“Then is my mind as your minds, and my eyes as your eyes. She is the fairest; and a sorry thing it is for her, for she must die!”
“Ay, must die!”
piped out Gagool, casting a glance from her quick eyes in the direction of the poor girl, who, as yet ignorant of the awful fate in store for her, was standing some twenty yards off in front of a company of girls, engaged in nervously picking a flower from her wreath to pieces, petal by petal.
“Why, O king?” said I, restraining my indignation with difficulty; “the girl has danced well and pleased us; she is fair, too; it would be hard to reward her with death.”
Twala laughed as he answered—
“It is our custom, and the figures who sit in stone yonder” (and he pointed towards the three distant peaks) “must have their due. Did I fail to put the fairest girl to death to-day misfortune would fall upon me and my house. Thus runs the prophecy of my people: ‘If the king offer not a sacrifice of a fair girl on the day of the dance of maidens to the old ones who sit and watch on the mountains, then shall he fall and his house.’ Look ye, white men, my brother who reigned before me offered not the sacrifice, because of the tears of the woman, and he fell, and his house, and I reign in his stead. It is finished; she must die!” Then turning to the guards—“Bring her hither; Scragga, make sharp thy spear.”
Two of the men stepped forward, and as they did so, the girl, for the first time realising her impending fate, screamed aloud and turned to fly. But the strong hands caught her fast, and brought her, struggling and weeping, up before us.
“What is thy name, girl?” piped Gagool. “What! wilt thou not answer ; shall the king’s son do his work at once?”
At this hint Scragga, looking more evil than ever, advanced a step and lifted his great spear, and as he did so I saw Good’s hand creep to his revolver. The poor girl caught the glint of the cold steel through her tears, and it sobered her anguish. She ceased struggling, but merely clasped her hands convulsively, and stood shuddering from head to foot.
“See,” cried Scragga in high glee, “she shrinks from the sight of my little plaything even before she has tasted it,” and he tapped the broad blade of the spear.
“If ever I get the chance, you shall pay for that, you young hound!” I heard Good mutter beneath his breath.
“Now that thou art quiet, give us thy name, my dear. Come, speak up, and fear not,” said Gagool in mockery.
“Oh, mother,” answered the girl in trembling accents, “my name is Foulata, of the house of Suko. Oh, mother, why must I die? I have done no wrong!”
“Be comforted,” went on the old woman, in her hateful tone of mockery. “Thou must die indeed, as a sacrifice to the old ones who sit yonder” (and she pointed to the peaks); “but it is better to sleep in the night than to toil in the day-time; it is better to die than to live, and thou shalt die by the royal hand of the king’s own son.”
The girl Foulata wrung her hands in anguish, and cried out aloud: “Oh, cruel; and I so young! What have I done that I should never again see the sun rise out of the night, or the stars come following on his track in the evening: that I should no more gather the flowers when the dew is heavy, or listen to the laughing of the waters ! Woe is me, that I shall never see my father’s hut again, nor feel my mother’s kiss, nor tend the kid that is sick! Woe is me, that no lover shall put his arm around me and look into my eyes, nor shall men children be born of me! Oh, cruel, cruel!” and again she wrung her hands and turned her tear-stained, flower-crowned face to Heaven, looking so lovely in her despair—for she was indeed a beautiful woman—that it would assuredly have melted the hearts of any one less cruel than the three fiends before us. Prince Arthur’s appeal to the ruffians
1
who came to blind him was not more touching than this savage girl’s.
But it did not move Gagool or Gagool’s master, though I saw signs of pity among the guard behind, and on the faces of the chiefs; and as for Good, he gave a sort of snort of indignation, and made a motion as though to go to her. With all a woman’s quickness, the doomed girl interpreted what was passing in his mind, and with a sudden movement flung herself before him, and clasped his “beautiful white legs” with her hands.
“Oh, white father from the stars!” she cried, “throw over me the mantle of thy protection; let me creep into the shadow of thy strength, that I may be saved. Oh, keep me from these cruel men and from the mercies of Gagool!”
“All right, my hearty, I’ll look after you,” sang out Good, in nervous Saxon.
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“Come, get up, there’s a good girl,” and he stooped and caught her hand.
Twala turned and motioned to his son, who advanced with his spear lifted.
“Now’s your time,” whispered Sir Henry to me; “what are you waiting for?”
“I am waiting for the eclipse,” I answered; “I have had my eye on the sun for the last half-hour, and I never saw it look healthier.”
“Well, you must risk it now, or the girl will be killed. Twala is losing patience.”
Recognising the force of the argument, having cast one more despairing look at the bright face of the sun, for never did the most ardent astronomer with a theory to prove await a celestial event with such anxiety, I stepped with all the dignity I could command between the prostrate girl and the advancing spear of Scragga.
“King,” I said, “this shall not be; we will not tolerate such a thing; let the girl go in safety.”
Twala rose from his seat in his wrath and astonishment, and from the chiefs and serried ranks of girls, who had slowly closed up upon us in anticipation of the tragedy, came a murmur of amazement.
“Shall not be, thou white dog, who yaps at the lion in his cave, shall not be! art thou mad? Be careful lest this chicken’s fate overtakes thee, and those with thee. How canst thou prevent it? Who art thou that thou standest between me and my will? Withdraw, I say. Scragga, kill her. Ho, guards! seize these men.”
At his cry armed men came running swiftly from behind the hut, where they had evidently been placed beforehand.
Sir Henry, Good, and Umbopa ranged themselves alongside of me, and lifted their rifles.
“Stop!” I shouted boldly, though at the moment my heart was in my boots. “Stop! we, the white men from the stars, say that it shall not be. Come but one pace nearer, and we will put out the sun and plunge the land in darkness. Ye shall taste of our magic.”
My threat produced an effect; the men halted, and Scragga stood still before us, his spear lifted.
“Hear him! hear him!” piped Gagool; “hear the liar who says he will put out the sun like a lamp. Let him do it, and the girl shall be spared. Yes, let him do it, or die with the girl, he and those with him.”
I glanced up at the sun, and to my intense joy and relief saw that we had made no mistake. On the edge of its brilliant surface was a faint rim of shadow.
I lifted my hand solemnly towards the sky, an example which Sir Henry and Good followed, and quoted a line or two of the “Ingoldsby Legends” at it in the most impressive tones I could command. Sir Henry followed suit with a verse out of the Old Testament, whilst Good addressed the King of Day in a volume of the most classical bad language that he could think of.
Slowly the dark rim crept on over the blazing surface, and as it did so I heard a deep gasp of fear rise from the multitude around.
“Look, O king! look, Gagool! Look, chiefs and people and women, and see if the white men from the stars keep their word, or if they be but empty liars!”
“The sun grows dark before your eyes; soon there will be night—ay, night in the noontime. Ye have asked for a sign; it is given to ye. Grow dark, O sun! withdraw thy light, thou bright one; bring the proud heart to the dust, and eat up the world with shadows.”
A groan of terror rose from the onlookers. Some stood petrified with fear, others threw themselves upon their knees, and cried out. As for the king, he sat still and turned pale beneath his dusky skin. Only Gagool kept her courage.
“It will pass,” she cried; “I have seen the like before; no man can put out the sun; lose not heart; sit still—the shadow will pass.”
“Wait, and ye shall see,” I replied, hopping with excitement.
“Keep it up, Good, I can’t remember any more poetry. Curse away, there’s a good fellow.”
Good responded nobly to the tax upon his inventive faculties. Never before had I the faintest conception of the breadth and depth and height of a naval officer’s objurgatory powers. For ten minutes he went on without stopping, and he scarcely ever repeated himself.
Meanwhile the dark ring crept on. Strange and unholy shadows encroached upon the sunlight, an ominous quiet filled the place, the birds chirped out frightened notes, and then were still; only the cocks began to crow.
On, yet on, crept the ring of darkness; it was now more than half over the reddening orb. The air grew thick and dusky. On, yet on, till we could scarcely see the fierce faces of the group before us. No sound rose now from the spectators, and Good stopped swearing.
“The sun is dying—the wizards have killed the sun,” yelled out the boy Scragga at last. “We shall all die in the dark,” and animated by fear or fury, or both, he lifted his spear, and drove it with all his force at Sir Henry’s broad chest. But he had forgotten the mail shirts that the king had given us, and which we wore beneath our clothing. The steel rebounded harmless, and before he could repeat the blow Sir Henry had snatched the spear from his hand, and sent it straight through him. He dropped dead.
At the sight, and driven mad with fear at the gathering gloom, the companies of girls broke up in wild confusion, and ran screeching for the gateways. Nor did the panic stop there. The king himself, followed by the guards, some of the chiefs, and Gagool, who hobbled away after them with marvellous alacrity, fled for the huts, so that in another minute or so ourselves, the would-be victim Foulata, Infadoos, and some of the chiefs, who had interviewed us on the previous night, were left alone upon the scene with the dead body of Scragga.
“Now, chiefs,” I said, “we have given you the sign. If ye are satisfied, let us fly swiftly to the place ye spoke of. The charm cannot now be stopped. It will work for an hour. Let us take advantage of the darkness.”
“Come,” said Infadoos, turning to go, an example which was followed by the awed chiefs, ourselves, and the girl Foulata, whom Good took by the hand.
Before we reached the gate of the kraal the sun went out altogether.
Holding each other by the hand we stumbled on through the darkness.
Chapter 12
Before the Battle
LUCKILY FOR US, INFADOOS and the chiefs knew all the pathways of the great town perfectly, so that notwithstanding the intense gloom we made fair progress.
For an hour or more we journeyed on, till at length the eclipse began to pass, and that edge of the sun which had disappeared the first, became again visible. In another five minutes there was sufficient light to see our whereabouts, and we then discovered that we were clear of the town of Loo, and approaching a large flat-topped hill, measuring some two miles in circumference. This hill, which was of a formation very common in Southern Africa, was not very high; indeed, its greatest elevation was not more than 200 feet, but it was shaped like a horse-shoe, and its sides were rather precipitous, and strewn with boulders. On the grass table-land at the top was ample camping ground, which had been utilised as a military cantonment of no mean strength. Its ordinary garrison was one regiment of three thousand men, but as we toiled up the steep side of the hill in the returning daylight, we perceived that there were many more warriors than that upon it.
Reaching the table-land at last, we found crowds of men huddled together in the utmost consternation at the natural phenomenon which they were witnessing. Passing through these without a word, we gained a hut in the centre of the ground, where we were astonished to find two men waiting, laden with our few goods and chattels, which of course we had been obliged to leave behind in our hasty flight.
“I sent for them,” explained Infadoos; “also for these,” and he lifted up Good’s long-lost trousers.
With an exclamation of rapturous delight Good sprang at them, and instantly proceeded to put them on.
“Surely my lord will not hide his beautiful white legs!” exclaimed Infadoos, regretfully.
But Good persisted, and once only did the Kukuana people get the chance of seeing his beautiful legs again. Good is a very modest man. Henceforward they had to satisfy their aesthetic longings with his one whisker, his transparent eye, and his movable teeth.
Still gazing with fond remembrance at Good’s trousers, Infadoos next informed us that he had summoned the regiments to explain to them fully the rebellion which was decided on by the chiefs, and to introduce to them the rightful heir to the throne, Ignosi.
In half an hour the troops, in all nearly twenty thousand men, constituting the flower of the Kukuana army, were mustered on a large open space, to which we proceeded. The men were drawn up in three sides of a dense square, and presented a magnificent spectacle. We took our station on the open side of the square, and were speedily surrounded by all the principal chiefs and officers.
These, after silence had been proclaimed, Infadoos proceeded to address. He narrated to them in vigorous and graceful language—for like most Kukuanas of high rank, he was a born orator—the history of Ignosi’s father, how he had been basely murdered by Twala, the king, and his wife and child driven out to starve. Then he pointed out how the land suffered and groaned under Twala’s cruel rule, instancing the proceedings of the previous night, when, under pretence of their being evil-doers, many of the noblest in the land had been hauled forth and cruelly done to death. Next he went on to say that the white lords from the stars, looking down on the land, had perceived its trouble, and determined, at great personal inconvenience, to alleviate its lot; how they had accordingly taken the real king of the country, Ignosi, who was languishing in exile, by the hand, and led him over the mountains; how they had seen the wickedness of Twala’s doings, and for a sign to the wavering, and to save the life of the girl Foulata, had actually, by the exercise of their high magic, put out the sun, and slain the young fiend Scragga; and how they were prepared to stand by them, and assist them to overthrow Twala, and set up the rightful king, Ignosi, in his place.