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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Child of Storm, by H. Rider Haggard
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Child of Storm
+
+Author: H. Rider Haggard
+
+Release Date: April, 1999 [eBook #1711]
+[Most recently updated: February 15, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Christopher Hapka and David Widger
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILD OF STORM ***
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Child of Storm
+
+by H. Rider Haggard
+
+
+Contents
+
+ DEDICATION
+ AUTHOR’S NOTE
+
+ CHAPTER I. ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
+ CHAPTER II. THE MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI
+ CHAPTER III. THE BUFFALO WITH THE CLEFT HORN
+ CHAPTER IV. MAMEENA
+ CHAPTER V. TWO BUCKS AND THE DOE
+ CHAPTER VI. THE AMBUSH
+ CHAPTER VII. SADUKO BRINGS THE MARRIAGE GIFT
+ CHAPTER VIII. THE KING’S DAUGHTER
+ CHAPTER IX. ALLAN RETURNS TO ZULULAND
+ CHAPTER X. THE SMELLING-OUT
+ CHAPTER XI. THE SIN OF UMBELAZI
+ CHAPTER XII. PANDA’S PRAYER
+ CHAPTER XIII. UMBELAZI THE FALLEN
+ CHAPTER XIV. UMBEZI AND THE BLOOD ROYAL
+ CHAPTER XV. MAMEENA CLAIMS THE KISS
+ CHAPTER XVI. MAMEENA—MAMEENA—MAMEENA!
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Dear Mr. Stuart,
+
+For twenty years, I believe I am right in saying, you, as Assistant
+Secretary for Native Affairs in Natal, and in other offices, have been
+intimately acquainted with the Zulu people. Moreover, you are one of
+the few living men who have made a deep and scientific study of their
+language, their customs and their history. So I confess that I was the
+more pleased after you were so good as to read this tale—the second
+book of the epic of the vengeance of Zikali, “the
+Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” and of the fall of the House
+of Senzangakona[1]—when you wrote to me that it was animated by the
+true Zulu spirit.
+
+ [1] “Marie” was the first. The third and final act in the drama is yet
+ to come.
+
+I must admit that my acquaintance with this people dates from a period
+which closed almost before your day. What I know of them I gathered at
+the time when Cetewayo, of whom my volume tells, was in his glory,
+previous to the evil hour in which he found himself driven by the
+clamour of his regiments, cut off, as they were, through the annexation
+of the Transvaal, from their hereditary trade of war, to match himself
+against the British strength. I learned it all by personal observation
+in the ‘seventies, or from the lips of the great Shepstone, my chief
+and friend, and from my colleagues Osborn, Fynney, Clarke and others,
+every one of them long since “gone down.”
+
+Perhaps it may be as well that this is so, at any rate in the case of
+one who desires to write of the Zulus as a reigning nation, which now
+they have ceased to be, and to try to show them as they were, in all
+their superstitious madness and bloodstained grandeur.
+
+Yet then they had virtues as well as vices. To serve their Country in
+arms, to die for it and for the King; such was their primitive ideal.
+If they were fierce they were loyal, and feared neither wounds nor
+doom; if they listened to the dark redes of the witch-doctor, the
+trumpet-call of duty sounded still louder in their ears; if, chanting
+their terrible “Ingoma,” at the King’s bidding they went forth to slay
+unsparingly, at least they were not mean or vulgar. From those who
+continually must face the last great issues of life or death meanness
+and vulgarity are far removed. These qualities belong to the safe and
+crowded haunts of civilised men, not to the kraals of Bantu savages,
+where, at any rate of old, they might be sought in vain.
+
+Now everything is changed, or so I hear, and doubtless in the balance
+this is best. Still we may wonder what are the thoughts that pass
+through the mind of some ancient warrior of Chaka’s or Dingaan’s time,
+as he suns himself crouched on the ground, for example, where once
+stood the royal kraal, Duguza, and watches men and women of the Zulu
+blood passing homeward from the cities or the mines, bemused, some of
+them, with the white man’s smuggled liquor, grotesque with the white
+man’s cast-off garments, hiding, perhaps, in their blankets examples of
+the white man’s doubtful photographs—and then shuts his sunken eyes and
+remembers the plumed and kilted regiments making that same ground shake
+as, with a thunder of salute, line upon line, company upon company,
+they rushed out to battle.
+
+Well, because the latter does not attract me, it is of this former time
+that I have tried to write—the time of the Impis and the witch-finders
+and the rival princes of the royal House—as I am glad to learn from
+you, not quite in vain. Therefore, since you, so great an expert,
+approve of my labours in the seldom-travelled field of Zulu story, I
+ask you to allow me to set your name upon this page and subscribe
+myself,
+
+Gratefully and sincerely yours,
+H. RIDER HAGGARD.
+
+Ditchingham, 12_th October_, 1912.
+
+To James Stuart, Esq.,
+_Late Assistant Secretary for Native Affairs, Natal._
+
+
+
+
+AUTHOR’S NOTE
+
+
+Mr. Allan Quatermain’s story of the wicked and fascinating Mameena, a
+kind of Zulu Helen, has, it should be stated, a broad foundation in
+historical fact. Leaving Mameena and her wiles on one side, the tale of
+the struggle between the Princes Cetewayo and Umbelazi for succession
+to the throne of Zululand is true.
+
+When the differences between these sons of his became intolerable,
+because of the tumult which they were causing in his country, King
+Panda, their father, the son of Senzangakona, and the brother of the
+great Chaka and of Dingaan, who had ruled before him, did say that
+“when two young bulls quarrel they had better fight it out.” So, at
+least, I was told by the late Mr. F. B. Fynney, my colleague at the
+time of the annexation of the Transvaal in 1877, who, as Zulu Border
+Agent, with the exceptions of the late Sir Theophilus Shepstone and the
+late Sir Melmoth Osborn, perhaps knew more of that land and people than
+anyone else of his period.
+
+As a result of this hint given by a maddened king, the great battle of
+the Tugela was fought at Endondakusuka in December, 1856, between the
+_Usutu_ party, commanded by Cetewayo, and the adherents of Umbelazi the
+Handsome, his brother, who was known among the Zulus as
+“_Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_,” or the “Elephant with the tuft of hair,”
+from a little lock of hair which grew low down upon his back.
+
+My friend, Sir Melmoth Osborn, who died in or about the year 1897, was
+present at this battle, although not as a combatant. Well do I remember
+his thrilling story, told to me over thirty years ago, of the events of
+that awful day.
+
+Early in the morning, or during the previous night, I forget which, he
+swam his horse across the Tugela and hid with it in a bush-clad kopje,
+blindfolding the animal with his coat lest it should betray him. As it
+chanced, the great fight of the day, that of the regiment of veterans,
+which Sir Melmoth informed me Panda had sent down at the last moment to
+the assistance of Umbelazi, his favourite son, took place almost at the
+foot of this kopje. Mr. Quatermain, in his narrative, calls this
+regiment the Amawombe, but my recollection is that the name Sir Melmoth
+Osborn gave them was “The Greys” or _Upunga_.
+
+Whatever their exact title may have been, however, they made a great
+stand. At least, he told me that when Umbelazi’s impi, or army, began
+to give before the _Usutu_ onslaught, these “Greys” moved forward above
+3,000 strong, drawn up in a triple line, and were charged by one of
+Cetewayo’s regiments.
+
+The opposing forces met, and the noise of their clashing shields, said
+Sir Melmoth, was like the roll of heavy thunder. Then, while he
+watched, the veteran “Greys” passed over the opposing regiment “as a
+wave passes over a rock”—these were his exact words—and, leaving about
+a third of their number dead or wounded among the bodies of the
+annihilated foe, charged on to meet a second regiment sent against them
+by Cetewayo. With these the struggle was repeated, but again the
+“Greys” conquered. Only now there were not more than five or six
+hundred of them left upon their feet.
+
+These survivors ran to a mound, round which they formed a ring, and
+here for a long while withstood the attack of a third regiment, until
+at length they perished almost to a man, buried beneath heaps of their
+slain assailants, the _Usutu_.
+
+Truly they made a noble end fighting thus against tremendous odds!
+
+As for the number who fell at this battle of Endondakusuka, Mr. Fynney,
+in a pamphlet which he wrote, says that six of Umbelazi’s brothers
+died, “whilst it is estimated that upwards of 100,000 of the
+people—men, women and children—were slain”—a high and indeed an
+impossible estimate.
+
+That curious personage named John Dunn, an Englishman who became a Zulu
+chief, and who actually fought in this battle, as narrated by Mr.
+Quatermain, however, puts the number much lower. What the true total
+was will never be known; but Sir Melmoth Osborn told me that when he
+swam his horse back across the Tugela that night it was black with
+bodies; and Sir Theophilus Shepstone also told me that when he visited
+the scene a day or two later the banks of the river were strewn with
+multitudes of them, male and female.
+
+It was from Mr. Fynney that I heard the story of the execution by
+Cetewayo of the man who appeared before him with the ornaments of
+Umbelazi, announcing that he had killed the prince with his own hand.
+Of course, this tale, as Mr. Quatermain points out, bears a striking
+resemblance to that recorded in the Old Testament in connection with
+the death of King Saul.
+
+It by no means follows, however, that it is therefore apocryphal;
+indeed, Mr. Fynney assured me that it was quite true, although, if he
+gave me his authorities, I cannot remember them after a lapse of more
+than thirty years.
+
+The exact circumstances of Umbelazi’s death are unknown, but the
+general report was that he died, not by the assegais of the _Usutu_,
+but of a broken heart. Another story declares that he was drowned. His
+body was never found, and it is therefore probable that it sank in the
+Tugela, as is suggested in the following pages.
+
+I have only to add that it is quite in accordance with Zulu beliefs
+that a man should be haunted by the ghost of one whom he has murdered
+or betrayed, or, to be more accurate, that the spirit (_umoya_) should
+enter into the slayer and drive him mad. Or, in such a case, that
+spirit might bring misfortune upon him, his family, or his tribe.
+
+H. RIDER HAGGARD.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter I.
+ALLAN QUATERMAIN HEARS OF MAMEENA
+
+
+We white people think that we know everything. For instance, we think
+that we understand human nature. And so we do, as human nature appears
+to us, with all its trappings and accessories seen dimly through the
+glass of our conventions, leaving out those aspects of it which we have
+forgotten or do not think it polite to mention. But I, Allan
+Quatermain, reflecting upon these matters in my ignorant and uneducated
+fashion, have always held that no one really understands human nature
+who has not studied it in the rough. Well, that is the aspect of it
+with which I have been best acquainted.
+
+For most of the years of my life I have handled the raw material, the
+virgin ore, not the finished ornament that is smelted out of it—if,
+indeed, it is finished yet, which I greatly doubt. I dare say that a
+time may come when the perfected generations—if Civilisation, as we
+understand it, really has a future and any such should be allowed to
+enjoy their hour on the World—will look back to us as crude,
+half-developed creatures whose only merit was that we handed on the
+flame of life.
+
+Maybe, maybe, for everything goes by comparison; and at one end of the
+ladder is the ape-man, and at the other, as we hope, the angel. No, not
+the angel; he belongs to a different sphere, but that last expression
+of humanity upon which I will not speculate. While man is man—that is,
+before he suffers the magical death-change into spirit, if such should
+be his destiny—well, he will remain man. I mean that the same passions
+will sway him; he will aim at the same ambitions; he will know the same
+joys and be oppressed by the same fears, whether he lives in a Kafir
+hut or in a golden palace; whether he walks upon his two feet or, as
+for aught I know he may do one day, flies through the air. This is
+certain: that in the flesh he can never escape from our atmosphere, and
+while he breathes it, in the main with some variations prescribed by
+climate, local law and religion, he will do much as his forefathers did
+for countless ages.
+
+That is why I have always found the savage so interesting, for in him,
+nakedly and forcibly expressed, we see those eternal principles which
+direct our human destiny.
+
+To descend from these generalities, that is why also I, who hate
+writing, have thought it worth while, at the cost of some labour to
+myself, to occupy my leisure in what to me is a strange land—for
+although I was born in England, it is not my country—in setting down
+various experiences of my life that do, in my opinion, interpret this
+our universal nature. I dare say that no one will ever read them;
+still, perhaps they are worthy of record, and who knows? In days to
+come they may fall into the hands of others and prove of value. At any
+rate, they are true stories of interesting peoples, who, if they should
+survive in the savage competition of the nations, probably are doomed
+to undergo great changes. Therefore I tell of them before they began to
+change.
+
+Now, although I take it out of its strict chronological order, the
+first of these histories that I wish to preserve is in the main that of
+an extremely beautiful woman—with the exception of a certain Nada,
+called “the Lily,” of whom I hope to speak some day, I think the most
+beautiful that ever lived among the Zulus. Also she was, I think, the
+most able, the most wicked, and the most ambitious. Her attractive
+name—for it was very attractive as the Zulus said it, especially those
+of them who were in love with her—was Mameena, daughter of Umbezi. Her
+other name was Child of Storm (_Ingane-ye-Sipepo_, or, more freely and
+shortly, _O-we-Zulu_), but the word “Ma-mee-na” had its origin in the
+sound of the wind that wailed about the hut when she was born.[1]
+
+ [1] The Zulu word _Meena_—or more correctly _Mina_—means “Come here,”
+ and would therefore be a name not unsuitable to one of the heroine’s
+ proclivities; but Mr. Quatermain does not seem to accept this
+ interpretation.—EDITOR.
+
+Since I have been settled in England I have read—of course in a
+translation—the story of Helen of Troy, as told by the Greek poet,
+Homer. Well, Mameena reminds me very much of Helen, or, rather, Helen
+reminds me of Mameena. At any rate, there was this in common between
+them, although one of them was black, or, rather, copper-coloured, and
+the other white—they both were lovely; moreover, they both were
+faithless, and brought men by hundreds to their deaths. There, perhaps,
+the resemblance ends, since Mameena had much more fire and grit than
+Helen could boast, who, unless Homer misrepresents her, must have been
+but a poor thing after all. Beauty Itself, which those old rascals of
+Greek gods made use of to bait their snares set for the lives and
+honour of men, such was Helen, no more; that is, as I understand her,
+who have not had the advantage of a classical education. Now, Mameena,
+although she was superstitious—a common weakness of great
+minds—acknowledging no gods in particular, as we understand them, set
+her own snares, with varying success but a very definite object,
+namely, that of becoming the first woman in the world as she knew
+it—the stormy, bloodstained world of the Zulus.
+
+But the reader shall judge for himself, if ever such a person should
+chance to cast his eye upon this history.
+
+It was in the year 1854 that I first met Mameena, and my acquaintance
+with her continued off and on until 1856, when it came to an end in a
+fashion that shall be told after the fearful battle of the Tugela in
+which Umbelazi, Panda’s son and Cetewayo’s brother—who, to his sorrow,
+had also met Mameena—lost his life. I was still a youngish man in those
+days, although I had already buried my second wife, as I have told
+elsewhere, after our brief but happy time of marriage.
+
+Leaving my boy in charge of some kind people in Durban, I started into
+“the Zulu”—a land with which I had already become well acquainted as a
+youth, there to carry on my wild life of trading and hunting.
+
+For the trading I never cared much, as may be guessed from the little
+that ever I made out of it, the art of traffic being in truth repugnant
+to me. But hunting was always the breath of my nostrils—not that I am
+fond of killing creatures, for any humane man soon wearies of
+slaughter. No, it is the excitement of sport, which, before
+breechloaders came in, was acute enough, I can assure you; the lonely
+existence in wild places, often with only the sun and the stars for
+companions; the continual adventures; the strange tribes with whom I
+came in contact; in short, the change, the danger, the hope always of
+finding something great and new, that attracted and still attracts me,
+even now when I _have_ found the great and the new. There, I must not
+go on writing like this, or I shall throw down my pen and book a
+passage for Africa, and incidentally to the next world, no doubt—that
+world of the great and new!
+
+It was, I think, in the month of May in the year 1854 that I went
+hunting in rough country between the White and Black Umvolosi Rivers,
+by permission of Panda—whom the Boers had made king of Zululand after
+the defeat and death of Dingaan his brother. The district was very
+feverish, and for this reason I had entered it in the winter months.
+There was so much bush that, in the total absence of roads, I thought
+it wise not to attempt to bring my wagons down, and as no horses would
+live in that veld I went on foot. My principal companions were a Kafir
+of mixed origin, called Sikauli, commonly abbreviated into Scowl, the
+Zulu chief Saduko, and a headman of the Undwandwe blood named Umbezi,
+at whose kraal on the high land about thirty miles away I left my wagon
+and certain of my men in charge of the goods and some ivory that I had
+traded.
+
+This Umbezi was a stout and genial-mannered man of about sixty years of
+age, and, what is rare among these people, one who loved sport for its
+own sake. Being aware of his tastes, also that he knew the country and
+was skilled in finding game, I had promised him a gun if he would
+accompany me and bring a few hunters. It was a particularly bad gun
+that had seen much service, and one which had an unpleasing habit of
+going off at half-cock; but even after he had seen it, and I in my
+honesty had explained its weaknesses, he jumped at the offer.
+
+“O Macumazana” (that is my native name, often abbreviated into
+Macumazahn, which means “One who stands out,” or as many interpret it,
+I don’t know how, “Watcher-by-Night”)—“a gun that goes off sometimes
+when you do not expect it is much better than no gun at all, and you
+are a chief with a great heart to promise it to me, for when I own the
+White Man’s weapon I shall be looked up to and feared by everyone
+between the two rivers.”
+
+Now, while he was speaking he handled the gun, that was loaded,
+observing which I moved behind him. Off it went in due course, its
+recoil knocking him backwards—for that gun was a devil to kick—and its
+bullet cutting the top off the ear of one of his wives. The lady fled
+screaming, leaving a little bit of her ear upon the ground.
+
+“What does it matter?” said Umbezi, as he picked himself up, rubbing
+his shoulder with a rueful look. “Would that the evil spirit in the gun
+had cut off her tongue and not her ear! It is the Worn-out-Old-Cow’s
+own fault; she is always peeping into everything like a monkey. Now she
+will have something to chatter about and leave my things alone for
+awhile. I thank my ancestral Spirit it was not Mameena, for then her
+looks would have been spoiled.”
+
+“Who is Mameena?” I asked. “Your last wife?”
+
+“No, no, Macumazahn; I wish she were, for then I should have the most
+beautiful wife in the land. She is my daughter, though not that of the
+Worn-out-Old-Cow; her mother died when she was born, on the night of
+the Great Storm. You should ask Saduko there who Mameena is,” he added
+with a broad grin, lifting his head from the gun, which he was
+examining gingerly, as though he thought it might go off again while
+unloaded, and nodding towards someone who stood behind him.
+
+I turned, and for the first time saw Saduko, whom I recognised at once
+as a person quite out of the ordinary run of natives.
+
+He was a tall and magnificently formed young man, who, although his
+breast was scarred with assegai wounds, showing that he was a warrior,
+had not yet attained to the honour of the “ring” of polished wax laid
+over strips of rush bound round with sinew and sewn to the hair, the
+_isicoco_ which at a certain age or dignity, determined by the king,
+Zulus are allowed to assume. But his face struck me more even than his
+grace, strength and stature. Undoubtedly it was a very fine face, with
+little or nothing of the negroid type about it; indeed, he might have
+been a rather dark-coloured Arab, to which stock he probably threw
+back. The eyes, too, were large and rather melancholy, and in his
+reserved, dignified air there was something that showed him to be no
+common fellow, but one of breeding and intellect.
+
+“_Siyakubona_ (that is, “we see you,” _anglice_ “good morrow”)
+“Saduko,” I said, eyeing him curiously. “Tell me, who is Mameena?”
+
+“_Inkoosi_,” he answered in his deep voice, lifting his delicately
+shaped hand in salutation, a courtesy that pleased me who, after all,
+was nothing but a white hunter, “_Inkoosi_, has not her father said
+that she is his daughter?”
+
+“Aye,” answered the jolly old Umbezi, “but what her father has not said
+is that Saduko is her lover, or, rather, would like to be. _Wow!_
+Saduko,” he went on, shaking his fat finger at him, “are you mad, man,
+that you think a girl like that is for you? Give me a hundred cattle,
+not one less, and I will begin to think of it. Why, you have not ten,
+and Mameena is my eldest daughter, and must marry a rich man.”
+
+“She loves me, O Umbezi,” answered Saduko, looking down, “and that is
+more than cattle.”
+
+“For you, perhaps, Saduko, but not for me who am poor and want cows.
+Also,” he added, glancing at him shrewdly, “are you so sure that
+Mameena loves you though you be such a fine man? Now, I should have
+thought that whatever her eyes may say, her heart loves no one but
+herself, and that in the end she will follow her heart and not her
+eyes. Mameena the beautiful does not seek to be a poor man’s wife and
+do all the hoeing. But bring me the hundred cattle and we will see,
+for, speaking truth from my heart, if you were a big chief there is no
+one I should like better as a son-in-law, unless it were Macumazahn
+here,” he said, digging me in the ribs with his elbow, “who would lift
+up my House on his white back.”
+
+Now, at this speech Saduko shifted his feet uneasily; it seemed to me
+as though he felt there was truth in Umbezi’s estimate of his
+daughter’s character. But he only said:
+
+“Cattle can be acquired.”
+
+“Or stolen,” suggested Umbezi.
+
+“Or taken in war,” corrected Saduko. “When I have a hundred head I will
+hold you to your word, O father of Mameena.”
+
+“And then what would you live on, fool, if you gave all your beasts to
+me? There, there, cease talking wind. Before you have a hundred head of
+cattle Mameena will have six children who will not call _you_ father.
+Ah, don’t you like that? Are you going away?”
+
+“Yes, I am going,” he answered, with a flash of his quiet eyes; “only
+then let the man whom they do call father beware of Saduko.”
+
+“Beware of how you talk, young man,” said Umbezi in a grave voice.
+“Would you travel your father’s road? I hope not, for I like you well;
+but such words are apt to be remembered.”
+
+Saduko walked away as though he did not hear.
+
+“Who is he?” I asked.
+
+“One of high blood,” answered Umbezi shortly. “He might be a chief
+to-day had not his father been a plotter and a wizard. Dingaan smelt
+him out”—and he made a sideways motion with his hand that among the
+Zulus means much. “Yes, they were killed, almost every one; the chief,
+his wives, his children and his headmen—every one except Chosa his
+brother and his son Saduko, whom Zikali the dwarf, the
+Smeller-out-of-evil-doers, the Ancient, who was old before Senzangakona
+became a father of kings, hid him. There, that is an evil tale to talk
+of,” and he shivered. “Come, White Man, and doctor that old Cow of
+mine, or she will give me no peace for months.”
+
+So I went to see the Worn-out-Old-Cow—not because I had any particular
+interest in her, for, to tell the truth, she was a very disagreeable
+and antique person, the cast-off wife of some chief whom at an unknown
+date in the past the astute Umbezi had married from motives of
+policy—but because I hoped to hear more of Miss Mameena, in whom I had
+become interested.
+
+Entering a large hut, I found the lady so impolitely named “the Old
+Cow” in a parlous state. There she lay upon the floor, an unpleasant
+object because of the blood that had escaped from her wound, surrounded
+by a crowd of other women and of children. At regular intervals she
+announced that she was dying, and emitted a fearful yell, whereupon all
+the audience yelled also; in short, the place was a perfect
+pandemonium.
+
+Telling Umbezi to get the hut cleared, I said that I would go to fetch
+my medicines. Meanwhile I ordered my servant, Scowl, a humorous-looking
+fellow, light yellow in hue, for he had a strong dash of Hottentot in
+his composition, to cleanse the wound. When I returned from the wagon
+ten minutes later the screams were more terrible than before, although
+the chorus now stood without the hut. Nor was this altogether
+wonderful, for on entering the place I found Scowl trimming up “the Old
+Cow’s” ear with a pair of blunt nail-scissors.
+
+“O Macumazana,” said Umbezi in a hoarse whisper, “might it not perhaps
+be as well to leave her alone? If she bled to death, at any rate she
+would be quieter.”
+
+“Are you a man or a hyena?” I answered sternly, and set about the job,
+Scowl holding the poor woman’s head between his knees.
+
+It was over at length; a simple operation in which I exhibited—I
+believe that is the medical term—a strong solution of caustic applied
+with a feather.
+
+“There, Mother,” I said, for now we were alone in the hut, whence Scowl
+had fled, badly bitten in the calf, “you won’t die now.”
+
+“No, you vile White Man,” she sobbed. “I shan’t die, but how about my
+beauty?”
+
+“It will be greater than ever,” I answered; “no one else will have an
+ear with such a curve in it. But, talking of beauty, where is Mameena?”
+
+“I don’t know where she is,” she replied with fury, “but I very well
+know where she would be if I had my way. That peeled willow-wand of a
+girl”—here she added certain descriptive epithets I will not
+repeat—“has brought this misfortune upon me. We had a slight quarrel
+yesterday, White Man, and, being a witch as she is, she prophesied
+evil. Yes, when by accident I scratched her ear, she said that before
+long mine should burn, and surely burn it does.” (This, no doubt, was
+true, for the caustic had begun to bite.)
+
+“O devil of a White Man,” she went on, “you have bewitched me; you have
+filled my head with fire.”
+
+Then she seized an earthenware pot and hurled it at me, saying, “Take
+that for your doctor-fee. Go, crawl after Mameena like the others and
+get her to doctor you.”
+
+By this time I was half through the bee-hole of the hut, my movements
+being hastened by a vessel of hot water which landed on me behind.
+
+“What is the matter, Macumazahn?” asked old Umbezi, who was waiting
+outside.
+
+“Nothing at all, friend,” I answered with a sweet smile, “except that
+your wife wants to see you at once. She is in pain, and wishes you to
+soothe her. Go in; do not hesitate.”
+
+After a moment’s pause he went in—that is, half of him went in. Then
+came a fearful crash, and he emerged again with the rim of a pot about
+his neck and his countenance veiled in a coating of what I took to be
+honey.
+
+“Where is Mameena?” I asked him as he sat up spluttering.
+
+“Where I wish I was,” he answered in a thick voice; “at a kraal five
+hours’ journey away.”
+
+Well, that was the first I heard of Mameena.
+
+That night as I sat smoking my pipe under the flap lean-to attached to
+the wagon, laughing to myself over the adventure of “the Old Cow,”
+falsely described as “worn out,” and wondering whether Umbezi had got
+the honey out of his hair, the canvas was lifted, and a Kafir wrapped
+in a kaross crept in and squatted before me.
+
+“Who are you?” I asked, for it was too dark to see the man’s face.
+
+“_Inkoosi_,” answered a deep voice, “I am Saduko.”
+
+“You are welcome,” I answered, handing him a little gourd of snuff in
+token of hospitality. Then I waited while he poured some of the snuff
+into the palm of his hand and took it in the usual fashion.
+
+“_Inkoosi_,” he said, when he had scraped away the tears produced by
+the snuff, “I have come to ask you a favour. You heard Umbezi say
+to-day that he will not give me his daughter, Mameena, unless I give
+him a hundred head of cows. Now, I have not got the cattle, and I
+cannot earn them by work in many years. Therefore I must take them from
+a certain tribe I know which is at war with the Zulus. But this I
+cannot do unless I have a gun. If I had a good gun, _Inkoosi_—one that
+only goes off when it is asked, and not of its own fancy, I who have
+some name could persuade a number of men whom I know, who once were
+servants of my father, or their sons, to be my companions in this
+venture.”
+
+“Do I understand that you wish me to give you one of my good guns with
+two mouths to it (i.e. double-barrelled), a gun worth at least twelve
+oxen, for nothing, O Saduko?” I asked in a cold and scandalised voice.
+
+“Not so, O Watcher-by-Night,” he answered; “not so, O
+He-who-sleeps-with-one-eye-open” (another free and difficult rendering
+of my native name, Macumazahn, or more correctly, Macumazana)—“I should
+never dream of offering such an insult to your high-born intelligence.”
+He paused and took another pinch of snuff, then went on in a meditative
+voice: “Where I propose to get those hundred cattle there are many
+more; I am told not less than a thousand head in all. Now, _Inkoosi_,”
+he added, looking at me sideways, “suppose you gave me the gun I ask
+for, and suppose you accompanied me with your own gun and your armed
+hunters, it would be fair that you should have half the cattle, would
+it not?”
+
+“That’s cool,” I said. “So, young man, you want to turn me into a
+cow-thief and get my throat cut by Panda for breaking the peace of his
+country?”
+
+“Neither, Macumazahn, for these are my own cattle. Listen, now, and I
+will tell you a story. You have heard of Matiwane, the chief of the
+Amangwane?”
+
+“Yes,” I answered. “His tribe lived near the head of the Umzinyati, did
+they not? Then they were beaten by the Boers or the English, and
+Matiwane came under the Zulus. But afterwards Dingaan wiped him out,
+with his House, and now his people are killed or scattered.”
+
+“Yes, his people are killed and scattered, but his House still lives.
+Macumazahn, I am his House, I, the only son of his chief wife, for
+Zikali the Wise Little One, the Ancient, who is of the Amangwane blood,
+and who hated Chaka and Dingaan—yes, and Senzangakona their father
+before them, but whom none of them could kill because he is so great
+and has such mighty spirits for his servants, saved and sheltered me.”
+
+“If he is so great, why, then, did he not save your father also,
+Saduko?” I asked, as though I knew nothing of this Zikali.
+
+“I cannot say, Macumazahn. Perhaps the spirits plant a tree for
+themselves, and to do so cut down many other trees. At least, so it
+happened. It happened thus: Bangu, chief of the Amakoba, whispered into
+Dingaan’s ear that Matiwane, my father, was a wizard; also that he was
+very rich. Dingaan listened because he thought a sickness that he had
+came from Matiwane’s witchcraft. He said: ‘Go, Bangu, and take a
+company with you and pay Matiwane a visit of honour, and in the night,
+O in the night! Afterwards, Bangu, we will divide the cattle, for
+Matiwane is strong and clever, and you shall not risk your life for
+nothing.’”
+
+Saduko paused and looked down at the ground, brooding heavily.
+
+“Macumazahn, it was done,” he said presently. “They ate my father’s
+meat, they drank his beer; they gave him a present from the king, they
+praised him with high names; yes, Bangu took snuff with him and called
+him brother. Then in the night, O in the night—!
+
+“My father was in the hut with my mother, and I, so big only”—and he
+held his hand at the height of a boy of ten—“was with them. The cry
+arose, the flames began to eat; my father looked out and saw. ‘Break
+through the fence and away, woman,’ he said; ‘away with Saduko, that he
+may live to avenge me. Begone while I hold the gate! Begone to Zikali,
+for whose witchcrafts I pay with my blood.’
+
+“Then he kissed me on the brow, saying but one word, ‘Remember,’ and
+thrust us from the hut.
+
+“My mother broke a way through the fence; yes, she tore at it with her
+nails and teeth like a hyena. I looked back out of the shadow of the
+hut and saw Matiwane my father fighting like a buffalo. Men went down
+before him, one, two, three, although he had no shield: only his spear.
+Then Bangu crept behind him and stabbed him in the back and he threw up
+his arms and fell. I saw no more, for by now we were through the fence.
+We ran, but they perceived us. They hunted us as wild dogs hunt a buck.
+They killed my mother with a throwing assegai; it entered at her back
+and came out at her heart. I went mad, I drew it from her body, I ran
+at them. I dived beneath the shield of the first, a very tall man, and
+held the spear, so, in both my little hands. His weight came upon its
+point and it went through him as though he were but a bowl of
+buttermilk. Yes, he rolled over, quite dead, and the handle of the
+spear broke upon the ground. Now the others stopped astonished, for
+never had they seen such a thing. That a child should kill a tall
+warrior, oh! that tale had not been told. Some of them would have let
+me go, but just then Bangu came up and saw the dead man, who was his
+brother.
+
+“‘_Wow!_’ he said when he knew how the man had died. ‘This lion’s cub
+is a wizard also, for how else could he have killed a soldier who has
+known war? Hold out his arms that I may finish him slowly.’
+
+“So two of them held out my arms, and Bangu came up with his spear.”
+
+Saduko ceased speaking, not that his tale was done, but because his
+voice choked in his throat. Indeed, seldom have I seen a man so moved.
+He breathed in great gasps, the sweat poured from him, and his muscles
+worked convulsively. I gave him a pannikin of water and he drank, then
+he went on:
+
+“Already the spear had begun to prick—look, here is the mark of it”—and
+opening his kaross he pointed to a little white line just below the
+breast-bone—“when a strange shadow thrown by the fire of the burning
+huts came between Bangu and me, a shadow as that of a toad standing on
+its hind legs. I looked round and saw that it was the shadow of Zikali,
+whom I had seen once or twice. There he stood, though whence he came I
+know not, wagging his great white head that sits on the top of his body
+like a pumpkin on an ant-heap, rolling his big eyes and laughing
+loudly.
+
+“‘A merry sight,’ he cried in his deep voice that sounded like water in
+a hollow cave. ‘A merry sight, O Bangu, Chief of the Amakoba! Blood,
+blood, plenty of blood! Fire, fire, plenty of fire! Wizards dead here,
+there, and everywhere! Oh, a merry sight! I have seen many such; one at
+the kraal of your grandmother, for instance—your grandmother the great
+_Inkosikazi_, when myself I escaped with my life because I was so old;
+but never do I remember a merrier than that which this moon shines on,’
+and he pointed to the White Lady who just then broke through the
+clouds. ‘But, great Chief Bangu, lord loved by the son of Senzangakona,
+brother of the Black One (Chaka) who has ridden hence on the assegai,
+what is the meaning of _this_ play?’ and he pointed to me and to the
+two soldiers who held out my little arms.
+
+“‘I kill the wizard’s cub, Zikali, that is all,’ answered Bangu.
+
+“‘I see, I see,’ laughed Zikali. ‘A gallant deed! You have butchered
+the father and the mother, and now you would butcher the child who has
+slain one of your grown warriors in fair fight. A very gallant deed,
+well worthy of the chief of the Amakoba! Well, loose his spirit—only—’
+He stopped and took a pinch of snuff from a box which he drew from a
+slit in the lobe of his great ear.
+
+“‘Only what?’ asked Bangu, hesitating.
+
+“‘Only I wonder, Bangu, what you will think of the world in which you
+will find yourself before to-morrow’s moon arises. Come back thence and
+tell me, Bangu, for there are so many worlds beyond the sun, and I
+would learn for certain which of them such a one as you inhabits: a man
+who for hatred and for gain murders the father and the mother and then
+butchers the child—the child that could slay a warrior who has seen
+war—with the spear hot from his mother’s heart.’
+
+“‘Do you mean that I shall die if I kill this lad?’ shouted Bangu in a
+great voice.
+
+“‘What else?’ answered Zikali, taking another pinch of snuff.
+
+“‘This, Wizard; that we will go together.’
+
+“‘Good, good!’ laughed the dwarf. ‘Let us go together. Long have I
+wished to die, and what better companion could I find than Bangu, Chief
+of the Amakoba, Slayer of Children, to guard me on a dark and terrible
+road. Come, brave Bangu, come; kill me if you can,’ and again he
+laughed at him.
+
+“Now, Macumazahn, the people of Bangu fell back muttering, for they
+found this business horrible. Yes, even those who held my arms let go
+of them.
+
+“‘What will happen to me, Wizard, if I spare the boy?’ asked Bangu.
+
+“Zikali stretched out his hand and touched the scratch that the assegai
+had made in me here. Then he held up his finger red with my blood, and
+looked at it in the light of the moon; yes, and tasted it with his
+tongue.
+
+“‘I think this will happen to you, Bangu,’ he said. ‘If you spare this
+boy he will grow into a man who will kill you and many others one day.
+But if you do not spare him I think that his spirit, working as spirits
+can do, will kill you to-morrow. Therefore the question is, will you
+live a while or will you die at once, taking me with you as your
+companion? For you must not leave me behind, brother Bangu.’
+
+“Now Bangu turned and walked away, stepping over the body of my mother,
+and all his people walked away after him, so that presently Zikali the
+Wise and Little and I were left alone.
+
+“‘What! have they gone?’ said Zikali, lifting up his eyes from the
+ground. ‘Then we had better be going also, Son of Matiwane, lest he
+should change his mind and come back. Live on, Son of Matiwane, that
+you may avenge Matiwane.’”
+
+“A nice tale,” I said. “But what happened afterwards?”
+
+“Zikali took me away and nurtured me at his kraal in the Black Kloof,
+where he lived alone save for his servants, for in that kraal he would
+suffer no woman to set foot, Macumazahn. He taught me much wisdom and
+many secret things, and would have made a great doctor of me had I so
+willed. But I willed it not who find spirits ill company, and there are
+many of them about the Black Kloof, Macumazahn. So in the end he said:
+‘Go where your heart calls, and be a warrior, Saduko. But know this:
+You have opened a door that can never be shut again, and across the
+threshold of that door spirits will pass in and out for all your life,
+whether you seek them or seek them not.’
+
+“‘It was you who opened the door, Zikali,’ I answered angrily.
+
+“‘Mayhap,’ said Zikali, laughing after his fashion, ‘for I open when I
+must and shut when I must. Indeed, in my youth, before the Zulus were a
+people, they named me Opener of Doors; and now, looking through one of
+those doors, I see something about you, O Son of Matiwane.’
+
+“‘What do you see, my father?’ I asked.
+
+“‘I see two roads, Saduko: the Road of Medicine, that is the spirit
+road, and the Road of Spears, that is the blood road. I see you
+travelling on the Road of Medicine, that is my own road, Saduko, and
+growing wise and great, till at last, far, far away, you vanish over
+the precipice to which it leads, full of years and honour and wealth,
+feared yet beloved by all men, white and black. Only that road you must
+travel alone, since such wisdom may have no friends, and, above all, no
+woman to share its secrets. Then I look at the Road of Spears and see
+you, Saduko, travelling on that road, and your feet are red with blood,
+and women wind their arms about your neck, and one by one your enemies
+go down before you. You love much, and sin much for the sake of the
+love, and she for whom you sin comes and goes and comes again. And the
+road is short, Saduko, and near the end of it are many spirits; and
+though you shut your eyes you see them, and though you fill your ears
+with clay you hear them, for they are the ghosts of your slain. But the
+end of your journeying I see not. Now choose which road you will, Son
+of Matiwane, and choose swiftly, for I speak no more of this matter.’
+
+“Then, Macumazahn, I thought a while of the safe and lonely path of
+wisdom, also of the blood-red path of spears where I should find love
+and war, and my youth rose up in me and—I chose the path of spears and
+the love and the sin and the unknown death.”
+
+“A foolish choice, Saduko, supposing that there is any truth in this
+tale of roads, which there is not.”
+
+“Nay, a wise one, Macumazahn, for since then I have seen Mameena and
+know why I chose that path.”
+
+“Ah!” I said. “Mameena—I forgot her. Well, after all, perhaps there is
+some truth in your tale of roads. When _I_ have seen Mameena I will
+tell you what I think.”
+
+“When you have seen Mameena, Macumazahn, you will say that the choice
+was very wise. Well, Zikali, Opener of Doors, laughed loudly when he
+heard it. ‘The ox seeks the fat pasture, but the young bull the rough
+mountainside where the heifers graze,’ he said; ‘and after all, a bull
+is better than an ox. Now begin to travel your own road, Son of
+Matiwane, and from time to time return to the Black Kloof and tell me
+how it fares with you. I will promise you not to die before I know the
+end of it.’
+
+“Now, Macumazahn, I have told you things that hitherto have lived in my
+own heart only. And, Macumazahn, Bangu is in ill favour with Panda,
+whom he defies in his mountain, and I have a promise—never mind
+how—that he who kills him will be called to no account and may keep his
+cattle. Will you come with me and share those cattle, O
+Watcher-by-Night?”
+
+“Get thee behind me, Satan,” I said in English, then added in Zulu: “I
+don’t know. If your story is true I should have no objection to helping
+to kill Bangu; but I must learn lots more about this business first.
+Meanwhile I am going on a shooting trip to-morrow with Umbezi the Fat,
+and I like you, O Chooser of the Road of Spears and Blood. Will you be
+my companion and earn the gun with two mouths in payment?”
+
+“_Inkoosi_,” he said, lifting his hand in salute with a flash of his
+dark eyes, “you are generous, you honour me. What is there that I
+should love better? Yet,” he added, and his face fell, “first I must
+ask Zikali the Little, Zikali my foster-father.”
+
+“Oh!” I said, “so you are still tied to the Wizard’s girdle, are you?”
+
+“Not so, Macumazahn; but I promised him not long ago that I would
+undertake no enterprise, save that you know of, until I had spoken with
+him.”
+
+“How far off does Zikali live?” I asked Saduko.
+
+“One day’s journeying. Starting at sunrise I can be there by sunset.”
+
+“Good! Then I will put off the shooting for three days and come with
+you if you think that this wonderful old dwarf will receive me.”
+
+“I believe that he will, Macumazahn, for this reason—he told me that I
+should meet you and love you, and that you would be mixed up in my
+fortunes.”
+
+“Then he poured moonshine into your gourd instead of beer,” I answered.
+“Would you keep me here till midnight listening to such foolishness
+when we must start at dawn? Begone now and let me sleep.”
+
+“I go,” he answered with a little smile. “But if this is so, O
+Macumazana, why do you also wish to drink of the moonshine of Zikali?”
+and he went.
+
+Yet I did not sleep very well that night, for Saduko and his strange
+and terrible story had taken a hold of my imagination. Also, for
+reasons of my own, I greatly wished to see this Zikali, of whom I had
+heard a great deal in past years. I wished further to find out if he
+was a common humbug, like so many witch-doctors, this dwarf who
+announced that my fortunes were mixed up with those of his foster-son,
+and who at least could tell me something true or false about the
+history and position of Bangu, a person for whom I had conceived a
+strong dislike, possibly quite unjustified by the facts. But more than
+all did I wish to see Mameena, whose beauty or talents produced so much
+impression upon the native mind. Perhaps if I went to see Zikali she
+would be back at her father’s kraal before we started on our shooting
+trip.
+
+Thus it was then that fate wove me and my doings into the web of some
+very strange events; terrible, tragic and complete indeed as those of a
+Greek play, as it has often done both before and since those days.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter II.
+THE MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI
+
+
+On the following morning I awoke, as a good hunter always should do,
+just at that time when, on looking out of the wagon, nothing can be
+seen but a little grey glint of light which he knows is reflected from
+the horns of the cattle tied to the trek-tow. Presently, however, I saw
+another glint of light which I guessed came from the spear of Saduko,
+who was seated by the ashes of the cooking fire wrapped in his kaross
+of wildcat skins. Slipping from the _voorkisse_, or driving-box, I came
+behind him softly and touched him on the shoulder. He leapt up with a
+start which revealed his nervous nature, then recognising me through
+the soft grey gloom, said:
+
+“You are early, Macumazahn.”
+
+“Of course,” I answered; “am I not named Watcher-by-Night? Now let us
+go to Umbezi and tell him that I shall be ready to start on our hunting
+trip on the third morning from to-day.”
+
+So we went, to find that Umbezi was in a hut with his last wife and
+asleep. Fortunately enough, however, as under the circumstances I did
+not wish to disturb him, outside the hut we found the Old Cow, whose
+sore ear had kept her very wide awake, who, for purposes of her own,
+although etiquette did not allow her to enter the hut, was waiting for
+her husband to emerge.
+
+Having examined her wound and rubbed some ointment on it, with her I
+left my message. Next I woke up my servant Scowl, and told him that I
+was going on a short journey, and that he must guard all things until
+my return; and while I did so, took a nip of raw rum and made ready a
+bag of biltong, that is sun-dried flesh, and biscuits.
+
+Then, taking with me a single-barrelled gun, that same little Purdey
+rifle with which I shot the vultures on the Hill of Slaughter at
+Dingaan’s Kraal,[1] we started on foot, for I would not risk my only
+horse on such a journey.
+
+ [1] For the story of this shooting of the vultures by Allan
+ Quatermain, see the book called “Marie.”—EDITOR.
+
+A rough journey it proved to be indeed, over a series of bush-clad
+hills that at their crests were covered with rugged stones among which
+no horse could have travelled. Up and down these hills we went, and
+across the valleys that divided them, following some path which I could
+not see, for all that live-long day. I have always been held a good
+walker, being by nature very light and active; but I am bound to say
+that my companion taxed my powers to the utmost, for on he marched for
+hour after hour, striding ahead of me at such a rate that at times I
+was forced to break into a run to keep up with him. Although my pride
+would not suffer me to complain, since as a matter of principle I would
+never admit to a Kafir that he was my master at anything, glad enough
+was I when, towards evening, Saduko sat himself down on a stone at the
+top of a hill and said:
+
+“Behold the Black Kloof, Macumazahn,” which were almost the first words
+he had uttered since we started.
+
+Truly the spot was well named, for there, cut out by water from the
+heart of a mountain in some primeval age, lay one of the most gloomy
+places that ever I had beheld. It was a vast cleft in which granite
+boulders were piled up fantastically, perched one upon another in great
+columns, and upon its sides grew dark trees set sparsely among the
+rocks. It faced towards the west, but the light of the sinking sun that
+flowed up it served only to accentuate its vast loneliness, for it was
+a big cleft, the best part of a mile wide at its mouth.
+
+Up this dreary gorge we marched, mocked at by chattering baboons and
+following a little path not a foot wide that led us at length to a
+large hut and several smaller ones set within a reed fence and overhung
+by a gigantic mass of rock that looked as though it might fall at any
+moment. At the gate of the fence two natives of I know not what tribe,
+men of fierce and forbidding appearance, suddenly sprang out and thrust
+their spears towards my breast.
+
+“Whom bring you here, Saduko?” asked one of them sternly.
+
+“A white man that I vouch for,” he answered. “Tell Zikali that we wait
+on him.”
+
+“What need to tell Zikali that which he knows already?” said the
+sentry. “Your food and that of your companion is already cooked in
+yonder hut. Enter, Saduko, with him for whom you vouch.”
+
+So we went into the hut and ate, also I washed myself, for it was a
+beautifully clean hut, and the stools, wooden bowls, etc., were finely
+carved out of red ivory wood, this work, Saduko informed me, being done
+by Zikali’s own hand. Just as we were finishing our meal a messenger
+came to tell us that Zikali waited our presence. We followed him across
+an open space to a kind of door in the tall reed fence, passing which I
+set eyes for the first time upon the famous old witch-doctor of whom so
+many tales were told.
+
+Certainly he was a curious sight in those strange surroundings, for
+they were very strange, and I think their complete simplicity added to
+the effect. In front of us was a kind of courtyard with a black floor
+made of polished ant-heap earth and cow-dung, two-thirds of which at
+least was practically roofed in by the huge over-hanging mass of rock
+whereof I have spoken, its arch bending above at a height of not less
+than sixty or seventy feet from the ground. Into this great,
+precipice-backed cavity poured the fierce light of the setting sun,
+turning it and all within it, even the large straw hut in the
+background, to the deep hue of blood. Seeing the wonderful effect of
+the sunset in that dark and forbidding place, it occurred to me at once
+that the old wizard must have chosen this moment to receive us because
+of its impressiveness.
+
+Then I forgot these scenic accessories in the sight of the man himself.
+There he sat on a stool in front of his hut, quite unattended, and
+wearing only a cloak of leopard skins open in front, for he was
+unadorned with the usual hideous trappings of a witch-doctor, such as
+snake-skins, human bones, bladders full of unholy compounds, and so
+forth.
+
+What a man he was, if indeed he could be called quite human. His
+stature, though stout, was only that of a child; his head was enormous,
+and from it plaited white hair fell down on to his shoulders. His eyes
+were deep and sunken, his face was broad and very stern. Except for
+this snow-white hair, however, he did not look ancient, for his flesh
+was firm and plump, and the skin on his cheeks and neck unwrinkled,
+which suggested to me that the story of his great antiquity was false.
+A man who was over a hundred years old, for instance, surely could not
+boast such a beautiful set of teeth, for even at that distance I could
+see them gleaming. On the other hand, evidently middle age was far
+behind him; indeed, from his appearance it was quite impossible to
+guess even approximately the number of his years. There he sat, red in
+the red light, perfectly still, and staring without a blink of his eyes
+at the furious ball of the setting sun, as an eagle is said to be able
+to do.
+
+Saduko advanced, and I walked after him. My stature is not great, and I
+have never considered myself an imposing person, but somehow I do not
+think that I ever felt more insignificant than on this occasion. The
+tall and splendid native beside, or rather behind whom I walked, the
+gloomy magnificence of the place, the blood-red light in which it was
+bathed, and the solemn, solitary, little figure with wisdom stamped
+upon its face before me, all tended to induce humility in a man not
+naturally vain. I felt myself growing smaller and smaller, both in a
+moral and a physical sense; I wished that my curiosity had not prompted
+me to seek an interview with yonder uncanny being.
+
+Well, it was too late to retreat; indeed, Saduko was already standing
+before the dwarf and lifting his right arm above his head as he gave
+him the salute of “_Makosi!_”[2] whereon, feeling that something was
+expected of me, I took off my shabby cloth hat and bowed, then,
+remembering my white man’s pride, replaced it on my head.
+
+ [2] _Makosi_, the plural of _Inkoosi_, is the salute given to Zulu
+ wizards, because they are not one but many, since in them (as in the
+ possessed demoniac in the Bible) dwell an unnumbered horde of
+ spirits.—EDITOR.
+
+The wizard suddenly seemed to become aware of our presence, for,
+ceasing his contemplation of the sinking sun, he scanned us both with
+his slow, thoughtful eyes, which somehow reminded me of those of a
+chameleon, although they were not prominent, but, as I have said,
+sunken.
+
+“Greeting, son Saduko!” he said in a deep, rumbling voice. “Why are you
+back here so soon, and why do you bring this flea of a white man with
+you?”
+
+Now this was more than I could bear, so without waiting for my
+companion’s answer I broke in:
+
+“You give me a poor name, O Zikali. What would you think of me if I
+called you a beetle of a wizard?”
+
+“I should think you clever,” he answered after reflection, “for after
+all I must look something like a beetle with a white head. But why
+should you mind being compared to a flea? A flea works by night and so
+do you, Macumazahn; a flea is active and so are you; a flea is very
+hard to catch and kill and so are you; and lastly a flea drinks its
+fill of that which it desires, the blood of man and beast, and so you
+have done, do, and will, Macumazahn,” and he broke into a great laugh
+that rolled and echoed about the rocky roof above.
+
+Once, long years before, I had heard that laugh, when I was a prisoner
+in Dingaan’s kraal, after the massacre of Retief and his company, and I
+recognised it again.
+
+While I was searching for some answer in the same vein, and not finding
+it, though I thought of plenty afterwards, ceasing of a sudden from his
+unseemly mirth, he went on:
+
+“Do not let us waste time in jests, for it is a precious thing, and
+there is but little of it left for any one of us. Your business, son
+Saduko?”
+
+“_Baba!_” (that is the Zulu for father), said Saduko, “this white
+_Inkoosi_, for, as you know well enough, he is a chief by nature, a man
+of a great heart and doubtless of high blood [this, I believe, is true,
+for I have been told that my ancestors were more or less distinguished,
+although, if this is so, their talents did not lie in the direction of
+money-making], has offered to take me upon a shooting expedition and to
+give me a good gun with two mouths in payment of my services. But I
+told him I could not engage in any fresh venture without your leave,
+and—he is come to see whether you will grant it, my father.”
+
+“Indeed,” answered the dwarf, nodding his great head. “This clever
+white man has taken the trouble of a long walk in the sun to come here
+to ask me whether he may be allowed the privilege of presenting you
+with a weapon of great value in return for a service that any man of
+your years in Zululand would love to give for nothing in such company?
+
+“Son Saduko, because my eye-holes are hollow, do you think it your part
+to try to fill them up with dust? Nay, the white man has come because
+he desires to see him who is named Opener-of-Roads, of whom he heard a
+great deal when he was but a lad, and to judge whether in truth he has
+wisdom, or is but a common cheat. And you have come to learn whether or
+no your friendship with him will be fortunate; whether or no he will
+aid you in a certain enterprise that you have in your mind.”
+
+“True, O Zikali,” I said. “That is so far as I am concerned.”
+
+But Saduko answered nothing.
+
+“Well,” went on the dwarf, “since I am in the mood I will try to answer
+both your questions, for I should be a poor _Nyanga_” [that is doctor]
+“if I did not when you have travelled so far to ask them. Moreover, O
+Macumazana, be happy, for I seek no fee who, having made such fortune
+as I need long ago, before your father was born across the Black Water,
+Macumazahn, no longer work for a reward—unless it be from the hand of
+one of the House of Senzangakona—and therefore, as you may guess, work
+but seldom.”
+
+Then he clapped his hands, and a servant appeared from somewhere behind
+the hut, one of those fierce-looking men who had stopped us at the
+gate. He saluted the dwarf and stood before him in silence and with
+bowed head.
+
+“Make two fires,” said Zikali, “and give me my medicine.”
+
+The man fetched wood, which he built into two little piles in front of
+Zikali. These piles he fired with a brand brought from behind the hut.
+Then he handed his master a catskin bag.
+
+“Withdraw,” said Zikali, “and return no more till I summon you, for I
+am about to prophesy. If, however, I should seem to die, bury me
+to-morrow in the place you know of and give this white man a
+safe-conduct from my kraal.”
+
+The man saluted again and went without a word.
+
+When he had gone the dwarf drew from the bag a bundle of twisted roots,
+also some pebbles, from which he selected two, one white and the other
+black.
+
+“Into this stone,” he said, holding up the white pebble so that the
+light from the fire shone on it—since, save for the lingering red glow,
+it was now growing dark—“into this stone I am about to draw your
+spirit, O Macumazana; and into this one”—and he held up the black
+pebble—“yours, O Son of Matiwane. Why do you look frightened, O brave
+White Man, who keep saying in your heart, ‘He is nothing but an ugly
+old Kafir cheat’? If I am a cheat, why do you look frightened? Is your
+spirit already in your throat, and does it choke you, as this little
+stone might do if you tried to swallow it?” and he burst into one of
+his great, uncanny laughs.
+
+I tried to protest that I was not in the least frightened, but failed,
+for, in fact, I suppose my nerves were acted on by his suggestion, and
+I did feel exactly as though that stone were in my throat, only coming
+upwards, not going downwards. “Hysteria,” thought I to myself, “the
+result of being overtired,” and as I could not speak, sat still as
+though I treated his gibes with silent contempt.
+
+“Now,” went on the dwarf, “perhaps I shall seem to die; and if so do
+not touch me lest you should really die. Wait till I wake up again and
+tell you what your spirits have told me. Or if I do not wake up—for a
+time must come when I shall go on sleeping—well—for as long as I have
+lived—after the fires are quite out, not before, lay your hands upon my
+breast; and if you find me turning cold, get you gone to some other
+_Nyanga_ as fast as the spirits of this place will let you, O ye who
+would peep into the future.”
+
+As he spoke he threw a big handful of the roots that I have mentioned
+on to each of the fires, whereon tall flames leapt up from them, very
+unholy-looking flames which were followed by columns of dense, white
+smoke that emitted a most powerful and choking odour quite unlike
+anything that I had ever smelt before. It seemed to penetrate all
+through me, and that accursed stone in my throat grew as large as an
+apple and felt as though someone were poking it upwards with a stick.
+
+Next he threw the white pebble into the right-hand fire, that which was
+opposite to me, saying:
+
+“Enter, Macumazahn, and look,” and the black pebble he threw into the
+left-hand fire saying: “Enter, Son of Matiwane, and look. Then come
+back both of you and make report to me, your master.”
+
+Now it is a fact that as he said these words I experienced a sensation
+as though a stone had come out of my throat; so readily do our nerves
+deceive us that I even thought it grated against my teeth as I opened
+my mouth to give it passage. At any rate the choking was gone, only now
+I felt as though I were quite empty and floating on air, as though I
+were not I, in short, but a mere shell of a thing, all of which
+doubtless was caused by the stench of those burning roots. Still I
+could look and take note, for I distinctly saw Zikali thrust his huge
+head, first into the smoke of what I will call my fire, next into that
+of Saduko’s fire, and then lean back, blowing the stuff in clouds from
+his mouth and nostrils. Afterwards I saw him roll over on to his side
+and lie quite still with his arms outstretched; indeed, I noticed that
+one of his fingers seemed to be in the left-hand fire and reflected
+that it would be burnt off. In this, however, I must have been
+mistaken, since I observed subsequently that it was not even scorched.
+
+Thus Zikali lay for a long while till I began to wonder whether he were
+not really dead. Dead enough he seemed to be, for no corpse could have
+stayed more stirless. But that night I could not keep my thoughts fixed
+on Zikali or anything. I merely noted these circumstances in a
+mechanical way, as might one with whom they had nothing whatsoever to
+do. They did not interest me at all, for there appeared to be nothing
+in me to be interested, as I gathered according to Zikali, because I
+was not there, but in a warmer place than I hope ever to occupy,
+namely, in the stone in that unpleasant-looking, little right-hand
+fire.
+
+So matters went as they might in a dream. The sun had sunk completely,
+not even an after-glow was left. The only light remaining was that from
+the smouldering fires, which just sufficed to illumine the bulk of
+Zikali, lying on his side, his squat shape looking like that of a dead
+hippopotamus calf. What was left of my consciousness grew heartily sick
+of the whole affair; I was tired of being so empty.
+
+At length the dwarf stirred. He sat up, yawned, sneezed, shook himself,
+and began to rake among the burning embers of my fire with his naked
+hand. Presently he found the white stone, which was now red-hot—at any
+rate it glowed as though it were—and after examining it for a moment
+finally popped it into his mouth! Then he hunted in the other fire for
+the black stone, which he treated in a similar fashion. The next thing
+I remember was that the fires, which had died away almost to nothing,
+were burning very brightly again, I suppose because someone had put
+fuel on them, and Zikali was speaking.
+
+“Come here, O Macumazana and O Son of Matiwane,” he said, “and I will
+repeat to you what your spirits have been telling me.”
+
+We drew near into the light of the fires, which for some reason or
+other was extremely vivid. Then he spat the white stone from his mouth
+into his big hand, and I saw that now it was covered with lines and
+patches like a bird’s egg.
+
+“You cannot read the signs?” he said, holding it towards me; and when I
+shook my head went on: “Well, I can, as you white men read a book. All
+your history is written here, Macumazahn; but there is no need to tell
+you that, since you know it, as I do well enough, having learned it in
+other days, the days of Dingaan, Macumazahn. All your future, also, a
+very strange future,” and he scanned the stone with interest. “Yes,
+yes; a wonderful life, and a noble death far away. But of these matters
+you have not asked me, and therefore I may not tell them even if I
+wished, nor would you believe if I did. It is of your hunting trip that
+you have asked me, and my answer is that if you seek your own comfort
+you will do well not to go. A pool in a dry river-bed; a buffalo bull
+with the tip of one horn shattered. Yourself and the bull in the pool.
+Saduko, yonder, also in the pool, and a little half-bred man with a gun
+jumping about upon the bank. Then a litter made of boughs and you in
+it, and the father of Mameena walking lamely at your side. Then a hut
+and you in it, and the maiden called Mameena sitting at your side.
+
+“Macumazahn, your spirit has written on this stone that you should
+beware of Mameena, since she is more dangerous than any buffalo. If you
+are wise you will not go out hunting with Umbezi, although it is true
+that hunt will not cost you your life. There, away, Stone, and take
+your writings with you!” and as he spoke he jerked his arm and I heard
+something whiz past my face.
+
+Next he spat out the black stone and examined it in similar fashion.
+
+“Your expedition will be successful, Son of Matiwane,” he said.
+“Together with Macumazahn you will win many cattle at the cost of
+sundry lives. But for the rest—well, you did not ask me of it, did you?
+Also, I have told you something of that story before to-day. Away,
+Stone!” and the black pebble followed the white out into the
+surrounding gloom.
+
+We sat quite still until the dwarf broke the deep silence with one of
+his great laughs.
+
+“My witchcraft is done,” he said. “A poor tale, was it not? Well, hunt
+for those stones to-morrow and read the rest of it if you can. Why did
+you not ask me to tell you everything while I was about it, White Man?
+It would have interested you more, but now it has all gone from me back
+into your spirit with the stones. Saduko, get you to sleep. Macumazahn,
+you who are a Watcher-by-Night, come and sit with me awhile in my hut,
+and we will talk of other things. All this business of the stones is
+nothing more than a Kafir trick, is it, Macumazahn? When you meet the
+buffalo with the split horn in the pool of a dried river, remember it
+is but a cheating trick, and now come into my hut and drink a _kamba_
+[bowl] of beer and let us talk of other things more interesting.”
+
+So he took me into the hut, which was a fine one, very well lighted by
+a fire in its centre, and gave me Kafir beer to drink, that I swallowed
+gratefully, for my throat was dry and still felt as though it had been
+scraped.
+
+“Who are you, Father?” I asked point-blank when I had taken my seat
+upon a low stool, with my back resting against the wall of the hut, and
+lit my pipe.
+
+He lifted his big head from the pile of karosses on which he was lying
+and peered at me across the fire.
+
+“My name is Zikali, which means ‘Weapons,’ White Man. You know as much
+as that, don’t you?” he answered. “My father ‘went down’ so long ago
+that his does not matter. I am a dwarf, very ugly, with some learning,
+as we of the Black House understand it, and very old. Is there anything
+else you would like to learn?”
+
+“Yes, Zikali; how old?”
+
+“There, there, Macumazahn, as you know, we poor Kafirs cannot count
+very well. How old? Well, when I was young I came down towards the
+coast from the Great River, you call it the Zambesi, I think, with
+Undwandwe, who lived in the north in those days. They have forgotten it
+now because it is some time ago, and if I could write I would set down
+the history of that march, for we fought some great battles with the
+people who used to live in this country. Afterwards I was the friend of
+the Father of the Zulus, he whom they still call _Inkoosi Umkulu_—the
+mighty chief—you may have heard tell of him. I carved that stool on
+which you sit for him and he left it back to me when he died.”
+
+“_Inkoosi Umkulu!_” I exclaimed. “Why, they say he lived hundreds of
+years ago.”
+
+“Do they, Macumazahn? If so, have I not told you that we black people
+cannot count as well as you do? Really it was only the other day.
+Anyhow, after his death the Zulus began to maltreat us Undwandwe and
+the Quabies and the Tetwas with us—you may remember that they called us
+the Amatefula, making a mock of us. So I quarrelled with the Zulus and
+especially with Chaka, he whom they named _Uhlanya_ [the Mad One]. You
+see, Macumazahn, it pleased him to laugh at me because I am not as
+other men are. He gave me a name which means
+‘The-thing-which-should-never-have-been-born.’ I will not speak that
+name, it is secret to me, it may not pass my lips. Yet at times he
+sought my wisdom, and I paid him back for his names, for I gave him
+very ill counsel, and he took it, and I brought him to his death,
+although none ever saw my finger in that business. But when he was dead
+at the hands of his brothers Dingaan and Umhlangana and of Umbopa,
+Umbopa who also had a score to settle with him, and his body was cast
+out of the kraal like that of an evil-doer, why I, who because I was a
+dwarf was not sent with the _men_ against Sotshangana, went and sat on
+it at night and laughed thus,” and he broke into one of his hideous
+peals of merriment.
+
+“I laughed thrice: once for my wives whom he had taken; once for my
+children whom he had slain; and once for the mocking name that he had
+given me. Then I became the counsellor of Dingaan, whom I hated worse
+than I had hated Chaka, for he was Chaka again without his greatness,
+and you know the end of Dingaan, for you had a share in that war, and
+of Umhlangana, his brother and fellow-murderer, whom I counselled
+Dingaan to slay. This I did through the lips of the old Princess
+Menkabayi, Jama’s daughter, Senzangakona’s sister, the Oracle before
+whom all men bowed, causing her to say that ‘This land of the Zulus
+cannot be ruled by a crimson assegai.’ For, Macumazahn, it was
+Umhlangana who first struck Chaka with the spear. Now Panda reigns, the
+last of the sons of Senzangakona, my enemy, Panda the Fool, and I hold
+my hand from Panda because he tried to save the life of a child of mine
+whom Chaka slew. But Panda has sons who are as Chaka was, and against
+them I work as I worked against those who went before them.”
+
+“Why?” I asked.
+
+“Why? Oh! if I were to tell you _all_ my story you would understand
+why, Macumazahn. Well, perhaps I will one day.” (Here I may state that
+as a matter of fact he did, and a very wonderful tale it is, but as it
+has nothing to do with this history I will not write it here.)
+
+“I dare say,” I answered. “Chaka and Dingaan and Umhlangana and the
+others were not nice people. But another question. Why do you tell me
+all this, O Zikali, seeing that were I but to repeat it to a
+talking-bird you would be smelt out and a single moon would not die
+before you do?”
+
+“Oh! I should be smelt out and killed before one moon dies, should I?
+Then I wonder that this has not happened during all the moons that are
+gone. Well, I tell the story to you, Macumazahn, who have had so much
+to do with the tale of the Zulus since the days of Dingaan, because I
+wish that someone should know it and perhaps write it down when
+everything is finished. Because, too, I have just been reading your
+spirit and see that it is still a white spirit, and that you will not
+whisper it to a ‘talking-bird.’”
+
+Now I leant forward and looked at him.
+
+“What is the end at which you aim, O Zikali?” I asked. “You are not one
+who beats the air with a stick; on whom do you wish the stick to fall
+at last?”
+
+“On whom?” he answered in a new voice, a low, hissing voice. “Why, on
+these proud Zulus, this little family of men who call themselves the
+‘People of Heaven,’ and swallow other tribes as the great tree-snake
+swallows kids and small bucks, and when it is fat with them cries to
+the world, ‘See how big I am! Everything is inside of me.’ I am a
+Ndwande, one of those peoples whom it pleases the Zulus to call
+‘Amatefula’—poor hangers-on who talk with an accent, nothing but bush
+swine. Therefore I would see the swine tusk the hunter. Or, if that may
+not be, I would see the black hunter laid low by the rhinoceros, the
+white rhinoceros of your race, Macumazahn, yes, even if it sets its
+foot upon the Ndwande boar as well. There, I have told you, and this is
+the reason that I live so long, for I will not die until these things
+have come to pass, as come to pass they will. What did Chaka,
+Senzangakona’s son, say when the little red assegai, the assegai with
+which he slew his mother, aye and others, some of whom were near to me,
+was in his liver? What did he say to Mbopa and the princes? Did he not
+say that he heard the feet of a great white people running, of a people
+who should stamp the Zulus flat? Well, I,
+‘The-thing-who-should-not-have-been-born,’ live on until that day
+comes, and when it comes I think that you and I, Macumazahn, shall not
+be far apart, and that is why I have opened out my heart to you, I who
+have knowledge of the future. There, I speak no more of these things
+that are to be, who perchance have already said too much of them. Yet
+do not forget my words. Or forget them if you will, for I shall remind
+you of them, Macumazahn, when the feet of your people have avenged the
+Ndwandes and others whom it pleases the Zulus to treat as dirt.”
+
+Now, this strange man, who had sat up in his excitement, shook his long
+white hair which, after the fashion of wizards, he wore plaited into
+thin ropes, till it hung like a veil about him, hiding his broad face
+and deep eyes. Presently he spoke again through this veil of hair,
+saying:
+
+“You are wondering, Macumazahn, what Saduko has to do with all these
+great events that are to be. I answer that he must play his part in
+them; not a very great part, but still a part, and it is for this
+purpose that I saved him as a child from Bangu, Dingaan’s man, and
+reared him up to be a warrior, although, since I cannot lie, I warned
+him that he would do well to leave spears alone and follow after
+wisdom. Well, he will slay Bangu, who now has quarrelled with Panda,
+and a woman will come into the story, one Mameena, and that woman will
+bring about war between the sons of Panda, and from this war shall
+spring the ruin of the Zulus, for he who wins will be an evil king to
+them and bring down on them the wrath of a mightier race. And so
+‘The-thing-that-should-not-have-been-born’ and the Ndwandes and the
+Quabies and Twetwas, whom it has pleased the conquering Zulus to name
+‘Amatefula,’ shall be avenged. Yes, yes, my Spirit tells me all these
+things, and they are true.”
+
+“And what of Saduko, my friend and your fosterling?”
+
+“Saduko, your friend and my fosterling, will take his appointed road,
+Macumazahn, as I shall and you will. What more could he desire, seeing
+it is that which he has chosen? He will take his road and he will play
+the part which the Great-Great has prepared for him. Seek not to know
+more. Why should you, since Time will tell you the story? And now go to
+rest, Macumazahn, as I must who am old and feeble. And when it pleases
+you to visit me again, we will talk further. Meanwhile, remember always
+that I am nothing but an old Kafir cheat who pretends to a knowledge
+that belongs to no man. Remember it especially, Macumazahn, when you
+meet a buffalo with a split horn in the pool of a dried-up river, and
+afterwards, when a woman named Mameena makes a certain offer to you,
+which you may be tempted to accept. Good night to you, Watcher-by-Night
+with the white heart and the strange destiny, good night to you, and
+try not to think too hardly of the old Kafir cheat who just now is
+called ‘Opener-of-Roads.’ My servant waits without to lead you to your
+hut, and if you wish to be back at Umbezi’s kraal by nightfall
+to-morrow, you will do well to start ere sunrise, since, as you found
+in coming, Saduko, although he may be a fool, is a very good walker,
+and you do not like to be left behind, Macumazahn, do you?”
+
+So I rose to go, but as I went some impulse seemed to take him and he
+called me back and made me sit down again.
+
+“Macumazahn,” he said, “I would add a word. When you were quite a lad
+you came into this country with Retief, did you not?”
+
+“Yes,” I answered slowly, for this matter of the massacre of Retief is
+one of which I have seldom cared to speak, for sundry reasons, although
+I have made a record of it in writing.[3] Even my friends Sir Henry
+Curtis and Captain Good have heard little of the part I played in that
+tragedy. “But what do you know of that business, Zikali?”
+
+ [3] Published under the title of “Marie.”—EDITOR.
+
+“All that there is to know, I think, Macumazahn, seeing that I was at
+the bottom of it, and that Dingaan killed those Boers on my advice—just
+as he killed Chaka and Umhlangana.”
+
+“You cold-blooded old murderer—” I began, but he interrupted me at
+once.
+
+“Why do you throw evil names at me, Macumazahn, as I threw the stone of
+your fate at you just now? Why am I a murderer because I brought about
+the death of some white men that chanced to be your friends, who had
+come here to cheat us black folk of our country?”
+
+“Was it for _this_ reason that you brought about their deaths, Zikali?”
+I asked, staring him in the face, for I felt that he was lying to me.
+
+“Not altogether, Macumazahn,” he answered, letting his eyes, those
+strange eyes that could look at the sun without blinking, fall before
+my gaze. “Have I not told you that I hate the House of Senzangakona?
+And when Retief and his companions were killed, did not the spilling of
+their blood mean war to the end between the Zulus and the White Men?
+Did it not mean the death of Dingaan and of thousands of his people,
+which is but a beginning of deaths? Now do you understand?”
+
+“I understand that you are a very wicked man,” I answered with
+indignation.
+
+“At least _you_ should not say so, Macumazahn,” he replied in a new
+voice, one with the ring of truth in it.
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“Because I saved your life on that day. You escaped alone of the White
+Men, did you not? And you never could understand why, could you?”
+
+“No, I could not, Zikali. I put it down to what you would call ‘the
+spirits.’”
+
+“Well, I will tell you. Those spirits of yours wore my kaross,” and he
+laughed. “I saw you with the Boers, and saw, too, that you were of
+another people—the people of the English. You may have heard at the
+time that I was doctoring at the Great Place, although I kept out of
+the way and we did not meet, or at least you never knew that we met,
+for you were—asleep. Also I pitied your youth, for, although you do not
+believe it, I had a little bit of heart left in those days. Also I knew
+that we should come together again in the after years, as you see we
+have done to-day and shall often do until the end. So I told Dingaan
+that whoever died you must be spared, or he would bring up the ‘people
+of George’ [i.e. the English] to avenge you, and your ghost would enter
+into him and pour out a curse upon him. He believed me who did not
+understand that already so many curses were gathered about his head
+that one more or less made no matter. So you see you were spared,
+Macumazahn, and afterwards you helped to pour out a curse upon Dingaan
+without becoming a ghost, which is the reason why Panda likes you so
+well to-day, Panda, the enemy of Dingaan, his brother. You remember the
+woman who helped you? Well, I made her do so. How did it go with you
+afterwards, Macumazahn, with you and the Boer maiden across the Buffalo
+River, to whom you were making love in those days?”
+
+“Never mind how it went,” I replied, springing up, for the old wizard’s
+talk had stirred sad and bitter memories in my heart. “That time is
+dead, Zikali.”
+
+“Is it, Macumazahn? Now, from the look upon your face I should have
+said that it was still very much alive, as things that happened in our
+youth have a way of keeping alive. But doubtless I am mistaken, and it
+is all as dead as Dingaan, and as Retief, and as the others, your
+companions. At least, although you do not believe it, I saved your life
+on that red day, for my own purposes, of course, not because one white
+life was anything among so many in my count. And now go to rest,
+Macumazahn, go to rest, for although your heart has been awakened by
+memories this evening, I promise that you shall sleep well to-night,”
+and throwing the long hair back off his eyes he looked at me keenly,
+wagging his big head to and fro, and burst into another of his great
+laughs.
+
+So I went. But, ah! as I went I wept.
+
+Anyone who knew all that story would understand why. But this is not
+the place to tell it, that tale of my first love and of the terrible
+events which befell us in the time of Dingaan. Still, as I say, I have
+written it down, and perhaps one day it will be read.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter III.
+THE BUFFALO WITH THE CLEFT HORN
+
+
+I slept very well that night, I suppose because I was so dog-tired I
+could not help it; but next day, on our long walk back to Umbezi’s
+kraal, I thought a great deal.
+
+Without doubt I had seen and heard very strange things, both of the
+past and the present—things that I could not in the least understand.
+Moreover, they were mixed up with all sorts of questions of high Zulu
+policy, and threw a new light upon events that happened to me and
+others in my youth.
+
+Now, in the clear sunlight, was the time to analyse these things, and
+this I did in the most logical fashion I could command, although
+without the slightest assistance from Saduko, who, when I asked him
+questions, merely shrugged his shoulders.
+
+These questions, he said, did not interest him; I had wished to see the
+magic of Zikali, and Zikali had been pleased to show me some very good
+magic, quite of his best indeed. Also he had conversed alone with me
+afterwards, doubtless on high matters—so high that he, Saduko, was not
+admitted to share the conversation—which was an honour he accorded to
+very few. I could form my own conclusions in the light of the White
+Man’s wisdom, which everyone knew was great.
+
+I replied shortly that I could, for Saduko’s tone irritated me. Of
+course, the truth was that he felt aggrieved at being sent off to bed
+like a little boy while his foster-father, the old dwarf, made
+confidences to me. One of Saduko’s faults was that he had always a very
+good opinion of himself. Also he was by nature terribly jealous, even
+in little things, as the readers of his history, if any, will learn.
+
+We trudged on for several hours in silence, broken at length by my
+companion.
+
+“Do you still mean to go on a shooting expedition with Umbezi,
+_Inkoosi?_” he asked, “or are you afraid?”
+
+“Of what should I be afraid?” I answered tartly.
+
+“Of the buffalo with the split horn, of which Zikali told you. What
+else?”
+
+Now, I fear I used strong language about the buffalo with the split
+horn, a beast in which I declared I had no belief whatsoever, either
+with or without its accessories of dried river-beds and water-holes.
+
+“If all this old woman’s talk has made _you_ afraid, however,” I added,
+“you can stop at the kraal with Mameena.”
+
+“Why should the talk make me afraid, Macumazahn? Zikali did not say
+that this evil spirit of a buffalo would hurt _me_. If I fear, it is
+for you, seeing that if you are hurt you may not be able to go with me
+to look for Bangu’s cattle.”
+
+“Oh!” I replied sarcastically; “it seems that you are somewhat selfish,
+friend Saduko, since it is of your welfare and not of my safety that
+you are thinking.”
+
+“If I were as selfish as you seem to believe, _Inkoosi_, should I
+advise you to stop with your wagons, and thereby lose the good gun with
+two mouths that you have promised me? Still, it is true that I should
+like well enough to stay at Umbezi’s kraal with Mameena, especially if
+Umbezi were away.”
+
+Now, as there is nothing more uninteresting than to listen to other
+people’s love affairs, and as I saw that with the slightest
+encouragement Saduko was ready to tell me all the history of his
+courtship over again, I did not continue the argument. So we finished
+our journey in silence, and arrived at Umbezi’s kraal a little after
+sundown, to find, to the disappointment of both of us, that Mameena was
+still away.
+
+Upon the following morning we started on our shooting expedition, the
+party consisting of myself, my servant Scowl, who, as I think I said,
+hailed from the Cape and was half a Hottentot; Saduko; the merry old
+Zulu, Umbezi, and a number of his men to serve as bearers and beaters.
+It proved a very successful trip—that is, until the end of it—for in
+those days the game in this part of the country was extremely
+plentiful. Before the end of the second week I killed four elephants,
+two of them with large tusks, while Saduko, who soon developed into a
+very fair shot, bagged another with the double-barrelled gun that I had
+promised him. Also, Umbezi—how, I have never discovered, for the thing
+partook of the nature of a miracle—managed to slay an elephant cow with
+fair ivories, using the old rifle that went off at half-cock.
+
+Never have I seen a man, black or white, so delighted as was that
+vainglorious Kafir. For whole hours he danced and sang and took snuff
+and saluted with his hand, telling me the story of his deed over and
+over again, no single version of which tale agreed with the other. He
+took a new title also, that meant “Eater-up-of-Elephants”; he allowed
+one of his men to _bonga_—that is, praise—him all through the night,
+preventing us from getting a wink of sleep, until at last the poor
+fellow dropped in a kind of fit from exhaustion, and so forth. It
+really was very amusing until it became a bore.
+
+Besides the elephants we killed lots of other things, including two
+lions, which I got almost with a right and left, and three white
+rhinoceroses, that now, alas! are nearly extinct. At last, towards the
+end of the third week, we had as much as our men could carry in the
+shape of ivory, rhinoceros horns, skins and sun-dried buckflesh, or
+biltong, and determined to start back for Umbezi’s kraal next day.
+Indeed, this could not be long delayed, as our powder and lead were
+running low; for in those days, it will be remembered, breechloaders
+had not come in, and ammunition, therefore, had to be carried in bulk.
+
+To tell the truth, I was very glad that our trip had come to such a
+satisfactory conclusion, for, although I would not admit it even to
+myself, I could not get rid of a kind of sneaking dread lest after all
+there might be something in the old dwarf’s prophecy about a
+disagreeable adventure with a buffalo which was in store for me. Well,
+as it chanced, we had not so much as seen a buffalo, and as the road
+which we were going to take back to the kraal ran over high, bare
+country that these animals did not frequent, there was now little
+prospect of our doing so—all of which, of course, showed what I already
+knew, that only weak-headed superstitious idiots would put the
+slightest faith in the drivelling nonsense of deceiving or
+self-deceived Kafir medicine-men. These things, indeed, I pointed out
+with much vigour to Saduko before we turned in on the last night of the
+hunt.
+
+Saduko listened in silence and said nothing at all, except that he
+would not keep me up any longer, as I must be tired.
+
+Now, whatever may be the reason for it, my experience in life is that
+it is never wise to brag about anything. At any rate, on a hunting
+trip, to come to a particular instance, wait until you are safe at home
+till you begin to do so. Of the truth of this ancient adage I was now
+destined to experience a particularly fine and concrete example.
+
+The place where we had camped was in scattered bush overlooking a great
+extent of dry reeds, that in the wet season was doubtless a swamp fed
+by a small river which ran into it on the side opposite to our camp.
+During the night I woke up, thinking that I heard some big beasts
+moving in these reeds; but as no further sounds reached my ears I went
+to sleep again.
+
+Shortly after dawn I was awakened by a voice calling me, which in a
+hazy fashion I recognised as that of Umbezi.
+
+“Macumazahn,” said the voice in a hoarse whisper, “the reeds below us
+are full of buffalo. Get up. Get up at once.”
+
+“What for?” I answered. “If the buffalo came into the reeds they will
+go out of them. We do not want meat.”
+
+“No, Macumazahn; but I want their hides. Panda, the King, has demanded
+fifty shields of me, and without killing oxen that I can ill spare I
+have not the skins whereof to make them. Now, these buffalo are in a
+trap. This swamp is like a dish with one mouth. They cannot get out at
+the sides of the dish, and the mouth by which they came in is very
+narrow. If we station ourselves at either side of it we can kill many
+of them.”
+
+By this time I was thoroughly awake and had arisen from my blankets.
+Throwing a kaross over my shoulders, I left the hut, made of boughs, in
+which I was sleeping and walked a few paces to the crest of a rocky
+ridge, whence I could see the dry _vlei_ below. Here the mists of dawn
+still clung, but from it rose sounds of grunts, bellows and tramplings
+which I, an old hunter, could not mistake. Evidently a herd of buffalo,
+one or two hundred of them, had established themselves in those reeds.
+
+Just then my bastard servant, Scowl, and Saduko joined us, both of them
+full of excitement.
+
+It appeared that Scowl, who never seemed to sleep at any natural time,
+had seen the buffalo entering the reeds, and estimated their number at
+two or three hundred. Saduko had examined the cleft through which they
+passed, and reported it to be so narrow that we could kill any number
+of them as they rushed out to escape.
+
+“Quite so. I understand,” I said. “Well, my opinion is that we had
+better let them escape. Only four of us, counting Umbezi, are armed
+with guns, and assegais are not of much use against buffalo. Let them
+go, I say.”
+
+Umbezi, thinking of a cheap raw material for the shields which had been
+requisitioned by the King, who would surely be pleased if they were
+made of such a rare and tough hide as that of buffalo, protested
+violently, and Saduko, either to please one whom he hoped might be his
+father-in-law or from sheer love of sport, for which he always had a
+positive passion, backed him up. Only Scowl—whose dash of Hottentot
+blood made him cunning and cautious—took my side, pointing out that we
+were very short of powder and that buffalo “ate up much lead.” At last
+Saduko said:
+
+“The lord Macumazana is our captain; we must obey him, although it is a
+pity. But doubtless the prophesying of Zikali weighs upon his mind, so
+there is nothing to be done.”
+
+“Zikali!” exclaimed Umbezi. “What has the old dwarf to do with this
+matter?”
+
+“Never mind what he has or has not to do with it,” I broke in, for
+although I do not think that he meant them as a taunt, but merely as a
+statement of fact, Saduko’s words stung me to the quick, especially as
+my conscience told me that they were not altogether without foundation.
+
+“We will try to kill some of these buffalo,” I went on, “although,
+unless the herd should get bogged, which is not likely, as the swamp is
+very dry, I do not think that we can hope for more than eight or ten at
+the most, which won’t be of much use for shields. Come, let us make a
+plan. We have no time to lose, for I think they will begin to move
+again before the sun is well up.”
+
+Half an hour later the four of us who were armed with guns were posted
+behind rocks on either side of the steep, natural roadway cut by water,
+which led down to the _vlei_, and with us some of Umbezi’s men. That
+chief himself was at my side—a post of honour which he had insisted
+upon taking. To tell the truth, I did not dissuade him, for I thought
+that I should be safer so than if he were opposite to me, since, even
+if the old rifle did not go off of its own accord, Umbezi, when
+excited, was a most uncertain shot. The herd of buffalo appeared to
+have lain down in the reeds, so, being careful to post ourselves first,
+we sent three of the native bearers to the farther side of the _vlei_,
+with instructions to rouse the beasts by shouting. The remainder of the
+Zulus—there were ten or a dozen of them armed with stabbing spears—we
+kept with us.
+
+But what did these scoundrels do? Instead of disturbing the herd by
+making a noise, as we told them, for some reason best known to
+themselves—I expect it was because they were afraid to go into the
+_vlei_, where they might meet the horn of a buffalo at any moment—they
+fired the dry reeds in three or four places at once, and this, if you
+please, with a strong wind blowing from them to us. In a minute or two
+the farther side of the swamp was a sheet of crackling flame that gave
+off clouds of dense white smoke. Then pandemonium began.
+
+The sleeping buffalo leapt to their feet, and, after a few moments of
+indecision, crashed towards us, the whole huge herd of them, snorting
+and bellowing like mad things. Seeing what was about to happen, I
+nipped behind a big boulder, while Scowl shinned up a mimosa with the
+swiftness of a cat and, heedless of its thorns, sat himself in an
+eagle’s nest at the top. The Zulus with the spears bolted to take cover
+where they could. What became of Saduko I did not see, but old Umbezi,
+bewildered with excitement, jumped into the exact middle of the
+roadway, shouting:
+
+“They come! They come! Charge, buffalo folk, if you will. The
+Eater-up-of-Elephants awaits you!”
+
+“You etceterad old fool!” I shouted, but got no farther, for just at
+this moment the first of the buffalo, which I could see was an enormous
+bull, probably the leader of the herd, accepted Umbezi’s invitation and
+came, with its nose stuck straight out in front of it. Umbezi’s gun
+went off, and next instant he went up. Through the smoke I saw his
+black bulk in the air, and then heard it alight with a thud on the top
+of the rock behind which I was crouching.
+
+“Exit Umbezi,” I said to myself, and by way of a requiem let the bull
+which had hoisted him, as I thought to heaven, have an ounce of lead in
+the ribs as it passed me. After that I did not fire any more, for it
+occurred to me that it was as well not to further advertise my
+presence.
+
+In all my hunting experience I cannot remember ever seeing such a sight
+as that which followed. Out of the vlei rushed the buffalo by dozens,
+every one of them making remarks in its own language as it came. They
+jammed in the narrow roadway, they leapt on to each other’s backs. They
+squealed, they kicked, they bellowed. They charged my friendly rock
+till I felt it shake. They knocked over Scowl’s mimosa thorn, and would
+have shot him out of his eagle’s nest had not its flat top fortunately
+caught in that of another and less accessible tree. And with them came
+clouds of pungent smoke, mixed with bits of burning reed and puffs of
+hot air.
+
+It was over at last. With the exception of some calves, which had been
+trampled to death in the rush, the herd had gone. Now, like the Roman
+emperor—I think he was an emperor—I began to wonder what had become of
+my legions.
+
+“Umbezi,” I shouted, or, rather, sneezed through the smoke, “are you
+dead, Umbezi?”
+
+“Yes, yes, Macumazahn,” replied a choking and melancholy voice from the
+top of the rock, “I am dead, quite dead. That evil spirit of a
+_silwana_ [i.e. wild beast] has killed me. Oh! why did I think I was a
+hunter; why did I not stop at my kraal and count my cattle?”
+
+“I am sure I don’t know, you old lunatic,” I answered, as I scrambled
+up the rock to bid him good-bye.
+
+It was a rock with a razor top like the ridge of a house, and there,
+hanging across this ridge like a pair of nether garments on a
+clothes-line, I found the “Eater-up-of-Elephants.”
+
+“Where did he get you, Umbezi?” I asked, for I could not see his wounds
+because of the smoke.
+
+“Behind, Macumazahn, behind!” he groaned, “for I had turned to fly,
+but, alas! too late.”
+
+“On the contrary,” I replied, “for one so heavy you flew very well;
+like a bird, Umbezi, like a bird.”
+
+“Look and see what the evil beast has done to me, Macumazahn. It will
+be easy, for my moocha has gone.”
+
+So I looked, examining Umbezi’s ample proportions with care, but could
+discover nothing except a large smudge of black mud, as though he had
+sat down in a half-dried puddle. Then I guessed the truth. The
+buffalo’s horns had missed him. He had been struck only with its muddy
+nose, which, being almost as broad as that portion of Umbezi with which
+it came in contact, had inflicted nothing worse than a bruise. When I
+was sure he had received no serious injury, my temper, already sorely
+tried, gave out, and I administered to him the soundest smacking—his
+position being very convenient—that he had ever received since he was a
+little boy.
+
+“Get up, you idiot!” I shouted, “and let us look for the others. This
+is the end of your folly in making me attack a herd of buffalo in
+reeds. Get up. Am I to stop here till I choke?”
+
+“Do you mean to tell me that I have no mortal wound, Macumazahn?” he
+asked, with a return of cheerfulness, accepting the castigation in good
+part, for he was not one who bore malice. “Oh, I am glad to hear it,
+for now I shall live to make those cowards who fired the reeds sorry
+that they are not dead; also to finish off that wild beast, for I hit
+him, Macumazahn, I hit him.”
+
+“I don’t know whether you hit him; I know he hit you,” I replied, as I
+shoved him off the rock and ran towards the tilted tree where I had
+last seen Scowl.
+
+Here I beheld another strange sight. Scowl was still seated in the
+eagle’s nest that he shared with two nearly fledged young birds, one of
+which, having been injured, was uttering piteous cries. Nor did it cry
+in vain, for its parents, which were of that great variety of kite that
+the Boers call _lammefange_, or lamb-lifters, had just arrived to its
+assistance, and were giving their new nestling, Scowl, the best doing
+that man ever received at the beak and claws of feathered kind. Seen
+through those rushing smoke wreaths, the combat looked perfectly
+titanic; also it was one of the noisiest to which I ever listened, for
+I don’t know which shrieked the more loudly, the infuriated eagles or
+their victim.
+
+Seeing how things stood, I burst into a roar of laughter, and just then
+Scowl grabbed the leg of the male bird, that was planted in his breast
+while it removed tufts of his wool with its hooked beak, and leapt
+boldly from the nest, which had become too hot to hold him. The eagle’s
+outspread wings broke his fall, for they acted as a parachute; and so
+did Umbezi, upon whom he chanced to land. Springing from the prostrate
+shape of the chief, who now had a bruise in front to match that behind,
+Scowl, covered with pecks and scratches, ran like a lamp-lighter,
+leaving me to collect my second gun, which he had dropped at the bottom
+of the tree, but fortunately without injuring it. The Kafirs gave him
+another name after that encounter, which meant
+“He-who-fights-birds-and-gets-the-worst-of-it.”
+
+Well, we escaped from the line of the smoke, a dishevelled trio—indeed,
+Umbezi had nothing left on him except his head ring—and shouted for the
+others, if perchance they had not been trodden to death in the rush.
+The first to arrive was Saduko, who looked quite calm and untroubled,
+but stared at us in astonishment, and asked coolly what we had been
+doing to get in such a state. I replied in appropriate language, and
+asked in turn how he had managed to remain so nicely dressed.
+
+He did not answer, but I believe the truth was that he had crept into a
+large ant-bear’s hole—small blame to him, to be frank. Then the
+remainder of our party turned up one by one, some of them looking very
+blown, as though they had run a long way. None were missing, except
+those who had fired the reeds, and they thought it well to keep clear
+for a good many hours. I believe that afterwards they regretted not
+having taken a longer leave of absence; but when they finally did
+arrive I was in no condition to note what passed between them and their
+outraged chief.
+
+Being collected, the question arose what we should do. Of course, I
+wished to return to camp and get out of this ill-omened place as soon
+as possible. But I had reckoned without the vanity of Umbezi. Umbezi
+stretched over the edge of a sharp rock, whither he had been hoisted by
+the nose of a buffalo, and imagining himself to be mortally wounded,
+was one thing; but Umbezi in a borrowed moocha, although, because of
+his bruises, he supported his person with one hand in front and with
+the other behind, knowing his injuries to be purely superficial, was
+quite another.
+
+“I am a hunter,” he said; “I am named ‘Eater-up-of-Elephants’;” and he
+rolled his eyes, looking about for someone to contradict him, which
+nobody did. Indeed, his “praiser,” a thin, tired-looking person, whose
+voice was worn out with his previous exertions, repeated in a feeble
+way:
+
+“Yes, Black One, ‘Eater-up-of-Elephants’ is your name;
+‘Lifted-up-by-Buffalo’ is your name.”
+
+“Be silent, idiot,” roared Umbezi. “As I said, I am a hunter; I have
+wounded the wild beast that subsequently dared to assault me. [As a
+matter of fact, it was I, Allan Quatermain, who had wounded it.] I
+would make it bite the dust, for it cannot be far away. Let us follow
+it.”
+
+He glared round him, whereon his obsequious people, or one of them,
+echoed:
+
+“Yes, by all means let us follow it, ‘Eater-up-of-Elephants.’
+Macumazahn, the clever white man, will show us how, for where is the
+buffalo that he fears!”
+
+Of course, after this there was nothing else to be done, so, having
+summoned the scratched Scowl, who seemed to have no heart in the
+business, we started on the spoor of the herd, which was as easy to
+track as a wagon road.
+
+“Never mind, Baas,” said Scowl, “they are two hours’ march off by now.”
+
+“I hope so,” I answered; but, as it happened, luck was against me, for
+before we had covered half a mile some over-zealous fellow struck a
+blood spoor.
+
+I marched on that spoor for twenty minutes or so, till we came to a
+patch of bush that sloped downwards to a river-bed. Right to this river
+I followed it, till I reached the edge of a big pool that was still
+full of water, although the river itself had gone dry. Here I stood
+looking at the spoor and consulting with Saduko as to whether the beast
+could have swum the pool, for the tracks that went to its very verge
+had become confused and uncertain. Suddenly our doubts were ended,
+since out of a patch of dense bush which we had passed—for it had
+played the common trick of doubling back on its own spoor—appeared the
+buffalo, a huge bull, that halted on three legs, my bullet having
+broken one of its thighs. As to its identity there was no doubt, since
+on, or rather from, its right horn, which was cleft apart at the top,
+hung the remains of Umbezi’s moocha.
+
+“Oh, beware, _Inkoosi_,” cried Saduko in a frightened voice. “_It is
+the buffalo with the cleft horn!_”
+
+I heard him; I saw. All the scene in the hut of Zikali rose before
+me—the old dwarf, his words, everything. I lifted my rifle and fired at
+the charging beast, but knew that the bullet glanced from its skull. I
+threw down the gun—for the buffalo was right on me—and tried to jump
+aside.
+
+Almost I did so, but that cleft horn, to which hung the remains of
+Umbezi’s moocha, scooped me up and hurled me off the river bank
+backwards and sideways into the deep pool below. As I departed thither
+I saw Saduko spring forward and heard a shot fired that caused the bull
+to collapse for a moment. Then with a slow, sliding motion it followed
+me into the pool.
+
+Now we were together, and there was no room for both, so after a
+certain amount of dodging I went under, as the lighter dog always does
+in a fight. That buffalo seemed to do everything to me which a buffalo
+could do under the circumstances. It tried to horn me, and partially
+succeeded, although I ducked at each swoop. Then it struck me with its
+nose and drove me to the bottom of the pool, although I got hold of its
+lip and twisted it. Then it calmly knelt on me and sank me deeper and
+deeper into the mud. I remember kicking it in the stomach. After this I
+remember no more, except a kind of wild dream in which I rehearsed all
+the scene in the dwarf’s hut, and his request that when I met the
+buffalo with the cleft horn in the pool of a dried river, I should
+remember that he was nothing but a “poor old Kafir cheat.”
+
+After this I saw my mother bending over a little child in my bed in the
+old house in Oxfordshire where I was born, and then—blackness!
+
+I came to myself again and saw, instead of my mother, the stately
+figure of Saduko bending over me upon one side, and on the other that
+of Scowl, the half-bred Hottentot, who was weeping, for his hot tears
+fell upon my face.
+
+“He is gone,” said poor Scowl; “that bewitched beast with the split
+horn has killed him. He is gone who was the best white man in all South
+Africa, whom I loved better than my father and all my relatives.”
+
+“That you might easily do, Bastard,” answered Saduko, “seeing that you
+do not know who they are. But he is not gone, for the ‘Opener-of-Roads’
+said that he would live; also I got my spear into the heart of that
+buffalo before he had kneaded the life out of him, as fortunately the
+mud was soft. Yet I fear that his ribs are broken”; and he poked me
+with his finger on the breast.
+
+“Take your clumsy hand off me,” I gasped.
+
+“There!” said Saduko, “I have made him feel. Did I not tell you that he
+would live?”
+
+After this I remember little more, except some confused dreams, till I
+found myself lying in a great hut, which I discovered subsequently was
+Umbezi’s own, the same, indeed, wherein I had doctored the ear of that
+wife of his who was called “Worn-out-old-Cow.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IV.
+MAMEENA
+
+
+For a while I contemplated the roof and sides of the hut by the light
+which entered it through the smoke-vent and the door-hole, wondering
+whose it might be and how I came there.
+
+Then I tried to sit up, and instantly was seized with agony in the
+region of the ribs, which I found were bound about with broad strips of
+soft tanned hide. Clearly they, or some of them, were broken.
+
+What had broken them? I asked myself, and in a flash everything came
+back to me. So I had escaped with my life, as the old dwarf,
+“Opener-of-Roads,” had told me that I should. Certainly he was an
+excellent prophet; and if he spoke truth in this matter, why not in
+others? What was I to make of it all? How could a black savage, however
+ancient, foresee the future?
+
+By induction from the past, I supposed; and yet what amount of
+induction would suffice to show him the details of a forthcoming
+accident that was to happen to me through the agency of a wild beast
+with a peculiarly shaped horn? I gave it up, as before and since that
+day I have found it necessary to do in the case of many other events in
+life. Indeed, the question is one that I often have had cause to ask
+where Kafir “witch-doctors” or prophets are concerned, notably in the
+instance of a certain Mavovo, of whom I hope to tell one day, whose
+predictions saved my life and those of my companions.
+
+Just then I heard the sound of someone creeping through the bee-hole of
+the hut, and half-closed my eyes, as I did not feel inclined for
+conversation. The person came and stood over me, and somehow—by
+instinct, I suppose—I became aware that my visitor was a woman. Very
+slowly I lifted my eyelids, just enough to enable me to see her.
+
+There, standing in a beam of golden light that, passing through the
+smoke-hole, pierced the soft gloom of the hut, stood the most beautiful
+creature that I had ever seen—that is, if it be admitted that a person
+who is black, or rather copper-coloured, can be beautiful.
+
+She was a little above the medium height, not more, with a figure that,
+so far as I am a judge of such matters, was absolutely perfect—that of
+a Greek statue indeed. On this point I had an opportunity of forming an
+opinion, since, except for her little bead apron and a single string of
+large blue beads about her throat, her costume was—well, that of a
+Greek statue. Her features showed no trace of the negro type; on the
+contrary, they were singularly well cut, the nose being straight and
+fine and the pouting mouth that just showed the ivory teeth between,
+very small. Then the eyes, large, dark and liquid, like those of a
+buck, set beneath a smooth, broad forehead on which the curling, but
+not woolly, hair grew low. This hair, by the way, was not dressed up in
+any of the eccentric native fashions, but simply parted in the middle
+and tied in a big knot over the nape of the neck, the little ears
+peeping out through its tresses. The hands, like the feet, were very
+small and delicate, and the curves of the bust soft and full without
+being coarse, or even showing the promise of coarseness.
+
+A lovely woman, truly; and yet there was something not quite pleasing
+about that beautiful face; something, notwithstanding its childlike
+outline, which reminded me of a flower breaking into bloom, that one
+does not associate with youth and innocence. I tried to analyse what
+this might be, and came to the conclusion that without being hard, it
+was too clever and, in a sense, too reflective. I felt even then that
+the brain within the shapely head was keen and bright as polished
+steel; that this woman was one made to rule, not to be man’s toy, or
+even his loving companion, but to use him for her ends.
+
+She dropped her chin till it hid the little, dimple-like depression
+below her throat, which was one of her charms, and began not to look
+at, but to study me, seeing which I shut my eyes tight and waited.
+Evidently she thought that I was still in my swoon, for now she spoke
+to herself in a low voice that was soft and sweet as honey.
+
+“A small man,” she said; “Saduko would make two of him, and the
+other”—who was he, I wondered—“three. His hair, too, is ugly; he cuts
+it short and it sticks up like that on a cat’s back. _Iya!_” (i.e.
+Piff!), and she moved her hand contemptuously, “a feather of a man. But
+white—white, one of those who rule. Why, they all of them know that he
+is their master. They call him ‘He-who-never-Sleeps.’ They say that he
+has the courage of a lioness with young—he who got away when Dingaan
+killed _Piti_ [Retief] and the Boers; they say that he is quick and
+cunning as a snake, and that Panda and his great _indunas_ think more
+of him than of any white man they know. He is unmarried also, though
+they say, too, that twice he had a wife, who died, and now he does not
+turn to look at women, which is strange in any man, and shows that he
+will escape trouble and succeed. Still, it must be remembered that they
+are all ugly down here in Zululand, cows, or heifers who will be cows.
+_Piff!_ no more.”
+
+She paused for a little while, then went on in her dreamy, reflective
+voice:
+
+“Now, if he met a woman who is not merely a cow or a heifer, a woman
+cleverer than himself, even if she were not white, I wonder—”
+
+At this point I thought it well to wake up. Turning my head I yawned,
+opened my eyes and looked at her vaguely, seeing which her expression
+changed in a flash from that of brooding power to one of moved and
+anxious girlhood; in short, it became most sweetly feminine.
+
+“You are Mameena?” I said; “is it not so?”
+
+“Oh, yes, _Inkoosi_,” she answered, “that is my poor name. But how did
+you hear it, and how do you know me?”
+
+“I heard it from one Saduko”—here she frowned a little—“and others, and
+I knew you because you are so beautiful”—an incautious speech at which
+she broke into a dazzling smile and tossed her deer-like head.
+
+“Am I?” she asked. “I never knew it, who am only a common Zulu girl to
+whom it pleases the great white chief to say kind things, for which I
+thank him”; and she made a graceful little reverence, just bending one
+knee. “But,” she went on quickly, “whatever else I be, I am of no
+knowledge, not fit to tend you who are hurt. Shall I go and send my
+oldest mother?”
+
+“Do you mean her whom your father calls the ‘Worn-out-old-Cow,’ and
+whose ear he shot off?”
+
+“Yes, it must be she from the description,” she answered with a little
+shake of laughter, “though I never heard him give her that name.”
+
+“Or if you did, you have forgotten it,” I said dryly. “Well, I think
+not, thank you. Why trouble her, when you will do quite as well? If
+there is milk in that gourd, perhaps you will give me a drink of it.”
+
+She flew to the bowl like a swallow, and next moment was kneeling at my
+side and holding it to my lips with one hand, while with the other she
+supported my head.
+
+“I am honoured,” she said. “I only came to the hut the moment before
+you woke, and seeing you still lost in swoon, I wept—look, my eyes are
+still wet [they were, though how she made them so I do not know]—for I
+feared lest that sleep should be but the beginning of the last.”
+
+“Quite so,” I said; “it is very good of you. And now, since your fears
+are groundless—thanks be to the heavens—sit down, if you will, and tell
+me the story of how I came here.”
+
+She sat down, not, I noted, as a Kafir woman ordinarily does, in a kind
+of kneeling position, but on a stool.
+
+“You were carried into the kraal, _Inkoosi_,” she said, “on a litter of
+boughs. My heart stood still when I saw that litter coming; it was no
+more heart; it was cold iron, because I thought the dead or injured man
+was—” And she paused.
+
+“Saduko?” I suggested.
+
+“Not at all, _Inkoosi_—my father.”
+
+“Well, it wasn’t either of them,” I said, “so you must have felt
+happy.”
+
+“Happy! _Inkoosi_, when the guest of our house had been wounded,
+perhaps to death—the guest of whom I have heard so much, although by
+misfortune I was absent when he arrived.”
+
+“A difference of opinion with your eldest mother?” I suggested.
+
+“Yes, _Inkoosi;_ my own is dead, and I am not too well treated here.
+She called me a witch.”
+
+“Did she?” I answered. “Well, I do not altogether wonder at it; but
+please continue your story.”
+
+“There is none, _Inkoosi_. They brought you here, they told me how the
+evil brute of a buffalo had nearly killed you in the pool; that is
+all.”
+
+“Yes, yes, Mameena; but how did I get out of the pool?”
+
+“Oh, it seems that your servant, Sikauli, the bastard, leapt into the
+water and engaged the attention of the buffalo which was kneading you
+into the mud, while Saduko got on to its back and drove his assegai
+down between its shoulders to the heart, so that it died. Then they
+pulled you out of the mud, crushed and almost drowned with water, and
+brought you to life again. But afterwards you became senseless, and so
+lay wandering in your speech until this hour.”
+
+“Ah, he is a brave man, is Saduko.”
+
+“Like others, neither more nor less,” she replied with a shrug of her
+rounded shoulders. “Would you have had him let you die? I think the
+brave man was he who got in front of the bull and twisted its nose, not
+he who sat on its back and poked at it with a spear.”
+
+At this period in our conversation I became suddenly faint and lost
+count of things, even of the interesting Mameena. When I awoke again
+she was gone, and in her place was old Umbezi, who, I noticed, took
+down a mat from the side of the hut and folded it up to serve as a
+cushion before he sat himself upon the stool.
+
+“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said when he saw that I was awake; “how are
+you?”
+
+“As well as can be hoped,” I answered; “and how are you, Umbezi?”
+
+“Oh, bad, Macumazahn; even now I can scarcely sit down, for that bull
+had a very hard nose; also I am swollen up in front where Sikauli
+struck me when he tumbled out of the tree. Also my heart is cut in two
+because of our losses.”
+
+“What losses, Umbezi?”
+
+“_Wow!_ Macumazahn, the fire that those low fellows of mine lit got to
+our camp and burned up nearly everything—the meat, the skins, and even
+the ivory, which it cracked so that it is useless. That was an unlucky
+hunt, for although it began so well, we have come out of it quite
+naked; yes, with nothing at all except the head of the bull with the
+cleft horn, that I thought you might like to keep.”
+
+“Well, Umbezi, let us be thankful that we have come out with our
+lives—that is, if I am going to live,” I added.
+
+“Oh, Macumazahn, you will live without doubt, and be none the worse.
+Two of our doctors—very clever men—have looked at you and said so. One
+of them tied you up in all those skins, and I promised him a heifer for
+the business, if he cured you, and gave him a goat on account. But you
+must lie here for a month or more, so he says. Meanwhile Panda has sent
+for the hides which he demanded of me to be made into shields, and I
+have been obliged to kill twenty-five of my beasts to provide them—that
+is, of my own and of those of my headmen.”
+
+“Then I wish you and your headmen had killed them before we met those
+buffalo, Umbezi,” I groaned, for my ribs were paining me very much.
+“Send Saduko and Sikauli here; I would thank them for saving my life.”
+
+So they came, next morning, I think, and I thanked them warmly enough.
+
+“There, there, Baas,” said Scowl, who was literally weeping tears of
+joy at my return from delirium and coma to the light of life and
+reason; not tears of Mameena’s sort, but real ones, for I saw them
+running down his snub nose, that still bore marks of the eagle’s claws.
+“There, there, say no more, I beseech you. If you were going to die, I
+wished to die, too, who, if you had left it, should only have wandered
+through the world without a heart. That is why I jumped into the pool,
+not because I am brave.”
+
+When I heard this my own eyes grew moist. Oh, it is the fashion to
+abuse natives, but from whom do we meet with more fidelity and love
+than from these poor wild Kafirs that so many of us talk of as black
+dirt which chances to be fashioned to the shape of man?
+
+“As for myself, _Inkoosi_,” added Saduko, “I only did my duty. How
+could I have held up my head again if the bull had killed you while I
+walked away alive? Why, the very girls would have mocked at me. But,
+oh, his skin was tough. I thought that assegai would never get through
+it.”
+
+Observe the difference between these two men’s characters. The one,
+although no hero in daily life, imperils himself from sheer, dog-like
+fidelity to a master who had given him many hard words and sometimes a
+flogging in punishment for drunkenness, and the other to gratify his
+pride, also perhaps because my death would have interfered with his
+plans and ambitions in which I had a part to play. No, that is a hard
+saying; still, there is no doubt that Saduko always first took his own
+interests into consideration, and how what he did would reflect upon
+his prospects and repute, or influence the attainment of his desires. I
+think this was so even when Mameena was concerned—at any rate, in the
+beginning—although certainly he always loved her with a single-hearted
+passion that is very rare among Zulus.
+
+Presently Scowl left the hut to prepare me some broth, whereon Saduko
+at once turned the talk to this subject of Mameena.
+
+He understood that I had seen her. Did I not think her very beautiful?
+
+“Yes, very beautiful,” I answered; “indeed, the most beautiful Zulu
+woman I have ever seen.”
+
+And very clever—almost as clever as a white?
+
+“Yes, and very clever—much cleverer than most whites.”
+
+And—anything else?
+
+“Yes; very dangerous, and one who could turn like the wind and blow hot
+and blow cold.”
+
+“Ah!” he said, thought a while, then added: “Well, what do I care how
+she blows to others, so long as she blows hot to me.”
+
+“Well, Saduko, and does she blow hot for you?”
+
+“Not altogether, Macumazahn.” Another pause. “I think she blows rather
+like the wind before a great storm.”
+
+“That is a biting wind, Saduko, and when we feel it we know that the
+storm will follow.”
+
+“I dare say that the storm will follow, _Inkoosi_, for she was born in
+a storm and storm goes with her; but what of that, if she and I stand
+it out together? I love her, and I had rather die with her than live
+with any other woman.”
+
+“The question is, Saduko, whether she would rather die with you than
+live with any other man. Does she say so?”
+
+“_Inkoosi_, Mameena’s thought works in the dark; it is like a white ant
+in its tunnel of mud. You see the tunnel which shows that she is
+thinking, but you do not see the thought within. Still, sometimes, when
+she believes that no one beholds or hears her”—here I bethought me of
+the young lady’s soliloquy over my apparently senseless self—“or when
+she is surprised, the true thought peeps out of its tunnel. It did so
+the other day, when I pleaded with her after she had heard that I
+killed the buffalo with the cleft horn.
+
+“‘Do I love you?’ she said. ‘I know not for sure. How can I tell? It is
+not our custom that a maiden should love before she is married, for if
+she did so most marriages would be things of the heart and not of
+cattle, and then half the fathers of Zululand would grow poor and
+refuse to rear girl-children who would bring them nothing. You are
+brave, you are handsome, you are well-born; I would sooner live with
+you than with any other man I know—that is, if you were rich and,
+better still, powerful. Become rich and powerful, Saduko, and I think
+that I shall love you.’
+
+“‘I will, Mameena,’ I answered; ‘but you must wait. The Zulu nation was
+not fashioned from nothing in a day. First Chaka had to come.’
+
+“‘Ah!’ she said, and, my father, her eyes flashed. ‘Ah! Chaka! There
+was a man! Be another Chaka, Saduko, and I will love you more—more than
+you can dream of—thus and thus,’ and she flung her arms about me and
+kissed me as I was never kissed before, which, as you know, among us is
+a strange thing for a girl to do. Then she thrust me from her with a
+laugh, and added: ‘As for the waiting, you must ask my father of that.
+Am I not his heifer, to be sold, and can I disobey my father?’ And she
+was gone, leaving me empty, for it seemed as though she took my vitals
+with her. Nor will she talk thus any more, the white ant who has gone
+back into its tunnel.”
+
+“And did you speak to her father?”
+
+“Yes, I spoke to him, but in an evil moment, for he had but just killed
+the cattle to furnish Panda’s shields. He answered me very roughly. He
+said: ‘You see these dead beasts which I and my people must slay for
+the king, or fall under his displeasure? Well, bring me five times
+their number, and we will talk of your marriage with my daughter, who
+is a maid in some request.’
+
+“I answered that I understood and would try my best, whereon he became
+more gentle, for Umbezi has a kindly heart.
+
+“‘My son,’ he said, ‘I like you well, and since I saw you save
+Macumazahn, my friend, from that mad wild beast of a buffalo I like you
+better than before. Yet you know my case. I have an old name and am
+called the chief of a tribe, and many live on me. But I am poor, and
+this daughter of mine is worth much. Such a woman few men have bred.
+Well, I must make the best of her. My son-in-law must be one who will
+prop up my old age, one to whom, in my need or trouble, I could always
+go as to a dry log,[1] to break off some of its bark to make a fire to
+comfort me, not one who treads me into the mire as the buffalo did to
+Macumazahn. Now I have spoken, and I do not love such talk. Come back
+with the cattle, and I will listen to you, but meanwhile understand
+that I am not bound to you or to anyone; I shall take what my spirit
+sends me, which, if I may judge the future by the past, will not be
+much. One word more: Do not linger about this kraal too long, lest it
+should be said that you are the accepted suitor of Mameena. Go hence
+and do a man’s work, and return with a man’s reward, or not at all.’”
+
+ [1] In Zululand a son-in-law is known as _isigodo so mkwenyana_, the
+ “son-in-law log,” for the reason stated in the text.—EDITOR.]
+
+“Well, Saduko, that spear has an edge on it, has it not?” I answered.
+“And now, what is your plan?”
+
+“My plan is, Macumazahn,” he said, rising from his seat, “to go hence
+and gather those who are friendly to me because I am my father’s son
+and still the chief of the Amangwane, or those who are left of them,
+although I have no kraal and no hoof of kine. Then, within a moon, I
+hope, I shall return here to find you strong again and once more a man,
+and we will start out against Bangu, as I have whispered to you, with
+the leave of a High One, who has said that, if I can take any cattle, I
+may keep them for my pains.”
+
+“I don’t know about that, Saduko. I never promised you that I would
+make war upon Bangu—with or without the king’s leave.”
+
+“No, you never promised, but Zikali the Dwarf, the Wise Little One,
+said that you would—and does Zikali lie? Ask yourself, who will
+remember a certain saying of his about a buffalo with a cleft horn, a
+pool and a dry river-bed. Farewell, O my father Macumazahn; I walk with
+the dawn, and I leave Mameena in your keeping.”
+
+“You mean that you leave me in Mameena’s keeping,” I began, but already
+he was crawling through the hole in the hut.
+
+Well, Mameena kept me very comfortably. She was always in evidence, yet
+not too much so.
+
+Heedless of her malice and abuse, she headed off the
+“Worn-out-old-Cow,” whom she knew I detested, from my presence. She saw
+personally to my bandages, as well as to the cooking of my food, over
+which matter she had several quarrels with the bastard, Scowl, who did
+not like her, for on him she never wasted any of her sweet looks. Also,
+as I grew stronger, she sat with me a good deal, talking, since, by
+common consent, Mameena the fair was exempted from all the field, and
+even the ordinary household labours that fall to the lot of Kafir
+women. Her place was to be the ornament and, I may add, the
+advertisement of her father’s kraal. Others might do the work, and she
+saw that they did it.
+
+We discussed all sorts of things, from the Christian and other
+religions and European policy down, for her thirst for knowledge seemed
+to be insatiable. But what really interested her was the state of
+affairs in Zululand, with which she knew I was well acquainted, as a
+person who had played a part in its history and who was received and
+trusted at the Great House, and as a white man who understood the
+designs and plans of the Boers and of the Governor of Natal.
+
+Now, if the old king, Panda, should chance to die, she would ask me,
+which of his sons did I think would succeed him—Umbelazi or Cetewayo,
+or another? Or, if he did not chance to die, which of them would he
+name his heir?
+
+I replied that I was not a prophet, and that she had better ask Zikali
+the Wise.
+
+“That is a very good idea,” she said, “only I have no one to take me to
+him, since my father would not allow me to go with Saduko, his ward.”
+Then she clapped her hands and added: “Oh, Macumazahn, will you take
+me? My father would trust me with you.”
+
+“Yes, I dare say,” I answered; “but the question is, could I trust
+myself with you?”
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked. “Oh, I understand. Then, after all, I am
+more to you than a black stone to play with?”
+
+I think it was that unlucky joke of mine which first set Mameena
+thinking, “like a white ant in its tunnel,” as Saduko said. At least,
+after it her manner towards me changed; she became very deferential;
+she listened to my words as though they were all wisdom; I caught her
+looking at me with her soft eyes as though I were quite an admirable
+object. She began to talk to me of her difficulties, her troubles and
+her ambitions. She asked me for my advice as to Saduko. On this point I
+replied to her that, if she loved him, and her father would allow it,
+presumably she had better marry him.
+
+“I like him well enough, Macumazahn, although he wearies me at times;
+but love— Oh, tell me, _what_ is love?” Then she clasped her slim hands
+and gazed at me like a fawn.
+
+“Upon my word, young woman,” I replied, “that is a matter upon which I
+should have thought you more competent to instruct me.”
+
+“Oh, Macumazahn,” she said almost in a whisper, and letting her head
+droop like a fading lily, “you have never given me the chance, have
+you?” And she laughed a little, looking extremely attractive.
+
+“Good gracious!”—or, rather, its Zulu equivalent—I answered, for I
+began to feel nervous. “What do you mean, Mameena? How could I—” There
+I stopped.
+
+“I do not know what I mean, Macumazahn,” she exclaimed wildly, “but I
+know well enough what you mean—that you are white as snow and I am
+black as soot, and that snow and soot don’t mix well together.”
+
+“No,” I answered gravely, “snow is good to look at, and so is soot, but
+mingled they make an ugly colour. Not that you are like soot,” I added
+hastily, fearing to hurt her feelings. “That is your hue”—and I touched
+a copper bangle she was wearing—“a very lovely hue, Mameena, like
+everything else about you.”
+
+“Lovely,” she said, beginning to weep a little, which upset me very
+much, for if there is one thing I hate, it is to see a woman cry. “How
+can a poor Zulu girl be lovely? Oh, Macumazahn, the spirits have dealt
+hardly with me, who have given me the colour of my people and the heart
+of yours. If I were white, now, what you are pleased to call this
+loveliness of mine would be of some use to me, for then— then— Oh,
+cannot you guess, Macumazahn?”
+
+I shook my head and said that I could not, and next moment was sorry,
+for she proceeded to explain.
+
+Sinking to her knees—for we were quite alone in the big hut and there
+was no one else about, all the other women being engaged on rural or
+domestic tasks, for which Mameena declared she had no time, as her
+business was to look after me—she rested her shapely head upon my knees
+and began to talk in a low, sweet voice that sometimes broke into a
+sob.
+
+“Then I will tell you—I will tell you; yes, even if you hate me
+afterwards. I could teach you what love is very well, Macumazahn; you
+are quite right—because I love you.” (_Sob_.) “No, you shall not stir
+till you have heard me out.” Here she flung her arms about my legs and
+held them tight, so that without using great violence it was absolutely
+impossible for me to move. “When I saw you first, all shattered and
+senseless, snow seemed to fall upon my heart, and it stopped for a
+little while and has never been the same since. I think that something
+is growing in it, Macumazahn, that makes it big.” (_Sob_.) “I used to
+like Saduko before that, but afterwards I did not like him at all—no,
+nor Masapo either—you know, he is the big chief who lives over the
+mountain, a very rich and powerful man, who, I believe, would like to
+marry me. Well, as I went on nursing you my heart grew bigger and
+bigger, and now you see it has burst.” (_Sob_.) “Nay, stay still and do
+not try to speak. You _shall_ hear me out. It is the least you can do,
+seeing that you have caused me all this pain. If you did not want me to
+love you, why did you not curse at me and strike me, as I am told white
+men do to Kafir girls?” She rose and went on:
+
+“Now, hearken. Although I am the colour of copper, I am comely. I am
+well-bred also; there is no higher blood than ours in Zululand, both on
+my father’s and my mother’s side, and, Macumazahn, I have a fire in me
+that shows me things. I can be great, and I long for greatness. Take me
+to wife, Macumazahn, and I swear to you that in ten years I will make
+you king of the Zulus. Forget your pale white women and wed yourself to
+that fire which burns in me, and it shall eat up all that stands
+between you and the Crown, as flame eats up dry grass. More, I will
+make you happy. If you choose to take other wives, I will not be
+jealous, because I know that I should hold your spirit, and that,
+compared to me, they would be nothing in your thought—”
+
+“But, Mameena,” I broke in, “I don’t want to be king of the Zulus.”
+
+“Oh, yes, yes, you do, for every man wants power, and it is better to
+rule over a brave, black people—thousands and thousands of them—than to
+be no one among the whites. Think, think! There is wealth in the land.
+By your skill and knowledge the _amabuto_ [regiments] could be
+improved; with the wealth you would arm them with guns—yes, and
+‘by-and-byes’ also with the throat of thunder” (that is, or was, the
+Kafir name for cannon).[2] “They would be invincible. Chaka’s kingdom
+would be nothing to ours, for a hundred thousand warriors would sleep
+on their spears, waiting for your word. If you wished it even you could
+sweep out Natal and make the whites there your subjects, too. Or
+perhaps it would be safer to let them be, lest others should come
+across the green water to help them, and to strike northwards, where I
+am told there are great lands as rich and fair, in which none would
+dispute our sovereignty—”
+
+ [2] Cannon were called “by-and-byes” by the natives, because when
+ field-pieces first arrived in Natal inquisitive Kafirs pestered the
+ soldiers to show them how they were fired. The answer given was always
+ “By-and-bye!” Hence the name.—EDITOR.
+
+“But, Mameena,” I gasped, for this girl’s titanic ambition literally
+overwhelmed me, “surely you are mad! How would you do all these
+things?”
+
+“I am not mad,” she answered; “I am only what is called great, and you
+know well enough that I can do them, not by myself, who am but a woman
+and tied with the ropes that bind women, but with you to cut those
+ropes and help me. I have a plan which will not fail. But, Macumazahn,”
+she added in a changed voice, “until I know that you will be my partner
+in it I will not tell it even to you, for perhaps you might talk—in
+your sleep, and then the fire in my breast would soon go out—for ever.”
+
+“I might talk now, for the matter of that, Mameena.”
+
+“No; for men like you do not tell tales of foolish girls who chance to
+love them. But if that plan began to work, and you heard say that kings
+or princes died, it might be otherwise. You might say, ‘I think I know
+where the witch lives who causes these evils’—in your sleep,
+Macumazahn.”
+
+“Mameena,” I said, “tell me no more. Setting your dreams on one side,
+can I be false to my friend, Saduko, who talks to me day and night of
+you?”
+
+“Saduko! _Piff!_” she exclaimed, with that expressive gesture of her
+hand.
+
+“And can I be false,” I continued, seeing that Saduko was no good card
+to play, “to my friend, Umbezi, your father?”
+
+“My father!” she laughed. “Why, would it not please him to grow great
+in your shadow? Only yesterday he told me to marry you, if I could, for
+then he would find a stick indeed to lean on, and be rid of Saduko’s
+troubling.”
+
+Evidently Umbezi was a worse card even than Saduko, so I played
+another.
+
+“And can I help you, Mameena, to tread a road that at the best must be
+red with blood?”
+
+“Why not,” she asked, “since with or without you I am destined to tread
+that road, the only difference being that with you it will lead to
+glory and without you perhaps to the jackals and the vultures? Blood!
+_Piff!_ What is blood in Zululand?”
+
+This card also having failed, I tabled my last.
+
+“Glory or no glory, I do not wish to share it, Mameena. I will not make
+war among a people who have entertained me hospitably, or plot the
+downfall of their Great Ones. As you told me just now, I am nobody—just
+one grain of sand upon a white shore—but I had rather be that than a
+haunted rock which draws the heavens’ lightnings and is drenched with
+sacrifice. I seek no throne over white or black, Mameena, who walk my
+own path to a quiet grave that shall perhaps not be without honour of
+its own, though other than you seek. I will keep your counsel, Mameena,
+but, because you are so beautiful and so wise, and because you say you
+are fond of me—for which I thank you—I pray you put away these fearful
+dreams of yours that in the end, whether they succeed or fail, will
+send you shivering from the world to give account of them to the
+Watcher-on-high.”
+
+“Not so, O Macumazana,” she said, with a proud little laugh. “When your
+Watcher sowed my seed—if thus he did—he sowed the dreams that are a
+part of me also, and I shall only bring him back his own, with the
+flower and the fruit by way of interest. But that is finished. You
+refuse the greatness. Now, tell me, if I sink those dreams in a great
+water, tying about them the stone of forgetfulness and saying: ‘Sleep
+there, O dreams; it is not your hour’—if I do this, and stand before
+you just a woman who loves and who swears by the spirits of her fathers
+never to think or do that which has not your blessing—will you love me
+a little, Macumazahn?”
+
+Now I was silent, for she had driven me to the last ditch, and I knew
+not what to say. Moreover, I will confess my weakness—I was strangely
+moved. This beautiful girl with the “fire in her heart,” this woman who
+was different from all other women that I had ever known, seemed to
+have twisted her slender fingers into my heart-strings and to be
+drawing me towards her. It was a great temptation, and I bethought me
+of old Zikali’s saying in the Black Kloof, and seemed to hear his giant
+laugh.
+
+She glided up to me, she threw her arms about me and kissed me on the
+lips, and I think I kissed her back, but really I am not sure what I
+did or said, for my head swam. When it cleared again she was standing
+in front of me, looking at me reflectively.
+
+“Now, Macumazahn,” she said, with a little smile that both mocked and
+dazzled, “the poor black girl has you, the wise, experienced white man,
+in her net, and I will show you that she can be generous. Do you think
+that I do not read your heart, that I do not know that you believe I am
+dragging you down to shame and ruin? Well, I spare you, Macumazahn,
+since you have kissed me and spoken words which already you may have
+forgotten, but which I do not forget. Go your road, Macumazahn, and I
+go mine, since the proud white man shall not be stained with my black
+touch. Go your road; but one thing I forbid you—to believe that you
+have been listening to lies, and that I have merely played off a
+woman’s arts upon you for my own ends. I love you, Macumazahn, as you
+will never be loved till you die, and I shall never love any other man,
+however many I may marry. Moreover, you shall promise me one thing—that
+once in my life, and once only, if I wish it, you shall kiss me again
+before all men. And now, lest you should be moved to folly and forget
+your white man’s pride, I bid you farewell, O Macumazana. When we meet
+again it will be as friends only.”
+
+Then she went, leaving me feeling smaller than ever I felt in my life,
+before or since—even smaller than when I walked into the presence of
+old Zikali the Wise. Why, I wondered, had she first made a fool of me,
+and then thrown away the fruits of my folly? To this hour I cannot
+quite answer the question, though I believe the explanation to be that
+she did really care for me, and was anxious not to involve me in
+trouble and her plottings; also she may have been wise enough to see
+that our natures were as oil and water and would never blend.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter V.
+TWO BUCKS AND THE DOE
+
+
+It may be thought that, as a sequel to this somewhat remarkable scene
+in which I was absolutely bowled over—perhaps bowled out would be a
+better term—by a Kafir girl who, after bending me to her will, had the
+genius to drop me before I repented, as she knew I would do so soon as
+her back was turned, thereby making me look the worst of fools, that my
+relations with that young lady would have been strained. But not a bit
+of it. When next we met, which was on the following morning, she was
+just her easy, natural self, attending to my hurts, which by now were
+almost well, joking about this and that, inquiring as to the contents
+of certain letters which I had received from Natal, and of some
+newspapers that came with them—for on all such matters she was very
+curious—and so forth.
+
+Impossible, the clever critic will say—impossible that a savage could
+act with such finish. Well, friend critic, that is just where you are
+wrong. When you come to add it up there’s very little difference in all
+main and essential matters between the savage and yourself.
+
+To begin with, by what exact right do we call people like the Zulus
+savages? Setting aside the habit of polygamy, which, after all, is
+common among very highly civilised peoples in the East, they have a
+social system not unlike our own. They have, or had, their king, their
+nobles, and their commons. They have an ancient and elaborate law, and
+a system of morality in some ways as high as our own, and certainly
+more generally obeyed. They have their priests and their doctors; they
+are strictly upright, and observe the rites of hospitality.
+
+Where they differ from us mainly is that they do not get drunk until
+the white man teaches them so to do, they wear less clothing, the
+climate being more genial, their towns at night are not disgraced by
+the sights that distinguish ours, they cherish and are never cruel to
+their children, although they may occasionally put a deformed infant or
+a twin out of the way, and when they go to war, which is often, they
+carry out the business with a terrible thoroughness, almost as terrible
+as that which prevailed in every nation in Europe a few generations
+ago.
+
+Of course, there remain their witchcraft and the cruelties which result
+from their almost universal belief in the power and efficiency of
+magic. Well, since I lived in England I have been reading up this
+subject, and I find that quite recently similar cruelties were
+practised throughout Europe—that is in a part of the world which for
+over a thousand years has enjoyed the advantages of the knowledge and
+profession of the Christian faith.
+
+Now, let him who is highly cultured take up a stone to throw at the
+poor, untaught Zulu, which I notice the most dissolute and drunken
+wretch of a white man is often ready to do, generally because he covets
+his land, his labour, or whatever else may be his.
+
+But I wander from my point, which is that a clever man or woman among
+the people whom we call savages is in all essentials very much the same
+as a clever man or woman anywhere else.
+
+Here in England every child is educated at the expense of the Country,
+but I have not observed that the system results in the production of
+more really able individuals. Ability is the gift of Nature, and that
+universal mother sheds her favours impartially over all who breathe.
+No, not quite impartially, perhaps, for the old Greeks and others were
+examples to the contrary. Still, the general rule obtains.
+
+To return. Mameena was a very able person, as she chanced to be a very
+lovely one, a person who, had she been favoured by opportunity, would
+doubtless have played the part of a Cleopatra with equal or greater
+success, since she shared the beauty and the unscrupulousness of that
+famous lady and was, I believe, capable of her passion.
+
+I scarcely like to mention the matter since it affects myself, and the
+natural vanity of man makes him prone to conclude that he is the
+particular object of sole and undying devotion. Could he know all the
+facts of the case, or cases, probably he would be much undeceived, and
+feel about as small as I did when Mameena walked, or rather crawled,
+out of the hut (she could even crawl gracefully). Still, to be
+honest—and why should I not, since all this business “went beyond” so
+long ago?—I do believe that there was a certain amount of truth in what
+she said—that, for Heaven knows what reason, she did take a fancy to
+me, which fancy continued during her short and stormy life. But the
+reader of her story may judge for himself.
+
+Within a fortnight of the day of my discomfiture in the hut I was quite
+well and strong again, my ribs, or whatever part of me it was that the
+buffalo had injured with his iron knees, having mended up. Also, I was
+anxious to be going, having business to attend to in Natal, and, as no
+more had been seen or heard of Saduko, I determined to trek homewards,
+leaving a message that he knew where to find me if he wanted me. The
+truth is that I was by no means keen on being involved in his private
+war with Bangu. Indeed, I wished to wash my hands of the whole matter,
+including the fair Mameena and her mocking eyes.
+
+So one morning, having already got up my oxen, I told Scowl to inspan
+them—an order which he received with joy, for he and the other boys
+wished to be off to civilisation and its delights. Just as the
+operation was beginning, however, a message came to me from old Umbezi,
+who begged me to delay my departure till after noon, as a friend of
+his, a big chief, had come to visit him who wished much to have the
+honour of making my acquaintance. Now, I wished the big chief farther
+off, but, as it seemed rude to refuse the request of one who had been
+so kind to me, I ordered the oxen to be unyoked but kept at hand, and
+in an irritable frame of mind walked up to the kraal. This was about
+half a mile from my place of outspan, for as soon as I was sufficiently
+recovered I had begun to sleep in my wagon, leaving the big hut to the
+“Worn-out-Old-Cow.”
+
+There was no particular reason why I should be irritated, since time in
+those days was of no great account in Zululand, and it did not much
+matter to me whether I trekked in the morning or the afternoon. But the
+fact was that I could not get over the prophecy of Zikali, “the Little
+and Wise,” that I was destined to share Saduko’s expedition against
+Bangu, and, although he had been right about the buffalo and Mameena, I
+was determined to prove him wrong in this particular.
+
+If I had left the country, obviously I could not go against Bangu, at
+any rate at present. But while I remained in it Saduko might return at
+any moment, and then, doubtless, I should find it hard to escape from
+the kind of half-promise that I had given to him.
+
+Well, as soon as I reached the kraal I saw that some kind of festivity
+was in progress, for an ox had been killed and was being cooked, some
+of it in pots and some by roasting; also there were several strange
+Zulus present. Within the fence of the kraal, seated in its shadow, I
+found Umbezi and some of his headmen, and with them a great, brawny
+“ringed” native, who wore a tiger-skin moocha as a mark of rank, and
+some of _his_ headmen. Also Mameena was standing near the gate, dressed
+in her best beads and holding a gourd of Kafir beer which, evidently,
+she had just been handing to the guests.
+
+“Would you have run away without saying good-bye to me, Macumazahn?”
+she whispered to me as I came abreast of her. “That is unkind of you,
+and I should have wept much. However, it was not so fated.”
+
+“I was going to ride up and bid farewell when the oxen were inspanned,”
+I answered. “But who is that man?”
+
+“You will find out presently, Macumazahn. Look, my father is beckoning
+to us.”
+
+So I went on to the circle, and as I advanced Umbezi rose and, taking
+me by the hand, led me to the big man, saying:
+
+“This is Masapo, chief of the Amansomi, of the Quabe race, who desires
+to know you, Macumazahn.”
+
+“Very kind of him, I am sure,” I replied coolly, as I threw my eye over
+Masapo. He was, as I have said, a big man, and of about fifty years of
+age, for his hair was tinged with grey. To be frank, I took a great
+dislike to him at once, for there was something in his strong, coarse
+face, and his air of insolent pride, which repelled me. Then I was
+silent, since among the Zulus, when two strangers of more or less equal
+rank meet, he who speaks first acknowledges inferiority to the other.
+Therefore I stood and contemplated this new suitor of Mameena, waiting
+on events.
+
+Masapo also contemplated me, then made some remark to one of his
+attendants, that I did not catch, which caused the fellow to laugh.
+
+“He has heard that you are an _ipisi_” (a great hunter), broke in
+Umbezi, who evidently felt that the situation was growing strained, and
+that it was necessary to say something.
+
+“Has he?” I answered. “Then he is more fortunate than I am, for I have
+never heard of him or what he is.” This, I am sorry to say, was a fib,
+for it will be remembered that Mameena had mentioned him in the hut as
+one of her suitors, but among natives one must keep up one’s dignity
+somehow. “Friend Umbezi,” I went on, “I have come to bid you farewell,
+as I am about to trek for Durban.”
+
+At this juncture Masapo stretched out his great hand to me, but without
+rising, and said:
+
+“_Siyakubona_ [that is, good-day], White Man.”
+
+“_Siyakubona_, Black Man,” I answered, just touching his fingers, while
+Mameena, who had come up again with her beer, and was facing me, made a
+little grimace and tittered.
+
+Now I turned on my heel to go, whereon Masapo said in a coarse,
+growling voice:
+
+“O Macumazana, before you leave us I wish to speak with you on a
+certain matter. Will it please you to sit aside with me for a while?”
+
+“Certainly, O Masapo.” And I walked away a few yards out of hearing,
+whither he followed me.
+
+“Macumazahn,” he said (I give the gist of his remarks, for he did not
+come to the point at once), “I need guns, and I am told that you can
+provide them, being a trader.”
+
+“Yes, Masapo, I dare say that I can, at a price, though it is a risky
+business smuggling guns into Zululand. But might I ask what you need
+them for? is it to shoot elephants?”
+
+“Yes, to shoot elephants,” he replied, rolling his big eyes round him.
+“Macumazahn, I am told that you are discreet, that you do not shout
+from the top of a hut what you hear within it. Now, hearken to me. Our
+country is disturbed; we do not all of us love the seed of
+Senzangakona, of whom the present king, Panda, is one. For instance,
+you may know that we Quabies—for my tribe, the Amansomi, are of that
+race—suffered at the spear of Chaka. Well, we think that a time may
+come when we who live on shrubs like goats may again browse on
+tree-tops like giraffes, for Panda is no strong king, and he has sons
+who hate each other, one of whom may need our spears. Do you
+understand?”
+
+“I understand that you want guns, O Masapo,” I answered dryly. “Now, as
+to the price and place of delivery.”
+
+Then we bargained for a while, but the details of that business
+transaction of long ago will interest no one. Indeed, I only mention
+the matter to show that Masapo was plotting to bring trouble on the
+ruling house, whereof Panda was the representative at that time.
+
+When we had concluded our rather nefarious negotiations, which were to
+the effect that I was to receive so many cattle in return for so many
+guns, if I could deliver them at a certain spot, namely, Umbezi’s
+kraal, I returned to the circle where Umbezi, his followers and guests
+were sitting, purposing to bid him farewell. By now, however, meat had
+been served, and as I was hungry, having had little breakfast that
+morning, I stayed to eat. When I had finished my meal, and washed it
+down with a draught of _tshwala_ (that is, Kafir beer), I rose to go,
+but just at that moment who should walk through the gate but Saduko?
+
+“_Piff!_” said Mameena, who was standing near me, speaking in a voice
+that none but I could hear. “When two bucks meet, what happens,
+Macumazahn?”
+
+“Sometimes they fight and sometimes one runs away. It depends very much
+on the doe,” I answered in the same low voice, looking at her.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders, folded her arms beneath her breast, nodded
+to Saduko as he passed, then leaned gracefully against the fence and
+awaited events.
+
+“Greeting, Umbezi,” said Saduko in his proud manner. “I see that you
+feast. Am I welcome here?”
+
+“Of course you are always welcome, Saduko,” replied Umbezi uneasily,
+“although, as it happens, I am entertaining a great man.” And he looked
+towards Masapo.
+
+“I see,” said Saduko, eyeing the strangers. “But which of these may be
+the great man? I ask that I may salute him.”
+
+“You know well enough, _umfokazana_” (that is, low fellow), exclaimed
+Masapo angrily.
+
+“I know that if you were outside this fence, Masapo, I would cram that
+word down your throat at the point of my assegai,” replied Saduko in a
+fierce voice. “Oh, I can guess your business here, Masapo, and you can
+guess mine,” and he glanced towards Mameena. “Tell me, Umbezi, is this
+little chief of the Amansomi your daughter’s accepted suitor?”
+
+“Nay, nay, Saduko,” said Umbezi; “no one is her accepted suitor. Will
+you not sit down and take food with us? Tell us where you have been,
+and why you return here thus suddenly, and—uninvited?”
+
+“I return here, O Umbezi, to speak with the white chief, Macumazahn. As
+to where I have been, that is my affair, and not yours or Masapo’s.”
+
+“Now, if I were chief of this kraal,” said Masapo, “I would hunt out of
+it this hyena with a mangy coat and without a hole who comes to devour
+your meat and, perhaps,” he added with meaning, “to steal away your
+child.”
+
+“Did I not tell you, Macumazahn, that when two bucks met they would
+fight?” whispered Mameena suavely into my ear.
+
+“Yes, Mameena, you did—or rather I told you. But you did not tell me
+what the doe would do.”
+
+“The doe, Macumazahn, will crouch in her form and see what happens—as
+is the fashion of does,” and again she laughed softly.
+
+“Why not do your own hunting, Masapo?” asked Saduko. “Come, now, I will
+promise you good sport. Outside this kraal there are other hyenas
+waiting who call me chief—a hundred or two of them—assembled for a
+certain purpose by the royal leave of King Panda, whose House, as we
+all know, you hate. Come, leave that beef and beer and begin your
+hunting of hyenas, O Masapo.”
+
+Now Masapo sat silent, for he saw that he who thought to snare a baboon
+had caught a tiger.
+
+“You do not speak, O Chief of the little Amansomi,” went on Saduko, who
+was beside himself with rage and jealousy. “You will not leave your
+beef and beer to hunt the hyenas who are captained by an _umfokazana!_
+Well, then, the _umfokazana_ will speak,” and, stepping up to Masapo,
+with the spear he carried poised in his right hand, Saduko grasped his
+rival’s short beard with his left.
+
+“Listen, Chief,” he said. “You and I are enemies. You seek the woman I
+seek, and, mayhap, being rich, you will buy her. But if so, I tell you
+that I will kill you and all your House, you sneaking, half-bred dog!”
+
+With these fierce words he spat in his face and tumbled him backwards.
+Then, before anyone could stop him, for Umbezi, and even Masapo’s
+headmen, seemed paralysed with surprise, he stalked through the kraal
+gate, saying as he passed me:
+
+“_Inkoosi_, I have words for you when you are at liberty.”
+
+“You shall pay for this,” roared Umbezi after him, turning almost green
+with rage, for Masapo still lay upon his broad back, speechless, “you
+who dare to insult my guest in my own house.”
+
+“Somebody must pay,” cried back Saduko from the gate, “but who it is
+only the unborn moons will see.”
+
+“Mameena,” I said as I followed him, “you have set fire to the grass,
+and men will be burned in it.”
+
+“I meant to, Macumazahn,” she answered calmly. “Did I not tell you that
+there was a flame in me, and it will break out sometimes? But,
+Macumazahn, it is you who have set fire to the grass, not I. Remember
+that when half Zululand is in ashes. Farewell, O Macumazana, till we
+meet again, and,” she added softly, “whoever else must burn, may the
+spirits have _you_ in their keeping.”
+
+At the gate, remembering my manners, I turned to bid that company a
+polite farewell. By now Masapo had gained his feet, and was roaring out
+like a bull:
+
+“Kill him! Kill the hyena! Umbezi, will you sit still and see me, your
+guest—me, Masapo—struck and insulted under the shadow of your own hut?
+Go forth and kill him, I say!”
+
+“Why not kill him yourself, Masapo,” asked the agitated Umbezi, “or bid
+your headmen kill him? Who am I that I should take precedence of so
+great a chief in a matter of the spear?” Then he turned towards me,
+saying: “Oh, Macumazahn the crafty, if I have dealt well by you, come
+here and give me your counsel.”
+
+“I come, Eater-up-of-Elephants,” I answered, and I did.
+
+“What shall I do—what shall I do?” went on Umbezi, brushing the
+perspiration off his brow with one hand, while he wrung the other in
+his agitation. “There stands a friend of mine”—he pointed to the
+infuriated Masapo—“who wishes me to kill another friend of mine,” and
+he jerked his thumb towards the kraal gate. “If I refuse I offend one
+friend, and if I consent I bring blood upon my hands which will call
+for blood, since, although Saduko is poor, without doubt he has those
+who love him.”
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “and perhaps you will bring blood upon other parts
+of yourself besides your hands, since Saduko is not one to sit still
+like a sheep while his throat is cut. Also did he not say that he is
+not quite alone? Umbezi, if you will take my advice, you will leave
+Masapo to do his own killing.”
+
+“It is good; it is wise!” exclaimed Umbezi. “Masapo,” he called to that
+warrior, “if you wish to fight, pray do not think of me. I see nothing,
+I hear nothing, and I promise proper burial to any who fall. Only you
+had best be swift, for Saduko is walking away all this time. Come, you
+and your people have spears, and the gate stands open.”
+
+“Am I to go without my meat in order to knock that hyena on the head?”
+asked Masapo in a brave voice. “No, he can wait my leisure. Sit still,
+my people. I tell you, sit still. Tell him, you Macumazahn, that I am
+coming for him presently, and be warned to keep yourself away from him,
+lest you should tumble into his hole.”
+
+“I will tell him,” I answered, “though I know not who made me your
+messenger. But listen to me, you Speaker of big words and Doer of small
+deeds, if you dare to lift a finger against me I will teach you
+something about holes, for there shall be one or more through that
+great carcass of yours.”
+
+Then, walking up to him, I looked him in the face, and at the same time
+tapped the handle of the big double-barrelled pistol I carried.
+
+He shrank back muttering something.
+
+“Oh, don’t apologise,” I said, “only be more careful in future. And now
+I wish you a good dinner, Chief Masapo, and peace upon your kraal,
+friend Umbezi.”
+
+After this speech I marched off, followed by the clamour of Masapo’s
+furious attendants and the sound of Mameena’s light and mocking
+laughter.
+
+“I wonder which of them she will marry?” I thought to myself, as I set
+out for the wagons.
+
+As I approached my camp I saw that the oxen were being inspanned, as I
+supposed by the order of Scowl, who must have heard that there was a
+row up at the kraal, and thought it well to be ready to bolt. In this I
+was mistaken, however, for just then Saduko strolled out of a patch of
+bush and said:
+
+“I ordered your boys to yoke up the oxen, _Inkoosi_.”
+
+“Have you? That’s cool!” I answered. “Perhaps you will tell me why.”
+
+“Because we must make a good trek to the northward before night,
+_Inkoosi_.”
+
+“Indeed! I thought that I was heading south-east.”
+
+“Bangu does not live in the south or the east,” he replied slowly.
+
+“Oh, I had almost forgotten about Bangu,” I said, with a rather feeble
+attempt at evasion.
+
+“Is it so?” he answered in his haughty voice. “I never knew before that
+Macumazahn was a man who broke a promise to his friend.”
+
+“Would you be so kind as to explain your meaning, Saduko?”
+
+“Is it needful?” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Unless my ears
+played me tricks, you agreed to go up with me against Bangu. Well, I
+have gathered the necessary men—with the king’s leave—they await us
+yonder,” and he pointed with his spear towards a dense patch of bush
+that lay some miles beneath us. “But,” he added, “if you desire to
+change your mind I will go alone. Only then, I think, we had better bid
+each other good-bye, since I love not friends who change their minds
+when the assegais begin to shake.”
+
+Now, whether Saduko spoke thus by design I do not know. Certainly,
+however, he could have found no better way to ensure my companionship
+for what it was worth, since, although I had made no actual promise in
+this case, I have always prided myself on keeping even a half-bargain
+with a native.
+
+“I will go with you,” I said quietly, “and I hope that, when it comes
+to the pinch, your spear will be as sharp as your tongue, Saduko. Only
+do not speak to me again like that, lest we should quarrel.”
+
+As I said this I saw a look of relief appear on his face, of very great
+relief.
+
+“I pray your pardon, my lord Macumazahn,” he said, seizing my hand,
+“but, oh! there is a hole in my heart. I think that Mameena means to
+play me false, and now that has happened with yonder dog, Masapo, which
+will make her father hate me.”
+
+“If you will take my advice, Saduko,” I replied earnestly, “you will
+let this Mameena fall out of the hole in your heart; you will forget
+her name; you will have done with her. Ask me not why.”
+
+“Perhaps there is no need, O Macumazana. Perhaps she has been making
+love to you, and you have turned her away, as, being what you are, and
+my friend, of course you would do.” (It is rather inconvenient to be
+set upon such a pedestal at times, but I did not attempt to assent or
+to deny anything, much less to enter into explanations.)
+
+“Perhaps all this has happened,” he continued, “or perhaps it is she
+who has sent for Masapo the Hog. I do not ask, because if you know you
+will not tell me. Moreover, it matters nothing. While I have a heart,
+Mameena will never drop out of it; while I can remember names, hers
+will never be forgotten by me. Moreover, I mean that she shall be my
+wife. Now, I am minded to take a few men and spear this hog, Masapo,
+before we go up against Bangu, for then he, at any rate, will be out of
+my road.”
+
+“If you do anything of the sort, Saduko, you will go up against Bangu
+alone, for I trek east at once, who will not be mixed up with murder.”
+
+“Then let it be, _Inkoosi;_ unless he attacks me, as my Snake send that
+he may, the Hog can wait. After all, he will only be growing a little
+fatter. Now, if it pleases you order the wagons to trek. I will show
+the road, for we must camp in that bush to-night where my people wait
+me, and there I will tell you my plans; also you will find one with a
+message for you.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VI.
+THE AMBUSH
+
+
+We had reached the bush after six hours’ downhill trek over a pretty
+bad track made by cattle—of course, there were no roads in Zululand at
+this date. I remember the place well. It was a kind of spreading
+woodland on a flat bottom, where trees of no great size grew sparsely.
+Some were mimosa thorns, others had deep green leaves and bore a kind
+of plum with an acid taste and a huge stone, and others silver-coloured
+leaves in their season. A river, too, low at this time of the year,
+wound through it, and in the scrub upon its banks were many guinea-fowl
+and other birds. It was a pleasing, lonely place, with lots of game in
+it, that came here in the winter to eat the grass, which was lacking on
+the higher veld. Also it gave the idea of vastness, since wherever one
+looked there was nothing to be seen except a sea of trees.
+
+Well, we outspanned by the river, of which I forget the name, at a spot
+that Saduko showed us, and set to work to cook our food, that consisted
+of venison from a blue wildebeest, one of a herd of these wild-looking
+animals which I had been fortunate enough to shoot as they whisked past
+us, gambolling in and out between the trees.
+
+While we were eating I observed that armed Zulus arrived continually in
+parties of from six to a score of men, and as they arrived lifted their
+spears, though whether in salutation to Saduko or to myself I did not
+know, and sat themselves down on an open space between us and the
+river-bank. Although it was difficult to say whence they came, for they
+appeared like ghosts out of the bush, I thought it well to take no
+notice of them, since I guessed that their coming was prearranged.
+
+“Who are they?” I whispered to Scowl, as he brought me my tot of
+“squareface.”
+
+“Saduko’s wild men,” he answered in the same low voice, “outlaws of his
+tribe who live among the rocks.”
+
+Now I scanned them sideways, while pretending to light my pipe and so
+forth, and certainly they seemed a remarkably savage set of people.
+Great, gaunt fellows with tangled hair, who wore tattered skins upon
+their shoulders and seemed to have no possessions save some snuff, a
+few sleeping-mats, and an ample supply of large fighting shields,
+hardwood kerries or knob-sticks, and broad ixwas, or stabbing assegais.
+Such was the look of them as they sat round us in silent semicircles,
+like _aas-vögels_—as the Dutch call vultures—sit round a dying ox.
+
+Still I smoked on and took no notice.
+
+At length, as I expected, Saduko grew weary of my silence and spoke.
+“These are men of the Amangwane tribe, Macumazahn; three hundred of
+them, all that Bangu left alive, for when their fathers were killed,
+the women escaped with some of the children, especially those of the
+outlying kraals. I have gathered them to be revenged upon Bangu, I who
+am their chief by right of blood.”
+
+“Quite so,” I answered. “I see that you have gathered them; but do they
+wish to be revenged on Bangu at the risk of their own lives?”
+
+“We do, white _Inkoosi_,” came the deep-throated answer from the three
+hundred.
+
+“And do they acknowledge you, Saduko, to be their chief?”
+
+“We do,” again came the answer. Then a spokesman stepped forward, one
+of the few grey-haired men among them, for most of these Amangwane were
+of the age of Saduko, or even younger.
+
+“O Watcher-by-Night,” he said, “I am Tshoza, the brother of Matiwane,
+Saduko’s father, the only one of his brothers that escaped the
+slaughter on the night of the Great Killing. Is it not so?”
+
+“It is so,” exclaimed the serried ranks behind him.
+
+“I acknowledge Saduko as my chief, and so do we all,” went on Tshoza.
+
+“So do we all,” echoed the ranks.
+
+“Since Matiwane died we have lived as we could, O Macumazana; like
+baboons among the rocks, without cattle, often without a hut to shelter
+us; here one, there one. Still, we have lived, awaiting the hour of
+vengeance upon Bangu, that hour which Zikali the Wise, who is of our
+blood, has promised to us. Now we believe that it has come, and one and
+all, from here, from there, from everywhere, we have gathered at the
+summons of Saduko to be led against Bangu and to conquer him or to die.
+Is it not so, Amangwane?”
+
+“It is, it is so!” came the deep, unanimous answer, that caused the
+stirless leaves to shake in the still air.
+
+“I understand, O Tshoza, brother of Matiwane and uncle of Saduko the
+chief,” I replied. “But Bangu is a strong man, living, I am told, in a
+strong place. Still, let that go; for have you not said that you come
+out to conquer or to die, you who have nothing to lose; and if you
+conquer, you conquer; and if you die, you die and the tale is told. But
+supposing that you conquer. What will Panda, King of the Zulus, say to
+you, and to me also, who stir up war in his country?”
+
+Now the Amangwane looked behind them, and Saduko cried out:
+
+“Appear, messenger from Panda the King!”
+
+Before his words had ceased to echo I saw a little, withered man
+threading his way between the tall, gaunt forms of the Amangwane. He
+came and stood before me, saying:
+
+“Hail, Macumazahn. Do you remember me?”
+
+“Aye,” I answered, “I remember you as Maputa, one of Panda’s
+_indunas_.”
+
+“Quite so, Macumazahn; I am Maputa, one of his _indunas_, a member of
+his Council, a captain of his _impis_ [that is, armies], as I was to
+his brothers who are gone, whose names it is not lawful that I should
+name. Well, Panda the King has sent me to you, at the request of Saduko
+there, with a message.”
+
+“How do I know that you are a true messenger?” I asked. “Have you
+brought me any token?”
+
+“Aye,” he answered, and, fumbling under his cloak, he produced
+something wrapped in dried leaves, which he undid and handed to me,
+saying:
+
+“This is the token that Panda sends to you, Macumazahn, bidding me to
+tell you that you will certainly know it again; also that you are
+welcome to it, since the two little bullets which he swallowed as you
+directed made him very ill, and he needs no more of them.”
+
+I took the token, and, examining it in the moonlight, recognised it at
+once.
+
+It was a cardboard box of strong calomel pills, on the top of which was
+written: “Allan Quatermain, Esq.: One _only_ to be taken as directed.”
+Without entering into explanations, I may state that I had taken “one
+as directed,” and subsequently presented the rest of the box to King
+Panda, who was very anxious to “taste the white man’s medicine.”
+
+“Do you recognise the token, Macumazahn?” asked the _induna_.
+
+“Yes,” I replied gravely; “and let the King return thanks to the
+spirits of his ancestors that he did not swallow three of the balls,
+for if he had done so, by now there would have been another Head in
+Zululand. Well, speak on, Messenger.”
+
+But to myself I reflected, not for the first time, how strangely these
+natives could mix up the sublime with the ridiculous. Here was a matter
+that must involve the death of many men, and the token sent to me by
+the autocrat who stood at the back of it all, to prove the good faith
+of his messenger, was a box of calomel pills! However, it served the
+purpose as well as anything else.
+
+Maputa and I drew aside, for I saw that he wished to speak with me
+alone.
+
+“O Macumazana,” he said, when we were out of hearing of the others,
+“these are the words of Panda to you: ‘I understand that you,
+Macumazahn, have promised to accompany Saduko, son of Matiwane, on an
+expedition of his against Bangu, chief of the Amakoba. Now, were anyone
+else concerned, I should forbid this expedition, and especially should
+I forbid you, a white man in my country, to share therein. But this dog
+of a Bangu is an evil-doer. Many years ago he worked on the Black One
+who went before me to send him to destroy Matiwane, my friend, filling
+the Black One’s ears with false accusations; and thereafter he did
+treacherously destroy him and all his tribe save Saduko, his son, and
+some of the people and children who escaped. Moreover, of late he has
+been working against me, the King, striving to stir up rebellion
+against me, because he knows that I hate him for his crimes. Now I,
+Panda, unlike those who went before me, am a man of peace who do not
+wish to light the fire of civil war in the land, for who knows where
+such fires will stop, or whose kraals they will consume? Yet I do wish
+to see Bangu punished for his wickedness, and his pride abated.
+Therefore I give Saduko leave, and those people of the Amangwane who
+remain to him, to avenge their private wrongs upon Bangu if they can;
+and I give you leave, Macumazahn, to be of his party. Moreover, if any
+cattle are taken, I shall ask no account of them; you and Saduko may
+divide them as you wish. But understand, O Macumazana, that if you or
+your people are killed or wounded, or robbed of your goods, I know
+nothing of the matter, and am not responsible to you or to the white
+House of Natal; it is your own matter. These are my words. I have
+spoken.’”
+
+“I see,” I answered. “I am to pull Panda’s hot iron out of the fire and
+to extinguish the fire. If I succeed I may keep a piece of the iron
+when it gets cool, and if I burn my fingers it is my own fault, and I
+or my House must not come crying to Panda.”
+
+“O Watcher-by-Night, you have speared the bull in the heart,” replied
+Maputa, the messenger, nodding his shrewd old head. “Well, will you go
+up with Saduko?”
+
+“Say to the King, O Messenger, that I will go up with Saduko because I
+promised him that I would, being moved by the tale of his wrongs, and
+not for the sake of the cattle, although it is true that if I hear any
+of them lowing in my camp I may keep them. Say to Panda also that if
+aught of ill befalls me he shall hear nothing of it, nor will I bring
+his high name into this business; but that he, on his part, must not
+blame me for anything that may happen afterwards. Have you the
+message?”
+
+“I have it word for word; and may your Spirit be with you, Macumazahn,
+when you attack the strong mountain of Bangu, which, were I you,”
+Maputa added reflectively, “I think I should do just at the dawn, since
+the Amakoba drink much beer and are heavy sleepers.”
+
+Then we took a pinch of snuff together, and he departed at once for
+Nodwengu, Panda’s Great Place.
+
+Fourteen days had gone by, and Saduko and I, with our ragged band of
+Amangwane, sat one morning, after a long night march, in the hilly
+country looking across a broad vale, which was sprinkled with trees
+like an English park, at that mountain on the side of which Bangu,
+chief of the Amakoba, had his kraal.
+
+It was a very formidable mountain, and, as we had already observed, the
+paths leading up to the kraal were amply protected with stone walls in
+which the openings were quite narrow, only just big enough to allow one
+ox to pass through them at a time. Moreover, all these walls had been
+strengthened recently, perhaps because Bangu was aware that Panda
+looked upon him, a northern chief dwelling on the confines of his
+dominions, with suspicion and even active enmity, as he was also no
+doubt aware Panda had good cause to do.
+
+Here in a dense patch of bush that grew in a kloof of the hills we held
+a council of war.
+
+So far as we knew our advance had been unobserved, for I had left my
+wagons in the low veld thirty miles away, giving it out among the local
+natives that I was hunting game there, and bringing on with me only
+Scowl and four of my best hunters, all well-armed natives who could
+shoot. The three hundred Amangwane also had advanced in small parties,
+separated from each other, pretending to be Kafirs marching towards
+Delagoa Bay. Now, however, we had all met in this bush. Among our
+number were three Amangwane who, on the slaughter of their tribe, had
+fled with their mothers to this district and been brought up among the
+people of Bangu, but who at his summons had come back to Saduko. It was
+on these men that we relied at this juncture, for they alone knew the
+country. Long and anxiously did we consult with them. First they
+explained, and, so far as the moonlight would allow, for as yet the
+dawn had not broken, pointed out to us the various paths that led to
+Bangu’s kraal.
+
+“How many men are there in the town?” I asked.
+
+“About seven hundred who carry spears,” they answered, “together with
+others in outlying kraals. Moreover, watchmen are always set at the
+gateways in the walls.”
+
+“And where are the cattle?” I asked again.
+
+“Here, in the valley beneath, Macumazahn,” answered the spokesman. “If
+you listen you will hear them lowing. Fifty men, not less, watch them
+at night—two thousand head of them, or more.”
+
+“Then it would not be difficult to get round these cattle and drive
+them off, leaving Bangu to breed up a new herd?”
+
+“It might not be difficult,” interrupted Saduko, “but I came here to
+kill Bangu, as well as to seize his cattle, since with him I have a
+blood feud.”
+
+“Very good,” I answered; “but that mountain cannot be stormed with
+three hundred men, fortified as it is with walls and schanzes. Our band
+would be destroyed before ever we came to the kraal, since, owing to
+the sentries who are set everywhere, it would be impossible to surprise
+the place. Also you have forgotten the dogs, Saduko. Moreover, even if
+it were possible, I will have nothing to do with the massacre of women
+and children, which must happen in an assault. Now, listen to me, O
+Saduko. I say let us leave the kraal of Bangu alone, and this coming
+night send fifty of our men, under the leadership of the guides, down
+to yonder bush, where they will lie hid. Then, after moonrise, when all
+are asleep, these fifty must rush the cattle kraal, killing any who may
+oppose them, should they be seen, and driving the herd out through
+yonder great pass by which we have entered the land. Bangu and his
+people, thinking that those who have taken the cattle are but common
+thieves of some wild tribe, will gather and follow the beasts to
+recapture them. But we, with the rest of the Amangwane, can set an
+ambush in the narrowest part of the pass among the rocks, where the
+grass is high and the euphorbia trees grow thick, and there, when they
+have passed the Nek, which I and my hunters will hold with our guns, we
+will give them battle. What say you?”
+
+Now, Saduko answered that he would rather attack the kraal, which he
+wished to burn. But the old Amangwane, Tshoza, brother of the dead
+Matiwane, said:
+
+“No, Macumazahn, Watcher-by-Night, is wise. Why should we waste our
+strength on stone walls, of which none know the number or can find the
+gates in the darkness, and thereby leave our skulls to be set up as
+ornaments on the fences of the accursed Amakoba? Let us draw the
+Amakoba out into the pass of the mountains, where they have no walls to
+protect them, and there fall on them when they are bewildered and
+settle the matter with them man to man. As for the women and children,
+with Macumazahn I say let them go; afterwards, perhaps, they will
+become _our_ women and children.”
+
+“Aye,” answered the Amangwane, “the plan of the white _Inkoosi_ is
+good; he is clever as a weasel; we will have his plan and no other.”
+
+So Saduko was overruled and my counsel adopted.
+
+All that day we rested, lighting no fires and remaining still as the
+dead in the dense bush. It was a very anxious day, for although the
+place was so wild and lonely, there was always the fear lest we should
+be discovered. It was true that we had travelled mostly by night in
+small parties, to avoid leaving a spoor, and avoided all kraals; still,
+some rumour of our approach might have reached the Amakoba, or a party
+of hunters might stumble on us, or those who sought for lost cattle.
+
+Indeed, something of this sort did happen, for about midday we heard a
+footfall, and perceived the figure of a man, whom by his head-dress we
+knew for an Amakoba, threading his way through the bush. Before he saw
+us he was in our midst. For a moment he hesitated ere he turned to fly,
+and that moment was his last, for three of the Amangwane leapt on him
+silently as leopards leap upon a buck, and where he stood there he
+died. Poor fellow! Evidently he had been on a visit to some
+witch-doctor, for in his blanket we found medicine and love charms.
+This doctor cannot have been one of the stamp of Zikali the Dwarf, I
+thought to myself; at least, he had not warned him that he would never
+live to dose his beloved with that foolish medicine.
+
+Meanwhile a few of us who had the quickest eyes climbed trees, and
+thence watched the town of Bangu and the valley that lay between us and
+it. Soon we saw that so far, at any rate, Fortune was playing into our
+hands, since herd after herd of kine were driven into the valley during
+the afternoon and enclosed in the stock-kraals. Doubtless Bangu
+intended on the morrow to make his half-yearly inspection of all the
+cattle of the tribe, many of which were herded at a distance from his
+town.
+
+At length the long day drew to its close and the shadows of the evening
+thickened. Then we made ready for our dreadful game, of which the stake
+was the lives of all of us, since, should we fail, we could expect no
+mercy. The fifty picked men were gathered and ate food in silence.
+These men were placed under the command of Tshoza, for he was the most
+experienced of the Amangwane, and led by the three guides who had dwelt
+among the Amakoba, and who “knew every ant-heap in the land,” or so
+they swore. Their duty, it will be remembered, was to cross the valley,
+separate themselves into small parties, unbar the various cattle
+kraals, kill or hunt off the herdsmen, and drive the beasts back across
+the valley into the pass. A second fifty men, under the command of
+Saduko, were to be left just at the end of this pass where it opened
+out into the valley, in order to help and reinforce the cattle-lifters,
+or, if need be, to check the following Amakoba while the great herds of
+beasts were got away, and then fall back on the rest of us in our
+ambush nearly two miles distant. The management of this ambush was to
+be my charge—a heavy one indeed.
+
+Now, the moon would not be up till midnight. But two hours before that
+time we began our moves, since the cattle must be driven out of the
+kraals as soon as she appeared and gave the needful light. Otherwise
+the fight in the pass would in all probability be delayed till after
+sunrise, when the Amakoba would see how small was the number of their
+foes. Terror, doubt, darkness—these must be our allies if our desperate
+venture was to succeed.
+
+All was arranged at last and the time had come. We, the three captains
+of our divided force, bade each other farewell, and passed the word
+down the ranks that, should we be separated by the accidents of war, my
+wagons were the meeting-place of any who survived.
+
+Tshoza and his fifty glided away into the shadow silently as ghosts and
+were gone. Presently the fierce-faced Saduko departed also with his
+fifty. He carried the double-barrelled gun I had given him, and was
+accompanied by one of my best hunters, a Natal native, who was also
+armed with a heavy smooth-bore loaded with slugs. Our hope was that the
+sound of these guns might terrify the foe, should there be occasion to
+use them before our forces joined up again, and make them think they
+had to do with a body of raiding Dutch white men, of whose _roers_—as
+the heavy elephant guns of that day were called—all natives were much
+afraid.
+
+So Saduko went with his fifty, leaving me wondering whether I should
+ever see his face again. Then I, my bearer Scowl, the two remaining
+hunters, and the ten score Amangwane who were left turned and soon were
+following the road by which we had come down the rugged pass. I call it
+a road, but, in fact, it was nothing but a water-washed gully strewn
+with boulders, through which we must pick our way as best we could in
+the darkness, having first removed the percussion cap from the nipple
+of every gun, for fear lest the accidental discharge of one of them
+should warn the Amakoba, confuse our other parties, and bring all our
+deep-laid plans to nothing.
+
+Well, we accomplished that march somehow, walking in three long lines,
+so that each man might keep touch with him in front, and just as the
+moon began to rise reached the spot that I had chosen for the ambush.
+
+Certainly it was well suited to that purpose. Here the track or gully
+bed narrowed to a width of not more than a hundred feet, while the
+steep slopes of the kloof on either side were clothed with scattered
+bushes and finger-like euphorbias which grew among stones. Behind these
+stones and bushes we hid ourselves, a hundred men on one side and a
+hundred on the other, whilst I and my three hunters, who were armed
+with guns, took up a position under shelter of a great boulder nearly
+five feet thick that lay but a little to the right of the gully itself,
+up which we expected the cattle would come. This place I chose for two
+reasons: first, that I might keep touch with both wings of my force,
+and, secondly, that we might be able to fire straight down the path on
+the pursuing Amakoba.
+
+These were the orders that I gave to the Amangwane, warning them that
+he who disobeyed would be punished with death. They were not to stir
+until I, or, if I should be killed, one of my hunters, fired a shot;
+for my fear was lest, growing excited, they might leap out before the
+time and kill some of our own people, who very likely would be mixed up
+with the first of the pursuing Amakoba. Secondly, when the cattle had
+passed and the signal had been given, they were to rush on the Amakoba,
+throwing themselves across the gully, so that the enemy would have to
+fight upwards on a steep slope.
+
+That was all I told them, since it is not wise to confuse natives by
+giving too many orders. One thing I added, however—that they must
+conquer or they must die. There was no mercy for them; it was a case of
+death or victory. Their spokesman—for these people always find a
+spokesman—answered that they thanked me for my advice; that they
+understood, and that they would do their best. Then they lifted their
+spears to me in salute. A wild lot of men they looked in the moonlight
+as they departed to take shelter behind the rocks and trees and wait.
+
+That waiting was long, and I confess that before the end it got upon my
+nerves. I began to think of all sorts of things, such as whether I
+should live to see the sun rise again; also I reflected upon the
+legitimacy of this remarkable enterprise. What right had I to involve
+myself in a quarrel between these savages?
+
+Why had I come here? To gain cattle as a trader? No, for I was not at
+all sure that I would take them if gained. Because Saduko had twitted
+me with faithlessness to my words? Yes, to a certain extent; but that
+was by no means the whole reason. I had been moved by the recital of
+the cruel wrongs inflicted upon Saduko and his tribe by this Bangu, and
+therefore had not been loath to associate myself with his attempted
+vengeance upon a wicked murderer. Well, that was sound enough so far as
+it went; but now a new consideration suggested itself to me. Those
+wrongs had been worked many years ago; probably most of the men who had
+aided and abetted them by now were dead or very aged, and it was their
+sons upon whom the vengeance would be wreaked.
+
+What right had I to assist in visiting the sins of the fathers upon the
+sons? Frankly I could not say. The thing seemed to me to be a part of
+the problem of life, neither less nor more. So I shrugged my shoulders
+sadly and consoled myself by reflecting that very likely the issue
+would go against me, and that my own existence would pay the price of
+the venture and expound its moral. This consideration soothed my
+conscience somewhat, for when a man backs his actions with the risk of
+his life, right or wrong, at any rate he plays no coward’s part.
+
+The time went by very slowly and nothing happened. The waning moon
+shone brightly in a clear sky, and as there was no wind the silence
+seemed peculiarly intense. Save for the laugh of an occasional hyena
+and now and again for a sound which I took for the coughing of a
+distant lion, there was no stir between sleeping earth and moonlit
+heaven in which little clouds floated beneath the pale stars.
+
+At length I thought that I heard a noise, a kind of murmur far away. It
+grew, it developed.
+
+It sounded like a thousand sticks tapping upon something hard, very
+faintly. It continued to grow, and I knew the sound for that of the
+beating hoofs of animals galloping. Then there were isolated noises,
+very faint and thin; they might be shouts; then something that I could
+not mistake—shots fired at a distance. So the business was afoot; the
+cattle were moving, Saduko and my hunter were firing. There was nothing
+for it but to wait.
+
+The excitement was very fierce; it seemed to consume me, to eat into my
+brain. The sound of the tapping upon the rocks grew louder until it
+merged into a kind of rumble, mixed with an echo as of that of very
+distant thunder, which presently I knew to be not thunder, but the
+bellowing of a thousand frightened beasts.
+
+Nearer and nearer came the galloping hoofs and the rumble of
+bellowings; nearer and nearer the shouts of men, affronting the
+stillness of the solemn night. At length a single animal appeared, a
+koodoo buck that somehow had got mixed up with the cattle. It went past
+us like a flash, and was followed a minute or so later by a bull that,
+being young and light, had outrun its companions. That, too, went by,
+foam on its lips and its tongue hanging from its jaws.
+
+Then the herd appeared—a countless herd it seemed to me—plunging up the
+incline—cows, heifers, calves, bulls, and oxen, all mixed together in
+one inextricable mass, and every one of them snorting, bellowing, or
+making some other kind of sound. The din was fearful, the sight
+bewildering, for the beasts were of all colours, and their long horns
+flashed like ivory in the moonlight. Indeed, the only thing in the
+least like it which I have ever seen was the rush of the buffaloes from
+the reed camp on that day when I got my injury.
+
+They were streaming past us now, a mighty and moving mass so closely
+packed that a man might have walked upon their backs. In fact, some of
+the calves which had been thrust up by the pressure were being carried
+along in this fashion. Glad was I that none of us were in their path,
+for their advance seemed irresistible. No fence or wall could have
+saved us, and even stout trees that grew in the gully were snapped or
+thrust over.
+
+At length the long line began to thin, for now it was composed of
+stragglers and weak or injured beasts, of which there were many. Other
+sounds, too, began to dominate the bellowings of the animals, those of
+the excited cries of men. The first of our companions, the
+cattle-lifters, appeared, weary and gasping, but waving their spears in
+triumph. Among them was old Tshoza. I stepped upon my rock, calling to
+him by name. He heard me, and presently was lying at my side panting.
+
+“We have got them all!” he gasped. “Not a hoof is left save those that
+are trodden down. Saduko is not far behind with the rest of our
+brothers, except some that have been killed. All the Amakoba tribe are
+after us. He holds them back to give the cattle time to get away.”
+
+“Well done!” I answered. “It is very good. Now make your men hide among
+the others that they may find their breath before the fight.”
+
+So he stopped them as they came. Scarcely had the last of them vanished
+into the bushes when the gathering volume of shouts, amongst which I
+heard a gun go off, told us that Saduko and his band and the pursuing
+Amakoba were not far away. Presently they, too, appeared—that is the
+handful of Amangwane did—not fighting now, but running as hard as they
+could, for they knew they were approaching the ambush and wished to
+pass it so as not to be mixed up with the Amakoba. We let them go
+through us. Among the last of them came Saduko, who was wounded, for
+the blood ran down his side, supporting my hunter, who was also
+wounded, more severely as I feared.
+
+I called to him.
+
+“Saduko,” I said, “halt at the crest of the path and rest there so that
+you may be able to help us presently.”
+
+He waved the gun in answer, for he was too breathless to speak, and
+went on with those who were left of his following—perhaps thirty men in
+all—in the track of the cattle. Before he was out of sight the Amakoba
+arrived, a mob of five or six hundred men mixed up together and
+advancing without order or discipline, for they seemed to have lost
+their heads as well as their cattle. Some of them had shields and some
+had none, some broad and some throwing assegais, while many were quite
+naked, not having stayed to put on their moochas and much less their
+war finery. Evidently they were mad with rage, for the sounds that
+issued from them seemed to concentrate into one mighty curse.
+
+The moment had come, though to tell the truth I heartily wished that it
+had not. I wasn’t exactly afraid, although I never set up for great
+courage, but I did not quite like the business. After all we were
+stealing these people’s cattle, and now were going to kill as many of
+them as we could. I had to recall Saduko’s dreadful story of the
+massacre of his tribe before I could make up my mind to give the
+signal. That hardened me, and so did the reflection that after all they
+outnumbered us enormously and very likely would prove victors in the
+end. Anyhow it was too late to repent. What a tricky and uncomfortable
+thing is conscience, that nearly always begins to trouble us at the
+moment of, or after, the event, not before, when it might be of some
+use.
+
+I raised myself upon the rock and fired both barrels of my gun into the
+advancing horde, though whether I killed anyone or no I cannot say. I
+have always hoped that I did not; but as the mark was large and I am a
+fair shot, I fear that is scarcely possible. Next moment, with a howl
+that sounded like that of wild beasts, from either side of the gorge
+the fierce Amangwane free-spears—for that is what they were—leapt out
+of their hiding-places and hurled themselves upon their hereditary
+foes. They were fighting for more than cattle; they were fighting for
+hate and for revenge since these Amakoba had slaughtered their fathers
+and their mothers, their sisters and their brothers, and they alone
+remained to pay them back blood for blood.
+
+Great heaven! how they did fight, more like devils than human beings.
+After that first howl which shaped itself to the word “Saduko,” they
+were silent as bulldogs. Though they were so few, at first their
+terrible rush drove back the Amakoba. Then, as these recovered from
+their surprise, the weight of numbers began to tell, for they, too,
+were brave men who did not give way to panic. Scores of them went down
+at once, but the remainder pushed the Amangwane before them up the
+hill. I took little share in the fight, but was thrust backward with
+the others, only firing when I was obliged to save my own life. Foot by
+foot we were pushed back till at length we drew near to the crest of
+the pass.
+
+Then, while the issue hung in the balance, there was another shout of
+“Saduko!” and that chief himself, followed by his thirty, rushed upon
+the Amakoba.
+
+This charge decided the battle, for not knowing how many more were
+coming, those who were left of the Amakoba turned and fled, nor did we
+pursue them far.
+
+We mustered on the hill-top, not more than two hundred of us now, the
+rest were fallen or desperately wounded, my poor hunter, whom I had
+lent to Saduko, being among the dead. Although wounded, he died
+fighting to the last, then fell down, shouting to me:
+
+“Chief, have I done well?” and expired.
+
+I was breathless and spent, but as in a dream I saw some Amangwane drag
+up a gaunt old savage, crying:
+
+“Here is Bangu, Bangu the Butcher, whom we have caught alive.”
+
+Saduko stepped up to him.
+
+“Ah! Bangu,” he said, “now say, why should I not kill you as you would
+have killed the little lad Saduko long ago, had not Zikali saved him?
+See, here is the mark of your spear.”
+
+“Kill,” said Bangu. “Your Spirit is stronger than mine. Did not Zikali
+foretell it? Kill, Saduko.”
+
+“Nay,” answered Saduko. “If you are weary I am weary, too, and wounded
+as well. Take a spear, Bangu, and we will fight.”
+
+So they fought there in the moonlight, man to man; fought fiercely
+while all watched, till presently I saw Bangu throw his arms wide and
+fall backwards.
+
+Saduko was avenged. I have always been glad that he slew his enemy
+thus, and not as it might have been expected that he would do.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VII.
+SADUKO BRINGS THE MARRIAGE GIFT
+
+
+We reached my wagons in the early morning of the following day,
+bringing with us the cattle and our wounded. Thus encumbered it was a
+most toilsome march, and an anxious one also, for it was always
+possible that the remnant of the Amakoba might attempt pursuit. This,
+however, they did not do, for very many of them were dead or wounded,
+and those who remained had no heart left in them. They went back to
+their mountain home and lived there in shame and wretchedness, for I do
+not believe there were fifty head of cattle left among the tribe, and
+Kafirs without cattle are nothing. Still, they did not starve, since
+there were plenty of women to work the fields, and we had not touched
+their corn. The end of them was that Panda gave them to their
+conqueror, Saduko, and he incorporated them with the Amangwane. But
+that did not happen until some time afterwards.
+
+When we had rested a while at the wagons the captured beasts were
+mustered, and on being counted were found to number a little over
+twelve hundred head, not reckoning animals that had been badly hurt in
+the flight, which we killed for beef. It was a noble prize, truly, and,
+notwithstanding the wound in his thigh, which hurt him a good deal now
+that it had stiffened, Saduko stood up and surveyed them with
+glistening eyes. No wonder, for he who had been so poor was now rich,
+and would remain so even after he had paid over whatever number of cows
+Umbezi chose to demand as the price of Mameena’s hand. Moreover, he was
+sure, and I shared his confidence, that in these changed circumstances
+both that young woman and her father would look upon his suit with very
+favourable eyes. He had, so to speak, succeeded to the title and the
+family estates by means of a lawsuit brought in the “Court of the
+Assegai,” and therefore there was hardly a father in Zululand who would
+shut his kraal gate upon him. We forgot, both of us, the proverb that
+points out how numerous are the slips between the cup and the lip,
+which, by the way, is one that has its Zulu equivalents. One of them,
+if I remember right at the moment, is: “However loud the hen cackles,
+the housewife does not always get the egg.”
+
+As it chanced, although Saduko’s hen was cackling very loudly just at
+this time, he was not destined to find the coveted egg. But of that
+matter I will speak in its place.
+
+I, too, looked at those cattle, wondering whether Saduko would remember
+our bargain, under which some six hundred head of them belonged to me.
+Six hundred head! Why, putting them at £5 apiece all round—and as oxen
+were very scarce just at that time, they were worth quite as much, if
+not more—that meant £3,000, a larger sum of money than I had ever owned
+at one time in all my life. Truly the paths of violence were
+profitable! But would he remember? On the whole I thought probably not,
+since Kafirs are not fond of parting with cattle.
+
+Well, I did him an injustice, for presently he turned and said, with
+something of an effort:
+
+“Macumazahn, half of all these belong to you, and truly you have earned
+them, for it was your cunning and good counsel that gained us the
+victory. Now we will choose them beast by beast.”
+
+So I chose a fine ox, then Saduko chose one; and so it went on till I
+had eight of my number driven out. As the eighth was taken I turned to
+Saduko and said:
+
+“There, that will do. These oxen I must have to replace those in my
+teams which died on the trek, but I want no more.”
+
+“_Wow!_” said Saduko, and all those who stood with him, while one of
+them added—I think it was old Tshoza:
+
+“He refuses six hundred cattle which are fairly his! He must be mad!”
+
+“No friends,” I answered, “I am not mad, but neither am I bad. I
+accompanied Saduko on this raid because he is dear to me and stood by
+me once in the hour of danger. But I do not love killing men with whom
+I have no quarrel, and I will not take the price of blood.”
+
+“_Wow!_” said old Tshoza again, for Saduko seemed too astonished to
+speak, “he is a spirit, not a man. He is _holy!_”
+
+“Not a bit of it,” I answered. “If you think that, ask Mameena”—a dark
+saying which they did not understand. “Now, listen. I will not take
+those cattle because I do not think as you Kafirs think. But as they
+are mine, according to your law, I am going to dispose of them. I give
+ten head to each of my hunters, and fifteen head to the relations of
+him who was killed. The rest I give to Tshoza and to the other men of
+the Amangwane who fought with us, to be divided among them in such
+proportions as they may agree, I being the judge in the event of any
+quarrel arising.”
+
+Now these men raised a great cry of “_Inkoosi!_” and, running up, old
+Tshoza seized my hand and kissed it.
+
+“Your heart is big,” he cried; “you drop fatness! Although you are so
+small, the spirit of a king lives in you, and the wisdom of the
+heavens.”
+
+Thus he praised me, while all the others joined in, till the din was
+awful. Saduko thanked me also in his magnificent manner. Yet I do not
+think that he was altogether pleased, although my great gift relieved
+him from the necessity of sharing up the spoil with his companions. The
+truth was, or so I believe, that he understood that henceforth the
+Amangwane would love me better than they loved him. This, indeed,
+proved to be the case, for I am sure that there was no man among all
+those wild fellows who would not have served me to the death, and to
+this day my name is a power among them and their descendants. Also it
+has grown into something of a proverb among all those Kafirs who know
+the story. They talk of any great act of liberality in an idiom as “a
+gift of Macumazana,” and in the same way of one who makes any
+remarkable renunciation, as “a wearer of Macumazana’s blanket,” or as
+“he who has stolen Macumazana’s shadow.”
+
+Thus did I earn a great reputation very cheaply, for really I could not
+have taken those cattle; also I am sure that had I done so they would
+have brought me bad luck. Indeed, one of the regrets of my life is that
+I had anything whatsoever to do with the business.
+
+Our journey back to Umbezi’s kraal—for thither we were heading—was very
+slow, hampered as we were with wounded and by a vast herd of cattle. Of
+the latter, indeed, we got rid after a while, for, except those which I
+had given to my men, and a hundred or so of the best beasts that Saduko
+took with him for a certain purpose, they were sent away to a place
+which he had chosen, in charge of about half of his people, under the
+command of his uncle, Tshoza, there to await his coming.
+
+Over a month had gone by since the night of the ambush when at last we
+outspanned quite close to Umbezi’s, in that bush where first I had met
+the Amangwane free-spears. A very different set of men they looked on
+this triumphant day to those fierce fellows who had slipped out of the
+trees at the call of their chief. As we went through the country Saduko
+had bought fine moochas and blankets for them; also head-dresses had
+been made with the long black feathers of the _sakabuli_ finch, and
+shields and leglets of the hides and tails of oxen. Moreover, having
+fed plentifully and travelled easily, they were fat and well-favoured,
+as, given good food, natives soon become after a period of abstinence.
+
+The plan of Saduko was to lie quiet in the bush that night, and on the
+following morning to advance in all his grandeur, accompanied by his
+spears, present the hundred head of cattle that had been demanded, and
+formally ask his daughter’s hand from Umbezi. As the reader may have
+gathered already, there was a certain histrionic vein in Saduko; also
+when he was in feather he liked to show off his plumage.
+
+Well, this plan was carried out to the letter. On the following
+morning, after the sun was well up, Saduko, as a great chief does, sent
+forward two bedizened heralds to announce his approach to Umbezi, after
+whom followed two other men to sing his deeds and praises. (By the way,
+I observed that they had clearly been instructed to avoid any mention
+of a person called Macumazahn.) Then we advanced in force. First went
+Saduko, splendidly apparelled as a chief, carrying a small assegai and
+adorned with plumes, leglets and a leopard-skin kilt. He was attended
+by about half a dozen of the best-looking of his followers, who posed
+as _indunas_ or councillors. Behind these I walked, a dusty,
+insignificant little fellow, attended by the ugly, snub-nosed Scowl in
+a very greasy pair of trousers, worn-out European boots through which
+his toes peeped, and nothing else, and by my three surviving hunters,
+whose appearance was even more disreputable. After us marched about
+four score of the transformed Amangwane, and after them came the
+hundred picked cattle driven by a few herdsmen.
+
+In due course we arrived at the gate of the kraal, where we found the
+heralds and the praisers prancing and shouting.
+
+“Have you seen Umbezi?” asked Saduko of them.
+
+“No,” they answered; “he was asleep when we got here, but his people
+say that he is coming out presently.”
+
+“Then tell his people that he had better be quick about it, or I shall
+turn him out,” replied the proud Saduko.
+
+Just at this moment the kraal gate opened and through it appeared
+Umbezi, looking extremely fat and foolish; also, it struck me,
+frightened, although this he tried to conceal.
+
+“Who visits me here,” he said, “with so much—um—ceremony?” and with the
+carved dancing-stick he carried he pointed doubtfully at the lines of
+armed men. “Oh, it is you, is it, Saduko?” and he looked him up and
+down, adding: “How grand you are to be sure. Have you been robbing
+anybody? And you, too, Macumazahn. Well, _you_ do not look grand. You
+look like an old cow that has been suckling two calves on the winter
+veld. But tell me, what are all these warriors for? I ask because I
+have not food for so many, especially as we have just had a feast
+here.”
+
+“Fear nothing, Umbezi,” answered Saduko in his grandest manner. “I have
+brought food for my own men. As for my business, it is simple. You
+asked a hundred head of cattle as the _lobola_ [that is, the marriage
+gift] of your daughter, Mameena. They are there. Go send your servants
+to the kraal and count them.”
+
+“Oh, with pleasure,” Umbezi replied nervously, and he gave some orders
+to certain men behind him. “I am glad to see that you have become rich
+in this sudden fashion, Saduko, though how you have done so I cannot
+understand.”
+
+“Never mind how I have become rich,” answered Saduko. “I _am_ rich;
+that is enough for the present. Be pleased to send for Mameena, for I
+would talk with her.”
+
+“Yes, yes, Saduko, I understand that you would talk with Mameena;
+but”—and he looked round him desperately—“I fear that she is still
+asleep. As you know, Mameena was always a late riser, and, what is
+more, she hates to be disturbed. Don’t you think that you could come
+back, say, to-morrow morning? She will be sure to be up by then; or,
+better still, the day after?”
+
+“In which hut is Mameena?” asked Saduko sternly, while I, smelling a
+rat, began to chuckle to myself.
+
+“I really do not know, Saduko,” replied Umbezi. “Sometimes she sleeps
+in one, sometimes in another, and sometimes she goes several hours’
+journey away to her aunt’s kraal for a change. I should not be in the
+least surprised if she had done so last night. I have no control over
+Mameena.”
+
+Before Saduko could answer, a shrill, rasping voice broke upon our
+ears, which after some search I saw proceeded from an ugly and ancient
+female seated in the shadow, in whom I recognised the lady who was
+known by the pleasing name of “Worn-out-Old-Cow.”
+
+“He lies!” screeched the voice. “He lies. Thanks be to the spirit of my
+ancestors that wild cat Mameena has left this kraal for good. She slept
+last night, not with her aunt, but with her husband, Masapo, to whom
+Umbezi gave her in marriage two days ago, receiving in payment a
+hundred and twenty head of cattle, which was twenty more than _you_
+bid, Saduko.”
+
+Now when Saduko heard these words I thought that he would really go mad
+with rage. He turned quite grey under his dark skin and for a while
+trembled like a leaf, looking as though he were about to fall to the
+ground. Then he leapt as a lion leaps, and seizing Umbezi by the
+throat, hurled him backwards, standing over him with raised spear.
+
+“You dog!” he cried in a terrible voice. “Tell me the truth or I will
+rip you up. What have you done with Mameena?”
+
+“Oh! Saduko,” answered Umbezi in choking tones, “Mameena has chosen to
+get married. It was no fault of mine; she would have her way.”
+
+He got no farther, and had I not intervened by throwing my arms about
+Saduko and dragging him back, that moment would have been Umbezi’s
+last, for Saduko was about to pin him to the earth with his spear. As
+it proved, I was just in time, and Saduko, being weak with emotion, for
+I felt his heart going like a sledge-hammer, could not break from my
+grasp before his reason returned to him.
+
+At length he recovered himself a little and threw down his spear as
+though to put himself out of temptation. Then he spoke, always in the
+same terrible voice, asking:
+
+“Have you more to say about this business, Umbezi? I would hear all
+before I answer you.”
+
+“Only this, Saduko,” replied Umbezi, who had risen to his feet and was
+shaking like a reed. “I did no more than any other father would have
+done. Masapo is a very powerful chief, one who will be a good stick for
+me to lean on in my old age. Mameena declared that she wished to marry
+him—”
+
+“He lies!” screeched the “Old Cow.” “What Mameena said was that she had
+no will towards marriage with any Zulu in the land, so I suppose she is
+looking after a white man,” and she leered in my direction. “She said,
+however, that if her father wished to marry her to Masapo, she must be
+a dutiful daughter and obey him, but that if blood and trouble came of
+that marriage, let it be on his head and not on hers.”
+
+“Would you also stick your claws into me, cat?” shouted Umbezi,
+catching the old woman a savage cut across the back with the light
+dancing-stick which he still held in his hand, whereon she fled away
+screeching and cursing him.
+
+“Oh, Saduko,” he went on, “let not your ears be poisoned by these
+falsehoods. Mameena never said anything of the sort, or if she did it
+was not to me. Well, the moment that my daughter had consented to take
+Masapo as her husband his people drove a hundred and twenty of the most
+beautiful cattle over the hill, and would you have had me refuse them,
+Saduko? I am sure that when you have seen them you will say that I was
+quite right to accept such a splendid _lobola_ in return for one
+sharp-tongued girl. Remember, Saduko, that although you had promised a
+hundred head, that is less by twenty, at the time you did not own one,
+and where you were to get them from I could not guess. Moreover,” he
+added with a last, desperate, imaginative effort, for I think he saw
+that his arguments were making no impression, “some strangers who
+called here told me that both you and Macumazahn had been killed by
+certain evil-doers in the mountains. There, I have spoken, and, Saduko,
+if you now have cattle, why, on my part, I have another daughter, not
+quite so good-looking perhaps, but a much better worker in the field.
+Come and drink a sup of beer, and I will send for her.”
+
+“Stop talking about your other daughter and your beer and listen to
+me,” replied Saduko, looking at the assegai which he had thrown to the
+ground so ominously that I set my foot on it. “I am now a greater chief
+than the boar Masapo. Has Masapo such a bodyguard as these
+Eaters-up-of-Enemies?” and he jerked his thumb backwards towards the
+serried lines of fierce-faced Amangwane who stood listening behind us.
+“Has Masapo as many cattle as I have, whereof those which you see are
+but a tithe brought as a _lobola_ gift to the father of her who had
+been promised to me as wife? Is Masapo Panda’s friend? I think that I
+have heard otherwise. Has Masapo just conquered a countless tribe by
+his courage and his wit? Is Masapo young and of high blood, or is he
+but an old, low-born boar of the mountains?
+
+“You do not answer, Umbezi, and perhaps you do well to be silent. Now
+listen again. Were it not for Macumazahn here, whom I do not desire to
+mix up with my quarrels, I would bid my men take you and beat you to
+death with the handles of their spears, and then go on and serve the
+Boar in the same fashion in his mountain sty. As it is, these things
+must wait a little while, especially as I have other matters to attend
+to first. Yet the day is not far off when I will attend to them also.
+Therefore my counsel to you, Cheat, is to make haste to die or to find
+courage to fall upon a spear, unless you would learn how it feels to be
+brayed with sticks like a green hide until none can know that you were
+once a man. Send now and tell my words to Masapo the Boar. And to
+Mameena say that soon I will come to take her with spears and not with
+cattle. Do you understand? Oh! I see that you do, since already you
+weep with fear like a woman. Then farewell to you till that day when I
+return with the sticks, O Umbezi the cheat and the liar, Umbezi,
+‘Eater-up-of-Elephants,’” and turning, Saduko stalked away.
+
+I was about to follow in a great hurry, having had enough of this very
+unpleasant scene, when poor old Umbezi sprang at me and clasped me by
+the arm.
+
+“O Macumazana,” he exclaimed, weeping in his terror, “O Macumazana, if
+ever I have been a friend to you, help me out of this deep pit into
+which I have fallen through the tricks of that monkey of a daughter of
+mine, who I think is a witch born to bring trouble upon men.
+Macumazahn, if she had been your daughter and a powerful chief had
+appeared with a hundred and twenty head of such beautiful cattle, you
+would have given her to him, would you not, although he is of mixed
+blood and not very young, especially as she did not mind who only cares
+for place and wealth?”
+
+“I think not,” I answered; “but then it is not our custom to sell women
+in that fashion.”
+
+“No, no, I forgot; in this as in other matters you white men are mad
+and, Macumazahn, to tell you the truth, I believe it is you she really
+cares for; she said as much to me once or twice. Well, why did you not
+take her away when I was not looking? We could have settled matters
+afterwards, and I should have been free of her witcheries and not up to
+my neck in this hole as I am now.”
+
+“Because some people don’t do that kind of thing, Umbezi.”
+
+“No, no, I forgot. Oh! why can I not remember that you are _quite_ mad
+and therefore that it must not be expected of you to act as though you
+were sane. Well, at least you are that tiger Saduko’s friend, which
+again shows that you must be very mad, for most people would sooner try
+to milk a cow buffalo than walk hand in hand with him. Don’t you see,
+Macumazahn, that he means to kill me, Macumazahn, to bray me like a
+green hide? Ugh! to beat me to death with sticks. Ugh! And what is
+more, that unless you prevent him, he will certainly do it, perhaps
+to-morrow or the next day. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!”
+
+“Yes, I see, Umbezi, and I think that he _will_ do it. But what I do
+not see is how I am to prevent him. Remember that you let Mameena grow
+into his heart and behaved badly to him, Umbezi.”
+
+“I never promised her to him, Macumazahn. I only said that if he
+brought a hundred cattle, then I might promise.”
+
+“Well, he has wiped out the Amakoba, the enemies of his House, and
+there are the hundred cattle whereof he has many more, and now it is
+too late for you to keep your share of the bargain. So I think you must
+make yourself as comfortable as you can in the hole that your hands
+dug, Umbezi, which I would not share for all the cattle in Zululand.”
+
+“Truly you are not one from whom to seek comfort in the hour of
+distress,” groaned poor Umbezi, then added, brightening up: “But
+perhaps Panda will kill him because he has wiped out Bangu in a time of
+peace. Oh Macumazahn, can you not persuade Panda to kill him? If so, I
+now have more cattle than I really want—”
+
+“Impossible,” I answered. “Panda is his friend, and between ourselves I
+may tell you that he ate up the Amakoba by his especial wish. When the
+King hears of it he will call to Saduko to sit in his shadow and make
+him great, one of his councillors, probably with power of life and
+death over little people like you and Masapo.”
+
+“Then it is finished,” said Umbezi faintly, “and I will try to die like
+a man. But to be brayed like a hide! And with thin sticks! Oh!” he
+added, grinding his teeth, “if only I can get hold of Mameena I will
+not leave much of that pretty hair of hers upon her head. I will tie
+her hands and shut her up with the ‘Old Cow,’ who loves her as a
+meer-cat loves a mouse. No; I will kill her. There—do you hear,
+Macumazahn, unless you do something to help me, I will kill Mameena,
+and you won’t like that, for I am sure she is dear to you, although you
+were not man enough to run away with her as she wished.”
+
+“If you touch Mameena,” I said, “be certain, my friend, that Saduko’s
+sticks and your skin will not be far apart, for I will report you to
+Panda myself as an unnatural evil-doer. Now hearken to me, you old
+fool. Saduko is so fond of your daughter, on this point being mad, as
+you say I am, that if only he could get her I think he might overlook
+the fact of her having been married before. What you have to do is to
+try to buy her back from Masapo. Mind you, I say buy her back—not get
+her by bloodshed—which you might do by persuading Masapo to put her
+away. Then, if he knew that you were trying to do this, I think that
+Saduko might leave his sticks uncut for a while.”
+
+“I will try. I will indeed, Macumazahn. I will try very hard. It is
+true Masapo is an obstinate pig; still, if he knows that his own life
+is at stake, he might give way. Moreover, when she learns that Saduko
+has grown rich and great, Mameena might help me. Oh, I thank you,
+Macumazahn; you are indeed the prop of my hut, and it and all in it are
+yours. Farewell, farewell, Macumazahn, if you must go. But why—why did
+you not run away with Mameena, and save me all this fear and trouble?”
+
+So I and that old humbug, Umbezi, “Eater-up-of-Elephants,” parted for a
+while, and never did I know him in a more chastened frame of mind,
+except once, as I shall tell.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter VIII.
+THE KING’S DAUGHTER
+
+
+When I got back to my wagons after this semi-tragical interview with
+that bombastic and self-seeking old windbag, Umbezi, it was to find
+that Saduko and his warriors had already marched for the King’s kraal,
+Nodwengu. A message awaited me, however, to the effect that it was
+hoped that I would follow, in order to make report of the affair of the
+destruction of the Amakoba. This, after reflection, I determined to do,
+really, I think, because of the intense human interest of the whole
+business. I wanted to see how it would work out.
+
+Also, in a way, I read Saduko’s mind and understood that at the moment
+he did not wish to discuss the matter of his hideous disappointment.
+Whatever else may have been false in this man’s nature, one thing rang
+true, namely, his love or his infatuation for the girl Mameena.
+Throughout his life she was his guiding star—about as evil a star as
+could have arisen upon any man’s horizon; the fatal star that was to
+light him down to doom. Let me thank Providence, as I do, that I was so
+fortunate as to escape its baneful influences, although I admit that
+they attracted me not a little.
+
+So, seduced thither by my curiosity, which has so often led me into
+trouble, I trekked to Nodwengu, full of many doubts not unmingled with
+amusement, for I could not rid my mind of recollections of the utter
+terror of the “Eater-up-of-Elephants” when he was brought face to face
+with the dreadful and concentrated rage of the robbed Saduko and the
+promise of his vengeance. Ultimately I arrived at the Great Place
+without experiencing any adventure that is worthy of record, and camped
+in a spot that was appointed to me by some _induna_ whose name I
+forget, but who evidently knew of my approach, for I found him awaiting
+me at some distance from the town. Here I sat for quite a long while,
+two or three days, if I remember right, amusing myself with killing or
+missing turtle-doves with a shotgun, and similar pastimes, until
+something should happen, or I grew tired and started for Natal.
+
+In the end, just as I was about to trek seawards, an old friend,
+Maputa, turned up at my wagons—that same man who had brought me the
+message from Panda before we started to attack Bangu.
+
+“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said. “What of the Amakoba? I see they did
+not kill you.”
+
+“No,” I answered, handing him some snuff, “they did not quite kill me,
+for here I am. What is your pleasure with me?”
+
+“O Macumazana, only that the King wishes to know whether you have any
+of those little balls left in the box which I brought back to you,
+since, if so, he thinks he would like to swallow one of them in this
+hot weather.”
+
+I proffered him the whole box, but he would not take it, saying that
+the King would like me to give it to him myself. Now I understood that
+this was a summons to an audience, and asked when it would please Panda
+to receive me and “the-little-black-stones-that-work-wonders.” He
+answered—at once.
+
+So we started, and within an hour I stood, or rather sat, before Panda.
+
+Like all his family, the King was an enormous man, but, unlike Chaka
+and those of his brothers whom I had known, one of a kindly
+countenance. I saluted him by lifting my cap, and took my place upon a
+wooden stool that had been provided for me outside the great hut, in
+the shadow of which he sat within his _isi-gohlo_, or private
+enclosure.
+
+“Greeting, O Macumazana,” he said. “I am glad to see you safe and well,
+for I understand that you have been engaged upon a perilous adventure
+since last we met.”
+
+“Yes, King,” I answered; “but to which adventure do you refer—that of
+the buffalo, when Saduko helped me, or that of the Amakoba, when I
+helped Saduko?”
+
+“The latter, Macumazahn, of which I desire to hear all the story.”
+
+So I told it to him, he and I being alone, for he commanded his
+councillors and servants to retire out of hearing.
+
+“_Wow!_” he said, when I had finished, “you are clever as a baboon,
+Macumazahn. That was a fine trick to set a trap for Bangu and his
+Amakoba dogs and bait it with his own cattle. But they tell me that you
+refused your share of those cattle. Now, why was that, Macumazahn?”
+
+By way of answer I repeated to Panda my reasons, which I have set out
+already.
+
+“Ah!” he exclaimed, when I had finished. “Every one seeks greatness in
+his own way, and perhaps yours is better than ours. Well, the White man
+walks one road—or some of them do—and the Black man another. They both
+end at the same place, and none will know which is the right road till
+the journey is done. Meanwhile, what you lose Saduko and his people
+gain. He is a wise man, Saduko, who knows how to choose his friends,
+and his wisdom has brought him victory and gifts. But to you,
+Macumazahn, it has brought nothing but honour, on which, if a man feeds
+only, he will grow thin.”
+
+“I like to be thin, O Panda,” I answered slowly.
+
+“Yes, yes, I understand,” replied the King, who, in common with most
+natives, was quick enough to seize a point, “and I, too, like people
+who keep thin on such food as yours, people, also, whose hands are
+always clean. We Zulus trust you, Macumazahn, as we trust few white
+men, for we have known for years that your lips say what your heart
+thinks, and that your heart always thinks the thing which is good. You
+may be named Watcher-by-Night, but you love light, not darkness.”
+
+Now, at these somewhat unusual compliments I bowed, and felt myself
+colouring a little as I did so, even through my sunburn, but I made no
+answer to them, since to do so would have involved a discussion of the
+past and its tragical events, into which I had no wish to enter. Panda,
+too, remained silent for a while. Then he called to a messenger to
+summon the princes, Cetewayo and Umbelazi, and to bid Saduko, the son
+of Matiwane, to wait without, in case he should wish to speak with him.
+
+A few minutes later the two princes arrived. I watched their coming
+with interest, for they were the most important men in Zululand, and
+already the nation debated fiercely which of them would succeed to the
+throne. I will try to describe them a little.
+
+They were both of much the same age—it is always difficult to arrive at
+a Zulu’s exact years—and both fine young men. Cetewayo, however, had
+the stronger countenance. It was said that he resembled that fierce and
+able monster, Chaka the Wild Beast, his uncle, and certainly I
+perceived in him a likeness to his other uncle, Dingaan, Umpanda’s
+predecessor, whom I had known but too well when I was a lad. He had the
+same surly eyes and haughty bearing; also, when he was angry his mouth
+shut itself in the same iron fashion.
+
+Of Umbelazi it is difficult for me to speak without enthusiasm. As
+Mameena was the most beautiful woman I ever saw in Zululand—although it
+is true that old war-dog, Umslopogaas, a friend of mine who does not
+come into this story, used to tell me that Nada the Lily, whom I have
+mentioned, was even lovelier—so Umbelazi was by far the most splendid
+man. Indeed, the Zulus named him “Umbelazi the Handsome,” and no
+wonder. To begin with, he stood at least three inches above the tallest
+of them; from a quarter of a mile away I have recognised him by his
+great height, even through the dust of a desperate battle, and his
+breadth was proportionate to his stature. Then he was perfectly made,
+his great, shapely limbs ending, like Saduko’s, in small hands and
+feet. His face, too, was well-cut and open, his colour lighter than
+Cetewayo’s, and his eyes, which always seemed to smile, were large and
+dark.
+
+Even before they passed the small gate of the inner fence it was easy
+for me to see that this royal pair were not upon the best of terms, for
+each of them tried to get through it first, to show his right of
+precedence. The result was somewhat ludicrous, for they jammed in the
+gateway. Here, however, Umbelazi’s greater weight told, for, putting
+out his strength, he squeezed his brother into the reeds of the fence,
+and won through a foot or so in front of him.
+
+“You grow too fat, my brother,” I heard Cetewayo say, and saw him scowl
+as he spoke. “If I had held an assegai in my hand you would have been
+cut.”
+
+“I know it, my brother,” answered Umbelazi, with a good-humoured laugh,
+“but I knew also that none may appear before the King armed. Had it
+been otherwise, I would rather have followed after you.”
+
+Now, at this hint of Umbelazi’s, that he would not trust his brother
+behind his back with a spear, although it seemed to be conveyed in
+jest, I saw Panda shift uneasily on his seat, while Cetewayo scowled
+even more ominously than before. However, no further words passed
+between them, and, walking up to the King side by side, they saluted
+him with raised hands, calling out “_Baba!_”—that is, Father.
+
+“Greeting, my children,” said Panda, adding hastily, for he foresaw a
+quarrel as to which of them should take the seat of honour on his
+right: “Sit there in front of me, both of you, and, Macumazahn, do you
+come hither,” and he pointed to the coveted place. “I am a little deaf
+in my left ear this morning.”
+
+So these brothers sat themselves down in front of the King; nor were
+they, I think, grieved to find this way out of their rivalry; but first
+they shook hands with me, for I knew them both, though not well, and
+even in this small matter the old trouble arose, since there was some
+difficulty as to which of them should first offer me his hand.
+Ultimately, I remember, Cetewayo won this trick.
+
+When these preliminaries were finished, Panda addressed the princes,
+saying:
+
+“My sons, I have sent for you to ask your counsel upon a certain
+matter—not a large matter, but one that may grow.” And he paused to
+take snuff, whereon both of them ejaculated:
+
+“We hear you, Father.”
+
+“Well, my sons, the matter is that of Saduko, the son of Matiwane,
+chief of the Amangwane, whom Bangu, chief of the Amakoba, ate up years
+ago by leave of Him who went before me. Now, this Bangu, as you know,
+has for some time been a thorn in my foot—a thorn that caused it to
+fester—and yet I did not wish to make war on him. So I spoke a word in
+the ear of Saduko, saying, ‘He is yours, if you can kill him; and his
+cattle are yours.’ Well, Saduko is not dull. With the help of this
+white man, Macumazahn, our friend from of old, he has killed Bangu and
+taken his cattle, and already my foot is beginning to heal.”
+
+“We have heard it,” said Cetewayo.
+
+“It was a great deed,” added Umbelazi, a more generous critic.
+
+“Yes,” continued Panda, “I, too, think it was a great deed, seeing that
+Saduko had but a small regiment of wanderers to back him—”
+
+“Nay,” interrupted Cetewayo, “it was not those eaters of rats who won
+him the day, it was the wisdom of this Macumazahn.”
+
+“Macumazahn’s wisdom would have been of little use without the courage
+of Saduko and his rats,” commented Umbelazi, and from this moment I saw
+that the two brothers were taking sides for and against Saduko, as they
+did upon every other matter, not because they cared for the right of
+whatever was in question, but because they wished to oppose each other.
+
+“Quite so,” went on the King; “I agree with both of you, my sons. But
+the point is this: I think Saduko a man of promise, and one who should
+be advanced that he may learn to love us all, especially as his House
+has suffered wrong from our House, since He-who-is-gone listened to the
+evil counsel of Bangu, and allowed him to kill out Matiwane’s tribe
+without just cause. Therefore, in order to wipe away this stain and
+bind Saduko to us, I think it well to re-establish Saduko in the
+chieftainship of the Amangwane, with the lands that his father held,
+and to give him also the chieftainship of the Amakoba, of whom it seems
+that the women and children, with some of the men, remain, although he
+already holds their cattle which he has captured in war.”
+
+“As the King pleases,” said Umbelazi, with a yawn, for he was growing
+weary of listening to the case of Saduko.
+
+But Cetewayo said nothing, for he appeared to be thinking of something
+else.
+
+“I think also,” went on Panda in a rather uncertain voice, “in order to
+bind him so close that the bonds may never be broken, it would be wise
+to give him a woman of our family in marriage.”
+
+“Why should this little Amangwane be allowed to marry into the royal
+House?” asked Cetewayo, looking up. “If he is dangerous, why not kill
+him, and have done?”
+
+“For this reason, my son. There is trouble ahead in Zululand, and I do
+not wish to kill those who may help us in that hour, nor do I wish them
+to become our enemies. I wish that they may be our friends; and
+therefore it seems to me wise, when we find a seed of greatness, to
+water it, and not to dig it up or plant it in a neighbour’s garden.
+From his deeds I believe that this Saduko is such a seed.”
+
+“Our father has spoken,” said Umbelazi; “and I like Saduko, who is a
+man of mettle and good blood. Which of our sisters does our father
+propose to give to him?”
+
+“She who is named after the mother of our race, O Umbelazi; she whom
+your own mother bore—your sister Nandie” (in English, “The Sweet”).
+
+“A great gift, O my Father, since Nandie is both fair and wise. Also,
+what does she think of this matter?”
+
+“She thinks well of it, Umbelazi, for she has seen Saduko and taken a
+liking to him. She told me herself that she wishes no other husband.”
+
+“Is it so?” replied Umbelazi indifferently. “Then if the King commands,
+and the King’s daughter desires, what more is there to be said?”
+
+“Much, I think,” broke in Cetewayo. “I hold that it is out of place
+that this little man, who has but conquered a little tribe by borrowing
+the wit of Macumazahn here, should be rewarded not only with a
+chieftainship, but with the hand of the wisest and most beautiful of
+the King’s daughters, even though Umbelazi,” he added, with a sneer,
+“should be willing to throw him his own sister like a bone to a passing
+dog.”
+
+“Who threw the bone, Cetewayo?” asked Umbelazi, awaking out of his
+indifference. “Was it the King, or was it I, who never heard of the
+matter till this moment? And who are we that we should question the
+King’s decrees? Is it our business to judge or to obey?”
+
+“Has Saduko perchance made you a present of some of those cattle which
+he stole from the Amakoba, Umbelazi?” asked Cetewayo. “As our father
+asks no _lobola_, perhaps you have taken the gift instead.”
+
+“The only gift that I have taken from Saduko,” said Umbelazi, who, I
+could see, was hard pressed to keep his temper, “is that of his
+service. He is my friend, which is why you hate him, as you hate all my
+friends.”
+
+“Must I then love every stray cur that licks your hand, Umbelazi? Oh,
+no need to tell me he is your friend, for I know it was you who put it
+into our father’s heart to allow him to kill Bangu and steal his
+cattle, which I hold to be an ill deed, for now the Great House is
+thatched with his reeds and Bangu’s blood is on its doorposts.
+Moreover, he who wrought the wrong is to come and dwell therein, and
+for aught I know to be called a prince, like you and me. Why should he
+not, since the Princess Nandie is to be given to him in marriage?
+Certainly, Umbelazi, you would do well to take the cattle which this
+white trader has refused, for all men know that you have earned them.”
+
+Now Umbelazi sprang up, straightening himself to the full of his great
+height, and spoke in a voice that was thick with passion.
+
+“I pray your leave to withdraw, O King,” he said, “since if I stay here
+longer I shall grow sorry that I have no spear in my hand. Yet before I
+go I will tell the truth. Cetewayo hates Saduko, because, knowing him
+to be a chief of wit and courage, who will grow great, he sought him
+for his man, saying, ‘Sit you in my shadow,’ after he had promised to
+sit in mine. Therefore it is that he heaps these taunts upon me. Let
+him deny it if he can.”
+
+“That I shall not trouble to do, Umbelazi,” answered Cetewayo, with a
+scowl. “Who are you that spy upon my doings, and with a mouth full of
+lies call me to account before the King? I will hear no more of it. Do
+you bide here and pay Saduko his price with the person of our sister.
+For, as the King has promised her, his word cannot be changed. Only let
+your dog know that I keep a stick for him, if he should snarl at me.
+Farewell, my Father. I go upon a journey to my own lordship, the land
+of Gikazi, and there you will find me when you want me, which I pray
+may not be till after this marriage is finished, for on that I will not
+trust my eyes to look.”
+
+Then, with a salute, he turned and departed, bidding no good-bye to his
+brother.
+
+My hand, however, he shook in farewell, for Cetewayo was always
+friendly to me, perhaps because he thought I might be useful to him.
+Also, as I learned afterwards, he was very pleased with me for the
+reason that I had refused my share of the Amakoba cattle, and that he
+knew I had no part in this proposed marriage between Saduko and Nandie,
+of which, indeed, I now heard for the first time.
+
+“My Father,” said Umbelazi, when Cetewayo had gone, “is this to be
+borne? Am I to blame in the matter? You have heard and seen—answer me,
+my Father.”
+
+“No, you are not to blame this time, Umbelazi,” replied the King, with
+a heavy sigh. “But oh! my sons, my sons, where will your quarrelling
+end? I think that only a river of blood can quench so fierce a fire,
+and then which of you will live to reach its bank?”
+
+For a while he looked at Umbelazi, and I saw love and fear in his eye,
+for towards him Panda always had more affection than for any of his
+other children.
+
+“Cetewayo has behaved ill,” he said at length; “and before a white man,
+who will report the matter, which makes it worse. He has no right to
+dictate to me to whom I shall or shall not give my daughters in
+marriage. Moreover, I have spoken; nor do I change my word because he
+threatens me. It is known throughout the land that I never change my
+word; and the white men know it also, do they not, O Macumazana?”
+
+I answered yes, they did. Also, this was true, for, like most weak men,
+Panda was very obstinate, and honest, too, in his own fashion.
+
+He waved his hand, to show that the subject was ended, then bade
+Umbelazi go to the gate and send a messenger to bring in “the son of
+Matiwane.”
+
+Presently Saduko arrived, looking very stately and composed as he
+lifted his right hand and gave Panda the _Bayéte_—the royal salute.
+
+“Be seated,” said the King. “I have words for your ear.”
+
+Thereon, with the most perfect grace, without hurrying and without
+undue delay, Saduko crouched himself down upon his knees, with one of
+his elbows resting on the ground, as only a native knows how to do
+without looking absurd, and waited.
+
+“Son of Matiwane,” said the King, “I have heard all the story of how,
+with a small company, you destroyed Bangu and most of the men of the
+Amakoba, and ate up their cattle every one.”
+
+“Your pardon, Black One,” interrupted Saduko. “I am but a boy, I did
+nothing. It was Macumazahn, Watcher-by-Night, who sits yonder. His
+wisdom taught me how to snare the Amakoba, after they were decoyed from
+their mountain, and it was Tshoza, my uncle, who loosed the cattle from
+the kraals. I say that I did nothing, except to strike a blow or two
+with a spear when I must, just as a baboon throws stones at those who
+would steal its young.”
+
+“I am glad to see that you are no boaster, Saduko,” said Panda. “Would
+that more of the Zulus were like you in that matter, for then I must
+not listen to so many loud songs about little things. At least, Bangu
+was killed and his proud tribe humbled, and, for reasons of state, I am
+glad that this happened without my moving a regiment or being mixed up
+with the business, for I tell you that there are some of my family who
+loved Bangu. But I—I loved your father, Matiwane, whom Bangu butchered,
+for we were brought up together as boys—yes, and served together in the
+same regiment, the Amawombe, when the Wild One, my brother, ruled” (he
+meant Chaka, for among the Zulus the names of dead kings are
+_hlonipa_—that is, they must not be spoken if it can be avoided).
+“Therefore,” went on Panda, “for this reason, and for others, I am glad
+that Bangu has been punished, and that, although vengeance has crawled
+after him like a footsore bull, at length he has been tossed with its
+horns and crushed with its knees.”
+
+“_Yebo, Ngonyama!_” (Yes, O Lion!) said Saduko.
+
+“Now, Saduko,” went on Panda, “because you are your father’s son, and
+because you have shown yourself a man, although you are still little in
+the land, I am minded to advance you. Therefore I give to you the
+chieftainship over those who remain of the Amakoba and over all of the
+Amangwane blood whom you can gather.”
+
+“_Bayéte!_ As the King pleases,” said Saduko.
+
+“And I give you leave to become a _kehla_—a wearer of the
+head-ring—although, as you have said, you are still but a boy, and with
+it a place upon my Council.”
+
+“_Bayéte!_ As the King pleases,” said Saduko, still apparently unmoved
+by the honours that were being heaped upon him.
+
+“And, Son of Matiwane,” went on Panda, “you are still unmarried, are
+you not?”
+
+Now, for the first time, Saduko’s face changed. “Yes, Black One,” he
+said hurriedly, “but—”
+
+Here he caught my eye, and, reading some warning in it, was silent.
+
+“But,” repeated Panda after him, “doubtless you would like to be? Well,
+it is natural in a young man who wishes to found a House, and therefore
+I give you leave to marry.”
+
+“_Yebo, Silo!_” (Yes, O Wild Beast!) “I thank the King, but—”
+
+Here I sneezed loudly, and he ceased.
+
+“But,” repeated Panda, “of course, you do not know where to find a wife
+between the time the hawk stoops and the rat squeaks in its claws. How
+should you who have never thought of the matter? Also,” he continued,
+with a smile, “it is well that you have not thought of it, since she
+whom I shall give to you could not live in the second hut in your kraal
+and call another _Inkosikazi_ [that is, head lady or chieftainess].
+Umbelazi, my son, go fetch her of whom we have thought as a bride for
+this boy.”
+
+Now Umbelazi rose, and went with a broad smile upon his face, while
+Panda, somewhat fatigued with all his speech-making—for he was very fat
+and the day was very hot—leaned his head back against the hut and
+closed his eyes.
+
+“O Black One! O thou who consumeth with rage! [_Dhlangamandhla_]” broke
+out Saduko, who, I could see, was much disturbed. “I have something to
+say to you.”
+
+“No doubt, no doubt,” answered Panda drowsily, “but save up your thanks
+till you have seen, or you will have none left afterwards,” and he
+snored slightly.
+
+Now I, perceiving that Saduko was about to ruin himself, thought it
+well to interfere, though what business of mine it was to do so I
+cannot say. At any rate, if only I had held my tongue at this moment,
+and allowed Saduko to make a fool of himself, as he wished to do—for
+where Mameena was concerned he never could be wise—I verily believe
+that all the history of Zululand would have run a different course, and
+that many thousands of men, white and black, who are now dead would be
+alive to-day. But Fate ordered it otherwise. Yes, it was not I who
+spoke, but Fate. The Angel of Doom used my throat as his trumpet.
+
+Seeing that Panda dozed, I slipped behind Saduko and gripped him by the
+arm.
+
+“Are you mad?” I whispered into his ear. “Will you throw away your
+fortune, and your life also?”
+
+“But Mameena,” he whispered back. “I would marry none save Mameena.”
+
+“Fool!” I answered. “Mameena has betrayed and spat upon you. Take what
+the Heavens send you and give thanks. Would you wear Masapo’s soiled
+blanket?”
+
+“Macumazahn,” he said in a hollow voice, “I will follow your head, and
+not my own heart. Yet you sow a strange seed, Macumazahn, or so you may
+think when you see its fruit.” And he gave me a wild look—a look that
+frightened me.
+
+There was something in this look which caused me to reflect that I
+might do well to go away and leave Saduko, Mameena, Nandie, and the
+rest of them to “dree their weirds,” as the Scotch say, for, after all,
+what was my finger doing in that very hot stew? Getting burnt, I
+thought, and not collecting any stew.
+
+Yet, looking back on these events, how could I foresee what would be
+the end of the madness of Saduko, of the fearful machinations of
+Mameena, and of the weakness of Umbelazi when she snared him in the net
+of her beauty, thus bringing about his ruin, through the hate of Saduko
+and the ambition of Cetewayo? How could I know that, at the back of all
+these events, stood the old dwarf, Zikali the Wise, working night and
+day to slake the enmity and fulfil the vengeance which long ago he had
+conceived and planned against the royal House of Senzangakona and the
+Zulu people over whom it ruled?
+
+Yes, he stood there like a man behind a great stone upon the brow of a
+mountain, slowly, remorselessly, with infinite skill, labour, and
+patience, pushing that stone to the edge of the cliff, whence at
+length, in the appointed hour, it would thunder down upon those who
+dwelt beneath, to leave them crushed and no more a people. How could I
+guess that we, the actors in this play, were all the while helping him
+to push that stone, and that he cared nothing how many of us were
+carried with it into the abyss, if only we brought about the triumph of
+his secret, unutterable rage and hate?
+
+Now I see and understand all these things, as it is easy to do, but
+then I was blind; nor did the Voices reach my dull ears to warn me, as,
+how or why I cannot tell, they did, I believe, reach those of Zikali.
+
+Oh, what was the sum of it? Just this, I think, and nothing more—that,
+as Saduko and the others were Mameena’s tools, and as all of them and
+their passions were Zikali’s tools, so he himself was the tool of some
+unseen Power that used him and us to accomplish its design. Which, I
+suppose, is fatalism, or, in other words, all these things happened
+because they must happen. A poor conclusion to reach after so much
+thought and striving, and not complimentary to man and his boasted
+powers of free will; still, one to which many of us are often driven,
+especially if we have lived among savages, where such dramas work
+themselves out openly and swiftly, unhidden from our eyes by the veils
+and subterfuges of civilisation. At least, there is this comfort about
+it—that, if we are but feathers blown by the wind, how can the
+individual feather be blamed because it did not travel against, turn or
+keep back the wind?
+
+Well, let me return from these speculations to the history of the facts
+that caused them.
+
+Just as—a little too late—I had made up my mind that I would go after
+my own business, and leave Saduko to manage his, through the fence
+gateway appeared the great, tall Umbelazi leading by the hand a woman.
+As I saw in a moment, it did not need certain bangles of copper,
+ornaments of ivory and of very rare pink beads, called _imfibinga_,
+which only those of the royal House were permitted to wear, to proclaim
+her a person of rank, for dignity and high blood were apparent in her
+face, her carriage, her gestures, and all that had to do with her.
+
+Nandie the Sweet was not a great beauty, as was Mameena, although her
+figure was fine, and her stature like that of all the race of
+Senzangakona—considerably above the average. To begin with, she was
+darker in hue, and her lips were rather thick, as was her nose; nor
+were her eyes large and liquid like those of an antelope. Further, she
+lacked the informing mystery of Mameena’s face, that at times was
+broken and lit up by flashes of alluring light and quick, sympathetic
+perception, as a heavy evening sky, that seems to join the dim earth to
+the dimmer heavens, is illuminated by pulsings of fire, soft and
+many-hued, suggesting, but not revealing, the strength and splendour
+that it veils. Nandie had none of these attractions, which, after all,
+anywhere upon the earth belong only to a few women in each generation.
+She was a simple, honest-natured, kindly, affectionate young woman of
+high birth, no more; that is, as these qualities are understood and
+expressed among her people.
+
+Umbelazi led her forward into the presence of the King, to whom she
+bowed gracefully enough. Then, after casting a swift, sidelong glance
+at Saduko, which I found it difficult to interpret, and another of
+inquiry at me, she folded her hands upon her breast and stood silent,
+with bent head, waiting to be addressed.
+
+The address was brief enough, for Panda was still sleepy.
+
+“My daughter,” he said, with a yawn, “there stands your husband,” and
+he jerked his thumb towards Saduko. “He is a young man and a brave, and
+unmarried; also one who should grow great in the shadow of our House,
+especially as he is a friend of your brother, Umbelazi. I understand
+also that you have seen him and like him. Unless you have anything to
+say against it, for as, not being a common father, the King receives no
+cattle—at least in this case—I am not prejudiced, but will listen to
+your words,” and he chuckled in a drowsy fashion. “I propose that the
+marriage should take place to-morrow. Now, my daughter, have you
+anything to say? For if so, please say it at once, as I am tired. The
+eternal wranglings between your brethren, Cetewayo and Umbelazi, have
+worn me out.”
+
+Now Nandie looked about her in her open, honest fashion, her gaze
+resting first on Saduko, then on Umbelazi, and lastly upon me.
+
+“My Father,” she said at length, in her soft, steady voice, “tell me, I
+beseech you, who proposes this marriage? Is it the Chief Saduko, is it
+the Prince Umbelazi, or is it the white lord whose true name I do not
+know, but who is called Macumazahn, Watcher-by-Night?”
+
+“I can’t remember which of them proposed it,” yawned Panda. “Who can
+keep on talking about things from night till morning? At any rate, I
+propose it, and I will make your husband a big man among our people.
+Have you anything to say against it?”
+
+“I have nothing to say, my Father. I have met Saduko, and like him
+well—for the rest, you are the judge. But,” she added slowly, “does
+Saduko like me? When he speaks my name, does he feel it here?” and she
+pointed to her throat.
+
+“I am sure I do not know what he feels in his throat,” Panda replied
+testily, “but I feel that mine is dry. Well, as no one says anything,
+the matter is settled. To-morrow Saduko shall give the _umqoliso_ [the
+Ox of the Girl], that makes marriage—if he has not got one here I will
+lend it to him, and you can take the new, big hut that I have built in
+the outer kraal to dwell in for the present. There will be a dance, if
+you wish it; if not, I do not care, for I have no wish for ceremony
+just now, who am too troubled with great matters. Now I am going to
+sleep.”
+
+Then sinking from his stool on to his knees, Panda crawled through the
+doorway of his great hut, which was close to him, and vanished.
+
+Umbelazi and I departed also through the gateway of the fence, leaving
+Saduko and the Princess Nandie alone together, for there were no
+attendants present. What happened between them I am sure I do not know,
+but I gather that, in one way or another, Saduko made himself
+sufficiently agreeable to the princess to persuade her to take him to
+husband. Perhaps, being already enamoured of him, she was not difficult
+to persuade. At any rate, on the morrow, without any great feasting or
+fuss, except the customary dance, the _umqoliso_, the “Ox of the Girl,”
+was slaughtered, and Saduko became the husband of a royal maiden of the
+House of Senzangakona.
+
+Certainly, as I remember reflecting, it was a remarkable rise in life
+for one who, but a few months before, had been without possessions or a
+home.
+
+I may add that, after our brief talk in the King’s kraal, while Panda
+was dozing, I had no further words with Saduko on this matter of his
+marriage, for between its proposal and the event he avoided me, nor did
+I seek him out. On the day of the marriage also, I trekked for Natal,
+and for a whole year heard no more of Saduko, Nandie, and Mameena;
+although, to be frank, I must admit I thought of the last of these
+persons more often, perhaps, than I should have done.
+
+The truth is that Mameena was one of those women who sticks in a man’s
+mind even more closely than a “Wait-a-bit” thorn does in his coat.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter IX.
+ALLAN RETURNS TO ZULULAND
+
+
+A whole year had gone by, in which I did, or tried to do, various
+things that have no connection with this story, when once more I found
+myself in Zululand—at Umbezi’s kraal indeed. Hither I had trekked in
+fulfilment of a certain bargain, already alluded to, that was concerned
+with ivory and guns, which I had made with the old fellow, or, rather,
+with Masapo, his son-in-law, whom he represented in this matter. Into
+the exact circumstances of that bargain I do not enter, since at the
+moment I cannot recall whether I ever obtained the necessary permit to
+import those guns into Zululand, although now that I am older I
+earnestly hope that I did so, since it is wrong to sell weapons to
+natives that may be put to all sorts of unforeseen uses.
+
+At any rate, there I was, sitting alone with the Headman in his hut
+discussing a dram of “squareface” that I had given to him, for the
+“trade” was finished to our mutual satisfaction, and Scowl, my body
+servant, with the hunters, had just carried off the ivory—a fine lot of
+tusks—to my wagons.
+
+“Well, Umbezi,” I said, “and how has it fared with you since we parted
+a year ago? Have you seen anything of Saduko, who, you may remember,
+left you in some wrath?”
+
+“Thanks be to my Spirit, I have seen nothing of that wild man,
+Macumazahn,” answered Umbezi, shaking his fat old head in a fashion
+which showed great anxiety. “Yet I have heard of him, for he sent me a
+message the other day to tell me that he had not forgotten what he owed
+me.”
+
+“Did he mean the sticks with which he promised to bray you like a green
+hide?” I inquired innocently.
+
+“I think so, Macumazahn—I think so, for certainly he owes me nothing
+else. And the worst of it is that, there at Panda’s kraal, he has grown
+like a pumpkin on a dung heap—great, great!”
+
+“And therefore is now one who can pay any debt that he owes, Umbezi,” I
+said, taking a pull at the “squareface” and looking at him over the top
+of the pannikin.
+
+“Doubtless he can, Macumazahn, and, between you and me, that is the
+real reason why I—or rather Masapo—was so anxious to get those guns.
+They were not for hunting, as he told you by the messenger, or for war,
+but to protect us against Saduko, in case he should attack. Well, now I
+hope we shall be able to hold our own.”
+
+“You and Masapo must teach your people to use them first, Umbezi. But I
+expect Saduko has forgotten all about both of you now that he is the
+husband of a princess of the royal blood. Tell me, how goes it with
+Mameena?”
+
+“Oh, well, well, Macumazahn. For is she not the head lady of the
+Amasomi? There is nothing wrong with her—nothing at all, except that as
+yet she has no child; also that—,” and he paused.
+
+“That what?” I asked.
+
+“That she hates the very sight of her husband, Masapo, and says that
+she would rather be married to a baboon—yes, to a baboon—than to him,
+which gives him offence, after he has paid so many cattle for her. But
+what of this, Macumazahn? There is always a grain missing upon the
+finest head of corn. Nothing is _quite_ perfect in the world,
+Macumazahn, and if Mameena does not chance to love her husband—” and he
+shrugged his shoulders and drank some “squareface.”
+
+“Of course it does not matter in the least, Umbezi, except to Mameena
+and her husband, who no doubt will settle down in time, now that Saduko
+is married to a princess of the Zulu House.”
+
+“I hope so, Macumazahn, but, to tell the truth, I wish you had brought
+more guns, for I live amongst a terrible lot of people. Masapo, who is
+furious with Mameena because she will have none of him, and therefore
+with me, as though _I_ could control Mameena; Mameena, who is mad with
+Masapo, and therefore with me, because I gave her in marriage to him;
+Saduko, who foams at the mouth at the name of Masapo, because he has
+married Mameena, whom, it is said, he still loves, and therefore at me,
+because I am her father and did my best to settle her in the world. Oh,
+give me some more of that fire-water, Macumazahn, for it makes me
+forget all these things, and especially that my guardian spirit made me
+the father of Mameena, with whom you would not run away when you might
+have done so. Oh, Macumazahn, why did you not run away with Mameena,
+and turn her into a quiet white woman who ties herself up in sacks,
+sings songs to the ‘Great-Great’ in the sky—[that is, hymns to the
+Power above us]—and never thinks of any man who is not her husband?”
+
+“Because if I had done so, Umbezi, I should have ceased to be a quiet
+white man. Yes, yes, my friend, I should have been in some such place
+as yours to-day, and that is the last thing that I wish. And now,
+Umbezi, you have had quite enough ‘squareface,’ so I will take the
+bottle away with me. Good-night.”
+
+On the following morning I trekked very early from Umbezi’s
+kraal—before he was up indeed, for the “squareface” made him sleep
+sound. My destination was Nodwengu, Panda’s Great Place, where I hoped
+to do some trading, but, as I was in no particular hurry, my plan was
+to go round by Masapo’s, and see for myself how it fared between him
+and Mameena. Indeed, I reached the borders of the Amasomi territory,
+whereof Masapo was chief, by evening, and camped there. But with the
+night came reflection, and reflection told me that I should do well to
+keep clear of Mameena and her domestic complications, if she had any.
+So I changed my mind, and next morning trekked on to Nodwengu by the
+only route that my guides reported to be practicable, one which took me
+a long way round.
+
+That day, owing to the roughness of the road—if road it could be
+called—and an accident to one of the wagons, we only covered about
+fifteen miles, and as night fell were obliged to outspan at the first
+spot where we could find water. When the oxen had been unyoked I looked
+about me, and saw that we were in a place that, although I had
+approached it from a somewhat different direction, I recognised at once
+as the mouth of the Black Kloof, in which, over a year before, I had
+interviewed Zikali the Little and Wise. There was no mistaking the
+spot; that blasted valley, with the piled-up columns of boulders and
+the overhanging cliff at the end of it, have, so far as I am aware, no
+exact counterparts in Africa.
+
+I sat upon the box of the first wagon, eating my food, which consisted
+of some biltong and biscuit, for I had not bothered to shoot any game
+that day, which was very hot, and wondering whether Zikali were still
+alive, also whether I should take the trouble to walk up the kloof and
+find out. On the whole I thought that I would not, as the place
+repelled me, and I did not particularly wish to hear any more of his
+prophecies and fierce, ill-omened talk. So I just sat there studying
+the wonderful effect of the red evening light pouring up between those
+walls of fantastic rocks.
+
+Presently I perceived, far away, a single human figure—whether it were
+man or woman I could not tell—walking towards me along the path which
+ran at the bottom of the cleft. In those gigantic surroundings it
+looked extraordinarily small and lonely, although perhaps because of
+the intense red light in which it was bathed, or perhaps just because
+it was human, a living thing in the midst of all that still, inanimate
+grandeur, it caught and focused my attention. I grew greatly interested
+in it; I wondered if it were that of man or woman, and what it was
+doing here in this haunted valley.
+
+The figure drew nearer, and now I saw it was slender and tall, like
+that of a lad or of a well-grown woman, but to which sex it belonged I
+could not see, because it was draped in a cloak of beautiful grey fur.
+Just then Scowl came to the other side of the wagon to speak to me
+about something, which took off my attention for the next two minutes.
+When I looked round again it was to see the figure standing within
+three yards of me, its face hidden by a kind of hood which was attached
+to the fur cloak.
+
+“Who are you, and what is your business?” I asked, whereon a gentle
+voice answered:
+
+“Do you not know me, O Macumazana?”
+
+“How can I know one who is tied up like a gourd in a mat? Yet is it
+not—is it not—”
+
+“Yes, it is Mameena, and I am very pleased that you should remember my
+voice, Macumazahn, after we have been separated for such a long, long
+time,” and, with a sudden movement, she threw back the kaross, hood and
+all, revealing herself in all her strange beauty.
+
+I jumped down off the wagon-box and took her hand.
+
+“O Macumazana,” she said, while I still held it—or, to be accurate,
+while she still held mine—“indeed my heart is glad to see a friend
+again,” and she looked at me with her appealing eyes, which, in the red
+light, I could see appeared to float in tears.
+
+“A friend, Mameena!” I exclaimed. “Why, now you are so rich, and the
+wife of a big chief, you must have plenty of friends.”
+
+“Alas! Macumazahn, I am rich in nothing except trouble, for my husband
+saves, like the ants for winter. Why, he even grudged me this poor
+kaross; and as for friends, he is so jealous that he will not allow me
+any.”
+
+“He cannot be jealous of women, Mameena!”
+
+“Oh, women! _Piff!_ I do not care for women; they are very unkind to
+me, because—because—well, perhaps you can guess why, Macumazahn,” she
+answered, glancing at her own reflection in a little travelling
+looking-glass that hung from the woodwork of the wagon, for I had been
+using it to brush my hair, and smiled very sweetly.
+
+“At least you have your husband, Mameena, and I thought that perhaps by
+this time—”
+
+She held up her hand.
+
+“My husband! Oh, I would that I had him not, for I hate him,
+Macumazahn; and as for the rest—never! The truth is that I never cared
+for any man except one whose name _you_ may chance to remember,
+Macumazahn.”
+
+“I suppose you mean Saduko—” I began.
+
+“Tell me, Macumazahn,” she inquired innocently, “are white people very
+stupid? I ask because you do not seem as clever as you used to be. Or
+have you perhaps a bad memory?”
+
+Now I felt myself turning red as the sky behind me, and broke in
+hurriedly:
+
+“If you did not like your husband, Mameena, you should not have married
+him. You know you need not unless you wished.”
+
+“When one has only two thorn bushes to sit on, Macumazahn, one chooses
+that which seems to have the fewest prickles, to discover sometimes
+that they are still there in hundreds, although one did not see them.
+You know that at length everyone gets tired of standing.”
+
+“Is that why you have taken to walking, Mameena? I mean, what are you
+doing here alone?”
+
+“I? Oh, I heard that you were passing this way, and came to have a talk
+with you. No, from you I cannot hide even the least bit of the truth. I
+came to talk with you, but also I came to see Zikali and ask him what a
+wife should do who hates her husband.”
+
+“Indeed! And what did he answer you?”
+
+“He answered that he thought she had better run away with another man,
+if there were one whom she did not hate—out of Zululand, of course,”
+she replied, looking first at me and then at my wagon and the two
+horses that were tied to it.
+
+“Is that all he said, Mameena?”
+
+“No. Have I not told you that I cannot hide one grain of the truth from
+you? He added that the only other thing to be done was to sit still and
+drink my sour milk, pretending that it is sweet, until my Spirit gives
+me a new cow. He seemed to think that my Spirit would be bountiful in
+the matter of new cows—one day.”
+
+“Anything more?” I inquired.
+
+“One little thing. Have I not told you that you shall have all—all the
+truth? Zikali seemed to think also that at last every one of my herd of
+cows, old and new, would come to a bad end. He did not tell me to what
+end.”
+
+She turned her head aside, and when she looked up again I saw that she
+was weeping, really weeping this time, not just making her eyes swim,
+as she did before.
+
+“Of course they will come to a bad end, Macumazahn,” she went on in a
+soft, thick voice, “for I and all with whom I have to do were ‘torn out
+of the reeds’ [i.e. created] that way. And that’s why I won’t tempt you
+to run away with me any more, as I meant to do when I saw you, because
+it is true, Macumazahn you are the only man I ever liked or ever shall
+like; and you know I could make you run away with me if I chose,
+although I am black and you are white—oh, yes, before to-morrow
+morning. But I won’t do it; for why should I catch you in my unlucky
+web and bring you into all sorts of trouble among my people and your
+own? Go you your road, Macumazahn, and I will go mine as the wind blows
+me. And now give me a cup of water and let me be away—a cup of water,
+no more. Oh, do not be afraid for me, or melt too much, lest I should
+melt also. I have an escort waiting over yonder hill. There, thank you
+for your water, Macumazahn, and good night. Doubtless we shall meet
+again ere long, and— I forgot; the Little Wise One said he would like
+to have a talk with you. Good night, Macumazahn, good night. I trust
+that you did a profitable trade with Umbezi my father and Masapo my
+husband. I wonder why such men as these should have been chosen to be
+my father and my husband. Think it over, Macumazahn, and tell me when
+next we meet. Give me that pretty mirror, Macumazahn; when I look in it
+I shall see you as well as myself, and that will please me—you don’t
+know how much. I thank you. Good night.”
+
+In another minute I was watching her solitary little figure, now
+wrapped again in the hooded kaross, as it vanished over the brow of the
+rise behind us, and really, as she went, I felt a lump rising in my
+throat. Notwithstanding all her wickedness—and I suppose she was
+wicked—there was something horribly attractive about Mameena.
+
+When she had gone, taking my only looking-glass with her, and the lump
+in my throat had gone also, I began to wonder how much fact there was
+in her story. She had protested so earnestly that she told me all the
+truth that I felt sure there must be something left behind. Also I
+remembered she had said Zikali wanted to see me. Well, the end of it
+was I took a moonlight walk up that dreadful gorge, into which not even
+Scowl would accompany me, because he declared that the place was well
+known to be haunted by _imikovu_, or spectres who have been raised from
+the dead by wizards.
+
+It was a long and disagreeable walk, and somehow I felt very depressed
+and insignificant as I trudged on between those gigantic cliffs,
+passing now through patches of bright moonlight and now through deep
+pools of shadow, threading my way among clumps of bush or round the
+bases of tall pillars of piled-up stones, till at length I came to the
+overhanging cliffs at the end, which frowned down on me like the brows
+of some titanic demon.
+
+Well, I got to the end at last, and at the gate of the kraal fence was
+met by one of those fierce and huge men who served the dwarf as guards.
+Suddenly he emerged from behind a stone, and having scanned me for a
+moment in silence, beckoned to me to follow him, as though I were
+expected. A minute later I found myself face to face with Zikali, who
+was seated in the clear moonlight just outside the shadow of his hut,
+and engaged, apparently, in his favourite occupation of carving wood
+with a rough native knife of curious shape.
+
+For a while he took no notice of me; then suddenly looked up, shaking
+back his braided grey locks, and broke into one of his great laughs.
+
+“So it is you, Macumazahn,” he said. “Well, I knew you were passing my
+way and that Mameena would send you here. But why do you come to see
+the ‘Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born’? To tell me how you fared
+with the buffalo with the split horn, eh?”
+
+“No, Zikali, for why should I tell you what you know already? Mameena
+said you wished to talk with me, that was all.”
+
+“Then Mameena lied,” he answered, “as is her nature, in whose throat
+live four false words for every one of truth. Still, sit down,
+Macumazahn. There is beer made ready for you by that stool; and give me
+the knife and a pinch of the white man’s snuff that you have brought
+for me as a present.”
+
+I produced these articles, though how he knew that I had them with me I
+cannot tell, nor did I think it worth while to inquire. The snuff, I
+remember, pleased him very much, but of the knife he said that it was a
+pretty toy, but he would not know how to use it. Then we fell to
+talking.
+
+“What was Mameena doing here?” I asked boldly.
+
+“What was she doing at your wagons?” he asked. “Oh, do not stop to tell
+me; I know, I know. That is a very good Snake of yours, Macumazahn,
+which always just lets you slip through her fingers, when, if she chose
+to close her hand— Well, well, I do not betray the secrets of my
+clients; but I say this to you—go on to the kraal of the son of
+Senzangakona, and you will see things happen that will make you laugh,
+for Mameena will be there, and the mongrel Masapo, her husband. Truly
+she hates him well, and, after all, I would rather be loved than hated
+by Mameena, though both are dangerous. Poor Mongrel! Soon the jackals
+will be chewing his bones.”
+
+“Why do you say that?” I asked.
+
+“Only because Mameena tells me that he is a great wizard, and the
+jackals eat many wizards in Zululand. Also he is an enemy of Panda’s
+House, is he not?”
+
+“You have been giving her some bad counsel, Zikali,” I said, blurting
+out the thought in my mind.
+
+“Perhaps, perhaps, Macumazahn; only I may call it good counsel. I have
+my own road to walk, and if I can find some to clear away the thorns
+that would prick my feet, what of it? Also she will get her pay, who
+finds life dull up there among the Amasomi, with one she hates for a
+hut-fellow. Go you and watch, and afterwards, when you have an hour to
+spare, come and tell me what happens—that is, if I do not chance to be
+there to see for myself.”
+
+“Is Saduko well?” I asked to change the subject, for I did not wish to
+become privy to the plots that filled the air.
+
+“I am told that his tree grows great, that it overshadows all the royal
+kraal. I think that Mameena wishes to sleep in the shade of it. And now
+you are weary, and so am I. Go back to your wagons, Macumazahn, for I
+have nothing more to say to you to-night. But be sure to return and
+tell me what chances at Panda’s kraal. Or, as I have said, perhaps I
+shall meet you there. Who knows, who knows?”
+
+Now, it will be observed that there was nothing very remarkable in this
+conversation between Zikali and myself. He did not tell me any deep
+secrets or make any great prophecy. It may be wondered, indeed, when
+there is so much to record, why I set it down at all.
+
+My answer is, because of the extraordinary impression that it produced
+upon me. Although so little was said, I felt all the while that those
+few words were a veil hiding terrible events to be. I was sure that
+some dreadful scheme had been hatched between the old dwarf and Mameena
+whereof the issue would soon become apparent, and that he had sent me
+away in a hurry after he learned that she had told me nothing, because
+he feared lest I should stumble on its cue and perhaps cause it to
+fail.
+
+At any rate, as I walked back to my wagons by moonlight down that
+dreadful gorge, the hot, thick air seemed to me to have a physical
+taste and smell of blood, and the dank foliage of the tropical trees
+that grew there, when now and again a puff of wind stirred them, moaned
+like the fabled _imikovu_, or as men might do in their last faint
+agony. The effect upon my nerves was quite strange, for when at last I
+reached my wagons I was shaking like a reed, and a cold perspiration,
+unnatural enough upon that hot night, poured from my face and body.
+
+Well, I took a couple of stiff tots of “squareface” to pull myself
+together, and at length went to sleep, to awake before dawn with a
+headache. Looking out of the wagon, to my surprise I saw Scowl and the
+hunters, who should have been snoring, standing in a group and talking
+to each other in frightened whispers. I called Scowl to me and asked
+what was the matter.
+
+“Nothing, Baas,” he said with a shamefaced air; “only there are so many
+spooks about this place. They have been passing in and out of it all
+night.”
+
+“Spooks, you idiot!” I answered. “Probably they were people going to
+visit the _Nyanga_, Zikali.”
+
+“Perhaps, Baas; only then we do not know why they should all look like
+dead people—princes, some of them, by their dress—and walk upon the air
+a man’s height from the ground.”
+
+“Pooh!” I replied. “Do you not know the difference between owls in the
+mist and dead kings? Make ready, for we trek at once; the air here is
+full of fever.”
+
+“Certainly, Baas,” he said, springing off to obey; and I do not think I
+ever remember two wagons being got under way quicker than they were
+that morning.
+
+I merely mention this nonsense to show that the Black Kloof could
+affect other people’s nerves as well as my own.
+
+In due course I reached Nodwengu without accident, having sent forward
+one of my hunters to report my approach to Panda. When my wagons
+arrived outside the Great Place they were met by none other than my old
+friend, Maputa, he who had brought me back the pills before our attack
+upon Bangu.
+
+“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said. “I am sent by the King to say that you
+are welcome and to point you out a good place to outspan; also to give
+you permission to trade as much as you will in this town, since he
+knows that your dealings are always fair.”
+
+I returned my thanks in the usual fashion, adding that I had brought a
+little present for the King which I would deliver when it pleased him
+to receive me. Then I invited Maputa, to whom I also offered some
+trifle which delighted him very much, to ride with me on the wagon-box
+till we came to the selected outspan.
+
+This, by the way, proved, to be a very good place indeed, a little
+valley full of grass for the cattle—for by the King’s order it had not
+been grazed—with a stream of beautiful water running down it. Moreover
+it overlooked a great open space immediately in front of the main gate
+of the town, so that I could see everything that went on and all who
+arrived or departed.
+
+“You will be comfortable here, Macumazahn,” said Maputa, “during your
+stay, which we hope will be long, since, although there will soon be a
+mighty crowd at Nodwengu, the King has given orders that none except
+your own servants are to enter this valley.”
+
+“I thank the King; but why will there be a crowd, Maputa?”
+
+“Oh!” he answered with a shrug of the shoulders, “because of a new
+thing. All the tribes of the Zulus are to come up to be reviewed. Some
+say that Cetewayo has brought this about, and some say that it is
+Umbelazi. But I am sure that it is the work of neither of these, but of
+Saduko, your old friend, though what his object is I cannot tell you. I
+only trust,” he added uneasily, “that it will not end in bloodshed
+between the Great Brothers.”
+
+“So Saduko has grown tall, Maputa?”
+
+“Tall as a tree, Macumazahn. His whisper in the King’s ear is louder
+than the shouts of others. Moreover, he has become a ‘self-eater’ [that
+is a Zulu term which means one who is very haughty]. You will have to
+wait on him, Macumazahn; he will not wait on you.”
+
+“Is it so?” I answered. “Well, tall trees are blown down sometimes.”
+
+He nodded his wise old head. “Yes, Macumazahn; I have seen plenty grow
+and fall in my time, for at last the swimmer goes with the stream.
+Anyhow, you will be able to do a good trade among so many, and,
+whatever happens, none will harm you whom all love. And now farewell; I
+bear your messages to the King, who sends an ox for you to kill lest
+you should grow hungry in his house.”
+
+That same evening I saw Saduko and the others, as I shall tell. I had
+been up to visit the King and give him my present, a case of English
+table-knives with bone handles, which pleased him greatly, although he
+did not in the least know how to use them. Indeed, without their
+accompanying forks these are somewhat futile articles. I found the old
+fellow very tired and anxious, but as he was surrounded by _indunas_, I
+had no private talk with him. Seeing that he was busy, I took my leave
+as soon as I could, and when I walked away whom should I meet but
+Saduko.
+
+I saw him while he was a good way off, advancing towards the inner gate
+with a train of attendants like a royal personage, and knew very well
+that he saw me. Making up my mind what to do at once, I walked straight
+on to him, forcing him to give me the path, which he did not wish to do
+before so many people, and brushed past him as though he were a
+stranger. As I expected, this treatment had the desired effect, for
+after we had passed each other he turned and said:
+
+“Do you not know me, Macumazahn?”
+
+“Who calls?” I asked. “Why, friend, your face is familiar to me. How
+are you named?”
+
+“Have you forgotten Saduko?” he said in a pained voice.
+
+“No, no, of course not,” I answered. “I know you now, although you seem
+somewhat changed since we went out hunting and fighting together—I
+suppose because you are fatter. I trust that you are well, Saduko?
+Good-bye. I must be going back to my wagons. If you wish to see me you
+will find me there.”
+
+These remarks, I may add, seemed to take Saduko very much aback. At any
+rate, he found no reply to them, even when old Maputa, with whom I was
+walking, and some others sniggered aloud. There is nothing that Zulus
+enjoy so much as seeing one whom they consider an upstart set in his
+place.
+
+Well, a couple of hours afterwards, just as the sun was sinking, who
+should walk up to my wagons but Saduko himself, accompanied by a woman
+whom I recognised at once as his wife, the Princess Nandie, who carried
+a fine baby boy in her arms. Rising, I saluted Nandie and offered her
+my camp-stool, which she looked at suspiciously and declined,
+preferring to seat herself on the ground after the native fashion. So I
+took it back again, and after I had sat down on it, not before,
+stretched out my hand to Saduko, who by this time was quite humble and
+polite.
+
+Well, we talked away, and by degrees, without seeming too much
+interested in them, I was furnished with a list of all the advancements
+which it had pleased Panda to heap upon Saduko during the past year. In
+their way they were remarkable enough, for it was much as though some
+penniless country gentleman in England had been promoted in that short
+space of time to be one of the premier peers of the kingdom and endowed
+with great offices and estates. When he had finished the count of them
+he paused, evidently waiting for me to congratulate him. But all I said
+was:
+
+“By the Heavens above I am sorry for you, Saduko! How many enemies you
+must have made! What a long way there will be for you to fall one
+night!”—a remark at which the quiet Nandie broke into a low laugh that
+I think pleased her husband even less than my sarcasm. “Well,” I went
+on, “I see that you have got a baby, which is much better than all
+these titles. May I look at it, _Inkosazana?_”
+
+Of course she was delighted, and we proceeded to inspect the baby,
+which evidently she loved more than anything on earth. Whilst we were
+examining the child and chatting about it, Saduko sitting by meanwhile
+in the sulks, who on earth should appear but Mameena and her fat and
+sullen-looking husband, the chief Masapo.
+
+“Oh, Macumazahn,” she said, appearing to notice no one else, “how
+pleased I am to see you after a whole long year!”
+
+I stared at her and my jaw dropped. Then I recovered myself, thinking
+she must have made a mistake and meant to say “week.”
+
+“Twelve moons,” she went on, “and, Macumazahn, not one of them has gone
+by but I have thought of you several times and wondered if we should
+ever meet again. Where have you been all this while?”
+
+“In many places,” I answered; “amongst others at the Black Kloof, where
+I called upon the dwarf, Zikali, and lost my looking-glass.”
+
+“The _Nyanga_, Zikali! Oh, how often have I wished to see him. But, of
+course, I cannot, for I am told he will not receive any women.”
+
+“I don’t know, I am sure,” I replied, “but you might try; perhaps he
+would make an exception in your favour.”
+
+“I think I will, Macumazahn,” she murmured, whereon I collapsed into
+silence, feeling that things were getting beyond me.
+
+When I recovered myself a little it was to hear Mameena greeting Saduko
+with much effusion, and complimenting him on his rise in life, which
+she said she had always foreseen. This remark seemed to bowl out Saduko
+also, for he made no answer to it, although I noticed that he could not
+take his eyes off Mameena’s beautiful face. Presently, however, he
+seemed to become aware of Masapo, and instantly his whole demeanour
+changed, for it grew proud and even terrible. Masapo tendered him some
+greeting; whereon Saduko turned upon him and said:
+
+“What, chief of the Amasomi, do you give the good-day to an
+_umfokazana_ and a mangy hyena? Why do you do this? Is it because the
+low _umfokazana_ has become a noble and the mangy hyena has put on a
+tiger’s coat?” And he glared at him like a veritable tiger.
+
+Masapo made no answer that I could catch. Muttering some inaudible
+words, he turned to depart, and in doing so—quite innocently, I
+think—struck Nandie, knocking her over on to her back and causing the
+child to fall out of her arms in such fashion that its tender head
+struck against a pebble with sufficient force to cause it to bleed.
+
+Saduko leapt at him, smiting him across the shoulders with the little
+stick that he carried. For a moment Masapo paused, and I thought that
+he was going to show fight. If he had any such intention, however, he
+changed his mind, for without a word, or showing any resentment at the
+insult which he had received, he broke into a heavy run and vanished
+among the evening shadows. Mameena, who had observed all, broke into
+something else, namely, a laugh.
+
+“_Piff!_ My husband is big yet not brave,” she said, “but I do not
+think he meant to hurt you, woman.”
+
+“Do you speak to me, wife of Masapo?” asked Nandie with gentle dignity,
+as she gained her feet and picked up the stunned child. “If so, my name
+and titles are the _Inkosazana_ Nandie, daughter of the Black One and
+wife of the lord Saduko.”
+
+“Your pardon,” replied Mameena humbly, for she was cowed at once. “I
+did not know who you were, _Inkosazana_.”
+
+“It is granted, wife of Masapo. Macumazahn, give me water, I pray you,
+that I may bathe the head of my child.”
+
+The water was brought, and presently, when the little one seemed all
+right again, for it had only received a scratch, Nandie thanked me and
+departed to her own huts, saying with a smile to her husband as she
+passed that there was no need for him to accompany her, as she had
+servants waiting at the kraal gate. So Saduko stayed behind, and
+Mameena stayed also. He talked with me for quite a long while, for he
+had much to tell me, although all the time I felt that his heart was
+not in his talk. His heart was with Mameena, who sat there and smiled
+continually in her mysterious way, only putting in a word now and
+again, as though to excuse her presence.
+
+At length she rose and said with a sigh that she must be going back to
+where the Amasomi were in camp, as Masapo would need her to see to his
+food. By now it was quite dark, although I remember that from time to
+time the sky was lit up by sheet lightning, for a storm was brewing. As
+I expected, Saduko rose also, saying that he would see me on the
+morrow, and went away with Mameena, walking like one who dreams.
+
+A few minutes later I had occasion to leave the wagons in order to
+inspect one of the oxen which was tied up by itself at a distance,
+because it had shown signs of some sickness that might or might not be
+catching. Moving quietly, as I always do from a hunter’s habit, I
+walked alone to the place where the beast was tethered behind some
+mimosa thorns. Just as I reached these thorns the broad lightning shone
+out vividly, and showed me Saduko holding the unresisting shape of
+Mameena in his arms and kissing her passionately.
+
+Then I turned and went back to the wagons even more quietly than I had
+come.
+
+I should add that on the morrow I found out that, after all, there was
+nothing serious the matter with my ox.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter X.
+THE SMELLING-OUT
+
+
+After these events matters went on quietly for some time. I visited
+Saduko’s huts—very fine huts—about the doors of which sat quite a
+number of his tribesmen, who seemed glad to see me again. Here I
+learned from the Lady Nandie that her babe, whom she loved dearly, was
+none the worse for its little accident. Also I learned from Saduko
+himself, who came in before I left, attended like a prince by several
+notable men, that he had made up his quarrel with Masapo, and, indeed,
+apologised to him, as he found that he had not really meant to insult
+the princess, his wife, having only thrust her over by accident. Saduko
+added indeed that now they were good friends, which was well for
+Masapo, a man whom the King had no cause to like. I said that I was
+glad to hear it, and went on to call upon Masapo, who received me with
+enthusiasm, as also did Mameena.
+
+Here I noted with pleasure that this pair seemed to be on much better
+terms than I understood had been the case in the past, for Mameena even
+addressed her husband on two separate occasions in very affectionate
+language, and fetched something that he wanted without waiting to be
+asked. Masapo, too, was in excellent spirits, because, as he told me,
+the old quarrel between him and Saduko was thoroughly made up, their
+reconciliation having been sealed by an interchange of gifts. He added
+that he was very glad that this was the case, since Saduko was now one
+of the most powerful men in the country, who could harm him much if he
+chose, especially as some secret enemy had put it about of late that
+he, Masapo, was an enemy of the King’s House, and an evil-doer who
+practised witchcraft. In proof of his new friendship, however, Saduko
+had promised that these slanders should be looked into and their
+originator punished, if he or she could be found.
+
+Well, I congratulated him and took my departure, “thinking furiously,”
+as the Frenchman says. That there was a tragedy pending I was sure;
+this weather was too calm to last; the water ran so still because it
+was preparing to leap down some hidden precipice.
+
+Yet what could I do? Tell Masapo I had seen his wife being embraced by
+another man? Surely that was not my business; it was Masapo’s business
+to attend to her conduct. Also they would both deny it, and I had no
+witness. Tell him that Saduko’s reconciliation with him was not
+sincere, and that he had better look to himself? How did I know it was
+not sincere? It might suit Saduko’s book to make friends with Masapo,
+and if I interfered _I_ should only make enemies and be called a liar
+who was working for some secret end.
+
+Go to Panda and confide my suspicions to him? He was far too anxious
+and busy about great matters to listen to me, and if he did, would only
+laugh at this tale of a petty flirtation. No, there was nothing to be
+done except sit still and wait. Very possibly I was mistaken, after
+all, and things would smooth themselves out, as they generally do.
+
+Meanwhile the “reviewing,” or whatever it may have been, was in
+progress, and I was busy with my own affairs, making hay while the sun
+shone. So great were the crowds of people who came up to Nodwengu that
+in a week I had sold everything I had to sell in the two wagons, that
+were mostly laden with cloth, beads, knives and so forth. Moreover, the
+prices I got were splendid, since the buyers bid against each other,
+and before I was cleared out I had collected quite a herd of cattle,
+also a quantity of ivory. These I sent on to Natal with one of the
+wagons, remaining behind myself with the other, partly because Panda
+asked me to do so—for now and again he would seek my advice on sundry
+questions—and partly from curiosity.
+
+There was plenty to be curious about up at Nodwengu just then, since no
+one was sure that civil war would not break out between the princes
+Cetewayo and Umbelazi, whose factions were present in force.
+
+It was averted for the time, however, by Umbelazi keeping away from the
+great gathering under pretext of being sick, and leaving Saduko and
+some others to watch his interests. Also the rival regiments were not
+allowed to approach the town at the same time. So that public cloud
+passed over, to the enormous relief of everyone, especially of Panda
+the King. As to the private cloud whereof this history tells, it was
+otherwise.
+
+As the tribes came up to the Great Place they were reviewed and sent
+away, since it was impossible to feed so vast a multitude as would have
+collected had they all remained. Thus the Amasomi, a small people who
+were amongst the first to arrive, soon left. Only, for some reason
+which I never quite understood, Masapo, Mameena and a few of Masapo’s
+children and headmen were detained there; though perhaps, if she had
+chosen, Mameena could have given an explanation.
+
+Well, things began to happen. Sundry personages were taken ill, and
+some of them died suddenly; and soon it was noted that all these people
+either lived near to where Masapo’s family was lodged or had at some
+time or other been on bad terms with him. Thus Saduko himself was taken
+ill, or said he was; at any rate, he vanished from public gaze for
+three days, and reappeared looking very sorry for himself, though I
+could not observe that he had lost strength or weight. These
+catastrophes I pass over, however, in order to come to the greatest of
+them, which is one of the turning points of this chronicle.
+
+After recovering from his alleged sickness Saduko gave a kind of
+thanksgiving feast, at which several oxen were killed. I was present at
+this feast, or rather at the last part of it, for I only put in what
+may be called a complimentary appearance, having no taste for such
+native gorgings. As it drew near its close Saduko sent for Nandie, who
+at first refused to come as there were no women present—I think because
+he wished to show his friends that he had a princess of the royal blood
+for his wife, who had borne him a son that one day would be great in
+the land. For Saduko, as I have said, had become a “self-eater,” and
+this day his pride was inflamed by the adulation of the company and by
+the beer that he had drunk.
+
+At length Nandie did come, carrying her babe, from which she never
+would be parted. In her dignified, ladylike fashion (although it seems
+an odd term to apply to a savage, I know none that describes her
+better) she greeted first me and then sundry of the other guests,
+saying a few words to each of them. At length she came opposite to
+Masapo, who had dined not wisely but too well, and to him, out of her
+natural courtesy, spoke rather longer than to the others, inquiring
+after his wife, Mameena, and others. At the moment it occurred to me
+that she did this in order to assure him that she bore no malice
+because of the accident of a while before, and was a party to her
+husband’s reconciliation with him.
+
+Masapo, in a hazy way, tried to reciprocate these kind intentions.
+Rising to his feet, his fat, coarse body swaying to and fro because of
+the beer that he had drunk, he expressed satisfaction at the feast that
+had been prepared in her house. Then, his eyes falling on the child, he
+began to declaim about its size and beauty, until he was stopped by the
+murmured protests of others, since among natives it is held to be not
+fortunate to praise a young child. Indeed, the person who does so is
+apt to be called an _umtakati_, or bewitcher, who will bring evil upon
+its head, a word that I heard murmured by several near to me. Not
+satisfied with this serious breach of etiquette, the intoxicated Masapo
+snatched the infant from its mother’s arms under pretext of looking for
+the hurt that had been caused to its brow when it fell to the ground at
+my camp, and finding none, proceeded to kiss it with his thick lips.
+
+Nandie dragged it from him, saying:
+
+“Would you bring death upon my son, O Chief of the Amasomi?”
+
+Then, turning, she walked away from the feasters, upon whom there fell
+a certain hush.
+
+Fearing lest something unpleasant should ensue, for I saw Saduko biting
+his lips with rage not unmixed with fear, and remembering Masapo’s
+reputation as a wizard, I took advantage of this pause to bid a general
+good night to the company and retire to my camp.
+
+What happened immediately after I left I do not know, but just before
+dawn on the following morning I was awakened from sleep in my wagon by
+my servant Scowl, who said that a messenger had come from the huts of
+Saduko, begging that I would proceed there at once and bring the white
+man’s medicines, as his child was very ill. Of course I got up and
+went, taking with me some ipecacuanha and a few other remedies that I
+thought might be suitable for infantile ailments.
+
+Outside the huts, which I reached just as the sun began to rise, I was
+met by Saduko himself, who was coming to seek me, as I saw at once, in
+a state of terrible grief.
+
+“What is the matter?” I asked.
+
+“O Macumazana,” he answered, “that dog Masapo has bewitched my boy, and
+unless you can save him he dies.”
+
+“Nonsense,” I said, “why do you utter wind? If the babe is sick, it is
+from some natural cause.”
+
+“Wait till you see it,” he replied.
+
+Well, I went into the big hut, and there found Nandie and some other
+women, also a native doctor or two. Nandie was seated on the floor
+looking like a stone image of grief, for she made no sound, only
+pointed with her finger to the infant that lay upon a mat in front of
+her.
+
+A single glance showed me that it was dying of some disease of which I
+had no knowledge, for its dusky little body was covered with red
+blotches and its tiny face twisted all awry. I told the women to heat
+water, thinking that possibly this might be a case of convulsions,
+which a hot bath would mitigate; but before it was ready the poor babe
+uttered a thin wail and died.
+
+Then, when she saw that her child was gone, Nandie spoke for the first
+time.
+
+“The wizard has done his work well,” she said, and flung herself face
+downwards on the floor of the hut.
+
+As I did not know what to answer, I went out, followed by Saduko.
+
+“What has killed my son, Macumazahn?” he asked in a hollow voice, the
+tears running down his handsome face, for he had loved his firstborn.
+
+“I cannot tell,” I replied; “but had he been older I should have
+thought he had eaten something poisonous, which seems impossible.”
+
+“Yes, Macumazahn, and the poison that he has eaten came from the breath
+of a wizard whom you may chance to have seen kiss him last night. Well,
+his life shall be avenged.”
+
+“Saduko,” I exclaimed, “do not be unjust. There are many sicknesses
+that may have killed your son of which I have no knowledge, who am not
+a trained doctor.”
+
+“I will not be unjust, Macumazahn. The babe has died by witchcraft,
+like others in this town of late, but the evil-doer may not be he whom
+I suspect. That is for the smellers-out to decide,” and without more
+words he turned and left me.
+
+Next day Masapo was put upon his trial before a Court of Councillors,
+over which the King himself presided, a very unusual thing for him to
+do, and one which showed the great interest he took in the case.
+
+At this court I was summoned to give evidence, and, of course, confined
+myself to answering such questions as were put to me. Practically these
+were but two. What had passed at my wagons when Masapo had knocked over
+Nandie and her child, and Saduko had struck him, and what had I seen at
+Saduko’s feast when Masapo had kissed the infant? I told them in as few
+words as I could, and after some slight cross-examination by Masapo,
+made with a view to prove that the upsetting of Nandie was an accident
+and that he was drunk at Saduko’s feast, to both of which suggestions I
+assented, I rose to go. Panda, however, stopped me and bade me describe
+the aspect of the child when I was called in to give it medicine.
+
+I did so as accurately as possible, and could see that my account made
+a deep impression on the mind of the court. Then Panda asked me if I
+had ever seen any similar case, to which I was obliged to reply:
+
+“No, I have not.”
+
+After this the Councillors consulted privately, and when we were called
+back the King gave his judgment, which was very brief. It was evident,
+he said, that there had been events which might have caused enmity to
+arise in the mind of Masapo against Saduko, by whom Masapo had been
+struck with a stick. Therefore, although a reconciliation had taken
+place, there seemed to be a possible motive for revenge. But if Masapo
+killed the child, there was no evidence to show how he had done so.
+Moreover, that infant, his own grandson, had not died of any known
+disease. He had, however, died of a similar disease to that which had
+carried off certain others with whom Masapo had been mixed up, whereas
+more, including Saduko himself, had been sick and recovered, all of
+which seemed to make a strong case against Masapo.
+
+Still, he and his Councillors wished not to condemn without full proof.
+That being so, they had determined to call in the services of some
+great witch-doctor, one who lived at a distance and knew nothing of the
+circumstances. Who that doctor should be was not yet settled. When it
+was and he had arrived, the case would be re-opened, and meanwhile
+Masapo would be kept a close prisoner. Finally, he prayed that the
+white man, Macumazahn, would remain at his town until the matter was
+settled.
+
+So Masapo was led off, looking very dejected, and, having saluted the
+King, we all went away.
+
+I should add that, except for the remission of the case to the court of
+the witch-doctor, which, of course, was an instance of pure Kafir
+superstition, this judgment of the King’s seemed to me well reasoned
+and just, very different indeed from what would have been given by
+Dingaan or Chaka, who were wont, on less evidence, to make a clean
+sweep not only of the accused, but of all his family and dependents.
+
+About eight days later, during which time I had heard nothing of the
+matter and seen no one connected with it, for the whole thing seemed to
+have become _Zila_—that is, not to be talked about—I received a summons
+to attend the “smelling-out,” and went, wondering what witch-doctor had
+been chosen for that bloody and barbarous ceremony. Indeed, I had not
+far to go, since the place selected for the occasion was outside the
+fence of the town of Nodwengu, on that great open stretch of ground
+which lay at the mouth of the valley where I was camped. Here, as I
+approached, I saw a vast multitude of people crowded together, fifty
+deep or more, round a little oval space not much larger than the pit of
+a theatre. On the inmost edge of this ring were seated many notable
+people, male and female, and as I was conducted to the side of it which
+was nearest to the gate of the town, I observed among them Saduko,
+Masapo, Mameena and others, and mixed up with them a number of
+soldiers, who were evidently on duty.
+
+Scarcely had I seated myself on a camp-stool, carried by my servant
+Scowl, when through the gate of the kraal issued Panda and certain of
+his Council, whose appearance the multitude greeted with the royal
+salute of _Bayéte_, that came from them in a deep and simultaneous roar
+of sound. When its echoes died away, in the midst of a deep silence
+Panda spoke, saying:
+
+“Bring forth the Nyanga [doctor]. Let the _umhlahlo_ [that is, the
+witch-trial] begin!”
+
+There was a long pause, and then in the open gateway appeared a
+solitary figure that at first sight seemed to be scarcely human, the
+figure of a dwarf with a gigantic head, from which hung long, white
+hair, plaited into locks. It was Zikali, no other!
+
+Quite unattended, and naked save for his moocha, for he had on him none
+of the ordinary paraphernalia of the witch-doctor, he waddled forward
+with a curious toad-like gait till he had passed through the
+Councillors and stood in the open space of the ring. Halting there, he
+looked about him slowly with his deep-set eyes, turning as he looked,
+till at length his glance fell upon the King.
+
+“What would you have of me, Son of Senzangakona?” he asked. “Many years
+have passed since last we met. Why do you drag me from my hut, I who
+have visited the kraal of the King of the Zulus but twice since the
+‘Black One’ [Chaka] sat upon the throne—once when the Boers were killed
+by him who went before you, and once when I was brought forth to see
+all who were left of my race, shoots of the royal Dwandwe stock, slain
+before my eyes. Do you bear me hither that I may follow them into the
+darkness, O Child of Senzangakona? If so I am ready; only then I have
+words to say that it may not please you to hear.”
+
+His deep, rumbling voice echoed into silence, while the great audience
+waited for the King’s answer. I could see that they were all afraid of
+this man, yes, even Panda was afraid, for he shifted uneasily upon his
+stool. At length he spoke, saying:
+
+“Not so, O Zikali. Who would wish to do hurt to the wisest and most
+ancient man in all the land, to him who touches the far past with one
+hand and the present with the other, to him who was old before our
+grandfathers began to be? Nay, you are safe, you on whom not even the
+‘Black One’ dared to lay a finger, although you were his enemy and he
+hated you. As for the reason why you have been brought here, tell it to
+us, O Zikali. Who are we that we should instruct you in the ways of
+wisdom?”
+
+When the dwarf heard this he broke into one of his great laughs.
+
+“So at last the House of Senzangakona acknowledges that I have wisdom.
+Then before all is done they will think me wise indeed.”
+
+He laughed again in his ill-omened fashion and went on hurriedly, as
+though he feared that he should be called upon to explain his words:
+
+“Where is the fee? Where is the fee? Is the King so poor that he
+expects an old Dwandwe doctor to divine for nothing, just as though he
+were working for a private friend?”
+
+Panda made a motion with his hand, and ten fine heifers were driven
+into the circle from some place where they had been kept in waiting.
+
+“Sorry beasts!” said Zikali contemptuously, “compared to those we used
+to breed before the time of Senzangakona”—a remark which caused a loud
+“_Wow!_” of astonishment to be uttered by the multitude that heard it.
+“Still, such as they are, let them be taken to my kraal, with a bull,
+for I have none.”
+
+The cattle were driven away, and the ancient dwarf squatted himself
+down and stared at the ground, looking like a great black toad. For a
+long while—quite ten minutes, I should think—he stared thus, till I,
+for one, watching him intently, began to feel as though I were
+mesmerised.
+
+At length he looked up, tossing back his grey locks, and said:
+
+“I see many things in the dust. Oh, yes, it is alive, it is alive, and
+tells me many things. Show that you are alive, O Dust. Look!”
+
+As he spoke, throwing his hands upwards, there arose at his very feet
+one of those tiny and incomprehensible whirlwinds with which all who
+know South Africa will be familiar. It drove the dust together; it
+lifted it in a tall, spiral column that rose and rose to a height of
+fifty feet or more. Then it died away as suddenly as it had come, so
+that the dust fell down again over Zikali, over the King, and over
+three of his sons who sat behind him. Those three sons, I remember,
+were named Tshonkweni, Dabulesinye, and Mantantashiya. As it chanced,
+by a strange coincidence all of these were killed at the great battle
+of the Tugela of which I have to tell.
+
+Now again an exclamation of fear and wonder rose from the audience, who
+set down this lifting of the dust at Zikali’s very feet not to natural
+causes, but to the power of his magic. Moreover, those on whom it had
+fallen, including the King, rose hurriedly and shook and brushed it
+from their persons with a zeal that was not, I think, inspired by a
+mere desire for cleanliness. But Zikali only laughed again in his
+terrible fashion and let it lie on his fresh-oiled body, which it
+turned to the dull, dead hue of a grey adder.
+
+He rose and, stepping here and there, examined the new-fallen dust.
+Then he put his hand into a pouch he wore and produced from it a dried
+human finger, whereof the nail was so pink that I think it must have
+been coloured—a sight at which the circle shuddered.
+
+“Be clever,” he said, “O Finger of her I loved best; be clever and
+write in the dust as yonder Macumazana can write, and as some of the
+Dwandwe used to write before we became slaves and bowed ourselves down
+before the Great Heavens.” (By this he meant the Zulus, whose name
+means the Heavens.) “Be clever, dear Finger which caressed me once, me,
+the ‘Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born,’ as more will think before I
+die, and write those matters that it pleases the House of Senzangakona
+to know this day.”
+
+Then he bent down, and with the dead finger at three separate spots
+made certain markings in the fallen dust, which to me seemed to consist
+of circles and dots; and a strange and horrid sight it was to see him
+do it.
+
+“I thank you, dear Finger. Now sleep, sleep, your work is done,” and
+slowly he wrapped the relic up in some soft material and restored it to
+his pouch.
+
+Then he studied the first of the markings and asked: “What am I here
+for? What am I here for? Does he who sits upon the Throne desire to
+know how long he has to reign?”
+
+Now, those of the inner circle of the spectators, who at these
+“smellings-out” act as a kind of chorus, looked at the King, and,
+seeing that he shook his head vigorously, stretched out their right
+hands, holding the thumb downwards, and said simultaneously in a cold,
+low voice:
+
+“_Izwa!_” (That is, “We hear you.”)
+
+Zikali stamped upon this set of markings.
+
+“It is well,” he said. “He who sits upon the Throne does not desire to
+know how long he has to reign, and therefore the dust has forgotten and
+shows it not to me.”
+
+Then he walked to the next markings and studied them.
+
+“Does the Child of Senzangakona desire to know which of his sons shall
+live and which shall die; aye, and which of them shall sleep in his hut
+when he is gone?”
+
+Now a great roar of “_Izwa!_” accompanied by the clapping of hands,
+rose from all the outer multitude who heard, for there was no
+information that the Zulu people desired so earnestly as this at the
+time of which I write.
+
+But again Panda, who, I saw, was thoroughly alarmed at the turn things
+were taking, shook his head vigorously, whereon the obedient chorus
+negatived the question in the same fashion as before.
+
+Zikali stamped upon the second set of markings, saying:
+
+“The people desire to know, but the Great Ones are afraid to learn, and
+therefore the dust has forgotten who in the days to come shall sleep in
+the hut of the King and who shall sleep in the bellies of the jackals
+and the crops of the vultures after they have ‘gone beyond’ by the
+bridge of spears.”
+
+Now, at this awful speech (which, both because of all that it implied
+of bloodshed and civil war and of the wild, wailing voice in which it
+was spoken, that seemed quite different from Zikali’s, caused everyone
+who heard it, including myself, I am afraid, to gasp and shiver) the
+King sprang from his stool as though to put a stop to such doctoring.
+Then, after his fashion, he changed his mind and sat down again. But
+Zikali, taking no heed, went to the third set of marks and studied
+them.
+
+“It would seem,” he said, “that I am awakened from sleep in my Black
+House yonder to tell of a very little matter, that might well have been
+dealt with by any common _Nyanga_ born but yesterday. Well, I have
+taken my fee, and I will earn it, although I thought that I was brought
+here to speak of great matters, such as the death of princes and the
+fortunes of peoples. Is it desired that my Spirit should speak of
+wizardries in this town of Nodwengu?”
+
+“_Izwa!_” said the chorus in a loud voice.
+
+Zikali nodded his great head and seemed to talk with the dust, waiting
+now and again for an answer.
+
+“Good,” he said; “they are many, and the dust has told them all to me.
+Oh, they are very many”—and he glared around him—“so many that if I
+spoke them all the hyenas of the hills would be full to-night—”
+
+Here the audience began to show signs of great apprehension.
+
+“But,” looking down at the dust and turning his head sideways, “what do
+you say, what do you say? Speak more plainly, Little Voices, for you
+know I grow deaf. Oh! now I understand. The matter is even smaller than
+I thought. Just of one wizard—”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (loudly).
+
+“—just of a few deaths and some sicknesses.”
+
+“_Izwa!_”
+
+“Just of one death, one principal death.”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (very loudly).
+
+“Ah! So we have it—one death. Now, was it a man?”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (very coldly).
+
+“A woman?”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (still more coldly).
+
+“Then a child? It must be a child, unless indeed it is the death of a
+spirit. But what do you people know of spirits? A child! A child! Ah!
+you hear me—a child. A male child, I think. Do you not say so, O Dust?”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (emphatically).
+
+“A common child? A bastard? The son of nobody?”
+
+“_Izwa!_” (very low).
+
+“A well-born child? One who would have been great? O Dust, I hear, I
+hear; a royal child, a child in whom ran the blood of the Father of the
+Zulus, he who was my friend? The blood of Senzangakona, the blood of
+the ‘Black One,’ the blood of Panda.”
+
+He stopped, while both from the chorus and from the thousands of the
+circle gathered around went up one roar of “_Izwa!_” emphasised by a
+mighty movement of outstretched arms and down-pointing thumbs.
+
+Then silence, during which Zikali stamped upon all the remaining
+markings, saying:
+
+“I thank you, O Dust, though I am sorry to have troubled you for so
+small a matter. So, so,” he went on presently, “a royal boy-child is
+dead, and you think by witchcraft. Let us find out if he died by
+witchcraft or as others die, by command of the Heavens that need them.
+What! Here is one mark which I have left. Look! It grows red, it is
+full of spots! The child died with a twisted face.”
+
+“_Izwa! Izwa! Izwa!_” (crescendo).
+
+“This death was not natural. Now, was it witchcraft or was it poison?
+Both, I think, both. And whose was the child? Not that of a son of the
+King, I think. Oh, yes, you hear me, People, you hear me; but be
+silent; I do not need your help. No, not of a son; of a daughter,
+then.” He turned and, looked about him till his eye fell upon a group
+of women, amongst whom sat Nandie, dressed like a common person. “Of a
+daughter, a daughter—” He walked to the group of women. “Why, none of
+these are royal; they are the children of low people. And yet—and yet I
+seem to smell the blood of Senzangakona.”
+
+He sniffed at the air as a dog does, and as he sniffed drew ever nearer
+to Nandie, till at last he laughed and pointed to her.
+
+“_Your_ child, Princess, whose name I do not know. Your firstborn
+child, whom you loved more than your own heart.”
+
+She rose.
+
+“Yes, yes, _Nyanga_,” she cried. “I am the Princess Nandie, and he was
+my child, whom I loved more than my own heart.”
+
+“Haha!” said Zikali. “Dust, you did not lie to me. My Spirit, you did
+not lie to me. But now, tell me, Dust—and tell me, my Spirit—who killed
+this child?”
+
+He began to waddle round the circle, an extraordinary sight, covered as
+he was with grey grime, varied with streaks of black skin where the
+perspiration had washed the dust away.
+
+Presently he came opposite to me, and, to my dismay, paused, sniffing
+at me as he had at Nandie.
+
+“Ah! ah! O Macumazana,” he said, “you have something to do with this
+matter,” a saying at which all that audience pricked their ears.
+
+Then I rose up in wrath and fear, knowing my position to be one of some
+danger.
+
+“Wizard, or Smeller-out of Wizards, whichever you name yourself,” I
+called in a loud voice, “if you mean that _I_ killed Nandie’s child,
+you lie!”
+
+“No, no, Macumazahn,” he answered, “but you tried to save it, and
+therefore you had something to do with the matter, had you not?
+Moreover, I think that you, who are wise like me, know who did kill it.
+Won’t you tell me, Macumazahn? No? Then I must find out for myself. Be
+at peace. Does not all the land know that your hands are white as your
+heart?”
+
+Then, to my great relief, he passed on, amidst a murmur of approbation,
+for, as I have said, the Zulus liked me. Round and round he wandered,
+to my surprise passing both Mameena and Masapo without taking any
+particular note of them, although he scanned them both, and I thought
+that I saw a swift glance of recognition pass between him and Mameena.
+It was curious to watch his progress, for as he went those in front of
+him swayed in their terror like corn before a puff of wind, and when he
+had passed they straightened themselves as the corn does when the wind
+has gone by.
+
+At length he had finished his journey and returned to his
+starting-point, to all appearance completely puzzled.
+
+“You keep so many wizards at your kraal, King,” he said, addressing
+Panda, “that it is hard to say which of them wrought this deed. It
+would have been easier to tell you of greater matters. Yet I have taken
+your fee, and I must earn it—I must earn it. Dust, you are dumb. Now,
+my _Idhlozi_, my Spirit, do you speak?” and, holding his head sideways,
+he turned his left ear up towards the sky, then said presently, in a
+curious, matter-of-fact voice:
+
+“Ah! I thank you, Spirit. Well, King, your grandchild was killed by the
+House of Masapo, your enemy, chief of the Amasomi.”
+
+Now a roar of approbation went up from the audience, among whom
+Masapo’s guilt was a foregone conclusion.
+
+When this had died down Panda spoke, saying:
+
+“The House of Masapo is a large house; I believe that he has several
+wives and many children. It is not enough to smell out the House, since
+I am not as those who went before me were, nor will I slay the innocent
+with the guilty. Tell us, O Opener-of-Roads, who among the House of
+Masapo has wrought this deed?”
+
+“That’s just the question,” grumbled Zikali in a deep voice. “All that
+I know is that it was done by poisoning, and I smell the poison. It is
+here.”
+
+Then he walked to where Mameena sat and cried out:
+
+“Seize that woman and search her hair.”
+
+Executioners who were in waiting sprang forward, but Mameena waved them
+away.
+
+“Friends,” she said, with a little laugh, “there is no need to touch
+me,” and, rising, she stepped forward to the centre of the ring. Here,
+with a few swift motions of her hands, she flung off first the cloak
+she wore, then the moocha about her middle, and lastly the fillet that
+bound her long hair, and stood before that audience in all her naked
+beauty—a wondrous and a lovely sight.
+
+“Now,” she said, “let women come and search me and my garments, and see
+if there is any poison hid there.”
+
+Two old crones stepped forward—though I do not know who sent them—and
+carried out a very thorough examination, finally reporting that they
+had found nothing. Thereon Mameena, with a shrug of her shoulders,
+resumed such clothes as she wore, and returned to her place.
+
+Zikali appeared to grow angry. He stamped upon the ground with his big
+feet; he shook his braided grey locks and cried out:
+
+“Is my wisdom to be defeated in such a little matter? One of you tie a
+bandage over my eyes.”
+
+Now a man—it was Maputa, the messenger—came out and did so, and I noted
+that he tied it well and tight. Zikali whirled round upon his heels,
+first one way and then another, and, crying aloud: “Guide me, my
+Spirit!” marched forward in a zigzag fashion, as a blindfolded man
+does, with his arms stretched out in front of him. First he went to the
+right, then to the left, and then straight forward, till at length, to
+my astonishment, he came exactly opposite the spot where Masapo sat
+and, stretching out his great, groping hands, seized the kaross with
+which he was covered and, with a jerk, tore it from him.
+
+“Search this!” he cried, throwing it on the ground, and a woman
+searched.
+
+Presently she uttered an exclamation, and from among the fur of one of
+the tails of the kaross produced a tiny bag that appeared to be made
+out of the bladder of a fish. This she handed to Zikali, whose eyes had
+now been unbandaged.
+
+He looked at it, then gave it to Maputa, saying:
+
+“There is the poison—there is the poison, but who gave it I do not say.
+I am weary. Let me go.”
+
+Then, none hindering him, he walked away through the gate of the kraal.
+
+Soldiers seized upon Masapo, while the multitude roared: “Kill the
+wizard!”
+
+Masapo sprang up, and, running to where the King sat, flung himself
+upon his knees, protesting his innocence and praying for mercy. I also,
+who had doubts as to all this business, ventured to rise and speak.
+
+“O King,” I said, “as one who has known this man in the past, I plead
+with you. How that powder came into his kaross I know not, but
+perchance it is not poison, only harmless dust.”
+
+“Yes, it is but wood dust which I use for the cleaning of my nails,”
+cried Masapo, for he was so terrified I think he knew not what he said.
+
+“So you own to knowledge of the medicine?” exclaimed Panda. “Therefore
+none hid it in your kaross through malice.”
+
+Masapo began to explain, but what he said was lost in a mighty roar of
+“_Kill the wizard!_”
+
+Panda held up his hand and there was silence.
+
+“Bring milk in a dish,” commanded the King, and it, was brought, and,
+at a further word from him, dusted with the powder.
+
+“Now, O Macumazana,” said Panda to me, “if you still think that yonder
+man is innocent, will you drink this milk?”
+
+“I do not like milk, O King,” I answered, shaking my head, whereon all
+who heard me laughed.
+
+“Will Mameena, his wife, drink it, then?” asked Panda.
+
+She also shook her head, saying:
+
+“O King, I drink no milk that is mixed with dust.”
+
+Just then a lean, white dog, one of those homeless, mangy beasts that
+stray about kraals and live upon carrion, wandered into the ring. Panda
+made a sign, and a servant, going to where the poor beast stood staring
+about it hungrily, set down the wooden dish of milk in front of it.
+Instantly the dog lapped it up, for it was starving, and as it finished
+the last drop the man slipped a leathern thong about its neck and held
+it fast.
+
+Now all eyes were fixed upon the dog, mine among them. Presently the
+beast uttered a long and melancholy howl which thrilled me through, for
+I knew it to be Masapo’s death warrant, then began to scratch the
+ground and foam at the mouth. Guessing what would follow, I rose, bowed
+to the King, and walked away to my camp, which, it will be remembered,
+was set up in a little kloof commanding this place, at a distance only
+of a few hundred yards. So intent was all the multitude upon watching
+the dog that I doubt whether anyone saw me go. As for that poor beast,
+Scowl, who stayed behind, told me that it did not die for about ten
+minutes, since before its end a red rash appeared upon it similar to
+that which I had seen upon Saduko’s child, and it was seized with
+convulsions.
+
+Well, I reached my tent unmolested, and, having lit my pipe, engaged
+myself in making business entries in my note-book, in order to divert
+my mind as much as I could, when suddenly I heard a most devilish
+clamour. Looking up, I saw Masapo running towards me with a speed that
+I should have thought impossible in so fat a man, while after him raced
+the fierce-faced executioners, and behind came the mob.
+
+“Kill the evil-doer!” they shouted.
+
+Masapo reached me. He flung himself on his knees before me, gasping:
+
+“Save me, Macumazahn! I am innocent. Mameena, the witch! Mameena—”
+
+He got no farther, for the slayers had leapt on him like hounds upon a
+buck and dragged him from me.
+
+Then I turned and covered up my eyes.
+
+Next morning I left Nodwengu without saying good-bye to anyone, for
+what had happened there made me desire a change. My servant, Scowl, and
+one of my hunters remained, however, to collect some cattle that were
+still due to me.
+
+A month or more later, when they joined me in Natal, bringing the
+cattle, they told me that Mameena, the widow of Masapo, had entered the
+house of Saduko as his second wife. In answer to a question which I put
+to them, they added that it was said that the Princess Nandie did not
+approve of this choice of Saduko, which she thought would not be
+fortunate for him or bring him happiness. As her husband seemed to be
+much enamoured of Mameena, however, she had waived her objections, and
+when Panda asked if she gave her consent had told him that, although
+she would prefer that Saduko should choose some other woman who had not
+been mixed up with the wizard who killed her child, she was prepared to
+take Mameena as her sister, and would know how to keep her in her
+place.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XI.
+THE SIN OF UMBELAZI
+
+
+About eighteen months had gone by, and once again, in the autumn of the
+year 1856, I found myself at old Umbezi’s kraal, where there seemed to
+be an extraordinary market for any kind of gas-pipe that could be
+called a gun. Well, as a trader who could not afford to neglect
+profitable markets, which are hard things to find, there I was.
+
+Now, in eighteen months many things become a little obscured in one’s
+memory, especially if they have to do with savages, in whom, after all,
+one takes only a philosophical and a business interest. Therefore I may
+perhaps be excused if I had more or less forgotten a good many of the
+details of what I may call the Mameena affair. These, however, came
+back to me very vividly when the first person that I met—at some
+distance from the kraal, where I suppose she had been taking a country
+walk—was the beautiful Mameena herself. There she was, looking quite
+unchanged and as lovely as ever, sitting under the shade of a wild
+fig-tree and fanning herself with a handful of its leaves.
+
+Of course I jumped off my wagon-box and greeted her.
+
+“_Siyakubona_ [that is, good morrow], Macumazahn,” she said. “My heart
+is glad to see you.”
+
+“_Siyakubona_, Mameena,” I answered, leaving out all reference to _my_
+heart. Then I added, looking at her: “Is it true that you have a new
+husband?”
+
+“Yes, Macumazahn, an old lover of mine has become a new husband. You
+know whom I mean—Saduko. After the death of that evil-doer, Masapo, he
+grew very urgent, and the King, also the _Inkosazana_ Nandie, pressed
+it on me, and so I yielded. Also, to be honest, Saduko was a good
+match, or seemed to be so.”
+
+By now we were walking side by side, for the train of wagons had gone
+ahead to the old outspan. So I stopped and looked her in the face.
+
+“‘Seemed to be,’” I repeated. “What do you mean by ‘seemed to be’? Are
+you not happy this time?”
+
+“Not altogether, Macumazahn,” she answered, with a shrug of her
+shoulders. “Saduko is very fond of me—fonder than I like indeed, since
+it causes him to neglect Nandie, who, by the way, has another son, and,
+although she says little, that makes Nandie cross. In short,” she
+added, with a burst of truth, “I am the plaything, Nandie is the great
+lady, and that place suits me ill.”
+
+“If you love Saduko, you should not mind, Mameena.”
+
+“Love,” she said bitterly. “_Piff!_ What is love? But I have asked you
+that question once before.”
+
+“Why are you here, Mameena?” I inquired, leaving it unanswered.
+
+“Because Saduko is here, and, of course, Nandie, for she never leaves
+him, and he will not leave me; because the Prince Umbelazi is coming;
+because there are plots afoot and the great war draws near—that war in
+which so many must die.”
+
+“Between Cetewayo and Umbelazi, Mameena?”
+
+“Aye, between Cetewayo and Umbelazi. Why do you suppose those wagons of
+yours are loaded with guns for which so many cattle must be paid? Not
+to shoot game with, I think. Well, this little kraal of my father’s is
+just now the headquarters of the Umbelazi faction, the _Isigqosa_, as
+the princedom of Gikazi is that of Cetewayo. My poor father!” she
+added, with her characteristic shrug, “he thinks himself very great
+to-day, as he did after he had shot the elephant—before I nursed you,
+Macumazahn—but often I wonder what will be the end of it—for him and
+for all of us, Macumazahn, including yourself.”
+
+“I!” I answered. “What have I to do with your Zulu quarrels?”
+
+“That you will know when you have done with them, Macumazahn. But here
+is the kraal, and before we enter it I wish to thank you for trying to
+protect that unlucky husband of mine, Masapo.”
+
+“I only did so, Mameena, because I thought him innocent.”
+
+“I know, Macumazahn; and so did I, although, as I always told you, I
+hated him, the man with whom my father forced me to marry. But I am
+afraid, from what I have learned since, that he was not altogether
+innocent. You see, Saduko had struck him, which he could not forget.
+Also, he was jealous of Saduko, who had been my suitor, and wished to
+injure him. But what I do not understand,” she added, with a burst of
+confidence, “is why he did not kill Saduko instead of his child.”
+
+“Well, Mameena, you may remember it was said he tried to do so.”
+
+“Yes, Macumazahn; I had forgotten that. I suppose that he did try, and
+failed. Oh, now I see things with both eyes. Look, yonder is my father.
+I will go away. But come and talk to me sometimes, Macumazahn, for
+otherwise Nandie will be careful that I should hear nothing—I who am
+the plaything, the beautiful woman of the House, who must sit and
+smile, but must not think.”
+
+So she departed, and I went on to meet old Umbezi, who came gambolling
+towards me like an obese goat, reflecting that, whatever might be the
+truth or otherwise of her story, her advancement in the world did not
+seem to have brought Mameena greater happiness and contentment.
+
+Umbezi, who greeted me warmly, was in high spirits and full of
+importance. He informed me that the marriage of Mameena to Saduko,
+after the death of the wizard, her husband, whose tribe and cattle had
+been given to Saduko in compensation for the loss of his son, was a
+most fortunate thing for him.
+
+I asked why.
+
+“Because as Saduko grows great so I, his father-in-law, grow great with
+him, Macumazahn, especially as he has been liberal to me in the matter
+of cattle, passing on to me a share of the herds of Masapo, so that I,
+who have been poor so long, am getting rich at last. Moreover, my kraal
+is to be honoured with a visit from Umbelazi and some of his brothers
+to-morrow, and Saduko has promised to lift me up high when the Prince
+is declared heir to the throne.”
+
+“Which prince?” I asked.
+
+“Umbelazi, Macumazahn. Who else? Umbelazi, who without doubt will
+conquer Cetewayo.”
+
+“Why without doubt, Umbezi? Cetewayo has a great following, and if _he_
+should conquer I think that you will only be lifted up in the crops of
+the vultures.”
+
+At this rough suggestion Umbezi’s fat face fell.
+
+“O Macumazana,” he said, “if I thought that, I would go over to
+Cetewayo, although Saduko is my son-in-law. But it is not possible,
+since the King loves Umbelazi’s mother most of all his wives, and, as I
+chance to know, has sworn to her that he favours Umbelazi’s cause,
+since he is the dearest to him of all his sons, and will do everything
+that he can to help him, even to the sending of his own regiment to his
+assistance, if there should be need. Also, it is said that Zikali,
+Opener-of-Roads, who has all wisdom, has prophesied that Umbelazi will
+win more than he ever hoped for.”
+
+“The King!” I said, “a straw blown hither and thither between two great
+winds, waiting to be wafted to rest by that which is strongest! The
+prophecy of Zikali! It seems to me that it can be read two ways, if,
+indeed, he ever made one. Well, Umbezi, I hope that you are right, for,
+although it is no affair of mine, who am but a white trader in your
+country, I like Umbelazi better than Cetewayo, and think that he has a
+kinder heart. Also, as you have chosen his side, I advise you to stick
+to it, since traitors to a cause seldom come to any good, whether it
+wins or loses. And now, will you take count of the guns and powder
+which I have brought with me?”
+
+Ah! better would it have been for Umbezi if he had listened to my
+advice and remained faithful to the leader he had chosen, for then,
+even if he had lost his life, at least he would have kept his good
+name. But of him presently, as they say in pedigrees.
+
+Next day I went to pay my respects to Nandie, whom I found engaged in
+nursing her new baby and as quiet and stately in her demeanour as ever.
+Still, I think that she was very glad to see me, because I had tried to
+save the life of her first child, whom she could not forget, if for no
+other reason. Whilst I was talking to her of that sad matter, also of
+the political state of the country, as to which I think she wished to
+say something to me, Mameena entered the hut, without waiting to be
+asked, and sat down, whereon Nandie became suddenly silent.
+
+This, however, did not trouble Mameena, who talked away about anything
+and everything, completely ignoring the head-wife. For a while Nandie
+bore it with patience, but at length she took advantage of a pause in
+the conversation to say in her firm, low voice:
+
+“This is my hut, daughter of Umbezi, a thing which you remember well
+enough when it is a question whether Saduko, our husband, shall visit
+you or me. Can you not remember it now when I would speak with the
+white chief, Watcher-by-Night, who has been so good as to take the
+trouble to come to see me?”
+
+On hearing these words Mameena leapt up in a rage, and I must say I
+never saw her look more lovely.
+
+“You insult me, daughter of Panda, as you always try to do, because you
+are jealous of me.”
+
+“Your pardon, sister,” replied Nandie. “Why should I, who am Saduko’s
+_Inkosikazi_, and, as you say, daughter of Panda, the King, be jealous
+of the widow of the wizard, Masapo, and the daughter of the headman,
+Umbezi, whom it has pleased our husband to take into his house to be
+the companion of his leisure?”
+
+“Why? Because you know that Saduko loves my little finger more than he
+does your whole body, although you are of the King’s blood and have
+borne him brats,” she answered, looking at the infant with no kindly
+eye.
+
+“It may be so, daughter of Umbezi, for men have their fancies, and
+without doubt you are fair. Yet I would ask you one thing—if Saduko
+loves you so much, how comes it he trusts you so little that you must
+learn any matter of weight by listening at my door, as I found you
+doing the other day?”
+
+“Because you teach him not to do so, O Nandie. Because you are ever
+telling him not to consult with me, since she who has betrayed one
+husband may betray another. Because you make him believe my place is
+that of his toy, not that of his companion, and this although I am
+cleverer than you and all your House tied into one bundle, as you may
+find out some day.”
+
+“Yes,” answered Nandie, quite undisturbed, “I do teach him these
+things, and I am glad that in this matter Saduko has a thinking head
+and listens to me. Also I agree that it is likely I shall learn many
+more ill things through and of you one day, daughter of Umbezi. And
+now, as it is not good that we should wrangle before this white lord,
+again I say to you that this is my hut, in which I wish to speak alone
+with my guest.”
+
+“I go, I go!” gasped Mameena; “but I tell you that Saduko shall hear of
+this.”
+
+“Certainly he will hear of it, for I shall tell him when he comes
+to-night.”
+
+Another instant and Mameena was gone, having shot out of the hut like a
+rabbit from its burrow.
+
+“I ask your pardon, Macumazahn, for what has happened,” said Nandie,
+“but it had become necessary that I should teach my sister, Mameena,
+upon which stool she ought to sit. I do not trust her, Macumazahn. I
+think that she knows more of the death of my child than she chooses to
+say, she who wished to be rid of Masapo for a reason you can guess. I
+think also she will bring shame and trouble upon Saduko, whom she has
+bewitched with her beauty, as she bewitches all men—perhaps even
+yourself a little, Macumazahn. And now let us talk of other matters.”
+
+To this proposition I agreed cordially, since, to tell the truth, if I
+could have managed to do so with any decent grace, _I_ should have been
+out of that hut long before Mameena. So we fell to conversing on the
+condition of Zululand and the dangers that lay ahead for all who were
+connected with the royal House—a state of affairs which troubled Nandie
+much, for she was a clear-headed woman, and one who feared the future.
+
+“Ah! Macumazahn,” she said to me as we parted, “I would that I were the
+wife of some man who did not desire to grow great, and that no royal
+blood ran in my veins.”
+
+On the next day the Prince Umbelazi arrived, and with him Saduko and a
+few other notable men. They came quite quietly and without any
+ostensible escort, although Scowl, my servant, told me he heard that
+the bush at a little distance was swarming with soldiers of the
+_Isigqosa_ party. If I remember rightly, the excuse for the visit was
+that Umbezi had some of a certain rare breed of white cattle whereof
+the prince wished to secure young bulls and heifers to improve his
+herd.
+
+Once inside the kraal, however, Umbelazi, who was a very open-natured
+man, threw off all pretence, and, after greeting me heartily enough,
+told me with plainness that he was there because this was a convenient
+spot on which to arrange the consolidation of his party.
+
+Almost every hour during the next two weeks messengers—many of whom
+were chiefs disguised—came and went. I should have liked to follow
+their example—that is, so far as their departure was concerned—for I
+felt that I was being drawn into a very dangerous vortex. But, as a
+matter of fact, I could not escape, since I was obliged to wait to
+receive payment for my stuff, which, as usual, was made in cattle.
+
+Umbelazi talked with me a good deal at that time, impressing upon me
+how friendly he was towards the English white men of Natal, as
+distinguished from the Boers, and what good treatment he was prepared
+to promise to them, should he ever attain to authority in Zululand. It
+was during one of the earliest of these conversations, which, of
+course, I saw had an ultimate object, that he met Mameena, I think, for
+the first time.
+
+We were walking together in a little natural glade of the bush that
+bordered one side of the kraal, when, at the end of it, looking like
+some wood nymph of classic fable in the light of the setting sun,
+appeared the lovely Mameena, clothed only in her girdle of fur, her
+necklace of blue beads and some copper ornaments, and carrying upon her
+head a gourd.
+
+Umbelazi noted her at once, and, ceasing his political talk, of which
+he was obviously tired, asked me who that beautiful _intombi_ (that is,
+girl) might be.
+
+“She is not an _intombi_, Prince,” I answered. “She is a widow who is
+again a wife, the second wife of your friend and councillor, Saduko,
+and the daughter of your host, Umbezi.”
+
+“Is it so, Macumazahn? Oh, then I have heard of her, though, as it
+chances, I have never met her before. No wonder that my sister Nandie
+is jealous, for she is beautiful indeed.”
+
+“Yes,” I answered, “she looks pretty against the red sky, does she
+not?”
+
+By now we were drawing near to Mameena, and I greeted her, asking if
+she wanted anything.
+
+“Nothing, Macumazahn,” she answered in her delicate, modest way, for
+never did I know anyone who could seem quite so modest as Mameena, and
+with a swift glance of her shy eyes at the tall and splendid Umbelazi,
+“nothing. Only,” she added, “I was passing with the milk of one of the
+few cows my father gave me, and saw you, and I thought that perhaps, as
+the day has been so hot, you might like a drink of it.”
+
+Then, lifting the gourd from her head, she held it out to me.
+
+I thanked her, drank some—who could do less?—and returned it to her,
+whereon she made as though she would hasten to depart.
+
+“May I not drink also, daughter of Umbezi?” asked Umbelazi, who could
+scarcely take his eyes off her.
+
+“Certainly, sir, if you are a friend of Macumazahn,” she replied,
+handing him the gourd.
+
+“I am that, Lady, and more than that, since I am a friend of your
+husband, Saduko, also, as you will know when I tell you that my name is
+Umbelazi.”
+
+“I thought it must be so,” she replied, “because of your—of your
+stature. Let the Prince accept the offering of his servant, who one day
+hopes to be his subject,” and, dropping upon her knee, she held out the
+gourd to him. Over it I saw their eyes meet. He drank, and as he handed
+back the vessel she said:
+
+“O Prince, may I be granted a word with you? I have that to tell which
+you would perhaps do well to hear, since news sometimes reaches the
+ears of humble women that escapes those of the men, our masters.”
+
+He bowed his head in assent, whereon, taking a hint which Mameena gave
+me with her eyes, I muttered something about business and made myself
+scarce. I may add that Mameena must have had a great deal to tell
+Umbelazi. Fully an hour and a half had gone by before, by the light of
+the moon, from a point of vantage on my wagon-box, whence, according to
+my custom, I was keeping a lookout on things in general, I saw her slip
+back to the kraal silently as a snake, followed at a little distance by
+the towering form of Umbelazi.
+
+Apparently Mameena continued to be the recipient of information which
+she found it necessary to communicate in private to the prince. At any
+rate, on sundry subsequent evenings the dullness of my vigil on the
+wagon-box was relieved by the sight of her graceful figure gliding home
+from the kloof that Umbelazi seemed to find a very suitable spot for
+reflection after sunset. On one of the last of these occasions I
+remember that Nandie chanced to be with me, having come to my wagon for
+some medicine for her baby.
+
+“What does it mean, Macumazahn?” she asked, when the pair had gone by,
+as they thought unobserved, since we were standing where they could not
+see us.
+
+“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” I answered sharply.
+
+“Neither do I, Macumazahn; but without doubt we shall learn in time. If
+the crocodile is patient and silent the buck always drops into its jaws
+at last.”
+
+On the day after Nandie made this wise remark Saduko started on a
+mission, as I understood, to win over several doubtful chiefs to the
+cause of _Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_ (the Elephant-with-the-tuft-of-hair),
+as the Prince Umbelazi was called among the Zulus, though not to his
+face. This mission lasted ten days, and before it was concluded an
+important event happened at Umbezi’s kraal.
+
+One evening Mameena came to me in a great rage, and said that she could
+bear her present life no longer. Presuming on her rank and position as
+head-wife, Nandie treated her like a servant—nay, like a little dog, to
+be beaten with a stick. She wished that Nandie would die.
+
+“It will be very unlucky for you if she does,” I answered, “for then,
+perhaps, Zikali will be summoned to look into the matter, as he was
+before.”
+
+What was she to do, she went on, ignoring my remark.
+
+“Eat the porridge that you have made in your own pot, or break the pot”
+(i.e. go away), I suggested. “There was no need for you to marry
+Saduko, any more than there was for you to marry Masapo.”
+
+“How can you talk to me like that, Macumazahn,” she answered, stamping
+her foot, “when you know well it is your fault if I married anyone?
+_Piff!_ I hate them all, and, since my father would only beat me if I
+took my troubles to him, I will run off, and live in the wilderness
+alone and become a witch-doctoress.”
+
+“I am afraid you will find it very dull, Mameena,” I began in a
+bantering tone, for, to tell the truth, I did not think it wise to show
+her too much sympathy while she was so excited.
+
+Mameena never waited for the end of the sentence, but, sobbing out that
+I was false and cruel, she turned and departed swiftly. Oh! little did
+I foresee how and where we should meet again.
+
+Next morning I was awakened shortly after sunrise by Scowl, whom I had
+sent out with another man the night before to look for a lost ox.
+
+“Well, have you found the ox?” I asked.
+
+“Yes, Baas; but I did not waken you to tell you that. I have a message
+for you, Baas, from Mameena, wife of Saduko, whom I met about four
+hours ago upon the plain yonder.”
+
+I bade him set it out.
+
+“These were the words of Mameena, Baas: ‘Say to Macumazahn, your
+master, that _Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_, taking pity on my wrongs and
+loving me with his heart, has offered to take me into his House and
+that I have accepted his offer, since I think it better to become the
+_Inkosazana_ of the Zulus, as I shall one day, than to remain a servant
+in the house of Nandie. Say to Macumazahn that when Saduko returns he
+is to tell him that this is all his fault, since if he had kept Nandie
+in her place I would have died rather than leave him. Let him say to
+Saduko also that, although from henceforth we can be no more than
+friends, my heart is still tender towards him, and that by day and by
+night I will strive to water his greatness, so that it may grow into a
+tree that shall shade the land. Let Macumazahn bid him not to be angry
+with me, since what I do I do for his good, as he would have found no
+happiness while Nandie and I dwelt in one house. Above all, also let
+him not be angry with the Prince, who loves him more than any man, and
+does but travel whither the wind that I breathe blows him. Bid
+Macumazahn think of me kindly, as I shall of him while my eyes are
+open.’”
+
+I listened to this amazing message in silence, then asked if Mameena
+was alone.
+
+“No, Baas; Umbelazi and some soldiers were with her, but they did not
+hear her words, for she stepped aside to speak with me. Then she
+returned to them, and they walked away swiftly, and were swallowed up
+in the night.”
+
+“Very good, Sikauli,” I said. “Make me some coffee, and make it
+strong.”
+
+I dressed and drank several cups of the coffee, all the while “thinking
+with my head,” as the Zulus say. Then I walked up to the kraal to see
+Umbezi, whom I found just coming out of his hut, yawning.
+
+“Why do you look so black upon this beautiful morning, Macumazahn?”
+asked the genial old scamp. “Have you lost your best cow, or what?”
+
+“No, my friend,” I answered; “but you and another have lost _your_ best
+cow.” And word for word I repeated to him Mameena’s message. When I had
+finished really I thought that Umbezi was about to faint.
+
+“Curses be on the head of this Mameena!” he exclaimed. “Surely some
+evil spirit must have been her father, not I, and well was she called
+Child of Storm.[1] What shall I do now, Macumazahn? Thanks be to my
+Spirit,” he added, with an air of relief, “she is too far gone for me
+to try to catch her; also, if I did, Umbelazi and his soldiers would
+kill me.”
+
+ [1] That, if I have not said so already, was the meaning which the
+ Zulus gave to the word _Mameena_, although as I know the language I
+ cannot get any such interpretation out of the name, I believe that it
+ was given to her, however, because she was born just before a terrible
+ tempest, when the wind wailing round the hut made a sound like the
+ word _Ma-mee-na_. —A. Q.
+
+“And what will Saduko do if you don’t?” I asked.
+
+“Oh, of course he will be angry, for no doubt he is fond of her. But,
+after all, I am used to that. You remember how he went mad when she
+married Masapo. At least, he cannot say that I made her run away with
+Umbelazi. After all, it is a matter which they must settle between
+them.”
+
+“I think it may mean great trouble,” I said, “at a time when trouble is
+not needed.”
+
+“Oh, why so, Macumazahn? My daughter did not get on with the Princess
+Nandie—we could all see that—for they would scarcely speak to each
+other. And if Saduko is fond of her—well, after all, there are other
+beautiful women in Zululand. I know one or two of them myself whom I
+will mention to Saduko—or rather to Nandie. Really, as things were, I
+am not sure but that he is well rid of her.”
+
+“But what do you think of the matter as her father?” I asked, for I
+wanted to see to what length his accommodating morality would stretch.
+
+“As her father—well, of course, Macumazahn, as her father I am sorry,
+because it will mean talk, will it not, as the Masapo business did?
+Still, there is this to be said for Mameena,” he added, with a
+brightening face, “she always runs away up the tree, not down. When she
+got rid of Masapo—I mean when Masapo was killed for his witchcraft—she
+married Saduko, who was a bigger man—Saduko, whom she would not marry
+when Masapo was the bigger man. And now, when she has got rid of
+Saduko, she enters the hut of Umbelazi, who will one day be King of the
+Zulus, the biggest man in all the world, which means that she will be
+the biggest woman, for remember, Macumazahn, she will walk round and
+round that great Umbelazi till whatever way he looks he will see her
+and no one else. Oh, she will grow great, and carry up her poor old
+father in the blanket on her back. Oh, the sun still shines behind the
+cloud, Macumazahn, so let us make the best of the cloud, since we know
+that it will break out presently.”
+
+“Yes, Umbezi; but other things besides the sun break out from clouds
+sometimes—lightning, for instance; lightning which kills.”
+
+“You speak ill-omened words, Macumazahn; words that take away my
+appetite, which is generally excellent at this hour. Well, if Mameena
+is bad it is not my fault, for I brought her up to be good. After all,”
+he added with an outburst of petulance, “why do you scold me when it is
+your fault? If you had run away with the girl when you might have done
+so, there would have been none of this trouble.”
+
+“Perhaps not,” I answered; “only then I am sure I should have been dead
+to-day, as I think that all who have to do with her will be ere long.
+And now, Umbezi, I wish you a good breakfast.”
+
+On the following morning, Saduko returned and was told the news by
+Nandie, whom I had carefully avoided. On this occasion, however, I was
+forced to be present, as the person to whom the sinful Mameena had sent
+her farewell message. It was a very painful experience, of which I do
+not remember all the details. For a while after he learned the truth
+Saduko sat still as a stone, staring in front of him, with a face that
+seemed to have become suddenly old. Then he turned upon Umbezi, and in
+a few terrible words accused him of having arranged the matter in order
+to advance his own fortunes at the price of his daughter’s dishonour.
+Next, without listening to his ex-father-in-law’s voluble explanations,
+he rose and said that he was going away to kill Umbelazi, the evil-doer
+who had robbed him of the wife he loved, with the connivance of all
+three of us, and by a sweep of his hand he indicated Umbezi, the
+Princess Nandie and myself.
+
+This was more than I could stand, so I, too, rose and asked him what he
+meant, adding in the irritation of the moment that if I had wished to
+rob him of his beautiful Mameena, I thought I could have done so long
+ago—a remark that staggered him a little.
+
+Then Nandie rose also, and spoke in her quiet voice.
+
+“Saduko, my husband,” she said, “I, a Princess of the Zulu House,
+married you who are not of royal blood because I loved you, and
+although Panda the King and Umbelazi the Prince wished it, for no other
+reason whatsoever. Well, I have been faithful to you through some
+trials, even when you set the widow of a wizard—if, indeed, as I have
+reason to suspect, she was not herself the wizard—before me, and
+although that wizard had killed our son, lived in her hut rather than
+in mine. Now this woman of whom you thought so much has deserted you
+for your friend and my brother, the Prince Umbelazi—Umbelazi who is
+called the Handsome, and who, if the fortune of war goes with him, as
+it may or may not, will succeed to Panda, my father. This she has done
+because she alleges that I, your _Inkosikazi_ and the King’s daughter,
+treated her as a servant, which is a lie. I kept her in her place, no
+more, who, if she could have had her will, would have ousted me from
+mine, perhaps by death, for the wives of wizards learn their arts. On
+this pretext she has left you; but that is not her real reason. She has
+left you because the Prince, my brother, whom she has befooled with her
+tricks and beauty, as she has befooled others, or tried to”—and she
+glanced at me—“is a bigger man than you are. You, Saduko, may become
+great, as my heart prays that you will, but my brother may become a
+king. She does not love him any more than she loved you, but she does
+love the place that may be his, and therefore hers—she who would be the
+first doe of the herd. My husband, I think that you are well rid of
+Mameena, for I think also that if she had stayed with us there would
+have been more deaths in our House; perhaps mine, which would not
+matter, and perhaps yours, which would matter much. All this I say to
+you, not from jealousy of one who is fairer than I, but because it is
+the truth. Therefore my counsel to you is to let this business pass
+over and keep silent. Above all, seek not to avenge yourself upon
+Umbelazi, since I am sure that he has taken vengeance to dwell with him
+in his own hut. I have spoken.”
+
+That this moderate and reasoned speech of Nandie’s produced a great
+effect upon Saduko I could see, but at the time the only answer he made
+to it was:
+
+“Let the name of Mameena be spoken no more within hearing of my ears.
+Mameena is dead.”
+
+So her name was heard no more in the Houses of Saduko and of Umbezi,
+and when it was necessary for any reason to refer to her, she was given
+a new name, a composite Zulu word, _O-we-Zulu_, I think it was, which
+is “Storm-child” shortly translated, for “Zulu” means a storm as well
+as the sky.
+
+I do not think that Saduko spoke of her to me again until towards the
+climax of this history, and certainly I did not mention her to him. But
+from that day forward I noted that he was a changed man. His pride and
+open pleasure in his great success, which had caused the Zulus to name
+him the “Self-eater,” were no longer marked. He became cold and silent,
+like a man who is thinking deeply, but who shutters his thoughts lest
+some should read them through the windows of his eyes. Moreover, he
+paid a visit to Zikali the Little and Wise, as I found out by accident;
+but what advice that cunning old dwarf gave to him I did not find
+out—then.
+
+The only other event which happened in connection with this elopement
+was that a message came from Umbelazi to Saduko, brought by one of the
+princes, a brother of Umbelazi, who was of his party. As I know, for I
+heard it delivered, it was a very humble message when the relative
+positions of the two men are considered—that of one who knew that he
+had done wrong, and, if not repentant, was heartily ashamed of himself.
+
+“Saduko,” it said, “I have stolen a cow of yours, and I hope you will
+forgive me, since that cow did not love the pasture in your kraal, but
+in mine she grows fat and is content. Moreover, in return I will give
+you many other cows. Everything that I have to give, I will give to you
+who are my friend and trusted councillor. Send me word, O Saduko, that
+this wall which I have built between us is broken down, since ere long
+you and I must stand together in war.”
+
+To this message Saduko’s answer was:
+
+“O Prince, you are troubled about a very little thing. That cow which
+you have taken was of no worth to me, for who wishes to keep a beast
+that is ever tearing and lowing at the gates of the kraal, disturbing
+those who would sleep inside with her noise? Had you asked her of me, I
+would have given her to you freely. I thank you for your offer, but I
+need no more cows, especially if, like this one, they have no calves.
+As for a wall between us, there is none, for how can two men who, if
+the battle is to be won, must stand shoulder to shoulder, fight if
+divided by a wall? O Son of the King, I am dreaming by day and night of
+the battle and the victory, and I have forgotten all about the barren
+cow that ran away after you, the great bull of the herd. Only do not be
+surprised if one day you find that this cow has a sharp horn.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XII.
+PANDA’S PRAYER
+
+
+About six weeks later, in the month of November, 1856, I chanced to be
+at Nodwengu when the quarrel between the princes came to a head.
+Although none of the regiments was actually allowed to enter the
+town—that is, as a regiment—the place was full of people, all of them
+in a state of great excitement, who came in during the daytime and went
+to sleep in the neighbouring military kraals at night. One evening, as
+some of these soldiers—about a thousand of them, if I remember
+right—were returning to the Ukubaza kraal, a fight occurred between
+them, which led to the final outbreak.
+
+As it happened, at that time there were two separate regiments
+stationed at this kraal. I think that they were the Imkulutshana and
+the Hlaba, one of which favoured Cetewayo and the other Umbelazi. As
+certain companies of each of these regiments marched along together in
+parallel lines, two of their captains got into dispute on the eternal
+subject of the succession to the throne. From words they came to blows,
+and the end of it was that he who favoured Umbelazi killed him who
+favoured Cetewayo with his kerry. Thereon the comrades of the slain
+man, raising a shout of “_Usutu_,” which became the war-cry of
+Cetewayo’s party, fell upon the others, and a dreadful combat ensued.
+Fortunately the soldiers were only armed with sticks, or the slaughter
+would have been very great; but as it was, after an indecisive
+engagement, about fifty men were killed and many more injured.
+
+Now, with my usual bad luck, I, who had gone out to shoot a few birds
+for the pot—pauw, or bustard, I think they were—was returning across
+this very plain to my old encampment in the kloof where Masapo had been
+executed, and so ran into the fight just as it was beginning. I saw the
+captain killed and the subsequent engagement. Indeed, as it happened, I
+did more. Not knowing where to go or what to do, for I was quite alone,
+I pulled up my horse behind a tree and waited till I could escape the
+horrors about me; for I can assure anyone who may ever read these words
+that it is a very horrible sight to see a thousand men engaged in
+fierce and deadly combat. In truth, the fact that they had no spears,
+and could only batter each other to death with their heavy kerries,
+made it worse, since the duels were more desperate and prolonged.
+
+Everywhere men were rolling on the ground, hitting at each other’s
+heads, until at last some blow went home and one of them threw out his
+arms and lay still, either dead or senseless. Well, there I sat
+watching all this shocking business from the saddle of my trained
+shooting pony, which stood like a stone, till presently I became aware
+of two great fellows rushing at me with their eyes starting out of
+their heads and shouting as they came:
+
+“Kill Umbelazi’s white man! Kill! Kill!”
+
+Then, seeing that the matter was urgent and that it was a question of
+my life or theirs, I came into action.
+
+In my hand I held a double-barrelled shotgun loaded with what we used
+to call “loopers,” or B.B. shot, of which but a few went to each
+charge, for I had hoped to meet with a small buck on my way to camp.
+So, as these soldiers came, I lifted the gun and fired, the right
+barrel at one of them and the left barrel at the other, aiming in each
+case at the centre of the small dancing shields, which from force of
+habit they held stretched out to protect their throats and breasts. At
+that distance, of course, the loopers sank through the soft hide of the
+shields and deep into the bodies of those who carried them, so that
+both of them dropped dead, the left-hand man being so close that he
+fell against my pony, his uplifted kerry striking me upon the thigh and
+bruising me.
+
+When I saw what I had done, and that my danger was over for the moment,
+without waiting to reload I dug the spurs into my horse’s sides and
+galloped off to Nodwengu, passing between the groups of struggling men.
+On arriving unharmed at the town, I went instantly to the royal huts
+and demanded to see the King, who sent word that I was to be admitted.
+On coming before him I told him exactly what had happened—that I had
+killed two of Cetewayo’s men in order to save my own life, and on that
+account submitted myself to his justice.
+
+“O Macumazana,” said Panda in great distress, “I know well that you are
+not to blame, and already I have sent out a regiment to stop this
+fighting, with command that those who caused it should be brought
+before me to-morrow for judgment. I am glad indeed, Macumazahn, that
+you have escaped without harm, but I must tell you that I fear
+henceforth your life will be in danger, since all the _Usutu_ party
+will hold it forfeit if they can catch you. While you are in my town I
+can protect you, for I will set a strong guard about your camp; but
+here you will have to stay until these troubles are done with, since if
+you leave you may be murdered on the road.”
+
+“I thank you for your kindness, King,” I answered; “but all this is
+very awkward for me, who hoped to trek for Natal to-morrow.”
+
+“Well, there it is, Macumazahn, you will have to stay here unless you
+wish to be killed. He who walks into a storm must put up with the
+hailstones.”
+
+So it came about that once again Fate dragged me into the Zulu
+maelstrom.
+
+On the morrow I was summoned to the trial, half as a witness and half
+as one of the offenders. Going to the head of the Nodwengu kraal, where
+Panda was sitting in state with his Council, I found the whole great
+space in front of him crowded with a dense concourse of fierce-faced
+partisans, those who favoured Cetewayo—the _Usutu_—sitting on the
+right, and those who favoured Umbelazi—the _Isigqosa_—sitting on the
+left. At the head of the right-hand section sat Cetewayo, his brethren
+and chief men. At the head of the left-hand section sat Umbelazi, his
+brethren and his chief men, amongst whom I saw Saduko take a place
+immediately behind the Prince, so that he could whisper into his ear.
+
+To myself and my little band of eight hunters, who by Panda’s express
+permission, came armed with their guns, as I did also, for I was
+determined that if the necessity arose we would sell our lives as
+dearly as we could, was appointed a place almost in front of the King
+and between the two factions. When everyone was seated the trial began,
+Panda demanding to know who had caused the tumult of the previous
+night.
+
+I cannot set out what followed in all its details, for it would be too
+long; also I have forgotten many of them. I remember, however, that
+Cetewayo’s people said that Umbelazi’s men were the aggressors, and
+that Umbelazi’s people said that Cetewayo’s men were the aggressors,
+and that each of their parties backed up these statements, which were
+given at great length, with loud shouts.
+
+“How am I to know the truth?” exclaimed Panda at last. “Macumazahn, you
+were there; step forward and tell it to me.”
+
+So I stood out and told the King what I had seen, namely that the
+captain who favoured Cetewayo had begun the quarrel by striking the
+captain who favoured Umbelazi, but that in the end Umbelazi’s man had
+killed Cetewayo’s man, after which the fighting commenced.
+
+“Then it would seem that the _Usutu_ are to blame,” said Panda.
+
+“Upon what grounds do you say so, my father?” asked Cetewayo, springing
+up. “Upon the testimony of this white man, who is well known to be the
+friend of Umbelazi and of his henchman Saduko, and who himself killed
+two of those who called me chief in the course of the fight?”
+
+“Yes, Cetewayo,” I broke in, “because I thought it better that I should
+kill them than that they should kill me, whom they attacked quite
+unprovoked.”
+
+“At any rate, you killed them, little White Man,” shouted Cetewayo,
+“for which cause your blood is forfeit. Say, did Umbelazi give you
+leave to appear before the King accompanied by men armed with guns,
+when we who are his sons must come with sticks only? If so, let him
+protect you!”
+
+“That I will do if there is need!” exclaimed Umbelazi.
+
+“Thank you, Prince,” I said; “but if there is need I will protect
+myself as I did yesterday,” and, cocking my double-barrelled rifle, I
+looked full at Cetewayo.
+
+“When you leave here, then at least I will come even with you,
+Macumazahn!” threatened Cetewayo, spitting through his teeth, as was
+his way when mad with passion.
+
+For he was beside himself, and wished to vent his temper on someone,
+although in truth he and I were always good friends.
+
+“If so I shall stop where I am,” I answered coolly, “in the shadow of
+the King, your father. Moreover, are you so lost in folly, Cetewayo,
+that you should wish to bring the English about your ears? Know that if
+I am killed you will be asked to give account of my blood.”
+
+“Aye,” interrupted Panda, “and know that if anyone lays a finger on
+Macumazana, who is my guest, he shall die, whether he be a common man
+or a prince and my son. Also, Cetewayo, I fine you twenty head of
+cattle, to be paid to Macumazana because of the unprovoked attack which
+your men made upon him when he rightly slew them.”
+
+“The fine shall be paid, my father,” said Cetewayo more quietly, for he
+saw that in threatening me he had pushed matters too far.
+
+Then, after some more talk, Panda gave judgment in the cause, which
+judgment really amounted to nothing. As it was impossible to decide
+which party was most to blame, he fined both an equal number of cattle,
+accompanying the fine with a lecture on their ill-behaviour, which was
+listened to indifferently.
+
+After this matter was disposed of the real business of the meeting
+began.
+
+Rising to his feet, Cetewayo addressed Panda.
+
+“My father,” he said, “the land wanders and wanders in darkness, and
+you alone can give light for its feet. I and my brother, Umbelazi, are
+at variance, and the quarrel is a great one, namely, as to which of us
+is to sit in your place when you are ‘gone down,’ when we call and you
+do not answer. Some of the nation favour one of us and some favour the
+other, but you, O King, and you alone, have the voice of judgment.
+Still, before you speak, I and those who stand with me would bring this
+to your mind. My mother, Umqumbazi, is your _Inkosikazi_, your
+head-wife, and therefore, according to our law, I, her eldest son,
+should be your heir. Moreover, when you fled to the Boers before the
+fall of him who sat in your place before you [Dingaan], did not they,
+the white Amabunu, ask you which amongst your sons was your heir, and
+did you not point me out to the white men? And thereon did not the
+Amabunu clothe me in a dress of honour because I was the King to be?
+But now of late the mother of Umbelazi has been whispering in your ear,
+as have others”—and he looked at Saduko and some of Umbelazi’s
+brethren—“and your face has grown cold towards me, so cold that many
+say that you will point out Umbelazi to be King after you and stamp on
+my name. If this is so, my father, tell me at once, that I may know
+what to do.”
+
+Having finished this speech, which certainly did not lack force and
+dignity, Cetewayo sat down again, awaiting the answer in sullen
+silence. But, making none, Panda looked at Umbelazi, who, on rising,
+was greeted with a great cheer, for although Cetewayo had the larger
+following in the land, especially among the distant chiefs, the Zulus
+individually loved Umbelazi more, perhaps because of his stature,
+beauty and kindly disposition—physical and moral qualities that
+naturally appeal to a savage nation.
+
+“My father,” he said, “like my brother, Cetewayo, I await your word.
+Whatever you may have said to the Amabunu in haste or fear, I do not
+admit that Cetewayo was ever proclaimed your heir in the hearing of the
+Zulu people. I say that my right to the succession is as good as his,
+and that it lies with you, and you alone, to declare which of us shall
+put on the royal kaross in days that my heart prays may be distant.
+Still, to save bloodshed, I am willing to divide the land with
+Cetewayo” (here both Panda and Cetewayo shook their heads and the
+audience roared “Nay”), “or, if that does not please him, I am willing
+to meet Cetewayo man to man and spear to spear and fight till one of us
+be slain.”
+
+“A safe offer!” sneered Cetewayo, “for is not my brother named
+‘Elephant,’ and the strongest warrior among the Zulus? No, I will not
+set the fortunes of those who cling to me on the chance of a single
+stab, or on the might of a man’s muscles. Decide, O father; say which
+of the two of us is to sit at the head of your kraal after you have
+gone over to the Spirits and are but an ancestor to be worshipped.”
+
+Now, Panda looked much disturbed, as was not wonderful, since, rushing
+out from the fence behind which they had been listening, Umqumbazi,
+Cetewayo’s mother, whispered into one of his ears, while Umbelazi’s
+mother whispered into the other. What advice each of them gave I do not
+know, although obviously it was not the same advice, since the poor man
+rolled his eyes first at one and then at the other, and finally put his
+hands over his ears that he might hear no more.
+
+“Choose, choose, O King!” shouted the audience. “Who is to succeed you,
+Cetewayo or Umbelazi?”
+
+Watching Panda, I saw that he fell into a kind of agony; his fat sides
+heaved, and, although the day was cold, sweat ran from his brow.
+
+“What would the white men do in such a case?” he said to me in a
+hoarse, low voice, whereon I answered, looking at the ground and
+speaking so that few could hear me:
+
+“I think, O King, that a white man would do nothing. He would say that
+others might settle the matter after he was dead.”
+
+“Would that I could say so, too,” muttered Panda; “but it is not
+possible.”
+
+Then followed a long pause, during which all were silent, for every man
+there felt that the hour was big with doom. At length Panda rose with
+difficulty, because of his unwieldy weight, and uttered these fateful
+words, that were none the less ominous because of the homely idiom in
+which they were couched:
+
+“_When two young bulls quarrel they must fight it out._”
+
+Instantly in one tremendous roar volleyed forth the royal salute of
+_Bayéte_, a signal of the acceptance of the King’s word—the word that
+meant civil war and the death of many thousands.
+
+Then Panda turned and, so feebly that I thought he would fall, walked
+through the gateway behind him, followed by the rival queens. Each of
+these ladies struggled to be first after him in the gate, thinking that
+it would be an omen of success for her son. Finally, however, to the
+disappointment of the multitude, they only succeeded in passing it side
+by side.
+
+When they had gone the great audience began to break up, the men of
+each party marching away together as though by common consent, without
+offering any insult or molestation to their adversaries. I think that
+this peaceable attitude arose, however, from the knowledge that matters
+had now passed from the stage of private quarrel into that of public
+war. It was felt that their dispute awaited decision, not with sticks
+outside the Nodwengu kraal, but with spears upon some great
+battlefield, for which they went to prepare.
+
+Within two days, except for those regiments which Panda kept to guard
+his person, scarcely a soldier was to be seen in the neighbourhood of
+Nodwengu. The princes also departed to muster their adherents, Cetewayo
+establishing himself among the Mandhlakazi that he commanded, and
+Umbelazi returning to the kraal of Umbezi, which happened to stand
+almost in the centre of that part of the nation which adhered to him.
+
+Whether he took Mameena with him there I am not certain. I believe,
+however, that, fearing lest her welcome at her birthplace should be
+warmer than she wished, she settled herself at some retired and
+outlying kraal in the neighbourhood, and there awaited the crisis of
+her fortune. At any rate, I saw nothing of her, for she was careful to
+keep out of my way.
+
+With Umbelazi and Saduko, however, I did have an interview. Before they
+left Nodwengu they called on me together, apparently on the best of
+terms, and said in effect that they hoped for my support in the coming
+war.
+
+I answered that, however well I might like them personally, a Zulu
+civil war was no affair of mine, and that, indeed, for every reason,
+including the supreme one of my own safety, I had better get out of the
+way at once.
+
+They argued with me for a long while, making great offers and promises
+of reward, till at length, when he saw that my determination could not
+be shaken, Umbelazi said:
+
+“Come, Saduko, let us humble ourselves no more before this white man.
+After all, he is right; the business is none of his, and why should we
+ask him to risk his life in our quarrel, knowing as we do that white
+men are not like us; they think a great deal of their lives. Farewell,
+Macumazahn. If I conquer and grow great you will always be welcome in
+Zululand, whereas if I fail perhaps you will be best over the Tugela
+river.”
+
+Now, I felt the hidden taunt in this speech very keenly. Still, being
+determined that for once I would be wise and not allow my natural
+curiosity and love of adventure to drag me into more risks and trouble,
+I replied:
+
+“The Prince says that I am not brave and love my life, and what he says
+is true. I fear fighting, who by nature am a trader with the heart of a
+trader, not a warrior with the heart of a warrior, like the great
+_Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_”—words at which I saw the grave Saduko smile
+faintly. “So farewell to you, Prince, and may good fortune attend you.”
+
+Of course, to call the Prince to his face by this nickname, which
+referred to a defect in his person, was something of an insult; but I
+had been insulted, and meant to give him “a Roland for his Oliver.”
+However, he took it in good part.
+
+“What is good fortune, Macumazahn?” Umbelazi replied as he grasped my
+hand. “Sometimes I think that to live and prosper is good fortune, and
+sometimes I think that to die and sleep is good fortune, for in sleep
+there is neither hunger nor thirst of body or of spirit. In sleep there
+come no cares; in sleep ambitions are at rest; nor do those who look no
+more upon the sun smart beneath the treacheries of false women or false
+friends. Should the battle turn against me, Macumazahn, at least that
+good fortune will be mine, for never will I live to be crushed beneath
+Cetewayo’s heel.”
+
+Then he went. Saduko accompanied him for a little way, but, making some
+excuse to the Prince, came back and said to me:
+
+“Macumazahn, my friend, I dare say that we part for the last time, and
+therefore I make a request to you. It is as to one who is dead to me.
+Macumazahn, I believe that Umbelazi the thief”—these words broke from
+his lips with a hiss—“has given her many cattle and hidden her away
+either in the kloof of Zikali the Wise, or near to it, under his care.
+Now, if the war should go against Umbelazi and I should be killed in
+it, I think evil will fall upon that woman’s head, I who have grown
+sure that it was she who was the wizard and not Masapo the Boar. Also,
+as one connected with Umbelazi, who has helped him in his plots, she
+will be killed if she is caught. Macumazahn, hearken to me. I will tell
+you the truth. My heart is still on fire for that woman. She has
+bewitched me; her eyes haunt my sleep and I hear her voice in the wind.
+She is more to me than all the earth and all the sky, and although she
+has wronged me I do not wish that harm should come to her. Macumazahn,
+I pray you if I die, do your best to befriend her, even though it be
+only as a servant in your house, for I think that she cares more for
+you than for anyone, who only ran away with him”—and he pointed in the
+direction that Umbelazi had taken—“because he is a prince, who, in her
+folly, she believes will be a king. At least take her to Natal,
+Macumazahn, where, if you wish to be free of her, she can marry whom
+she will and will live safe until night comes. Panda loves you much,
+and, whoever conquers in the war, will give you her life if you ask it
+of him.”
+
+Then this strange man drew the back of his hand across his eyes, from
+which I saw the tears were running, and, muttering, “If you would have
+good fortune remember my prayer,” turned and left me before I could
+answer a single word.
+
+As for me, I sat down upon an ant-heap and whistled a whole hymn tune
+that my mother had taught me before I could think at all. To be left
+the guardian of Mameena! Talk of a “_damnosa hereditas_,” a terrible
+and mischievous inheritance—why, this was the worst that ever I heard
+of. A servant in my house indeed, knowing what _I_ did about her! Why,
+I had sooner share the “good fortune” which Umbelazi anticipated
+beneath the sod. However, that was not in the question, and without it
+the alternative of acting as her guardian was bad enough, though I
+comforted myself with the reflection that the circumstances in which
+this would become necessary might never arise. For, alas! I was sure
+that if they did arise I should have to live up to them. True, I had
+made no promise to Saduko with my lips, but I felt, as I knew he felt,
+that this promise had passed from my heart to his.
+
+“That thief Umbelazi!” Strange words to be uttered by a great vassal of
+his lord, and both of them about to enter upon a desperate enterprise.
+“A prince whom in her folly she believes will be a king.” Stranger
+words still. Then Saduko did not believe that he _would_ be a king! And
+yet he was about to share the fortunes of his fight for the throne, he
+who said that his heart was still on fire for the woman whom “Umbelazi
+the thief” had stolen. Well, if I were Umbelazi, thought I to myself, I
+would rather that Saduko were not my chief councillor and general. But,
+thank Heaven! I was not Umbelazi, or Saduko, or any of them! And, thank
+Heaven still more, I was going to begin my trek from Zululand on the
+morrow!
+
+Man proposes but God disposes. I did not trek from Zululand for many a
+long day. When I got back to my wagons it was to find that my oxen had
+mysteriously disappeared from the veld on which they were accustomed to
+graze. They were lost; or perhaps _they_ had felt the urgent need of
+trekking from Zululand back to a more peaceful country. I sent all the
+hunters I had with me to look for them, only Scowl and I remaining at
+the wagons, which in those disturbed times I did not like to leave
+unguarded.
+
+Four days went by, a week went by, and no sign of either hunters or
+oxen. Then at last a message, which reached me in some roundabout
+fashion, to the effect that the hunters had found the oxen a long way
+off, but on trying to return to Nodwengu had been driven by some of the
+_Usutu_—that is, by Cetewayo’s party—across the Tugela into Natal,
+whence they dared not attempt to return.
+
+For once in my life I went into a rage and cursed that nondescript kind
+of messenger, sent by I know not whom, in language that I think he will
+not forget. Then, realising the futility of swearing at a mere tool, I
+went up to the Great House and demanded an audience with Panda himself.
+Presently the _inceku_, or household servant, to whom I gave my
+message, returned, saying that I was to be admitted at once, and on
+entering the enclosure I found the King sitting at the head of the
+kraal quite alone, except for a man who was holding a large shield over
+him in order to keep off the sun.
+
+He greeted me warmly, and I told him my trouble about the oxen, whereon
+he sent away the shield-holder, leaving us two together.
+
+“Watcher-by-Night,” he said, “why do you blame me for these events,
+when you know that I am nobody in my own House? I say that I am a dead
+man, whose sons fight for his inheritance. I cannot tell you for
+certain who it was that drove away your oxen. Still, I am glad that
+they are gone, since I believe that if you had attempted to trek to
+Natal just now you would have been killed on the road by the _Usutu_,
+who believe you to be a councillor of Umbelazi.”
+
+“I understand, O King,” I answered, “and I dare say that the accident
+of the loss of my oxen is fortunate for me. But tell me now, what am I
+to do? I wish to follow the example of John Dunn [another white man in
+the country who was much mixed up with Zulu politics] and leave the
+land. Will you give me more oxen to draw my wagons?”
+
+“I have none that are broken in, Macumazahn, for, as you know, we Zulus
+possess few wagons; and if I had I would not lend them to you, who do
+not desire that your blood should be upon my head.”
+
+“You are hiding something from me, O King,” I said bluntly. “What is it
+that you want me to do? Stay here at Nodwengu?”
+
+“No, Macumazahn. When the trouble begins I want you to go with a
+regiment of my own that I shall send to the assistance of my son,
+Umbelazi, so that he may have the benefit of your wisdom. O Macumazana,
+I will tell you the truth. My heart loves Umbelazi, and I fear me that
+he is overmatched by Cetewayo. If I could I would save his life, but I
+know not how to do so, since I must not seem to take sides too openly.
+But I can send down a regiment as your escort, if you choose to go to
+view the battle as my agent and make report to me. Say, will you not
+go?”
+
+“Why should I go?” I answered, “seeing that whoever wins I may be
+killed, and that if Cetewayo wins I shall certainly be killed, and all
+for no reward.”
+
+“Nay, Macumazahn; I will give orders that whoever conquers, the man
+that dares to lift a spear against you shall die. In this matter, at
+least, I shall not be disobeyed. Oh! I pray you, do not desert me in my
+trouble. Go down with the regiment that I shall send and breathe your
+wisdom into the ear of my son, Umbelazi. As for your reward, I swear to
+you by the head of the Black One [Chaka] that it shall be great. I will
+see to it that you do not leave Zululand empty-handed, Macumazahn.”
+
+Still I hesitated, for I mistrusted me of this business.
+
+“O Watcher-by-Night,” exclaimed Panda, “you will not desert me, will
+you? I am afraid for the son of my heart, Umbelazi, whom I love above
+all my children; I am much afraid for Umbelazi,” and he burst into
+tears before me.
+
+It was foolish, no doubt, but the sight of the old King weeping for his
+best-beloved child, whom he believed to be doomed, moved me so much
+that I forgot my caution.
+
+“If you wish it, O Panda,” I said, “I will go down to the battle with
+your regiment and stand there by the side of the Prince Umbelazi.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIII.
+UMBELAZI THE FALLEN
+
+
+So I stayed on at Nodwengu, who, indeed, had no choice in the matter,
+and was very wretched and ill at ease. The place was almost deserted,
+except for a couple of regiments which were quartered there, the Sangqu
+and the Amawombe. This latter was the royal regiment, a kind of
+Household Guards, to which the Kings Chaka, Dingaan and Panda all
+belonged in turn. Most of the headmen had taken one side or the other,
+and were away raising forces to fight for Cetewayo or Umbelazi, and
+even the greater part of the women and children had gone to hide
+themselves in the bush or among the mountains, since none knew what
+would happen, or if the conquering army would not fall upon and destroy
+them.
+
+A few councillors, however, remained with Panda, among whom was old
+Maputa, the general, who had once brought me the “message of the
+pills.” Several times he visited me at night and told me the rumours
+that were flying about. From these I gathered that some skirmishes had
+taken place and the battle could not be long delayed; also that
+Umbelazi had chosen his fighting ground, a plain near the banks of the
+Tugela.
+
+“Why has he done this,” I asked, “seeing that then he will have a broad
+river behind him, and if he is defeated water can kill as well as
+spears?”
+
+“I know not for certain,” answered Maputa; “but it is said because of a
+dream that Saduko, his general, has dreamed thrice, which dream
+declares that there and there alone Umbelazi will find honour. At any
+rate, he has chosen this place; and I am told that all the women and
+children of his army, by thousands, are hidden in the bush along the
+banks of the river, so that they may fly into Natal if there is need.”
+
+“Have they wings,” I asked, “wherewith to fly over the Tugela ‘in
+wrath,’ as it well may be after the rains? Oh, surely his Spirit has
+turned from Umbelazi!”
+
+“Aye, Macumazahn,” he answered, “I, too, think that _ufulatewe idhlozi_
+[that is, his own Spirit] has turned its back on him. Also I think that
+Saduko is no good councillor. Indeed, were I the prince,” added the old
+fellow shrewdly, “I would not keep him whose wife I had stolen as the
+whisperer in my ear.”
+
+“Nor I, Maputa,” I answered as I bade him good-bye.
+
+Two days later, early in the morning, Maputa came to me again and said
+that Panda wished to see me. I went to the head of the kraal, where I
+found the King seated and before him the captains of the royal Amawombe
+regiment.
+
+“Watcher-by-Night,” he said, “I have news that the great battle between
+my sons will take place within a few days. Therefore I am sending down
+this, my own royal regiment, under the command of Maputa the skilled in
+war to spy out the battle, and I pray that you will go with it, that
+you may give to the General Maputa and to the captains the help of your
+wisdom. Now these are my orders to you, Maputa, and to you, O
+captains—that you take no part in the fight unless you should see that
+the Elephant, my son Umbelazi, is fallen into a pit, and that then you
+shall drag him out if you can and save him alive. Now repeat my words
+to me.”
+
+So they repeated the words, speaking with one voice.
+
+“Your answer, O Macumazana,” he said when they had spoken.
+
+“O King, I have told you that I will go—though I do not like war—and I
+will keep my promise,” I replied.
+
+“Then make ready, Macumazahn, and be back here within an hour, for the
+regiment marches ere noon.”
+
+So I went up to my wagons and handed them over to the care of some men
+whom Panda had sent to take charge of them. Also Scowl and I saddled
+our horses, for this faithful fellow insisted upon accompanying me,
+although I advised him to stay behind, and got out our rifles and as
+much ammunition as we could possibly need, and with them a few other
+necessaries. These things done, we rode back to the gathering-place,
+taking farewell of the wagons with a sad heart, since I, for one, never
+expected to see them again.
+
+As we went I saw that the regiment of the Amawombe, picked men every
+one of them, all fifty years of age or over, nearly four thousand
+strong, was marshalled on the dancing-ground, where they stood company
+by company. A magnificent sight they were, with their white
+fighting-shields, their gleaming spears, their otter-skin caps, their
+kilts and armlets of white bulls’ tails, and the snowy egret plumes
+which they wore upon their brows. We rode to the head of them, where I
+saw Maputa, and as I came they greeted me with a cheer of welcome, for
+in those days a white man was a power in the land. Moreover, as I have
+said, the Zulus knew and liked me well. Also the fact that I was to
+watch, or perchance to fight with them, put a good heart into the
+Amawombe.
+
+There we stood until the lads, several hundreds of them, who bore the
+mats and cooking vessels and drove the cattle that were to be our
+commissariat, had wended away in a long line. Then suddenly Panda
+appeared out of his hut, accompanied by a few servants, and seemed to
+utter some kind of prayer, as he did so throwing dust or powdered
+medicine towards us, though what this ceremony meant I did not
+understand.
+
+When he had finished Maputa raised a spear, whereon the whole regiment,
+in perfect time, shouted out the royal salute, _Bayéte_, with a sound
+like that of thunder. Thrice they repeated this tremendous and
+impressive salute, and then were silent. Again Maputa raised his spear,
+and all the four thousand voices broke out into the _Ingoma_, or
+national chant, to which deep, awe-inspiring music we began our march.
+As I do not think it has ever been written down, I will quote the
+words. They ran thus:
+
+“Ba ya m’zonda,
+Ba ya m’loyisa,
+Izizwe zonke,
+Ba zond’, Inkoosi.”[1]
+
+ [1] Literally translated, this famous chant, now, I think, published
+ for the first time, which, I suppose, will never again pass the lips
+ of a Zulu _impi_, means:
+
+“They [_i.e_. the enemy] bear him [_i.e_. the King] hatred,
+They call down curses on his head,
+All of them throughout this land
+Abhor our King.”
+
+The _Ingoma_ when sung by twenty or thirty thousand men rushing down to
+battle must, indeed, have been a song to hear.—EDITOR.]
+
+The _spirit_ of this fierce _Ingoma_, conveyed by sound, gesture and
+inflection of voice, not the exact _words_, remember, which are very
+rude and simple, leaving much to the imagination, may perhaps be
+rendered somewhat as follows. An exact translation into English verse
+is almost impossible—at any rate, to me:
+
+“Loud on their lips is lying,
+    Red are their eyes with hate;
+Rebels their King defying.
+    Lo! where our impis wait
+There shall be dead and dying,
+    Vengeance insatiate!”
+
+It was early on the morning of the 2nd of December, a cold, miserable
+morning that came with wind and driving mist, that I found myself with
+the Amawombe at the place known as Endondakusuka, a plain with some
+kopjes in it that lies within six miles of the Natal border, from which
+it is separated by the Tugela river.
+
+As the orders of the Amawombe were to keep out of the fray if that were
+possible, we had taken up a position about a mile to the right of what
+proved to be the actual battlefield, choosing as our camping ground a
+rising knoll that looked like a huge tumulus, and was fronted at a
+distance of about five hundred yards by another smaller knoll. Behind
+us stretched bushland, or rather broken land, where mimosa thorns grew
+in scattered groups, sloping down to the banks of the Tugela about four
+miles away.
+
+Shortly after dawn I was roused from the place where I slept, wrapped
+up in some blankets, under a mimosa tree—for, of course, we had no
+tents—by a messenger, who said that the Prince Umbelazi and the white
+man, John Dunn, wished to see me. I rose and tidied myself as best I
+could, since, if I can avoid it, I never like to appear before natives
+in a dishevelled condition. I remember that I had just finished
+brushing my hair when Umbelazi arrived.
+
+I can see him now, looking a veritable giant in that morning mist.
+Indeed, there was something quite unearthly about his appearance as he
+arose out of those rolling vapours, such light as there was being
+concentrated upon the blade of his big spear, which was well known as
+the broadest carried by any warrior in Zululand, and a copper torque he
+wore about his throat.
+
+There he stood, rolling his eyes and hugging his kaross around him
+because of the cold, and something in his anxious, indeterminate
+expression told me at once that he knew himself to be a man in terrible
+danger. Just behind him, dark and brooding, his arms folded on his
+breast, his eyes fixed upon the ground, looking, to my moved
+imagination, like an evil genius, stood the stately and graceful
+Saduko. On his left was a young and sturdy white man carrying a rifle
+and smoking a pipe, whom I guessed to be John Dunn, a gentleman whom,
+as it chanced, I had never met, while behind were a force of Natal
+Government Zulus, clad in some kind of uniform and armed with guns, and
+with them a number of natives, also from Natal—“kraal Kafirs,” who
+carried stabbing assegais. One of these led John Dunn’s horse.
+
+Of those Government men there may have been thirty or forty, and of the
+“kraal Kafirs” anything between two and three hundred.
+
+I shook Umbelazi’s hand and gave him good-day.
+
+“That is an ill day upon which no sun shines, O Macumazana,” he
+answered—words that struck me as ominous. Then he introduced me to John
+Dunn, who seemed glad to meet another white man. Next, not knowing what
+to say, I asked the exact object of their visit, whereon Dunn began to
+talk. He said that he had been sent over on the previous afternoon by
+Captain Walmsley, who was an officer of the Natal Government stationed
+across the border, to try to make peace between the Zulu factions, but
+that when he spoke of peace one of Umbelazi’s brothers—I think it was
+Mantantashiya—had mocked at him, saying that they were quite strong
+enough to cope with the Usutu—that was Cetewayo’s party. Also, he
+added, that when he suggested that the thousands of women and children
+and the cattle should be got across the Tugela drift during the
+previous night into safety in Natal, Mantantashiya would not listen,
+and Umbelazi being absent, seeking the aid of the Natal Government, he
+could do nothing.
+
+“_Quem Deus vult perdere prius dementat_” [whom God wishes to destroy,
+He first makes mad], quoted I to myself beneath my breath. This was one
+of the Latin tags that my old father, who was a scholar, had taught me,
+and at that moment it came back to my mind. But as I suspected that
+John Dunn knew no Latin, I only said aloud:
+
+“What an infernal fool!” (We were talking in English.) “Can’t you get
+Umbelazi to do it now?” (I meant, to send the women and children across
+the river.)
+
+“I fear it is too late, Mr. Quatermain,” he answered. “The _Usutu_ are
+in sight. Look for yourself.” And he handed me a telescope which he had
+with him.
+
+I climbed on to some rocks and scanned the plain in front of us, from
+which just then a puff of wind rolled away the mist. It was black with
+advancing men! As yet they were a considerable distance away—quite two
+miles, I should think—and coming on very slowly in a great half-moon
+with thin horns and a deep breast; but a ray from the sun glittered
+upon their countless spears. It seemed to me that there must be quite
+twenty or thirty thousand of them in this breast, which was in three
+divisions, commanded, as I learned afterwards, by Cetewayo, Uzimela,
+and by a young Boer named Groening.
+
+“There they are, right enough,” I said, climbing down from my rocks.
+“What are you going to do, Mr. Dunn?”
+
+“Obey orders and try to make peace, if I can find anyone to make peace
+with; and if I can’t—well, fight, I suppose. And you, Mr. Quatermain?”
+
+“Oh, obey orders and stop here, I suppose. Unless,” I added doubtfully,
+“these Amawombe take the bit between their teeth and run away with me.”
+
+“They’ll do that before nightfall, Mr. Quatermain, if I know anything
+of the Zulus. Look here, why don’t you get on your horse and come off
+with me? This is a queer place for you.”
+
+“Because I promised not to,” I answered with a groan, for really, as I
+looked at those savages round me, who were already fingering their
+spears in a disagreeable fashion, and those other thousands of savages
+advancing towards us, I felt such little courage as I possessed sinking
+into my boots.
+
+“Very well, Mr. Quatermain, you know your own business best; but I hope
+you will come out of it safely, that is all.”
+
+“Same to you,” I replied.
+
+Then John Dunn turned, and in my hearing asked Umbelazi what he knew of
+the movements of the _Usutu_ and of their plan of battle.
+
+The Prince replied, with a shrug of his shoulders:
+
+“Nothing at present, Son of Mr. Dunn, but doubtless before the sun is
+high I shall know much.”
+
+As he spoke a sudden gust of wind struck us, and tore the nodding
+ostrich plume from its fastening on Umbelazi’s head-ring. Whilst a
+murmur of dismay rose from all who saw what they considered this very
+ill-omened accident, away it floated into the air, to fall gently to
+the ground at the feet of Saduko. He stooped, picked it up, and reset
+it in its place, saying as he did so, with that ready wit for which
+some Kafirs are remarkable:
+
+“So may I live, O Prince, to set the crown upon the head of Panda’s
+favoured son!”
+
+This apt speech served to dispel the general gloom caused by the
+incident, for those who heard it cheered, while Umbelazi thanked his
+captain with a nod and a smile. Only I noted that Saduko did not
+mention the name of “Panda’s favoured son” upon whose head he hoped to
+live to set the crown. Now, Panda had many sons, and that day would
+show which of them was favoured.
+
+A minute or two later John Dunn and his following departed, as he said,
+to try to make peace with the advancing _Usutu_. Umbelazi, Saduko and
+their escort departed also towards the main body of the host of the
+_Isigqosa_, which was massed to our left, “sitting on their spears,” as
+the natives say, and awaiting the attack. As for me, I remained alone
+with the Amawombe, drinking some coffee that Scowl had brewed for me,
+and forcing myself to swallow food.
+
+I can say honestly that I do not ever remember partaking of a more
+unhappy meal. Not only did I believe that I was looking on the last sun
+I should ever see—though by the way, there was uncommonly little of
+that orb visible—but what made the matter worse was that, if so, I
+should be called upon to die alone among savages, with not a single
+white face near to comfort me. Oh, how I wished I had never allowed
+myself to be dragged into this dreadful business. Yes, and I was even
+mean enough to wish that I had broken my word to Panda and gone off
+with John Dunn when he invited me, although now I thank goodness that I
+did not yield to that temptation and thereby sacrifice my self-respect.
+
+Soon, however, things grew so exciting that I forgot these and other
+melancholy reflections in watching the development of events from the
+summit of our tumulus-like knoll, whence I had a magnificent view of
+the whole battle. Here, after seeing that his regiment made a full
+meal, as a good general should, old Maputa joined me, whom I asked
+whether he thought there would be any fighting for him that day.
+
+“I think so, I think so,” he answered cheerfully. “It seems to me that
+the _Usutu_ greatly outnumber Umbelazi and the _Isigqosa_, and, of
+course, as you know, Panda’s orders are that if he is in danger we must
+help him. Oh, keep a good heart, Macumazahn, for I believe I can
+promise you that you will see our spears grow red to-day. You will not
+go hungry from this battle to tell the white people that the Amawombe
+are cowards whom you could not flog into the fight. No, no, Macumazahn,
+my Spirit looks towards me this morning, and I who am old and who
+thought that I should die at length like a cow, shall see one more
+great fight—my twentieth, Macumazahn; for I fought with this same
+Amawombe in all the Black One’s big battles, and for Panda against
+Dingaan also.”
+
+“Perhaps it will be your last,” I suggested.
+
+“I dare say, Macumazahn; but what does that matter if only I and the
+royal regiment can make an end that shall be spoken of? Oh, cheer up,
+cheer up, Macumazahn; your Spirit, too, looks towards you, as I promise
+that we all will do when the shields meet; for know, Macumazahn, that
+we poor black soldiers expect that you will show us how to fight this
+day, and, if need be, how to fall hidden in a heap of the foe.”
+
+“Oh!” I replied, “so this is what you Zulus mean by the ‘giving of
+counsel,’ is it?—you infernal, bloodthirsty old scoundrel,” I added in
+English.
+
+But I think Maputa never heard me. At any rate, he only seized my arm
+and pointed in front, a little to the left, where the horn of the great
+_Usutu_ army was coming up fast, a long, thin line alive with twinkling
+spears; their moving arms and legs causing them to look like spiders,
+of which the bodies were formed by the great war shields.
+
+“See their plan?” he said. “They would close on Umbelazi and gore him
+with their horns and then charge with their head. The horn will pass
+between us and the right flank of the _Isigqosa_. Oh! awake, awake,
+Elephant! Are you asleep with Mameena in a hut? Unloose your spears,
+Child of the King, and at them as they mount the slope. Behold!” he
+went on, “it is the Son of Dunn that begins the battle! Did I not tell
+you that we must look to the white men to show us the way? Peep through
+your tube, Macumazahn, and tell me what passes.”
+
+So I “peeped,” and, the telescope which John Dunn had kindly left with
+me being good though small, saw everything clearly enough. He rode up
+almost to the point of the left horn of the _Usutu_, waving a white
+handkerchief and followed by his small force of police and Natal
+Kafirs. Then from somewhere among the _Usutu_ rose a puff of smoke.
+Dunn had been fired at.
+
+He dropped the handkerchief and leapt to the ground. Now he and his
+police were firing rapidly in reply, and men fell fast among the
+_Usutu_. They raised their war shout and came on, though slowly, for
+they feared the bullets. Step by step John Dunn and his people were
+thrust back, fighting gallantly against overwhelming odds. They were
+level with us, not a quarter of a mile to our left. They were pushed
+past us. They vanished among the bush behind us, and a long while
+passed before ever I heard what became of them, for we met no more that
+day.
+
+Now, the horns having done their work and wrapped themselves round
+Umbelazi’s army as the nippers of a wasp close about a fly (why did not
+Umbelazi cut off those horns, I wondered), the _Usutu_ bull began his
+charge. Twenty or thirty thousand strong, regiment after regiment,
+Cetewayo’s men rushed up the slope, and there, near the crest of it,
+were met by Umbelazi’s regiments springing forward to repel the
+onslaught and shouting their battle-cry of “_Laba! Laba! Laba! Laba!_”
+
+The noise of their meeting shields came to our ears like that of the
+roll of thunder, and the sheen of their stabbing-spears shone as shines
+the broad summer lightning. They hung and wavered on the slope; then
+from the Amawombe ranks rose a roar of
+
+“_Umbelazi wins!_”
+
+Watching intently, we saw the _Usutu_ giving back. Down the slope they
+went, leaving the ground in front of them covered with black spots
+which we knew to be dead or wounded men.
+
+“Why does not the Elephant charge home?” said Maputa in a perplexed
+voice. “The _Usutu_ bull is on his back! Why does he not trample him?”
+
+“Because he is afraid, I suppose,” I answered, and went on watching.
+
+There was plenty to see, as it happened. Finding that they were not
+pursued, Cetewayo’s _impi_ reformed swiftly at the bottom of the slope,
+in preparation for another charge. Among that of Umbelazi, above them,
+rapid movements took place of which I could not guess the meaning,
+which movements were accompanied by much noise of angry shouting. Then
+suddenly, from the midst of the _Isigqosa_ army, emerged a great body
+of men, thousands strong, which ran swiftly, but in open order, down
+the slope towards the _Usutu_, holding their spears reversed. At first
+I thought that they were charging independently, till I saw the _Usutu_
+ranks open to receive them with a shout of welcome.
+
+“Treachery!” I said. “Who is it?”
+
+“Saduko, with the Amakoba and Amangwane soldiers and others. I know
+them by their head-dresses,” answered Maputa in a cold voice.
+
+“Do you mean that Saduko has gone over to Cetewayo with all his
+following?” I asked excitedly.
+
+“What else, Macumazahn? Saduko is a traitor: Umbelazi is finished,” and
+he passed his hand swiftly across his mouth—a gesture that has only one
+meaning among the Zulus.
+
+As for me, I sat down upon a stone and groaned, for now I understood
+everything.
+
+Presently the _Usutu_ raised fierce, triumphant shouts, and once again
+their impi, swelled with Saduko’s power, began to advance up the slope.
+Umbelazi, and those of the _Isigqosa_ party who clung to him—now, I
+should judge, not more than eight thousand men—never stayed to wait the
+onslaught. They broke! They fled in a hideous rout, crashing through
+the thin, left horn of the _Usutu_ by mere weight of numbers, and
+passing behind us obliquely on their road to the banks of the Tugela. A
+messenger rushed up to us, panting.
+
+“These are the words of Umbelazi,” he gasped. “O Watcher-by-Night and O
+Maputa, _Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_ prays that you will hold back the
+_Usutu_, as the King bade you do in case of need, and so give to him
+and those who cling to him time to escape with the women and children
+into Natal. His general, Saduko, has betrayed him, and gone over with
+three regiments to Cetewayo, and therefore we can no longer stand
+against the thousands of the _Usutu_.”
+
+“Go tell the prince that Macumazahn, Maputa, and the Amawombe regiment
+will do their best,” answered Maputa calmly. “Still, this is our advice
+to him, that he should cross the Tugela swiftly with the women and the
+children, seeing that we are few and Cetewayo is many.”
+
+The messenger leapt away, but, as I heard afterwards, he never found
+Umbelazi, since the poor man was killed within five hundred yards of
+where we stood.
+
+Then Maputa gave an order, and the Amawombe formed themselves into a
+triple line, thirteen hundred men in the first line, thirteen hundred
+men in the second line, and about a thousand in the third, behind whom
+were the carrier boys, three or four hundred of them. The place
+assigned to me was in the exact centre of the second line, where, being
+mounted on a horse, it was thought, as I gathered, that I should serve
+as a convenient rallying-point.
+
+In this formation we advanced a few hundred yards to our left,
+evidently with the object of interposing ourselves between the routed
+impi and the pursuing _Usutu_, or, if the latter should elect to go
+round us, with that of threatening their flank. Cetewayo’s generals did
+not leave us long in doubt as to what they would do. The main body of
+their army bore away to the right in pursuit of the flying foe, but
+three regiments, each of about two thousand five hundred spears,
+halted. Five minutes passed perhaps while they marshalled, with a
+distance of some six hundred yards between them. Each regiment was in a
+triple line like our own.
+
+To me that seemed a very long five minutes, but, reflecting that it was
+probably my last on earth, I tried to make the best of it in a fashion
+that can be guessed. Strange to say, however, I found it impossible to
+keep my mind fixed upon those matters with which it ought to have been
+filled. My eyes and thoughts would roam. I looked at the ranks of the
+veteran Amawombe, and noted that they were still and solemn as men
+about to die should be, although they showed no sign of fear. Indeed, I
+saw some of those near me passing their snuffboxes to each other. Two
+grey-haired men also, who evidently were old friends, shook hands as
+people do who are parting before a journey, while two others discussed
+in a low voice the possibility of our wiping out most of the _Usutu_
+before we were wiped out ourselves.
+
+“It depends,” said one of them, “whether they attack us regiment by
+regiment or all together, as they will do if they are wise.”
+
+Then an officer bade them be silent, and conversation ceased. Maputa
+passed through the ranks giving orders to the captains. From a distance
+his withered old body, with a fighting shield held in front of it,
+looked like that of a huge black ant carrying something in its mouth.
+He came to where Scowl and I sat upon our horses.
+
+“Ah! I see that you are ready, Macumazahn,” he said in a cheerful
+voice. “I told you that you should not go away hungry, did I not?”
+
+“Maputa,” I said in remonstrance, “what is the use of this? Umbelazi is
+defeated, you are not of his _impi_, why send all these”—and I waved my
+hand—“down into the darkness? Why not go to the river and try to save
+the women and children?”
+
+“Because we shall take many of those down into the darkness with us,
+Macumazahn,” and he pointed to the dense masses of the _Usutu_. “Yet,”
+he added, with a touch of compunction, “this is not your quarrel. You
+and your servant have horses. Slip out, if you will, and gallop hard to
+the lower drift. You may get away with your lives.”
+
+Then my white man’s pride came to my aid.
+
+“Nay,” I answered, “I will not run while others stay to fight.”
+
+“I never thought you would, Macumazahn, who, I am sure, do not wish to
+earn a new and ugly name. Well, neither will the Amawombe run to become
+a mock among their people. The King’s orders were that we should try to
+help Umbelazi, if the battle went against him. We obey the King’s
+orders by dying where we stand. Macumazahn, do you think that you could
+hit that big fellow who is shouting insults at us there? If so, I
+should be obliged to you, as I dislike him very much,” and he showed me
+a captain who was swaggering about in front of the lines of the first
+of the _Usutu_ regiments, about six hundred yards away.
+
+“I will try,” I answered, “but it’s a long shot.” Dismounting, I
+climbed a pile of stones and, resting my rifle on the topmost of them,
+took a very full sight, aimed, held my breath, and pressed the trigger.
+A second afterwards the shouter of insults threw his arms wide, letting
+fall his spear, and pitched forward on to his face.
+
+A roar of delight rose from the watching Amawombe, while old Maputa
+clapped his thin brown hands and grinned from ear to ear.
+
+“Thank you, Macumazahn. A very good omen! Now I am sure that, whatever
+those _Isigqosa_ dogs of Umbelazi’s may do, we King’s men shall make an
+excellent end, which is all that we can hope. Oh, what a beautiful
+shot! It will be something to think of when I am an _idhlozi_, a
+spirit-snake, crawling about my own kraal. Farewell, Macumazahn,” and
+he took my hand and pressed it. “The time has come. I go to lead the
+charge. The Amawombe have orders to defend you to the last, for I wish
+you to see the finish of this fight. Farewell.”
+
+Then off he hurried, followed by his orderlies and staff-officers.
+
+I never saw him again alive, though I think that once in after years I
+did meet his _idhlozi_ in his kraal under strange circumstances. But
+that has nothing to do with this history.
+
+As for me, having reloaded, I mounted my horse again, being afraid
+lest, if I went on shooting, I should miss and spoil my reputation.
+Besides, what was the use of killing more men unless I was obliged?
+There were plenty ready to do that.
+
+Another minute, and the regiment in front of us began to move, while
+the other two behind it ostentatiously sat themselves down in their
+ranks, to show that they did not mean to spoil sport. The fight was to
+begin with a duel between about six thousand men.
+
+“Good!” muttered the warrior who was nearest me. “They are in our bag.”
+
+“Aye,” answered another, “those little boys” (used as a term of
+contempt) “are going to learn their last lesson.”
+
+For a few seconds there was silence, while the long ranks leant forward
+between the hedges of lean and cruel spears. A whisper went down the
+line; it sounded like the noise of wind among trees, and was the signal
+to prepare. Next a far-off voice shouted some word, which was repeated
+again and again by other voices before and behind me. I became aware
+that we were moving, quite slowly at first, then more quickly. Being
+lifted above the ranks upon my horse I could see the whole advance, and
+the general aspect of it was that of a triple black wave, each wave
+crowned with foam—the white plumes and shields of the Amawombe were the
+foam—and alive with sparkles of light—their broad spears were the
+light.
+
+We were charging now—and oh! the awful and glorious excitement of that
+charge! Oh, the rush of the bending plumes and the dull thudding of
+eight thousand feet! The _Usutu_ came up the slope to meet us. In
+silence we went, and in silence they came. We drew near to each other.
+Now we could see their faces peering over the tops of their mottled
+shields, and now we could see their fierce and rolling eyes.
+
+Then a roar—a rolling roar such as at that time I had never heard: the
+thunder of the roar of the meeting shields—and a flash—a swift,
+simultaneous flash, the flash of the lightning of the stabbing spears.
+Up went the cry of:
+
+“_Kill, Amawombe, kill!_” answered by another cry of:
+
+“_Toss, Usutu, toss!_”
+
+After that, what happened? Heaven knows alone—or at least I do not. But
+in later years Mr. Osborn, afterwards the resident magistrate at
+Newcastle, in Natal, who, being young and foolish in those days, had
+swum his horse over the Tugela and hidden in a little kopje quite near
+to us in order to see the battle, told me that it looked as though some
+huge breaker—that breaker being the splendid Amawombe—rolling in
+towards the shore with the weight of the ocean behind it, had suddenly
+struck a ridge of rock and, rearing itself up, submerged and hidden it.
+
+At least, within three minutes that _Usutu_ regiment was no more. We
+had killed them every one, and from all along our lines rose a fierce
+hissing sound of “_S’gee, S’gee_” (“Zhi” in the Zulu) uttered as the
+spears went home in the bodies of the conquered.
+
+That regiment had gone, taking nearly a third of our number with it,
+for in such a battle as this the wounded were as good as dead.
+Practically our first line had vanished in a fray that did not last
+more than a few minutes. Before it was well over the second _Usutu_
+regiment sprang up and charged. With a yell of victory we rushed down
+the slope towards them. Again there was the roar of the meeting
+shields, but this time the fight was more prolonged, and, being in the
+front rank now, I had my share of it. I remember shooting two _Usutu_
+who stabbed at me, after which my gun was wrenched from my hand. I
+remember the mêlée swinging backwards and forwards, the groans of the
+wounded, the shouts of victory and despair, and then Scowl’s voice
+saying:
+
+“We have beat them, Baas, but here come the others.”
+
+The third regiment was on our shattered lines. We closed up, we fought
+like devils, even the bearer boys rushed into the fray. From all sides
+they poured down upon us, for we had made a ring; every minute men died
+by hundreds, and, though their numbers grew few, not one of the
+Amawombe yielded. I was fighting with a spear now, though how it came
+into my hand I cannot remember for certain. I think, however, I
+wrenched it from a man who rushed at me and was stabbed before he could
+strike. I killed a captain with this spear, for as he fell I recognised
+his face. It was that of one of Cetewayo’s companions to whom I had
+sold some cloth at Nodwengu. The fallen were piled up quite thick
+around me—we were using them as a breastwork, friend and foe together.
+I saw Scowl’s horse rear into the air and fall. He slipped over its
+tail, and next instant was fighting at my side, also with a spear,
+muttering Dutch and English oaths as he struck.
+
+“_Beetje varm!_ [a little hot] _Beetje varm_, Baas!” I heard him say.
+Then my horse screamed aloud and something hit me hard upon the head—I
+suppose it was a thrown kerry—after which I remember nothing for a
+while, except a sensation of passing through the air.
+
+I came to myself again, and found that I was still on the horse, which
+was ambling forward across the veld at a rate of about eight miles an
+hour, and that Scowl was clinging to my stirrup leather and running at
+my side. He was covered with blood, so was the horse, and so was I. It
+may have been our own blood, for all three were more or less wounded,
+or it may have been that of others; I am sure I do not know, but we
+were a terrible sight. I pulled upon the reins, and the horse stopped
+among some thorns. Scowl felt in the saddlebags and found a large flask
+of Hollands gin and water—half gin and half water—which he had placed
+there before the battle. He uncorked and gave it to me. I took a long
+pull at the stuff, that tasted like veritable nectar, then handed it to
+him, who did likewise. New life seemed to flow into my veins. Whatever
+teetotallers may say, alcohol is good at such a moment.
+
+“Where are the Amawombe?” I asked.
+
+“All dead by now, I think, Baas, as we should be had not your horse
+bolted. _Wow!_ but they made a great fight—one that will be told of!
+They have carried those three regiments away upon their spears.”
+
+“That’s good,” I said. “But where are we going?”
+
+“To Natal, I hope, Baas. I have had enough of the Zulus for the
+present. The Tugela is not far away, and we will swim it. Come on,
+before our hurts grow stiff.”
+
+So we went on, till presently we reached the crest of a rise of ground
+overlooking the river, and there saw and heard dreadful things, for
+beneath us those devilish _Usutu_ were massacring the fugitives and the
+camp-followers. These were being driven by the hundred to the edge of
+the water, there to perish on the banks or in the stream, which was
+black with drowned or drowning forms.
+
+And oh! the sounds! Well, these I will not attempt to describe.
+
+“Keep up stream,” I said shortly, and we struggled across a kind of
+donga, where only a few wounded men were hidden, into a somewhat denser
+patch of bush that had scarcely been entered by the flying _Isigqosa_,
+perhaps because here the banks of the river were very steep and
+difficult; also, between them its waters ran swiftly, for this was
+above the drift.
+
+For a while we went on in safety, then suddenly I heard a noise. A
+great man plunged past me, breaking through the bush like a buffalo,
+and came to a halt upon a rock which overhung the Tugela, for the
+floods had eaten away the soil beneath.
+
+“Umbelazi!” said Scowl, and as he spoke we saw another man following as
+a wild dog follows a buck.
+
+“Saduko!” said Scowl.
+
+I rode on. I could not help riding on, although I knew it would be
+safer to keep away. I reached the edge of that big rock. Saduko and
+Umbelazi were fighting there.
+
+In ordinary circumstances, strong and active as he was, Saduko would
+have had no chance against the most powerful Zulu living. But the
+prince was utterly exhausted; his sides were going like a blacksmith’s
+bellows, or those of a fat eland bull that has been galloped to a
+standstill. Moreover, he seemed to me to be distraught with grief, and,
+lastly, he had no shield left, nothing but an assegai.
+
+A stab from Saduko’s spear, which he partially parried, wounded him
+slightly on the head, and cut loose the fillet of his ostrich plume,
+that same plume which I had seen blown off in the morning, so that it
+fell to the ground. Another stab pierced his right arm, making it
+helpless. He snatched the assegai with his left hand, striving to
+continue the fight, and just at that moment we came up.
+
+“What are you doing, Saduko?” I cried. “Does a dog bite his own
+master?”
+
+He turned and stared at me; both of them stared at me.
+
+“Aye, Macumazahn,” he answered in an icy voice, “sometimes when it is
+starving and that full-fed master has snatched away its bone. Nay,
+stand aside, Macumazahn” (for, although I was quite unarmed, I had
+stepped between them), “lest you should share the fate of this
+woman-thief.”
+
+“Not I, Saduko,” I cried, for this sight made me mad, “unless you
+murder me.”
+
+Then Umbelazi spoke in a hollow voice, sobbing out his words:
+
+“I thank you, White Man, yet do as this snake bids you—this snake that
+has lived in my kraal and fed out of my cup. Let him have his fill of
+vengeance because of the woman who bewitched me—yes, because of the
+sorceress who has brought me and thousands to the dust. Have you heard,
+Macumazahn, of the great deed of this son of Matiwane? Have you heard
+that all the while he was a traitor in the pay of Cetewayo, and that he
+went over, with the regiments of his command, to the _Usutu_ just when
+the battle hung upon the turn? Come, Traitor, here is my heart—the
+heart that loved and trusted you. Strike—strike hard!”
+
+“Out of the way, Macumazahn!” hissed Saduko. But I would not stir.
+
+He sprang at me, and, though I put up the best fight that I could in my
+injured state, got his hands about my throat and began to choke me.
+Scowl ran to help me, but his wound—for he was hurt—or his utter
+exhaustion took effect on him. Or perhaps it was excitement. At any
+rate, he fell down in a fit. I thought that all was over, when again I
+heard Umbelazi’s voice, and felt Saduko’s grip loosen at my throat, and
+sat up.
+
+“Dog,” said the Prince, “where is your assegai?” And as he spoke he
+threw it from him into the river beneath, for he had picked it up while
+we struggled, but, as I noted, retained his own. “Now, dog, why do I
+not kill you, as would have been easy but now? I will tell you. Because
+I will not mix the blood of a traitor with my own. See!” He set the
+haft of his broad spear upon the rock and bent forward over the blade.
+“You and your witch-wife have brought me to nothing, O Saduko. My
+blood, and the blood of all who clung to me, is on your head. Your name
+shall stink for ever in the nostrils of all true men, and I whom you
+have betrayed—I, the Prince Umbelazi—will haunt you while you live;
+yes, my spirit shall enter into you, and when you die—ah! then we’ll
+meet again. Tell this tale to the white men, Macumazahn, my friend, on
+whom be honour and blessings.”
+
+He paused, and I saw the tears gush from his eyes—tears mingled with
+blood from the wound in his head. Then suddenly he uttered the
+battle-cry of “_Laba! Laba!_” and let his weight fall upon the point of
+the spear.
+
+It pierced him through and through. He fell on to his hands and knees.
+He looked up at us—oh, the piteousness of that look!—and then rolled
+sideways from the edge of the rock.
+
+A heavy splash, and that was the end of Umbelazi the Fallen—Umbelazi,
+about whom Mameena had cast her net.
+
+A sad story in truth. Although it happened so many years ago I weep as
+I write it—I weep as Umbelazi wept.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XIV.
+UMBEZI AND THE BLOOD ROYAL
+
+
+After this I think that some of the _Usutu_ came up, for it seemed to
+me that I heard Saduko say:
+
+“Touch not Macumazahn or his servant. They are my prisoners. He who
+harms them dies, with all his House.”
+
+So they put me, fainting, on my horse, and Scowl they carried away upon
+a shield.
+
+When I came to I found myself in a little cave, or rather beneath some
+overhanging rocks, at the side of a kopje, and with me Scowl, who had
+recovered from his fit, but seemed in a very bewildered condition.
+Indeed, neither then nor afterwards did he remember anything of the
+death of Umbelazi, nor did I ever tell him that tale. Like many others,
+he thought that the Prince had been drowned in trying to swim the
+Tugela.
+
+“Are they going to kill us?” I asked of him, since, from the triumphant
+shouting without, I knew that we must be in the midst of the victorious
+_Usutu_.
+
+“I don’t know, Baas,” he answered. “I hope not; after we have gone
+through so much it would be a pity. Better to have died at the
+beginning of the battle.”
+
+I nodded my head in assent, and just at that moment a Zulu, who had
+very evidently been fighting, entered the place carrying a dish of
+toasted lumps of beef and a gourd of water.
+
+“Cetewayo sends you these, Macumazahn,” he said, “and is sorry that
+there is no milk or beer. When you have eaten a guard waits without to
+escort you to him.” And he went.
+
+“Well,” I said to Scowl, “if they were going to kill us, they would
+scarcely take the trouble to feed us first. So let us keep up our
+hearts and eat.”
+
+“Who knows?” answered poor Scowl, as he crammed a lump of beef into his
+big mouth. “Still, it is better to die on a full than on an empty
+stomach.”
+
+So we ate and drank, and, as we were suffering more from exhaustion
+than from our hurts, which were not really serious, our strength came
+back to us. As we finished the last lump of meat, which, although it
+had been only half cooked upon the point of an assegai, tasted very
+good, the Zulu put his head into the mouth of the shelter and asked if
+we were ready. I nodded, and, supporting each other, Scowl and I limped
+from the place. Outside were about fifty soldiers, who greeted us with
+a shout that, although it was mixed with laughter at our pitiable
+appearance, struck me as not altogether unfriendly. Amongst these men
+was my horse, which stood with its head hanging down, looking very
+depressed. I was helped on to its back, and, Scowl clinging to the
+stirrup leather, we were led a distance of about a quarter of a mile to
+Cetewayo.
+
+We found him seated, in the full blaze of the evening sun, on the
+eastern slope of one of the land-waves of the veld, with the open plain
+in front of him. It was a strange and savage scene. There sat the
+victorious prince, surrounded by his captains and _indunas_, while
+before him rushed the triumphant regiments, shouting his titles in the
+most extravagant language. _Izimbongi_ also—that is, professional
+praisers—were running up and down before him dressed in all sorts of
+finery, telling his deeds, calling him “Eater-up-of-the-Earth,” and
+yelling out the names of those great ones who had been killed in the
+battle.
+
+Meanwhile parties of bearers were coming up continually, carrying dead
+men of distinction upon shields and laying them out in rows, as game is
+laid out at the end of a day’s shooting in England. It seems that
+Cetewayo had taken a fancy to see them, and, being too tired to walk
+over the field of battle, ordered that this should be done. Among
+these, by the way, I saw the body of my old friend, Maputa, the general
+of the Amawombe, and noted that it was literally riddled with spear
+thrusts, every one of them in front; also that his quaint face still
+wore a smile.
+
+At the head of these lines of corpses were laid six dead, all men of
+large size, in whom I recognised the brothers of Umbelazi, who had
+fought on his side, and the half-brothers of Cetewayo. Among them were
+those three princes upon whom the dust had fallen when Zikali, the
+prophet, smelt out Masapo, the husband of Mameena.
+
+Dismounting from my horse, with the help of Scowl, I limped through and
+over the corpses of these fallen royalties, cut in the Zulu fashion to
+free their spirits, which otherwise, as they believed, would haunt the
+slayers, and stood in front of Cetewayo.
+
+“_Siyakubona_, Macumazahn,” he said, stretching out his hand to me,
+which I took, though I could not find it in my heart to wish _him_
+“good day.”
+
+“I hear that you were leading the Amawombe, whom my father, the King,
+sent down to help Umbelazi, and I am very glad that you have escaped
+alive. Also my heart is proud of the fight that they made, for you
+know, Macumazahn, once, next to the King, I was general of that
+regiment, though afterwards we quarrelled. Still, I am pleased that
+they did so well, and I have given orders that every one of them who
+remains alive is to be spared, that they may be officers of a new
+Amawombe which I shall raise. Do you know, Macumazahn, that you have
+nearly wiped out three whole regiments of the _Usutu_, killing many
+more people than did all my brother’s army, the _Isigqosa?_ Oh, you are
+a great man. Had it not been for the loyalty”—this word was spoken with
+just a tinge of sarcasm—“of Saduko yonder, you would have won the day
+for Umbelazi. Well, now that this quarrel is finished, if you will stay
+with me I will make you general of a whole division of the King’s army,
+since henceforth I shall have a voice in affairs.”
+
+“You are mistaken, O Son of Panda,” I answered; “the splendour of the
+Amawombe’s great stand against a multitude is on the name of Maputa,
+the King’s councillor and the _induna_ of the Black One [Chaka], who is
+gone. He lies yonder in his glory,” and I pointed to Maputa’s pierced
+body. “I did but fight as a soldier in his ranks.”
+
+“Oh, yes, we know that, we know all that, Macumazahn; and Maputa was a
+clever monkey in his way, but we know also that you taught him how to
+jump. Well, he is dead, and nearly all the Amawombe are dead, and of my
+three regiments but a handful is left; the vultures have the rest of
+them. That is all finished and forgotten, Macumazahn, though by good
+fortune the spears went wide of you, who doubtless are a magician,
+since otherwise you and your servant and your horse would not have
+escaped with a few scratches when everyone else was killed. But you did
+escape, as you have done before in Zululand; and now you see here lie
+certain men who were born of my father. Yet one is missing—he against
+whom I fought, aye, and he whom, although we fought, I loved the best
+of all of them. Now, it has been whispered in my ear that you alone
+know what became of him, and, Macumazahn, I would learn whether he
+lives or is dead; also, if he is dead, by whose hand he died, who would
+reward that hand.”
+
+Now, I looked round me, wondering whether I should tell the truth or
+hold my tongue, and as I looked my eyes met those of Saduko, who, cold
+and unconcerned, was seated among the captains, but at a little
+distance from any of them—a man apart; and I remembered that he and I
+alone knew the truth of the end of Umbelazi.
+
+Why, I do not know, but it came into my mind that I would keep the
+secret. Why should I tell the triumphant Cetewayo that Umbelazi had
+been driven to die by his own hand; why should I lay bare Saduko’s
+victory and shame? All these matters had passed into the court of a
+different tribunal. Who was I that I should reveal them or judge the
+actors of this terrible drama?
+
+“O Cetewayo,” I said, “as it chanced I saw the end of Umbelazi. No
+enemy killed him. He died of a broken heart upon a rock above the
+river; and for the rest of the story go ask the Tugela into which he
+fell.”
+
+For a moment Cetewayo hid his eyes with his hand.
+
+“Is it so?” he said presently. “_Wow!_ I say again that had it not been
+for Saduko, the son of Matiwane, yonder, who had some quarrel with
+_Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_ about a woman and took his chance of vengeance,
+it might have been I who died of a broken heart upon a rock above the
+river. Oh, Saduko, I owe you a great debt and will pay you well; but
+you shall be no friend of mine, lest we also should chance to quarrel
+about a woman, and _I_ should find myself dying of a broken heart on a
+rock above a river. O my brother Umbelazi, I mourn for you, my brother,
+for, after all, we played together when we were little and loved each
+other once, who in the end fought for a toy that is called a throne,
+since, as our father said, two bulls cannot live in the same yard, my
+brother. Well, you are gone and I remain, yet who knows but that at the
+last your lot may be happier than mine. You died of a broken heart,
+Umbelazi, but of what shall _I_ die, I wonder?”[1]
+
+ [1] That history of Cetewayo’s fall and tragic death and of Zikali’s
+ vengeance I hope to write one day, for in these events also I was
+ destined to play a part.—A. Q.
+
+I have given this interview in detail, since it was because of it that
+the saying went abroad that Umbelazi died of a broken heart.
+
+So in truth he did, for before his spear pierced it his heart was
+broken.
+
+Now, seeing that Cetewayo was in one of his soft moods, and that he
+seemed to look upon me kindly, though I had fought against him, I
+reflected that this would be a good opportunity to ask his leave to
+depart. To tell the truth, my nerves were quite shattered with all I
+had gone through, and I longed to be away from the sights and sounds of
+that terrible battlefield, on and about which so many thousand people
+had perished this fateful day, as I had seldom longed for anything
+before. But while I was making up my mind as to the best way to
+approach him, something happened which caused me to lose my chance.
+
+Hearing a noise behind me, I looked round, to see a stout man arrayed
+in a very fine war dress, and waving in one hand a gory spear and in
+the other a head-plume of ostrich feathers, who was shouting out:
+
+“Give me audience of the son of the King! I have a song to sing to the
+Prince. I have a tale to tell to the conqueror, Cetewayo.”
+
+I stared. I rubbed my eyes. It could not be—yes, it was—Umbezi,
+“Eater-up-of-Elephants,” the father of Mameena. In a few seconds,
+without waiting for leave to approach, he had bounded through the line
+of dead princes, stopping to kick one of them on the head and address
+his poor clay in some words of shameful insult, and was prancing about
+before Cetewayo, shouting his praises.
+
+“Who is this _umfokazana?_” [that is, low fellow] growled the Prince.
+“Bid him cease his noise and speak, lest he should be silent for ever.”
+
+“O Calf of the Black Cow, I am Umbezi, ‘Eater-up-of-Elephants,’ chief
+captain of Saduko the Cunning, he who won you the battle, father of
+Mameena the Beautiful, whom Saduko wed and whom the dead dog, Umbelazi,
+stole away from him.”
+
+“Ah!” said Cetewayo, screwing up his eyes in a fashion he had when he
+meant mischief, which among the Zulus caused him to be named the
+“Bull-who-shuts-his-eyes-to-toss,” “and what have you to tell me,
+‘Eater-up-of-Elephants’ and father of Mameena, whom the dead dog,
+Umbelazi, took away from your master, Saduko the Cunning?”
+
+“This, O Mighty One; this, O Shaker of the Earth, that well am I named
+‘Eater-up-of-Elephants,’ who have eaten up _Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_—the
+Elephant himself.”
+
+Now Saduko seemed to awake from his brooding and started from his
+place; but Cetewayo sharply bade him be silent, whereon Umbezi, the
+fool, noting nothing, continued his tale.
+
+“O Prince, I met Umbelazi in the battle, and when he saw me he fled
+from me; yes, his heart grew soft as water at the sight of me, the
+warrior whom he had wronged, whose daughter he had stolen.”
+
+“I hear you,” said Cetewayo. “Umbelazi’s heart turned to water at the
+sight of you because he had wronged you—you who until this morning,
+when you deserted him with Saduko, were one of his jackals. Well, and
+what happened then?”
+
+“He fled, O Lion with the Black Mane; he fled like the wind, and I, I
+flew after him like—a stronger wind. Far into the bush he fled, till at
+length he came to a rock above the river and was obliged to stand. Then
+there we fought. He thrust at me, but I leapt over his spear _thus_,”
+and he gambolled into the air. “He thrust at me again, but I bent
+myself _thus_,” and he ducked his great head. “Then he grew tired and
+my time came. He turned and ran round the rock, and I, I ran after him,
+stabbing him through the back, _thus_, and _thus_, and _thus_, till he
+fell, crying for mercy, and rolled off the rock into the river; and as
+he rolled I snatched away his plume. See, is it not the plume of the
+dead dog Umbelazi?”
+
+Cetewayo took the ornament and examined it, showing it to one or two of
+the captains near him, who nodded their heads gravely.
+
+“Yes,” he said, “this is the war plume of Umbelazi, beloved of the
+King, strong and shining pillar of the Great House; we know it well,
+that war plume at the sight of which many a knee has loosened. And so
+you killed him, ‘Eater-up-of-Elephants,’ father of Mameena, you who
+this morning were one of the meanest of his jackals. Now, what reward
+shall I give you for this mighty deed, O Umbezi?”
+
+“A great reward, O Terrible One,” began Umbezi, but in an awful voice
+Cetewayo bade him be silent.
+
+“Yes,” he said, “a great reward. Hearken, Jackal and Traitor. Your own
+words bear witness against you. You, _you_ have dared to lift your hand
+against the blood-royal, and with your foul tongue to heap lies and
+insults upon the name of the mighty dead.”
+
+Now, understanding at last, Umbezi began to babble excuses, yes, and to
+declare that all his tale was false. His fat cheeks fell in, he sank to
+his knees.
+
+But Cetewayo only spat towards the man, after his fashion when enraged,
+and looked round him till his eye fell upon Saduko.
+
+“Saduko,” he said, “take away this slayer of the Prince, who boasts
+that he is red with my own blood, and when he is dead cast him into the
+river from that rock on which he says he stabbed Panda’s son.”
+
+Saduko looked round him wildly and hesitated.
+
+“Take him away,” thundered Cetewayo, “and return ere dark to make
+report to me.”
+
+Then, at a sign from the Prince, soldiers flung themselves upon the
+miserable Umbezi and dragged him thence, Saduko going with them; nor
+was the poor liar ever seen again. As he passed by me he called to me,
+for Mameena’s sake, to save him; but I could only shake my head and
+bethink me of the warning I had once given to him as to the fate of
+traitors.
+
+It may be said that this story comes straight from the history of Saul
+and David, but I can only answer that it happened. Circumstances that
+were not unlike ended in a similar tragedy, that is all. What David’s
+exact motives were, naturally I cannot tell; but it is easy to guess
+those of Cetewayo, who, although he could make war upon his brother to
+secure the throne, did not think it wise to let it go abroad that the
+royal blood might be lightly spilt. Also, knowing that I was a witness
+of the Prince’s death, he was well aware that Umbezi was but a boastful
+liar who hoped thus to ingratiate himself with an all-powerful
+conqueror.
+
+Well, this tragic incident had its sequel. It seems—to his honour, be
+it said—that Saduko refused to be the executioner of his father-in-law,
+Umbezi; so those with him performed this office and brought him back a
+prisoner to Cetewayo.
+
+When the Prince learned that his direct order, spoken in the accustomed
+and fearful formula of “_Take him away_,” had been disobeyed, his rage
+was, or seemed to be, great. My own conviction is that he was only
+seeking a cause of quarrel against Saduko, who, he thought, was a very
+powerful man, who would probably treat him, should opportunity arise,
+as he had treated Umbelazi, and perhaps now that the most of Panda’s
+sons were dead, except himself and the lads M’tonga, Sikota and
+M’kungo, who had fled into Natal, might even in future days aspire to
+the throne as the husband of the King’s daughter. Still, he was afraid
+or did not think it politic at once to put out of his path this master
+of many legions, who had played so important a part in the battle.
+Therefore he ordered him to be kept under guard and taken back to
+Nodwengu, that the whole matter might be investigated by Panda the
+King, who still ruled the land, though henceforth only in name. Also he
+refused to allow me to depart into Natal, saying that I, too, must come
+to Nodwengu, as there my testimony might be needed.
+
+So, having no choice, I went, it being fated that I should see the end
+of the drama.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XV.
+MAMEENA CLAIMS THE KISS
+
+
+When I reached Nodwengu I was taken ill and laid up in my wagon for
+about a fortnight. What my exact sickness was I do not know, for I had
+no doctor at hand to tell me, as even the missionaries had fled the
+country. Fever resulting from fatigue, exposure and excitement, and
+complicated with fearful headache—caused, I presume, by the blow which
+I received in the battle—were its principal symptoms.
+
+When I began to get better, Scowl and some Zulu friends who came to see
+me informed me that the whole land was in a fearful state of disorder,
+and that Umbelazi’s adherents, the _Isigqosa_, were still being hunted
+out and killed. It seems that it was even suggested by some of the
+_Usutu_ that I should share their fate, but on this point Panda was
+firm. Indeed, he appears to have said publicly that whoever lifted a
+spear against me, his friend and guest, lifted it against him, and
+would be the cause of a new war. So the _Usutu_ left me alone, perhaps
+because they were satisfied with fighting for a while, and thought it
+wisest to be content with what they had won.
+
+Indeed, they had won everything, for Cetewayo was now supreme—by right
+of the assegai—and his father but a cipher. Although he remained the
+“Head” of the nation, Cetewayo was publicly declared to be its “Feet,”
+and strength was in these active “Feet,” not in the bowed and sleeping
+“Head.” In fact, so little power was left to Panda that he could not
+protect his own household. Thus one day I heard a great tumult and
+shouting proceeding apparently from the _Isi-gohlo_, or royal
+enclosure, and on inquiring what it was afterwards, was told that
+Cetewayo had come from the Amangwe kraal and denounced Nomantshali, the
+King’s wife, as _umtakati_, or a witch. More, in spite of his father’s
+prayers and tears, he had caused her to be put to death before his
+eyes—a dreadful and a savage deed. At this distance of time I cannot
+remember whether Nomantshali was the mother of Umbelazi or of one of
+the other fallen princes.[1]
+
+ [1] On re-reading this history it comes back to me that she was the
+ mother of M’tonga, who was much younger than Umbelazi. —A. Q.
+
+A few days later, when I was up and about again, although I had not
+ventured into the kraal, Panda sent a messenger to me with a present of
+an ox. On his behalf this man congratulated me on my recovery, and told
+me that, whatever might have happened to others, I was to have no fear
+for my own safety. He added that Cetewayo had sworn to the King that
+not a hair of my head should be harmed, in these words:
+
+“Had I wished to kill Watcher-by-Night because he fought against me, I
+could have done so down at Endondakusuka; but then I ought to kill you
+also, my father, since you sent him thither against his will with your
+own regiment. But I like him well, who is brave and who brought me good
+tidings that the Prince, my enemy, was dead of a broken heart.
+Moreover, I wish to have no quarrel with the White House [the English]
+on account of Macumazahn, so tell him that he may sleep in peace.”
+
+The messenger said further that Saduko, the husband of the King’s
+daughter, Nandie, and Umbelazi’s chief _induna_, was to be put upon his
+trial on the morrow before the King and his council, together with
+Mameena, daughter of Umbezi, and that my presence was desired at this
+trial.
+
+I asked what was the charge against them. He replied that, so far as
+Saduko was concerned, there were two: first, that he had stirred up
+civil war in the land, and, secondly, that having pushed on Umbelazi
+into a fight in which many thousands perished, he had played the
+traitor, deserting him in the midst of the battle, with all his
+following—a very heinous offence in the eyes of Zulus, to whatever
+party they may belong.
+
+Against Mameena there were three counts of indictment. First, that it
+was she who had poisoned Saduko’s child and others, not Masapo, her
+first husband, who had suffered for that crime. Secondly, that she had
+deserted Saduko, her second husband, and gone to live with another man,
+namely, the late Prince Umbelazi. Thirdly, that she was a witch, who
+had enmeshed Umbelazi in the web of her sorceries and thereby caused
+him to aspire to the succession to the throne, to which he had no
+right, and made the _isililo_, or cry of mourning for the dead, to be
+heard in every kraal in Zululand.
+
+“With three such pitfalls in her narrow path, Mameena will have to walk
+carefully if she would escape them all,” I said.
+
+“Yes, _Inkoosi_, especially as the pitfalls are dug from side to side
+of the path and have a pointed stake set at the bottom of each of them.
+Oh, Mameena is already as good as dead, as she deserves to be, who
+without doubt is the greatest _umtakati_ north of the Tugela.”
+
+I sighed, for somehow I was sorry for Mameena, though why she should
+escape when so many better people had perished because of her I did not
+know; and the messenger went on:
+
+“The Black One [that is, Panda] sent me to tell Saduko that he would be
+allowed to see you, Macumazahn, before the trial, if he wished, for he
+knew that you had been a friend of his, and thought that you might be
+able to give evidence in his favour.”
+
+“And what did Saduko say to that?” I asked.
+
+“He said that he thanked the King, but that it was not needful for him
+to talk with Macumazahn, whose heart was white like his skin, and whose
+lips, if they spoke at all, would tell neither more nor less than the
+truth. The Princess Nandie, who is with him—for she will not leave him
+in his trouble, as all others have done—on hearing these words of
+Saduko’s, said that they were true, and that for this reason, although
+you were her friend, she did not hold it necessary to see you either.”
+
+Upon this intimation I made no comment, but “my head thought,” as the
+natives say, that Saduko’s real reason for not wishing to see me was
+that he felt ashamed to do so, and Nandie’s that she feared to learn
+more about her husband’s perfidies than she knew already.
+
+“With Mameena it is otherwise,” went on the messenger, “for as soon as
+she was brought here with Zikali the Little and Wise, with whom, it
+seems, she has been sheltering, and learned that you, Macumazahn, were
+at the kraal, she asked leave to see you—”
+
+“And is it granted?” I broke in hurriedly, for I did not at all wish
+for a private interview with Mameena.
+
+“Nay, have no fear, _Inkoosi_,” replied the messenger with a smile; “it
+is refused, because the King said that if once she saw you she would
+bewitch you and bring trouble on you, as she does on all men. It is for
+this reason that she is guarded by women only, no man being allowed to
+go near to her, for on women her witcheries will not bite. Still, they
+say that she is merry, and laughs and sings a great deal, declaring
+that her life has been dull up at old Zikali’s, and that now she is
+going to a place as gay as the veld in spring, after the first warm
+rain, where there will be plenty of men to quarrel for her and make her
+great and happy. That is what she says, the witch who knows perhaps
+what the Place of Spirits is like.”
+
+Then, as I made no remarks or suggestions, the messenger departed,
+saying that he would return on the morrow to lead me to the place of
+trial.
+
+Next morning, after the cows had been milked and the cattle loosed from
+their kraals, he came accordingly, with a guard of about thirty men,
+all of them soldiers who had survived the great fight of the Amawombe.
+These warriors, some of whom had wounds that were scarcely healed,
+saluted me with loud cries of “_Inkoosi!_” and “_Baba_” as I stepped
+out of the wagon, where I had spent a wretched night of unpleasant
+anticipation, showing me that there were at least some Zulus with whom
+I remained popular. Indeed, their delight at seeing me, whom they
+looked upon as a comrade and one of the few survivors of the great
+adventure, was quite touching. As we went, which we did slowly, their
+captain told me of their fears that I had been killed with the others,
+and how rejoiced they were when they learned that I was safe. He told
+me also that, after the third regiment had attacked them and broken up
+their ring, a small body of them, from eighty to a hundred only,
+managed to cut a way through and escape, running, not towards the
+Tugela, where so many thousands had perished, but up to Nodwengu, where
+they reported themselves to Panda as the only survivors of the
+Amawombe.
+
+“And are you safe now?” I asked of the captain.
+
+“Oh, yes,” he answered. “You see, we were the King’s men, not
+Umbelazi’s, so Cetewayo bears us no grudge. Indeed, he is obliged to
+us, because we gave the _Usutu_ their stomachs full of good fighting,
+which is more than did those cows of Umbelazi’s. It is towards Saduko
+that he bears a grudge, for you know, my father, one should never pull
+a drowning man out of the stream—which is what Saduko did, for had it
+not been for his treachery, Cetewayo would have sunk beneath the water
+of Death—especially if it is only to spite a woman who hates him.
+Still, perhaps Saduko will escape with his life, because he is Nandie’s
+husband, and Cetewayo fears Nandie, his sister, if he does not love
+her. But here we are, and those who have to watch the sky all day will
+be able to tell of the evening weather” (in other words, those who live
+will learn).
+
+As he spoke we passed into the private enclosure of the _isi-gohlo_,
+outside of which a great many people were gathered, shouting, talking
+and quarrelling, for in those days all the usual discipline of the
+Great Place was relaxed. Within the fence, however, that was strongly
+guarded on its exterior side, were only about a score of councillors,
+the King, the Prince Cetewayo, who sat upon his right, the Princess
+Nandie, Saduko’s wife, a few attendants, two great, silent fellows
+armed with clubs, whom I guessed to be executioners, and, seated in the
+shade in a corner, that ancient dwarf, Zikali, though how he came to be
+there I did not know.
+
+Obviously the trial was to be quite a private affair, which accounted
+for the unusual presence of the two “slayers.” Even my Amawombe guard
+was left outside the gate, although I was significantly informed that
+if I chose to call upon them they would hear me, which was another way
+of saying that in such a small gathering I was absolutely safe.
+
+Walking forward boldly towards Panda, who, though he was as fat as
+ever, looked very worn and much older than when I had last seen him, I
+made my bow, whereon he took my hand and asked after my health. Then I
+shook Cetewayo’s hand also, as I saw that it was stretched out to me.
+He seized the opportunity to remark that he was told that I had
+suffered a knock on the head in some scrimmage down by the Tugela, and
+he hoped that I felt no ill effects. I answered: No, though I feared
+that there were a few others who had not been so fortunate, especially
+those who had stumbled against the Amawombe regiment, with whom I
+chanced to be travelling upon a peaceful mission of inquiry.
+
+It was a bold speech to make, but I was determined to give him a _quid
+pro quo_, and, as a matter of fact, he took it in very good part,
+laughing heartily at the joke.
+
+After this I saluted such of the councillors present as I knew, which
+was not many, for most of my old friends were dead, and sat down upon
+the stool that was placed for me not very far from the dwarf Zikali,
+who stared at me in a stony fashion, as though he had never seen me
+before.
+
+There followed a pause. Then, at some sign from Panda, a side gate in
+the fence was opened, and through it appeared Saduko, who walked
+proudly to the space in front of the King, to whom he gave the salute
+of “_Bayéte_,” and, at a sign, sat himself down upon the ground. Next,
+through the same gate, to which she was conducted by some women, came
+Mameena, quite unchanged and, I think, more beautiful than she had ever
+been. So lovely did she look, indeed, in her cloak of grey fur, her
+necklet of blue beads, and the gleaming rings of copper which she wore
+upon her wrists and ankles, that every eye was fixed upon her as she
+glided gracefully forward to make her obeisance to Panda.
+
+This done, she turned and saw Nandie, to whom she also bowed, as she
+did so inquiring after the health of her child. Without waiting for an
+answer, which she knew would not be vouchsafed, she advanced to me and
+grasped my hand, which she pressed warmly, saying how glad she was to
+see me safe after going through so many dangers, though she thought I
+looked even thinner than I used to be.
+
+Only of Saduko, who was watching her with his intent and melancholy
+eyes, she took no heed whatsoever. Indeed, for a while I thought that
+she could not have seen him. Nor did she appear to recognise Cetewayo,
+although he stared at her hard enough. But, as her glance fell upon the
+two executioners, I thought I saw her shudder like a shaken reed. Then
+she sat down in the place appointed to her, and the trial began.
+
+The case of Saduko was taken first. An officer learned in Zulu
+law—which I can assure the reader is a very intricate and
+well-established law—I suppose that he might be called a kind of
+attorney-general, rose and stated the case against the prisoner. He
+told how Saduko, from a nobody, had been lifted to a great place by the
+King and given his daughter, the Princess Nandie, in marriage. Then he
+alleged that, as would be proved in evidence, the said Saduko had urged
+on Umbelazi the Prince, to whose party he had attached himself, to make
+war upon Cetewayo. This war having begun, at the great battle of
+Endondakusuka, he had treacherously deserted Umbelazi, together with
+three regiments under his command, and gone over to Cetewayo, thereby
+bringing Umbelazi to defeat and death.
+
+This brief statement of the case for the prosecution being finished,
+Panda asked Saduko whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty.
+
+“Guilty, O King,” he answered, and was silent.
+
+Then Panda asked him if he had anything to say in excuse of his
+conduct.
+
+“Nothing, O King, except that I was Umbelazi’s man, and when you, O
+King, had given the word that he and the Prince yonder might fight, I,
+like many others, some of whom are dead and some alive, worked for him
+with all my ten fingers that he might have the victory.”
+
+“Then why did you desert my son the Prince in the battle?” asked Panda.
+
+“Because I saw that the Prince Cetewayo was the stronger bull and
+wished to be on the winning side, as all men do—for no other reason,”
+answered Saduko calmly.
+
+Now, everyone present stared, not excepting Cetewayo. Panda, who, like
+the rest of us, had heard a very different tale, looked extremely
+puzzled, while Zikali, in his corner, set up one of his great laughs.
+
+After a long pause, at length the King, as supreme judge, began to pass
+sentence. At least, I suppose that was his intention, but before three
+words had left his lips Nandie rose and said:
+
+“My Father, ere you speak that which cannot be unspoken, hear me. It is
+well known that Saduko, my husband, was my brother Umbelazi’s general
+and councillor, and if he is to be killed for clinging to the Prince,
+then I should be killed also, and countless others in Zululand who
+still remain alive because they were not in or escaped the battle. It
+is well known also, my Father, that during that battle Saduko went over
+to my brother Cetewayo, though whether this brought about the defeat of
+Umbelazi I cannot say. Why did he go over? He tells you because he
+wished to be on the winning side. It is not true. He went over in order
+to be revenged upon Umbelazi, who had taken from him yonder witch”—and
+she pointed with her finger at Mameena—“yonder witch, whom he loved and
+still loves, and whom even now he would shield, even though to do so he
+must make his own name shameful. Saduko sinned; I do not deny it, my
+Father, but there sits the real traitress, red with the blood of
+Umbelazi and with that of thousands of others who have ‘_tshonile_’d’
+[gone down to keep him company among the ghosts]. Therefore, O King, I
+beseech you, spare the life of Saduko, my husband, or, if he must die,
+learn that I, your daughter, will die with him. I have spoken, O King.”
+
+And very proudly and quietly she sat herself down again, waiting for
+the fateful words.
+
+But those words were not spoken, since Panda only said: “Let us try the
+case of this woman, Mameena.”
+
+Thereon the law officer rose again and set out the charges against
+Mameena, namely, that it was she who had poisoned Saduko’s child, and
+not Masapo; that, after marrying Saduko, she had deserted him and gone
+to live with the Prince Umbelazi; and that finally she had bewitched
+the said Umbelazi and caused him to make civil war in the land.
+
+“The second charge, if proved, namely, that this woman deserted her
+husband for another man, is a crime of death,” broke in Panda abruptly
+as the officer finished speaking; “therefore, what need is there to
+hear the first and the third until that is examined. What do you plead
+to that charge, woman?”
+
+Now, understanding that the King did not wish to stir up these other
+matters of murder and witchcraft for some reason of his own, we all
+turned to hear Mameena’s answer.
+
+“O King,” she said in her low, silvery voice, “I cannot deny that I
+left Saduko for Umbelazi the Handsome, any more than Saduko can deny
+that he left Umbelazi the beaten for Cetewayo the conqueror.”
+
+“Why did you leave Saduko?” asked Panda.
+
+“O King, perhaps because I loved Umbelazi; for was he not called the
+Handsome? Also _you_ know that the Prince, your son, was one to be
+loved.” Here she paused, looking at poor Panda, who winced. “Or,
+perhaps, because I wished to be great; for was he not of the Blood
+Royal, and, had it not been for Saduko, would he not one day have been
+a king? Or, perhaps, because I could no longer bear the treatment that
+the Princess Nandie dealt out to me; she who was cruel to me and
+threatened to beat me, because Saduko loved my hut better than her own.
+Ask Saduko; he knows more of these matters than I do,” and she gazed at
+him steadily. Then she went on: “How can a woman tell her reasons, O
+King, when she never knows them herself?”—a question at which some of
+her hearers smiled.
+
+Now Saduko rose and said slowly:
+
+“Hear me, O King, and I will give the reason that Mameena hides. She
+left me for Umbelazi because I bade her to do so, for I knew that
+Umbelazi desired her, and I wished to tie the cord tighter which bound
+me to one who at that time I thought would inherit the Throne. Also, I
+was weary of Mameena, who quarrelled night and day with the Princess
+Nandie, my _Inkosikazi_.”
+
+Now Nandie gasped in astonishment (and so did I), but Mameena laughed
+and said:
+
+“Yes, O King, those were the two real reasons that I had forgotten. I
+left Saduko because he bade me, as he wished to make a present to the
+Prince. Also, he _was_ tired of me; for many days at a time he would
+scarcely speak to me, because, however kind she might be, I could not
+help quarrelling with the Princess Nandie. Moreover, there was another
+reason which I have forgotten: I had no child, and not having any child
+I did not think it mattered whether I went or stayed. If Saduko
+searches, he will remember that I told him so, and that he agreed with
+me.”
+
+Again she looked at Saduko, who said hurriedly:
+
+“Yes, yes, I told her so; I told her that I wished for no barren cows
+in my kraal.”
+
+Now some of the audience laughed outright, but Panda frowned.
+
+“It seems,” he said, “that my ears are being stuffed with lies, though
+which of these two tells them I cannot say. Well, if the woman left the
+man by his own wish, and that his ends might be furthered, as he says,
+he had put her away, and therefore the fault, if any, is his, not hers.
+So that charge is ended. Now, woman, what have you to tell us of the
+witchcraft which it is said you practised upon the Prince who is gone,
+thereby causing him to make war in the land?”
+
+“Little that you would wish to hear, O King, or that it would be seemly
+for me to speak,” she answered, drooping her head modestly. “The only
+witchcraft that ever I practised upon Umbelazi lies here”—and she
+touched her beautiful eyes—“and here”—and she touched her curving
+lips—“and in this poor shape of mine which some have thought so fair.
+As for the war, what had I to do with war, who never spoke to Umbelazi,
+who was so dear to me”—and she looked up with tears running down her
+face—“save of love? O King, is there a man among you all who would fear
+the witcheries of such a one as I; and because the Heavens made me
+beautiful with the beauty that men must follow, am I also to be killed
+as a sorceress?”
+
+Now, to this argument neither Panda nor anyone else seemed to find an
+answer, especially as it was well known that Umbelazi had cherished his
+ambition to the succession long before he met Mameena. So that charge
+was dropped, and the first and greatest of the three proceeded with;
+namely, that it was she, Mameena, and not her husband, Masapo, who had
+murdered Nandie’s child.
+
+When this accusation was made against her, for the first time I saw a
+little shade of trouble flit across Mameena’s soft eyes.
+
+“Surely, O King,” she said, “that matter was settled long ago, when the
+Ndwande, Zikali, the great Nyanga, smelt out Masapo the wizard, he who
+was my husband, and brought him to his death for this crime. Must I
+then be tried for it again?”
+
+“Not so, woman,” answered Panda. “All that Zikali smelt out was the
+poison that wrought the crime, and as some of that poison was found
+upon Masapo, he was killed as a wizard. Yet it may be that it was not
+he who used the poison.”
+
+“Then surely the King should have thought of that before he died,”
+murmured Mameena. “But I forget: It is known that Masapo was always
+hostile to the House of Senzangakona.”
+
+To this remark Panda made no answer, perhaps because it was
+unanswerable, even in a land where it was customary to kill the
+supposed wizard first and inquire as to his actual guilt afterwards, or
+not at all. Or perhaps he thought it politic to ignore the suggestion
+that he had been inspired by personal enmity. Only, he looked at his
+daughter, Nandie, who rose and said:
+
+“Have I leave to call a witness on this matter of the poison, my
+Father?”
+
+Panda nodded, whereon Nandie said to one of the councillors:
+
+“Be pleased to summon my woman, Nahana, who waits without.”
+
+The man went, and presently returned with an elderly female who, it
+appeared, had been Nandie’s nurse, and, never having married, owing to
+some physical defect, had always remained in her service, a person well
+known and much respected in her humble walk of life.
+
+“Nahana,” said Nandie, “you are brought here that you may repeat to the
+King and his council a tale which you told to me as to the coming of a
+certain woman into my hut before the death of my first-born son, and
+what she did there. Say first, is this woman present here?”
+
+“Aye, _Inkosazana_,” answered Nahana, “yonder she sits. Who could
+mistake her?” and she pointed to Mameena, who was listening to every
+word intently, as a dog listens at the mouth of an ant-bear hole when
+the beast is stirring beneath.
+
+“Then what of the woman and her deeds?” asked Panda.
+
+“Only this, O King. Two nights before the child that is dead was taken
+ill, I saw Mameena creep into the hut of the lady Nandie, I who was
+asleep alone in a corner of the big hut out of reach of the light of
+the fire. At the time the lady Nandie was away from the hut with her
+son. Knowing the woman for Mameena, the wife of Masapo, who was on
+friendly terms with the _Inkosazana_, whom I supposed she had come to
+visit, I did not declare myself; nor did I take any particular note
+when I saw her sprinkle a little mat upon which the babe, Saduko’s son,
+was wont to be laid, with some medicine, because I had heard her
+promise to the _Inkosazana_ a powder which she said would drive away
+insects. Only, when I saw her throw some of this powder into the vessel
+of warm water that stood by the fire, to be used for the washing of the
+child, and place something, muttering certain words that I could not
+catch, in the straw of the doorway, I thought it strange, and was about
+to question her when she left the hut. As it happened, O King, but a
+little while afterwards, before one could count ten tens indeed, a
+messenger came to the hut to tell me that my old mother lay dying at
+her kraal four days’ journey from Nodwengu, and prayed to see me before
+she died. Then I forgot all about Mameena and the powder, and, running
+out to seek the Princess Nandie, I craved her leave to go with the
+messenger to my mother’s kraal, which she granted to me, saying that I
+need not return until my mother was buried.
+
+“So I went. But, oh! my mother took long to die. Whole moons passed
+before I shut her eyes, and all this while she would not let me go;
+nor, indeed, did I wish to leave her whom I loved. At length it was
+over, and then came the days of mourning, and after those some more
+days of rest, and after them again the days of the division of the
+cattle, so that in the end six moons or more had gone by before I
+returned to the service of the Princess Nandie, and found that Mameena
+was now the second wife of the lord Saduko. Also I found that the child
+of the lady Nandie was dead, and that Masapo, the first husband of
+Mameena, had been smelt out and killed as the murderer of the child.
+But as all these things were over and done with, and as Mameena was
+very kind to me, giving me gifts and sparing me tasks, and as I saw
+that Saduko my lord loved her much, it never came into my head to say
+anything of the matter of the powder that I saw her sprinkle on the
+mat.
+
+“After she had run away with the Prince who is dead, however, I did
+tell the lady Nandie. Moreover, the lady Nandie, in my presence,
+searched in the straw of the doorway of the hut and found there,
+wrapped in soft hide, certain medicines such as the Nyangas sell,
+wherewith those who consult them can bewitch their enemies, or cause
+those whom they desire to love them or to hate their wives or husbands.
+That is all I know of the story, O King.”
+
+“Do my ears hear a true tale, Nandie?” asked Panda. “Or is this woman a
+liar like others?”
+
+“I think not, my Father; see, here is the _muti_ [medicine] which
+Nahana and I found hid in the doorway of the hut that I have kept
+unopened till this day.”
+
+And she laid on the ground a little leather bag, very neatly sewn with
+sinews, and fastened round its neck with a fibre string.
+
+Panda directed one of the councillors to open the bag, which the man
+did unwillingly enough, since evidently he feared its evil influence,
+pouring out its contents on to the back of a hide shield, which was
+then carried round so that we might all look at them. These, so far as
+I could see, consisted of some withered roots, a small piece of human
+thigh bone, such as might have come from the skeleton of an infant,
+that had a little stopper of wood in its orifice, and what I took to be
+the fang of a snake.
+
+Panda looked at them and shrank away, saying:
+
+“Come hither, Zikali the Old, you who are skilled in magic, and tell us
+what is this medicine.”
+
+Then Zikali rose from the corner where he had been sitting so silently,
+and waddled heavily across the open space to where the shield lay in
+front of the King. As he passed Mameena, she bent down over the dwarf
+and began to whisper to him swiftly; but he placed his hands upon his
+big head, covering up his ears, as I suppose, that he might not hear
+her words.
+
+“What have I to do with this matter, O King?” he asked.
+
+“Much, it seems, O Opener-of-Roads,” said Panda sternly, “seeing that
+you were the doctor who smelt out Masapo, and that it was in your kraal
+that yonder woman hid herself while her lover, the Prince, my son, who
+is dead, went down to the battle, and that she was brought thence with
+you. Tell us, now, the nature of this _muti_, and, being wise, as you
+are, be careful to tell us truly, lest it should be said, O Zikali,
+that you are not a _Nyanga_ only, but an _umtakati_ as well. For then,”
+he added with meaning, and choosing his words carefully, “perchance, O
+Zikali, I might be tempted to make trial of whether or no it is true
+that you cannot be killed like other men, especially as I have heard of
+late that your heart is evil towards me and my House.”
+
+For a moment Zikali hesitated—I think to give his quick brain time to
+work, for he saw his great danger. Then he laughed in his dreadful
+fashion and said:
+
+“Oho! the King thinks that the otter is in the trap,” and he glanced at
+the fence of the _isi-gohlo_ and at the fierce executioners, who stood
+watching him sternly. “Well, many times before has this otter seemed to
+be in a trap, yes, ere your father saw light, O Son of Senzangakona,
+and after it also. Yet here he stands living. Make no trial, O King, of
+whether or no I be mortal, lest if Death should come to such a one as
+I, he should take many others with him also. Have you not heard the
+saying that when the Opener-of-Roads comes to the end of his road there
+will be no more a King of the Zulus, as when he began his road there
+was no King of the Zulus, since the days of his manhood are the days of
+_all_ the Zulu kings?”
+
+Thus he spoke, glaring at Panda and at Cetewayo, who shrank before his
+gaze.
+
+“Remember,” he went on, “that the Black One who is ‘gone down’ long
+ago, the Wild Beast who fathered the Zulu herd, threatened him whom he
+named the ‘Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born,’ aye, and slew those
+whom he loved, and afterwards was slain by others, who also are ‘gone
+down,’ and that you alone, O Panda, did _not_ threaten him, and that
+you alone, O Panda, have _not_ been slain. Now, if you would make trial
+of whether I die as other men die, bid your dogs fall on, for Zikali is
+ready,” and he folded his arms and waited.
+
+Indeed, all of us waited breathlessly, for we understood that the
+terrible dwarf was matching himself against Panda and Cetewayo and
+defying them both. Presently it became obvious that he had won the
+game, since Panda only said:
+
+“Why should I slay one whom I have befriended in the past, and why do
+you speak such heavy words of death in my ears, O, Zikali the Wise,
+which of late have heard so much of death?” He sighed, adding: “Be
+pleased now, to tell us of this medicine, or, if you will not, go, and
+I will send for other _Nyangas_.”
+
+“Why should I not tell you, when you ask me softly and without threats,
+O King? See”—and Zikali took up some of the twisted roots—“these are
+the roots of a certain poisonous herb that blooms at night on the tops
+of mountains, and woe be to the ox that eats thereof. They have been
+boiled in gall and blood, and ill will befall the hut in which they are
+hidden by one who can speak the words of power. This is the bone of a
+babe that has never lived to cut its teeth—I think of a babe that was
+left to die alone in the bush because it was hated, or because none
+would father it. Such a bone has strength to work ill against other
+babes; moreover, it is filled with a charmed medicine. Look!” and,
+pulling out the plug of wood, he scattered some grey powder from the
+bone, then stopped it up again. “This,” he added, picking up the fang,
+“is the tooth of a deadly serpent, that, after it has been doctored, is
+used by women to change the heart of a man from another to herself. I
+have spoken.”
+
+And he turned to go.
+
+“Stay!” said the King. “Who set these foul charms in the doorway of
+Saduko’s hut?”
+
+“How can I tell, O King, unless I make preparation and cast the bones
+and smell out the evil-doer? You have heard the story of the woman
+Nahana. Accept it or reject it as your heart tells you.”
+
+“If that story be true, O Zikali, how comes it that you yourself smelt
+out, not Mameena, the wife of Masapo, but Masapo, her husband, himself,
+and caused him to be slain because of the poisoning of the child of
+Nandie?”
+
+“You err, O King. I, Zikali, smelt out the House of Masapo. Then I
+smelt out the poison, searching for it first in the hair of Mameena,
+and finding it in the kaross of Masapo. I never smelt out that it was
+Masapo who gave the poison. That was the judgment of you and of your
+Council, O King. Nay, I knew well that there was more in the matter,
+and had you paid me another fee and bade me to continue to use my
+wisdom, without doubt I should have found this magic stuff hidden in
+the hut, and mayhap have learned the name of the hider. But I was
+weary, who am very old; and what was it to me if you chose to kill
+Masapo or chose to let him go? Masapo, who, being your secret enemy,
+was a man who deserved to die—if not for this matter, then for others.”
+
+Now, all this while I had been watching Mameena, who sat, in the Zulu
+fashion, listening to this deadly evidence, a slight smile upon her
+face, and without attempting any interruption or comment. Only I saw
+that while Zikali was examining the medicine, her eyes were seeking the
+eyes of Saduko, who remained in his place, also silent, and, to all
+appearance, the least interested of anyone present. He tried to avoid
+her glance, turning his head uneasily; but at length her eyes caught
+his and held them. Then his heart began to beat quickly, his breast
+heaved, and on his face there grew a look of dreamy content, even of
+happiness. From that moment forward, till the end of the scene, Saduko
+never took his eyes off this strange woman, though I think that, with
+the exception of the dwarf, Zikali, who saw everything, and of myself,
+who am trained to observation, none noted this curious by-play of the
+drama.
+
+The King began to speak. “Mameena,” he said, “you have heard. Have you
+aught to say? For if not it would seem that you are a witch and a
+murderess, and one who must die.”
+
+“Yea, a little word, O King,” she answered quietly. “Nahana speaks
+truth. It is true that I entered the hut of Nandie and set the medicine
+there. I say it because by nature I am not one who hides the truth or
+would attempt to throw discredit even upon a humble serving-woman,” and
+she glanced at Nahana.
+
+“Then from between your own teeth it is finished,” said Panda.
+
+“Not altogether, O King. I have said that I set the medicine in the
+hut. I have not said, and I will not say, how and why I set it there.
+That tale I call upon Saduko yonder to tell to you, he who was my
+husband, that I left for Umbelazi, and who, being a man, must therefore
+hate me. By the words he says I will abide. If he declares that I am
+guilty, then I am guilty, and prepared to pay the price of guilt. But
+if he declares that I am innocent, then, O King and O Prince Cetewayo,
+without fear I trust myself to your justness. Now speak, O Saduko;
+speak the whole truth, whatever it may be, if that is the King’s will.”
+
+“It is my will,” said Panda.
+
+“And mine also,” added Cetewayo, who, I could see, like everyone else,
+was much interested in this matter.
+
+Saduko rose to his feet, the same Saduko that I had always known, and
+yet so changed. All the life and fire had gone from him; his pride in
+himself was no more; none could have known him for that ambitious,
+confident man who, in his day of power, the Zulus named the
+“Self-Eater.” He was a mere mask of the old Saduko, informed by some
+new, some alien, spirit. With dull, lack-lustre eyes fixed always upon
+the lovely eyes of Mameena, in slow and hesitating tones he began his
+tale.
+
+“It is true, O Lion,” he said, “that Mameena spread the poison upon my
+child’s mat. It is true that she set the deadly charms in the doorway
+of Nandie’s hut. These things she did, not knowing what she did, and it
+was I who instructed her to do them. This is the case. From the
+beginning I have always loved Mameena as I have loved no other woman
+and as no other woman was ever loved. But while I was away with
+Macumazahn, who sits yonder, to destroy Bangu, chief of the Amakoba, he
+who had killed my father, Umbezi, the father of Mameena, he whom the
+Prince Cetewayo gave to the vultures the other day because he had lied
+as to the death of Umbelazi, he, I say, forced Mameena, against her
+will, to marry Masapo the Boar, who afterwards was executed for
+wizardry. Now, here at your feast, when you reviewed the people of the
+Zulus, O King, after you had given me the lady Nandie as wife, Mameena
+and I met again and loved each other more than we had ever done before.
+But, being an upright woman, Mameena thrust me away from her, saying:
+
+“‘I have a husband, who, if he is not dear to me, still is my husband,
+and while he lives to him I will be true.’ Then, O King, I took counsel
+with the evil in my heart, and made a plot in myself to be rid of the
+Boar, Masapo, so that when he was dead I might marry Mameena. This was
+the plot that I made—that my son and Princess Nandie’s should be
+poisoned, and that Masapo should seem to poison him, so that he might
+be killed as a wizard and I marry Mameena.”
+
+Now, at this astounding statement, which was something beyond the
+experience of the most cunning and cruel savage present there, a gasp
+of astonishment went up from the audience; even old Zikali lifted his
+head and stared. Nandie, too, shaken out of her usual calm, rose as
+though to speak; then, looking first at Saduko and next at Mameena, sat
+herself down again and waited. But Saduko went on again in the same
+cold, measured voice:
+
+“I gave Mameena a powder which I had bought for two heifers from a
+great doctor who lived beyond the Tugela, but who is now dead, which
+powder I told her was desired by Nandie, my _Inkosikazi_, to destroy
+the little beetles that ran about the hut, and directed her where she
+was to spread it. Also, I gave her the bag of medicine, telling her to
+thrust it into the doorway of the hut, that it might bring a blessing
+upon my House. These things she did ignorantly to please me, not
+knowing that the powder was poison, not knowing that the medicine was
+bewitched. So my child died, as I wished it to die, and, indeed, I
+myself fell sick because by accident I touched the powder.
+
+“Afterwards Masapo was smelt out as a wizard by old Zikali, I having
+caused a bag of the poison to be sewn in his kaross in order to deceive
+Zikali, and killed by your order, O King, and Mameena was given to me
+as a wife, also by your order, O King, which was what I desired. Later
+on, as I have told you, I wearied of her, and wishing to please the
+Prince who has wandered away, I commanded her to yield herself to him,
+which Mameena did out of her love for me and to advance my fortunes,
+she who is blameless in all things.”
+
+Saduko finished speaking and sat down again, as an automaton might do
+when a wire is pulled, his lack-lustre eyes still fixed upon Mameena’s
+face.
+
+“You have heard, O King,” said Mameena. “Now pass judgment, knowing
+that, if it be your will, I am ready to die for Saduko’s sake.”
+
+But Panda sprang up in a rage.
+
+“_Take him away!_” he said, pointing to Saduko. “Take away that dog who
+is not fit to live, a dog who eats his own child that thereby he may
+cause another to be slain unjustly and steal his wife.”
+
+The executioners leapt forward, and, having something to say, for I
+could bear this business no longer, I began to rise to my feet. Before
+I gained them, however, Zikali was speaking.
+
+“O King,” he said, “it seems that you have killed one man unjustly on
+this matter, namely, Masapo. Would you do the same by another?” and he
+pointed to Saduko.
+
+“What do you mean?” asked Panda angrily. “Have you not heard this low
+fellow, whom I made great, giving him the rule over tribes and my
+daughter in marriage, confess with his own lips that he murdered his
+child, the child of my blood, in order that he might eat a fruit which
+grew by the roadside for all men to nibble at?” and he glared at
+Mameena.
+
+“Aye, Child of Senzangakona,” answered Zikali, “I heard Saduko say this
+with his own lips, but the voice that spoke from the lips was not the
+voice of Saduko, as, were you a skilled Nyanga like me, you would have
+known as well as I do, and as well as does the white man,
+Watcher-by-Night, who is a reader of hearts.
+
+“Hearken now, O King, and you great ones around the King, and I will
+tell you a story. Matiwane, the father of Saduko, was my friend, as he
+was yours, O King, and when Bangu slew him and his people, by leave of
+the Wild Beast [Chaka], I saved the child, his son, aye, and brought
+him up in my own House, having learned to love him. Then, when he
+became a man, I, the Opener-of-Roads, showed him two roads, down either
+of which he might choose to walk—the Road of Wisdom and the Road of War
+and Women: the white road that runs through peace to knowledge, and the
+red road that runs through blood to death.
+
+“But already there stood one upon this red road who beckoned him, she
+who sits yonder, and he followed after her, as I knew he would. From
+the beginning she was false to him, taking a richer man for her
+husband. Then, when Saduko grew great, she grew sorry, and came to ask
+my counsel as to how she might be rid of Masapo, whom she swore she
+hated. I told her that she could leave him for another man, or wait
+till her Spirit moved him from her path; but I never put evil into her
+heart, seeing that it was there already.
+
+“Then she and no other, having first made Saduko love her more than
+ever, murdered the child of Nandie, his _Inkosikazi;_ and so brought
+about the death of Masapo and crept into Saduko’s arms. Here she slept
+a while, till a new shadow fell upon her, that of the
+‘Elephant-with-the-tuft-of-hair,’ who will walk the woods no more. Him
+she beguiled that she might grow great the quicker, and left the house
+of Saduko, taking his heart with her, she who was destined to be the
+doom of men.
+
+“Now, into Saduko’s breast, where his heart had been, entered an evil
+spirit of jealousy and of revenge, and in the battle of Endondakusuka
+that spirit rode him as a white man rides a horse. As he had arranged
+to do with the Prince Cetewayo yonder—nay, deny it not, O Prince, for I
+know all; did you not make a bargain together, on the third night
+before the battle, among the bushes, and start apart when the buck
+leapt out between you?” (Here Cetewayo, who had been about to speak,
+threw the corner of his kaross over his face.) “As he had arranged to
+do, I say, he went over with his regiments from the _Isigqosa_ to the
+_Usutu_, and so brought about the fall of Umbelazi and the death of
+many thousands. Yes, and this he did for one reason only—because yonder
+woman had left him for the Prince, and he cared more for her than for
+all the world could give him, for her who had filled him with madness
+as a bowl is filled with milk. And now, O King, you have heard this man
+tell you a story, you have heard him shout out that he is viler than
+any man in all the land; that he murdered his own child, the child he
+loved so well, to win this witch; that afterwards he gave her to his
+friend and lord to buy more of his favour, and that lastly he deserted
+that lord because he thought that there was another lord from whom he
+could buy more favour. Is it not so, O King?”
+
+“It is so,” answered Panda, “and therefore must Saduko be thrown out to
+the jackals.”
+
+“Wait a while, O King. I say that Saduko has spoken not with his own
+voice, but with the voice of Mameena. I say that she is the greatest
+witch in all the land, and that she has drugged him with the medicine
+of her eyes, so that he knows not what he says, even as she drugged the
+Prince who is dead.”
+
+“Then prove it, or he dies!” exclaimed the King.
+
+Now the dwarf went to Panda and whispered in his ear, whereon Panda
+whispered in turn into the ears of two of his councillors. These men,
+who were unarmed, rose and made as though to leave the _isi-gohlo_. But
+as they passed Mameena one of them suddenly threw his arms about her,
+pinioning her arms, the other tearing off the kaross he wore—for the
+weather was cold—flung it over her head and knotted it behind her so
+that she was hidden except for her ankles and feet. Then, although she
+did not move or struggle, they caught hold of her and stood still.
+
+Now Zikali hobbled to Saduko and bade him rise, which he did. Then he
+looked at him for a long while and made certain movements with his
+hands before his face, after which Saduko uttered a great sigh and
+stared about him.
+
+“Saduko,” said Zikali, “I pray you tell me, your foster-father, whether
+it is true, as men say, that you sold your wife, Mameena, to the Prince
+Umbelazi in order that his favour might fall on you like heavy rain?”
+
+“_Wow!_ Zikali,” said Saduko, with a start of rage, “were you as others
+are I would kill you, you toad, who dare to spit slander on my name.
+She ran away with the Prince, having beguiled him with the magic of her
+beauty.”
+
+“Strike me not, Saduko,” went on Zikali, “or at least wait to strike
+until you have answered one more question. Is it true, as men say, that
+in the battle of Endondakusuka you went over to the _Usutu_ with your
+regiments because you thought that _Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_ would be
+beaten, and wished to be on the side of him who won?”
+
+“What, Toad! More slander?” cried Saduko. “I went over for one reason
+only—to be revenged upon the Prince because he had taken from me her
+who was more to me than life or honour. Aye, and when I went over
+Umbelazi was winning; it was because I went that he lost and died, as I
+meant that he should die, though now,” he added sadly, “I would that I
+had not brought him to ruin and the dust, who think that, like myself,
+he was but wet clay in a woman’s fingers.
+
+“O King,” he added, turning to Panda, “kill me, I pray you, who am not
+worthy to live, since to him whose hand is red with the blood of his
+friend, death alone is left, who, while he breathes, must share his
+sleep with ghosts that watch him with their angry eyes.”
+
+Then Nandie sprang up and said:
+
+“Nay, Father, listen not to him who is mad, and therefore holy.[2] What
+he has done, he has done, who, as he has said, was but a tool in
+another’s hand. As for our babe, I know well that he would have died
+sooner than harm it, for he loved it much, and when it was taken away,
+for three whole days and nights he wept and would touch no food. Give
+this poor man to me, my Father—to me, his wife, who loves him—and let
+us go hence to some other land, where perchance we may forget.”
+
+ [2] The Zulus suppose that insane people are inspired. —A.Q.
+
+“Be silent, daughter,” said the King; “and you, O Zikali, the _Nyanga_,
+be silent also.”
+
+They obeyed, and, after thinking awhile, Panda made a motion with his
+hand, whereon the two councillors lifted the kaross from off Mameena,
+who looked about her calmly and asked if she were taking part in some
+child’s game.
+
+“Aye, woman,” answered Panda, “you are taking part in a great game, but
+not, I think, such as is played by children—a game of life and death.
+Now, have you heard the tale of Zikali the Little and Wise, and the
+words of Saduko, who was once your husband, or must they be repeated to
+you?”
+
+“There is no need, O King; my ears are too quick to be muffled by a fur
+bag, and I would not waste your time.”
+
+“Then what have you to say, woman?”
+
+“Not much,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders, “except that I
+have lost in this game. You will not believe me, but if you had left me
+alone I should have told you so, who did not wish to see that poor
+fool, Saduko, killed for deeds he had never done. Still, the tale he
+told you was not told because I had bewitched him; it was told for love
+of me, whom he desired to save. It was Zikali yonder; Zikali, the enemy
+of your House, who in the end will destroy your House, O Son of
+Senzangakona, that bewitched him, as he has bewitched you all, and
+forced the truth out of his unwilling heart.
+
+“Now, what more is there to say? Very little, as I think. I did the
+things that are laid to my charge, and worse things which have not been
+stated. Oh, I played for great stakes, I, who meant to be the
+_Inkosazana_ of the Zulus, and, as it chances, by the weight of a hair
+I have lost. I thought that I had counted everything, but the hair’s
+weight which turned the balance against me was the mad jealousy of this
+fool, Saduko, upon which I had not reckoned. I see now that when I left
+Saduko I should have left him dead. Thrice I had thought of it. Once I
+mixed the poison in his drink, and then he came in, weary with his
+plottings, and kissed me ere he drank; and my woman’s heart grew soft
+and I overset the bowl that was at his lips. Do you not remember,
+Saduko?
+
+“So, so! For that folly alone I deserve to die, for she who would
+reign”—and her beautiful eyes flashed royally—“must have a tiger’s
+heart, not that of a woman. Well, because I was too kind I must die;
+and, after all is said, it is well to die, who go hence awaited by
+thousands upon thousands that I have sent before me, and who shall be
+greeted presently by your son, Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti, and his warriors,
+greeted as the _Inkosazana_ of Death, with red, lifted spears and with
+the royal salute!
+
+“Now, I have spoken. Walk your little road, O King and Prince and
+Councillors, till you reach the gulf into which I sink, that yawns for
+all of you. O King, when you meet me again at the bottom of that gulf,
+what a tale you will have to tell me, you who are but the shadow of a
+king, you whose heart henceforth must be eaten out by a worm that is
+called _Love-of-the-Lost_. O Prince and Conqueror Cetewayo, what a tale
+you will have to tell me when I greet you at the bottom of that gulf,
+you who will bring your nation to a wreck and at last die as I must
+die—only the servant of others and by the will of others. Nay, ask me
+not how. Ask old Zikali, my master, who saw the beginning of your House
+and will see its end. Oh, yes, as you say, I am a witch, and I know, I
+know! Come, I am spent. You men weary me, as men have always done,
+being but fools whom it is so easy to make drunk, and who when drunk
+are so unpleasing. _Piff!_ I am tired of you sober and cunning, and I
+am tired of you drunken and brutal, you who, after all, are but beasts
+of the field to whom _Mvelingangi_, the Creator, has given heads which
+can think, but which always think wrong.
+
+“Now, King, before you unchain your dogs upon me, I ask one moment. I
+said that I hated all men, yet, as you know, no woman can tell the
+truth—quite. There is a man whom I do not hate, whom I never hated,
+whom I think I love because he would not love me. He sits there,” and
+to my utter dismay, and the intense interest of that company, she
+pointed at me, Allan Quatermain!
+
+“Well, once by my ‘magic,’ of which you have heard so much, I got the
+better of this man against his will and judgment, and, because of that
+soft heart of mine, I let him go; yes, I let the rare fish go when he
+was on my hook. It is well that I should have let him go, since, had I
+kept him, a fine story would have been spoiled and I should have become
+nothing but a white hunter’s servant, to be thrust away behind the door
+when the white _Inkosikazi_ came to eat his meat—I, Mameena, who never
+loved to stand out of sight behind a door. Well, when he was at my feet
+and I spared him, he made me a promise, a very small promise, which yet
+I think he will keep now when we part for a little while. Macumazahn,
+did you not promise to kiss me once more upon the lips whenever and
+wherever I should ask you?”
+
+“I did,” I answered in a hollow voice, for in truth her eyes held me as
+they had held Saduko.
+
+“Then come now, Macumazahn, and give me that farewell kiss. The King
+will permit it, and since I have now no husband, who take Death to
+husband, there is none to say you nay.”
+
+I rose. It seemed to me that I could not help myself. I went to her,
+this woman surrounded by implacable enemies, this woman who had played
+for great stakes and lost them, and who knew so well how to lose. I
+stood before her, ashamed and yet not ashamed, for something of her
+greatness, evil though it might be, drove out my shame, and I knew that
+my foolishness was lost in a vast tragedy.
+
+Slowly she lifted her languid arm and threw it about my neck; slowly
+she bent her red lips to mine and kissed me, once upon the mouth and
+once upon the forehead. But between those two kisses she did a thing so
+swiftly that my eyes could scarcely follow what she did. It seemed to
+me that she brushed her left hand across her lips, and that I saw her
+throat rise as though she swallowed something. Then she thrust me from
+her, saying:
+
+“Farewell, O Macumazana, you will never forget this kiss of mine; and
+when we meet again we shall have much to talk of, for between now and
+then your story will be long. Farewell, Zikali. I pray that all your
+plannings may succeed, since those you hate are those I hate, and I
+bear you no grudge because you told the truth at last. Farewell, Prince
+Cetewayo. You will never be the man your brother would have been, and
+your lot is very evil, you who are doomed to pull down a House built by
+One who was great. Farewell, Saduko the fool, who threw away your
+fortune for a woman’s eyes, as though the world were not full of women.
+Nandie the Sweet and the Forgiving will nurse you well until your
+haunted end. Oh! why does Umbelazi lean over your shoulder, Saduko, and
+look at me so strangely? Farewell, Panda the Shadow. Now let loose your
+slayers. Oh! let them loose swiftly, lest they should be balked of my
+blood!”
+
+Panda lifted his hand and the executioners leapt forward, but ere ever
+they reached her, Mameena shivered, threw wide her arms and fell
+back—dead. The poisonous drug she had taken worked well and swiftly.
+
+Such was the end of Mameena, Child of Storm.
+
+A deep silence followed, a silence of awe and wonderment, till suddenly
+it was broken by a sound of dreadful laughter. It came from the lips of
+Zikali the Ancient, Zikali, the
+
+“Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.”
+
+
+
+
+Chapter XVI.
+MAMEENA—MAMEENA—MAMEENA!
+
+
+That evening at sunset, just as I was about to trek, for the King had
+given me leave to go, and at that time my greatest desire in life
+seemed to be to bid good-bye to Zululand and the Zulus—I saw a strange,
+beetle-like shape hobbling up the hill towards me, supported by two big
+men. It was Zikali.
+
+He passed me without a word, merely making a motion that I was to
+follow him, which I did out of curiosity, I suppose, for Heaven knows I
+had seen enough of the old wizard to last me for a lifetime. He reached
+a flat stone about a hundred yards above my camp, where there was no
+bush in which anyone could hide, and sat himself down, pointing to
+another stone in front of him, on which I sat myself down. Then the two
+men retired out of earshot, and, indeed, of sight, leaving us quite
+alone.
+
+“So you are going away, O Macumazana?” he said.
+
+“Yes, I am,” I answered with energy, “who, if I could have had my will,
+would have gone away long ago.”
+
+“Yes, yes, I know that; but it would have been a great pity, would it
+not? If you had gone, Macumazahn, you would have missed seeing the end
+of a strange little story, and you, who love to study the hearts of men
+and women, would not have been so wise as you are to-day.”
+
+“No, nor as sad, Zikali. Oh! the death of that woman!” And I put my
+hand before my eyes.
+
+“Ah! I understand, Macumazahn; you were always fond of her, were you
+not, although your white pride would not suffer you to admit that black
+fingers were pulling at your heartstrings? She was a wonderful witch,
+was Mameena; and there is this comfort for you—that she pulled at other
+heartstrings as well. Masapo’s, for instance; Saduko’s, for instance;
+Umbelazi’s, for instance, none of whom got any luck from her
+pulling—yes, and even at mine.”
+
+Now, as I did not think it worth while to contradict his nonsense so
+far as I was concerned personally, I went off on this latter point.
+
+“If you show affection as you did towards Mameena to-day, Zikali, I
+pray my Spirit that you may cherish none for me,” I said.
+
+He shook his great head pityingly as he answered:
+
+“Did you never love a lamb and kill it afterwards when you were hungry,
+or when it grew into a ram and butted you, or when it drove away your
+other sheep, so that they fell into the hands of thieves? Now, I am
+very hungry for the fall of the House of Senzangakona, and the lamb,
+Mameena, having grown big, nearly laid me on my back to-day within the
+reach of the slayer’s spear. Also, she was hunting my sheep, Saduko,
+into an evil net whence he could never have escaped. So, somewhat
+against my will, I was driven to tell the truth of that lamb and her
+tricks.”
+
+“I daresay,” I exclaimed; “but, at any rate, she is done with, so what
+is the use of talking about her?”
+
+“Ah! Macumazahn, she is done with, or so you think, though that is a
+strange saying for a white man who believes in much that we do not
+know; but at least her work remains, and it has been a great work.
+Consider now. Umbelazi and most of the princes, and thousands upon
+thousands of the Zulus, whom I, the Dwande, hate, dead, dead!
+_Mameena’s work_, Macumazahn! Panda’s hand grown strengthless with
+sorrow and his eyes blind with tears. _Mameena’s work_, Macumazahn!
+Cetewayo, king in all but name; Cetewayo, who shall bring the House of
+Senzangakona to the dust. _Mameena’s work_, Macumazahn! Oh! a mighty
+work. Surely she has lived a great and worthy life, and she died a
+great and worthy death! And how well she did it! Had you eyes to see
+her take the poison which I gave her—a good poison, was it not?—between
+her kisses, Macumazahn?”
+
+“I believe it was your work, and not hers,” I blurted out, ignoring his
+mocking questions. “You pulled the strings; you were the wind that
+caused the grass to bend till the fire caught it and set the town in
+flames—the town of your foes.”
+
+“How clever you are, Macumazahn! If your wits grow so sharp, one day
+they will cut your throat, as, indeed, they have nearly done several
+times already. Yes, yes, I know how to pull strings till the trap
+falls, and to blow grass until the flame catches it, and how to puff at
+that flame until it burns the House of Kings. And yet this trap would
+have fallen without me, only then it might have snared other rats; and
+this grass would have caught fire if I had not blown, only then it
+might have burnt another House. I did not make these forces,
+Macumazahn; I did but guide them towards a great end, for which the
+White House [that is, the English] should thank me one day.” He brooded
+a while, then went on: “But what need is there to talk to you of these
+matters, Macumazahn, seeing that in a time to come you will have your
+share in them and see them for yourself? After they are finished, then
+we will talk.”
+
+“I do not wish to talk of them,” I answered. “I have said so already.
+But for what other purpose did you take the trouble to come here?”
+
+“Oh, to bid you farewell for a little while, Macumazahn. Also to tell
+you that Panda, or rather Cetewayo, for now Panda is but his Voice,
+since the Head must go where the Feet carry it, has spared Saduko at
+the prayer of Nandie and banished him from the land, giving him his
+cattle and any people who care to go with him to wherever he may choose
+to live from henceforth. At least, Cetewayo says it was at Nandie’s
+prayer, and at mine and yours, but what he means is that, after all
+that has happened, he thought it wise that Saduko should die of
+himself.”
+
+“Do you mean that he should kill himself, Zikali?”
+
+“No, no; I mean that his own _idhlozi_, his Spirit, should be left to
+kill him, which it will do in time. You see, Macumazahn, Saduko is now
+living with a ghost, which he calls the ghost of Umbelazi, whom he
+betrayed.”
+
+“Is that your way of saying he is mad, Zikali?”
+
+“Oh, yes, he lives with a ghost, or the ghost lives in him, or he is
+mad—call it which you will. The mad have a way of living with ghosts,
+and ghosts have a way of sharing their food with the mad. Now you
+understand everything, do you not?”
+
+“Of course,” I answered; “it is as plain as the sun.”
+
+“Oh! did I not say you were clever, Macumazahn, you who know where
+madness ends and ghosts begin, and why they are just the same thing?
+Well, the sun is no longer plain. Look, it has sunk; and you would be
+on your road who wish to be far from Nodwengu before morning. You will
+pass the plain of Endondakusuka, will you not, and cross the Tugela by
+the drift? Have a look round, Macumazahn, and see if you can recognise
+any old friends. Umbezi, the knave and traitor, for instance; or some
+of the princes. If so, I should like to send them a message. What! You
+cannot wait? Well, then, here is a little present for you, some of my
+own work. Open it when it is light again, Macumazahn; it may serve to
+remind you of the strange little tale of Mameena with the Heart of
+Fire. I wonder where she is now? Sometimes, sometimes—” And he rolled
+his great eyes about him and sniffed at the air like a hound. “Farewell
+till we meet again. Farewell, Macumazahn. Oh! if you had only run away
+with Mameena, how different things might have been to-day!”
+
+I jumped up and fled from that terrible old dwarf, whom I verily
+believe— No; where is the good of my saying what I believe? I fled from
+him, leaving him seated on the stone in the shadows, and as I fled, out
+of the darkness behind me there arose the sound of his loud and eerie
+laughter.
+
+Next morning I opened the packet which he had given me, after wondering
+once or twice whether I should not thrust it down an ant-bear hole as
+it was. But this, somehow, I could not find the heart to do, though now
+I wish I had. Inside, cut from the black core of the _umzimbiti_ wood,
+with just a little of the white sap left on it to mark the eyes, teeth
+and nails, was a likeness of Mameena. Of course, it was rudely
+executed, but it was—or rather is, for I have it still—a wonderfully
+good portrait of her, for whether Zikali was or was not a wizard, he
+was certainly a good artist. There she stands, her body a little bent,
+her arms outstretched, her head held forward with the lips parted, just
+as though she were about to embrace somebody, and in one of her hands,
+cut also from the white sap of the _umzimbiti_, she grasps a human
+heart—Saduko’s, I presume, or perhaps Umbelazi’s.
+
+Nor was this all, for the figure was wrapped in a woman’s hair, which I
+knew at once for that of Mameena, this hair being held in place by the
+necklet of big blue beads she used to wear about her throat.
+
+Some five years had gone by, during which many things had happened to
+me that need not be recorded here, when one day I found myself in a
+rather remote part of the Umvoti district of Natal, some miles to the
+east of a mountain called the Eland’s Kopje, whither I had gone to
+carry out a big deal in mealies, over which, by the way, I lost a good
+bit of money. That has always been my fate when I plunged into
+commercial ventures.
+
+One night my wagons, which were overloaded with these confounded
+weevilly mealies, got stuck in the drift of a small tributary of the
+Tugela that most inopportunely had come down in flood. Just as darkness
+fell I managed to get them up the bank in the midst of a pelting rain
+that soaked me to the bone. There seemed to be no prospect of lighting
+a fire or of obtaining any decent food, so I was about to go to bed
+supperless when a flash of lightning showed me a large kraal situated
+upon a hillside about half a mile away, and an idea entered my mind.
+
+“Who is the headman of that kraal?” I asked of one of the Kafirs who
+had collected round us in our trouble, as such idle fellows always do.
+
+“Tshoza, _Inkoosi_,” answered the man.
+
+“Tshoza! Tshoza!” I said, for the name seemed familiar to me. “Who is
+Tshoza?”
+
+“_Ikona_ [I don’t know], _Inkoosi_. He came from Zululand some years
+ago with Saduko the Mad.”
+
+Then, of course, I remembered at once, and my mind flew back to the
+night when old Tshoza, the brother of Matiwane, Saduko’s father, had
+cut out the cattle of the Bangu and we had fought the battle in the
+pass.
+
+“Oh!” I said, “is it so? Then lead me to Tshoza, and I will give you a
+‘Scotchman.’” (That is, a two-shilling piece, so called because some
+enterprising emigrant from Scotland passed off a vast number of them
+among the simple natives of Natal as substitutes for half-crowns.)
+
+Tempted by this liberal offer—and it was very liberal, because I was
+anxious to get to Tshoza’s kraal before its inhabitants went to bed—the
+meditative Kafir consented to guide me by a dark and devious path that
+ran through bush and dripping fields of corn. At length we arrived—for
+if the kraal was only half a mile away, the path to it covered fully
+two miles—and glad enough was I when we had waded the last stream and
+found ourselves at its gate.
+
+In response to the usual inquiries, conducted amid a chorus of yapping
+dogs, I was informed that Tshoza did not live there, but somewhere
+else; that he was too old to see anyone; that he had gone to sleep and
+could not be disturbed; that he was dead and had been buried last week,
+and so forth.
+
+“Look here, my friend,” I said at last to the fellow who was telling me
+all these lies, “you go to Tshoza in his grave and say to him that if
+he does not come out alive instantly, Macumazahn will deal with his
+cattle as once he dealt with those of Bangu.”
+
+Impressed with the strangeness of this message, the man departed, and
+presently, in the dim light of the rain-washed moon, I perceived a
+little old man running towards me; for Tshoza, who was pretty ancient
+at the beginning of this history, had not been made younger by a severe
+wound at the battle of the Tugela and many other troubles.
+
+“Macumazahn,” he said, “is that really you? Why, I heard that you were
+dead long ago; yes, and sacrificed an ox for the welfare of your
+Spirit.”
+
+“And ate it afterwards, I’ll be bound,” I answered.
+
+“Oh! it must be you,” he went on, “who cannot be deceived, for it is
+true we ate that ox, combining the sacrifice to your Spirit with a
+feast; for why should anything be wasted when one is poor? Yes, yes, it
+must be you, for who else would come creeping about a man’s kraal at
+night, except the Watcher-by-Night? Enter, Macumazahn, and be welcome.”
+
+So I entered and ate a good meal while we talked over old times.
+
+“And now, where is Saduko?” I asked suddenly as I lit my pipe.
+
+“Saduko?” he answered, his face changing as he spoke. “Oh! of course he
+is here. You know I came away with him from Zululand. Why? Well, to
+tell the truth, because after the part we had played—against _my_ will,
+Macumazahn—at the battle of Endondakusuka, I thought it safer to be
+away from a country where those who have worn their karosses inside out
+find many enemies and few friends.”
+
+“Quite so,” I said. “But about Saduko?”
+
+“Oh, I told you, did I not? He is in the next hut, and dying!”
+
+“Dying! What of, Tshoza?”
+
+“I don’t know,” he answered mysteriously; “but I think he must be
+bewitched. For a long while, a year or more, he has eaten little and
+cannot bear to be alone in the dark; indeed, ever since he left
+Zululand he has been very strange and moody.”
+
+Now I remembered what old Zikali had said to me years before to the
+effect that Saduko was living with a ghost which would kill him.
+
+“Does he think much about Umbelazi, Tshoza?” I asked.
+
+“O Macumazana, he thinks of nothing else; the Spirit of Umbelazi is in
+him day and night.”
+
+“Indeed,” I said. “Can I see him?”
+
+“I don’t know, Macumazahn. I will go and ask the lady Nandie at once,
+for, if you can, I believe there is no time to lose.” And he left the
+hut.
+
+Ten minutes later he returned with a woman, Nandie the Sweet herself,
+the same quiet, dignified Nandie whom I used to know, only now somewhat
+worn with trouble and looking older than her years.
+
+“Greeting, Macumazahn,” she said. “I am pleased to see you, although it
+is strange, very strange, that you should come here just at this time.
+Saduko is leaving us—on a long journey, Macumazahn.”
+
+I answered that I had heard so with grief, and wondered whether he
+would like to see me.
+
+“Yes, very much, Macumazahn; only be prepared to find him different
+from the Saduko whom you knew. Be pleased to follow me.”
+
+So we went out of Tshoza’s hut, across a courtyard to another large
+hut, which we entered. It was lit with a good lamp of European make;
+also a bright fire burned upon the hearth, so that the place was as
+light as day. At the side of the hut a man lay upon some blankets,
+watched by a woman. His eyes were covered with his hand, and he was
+moaning:
+
+“Drive him away! Drive him away! Cannot he suffer me to die in peace?”
+
+“Would you drive away your old friend, Macumazahn, Saduko?” asked
+Nandie very gently, “Macumazahn, who has come from far to see you?”
+
+He sat up, and, the blankets falling off him, showed me that he was
+nothing but a living skeleton. Oh! how changed from that lithe and
+handsome chief whom I used to know. Moreover, his lips quivered and his
+eyes were full of terrors.
+
+“Is it really you, Macumazahn?” he said in a weak voice. “Come, then,
+and stand quite close to me, so that _he_ may not get between us,” and
+he stretched out his bony hand.
+
+I took the hand; it was icy cold.
+
+“Yes, yes, it is I, Saduko,” I said in a cheerful voice; “and there is
+no man to get between us; only the lady Nandie, your wife, and myself
+are in the hut; she who watched you has gone.”
+
+“Oh, no, Macumazahn, there is another in the hut whom you cannot see.
+There he stands,” and he pointed towards the hearth. “Look! The spear
+is through him and his plume lies on the ground!”
+
+“Through whom, Saduko?”
+
+“Whom? Why, the Prince Umbelazi, whom I betrayed for Mameena’s sake.”
+
+“Why do you talk wind, Saduko?” I asked. “Years ago I saw
+_Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti_ die.”
+
+“Die, Macumazahn! We do not die; it is only our flesh that dies. Yes,
+yes, I have learned that since we parted. Do you not remember his last
+words: ‘I will haunt you while you live, and when you cease to live,
+ah! then we shall meet again’? Oh! from that hour to this he _has_
+haunted me, Macumazahn—he and the others; and now, now we are about to
+meet as he promised.”
+
+Then once more he hid his eyes and groaned.
+
+“He is mad,” I whispered to Nandie.
+
+“Perhaps. Who knows?” she answered, shaking her head.
+
+Saduko uncovered his eyes.
+
+“Make ‘the-thing-that-burns’ brighter,” he gasped, “for I do not
+perceive him so clearly when it is bright. Oh! Macumazahn, he is
+looking at you and whispering. To whom is he whispering? I see! to
+Mameena, who also looks at you and smiles. They are talking. Be silent.
+I must listen.”
+
+Now, I began to wish that I were out of that hut, for really a little
+of this uncanny business went a long way. Indeed, I suggested going,
+but Nandie would not allow it.
+
+“Stay with me till the end,” she muttered. So I had to stay, wondering
+what Saduko heard Umbelazi whispering to Mameena, and on which side of
+me he saw her standing.
+
+He began to wander in his mind.
+
+“That was a clever pit you dug for Bangu, Macumazahn; but you would not
+take your share of the cattle, so the blood of the Amakoba is not on
+your head. Ah! what a fight was that which the Amawombe made at
+Endondakusuka. You were with them, you remember, Macumazahn; and why
+was I not at your side? Oh! then we would have swept away the _Usutu_
+as the wind sweeps ashes. Why was I not at your side to share the
+glory? I remember now—because of the Daughter of Storm. She betrayed me
+for Umbelazi, and I betrayed Umbelazi for her; and now he haunts me,
+whose greatness I brought to the dust; and the _Usutu_ wolf, Cetewayo,
+curls himself up in his form and grows fat on his food. And—and,
+Macumazahn, it has all been done in vain, for Mameena hates me. Yes, I
+can read it in her eyes. She mocks and hates me worse in death than she
+did in life, and she says that—that it was not all her fault—because
+she loves—because she loves—”
+
+A look of bewilderment came upon his face—his poor, tormented face;
+then suddenly Saduko threw his arms wide, and sobbed in an
+ever-weakening voice:
+
+“All—all done in vain! Oh! _Mameena, Ma—mee—na, Ma—meena!_” and fell
+back dead.
+
+“Saduko has gone away,” said Nandie, as she drew a blanket over his
+face. “But I wonder,” she added with a little hysterical smile, “oh!
+how I wonder who it was the Spirit of Mameena told him that she
+loved—Mameena, who was born without a heart?”
+
+I made no answer, for at that moment I heard a very curious sound,
+which seemed to me to proceed from somewhere above the hut. Of what did
+it remind me? Ah! I knew. It was like the sound of the dreadful
+laughter of Zikali, Opener-of-Roads—Zikali, the
+“Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.”
+
+Doubtless, however, it was only the cry of some storm-driven night
+bird. Or perhaps it was an hyena that laughed—an hyena that scented
+death.
+
+
+
+
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