like
the deepest voice of thunder, a sound awe-inspiring, terrible.
Suddenly, when its volume was most, four spears were thrown into the
air, and at this signal every man ceased to beat upon his shield. In
the place itself there was silence, but from the mountains around the
echoes still crashed and volleyed. When the last of them had died
away, the king brought the cup to the level of his lips. Owen saw, and
knowing its contents, was almost moved to cry out in warning. Indeed,
his arm was lifted and his mouth was open, when by chance he noted
Hokosa watching him, and remembered. To act now would be madness, his
time had not yet come.
The cup touched the king's lips, and at the sign from every throat in
that countless multitude sprang the word "/King!/" and every foot
stamped upon the ground, shaking the solid earth. Thrice the monarch
drank, and thrice this tremendous salute, the salute of the whole
nation to its ruler, was repeated, each time more loudly than the
last. Then pouring the rest of the liquor on the ground, Umsuka set
aside the cup, and in the midst of a silence that seemed deep after
the crash of the great salute, he began to address the multitude:--
"Hearken, Councillors and Captains, and you, my people, hearken. As
you know, I have two sons, calves of the Black Bull, princes of the
land--my son Hafela, the eldest born, and my son Nodwengo, his half-
brother----"
At this point the king began to grow confused. He hesitated, passing
his hand over his eyes, then slowly and with difficulty repeated those
words which he had already said.
"We hear you, Father," cried the councillors in encouragement, as for
the second time he paused. While they still spoke, the veins in the
king's neck were seen to swell suddenly, foam flecked with blood burst
from his lips, and he fell headlong to the ground.
CHAPTER VII
THE RECOVERY OF THE KING
For a moment there was silence, then a great cry arose--a cry of "Our
father is dead!" Presently with it were mingled other and angrier
shouts of "The king is murdered!" and "He is bewitched, the white
wizard has bewitched the king! He prophesied evil upon him, and now he
has bewitched him!"
Meanwhile the captains and councillors formed a ring about Umsuka, and
Hokosa bending over him examined him.
"Princes and Councillors," he said presently, "your father yet lives,
but his life is like the life of a dying fire and soon he must be
dead. This is sure, that one of two things has befallen him: either
the heat has caused the blood to boil in his veins and he is smitten
with a stroke from heaven, such as men who are fat and heavy sometimes
die of; or he has been bewitched by a wicked wizard. Yonder stands
one," and he pointed to Owen, "who not an hour ago prophesied that
before the sun was down great evil should overtake the king. The sun
is not yet down, and great evil has overtaken him. Perchance, Princes
and Councillors, this white prophet can tell us of the matter."
"Perchance I can," answered Owen calmly.
"He admits it!" cried some. "Away with him!"
"Peace!" said Owen, holding the crucifix towards those whose spears
threatened his life.
They shrank back, for this symbol of a dying man terrified them who
could not guess its significance.
"Peace," went on Owen, "and listen. Be sure of this, Councillors, that
if I die, your king will die; whereas if I live, your king may live.
You ask me of this matter. Where shall I begin? Shall I begin with the
tale of two men seated together some nights ago in a hut so dark that
no eyes could see in it, save perchance the eyes of a wizard? What did
they talk of in that hut, and who were those men? They talked, I
think, of the death of a king and of the crowning of a king. They
talked of a price to be paid for a certain medicine; and one of them
had a royal air, and one----"
"Will ye hearken to this wild babbler while your king lies dying
before your eyes?" broke in Hokosa, in a shrill, unnatural voice; for
almost palsied with fear as he was at Owen's mysterious words, he
still retained his presence of mind. "Listen now: what is he, and what
did he say? He is one who comes hither to preach a new faith to us; he
comes, he says, on an embassy from the King of Heaven, who has power
over all things, and who, so these white men preach, can give power to
His servants. Well, let this one cease prating and show us his
strength, as he has been warned he would be called upon to do. Let him
give us a sign. There before you lies your king, and he is past the
help of man; even I cannot help him. Therefore, let this messenger
cure him, or call upon his God to cure him; that seeing, we may know
him to be a true messenger, and one sent by that King of whom he
speaks. Let him do this now before our eyes, or let him perish as a
wizard who has bewitched the king. Do you hear my words, Messenger,
and can you draw this one back from between the Gates of Death?"
"I hear them," answered Owen quietly; "and I can--or if I cannot, then
I am willing to pay the penalty with my life. You who are a doctor say
that your king is as one who is already dead, so that whatever I may
do I cannot hurt him further. Therefore I ask this of you, that you
stand round and watch, but molest me neither by word nor deed while I
attempt his cure. Do you consent?"
"It is just; we consent," said the councillors. "Let us see what the
white man can do, and by the issue let him be judged." But Hokosa
stared at Owen wondering, and made no answer.
"Bring some clean water to me in a gourd," said Owen.
It was brought and given to him. He looked round, searching the faces
of those about him. Presently his eye fell upon the Prince Nodwengo,
and he beckoned to him, saying:--
"Come hither, Prince, for you are honest, and I would have you to help
me, and no other man."
The prince stepped forward and Owen gave him the gourd of water. Then
he drew out the little bottle wherein he had stored the juice of the
creeper, and uncorking it, he bade Nodwengo fill it up with water.
This done, he clasped his hands, and lifting his eyes to heaven, he
prayed aloud in the language of the Amasuka.
"O God," he prayed, "upon whose business I am here, grant, I beseech
Thee, that by Thy Grace power may be given to me to work this miracle
in the face of these people, to the end that I may win them to cease
from their iniquities, to believe upon Thee, the only true God, and to
save their souls alive. Amen."
Having finished his prayer, he took the bottle and shook it; then he
commanded Nodwengo to sit upon the ground and hold his father's head
upon his knee. Now, as all might see by many signs, the king was upon
the verge of death, for his lips were purple, his breathing was rare
and stertorous, and his heart stood well-nigh still.
"Open his mouth and hold down the tongue," said Owen.
The prince obeyed, pressing down the tongue with a snuff spoon. Then
placing the neck of the bottle as far into the throat as it would
reach, Owen poured the fluid it contained into the body of the king,
who made a convulsive movement and instantly seemed to die.
"He is dead," said one; "away with the false prophet!"
"It may be so, or it may not be so," answered Owen. "Wait for the half
of an hour; then, if he shows no sign of life, do what you will with
me."
"It is well," they said; "so be it."
Slowly the minutes slipped by, while the king lay like a corpse before
them, and outside of that silent ring the soldiers murmured as the
wind. The sun was sinking fast, and Hokosa watched it, counting the
seconds. At length he spoke:--
"The half of the hour that you demanded is dead, White Man, as dead as
the king; and now the time has come for you to die also," and he
stretched out his hand to take him.
Owen looked at his watch and replied:--
"There is still another minute; and you, Hokosa, who are skilled in
medicines, may know that this antidote does not work so swiftly as the
bane."
The shot was a random one, but it told, for Hokosa fell back and was
silent.
The seconds passed on as the minute hand of the watch went round from
ten to twenty, from twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty. A few more
instants and the game was played. Had that dream of his been vain
imagining, and was all his faith nothing but a dream wondered Owen?
Well, if so, it would be best that he should die. But he did not
believe that it was so; he believed that the Power above him would
intervene to save--not him, indeed, but all this people.
"Let us make an end," said Hokosa, "the time is done."
"Yes," said Owen, "the time is done--and /the king lives!/"
Even as he spoke the pulses in the old man's forehead were seen to
throb, and the veins in his neck to swell as they had swollen after he
had swallowed the poison; then once more they shrank to their natural
size. Umsuka stirred a hand, groaned, sat up, and spoke:--
"What has chanced to me?" he said. "I have descended into deep
darkness, now once again I see light."
No one answered, for all were staring, terrified and amazed, at the
Messenger--the white wizard to whom had been given power to bring men
back from the gate of death. At length Owen said:--
"This has chanced to you, King: that evil which I prophesied to you if
you refused to listen to the voice of mercy has fallen upon you. By
now you would have been dead, had it not pleased Him Whom I serve,
working through me, His messenger, to bring you back to look upon the
sun. Thank Him, therefore, and worship Him, for He alone is Master of
the Earth," and he held the crucifix before his eyes.
The humbled monarch lifted his hand--he who for many years had made
obeisance to none--and saluted the symbol, saying:--
"Messenger, I thank Him and I worship Him, though I know Him not. Say
now, how did His magic work upon me to make me sick to death and to
recover me?"
"By the hand of man, King, and by the virtues that lie hid in Nature.
Did you not drink of a cup, and were not many things mixed in the
draught? Was it not but now in your mind to speak words that should
bring down the head of pride and evil, and lift up the head of truth
and goodness?"
"O White Man, how know you these things?" gasped the king.
"I know them, it is enough. Say, who was it that stirred the bowl,
King, and who gave you to drink?"
Now Umsuka staggered to his feet, and cried aloud in a voice that was
thick with rage:--
"By my head and the heads of my fathers I smell the plot! My son, the
Prince Hafela, has learned my counsel, and would have slain me before
I said words that should set him beneath the feet of Nodwengo. Seize
him, captains, and let him be brought before me for judgment!"
Men looked this way and that to carry out the command of the king, but
Hafela was gone. Already he was upon the hillside, running as a man
has rarely run before--his face set towards that fastness in the
mountains where he could find refuge among his mother's tribesmen and
the regiments which he commanded. Of late they had been sent thither
by the king that they might be far from the Great Place when their
prince was disinherited.
"He is fled," said one; "I saw him go."
"Pursue him and bring him back, dead or alive!" thundered the king. "A
hundred head of cattle to the man who lays hand upon him before he
reaches the /impi/ of the North, for they will fight for him!"
"Stay!" broke in Owen. "Once before this day I prayed of you, King, to
show mercy, and you refused it. Will you refuse me a second time?
Leave him his life who has lost all else."
"That he may rebel against me? Well, White Man, I owe you much, and
for this time your wisdom shall be my guide, though my heart speaks
against such gentleness. Hearken, councillors and people, this is my
decree: that Hafela, my son, who would have murdered me, be deposed
from his place as heir to my throne, and that Nodwengo, his brother,
be set in that place, to rule the People of Fire after me when I die."
"It is good, it is just!" said the council. "Let the king's word be
done."
"Hearken again," said Umsuka. "Let this white man, who is named
Messenger, be placed in the House of Guests and treated with all
honour; let oxen be given him from the royal herds and corn from the
granaries, and girls of noble blood for wives if he wills them.
Hokosa, into your hand I deliver him, and, great though you are, know
this, that if but a hair of his head is harmed, with your goods and
your life you shall answer for it, you and all your house."
"Let the king's word be done," said the councillors again.
"Heralds," went on Umsuka, "proclaim that the feast of the first-
fruits is ended, and my command is that every regiment should seek its
quarters, taking with it a double gift of cattle from the king, who
has been saved alive by the magic of this white man. And now,
Messenger, farewell, for my head grows weary. To-morrow I will speak
with you."
Then the king was led away into the royal house, and save those who
were quartered in it, the regiments passed one by one through the
gates of the kraal, singing their war-songs as they went. Darkness
fell upon the Great Place, and through it parties of men might be seen
dragging thence the corpses of those who had fallen in the fight with
sticks, or been put to death thereafter by order of the king.
"Messenger," said Hokosa, bowing before Owen, "be pleased to follow
me." Then he led him to a little kraal numbering five or six large and
beautifully made huts, which stood by itself, within its own fence, at
the north end of the Great Place, not far from the house of the king.
In front of the centre hut a fire was burning, and by its light women
appeared cleaning out the huts and bringing food and water.
"Here you may rest in safety, Messenger," said Hokosa, "seeing that
night and day a guard from the king's own regiment will stand before
your doors."
"I do not need them," answered Owen, "for none can harm me till my
hour comes. I am a stranger here and you are a great man; yet, Hokosa,
which of us is the safest this night?"
"Your meaning?" said Hokosa sharply.
"O man!" answered Owen, "when in a certain hour you crept up the
valley yonder, and climbing the Tree of Death gathered its poison,
went I not with you? When, before that hour, you sat in yonder hut
bargaining with the Prince Hafela--the death of a king for the price
of a girl--was I not with you? Nay, threaten me not--in your own words
I say it--'lay down that assegai, or by my spirit your body shall be
thrown to the kites, as that of one who would murder the king'--and
the king's guest!"
"White Man," whispered Hokosa throwing down the spear, "how can these
things be? I was alone in the hut with the prince, I was alone beneath
the Tree of Doom, and you, as I know well, were beyond the river. Your
spies must be good, White Man."
"My spirit is my only spy, Hokosa. My spirit watched you, and from
your own lips he learned the secret of the bane and of the antidote.
Hafela mixed the poison as you taught him; I gave the remedy, and
saved the king alive."
Now the knees of Hokosa grew weak beneath him, and he leaned against
the fence of the kraal for support.
"I have skill in the art," he said hoarsely; "but, Messenger, your
magic is more than mine, and my life is forfeit to you. To-morrow
morning, you will tell the king all, and to-morrow night I shall hang
upon the dreadful Tree. Well, so be it; I am overmatched at my own
trade, and it is best that I should die. You have plotted well and you
have conquered, and to you belong my place and power."
"It was you who plotted, and not I, Hokosa. Did you not contrive that
I should reach the Great Place but a little before the poison was
given to the king, so that upon me might be laid the crime of his
bewitching? Did you not plan also that I should be called upon to cure
him--a thing you deemed impossible--and when I failed that I should be
straightway butchered?"
"Seeing that it is useless to lie to you, I confess that it was so,"
answered Hokosa boldly.
"It was so," repeated Owen; "therefore, according to your law your
life is forfeit, seeing that you dug a pit to snare the innocent feet.
But I come to tell you of a new law, and that which I preach I
practise. Hokosa, I pardon you, and if you will put aside your evil-
doing, I promise you that no word of all your wickedness shall pass my
lips."
"It has not been my fashion to take a boon at the hand of any man,
save of the king only," said the wizard in a humble voice; "but now it
seems that I am come to this. Tell me, White Man, what is the payment
that you seek of me?"
"None, Hokosa, except that you cease from evil and listen with an open
heart to that message which I am sworn to deliver to you and to all
your nation. Also you would do well to put away that fair woman whose
price was the murder of him that fed you."
"I cannot do it," answered the wizard. "I will listen to your
teaching, but I will not rob my heart of her it craves alone. White
Man, I am not like the rest of my nation. I have not sought after
women; I have but one wife, and she is old and childless. Now, for the
first time in my days, I love this girl--ah, you know not how!--and I
will take her, and she shall be the mother of my children."
"Then, Hokosa, you will take her to your sorrow," answered Owen
solemnly, "for she will learn to hate you who have robbed her of
royalty and rule, giving her wizardries and your grey hairs in place
of them."
And thus for that night they parted.
CHAPTER VIII
THE FIRST TRIAL BY FIRE
On the following day, while Owen sat eating his morning meal with a
thankful heart, a messenger arrived saying that the king would receive
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