THE RECOVERY OF THE KING
For a moment there was silence, then a great cry arose--a cry of “Our
father is dead!” Presently with it were mingled other and angrier shouts
of “The king is murdered!” and “He is bewitched, the white wizard
has bewitched the king! He prophesied evil upon him, and now he has
bewitched him!”
Meanwhile the captains and councillors formed a ring about Umsuka, and
Hokosa bending over him examined him.
“Princes and Councillors,” he said presently, “your father yet lives,
but his life is like the life of a dying fire and soon he must be dead.
This is sure, that one of two things has befallen him: either the heat
has caused the blood to boil in his veins and he is smitten with a
stroke from heaven, such as men who are fat and heavy sometimes die of;
or he has been bewitched by a wicked wizard. Yonder stands one,” and he
pointed to Owen, “who not an hour ago prophesied that before the sun was
down great evil should overtake the king. The sun is not yet down, and
great evil has overtaken him. Perchance, Princes and Councillors, this
white prophet can tell us of the matter.”
“Perchance I can,” answered Owen calmly.
“He admits it!” cried some. “Away with him!”
“Peace!” said Owen, holding the crucifix towards those whose spears
threatened his life.
They shrank back, for this symbol of a dying man terrified them who
could not guess its significance.
“Peace,” went on Owen, “and listen. Be sure of this, Councillors, that
if I die, your king will die; whereas if I live, your king may live. You
ask me of this matter. Where shall I begin? Shall I begin with the tale
of two men seated together some nights ago in a hut so dark that no eyes
could see in it, save perchance the eyes of a wizard? What did they talk
of in that hut, and who were those men? They talked, I think, of the
death of a king and of the crowning of a king. They talked of a price
to be paid for a certain medicine; and one of them had a royal air, and
one----”
“Will ye hearken to this wild babbler while your king lies dying before
your eyes?” broke in Hokosa, in a shrill, unnatural voice; for almost
palsied with fear as he was at Owen’s mysterious words, he still
retained his presence of mind. “Listen now: what is he, and what did he
say? He is one who comes hither to preach a new faith to us; he comes,
he says, on an embassy from the King of Heaven, who has power over
all things, and who, so these white men preach, can give power to His
servants. Well, let this one cease prating and show us his strength,
as he has been warned he would be called upon to do. Let him give us a
sign. There before you lies your king, and he is past the help of man;
even I cannot help him. Therefore, let this messenger cure him, or call
upon his God to cure him; that seeing, we may know him to be a true
messenger, and one sent by that King of whom he speaks. Let him do this
now before our eyes, or let him perish as a wizard who has bewitched the
king. Do you hear my words, Messenger, and can you draw this one back
from between the Gates of Death?”
“I hear them,” answered Owen quietly; “and I can--or if I cannot, then
I am willing to pay the penalty with my life. You who are a doctor say
that your king is as one who is already dead, so that whatever I may do
I cannot hurt him further. Therefore I ask this of you, that you stand
round and watch, but molest me neither by word nor deed while I attempt
his cure. Do you consent?”
“It is just; we consent,” said the councillors. “Let us see what the
white man can do, and by the issue let him be judged.” But Hokosa stared
at Owen wondering, and made no answer.
“Bring some clean water to me in a gourd,” said Owen.
It was brought and given to him. He looked round, searching the faces of
those about him. Presently his eye fell upon the Prince Nodwengo, and he
beckoned to him, saying:--
“Come hither, Prince, for you are honest, and I would have you to help
me, and no other man.”
The prince stepped forward and Owen gave him the gourd of water. Then
he drew out the little bottle wherein he had stored the juice of the
creeper, and uncorking it, he bade Nodwengo fill it up with water. This
done, he clasped his hands, and lifting his eyes to heaven, he prayed
aloud in the language of the Amasuka.
“O God,” he prayed, “upon whose business I am here, grant, I beseech
Thee, that by Thy Grace power may be given to me to work this miracle in
the face of these people, to the end that I may win them to cease from
their iniquities, to believe upon Thee, the only true God, and to save
their souls alive. Amen.”
Having finished his prayer, he took the bottle and shook it; then he
commanded Nodwengo to sit upon the ground and hold his father’s head
upon his knee. Now, as all might see by many signs, the king was upon
the verge of death, for his lips were purple, his breathing was rare and
stertorous, and his heart stood well-nigh still.
“Open his mouth and hold down the tongue,” said Owen.
The prince obeyed, pressing down the tongue with a snuff spoon. Then
placing the neck of the bottle as far into the throat as it would reach,
Owen poured the fluid it contained into the body of the king, who made a
convulsive movement and instantly seemed to die.
“He is dead,” said one; “away with the false prophet!”
“It may be so, or it may not be so,” answered Owen. “Wait for the half
of an hour; then, if he shows no sign of life, do what you will with
me.”
“It is well,” they said; “so be it.”
Slowly the minutes slipped by, while the king lay like a corpse before
them, and outside of that silent ring the soldiers murmured as the wind.
The sun was sinking fast, and Hokosa watched it, counting the seconds.
At length he spoke:--
“The half of the hour that you demanded is dead, White Man, as dead
as the king; and now the time has come for you to die also,” and he
stretched out his hand to take him.
Owen looked at his watch and replied:--
“There is still another minute; and you, Hokosa, who are skilled in
medicines, may know that this antidote does not work so swiftly as the
bane.”
The shot was a random one, but it told, for Hokosa fell back and was
silent.
The seconds passed on as the minute hand of the watch went round from
ten to twenty, from twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty. A few
more instants and the game was played. Had that dream of his been vain
imagining, and was all his faith nothing but a dream wondered Owen?
Well, if so, it would be best that he should die. But he did not believe
that it was so; he believed that the Power above him would intervene to
save--not him, indeed, but all this people.
“Let us make an end,” said Hokosa, “the time is done.”
“Yes,” said Owen, “the time is done--and _the king lives!_”
Even as he spoke the pulses in the old man’s forehead were seen to
throb, and the veins in his neck to swell as they had swollen after he
had swallowed the poison; then once more they shrank to their natural
size. Umsuka stirred a hand, groaned, sat up, and spoke:--
“What has chanced to me?” he said. “I have descended into deep darkness,
now once again I see light.”
No one answered, for all were staring, terrified and amazed, at the
Messenger--the white wizard to whom had been given power to bring men
back from the gate of death. At length Owen said:--
“This has chanced to you, King: that evil which I prophesied to you if
you refused to listen to the voice of mercy has fallen upon you. By now
you would have been dead, had it not pleased Him Whom I serve, working
through me, His messenger, to bring you back to look upon the sun. Thank
Him, therefore, and worship Him, for He alone is Master of the Earth,”
and he held the crucifix before his eyes.
The humbled monarch lifted his hand--he who for many years had made
obeisance to none--and saluted the symbol, saying:--
“Messenger, I thank Him and I worship Him, though I know Him not. Say
now, how did His magic work upon me to make me sick to death and to
recover me?”
“By the hand of man, King, and by the virtues that lie hid in Nature.
Did you not drink of a cup, and were not many things mixed in the
draught? Was it not but now in your mind to speak words that should
bring down the head of pride and evil, and lift up the head of truth and
goodness?”
“O White Man, how know you these things?” gasped the king.
“I know them, it is enough. Say, who was it that stirred the bowl, King,
and who gave you to drink?”
Now Umsuka staggered to his feet, and cried aloud in a voice that was
thick with rage:--
“By my head and the heads of my fathers I smell the plot! My son, the
Prince Hafela, has learned my counsel, and would have slain me before I
said words that should set him beneath the feet of Nodwengo. Seize him,
captains, and let him be brought before me for judgment!”
Men looked this way and that to carry out the command of the king, but
Hafela was gone. Already he was upon the hillside, running as a man has
rarely run before--his face set towards that fastness in the mountains
where he could find refuge among his mother’s tribesmen and the
regiments which he commanded. Of late they had been sent thither by the
king that they might be far from the Great Place when their prince was
disinherited.
“He is fled,” said one; “I saw him go.”
“Pursue him and bring him back, dead or alive!” thundered the king.
“A hundred head of cattle to the man who lays hand upon him before he
reaches the _impi_ of the North, for they will fight for him!”
“Stay!” broke in Owen. “Once before this day I prayed of you, King, to
show mercy, and you refused it. Will you refuse me a second time? Leave
him his life who has lost all else.”
“That he may rebel against me? Well, White Man, I owe you much, and for
this time your wisdom shall be my guide, though my heart speaks against
such gentleness. Hearken, councillors and people, this is my decree:
that Hafela, my son, who would have murdered me, be deposed from his
place as heir to my throne, and that Nodwengo, his brother, be set in
that place, to rule the People of Fire after me when I die.”
“It is good, it is just!” said the council. “Let the king’s word be
done.”
“Hearken again,” said Umsuka. “Let this white man, who is named
Messenger, be placed in the House of Guests and treated with all honour;
let oxen be given him from the royal herds and corn from the granaries,
and girls of noble blood for wives if he wills them. Hokosa, into your
hand I deliver him, and, great though you are, know this, that if but
a hair of his head is harmed, with your goods and your life you shall
answer for it, you and all your house.”
“Let the king’s word be done,” said the councillors again.
“Heralds,” went on Umsuka, “proclaim that the feast of the first-fruits
is ended, and my command is that every regiment should seek its
quarters, taking with it a double gift of cattle from the king, who has
been saved alive by the magic of this white man. And now, Messenger,
farewell, for my head grows weary. To-morrow I will speak with you.”
Then the king was led away into the royal house, and save those who were
quartered in it, the regiments passed one by one through the gates of
the kraal, singing their war-songs as they went. Darkness fell upon the
Great Place, and through it parties of men might be seen dragging thence
the corpses of those who had fallen in the fight with sticks, or been
put to death thereafter by order of the king.
“Messenger,” said Hokosa, bowing before Owen, “be pleased to follow
me.” Then he led him to a little kraal numbering five or six large and
beautifully made huts, which stood by itself, within its own fence, at
the north end of the Great Place, not far from the house of the king.
In front of the centre hut a fire was burning, and by its light women
appeared cleaning out the huts and bringing food and water.
“Here you may rest in safety, Messenger,” said Hokosa, “seeing that
night and day a guard from the king’s own regiment will stand before
your doors.”
“I do not need them,” answered Owen, “for none can harm me till my hour
comes. I am a stranger here and you are a great man; yet, Hokosa, which
of us is the safest this night?”
“Your meaning?” said Hokosa sharply.
“O man!” answered Owen, “when in a certain hour you crept up the valley
yonder, and climbing the Tree of Death gathered its poison, went I not
with you? When, before that hour, you sat in yonder hut bargaining with
the Prince Hafela--the death of a king for the price of a girl--was I
not with you? Nay, threaten me not--in your own words I say it--‘lay
down that assegai, or by my spirit your body shall be thrown to the
kites, as that of one who would murder the king’--and the king’s guest!”
“White Man,” whispered Hokosa throwing down the spear, “how can these
things be? I was alone in the hut with the prince, I was alone beneath
the Tree of Doom, and you, as I know well, were beyond the river. Your
spies must be good, White Man.”
“My spirit is my only spy, Hokosa. My spirit watched you, and from your
own lips he learned the secret of the bane and of the antidote. Hafela
mixed the poison as you taught him; I gave the remedy, and saved the
king alive.”
Now the knees of Hokosa grew weak beneath him, and he leaned against the
fence of the kraal for support.
“I have skill in the art,” he said hoarsely; “but, Messenger, your magic
is more than mine, and my life is forfeit to you. To-morrow morning,
you will tell the king all, and to-morrow night I shall hang upon the
dreadful Tree. Well, so be it; I am overmatched at my own trade, and it
is best that I should die. You have plotted well and you have conquered,
and to you belong my place and power.”
“It was you who plotted, and not I, Hokosa. Did you not contrive that I
should reach the Great Place but a little before the poison was given to
the king, so that upon me might be laid the crime of his bewitching? Did
you not plan also that I should be called upon to cure him--a thing
you deemed impossible--and when I failed that I should be straightway
butchered?”
“Seeing that it is useless to lie to you, I confess that it was so,”
answered Hokosa boldly.
“It was so,” repeated Owen; “therefore, according to your law your life
is forfeit, seeing that you dug a pit to snare the innocent feet. But
I come to tell you of a new law, and that which I preach I practise.
Hokosa, I pardon you, and if you will put aside your evil-doing, I
promise you that no word of all your wickedness shall pass my lips.”
“It has not been my fashion to take a boon at the hand of any man, save
of the king only,” said the wizard in a humble voice; “but now it seems
that I am come to this. Tell me, White Man, what is the payment that you
seek of me?”
“None, Hokosa, except that you cease from evil and listen with an open
heart to that message which I am sworn to deliver to you and to all your
nation. Also you would do well to put away that fair woman whose price
was the murder of him that fed you.”
“I cannot do it,” answered the wizard. “I will listen to your teaching,
but I will not rob my heart of her it craves alone. White Man, I am not
like the rest of my nation. I have not sought after women; I have but
one wife, and she is old and childless. Now, for the first time in my
days, I love this girl--ah, you know not how!--and I will take her, and
she shall be the mother of my children.”
“Then, Hokosa, you will take her to your sorrow,” answered Owen
solemnly, “for she will learn to hate you who have robbed her of royalty
and rule, giving her wizardries and your grey hairs in place of them.”
And thus for that night they parted.