The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XXII.

  THE SHADOW OF THE MYSTERY.

  The next few days were spent by the Ba-gcatya in dancing andceremonial--and by Laurence Stanninghame in trying to find out all hecould about the Ba-gcatya. He laid himself out to make friends withthem, and this was easy, for the natural suspiciousness wherewith thesavage invariably regards a new acquaintance, once fairly laid to rest,the Ba-gcatya proved as chatty and genial a race of people as those ofthe original Zulu stock. But on one point the lips of old and youngalike were sealed, and that was the fate of Lutali. No word would theyever by any chance let fall as to this; but the awed silence wherewiththey would treat all mention of it, and their hurried efforts to changethe subject, added not a little to the impression the last glimpse ofhis Arab confederate had made upon Laurence. What awesome, devilishmystery did not those hideous beings represent?

  For the rest, he learned that these people were of Zulu stock, andhaving opposed the accession of Tshaka, when that potentate usurped theroyal seat of Dingiswayo, had deemed it advisable to flee. They hadmigrated northward, even as Umzilikazi and his followers had done,though some years prior to the flight of that chieftain. But they werenothing if not conservative, and so intent was the king on preservingthe pure Zulu blood, that he was chary of allowing any slaves amongthem. As it was, the issue of all slaves had no rights, and could underno circumstances whatever rise above the condition of slavery. AndLaurence, noting the grand physique, and even the handsome appearance,of the sons and daughters of this splendid race, had no doubt as to thewisdom of such a restriction.

  Now, as the days went by, there began to grow upon Laurence a sort ofrestfulness. The terrible conflict and merciless massacre of his friendsand followers had impressed him but momentarily, accustomed as he was toscenes of horror and of blood--and indeed in direct contrast to such didhe the more readily welcome the peaceful tranquillity of his presentlife. For the dreaded Ba-gcatya at home were a quiet and pastoralrace--owning extensive herds of cattle--also goats and a strange kind oflarge-tailed sheep--though, true to their origin, horned cattle formedthe staple of their possessions, and the land around the king's greatpalace was dappled with grazing stock, and the air was musical with thesinging of women hoeing the millet and maize gardens.

  Then again, the surrounding country swarmed with game, large and small,from the colossal elephant to the tiny dinkerbuck. To Laurence,passionately fond of sport, this alone was sufficient to reconcile himto his strange captivity--for a time. He would be the life and soul ofthe Ba-gcatya hunting parties, and skill and success, together with hisuntiring energy and philosophical acceptance of the hardships andvicissitudes of the chase, went straight to the hearts of these fine,fearless barbarians. He became quite a favourite with the nation.

  The female side of the latter, too, looked upon him with kindly eyes. Hewould chaff the girls, when he came upon them wandering in bevies, aswas their wont, and tell them strange stories of other conditions oflife, until they fairly screamed with laughter, or brought their handsto their mouths in mute wonder.

  "_Whau_, Nyonyoba, why do you not _lobola_ for some of these?" saidSilawayo one day, coming upon him thus engaged. "Then you could dwellamong us as one of ourselves."

  "One might do worse, induna of the king," he returned tranquilly, with aglance at the group of bright-faced, merry, and extremely well-shapeddamsels, whom he had been convulsing with laughter.

  "_Yau!_ Listen to our father," they cried. "He is joking, indeed. _Yau!_Farewell, Nyonyoba. Fare thee well." And they sped away, still screamingwith laughter.

  The old induna looked quizzically after them, then at Laurence. Then hetook snuff.

  "One might do worse, Silawayo," repeated Laurence. "I have known worsetimes than those I have already undergone here. But all I possess I havelost. My slaves your people have killed, and my ivory and goods the kinghas taken, leaving me nothing but my arms and ammunition. Tell me, then,do the Ba-gcatya give their daughters for nothing, or how shall a manwho is so poor think to set up a kraal of his own?"

  The induna laughed dryly.

  "We are all poor that way, for all we own belongs to the king. Yet theGreat Great One is open handed. He might return some of your goods,Nyonyoba."

  This, by the way, was Laurence's sobriquet among these people, bestowedupon him by reason of his skill and craft in stalking wild game.

  It was even as he had said. This raid had gone far towards undoing theresults of their lawless and perilous enterprise--a portion of his gainswere safe, but this last blow was of crippling force. And only a day orso prior to it he had been revelling in the prospect of a speedy returnto civilized life, to the enjoyment of wealth for the remainder of hisallotted span. He recalled the misgivings uttered by Holmes, that wealththus gained would bring them no good, for the curse of blood that layupon it. Poor Holmes! The prophecy seemed to have come true as regardedthe prophet--but for himself? well, the loss reconciled him still moreto his life among the Ba-gcatya.

  Of Tyisandhlu he had seen but little. Now and then the king would sendfor him and talk for a time upon things in general, and all the whileLaurence would feel that the shrewd, keen eyes of this barbarian rulerwere reading him like a book. Tyisandhlu, moreover, had expressed a wishthat a body of picked men should be armed with the rifles taken from theslavers, and instructed in their use; and to this Laurence had readilyconsented.

  "Yet consider, Ndabezita,"[2] he had said, "is it well to teach themreliance on any weapon rather than the broad spear? For had your armypossessed fire-weapons, never would it have eaten up our camp outyonder. It would have spent all its time and energy shooting, and thatto little purpose. It would have had time to think, and then thewarriors would have brought but half a heart to the last fierce charge."

  "There is much in what you say, Nyonyoba," replied the king; "yet, Iwould try the experiment."

  So the indunas were required to select the men, and about three hundredwere organized, and Laurence, having spent much care in theirinstruction, soon turned out a very fair corps of sharp-shooters. Noscruple had he in thus increasing the fighting strength of this alreadyfierce and formidable fighting race, to which he had taken a greatliking. He even began to contemplate the contingency of ending his lifeamong them, for of any return to civilization there seemed not theremotest prospect; and, indeed, rather than return without the wealthfor which he had risked so much, he preferred not to return at all.

  Even the memory of Lilith brought with it pain rather than solace. Afterall this time--years indeed, now--would not his memory have faded? Thelife he had led tended to foster such memory in himself, but with her itwas otherwise. All the conditions of her daily life tended rather to dimit. That sweet, short, passionate episode had been all entrancing whileit lasted; yet was it not counterpoised by the certainty that with womenof her temperament such episodes are but episodes? All the bitter sideof his philosophy cried aloud in the affirmative.

  He had now been several months among the Ba-gcatya; and had long sinceceased to feel any misgiving as to his personal safety at their hands.But his sense of security was destined to receive a rude shock, and itcame about in this way.

  Returning one day from a hunt, at some distance from Imvungayo, he hadmarched on ahead of his companions, and, the afternoon being hot, hadlain down in the shade of a cluster of trees for a brief nap. From thisthe buzz of muttering voices awakened him.

  At first he paid no attention, reckoning that the remainder of the partyhad come up. But soon a remark which was let fall started him very wideawake indeed, and at the same time he recognized that the voices werenot those of his present companions, but of strangers. From a certainquaver or hesitancy in the tones, he judged them to be the voices of oldmen.

  "_Whau!_ The spider must be growing hungry again. It is long since hehas drunk blood."

  "Not since the son of Tondusa assumed the head-ring," answered theother.

  "And now a greater is about to assume the head-ring," went on the firstspeaker, "even Ncute,
the son of Nondwana."

  "The brother of the Great Great One?"

  "The same," asserted the first speaker, in that sing-song hum in whichnatives, when among themselves, will carry on a conversation for hours.

  Now the listener was interested indeed. On the mysterious subject of"The Spider" the Ba-gcatya had been close as death. No hint orindication tending to throw light upon it would they let fall in replyto any question, direct or indirect. Now he was going to hear something.These men, unaware of his presence, and talking freely among themselves,would certainly afford more than a clew to it. Nondwana, the king'sbrother, he suspected of being not over favourably disposed towardshimself, possibly through jealousy.

  "That will be when the second moon is at full?" continued one of thetalkers.

  "It will. Ha! The Spider will receive a brave offering. Yet how shall itdevour one who bears its Sign?"

  "It may not," rejoined the other. "_Hau!_ that will in truth be atest--if the sign is real."

  _One who bears its Sign!_ The listener felt every drop of blood withinhim turn cold, freeze from head to foot. What sort of devil-god could itbe from which this nation derived its name, and which these were talkingabout as one that devoured men?

  _He that bears its Sign!_ The words could apply to none other thanhimself. He had deduced that, although the Ba-gcatya held cannibalism inabhorrence, yet from time to time human sacrifices of very awesome andmysterious nature took place, and that on certain momentousoccasions--the accession or death of a king, of an heir to any branch ofthe royal house, or such a one as this now under discussion--theadmission to full privileges of manhood of a scion of the same. And thesacrifice on this occasion was to consist of himself? To this end he hadbeen spared--even honoured.

  "It will in truth be a test, for some doubt that the Sign as worn bythis stranger hath any magic at all," continued one of the talkers. "Ifhe comes out unharmed--_hau_! that will be a marvel, indeed--a marvel,indeed."

  "_E-he!_" they assented. Then they fell to talking of other things, andsoon the concealed listener heard them rise up and depart.

  Laurence decided to wait no more for his companions. He wanted to bealone and think this matter out. So when the voices of the talkers hadfairly faded beyond earshot he left the cluster of trees on the fartherside and took his way down the mountain slope.

  A ghastly fear was upon him. The horror and mystery of the thing gotupon even his iron nerves--the suddenness of it too, just when he hadlulled himself into a complete sense of security. Had he learned in likefashion that he was to be slain in an ordinary way at a given time itwould not have shaken him beyond the ordinary. But this thing--there wassomething so devilish about it. What did it mean? Was it some grotesqueidol worked by mechanism, even as in the old pagan temples--to whichhuman sacrifices were offered? Or--for he could not candidly discreditall the weird and marvellous tales and traditions of some of theseup-country tribes, degraded and man-eating as they were--was it someunknown and terrifying monster inhabiting the dens and caves of theearth? Whatever it was, he knew too well, of course, that thecoincidence which had so miraculously resulted in the sparing of hislife at the hands of the victorious Ba-gcatya, reeking with slaughter,would stand him in nowhere here. He remembered the mystery hanging overthe fate of Lutali, and those horrible beings who had hauled the Arab tohis doom, whatever it was, who indeed might well constitute thepriesthood of the unknown devil-god.

  Surely never indeed had earth presented a fairer scene than this uponwhich the adventurer's eyes rested, as he made his way down themountain-side. The calm, peaceful beauty of the day, the golden sunlightflooding the plain beneath, the great circle of Imvungayo, and the--bycontrast--tiny circles of lesser kraals scattered about the valley orcrowning some mountain spur, and, mellow upon the stillness, the distantlow of cattle--the singing of women at work mingling with the softvoices of a multitude of doves in cornlands and the surroundingforest-trees. Yet now in the white peaks towering to the cloudlessheavens, in the black and craggy rifts, in the wide, rolling,partially-wooded plains--the hunter's paradise--this man saw only agloomy wizard circle, inclosing some horrible inferno, the throne of thefrightful demon-god of this extraordinary race.

  Then it occurred to Laurence that he had better not let this thing gettoo much upon his nerves. It was the result of inaction, he toldhimself. Several months of rest and tranquillity had begun to turn himsoft. That would not do. He had got to look matters in the face fairlyand squarely. The ceremony which was to bring him to what would almostcertainly be a fearful fate was set for the fall of the second moon, thetalkers had said--but of this he had been already aware, for the chiefNondwana and his son were both well known to him. That would give him alittle over six weeks. Escape? Nothing short of a miracle could effectthat, he told himself, remembering the immense tract of desolate countrysurrounding the fastnesses of the Ba-gcatya, and the ferocious cannibalhordes which lay beyond these, and who indeed would wreak a vengeance ofthe most barbarous kind upon their old enemy and scourge, theslaver-chief, did they find him alone, and to that extent no longerformidable, in their midst.

  The friendship of the king? No. That was based on superstition, even asthe friendship of the entire nation. Even it was assumed for an end.Again, should he boldly challenge the pretensions of the demon-god,whatever it might be, and asserting himself to be the real one, offer toslay the horror in open conflict? Not a moment's reflection was needed,however, to convince him of the utter impracticability of this scheme.The cherished superstition of a great nation was not to be uprooted inany such rough-and-ready fashion. The only way of escape left open tohim was that of death--death swift and sudden--the death of thesuicide--to escape the greater horror. But from this he shrank. The grimhardness of his recent training had nerved him rather to face perilthan to avoid it. He did not care to contemplate such a way out of thedilemma. He was cornered. There was no way of escape.

  And then, as he walked thus, thinking, and thinking hard, in the fierce,desperate, clearheadedness of a strong, cool-nerved man face to facewith despair, a voice--a female voice, lifted in song--sounded acrosshis path, nearer and nearer. And now a wave of hope, of relief, surgedthrough Laurence Stanninghame's heart, for there flooded in upon him, aswith an inspiration, a way out of the situation. For he knew both thevoice and the singer, and at that moment a turn in the bushes broughtthe latter and himself face to face.

  FOOTNOTE:

  [2] A term of deference frequently used in addressing one of the royalfamily.