“It is good; and again I thank thee, white man,” he remarked, as he placed the remaining brass boxes in the hands of one of the chiefs, with a low-murmured order, the purport of which I could not catch. “Yes, it is good,” he repeated, turning to me. “But what are these things good for?” he enquired, pointing to the little pile of clothes which I had replaced in the bundle.
“Listen, O King, and I will tell thee,” I replied. “In the land where the white men live there are kings even as there are in this land; and—also as in this land—they are men undistinguishable from other men, save by their clothing. Also, as in Mashonaland, the king is a soldier, the chief and general of all his troops; and he is distinguishable from all others by the magnificence of his clothing. Therefore, when I decided to visit Mashonaland, and the matter of suitable presents arose in my mind, I decided that I could not possibly offer anything more suitable and acceptable to the King of Mashona than the garb of a soldier such as a king wears. And, behold, there it is!”
“Au!” ejaculated Lomalindela, regarding the little heap with new interest. “Is that, then, the garb that the king of the white men wears?”
“Even so,” I answered, straining the truth a little. “It is the garb of a soldier, and that is the kind of garb which a white king wears upon state occasions, such as a review of his troops, or upon the occasion of some very great and important ceremonial.”
“Good!” ejaculated the king. “Thy gift comes most opportunely. To-morrow is the day of the great annual festival in Mashonaland, when I review all my soldiers, and when the witch doctors smell out those who are my secret enemies. I will wear it then. But thou, white man, must show me how each thing is used, for I have never before seen anything like them.”
“Assuredly I will,” said I. “Shall it be now?” The king considered for a moment, and then answered in the affirmative, at the same time beckoning to a certain chief, an elderly, grey-headed man, and giving him an order; whereupon the chief—whom I assumed to be deep in his monarch’s confidence—left his place in the semicircular cordon behind the throne, and, advancing to where the bundle lay at my feet, lifted it reverentially and bore it away to a large, rectangular hut—which I took to be the itunkulu, or king’s house—at the far corner of the square, whither Lomalindela and I forthwith followed him. This hut, which was about fifty feet long by about forty feet broad, and some seven feet high to the eaves of the roof, was built of what is known in Cape Colony as “wattle and daub”; that is to say, the walls had been constructed of interlaced wattle-work plastered over with mud and allowed to dry in the heat of the sun, after which they and the roof had been thickly thatched with palm leaves. This effectually turned the heavy tropical rain to which the country is subject at certain seasons of the year, and was also a pretty effectual protection against the scorching rays of the sun; consequently the interior temperature of such a structure, stifling though it frequently was, was not nearly so great as that of the outer air. In this particular case, too, the doorway, unlike that of the usual Kafir hut, was high enough to permit a full-grown man to enter without stooping; but, like other Kafir huts, this was entirely destitute of windows, the only light, during the daytime at least, being what entered by the doorway. A minute or two, however, sufficed for the eye to become accustomed to the change of light, and when mine had done so I perceived that the interior of this particular hut was divided by wattle partitions into apparently three apartments, two in the front half and the other—which I surmised to be sacred to the king’s emposeni, or harem—occupying the rear half. The apartment which we first entered was probably the king’s sitting-room, for it contained nothing but a low divan-like arrangement running all round the walls and covered with rich karosses, while through the doorway leading to the other apartment I caught an indistinct glimpse of what looked like a rough imitation of a couch or bed, also heaped high with karosses.
The king lost no time in coming to the point. He signed to the attendant chief to place the bundle on the divan, then turned to me and said:
“Now, white man, teach me how to array myself in the garb of the white kings.”
“Then,” said I, taking up the booted trousers, “this is the first garment which Your Majesty must don.” And I explained as best I could how he was to clothe himself. The fact that the boots were attached to the trousers made the assumption of the garment somewhat awkward, but luckily the boots were ample in size, and the monarch managed to get his feet into them without much difficulty. Then I explained how he must tuck the mucha inside, and when this was done, and the garment drawn up round his waist, I passed the braces over his shoulders and showed him how to button them. The trousers were scarlet—just a little off colour with wear, I am afraid—with a broad stripe of yellow braid down the outer seam, and the effect was evidently satisfactory to the king, who walked up and down the room several times admiring himself. Then I took up the tunic, and after I had explained how it was worn the induna and I assisted His Majesty to get into it, and I buttoned it down the front. Next I attached the fur-trimmed pelisse to one shoulder, adjusted the shoulder belt, threw the brass chain with mirror attached round his neck, placed the plumed shako on his head, girded the sword about his waist, and there he stood, a most grotesque yet withal not unkingly figure, fully attired in the uniform of a hussar.
The effect upon the induna was tremendous; he stood for several seconds gazing open-mouthed upon the awe-inspiring apparition of his king in the new and strange attire, and then, flinging himself prone upon the ground with his hands over his eyes, exclaimed: