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

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Ebook has 365 lines and 18565 words, and 8 pages

"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."

He had entered the presence of Ned and his followers the most woebegone and shivering wretch that ever stood on the gallows. But the sight of their stalwart forms and resolute faces restored his confidence. It was like a reprieve to the condemned felon, a week's engagement to the needy and improvident actor. From abject terror he bounded into the regions of insufferable assurance, like an inflated air-ball.

He insisted on reciting his epic before he took his departure, and dwelt lingeringly over its choice language and far-fetched imagery. Fortunately it was brief, for he was one of these poets whose muse is gaspy in her leaps, as well as obscure in her metaphor and phrases. Like a small phial, his mind could not carry or give much at a time, but he fondly believed that what he gave was quintessence. His thoughts were aged, stale, and feeble, but he dressed them well, and considered, as so many of our moderns do, that the dressing was all that need be considered or admitted. Our heroes bore the infliction meekly, for they remembered their own lost and adored diary; but Pylea and her companions, and also the Kaffirs, yawned most rudely.

Ned, thinking to please this royal poet, further presented to him a spare compass which he had, also a revolver and a rifle, with some ammunition. Sotu accepted the compass with effusive thanks, but he shuddered and recoiled before the other gifts.

"Send these to the queen; she will appreciate them, and they may soften her wrath, after you are gone. Meantime I must go, as I have to superintend my cooks. There is a new dish which I am introducing tonight from an ancient formula, and I find wonderful amusement in preparing it."

"Indeed," answered Ned, politely. "What is it?"

"The forgotten art of cooking quails. We pluck and partly boil them alive in oil before stuffing and roasting them. The natural juices are thus retained, and the flesh is tenderer than by keeping them until stale."

"Ah!" murmured Ned, trusting in his heart that this refined cook might also have a little slow boiling in oil before he was too stale.

"I have invented some pots, with lids specially contrived to keep the birds' heads outside. We plunge their bodies in the cold oil, and bring it very gradually to the boiling-point. We are able to tell in this way when they are sufficiently done, and that is the instant they expire. It is a pleasant sight to watch their heads during the process."

"Is it, sire? For the watcher, or for the birds?"

"The watcher, of course," replied the king, smiling, as he caught what he thought was the joke. "We remove them then, stuff them with garlic, pine-apple, and bananas, and slightly roast them within tamarisk leaves. I shall send you a dish of them tonight. They are most delicate in flavour and rarely succulent."

Ned bowed. He felt like kicking this callous and cowardly fiend, but policy forced him to dissemble.

"It will be also strictly necessary for you to take with you some royal gifts, so as to give colour to your leaving. I have control of the queen's treasure-house, and I shall attend to this, and send you some of our artwork in gold, with a few good stones. I shall also give you, as a parting gift from myself, some dainties of my own preparing to partake of on your journey."

Sotu smiled gently as he said these words, and took his departure.

"Have nothing to do with the king's quails and dainties. He is an adept at poisoning, and he only smiles like that when he meditates torture and death," said Pylea, earnestly, as soon as the royal wretch had gone.

"He is a genial gentleman," replied Ned, lightly. "I wonder he hasn't long since poisoned his wife."

"He dare not, for his own sake. When she dies his daughter will reign, and her first act will be to strangle her father."

"Blessed King Sotu!--happy land!" said our heroes.

Our heroes emptied the eatables out on a shrub-covered part of the garden, but the dishes they packed up with the other articles of virtu. There were a water bag full of large diamonds, and over three hundredweight of cups, vases, and images of gods made from the purest gold. The hearts of our adventurers beat lightly as they distributed this precious weight amongst their packages.

Six hours after this they paced the ground and watched the illuminated palaces from the walls of their garden, in a fever of unrest and anxiety. Their hopes were all depending upon the self-restraint of this hopeless drunkard, and Pylea. Would she succeed?

The full moon shone over the city, so beautiful and stately, with its carved and painted walls, delicious gardens, deep canals, arches, and wide steps; on its monuments, obelisks, sphinxes, and mighty temples; on its crowded, broad avenued streets and gleaming lake beyond, where floated the sloping-prowed barges, with their awnings and gilded saloons.

Would Pylea succeed and secure the ring? The chariots were standing laden inside the garden walls, ready for the leopards to be harnessed to them. The young amazons were fondling the fed and tamed beasts in their cages within the stables, or walking beside their sable friends in the side avenues. They were bidding the handsome Kaffirs, whom they could not keep, farewell. Womanlike, they would rather see them go than see them owned by more powerful rivals. But they were grave and melancholy at the coming sacrifice, and did not resent the dark manly arms that were round their armoured waists. Doubtless they were listening to words that they would not soon forget.

Gradually the streets emptied, and chariots rolled from the palace gates, drawn by the amazons who had been guests of the queen and king. Only the husbands were left behind with Sotu. The queen had retired. Another hour of fearful suspense passed, and then Pylea appeared with the signet-ring. King Sotu had kept his word for once in his aimless life.

THE ESCAPE.

Swiftly and silently the leopards were harnessed to the chariots. Then each amazon took the reins, and, with her particular friend beside her, drove through the gates and into the almost deserted streets.

It was two hours past midnight now, and the citizens, with the exception of the guards and the male revellers, were long since asleep.

A lovely night for a drive, for young people particularly. Only the roaring of the confined beasts, with the calling of the frogs in the papyrus reeds, could be heard. Serene and mellow the moon looked down from a cloudless sky upon the restful city, the empty wharfs and stairs, and the fringe-lined lake, where also slept their god-ships, the crocodiles. It was a splendid country for women, cats, crocodiles, serpents, and other sacred and venerated things, but not so favourable to men. Our adventurers were leaving it gladly.

At the outer gate they had a little trouble, as Pylea had expected.

The commandress chanced to be one of the ladies who had decided to compete in the lists on the morrow. She had fixed her discriminating eyes upon Cocoeni, and when roused up by a subordinate, regarded the exodus with gloomy suspicion.

The order, however, was so definite, and the signet-ring beyond dispute; yet she wanted some particulars.

"It is the written command of Queen Isori, that these strangers pass through without delay. They go to offer sacrifice to their gods in the desert before the contest," added Pylea, with a dig of her heel at Ned, who crouched behind.

"Yes, dauntless captain," said Ned. "Your gods are not our gods, nor your customs ours."

"Are these the sacrifices you take with you?" asked the stately amazon, pointing to the packages.

"Yes," answered Ned, brazenly, "our offerings are all there."

"It is strange, for I was with the queen before supper, and she said nothing of this. Let me send a messenger to her."

"Humph! it is my duty; pass on."

Ned waited with Pylea to see the other chariots go through. As they did so, the native amazon looked at each one keenly.

"Stop!" she cried, as Cocoeni was passing; "this is the man I have chosen to fight with. Step forth and let me look at you."

"Get out and satisfy the captain, Cocoeni," said Ned. "Show your muscles, and be quick about it."

Cocoeni rose, nothing loth, and stalked up to the side of the amazon. She turned him round, feeling his biceps critically, as an intending purchaser might examine a horse. Standing side by side, their heads were on a level, a splendid pair as to height and breadth of shoulders. But the woman had seen more than thirty summers, whereas Cocoeni was her junior by many years.

"You are a fine fellow, yet I think I can throw you," she said, while her black eyes sparkled with admiration. "Will you try once with me now?"

"Shall I, baas?"

"Yes," answered Ned. "Get her on the other side of the gate, over by the green bank, while we all pass through. Then, don't waste any time, grip her quick and pitch her into the lake, if you can. It will create a diversion."

He gave these instructions, in English; then, turning to the warlike dame, he said mildly in her language--

"The lord Cocoeni will take up your offer, brave lady; but as I have no desire to see either of you hurt on the hard stones, and so spoil our sport when the day comes, I fix upon yonder soft sward as the ground. One throw only."

"So let it be."

The dame retired for a moment to prepare herself and do up her hair. She had been standing up to now in her night costume.

While she was absent, Pylea whispered something to one of her band. The girl nodded, and, turning her chariot, darted back the way they came.

"Where is she going?" asked Ned.

"To keep watch in the shadows," whispered Pylea. "This woman is my aunt, therefore I know her well. She will send a messenger to the palace while she delays us, and that messenger must be stopped."

"Oh! Cannot we make a bolt for it while she is inside?"

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