"Now in the mind of every schoolboy," (said Cressey, pausing in his
narrative) "the names Rupert and Maurice always run together. They were
nephews of Charles the First, sons of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, and
they are well-known in English history. Since I came to Cape Town, I
have been to the library, and I find that Prince Maurice served his
first or second campaign in 1638 with the Prince of Orange at the siege
of Breda. Prince Rupert was there, learning the trade of war at the
same time. The meaning of the inscription on that sword--which I have,
and will show you presently--is to my mind perfectly clear.
"Well, to get on with my yarn. As I sat in Mapana's kraal with the
sword in my hands, I began to wonder whether I was in a dream. Was it
possible that the beautiful brunette before me, chieftain of a tribe of
outlandish Kaffirs, came of such stock as this? The idea seemed too
wildly improbable. Yet, if her tale and the evidence before me meant
anything, it meant that this sword, these gold coins, had once belonged
to Maurice of the Rhine. I took the book in my hand and turned over its
yellow pages. What I saw there yet more electrified me, and stimulated
yet further my imagination. The book was an old French work on hawking,
entitled, _La Fauconnerie; par Charles d'Esperon; Paris_: 1605. On the
fly-leaf was written, in an antique yet clear hand:--"
"Mauritio P. D.D. Mater Amantissima, Elizabetha R. 1635."
Translated, this would run: "To Maurice, Prince, a gift from his most
loving mother, Elizabeth, Queen, 1635."
"There was no earthly reason to suppose that the inscription upon that
old fly-leaf lied. That book then had once belonged to Prince Maurice;
had once been the loving gift to him of the unlucky, beautiful
Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, his mother. It seemed so strange, so
tragic, to find here these relics of the old Stuart blood; to see before
me perhaps even a descendant of that ill-starred line; that my mind, as
I gazed from the old book to Mapana, from Mapana's soft eyes to the book
again, ran in a flood of strangely mingled emotions. I asked Mapana
again to tell me how these things had come into her family.
"She reiterated that her father and grandfather had always told her that
these were the things of Morinza (was not this name, I asked myself, an
African corruption of Moritz or Maurice?), the white man, their
ancestor. That he had them with him when he encountered the tribe.
That in those days the Umfanzi lived much farther to the west (she
indicated the direction with her hand), not far from a great water
(probably the South Atlantic); that other things of his had also
formerly belonged to them, but had almost all been lost in wars and
wanderings.
"Now I have been always fond of history, and, as a youngster, the story
of the Stuarts had a deep interest for me. I had a clear recollection
in my mind that Prince Maurice had been lost at sea some time during the
Commonwealth or Cromwell's Protectorate, while on a privateering or
filibustering expedition. Was it not possible, I asked myself, that he
had been wrecked off the African coast, or even marooned by a
discontented crew? I find, by the way, on coming down-country, that
Maurice was actually off the west coast of Africa in 1652, the year of
his supposed death. He is believed by some to have been lost in a storm
off the West Indies, but the circumstance of his death seems to be very
much shrouded in mystery. There is nothing clear about it.
"I told Mapana that I knew something of the origin of these relics.
That their owner had once been a warrior in my country; and that I
should like to take them home, and have them identified, if possible.
That for her own sake this ought to be done.
"She looked very wistfully at me, but shook her head, and told one of
her girls to put the sword and book back in her hut. The necklet she
put on again. By this time it was dark, and we sat by a blazing fire of
wood.
"Mapana now asked me to sup with her. I was not loth, of course; and,
having still some coffee, sugar, and a tin of condensed milk in my
saddlebags, I had them and the kettle brought round. I boiled some
water, and treated my charming barbarian to her first cup of coffee.
She was delighted, and drank two beakers of it with the greatest
enjoyment. Then nothing would do but I must give her my teaspoon. It
was an old worn silver one, as it happened. She looked so merry, so
good-humoured, so fascinating, there by the cheery firelight, that I
felt inclined to deny her nothing.
"`But,' I said, `you must give me something in return.'
"She looked reflectively for a moment, then sent a girl to her hut. The
girl returned with two more of the gold coins I have mentioned. They
were strung close together on fine sinew, and were used, as Mapana
showed me, as a fillet or decoration for the head. We made the exchange
amid much merriment and some chaff, and I think were mutually content.
I certainly had the best of the deal. Mapana, at my suggestion, used
the spoon with her milk and porridge, which she had previously eaten by
means of a kind of flat spoon--and her pretty fingers. I don't know
what possessed me--perhaps it was the caressing touch of her hand, which
had been once or twice laid upon mine while begging for the spoon--but,
before saying good-night and going to my hut, I asked Mapana if she
would like to be saluted in the fashion of my country. She assented
with a smile. I stooped towards her, placed my hands upon her
shoulders, and kissed her upon the cheek and lips. Never was caress
more sweet! I don't think Mapana thought so badly of it either; there
was no sign of displeasure in her dark eyes. Her maidens were rather
startled, and ejaculated some very astonished `ous'; but they were very
discreet.
"Before I quitted her, I asked Mapana to lend me the old book on
Falconry. I wanted to examine it more closely. On my promising to
deliver it to her again, she sent for it, and placed it in my hands. I
went back to my hut, put the book into my saddle-bag till morning, and
quickly fell into a sound slumber.
"I saw little of Mapana till next evening. She was bathing with her
women at a lagoon in the morning. Then a council of headmen was held,
chiefly to discuss my visit; this lasted some hours. I wandered quietly
about the village, escorted by two tribesmen; saw that the horses were
well fed and cared for, looked at our rifles, and waited rather
impatiently for another audience with Mapana. During the afternoon the
Bushmen left the town. They had soon tired of its attractions, and
yearned to be in the veldt again.
"It was not till nightfall that Mapana sent for me. I supped with her
again by the fire in front of her hut, and again we had coffee and much
laughter together. She was in curious spirits; sometimes rippling over
with fun and a sort of naive coquetry; at others, looking serious and
thoughtful, and even, as I thought, a little askance at me. I lighted
my pipe and began to smoke. Presently she sat herself a little nearer
to me and spoke.
"`My headmen,' she said, `want to know if you have come to stay long
among us, Kareesa,' (so she pronounced my name); `I could not tell them
this morning. What does Kareesa say? I tire of ruling these people
alone. I want a man to help me. Seleni hopes to become that man; but
Seleni--well, I love not Seleni over-much. Why should not Kareesa join
his lot with mine and share my power?' Mapana looked more beautiful
than ever, I thought, at that moment; she was very serious, and her dark
eyes were turned almost beseechingly to mine. Half barbarian though she
was, I never could forget that white blood ran strong within her; and in
mere looks alone there was enough to tempt many a better man than I, who
was already more than half in love with her.
"I knew not what to say, but was about to stumble into some sort of
speech. She leaned yet nearer, and placed a hand gently upon my arm.
At that instant a sharp whistle, which I knew to be April's, and April's
only, smote my ears. I half turned round. As I did so, an arrow grazed
the breast of my flannel shirt and drove deep into the left bosom of
Mapana. She uttered a little choking cry, and fell into my arms, a
dying woman. I could not let her go in her last agony, poor soul; yet I
knew there was deadly danger about me even as I supported her. Those
moments were like some vile and terrible dream. In a second or two
another arrow transfixed the fleshy part of my upper arm. Almost at the
same instant the report of a rifle rang out; there was a cry, and a
fall, and I knew Mapana was avenged--by April.
"Next came April's voice: `Baas, Baas, are you there? Come quickly.'
"I cried out: `All right; I'm coming;' and then looked into my poor lost
Mapana's face again. She had given a shiver or two, a last struggle,
and was now dead in my arms. I laid her quietly upon the earth and
kissed her brow. She had in her hands, poor thing, as she often had,
the old sword. Her grip upon the scabbard was so strong that I could
not easily loosen it. I drew the blade quickly from the sheath, and
with one last look at her as she lay, still wonderfully beautiful even
in death, I left Mapana.
"Meanwhile, the whole town was in a frightful uproar. Poor Mapana's
women were shrieking in her hut. Men's voices were yelling excitedly in
different directions. War-drums were beating already.
"I rushed to the _kotla_ entrance. April was there with the two horses,
saddled and bridled, and our rifles both loaded. First, I made him
break and draw the arrow from my arm. He pointed to the body of Seleni,
whom he had shot dead just as he fired his second arrow at me. We
jumped into our saddles and galloped straight for the river. It was our
only chance. By great good luck we reached the banks safely, swam our
horses across, and chanced the crocodiles. Once on the other side, we
cantered steadily, all through the night, due south. At early morning
we swam the river again, much against the grain, and then, after an
hour's rest in thick bush, steadily continued our flight, now more to
the eastward. To cut a long story short, by dint of nursing our nags,
we made good our escape, reached the wagons in safety, and trekked hard
till we had put a hundred and fifty miles between us and Umfanziland.
"Whether the Umfanzis followed us or not, I don't know. Quite possibly,
the death of Mapana, and the consequent turmoil, so bothered them that
they never did. Thanks to my idea of keeping our nags always saddled
and bridled, and to April's bravery and smartness, we escaped with our
lives.
"Poor dead Mapana! I shall never cease to mourn her as a good, and
true, and most bewitching woman. I admired her beauty and her kindly
heart. May she rest in peace!
"Well," ended Cressey, "that's my yarn. It's a curious one, isn't it?
If you are as dry as I am, you must want a whisky and seltzer. After
that, if you'll come to my bedroom, I'll show you the relics--the two
coins, the sword, and the book--I brought from Umfanziland."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Touching these same relics, which have proved undoubtedly to have once
belonged to Prince Maurice of the Rhine, they now adorn the collection
of a great personage, and are greatly treasured.
As for the descent of poor Mapana--whether she and her forefathers truly
sprang, as she claimed, from Prince Maurice himself--that is a mystery
dead with her dead self, never to be clearly explained on this side the
dark portals.