CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FIRST BLOW.

Leaving the store of arms we returned to Goliba's house; not by the high road, but by little winding lanes with tunnel-like passages under the overhanging eaves of houses; through a small open square or two, past a few richly-painted and carved doors of tombs, and so on once more to the residence of the old sage, with its spacious courts and beautiful gardens. We passed some handsome blue-tiled public fountains, and some fine buildings several storeys in height, open in the centre with a patio, and surrounded by galleries of carved wood, which seemed to answer to our corn exchanges. One, near Goliba's house, was especially remarkable for its architectural beauty, not only with regard to its interior, but also its magnificent gateway. There were others also of far less pretensions, which answered more to the caravanseri of Samory's country, where the weary animals who had borne their burdens from some far away corner of the mystic land were resting during their sojourn in the city.

When, in the cool dusk of evening we had eaten in[202] the marble court, with its fountains and flowering plants, Omar being waited upon personally by our host, Liola came, and, lounging gracefully against one of the marble columns, gossipped with us. Afterwards, a professional story-teller was introduced to amuse us during the anxious time that must elapse before the fateful hour when the signal for the great uprising would be given.

He was an old man, small of stature, in fact, I believe he must have been one of the tribe of dwarf cave-dwellers. Of darker complexion than the majority of this curious people, he was dressed in a long garment of white, wearing on his head a conical head-dress, shaped somewhat like a dunce's cap, and as he took up his position, squatting on a mat before us, he made deep obeisance to the son of his ruler. While we regaled ourselves with grapes and other luscious fruits as a satisfactory conclusion to a bountiful feast, he told us a story which, as far as I could translate it, was as follows:

"Ages ago," he said, "in the days of the good king Lobenba and Prince Karmos"—here he kissed his hand as a sign of reverence, as did all his listeners—"there was a poor man, a cowherd, who lived a very righteous life, nor did he commit any sin. But he was terribly poor, starving because he had not the wherewithal to supply himself with food. One night while asleep in his lonely hut on the mountain over against the Grave of Enemies, a vision appeared to him, and he saw standing before him the god Zomara"—more hand-kissing—"in a flame of fire. And the King of Crocodiles said to him: 'Gogo, I have seen thy poverty and am come to give thee succour. I have seen how, even in the days when no food hath passed thy lips, thou hast never committed theft, nor borrowed not to return, and now[203] thou shalt have great wealth. Speed early to-morrow to thy friend Djerad and borrow his black horse. I will put it in his mind to lend it thee; and take this horse and ride it to the Gate of Mo, and then leap on thy horse from the precipice, and assuredly thou wilt find great wealth.'

"Ere Gogo had time to thank the great god—whose name be exalted above all others—he had vanished. Early he rose, donned his ragged garments, set forth and begged the loan of the black horse of Djerad, his friend. After a ride of many hours, he came at sundown to the Gate of Mo, and gazed over the fearful precipice. Gathering the reins in his hand he rode back a little distance, then gallopped full speed to the brink. But his heart failed him, and on the edge he reined his horse for fear.

"Nine times he essayed to go, but each time his courage was insufficient. While he was sitting on his horse, preparing for the tenth time to obey the instructions, he heard a great noise behind him, and turning, saw the god Zomara with fire bursting from his mouth and streams of light in his eyes, crawling towards him.

"'Weak man,' he cried, as he passed. 'Thou fearest to obey. Follow me.'

"An instant later the great crocodile had crawled over the edge of the precipice, and a moment afterwards Gogo had followed his example. It seemed as if he were in the air an hour, but suddenly his horse's hoofs touched earth again; the animal never fell into the terrible abyss, but merely tore up a piece of the turf where he had stood. He looked around; Zomara had disappeared, but in the hole that the horse's hoof had[204] caused he saw a large ring of iron. Dismounting, he tried to raise it, but only after two hours' work he succeeded in moving it and excavating from its hiding-place an enormous chest filled with gold pieces and costly jewels, and so he lived in affluence the remainder of his life, till Zomara took him to be one of his councillors. So are the righteous rewarded."

Then some thick-lipped musicians struck up music on quaintly-shaped stringed instruments, and the strange old man, bearing a kind of tambourine in his hand, came round to collect coins, the collection being repeated at the conclusion of each legend.

In one of his stories mention was made in the most matter-of-fact manner of a sick person being buried alive. This caused me to address some questions to Liola, who, seated near me, told me that this terrible custom was one recently introduced by the Naya.

"The ghastly practice is supposed to appease Zomara and give us victory over our enemies," she said. "As soon as any serious illness setteth in, the patient is taken from his house wrapped in his best robes, deposited in a grave and then covered with earth. No one in Mo now dieth a natural death. When the body hath been placed in the grave, the friends of the dead man set forth to kill the first living creature they can encounter, man, woman or beast, believing that through their victim their friend hath been compelled to die. When thus in search of an expiatory victim, they take the precaution of breaking off young shoots of the shrubs as they pass by, leaving the broken ends hanging in the direction they are going as a warning to people to shun that path. Even should one of their own relatives be the first to meet the avengers they dare not suffer him to escape."

[205] "Life is not very secure in Mo when sickness rageth," I observed.

"No," she replied, sighing. "It is merely one of the many horrible practices the Naya hath introduced into our land. Whether a man is buried alive, or whether he dieth in the fight, his kinsmen at once assemble and destroy all his goods, saving only his vessels of gold which are confiscated for the Naya's use. The curse of Zomara would fall heavily upon anyone who attempteth to make use of any article once owned by a dead person. After the destruction of the property hath taken place the house is filled with the fumes of burning resin. The guests then sit in the perfumed atmosphere drinking large draughts of fiery liquids and give vent to their feelings in violent shouts."

"A strange custom, indeed," I said, astonished. "And it is only of recent introduction?"

"When, three years ago the ancient Temple of Zomara was discovered beneath the earth and all in Mo descended to witness its wonders, the Naya gave orders for the custom, as I have described, to be rigorously observed," she answered, turning her clear, trusting eyes upon Omar as she spoke.

Soon afterwards she left us in order to give some orders to the slaves, and the story-teller and musicians also departing, Goliba brought in three of the provincial governors who had visited us on the last occasion we had been the aged sage's guests, and together we discussed and criticised for the last time the arrangements made for the revolt. After an hour's consultation these men again departed, and Goliba himself having brought us our arms, consisting of an English-made magazine-rifle each, some ammunition, and a short but very keen[206] sword manufactured in Mo, left to make a tour of his house to personally inspect the measures taken for its defence.

The next hour was so full of breathless excitement that we dared only converse in whispers. The atmosphere was hot and oppressive, the sky had grown dark and overcast, threatening ominously, while ever and anon could be heard the faint clank of arms; men, tall, dark and mysterious, passed and repassed along the dark colonnades, or stood in knots leaning on their rifles discussing the situation in undertones.

On returning to us our host told us that the store of arms we had seen, as well as others in various neighbourhoods, had all been distributed, and that the whole city was awaiting the signal.

"Roughly speaking, thou hast in the capital alone thirty thousand adherents," the councillor said to Omar. "Thou hast therefore nothing to fear. The path to victory is straight, and little danger lurketh there."

Almost ere these words had fallen from his lips, loud shouting sounded at the door that gave entrance to the patio wherein we stood, and we were startled to notice a scuffle taking place between a number of those who were about to guard the house and some would-be intruders. Yet ere we could realise the true state of affairs, we saw dozens of the royal soldiers scrambling down from the walls on every side, rifles flashed here and there, and within a few moments the place was in possession of the troops of the Naya.

"We seek Omar, the prince, and his companions," cried a man in a shining golden breastplate, evidently an officer of high rank, striding up to Goliba. "We hold orders from the Naya to capture them, and take them to the palace. We know thou hast harboured them."

[207] Before our host could reply twenty of the fighting-men of Mo, having recognized us, dashed across, and notwithstanding our resistance, had seized us. Goliba, too, was quickly made prisoner, and above the shouting and hoarse imprecations we heard in the darkness a loud piercing woman's scream.

Liola had also fallen into their hands!

We fought our captors with all the strength of which we were capable, but were unarmed, for on receiving the rifles and swords from Goliba we had placed them together at a little distance away in a corner of the court. It took fully a dozen stalwart soldiers to hold the black giant Kona, and even then it was as much as they could do to prevent him from severely mauling them. His grip was like a vice; his fist hard as iron.

In the hands of three of these white robed soldiers, who had on our arrival in Mo cheered and belauded us, I struggled fiercely, but to no avail, for they dragged us all onward across the patio and out into the street, now crowded by those attracted by the unusual disturbance in the house of the Naya's councillor. The huge grim gateway of the royal palace stood facing the end of the long, broad thoroughfare, and from where we stood we had an uninterrupted view of it. Our arrest was indeed a disaster when we seemed within an ace of success. The people regarded us indifferently as we were hurried up the hill towards the great stone arch with its massive watch-towers, and it appeared as though the swift decisive step of securing the ringleaders of the revolt had entirely crushed it, for the people, instead of showing defiance, shrank back from the soldiers, cowed and submissive.

Suddenly, as we went forward, the great bell in one[208] of the high turrets of the Naya's stronghold boomed forth the first stroke of the midnight hour.

Then, in an instant, a bright red flash blinded us, followed by a report so deafening, that the very rock whereon the city was built trembled, and we saw amid the dense smoke before us the great black gateway, with its watch towers where the sentries were pacing, break away, and shoot in huge masses high towards the sky.

The explosion was terrific; its effect appalling. The glare lit the whole city for a brief second with a light like a stormy sunset, then upon us showered great pieces of iron and stone with mangled human limbs, the débris of a gateway that for centuries had been considered absolutely impregnable.

The first blow against tyranny and oppression had been struck, terrible and decisive. It was the people's call to arms. Would they respond?



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