Adventures in Swaziland Part 5

"Tell the great king that his white brother comes with presents and the tribute," he said. "Tell him that our king, Oom Paul, sends greetings and prays that his health is good and that he will live forever!"

"Nkoos, it shall be done!" the induna answered, saluting with his s.h.i.+eld and k.n.o.b-kerrie.

Then he retired swiftly to the royal kraal.

Less than ten minutes later he came back and said, "The great King Buno, ruler of Swaziland and leader of countless warriors, bids you approach!"

Oom Tuys stepped into our tent and called me inside. He gave me the rifle and handed Sibijaan a heavy bag of cartridges. Then he loaded a dozen of our escort with more cartridges and bottles of gin. Thus loaded down, we set out to call on the most powerful and savage king in South Africa.

After pa.s.sing the triple walls of the kraal we found King Buno standing in front of the royal palace, or rather, hut. He shook hands warmly with Tuys, who handed him the gold. I noted how easily Buno handled it. He was a strong man. While he talked with Oom Tuys I had an opportunity to look him over.

King Buno was well over six feet and must have weighed at least two hundred and thirty or forty pounds. He was very deep chested and had a body like an ox. His legs were well shaped and very muscular. Of course he was too fat, but this was explained by the fact that the Swazis consider corpulence a sign of aristocracy and are proud to "carry weight."

Without doubt, Buno was the most powerful savage I had ever seen. He was every inch a king, and he knew it. While I was admiring him he suddenly turned and looked at me. His eyes were the cruelest I have ever looked into, and it came over me with a rush that he must be quite as black as he was painted. I was only a boy, but I could feel the cruel brutality of this savage the minute he looked at me.

Tuys motioned me to come forward.

"O King, this is Mzaan Bakoor, my nephew, who has come all the way from Rietvlei to bring you the rifle you desire!" Such was his introduction.

Buno shook hands with a grip like a vise and took the Mauser from me.

He seemed to gloat over the weapon for a moment, and then spoke:

"The king thanks you, Mzaan Bakoor, little white chief," he said, and his voice was deep and melodious. "You are the near relation of my friend; you shall be the friend of the king. All my subjects shall be your slaves!"

Then he fondled the rifle a moment, throwing it to his shoulder and going through the motions of shooting.

"It is a good rifle," he said, using the native term of "mroer," "and to-day we shall try it. Already I know how to shoot, and this afternoon we shall have a shooting match. I shall show you how the king can shoot!"

There was a little more conversation about the rifle and Buno was much pleased at the quant.i.ty of cartridges we had brought. He was as delighted with the Mauser as a child with a new toy. Later that day I found myself regretting that the weapon was not a toy.

At length Buno said something to Tuys that I did not hear. The latter turned to me and said, "I have some business to transact with the king. You go back to our camp and wait for me."

I would have given much to know what this business was. Tuys and Buno had been in some queer deals together and I felt that they were planning another. Both were reckless and lawless, and, backed by the thousands of Buno's impis, they were able to do anything they had a mind to, at least in Swaziland.

Tuys and Buno dropped to their knees and crawled into the royal hut, and I returned to our camp. Sibijaan was as curious as I was and made an attempt to pa.s.s in the rear of the king's hut with the intention of hearing something. He did not get far and came back with speed, for he had run into a six-foot Swazi warrior with an evil eye who appeared to be on guard.

Boylike, I was hungry when we reached camp and was glad to see that we were to have fresh-killed beef for dinner. I was munching a rusk when Sibijaan hopped into the tent, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng with excitement.

"O Mzaan Bakoor, there is an induna asking for you!" he said. "He says he comes from Queen Labotsibeni and must see you!"

Outside I found a young chief who looked very much like Buno. He had the same great body and hard eyes and carried himself with the same "sw.a.n.k" affected by the king.

"Mzaan Bakoor, little white induna," he said in the same rumbling melodious ba.s.s so common among the Swazis, "I am Lomwazi, brother of the king and son of Queen Labotsibeni. My mother would see you and has asked that I beg you to visit her. She waits for you!"

Realizing that it was not fitting that an O'Neil should run at the command of a kaffir queen, I told Lomwazi that I would go when "the shadow of that tree strikes the tent." I estimated this would be in about half an hour, and I was right. Lomwazi, great induna that he was, squatted outside the tent until I was ready. He evidently expected that I might offer him gin or some present, but I decided it would be poor policy to do so, since I intended giving gin to Labotsibeni.

As soon as Sibijaan told me that the time was up I went out and found Lomwazi with an escort of half a dozen warriors waiting for me. Sure that Buno's friends.h.i.+p would protect us, I followed Lomwazi without hesitation. As we went along I noticed the deference paid us and realized that Lomwazi must be a power in the land.

We found Queen Labotsibeni in a nearby kraal, which she used when visiting Lebombo. It was a sort of guest kraal placed at her disposal by King Buno. There were huts sufficient for all her retinue, among which were some of the other widows, whom she ruled with a heavy hand.

Labotsibeni was very stout and tall, even when sitting down, as she was when I first saw her. She had an intelligent face, with the same eyes, though not so cruel, as Buno and Lomwazi. Her beautifully shaped hands were much in evidence, and I don't recall having ever seen cleaner or better manicured fingers. Like the other women in Swaziland, she was practically naked, except for a covering draped from the waist. Her hair was piled high on the top of her head and was bound so that it looked like a melon. When she spoke I noted that her teeth were perfect. This, of course, is the rule in Swaziland, since these people take care of their teeth from earliest childhood. They never finish eating without carefully rubbing their teeth with charcoal or some fine sand. If the Swazis have no fixed religious observances, they certainly are religious in the care of their teeth.

Labotsibeni had not lost her sight this first time I saw her, and she looked me over for a full minute before speaking. Then she motioned to me to be seated and addressed me:

"Nkoos, little white induna," she said, "you come to Pungwane (the native name for Swaziland) as the friend of our great white leader.

Oom Tuys is the trusted friend of my son, the king, and you shall be trusted likewise. Our friend always brings presents; thus do we know that his heart is true to us!"

I accepted the hint and produced the quart bottle of gin I had brought for her. She grasped it greedily, and the interview was interrupted until she had gulped down what I estimated to be nearly a pint. Her capacity for gin was extraordinary, I learned later, although all the Swazis will drink alcoholic liquors without restraint. They have absolutely no sense with gin or whiskey, and only stop guzzling when the supply runs out or they are completely paralyzed.

After taking her drink, Labotsibeni wiped her lips on a leaf--one of a pile she had at her side--and then spoke:

"Oom Tuys comes to pay the tribute," she observed, "but my son and he have other plans they will carry out. You are close to the great white man. What are these plans?"

I then realized what she was after. Of course I knew nothing about what new deviltry Buno and Tuys were hatching, but I realized that it would not do for me to appear to be on the outside. I would lose prestige.

"Oom Tuys and the king plan great things for the people of Swaziland,"

I solemnly a.s.sured her. "It is not for me to say what they will do.

When we have left Swaziland the king will tell you everything. Until then I must remain silent."

This cryptic statement did not seem to satisfy the old queen and she several times reverted to her question in our subsequent conversation.

Lomwazi was also present at the interview, but only spoke to agree with his mother. Behind her in the shadow of the hut sat several of her maids. They watched their mistress keenly and hastened to a.s.sist her when she rose as a signal that the interview was over.

The impression Labotsibeni gave me was that she was very cunning and intelligent. I could readily understand the common belief that she was the "brains behind the throne" in Swaziland.

Tuys was waiting for me at our camp and was much interested to learn that I had been to see the queen mother. He was amused to hear that she was anxious to know what business he and Buno were planning.

"So she is worried, eh?" he observed. "Well, that's good for her! She has kept Buno tied to her ap.r.o.n-strings too long, and I suspect she is playing into the hands of the Britishers. We must keep Buno as a friend of our people. If we don't, we shall find the English behind the Swazis in the next war."

After dinner, during which Tuys told me more stories about Buno and his cruelty, we attended the shooting match. I don't suppose there was ever another like it. It was a most terrible exhibition of savage b.e.a.s.t.i.a.lity and ought to have been called the "murder match," instead of a shooting contest.

When we arrived at Buno's kraal we found him walking excitedly up and down, the rifle in his hands. Standing near him were a score or more of his indunas, and we were struck at once by their look of apprehension. Lined up on either side of the wide roadway leading to the royal kraal were thousands of warriors. More than a dozen impis were in line, every man in his full war costume. Their k.n.o.b-kerries were held at the ready, their s.h.i.+elds across their bodies, and each had s.h.i.+fted his a.s.segai to the position used in battle.

The lines of savage warriors stretched away from the kraal for hundreds of yards. It was the first time I had ever seen the impis of the king on parade and it was a most impressive sight. There was a slight breeze and the white plumes on their heads danced in the sunlight. What struck me most was the splendid build and stature of these men. They were all six feet or more and their black skins fairly shone. Most of them wore leopard-skins caught about the waist and on one shoulder.

My rapid inspection was broken by the king. He greeted us vociferously, and I immediately saw that he was on fire with the gin he had drunk. No sooner did he raise his hand in salutation than the impis gave the royal salute. Their deep shout ended with the crash of twenty thousand feet brought down together. The earth fairly shook.

I realize now that this salute was a tribute to the cruelty of the ages. In just such a manner did the gladiators salute Nero with their "Morituri te salutamus!" A few moments after the salute I realized that these men were also about to die.

"Come on, Oom Tuys, come and let the king see how well you can shoot!"

Buno shouted. "I have provided the only targets worthy of your skill--you who are noted for your shooting among a race of white men who have conquered all with their rifles! I will shoot first, and then you shall beat me!"

Then he turned suddenly to me.

"And you, too, Mzaan Bakoor, little induna! You, too, shall shoot against the king! First I will shoot, then Oom Tuys, and then you.

Each will shoot this many shots," and he held out four clips of five cartridges each.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRINCESSES AND THEIR MAID TAKING A MORNING BATH]

[Ill.u.s.tration: YOUNG PRINCESSES AMIABLY ENGAGED IN HAIR-DRESSING