Chapter Eleven.The End of Tauane.As the King thus spoke,Nkose, I felt safe again, for old Masuka might not arrive before I had finished interpreting, and when that time had come I felt sure that the moments left to the captive chief of the Blue Cattle would be few indeed.“So, brother!” said the Great Great One, speaking in that soft and pleasant voice which was the most terrible of all, “so, brother—who thought to rule the world? What bad dreams disturbed thy night’s rest to cause thee to make a mock of my messengers?”This I put to Tauane. But he made no reply save a murmur, waiting for the King to continue.“I offered thee life, and thou didst choose death; death for thyself and thy people. Go, ask such as remain of the tribes and peoples which have lain in and around our path—ask if the son of Matyobane was ever known to send forth his ‘word’ twice?”Still the chief made no reply, save for a murmur. But there was a light in his eyes as of hope, for Umzilikazi’s voice was soft and pleasant, and therein he read mercy. Ha! we knew better than that—knew that for such a purpose the King’s voice had better have in it the roar of thunder.“Not only didst thou turn a deaf ear to my offer of thy life and the lives of thy people, O Chief of the Blue Cattle,” went on Umzilikazi, “but to my messenger, Untúswa, thou didst offer violence, to him and to those who were with him. But for my arrival in time, he who was the tongue of the King would have been slain; slain by thee and thy people. What hast thou to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle?”This I put to Tauane in glee, for I had not forgotten how they had smoked us like bees within the stone walls; how, but for our prowess and their cowardice, we should long since have been slain; how that we in our capacity of ambassadors should have been sacred, but, instead, had been set upon and assailed by these dogs of Bakoni. He urged eagerly in excuse that for what had happened he was not responsible, that he had been unable to control his people, which, when I had rendered into our tongue, raised an exclamation of derision from all who heard it; for to us the idea of a people refusing to listen to the voice of its chief, or any man remaining a chief who was unable to compel the implicit obedience of his people, seemed the most ridiculous thing in the whole world. If he thought to save his own life by throwing the blame upon his people, why then, never made any man a greater mistake, for never was cowardice in any form a way to the favour of Umzilikazi.“And that is all thou hast to say, thou treacherous and cowardly dog?” said the King, dropping his soft and pleasant voice and pointing his spear at the captive chief.“Not all, O Black Elephant,” was the answer; and now I felt on my own trial, for, if he mentioned the secret of Lalusini’s existence and hiding-place, how could I suppress it, or turn it into something else? I knew that none of theizindunaor others seated near by understood that language, yet many of the Amaholi, or slaves, did; and although these were in the background, I knew not how far Tauane’s voice might reach.“There is yet more I would say,” he answered. “It is whispered that the great nation before whose irresistible bravery our race has gone down is followed by a hostile nation greater even than itself, before whom it flees. Now, O King, our weapons are good, and there are still some of our warriors left. Let them thereforekonzato the Elephant of the Amandebeli, so when the Lion of the Zulu roars in pursuit behind, he will be met by many more spears than he had expected.”This offer of alliance was so ludicrous that the warriors listening could not restrain their shouts of derision.“Lo, a fighting bull! a lion indeed!Hau! listen to the trumpeting of the elephant!” they jeered, mocking the unfortunate chief. Then the King spoke, and again his voice was soft.“Ha! That is what thou hast to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle? A noble alliance truly! An alliance between the elephant and the cricket, between the serpent and the frog! Ha! a people who in their armed hundreds are driven backwards and forwards like cattle by two men—only two! A people who in their armed thousands, and with fire to help them, are kept at a distance for half a day by two men—only two! Such are they who would fight side by side with us! Say now, chief of a nation of old women—if thy spears in their thousands could do nothing against two Zulu fighting-men, and that during half a day, how would they think to stand against a wholeimpi? The ostrich who vanishes beyond one sky-line when a man appears on the other is preferable as an ally to thee and thine. We want not such.”So great were the murmurs of contemptuous hate which went up that I could hardly make myself heard as I rendered the King’s speech. It seemed to me, watching the countenance of Tauane, that hope had now left it, to be succeeded, however, by a rekindling gleam.“I lie beneath the foot of the Elephant,” he said; “but there is that, which, if I am suffered to go untrampled, the Elephant would gladly know.”I looked around. No sign of Masuka, and it seemed to me that none within hearing would understand this tongue. Now the moment had come, now was Tauane about to try and purchase his life by disclosing Lalusini’s secret and mine, and I was resolved that he should not. Yet it was a terrible thing to stand before the majesty of the Great Great One, and deliberately deceive him—a terrible thing! But I turned the speech of Tauane into a mere prayer that he might not be crushed beneath the foot of the Elephant.“The house of the Great King should be full of beautiful women,” he went on; “yet the most beautiful of all is not there.”Yes, the air was getting hot now; but I rendered the words so as to mean that the most beautiful women of the Bakonihad alreadyfallen to the King’s possession.“The blood of the most beautiful of all is that of the Amazulu. There flows in her veins the pure blood of kings,” he continued.“They are beautiful as those of the Amazulu, almost worthy to mingle with the pure blood of kings,” I translated.“She is the Queen of the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; beautiful as the mate of the Great King should be, and she has yet to be brought to the Elephant of the Amandebeli.”“Some even are skilled in the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; and all have been delivered to the Elephant of the Amandebeli,” I put it.“The secret of her hiding-place is known to me alone,” he said. “She is there, safe and unharmed, awaiting the arrival of those who shall lead her before the King. She is of the Amazulu, and is called Lalusini.”I started inwardly. Ha! The name! I might play tricks with the remainder, but the name! It sounded so plain—stood forth so unmistakably Zulu among the wretched monkey-like speech of these people, that I saw, or fancied I saw, a spasm of astonishment come into the King’s face. Then I saw light.“None have been hidden away in secret hiding-places,” I translated; “all have been delivered safe and unharmed to those who should lead them before the King. They are worthy mates for the Amazulu or the Baqulusini.”(Note: Baqulusini, same as Abaqulusi. A mountain clan inhabiting Northern Zululand.)Thus,Nkose, did I make use of the similarity between these two words, deeming that the King, if he detected any difference, would attribute it to the difficulty these people had in pronouncing Zulu words; and, in fact, he must have done so.“And is this all thou hast to urge in favour of thy miserable life, rebellious dog, who barks at my messengers?” said the Great Great One, haughtily.“And is this secret, indeed, known but to thee alone, and to no other? Not even to a dog?” I put it.“To me alone; not even to a dog, Black Elephant,” said the chief. But his answer I turned into:“This is all I have to urge, O Black Elephant. If it is not enough, I must even die.”And now I felt safe. Nor could I help smiling to myself, for the words I had put into the mouth of Tauane were the words of a brave man, whereas the chief of the Blue Cattle was the greatest of cowards when face to face with death. And, indeed, I deserved gratitude from him, for in any case he was as good as dead; and it was better to die with the words of a brave man on one’s lips than with the grovelling whine of a coward.Yet, just then, the laugh disappeared from my mind, for, looking up, I beheld drawing near old Masuka. Bent double, tottering with age, he crept along, and squatted, just a little apart, behind theizinduna.“Now,” I thought, “if the King chooses to converse yet longer with Tauane through the old Mosutu, then, indeed, I am undone.”But the Great Great One seemed in no mood for furtherindaba. Signing me to approach, he whispered a few words, and seldom or never have a few words sounded more welcome. Springing up, I passed round my orders to the warriors, and in a moment Tauane and those that remained of his people were seized and bound with thongs.Then the King spoke, and his tones never were softer:“Yonder is a round wall within another. Within those walls two men, fighting-men of the Amazulu, fought throughout the shining of yesterday’s sun—fought against a twofold enemy, the whole might of the People of the Blue Cattle and against fire! And one of these two men was the tongue and mouthpiece of myself. This day, again, those walls shall witness a merry strife, but it shall not be against such great and overpowering odds. The remaining fighting-men of the People of the Blue Cattle, who still number a great many more than two, shall, to-day, strive within those round walls. But they shall fight there against one enemy only—one enemy instead of two—wherein I am more merciful than they. And that enemy shall be fire! Go now, ye who remain of the warriors of Bakoni! go now, and fight where my two warriors fought. Fare ye well,Hambani gahle!”The wave of the hand with which the King concluded was our signal. The warriors hailed the Great Great One’s words with roars of acclamation, and, throwing themselves upon the prisoners—nearly a hundred in number—began dragging them off to the round stone walls, which stood up from the plain some little distance off, amid the smoking ruins of the town of the Bakoni. Others, fleet-footed, had run on in advance, and by the time we arrived at the ruins had gathered and piled up a dense ring of brushwood and dry grass. The prisoners, bound, and shrieking and kicking, were flung within the inner wall, where they were heaped up, one upon another, a tossing, struggling mass.“Gahle—gahle!” I cried. “Not so fast! The chief must crown the pile. It is only due to his rank.”The warriors laughed, and went on flinging in the wretched Bakoni.“Ha, Tauane,” I said, speaking in his own tongue, “it is not good to shake weapons in the face of the King’s messenger. And know this. Not to thee alone is the secret of the Queen of the mysteries of the Bakoni known. Through the darkness of the earth, to an outward chamber in the cliff, like unto the place of an eagle’s nest, there lies hidden she in whose veins runs the pure blood of the Amazulu, even the blood which is fit to mingle with that of kings. I know the place beside thyself—I alone.”He stared at me with a strange, wild expression.“Thou and the King—yes,” he muttered.“Not the King—I only,” I jeered. “Not the King; thy words did not travel so far.”“Yet he would have given me my life!” he said, in a bewildered way, looking giddily around. Then, as it seemed to burst upon him how he had been tricked, he began to scream aloud the story; but none there understood a word, and before he could say many words I had seized him by the neck. At a sign from me others seized him too, and, swinging him up, bound as he was, flung him right over the two walls, where he fell upon the living struggling mass of all that remained of his followers. Now fire was put in, and the great piles of dry stuff crackled and flared, and the flames and smoke drove across the bodies of those who had taken the places of myself and Mgwali, and were now suffering the death to which they had destined us. And, as the flames roared upward to the heavens, in a great circle our warriors formed around as near as the heat would allow them to draw, and the thunderous stamp of the war-dance drowned the wild shrieks of the last of the victims due to the insult and outrage offered to the King’s messengers. And that was the end of Tauane, the chief of the Bakoni, of the People of the Blue Cattle.That night, when the fires were lighted, the King ordered a great dance of theTyay’igama, or “calling of names,” when those named by their captains for deeds of valour should have an opportunity of recounting their claims to such distinction before the King and the whole nation. And, among others, I “named” my brother, Mgwali, who, in his manner of setting forth his deeds, when dancing alone amid the circle of warriors, reminded me not a little of my own performance when I was “named” by Gungana on a like occasion. However, the King “pointed at” him, and thereby he obtained permission totunga. Yet his admiration for the female captives we had taken from the Bakoni was destined to bring him some disappointment; for the King exacted that, being young, he should choose his bride from among the girls of our own nation. For so jealous was Umzilikazi on behalf of keeping the old Zulu blood pure and strong, that, as yet, he would hardly ever allow a young man to take to wife captives or girls of an inferior race. And when theTyay’igamadance was ended there was a great slaughter of cattle—the blue cattle of the Bakoni—and the night was spent in feasting and singing. And in the morning we moved on further away still from this place of death. And behind us, where the abodes of the destroyed race had been—although the houses had long since burnt out—yet above the smouldering cattle-kraals the grey smoke still went wreathing up; and, high overhead in the blue heavens, their pinions dazzling white in the sun, like flakes of driving snow, floated clouds of vultures. For in those days the march of our conquering and destroying nation might ever be followed and marked out by two things: a cloud of smoke and a cloud of vultures.
As the King thus spoke,Nkose, I felt safe again, for old Masuka might not arrive before I had finished interpreting, and when that time had come I felt sure that the moments left to the captive chief of the Blue Cattle would be few indeed.
“So, brother!” said the Great Great One, speaking in that soft and pleasant voice which was the most terrible of all, “so, brother—who thought to rule the world? What bad dreams disturbed thy night’s rest to cause thee to make a mock of my messengers?”
This I put to Tauane. But he made no reply save a murmur, waiting for the King to continue.
“I offered thee life, and thou didst choose death; death for thyself and thy people. Go, ask such as remain of the tribes and peoples which have lain in and around our path—ask if the son of Matyobane was ever known to send forth his ‘word’ twice?”
Still the chief made no reply, save for a murmur. But there was a light in his eyes as of hope, for Umzilikazi’s voice was soft and pleasant, and therein he read mercy. Ha! we knew better than that—knew that for such a purpose the King’s voice had better have in it the roar of thunder.
“Not only didst thou turn a deaf ear to my offer of thy life and the lives of thy people, O Chief of the Blue Cattle,” went on Umzilikazi, “but to my messenger, Untúswa, thou didst offer violence, to him and to those who were with him. But for my arrival in time, he who was the tongue of the King would have been slain; slain by thee and thy people. What hast thou to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle?”
This I put to Tauane in glee, for I had not forgotten how they had smoked us like bees within the stone walls; how, but for our prowess and their cowardice, we should long since have been slain; how that we in our capacity of ambassadors should have been sacred, but, instead, had been set upon and assailed by these dogs of Bakoni. He urged eagerly in excuse that for what had happened he was not responsible, that he had been unable to control his people, which, when I had rendered into our tongue, raised an exclamation of derision from all who heard it; for to us the idea of a people refusing to listen to the voice of its chief, or any man remaining a chief who was unable to compel the implicit obedience of his people, seemed the most ridiculous thing in the whole world. If he thought to save his own life by throwing the blame upon his people, why then, never made any man a greater mistake, for never was cowardice in any form a way to the favour of Umzilikazi.
“And that is all thou hast to say, thou treacherous and cowardly dog?” said the King, dropping his soft and pleasant voice and pointing his spear at the captive chief.
“Not all, O Black Elephant,” was the answer; and now I felt on my own trial, for, if he mentioned the secret of Lalusini’s existence and hiding-place, how could I suppress it, or turn it into something else? I knew that none of theizindunaor others seated near by understood that language, yet many of the Amaholi, or slaves, did; and although these were in the background, I knew not how far Tauane’s voice might reach.
“There is yet more I would say,” he answered. “It is whispered that the great nation before whose irresistible bravery our race has gone down is followed by a hostile nation greater even than itself, before whom it flees. Now, O King, our weapons are good, and there are still some of our warriors left. Let them thereforekonzato the Elephant of the Amandebeli, so when the Lion of the Zulu roars in pursuit behind, he will be met by many more spears than he had expected.”
This offer of alliance was so ludicrous that the warriors listening could not restrain their shouts of derision.
“Lo, a fighting bull! a lion indeed!Hau! listen to the trumpeting of the elephant!” they jeered, mocking the unfortunate chief. Then the King spoke, and again his voice was soft.
“Ha! That is what thou hast to say, Chief of the Blue Cattle? A noble alliance truly! An alliance between the elephant and the cricket, between the serpent and the frog! Ha! a people who in their armed hundreds are driven backwards and forwards like cattle by two men—only two! A people who in their armed thousands, and with fire to help them, are kept at a distance for half a day by two men—only two! Such are they who would fight side by side with us! Say now, chief of a nation of old women—if thy spears in their thousands could do nothing against two Zulu fighting-men, and that during half a day, how would they think to stand against a wholeimpi? The ostrich who vanishes beyond one sky-line when a man appears on the other is preferable as an ally to thee and thine. We want not such.”
So great were the murmurs of contemptuous hate which went up that I could hardly make myself heard as I rendered the King’s speech. It seemed to me, watching the countenance of Tauane, that hope had now left it, to be succeeded, however, by a rekindling gleam.
“I lie beneath the foot of the Elephant,” he said; “but there is that, which, if I am suffered to go untrampled, the Elephant would gladly know.”
I looked around. No sign of Masuka, and it seemed to me that none within hearing would understand this tongue. Now the moment had come, now was Tauane about to try and purchase his life by disclosing Lalusini’s secret and mine, and I was resolved that he should not. Yet it was a terrible thing to stand before the majesty of the Great Great One, and deliberately deceive him—a terrible thing! But I turned the speech of Tauane into a mere prayer that he might not be crushed beneath the foot of the Elephant.
“The house of the Great King should be full of beautiful women,” he went on; “yet the most beautiful of all is not there.”
Yes, the air was getting hot now; but I rendered the words so as to mean that the most beautiful women of the Bakonihad alreadyfallen to the King’s possession.
“The blood of the most beautiful of all is that of the Amazulu. There flows in her veins the pure blood of kings,” he continued.
“They are beautiful as those of the Amazulu, almost worthy to mingle with the pure blood of kings,” I translated.
“She is the Queen of the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; beautiful as the mate of the Great King should be, and she has yet to be brought to the Elephant of the Amandebeli.”
“Some even are skilled in the hidden mysteries of the Bakoni; and all have been delivered to the Elephant of the Amandebeli,” I put it.
“The secret of her hiding-place is known to me alone,” he said. “She is there, safe and unharmed, awaiting the arrival of those who shall lead her before the King. She is of the Amazulu, and is called Lalusini.”
I started inwardly. Ha! The name! I might play tricks with the remainder, but the name! It sounded so plain—stood forth so unmistakably Zulu among the wretched monkey-like speech of these people, that I saw, or fancied I saw, a spasm of astonishment come into the King’s face. Then I saw light.
“None have been hidden away in secret hiding-places,” I translated; “all have been delivered safe and unharmed to those who should lead them before the King. They are worthy mates for the Amazulu or the Baqulusini.”
(Note: Baqulusini, same as Abaqulusi. A mountain clan inhabiting Northern Zululand.)
Thus,Nkose, did I make use of the similarity between these two words, deeming that the King, if he detected any difference, would attribute it to the difficulty these people had in pronouncing Zulu words; and, in fact, he must have done so.
“And is this all thou hast to urge in favour of thy miserable life, rebellious dog, who barks at my messengers?” said the Great Great One, haughtily.
“And is this secret, indeed, known but to thee alone, and to no other? Not even to a dog?” I put it.
“To me alone; not even to a dog, Black Elephant,” said the chief. But his answer I turned into:
“This is all I have to urge, O Black Elephant. If it is not enough, I must even die.”
And now I felt safe. Nor could I help smiling to myself, for the words I had put into the mouth of Tauane were the words of a brave man, whereas the chief of the Blue Cattle was the greatest of cowards when face to face with death. And, indeed, I deserved gratitude from him, for in any case he was as good as dead; and it was better to die with the words of a brave man on one’s lips than with the grovelling whine of a coward.
Yet, just then, the laugh disappeared from my mind, for, looking up, I beheld drawing near old Masuka. Bent double, tottering with age, he crept along, and squatted, just a little apart, behind theizinduna.
“Now,” I thought, “if the King chooses to converse yet longer with Tauane through the old Mosutu, then, indeed, I am undone.”
But the Great Great One seemed in no mood for furtherindaba. Signing me to approach, he whispered a few words, and seldom or never have a few words sounded more welcome. Springing up, I passed round my orders to the warriors, and in a moment Tauane and those that remained of his people were seized and bound with thongs.
Then the King spoke, and his tones never were softer:
“Yonder is a round wall within another. Within those walls two men, fighting-men of the Amazulu, fought throughout the shining of yesterday’s sun—fought against a twofold enemy, the whole might of the People of the Blue Cattle and against fire! And one of these two men was the tongue and mouthpiece of myself. This day, again, those walls shall witness a merry strife, but it shall not be against such great and overpowering odds. The remaining fighting-men of the People of the Blue Cattle, who still number a great many more than two, shall, to-day, strive within those round walls. But they shall fight there against one enemy only—one enemy instead of two—wherein I am more merciful than they. And that enemy shall be fire! Go now, ye who remain of the warriors of Bakoni! go now, and fight where my two warriors fought. Fare ye well,Hambani gahle!”
The wave of the hand with which the King concluded was our signal. The warriors hailed the Great Great One’s words with roars of acclamation, and, throwing themselves upon the prisoners—nearly a hundred in number—began dragging them off to the round stone walls, which stood up from the plain some little distance off, amid the smoking ruins of the town of the Bakoni. Others, fleet-footed, had run on in advance, and by the time we arrived at the ruins had gathered and piled up a dense ring of brushwood and dry grass. The prisoners, bound, and shrieking and kicking, were flung within the inner wall, where they were heaped up, one upon another, a tossing, struggling mass.
“Gahle—gahle!” I cried. “Not so fast! The chief must crown the pile. It is only due to his rank.”
The warriors laughed, and went on flinging in the wretched Bakoni.
“Ha, Tauane,” I said, speaking in his own tongue, “it is not good to shake weapons in the face of the King’s messenger. And know this. Not to thee alone is the secret of the Queen of the mysteries of the Bakoni known. Through the darkness of the earth, to an outward chamber in the cliff, like unto the place of an eagle’s nest, there lies hidden she in whose veins runs the pure blood of the Amazulu, even the blood which is fit to mingle with that of kings. I know the place beside thyself—I alone.”
He stared at me with a strange, wild expression.
“Thou and the King—yes,” he muttered.
“Not the King—I only,” I jeered. “Not the King; thy words did not travel so far.”
“Yet he would have given me my life!” he said, in a bewildered way, looking giddily around. Then, as it seemed to burst upon him how he had been tricked, he began to scream aloud the story; but none there understood a word, and before he could say many words I had seized him by the neck. At a sign from me others seized him too, and, swinging him up, bound as he was, flung him right over the two walls, where he fell upon the living struggling mass of all that remained of his followers. Now fire was put in, and the great piles of dry stuff crackled and flared, and the flames and smoke drove across the bodies of those who had taken the places of myself and Mgwali, and were now suffering the death to which they had destined us. And, as the flames roared upward to the heavens, in a great circle our warriors formed around as near as the heat would allow them to draw, and the thunderous stamp of the war-dance drowned the wild shrieks of the last of the victims due to the insult and outrage offered to the King’s messengers. And that was the end of Tauane, the chief of the Bakoni, of the People of the Blue Cattle.
That night, when the fires were lighted, the King ordered a great dance of theTyay’igama, or “calling of names,” when those named by their captains for deeds of valour should have an opportunity of recounting their claims to such distinction before the King and the whole nation. And, among others, I “named” my brother, Mgwali, who, in his manner of setting forth his deeds, when dancing alone amid the circle of warriors, reminded me not a little of my own performance when I was “named” by Gungana on a like occasion. However, the King “pointed at” him, and thereby he obtained permission totunga. Yet his admiration for the female captives we had taken from the Bakoni was destined to bring him some disappointment; for the King exacted that, being young, he should choose his bride from among the girls of our own nation. For so jealous was Umzilikazi on behalf of keeping the old Zulu blood pure and strong, that, as yet, he would hardly ever allow a young man to take to wife captives or girls of an inferior race. And when theTyay’igamadance was ended there was a great slaughter of cattle—the blue cattle of the Bakoni—and the night was spent in feasting and singing. And in the morning we moved on further away still from this place of death. And behind us, where the abodes of the destroyed race had been—although the houses had long since burnt out—yet above the smouldering cattle-kraals the grey smoke still went wreathing up; and, high overhead in the blue heavens, their pinions dazzling white in the sun, like flakes of driving snow, floated clouds of vultures. For in those days the march of our conquering and destroying nation might ever be followed and marked out by two things: a cloud of smoke and a cloud of vultures.
Chapter Twelve.“You—An Induna?”Many days went by before I was able to return and visit Lalusini in her strange hiding-place, and herein I found that it was not always an advantage to be great. For Untúswa theindunawas a man of such consequence that, did any one meet him wandering abroad, heads would be turned to see whither he was going, whereas Untúswa theumfaneand unringed might go where he would and nobody would be at the trouble to so much as wonder concerning his business. Howbeit, I was ever known as a great hunter, and keen in the pursuit of game; wherefore, on this ground alone, I found opportunities of wandering afar.I climbed the mountain of death, and there, indeed, so plenteous had food been that there were not enough vultures and crows and jackals to devour it all; for more than half the dead bodies were untouched, and lay, shrivelled and withered, just where they had been slain. For it is our custom,Nkose, to rip the bodies of those who fall beneath our spears, in order that they should dry up and spread no disease; and, remembering how we “ate up” whole nations in those days, the custom was a wise one. Carefully I took my way across the flat summit, stepping in and out between the skulls and fleshless ribs, and fearful lest I might be seen from beneath, whether from far or near. But when I gained the cleft in the ground, and began to descend into cold darkness, I felt a strange feeling, for all was silence, and I wondered whether I should indeed find Lalusini still there. So I began to sing, and presently I heard that soft voice answering, as I had heard it at first.And now, as I stood once more within this strange retreat, looking upon the beautiful and splendid form and into the shining eyes of her who dwelt in it, all thoughts of the danger I had incurred had fled as the morning mists when the sun mounts high. No longer did I call myself the king of fools—oh, no! I was the veryindunaof wisdom, so my feelings told me. I sprang forward to seize her in my arms, but she repulsed me very decidedly—though laughing.“Not yet, Untúswa, not yet. The time has not yet come,” she cried. “But—are you come to fetch me for the King?”And her eyes full of mockery, were laughing at me.“The King?Hau! Not so. Anindunaswife only shalt thou be, Lalusini—not the wife of a King.”“Ah, ah! Aninduna’swife? But I love not old men, andindunasare always old.”“Not so, Lalusini. But yesterday I was only a boy, and unringed.”“Ah, ah! son of Ntelani! You—aninduna? You?”And again she made the rocks ring with the music of her laughter.“I?—yes, I,” was my answer, given with dignity, for my pride was ruffled. “I am only the secondindunain command of the King’s army. Nothing very great. But a small thing. Laugh on, Lalusini; laugh on!”But she did not laugh. Something in my words seemed to turn her suddenly grave. “Ah—the chance! The chance at last!” I heard her murmur. “I, too, am somebody,” she said. Then, turning to me, “Yes, Untúswa, I am somebody who is great—greater than any man among the Aba-ka-zulu; greater than Umzilikazi himself. And it may be that the day will come when you, too, shall be greater, son of Ntelani—greater than the King yonder.”“Hau! We are talking in a ring!” I cried, but her words troubled me. “How now didst thou come among the people of the Blue Cattle, Lalusini?—for it seems to me the time has come for me to hear that tale.”“The time has not come—not yet—but it will. And now tell me of the end of the Bakoni, for I think there must be few still alive.”“Few, indeed,” I said. “But Tauane—was he the only one to know of this place?”“The only one—he and the slave who brought you hither. What of them?” And her tone became quick and anxious.“The slave, or what is left of him, lies above our heads. He got no further than the entrance hither when last I passed out through it. For Tauane, he is as the ashes of last season’s burnt grass.”And then I told her all about the end of the prisoners, how the chief would have sold the secret of her hiding-place to save his own life, and how I had so misinterpreted his words as to prevent him from doing so. Lalusini’s eyes beamed with delight.“Ha! You deserve to be aninduna,” she said, “and a great one. The big, brave, strong fighting-man is frequently a fool in matters requiring head. But you, Untúswa, are no part of a fool. You have both the head and the strength. Lalusini—Baqulusini!” she repeated. “Whau! that was crafty indeed. But the King, did he have no suspicion?”“He showed none,” I answered, in just the shadow of a cloud. “Yet how will I finally bring you in among ourselves? The name will bring back the King’s recollections.”“Perhaps I will never go back among yourselves,” she answered. “There is a people into whose midst I will one day return, and there I shall be great indeed, and you through me. Come now, Untúswa—let us return to that people together.”“Hau!” I cried, with a very dissatisfied shake of the head. “That which is distant is ever that which is uncertain.” For this proposition startled me. It reminded me too much of past foolishness. Once before I had sacrificed my chances as a warrior, had deserted my people, and had thrown away my life with both hands, all for the sake of a girl, and had found the position so little to my liking that I had willingly exchanged it for certain death. I had not found the death I expected, but life and great honour; yet that was a marvel, and such marvels do not occur twice within the experience of any one man. Now, I desired Lalusini greatly, but I desired her as a favourite wife of the King’sinduna—not as the mate of a disgraced runaway. Wherefore her proposal found but little favour in my eyes; and, indeed, I thought she had made it only to try me.Then we talked of other things, of Tauane and the nation we had destroyed; but of her powers as a sorceress she would tell me nothing, or how she had come among that people. And I sat and listened to her talk, for I was young in those days, and the sound of her voice was to my ears as the rippling of water in a sun-dried land. I know not how it is among you white people,Nkose, but among ourselves, when we are yet young, we are ever as fools in such matters; when we are older—ah, then it is different.While we talked, her eye fell upon my broad spear—the King’s Assegai—and, reaching for it, she examined it knowingly.“Worthy to be wielded by Tshaka himself,” she muttered. “A splendid spear! A royal weapon,” examining the haft, which was dark-red then, although it is now black with age. “Truly a royal weapon!”“And a royal weapon it is,” I answered, “for I had it from Umzilikazi’s own hand.”“Ha! And how was that?” she asked eagerly. But I looked knowing and laughed.“Nothing for nothing, Lalusini,” I said. “Tell me thine own tale; then thou shalt have that of the King’s Assegai. And I promise thee that it is a stirring one.”But she would not. Nevertheless, I told her my own tale, or a part of it. At the mention of Nangeza she looked up quickly. “How many wives have you, Untúswa?” she asked.“Only three. But myinkosikaziis more trouble than any thirty ordinary women, for she wants to be chief over me, too.”Lalusini laughed.“And that is Nangeza for whom you deserted your nation and incurred death under its most terrible form?” she said.I answered that it was.“And you want me to go and be second to yourinkosikazi, Untúswa!”“Not so, for you would ever be my favourite wife.”“Until you found some other Mystery Queen hidden in a mountain cave,” she said, mocking me. But I took snuff and answered nothing, for a man who undertakes to answer everything a woman says is like one who begins to swim across a flooded river: he knows where he goes in, but cannot tell where he may get out, or if ever—at least, so it is among ourselves; I know not if it is the same among white people.“And the King?” she said. “How many wives has he?”“That question is hard to answer. A great many does he possess, yet he cares not for any of them, neither does he love women over-much. A woman, he says, is like the grains of theumbona(maize), which is tender and nice when young, but soon grows hard and tooth-breaking, and needs much pounding to turn it once more into any use at all. Thus has the King often spoken when we have been talking together.”How Lalusini laughed, and it was good to hear her laugh, even as to hear her talk.“Yau!” she cried. “I do not think I will enter theisigodhloof Umzilikazi.”“But what if no choice is allowed you?”“But there will be. There is that by which Umzilikazi dare not wed me.”Now I cried out in wonder, yet was my mind relieved.“There is,” she went on. “And—I am greater than your King, son of Ntelani.”“Then must you be of the root of Senzangakona himself, for there is but one who is greater than our King, and that is Dingane, who now sits in the seat of Tshaka.”(Senzangakona was father of Tshaka, the founder of the Zulu military dynasty.)This I said jestingly, and then, seeing that the shadows were getting long, I rose and, going to the entrance of the place, I dragged in the carcass of a buck I had slain on my way; for, besides what game I could bring her, Lalusini had no food but dry corn. Of water she had abundance, for a little clear spring trickled down the rock at the further end of the place, losing itself in a dark cleft; but only at night could she make a fire, for then alone there was no risk of the smoke betraying her, and the light—of a small fire, at any rate—was quite hidden from without.“Au! it must be lonely here at night,” I said, looking upward at the great gloomy rock-roof. “Do you not hear the ghosts up above, wailing among the dry bones wherein they dwelt when alive?”“I fear not such things, Untúswa. What I fear more is that yonder stone may not be heavy enough to keep out a lion I have heard upon the mountain the last two nights. He was snapping and growling among the bones, and I feared he might try to force his way in here.”I examined the hole, which was only large enough to admit the body of a man creeping on his hands and knees. This hole Lalusini used to stop at night by rolling a stone against its mouth, yet the stone did not fill up the entire hole, but only enough to render it too small for the passage of any large body.“It is safe,” I said, testing the weight. “Nothing large enough to be harmful could force an entrance, yet I must try and slay that lion. And now, Lalusini, I must return, for it will be dark by the time I arrive, and our people like not those who wander overmuch in the night-time.”We took an affectionate leave of each other, yet Lalusini would not at that time tell me anything of her own tale, and I made my way back to the top of the mountain. And all the way homeward my mind was full of her whom I had left, and I pondered much and oft about the greatness she had hinted at, and how such was in store for myself, too, as though she were the chieftainess of some mighty nation—and mighty indeed must it have been were it greater than our own, as she had said it was. But most of all I pondered as to how I should ever be able to bring her in among ourselves so that the King’s suspicions should not take the right road.Thus thinking, and alternately singing to myself, I got over the ground at a swift pace, yet by the time I entered the hut of my chief wife it was quite dark. Nangeza was seated within alone. As I entered she looked up with a frown upon her face; and, indeed, a frown was more often to be found there than a smile in those days.“Welcome, great hunter,” she said mockingly. “And, where is the game?”“I have none,” I answered shortly, for I was in no humour to be worried by this woman’s evil temper.“None?” she echoed. “Yet there are blood spots about thee, Untúswa.”There were. In dragging the buck down through the hole into Lalusini’s hiding-place I had become smeared with blood, and this I had forgotten to wash away.“I slew but two small bucks,” I said. “One I ate in the middle of the day. The other I gave to old Masuka.”“Didst thou take it to him in theisigodhlo, Untúswa? For there has the old Mosutu been since the sun was at its highest, and is there still. Yet I saw thee from far off over the plain, and certainly thou hast not been to theisigodhlo, which is far beyond this house,” she answered; and her tones were jeering, and her eyes shone with evil fire, as those of a snake.“Enough!” I cried. “Enough of this!” And, bending down to the side of the hut, I took up a stick, and advanced towards her; for I was furious. “I have never beaten thee, Nangeza, but hadst thou belonged to any other man, I think by this time not a whole bone would remain within thee. Now, of thine evil temper have I had more than enough; also of thy tongue.”She retreated back as far as she could to the side of the hut—her eyes flashing, her lips drawn back from her gums, like those of a wild beast. But it was time to put a stop to this, or soon the second fighting commander of the King’s army would be under the command of a woman.“Beware, Untúswa!” she snarled. “Beware! I made thee! Yea, I! And I will unmake thee!”“Whau! if any one made me, it was not thou, but the King, and old Masuka, perhaps.” And then, as I saw her looking around for a weapon, I—well, I gave her no opportunity of either finding one or losing one; and, I think,Nkose, myinkosikaziwent to sleep that night feeling as though she had been rolled down the rocky side of a very high mountain; while I went to the huts of my two other wives, and we spent a great part of that night in singing, and jests, and laughter. But the fault lay with Nangeza’s evil and inquisitive temper; and, more still, with her attempts to rule me, as though I were the woman and she theindunaof the King. Wherefore, from the intolerable weariness which she had put upon me, I sought the company of my other wives, that they might cheer and amuse me, which, indeed, they were very glad to do.Now, on the morrow, Nangeza went and complained to the King as to the punishment I had given her; but she might have spared herself the trouble, for Umzilikazi only mocked her, telling her that she was fortunate indeed in having to deal with me, and that warriors were not to be ruled by women, but the other way round. Then he bade them drive her from his presence. And afterwards he would often laugh with me about this matter; but from that day Nangeza hated me with a surpassing hatred, and set herself to work to bring about my ruin and downfall by some method or other, even though it should cost her her life.
Many days went by before I was able to return and visit Lalusini in her strange hiding-place, and herein I found that it was not always an advantage to be great. For Untúswa theindunawas a man of such consequence that, did any one meet him wandering abroad, heads would be turned to see whither he was going, whereas Untúswa theumfaneand unringed might go where he would and nobody would be at the trouble to so much as wonder concerning his business. Howbeit, I was ever known as a great hunter, and keen in the pursuit of game; wherefore, on this ground alone, I found opportunities of wandering afar.
I climbed the mountain of death, and there, indeed, so plenteous had food been that there were not enough vultures and crows and jackals to devour it all; for more than half the dead bodies were untouched, and lay, shrivelled and withered, just where they had been slain. For it is our custom,Nkose, to rip the bodies of those who fall beneath our spears, in order that they should dry up and spread no disease; and, remembering how we “ate up” whole nations in those days, the custom was a wise one. Carefully I took my way across the flat summit, stepping in and out between the skulls and fleshless ribs, and fearful lest I might be seen from beneath, whether from far or near. But when I gained the cleft in the ground, and began to descend into cold darkness, I felt a strange feeling, for all was silence, and I wondered whether I should indeed find Lalusini still there. So I began to sing, and presently I heard that soft voice answering, as I had heard it at first.
And now, as I stood once more within this strange retreat, looking upon the beautiful and splendid form and into the shining eyes of her who dwelt in it, all thoughts of the danger I had incurred had fled as the morning mists when the sun mounts high. No longer did I call myself the king of fools—oh, no! I was the veryindunaof wisdom, so my feelings told me. I sprang forward to seize her in my arms, but she repulsed me very decidedly—though laughing.
“Not yet, Untúswa, not yet. The time has not yet come,” she cried. “But—are you come to fetch me for the King?”
And her eyes full of mockery, were laughing at me.
“The King?Hau! Not so. Anindunaswife only shalt thou be, Lalusini—not the wife of a King.”
“Ah, ah! Aninduna’swife? But I love not old men, andindunasare always old.”
“Not so, Lalusini. But yesterday I was only a boy, and unringed.”
“Ah, ah! son of Ntelani! You—aninduna? You?”
And again she made the rocks ring with the music of her laughter.
“I?—yes, I,” was my answer, given with dignity, for my pride was ruffled. “I am only the secondindunain command of the King’s army. Nothing very great. But a small thing. Laugh on, Lalusini; laugh on!”
But she did not laugh. Something in my words seemed to turn her suddenly grave. “Ah—the chance! The chance at last!” I heard her murmur. “I, too, am somebody,” she said. Then, turning to me, “Yes, Untúswa, I am somebody who is great—greater than any man among the Aba-ka-zulu; greater than Umzilikazi himself. And it may be that the day will come when you, too, shall be greater, son of Ntelani—greater than the King yonder.”
“Hau! We are talking in a ring!” I cried, but her words troubled me. “How now didst thou come among the people of the Blue Cattle, Lalusini?—for it seems to me the time has come for me to hear that tale.”
“The time has not come—not yet—but it will. And now tell me of the end of the Bakoni, for I think there must be few still alive.”
“Few, indeed,” I said. “But Tauane—was he the only one to know of this place?”
“The only one—he and the slave who brought you hither. What of them?” And her tone became quick and anxious.
“The slave, or what is left of him, lies above our heads. He got no further than the entrance hither when last I passed out through it. For Tauane, he is as the ashes of last season’s burnt grass.”
And then I told her all about the end of the prisoners, how the chief would have sold the secret of her hiding-place to save his own life, and how I had so misinterpreted his words as to prevent him from doing so. Lalusini’s eyes beamed with delight.
“Ha! You deserve to be aninduna,” she said, “and a great one. The big, brave, strong fighting-man is frequently a fool in matters requiring head. But you, Untúswa, are no part of a fool. You have both the head and the strength. Lalusini—Baqulusini!” she repeated. “Whau! that was crafty indeed. But the King, did he have no suspicion?”
“He showed none,” I answered, in just the shadow of a cloud. “Yet how will I finally bring you in among ourselves? The name will bring back the King’s recollections.”
“Perhaps I will never go back among yourselves,” she answered. “There is a people into whose midst I will one day return, and there I shall be great indeed, and you through me. Come now, Untúswa—let us return to that people together.”
“Hau!” I cried, with a very dissatisfied shake of the head. “That which is distant is ever that which is uncertain.” For this proposition startled me. It reminded me too much of past foolishness. Once before I had sacrificed my chances as a warrior, had deserted my people, and had thrown away my life with both hands, all for the sake of a girl, and had found the position so little to my liking that I had willingly exchanged it for certain death. I had not found the death I expected, but life and great honour; yet that was a marvel, and such marvels do not occur twice within the experience of any one man. Now, I desired Lalusini greatly, but I desired her as a favourite wife of the King’sinduna—not as the mate of a disgraced runaway. Wherefore her proposal found but little favour in my eyes; and, indeed, I thought she had made it only to try me.
Then we talked of other things, of Tauane and the nation we had destroyed; but of her powers as a sorceress she would tell me nothing, or how she had come among that people. And I sat and listened to her talk, for I was young in those days, and the sound of her voice was to my ears as the rippling of water in a sun-dried land. I know not how it is among you white people,Nkose, but among ourselves, when we are yet young, we are ever as fools in such matters; when we are older—ah, then it is different.
While we talked, her eye fell upon my broad spear—the King’s Assegai—and, reaching for it, she examined it knowingly.
“Worthy to be wielded by Tshaka himself,” she muttered. “A splendid spear! A royal weapon,” examining the haft, which was dark-red then, although it is now black with age. “Truly a royal weapon!”
“And a royal weapon it is,” I answered, “for I had it from Umzilikazi’s own hand.”
“Ha! And how was that?” she asked eagerly. But I looked knowing and laughed.
“Nothing for nothing, Lalusini,” I said. “Tell me thine own tale; then thou shalt have that of the King’s Assegai. And I promise thee that it is a stirring one.”
But she would not. Nevertheless, I told her my own tale, or a part of it. At the mention of Nangeza she looked up quickly. “How many wives have you, Untúswa?” she asked.
“Only three. But myinkosikaziis more trouble than any thirty ordinary women, for she wants to be chief over me, too.”
Lalusini laughed.
“And that is Nangeza for whom you deserted your nation and incurred death under its most terrible form?” she said.
I answered that it was.
“And you want me to go and be second to yourinkosikazi, Untúswa!”
“Not so, for you would ever be my favourite wife.”
“Until you found some other Mystery Queen hidden in a mountain cave,” she said, mocking me. But I took snuff and answered nothing, for a man who undertakes to answer everything a woman says is like one who begins to swim across a flooded river: he knows where he goes in, but cannot tell where he may get out, or if ever—at least, so it is among ourselves; I know not if it is the same among white people.
“And the King?” she said. “How many wives has he?”
“That question is hard to answer. A great many does he possess, yet he cares not for any of them, neither does he love women over-much. A woman, he says, is like the grains of theumbona(maize), which is tender and nice when young, but soon grows hard and tooth-breaking, and needs much pounding to turn it once more into any use at all. Thus has the King often spoken when we have been talking together.”
How Lalusini laughed, and it was good to hear her laugh, even as to hear her talk.
“Yau!” she cried. “I do not think I will enter theisigodhloof Umzilikazi.”
“But what if no choice is allowed you?”
“But there will be. There is that by which Umzilikazi dare not wed me.”
Now I cried out in wonder, yet was my mind relieved.
“There is,” she went on. “And—I am greater than your King, son of Ntelani.”
“Then must you be of the root of Senzangakona himself, for there is but one who is greater than our King, and that is Dingane, who now sits in the seat of Tshaka.”
(Senzangakona was father of Tshaka, the founder of the Zulu military dynasty.)
This I said jestingly, and then, seeing that the shadows were getting long, I rose and, going to the entrance of the place, I dragged in the carcass of a buck I had slain on my way; for, besides what game I could bring her, Lalusini had no food but dry corn. Of water she had abundance, for a little clear spring trickled down the rock at the further end of the place, losing itself in a dark cleft; but only at night could she make a fire, for then alone there was no risk of the smoke betraying her, and the light—of a small fire, at any rate—was quite hidden from without.
“Au! it must be lonely here at night,” I said, looking upward at the great gloomy rock-roof. “Do you not hear the ghosts up above, wailing among the dry bones wherein they dwelt when alive?”
“I fear not such things, Untúswa. What I fear more is that yonder stone may not be heavy enough to keep out a lion I have heard upon the mountain the last two nights. He was snapping and growling among the bones, and I feared he might try to force his way in here.”
I examined the hole, which was only large enough to admit the body of a man creeping on his hands and knees. This hole Lalusini used to stop at night by rolling a stone against its mouth, yet the stone did not fill up the entire hole, but only enough to render it too small for the passage of any large body.
“It is safe,” I said, testing the weight. “Nothing large enough to be harmful could force an entrance, yet I must try and slay that lion. And now, Lalusini, I must return, for it will be dark by the time I arrive, and our people like not those who wander overmuch in the night-time.”
We took an affectionate leave of each other, yet Lalusini would not at that time tell me anything of her own tale, and I made my way back to the top of the mountain. And all the way homeward my mind was full of her whom I had left, and I pondered much and oft about the greatness she had hinted at, and how such was in store for myself, too, as though she were the chieftainess of some mighty nation—and mighty indeed must it have been were it greater than our own, as she had said it was. But most of all I pondered as to how I should ever be able to bring her in among ourselves so that the King’s suspicions should not take the right road.
Thus thinking, and alternately singing to myself, I got over the ground at a swift pace, yet by the time I entered the hut of my chief wife it was quite dark. Nangeza was seated within alone. As I entered she looked up with a frown upon her face; and, indeed, a frown was more often to be found there than a smile in those days.
“Welcome, great hunter,” she said mockingly. “And, where is the game?”
“I have none,” I answered shortly, for I was in no humour to be worried by this woman’s evil temper.
“None?” she echoed. “Yet there are blood spots about thee, Untúswa.”
There were. In dragging the buck down through the hole into Lalusini’s hiding-place I had become smeared with blood, and this I had forgotten to wash away.
“I slew but two small bucks,” I said. “One I ate in the middle of the day. The other I gave to old Masuka.”
“Didst thou take it to him in theisigodhlo, Untúswa? For there has the old Mosutu been since the sun was at its highest, and is there still. Yet I saw thee from far off over the plain, and certainly thou hast not been to theisigodhlo, which is far beyond this house,” she answered; and her tones were jeering, and her eyes shone with evil fire, as those of a snake.
“Enough!” I cried. “Enough of this!” And, bending down to the side of the hut, I took up a stick, and advanced towards her; for I was furious. “I have never beaten thee, Nangeza, but hadst thou belonged to any other man, I think by this time not a whole bone would remain within thee. Now, of thine evil temper have I had more than enough; also of thy tongue.”
She retreated back as far as she could to the side of the hut—her eyes flashing, her lips drawn back from her gums, like those of a wild beast. But it was time to put a stop to this, or soon the second fighting commander of the King’s army would be under the command of a woman.
“Beware, Untúswa!” she snarled. “Beware! I made thee! Yea, I! And I will unmake thee!”
“Whau! if any one made me, it was not thou, but the King, and old Masuka, perhaps.” And then, as I saw her looking around for a weapon, I—well, I gave her no opportunity of either finding one or losing one; and, I think,Nkose, myinkosikaziwent to sleep that night feeling as though she had been rolled down the rocky side of a very high mountain; while I went to the huts of my two other wives, and we spent a great part of that night in singing, and jests, and laughter. But the fault lay with Nangeza’s evil and inquisitive temper; and, more still, with her attempts to rule me, as though I were the woman and she theindunaof the King. Wherefore, from the intolerable weariness which she had put upon me, I sought the company of my other wives, that they might cheer and amuse me, which, indeed, they were very glad to do.
Now, on the morrow, Nangeza went and complained to the King as to the punishment I had given her; but she might have spared herself the trouble, for Umzilikazi only mocked her, telling her that she was fortunate indeed in having to deal with me, and that warriors were not to be ruled by women, but the other way round. Then he bade them drive her from his presence. And afterwards he would often laugh with me about this matter; but from that day Nangeza hated me with a surpassing hatred, and set herself to work to bring about my ruin and downfall by some method or other, even though it should cost her her life.
Chapter Thirteen.“The Place of the Alligators.”During this while, since we had “eaten up” the Bakoni, we had been living in hastily run up huts. Many, indeed, had not even these, but lived and slept in the open. But now the King gave orders that we should remove a day’s march further, and there build a large kraal.The site of this was a pleasant open plain, well grassed, and sprinkled with mimosa and other bush, and watered by a good-sized river.The slaves and women were set to work; also the young regiments; the great circles were marked out, and in a few days there stood a noble kraal, built on the Zulu plan; the great open space ringed in by a double thorn-fence as high as a man’s head, between which stood the rows of round-topped huts, and theisigodhlo, or royal enclosure, at the upper end, partitioned off by a fence of fine woven grass. This kraal was of greater size than Ekupumuleni, and the surroundings far pleasanter, for there was abundance of grass, well watered by streams which never ran dry; and the rolling plains and dark forest belts were swarming with game. The river, too, was plentiful with sea-cows and alligators, which last the King would not allow any man to kill; so that they soon increased in numbers and boldness to an alarming extent; indeed, from this it was that our new kraal took its name, for it was called Kwa’zingwenya, “the Place of Alligators.” And when it was completed there was great dancing and singing, and the slaughter of cattle and general feasting, for here we intended to make our home, at any rate for a long time to come.Now there was another reason why the place should have been named as it was. It happened one day that the King was strolling along the river bank, I being in attendance on him, when we came upon the high brow of a cliff falling sheer down into a deep, still pool. As we looked over we beheld several small dark objects floating upon the surface of the water. They were the heads and noses of alligators.“Ha!” cried the King. “I have an idea, Untúswa, and I think it is not a bad one.” Then, turning round, he called to a boy who was herding calves not far off. The lad drew near, and, seeing who had called him, his knees began to tremble and his eyes to start from his head in his terror and awe of the Great Great One. He prostrated himself to the ground, and his tongue nearly clove to his mouth as he stuttered theBayéte.“Rise up, child,” said the King, “and go quickly and bring hither yonder calves. Delay not—yet stay; call those within sight to help thee.”The lad sped away, and soon, in obedience to his calls, about a dozen other boys came up, and, making a half-circle, drove the entire herd, to the number of about twenty well-grown calves, up to where we were standing, the King and I, leaning upon our sticks.“Make them leap,” said Umzilikazi. “Make them leap.”But this was not so easy, for the calves were big, and, their instincts of danger warning them, they all bunched together, nor would they suffer themselves to be driven to the edge of the cliff, notwithstanding the yells and sticks of the boys who strove to drive them; and, indeed, I myself had to seize two of them and drag them to the brink, and even then I only pushed them over at the greatest risk of falling after them myself. Then the whole herd followed with a mighty splash, which echoed like thunder from the face of the rock.The splash subsided, the surface was dotted with the heads of the animals swimming for the other side; and then the pool was in a boil, and the calves, swimming quietly before, heaved themselves up in the water with frantic bellowing as the alligators rose to seize them. They were dragged under wildly, to reappear again but for a moment, and soon the surface was dyed red, and the tranquil water lashed into foam; and the wild bellowings of anguish mingled with the snap, snap of bony jaws, followed by a hideous crunch; and as the long, grim, ugly bodies turned with their struggling prey, we could see that these alligators were of enormous size. It was over at last, save here and there a livid head, or a mangled quarter, or other fragment floating on the surface; but the shakings of the water, and the long strings of red bubbles which came streaming up, showed that the hideous brutes beneath were tearing and devouring their welcome, though unexpected, prey.“Hau!” cried the King. “That was a good thought of mine. Now we have a new way of disposing of evil-doers, Untúswa. Not long have the alligators taken to dispose of twenty large and well-grown calves; not long would they take to dispose of a man, or of twenty men. In truth, it was a great idea!”To this I agreed, of course. But, looking into that horrid pool and its bloody surface, where even now two or three of the alligators were reappearing, turning their eyes upward as though looking for more, I thought of the secreted captive and the hiding-place away on the mountain, and wondered if my death would come to me down in that horrible hole; and the thought,Nkose, was not a nice one.“Go now, children,” said the King, waving away the staring and terrified boys; and go they did, for I believe they thought they were to be thrown in after the calves. “The idea is great; yes—great!” continued Umzilikazi, in high good humour, as we walked back. “They shall be kept there, those alligators, and from time to time I doubt not but we shall find them some food.”During this time,Nkose, I have neglected to speak of my father, Ntelani. Him the King had still suffered to live—I think, because he desired to spare two such brave fighters as Mgwali and myself the disgrace of being henceforth the sons of nobody; for had our father died the death of a convicted traitor we could never more have been known as his sons. But, though his life was spared, Ntelani was adjudged to spend it in a state of banishment. He was allowed to erect a small kraal, and here with such of his wives as chose to cleave unto him, and just enough cattle to keep him and them alive—but only just—he dwelt, soon sinking into a state of premature old age and foolishness. Indeed, he passed out of the life of the nation, and his voice from its councils.Once settled in our new country, the King lost no time in establishing cattle outposts and military kraals, of which latter I was appointed administrator, being held responsible for their order and efficiency. We fightingindunas, too, were required to form new regiments, levying upon the youth of the nation at a far earlier age than had hitherto been customary among us; but our losses during our wars were beginning to form a serious gap, and the King preferred, where possible, to recruit our fighting strength among our own blood, rather than among that of our miserable, poor-spirited slaves. But these youths made up in martial ardour what they lacked in years, for they were continually worrying the Great Great One, through usizinduna, to allow them to go forth—it mattered not where—and wet their spears. But Umzilikazi would dismiss them, laughing, and bidding them be patient; yet at their importunity he was not ill-pleased. However, they little knew there should shortly befall that which would give all their fiery mettle as much outlet as it could take care of.Just then I was very busy, travelling from kraal to kraal, inspecting, and, at times, reviewing, the regiments, numbering the cattle and possessions of the King and the nation—for here, in this land, we intended to dwell, and already the women—who preferred peace and plenty to wandering and war—were making the land re-echo with their songs of gladness, as they laid out new gardens for their corn and melons, and daily saw the cattle milked at the same place. And the chiefs and heads of other tribes—learning of the fate which had overwhelmed Tauana and the Bakoni—hastened to come in andkonzato Umzilikazi, realising that the tread of the Black Elephant of the Amandebeli stamped far, and that from it there was no escape.It happened that I was returning from one of my rounds to make my report to the Great Great One. The morning was yet young; indeed, the sun had only just risen, and the forest path along which we travelled—I and Mgwali, who accompanied me—was bright with a golden network of sunshine through the leaves, and joyous with the song and whistle of birds and the chatter of monkeys. We were drawing near a pile of rocks, overhung with forest trees and trailers. Suddenly, my brother, who was walking behind me, touched my elbow.“Do you hear nothing, son of my father?” he whispered.I listened long and hard. I was about to reply, “Nothing,” when I heard the sound as of a voice—the voice of a man murmuring—even as the voice of one of ourizanusiengaged in makingmúti. Now, there were caves in those rocks,Nkose, caves which were not unassociated among ourselves withtagati; wherefore, with the instinct of a warrior in the presence of evil, I gripped my broad assegai, and stole silently forward, eager to see through this mystery—if mystery there was—Mgwali pressing close behind me. The murmuring of the voice sounded plainer now; then we heard a low musical tinkling, as of the ringing of a bell.Whau! Here was a strange thing. What could such sounds mean, here among the rocks and caves? The voice, too, was murmuring in a strange language; soft, though not so soft as ours, yet immeasurably softer than the croaking tongues of those inferior peoples which we had destroyed or enslaved. Stealthily we drew nearer, and, peering out through the trees, this is what we saw.A great slab of rock out-hung from the cliff, forming a shallow cave. In the mouth of this a man was standing, his back towards us. He was clothed in a great cloak, red in colour, and bearing a broad crossed bar down its entire length, while showing below it was a long white garment which seemed to cover him from neck to foot. His movements called to our mind those of our ownizanusiwhen sacrificing cattle to the ghosts of our fathers on solemn occasions; yet not. But this could be noisanusi, for he was a white man! Still he must be anisanusiof some sort, for he was undoubtedly engaged in offering sacrifice. In front of him and further in the cave was a great block of stone or a ledge in the rock formation—we could not determine which—and upon it were two little pillars tipped with flame. Moreover, upon this the man’s words and actions seemed centred, for upon it was something else, which from there we could not see. But here, if possible, was a more surprising thing. Behind him, bending low, knelt another man—a dark man, one of ourselves, and of the same race, for he wore the ring upon his head, and his other adornments were as ours. He, too, seemed in some way to be assisting the other, for his movements were much the same, and a few words would now and again drop from him as though in reply to the one who was sacrificing.Hau! it was wonderful! In rigid wonder we stared, not knowing what was to come next.But a dead silence had fallen upon these two now, and the murmuring had ceased. Then the tinkling of the bell rang out once more, and theisanusiin the red cloak, having bent low, straightened himself up, raising both hands high overhead, and in his hands there flashed forth a Something—a Something upon which a ray of the newly-risen sun now glinted with dazzling whiteness. And the man behind—the black man—bent prone as one dead—even as a man might lie who awaits the sentence of the Great Great One himself.Whau, Nkose! I know not how it was, but something seemed to cloud the brain of Mgwali and myself, binding us to the spot, staring at this strange and marvellous mystery, so unlike aught we had ever beheld before. We watched, confused by what followed, but of it we have but small recollection, save of one thing. The whiteisanusiturned full towards us, more than once, still murmuring, and, while we shrank in dread lest he should be putting upon us the spell of hismúti, we took note of his face and that keenly. It was the face of a white man, very dark and burned as though by many suns; but it was a strong face, that of a man to whom, we could see at a glance, fear was unknown. The eyes were black and piercing as those of an eagle, and a long, thick beard fell low upon the breast, its dark masses plentifully streaked with grey.We stood watching this marvellous performance, we two fearless and armed warriors, and yet there was that in it which laid upon us a kind of awe. At length it came to an end. Then we saw the white man extinguish the fire upon his stone of sacrifice and wrap up carefully in coverings such things as had been upon it. But our astonishment was greatest when we watched him take off his outer cloak of red and then the long white garment which was girded around him. We saw him then in a large loose robe of black, and this he did not take off. (Note 1.) The other dresses, however, he carefully rolled up in coverings, and while he was doing this the man who was with him—thekehla—lighted a fire, and set upon it a joint of game to roast, evidently the quarter of one of the smaller kinds of buck.Few, indeed,Nkose, were the white men, except Amabuna, we had seen in those days, and that this was not one of those we felt certain. Mgwali was the first to recover from his astonishment.“Whau!” he grunted. “I know not how yonisanusi—white though he be—dare come here and makemútiwithout leave from the Great Great One. It may betagati.”“No hurt lurks beneath suchmúti, son of my father: of that I feel sure,” I answered. “But I think it is time to have speech with these.”“Yeh-bo,” assented Mgwali, grinning. “And I think that quarter of meat roasting yonder seems too large for only two men.Au! but the smell of it is good.”We went forward, and as we discovered ourselves but small was the surprise shown by these two strangers. The head-ringed man, who was attending to the fire and the roast, returned our salutation in the usual form, not heeding us much. But the other, speaking with our tongue, though haltingly, said:“Welcome, my sons! Draw near, and seat yourselves; for our morning meal is nearly ready, and there is enough for all.”Mgwali’s eyes glistened, and his mouth broadened into a grin; for he was younger than I, and hungry; and, in truth, the meat smelt good. He uttered a word or two of emphatic assent, and made a movement to comply. But I, remembering my dignity as anindunaof the King, still stood. Then I said:“First tell me, O white stranger, by whose leave you have entered this country, and mademútiin the land of the Great Great One by whose light we live?”“By whose leave?” he echoed; his face brightening up. “Ha! By the leave—nay, by the order—of the Great Great One in whose light we live.” Then, seeing that I frowned, and looked suspicious, he explained. “I will not pretend to misunderstand you; but I came into the country of your King by favour of even a greater than he.”“Hau! You are joking, my father!” I answered, with a sneer, though my first thought was that he was speaking of Dingane. “Yet such words uttered here are dangerous, and would mean death to him who uttered them. Where, now, is he who is greater than Umzilikazi, the Mighty Elephant? Our young regiments are consumed with a longing to wet their spears; and there, I think, is the chance. Where is he who is greater than our king?”“Pezulu!” (up above) replied the stranger, simply, pointing upward to the heavens.Then I partly understood. I had heard strange tales of certain men among the whites who taught that a great, though invisible, King sat above the blue of the sky, and caused the sun to shine and the rain to fall; whose might was such that beside it the might of Tshaka himself was less than the might of a child. This, then, must be one of them. Yet—the strange ceremonies we had witnessed?“Wherefore, then, wert thou makingmútiyonder, beneath the rock, O father of the redmúticloak? To what end was this?” I asked.“To the end that all good might fall upon your King, and his people, and his land. With that object and intention were we makingmúti, as ye call it, children of this nation,” he answered, looking us fearlessly in the eyes.And there was that about his glance which satisfied me that we might safely eat meat with him; nor did the ceremony which he and the other went through before partaking of it, and which was very like what we had seen during their strange act of sacrifice, avail to destroy this assurance. And, indeed, when, having finished, we rose up, to proceed at once to the presence of the Great Great One, we left nothing behind us but bones; for Mgwali had a fine appetite—nor came I far behind him in that way—and a quarter of buck is not quite too much among four men.Note 1. From Untúswa’s description, it seems certain that he and his brother were witnessing an open-air celebration of Mass; and the strange white man would appear to have been a travelling missionary-priest of French nationality—probably a Jesuit.
During this while, since we had “eaten up” the Bakoni, we had been living in hastily run up huts. Many, indeed, had not even these, but lived and slept in the open. But now the King gave orders that we should remove a day’s march further, and there build a large kraal.
The site of this was a pleasant open plain, well grassed, and sprinkled with mimosa and other bush, and watered by a good-sized river.
The slaves and women were set to work; also the young regiments; the great circles were marked out, and in a few days there stood a noble kraal, built on the Zulu plan; the great open space ringed in by a double thorn-fence as high as a man’s head, between which stood the rows of round-topped huts, and theisigodhlo, or royal enclosure, at the upper end, partitioned off by a fence of fine woven grass. This kraal was of greater size than Ekupumuleni, and the surroundings far pleasanter, for there was abundance of grass, well watered by streams which never ran dry; and the rolling plains and dark forest belts were swarming with game. The river, too, was plentiful with sea-cows and alligators, which last the King would not allow any man to kill; so that they soon increased in numbers and boldness to an alarming extent; indeed, from this it was that our new kraal took its name, for it was called Kwa’zingwenya, “the Place of Alligators.” And when it was completed there was great dancing and singing, and the slaughter of cattle and general feasting, for here we intended to make our home, at any rate for a long time to come.
Now there was another reason why the place should have been named as it was. It happened one day that the King was strolling along the river bank, I being in attendance on him, when we came upon the high brow of a cliff falling sheer down into a deep, still pool. As we looked over we beheld several small dark objects floating upon the surface of the water. They were the heads and noses of alligators.
“Ha!” cried the King. “I have an idea, Untúswa, and I think it is not a bad one.” Then, turning round, he called to a boy who was herding calves not far off. The lad drew near, and, seeing who had called him, his knees began to tremble and his eyes to start from his head in his terror and awe of the Great Great One. He prostrated himself to the ground, and his tongue nearly clove to his mouth as he stuttered theBayéte.
“Rise up, child,” said the King, “and go quickly and bring hither yonder calves. Delay not—yet stay; call those within sight to help thee.”
The lad sped away, and soon, in obedience to his calls, about a dozen other boys came up, and, making a half-circle, drove the entire herd, to the number of about twenty well-grown calves, up to where we were standing, the King and I, leaning upon our sticks.
“Make them leap,” said Umzilikazi. “Make them leap.”
But this was not so easy, for the calves were big, and, their instincts of danger warning them, they all bunched together, nor would they suffer themselves to be driven to the edge of the cliff, notwithstanding the yells and sticks of the boys who strove to drive them; and, indeed, I myself had to seize two of them and drag them to the brink, and even then I only pushed them over at the greatest risk of falling after them myself. Then the whole herd followed with a mighty splash, which echoed like thunder from the face of the rock.
The splash subsided, the surface was dotted with the heads of the animals swimming for the other side; and then the pool was in a boil, and the calves, swimming quietly before, heaved themselves up in the water with frantic bellowing as the alligators rose to seize them. They were dragged under wildly, to reappear again but for a moment, and soon the surface was dyed red, and the tranquil water lashed into foam; and the wild bellowings of anguish mingled with the snap, snap of bony jaws, followed by a hideous crunch; and as the long, grim, ugly bodies turned with their struggling prey, we could see that these alligators were of enormous size. It was over at last, save here and there a livid head, or a mangled quarter, or other fragment floating on the surface; but the shakings of the water, and the long strings of red bubbles which came streaming up, showed that the hideous brutes beneath were tearing and devouring their welcome, though unexpected, prey.
“Hau!” cried the King. “That was a good thought of mine. Now we have a new way of disposing of evil-doers, Untúswa. Not long have the alligators taken to dispose of twenty large and well-grown calves; not long would they take to dispose of a man, or of twenty men. In truth, it was a great idea!”
To this I agreed, of course. But, looking into that horrid pool and its bloody surface, where even now two or three of the alligators were reappearing, turning their eyes upward as though looking for more, I thought of the secreted captive and the hiding-place away on the mountain, and wondered if my death would come to me down in that horrible hole; and the thought,Nkose, was not a nice one.
“Go now, children,” said the King, waving away the staring and terrified boys; and go they did, for I believe they thought they were to be thrown in after the calves. “The idea is great; yes—great!” continued Umzilikazi, in high good humour, as we walked back. “They shall be kept there, those alligators, and from time to time I doubt not but we shall find them some food.”
During this time,Nkose, I have neglected to speak of my father, Ntelani. Him the King had still suffered to live—I think, because he desired to spare two such brave fighters as Mgwali and myself the disgrace of being henceforth the sons of nobody; for had our father died the death of a convicted traitor we could never more have been known as his sons. But, though his life was spared, Ntelani was adjudged to spend it in a state of banishment. He was allowed to erect a small kraal, and here with such of his wives as chose to cleave unto him, and just enough cattle to keep him and them alive—but only just—he dwelt, soon sinking into a state of premature old age and foolishness. Indeed, he passed out of the life of the nation, and his voice from its councils.
Once settled in our new country, the King lost no time in establishing cattle outposts and military kraals, of which latter I was appointed administrator, being held responsible for their order and efficiency. We fightingindunas, too, were required to form new regiments, levying upon the youth of the nation at a far earlier age than had hitherto been customary among us; but our losses during our wars were beginning to form a serious gap, and the King preferred, where possible, to recruit our fighting strength among our own blood, rather than among that of our miserable, poor-spirited slaves. But these youths made up in martial ardour what they lacked in years, for they were continually worrying the Great Great One, through usizinduna, to allow them to go forth—it mattered not where—and wet their spears. But Umzilikazi would dismiss them, laughing, and bidding them be patient; yet at their importunity he was not ill-pleased. However, they little knew there should shortly befall that which would give all their fiery mettle as much outlet as it could take care of.
Just then I was very busy, travelling from kraal to kraal, inspecting, and, at times, reviewing, the regiments, numbering the cattle and possessions of the King and the nation—for here, in this land, we intended to dwell, and already the women—who preferred peace and plenty to wandering and war—were making the land re-echo with their songs of gladness, as they laid out new gardens for their corn and melons, and daily saw the cattle milked at the same place. And the chiefs and heads of other tribes—learning of the fate which had overwhelmed Tauana and the Bakoni—hastened to come in andkonzato Umzilikazi, realising that the tread of the Black Elephant of the Amandebeli stamped far, and that from it there was no escape.
It happened that I was returning from one of my rounds to make my report to the Great Great One. The morning was yet young; indeed, the sun had only just risen, and the forest path along which we travelled—I and Mgwali, who accompanied me—was bright with a golden network of sunshine through the leaves, and joyous with the song and whistle of birds and the chatter of monkeys. We were drawing near a pile of rocks, overhung with forest trees and trailers. Suddenly, my brother, who was walking behind me, touched my elbow.
“Do you hear nothing, son of my father?” he whispered.
I listened long and hard. I was about to reply, “Nothing,” when I heard the sound as of a voice—the voice of a man murmuring—even as the voice of one of ourizanusiengaged in makingmúti. Now, there were caves in those rocks,Nkose, caves which were not unassociated among ourselves withtagati; wherefore, with the instinct of a warrior in the presence of evil, I gripped my broad assegai, and stole silently forward, eager to see through this mystery—if mystery there was—Mgwali pressing close behind me. The murmuring of the voice sounded plainer now; then we heard a low musical tinkling, as of the ringing of a bell.
Whau! Here was a strange thing. What could such sounds mean, here among the rocks and caves? The voice, too, was murmuring in a strange language; soft, though not so soft as ours, yet immeasurably softer than the croaking tongues of those inferior peoples which we had destroyed or enslaved. Stealthily we drew nearer, and, peering out through the trees, this is what we saw.
A great slab of rock out-hung from the cliff, forming a shallow cave. In the mouth of this a man was standing, his back towards us. He was clothed in a great cloak, red in colour, and bearing a broad crossed bar down its entire length, while showing below it was a long white garment which seemed to cover him from neck to foot. His movements called to our mind those of our ownizanusiwhen sacrificing cattle to the ghosts of our fathers on solemn occasions; yet not. But this could be noisanusi, for he was a white man! Still he must be anisanusiof some sort, for he was undoubtedly engaged in offering sacrifice. In front of him and further in the cave was a great block of stone or a ledge in the rock formation—we could not determine which—and upon it were two little pillars tipped with flame. Moreover, upon this the man’s words and actions seemed centred, for upon it was something else, which from there we could not see. But here, if possible, was a more surprising thing. Behind him, bending low, knelt another man—a dark man, one of ourselves, and of the same race, for he wore the ring upon his head, and his other adornments were as ours. He, too, seemed in some way to be assisting the other, for his movements were much the same, and a few words would now and again drop from him as though in reply to the one who was sacrificing.Hau! it was wonderful! In rigid wonder we stared, not knowing what was to come next.
But a dead silence had fallen upon these two now, and the murmuring had ceased. Then the tinkling of the bell rang out once more, and theisanusiin the red cloak, having bent low, straightened himself up, raising both hands high overhead, and in his hands there flashed forth a Something—a Something upon which a ray of the newly-risen sun now glinted with dazzling whiteness. And the man behind—the black man—bent prone as one dead—even as a man might lie who awaits the sentence of the Great Great One himself.
Whau, Nkose! I know not how it was, but something seemed to cloud the brain of Mgwali and myself, binding us to the spot, staring at this strange and marvellous mystery, so unlike aught we had ever beheld before. We watched, confused by what followed, but of it we have but small recollection, save of one thing. The whiteisanusiturned full towards us, more than once, still murmuring, and, while we shrank in dread lest he should be putting upon us the spell of hismúti, we took note of his face and that keenly. It was the face of a white man, very dark and burned as though by many suns; but it was a strong face, that of a man to whom, we could see at a glance, fear was unknown. The eyes were black and piercing as those of an eagle, and a long, thick beard fell low upon the breast, its dark masses plentifully streaked with grey.
We stood watching this marvellous performance, we two fearless and armed warriors, and yet there was that in it which laid upon us a kind of awe. At length it came to an end. Then we saw the white man extinguish the fire upon his stone of sacrifice and wrap up carefully in coverings such things as had been upon it. But our astonishment was greatest when we watched him take off his outer cloak of red and then the long white garment which was girded around him. We saw him then in a large loose robe of black, and this he did not take off. (Note 1.) The other dresses, however, he carefully rolled up in coverings, and while he was doing this the man who was with him—thekehla—lighted a fire, and set upon it a joint of game to roast, evidently the quarter of one of the smaller kinds of buck.
Few, indeed,Nkose, were the white men, except Amabuna, we had seen in those days, and that this was not one of those we felt certain. Mgwali was the first to recover from his astonishment.
“Whau!” he grunted. “I know not how yonisanusi—white though he be—dare come here and makemútiwithout leave from the Great Great One. It may betagati.”
“No hurt lurks beneath suchmúti, son of my father: of that I feel sure,” I answered. “But I think it is time to have speech with these.”
“Yeh-bo,” assented Mgwali, grinning. “And I think that quarter of meat roasting yonder seems too large for only two men.Au! but the smell of it is good.”
We went forward, and as we discovered ourselves but small was the surprise shown by these two strangers. The head-ringed man, who was attending to the fire and the roast, returned our salutation in the usual form, not heeding us much. But the other, speaking with our tongue, though haltingly, said:
“Welcome, my sons! Draw near, and seat yourselves; for our morning meal is nearly ready, and there is enough for all.”
Mgwali’s eyes glistened, and his mouth broadened into a grin; for he was younger than I, and hungry; and, in truth, the meat smelt good. He uttered a word or two of emphatic assent, and made a movement to comply. But I, remembering my dignity as anindunaof the King, still stood. Then I said:
“First tell me, O white stranger, by whose leave you have entered this country, and mademútiin the land of the Great Great One by whose light we live?”
“By whose leave?” he echoed; his face brightening up. “Ha! By the leave—nay, by the order—of the Great Great One in whose light we live.” Then, seeing that I frowned, and looked suspicious, he explained. “I will not pretend to misunderstand you; but I came into the country of your King by favour of even a greater than he.”
“Hau! You are joking, my father!” I answered, with a sneer, though my first thought was that he was speaking of Dingane. “Yet such words uttered here are dangerous, and would mean death to him who uttered them. Where, now, is he who is greater than Umzilikazi, the Mighty Elephant? Our young regiments are consumed with a longing to wet their spears; and there, I think, is the chance. Where is he who is greater than our king?”
“Pezulu!” (up above) replied the stranger, simply, pointing upward to the heavens.
Then I partly understood. I had heard strange tales of certain men among the whites who taught that a great, though invisible, King sat above the blue of the sky, and caused the sun to shine and the rain to fall; whose might was such that beside it the might of Tshaka himself was less than the might of a child. This, then, must be one of them. Yet—the strange ceremonies we had witnessed?
“Wherefore, then, wert thou makingmútiyonder, beneath the rock, O father of the redmúticloak? To what end was this?” I asked.
“To the end that all good might fall upon your King, and his people, and his land. With that object and intention were we makingmúti, as ye call it, children of this nation,” he answered, looking us fearlessly in the eyes.
And there was that about his glance which satisfied me that we might safely eat meat with him; nor did the ceremony which he and the other went through before partaking of it, and which was very like what we had seen during their strange act of sacrifice, avail to destroy this assurance. And, indeed, when, having finished, we rose up, to proceed at once to the presence of the Great Great One, we left nothing behind us but bones; for Mgwali had a fine appetite—nor came I far behind him in that way—and a quarter of buck is not quite too much among four men.
Note 1. From Untúswa’s description, it seems certain that he and his brother were witnessing an open-air celebration of Mass; and the strange white man would appear to have been a travelling missionary-priest of French nationality—probably a Jesuit.
Chapter Fourteen.The White Isanusi.We were not far from Kwa’zingwenya,Nkose, when this meeting took place, and as we came in among the people on the outskirts of the great kraal the excitement was intense. All gazed curiously to see whom we had brought with us, and we could hear the cries of wonder which broke forth from the people as they beheld a white man. Yet, though they gazed in astonishment, they did not draw near and crowd around us to gaze, for such is not our custom as regards strangers.Now, this white man and he who attended him, bearing their burdens, walked on contentedly by our sides, and as we entered the gates of Kwa’zingwenya I sent a message to the King, reporting the strange discovery we had made. Then, having taken the strangers to my own hut, where my wives speedily settywalabefore them, I went at once to learn the Great Great One’s pleasure concerning them.“And the man is not of the Amabuna, son of Ntelani,” he said, when I had told my tale.“Not so, Black Elephant. He says he is of a race which comes from far over the sea.”“Ha! And the man with him, he is of ourselves?”“He is, Father, and yet not. He is of the Aba-gaza.”“Hau! Of the Abagaza? I would fain hear something of that people. See now, Untúswa, when these strangers are rested, I will talk with them here.”I saluted and withdrew. When I regained my hut the whiteisanusiwas reading from a book softly to himself.Whau! I have seen many books since, but at that time never, and it looked wonderful. At last he ceased, and, making one of those strange turns of his hand such as we had before noticed, he closed the book and looked up. Then I spoke the King’s message, and he rose to his feet, declaring he was ready.Umzilikazi was seated outside theisigodhloas we drew near. The white man halted in front of the King, and, inclining his head slightly, raised his hand aloft and said, “Bayéte!” The Gaza, however, bent low to the ground, murmuring words ofbongaeven as one of ourselves. Him the King began to question first:“Who art thou, who art of us and yet not of us? How art thou named?”“Ngubazana, son of Tumela, of the people of Gaza, Great Great One,” replied the man.“And wherefore hast thou left thine own country—thou akehla? Art thou aninduna?”“Noindunaam I, Black Elephant of the Amendebeli. I have left my country to follow my father here.”“And the feet of those who pursue thee? When a man forsakes his country, is it not that he may travel faster than the feet of those who run behind him?” said Umzilikazi, with meaning.“None such are behind me, Serpent of Wisdom,” replied the man. “In due time I return to my own country again, and to my wives. No evil have I done there that I should not return.”“Ha! Thy wives?” said the King. Then, turning to the white man—“And thou, stranger? They say of thee that thou art anisanusi—though white—that thou wert makingmútiof a wonderful and unheard-of-kind?”“That is true, O King.”“And wherefore was thismúti?”“Let the King listen,” answered the white man. “When theizanusiof the peoples of the Zulu offer sacrifice of cattle to the spirits of departed chiefs and kings, they do so to gain something. Is not this true, Great Great One?”“It is no lie,” answered Umzilikazi.“When I offer sacrifice, it is of a different kind, for it is offered to the Mighty Ruler of the world who dwells above the heavens. The sacrifice which theindunaUntúswa beheld me offering amid the rocks in the forest was also to gain something—very especially to gain something.”“And what was that?”“The peace and welfare and happiness of the people who dwell in this land, and of the King who reigns over them.”“Hau!” burst from all who heard these strange words. And for a space all sat gazing at this white man in silence, as he stood there in his black robe, which was torn and patched and soiled as with hard travel. His face was as the face of a good man, and in height he was not quite so tall as our warriors. Now he stood there looking round upon us all with the eyes of a friend.“Thy words are good, white stranger,” said the King. “But there is one thing that sounds strange to our ears, and that is that thou shouldst seek to gain us peace. For we are a nation of warriors, and what have such to do with peace? Would they not speedily be eaten up, even as these miserable peoples whom we have swept from our path? No; peace is not a thing to desire for such as we.”We who heard greeted the King’s words with a shout of assent—I, especially, gripping my hand, as though I held the great Assegai, the royal gift.“Yet peace is good,” said the whiteisanusi, speaking pleasantly. “Under its shadow nations prosper and grow great.”“Atyi! were ever such words heard!” we cried, shaking our heads. “Grow great beneath the shadow of peace!Ca-bo—Ca-bo!” And we laughed scornfully.“I think thy words please not the ears of my children, white stranger,” said the King, with a grim smile. “It is war by which nations grow great—not peace—war, wherein they destroy all their enemies. The nation which does this is the greatest nation; and such is ours.”“Alltheir enemies?” repeated the white man softly, with head slightly on one side and his eyes fixed upon those of the Great Great One.“Alltheir enemies did the King say?”“All—all whom they can reach.”“Ah! But what of those who would reachthem? With every nation, however great, there is at least one other which it has cause to fear—at least one other which is stronger than itself, or which any day may become so.”Now the cry of anger, of disgust, which arose to our lips was checked, for beyond a lightening up of the eyes the King’s face showed no sign that he had grasped the full meaning of this speech. For we knew—weizinduna—that in his heart of hearts Umzilikazi was uneasy on the subject of the Amabuna and Dingane, but especially Dingane. He knew that, sooner or later, the arm of Dingane would be long enough to reach him; and it was for this reason that such immense pains were taken to keep up the strength and efficiency of our army. Even then, nearly half of it was composed of slaves reared among base peoples. How should these withstand, in the day of trial, the pure blood and disciplined numbers of theimpisof Dingane? We had overthrown Tshaka’simpiamong the mountain passes, but that was a running fight, and but for the cloud which descended upon the crests of Kwahlamba and rested there for days the end might well have been different, and to-day there might have been no new nation ruled over by the son of Matyobane. It was a dangerous speech to utter into the ears of the Great Great One, for a King likes not to be reminded that there may be a mightier king than himself. It was a speech which, coming from the lips of many a man, might well have amounted to a prayer for death.“Nations are like lions,” replied Umzilikazi; “the stronger drives out the weaker, that it may keep its hunting-grounds for itself alone. The weaker, in turn, drives out the weaker still; and so things go on, and ever will go on.”“Not so, Black Elephant. The time will come—has come in some parts of the earth—when the strong no longer drive out the weak, but both shall sit down side by side in peace. There is One who gave His life that this should come to pass, and that all should be turned into the way of the truth. And He who thus suffered death to save a world was the Son of a King—a King beside whom the might of the mightiest King the earth ever saw is less than the weakness of a child beside the strength of an elephant. For He was the Son of God.”“What was He like? How did He die, the son of this mighty King?” said Umzilikazi.“Thus, ruler of a nation which loves war. Thus.”And the whiteisanusidrew from his robe something we had beheld sticking in it, and had deemed some portion of hismúti, and held it out towards the King. And we, too, all saw it. It was a black cross, and upon it, fashioned in some shining metal, was stretched the Figure of a Man.A gasp of astonishment went up from every throat; for we Zulus,Nkose, are always anxious to hear something new.Au! This was something new, if ever anything was.“Seat thyself, father of the redmúticloak,” said Umzilikazi, after we had gazed awhile upon this strange object. “Seat thyself, and tell us the tale of this marvel. I would fain hear of the doings of a King whose house was mightier than that of Senzangakona.”So the white stranger seated himself there beside the King and told his tale; and a wonderful tale it was, and long did it take in telling.Whau, Nkose! It was new then, though I have more than once heard it since from the lips of white preachers, but never did they tell it as this man told it whom we found, my brother and I, making strangemútiand offering sacrifice in the forest.But there was one side of that story which pleased not any of us, which pleased not the King, and this was the teaching that all men should live at peace. We looked at one another, we war-captains, and shook our heads as we tried to imagine ourselves even more helpless than the cowardly Bakoni, whose ways were the ways of peace. We looked at the Great Great One too, though guardedly, at those parts of a story which set forth that there could be a mightier King than himself.Au! The tale was good, as a tale; but these were not teachings we liked to listen to, we chief men among a warrior race whose greatness lay in war.“It is a great tale!” said Umzilikazi, when we had listened for a long time; “a wonderful tale. And now, my father, I would fain behold this making ofmútisuch as myindunaUntúswa witnessed unawares. I would fain see thee offer sacrifice. Shall we go forth into the forest, or can it be offered here?”“It can be offered anywhere, Elephant of the Amandebeli, by one who is qualified to offer it,” answered the whiteisanusi. “But it is a very high and holy act, and cannot be offered twice upon the same day except under certain conditions, but not at all if food has been partaken of on that day.”This answer satisfied the King. But there were some among us who murmured that the will of the Great Great One should thus be crossed, saying it brought back the day when old Masuka first came into our midst, who, being desired to makemúti, refused, on the ground that the moment was not propitious.Now, whether Umzilikazi was thus reminded, or whether his ears caught some of our murmurings, I know not. But he gave orders that the Mosutu should be called.“Here is anotherisanusi, Masuka,” he said, when the old man appeared, murmuring words ofbonga. “He is white, but I am not sure he is not a greater than thou.”“I am not the greatest of my kind the world ever saw, Lord. Perchance there may be greater,” answered Masuka, darting a quick glance at the stranger with his bright and piercing eyes. “But can he make fire out of nothing, Great Great One? Can he make the thunder roar forth balls of flame into a buck smoke out of nothing? Can he make the countenances of the enemies of the King show clear in a bowl? Can he do these things, O Elephant?”But the white man showed no dismay, no anxiety. There was nothing about him of theisanusiwho fears a more powerful rival still. He looked straight in the old Mosutu’s face, and in his own was nothing but friendliness.“Not in such spells do I deal, old man of a stranger race,” he answered. “The Great Great One whom I serve loves not such. Yet thou—themútithou usest is not generally for ill, and thy divinations are in favour of right and justice and for the well-being and safety of thy King and adopted nation. While this is so may it go well with thee.”“Ha!” we cried, amazed that this stranger should thus describe Masuka’smútiwith such wonderful exactness. And the King was greatly pleased at that saying, and the white man made a friend of the old Mosutu, who saw at once—as what did he not see?—that here was no rival claiming to be greater than himself and to steal away the favour of the King from him. In truth, also,Nkose, the words of the stranger were well said, for since Masuka had been made the father of the King’s magic, few indeed of our people had been smelt out, and then only when they had been guilty of evil-doing, as in the case of the conspirators of Ncwelo’s pool, whereas, formerly, our ownizanusiwere ever clamouring for “witch-findings,” ever hungry as vultures for the flesh of men; wherefore, our nation loved the old Mosutu, and we who heard were glad because there was not to be another set up in his place.“I see that the heart of the King is good towards me, and I rejoice,” said the white man before he withdrew. “For I would fain sow the seed of the Word of Life among this people before I travel South. Then there are those who shall return, and water and tend it, before a long time has gone by.”We saw a look steal over Umzilikazi’s face at these words, and it was a look we knew.“So it is thy purpose to travel to the South, my father?” said the King, speaking softly and low.“Such is my purpose, Black Elephant,” was the answer.“Ha! the journey to the southward is long, and not over-safe,” went on the King. “There are bad peoples and tribes who will do thee hurt, my father.”“That I must brave, Great Great One; for the soldiers of Him whom I serve often meet with hurt, and even death, in His service.”“Something was said but now about sowing the seed of the Word of Life among this people, my father,” went on the King, still speaking softly, and with a strange look upon his face, as he gazed fixedly at the other. “Now, why should it not be sown among this people as well as among the peoples of the South?”The face of the whiteisanusilighted up for joy at these words. He replied:“Great is the Mighty One who dwells above; who has put such into the mind of the King! Here, then, will I dwell for a while, and the people of the Amandebeli shall drink by degrees of the Fountain of Life.”But while he thus praised, we, who listened, laughed secretly within ourselves, for we knew what thoughts were within the real mind of the King. And these were, that the day when the whiteisanusiwas to start upon his travels for the dwellings of the peoples to the South should arrive never—no, never!
We were not far from Kwa’zingwenya,Nkose, when this meeting took place, and as we came in among the people on the outskirts of the great kraal the excitement was intense. All gazed curiously to see whom we had brought with us, and we could hear the cries of wonder which broke forth from the people as they beheld a white man. Yet, though they gazed in astonishment, they did not draw near and crowd around us to gaze, for such is not our custom as regards strangers.
Now, this white man and he who attended him, bearing their burdens, walked on contentedly by our sides, and as we entered the gates of Kwa’zingwenya I sent a message to the King, reporting the strange discovery we had made. Then, having taken the strangers to my own hut, where my wives speedily settywalabefore them, I went at once to learn the Great Great One’s pleasure concerning them.
“And the man is not of the Amabuna, son of Ntelani,” he said, when I had told my tale.
“Not so, Black Elephant. He says he is of a race which comes from far over the sea.”
“Ha! And the man with him, he is of ourselves?”
“He is, Father, and yet not. He is of the Aba-gaza.”
“Hau! Of the Abagaza? I would fain hear something of that people. See now, Untúswa, when these strangers are rested, I will talk with them here.”
I saluted and withdrew. When I regained my hut the whiteisanusiwas reading from a book softly to himself.Whau! I have seen many books since, but at that time never, and it looked wonderful. At last he ceased, and, making one of those strange turns of his hand such as we had before noticed, he closed the book and looked up. Then I spoke the King’s message, and he rose to his feet, declaring he was ready.
Umzilikazi was seated outside theisigodhloas we drew near. The white man halted in front of the King, and, inclining his head slightly, raised his hand aloft and said, “Bayéte!” The Gaza, however, bent low to the ground, murmuring words ofbongaeven as one of ourselves. Him the King began to question first:
“Who art thou, who art of us and yet not of us? How art thou named?”
“Ngubazana, son of Tumela, of the people of Gaza, Great Great One,” replied the man.
“And wherefore hast thou left thine own country—thou akehla? Art thou aninduna?”
“Noindunaam I, Black Elephant of the Amendebeli. I have left my country to follow my father here.”
“And the feet of those who pursue thee? When a man forsakes his country, is it not that he may travel faster than the feet of those who run behind him?” said Umzilikazi, with meaning.
“None such are behind me, Serpent of Wisdom,” replied the man. “In due time I return to my own country again, and to my wives. No evil have I done there that I should not return.”
“Ha! Thy wives?” said the King. Then, turning to the white man—
“And thou, stranger? They say of thee that thou art anisanusi—though white—that thou wert makingmútiof a wonderful and unheard-of-kind?”
“That is true, O King.”
“And wherefore was thismúti?”
“Let the King listen,” answered the white man. “When theizanusiof the peoples of the Zulu offer sacrifice of cattle to the spirits of departed chiefs and kings, they do so to gain something. Is not this true, Great Great One?”
“It is no lie,” answered Umzilikazi.
“When I offer sacrifice, it is of a different kind, for it is offered to the Mighty Ruler of the world who dwells above the heavens. The sacrifice which theindunaUntúswa beheld me offering amid the rocks in the forest was also to gain something—very especially to gain something.”
“And what was that?”
“The peace and welfare and happiness of the people who dwell in this land, and of the King who reigns over them.”
“Hau!” burst from all who heard these strange words. And for a space all sat gazing at this white man in silence, as he stood there in his black robe, which was torn and patched and soiled as with hard travel. His face was as the face of a good man, and in height he was not quite so tall as our warriors. Now he stood there looking round upon us all with the eyes of a friend.
“Thy words are good, white stranger,” said the King. “But there is one thing that sounds strange to our ears, and that is that thou shouldst seek to gain us peace. For we are a nation of warriors, and what have such to do with peace? Would they not speedily be eaten up, even as these miserable peoples whom we have swept from our path? No; peace is not a thing to desire for such as we.”
We who heard greeted the King’s words with a shout of assent—I, especially, gripping my hand, as though I held the great Assegai, the royal gift.
“Yet peace is good,” said the whiteisanusi, speaking pleasantly. “Under its shadow nations prosper and grow great.”
“Atyi! were ever such words heard!” we cried, shaking our heads. “Grow great beneath the shadow of peace!Ca-bo—Ca-bo!” And we laughed scornfully.
“I think thy words please not the ears of my children, white stranger,” said the King, with a grim smile. “It is war by which nations grow great—not peace—war, wherein they destroy all their enemies. The nation which does this is the greatest nation; and such is ours.”
“Alltheir enemies?” repeated the white man softly, with head slightly on one side and his eyes fixed upon those of the Great Great One.
“Alltheir enemies did the King say?”
“All—all whom they can reach.”
“Ah! But what of those who would reachthem? With every nation, however great, there is at least one other which it has cause to fear—at least one other which is stronger than itself, or which any day may become so.”
Now the cry of anger, of disgust, which arose to our lips was checked, for beyond a lightening up of the eyes the King’s face showed no sign that he had grasped the full meaning of this speech. For we knew—weizinduna—that in his heart of hearts Umzilikazi was uneasy on the subject of the Amabuna and Dingane, but especially Dingane. He knew that, sooner or later, the arm of Dingane would be long enough to reach him; and it was for this reason that such immense pains were taken to keep up the strength and efficiency of our army. Even then, nearly half of it was composed of slaves reared among base peoples. How should these withstand, in the day of trial, the pure blood and disciplined numbers of theimpisof Dingane? We had overthrown Tshaka’simpiamong the mountain passes, but that was a running fight, and but for the cloud which descended upon the crests of Kwahlamba and rested there for days the end might well have been different, and to-day there might have been no new nation ruled over by the son of Matyobane. It was a dangerous speech to utter into the ears of the Great Great One, for a King likes not to be reminded that there may be a mightier king than himself. It was a speech which, coming from the lips of many a man, might well have amounted to a prayer for death.
“Nations are like lions,” replied Umzilikazi; “the stronger drives out the weaker, that it may keep its hunting-grounds for itself alone. The weaker, in turn, drives out the weaker still; and so things go on, and ever will go on.”
“Not so, Black Elephant. The time will come—has come in some parts of the earth—when the strong no longer drive out the weak, but both shall sit down side by side in peace. There is One who gave His life that this should come to pass, and that all should be turned into the way of the truth. And He who thus suffered death to save a world was the Son of a King—a King beside whom the might of the mightiest King the earth ever saw is less than the weakness of a child beside the strength of an elephant. For He was the Son of God.”
“What was He like? How did He die, the son of this mighty King?” said Umzilikazi.
“Thus, ruler of a nation which loves war. Thus.”
And the whiteisanusidrew from his robe something we had beheld sticking in it, and had deemed some portion of hismúti, and held it out towards the King. And we, too, all saw it. It was a black cross, and upon it, fashioned in some shining metal, was stretched the Figure of a Man.
A gasp of astonishment went up from every throat; for we Zulus,Nkose, are always anxious to hear something new.Au! This was something new, if ever anything was.
“Seat thyself, father of the redmúticloak,” said Umzilikazi, after we had gazed awhile upon this strange object. “Seat thyself, and tell us the tale of this marvel. I would fain hear of the doings of a King whose house was mightier than that of Senzangakona.”
So the white stranger seated himself there beside the King and told his tale; and a wonderful tale it was, and long did it take in telling.Whau, Nkose! It was new then, though I have more than once heard it since from the lips of white preachers, but never did they tell it as this man told it whom we found, my brother and I, making strangemútiand offering sacrifice in the forest.
But there was one side of that story which pleased not any of us, which pleased not the King, and this was the teaching that all men should live at peace. We looked at one another, we war-captains, and shook our heads as we tried to imagine ourselves even more helpless than the cowardly Bakoni, whose ways were the ways of peace. We looked at the Great Great One too, though guardedly, at those parts of a story which set forth that there could be a mightier King than himself.Au! The tale was good, as a tale; but these were not teachings we liked to listen to, we chief men among a warrior race whose greatness lay in war.
“It is a great tale!” said Umzilikazi, when we had listened for a long time; “a wonderful tale. And now, my father, I would fain behold this making ofmútisuch as myindunaUntúswa witnessed unawares. I would fain see thee offer sacrifice. Shall we go forth into the forest, or can it be offered here?”
“It can be offered anywhere, Elephant of the Amandebeli, by one who is qualified to offer it,” answered the whiteisanusi. “But it is a very high and holy act, and cannot be offered twice upon the same day except under certain conditions, but not at all if food has been partaken of on that day.”
This answer satisfied the King. But there were some among us who murmured that the will of the Great Great One should thus be crossed, saying it brought back the day when old Masuka first came into our midst, who, being desired to makemúti, refused, on the ground that the moment was not propitious.
Now, whether Umzilikazi was thus reminded, or whether his ears caught some of our murmurings, I know not. But he gave orders that the Mosutu should be called.
“Here is anotherisanusi, Masuka,” he said, when the old man appeared, murmuring words ofbonga. “He is white, but I am not sure he is not a greater than thou.”
“I am not the greatest of my kind the world ever saw, Lord. Perchance there may be greater,” answered Masuka, darting a quick glance at the stranger with his bright and piercing eyes. “But can he make fire out of nothing, Great Great One? Can he make the thunder roar forth balls of flame into a buck smoke out of nothing? Can he make the countenances of the enemies of the King show clear in a bowl? Can he do these things, O Elephant?”
But the white man showed no dismay, no anxiety. There was nothing about him of theisanusiwho fears a more powerful rival still. He looked straight in the old Mosutu’s face, and in his own was nothing but friendliness.
“Not in such spells do I deal, old man of a stranger race,” he answered. “The Great Great One whom I serve loves not such. Yet thou—themútithou usest is not generally for ill, and thy divinations are in favour of right and justice and for the well-being and safety of thy King and adopted nation. While this is so may it go well with thee.”
“Ha!” we cried, amazed that this stranger should thus describe Masuka’smútiwith such wonderful exactness. And the King was greatly pleased at that saying, and the white man made a friend of the old Mosutu, who saw at once—as what did he not see?—that here was no rival claiming to be greater than himself and to steal away the favour of the King from him. In truth, also,Nkose, the words of the stranger were well said, for since Masuka had been made the father of the King’s magic, few indeed of our people had been smelt out, and then only when they had been guilty of evil-doing, as in the case of the conspirators of Ncwelo’s pool, whereas, formerly, our ownizanusiwere ever clamouring for “witch-findings,” ever hungry as vultures for the flesh of men; wherefore, our nation loved the old Mosutu, and we who heard were glad because there was not to be another set up in his place.
“I see that the heart of the King is good towards me, and I rejoice,” said the white man before he withdrew. “For I would fain sow the seed of the Word of Life among this people before I travel South. Then there are those who shall return, and water and tend it, before a long time has gone by.”
We saw a look steal over Umzilikazi’s face at these words, and it was a look we knew.
“So it is thy purpose to travel to the South, my father?” said the King, speaking softly and low.
“Such is my purpose, Black Elephant,” was the answer.
“Ha! the journey to the southward is long, and not over-safe,” went on the King. “There are bad peoples and tribes who will do thee hurt, my father.”
“That I must brave, Great Great One; for the soldiers of Him whom I serve often meet with hurt, and even death, in His service.”
“Something was said but now about sowing the seed of the Word of Life among this people, my father,” went on the King, still speaking softly, and with a strange look upon his face, as he gazed fixedly at the other. “Now, why should it not be sown among this people as well as among the peoples of the South?”
The face of the whiteisanusilighted up for joy at these words. He replied:
“Great is the Mighty One who dwells above; who has put such into the mind of the King! Here, then, will I dwell for a while, and the people of the Amandebeli shall drink by degrees of the Fountain of Life.”
But while he thus praised, we, who listened, laughed secretly within ourselves, for we knew what thoughts were within the real mind of the King. And these were, that the day when the whiteisanusiwas to start upon his travels for the dwellings of the peoples to the South should arrive never—no, never!