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CHAPTER IX - BAUSI THE KING
About midday we made a start for Beza Town where King Bausi lived,
which we understood we ought to reach on the following evening. For
some hours the regiment marched in front, or rather round us, but as
we complained to Babemba of the noise and dust, with a confidence that
was quite touching, he sent it on ahead. First, however, he asked us
to pass our word "by our mothers," which was the most sacred of oaths
among many African peoples, that we would not attempt to escape. I
confess that I hesitated before giving an answer, not being entirely
enamoured of the Mazitu and of our prospects among them, especially as
I had discovered through Jerry that the discomfited Imbozwi had
departed from the soldiers on some business of his own. Had the matter
been left to me, indeed, I should have tried to slip back into the
bush over the border, and there put in a few months shooting during
the dry season, while working my way southwards. This, too, was the
wish of the Zulu hunters, of Hans, and I need not add of Sammy. But
when I mentioned the matter to Stephen, he implored me to abandon the
idea.
"Look here, Quatermain," he said, "I have come to this God-forsaken
country to get that great Cypripedium, and get it I will or die in the
attempt. Still," he added after surveying our rather blank faces, "I
have no right to play with your lives, so if you think the thing too
dangerous I will go on alone with this old boy, Babemba. Putting
everything else aside, I think that one of us ought to visit Bausi's
kraal in case the gentleman who you call Brother John should turn up
there. In short, I have made up my mind, so it is no use talking."
I lit my pipe, and for quite a time contemplated this obstinate young
man while considering the matter from every point of view. Finally, I
came to the conclusion that he was right and I was wrong. It was true
that by bribing Babemba, or otherwise, there was still an excellent
prospect of effecting a masterly retreat and of avoiding many perils.
On the other hand, we had not come to this wild place in order to
retreat. Further, at whose expense had we come here? At that of
Stephen Somers who wished to proceed. Lastly, to say nothing of the
chance of meeting Brother John, to whom I felt no obligation since he
had given us the slip at Durban, I did not like the idea of being
beaten. We had started out to visit some mysterious savages who
worshipped a monkey and a flower, and we might as well go on till
circumstances were too much for us. After all, dangers are everywhere;
those who turn back because of dangers will never succeed in any life
that we can imagine.
"Mavovo," I said presently, pointing to Stephen with my pipe, "the
/inkoosi/ Wazela does not wish to try to escape. He wishes to go on to
the country of the Pongo people if we can get there. And, Mavovo,
remember that he has paid for everything; we are his hired servants.
Also that he says that if we run back he will walk forward alone with
these Mazitus. Still, if any of you hunters desire to slip off, he
will not look your way, nor shall I. What say you?"
"I say, Macumazana, that, though young, Wazela is a chief with a great
heart, and that where you and he go, I shall go also, as I think will
the rest of us. I do not like these Mazitu, for if their fathers were
Zulus their mothers were low people. They are bastards, and of the
Pongo I hear nothing but what is evil. Still, no good ox ever turns in
the yoke because of a mud-hole. Let us go on, for if we sink in the
swamp what does it matter? Moreover, my Snake tells me that we shall
not sink, at least not all of us."
So it was arranged that no effort should be made to return. Sammy, it
is true, wished to do so, but when it came to the point and he was
offered one of the remaining donkeys and as much food and ammunition
as he could carry, he changed his mind.
"I think it better, Mr. Quatermain," he said, "to meet my end in the
company of high-born, lofty souls than to pursue a lonely career
towards the inevitable in unknown circumstances."
"Very well put, Sammy," I answered; "so while waiting for the
inevitable, please go and cook the dinner."
Having laid aside our doubts, we proceeded on the journey comfortably
enough, being well provided with bearers to take the place of those
who had run away. Babemba, accompanied by a single orderly, travelled
with us, and from him we collected much information. It seemed that
the Mazitu were a large people who could muster from five to seven
thousand spears. Their tradition was that they came from the south and
were of the same stock as the Zulus, of whom they had heard vaguely.
Indeed, many of their customs, to say nothing of their language,
resembled those of that country. Their military organisation, however,
was not so thorough, and in other ways they struck me as a lower race.
In one particular, it is true, that of their houses, they were more
advanced, for these, as we saw in the many kraals that we passed, were
better built, with doorways through which one could walk upright,
instead of the Kaffir bee-holes.
We slept in one of these houses on our march, and should have found it
very comfortable had it not been for the innumerable fleas which at
length drove us out into the courtyard. For the rest, these Mazitu
much resembled the Zulus. They had kraals and were breeders of cattle;
they were ruled by headmen under the command of a supreme chief or
king; they believed in witchcraft and offered sacrifice to the spirits
of their ancestors, also in some kind of a vague and mighty god who
dominated the affairs of the world and declared his will through the
doctors. Lastly, they were, and I dare say still are, a race of
fighting men who loved war and raided the neighbouring peoples upon
any and every pretext, killing their men and stealing their women and
cattle. They had their virtues, too, being kindly and hospitable by
nature, though cruel enough to their enemies. Moreover, they detested
dealing in slaves and those who practised it, saying that it was
better to kill a man than to deprive him of his freedom. Also they had
a horror of the cannibalism which is so common in the dark regions of
Africa, and for this reason, more than any other, loathed the Pongo
folk who were supposed to be eaters of men.
On the evening of the second day of our march, during which we had
passed through a beautiful and fertile upland country, very well
watered, and except in the valleys, free from bush, we arrived at
Beza. This town was situated on a wide plain surrounded by low hills
and encircled by a belt of cultivated land made beautiful by the crops
of maize and other cereals which were then ripe to harvest. It was
fortified in a way. That is, a tall, unclimbable palisade of timber
surrounded the entire town, which fence was strengthened by prickly
pears and cacti planted on its either side.
Within this palisade the town was divided into quarters more or less
devoted to various trades. Thus one part of it was called the
Ironsmiths' Quarter; another the Soldiers' Quarter; another the
Quarter of the Land-tillers; another that of the Skin-dressers, and so
on. The king's dwelling and those of his women and dependents were
near the North gate, and in front of these, surrounded by semi-circles
of huts, was a wide space into which cattle could be driven if
necessary. This, however, at the time of our visit, was used as a
market and a drilling ground.
We entered the town, that must in all have contained a great number of
inhabitants, by the South gate, a strong log structure facing a wooded
slope through which ran a road. Just as the sun was setting we marched
to the guest-huts up a central street lined with the population of the
place who had gathered to stare at us. These huts were situated in the
Soldiers' Quarter, not far from the king's house and surrounded by an
inner fence to keep them private.
None of the people spoke as we passed them, for the Mazitu are polite
by nature; also it seemed to me that they regarded us with awe
tempered by curiosity. They only stared, and occasionally those of
them who were soldiers saluted us by lifting their spears. The huts
into which we were introduced by Babemba, with whom we had grown very
friendly, were good and clean.
Here all our belongings, including the guns which we had collected
just before the slaves ran away, were placed in one of the huts over
which a Mazitu mounted guard, the donkeys being tied to the fence at a
little distance. Outside this fence stood another armed Mazitu, also
on guard.
"Are we prisoners here?" I asked of Babemba.
"The king watches over his guests," he answered enigmatically. "Have
the white lords any message for the king whom I am summoned to see
this night?"
"Yes," I answered. "Tell the king that we are the brethren of him who
more than a year ago cut a swelling from his body, whom we have
arranged to meet here. I mean the white lord with a long beard who
among you black people is called Dogeetah."
Babemba started. "You are the brethren of Dogeetah! How comes it then
that you never mentioned his name before, and when is he going to meet
you here? Know that Dogeetah is a great man among us, for with him
alone of all men the king has made blood-brotherhood. As the king is,
so is Dogeetah among the Mazitu."
"We never mentioned him because we do not talk about everything at
once, Babemba. As to when Dogeetah will meet us I am not sure; I am
only sure that he is coming."
"Yes, lord Macumazana, but when, when? That is what the king will want
to know and that is what you must tell him. Lord," he added, dropping
his voice, "you are in danger here where you have many enemies, since
it is not lawful for white men to enter this land. If you would save
your lives, be advised by me and be ready to tell the king to-morrow
when Dogeetah, whom he loves, will appear here to vouch for you, and
see that he does appear very soon and by the day you name. Since
otherwise when he comes, if come he does, he may not find you able to
talk to him. Now I, your friend, have spoken and the rest is with
you."
Then without another word he rose, slipped through the door of the hut
and out by the gateway of the fence from which the sentry moved aside
to let him pass. I, too, rose from the stool on which I sat and danced
about the hut in a perfect fury.
"Do you understand what that infernal (I am afraid I used a stronger
word) old fool told me?" I exclaimed to Stephen. "He says that we must
be prepared to state exactly when that other infernal old fool,
Brother John, will turn up at Beza Town, and that if we don't we shall
have our throats cut as indeed has already been arranged."
"Rather awkward," replied Stephen. "There are no express trains to
Beza, and if there were we couldn't be sure that Brother John would
take one of them. I suppose there /is/ a Brother John?" he added
reflectively. "To me he seems to be--intimately connected with Mrs.
Harris."
"Oh! there is, or there was," I explained. "Why couldn't the
confounded ass wait quietly for us at Durban instead of fooling off
butterfly hunting to the north of Zululand and breaking his leg or his
neck there if he has done anything of the sort?"
"Don't know, I am sure. It's hard enough to understand one's own
motives, let alone Brother John's."
Then we sat down on our stools again and stared at each other. At this
moment Hans crept into the hut and squatted down in front of us. He
might have walked in as there was a doorway, but he preferred to creep
on his hands and knees, I don't know why.
"What is it, you ugly little toad?" I asked viciously, for that was
just what he looked like; even the skin under his jaw moved like a
toad's.
"The Baas is in trouble?" remarked Hans.
"I should think he was," I answered, "and so will you be presently
when you are wriggling on the point of a Mazitu spear."
"They are broad spears that would make a big hole," remarked Hans
again, whereupon I rose to kick him out, for his ideas were, as usual,
unpleasant.
"Baas," he went on, "I have been listening--there is a very good hole
in this hut for listening if one lies against the wall and pretends to
be asleep. I have heard all and understood most of your talk with that
one-eyed savage and the Baas Stephen."
"Well, you little sneak, what of it?"
"Only, Baas, that if we do not want to be killed in this place from
which there is no escape, it is necessary that you should find out
exactly on what day and at what hour Dogeetah is going to arrive."
"Look here, you yellow idiot," I exclaimed, "if you are beginning that
game too, I'll----" then I stopped, reflecting that my temper was
getting the better of me and that I had better hear what Hans had to
say before I vented it on him.
"Baas, Mavovo is a great doctor; it is said that his Snake is the
straightest and the strongest in all Zululand save that of his master,
Zikali, the old slave. He told you that Dogeetah was laid up somewhere
with a hurt leg and that he was coming to meet you here; no doubt
therefore he can tell you also /when/ he is coming. I would ask him,
but he won't set his Snake to work for me. So you must ask him, Baas,
and perhaps he will forget that you laughed at his magic and that he
swore you would never see it again."
"Oh! blind one," I answered, "how do I know that Mavovo's story about
Dogeetah was not all nonsense?"
Hans stared at me amazed.
"Mavovo's story nonsense! Mavovo's Snake a liar! Oh! Baas, that is
what comes of being too much a Christian. Now, thanks to your father
the Predikant, I am a Christian too, but not so much that I have
forgotten how to know good magic from bad. Mavovo's Snake a liar, and
after he whom we buried yonder was the first of the hunters whom the
feathers named to him at Durban!" and he began to chuckle in intense
amusement, then added, "Well, Baas, there it is. You must either ask
Mavovo, and very nicely, or we shall all be killed. /I/ don't mind
much, for I should rather like to begin again a little younger
somewhere else, but just think what a noise Sammy will make!" and
turning he crept out as he had crept in.
"Here's a nice position," I groaned to Stephen when he had gone. "I, a
white man, who, in spite of some coincidences with which I am
acquainted, know that all this Kaffir magic is bosh am to beg a savage
to tell me something of which he /must/ be ignorant. That is, unless
we educated people have got hold of the wrong end of the stick
altogether. It is humiliating; it isn't Christian, and I'm hanged if
I'll do it!"
"I dare say you will be--hanged I mean--whether you do it or whether
you don't," replied Stephen with his sweet smile. "But I say, old
fellow, how do you know it is all bosh? We are told about lots of
miracles which weren't bosh, and if miracles ever existed, why can't
they exist now? But there, I know what you mean and it is no use
arguing. Still, if you're proud, I ain't. I'll try to soften the stony
heart of Mavovo--we are rather pals, you know--and get him to unroll
the book of his occult wisdom," and he went.
A few minutes later I was called out to receive a sheep which, with
milk, native beer, some corn, and other things, including green forage
for the donkeys, Bausi had sent for us to eat. Here I may remark that
while we were among the Mazitu we lived like fighting cocks. There was
none of that starvation which is, or was, so common in East Africa
where the traveller often cannot get food for love or money--generally
because there is none.
When this business was settled by my sending a message of thanks to
the king with an intimation that we hoped to wait upon him on the
morrow with a few presents, I went to seek Sammy in order to tell him
to kill and cook the sheep. After some search I found, or rather heard
him beyond a reed fence which divided two of the huts. He was acting
as interpreter between Stephen Somers and Mavovo.
"This Zulu man declares, Mr. Somers," he said, "that he quite
understands everything you have been explaining, and that it is
probable that we shall all be butchered by this savage Bausi, if we
cannot tell him when the white man, Dogeetah, whom he loves, will
arrive here. He says also that he thinks that by his magic he could
learn when this will happen--if it is to happen at all--(which of
course, Mr. Somers, for your private information only, is a mighty lie
of the ignorant heathen). He adds, however, that he does not care one
brass farthing--his actual expression, Mr. Somers, is 'one grain of
corn on a mealie-cob'--about his or anybody else's life, which from
all I have heard of his proceedings I can well believe to be true. He
says in his vulgar language that there is no difference between the
belly of a Mazitu-land hyena and that of any other hyena, and that the
earth of Mazitu-land is as welcome to his bones as any other earth,
since the earth is the wickedest of all hyenas, in that he has
observed that soon or late it devours everlastingly everything which
once it bore. You must forgive me for reproducing his empty and
childish talk, Mr. Somers, but you bade me to render the words of this
savage with exactitude. In fact, Mr. Somers, this reckless person
intimates, in short that some power with which he is not acquainted--
he calls it the 'Strength that makes the Sun to shine and broiders the
blanket of the night with stars' (forgive me for repeating his silly
words), caused him 'to be born into this world, and, at an hour
already appointed, will draw him from this world back into its dark,
eternal bosom, there to be rocked in sleep, or nursed to life again,
according to its unknown will'--I translate exactly, Mr. Somers,
although I do not know what it all means--and that he does not care a
curse when this happens. Still, he says that whereas he is growing old
and has known many sorrows--he alludes here, I gather, to some nigger
wives of his whom another savage knocked on the head; also to a child
to whom he appears to have been attached--you are young with all your
days and, he hopes, joys, before you. Therefore he would gladly do
anything in his power to save your life, because although you are
white and he is black he has conceived an affection for you and looks
on you as his child. Yes, Mr. Somers, although I blush to repeat it,
this black fellow says he looks upon you as his child. He adds,
indeed, that if the opportunity arises, he will gladly give his life
to save your life, and that it cuts his heart in two to refuse you
anything. Still he must refuse this request of yours, that he will ask
the creature he calls his Snake--what he means by that, I don't know,
Mr. Somers--to declare when the white man, named Dogeetah, will arrive
in this place. For this reason, that he told Mr. Quatermain when he
laughed at him about his divinations that he would make no more magic
for him or any of you, and that he will die rather than break his
word. That's all, Mr. Somers, and I dare say you will think--quite
enough, too."
"I understand," replied Stephen. "Tell the chief, Mavovo" (I observed
he laid an emphasis on the word, /chief/) "that I /quite/ understand,
and that I thank him very much for explaining things to me so fully.
Then ask him whether, as the matter is so important, there is no way
out of this trouble?"
Sammy translated into Zulu, which he spoke perfectly, as I noted
without interpolations or additions.
"Only one way," answered Mavovo in the intervals of taking snuff. "It
is that Macumazana himself shall ask me to do this thing, Macumazana
is my old chief and friend, and for his sake I will forget what in the
case of others I should always remember. If he will come and ask me,
without mockery, to exercise my skill on behalf of all of us, I will
try to exercise it, although I know very well that he believes it to
be but as an idle little whirlwind that stirs the dust, that raises
the dust and lets it fall again without purpose or meaning,
forgetting, as the wise white men forget, that even the wind which
blows the dust is the same that breathes in our nostrils, and that to
it, we also are as is the dust."
Now I, the listener, thought for a moment or two. The words of this
fighting savage, Mavovo, even those of them of which I had heard only
the translation, garbled and beslavered by the mean comments of the
unutterable Sammy, stirred my imagination. Who was I that I should
dare to judge of him and his wild, unknown gifts? Who was I that I
should mock at him and by my mockery intimate that I believed him to
be a fraud?
Stepping through the gateway of the fence, I confronted him.
"Mavovo," I said, "I have overheard your talk. I am sorry if I laughed
at you in Durban. I do not understand what you call your magic. It is
beyond me and may be true or may be false. Still, I shall be grateful
to you if you will use your power to discover, if you can, whether
Dogeetah is coming here, and if so, when. Now, do as it may please
you; I have spoken."
"And I have heard, Macumazana, my father. To-night I will call upon my
Snake. Whether it will answer or what it will answer, I cannot say."
Well, he did call upon his Snake with due and portentous ceremony and,
according to Stephen, who was present, which I declined to be, that
mystic reptile declared that Dogeetah, alias Brother John, would
arrive in Beza Town precisely at sunset on the third day from that
night. Now as he had divined on Friday, according to our almanac, this
meant that we might hope to see him--hope exactly described my state
of mind on the matter--on the Monday evening in time for supper.
"All right," I said briefly. "Please do not talk to me any more about
this impious rubbish, for I want to go to sleep."
Next morning early we unpacked our boxes and made a handsome selection
of gifts for the king, Bausi, hoping thus to soften his royal heart.
It included a bale of calico, several knives, a musical box, a cheap
American revolver, and a bundle of tooth-picks; also several pounds of
the best and most fashionable beads for his wives. This truly noble
present we sent to the king by our two Mazitu servants, Tom and Jerry,
who were marched off in the charge of several sentries, for I hoped
that these men would talk to their compatriots and tell them what good
fellows we were. Indeed I instructed them to do so.
Imagine our horror, therefore, when about an hour later, just as we
were tidying ourselves up after breakfast, there appeared through the
gate, not Tom and Jerry, for they had vanished, but a long line of
Mazitu soldiers each of whom carried one of the articles that we had
sent. Indeed the last of them held the bundle of toothpicks on his
fuzzy head as though it were a huge faggot of wood. One by one they
set them down upon the lime flooring of the verandah of the largest
hut. Then their captain said solemnly:
"Bausi, the Great Black One, has no need of the white men's gifts."
"Indeed," I replied, for my dander was up. "Then he won't get another
chance at them."
The men turned away without more words, and presently Babemba turned
up with a company of about fifty soldiers.
"The king is waiting to see you, white lords," he said in a voice of
very forced jollity, "and I have come to conduct you to him."
"Why would he not accept our presents?" I asked, pointing to the row
of them.
"Oh! that is because of Imbozwi's story of the magic shield. He said
he wanted no gifts to burn his hair off. But, come, come. He will
explain for himself. If the Elephant is kept waiting he grows angry
and trumpets."
"Does he?" I said. "And how many of us are to come?"
"All, all, white lord. He wishes to see every one of you."
"Not me, I suppose?" said Sammy, who was standing close by. "I must
stop to make ready the food."
"Yes, you too," replied Babemba. "The king would look on the mixer of
the holy drink."
Well, there was no way out of it, so off we marched, all well armed as
I need not say, and were instantly surrounded by the soldiers. To give
an unusual note to the proceedings I made Hans walk first, carrying on
his head the rejected musical box from which flowed the touching
melody of "Home, Sweet Home." Then came Stephen bearing the Union Jack
on a pole, then I in the midst of the hunters and accompanied by
Babemba, then the reluctant Sammy, and last of all the two donkeys led
by Mazitus, for it seemed that the king had especially ordered that
these should be brought also.
It was a truly striking cavalcade, the sight of which under any other
circumstances would have made me laugh. Nor did it fail in its effect,
for even the silent Mazitu people through whom we wended our way, were
moved to something like enthusiasm. "Home, Sweet Home" they evidently
thought heavenly, though perhaps the two donkeys attracted them most,
especially when these brayed.
"Where are Tom and Jerry?" I asked of Babemba.
"I don't know," he answered; "I think they have been given leave to go
to see their friends."
Imbozwi is suppressing evidence in our favour, I thought to myself,
and said no more.
Presently we reached the gate of the royal enclosure. Here to my
dismay the soldiers insisted on disarming us, taking away our rifles,
our revolvers, and even our sheath knives. In vain did I remonstrate,
saying that we were not accustomed to part with these weapons. The
answer was that it was not lawful for any man to appear before the
king armed even with so much as a dancing-stick. Mavovo and the Zulus
showed signs of resisting and for a minute I thought there was going
to be a row, which of course would have ended in our massacre, for
although the Mazitus feared guns very much, what could we have done
against hundreds of them? I ordered him to give way, but for once he
was on the point of disobeying me. Then by a happy thought I reminded
him that, according to his Snake, Dogeetah was coming, and that
therefore all would be well. So he submitted with an ill grace, and we
saw our precious guns borne off we knew not where.
Then the Mazitu soldiers piled their spears and bows at the gate of
the kraal and we proceeded with only the Union Jack and the musical
box, which was now discoursing "Britannia rules the waves."
Across the open space we marched to where several broad-leaved trees
grew in front of a large native house. Not far from the door of this
house a fat, middle-aged and angry-looking man was seated on a stool,
naked except for a moocha of catskins about his loins and a string of
large blue beads round his neck.
"Bausi, the King," whispered Babemba.
At his side squatted a little hunchbacked figure, in whom I had no
difficulty in recognising Imbozwi, although he had painted his
scorched scalp white with vermillion spots and adorned his snub nose
with a purple tip, his dress of ceremony I presume. Round and behind
there were a number of silent councillors. At some signal or on
reaching a given spot, all the soldiers, including old Babemba, fell
upon their hands and knees and began to crawl. They wanted us to do
the same, but here I drew the line, feeling that if once we crawled we
must always crawl.
So at my word we advanced upright, but with slow steps, in the midst
of all this wriggling humanity and at length found ourselves in the
august presence of Bausi, "the Beautiful Black One," King of the
Mazitu.
Content of CHAPTER IX - BAUSI THE KING [H. Rider Haggard's novel: Allan and the Holy Flower]
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