Read Ebook: The Empire Makers: A Romance of Adventure and War in South Africa by Nesbit Hume

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 365 lines and 18565 words, and 8 pages

in every land under the sun, except the Transvaal.

It was a much more extensive reception-hall than the dining chamber, vast although that was.

Four lines of columns with lotus capitals supported the flat roof. The walls were richly covered with varied coloured enamels and plated gold; the floor was of highly polished marble or granite of different tints wrought in subtle patterns of mosaic. It was a noble throne-room, the vast proportions of which dwarfed the humanity that it was meant to hold.

Five thousand amazonian captains, officers, and female grandees were assembled, besides the priestesses and other civic dignitaries. There were also the obsequious husbands, in dutiful attendance upon these their imperious mistresses. These, with the waiting slaves and court musicians, brought up the number present to considerably over twelve thousand. Yet there were wide spaces between the pillars, and our heroes with their followers were by no means crowded.

The queen and king sat on two thrones, side by side, only her throne was elevated several steps above his, and of a much more gorgeous description.

Fifty broad but shallow steps led from the hall up to the platform on which the thrones were placed. At each corner of the steps crouched sphinxes, as large as full grown lions, made from beaten gold. The throne of the queen, with its canopy and dais, were composed entirely of exquisitely carved ivory, encrusted with diamonds. That of the king was of gold, and, beyond the back, had no canopy.

Queen Isori had been bathed, perfumed, and re-costumed since our heroes had last seen her. She now appeared more like the conventional woman, and less like the paladin.

Her jet black hair was plaited, and hung down over her shoulders in two thick links, being placed also low on her broad forehead. Above this sat her serpent tiara.

Her superb arms were naked to the shoulders, except for the jewelled bracelets and wristlets that she wore. One breast was also bare, the other being covered with golden scales. Large ear-rings rested against her cheeks, and a wide necklet of diamonds and a Scarabaeus made of emerald, as a pendant, encircled her smooth neck. From the snake zone round her waist, to her jewelled sandals, fell a robe of diaphanous and changing silk in numerous folds, which, closely plaited as these were, still exhibited her limbs beneath. In her right hand she held a sceptre of ivory, gold, and jewels, while at her sides kneeled eight slaves fanning her with large peacock feathers. In front of them crouched two living lions and four leopards.

KING SOTU TO THE RESCUE.

This was the gorgeous spectacle that greeted our adventurers as they were led by Pylea and her young warriors through the staring crowd of Karnadamains.

They paused at the bottom of the steps to make their best bow, yet they did not attempt to kneel as the amazons were doing.

The queen looked them over leisurely for a full minute, then she slowly extended her arm and lowered her sceptre towards them; as she raised it again, Pylea and her followers stood up.

"You are welcome, strangers, to our court," she said, in that clear, penetrating voice, so distinct yet so coldly smooth. "Approach, young chief," she added, pointing to Ned, who slowly went up the steps until he was a few feet from the lions and leopards; then he prudently paused.

"We have not beheld a man like you before. You are young and strong and, we hear, can fight. We are pleased with you."

Ned bowed and blushed deeply.

"You have a request to make to us. Reveal it without delay."

Ned cleared his throat, and, in the most flowing terms at his command, said that, having seen her greatness and been blinded by her glory and majesty, he was more than satisfied, and would fain take his departure, with his followers.

Her majesty frowned as she listened to this request, and when it was finished, she said in the some even tones--

"That may be, stranger. But many of my warriors require husbands, as they will be widows presently."

She looked round the hall with a slight smile, embracing Sotu in that sweeping glance before she stared once more at Ned. Poor Sotu shrank on his throne, while the male portion of the audience shook visibly.

"We hear you do not spend your leisure hours composing poetry and drinking wine, but that you run and wrestle as our women do. This is a new experience to us, of mankind, and we desire to see more of it."

Like Napoleon the First, and some other great people, Queen Isori was accustomed to utter her thoughts and wishes without the slightest regard for her audience. She continued, as clearly and smoothly as before--

"This is our pleasure. Tomorrow we shall hold a tournament of racing and wrestling. We choose you as our antagonist, and those of our warriors who have had enough of their present husbands shall select a man from your followers. If you prevail over us, then we shall be your servants; but if we prevail over you, then you shall be our servants to do with as we please. I have spoken. You may kiss my hand."

Yes; she had spoken, Ned thought, as he bent over the shapely ring-covered fingers extended to him, and touched them with his lips. She had spoken, and placed him in about as bad a fix as Paul Kruger had done.

He glanced at Sotu as he hastily retreated from the vicinity of Isori and her wild beasts. The king sat in a limp state of collapse most pitiful to see. His under jaw had fallen, his black eyes showed a bloodshot rim right round them, his saffron cheeks were bleached, and his sharp nose was blue. Already he felt the fatal noose closing round his thirsty throat.

"King Sotu gives a feast tonight, and we have promised then to listen to his powerful epic. Those warriors who intend competing tomorrow will be excused from this evening's revel."

Calm and smooth as ever was that dismissal uttered. Ned and his chums quitted that glorious hall in desperation.

Pylea went with them, with her company. They were all very silent and grave as they passed along the streets; nor did they utter a word until they were inside the garden walls. Then Ned could contain his feelings no longer.

"See here, Pylea; I cannot stand this sort of arrangement. Poor images as King Sotu and the other objects are; this is playing it too rough on them, and on us also. The stakes are too heavy. As a good chum, give us your advice."

"Her majesty has snared you, my friends," replied Pylea, sadly. "Whether you win or lose, she will keep to her purpose; for she never changes. If you conquer her tomorrow, it will be all the same as if she conquered you, for she has promised nothing. The king is doomed."

"Then we must escape at once. Will you help us?" Pylea sat silent for a long time, looking at her comrades, then she said--

"The queen is immovable, but King Sotu is crafty, and may help us for his own sake. I dare not aid you by day, and no one can leave the city at night without an order from the queen, backed by her signet ring. Now, Sotu is his wife's secretary, and he alone dare approach her when she sleeps. Perhaps he will write this order and steal the ring. I shall go and see him while the queen is resting after her journey."

"Good. Meantime see that your chariots are ready and your leopards well fed, and we will pack up!" cried Ned.

"Do not stir from here till I come. If I can, I shall bring the king with me."

They had to wait a weary time before Pylea returned with her terror-stricken and dejected male monarch. As soon as Ned saw him he trailed him inside the hall and poured out a flagon of wine for him. This the king swallowed at a gulp, then he sank on a couch with a hollow groan.

"Pluck up, your majesty! If you help us to clear out tonight you'll live to compose many epics, odes, roundelays, and couplets yet. It only wants an effort, and a little wit."

"It requires more than all these to outwit Isori. I can write out the order--nay, it is here. I may also steal the ring while she sleeps if I can only keep sober enough. But 'tis of this I fear; how can I keep so, having to give a feast? Why did you come here to trouble me? Oh, that fatal epic! It has been my ruin."

"You must resist the amber and ruby for this once if you wish to have many more bowls. Let me tie this rope round your neck, and it will remind you of your doom if you swallow one cup too much."

"No, thanks!" cried Sotu, shrinking back.

"I shall go to the feast," said Pylea, quietly, "and guard you as much as I can. The queen will retire early. You must leave the feast immediately she goes; for a time, then I shall walk you about in the gardens till you are quite sober. After you get me the ring you may return to the table and enjoy yourself."

"And what about tomorrow?" asked the king, fearfully.

"If you do not get the ring tonight, sire, tomorrow you will be dead," answered Pylea, impressively.

"But who will take the blame?"

"I shall," answered Ned. "I shall write a letter to the queen, and return the ring after I have used it; she will then think that I have taken it. Only get it first, and then make yourself dead drunk afterwards. That will remove her suspicion, if she has any respecting you."

"I'll keep sober and do it," cried the king, almost resolutely. "Afterwards, perchance, I may empty a few goblets to avert suspicion. Pour me out another cup of wine."

"No more at present," said Pylea. "Remember what you have to do."

His majesty was used to being controlled by his female subjects, therefore did not repeat his request. He did not stay long, however, after the arrangements were completed.

The gods had gifted him, as they generally do limited and feeble minds, with an amazing amount of vanity and self-complacency. He possessed all the composure, easy assurance, and superciliousness of a tenth-rate actor, weak author, singer, or juvenile critic. He was like the rest of his class, utterly depraved in his habits and instincts; cruel, selfish, crafty, and cold by nature, as well as timid and treacherous. But he was a most highly educated dilettante, and a proficient in those small imitative arts and sciences which his warlike spouse so openly despised; he could paint well, cook well, and play well, according to the stiff, faulty, and formal laws of a limited past. Every art, science, and tradition in this country stood still. Nothing had progressed during the centuries in this land except the women. In fact, he patronised and dabbled in most of the refined branches of that effete civilisation. He had no sense of humour. Shallow-minded and conceited people never are witty, nor can they appreciate a subtile jest. He affected cynicism, but it was of the feeble and tasteless order. In matters of tradition and custom he was a dogged believer and slave. Strength and authority he cringed abjectly under. Insult passed over him like water from the back of a duck. When not under the immediate influence of fear, he was as impervious to all other emotions as consuming vanity could make him. He considered himself as the super-refined salt of the earth, and his wife as a superb animal, who pleased his artistic senses with her matchless charms, and protected him with her strength. He was supremely satisfied with himself, and also with her, and delighted to speak about and extol her superior points.

As for the other little drawbacks of his self-indulgent existence, his ignoble place and loss of dignity, he did not feel any more shame in the servitude than a flunkey can; while regarding his eventual destiny, as long as he did not feel the noose at his neck, he was as happily oblivious to it as the contented pig is amongst the acorns.

"Death comes to all alike, in some form or other," he would say cynically, when he saw the mummy-case sent round, "and we must pay some price for our pleasant lives."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet