THE EMBASSY
The ceremonies were over and the priests, with the exception of Harût
and two who remained to attend upon him, vanished, probably to inform
the male and female hierophants of their result, and through these the
whole people of the White Kendah. Old Harût stared at us for a little
while, then said in English, which he always liked to talk when Ragnall
was present, perhaps for the sake of practice:
“What you like do now, eh? P’r’aps wish fly back to Town of Child, for
suppose this how you come. If so, please take me with you, because that
save long ride.”
“Oh! no,” I answered. “We walked here through that hole where lived the
Father of Snakes who died of fear when he saw us, and just mixed with
the rest of you in the court of the temple.”
“Good lie,” said Harût admiringly, “very first-class lie! Wonder how
you kill great snake, which we all think never die, for he live there
hundred, hundred years; our people find him there when first they come
to this country, and make him kind of god. Well, he nasty beast and
best dead. I say, you like see Child? If so, come, for you our brothers
now, only please take off hat and not speak.”
I intimated that we should “like see Child,” and led by Harût we
entered the little sanctuary which was barely large enough to hold all
of us. In a niche of the end wall stood the sacred effigy which Ragnall
and I examined with a kind of reverent interest. It proved to be the
statue of an infant about two feet high, cut, I imagine, from the base
of a single but very large elephant’s tusk, so ancient that the
yellowish ivory had become rotten and was covered with a multitude of
tiny fissures. Indeed, for its appearance I made up my mind that
several thousands of years must have passed since the beast died from
which this ivory was taken, especially as it had, I presume, always
been carefully preserved under cover.
The workmanship of the object was excellent, that of a fine artist who,
I should think, had taken some living infant for his model, perhaps a
child of the Pharaoh of the day. Here I may say at once that there
could be no doubt of its Egyptian origin, since on one side of the head
was a single lock of hair, while the fourth finger of the right hand
was held before the lips as though to enjoin silence. Both of these
peculiarities, it will be remembered, are characteristic of the infant
Horus, the child of Osiris and Isis, as portrayed in bronzes and temple
carvings. So at least Ragnall, who recently had studied many such
effigies in Egypt, informed me later. There was nothing else in the
place except an ancient, string-seated chair of ebony, adorned with
inlaid ivory patterns; an effigy of a snake in porcelain, showing that
serpent worship was in some way mixed up with their religion; and two
rolls of papyrus, at least that is what they looked like, which were
laid in the niche with the statue. These rolls, to my disappointment,
Harût refused to allow us to examine or even to touch.
After we had left the sanctuary I asked Harût when this figure was
brought to their land. He replied that it came when they came, at what
date he could not tell us as it was so long ago, and that with it came
the worship and the ceremonies of their religion.
In answer to further questions he added that this figure, which seemed
to be of ivory, contained the spirits which ruled the sun and the moon,
and through them the world. This, said Ragnall, was just a piece of
Egyptian theology, preserved down to our own times in a remote corner
of Africa, doubtless by descendants of dwellers on the Nile who had
been driven thence in some national catastrophe, and brought away with
them their faith and one of the effigies of their gods. Perhaps they
fled at the time of the Persian invasion by Cambyses.
After we had emerged from this deeply interesting shrine, which was
locked behind us, Harût led us, not through the passage connecting it
with the stone house that we knew was occupied by Ragnall’s wife in her
capacity as Guardian of the Child, or a latter-day personification of
Isis, Lady of the Moon, at which house he cast many longing glances,
but back through the two courts and the pylon to the gateway of the
temple. Here on the road by which we had entered the place, a fact
which we did not mention to him, he paused and addressed us.
“Lords,” he said, “now you and the People of the White Kendah are one;
your ends are their ends, your fate is their fate, their secrets are
your secrets. You, Lord Igeza, work for a reward, namely the person of
that lady whom we took from you on the Nile.”
“How did you do that?” interrupted Ragnall when I had interpreted.
“Lord, we watched you. We knew when you came to Egypt; we followed you
in Egypt, whither we had journeyed on our road to England once more to
seek our Oracles, till the day of our opportunity dawned. Then at night
we called her and she obeyed the call, as she must do whose mind we
have taken away—ask me not how—and brought her to dwell with us, she
who is marked from her birth with the holy sign and wears upon her
breast certain charmed stones and a symbol that for thousands of years
have adorned the body of the Child and those of its Oracles. Do you
remember a company of Arabs whom you saw riding on the banks of the
Great River on the day before the night when she was lost to you? We
were with that company and on our camels we bore her thence, happy and
unharmed to this our land, as I trust, when all is done, we shall bear
her back again and you with her.”
“I trust so also, for you have wrought me a great wrong,” said Ragnall
briefly, “perhaps a greater wrong than I know at present, for how came
it that my boy was killed by an elephant?”
“Ask that question of Jana and not of me,” Harût answered darkly. Then
he went on: “You also, Lord Macumazana, work for a reward, the
countless store of ivory which your eyes have beheld lying in the
burial place of elephants beyond the Tava River. When you have slain
Jana who watches the store, and defeated the Black Kendah who serve
him, it is yours and we will give you camels to bear it, or some of it,
for all cannot be carried, to the sea where it can be taken away in
ships. As for the yellow man, I think that he seeks no reward who soon
will inherit all things.”
“The old witch-doctor means that I am going to die,” remarked Hans
expectorating reflectively. “Well, Baas, I am quite ready, if only Jana
and certain others die first. Indeed I grow too old to fight and travel
as I used to do, and therefore shall be glad to pass to some land where
I become young again.”
“Stuff and rubbish!” I exclaimed, then turned and listened to Harût
who, not understanding our Dutch conversation, was speaking once more.
“Lords,” he said, “these paths which run east and west are the real
approach to the mountain top and the temple, not that which, as I
suppose, led you through the cave of the old serpent. The road to the
west, which wanders round the base of the hill to a pass in those
distant mountains and thence across the deserts to the north, is so
easy to stop that by it we need fear no attack. With this eastern road
the case is, however, different, as I shall now show you, if you will
ride with me.”
Then he gave some orders to two attendant priests who departed at a run
and presently reappeared at the head of a small train of camels which
had been hidden, I know not where. We mounted and, following the road
across a flat piece of ground, found that not more than half a mile
away was another precipitous ridge of rock which had presumably once
formed the lip of an outer crater. This ridge, however, was broken away
for a width of two or three hundred yards, perhaps by some outrush of
lava, the road running through the centre of the gap on which schanzes
had been built here and there for purposes of defence. Looking at these
I saw that they were very old and inefficient and asked when they had
been erected. Harût replied about a century before when the last war
took place with the Black Kendah, who had been finally driven off at
this spot, for then the White Kendah were more numerous than at
present.
“So Simba knows this road?” I said.
“Yes, Lord, and Jana knows it also, for he fought in that war and still
at times visits us here and kills any whom he may meet. Only to the
temple he has never dared to come.”
Now I wondered whether we had really seen Jana in the forest on the
previous night, but coming to the conclusion that it was useless to
investigate the matter, made no inquiries, especially as these would
have revealed to Harût the route by which we approached the temple.
Only I pointed out to him that proper defences should be put up here
without delay, that is if they meant to make a stronghold of the
mountain.
“We do, Lord,” he answered, “since we are not strong enough to attack
the Black Kendah in their own country or to meet them in pitched battle
on the plain. Here and in no other place must be fought the last fight
between Jana and the Child. Therefore it will be your task to build
walls cunningly, so that when they come we may defeat Jana and the
hosts of the Black Kendah.”
“Do you mean that this elephant will accompany Simba and his soldiers,
Harût?”
“Without doubt, Lord, since he has always done so from the beginning.
Jana is tame to the king and certain priests of the Black Kendah, whose
forefathers have fed him for generations, and will obey their orders.
Also he can think for himself, being an evil spirit and invulnerable.”
“His left eye and the tip of his trunk are not invulnerable,” I
remarked, “though from what I saw of him I should say there is no doubt
about his being able to think for himself. Well, I am glad the brute is
coming as I have an account to settle with him.”
“As he, Lord, who does not forget, has an account to settle with you
and your servant, Light-in-Darkness,” commented Harût in an unpleasant
and suggestive tone.
Then after we had taken a few measurements and Ragnall, who understands
such matters, had drawn a rough sketch of the place in his pocket-book
to serve as data for our proposed scheme of fortifications, we pursued
our journey back to the town, where we had left all our stores and
there were many things to be arranged. It proved to be quite a long
ride, down the eastern slope of the mountain which was easy to
negotiate, although like the rest of this strange hill it was covered
with dense cedar forests that also seemed to me to have defensive
possibilities. Reaching its foot at length we were obliged to make a
detour by certain winding paths to avoid ground that was too rough for
the camels, so that in the end we did not come to our own house in the
Town of the Child till about midday.
Glad enough were we to reach it, since all three of us were tired out
with our terrible night journey and the anxious emotions that we had
undergone. Indeed, after we had eaten we lay down and I rejoiced to see
that, notwithstanding the state of mental excitement into which the
discovery of his wife had plunged him, Ragnall was the first of us to
fall asleep.
About five o’clock we were awakened by a messenger from Harût, who
requested our attendance on important business at a kind of
meeting-house which stood at a little distance on an open place where
the White Kendah bartered produce. Here we found Harût and about twenty
of the headmen seated in the shade of a thatched roof, while behind
them, at a respectful distance, stood quite a hundred of the White
Kendah. Most of these, however, were women and children, for as I have
said the greater part of the male population was absent from the town
because of the commencement of the harvest.
We were conducted to chairs, or rather stools of honour, and when we
two had seated ourselves, Hans taking his stand behind us, Harût rose
and informed us that an embassy had arrived from the Black Kendah which
was about to be admitted.
Presently they came, five of them, great, truculent-looking fellows of
a surprising blackness, unarmed, for they had not been allowed to bring
their weapons into the town, but adorned with the usual silver chains
across their breasts to show their rank, and other savage finery. In
the man who was their leader I recognized one of those messengers who
had accosted us when first we entered their territory on our way from
the south, before that fight in which I was taken prisoner. Stepping
forward and addressing himself to Harût, he said:
“A while ago, O Prophet of the Child, I, the messenger of the god Jana,
speaking through the mouth of Simba the King, gave to you and your
brother Marût a certain warning to which you did not listen. Now Jana
has Marût, and again I come to warn you, Harût.”
“If I remember right,” interrupted Harût blandly, “I think that on that
occasion two of you delivered the message and that the Child marked one
of you upon the brow. If Jana has my brother, say, where is yours?”
“We warned you,” went on the messenger, “and you cursed us in the name
of the Child.”
“Yes,” interrupted Harût again, “we cursed you with three curses. The
first was the curse of Heaven by storm or drought, which has fallen
upon you. The second was the curse of famine, which is falling upon
you; and the third was the curse of war, which is yet to fall on you.”
“It is of war that we come to speak,” replied the messenger,
diplomatically avoiding the other two topics which perhaps he found it
awkward to discuss.
“That is foolish of you,” replied the bland Harût, “seeing that the
other day you matched yourselves against us with but small success.
Many of you were killed but only a very few of us, and the white lord
whom you took captive escaped out of your hands and from the tusks of
Jana who, I think, now lacks an eye. If he is a god, how comes it that
he lacks an eye and could not kill an unarmed white man?”
“Let Jana answer for himself, as he will do ere long, O Harût.
Meanwhile, these are the words of Jana spoken through the mouth of
Simba the King: The Child has destroyed my harvest and therefore I
demand this of the people of the Child—that they give me three-fourths
of their harvest, reaping the same and delivering it on the south bank
of the River Tava. That they give me the two white lords to be
sacrificed to me. That they give the white lady who is Guardian of the
Child to be a wife of Simba the King, and with her a hundred virgins of
your people. That the image of the Child be brought to the god Jana in
the presence of his priests and Simba the King. These are the demands
of Jana spoken through the mouth of Simba the King.”
Watching, I saw a thrill of horror shake the forms of Harût and of all
those with him as the full meaning of these, to them, most impious
requests sank into their minds. But he only asked very quietly:
“And if we refuse the demands, what then?”
“Then,” shouted the messenger insolently, “then Jana declares war upon
you, the last war of all, war till every one of your men be dead and
the Child you worship is burnt to grey ashes with fire. War till your
women are taken as slaves and the corn which you refuse is stored in
our grain pits and your land is a waste and your name forgotten.
Already the hosts of Jana are gathered and the trumpet of Jana calls
them to the fight. To-morrow or the next day they advance upon you, and
ere the moon is full not one of you will be left to look upon her.”
Harût rose, and walking from under the shed, turned his back upon the
envoys and stared at the distant line of great mountains which stood
out far away against the sky. Out of curiosity I followed him and
observed that these mountains were no longer visible. Where they had
been was nothing but a line of black and heavy cloud. After looking for
a while he returned and addressing the envoys, said quite casually:
“If you will be advised by me, friends, you will ride hard for the
river. There is such rain upon the mountains as I have never seen
before, and you will be fortunate if you cross it before the flood
comes down, the greatest flood that has happened in our day.”
This intelligence seemed to disturb the messengers, for they too
stepped out of the shed and stared at the mountains, muttering to each
other something that I could not understand. Then they returned and
with a fine appearance of indifference demanded an immediate answer to
their challenge.
“Can you not guess it?” answered Harût. Then changing his tone he drew
himself to his full height and thundered out at them: “Get you back to
your evil spirit of a god that hides in the shape of a beast of the
forest and to his slave who calls himself a king, and say to them:
‘Thus speaks the Child to his rebellious servants, the Black Kendah
dogs: Swim my river when you can, which will not be yet, and come up
against me when you will; for whenever you come I shall be ready for
you. You are already dead, O Jana. You are already dead, O Simba the
slave. You are scattered and lost, O dogs of the Black Kendah, and the
home of such of you as remain shall be far away in a barren land, where
you must dig deep for water and live upon the wild game because there
little corn will grow.’ Now begone, and swiftly, lest you stop here for
ever.”
So they turned and went, leaving me full of admiration for the
histrionic powers of Harût.
I must add, however, that being without doubt a keen observer of the
weather conditions of the neighbourhood, he was quite right about the
rain upon the mountains, which by the way never extended to the
territory of the People of the Child. As we heard afterwards, the flood
came down just as the envoys reached the river; indeed, one of them was
drowned in attempting its crossing, and for fourteen days after this it
remained impassable to an army.
That very evening we began our preparations to meet an attack which was
now inevitable. Putting aside the supposed rival powers of the tribal
divinities worshipped under the names of the Child and Jana, which,
while they added a kind of Homeric interest to the contest, could, we
felt, scarcely affect an issue that must be decided with cold steel and
other mortal weapons, the position of the White Kendah was serious
indeed. As I think I have said, in all they did not number more than
about two thousand men between the ages of twenty and fifty-five, or,
including lads between fourteen and twenty and old men still
able-bodied between fifty-five and seventy, say two thousand seven
hundred capable of some sort of martial service. To these might be
added something under two thousand women, since among this dwindling
folk, oddly enough, from causes that I never ascertained, the males
out-numbered the females, which accounted for their marriage customs
that were, by comparison with those of most African peoples,
monogamous. At any rate only the rich among them had more than one
wife, while the poor or otherwise ineligible often had none at all,
since inter-marriage with other races and above all with the Black
Kendah dwelling beyond the river was so strictly taboo that it was
punishable with death or expulsion.
Against this little band the Black Kendah could bring up twenty
thousand men, besides boys and aged persons who with the women would
probably be left to defend their own country, that is, not less than
ten to one. Moreover, all of these enemies would be fighting with the
courage of despair, since quite three-fourths of their crops with many
of their cattle and sheep had been destroyed by the terrific hail-burst
that I have described. Therefore, since no other corn was available in
the surrounding land, where they dwelt alone encircled by deserts,
either they must capture that of the White Kendah, or suffer terribly
from starvation until a year later when another harvest ripened.
The only points I could see in favour of the People of the Child were
that they would fight on the vantage ground of their mountain
stronghold, a formidable position if properly defended. Also they would
have the benefit of the skill and knowledge of Ragnall and myself.
Lastly, the enemy must face our rifles. Neither the White nor the Black
Kendah, I should say, possessed any guns, except a few antiquated
flintlock weapons that the former had captured from some nomadic tribe
and kept as curiosities. Why this was the case I do not know, since
undoubtedly at times the White Kendah traded in camels and corn with
Arabs who wandered as far as the Sudan, or Egypt, nomadic tribes to
whom even then firearms were known, although perhaps rarely used by
them. But so it was, possibly because of some old law or prejudice
which forbade their introduction into the country, or mayhap of the
difficulty of procuring powder and lead, or for the reason that they
had none to teach them the use of such new-fangled weapons.
Now it will be remembered that, on the chance of their proving useful,
Ragnall, in addition to our own sporting rifles, had brought with him
to Africa fifty Snider rifles with an ample supply of ammunition, the
same that I had trouble in passing through the Customs at Durban, all
of which had arrived safely at the Town of the Child. Clearly our first
duty was to make the best possible use of this invaluable store. To
that end I asked Harût to select seventy-five of the boldest and most
intelligent young men among his people, and to hand them over to me and
Hans for instruction in musketry. We had only fifty rifles but I
drilled seventy-five men, or fifty per cent. more, that some might be
ready to replace any who fell.
From dawn to dark each day Hans and I worked at trying to convert these
Kendah into sharpshooters. It was no easy task with men, however
willing, who till then had never held a gun, especially as I must be
very sparing of the ammunition necessary to practice, of which of
course our supply was limited. Still we taught them how to take cover,
how to fire and to cease from firing at a word of command, also to hold
the rifles low and waste no shot. To make marksmen of them was more
than I could hope to do under the circumstances.
With the exception of these men nearly the entire male population were
working day and night to get in the harvest. This proved a very
difficult business, both because some of the crops were scarcely fit
and because all the grain had to be carried on camels to be stored in
and at the back of the second court of the temple, the only place where
it was likely to be safe. Indeed in the end a great deal was left
unreaped. Then the herds of cattle and breeding camels which grazed on
the farther sides of the Holy Mount must be brought into places of
safety, glens in the forest on its slope, and forage stacked to feed
them. Also it was necessary to provide scouts to keep watch along the
river.
Lastly, the fortifications in the mountain pass required unceasing
labour and attention. This was the task of Ragnall, who fortunately in
his youth, before he succeeded unexpectedly to the title, was for some
years an officer in the Royal Engineers and therefore thoroughly
understood that business. Indeed he understood it rather too well,
since the result of his somewhat complicated and scientific scheme of
defence was a little confusing to the simple native mind. However, with
the assistance of all the priests and of all the women and children who
were not engaged in provisioning the Mount, he built wall after wall
and redoubt after redoubt, if that is the right word, to say nothing of
the shelter trenches he dug and many pitfalls, furnished at the bottom
with sharp stakes, which he hollowed out wherever the soil could be
easily moved, to discomfit a charging enemy.
Indeed, when I saw the amount of work he had concluded in ten days,
which was not until I joined him on the mountain, I was quite
astonished.
About this time a dispute arose as to whether we should attempt to
prevent the Black Kendah from crossing the river which was now running
down, a plan that some of the elders favoured. At last the controversy
was referred to me as head general and I decided against anything of
the sort. It seemed to me that our force was too small, and that if I
took the rifle-men a great deal of ammunition might be expended with
poor result. Also in the event of any reverse or when we were finally
driven back, which must happen, there might be difficulty about
remounting the camels, our only means of escape from the horsemen who
would possibly gallop us down. Moreover the Tava had several fords, any
one of which might be selected by the enemy. So it was arranged that we
should make our first and last stand upon the Holy Mount.
On the fourteenth night from new moon our swift camel-scouts who were
posted in relays between the Tava and the Mount reported that the Black
Kendah were gathered in thousands upon the farther side of the river,
where they were engaged in celebrating magical ceremonies. On the
fifteenth night the scouts reported that they were crossing the river,
about five thousand horsemen and fifteen thousand foot soldiers, and
that at the head of them marched the huge god-elephant Jana, on which
rode Simba the King and a lame priest (evidently my friend whose foot
had been injured by the pistol), who acted as a mahout. This part of
the story I confess I did not believe, since it seemed to me impossible
that anyone could ride upon that mad rogue, Jana. Yet, as subsequent
events showed, it was in fact true. I suppose that in certain hands the
beast became tame. Or perhaps it was drugged.
Two nights later, for the Black Kendah advanced but slowly, spreading
themselves over the country in order to collect such crops as had not
been gathered through lack of time or because they were still unripe,
we saw flames and smoke arising from the Town of the Child beneath us,
which they had fired. Now we knew that the time of trial had come and
until near midnight men, women and children worked feverishly finishing
or trying to finish the fortifications and making every preparation in
our power.
Our position was that we held a very strong post, that is, strong
against an enemy unprovided with big guns or even firearms, which, as
all other possible approaches had been blocked, was only assailable by
direct frontal attack from the east. In the pass we had three main
lines of defence, one arranged behind the other and separated by
distances of a few hundred yards. Our last refuge was furnished by the
walls of the temple itself, in the rear of which were camped the whole
White Kendah tribe, save a few hundred who were employed in watching
the herds of camels and stock in almost inaccessible positions on the
northern slopes of the Mount.
There were perhaps five thousand people of both sexes and every age
gathered in this camp, which was so well provided with food and water
that it could have stood a siege of several months. If, however, our
defences should be carried there was no possibility of escape, since we
learned from our scouts that the Black Kendah, who by tradition and
through spies were well acquainted with every feature of the country,
had detached a party of several thousand men to watch the western road
and the slopes of the mountain, in case we should try to break out by
that route. The only one remaining, that which ran through the cave of
the serpent, we had taken the precaution of blocking up with great
stones, lest through it our flank should be turned.
In short, we were rats in a trap and where we were there we must either
conquer or die—unless indeed we chose to surrender, which for most of
us would mean a fate worse than death.