“It certainly will,” agreed Grosvenor. “But,” he continued, “I fancy it is altogether too late to think of that now. When we determined to enter this country we tacitly decided to take all the risks of so doing; and in any case we cannot now escape, do what we will, therefore I think our best policy will be to take everything for granted, and go willingly with these fellows, since if we refused they have the power to compel us. What has so suddenly put the idea of treachery into your head?”
“Upon my word I don’t know,” answered Dick. “Unless it is the sight of these armed men. But, as you say, it is too late to hesitate now, and, after all, their presence may merely signify the desire of the king to do us honour. Yes, I suppose we had better go.” And, turning to ’Mpandula, he said:
“We are ready to go with you into the presence of the king, therefore let the squadron approach. But our followers are behind, with the wagon, and it is desirable that they should know what has become of us; therefore I pray you let a message be transmitted to them, informing them of our whereabouts, and also directing them where to outspan at their final halt.”
“The will of my lords shall be done,” answered the chief, through the interpreter. And, raising his right hand, he shouted an order, whereupon the squadron of native cavalry, which had remained motionless as so many statues, at once awakened into life, and, starting forward at a gallop, advanced in as close formation and as perfect line as the finest civilised troops, halting a horse’s length in rear of their commander. Then, at a signal from the chief, every man tossed his right hand aloft in salute and thundered out the word ’Nkosi! This salute Dick and Grosvenor acknowledged by placing their hands to their hat-brims, in military fashion, to the evident satisfaction of ’Mpandula and his followers; and then, as the two whites touched their horse’s flanks with the spur and moved forward at a canter, the escort formed up, completely encircling them; one man at the same moment detaching himself and galloping away in the direction of the wagon, in response to an order from his commander.
Some twenty minutes later the party reached the outskirts of the ruined city, and found themselves confronted by enormous masses of masonry, consisting of walls, some of which still remained erect, although for the most part they had sunk into shapeless, overgrown masses of ruin, arches, columns, erect and prostrate, fragmentary pediments, shattered entablatures, dislodged capitals, crumbling pedestals, and mutilated statues of men and animals, all of colossal proportions; the buildings and portions of buildings all being of an immensely massive yet ornate and imposing style of architecture quite unknown to the travellers. Even the cursory glimpses which were all that Dick and Grosvenor were for the moment able to obtain, convinced them both that they were face to face with the remains of a city that must, thousands of years ago, have been of enormous extent and of almost unimaginable opulence and splendour.
But they had little time, just then, in which to indulge their curiosity, for they almost immediately struck into a sort of bridle path that presently turned away from the ruins and led toward an extensive village, which now swept into view as they rounded the spur of a hill. The village consisted of some five hundred huts surrounding a central stockade, which enclosed a small group of buildings of considerably more pretentious character than the ordinary huts, and which Dick and Grosvenor at once conjectured must be the royal palace and its dependencies. This conjecture was confirmed upon their arrival at the village, for at the gateway of the stockade the cavalcade halted, and ’Mpandula, dismounting, requested his charges to do the same, intimating that he was about to conduct them forthwith into the presence of the king.
Of course there was nothing to be done but to obey with a good grace, and the travellers, therefore, swung out of their saddles, and, handing over their horses to a couple of natives who stepped forward to take charge of them, followed their guide, or custodian, whichever he might happen to be, through the gateway, not without certain qualms of apprehension as to the wisdom of placing themselves thus unreservedly in the power of a savage king, who, if he should so choose, could send them to a death of unspeakable torment and horror, without the slightest fear of ever being brought to book. But now, more than ever, was it too late to hesitate; therefore resolutely stifling their apprehensions, and assuming a bearing of the most perfect confidence, they advanced toward a group of several persons whom they now saw arranged in front of the principal building within the enclosure.
Unquestionably the most important personage in this group was a splendid figure of a savage, attired in a sort of petticoat of leopard-skin reaching to just above the knee, a mantle of lion-skin thrown over his shoulders, gold bangles on his arms and ankles, a beautifully worked coronet of gold adorned with crimson feathers of the flamingo, two necklaces—one composed of lions’ teeth and claws, and the other, and larger, of unpolished stones that seemed to emit a faint glint of ruddy fire—round his neck. He was armed with a sheaf of short, broad-bladed stabbing spears, and was seated on a sort of throne entirely covered with an immense kaross of lions’ skin. Behind him stood eight savages, as finely built men as himself, whose dress and adornments at once proclaimed them to be chiefs, and persons of very great importance in the Makolo nation. The individual upon the throne was of course none other than the king himself.
Boldly advancing to within about ten paces of the seated monarch, Grosvenor and Dick halted, and, according to pre-arrangement, gave His Majesty a military salute. Then Dick, addressing the king in his best Kafir, remarked:
“Hail! Lobelalatutu, King of the Makolo, we salute you.” Which the interpreter, who had followed them, promptly interpreted.