On arriving at the great kraal, where we had that morning been interviewed by the king, we found that it was closely packed with some twenty thousand men arranged in regiments round it. The regiments were in turn divided into companies, and between each company was a little path to allow free passage to the witch-finders to pass up and down. Anything more imposing than the sight that was presented by this vast and orderly concourse of armed men it is impossible for one to conceive. There they stood perfectly silent, and the moonlight poured its light upon the forest of their raised spears, upon their majestic forms, waving plumes, and the harmonious shading of their various-coloured shields. Wherever we looked was line upon line of set faces surmounted by range upon range of glittering spears.
“Surely,” I said to Infadoos, “the whole army is here?”
“Nay, Macumazahn,” he answered, “but a third part of it. One third part is present at this dance each year, another third part is mustered outside in case there should be trouble when the killing begins, ten thousand more garrison the outposts round Loo, and the rest watch at the kraals in the country. Thou seest it is a very great people.”
“They are very silent,” said Good; and indeed the intense stillness among such a vast concourse of living men was almost overpowering.
“What says Bougwan?” asked Infadoos.
I translated.
“Those over whom the shadow of Death is hovering are silent,” he answered, grimly.
“Will many be killed?”
“Very many.”
“It seems,” I said to the others, “that we are going to assist at a gladiatorial show arranged regardless of expense.”
Sir Henry shivered, and Good said that he wished that we could get out of it.
“Tell me,” I asked Infadoos, “are we in danger?”
“I know not, my lords, I trust not; but do not seem afraid. If ye live through the night all may go well. The soldiers murmur against the king.”
All this while we had been advancing steadily towards the centre of the open space, in the midst of which were placed some stools. As we proceeded we perceived another small party coming from the direction of the royal hut.
“It is the king, Twala, and Scragga his son, and Gagool the old, and see, with them are those who slay,” and he pointed to a little group of about a dozen gigantic and savage-looking men, armed with spears in one hand and heavy kerries
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in the other.
The king seated himself upon the centre stool, Gagool crouched at his feet, and the others stood behind.
“Greeting, white lords,” he cried, as we came up; “be seated, waste not the precious time—the night is all too short for the deeds that must be done. Ye come in a good hour, and shall see a glorious show. Look round, white lords; look round,” and he rolled his one wicked eye from regiment to regiment. “Can the stars show ye such a sight as this? See how they shake in their wickedness, all those who have evil in their hearts and fear in the judgment of ‘Heaven above.’ ”
“Begin! begin!”
cried out Gagool in her thin piercing voice; “the hyænas are hungry, they howl for food.
Begin! begin!”
Then for a moment there was intense stillness, made horrible by a presage of what was to come.
The king lifted his spear, and suddenly twenty thousand feet were raised, as though they belonged to one man, and brought down with a stamp upon the earth. This was repeated three times, causing the solid ground to shake and tremble. Then from a far point of the circle a solitary voice began a wailing song, of which the refrain ran something as follows:—
“What is the lot of man born of woman?”
Back came the answer rolling out from every throat in that vast company—
“Death!”
Gradually, however, the song was taken up by company after company, till the whole armed multitude were singing it, and I could no longer follow the words, except in so far as they appeared to represent various phases of human passions, fears, and joys. Now it seemed to be a love song, now a magestic swelling war chant, and last of all a death-dirge ending suddenly in one heartbreaking wail that went echoing and rolling away in a volume of blood-curdling sound. Again the silence fell upon the place, and again it was broken by the king lifting up his hand. Instantly there was a pattering of feet, and from out of the masses of the warriors strange and awful figures came running towards us. As they drew near we saw that they were those of women, most of them aged, for their white hair, ornamented with small bladders taken from fish, streamed out behind them. Their faces were painted in stripes of white and yellow; down their backs hung snake-skins, and round their waists rattled circlets of human bones, while each held in her shrivelled hand a small forked wand. In all there were ten of them. When they arrived in front of us they halted, and one of them, pointing with her wand towards the crouching figure of Gagool, cried out—
“Mother, old mother, we are here.”
“Good! good! good!”
piped out that aged iniquity. “Are your eyes keen, Isanusis (witch doctresses), ye seers in dark places?”
“Mother, they are keen.”
“Good! good! good!
Are your ears open, Isanusis, ye who hear words that come not from the tongue?”
“Mother, they are open.”
“Good! good! good!
Are your senses awake, Isanusis—can ye smell blood, can ye purge the land of the wicked ones who compass evil against the king and against their neighbours? Are ye ready to do the justice of ‘Heaven above,’ ye whom I have taught, who have eaten the bread of my wisdom and drunk of the water of my magic?”
“Mother, we can.”
“Then go! Tarry not, ye vultures; see the slayers,” pointing to the ominous group of executioners behind, “make sharp their spears; the white men from afar are hungry to see. Go.”
With a wild yell the weird party broke away in every direction, like fragments from a shell, the dry bones round their waists rattling as they ran, and made direct for various points of the dense human circle. We could not watch them all, so fixed our eyes upon the Isanusi nearest us. When she came within a few paces of the warriors, she halted and began to dance wildly, turning round and round with an almost incredible rapidity, and shrieking out sentences such as “I smell him, the evil-doer!” “He is near, he who poisoned his mother!” “I hear the thoughts of him who thought evil of the king!”
Quicker and quicker she danced, till she lashed herself into such a frenzy of excitement that the foam flew in flecks from her gnashing jaws, her eyes seemed to start from her head, and her flesh to quiver visibly. Suddenly she stopped dead, and stiffened all over, like a pointer dog when he scents game, and then with outstretched wand began to creep stealthily towards the soldiers before her. It seemed to us that as she came their stoicism gave way, and that they shrank from her. As for ourselves, we followed her movements with a horrible fascination. Presently, still creeping and crouching like a dog, she was before them. Then she stopped and pointed, and then again crept on a pace or two.
Suddenly the end came. With a shriek she sprang in and touched a tall warrior with the forked wand. Instantly two of his comrades, those standing immediately next to him, seized the doomed man, each by one arm, and advanced with him towards the king.
He did not resist, but we saw that he dragged his limbs as though they were paralysed, and his fingers, from which the spear had fallen, were limp as those of a man newly dead.
As he came, two of the villainous executioners stepped forward to meet him. Presently they met, and the executioners turned round towards the king as though for orders.
“Kill!”
said the king.
“Kill!”
squeaked Gagool.
“Kill!”
re-echoed Scragga, with a hollow chuckle.
Almost before the words were uttered, the horrible deed was done. One man had driven his spear into the victim’s heart, and to make assurance doubly sure, the other had dashed out his brains with his great club.
“One,”
counted Twala the king, just like a black Madame Defarge,
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as Good said, and the body was dragged a few paces away and stretched out.
Hardly was this done, before another poor wretch was brought up, like an ox to the slaughter. This time we could see, from the leopard-skin cloak, that the man was a person of rank. Again the awful syllables were spoken, and the victim fell dead.
“Two,”
counted the king.
And so the deadly game went on, till some hundred bodies were stretched in rows behind us. I have heard of the gladiatorial shows of the Cæsars, and of the Spanish bull-fights, but I take the liberty of doubting if they were either of them half as horrible as this Kukuana witch hunt. Gladiatorial shows and Spanish bull-fights, at any rate, contributed to the public amusement, which certainly was not the case here. The most confirmed sensation-monger would fight shy of sensation if he knew that it was well on the cards that he would, in his own proper person, be the subject of the next “event.”
Once we rose and tried to remonstrate, but were sternly repressed by Twala.
“Let the law take its course, white men. These dogs are magicians and evil-doers; it is well that they should die,” was the only answer vouchsafed to us.
About midnight there was a pause. The witchfinders gathered themselves together, apparently exhausted with their bloody work, and we thought that the whole performance was done with. But it was not so, for presently, to our surprise, the old woman, Gagool, rose from her crouching position, and supporting herself with a stick, staggered off into the open space. It was an extraordinary sight to see this frightful vulture-headed old creature, bent nearly double with extreme age, gather strength by degrees till at last she rushed about almost as actively as her ill-omened pupils. To and fro she ran, chanting to herself, till suddenly she made a dash at a tall man standing in front of one of the regiments, and touched him. As she did so, a sort of groan went up from the regiment, which he evidently commanded. But all the same, two of its members seized him and brought him up for execution. We afterwards learned that he was a man of great wealth and importance, being, indeed, a cousin of the king’s.
He was slain, and the king counted one hundred and three. Then Gagool again sprang to and fro, gradually drawing nearer and nearer to ourselves.
“Hang me if I don’t believe she is going to try her games on us,” ejaculated Good in horror.
“Nonsense!” said Sir Henry.
As for myself, as I saw that old fiend dancing nearer and nearer, my heart positively sank into my boots. I glanced behind us at the long rows of corpses, and shivered.
Nearer and nearer waltzed Gagool, looking for all the world like an animated crooked stick, her horrid eyes gleaming and glowing with a most unholy lustre.
Nearer she came, and nearer yet, every pair of eyes in that vast as-semblance watching her movements with intense anxiety. At last she stood still and pointed.
“Which is it to be?” asked Sir Henry to himself.
In a moment all doubts were set at rest, for the old woman had rushed in and touched Umbopa, alias Ignosi, on the shoulder.
“I smell him out,” she shrieked. “Kill him, kill him, he is full of evil; kill him, the stranger, before blood flows for him. Slay him, O king.”
There was a pause, which I instantly took advantage of.
“O King,” I called out, rising from my seat, “this man is the servant of thy guests, he is their dog; whosoever sheds the blood of our dog sheds our blood. By the sacred law of hospitality I claim protection for him.”
“Gagool, mother of the witch doctors, has smelt him out; he must die, white men,” was the sullen answer.
“Nay, he shall not die,” I replied; “he who tries to touch him shall die indeed.”
“Seize him!” roared Twala to the executioners, who stood around red to the eyes with the blood of their victims.
They advanced towards us, and then hesitated. As for Ignosi, he raised his spear, and raised it as though determined to sell his life dearly.
“Stand back, ye dogs,” I shouted, “if ye would see to-morrow’s light. Touch one hair of his head and your king dies,” and I covered Twala with my revolver. Sir Henry and Good also drew their pistols, Sir Henry pointing his at the leading executioner, who was advancing to carry out the sentence, and Good taking a deliberate aim at Gagool.
Twala winced perceptibly, as my barrel came in a line with his broad chest.
“Well,” I said, “what is it to be, Twala?”
Then he spoke.
“Put away your magic tubes,” he said; “ye have adjured me in the name of hospitality, and for that reason, but not from fear of what ye can do, I spare him. Go in peace.”
“It is well,” I answered, unconcernedly; “we are weary of slaughter, and would sleep. Is the dance ended?”
“It is ended,” Twala answered, sulkily. “Let these dogs,” pointing to the long rows of corpses, “be flung out to the hyænas and the vultures,” and he lifted his spear.
Instantly the regiments began in perfect silence to defile off through the kraal gateway, a fatigue party only remaining behind to drag away the corpses of those who had been sacrificed.
Then we too rose, and making our salaam
ai
to his majesty, which he hardly deigned to acknowledge, departed to our kraal.
“Well,” said Sir Henry, as we sat down, having first lit a lamp of the sort used by the Kukuanas, of which the wick is made of the fibre of a species of palm leaf, and the oil of clarified hippopotamus fat, “well, I feel uncommonly inclined to be sick.”
“If I had any doubts about helping Umbopa to rebel against that infernal blackguard,” put in Good, “they are gone now. It was as much as I could do to sit still while that slaughter was going on. I tried to keep my eyes shut, but they would open just at the wrong time. I wonder where Infadoos is. Umbopa, my friend, you ought to be grateful to us; your skin came near to having an air-hole made in it.”