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Authors: H. Rider Haggard

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BOOK: King Solomon's Mines
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“If my lords are rested we will journey on to Loo, where a hut is made ready for my lords to-night. The moon is now bright, so that we shall not fall on the way.”
We assented, and in an hour’s time were at the outskirts of the town, of which the extent, mapped out as it was by thousands of camp fires, appeared absolutely endless. Indeed, Good, who was always fond of a bad joke, christened it “Unlimited Loo.”
1
Presently we came to a moat with a drawbridge, where we were met by the rattling of arms and the hoarse challenge of a sentry. Infadoos gave some password that I could not catch, which was met with a salute, and we passed on through the central street of the great grass city. After nearly half an hour’s tramp, past endless lines of huts, Infadoos at last halted at the gate of a little group of huts which surrounded a small courtyard of powdered limestone, and informed us that these were to be our “poor” quarters.
We entered, and found that a hut had been assigned to each of us. These huts were superior to any which we had yet seen, and in each was a most comfortable bed made of tanned skins spread upon mattresses of aromatic grass. Food too was ready for us, and as soon as we had washed ourselves with water, which stood ready in earthenware jars, some young women of handsome appearance brought us roasted meat and mealie cobs
ah
daintily served on wooden platters, and presented it to us with deep obeisances.
We ate and drank, and then the beds having by our request been all moved into one hut, a precaution at which the amiable young ladies smiled, we flung ourselves down to sleep, thoroughly wearied out with our long journey.
When we woke, it was to find that the sun was high in the heavens, and that the female attendants, who did not seem to be troubled by any false shame, were already standing inside the hut, having been ordered to attend and help us to “make ready.”
“Make ready, indeed,” growled Good, “when one has only a flannel shirt and a pair of boots, that does not take long. I wish you would ask them for my trousers.”
I asked accordingly, but was informed that these sacred relics had already been taken to the king, who would see us in the forenoon.
Having, somewhat to their astonishment and disappointment, requested the young ladies to step outside, we proceeded to make the best toilet that the circumstances admitted of. Good even went the length of again shaving the right side of his face; the left, on which now appeared a very fair crop of whiskers, we impressed upon him he must on no account touch. As for ourselves, we were contented with a good wash and combing our hair. Sir Henry’s yellow locks were now almost down to his shoulders, and he looked more like an ancient Dane than ever, while my grizzled scrub was fully an inch long, instead of half an inch, which in a general way I considered my maximum length.
By the time that we had eaten our breakfasts, and smoked a pipe, a message was brought to us by no less a personage than Infadoos himself that Twala, the king, was ready to see us, if we would be pleased to come.
We remarked in reply that we should prefer to wait till the sun was a little higher, we were yet weary with our journey, &c. &c. It is always well, when dealing with uncivilised people, not to be in too great a hurry. They are apt to mistake politeness for awe or servility. So, althoughwe were quite as anxious to see Twala as Twala could be to see us, we sat down and waited for an hour, employing the interval in preparing such presents as our slender stock of goods permitted—namely, the Winchester rifle which had been used by poor Ventvögel, and some beads. The rifle and ammunition we determined to present to his Royal Highness, and the beads were for his wives and courtiers. We had already given a few to Infadoos and Scragga, and found that they were delighted with them, never having seen anything like them before. At length we declared that we were ready, and guided by Infadoos, started off to the levee, Umbopa carrying the rifle and beads.
After walking a few hundred yards, we came to an enclosure, something like that which surrounded the huts that had been allotted to us, only fifty times as big. It could not have been less than six or seven acres in extent. All round the outside fence was a row of huts, which were the habitations of the king’s wives. Exactly opposite the gateway, on the further side of the open space, was a very large hut, which stood by itself, in which his Majesty resided. All the rest was open ground; that is to say, it would have been open had it not been filled by company after company of warriors, who were mustered there to the number of seven or eight thousand. These men stood still as statues as we advanced through them, and it would be impossible to give an idea of the grandeur of the spectacle which they presented, in their waving plumes, their glancing spears, and iron-backed ox-hide shields.
The space in front of the large hut was empty, but before it were placed several stools. On three of these, at a sign from Infadoos, we seated ourselves, Umbopa standing behind us. As for Infadoos, he took up a position by the door of the hut. So we waited for ten minutes or more in the midst of a dead silence, but conscious that we were the object of the concentrated gaze of some eight thousand pairs of eyes. It was a somewhat trying ordeal, but we carried it off as best we could. At length the door of the hut opened, and a gigantic figure, with a splendid tiger-skin karross
2
flung over its shoulders, stepped out, followed by the boy Scragga, and what appeared to us to be a withered-up monkey, wrapped in a fur cloak. The figure seated itself upon a stool, Scragga took his stand behind it, and the withered-up monkey crept on all fours into the shade of the hut and squatted down.
Still there was silence.
Then the gigantic figure slipped off the karross and stood up before us, a truly alarming spectacle. It was that of an enormous man with the most entirely repulsive countenance we had ever beheld. The lips were as thick as a negro’s, the nose was flat, it had but one gleaming black eye (for the other was represented by a hollow in the face), and its whole expression was cruel and sensual to a degree. From the large head rose a magnificent plume of white ostrich feathers, the body was clad in a shirt of shining chain armour, whilst round the waist and right knee was the usual garnish of white ox-tails. In the right hand was a huge spear. Round the neck was a thick torque of gold, and bound on to the forehead was a single and enormous uncut diamond.
Still there was silence; but not for long. Presently the figure, whom we rightly guessed to be the king, raised the great spear in its hand. Instantly eight thousand spears were raised in answer, and from eight thousand throats rang out the royal salute of
“Koom.”
Three times this was repeated, and each time the earth shook with the noise, that can only be compared to the deepest notes of thunder.
“Be humble, O people,” piped out a thin voice which seemed to come from the monkey in the shade, “it is the king.”
“It is the king,”
boomed out eight thousand throats, in answer.
“Be humble, O people, it is the king.”
Then there was silence again—dead silence. Presently, however, it was broken. A soldier on our left dropped his shield, which fell with a clatter on the limestone flooring.
Twala turned his one cold eye in the direction of the noise.
“Come hither, thou,” he said, in a voice of thunder.
A fine young man stepped out of the ranks, and stood before him.
“It was thy shield that fell, thou awkward dog. Wilt thou make me a reproach in the eyes of strangers from the stars? What hast thou to say?”
And then we saw the poor fellow turn pale under his dusky skin.
“It was by chance, O calf of the black cow,” he murmured.
“Then it is a chance for which thou must pay. Thou hast made me foolish; prepare for death.”
“I am the king’s ox,” was the low answer.
“Scragga,” roared the king, “let me see how thou canst use thy spear. Kill me this awkward dog.”
Scragga stepped forward with an ill-favoured grin, and lifted his spear. The poor victim covered his eyes with his hand and stood still. As for us, we were petrified with horror.
Once, twice, he waved the spear and then struck, ah, God! right home—the spear stood out a foot behind the soldier’s back. He flung up his hands and dropped dead. From the multitude around rose something like a murmur, it rolled round and round, and died away. The tragedy was finished; there lay the corpse, and we had not yet realised that it had been enacted. Sir Henry sprang up and swore a great oath, then, overpowered by the sense of silence, sat down again.
“The thrust was a good one,” said the king; “take him away.”
Four men stepped out of the ranks, and lifting the body of the murdered man, carried it away.
“Cover up the blood-stains, cover them up,” piped out the thin voice from the monkey-like figure; “the king’s word is spoken, the king’s doom is done.”
Thereupon a girl came forward from behind the hut, bearing a jar filled with powdered lime, which she scattered over the red mark, blotting it from sight.
Sir Henry meanwhile was boiling with rage at what had happened; indeed, it was with difficulty that we could keep him still.
“Sit down, for heaven’s sake,” I whispered; “our lives depend on it.”
He yielded and remained quiet.
Twala sat still until the traces of the tragedy had been removed, then he addressed us.
“White people,” he said, “who come hither, whence I know not, and why I know not, greeting.”
“Greeting Twala, King of the Kukuanas,” I answered.
“White people, whence come ye, and what seek ye?”
“We come from the stars, ask us not how. We come to see this land.”
“Ye come from far to see a little thing. And that man with ye,” pointing to Umbopa, “does he too come from the stars?”
“Even so; there are people of thy colour in the heavens above; but ask not of matters too high for thee, Twala, the king.”
“Ye speak with a loud voice, people of the stars,” Twala answered, in a tone which I scarcely liked. “Remember that the stars are far off, and ye are here. How if I make ye as him whom they bear away?”
I laughed out loud, though there was little laughter in my heart.
“O king,” I said, “be careful, walk warily over hot stones, lest thou shouldst burn thy feet; hold the spear by the handle, lest thou shouldst cut thy hands. Touch but one hair of our heads, and destruction shall come upon thee. What, have not these,” pointing to Infadoos and Scragga (who, young villain that he was, was employed in cleaning the blood of the soldier off his spear), “told thee what manner of men we are? Hast thou ever seen the like of us?” and I pointed to Good, feeling quite sure that he had never seen anybody before who looked in the least like
him
as he then appeared.
“It is true, I have not,” said the king.
“Have they not told thee how we strike with death from afar?” I went on.
“They have told me, but I believe them not. Let me see you kill. Kill me a man among those who stand yonder”—and he pointed to the opposite side of the kraal—“and I will believe.”
“Nay,” I answered; “we shed no blood of man except in just punishment ; but if thou wilt see, bid thy servants drive in an ox through the kraal gates, and before he has run twenty paces I will strike him dead.”
“Nay,” laughed the king, “kill me a man, and I will believe.”
“Good, O king, so be it,” I answered, coolly; “do thou walk across the open space, and before thy feet reach the gate thou shalt be dead; or if thou wilt not, send thy son Scragga” (whom at that moment it would have given me much pleasure to shoot).
On hearing this suggestion Scragga gave a sort of howl, and bolted into the hut.
Twala frowned majestically; the suggestion did not please him.
“Let a young ox be driven in,” he said.
Two men at once departed, running swiftly.
“Now, Sir Henry,” said I, “do you shoot. I want to show this ruffian that I am not the only magician of the party.”
Sir Henry accordingly took the “express,” and made ready.
“I hope I shall make a good shot,” he groaned.
“You must,” I answered. “If you miss with the first barrel, let him have the second. Sight for 150 yards, and wait till the beast turns broadside on.”
Then came a pause, till presently we caught sight of an ox running straight for the kraal gate. It came on through the gate, and then, catching sight of the vast concourse of people, stopped stupidly, turned round, and bellowed.
“Now’s your time,” I whispered.
Up went the rifle.
Bang! thud! and the ox was kicking on his back, shot in the ribs. The semi-hollow bullet had done its work well, and a sigh of astonishment went up from the assembled thousands.
I turned coolly round—
“Have I lied, O king?”
“Nay, white man, it is a truth,” was the somewhat awed answer.
“Listen, Twala,” I went on. “Thou hast seen. Now know we come in peace, not in war. See here” (and I held up the Winchester repeater); “here is a hollow staff that shall enable you to kill even as we kill, only this charm I lay upon it, thou shalt kill no man with it. If thou liftest it against a man, it shall kill thee. Stay, I will show thee. Bid a man step forty paces and place the shaft of a spear in the ground so that the flat blade looks towards us.”
In a few seconds it was done.
“Now, see, I will break the spear.”
Taking a careful sight I fired. The bullet struck the flat of the spear, and broke the blade into fragments.
Again the sigh of astonishment went up.
“Now, Twala” (handing him the rifle), “this magic tube we give to thee, and by-and-by I will show thee how to use it; but beware how thou usest the magic of the stars against a man of earth,” and I handed him the rifle. He took it very gingerly, and laid it down at his feet. As he did so I observed the wizened monkey-like figure creeping up from the shadow of the hut. It crept on all fours, but when it reached the place where the king sat, it rose upon its feet, and throwing the furry covering off its face, revealed a most extraordinary and weird countenance. It was (apparently) that of a woman of great age, so shrunken that in size it was no larger than that of a year-old child, and was made up of a collection of deep yellow wrinkles. Set in the wrinkles was a sunken slit, that represented the mouth, beneath which the chin curved outwards to a point. There was no nose to speak of; indeed, the whole countenance might have been taken for that of a sun-dried corpse had it not been for a pair of large black eyes, still full of fire and intelligence, which gleamed and played under the snow-white eyebrows, and the projecting parchment-coloured skull, like jewels in a charnel-house. As for the skull itself, it was perfectly bare, and yellow in hue, while its wrinkled scalp moved and contracted like the hood of a cobra.
BOOK: King Solomon's Mines
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