Chapter Four.

Chapter Four.The Abode of the Terror.Through the whole of the following day, and the night after, we travelled; and on the next morning, before the son had arisen, we came upon a large kraal. The land lay enshrouded in heavy mist, and the hoarse barking of many dogs sounded thick and muffled. Armed men sprang to the gate to inquire our errand, but one word from my slave, Jambúla, caused them to give us immediate admission. This was the kraal of Maqandi-ka-Mahlu, the chief over the workers in iron, in whose midst the horror named the Red Death had broken forth.As I strode across the centre space—the domes of the encircling huts looming shadowy through the mist—Maqandi himself came forth to meet me. Yet although showing me this mark of deference, I liked not his manner, which was sullen, and somewhat lacking in the respect due from an inferior and disgraced chief towards one who dwelt at the right hand of the King, and who was, moreover, the second in command of the King’s army. But it seemed to me that fear was in his mind, for he could not think that an induna of my rank would arrive alone, attended by one slave, and I think he expected every moment the signal which should bring my followers swarming into the kraal to put him and his to the assegai and his possessions to the flames.“What is the will of the Great Great One, son of Ntelani?” he said, as we sat together within his hut alone. “Hau! I am an old man now, and troubles grow thick on every side. I have no people, and am but taskmaster over a set of miserable slaves—I, who fought with the assegai and led warriors to victory at the Place of the Three Rifts, even as you did yourself, Untúswa. Yes, troubles are upon me on every side, and I would fain sit down at rest within the Dark Unknown.”I looked at Maqandi, and I pitied him. He had, indeed, grown old since we had fought together in that great battle. His face was lined and his beard had grown grey; and his hair—which, being in some measure in disgrace, he had neglected to shave—seemed quite white against the blackness of his head-ring. Yet with all his desire to sleep the sleep of death, there was in his eyes a look of fear; such a look as may be descried in the faces of those to whom the witch-finder’s rod draws very near. Yes, I pitied him.“The will of the Great Great One is not with thee for the present, Maqandi,” I said, desiring to reassure him. “Now, hearken, and give me such aid as I need, and it may be that the head-ring of the son of Mahlu may yet shine once more in its place among the nation.”“Ha! Sayest thou so, holder of the White Shield?” he answered quickly, a look of joy lighting up his face. “Is not all I have at the disposal of the second induna of the King?”“That is rightly said, Maqandi,” I replied. “For never yet did I fail those who did well by me. And now we will talk.”I unfolded my plan to the chief over the ironworkers, and as I did so his face grew sad and heavy again—for I could see he doubted my success in ridding the land of this terror—and then would not he, too, be sacrificed to the anger of the King? But I enjoined upon him silence and secrecy—telling him that his part lay in strictly obeying my orders and supplying my need. This, so far, lay in requiring two of the slave ironworkers to be in attendance upon me at sundown, for I intended proceeding to the Valley of the Red Death that very night.Food was brought in, andtywala, and we ate and drank. Then I lay down and slept—slept hard and soundly throughout the heat and length of the day.When I awoke the sun was declining from his highest point in the heavens. My slave Jambúla was already waiting and armed before the door of my hat. Beside him, too, were those I required to be in attendance. Both went before me, uttering words ofbonga.“Why are these armed?” I said, noting that the two ironworkers carried spears and axes. “I need no armed force. Let them leave their weapons here.”A look of fear spread over the faces of both slaves at these words, and they reckoned themselves already dead men. For although weapons could be of no avail against a thing oftagatiand of terror, such as had already laid low so many of their number, and indeed two of our own tried warriors, in a death of blood, yet it is in the nature of man to feel more confident when his hand holds a spear. But at my word they dropped their weapons and stood helpless.Now,Nkose, not without reason did I so act. The King’s word had been that I should slay this horror accompanied by no armed force, and although two such miserable fighters as this race of slaves could supply were of no more use with arms in their hands than without, yet I would not give Umzilikazi any chance of saying I had not fulfilled his conditions. Besides, I had a purpose to which I intended putting these two, wherein weapons would avail them nothing at all.I took leave of Maqandi-ka-Mahlu and set forth—I and Jambúla and the two workers in iron. Such men of our people as I encountered saluted me in gloomy silence, and as I passed the kraals of the iron-workers the people came forth and prostrated themselves on the ground, for my importance was twofold; I represented the majesty of the King, and further, some inkling had got abroad that my errand lay to investigate, and, if possible, bring to an end the terror of the Red Magic.From the kraal of Maqandi we could already see the great mountain range in whose heart lay the locality of this terror, and shortly, ere the last rays of the sun faded from the world, we stood before a dark and narrow defile. We had left behind the dwellings of men, though plentiful traces of their occupation would meet our eyes, being left by the iron-working parties. Through this defile a thin trickle of water ran, though in times of rain and storm the place showed signs of pouring down a mighty and formidable flood. High overhead the slopes were covered with thick bush and forest trees, and above this, again, walls of red-faced rock seemed to cleave the sky. As we entered this gloomy place the terror on the faces of the slaves deepened, and even I,Nkose, felt not so easy in my mind as I would have it appear.Soon we came out into more open ground; open immediately around us, for on raising my eyes I saw that we were in a large valley, or hollow. A ring of immense cliffs shut in the place as with a wall, nor, save the way by which we had come in, could my glance, keen and searching as it was, descry any means by which a man might find a way out.The bottom of this strange valley was nearly level, and well grown with tall forest trees and undergrowth; not so thick, however, but that there were grassy open spaces, bestrewn with large rocks and boulders. But from the level floor of the hollow robe little or no slope. The great iron faces of the cliffs rose immediately, either in terraces or soaring up to a great height. Such was the aspect of the Valley of the Red Death.That it was indeed the dreaded valley, the looks on the faces of the two iron-workers were sufficient to show. But I, gazing earnestly around and noting that there was but one way in or out, reckoned that the first part of my errand would not be hard—to find the accursed thing. Then a further examination of the cliffs, and I felt not so sure, for irregularly along their faces were black spots of all shapes and sizes. These were the mouths of caves.Now, as we stood there, the light of day had all but faded from the world, and already one or two stars were peeping over the rim of the vast cliff-wall rearing up misty and dim to the height of the heavens. Little sound of life was there, from bird, or beast, or insect; and this of itself added to the grey and ghostly chill which seemed to brood over the place; for in that country night was wont to utter with more voices than day. But the golden bow of a young moon, bright and clear, gave a sufficient light to make out anything moving, save under the black darkness of the trees.“What is thy name?” I said suddenly, turning to one of the slaves.“Suru, father,” he replied.“Well then, Suru, attend,” I said. “Remain here, in this open space beside this small rock, and stir not hence until I send for or call thee. To fail in thy orders in the smallest particular is death.”But the man sank on the ground at my feet.“Slay me now, father,” he entreated, “for death by one blow of the spear of the mighty do I prefer to the awfulness and horror of the death which shall come upon me here alone.”“But death by one blow of the spear shall not be thy portion, oh fool,” I answered, mocking him. “Ah, ah! No such easy way is thine, oh dog, oh slave. The stake of impalement shall be thy lot, oh Suru. Think of it, thou hast never seen it. Ask Jambúla here how long a man may live when seated upon that sharp throne. For days and days may he beg for death, with blackened face and bursting eyeballs and lolling tongue, and every nerve and muscle cracking and writhing with the fiery torture. Why surely the death which this ghost could bring upon thee here would be mercy compared with such a death as that. But I think I will leave thee no choice. Bind him, Jambúla. Even a bound sentinel is better than none, though more helpless. If Suru will not keep his watch a free man he shall keep it bound. Ah, ah!”That settled all his doubts. As Jambúla made a step towards him, Suru cried out to me to pardon his first hesitation, and to allow him to obey my orders at any rate unbound. I agreed to this, for he was frightened enough, and indeed,Nkose, as he moved away to take up the position I had assigned to him, his look was that of one who stands on the brink of the Pool of the Alligators with the slayers beside him.Leaving Suru to his solitary post, I moved back with Jambúla and the other slave to near the neck of the narrow passage by which we had entered the hollow, for I wanted to see whether the thing of dread came in when night fell, or whether it abode within the place itself. This we could do, for I chose a position a little way up the hillside, whence, by the light of the moon, I could command a clear space over which anything approaching from without could not but pass. So we sat beneath a cluster of rocks, and watched, and watched.Night had fallen, mysterious and ghostly. The stars burned bright in the heavens, yet it seemed as though some black cloud of fear hung above, blurring their light. From the open country far beyond came the cry of hyaenas, and the sharp barking yelp of the wild hunting dog calling to its mates; but in the drear gloom of this haunted valley, no sound of bird or beast was there to break the silence. So the night watches rolled on.I know not whether I slept,Nkose; it may be that I partly did; but there came a feeling over me as of the weight of some great terror, and indeed it seemed to hold me as though I could not move. Was it an evil dream? Scarcely, for, as with a mighty effort, I partly threw off the spell, my glance fell upon the face of Jambúla.He was gazing upward—gazing behind him—gazing behind him and me. His jaw had fallen as that of a man not long dead, and his eyeballs seemed bursting from their sockets, and upon his face was the same awful look of fear as that worn by the slave, Suru, when left to his solitary watch. I followed his glance, and then I too felt the blood run chill within me.Rising above the rocks, at the foot of which we sat, a pair of great branching horns stood forth black against the sky. Slowly, slowly, the head followed, till a pair of flaming eyes shone beneath, seeming to burn us as we crouched there. But the size of it!Whau! No animal that ever lived—even the largest bull in the King’s herd—ever attained to half the size. Thoughts of thetagatiterror rushed through my mind. Should I creep round the rocks and slay the monster, while its attention was taken up watching my slaves? Would it indeed fall to mortal weapon? And at that moment, I, the fearless, the foremost in the fiercest battle, the second commander of the King’s armies, felt my heart as water within me. But before I could decide on any plan the thing vanished—vanished as I gazed.It was coming round the rocks, of course. In a moment we should receive its onslaught, and three more would be added to the number of the victims of the Red Death.But—after? I thought of my beautiful wife, writhing her life out upon the stake of agony. I thought of my kinsmen and followers given over to the death of the alligators, and in a moment my heart grew strong again. I felt nerved with the strength of ten men. Let the thing come; and gripping my broad assegai, the royal spear, and my great white shield, the royal gift, I stood above the two scared and cowering slaves, ready to give battle to this terror from the unseen world. And in the short space of silence, of waiting, it seemed that I lived the space of my whole life.But as I thus waited there rang forth upon the night a shrill, wild echoing yell—such a cry as might issue from the throat of one suffering such unheard of torments as the mind of man could ever invent. It pealed forth again louder, more quavering, rending the night with its indescribable notes of terror and agony—and it rose from where we had left the slave, Suru, to keep his grisly watch alone in the blackness of the forest. There was silence, but immediately that was rent by another sound—a terrible sound, too—the savage growling roars as of an infuriated bull—receding further and further from the place whence the death cry had arisen, together with a crashing sound as though a great wind were rushing away further and further up the haunted valley.For long did that fearful death-yell ring in my ears, as I stood throughout the night watches, grasping my spear, every moment expecting the onslaught of the thing—for, of course, it would return, where more victims awaited. Then the thought came to me that it only dared attack and slay the unarmed; that at the sight of a warrior like myself, armed and ready for battle, it had retired to vent its rage upon an easier prey; and this thought brought strength and encouragement, for I would find no great difficulty in slaying such. But with the thought came another. The two men of Hlatusa’s band had been slain as easily and mysteriously as the iron-working slaves—slain in broad daylight—and they were well-armed warriors, and men of tried valour. In truth, the undertaking seemed as formidable as ever.Even that night came to an end, and the cheerfulness and warmth of the newly-arisen sunbeams put heart even into the two badly-frightened slaves; and, feeling strong in my presence, their fears yielded to curiosity to learn the exact fate of Suru—not that any of us really doubted what that fate had been.With spear held ready, and none the less alert because it was day, and the valley was now flooded with the broad light of the sun, I quickly made my way down, followed by Jambúla and the other, to where I had left the slave the night before. It was as I thought. There he lay—dead; crushed and crumpled into a heap of body and limbs. He had tried to run. I could see that by the tracks, but before he had run ten steps the terrible ghost-bull had overtaken him and flung him forward. The great hole made by the entering horn gaped wide between his ribs, and, tearing forward, had half ripped him in two. The grass around was all red and wet with half-congealed blood, and in the midst, imprinted deep and clear as in the muddy earth after rain, two great hoof marks, and those of such a size as to be imprinted by no living animal.So now I had seen with my own eyes a victim of the terror of the Red Death, and now I myself must slay this horror. But how to slay a great and terrible ghost—a fearful thing not of this world?

Through the whole of the following day, and the night after, we travelled; and on the next morning, before the son had arisen, we came upon a large kraal. The land lay enshrouded in heavy mist, and the hoarse barking of many dogs sounded thick and muffled. Armed men sprang to the gate to inquire our errand, but one word from my slave, Jambúla, caused them to give us immediate admission. This was the kraal of Maqandi-ka-Mahlu, the chief over the workers in iron, in whose midst the horror named the Red Death had broken forth.

As I strode across the centre space—the domes of the encircling huts looming shadowy through the mist—Maqandi himself came forth to meet me. Yet although showing me this mark of deference, I liked not his manner, which was sullen, and somewhat lacking in the respect due from an inferior and disgraced chief towards one who dwelt at the right hand of the King, and who was, moreover, the second in command of the King’s army. But it seemed to me that fear was in his mind, for he could not think that an induna of my rank would arrive alone, attended by one slave, and I think he expected every moment the signal which should bring my followers swarming into the kraal to put him and his to the assegai and his possessions to the flames.

“What is the will of the Great Great One, son of Ntelani?” he said, as we sat together within his hut alone. “Hau! I am an old man now, and troubles grow thick on every side. I have no people, and am but taskmaster over a set of miserable slaves—I, who fought with the assegai and led warriors to victory at the Place of the Three Rifts, even as you did yourself, Untúswa. Yes, troubles are upon me on every side, and I would fain sit down at rest within the Dark Unknown.”

I looked at Maqandi, and I pitied him. He had, indeed, grown old since we had fought together in that great battle. His face was lined and his beard had grown grey; and his hair—which, being in some measure in disgrace, he had neglected to shave—seemed quite white against the blackness of his head-ring. Yet with all his desire to sleep the sleep of death, there was in his eyes a look of fear; such a look as may be descried in the faces of those to whom the witch-finder’s rod draws very near. Yes, I pitied him.

“The will of the Great Great One is not with thee for the present, Maqandi,” I said, desiring to reassure him. “Now, hearken, and give me such aid as I need, and it may be that the head-ring of the son of Mahlu may yet shine once more in its place among the nation.”

“Ha! Sayest thou so, holder of the White Shield?” he answered quickly, a look of joy lighting up his face. “Is not all I have at the disposal of the second induna of the King?”

“That is rightly said, Maqandi,” I replied. “For never yet did I fail those who did well by me. And now we will talk.”

I unfolded my plan to the chief over the ironworkers, and as I did so his face grew sad and heavy again—for I could see he doubted my success in ridding the land of this terror—and then would not he, too, be sacrificed to the anger of the King? But I enjoined upon him silence and secrecy—telling him that his part lay in strictly obeying my orders and supplying my need. This, so far, lay in requiring two of the slave ironworkers to be in attendance upon me at sundown, for I intended proceeding to the Valley of the Red Death that very night.

Food was brought in, andtywala, and we ate and drank. Then I lay down and slept—slept hard and soundly throughout the heat and length of the day.

When I awoke the sun was declining from his highest point in the heavens. My slave Jambúla was already waiting and armed before the door of my hat. Beside him, too, were those I required to be in attendance. Both went before me, uttering words ofbonga.

“Why are these armed?” I said, noting that the two ironworkers carried spears and axes. “I need no armed force. Let them leave their weapons here.”

A look of fear spread over the faces of both slaves at these words, and they reckoned themselves already dead men. For although weapons could be of no avail against a thing oftagatiand of terror, such as had already laid low so many of their number, and indeed two of our own tried warriors, in a death of blood, yet it is in the nature of man to feel more confident when his hand holds a spear. But at my word they dropped their weapons and stood helpless.

Now,Nkose, not without reason did I so act. The King’s word had been that I should slay this horror accompanied by no armed force, and although two such miserable fighters as this race of slaves could supply were of no more use with arms in their hands than without, yet I would not give Umzilikazi any chance of saying I had not fulfilled his conditions. Besides, I had a purpose to which I intended putting these two, wherein weapons would avail them nothing at all.

I took leave of Maqandi-ka-Mahlu and set forth—I and Jambúla and the two workers in iron. Such men of our people as I encountered saluted me in gloomy silence, and as I passed the kraals of the iron-workers the people came forth and prostrated themselves on the ground, for my importance was twofold; I represented the majesty of the King, and further, some inkling had got abroad that my errand lay to investigate, and, if possible, bring to an end the terror of the Red Magic.

From the kraal of Maqandi we could already see the great mountain range in whose heart lay the locality of this terror, and shortly, ere the last rays of the sun faded from the world, we stood before a dark and narrow defile. We had left behind the dwellings of men, though plentiful traces of their occupation would meet our eyes, being left by the iron-working parties. Through this defile a thin trickle of water ran, though in times of rain and storm the place showed signs of pouring down a mighty and formidable flood. High overhead the slopes were covered with thick bush and forest trees, and above this, again, walls of red-faced rock seemed to cleave the sky. As we entered this gloomy place the terror on the faces of the slaves deepened, and even I,Nkose, felt not so easy in my mind as I would have it appear.

Soon we came out into more open ground; open immediately around us, for on raising my eyes I saw that we were in a large valley, or hollow. A ring of immense cliffs shut in the place as with a wall, nor, save the way by which we had come in, could my glance, keen and searching as it was, descry any means by which a man might find a way out.

The bottom of this strange valley was nearly level, and well grown with tall forest trees and undergrowth; not so thick, however, but that there were grassy open spaces, bestrewn with large rocks and boulders. But from the level floor of the hollow robe little or no slope. The great iron faces of the cliffs rose immediately, either in terraces or soaring up to a great height. Such was the aspect of the Valley of the Red Death.

That it was indeed the dreaded valley, the looks on the faces of the two iron-workers were sufficient to show. But I, gazing earnestly around and noting that there was but one way in or out, reckoned that the first part of my errand would not be hard—to find the accursed thing. Then a further examination of the cliffs, and I felt not so sure, for irregularly along their faces were black spots of all shapes and sizes. These were the mouths of caves.

Now, as we stood there, the light of day had all but faded from the world, and already one or two stars were peeping over the rim of the vast cliff-wall rearing up misty and dim to the height of the heavens. Little sound of life was there, from bird, or beast, or insect; and this of itself added to the grey and ghostly chill which seemed to brood over the place; for in that country night was wont to utter with more voices than day. But the golden bow of a young moon, bright and clear, gave a sufficient light to make out anything moving, save under the black darkness of the trees.

“What is thy name?” I said suddenly, turning to one of the slaves.

“Suru, father,” he replied.

“Well then, Suru, attend,” I said. “Remain here, in this open space beside this small rock, and stir not hence until I send for or call thee. To fail in thy orders in the smallest particular is death.”

But the man sank on the ground at my feet.

“Slay me now, father,” he entreated, “for death by one blow of the spear of the mighty do I prefer to the awfulness and horror of the death which shall come upon me here alone.”

“But death by one blow of the spear shall not be thy portion, oh fool,” I answered, mocking him. “Ah, ah! No such easy way is thine, oh dog, oh slave. The stake of impalement shall be thy lot, oh Suru. Think of it, thou hast never seen it. Ask Jambúla here how long a man may live when seated upon that sharp throne. For days and days may he beg for death, with blackened face and bursting eyeballs and lolling tongue, and every nerve and muscle cracking and writhing with the fiery torture. Why surely the death which this ghost could bring upon thee here would be mercy compared with such a death as that. But I think I will leave thee no choice. Bind him, Jambúla. Even a bound sentinel is better than none, though more helpless. If Suru will not keep his watch a free man he shall keep it bound. Ah, ah!”

That settled all his doubts. As Jambúla made a step towards him, Suru cried out to me to pardon his first hesitation, and to allow him to obey my orders at any rate unbound. I agreed to this, for he was frightened enough, and indeed,Nkose, as he moved away to take up the position I had assigned to him, his look was that of one who stands on the brink of the Pool of the Alligators with the slayers beside him.

Leaving Suru to his solitary post, I moved back with Jambúla and the other slave to near the neck of the narrow passage by which we had entered the hollow, for I wanted to see whether the thing of dread came in when night fell, or whether it abode within the place itself. This we could do, for I chose a position a little way up the hillside, whence, by the light of the moon, I could command a clear space over which anything approaching from without could not but pass. So we sat beneath a cluster of rocks, and watched, and watched.

Night had fallen, mysterious and ghostly. The stars burned bright in the heavens, yet it seemed as though some black cloud of fear hung above, blurring their light. From the open country far beyond came the cry of hyaenas, and the sharp barking yelp of the wild hunting dog calling to its mates; but in the drear gloom of this haunted valley, no sound of bird or beast was there to break the silence. So the night watches rolled on.

I know not whether I slept,Nkose; it may be that I partly did; but there came a feeling over me as of the weight of some great terror, and indeed it seemed to hold me as though I could not move. Was it an evil dream? Scarcely, for, as with a mighty effort, I partly threw off the spell, my glance fell upon the face of Jambúla.

He was gazing upward—gazing behind him—gazing behind him and me. His jaw had fallen as that of a man not long dead, and his eyeballs seemed bursting from their sockets, and upon his face was the same awful look of fear as that worn by the slave, Suru, when left to his solitary watch. I followed his glance, and then I too felt the blood run chill within me.

Rising above the rocks, at the foot of which we sat, a pair of great branching horns stood forth black against the sky. Slowly, slowly, the head followed, till a pair of flaming eyes shone beneath, seeming to burn us as we crouched there. But the size of it!Whau! No animal that ever lived—even the largest bull in the King’s herd—ever attained to half the size. Thoughts of thetagatiterror rushed through my mind. Should I creep round the rocks and slay the monster, while its attention was taken up watching my slaves? Would it indeed fall to mortal weapon? And at that moment, I, the fearless, the foremost in the fiercest battle, the second commander of the King’s armies, felt my heart as water within me. But before I could decide on any plan the thing vanished—vanished as I gazed.

It was coming round the rocks, of course. In a moment we should receive its onslaught, and three more would be added to the number of the victims of the Red Death.

But—after? I thought of my beautiful wife, writhing her life out upon the stake of agony. I thought of my kinsmen and followers given over to the death of the alligators, and in a moment my heart grew strong again. I felt nerved with the strength of ten men. Let the thing come; and gripping my broad assegai, the royal spear, and my great white shield, the royal gift, I stood above the two scared and cowering slaves, ready to give battle to this terror from the unseen world. And in the short space of silence, of waiting, it seemed that I lived the space of my whole life.

But as I thus waited there rang forth upon the night a shrill, wild echoing yell—such a cry as might issue from the throat of one suffering such unheard of torments as the mind of man could ever invent. It pealed forth again louder, more quavering, rending the night with its indescribable notes of terror and agony—and it rose from where we had left the slave, Suru, to keep his grisly watch alone in the blackness of the forest. There was silence, but immediately that was rent by another sound—a terrible sound, too—the savage growling roars as of an infuriated bull—receding further and further from the place whence the death cry had arisen, together with a crashing sound as though a great wind were rushing away further and further up the haunted valley.

For long did that fearful death-yell ring in my ears, as I stood throughout the night watches, grasping my spear, every moment expecting the onslaught of the thing—for, of course, it would return, where more victims awaited. Then the thought came to me that it only dared attack and slay the unarmed; that at the sight of a warrior like myself, armed and ready for battle, it had retired to vent its rage upon an easier prey; and this thought brought strength and encouragement, for I would find no great difficulty in slaying such. But with the thought came another. The two men of Hlatusa’s band had been slain as easily and mysteriously as the iron-working slaves—slain in broad daylight—and they were well-armed warriors, and men of tried valour. In truth, the undertaking seemed as formidable as ever.

Even that night came to an end, and the cheerfulness and warmth of the newly-arisen sunbeams put heart even into the two badly-frightened slaves; and, feeling strong in my presence, their fears yielded to curiosity to learn the exact fate of Suru—not that any of us really doubted what that fate had been.

With spear held ready, and none the less alert because it was day, and the valley was now flooded with the broad light of the sun, I quickly made my way down, followed by Jambúla and the other, to where I had left the slave the night before. It was as I thought. There he lay—dead; crushed and crumpled into a heap of body and limbs. He had tried to run. I could see that by the tracks, but before he had run ten steps the terrible ghost-bull had overtaken him and flung him forward. The great hole made by the entering horn gaped wide between his ribs, and, tearing forward, had half ripped him in two. The grass around was all red and wet with half-congealed blood, and in the midst, imprinted deep and clear as in the muddy earth after rain, two great hoof marks, and those of such a size as to be imprinted by no living animal.

So now I had seen with my own eyes a victim of the terror of the Red Death, and now I myself must slay this horror. But how to slay a great and terrible ghost—a fearful thing not of this world?

Chapter Five.Gasitye the Wizard.For long I stood there thinking. I looked at the ground, all red and splashed with blood. I looked at the distorted body of the dead slave and the great gaping wound which had let out the life—the sure and certain mark of the dreaded Red Death—always dealt as it was, in the same part of the body—and for all my thought I could think out no method of finding and slaying this evil thing. Then I thought of themúti—the amulet which Lalusini had hung around my neck. Should I look within it? Her words came back to me. “Seek not to look within until such time as thy witand the wit of othersfail thee.” Yet, had not that time come? I could think of no plan. The monster was not of this world. No weapon ever forged could slay it; still there must be a way. Ha! “the wit of others!” Old Masuka had departed to the land of spirits himself. He might have helped me. Who could those “others” be, of whom my sorceress-wife had spoken while her spirit was away among the spirits of those unseen?“Remain here,” I said suddenly, to Jambúla and the other slave. “Remain here, and watch, and stir not from this spot until I return.”They made no murmur against this—yet I could see they liked not the order. But I gave no thought to them as I moved forward with my eyes fixed upon the tracks of the retreating monster.The bloody imprint of the huge hoofs was plain enough, and to follow these was a work of no difficulty. Soon, however, as the hoofs had become dry, it was not so easy. Remembering the crashing noise I had heard as the thing rushed on its course, I examined the bushes and trees. No leaves or twigs were broken off such as could not but have happened with such a heavy body plunging through them. Then the hoof-marks themselves suddenly ceased, and with that,Nkose, the blood once more seemed to tingle within me, for if the thing had come no further was it not lying close at hand—those fiery eyes perhaps at that very moment watching me—those awful horns even now advancing silent and stealthy to rip and tear through my being? Ha! It seemed to me that this hunting of a terrible ghost was a thing to turn the bravest man into a coward.Then as I stood, my hearing strained to its uttermost, my hand gripping my broad spear ready at any rate to fight valiantly for life, and all that life involved, something happened which well-nigh completed the transformation into a coward of a man who had never known fear.For now a voice fell upon my ears—a voice low and quavering, yet clear—a voice with a strange and distant sound as though spoken afar off.“Ho! fearless one who art now afraid! Ho! valiant leader of armies! Ho! mighty induna of the Great King! Thou art as frightened as a little child. Ha, ha, ha!”This last was very nearly true,Nkose—but hearing it said, and the hideous mocking laugh that followed, very nearly turned it into a lie.“I know not who speaks,” I growled, “save that by the voice it is a very old man. Were it not so he should learn what it means to name me a coward.”“Ha, ha, ha!” screamed the voice again. “Brave words, O holder of the King’s assegai. Why, thy voice shakes almost as much as mine. Come hither—if thou art not afraid.”From where the bush grew darkest and thickest the voice seemed to come. I moved cautiously forward, prepared at every step to fall into some trap—to meet with some manifestation of abominable witchcraft. For long did I force my way through the thick growth, but cautiously ever, and at last stood once more in the open. Then astonishment was my lot. Right before me rose a great rock wall. I had reached the base of one of the heights which shut in the hollow.“Welcome, Untúswa,” cackled the voice again. “Art thou still afraid?”Now,Nkose, I could see nobody; but remembering the Song of the Shield, and how Lalusini had caused it to sound forth from the cliff to hearten us during the battle—she herself being some way off—I was not so much amazed as I might have been, for the voice came right out of the cliff.“If thou art not afraid, Untúswa,” it went on, “advance straight, and touch the rock with thy right hand.”I liked not this order, but,Nkose, I had ever had to do with magicians, and had dipped somewhat into their art, as I have already shown. Here, I thought, was more sorcery to be looked into, and how should I root out the sorcery of the Red Magic save by the aid of other sorcery? So I advanced boldly, yet warily. And then, indeed, amazement was my lot.For, as my right hand touched it, the hard rock moved, shivered. Then a portion of this smooth, unbroken wall seemed to fall inward, leaving a black gaping hole like a doorway, through which a man might enter upright.“Ho, ho! Untúswa!” cackled the voice again, now from within the hole. “Welcome, valiant fighter. Enter. Yet, wilt thou not leave thy weapons outside?”“Not until I stand once more in the presence of him who sent me do I disarm, O Unknown One. And now, where art thou? for I like better to talk to a man with a voice than to a voice without the man.”“And how knowest thou that I am a man, O Fearless One? Yet, enter, weapons and all. Ha! Knowest thou notthisvoice?”Whau! It seemed to me then that my flesh crept indeed, for I did know that voice. Ah, yes, well indeed; and it was the voice of one who had long since sat down in the sleep of death—the voice of old Masuka, the mightiest magician our nation had ever seen.Then, indeed, did I enter, for, even though dead, the voice was that of one who had done naught but well by me during life, and I feared not a change the other way now. I entered, and, as I did so, I stood in darkness once more. The rock wall had closed up behind me.Now my misgivings returned, for,Nkose, no living man, be he never so brave, can find himself suddenly entombed within the heart of the earth alone, the voice of one who has long been dead talking with him in the black, moist darkness, and not feel some alarm. Again the voice spoke, and this time it was not that of Masuka, but the mocking cackle which had at first startled me.“Ho, ho! Untúswa, the valiant, the fearless. Dost thou not tremble—thou who art even now within the portal of the Great Unknown? Did ever peril of spear, or of the wrath of kings, make thy face cold as it now is? Ha, ha!”True indeed were the words, for the position was fearful; but then so was that which had been the means of driving me into it. But I answered:“I have seen strange and mysterious and terrifying things before, my father, else would I fear greatly now. Yet let us talk face to face.”For a moment there was no reply, then with startling suddenness a light flashed forth. On the floor just in front of me burned a small fore—throwing a ball of green misty light upon the tomb-like blackness. Within this I could make out the figure of a man—a very old man.A man, did I say?Whau! It was more like that of a monkey, or a great crouching spider. The limbs were thin as the shaft of a spear—too withered and dried even to show the wrinkles of age; the face, too, was like a dry piece of skin spread over the skull; and on the head a wisp or two of white hair. If it was a man, in truth he must have lived nearly as long as the world itself. His hands, which were like the claws of a bird, were spread over the fire, which burned not upon the floor, but in a large clay bowl. Into this he seemed to be sprinkling some kind of powder which caused the green flame to leap and hiss.But now another sound stopped my ears; an awesome and terrible sound—a sound full of fear and agony indescribable—for it was again the death-yell, such as I had heard in the darkness of the night when the slave, Suru, looked upon the Red Terror and parted with life. And now it was not night, but broad, clear, golden day—outside the cavern at least—and the other slave had parted with life by the same dread means; and I—while this thing of horror was abroad—this monster I had come to slay—here was I imprisoned within the heart of the earth—held there at the will of a being who seemed less a man than the ghost of one who had died while the world was yet young. I leaped to my feet.“Ha, ha, ha! Sit again, induna of the King, who knows not fear,” cackled the shrivelled old monkey before me. “Ha, ha, ha! But now I think thou art afraid.”“Afraid or not, thou evil scorpion—thou creeping wizard—if I stand not in the light of day before I strike the ground with my foot three times, this spear shall see if there be any blood to run from thy dried-up old heart.” And, raising the blade aloft, I struck the ground once with my foot.“Ha, ha, ha!” cackled the wizard again, still scattering his magic powder into the fire. “Look again, Untúswa; look again.”I did look again, I could not do otherwise, and then I stood as one turned into stone—with the spear still uplifted—unable to move hand or foot, as I glared in front of me. For the whole vault was filled with a vivid green flash, and in it the wizard seemed to dissolve.His shrivelled limbs seemed to turn into black, horrible snakes, which glided away hissing into the darkness beyond; then the light sank somewhat, and before me there started up faces dim and shadowy, and their aspect turned my heart into water indeed, for I was gazing upon the faces of those I knew had long been dead.Dim and shadowy as they were, I knew them all, knew them at first sight. There was Hlatusa, who had been sent to “feed the alligators” by reason of this very magic I was here to destroy. There was Tyuyumane, who had conspired with the Amabuna to overthrow our nation; and Notalwa, the chief of ourizanusi, who had aided him, both faces wreathed with hate and torture as I had last beheld them, writhing on the stake of impalement. There were many others who had died for the conspiracy of Ncwelo’s Pool. There was the face of my brother, Sekweni—he who had been slain for sleeping at his post—and that of Gungana, the induna whom I myself slew, and to whose command I had succeeded. All these were glowering upon me with a very whirlwind of hate and vengeance, and I—whau!—I was as a man who had died ten deaths. Then I saw the face of Tauane, the chief of the People of the Blue Cattle, and—Ha! what was that? The face of Lalusini, beautiful, but sad and agonised? Yet no. But as a flash I had seen it, and lo! it became that of Nangeza, my erstwhileinkosikazi, even as when she had failed in her attempt upon the life of the song. And then indeed did I know what hate and vengeance could look like. For long it seemed I stood there face to face with that terrible countenance—with it alone—and my lungs now seemed to fill with choking fiery air. I beheld a vast array defiling before me—of warriors I had met in battle, of all races, but chiefly those of our parent nation. On, ever, they passed, silent grim spectres, with broad spear and tufted shield, even as in life. Others followed densely in rank, company upon company.Hau! Once more the battle! I heard the clash of shields, the shiver of assegai hafts, the flash and flame as of fire weapons. I saw the red blood spout and flow; I heard the roaring of an army of warriors in the full career of their victorious charge; my ears were dulled by the screams of the vanquished, for mercy, for pity; the wild hiss and whistle of the conquerors as they stabbed and stabbed; and lo! blood swirled around my feet in rivers, and still the screaming and wailing of those beneath the spear went on. Then I could no longer breathe. The earth itself seemed to be heaping on high to fall on me and crush me to dust. I sank down, as it seemed, in death.

For long I stood there thinking. I looked at the ground, all red and splashed with blood. I looked at the distorted body of the dead slave and the great gaping wound which had let out the life—the sure and certain mark of the dreaded Red Death—always dealt as it was, in the same part of the body—and for all my thought I could think out no method of finding and slaying this evil thing. Then I thought of themúti—the amulet which Lalusini had hung around my neck. Should I look within it? Her words came back to me. “Seek not to look within until such time as thy witand the wit of othersfail thee.” Yet, had not that time come? I could think of no plan. The monster was not of this world. No weapon ever forged could slay it; still there must be a way. Ha! “the wit of others!” Old Masuka had departed to the land of spirits himself. He might have helped me. Who could those “others” be, of whom my sorceress-wife had spoken while her spirit was away among the spirits of those unseen?

“Remain here,” I said suddenly, to Jambúla and the other slave. “Remain here, and watch, and stir not from this spot until I return.”

They made no murmur against this—yet I could see they liked not the order. But I gave no thought to them as I moved forward with my eyes fixed upon the tracks of the retreating monster.

The bloody imprint of the huge hoofs was plain enough, and to follow these was a work of no difficulty. Soon, however, as the hoofs had become dry, it was not so easy. Remembering the crashing noise I had heard as the thing rushed on its course, I examined the bushes and trees. No leaves or twigs were broken off such as could not but have happened with such a heavy body plunging through them. Then the hoof-marks themselves suddenly ceased, and with that,Nkose, the blood once more seemed to tingle within me, for if the thing had come no further was it not lying close at hand—those fiery eyes perhaps at that very moment watching me—those awful horns even now advancing silent and stealthy to rip and tear through my being? Ha! It seemed to me that this hunting of a terrible ghost was a thing to turn the bravest man into a coward.

Then as I stood, my hearing strained to its uttermost, my hand gripping my broad spear ready at any rate to fight valiantly for life, and all that life involved, something happened which well-nigh completed the transformation into a coward of a man who had never known fear.

For now a voice fell upon my ears—a voice low and quavering, yet clear—a voice with a strange and distant sound as though spoken afar off.

“Ho! fearless one who art now afraid! Ho! valiant leader of armies! Ho! mighty induna of the Great King! Thou art as frightened as a little child. Ha, ha, ha!”

This last was very nearly true,Nkose—but hearing it said, and the hideous mocking laugh that followed, very nearly turned it into a lie.

“I know not who speaks,” I growled, “save that by the voice it is a very old man. Were it not so he should learn what it means to name me a coward.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” screamed the voice again. “Brave words, O holder of the King’s assegai. Why, thy voice shakes almost as much as mine. Come hither—if thou art not afraid.”

From where the bush grew darkest and thickest the voice seemed to come. I moved cautiously forward, prepared at every step to fall into some trap—to meet with some manifestation of abominable witchcraft. For long did I force my way through the thick growth, but cautiously ever, and at last stood once more in the open. Then astonishment was my lot. Right before me rose a great rock wall. I had reached the base of one of the heights which shut in the hollow.

“Welcome, Untúswa,” cackled the voice again. “Art thou still afraid?”

Now,Nkose, I could see nobody; but remembering the Song of the Shield, and how Lalusini had caused it to sound forth from the cliff to hearten us during the battle—she herself being some way off—I was not so much amazed as I might have been, for the voice came right out of the cliff.

“If thou art not afraid, Untúswa,” it went on, “advance straight, and touch the rock with thy right hand.”

I liked not this order, but,Nkose, I had ever had to do with magicians, and had dipped somewhat into their art, as I have already shown. Here, I thought, was more sorcery to be looked into, and how should I root out the sorcery of the Red Magic save by the aid of other sorcery? So I advanced boldly, yet warily. And then, indeed, amazement was my lot.

For, as my right hand touched it, the hard rock moved, shivered. Then a portion of this smooth, unbroken wall seemed to fall inward, leaving a black gaping hole like a doorway, through which a man might enter upright.

“Ho, ho! Untúswa!” cackled the voice again, now from within the hole. “Welcome, valiant fighter. Enter. Yet, wilt thou not leave thy weapons outside?”

“Not until I stand once more in the presence of him who sent me do I disarm, O Unknown One. And now, where art thou? for I like better to talk to a man with a voice than to a voice without the man.”

“And how knowest thou that I am a man, O Fearless One? Yet, enter, weapons and all. Ha! Knowest thou notthisvoice?”

Whau! It seemed to me then that my flesh crept indeed, for I did know that voice. Ah, yes, well indeed; and it was the voice of one who had long since sat down in the sleep of death—the voice of old Masuka, the mightiest magician our nation had ever seen.

Then, indeed, did I enter, for, even though dead, the voice was that of one who had done naught but well by me during life, and I feared not a change the other way now. I entered, and, as I did so, I stood in darkness once more. The rock wall had closed up behind me.

Now my misgivings returned, for,Nkose, no living man, be he never so brave, can find himself suddenly entombed within the heart of the earth alone, the voice of one who has long been dead talking with him in the black, moist darkness, and not feel some alarm. Again the voice spoke, and this time it was not that of Masuka, but the mocking cackle which had at first startled me.

“Ho, ho! Untúswa, the valiant, the fearless. Dost thou not tremble—thou who art even now within the portal of the Great Unknown? Did ever peril of spear, or of the wrath of kings, make thy face cold as it now is? Ha, ha!”

True indeed were the words, for the position was fearful; but then so was that which had been the means of driving me into it. But I answered:

“I have seen strange and mysterious and terrifying things before, my father, else would I fear greatly now. Yet let us talk face to face.”

For a moment there was no reply, then with startling suddenness a light flashed forth. On the floor just in front of me burned a small fore—throwing a ball of green misty light upon the tomb-like blackness. Within this I could make out the figure of a man—a very old man.

A man, did I say?Whau! It was more like that of a monkey, or a great crouching spider. The limbs were thin as the shaft of a spear—too withered and dried even to show the wrinkles of age; the face, too, was like a dry piece of skin spread over the skull; and on the head a wisp or two of white hair. If it was a man, in truth he must have lived nearly as long as the world itself. His hands, which were like the claws of a bird, were spread over the fire, which burned not upon the floor, but in a large clay bowl. Into this he seemed to be sprinkling some kind of powder which caused the green flame to leap and hiss.

But now another sound stopped my ears; an awesome and terrible sound—a sound full of fear and agony indescribable—for it was again the death-yell, such as I had heard in the darkness of the night when the slave, Suru, looked upon the Red Terror and parted with life. And now it was not night, but broad, clear, golden day—outside the cavern at least—and the other slave had parted with life by the same dread means; and I—while this thing of horror was abroad—this monster I had come to slay—here was I imprisoned within the heart of the earth—held there at the will of a being who seemed less a man than the ghost of one who had died while the world was yet young. I leaped to my feet.

“Ha, ha, ha! Sit again, induna of the King, who knows not fear,” cackled the shrivelled old monkey before me. “Ha, ha, ha! But now I think thou art afraid.”

“Afraid or not, thou evil scorpion—thou creeping wizard—if I stand not in the light of day before I strike the ground with my foot three times, this spear shall see if there be any blood to run from thy dried-up old heart.” And, raising the blade aloft, I struck the ground once with my foot.

“Ha, ha, ha!” cackled the wizard again, still scattering his magic powder into the fire. “Look again, Untúswa; look again.”

I did look again, I could not do otherwise, and then I stood as one turned into stone—with the spear still uplifted—unable to move hand or foot, as I glared in front of me. For the whole vault was filled with a vivid green flash, and in it the wizard seemed to dissolve.

His shrivelled limbs seemed to turn into black, horrible snakes, which glided away hissing into the darkness beyond; then the light sank somewhat, and before me there started up faces dim and shadowy, and their aspect turned my heart into water indeed, for I was gazing upon the faces of those I knew had long been dead.

Dim and shadowy as they were, I knew them all, knew them at first sight. There was Hlatusa, who had been sent to “feed the alligators” by reason of this very magic I was here to destroy. There was Tyuyumane, who had conspired with the Amabuna to overthrow our nation; and Notalwa, the chief of ourizanusi, who had aided him, both faces wreathed with hate and torture as I had last beheld them, writhing on the stake of impalement. There were many others who had died for the conspiracy of Ncwelo’s Pool. There was the face of my brother, Sekweni—he who had been slain for sleeping at his post—and that of Gungana, the induna whom I myself slew, and to whose command I had succeeded. All these were glowering upon me with a very whirlwind of hate and vengeance, and I—whau!—I was as a man who had died ten deaths. Then I saw the face of Tauane, the chief of the People of the Blue Cattle, and—Ha! what was that? The face of Lalusini, beautiful, but sad and agonised? Yet no. But as a flash I had seen it, and lo! it became that of Nangeza, my erstwhileinkosikazi, even as when she had failed in her attempt upon the life of the song. And then indeed did I know what hate and vengeance could look like. For long it seemed I stood there face to face with that terrible countenance—with it alone—and my lungs now seemed to fill with choking fiery air. I beheld a vast array defiling before me—of warriors I had met in battle, of all races, but chiefly those of our parent nation. On, ever, they passed, silent grim spectres, with broad spear and tufted shield, even as in life. Others followed densely in rank, company upon company.Hau! Once more the battle! I heard the clash of shields, the shiver of assegai hafts, the flash and flame as of fire weapons. I saw the red blood spout and flow; I heard the roaring of an army of warriors in the full career of their victorious charge; my ears were dulled by the screams of the vanquished, for mercy, for pity; the wild hiss and whistle of the conquerors as they stabbed and stabbed; and lo! blood swirled around my feet in rivers, and still the screaming and wailing of those beneath the spear went on. Then I could no longer breathe. The earth itself seemed to be heaping on high to fall on me and crush me to dust. I sank down, as it seemed, in death.

Chapter Six.The Ghost-Bull.I was not dead,Nkose; or, indeed, how should I be here telling you my story? Or, if I were—well, at any rate, the magic which had been powerful enough to draw me through the abode of those who had become ghosts was powerful enough to bring me back to life and to the world again—and yet I know not. It is a terrible thing to look upon the faces of those who have long been dead; and how shall a man—being a man—do this unless he join their number? Such faces, however, had I looked upon, for, as I opened my eyes once more to the light of the sun, no dim recollection of one who has slept and dreamed was mine. No; the mysterious cave, the magic fire, the fearsome sights I had beheld—all was real—as real as the trees and rocks upon which I now looked—as real as the sky above and the sun shining from it.Yes; I was in the outer air once more. I rose and stood up. My limbs were firm and strong as before, my hand still grasped the broad spear—the white shield lay at my feet. Before me was the smooth rock wall, there the exact spot where it had opened to receive me. But there it might remain, closed for ever, for all I cared. I had no wish to look further into its dark and evil mysteries. But now, again, the voice came back to my ears, faint and far away this time, but without the mocking mirth which had lured me before to what might have been my doom.“Ho, Untúswa!” it cried; “wouldst thou see more of the unseen? Wouldst thou look further into the future?”“I think not, my father,” I answered. “To those who deal in magic be the ways of magic, to warriors the ways of war—and I am a warrior.”“And thineinkosikazi, Untúswa, what of her?”“Help me to slay the ghost-bull who deals forth the Red Death, my father!” I pleaded eagerly.There was no answer to this for long. Then, weary of waiting, I was about to turn away, when once more the voice spake from within the rock—faint, as before.“Great is the House of Matyobane; great is the House of Senzangakona; Umzilikazi is ruler of the world to-day—but Dingane is greater. Yet to-morrow, where now are the many nations they have stamped flat there shalltheybe. Dust—all dust! Gasitye sees it.”“Ha! And shall I see it too, my father?”“Thou shalt see it, Untúswa. Thou, too, shalt see it.”Now, when I heard the name of Gasitye, I knew it as the name of a great seer and prophet who dwelt alone among the mountains, and who was held in wide repute among all tribes and peoples, near and far. His own tribe nobody knew exactly, but it was supposed that his age was three times that of the oldest man known. Even Umzilikazi himself had more than once sent secretly to consult him, with gifts; for the rest, nobody cared to interfere with him, for even the most powerful of kings does not desire the enmity of a great and dreaded sorcerer, whose magic, moreover, is real, and not as that of the tribalizanusi—a cheat to encompass the death of men. And now I had encountered this world-famed wizard; had beheld him alone in the heart of the rock, whose face he had the power to open and shut at will.“Help me to slay the ghost-bull, my father,” I entreated again.“And when thou hast slain it—what then?”“Then it shall be well with me and mine.”“Well with thee and thine? Will it then—with thee and thine! Ha, ha!” repeated the voice within the cliff, in the same tone of mockery as before. “Go now and slay it, Untúswa, thou valiant one. Go!”I waited some little time, but no further answer could I obtain, though I spoke both loud and softly. Then I turned away.As I did so a strange feeling came over me, a feeling as of the faintness caused by starvation. The fumes of the wizard fire had worn off in the clear open air, and I felt as though I could spend the rest of my life eating, so hungry was I. So, losing no time, I started back to where I had left Jambúla.Then upon my mind came the recollection of the death-yell I had heard when within the vault. Ha! I must proceed with care. I glanced upward. The sun was well up when I entered the rock; now it was at its highest overhead. I had not been as long in that vault of fear as it seemed.Now there struck upon my nostrils a most horrible stench as of death and putrefaction. What did it mean? I had passed this spot this very morning and the air was pure and clear. Death might have taken place—but putrefaction?—au, there was not time for that. Yet this was a place of witchcraft, where everything was possible. And, thus thinking, I came right upon a human body.It was in a horrible state,Nkose, in the state of one who has been dead eight or ten days. Yet here such could not have been the case, for in the swollen, half-decayed features, as well as by articles of clothing, I recognised the second of the two slaves, whom I had left alive and well that same morning, but a very few hours before. Yet, there it lay, beneath a tree, with upturned face, and across the decaying ribs the rending gash left by the horn of the ghost-bull.Now I heard a voice in salute, behind me—a voice I knew. Looking up, I beheld my slave, Jambúla.He was looking strangely at me. Then he broke forth into extravagant words of welcome, and it seemed to me he had been badly frightened, and was glad enough to behold me once more. That was it, of course; so giving no further thought to the matter at all, I bade him find food. He had a number of speckled pigeons, which he had knocked over with his kerries; and having kindled a fire on the flat top of a high rock for safety’s sake—whau, Nkose!—there was soon nothing left of those birds. The while Jambúla eyed me strangely.Now this Jambúla—although my slave—was a man I held in great favour. He was not of any of the races we had conquered, but came of a tribe further to the southward than even the Zulu arms had ever reached. Him I had captured while storming the fortress of a mountain tribe, and the King had allotted him to me: He was a tall, strong man, and knew not fear, and was faithful and devoted to me as any dog. Now he said:“I thinkthisnight must this thing oftagatibe slain, my father.”“We think the same, Jambúla,” I answered. “But what I cannot quite think out ishow. But that will come.”“Nevertheless, let it be this night, father. I have a plan.”This plan he then unfolded to me, and by the time we had talked it out and around it was nearly dark—nearly time to set it working.Never had any spot struck upon my mind as more ghostly and even terrifying than that haunted valley when night drew fairly down; and,Nkose, what I had seen and gone through in the wizard cave that morning seemed to have sapped my former fearlessness. A low-lying mist wreathed around the tree-stems and bushes, thick to near the height of a man, then thinning out dimly just enough to show out the twinkle of a star or two. But there was light enough for our purpose.Hard by the place where Suru, the first slave, had been killed was an open space, thickly studded with rocks embedded in the earth, and one side of this open was overhung with mimosas of a good height and strength. Clambering up one of these, I lay out upon the spreading branches. Jambúla remained below.The night watch wore on—even the night side of life seemed hushed in this abode of wizardry and fear. Suddenly all the blood within me tingled and burned. Something was moving. And then above the ghostly wreathings of the white mist I could see the gigantic head—the huge horns curving upwards—of the ghost-beast.Only the head was visible as, tilted upwards, nose in air, it moved above the sea of vapour, to and fro, as though seeking for something or somebody—for a fresh victim, perhaps—and I thought it might indeed soon find one. And as I looked the mist suddenly rolled away, revealing the dark form of Jambúla, standing upright against a small rock.For the moment the beast did not see him. It continued to run hither and thither in the moonlight, and as I marked its gigantic proportions, my heart sank, for I knew that to kill such a thing as this single-handed was very nearly the hardest task ever entrusted to me.It was huge in the dim light—black as night, and as large as an elephant almost. There was that in the very size of the thing no less than in the glaring ferocity of its eyes—which was enough to turn a man’s heart to water—for it could not be a thing of this earth. How, then, could it be slain?Now it began to mutter, like the growlings of a heavy thunderstorm, as it ran to and fro, shaking its horrible head, and its dark, shaggy frontlet of hair.Whau! That was a fearful sight as the thing drew nearer. What of Jambúla! He had not moved, beyond half turning his head to get a better view of the horror. Would his heart fail him? I almost expected it would.Ha! It had seen him. It dropped into a sort of stealthy crouch, more like that of a leopard or a lion than the movement of any horned animal; and thus it came up swiftly behind him.But Jambúla was not asleep—oh no! There was no lack of wakefulness in him. In a moment he whirled behind a rock, as the ghost-bull, uttering a roar that shook the world, came at him with the swiftness of a lightning flash.Then began a scene indeed. Jambúla, watching his opportunity, flitted from rock to rock, but not less swiftly did the monster come after him—seeming to fly through the air as it leaped over some of the lower rocks which were in its way.Hau! Could this last? Would not Jambúla, out of breath, falter for one instant? Would not his foot stumble in the tortuous rapidity of his flight?Au! Did that happen he were lost—we both were lost.Hither and thither he sped, the horrible beast ever behind him, roaring in a fashion to turn a man’s heart to water—the foam flying from its mouth, the points of its huge horns tossing wildly, its savage eyes seeming indeed to flash flame. Would they never come beneath the tree where I—the great assegai gripped and ready—lay out along the bough waiting my chance?This came. Jambúla, who had been drawing the thing nearer and nearer to my side of the ground, now broke from his shelter, and ran with all the swiftness of which he was capable beneath my place of ambush. After him came the ghost-beast, right under me.This was my chance,Nkose, and my only one. Swift as the movements of the horror itself, I dropped down upon the thing’s back, and clinging fast with the one hand, with the other I drove the point of my great assegai into the joint of the spinal bone behind the skull.Whau, Nkose! That was a moment. I know not quite what I expected to happen. I felt the point of the great horn, thrown backward, narrowly graze my side; then I was hurled through the air, as the huge body, arrested in mid course, turned right over, falling with its head twisted under its own enormous weight.I was on my feet in a moment—not daring to think I had slain the monster—although I had felt the blade of my noble spear bite deep into the marrow. But there it lay, a huge black mass in the moonlight. While I stood contemplating it, still panting after my exertions and the fall, I heard the voice of Jambúla:“That was well done, my father. Those horns will deal out the Red Death no more.”“I know not whether a headless ghost may come to life again, Jambúla,” I said, “but anyhow we will cut off the head of this one. But, first of all, this”—and I buried the blade of my great spear in the thing’s heart.We were both strong men, Jambúla and I, yet it was with a vast deal of labour we at last succeeded in cutting off the head, which was twisted under the huge body.“Whau!” exclaimed Jambúla, gazing upon the great deluge of blood which poured forth upon the ground. “It is as though the blood of all those slain by the Red Death were flowing there. But now, father, suffer me to ran to Maqandi’s kraal and fetch slaves to carry this, and indeed, the skin and hoofs, to lay before the King, for we have no time to lose.”“No time to lose!” I repeated. “What mean you?”He pointed upward with his blood-smeared assegai.“The moon,” he said.Then, indeed,Nkose, amazement was my lot—amazement and dismay. And well it might be. For last night the moon had not quite passed its first quarter.To-night it was nearly full.Like one in a dream I gazed. Anything might be possible in this abode oftagati, but that the moon should change in one day from half to nearly full—au! that was too much.“What does it mean, Jambúla?” I said at length. “Last night the moon was less than half, and now—?”“Au!” muttered Jambúla, bringing his hand to his mouth with a strange sort of laugh. “Who am I that I should contradict you, my father? But last night the moon was nearly as it is now. But the night you left us it was but at half.”“And was not that last night, O fool? In truth the wizardry of this place has eaten into thy brain. And yet—!”There was the moon,Nkose, within a day or two of full. It could not lie, even though Jambúla could. Stupidly I gazed at it, then at him.“And how long ago is it that I left you, Jambúla?”“Six days, father.”Ha! Now I saw. Now everything was clear. The wizard, and themútifire—the green, choking vapour that had filled my lungs and brain, causing me to see strange and fearful things—had kept me in a state of slumber. For six days I had lain within the heart of the rock, and I had thought it but the short part of one day. My hunger on my recovery—the state of putrefaction of the body of the slave whom I had supposed to have been slain only that morning—the change of the moon—all, indeed, stood clear enough now.But whatever Jambúla may have imagined, it was not in my mind to tell him, or anybody, what had really happened, for it is not good among us for a man to have a name for dealings withabatagati. So I sent him off there and then to Maqandi’s kraal, with orders to bring back a number of men immediately to flay the great ghost-bull and carry the hide, with the head and hoofs, before the King, without loss of time.After he had gone, and while I sat alone in the haunted place, I watched by the great black mass lying so still and quiet; and,Nkose, I believe I should have felt little surprise had the thing come to life again, head and all, so great was the awe it had set up among us. I am not even sure that I did not once or twice hear the voice of old Gasitye, and behold his spidery old form shambling among the trees. The dawn came at last, however, but before it came Jambúla, with a number of the iron-working slaves. These were in great delight over the slain monster who had destroyed so many of them, yet no time did I allow them to give way to their joy over dancing and such. It behoved us to return to the Great Great One with all speed, for on the next night the moon would be at full.

I was not dead,Nkose; or, indeed, how should I be here telling you my story? Or, if I were—well, at any rate, the magic which had been powerful enough to draw me through the abode of those who had become ghosts was powerful enough to bring me back to life and to the world again—and yet I know not. It is a terrible thing to look upon the faces of those who have long been dead; and how shall a man—being a man—do this unless he join their number? Such faces, however, had I looked upon, for, as I opened my eyes once more to the light of the sun, no dim recollection of one who has slept and dreamed was mine. No; the mysterious cave, the magic fire, the fearsome sights I had beheld—all was real—as real as the trees and rocks upon which I now looked—as real as the sky above and the sun shining from it.

Yes; I was in the outer air once more. I rose and stood up. My limbs were firm and strong as before, my hand still grasped the broad spear—the white shield lay at my feet. Before me was the smooth rock wall, there the exact spot where it had opened to receive me. But there it might remain, closed for ever, for all I cared. I had no wish to look further into its dark and evil mysteries. But now, again, the voice came back to my ears, faint and far away this time, but without the mocking mirth which had lured me before to what might have been my doom.

“Ho, Untúswa!” it cried; “wouldst thou see more of the unseen? Wouldst thou look further into the future?”

“I think not, my father,” I answered. “To those who deal in magic be the ways of magic, to warriors the ways of war—and I am a warrior.”

“And thineinkosikazi, Untúswa, what of her?”

“Help me to slay the ghost-bull who deals forth the Red Death, my father!” I pleaded eagerly.

There was no answer to this for long. Then, weary of waiting, I was about to turn away, when once more the voice spake from within the rock—faint, as before.

“Great is the House of Matyobane; great is the House of Senzangakona; Umzilikazi is ruler of the world to-day—but Dingane is greater. Yet to-morrow, where now are the many nations they have stamped flat there shalltheybe. Dust—all dust! Gasitye sees it.”

“Ha! And shall I see it too, my father?”

“Thou shalt see it, Untúswa. Thou, too, shalt see it.”

Now, when I heard the name of Gasitye, I knew it as the name of a great seer and prophet who dwelt alone among the mountains, and who was held in wide repute among all tribes and peoples, near and far. His own tribe nobody knew exactly, but it was supposed that his age was three times that of the oldest man known. Even Umzilikazi himself had more than once sent secretly to consult him, with gifts; for the rest, nobody cared to interfere with him, for even the most powerful of kings does not desire the enmity of a great and dreaded sorcerer, whose magic, moreover, is real, and not as that of the tribalizanusi—a cheat to encompass the death of men. And now I had encountered this world-famed wizard; had beheld him alone in the heart of the rock, whose face he had the power to open and shut at will.

“Help me to slay the ghost-bull, my father,” I entreated again.

“And when thou hast slain it—what then?”

“Then it shall be well with me and mine.”

“Well with thee and thine? Will it then—with thee and thine! Ha, ha!” repeated the voice within the cliff, in the same tone of mockery as before. “Go now and slay it, Untúswa, thou valiant one. Go!”

I waited some little time, but no further answer could I obtain, though I spoke both loud and softly. Then I turned away.

As I did so a strange feeling came over me, a feeling as of the faintness caused by starvation. The fumes of the wizard fire had worn off in the clear open air, and I felt as though I could spend the rest of my life eating, so hungry was I. So, losing no time, I started back to where I had left Jambúla.

Then upon my mind came the recollection of the death-yell I had heard when within the vault. Ha! I must proceed with care. I glanced upward. The sun was well up when I entered the rock; now it was at its highest overhead. I had not been as long in that vault of fear as it seemed.

Now there struck upon my nostrils a most horrible stench as of death and putrefaction. What did it mean? I had passed this spot this very morning and the air was pure and clear. Death might have taken place—but putrefaction?—au, there was not time for that. Yet this was a place of witchcraft, where everything was possible. And, thus thinking, I came right upon a human body.

It was in a horrible state,Nkose, in the state of one who has been dead eight or ten days. Yet here such could not have been the case, for in the swollen, half-decayed features, as well as by articles of clothing, I recognised the second of the two slaves, whom I had left alive and well that same morning, but a very few hours before. Yet, there it lay, beneath a tree, with upturned face, and across the decaying ribs the rending gash left by the horn of the ghost-bull.

Now I heard a voice in salute, behind me—a voice I knew. Looking up, I beheld my slave, Jambúla.

He was looking strangely at me. Then he broke forth into extravagant words of welcome, and it seemed to me he had been badly frightened, and was glad enough to behold me once more. That was it, of course; so giving no further thought to the matter at all, I bade him find food. He had a number of speckled pigeons, which he had knocked over with his kerries; and having kindled a fire on the flat top of a high rock for safety’s sake—whau, Nkose!—there was soon nothing left of those birds. The while Jambúla eyed me strangely.

Now this Jambúla—although my slave—was a man I held in great favour. He was not of any of the races we had conquered, but came of a tribe further to the southward than even the Zulu arms had ever reached. Him I had captured while storming the fortress of a mountain tribe, and the King had allotted him to me: He was a tall, strong man, and knew not fear, and was faithful and devoted to me as any dog. Now he said:

“I thinkthisnight must this thing oftagatibe slain, my father.”

“We think the same, Jambúla,” I answered. “But what I cannot quite think out ishow. But that will come.”

“Nevertheless, let it be this night, father. I have a plan.”

This plan he then unfolded to me, and by the time we had talked it out and around it was nearly dark—nearly time to set it working.

Never had any spot struck upon my mind as more ghostly and even terrifying than that haunted valley when night drew fairly down; and,Nkose, what I had seen and gone through in the wizard cave that morning seemed to have sapped my former fearlessness. A low-lying mist wreathed around the tree-stems and bushes, thick to near the height of a man, then thinning out dimly just enough to show out the twinkle of a star or two. But there was light enough for our purpose.

Hard by the place where Suru, the first slave, had been killed was an open space, thickly studded with rocks embedded in the earth, and one side of this open was overhung with mimosas of a good height and strength. Clambering up one of these, I lay out upon the spreading branches. Jambúla remained below.

The night watch wore on—even the night side of life seemed hushed in this abode of wizardry and fear. Suddenly all the blood within me tingled and burned. Something was moving. And then above the ghostly wreathings of the white mist I could see the gigantic head—the huge horns curving upwards—of the ghost-beast.

Only the head was visible as, tilted upwards, nose in air, it moved above the sea of vapour, to and fro, as though seeking for something or somebody—for a fresh victim, perhaps—and I thought it might indeed soon find one. And as I looked the mist suddenly rolled away, revealing the dark form of Jambúla, standing upright against a small rock.

For the moment the beast did not see him. It continued to run hither and thither in the moonlight, and as I marked its gigantic proportions, my heart sank, for I knew that to kill such a thing as this single-handed was very nearly the hardest task ever entrusted to me.

It was huge in the dim light—black as night, and as large as an elephant almost. There was that in the very size of the thing no less than in the glaring ferocity of its eyes—which was enough to turn a man’s heart to water—for it could not be a thing of this earth. How, then, could it be slain?

Now it began to mutter, like the growlings of a heavy thunderstorm, as it ran to and fro, shaking its horrible head, and its dark, shaggy frontlet of hair.Whau! That was a fearful sight as the thing drew nearer. What of Jambúla! He had not moved, beyond half turning his head to get a better view of the horror. Would his heart fail him? I almost expected it would.

Ha! It had seen him. It dropped into a sort of stealthy crouch, more like that of a leopard or a lion than the movement of any horned animal; and thus it came up swiftly behind him.

But Jambúla was not asleep—oh no! There was no lack of wakefulness in him. In a moment he whirled behind a rock, as the ghost-bull, uttering a roar that shook the world, came at him with the swiftness of a lightning flash.

Then began a scene indeed. Jambúla, watching his opportunity, flitted from rock to rock, but not less swiftly did the monster come after him—seeming to fly through the air as it leaped over some of the lower rocks which were in its way.Hau! Could this last? Would not Jambúla, out of breath, falter for one instant? Would not his foot stumble in the tortuous rapidity of his flight?Au! Did that happen he were lost—we both were lost.

Hither and thither he sped, the horrible beast ever behind him, roaring in a fashion to turn a man’s heart to water—the foam flying from its mouth, the points of its huge horns tossing wildly, its savage eyes seeming indeed to flash flame. Would they never come beneath the tree where I—the great assegai gripped and ready—lay out along the bough waiting my chance?

This came. Jambúla, who had been drawing the thing nearer and nearer to my side of the ground, now broke from his shelter, and ran with all the swiftness of which he was capable beneath my place of ambush. After him came the ghost-beast, right under me.

This was my chance,Nkose, and my only one. Swift as the movements of the horror itself, I dropped down upon the thing’s back, and clinging fast with the one hand, with the other I drove the point of my great assegai into the joint of the spinal bone behind the skull.

Whau, Nkose! That was a moment. I know not quite what I expected to happen. I felt the point of the great horn, thrown backward, narrowly graze my side; then I was hurled through the air, as the huge body, arrested in mid course, turned right over, falling with its head twisted under its own enormous weight.

I was on my feet in a moment—not daring to think I had slain the monster—although I had felt the blade of my noble spear bite deep into the marrow. But there it lay, a huge black mass in the moonlight. While I stood contemplating it, still panting after my exertions and the fall, I heard the voice of Jambúla:

“That was well done, my father. Those horns will deal out the Red Death no more.”

“I know not whether a headless ghost may come to life again, Jambúla,” I said, “but anyhow we will cut off the head of this one. But, first of all, this”—and I buried the blade of my great spear in the thing’s heart.

We were both strong men, Jambúla and I, yet it was with a vast deal of labour we at last succeeded in cutting off the head, which was twisted under the huge body.

“Whau!” exclaimed Jambúla, gazing upon the great deluge of blood which poured forth upon the ground. “It is as though the blood of all those slain by the Red Death were flowing there. But now, father, suffer me to ran to Maqandi’s kraal and fetch slaves to carry this, and indeed, the skin and hoofs, to lay before the King, for we have no time to lose.”

“No time to lose!” I repeated. “What mean you?”

He pointed upward with his blood-smeared assegai.

“The moon,” he said.

Then, indeed,Nkose, amazement was my lot—amazement and dismay. And well it might be. For last night the moon had not quite passed its first quarter.To-night it was nearly full.

Like one in a dream I gazed. Anything might be possible in this abode oftagati, but that the moon should change in one day from half to nearly full—au! that was too much.

“What does it mean, Jambúla?” I said at length. “Last night the moon was less than half, and now—?”

“Au!” muttered Jambúla, bringing his hand to his mouth with a strange sort of laugh. “Who am I that I should contradict you, my father? But last night the moon was nearly as it is now. But the night you left us it was but at half.”

“And was not that last night, O fool? In truth the wizardry of this place has eaten into thy brain. And yet—!”

There was the moon,Nkose, within a day or two of full. It could not lie, even though Jambúla could. Stupidly I gazed at it, then at him.

“And how long ago is it that I left you, Jambúla?”

“Six days, father.”

Ha! Now I saw. Now everything was clear. The wizard, and themútifire—the green, choking vapour that had filled my lungs and brain, causing me to see strange and fearful things—had kept me in a state of slumber. For six days I had lain within the heart of the rock, and I had thought it but the short part of one day. My hunger on my recovery—the state of putrefaction of the body of the slave whom I had supposed to have been slain only that morning—the change of the moon—all, indeed, stood clear enough now.

But whatever Jambúla may have imagined, it was not in my mind to tell him, or anybody, what had really happened, for it is not good among us for a man to have a name for dealings withabatagati. So I sent him off there and then to Maqandi’s kraal, with orders to bring back a number of men immediately to flay the great ghost-bull and carry the hide, with the head and hoofs, before the King, without loss of time.

After he had gone, and while I sat alone in the haunted place, I watched by the great black mass lying so still and quiet; and,Nkose, I believe I should have felt little surprise had the thing come to life again, head and all, so great was the awe it had set up among us. I am not even sure that I did not once or twice hear the voice of old Gasitye, and behold his spidery old form shambling among the trees. The dawn came at last, however, but before it came Jambúla, with a number of the iron-working slaves. These were in great delight over the slain monster who had destroyed so many of them, yet no time did I allow them to give way to their joy over dancing and such. It behoved us to return to the Great Great One with all speed, for on the next night the moon would be at full.

Chapter Seven.The Faith of a King.The news of what had been done had already spread fast and far, and before I reached Maqandi’s kraal a great crowd of the iron-workers had assembled. These increased more and more, and presently a vast number of these people had joined in my train, dancing in their joy, and singing songs of triumph and of praise of myself, who had rid them of a twofold terror—of destruction by this thing oftagati, and of peril of wholesale death by the assegai when the patience of the King should become exhausted. But little attention did I pay to all this, for my allotted time had nearly expired, and it would be all I could do to reach Kwa’zingwenya ere it had quite. So I levied upon Maqandi for a large body of slaves, and pushed on, travelling night and day, and taking little or no rest.No time even had I to visit my own kraal, which was somewhat off the line of my nearest road. However, I sent messengers there, and swift runners to Kwa’zingwenya, that news of my success might reach the King as early as possible.But as I travelled on swiftly through the night, whose dawn should see me laying my trophies at the feet of the Great Great One, my mind was torn by many misgivings, and many an anxious glance did I send upward to the heavens.The moon was at the full.Fair and splendid rose the dawn of that day, and as I came in sight of our Great Place, and of the people flocking thither—for here, too, the news had spread, and all were eager to hear about what had been done, and, if possible, to behold the actual skin and horns of the greattagatibeast—I forgot my fears, and felt proud and light-hearted as ever when I had accomplished something great. And thus I stalked into the great circle, looking neither to right nor left, and seemingly not hearing the murmurs and exclamations of wonder which broke from all who beheld the immense horned head borne behind me by the slaves.“The Great Great One is sleeping, Untúswa,” said the commander of the armed body-guard before the gate of theisigodhlo. “His orders are that none should awaken him.”“Yet what will he say if such news as I bring be allowed to grow old? How will that be, Ngoza?”“Whau! I know not, son of Ntelani,” was the answer. “But I may not go behind my orders. There is no safely that way.”Now I liked not this reply. I noticed, moreover, that the guard before theisigodhlowas much larger than usual, and in those days,Nkose, anything unusual was likely to foreshadow trouble for somebody. Further, there was a shortness in the tone of the captain of the guard which sounded strange as addressed to one of my rank and influence. There was nothing for it, however, but patience, so I sat down to await the pleasure of the Great Great One.As I sat there, taking snuff, I ran my eyes over those present, both near and far, seemingly with unconcern, but in reality with something of anxiety. Many of my own followers could I discern among the throng, and their women; but among these last was no sign of Lalusini. Yet this did not disconcert me, for of late myinkosikazihad rather avoided coming overmuch within the notice of the Great Great One.Presently anincekucame out and spoke to the captain of the guard. Immediately it was proclaimed that the Great Great One was about to appear; and, preceded by theizimbonga, or praisers, bellowing the royal titles, Umzilikazi came forth and took his seat at the head of the great circle, where he was wont to sit each morning and discuss matters of state, or pronounce judgment on offenders.As soon as the prostrate multitude had made an end of shouting the royal praises I advanced to the King and made my report, leaving out, however, my experience of the witchcraft of Gasitye.“Thou hast done well, Untúswa,” he said when I had concluded. “Now bid them bring hither that head.”This was done—and as Umzilikazi stood up the better to examine it, even he murmured in surprise at its gigantic size. And I, gazing upon the thing, black and huge, with its glazed eyes and swollen tongue and shaggy frontlet of hair, remembered the horrible and terrifying aspect of those vast, pointed horns, tossing and tearing in the glade of the moonlit forest.“Whau! It stinks. Let them take it away,” said Umzilikazi at length, spitting in disgust, as a swarm of flies came buzzing about his face. “And now, Untúswa, this thing will trouble the land no more?”“No more, Great Great One.”“Ha! That is well. And now by virtue of whatmútididst thou triumph over this evil thing of witchcraft?”“By the virtue of nomútisave that of the spear of the King, O Elephant,” I answered, with a glance backward at where I had deposited the great assegai, the erewhile royal gift.I thought the answer seemed to please him, then not; for his expression changed as though reading into my words a hidden meaning.“But it has taken long to rid the land of this thing, Untúswa,” he said, looking at me with his head bent sideways, and speaking in a soft tone.“That is so, Great Great One. But the thing was both crafty and fierce.”“Yet not alone didst thou slay it, as my conditions were,” he went on, pointing at me with his short-handled spear.“Alone indeed did I slay it, Serpent of Wisdom,” I answered.“Now thou liest, son of Ntelani. What of the slaves who were with thee?”“They were but bait for the ghost-bull, Divider of the Sun; and both were duly slain by it,” I replied. But now I knew my feet were standing on slippery ground indeed—for never for a long time past had Umzilikazi spoken to me in that tone, and for a longer time still, in the sight and hearing of all men.“And what of thy slave, Jambúla?” went on the King. “Was he not armed?”“No part did he take in slaying the thing, Father of the Wise. His part lay in running away.”“Yet he was armed, and my condition laid down that no armed force should accompany thee.”“Au! Now I would ask the Great Great One, the leader of the nations in war, whether one man, and he a slave, constitutes an armed force?” I replied, fully aware that whatever was in the King’s mind towards me, lack of courage never yet found favour in that mind.“Let be, then,” he said. “For that question we will let it rest. But say then, son of Ntelani—what of the moon? That this thing should be slain before the full of the moon—was not that one of my conditions? Yet the moon has been full these two nights.”“But the thing was so slain, Black Elephant. Before the moon was full, was it slain.”“But it should have been brought here by the full of the moon—the head, even as now. Well, well, Untúswa! It is not always possible to carry out conditions in their entirety, is it? Ah, ah! not always possible. Now go home, thou slayer of ghost-bulls, for it may be that I have even harder conditions awaiting thee than slayingtagatibeasts. Go!”I saluted and withdrew, and as I did so, the chief of theizanusicame up and begged to be allowed to have the trophies of the ghost-bull formútipurposes. But Umzilikazi refused shortly, and gave orders that they should be prepared and preserved until he had chosen how to dispose them. And I, leaving the presence as commanded, felt sore and heavy at heart, for the King’s tone of mockery seemed cold and hostile, and to bear some hidden meaning—one that boded ill to me and mine.So concerned was I, trying to think out this matter, that I hardly noticed how few of my own rank joined me to give me news or talk over what had been done, and of my own followers none at all. These last would give me greeting from afar, and hurry onward; yet, by what I had done, I had saved them all from the death of the assegai. But it behoved me not, as a chief of great rank and influence, to show curiosity, and so, asking questions of no man, I eventually reached my kraal.Then as I entered the gate, looking up towards my principal hut, it came back to me how I had last beheld Lalusini standing there in the setting sun to see the last of me, on that evening when I set forth on my errand of dread. Why was she not there now, waiting to welcome me?Hau! It seemed to send a chill through my being—a foreboding of all that was direful and deathly. Man of mature age and ripe experience as I was, even I could hardly restrain a quickening of the step as I paced across the open circle, returning the greetings of those who hailed my return.Stooping through the doorway, I entered the hut. It was empty.Everything was in its place as I had left it. But—no Lalusini.“She has gone about some ordinary business,” I thought; “or has come to welcome me in the path, and we have missed.” But my sinking heart cried aloud that such thoughts told idle tales.Stepping forth, I beckoned a young man standing near.“Where is Mgwali?” I inquired.He replied that he thought my brother must have tarried at the Great Place, for he had seen him there that morning.“Where is Ncala-cala?” I then asked.He replied that the old man, who was the responsible head of the kraal under me, had been sent for by the King the day before, and had not yet returned. I asked him no more questions, but entered the hut of one of my other wives.I found Nxope and Fumana squatted together on the ground. They greeted me in a manner that struck me as showing great if subdued fear.“Where is Lalusini?” I said.Then indeed was fear upon their countenances. They looked at each other as though each expected the other to reply.“Where is Lalusini?” I repeated.“We know not,” said Fumana sullenly.Then my patience gave way.“Ha! Ye know not! Hear me now, ye witches. I am tired of such as you. Look at this,” holding forth the great assegai, from which I never parted, save when forced to disarm in the presence of the King. “Look well at it and bear in mind I do not speak twice. This spear has drunk much blood, but never yet the blood of women. Fail to answer my next question and it will begin. Now. Where is Lalusini?”“In truth we know not,” screamed Nxope.I know not how it was,Nkose, that in my awful grief and rage that blade did not shear swiftly through the speaker’s heart, even as I had promised. I know not how it was, I say, unless it were that something about the woman—some movement, perhaps—reminded me of Lalusini, but my hand seemed arrested in the very act of striking.“Ha! One more chance,” I said. “Now, quick. Tell me.”“We will tell you all, lord,” yelled Fumana, more quick-witted than the other. “The third night after you left she disappeared. No one saw her go; nor has she ever returned.”“Seven nights ago that would be; and she has never returned?”“Never, lord.”“And that is all we know about it,” whimpered Nxope, still in fear for her life.But she need not have been. My anger against them was past now, for I could see they had told me all they knew, and that was—nothing. Besides, of them I had no further thought. I sat down on the floor of the hut and thought. The third night after I left. Ha! The vision in Gasitye’s cavern! Had I not seen Lalusini’s face among the others—among the faces of the dead—for such were all the others? She, too, had passed into the Great Unknown.Now my thoughts at once flew off to the King. I saw his hand in this matter. Umzilikazi had broken faith with me. He had seized the opportunity of my absence to put my sorceress-wife to death, and that secretly and in the dead of night. Ha! I saw it all now. All that had been said that morning connected him with this. Had he not repeatedly taxed me with not carrying out the conditions of my challenge, so as to justify his own act of treachery? And then his words, uttered in soft, mocking tones: “Well, well, Untúswa. It is not always possible to carry out conditions in their entirety, is it? Ah, ah! not always possible,” That pointed to some breach on his part of his own conditions. And again: “I have even harder conditions awaiting thee than the slaying oftagatibeasts.” It was all as clear now as the noonday sun. Yet why should he thus have tried to excuse what he had done? At a nod from him—one word—I had gone to join the others whose faces I had seen, dim and horrible, in the wizard cave. And then I knew that if the son of Matyobane, founder and first King of the Amandebeli nation, had never made a mistake in his life, he had made one when he failed to give that nod, to utter that word; for, so sure as he had ordered the death of Lalusini, so sure would a new king reign over the Amandebeli, and that speedily.I have already told you,Nkose, that the love which I felt for Lalusini was after the manner of the love which white people bear for their women; and, indeed, I think but few, even, of them. Now, as I sat there, realising that never again should I behold my stately and beautiful wife, never again hear the tones of her voice—always soft with love for me—the thoughts that hunted each other through my mind were many and passing strange. In truth, I was bewitched. All that had constituted the joy of living was as nothing now—my rank and influence, my ambitions, the fierce joy of battle, the thunder of the war-march, of rank upon rank of the splendid warriors I commanded—all this was as nothing. And at this moment there crossed my mind the thought of that priest-magician, the white man whom we found offering sacrifice in the forest—of whom I told you in a former story—and who dwelt with us long. I thought of his teaching and his mysteries, and of the God of Peace of whom he taught, and how that, if he were here now, I would gladly put myself through his strange water-rite, and participate in his mysterious sacrifices, so that I might once more be reunited to Lalusini in another world; for such seemed to me to have been his teaching—at least, so as I remembered it. But he, too, was dead; and, though I might sacrifice oxen at his grave, I doubted whether his voice even then would tell me what to do, for I remembered he liked not such sacrifices. Besides, he had always taught that it was not lawful to kill any man, save in defence of our lives or nation; and if there was one thing as firmly rooted in my mind then,Nkose, as the Intaba Zungweni yonder is rooted to the plain, it was that the son of Matyobane should himself travel the road of death. I cared not what fate should be mine therefor; nor, indeed, that my whole kraal—wives, children, relatives, followers—should die the death of the spear or the stake; I myself would slay the King with my own hand. And then it seemed that waves of blood were rolling red around my brain. I saw myself King—I saw all those of Umzilikazi’s House led forth to die—I saw the surface of the Pool of Death scarlet with the blood of all who, in the farthest degree, boasted a single drop of the blood of Matyobane, till even the alligators, surfeited, refused to devour any more.HaulI would slay.HaulI would invent new tortures for every man, woman, and child of the now reigning House; I would execute such a vengeance that the tale of it should be handed down as long as the tongue of the Zulu was spoken in the world.I know not,Nkose, what change this cloud of blood and flame rolling around my brain must have produced in my countenance, but I awoke from my thoughts to find Nxope and Fumana staring at me as though at a thing of horror. Their eyes were starting from their heads, their mouths were open, they seemed turned to stone, as though they were staring into the very jaws of the most terrible form of death. Then I remembered. If I would render my vengeance complete, I must be wary; silent and crafty as the leopard when marking down his prey. The strength of the warrior, the craft of the councillor, the coolness and self-control of both—such must be the rôle of every moment, waking or sleeping, of life.“I think I have travelled too fast and too far, and am tired,” I said in an ordinary and even tone; yet, even as it was, so frightened were those two women that they half leapt at the sound of it. “You two,” pointing at them with my spear, “attend now. It is not good to talk too much. The tongue that wags too much must be cut out with this”—fingering the edge of the blade—“or the throat is less trouble to cut. Bear that in mind, for I know not how ye escaped with your lives but a short while ago.”They were quick in their declarations of silence and careful utterance, and I knew I had sufficiently frightened them. And thus I left them.

The news of what had been done had already spread fast and far, and before I reached Maqandi’s kraal a great crowd of the iron-workers had assembled. These increased more and more, and presently a vast number of these people had joined in my train, dancing in their joy, and singing songs of triumph and of praise of myself, who had rid them of a twofold terror—of destruction by this thing oftagati, and of peril of wholesale death by the assegai when the patience of the King should become exhausted. But little attention did I pay to all this, for my allotted time had nearly expired, and it would be all I could do to reach Kwa’zingwenya ere it had quite. So I levied upon Maqandi for a large body of slaves, and pushed on, travelling night and day, and taking little or no rest.

No time even had I to visit my own kraal, which was somewhat off the line of my nearest road. However, I sent messengers there, and swift runners to Kwa’zingwenya, that news of my success might reach the King as early as possible.

But as I travelled on swiftly through the night, whose dawn should see me laying my trophies at the feet of the Great Great One, my mind was torn by many misgivings, and many an anxious glance did I send upward to the heavens.The moon was at the full.

Fair and splendid rose the dawn of that day, and as I came in sight of our Great Place, and of the people flocking thither—for here, too, the news had spread, and all were eager to hear about what had been done, and, if possible, to behold the actual skin and horns of the greattagatibeast—I forgot my fears, and felt proud and light-hearted as ever when I had accomplished something great. And thus I stalked into the great circle, looking neither to right nor left, and seemingly not hearing the murmurs and exclamations of wonder which broke from all who beheld the immense horned head borne behind me by the slaves.

“The Great Great One is sleeping, Untúswa,” said the commander of the armed body-guard before the gate of theisigodhlo. “His orders are that none should awaken him.”

“Yet what will he say if such news as I bring be allowed to grow old? How will that be, Ngoza?”

“Whau! I know not, son of Ntelani,” was the answer. “But I may not go behind my orders. There is no safely that way.”

Now I liked not this reply. I noticed, moreover, that the guard before theisigodhlowas much larger than usual, and in those days,Nkose, anything unusual was likely to foreshadow trouble for somebody. Further, there was a shortness in the tone of the captain of the guard which sounded strange as addressed to one of my rank and influence. There was nothing for it, however, but patience, so I sat down to await the pleasure of the Great Great One.

As I sat there, taking snuff, I ran my eyes over those present, both near and far, seemingly with unconcern, but in reality with something of anxiety. Many of my own followers could I discern among the throng, and their women; but among these last was no sign of Lalusini. Yet this did not disconcert me, for of late myinkosikazihad rather avoided coming overmuch within the notice of the Great Great One.

Presently anincekucame out and spoke to the captain of the guard. Immediately it was proclaimed that the Great Great One was about to appear; and, preceded by theizimbonga, or praisers, bellowing the royal titles, Umzilikazi came forth and took his seat at the head of the great circle, where he was wont to sit each morning and discuss matters of state, or pronounce judgment on offenders.

As soon as the prostrate multitude had made an end of shouting the royal praises I advanced to the King and made my report, leaving out, however, my experience of the witchcraft of Gasitye.

“Thou hast done well, Untúswa,” he said when I had concluded. “Now bid them bring hither that head.”

This was done—and as Umzilikazi stood up the better to examine it, even he murmured in surprise at its gigantic size. And I, gazing upon the thing, black and huge, with its glazed eyes and swollen tongue and shaggy frontlet of hair, remembered the horrible and terrifying aspect of those vast, pointed horns, tossing and tearing in the glade of the moonlit forest.

“Whau! It stinks. Let them take it away,” said Umzilikazi at length, spitting in disgust, as a swarm of flies came buzzing about his face. “And now, Untúswa, this thing will trouble the land no more?”

“No more, Great Great One.”

“Ha! That is well. And now by virtue of whatmútididst thou triumph over this evil thing of witchcraft?”

“By the virtue of nomútisave that of the spear of the King, O Elephant,” I answered, with a glance backward at where I had deposited the great assegai, the erewhile royal gift.

I thought the answer seemed to please him, then not; for his expression changed as though reading into my words a hidden meaning.

“But it has taken long to rid the land of this thing, Untúswa,” he said, looking at me with his head bent sideways, and speaking in a soft tone.

“That is so, Great Great One. But the thing was both crafty and fierce.”

“Yet not alone didst thou slay it, as my conditions were,” he went on, pointing at me with his short-handled spear.

“Alone indeed did I slay it, Serpent of Wisdom,” I answered.

“Now thou liest, son of Ntelani. What of the slaves who were with thee?”

“They were but bait for the ghost-bull, Divider of the Sun; and both were duly slain by it,” I replied. But now I knew my feet were standing on slippery ground indeed—for never for a long time past had Umzilikazi spoken to me in that tone, and for a longer time still, in the sight and hearing of all men.

“And what of thy slave, Jambúla?” went on the King. “Was he not armed?”

“No part did he take in slaying the thing, Father of the Wise. His part lay in running away.”

“Yet he was armed, and my condition laid down that no armed force should accompany thee.”

“Au! Now I would ask the Great Great One, the leader of the nations in war, whether one man, and he a slave, constitutes an armed force?” I replied, fully aware that whatever was in the King’s mind towards me, lack of courage never yet found favour in that mind.

“Let be, then,” he said. “For that question we will let it rest. But say then, son of Ntelani—what of the moon? That this thing should be slain before the full of the moon—was not that one of my conditions? Yet the moon has been full these two nights.”

“But the thing was so slain, Black Elephant. Before the moon was full, was it slain.”

“But it should have been brought here by the full of the moon—the head, even as now. Well, well, Untúswa! It is not always possible to carry out conditions in their entirety, is it? Ah, ah! not always possible. Now go home, thou slayer of ghost-bulls, for it may be that I have even harder conditions awaiting thee than slayingtagatibeasts. Go!”

I saluted and withdrew, and as I did so, the chief of theizanusicame up and begged to be allowed to have the trophies of the ghost-bull formútipurposes. But Umzilikazi refused shortly, and gave orders that they should be prepared and preserved until he had chosen how to dispose them. And I, leaving the presence as commanded, felt sore and heavy at heart, for the King’s tone of mockery seemed cold and hostile, and to bear some hidden meaning—one that boded ill to me and mine.

So concerned was I, trying to think out this matter, that I hardly noticed how few of my own rank joined me to give me news or talk over what had been done, and of my own followers none at all. These last would give me greeting from afar, and hurry onward; yet, by what I had done, I had saved them all from the death of the assegai. But it behoved me not, as a chief of great rank and influence, to show curiosity, and so, asking questions of no man, I eventually reached my kraal.

Then as I entered the gate, looking up towards my principal hut, it came back to me how I had last beheld Lalusini standing there in the setting sun to see the last of me, on that evening when I set forth on my errand of dread. Why was she not there now, waiting to welcome me?Hau! It seemed to send a chill through my being—a foreboding of all that was direful and deathly. Man of mature age and ripe experience as I was, even I could hardly restrain a quickening of the step as I paced across the open circle, returning the greetings of those who hailed my return.

Stooping through the doorway, I entered the hut. It was empty.

Everything was in its place as I had left it. But—no Lalusini.

“She has gone about some ordinary business,” I thought; “or has come to welcome me in the path, and we have missed.” But my sinking heart cried aloud that such thoughts told idle tales.

Stepping forth, I beckoned a young man standing near.

“Where is Mgwali?” I inquired.

He replied that he thought my brother must have tarried at the Great Place, for he had seen him there that morning.

“Where is Ncala-cala?” I then asked.

He replied that the old man, who was the responsible head of the kraal under me, had been sent for by the King the day before, and had not yet returned. I asked him no more questions, but entered the hut of one of my other wives.

I found Nxope and Fumana squatted together on the ground. They greeted me in a manner that struck me as showing great if subdued fear.

“Where is Lalusini?” I said.

Then indeed was fear upon their countenances. They looked at each other as though each expected the other to reply.

“Where is Lalusini?” I repeated.

“We know not,” said Fumana sullenly.

Then my patience gave way.

“Ha! Ye know not! Hear me now, ye witches. I am tired of such as you. Look at this,” holding forth the great assegai, from which I never parted, save when forced to disarm in the presence of the King. “Look well at it and bear in mind I do not speak twice. This spear has drunk much blood, but never yet the blood of women. Fail to answer my next question and it will begin. Now. Where is Lalusini?”

“In truth we know not,” screamed Nxope.

I know not how it was,Nkose, that in my awful grief and rage that blade did not shear swiftly through the speaker’s heart, even as I had promised. I know not how it was, I say, unless it were that something about the woman—some movement, perhaps—reminded me of Lalusini, but my hand seemed arrested in the very act of striking.

“Ha! One more chance,” I said. “Now, quick. Tell me.”

“We will tell you all, lord,” yelled Fumana, more quick-witted than the other. “The third night after you left she disappeared. No one saw her go; nor has she ever returned.”

“Seven nights ago that would be; and she has never returned?”

“Never, lord.”

“And that is all we know about it,” whimpered Nxope, still in fear for her life.

But she need not have been. My anger against them was past now, for I could see they had told me all they knew, and that was—nothing. Besides, of them I had no further thought. I sat down on the floor of the hut and thought. The third night after I left. Ha! The vision in Gasitye’s cavern! Had I not seen Lalusini’s face among the others—among the faces of the dead—for such were all the others? She, too, had passed into the Great Unknown.

Now my thoughts at once flew off to the King. I saw his hand in this matter. Umzilikazi had broken faith with me. He had seized the opportunity of my absence to put my sorceress-wife to death, and that secretly and in the dead of night. Ha! I saw it all now. All that had been said that morning connected him with this. Had he not repeatedly taxed me with not carrying out the conditions of my challenge, so as to justify his own act of treachery? And then his words, uttered in soft, mocking tones: “Well, well, Untúswa. It is not always possible to carry out conditions in their entirety, is it? Ah, ah! not always possible,” That pointed to some breach on his part of his own conditions. And again: “I have even harder conditions awaiting thee than the slaying oftagatibeasts.” It was all as clear now as the noonday sun. Yet why should he thus have tried to excuse what he had done? At a nod from him—one word—I had gone to join the others whose faces I had seen, dim and horrible, in the wizard cave. And then I knew that if the son of Matyobane, founder and first King of the Amandebeli nation, had never made a mistake in his life, he had made one when he failed to give that nod, to utter that word; for, so sure as he had ordered the death of Lalusini, so sure would a new king reign over the Amandebeli, and that speedily.

I have already told you,Nkose, that the love which I felt for Lalusini was after the manner of the love which white people bear for their women; and, indeed, I think but few, even, of them. Now, as I sat there, realising that never again should I behold my stately and beautiful wife, never again hear the tones of her voice—always soft with love for me—the thoughts that hunted each other through my mind were many and passing strange. In truth, I was bewitched. All that had constituted the joy of living was as nothing now—my rank and influence, my ambitions, the fierce joy of battle, the thunder of the war-march, of rank upon rank of the splendid warriors I commanded—all this was as nothing. And at this moment there crossed my mind the thought of that priest-magician, the white man whom we found offering sacrifice in the forest—of whom I told you in a former story—and who dwelt with us long. I thought of his teaching and his mysteries, and of the God of Peace of whom he taught, and how that, if he were here now, I would gladly put myself through his strange water-rite, and participate in his mysterious sacrifices, so that I might once more be reunited to Lalusini in another world; for such seemed to me to have been his teaching—at least, so as I remembered it. But he, too, was dead; and, though I might sacrifice oxen at his grave, I doubted whether his voice even then would tell me what to do, for I remembered he liked not such sacrifices. Besides, he had always taught that it was not lawful to kill any man, save in defence of our lives or nation; and if there was one thing as firmly rooted in my mind then,Nkose, as the Intaba Zungweni yonder is rooted to the plain, it was that the son of Matyobane should himself travel the road of death. I cared not what fate should be mine therefor; nor, indeed, that my whole kraal—wives, children, relatives, followers—should die the death of the spear or the stake; I myself would slay the King with my own hand. And then it seemed that waves of blood were rolling red around my brain. I saw myself King—I saw all those of Umzilikazi’s House led forth to die—I saw the surface of the Pool of Death scarlet with the blood of all who, in the farthest degree, boasted a single drop of the blood of Matyobane, till even the alligators, surfeited, refused to devour any more.HaulI would slay.HaulI would invent new tortures for every man, woman, and child of the now reigning House; I would execute such a vengeance that the tale of it should be handed down as long as the tongue of the Zulu was spoken in the world.

I know not,Nkose, what change this cloud of blood and flame rolling around my brain must have produced in my countenance, but I awoke from my thoughts to find Nxope and Fumana staring at me as though at a thing of horror. Their eyes were starting from their heads, their mouths were open, they seemed turned to stone, as though they were staring into the very jaws of the most terrible form of death. Then I remembered. If I would render my vengeance complete, I must be wary; silent and crafty as the leopard when marking down his prey. The strength of the warrior, the craft of the councillor, the coolness and self-control of both—such must be the rôle of every moment, waking or sleeping, of life.

“I think I have travelled too fast and too far, and am tired,” I said in an ordinary and even tone; yet, even as it was, so frightened were those two women that they half leapt at the sound of it. “You two,” pointing at them with my spear, “attend now. It is not good to talk too much. The tongue that wags too much must be cut out with this”—fingering the edge of the blade—“or the throat is less trouble to cut. Bear that in mind, for I know not how ye escaped with your lives but a short while ago.”

They were quick in their declarations of silence and careful utterance, and I knew I had sufficiently frightened them. And thus I left them.

Back to IndexNext