These were already half-dead with fear, and could scarcely walk, but the blows of the slayers urged them onward until they stood right upon the spot whence they should leap into the jaws of the hungry alligators. We could see at a glance that they were slaves, and sadly, indeed, they looked. From the people we learned that these two, being in charge of a flock of the King"s goats, had suffered wild dogs to break into the fold at night, whereby upwards of a score were slain. So Umzilikazi, declaring that if his goats were only fit to feed wild dogs with, a.s.suredly to base Bakoni were only fit two feed alligators with; and they had been led forth.
Now, this scene did not move us in any way, _Nkose_, for the death of a slave more or less was nothing. But we just lingered to see these leap in.
Yet they would not. When driven to the edge they hung back, then cast themselves on the ground weeping and groaning for mercy. Already the surface of the pool below was alive with slimy, stealthy life. Widening lines upon the water told that the alligators well understood the cause of the tumult overhead. They moved silently to and fro, awaiting the plunge which should bring them the prey they had learned to love best-- the flesh of men.
Now the slayers had grasped the screaming wretches, and were about to fling them out, when between the cliff brow and the victims a figure suddenly sprang forth, arising, as it were, by magic. All gave a shout of wonder, and the executioners paused in their work. The black robe, the long, flowing beard, the countenance stamped with a great horror and pain, were known to all. It was the white _isa.n.u.si_.
"Hold! my children!" he cried. "Hold! I beg of you!"
The slayers hesitated, and growled to each other. With arms outstretched, there the white man stood on the cliff brow between the hideous, hungry reptiles and their weeping, shivering victims. To fling these in was impossible without flinging him in too.
"It is the King"s will, father," growled the chief of the slayers.
"Know you not that did we hesitate we should be even as these? Stand aside."
"Not yet, not yet," he pleaded; and there was weeping in his voice.
"Not yet. Wait--only until I hasten to the King! He will hear me, for he has given me the lives of such as these!"
"It may not be, father," was the answer, made now with more alarm.
"_Whau_! it is on us the _izingwenya_ will feed, if not on these. Stand now aside."
"Ah! have pity! Untuswa will take my side," he cried in a glad voice, catching sight of my face. "Stay their hands, Untuswa, if only for a while, till I bring back the King"s pardon."
"It may not be, father," I, too, replied. "The King"s sentence has been given. It is even as the men say. Their lives are as the lives of these if they hesitate. Would you doom to death many men where two will suffice? Let them do their work."
Now, I know not, _Nkose_, how this thing would have ended; for the white _isa.n.u.si_ still continued to stand and plead, and none dare remove him by force, remembering in what high honour he was held by the Great Great ONE. But just then loud shouting made itself heard upon the outskirts of the crowd, which bent low suddenly, like a forest struck by a gale.
And there advancing, with his head thrown back and a light in his eyes such as none of us cared to behold, came the Great Great One himself.
He stalked straight up to where stood the white _isa.n.u.si_, to where lay the doomed ones and the executioners, who, having hesitated to perform their work, counted themselves already dead. He was attended by the old _induna_ Mc.u.mbete, to whom he now turned.
"See," he said, in a voice which made many tremble, "I am no King. I am only the lowest of the Amaholi. For the word of a King is obeyed; yet my word, though long since uttered, is not obeyed. _Hau_! What sort of a King ami?"
And the terrible frown of anger upon his face took in the white man, even as it did ourselves.
"Mercy! Great Great One! Mercy for these!" cried the stranger, pointing to the doomed slaves.
We who watched trembled for the life of the speaker; those of us who did not tremble for our own--and of these there could be but few--for this was a terrible thing which had happened, such a thing as had never before been known, that any man, white or black, should dare to interfere between the King"s decrees and their execution. But still the white priest stood upon the brink of that grisly pool of death pleading forgiveness, not for himself, but for those two miserable slaves. Ha!
That was a sight indeed.
"You do not know us yet, O stranger!" went on Umzilikazi, now in bitter and sneering tones; "else had you not thought to save the lives of these two by any such means. For now have you doomed many to death, even all those whose errand it was to carry out my sentence and have allowed themselves to hesitate in doing so. For they, too, are dead men."
A gasp of horror, which was almost a sob, ran through the mult.i.tude.
The _izimbonga_ bellowed aloud in praise of the King"s justice; but even their voices were not without a quaver. But the white priest stood facing the angry countenance of the King; and upon his own was stamped a great and deep sadness, but never a trace of fear.
"Be merciful, thou ruler of a great nation!" he pleaded more earnestly.
"Mercy is the quality by which a King may show himself truly great. We have been friends. Oh, slay not these men, when the fault is entirely mine."
"Not entirely. The fault of the man who hesitates to obey my word is entirely his own, and the penalty thereof he knows," said Umzilikazi, pitilessly. "We have been friends, white stranger; but of what sort is the friendship which teaches those who are my dogs to laugh at me?
Friend as thou art, I know not how thine own life shall be left thee after such an act as this."
Something in the words seemed to strike the white _isa.n.u.si_. His face lightened up.
"See now, O King!" he replied. "The fault is mine. If I am a traitor in your eyes, who were my friend, take my life instead of the lives of these. Take my life, but spare theirs."
"Ha!"
The gasp of amazement which softly left the lips of the King was echoed by a shiver from the crouching mult.i.tude.
"Think carefully, O stranger," he said. "Look below. See the upturned glare of the alligators" eyes. Mark their number--their great size-- their hideous shapes. This is no pleasant or easy death."
"Nor is it for these, Great Great One," was the reply, with a sweep of the hand over the doomed men, who, victims and executioners alike, crouched motionless in the silence of despair. "And for them such a death may be more terrible than for myself, who humbly trust that it may be the opening of the gate of a new life whose glories are beyond words."
"I think words enough have been spoken upon this matter," said Umzilikazi, coldly. "Take thy choice, white _isa.n.u.si_. Thyself to the alligators--or these."
"My choice is made, Black Elephant."
"Leap, then!" said the King, with a wave of the hand towards the brink.
"I may not do that," was the reply, "for it would be to take my own life, which my teaching forbids. The slayers of the King must throw me in--that they themselves may live. But, first, I desire a few moments wherein to pray that the Great Great One above may receive my spirit."
To this Umzilikazi gave a.s.sent, and the white priest knelt down, and, drawing out the cross, with the Figure of a Man upon it, he kissed this.
And then, for the first time, some of us noticed that the sign he made upon himself with his hand more than once was in form even as that cross.
_Whau, Nkose_! that was a strange sight--stranger, I think, I never beheld. The sun was near his rest now, and his fading beams fell upon the surface of the hideous pool beneath, painting it and the numerous snouts of the hungry monsters lurking there as it were blood-red. And above the crouching, awe-stricken mult.i.tude--the only movement among which was the rolling of distended eyeb.a.l.l.s, the grovelling figures of the doomed ones, grey with fear, and not knowing yet if their lives would indeed be spared--the stern, upright figure of Umzilikazi, terrible in the offended majesty of his disobeyed commands, and the subdued, shrinking countenance of the old _induna_. And, in the midst of all, the kneeling priest, in his black, flowing robe, the tones of whose voice, rising and falling quickly in prayer, being the only sounds breaking in upon this dead and awesome silence. And to us who gazed it seemed as though a strange light rested upon the face of the white _isa.n.u.si_, imparting to it a look which had nothing in common with the set, motionless expression to be seen upon the face of a brave man doomed to die; but this might have been caused by the long rays of the setting sun darting upon it. At length he arose.
The King made a sign to the slayers. Not this time was any hesitation to be found among them. Leaping eagerly to their feet, they sprang forward and laid hands upon the white priest.
"A moment!" said this one, signing them back. "Bid me now farewell, son of Matyobane! for I wish thee no harm on account of my death, and for it I forgive thee freely. Nay, more, I thank thee for it! since, through it, thou sparest the lives of these, who number more than half a score."
He stretched forth his open hand. Umzilikazi grasped it, yet let it not go; and thus for a moment they stood, gazing into each other"s faces.
And that of the white man expressed the truth of his words; for in it was no evil look, no sign of fear, or of a desire for revenge. Still they stood thus, uttering no sound. The strain was becoming terrible.
In crushed, breathless silence the mult.i.tude hung upon what was to follow. Was the King bewitched? Could he not relax his grasp? A dull splash was heard beneath, as one of the alligators turned on the water.
And now the sun rested on the western heights, like a wheel of red flame. Then Umzilikazi spoke:
"The alligators may go hungry this night, for thou art a brave man, my father; too brave a man that thy life should pay for the miserable lives of such as these. Yet for thy sake I will spare them too, though I know not whether after doing so I am a King or as one of their dogs!--_Hau_!"
"A greater King than ever, son of Matyobane," was the reply, uttered solemnly. "The Great One above will bless thee, my friend."
Now the shouts of _bonga_ which rent the air were deafening, and from one end to the other of that vast mult.i.tude rolled the praises of the mercy of the King. And, indeed, it was wonderful, for this was the only occasion upon which I ever knew Umzilikazi spare any man when his "word"
had once gone forth that that man should die. And this time he had spared upwards of half a score, owing to the strange madness of a white priest who had offered to give his own life for theirs.
But some there were who murmured darkly that the King was bewitched, and among these were our own _iza.n.u.si_. Yet they dared not so whisper otherwise than darkly--ah, yes, very darkly indeed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE RETURN OF THE "SHE-EAGLE."