Chapter Eleven.
I fight the Champion of the Mashona Army.
In obedience to the king’s command, Mapela left his place among his fellow indunas, and, stalking across the intervening space, handed his bangwan—a spear with a stout haft about three and a half feet long, to which was attached a head some eighteen inches long by seven and a half inches wide, the two edges of which were almost razor keen—to ’Mfuni. And while he was doing this, and whispering a few hurried words to my prospective antagonist, I divested myself of my jacket, and handing it and my rifle to Piet, who all this while had stood motionless as a statue, said:
“Take these and hold them for me, Piet. And if I should be killed, make your way at once to the place where I have left my horse, shooting any man who may attempt to stop you—the rifle is loaded—and mount and ride for your life to the wagon. And if you are fortunate enough to reach it alive, you, with Jan and ’Ngulubi, had better take all the horses, all the guns, and as much ammunition as you may have time to lay your hands on, and ride for your lives back to the Limpopo, on the other side of which you will be reasonably safe. After which, you must do the best you can for yourselves. And if you should be lucky enough to get back home, find Major Henderson and tell him all that has happened and—how I died.”
“All right, baas,” answered Piet cheerfully, as he took my coat and rifle from me; “I’ll remember all that you say. But I ain’t afraid, baas; you’re not goin’ to die just yet. You’ll beat that black nigger all right.” (The fellow was himself as black as the ace of spades.) “All you got to do, baas, is to take care that he don’ work roun’ you so’s to get the sun in your eyes, that’s all.”
By this time ’Mfuni was once more armed, while Mapela had left him and was wending his way back to his place among his fellow indunas, whose eyes, like those of the king, and indeed every man in the square, were now intently watching every movement of their champion and myself. As I walked leisurely toward ’Mfuni, rolling up my right shirt sleeve the while, I saw that the fellow was watching me keenly as a cat watches a mouse, and, despite my apparent unconcern, I kept an equally wary eye upon him, knowing, from his tense attitude, that he might attack me at any moment. As I now approached him, the sun was immediately behind me, and, mindful of Piet’s advice, I was determined to keep it there, if possible; although there was this disadvantage about the arrangement, that the king, with his group of indunas, was far enough forward on my left front to be just within my range of vision, and any sudden movement upon the part of any of them was liable to attract my attention from my antagonist and leave me open to his attack. But I quickly made up my mind to dismiss them altogether from my thoughts; and at the instant when I came to this resolution ’Mfuni, with a sudden spring, leapt within arm’s length of me, with his spear upraised in the act of striking.
Instantly I threw up my blade in position, ready to parry; but beyond this, and coming to a halt, I took no notice of my antagonist’s movement, for I had already made my plans for the fight, these consisting simply in acting upon the defensive until a favourable opportunity should reveal itself—and keeping my back to the sun. But ’Mfuni was as quick as myself to recognise the advantage that the latter would give me, and did his utmost to deprive me of it by springing first to one side and then to the other, hoping no doubt that I should be tempted to turn and face him, until, by repeated turns, he should contrive to get the sun in my eyes. I defeated this amiable project, however, by keeping my eyes steadfastly fixed upon his, and thus reading and forestalling his intentions—for I have found that the eye is the one feature of the human countenance that will not lend itself to deception; and thus for several minutes we danced hither and thither, right and left, my opponent continually flashing his spear before my eyes and making feints, while I simply held myself ready to parry his stroke the moment that I should see it coming. And presently it came in good earnest, for the patience of the savage is soon worn down—came with the quickness of a lightning flash. But, quick as it was, I intercepted it; the moment I saw that it was really coming, round whirled my blade, and down fell the point of the spear, shorn clean off at its junction with the haft, and ’Mfuni stood disarmed before me.
For the fraction of a second he stood gazing with dilated eyes, apparently unable to realise that he was beaten; then, to my amazement, he stooped swiftly and snatched the severed spearhead from the ground. Unprepared as I was for the action, I yet had enough presence of mind to spring back and away from him; and well was
it for me that I did so, for almost before I could recover from my astonishment the man was upon me, stabbing furiously at me with the spearhead in one hand, while with his shield in the other he covered his body. So sudden and furious was the onslaught that, in spite of myself, I was driven back some half a dozen paces, while a low murmur from the onlookers rapidly strengthened to a deafening roar of applause and encouragement; then, in parrying an unusually vicious stab, I unwittingly slashed the poor fellow across the right hand so severely that he incontinently dropped his blade and once more stood disarmed before me: whereupon, driving him back by threatening him with my point, I stepped forward and placed my foot upon the spearhead.
“Do you yield and admit yourself beaten, ’Mfuni?” I demanded in a low voice.
“I yield; I am beaten, ’Nkos’,” answered the man, lowering his hands. “Strike me now through the heart, I pray thee, and save me from the torture of the ants.”
“Wait!” I enjoined him briefly. Then, turning to the king, I said—the shouts of applause and encouragement having ceased on the instant of ’Mfuni’s discomfiture:
“Thou hast seen, O King! Although thy chosen champion fought well and did his best, I have conquered him with this weapon, of which thou wert inclined to think so little. Art thou still inclined to think lightly of it; or art thou convinced that it is a good weapon, capable of protecting a man’s life in the heat of battle?”
“Nay,” answered Lomalindela, “it is a good weapon; thou hast proved it to be so at the risk of thy life, and I thank thee for the gift. Ask me now what shall I give thee in return for it? Wilt thou have gold or cattle? Thou hast but to say, and it shall be thine; for thy gift is good, and mine shall equal it.”
This answer, by good luck, afforded me the very opening that I wanted, and at once I replied:
“I thank thee, Great, Great One, and take thee at thy word. I want none of the things that thou hast named; but if thou dost really value my gift to thee I ask thee to give me in return the life of ’Mfuni, the man who fought with me and whom I conquered by the might and magic of this sword. He fought bravely and well; worthily did he uphold the finest traditions of the Mashona warriors: but against this sword he had no chance; he could not conquer me. Therefore, because it is not his fault that he has been beaten—your soldiers and indunas, to a man, will admit that—I ask you to give the man his life, free from all stigma or disgrace of defeat; and to repeal your sentence that, if conquered, he should be given to the ants.”
The silence that followed this bold request of mine was so intensely profound that when it had endured for a minute or more at its full tension I began to suspect that I had unwittingly committed some utterly unpardonable offence, and that all nature was breathlessly awaiting the fall of the avenging thunderbolt. For it was not only that every man present in that great open space seemed tongue-tied, they seemed to be not even drawing their breath; they were as absolutely motionless as so many statues; there was not even the faint sound of a man shifting his weight from one leg to the other, not even the scarcely perceptible touch of a spear-haft upon a shield, nor even the faint rustle of the warriors’ plumes in the wind, for, strangely enough, at that precise moment even the wind itself seemed to pause in its breathing: and glancing round me in vague discomfiture I perceived that every man in the square was staring blankly before him, right into space. The fact was—as I subsequently learned—that in preferring my request I had asked the king, in so many words, to break the most sacred oath known to the Mashonas, and had he risen in his wrath and plunged his bangwan through my heart, nobody would have been in the least degree surprised; that, indeed, was the logical sequence for which everybody was at that moment waiting. But my request must have touched some hitherto hidden and unsuspected chord in the king’s heart, for presently, when the tension had become almost unendurable, Lomalindela raised his head and said, in so gentle a tone of voice that it electrified everybody:
“Au, white man, you know not what you ask! I have sworn by the bones of my royal father that if that man was conquered, and survived the fight, I would give him to the ants; and that is an oath which I dare not break, for otherwise great evils would fall upon the house of Lomalindela, King of the Mashona.”
“Doubtless, O King, what thou sayest is true—under ordinary circumstances,” I replied. “But these circumstances are not ordinary; on the contrary, they are so exceptional that they will probably never again occur. The oath which you took was taken in ignorance. You did not know that, in taking that oath, you were virtually condemning a man to a dreadful death for failing to accomplish an impossibility, did you?”
“That is true, white man; I did not know it,” answered the king.
“Therefore,” I continued, with increasing confidence, “by every law of right and equity your ignorance of that important fact absolves you from your oath, and you are entitled to break it, if you please. And I ask you to break it, knowing that you may certainly do so with impunity, because, in demanding that ’Mfuni should conquer me—or, rather, the sword which I gave you—you demanded of him that which neither he nor any other warrior could possibly accomplish.”
Then ensued another tense silence, during which the king appeared to be meditating upon what I had said. Presently he beckoned to Mapela, “the Wise One”, and conferred with him in a low voice for a brief space. Then, turning to me, he said:
“I am inclined to believe that what thou hast said as to the impossibility of ’Mfuni conquering the sword is true; for Mapela informs me that he chose the man because of his reputation as the most skilled fighter in the whole Mashona army. Therefore, because of what thou hast said, I would willingly break my oath, if I could but be sure that, in so doing, I should not be bringing evil upon myself and my house. But how can I be sure?”
That was a puzzler, with a vengeance; and I looked about me in perplexity, searching earth and sky for an answer. As I did so, I saw, far away in the northern sky, a filmy something that, even as I looked, resolved itself into a flock of rock pigeons coming directly toward us. I knew, from long experience, the propensity of these birds to fly straight, and I felt sure that, unless something happened to divert their course, they would presently pass right over our heads; therefore, since a man’s life was hanging in the balance and only I could save it, I determined to take a chance, and called to Piet to hand me my rifle. Then, with it in my hand, I turned to the king and said:
“Behold, Lomalindela! yonder is a flight of rock pigeons about to pass over our heads. If one of them should fall dead in this square, would you believe that I have told you the truth, and that you may break your oath with impunity?”
“Yea, I will,” answered the king, looking in the direction toward which I was pointing, “for why should one of them fall dead, seeing that their flight is strong and full of life?”
“You shall see,” said I, and slowly raised my rifle. The birds were flying very high, and I foresaw that the shot would be a difficult one, but I had accomplished others quite as difficult in my time, and was determined that I would not fail now; therefore, holding my breath as the pigeons drew overhead, I sighted about six inches ahead of the leader and pulled the trigger. A low-murmured ejaculation of surprise followed the report of the piece, and simultaneously with it the leading pigeon was seen to spring convulsively upward about a foot, a feather or two detached themselves from its body, and then its wings collapsed and down it came, hurtling through the air, and falling, as luck would have it, within a few inches of the king’s feet!
And, as though the soft thud of its body upon the ground had been a signal, up went the hand of every man present to his mouth, and a low “Au!” of awe and amazement rolled round the square like the mutter of distant thunder.
“Is it enough, O King; and are you satisfied?” I demanded, as I stepped forward and, picking up the bird, handed it to the monarch for his inspection.
“It is enough, and I am satisfied,” answered the king. “I recall my oath, and the man’s life is yours, to do as you will with it.”
“I thank thee most heartily, O Great, Great One,” answered I. Then, turning to ’Mfuni, I said: “Return now to your place in the ranks, ’Mfuni, and to your friends. You fought well, and it was through no fault of yours that you were defeated. And when you are dismissed from duty, come to my wagon, and I will see what may be done toward mending the wound that the king’s sword inflicted upon you.”
“’Nkos’!” answered ’Mfuni, throwing up his hand in salute as he swung round upon his heel and marched back to his place in the ranks. And as he went there gradually arose from the assembled troops a sound like the pattering of rain upon a roof, caused by the drumming of spear-haft upon shield, beginning so gently that at first it was scarcely audible, but rapidly swelling in volume until it became almost deafening, when it as rapidly subsided into silence. I did not understand the meaning of it at the moment; but, later on, when I questioned Mapela, he informed me that it was the method adopted by the Mashona warriors to express admiration, approval, and appreciation of any act of an exceptionally generous and noble character, and had been evoked by my treatment in general of the ’Mfuni incident, and especially by my successful intervention to save the man from the most horrible form of death known among them.
From the fact that the scowl had vanished from the king’s brow I surmised that he, too, was well pleased at the final outcome of the matter; and when presently the sound of the peculiar salute to which I have referred had died away, he pointed to the rifle in my hand and said:
“Is that the magic fire tube which kills from afar, of which thy servant spoke when he came hither to crave my permission that thou shouldst enter my country and visit me here?”
“Even so,” I answered, offering it for examination, for I had not reloaded it, and knew that, however carelessly he might handle it, he could do no mischief. But he declined to touch it, saying:
“Nay, it is great and terrible magic, and I will have naught to do with it. And thou, white man with the unpronounceable name, art also a great and wonderful magician, for at thy will the lightning flashes from thy fire tube and the very birds of the air fall dead at thy feet. Also, when thou didst fight ’Mfuni, thou didst cause the sword in thy hand to flash lightnings about thee by the swiftness with which thou didst wield it. Therefore I give thee a new name; and henceforth thou shalt be known as Chia’gnosi (The Smiter with Lightning). Go now, in peace, Chia’gnosi. I thank thee for the splendid gifts which thou hast bestowed upon me, and especially for the lightning-flashing sword, as also for saving the life of one of my warriors. And to-morrow thou shalt sit beside me, here in this great square, and witness the annual festival of the Mashona nation. Sala guhli!”
Accepting this as my dismissal, I saluted, and, wheeling round, beckoned Piet to follow me to the place where I had left my horse, at the entrance to the square. But I had not gone six steps upon my way when—whether spontaneously or in response to some signal I know not—up went the spear of every warrior present, in salute, and a great shout of “Chia’gnosi—Chia’gnosi—’Nkos’!” rent the air, to which I, as in duty bound, responded by halting for a moment and raising my hand to my hat-brim in a military salute.
About twenty minutes after my return to the wagon, ’Mfuni, my late antagonist, put in an appearance, in obedience to my instructions. He was still in full panoply of war, as he had appeared on parade, and had provided himself with a new bangwan, or stabbing spear, which, with his shield, war club, and a sheaf of hunting assagais, he respectfully laid at my feet as he halted before me.
“Why do you do that, ’Mfuni?” I asked, regarding the man with some surprise.
“Because henceforth I am thy man, O Chia’gnosi,” he answered. Then, in reply, I suppose, to my look of continued astonishment, he added: “The ’Nkosi spared my life, and the king gave me to him; therefore henceforth I am his man.”
“Do you mean that you intend to attach yourself to me, to become one of my servants?” I demanded.
“Even so, ’Nkos’,” he answered simply.
“But,” I said, “the king will never permit that, ’Mfuni; he would be very angry indeed with me should he discover that I had carried off one of his warriors. Probably he would send an impi after us to eat us up.”
“Nay, O Chia’gnosi, he would not; for it was the Great One himself who ordered me to come to thee,” replied ’Mfuni. “He gave me to thee; and the king does not go back from his word.”
“Very well. In that case thou mayst remain, and glad shall I be to have thee,” said I. “And now, let me look at thy hand; I must see what can be done to heal the hurt that the sword inflicted upon thee.”
The gash seemed to be a rather severe one, practically incapacitating the member for the time being, and it took me the best part of half an hour to extract the splinters of bone and bind up the wound, during which time I must have inflicted a good deal of pain upon the poor fellow, for the perspiration streamed down his face like rain. Yet all the time he sat motionless and impassive as a statue, never moving a muscle or shrinking in the least.
Before I had finished with my surgery, Mapela and the rest of the chiefs turned up, in response to my invitation to call at the wagon to receive the gifts which I proposed to distribute among them; and I soon gathered, from their conversation, that ’Mfuni’s story was perfectly true, and that the king had indeed given the man to me as a present.
To distribute gifts to nearly one hundred chiefs proved to be a somewhat lengthy business, also it made a pretty severe inroad into my stock of “truck”; still, it had to be done, and I could only hope that, in the long run, my generosity would not be without its reward. I treated them all alike, or practically so, giving each man a yard of thin copper wire, a gill measure of mixed beads, and either a bandana handkerchief or a yard of printed calico.
And while the distribution was proceeding my visitors chatted volubly with me, and still more volubly with each other, the principal topic of interest, I soon discovered, being the festival which was to commence one hour after daybreak on the morrow, and to last all through the day and well on into the hours of the succeeding night. The chiefs conversed with the utmost freedom in my presence and hearing, but at the outset I was too much engrossed in the business of distributing gifts to pay very much attention to what was said, a stray word or two here and there being all that I caught at first. At length, however, it began to dawn upon me that the so-called “festival” promised to be anything rather than festive, if I had not completely misunderstood the trend of certain of the remarks which had attracted my attention, and accordingly I pricked up my ears, and began to ask a few questions. And then I learned, to my horror, that the first feature of the festival, namely, the “smelling out” of the king’s secret enemies by the witch doctors, was more likely to resemble closely an orgy of wholesale murder than anything else that I could imagine.
The ceremony, I gathered, was somewhat as follows. The “witch doctors” or magicians of the nation—numbering in all something over a hundred—all of whom were then in Gwanda for the purposes of the ceremony, would assemble at sunset that same evening in a sort of fetish house; and there, under the leadership and direction of one Machenga, the head or chief witch doctor, would perform certain mysterious rites, and submit themselves to a certain mysterious form of treatment, lasting the entire night, which, it was generally understood, would enable them infallibly to “smell out” or detect every individual who might harbour evil thoughts or designs against the king. And these unfortunates, it appeared, would, upon detection, be haled forth and summarily executed there and then! I learned, further, that while the king put the most implicit faith in the infallibility of the witch doctors, and especially in that of Machenga, the head or chief of them, a few of the indunas who were then talking to me held rather strongly to the opinion that the selection of victims was not so much the result of supernatural guidance and wisdom vouchsafed to the witch doctors, as it was—at least in the case of the more important and distinguished victims—governed rather by Machenga’s personal hatred, or his cupidity; a few of the shrewder observers having noticed, each year, that the chosen victims invariably included certain men toward whom the head witch doctor was well known to cherish a feeling of strong enmity, while other victims comprised those chiefs who were numbered among the richest men in the community—the law being that, while the property of the alleged traitors was forfeited to the king, half of it was surrendered to the head witch doctor, as his fee for the detection of the criminals. Mapela, “the Wise One”, was one of the strongest upholders of the above theory, and in support of the soundness of it he whispered to me:
“You see that tall induna yonder, talking with two others? Yes, the man with the necklace of lions’ teeth. He is Logwane, reputed to be the most wealthy induna. For a number of years he has paid heavy tribute to Machenga, thus purchasing immunity from being ‘smelled out’; but during this last year he has become a favourite of the Great, Great One, and presuming upon this, I understand that now he has refused to pay further tribute to Machenga, and has defied him. Mark my words: he will be among those smelled out to-morrow!”
“You think so?” I whispered back. “And, if so, what will be his fate?”
“Chiele (slain)!” answered Mapela tersely, accompanying the word with an expressive movement of his right hand, imitative of a man stabbing another.
“What! notwithstanding the fact that he is a favourite of the king?” I demanded incredulously.
“Neither that nor the fact that he is highly esteemed by us all and is well known to be absolutely loyal to the king will save him. You will see,” replied Mapela.
“But,” I exclaimed hotly, “that would be monstrous—nothing short of deliberate, cold-blooded murder! Do you really think that the king will permit it? And if he should, will none of you intervene?”
“The king will permit it, because he has absolute faith in Machenga,” answered Mapela. “And, as for us, who are we that we should intervene to prevent that which the Great, Great One permits?”
“And are the victims killed there and then, on the spot?” demanded I. “Have they no chance given them to appeal against Machenga’s judgment, no opportunity to produce proof of their innocence?”
“None,” answered Mapela. “They are dragged forth; the executioners take them; and—they die! You will see; for the king has bidden you to be present to-morrow.”
“I shall not see,” I retorted, “for I shall decline to be present. Nothing shall induce me to countenance by my presence such a scene of cold-blooded atrocity!”
“Nay, my friend,” answered Mapela, laying his hand impressively upon my arm, “you must not dream of attempting to evade the king’s command. To do so would be fatal to you and your followers, for it would be interpreted to mean that in your heart you cherish evil thoughts against the king, and fear to face the ordeal. And an impi would instantly be dispatched with orders to ‘eat up’ you and yours! No; however disagreeable to you may be the sights which you will witness to-morrow, you must on no account seek to evade them. I tell you this as your friend, because I wish you well, and because my snake tells me that in some way—how I know not—your presence at the ‘smelling out’ to-morrow will be the means whereby many valuable lives will be saved. And now it is time that we should depart; we have been with you long enough. Sala guhli, Chia’gnosi, until to-morrow. And bear well in mind my caution to you,” he concluded in a whisper. Then, rising, he made a sign to the rest of the chiefs, who sprang to their feet, saluted, and retired in a body, after reiterating their thanks for the “splendid” gifts I had bestowed upon them.