The Sign of the Spider Part 26

"The name of the king?"

"I'Tyisandhlu!"

"I'Tyisandhlu? The Strong Wind that burns from the North?" repeated Laurence, translating the name.

"_E-he!_" a.s.sented the chiefs emphatically. "Now say,--hath not a broad belt around the land of the People of the Spider been burned flat?" with a wave of the hand which took in the desolated region.

They had gained the great mountain range whose snowy summits had been drawing nearer for days, and a n.o.ble range indeed it was apparently, moreover, of immense alt.i.tude. Laurence Stanninghame, who was well acquainted with the Alps, now gazed in wonder and admiration upon these snow-capped t.i.tans whose white heads seemed to support the blue vault of heaven itself, to such dizzy heights did they soar. Walls of black cliff, overhung with cornices even as with gigantic white eyebrows, towered up from dazzling snow slope, and higher still riven crags, split into all fantastic shapes, frowned forth as though to menace the world.

And all around, clinging about the feet of these stupendous heights, soft, luxuriant forests, tuneful with the murmur of innumerable glacier streams. A very Paradise of beauty and grandeur side by side, thought Laurence--amid which the s.h.i.+elds and spears, the marching column of the savage host seemed strangely out of keeping.

"How are they called, those mountains, Silawayo?" he said.

"Beyond them lies the land of the People of the Spider," answered the induna evasively. And the other understood that he must not look for exuberant information on topographical subjects just then.

They entered the mountains by a deep, black defile which pierced the range. For a day and night they wound through this, hardly pausing to rest, for it had become piercingly cold. Moreover, as Silawayo explained, even when the weather was at its highest stage of sultriness elsewhere, in the mountains the changes were sudden and great. To be snowed up in this pa.s.s was too serious a matter to risk.

"Was it the only gate by which the country of the Ba-gcatya was entered, then?"

But Silawayo did not seem to hear this question. He descanted learnedly on the suddenness of the mountain storms, and told tales of more than one _impi_ which had set forth in all its warlike ardour, and had found here a stiff and frozen bed whereon its people might rest for all time.

The while keenly alert to take in all the features of the route, Laurence affected the greatest interest in the conversation of those around him. But there was that about the dark ruggedness of this stupendous pa.s.s that weighed heavily upon his mind--that depressed, well-nigh appalled him. It was as though he were pa.s.sing through some black and gloomy gate which should shut him forever from the outside world, as they wound their way now where the cliffs beetled overhead so as to shut out the heavens, now along some dizzy ledge, with the dull roar of the mountain stream wafted up on icy gusts from far below. He suffered severely from the cold too, he who had breathed the moist, torrid heat of equatorial forests for so long,--and his wound became congealed and stiff. Yet he bore himself heroically, even as the Ba-gcatya themselves, who, their scanty clothing notwithstanding, seemed to feel the cold not one whit, chatting and laughing and singing while they marched. Finally the ground descended once more, and at length--while he was nodding in slumber at the dawn of day, during one of their brief rests--Ngumunye touched him on the shoulder and beckoned that he should accompany him. Laurence complied, and when they had gained the brow of a gently rising ridge beyond, an exclamation of wonder and admiration burst from his lips.

"Lo!" said the induna, pointing down with his k.n.o.b-stick. "Lo! there lies the land of the People of the Spider; there rests the throne of the Strong Wind that burns from the North. Lo! his dwelling,--Imvungayo."

CHAPTER XXI.

"THE STRONG WIND THAT BURNS FROM THE NORTH."

From where they stood the ground fell away in great wooded spurs to a broad level valley, or rather plain,--shut in on the farther side by rolling ranges of forest-clad hills. The valley bottom, green and undulating, was watered by numerous streams, flas.h.i.+ng like bands of silver ribbon in the golden glow of the newly risen sun. Cl.u.s.tering here and there, five or six together, were kraals, circular and symmetrical, built on the Zulu plan, and from their dome-shaped gra.s.s huts blue lines of smoke were arising upon the still morning air. Already, dappling the sward, the many coloured hides of innumerable cattle could be seen moving, and the long drawn shout and whistle of these who tended them rose in faint and harmonious echo to the height whence they looked down.

Patches of broad, flag-like maize, too, stood out, in darker squares, from the verdancy of the gra.s.s, and bird voices in glad note made merry among the cool, leafy, forest slopes. Coming in contrast to the steamy heat, the dank and gloomy equatorial vegetation, the foul and noisome surroundings of the cannibal villages, this smiling land of plenty did indeed offer to him who now first beheld it a fair and blithesome sight.

But another object attracted and held the attention of the spectator even more than all. This was an immense kraal. It lay on the slope at least ten miles away, but with the aid of his gla.s.s, which had been returned to him from among the slavers' loot, Laurence could bring it very near indeed. The yellow-domed huts lay six or seven deep between their dark, ringed fences, the great circular s.p.a.ce in the middle--the _isiG.o.dhlo_, or inclosure of royal dwellings part.i.tioned off at the upper end--why, the place might have been the chief kraal of Cetywayo or Dingane miraculously transferred to this remote and unexplored region.

"Lo! Imvungayo. The seat of the Great Great One--the Strong Wind that burns from the North," murmured Ngumunye, interpreting his glance of inquiry. "Come--let us go down."

As the great _impi_, which up till now had been marching "at ease,"

emerged upon the plain, once more the warriors formed into rank, and advanced in serried columns--singing a war-song. Immediately the whole land was as a disturbed beehive. Men, women, and children flocked forth to welcome them, the latter especially, pressing forward with eager curiosity to obtain a glimpse of the white man, the first of the species they had ever seen, and the air rang with the shrill, excited cries of astonishment wherewith they greeted his appearance, and the calm, unruffled way in which he ignored both their presence and amazement.

Much singing followed; the stay-at-homes answering the war-song of the warriors in responsive strophes--but there was little variety in these, which consisted largely, as it seemed to Laurence, of exuberant references to "The Spider" and praise of the king.

As they drew near the great kraal, two companies of girls, arrayed in beaded dancing dresses, advanced, waving green boughs, and, halting in front of the returning _impi_, sang a song of welcome. Their voices were melodious and pleasing to the last degree, imparting a singular charm to the somewhat monotonous repet.i.tion of the wild chant--now in a soft musical contralto, now shrilling aloft in a note of pealing gladness.

Laurence, who was beginning to feel vividly interested in this strange race of valiant fighters, failed not to note that many of these girls were of extraordinarily prepossessing appearance, with their tall, beautiful figures and supple limbs, their clear eyes and white teeth, and bright, pleasing faces. Then suddenly song and dance alike ceased, and the women, parting into two companies, the whole _impi_ moved forward again, marching between them.

The huge kraal was very near now, the palisade lined with the faces of eager spectators. But Laurence, quick to take in impressions, noticed that here there were no severed heads stuck about in ghastly ornament.

This splendid race, as pitiless and unsparing in victory as it was intrepid in the field, was clearly above the more monstrous and revolting forms of savage barbarity. Then all further reflections were diverted into an entirely new channel, for the whole _impi_--tossing the unarmed right hand aloft--thundered aloud the salute royal, then fell prostrate:

"_Bayete!_"

The roar--sudden, and as one man--of that mult.i.tude of voices was startling, well-nigh terrifying. Laurence, unprepared for any such move, found himself standing there--he alone, erect--while around him, as so much mown corn, lay prostrate on their faces this immense company of armed warriors. Then he took in the reason.

Just in front of where the _impi_ had halted rose a small cl.u.s.ter of trees crowning a knoll. Beneath the shade thus formed was a group of men, in a half-squatting, half-crouching att.i.tude--all save one.

Yes. One alone was standing--standing a little in advance of the group--standing tall, erect, majestic--in a splendid att.i.tude of ease and dignity, as, with head thrown slightly back, he darted his clear expressive eyes proudly over the bending host. A man in the prime of life--a perfect embodiment of symmetry and strength--he wore no attempt at gew-gaws or meretricious adornment. His shaven head was crowned with the usual _isicoco_, or ring, whose jetty blackness seemed to render the rich copper hue of the smooth skin even lighter, and for all clothing he wore a _mutya_ of lion-skin and leopards' tails. Yet Laurence Stanninghame, gazing upon him, recognized a natural dignity--nay, a majesty enthroning this nearly naked savage such as he had never seen quite equalled in the aspect or deportment of any other living man.

Clearly this was the king--Tyisandhlu--"The Strong Wind that burns from the North." Removing his hat with one hand he raised the other above his head, and repeated the salute royal as he had heard it from the warriors.

The king acknowledged his greeting by a brief murmur. Then he called aloud:

"Rise up, my children."

As one man that huge a.s.sembly sprang to its feet,--and the quivering rattle of spear-hafts was as a winter gale rus.h.i.+ng through a leafless wood; with one voice it began to thunder forth the royal t.i.tles.

"O Great Spider! Terrible Spider! Blood-drinking Spider, whose bite is death! O Serpent! O Elephant! Thunderer of the heavens! Divider of the Sun! House Burner! O Destroyer! O All Devouring Beast!" These were some of the t.i.tles used--but the praisers would always bring back the _bonga_ to some attribute of the spider. Laurence, who understood the system, noted this peculiarity, differing, as it did, from the Zulu practice of making the serpent the princ.i.p.al term of praise. Finally, as by signal, the shouting ceased, and the princ.i.p.al leaders of the _impi_, disarming, crept forward, two by two, to the king's feet.

Laurence was too far off to hear what was said, for the tone was low, but he judged, and rightly, that the chiefs were giving an account of the expedition. At length the king dismissed them, and pointing with the short k.n.o.b-stick he held in his hand, ordered that he himself should be brought forward.

The ranks of the warriors opened to let him through, and as, having been careful to disarm in turn, he advanced, Laurence could not repress a tightening thrill of the pulses as he wondered what fate it was, as regarded himself, that should now fall from the lips of this despot, whose very name meant a terror and a scourge.

Tyisandhlu for some moments uttered no word, but stood gazing fixedly upon his prisoner in contemplative silence. Laurence, for his part, was studying, no less attentively, the king. The finely shaped head and lofty brow--the clear eyes and oval face, culminating in a short beard, whose jetty thickness just began to show here and there a streak of gray,--the n.o.ble stature and erect carriage, impressed him even more, thus face to face, than at a distance.

"They say thou bearest the Sign of this nation, O stranger," began the king, speaking in the Zulu tongue, "and that to this thou owest thy life."

"That is true, Great Great One," answered Laurence.

"But how know we that the Sign is genuine?" continued Tyisandhlu.

"By this, Father of the People of the Spider. Not once has it stood between me and death, but twice, and that at the hands of your people."

A murmur of astonishment escaped his hearers. But the king said:

"When was this other time?--for such would, in truth, be something of a test."

Then Laurence told the tale of his conflict with the Ba-gcatya warriors beneath the tree-fern by the lagoon--and the murmur among the listeners deepened.

"I was but one man, and they were twelve," he concluded. "Twelve of the finest warriors in the world, even the warriors of the People of the Spider. Yet they could not harm me, see you, Great Great One. They could not prevail against the man who held--who wore the Sign of the Spider."

Now an emphatic hum arose on the part of all who heard--and indeed there had been a silence that might be felt while he had been narrating his tale. More than ever was Laurence convinced that in deciding to tell it he had acted with sound judgment. He had little or nothing to fear from the vengeance of the relatives of those he had slain--for he had seen enough of these people to guess that they did not bear a grudge over the fortunes of war--over losses sustained in fair and open fight. And, on the other hand, he had immensely strengthened his own case.

"Yet, you made common cause with these foul and noisome _Izimu_,"[1]

said the king, s.h.i.+fting somewhat his ground. "These carrion dogs, who devour one another, even their own flesh and blood?"

"I but spared one of their villages, O Great North Wind. For the rest, how many have I left standing?"

"That is so," said Tyisandhlu, still gazing fixedly at his prisoner.

Then he signed the latter to retire among the warriors, and, turning, gave a few rapid directions in a low voice to an attendant.

In the result, a group of armed warriors was seen hurrying forward, and in its midst a man, unarmed--a man ragged and covered with dried blood, and with his arms ignominiously bound behind him. And wild amazement was in store for Laurence. He had reckoned himself the sole survivor of the ma.s.sacre. Yet now in this helpless and ill-treated prisoner he recognized no less a personage than Lutali.