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diff --git a/1724-h/1724-h.htm b/1724-h/1724-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..654c7f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/1724-h/1724-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16244 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Finished, by H. Rider Haggard</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Finished, by H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Finished</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April, 1999 [eBook #1724]<br /> +[Most recently updated: February 22, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Christopher Hapka and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FINISHED ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Finished</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap00">INTRODUCTION</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. ALLAN QUATERMAIN MEETS ANSCOMBE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. MR. MARNHAM</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. THE HUNTERS HUNTED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. DOCTOR RODD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. A GAME OF CARDS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. MISS HEDA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. THE STOEP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. RODD’S LAST CARD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. FLIGHT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. NOMBÉ</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. ZIKALI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. TRAPPED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. CETEWAYO</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. THE VALLEY OF BONES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. THE GREAT COUNCIL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. WAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. KAATJE BRINGS NEWS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. ISANDHLWANA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. ALLAN AWAKES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. HEDA’S TALE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. THE KING VISITS ZIKALI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. THE MADNESS OF NOMBÉ</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. THE KRAAL JAZI</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="right"> +Ditchingham House, Norfolk,<br /> +May, 1917. +</p> + +<p> +My dear Roosevelt,— +</p> + +<p> +You are, I know, a lover of old Allan Quatermain, one who understands and +appreciates the views of life and the aspirations that underlie and inform his +manifold adventures. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, since such is your kind wish, in memory of certain hours wherein +both of us found true refreshment and companionship amidst the terrible +anxieties of the World’s journey along that bloodstained road by which +alone, so it is decreed, the pure Peak of Freedom must be scaled, I dedicate to +you this tale telling of the events and experiences of my youth. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +Your sincere friend,<br /> +H. RIDER HAGGARD. +</p> + +<p> +To COLONEL THEODORE ROOSEVELT,<br /> +Sagamore Hill, U.S.A. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap00"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +This book, although it can be read as a separate story, is the third of the +trilogy of which <i>Marie</i> and <i>Child of Storm</i> are the first two +parts. It narrates, through the mouth of Allan Quatermain, the consummation of +the vengeance of the wizard Zikali, alias The Opener of Roads, or +“The-Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” upon the royal Zulu +House of which Senzangacona was the founder and Cetewayo, our enemy in the war +of 1879, the last representative who ruled as a king. Although, of course, much +is added for the purposes of romance, the main facts of history have been +adhered to with some faithfulness. +</p> + +<p> +With these the author became acquainted a full generation ago, Fortune having +given him a part in the events that preceded the Zulu War. Indeed he believes +that with the exception of Colonel Phillips, who, as a lieutenant, commanded +the famous escort of twenty-five policemen, he is now the last survivor of the +party who, under the leadership of Sir Theophilus Shepstone, or Sompseu as the +natives called him from the Zambesi to the Cape, were concerned in the +annexation of the Transvaal in 1877. Recently also he has been called upon as a +public servant to revisit South Africa and took the opportunity to travel +through Zululand, in order to refresh his knowledge of its people, their +customs, their mysteries, and better to prepare himself for the writing of this +book. Here he stood by the fatal Mount of Isandhlawana which, with some details +of the battle, is described in these pages, among the graves of many whom once +he knew, Colonels Durnford, Pulleine and others. Also he saw Ulundi’s +plain where the traces of war still lie thick, and talked with an old Zulu who +fought in the attacking Impi until it crumbled away before the fire of the +Martinis and shells from the heavy guns. The battle of the Wall of Sheet Iron, +he called it, perhaps because of the flashing fence of bayonets. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, in a mealie patch, he found the spot on which the corn grows thin, +where King Cetewayo breathed his last, poisoned without a doubt, as he has +known for many years. It is to be seen at the Kraal, ominously named Jazi or, +translated into English, “Finished.” The tragedy happened long ago, +but even now the quiet-faced Zulu who told the tale, looking about him as he +spoke, would not tell it all. “Yes, as a young man, I was there at the +time, but I do not remember, I do not know—the Inkoosi Lundanda (i.e., +this Chronicler, so named in past years by the Zulus) stands on the very place +where the king died—His bed was on the left of the door-hole of the +hut,” and so forth, but no certain word as to the exact reason of this +sudden and violent death or by whom it was caused. The name of that destroyer +of a king is for ever hid. +</p> + +<p> +In this story the actual and immediate cause of the declaration of war against +the British Power is represented as the appearance of the white goddess, or +spirit of the Zulus, who is, or was, called Nomkubulwana or Inkosazana-y-Zulu, +i.e., the Princess of Heaven. The exact circumstances which led to this +decision are not now ascertainable, though it is known that there was much +difference of opinion among the Zulu Indunas or great captains, and like the +writer, many believe that King Cetewayo was personally averse to war against +his old allies, the English. +</p> + +<p> +The author’s friend, Mr. J. Y. Gibson, at present the representative of +the Union in Zululand, writes in his admirable history: “There was a good +deal of discussion amongst the assembled Zulu notables at Ulundi, but of how +counsel was swayed it is not possible now to obtain a reliable account.” +</p> + +<p> +The late Mr. F. B. Fynney, F.R.G.S., who also was his friend in days bygone, +and, with the exception of Sir Theophilus Shepstone, who perhaps knew the Zulus +and their language better than any other official of his day, speaking of this +fabled goddess wrote: “I remember that just before the Zulu War +Nomkubulwana appeared revealing something or other which had a great effect +throughout the land.” +</p> + +<p> +The use made of this strange traditional Guardian Angel in the following tale +is not therefore an unsupported flight of fancy, and the same may be said of +many other incidents, such as the account of the reading of the proclamation +annexing the Transvaal at Pretoria in 1877, which have been introduced to serve +the purposes of the romance. +</p> + +<p> +Mameena, who haunts its pages, in a literal as well as figurative sense, is the +heroine of <i>Child of Storm,</i> a book to which she gave her own poetic +title. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +THE AUTHOR. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +1916. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> +ALLAN QUATERMAIN MEETS ANSCOMBE</h2> + +<p> +You, my friend, into whose hand, if you live, I hope these scribblings of mine +will pass one day, must well remember the 12th of April of the year 1877 at +Pretoria. Sir Theophilus Shepstone, or Sompseu, for I prefer to call him by his +native name, having investigated the affairs of the Transvaal for a couple of +months or so, had made up his mind to annex that country to the British Crown. +It so happened that I, Allan Quatermain, had been on a shooting and trading +expedition at the back of the Lydenburg district where there was plenty of game +to be killed in those times. Hearing that great events were toward I made up my +mind, curiosity being one of my weaknesses, to come round by Pretoria, which +after all was not very far out of my way, instead of striking straight back to +Natal. As it chanced I reached the town about eleven o’clock on this very +morning of the 12th of April and, trekking to the Church Square, proceeded to +outspan there, as was usual in the Seventies. The place was full of people, +English and Dutch together, and I noted that the former seemed very elated and +were talking excitedly, while the latter for the most part appeared to be +sullen and depressed. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I saw a man I knew, a tall, dark man, a very good fellow and an +excellent shot, named Robinson. By the way you knew him also, for afterwards he +was an officer in the Pretoria Horse at the time of the Zulu war, the corps in +which you held a commission. I called to him and asked what was up. +</p> + +<p> +“A good deal, Allan,” he said as he shook my hand. “Indeed we +shall be lucky if all isn’t up, or something like it, before the day is +over. Shepstone’s Proclamation annexing the Transvaal is going to be read +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +I whistled and asked, +</p> + +<p> +“How will our Boer friends take it? They don’t look very +pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just what no one knows, Allan. Burgers the President is +squared, they say. He is to have a pension; also he thinks it the only thing to +be done. Most of the Hollanders up here don’t like it, but I doubt +whether they will put out their hands further than they can draw them back. The +question is—what will be the line of the Boers themselves? There are a +lot of them about, all armed, you see, and more outside the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t tell you. Anything may happen. They may shoot Shepstone and +his staff and the twenty-five policemen, or they may just grumble and go home. +Probably they have no fixed plan.” +</p> + +<p> +“How about the English?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! we are all crazy with joy, but of course there is no organization +and many have no arms. Also there are only a few of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I answered, “I came here to look for excitement, life +having been dull for me of late, and it seems that I have found it. Still I bet +you those Dutchmen do nothing, except protest. They are slim and know that the +shooting of an unarmed mission would bring England on their heads.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t say, I am sure. They like Shepstone who understands them, +and the move is so bold that it takes their breath away. But as the Kaffirs +say, when a strong wind blows a small spark will make the whole veld burn. It +just depends upon whether the spark is there. If an Englishman and a Boer began +to fight for instance, anything might happen. Goodbye, I have got a message to +deliver. If things go right we might dine at the European tonight, and if they +don’t, goodness knows where we shall dine.” +</p> + +<p> +I nodded sagely and he departed. Then I went to my wagon to tell the boys not +to send the oxen off to graze at present, for I feared lest they should be +stolen if there were trouble, but to keep them tied to the trek-tow. After this +I put on the best coat and hat I had, feeling that as an Englishman it was my +duty to look decent on such an occasion, washed, brushed my hair—with me +a ceremony without meaning, for it always sticks up—and slipped a loaded +Smith & Wesson revolver into my inner poacher pocket. Then I started out to +see the fun, and avoiding the groups of surly-looking Boers, mingled with the +crowd that I saw was gathering in front of a long, low building with a broad +stoep, which I supposed, rightly, to be one of the Government offices. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I found myself standing by a tall, rather loosely-built man whose +face attracted me. It was clean-shaven and much bronzed by the sun, but not in +any way good-looking; the features were too irregular and the nose was a trifle +too long for good looks. Still the impression it gave was pleasant and the +steady blue eyes had that twinkle in them which suggests humour. He might have +been thirty or thirty-five years of age, and notwithstanding his rough dress +that consisted mainly of a pair of trousers held up by a belt to which hung a +pistol, and a common flannel shirt, for he wore no coat, I guessed at once that +he was English-born. +</p> + +<p> +For a while neither of us said anything after the taciturn habit of our people +even on the veld, and indeed I was fully occupied in listening to the truculent +talk of a little party of mounted Boers behind us. I put my pipe into my mouth +and began to hunt for my tobacco, taking the opportunity to show the hilt of my +revolver, so that these men might see that I was armed. It was not to be found, +I had left it in the wagon. +</p> + +<p> +“If you smoke Boer tobacco,” said the stranger, “I can help +you,” and I noted that the voice was as pleasant as the face, and knew at +once that the owner of it was a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Sir. I never smoke anything else,” I answered, whereon +he produced from his trousers pocket a pouch made of lion skin of unusually +dark colour. +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw a lion as black as this, except once beyond Buluwayo on the +borders of Lobengula’s country,” I said by way of making +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Curious,” answered the stranger, “for that’s where I +shot the brute a few months ago. I tried to keep the whole skin but the white +ants got at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Been trading up there?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing so useful,” he said. “Just idling and shooting. Came +to this country because it was one of the very few I had never seen, and have +only been here a year. I think I have had about enough of it, though. Can you +tell me of any boats running from Durban to India? I should like to see those +wild sheep in Kashmir.” +</p> + +<p> +I told him that I did not know for certain as I had never taken any interest in +India, being an African elephant-hunter and trader, but I thought they did +occasionally. Just then Robinson passed by and called to me— +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll be here presently, Quatermain, but Sompseu isn’t +coming himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does your name happen to be Allan Quatermain?” asked the stranger. +“If so I have heard plenty about you up in Lobengula’s country, and +of your wonderful shooting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied, “but as for the shooting, natives always +exaggerate.” +</p> + +<p> +“They never exaggerated about mine,” he said with a twinkle in his +eye. “Anyhow I am very glad to see you in the flesh, though in the spirit +you rather bored me because I heard too much of you. Whenever I made a +particularly bad miss, my gun-bearer, who at some time seems to have been +yours, would say, ‘Ah! if only it had been the Inkosi Macumazahn, how +different would have been the end!’ My name is Anscombe, Maurice +Anscombe,” he added rather shyly. (Afterwards I discovered from a book of +reference that he was a younger son of Lord Mountford, one of the richest peers +in England.) +</p> + +<p> +Then we both laughed and he said— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Mr. Quatermain, if you will, what those Boers are saying behind +us. I am sure it is something unpleasant, but as the only Dutch I know is +‘Guten Tag’ and ‘Vootsack’ (Good-day and Get out) that +takes me no forwarder.” +</p> + +<p> +“It ought to,” I answered, “for the substance of their talk +is that they object to be ‘vootsacked’ by the British Government as +represented by Sir Theophilus Shepstone. They are declaring that they won the +land ‘with their blood’ and want to keep their own flag flying over +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very natural sentiment,” broke in Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“They say that they wish to shoot all damned Englishmen, especially +Shepstone and his people, and that they would make a beginning now were they +not afraid that the damned English Government, being angered, would send +thousands of damned English rooibatjes, that is, red-coats, and shoot +<i>them</i> out of evil revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very natural conclusion,” laughed Anscombe again, “which I +should advise them to leave untested. Hush! Here comes the show.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked and saw a body of blackcoated gentlemen with one officer in the +uniform of a Colonel of Engineers, advancing slowly. I remember that it +reminded me of a funeral procession following the corpse of the Republic that +had gone on ahead out of sight. The procession arrived upon the stoep opposite +to us and began to sort itself out, whereon the English present raised a cheer +and the Boers behind us cursed audibly. In the middle appeared an elderly +gentleman with whiskers and a stoop, in whom I recognized Mr. Osborn, known by +the Kaffirs as Malimati, the Chief of the Staff. By his side was a tall young +fellow, yourself, my friend, scarcely more than a lad then, carrying papers. +The rest stood to right and left in a formal line. <i>You</i> gave a printed +document to Mr. Osborn who put on his glasses and began to read in a low voice +which few could hear, and I noticed that his hand trembled. Presently he grew +confused, lost his place, found it, lost it again and came to a full stop. +</p> + +<p> +“A nervous-natured man,” remarked Mr. Anscombe. “Perhaps he +thinks that those gentlemen are going to shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +“That wouldn’t trouble him,” I answered, who knew him well. +“His fears are purely mental.” +</p> + +<p> +That was true since I know that this same Sir Melmoth Osborn as he is now, as I +have told in the book I called <i>Child of Storm</i>, swam the Tugela alone to +watch the battle of Indondakasuka raging round him, and on another occasion +killed two Kaffirs rushing at him with a right and left shot without turning a +hair. It was reading this paper that paralyzed him, not any fear of what might +happen. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a very awkward pause such as occurs when a man breaks down in a +speech. The members of the Staff looked at him and at each other, then behold! +you, my friend, grabbed the paper from his hand and went on reading it in a +loud clear voice. +</p> + +<p> +“That young man has plenty of nerve,” said Mr. Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied in a whisper. “Quite right though. Would +have been a bad omen if the thing had come to a stop.” +</p> + +<p> +Well, there were no more breakdowns, and at last the long document was finished +and the Transvaal annexed. The Britishers began to cheer but stopped to listen +to the formal protest of the Boer Government, if it could be called a +government when everything had collapsed and the officials were being paid in +postage stamps. I can’t remember whether this was read by President +Burgers himself or by the officer who was called State Secretary. Anyway, it +was read, after which there came an awkward pause as though people were waiting +to see something happen. I looked round at the Boers who were muttering and +handling their rifles uneasily. Had they found a leader I really think that +some of the wilder spirits among them would have begun to shoot, but none +appeared and the crisis passed. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd began to disperse, the English among them cheering and throwing up +their hats, the Dutch with very sullen faces. The Commissioner’s staff +went away as it had come, back to the building with blue gums in front of it, +which afterwards became Government House, that is all except you. You started +across the square alone with a bundle of printed proclamations in your hand +which evidently you had been charged to leave at the various public offices. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us follow him,” I said to Mr. Anscombe. “He might get +into trouble and want a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded and we strolled after you unostentatiously. Sure enough you nearly +did get into trouble. In front of the first office door to which you came, +stood a group of Boers, two of whom, big fellows, drew together with the +evident intention of barring your way. +</p> + +<p> +“Mynheeren,” you said, “I pray you to let me pass on the +Queen’s business.” +</p> + +<p> +They took no heed except to draw closer together and laugh insolently. Again +you made your request and again they laughed. Then I saw you lift your leg and +deliberately stamp upon the foot of one of the Boers. He drew back with an +exclamation, and for a moment I believed that he or his fellow was going to do +something violent. Perhaps they thought better of it, or perhaps they saw us +two Englishmen behind and noticed Anscombe’s pistol. At any rate you +marched into the office triumphant and delivered your document. +</p> + +<p> +“Neatly done,” said Mr. Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Rash,” I said, shaking my head, “very rash. Well, he’s +young and must be excused.” +</p> + +<p> +But from that moment I took a great liking to you, my friend, perhaps because I +wondered whether in your place I should have been daredevil enough to act in +the same way. For you see I am English, and I like to see an Englishman hold +his own against odds and keep up the credit of the country. Although, of +course, I sympathized with the Boers who, through their own fault, were losing +their land without a blow struck. As you know well, for you were living near +Majuba at the time, plenty of blows were struck afterwards, but of that +business I cannot bear to write. I wonder how it will all work out after I am +dead and if I shall ever learn what happens in the end. +</p> + +<p> +Now I have only mentioned this business of the Annexation and the part you +played in it, because it was on that occasion that I became acquainted with +Anscombe. For you have nothing to do with this story which is about the +destruction of the Zulus, the accomplishment of the vengeance of Zikali the +wizard at the kraal named Finished, and incidentally, the love affairs of two +people in which that old wizard took a hand, as I did to my sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +It happened that Mr. Anscombe had ridden on ahead of his wagons which could not +arrive at Pretoria for a day or two, and as he found it impossible to get +accommodation at the <i>European</i> or elsewhere, I offered to let him sleep +in mine, or rather alongside in a tent I had. He accepted and soon we became +very good friends. Before the day was out I discovered that he had served in a +crack cavalry regiment, but resigned his commission some years before. I asked +him why. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, “I came into a good lot of money on my +mother’s death and could not see a prospect of any active service. While +the regiment was abroad I liked the life well enough, but at home it bored me. +Too much society for my taste, and that sort of thing. Also I wanted to travel; +nothing else really amuses me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will soon get tired of it,” I answered, “and as you are +well off, marry some fine lady and settle down at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t think so. I doubt if I should ever be happily married, I +want too much. One doesn’t pick up an earthly angel with a cast-iron +constitution who adores you, which are the bare necessities of marriage, under +every bush.” Here I laughed. “Also,” he added, the laughter +going out of his eyes, “I have had enough of fine ladies and their +ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marriage is better than scrapes,” I remarked sententiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, but one might get them both together. No, I shall never marry, +although I suppose I ought as my brothers have no children.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you, my friend,” thought I to myself, “when the +skin grows again on your burnt fingers.” +</p> + +<p> +For I was sure they had been burnt, perhaps more than once. How, I never +learned, for which I am rather sorry for it interests me to study burnt +fingers, if they do not happen to be my own. Then we changed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Anscombe’s wagons were delayed for a day or two by a broken axle or a bog +hole, I forget which. So, as I had nothing particular to do until the Natal +post-cart left, we spent the time in wandering about Pretoria, which did not +take us long as it was but a little dorp in those days, and chatting with all +and sundry. Also we went up to Government House as it was now called, and left +cards, or rather wrote our names in a book for we had no cards, being told by +one of the Staff whom we met that we should do so. An hour later a note arrived +asking us both to dinner that night and telling us very nicely not to mind if +we had no dress things. Of course we had to go, Anscombe rigged up in my second +best clothes that did not fit him in the least, as he was a much taller man +than I am, and a black satin bow that he had bought at Becket’s Store +together with a pair of shiny pumps. +</p> + +<p> +I actually met you, my friend, for the first time that evening, and in trouble +too, though you may have forgotten the incident. We had made a mistake about +the time of dinner, and arriving half an hour too soon, were shown into a long +room that opened on to the verandah. You were working there, being I believe a +private secretary at the time, copying some despatch; I think you said that +which gave an account of the Annexation. The room was lit by a paraffin lamp +behind you, for it was quite dark and the window was open, or at any rate +unshuttered. The gentleman who showed us in, seeing that you were very busy, +took us to the far end of the room, where we stood talking in the shadow. Just +then a door opened opposite to that which led to the verandah, and through it +came His Excellency the Administrator, Sir Theophilus Shepstone, a stout man of +medium height with a very clever, thoughtful face, as I have always thought, +one of the greatest of African statesmen. He did not see us, but he caught +sight of you and said testily— +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad?” To which you answered with a laugh— +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not more than usual, Sir, but why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I not told you always to let down the blinds after dark? Yet there +you sit with your head against the light, about the best target for a bullet +that could be imagined.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think the Boers would trouble to shoot me, Sir. If you had +been here I would have drawn the blinds and shut the shutters too,” you +answered, laughing again. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to dress or you will be late for dinner,” he said still rather +sternly, and you went. But when you had gone and after we had been announced to +him, he smiled and added something which I will not repeat to you even now. I +think it was about what you did on the Annexation day of which the story had +come to him. +</p> + +<p> +I mention this incident because whenever I think of Shepstone, whom I had known +off and on for years in the way that a hunter knows a prominent Government +official, it always recurs to my mind, embodying as it does his caution and +appreciation of danger derived from long experience of the country, and the +sternness he sometimes affected which could never conceal his love towards his +friends. Oh! there was greatness in this man, although they did call him an +“African Talleyrand.” If it had not been so would every native from +the Cape to the Zambesi have known and revered his name, as perhaps that of no +other white man has been revered? But I must get on with my tale and leave +historical discussions to others more fitted to deal with them. +</p> + +<p> +We had a very pleasant dinner that night, although I was so ashamed of my +clothes with smart uniforms and white ties all about me, and Anscombe kept +fidgeting his feet because he was suffering agony from his new pumps which were +a size too small. Everybody was in the best of spirits, for from all directions +came the news that the Annexation was well received and that the danger of any +trouble had passed away. Ah! if we had only known what the end of it would be! +</p> + +<p> +It was on our way back to the wagon that I chanced to mention to Anscombe that +there was still a herd of buffalo within a few days’ trek of Lydenburg, +of which I had shot two not a month before. +</p> + +<p> +“Are there, by Jove!” he said. “As it happens I never got a +buffalo; always I just missed them in one sense or another, and I can’t +leave Africa with a pair of bought horns. Let’s go there and shoot +some.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head and replied that I had been idling long enough and must try to +make some money, news at which he seemed very disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” he said, “forgive me for mentioning it, but +business is business. If you’ll come you shan’t be a loser.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I shook my head, whereat he looked more disappointed than before. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” he exclaimed, “then I must go alone. For kill a +buffalo I will; that is unless the buffalo kills me, in which case my blood +will be on your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know why, but at that moment there came into my mind a conviction +that if he did go alone a buffalo or something would kill him and that then I +should be sorry all my life. +</p> + +<p> +“They are dangerous brutes, much worse than lions,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you, who pretend to have a conscience, would expose me to their +rage unprotected and alone,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye which I +could see even by moonlight. “Oh! Quatermain, how I have been mistaken in +your character.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Mr. Anscombe,” I said, “it’s no use. I +cannot possibly go on a shooting expedition with you just now. Only to-day I +have heard from Natal that my boy is not well and must undergo an operation +which will lay him up for quite six weeks, and may be dangerous. So I must get +down to Durban before it takes place. After that I have a contract in +Matabeleland whence you have just come, to take charge of a trading store there +for a year; also perhaps to try to shoot a little ivory for myself. So I am +fully booked up till, let us say, October, 1878, that is for about eighteen +months, by which time I daresay I shall be dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eighteen months,” replied this cool young man. “That will +suit me very well. I will go on to India as I intended, then home for a bit and +will meet you on the 1st of October, 1878, after which we will proceed to the +Lydenburg district and shoot those buffalo, or if they have departed, other +buffalo. Is it a bargain?” +</p> + +<p> +I stared at him, thinking that the Administrator’s champagne had got into +his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” I exclaimed. “Who knows where you will be in +eighteen months? Why, by that time you will have forgotten all about me.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I am alive and well, on the 1st of October, 1878, I shall be exactly +where I am now, upon this very square in Pretoria, with a wagon, or wagons, +prepared for a hunting trip. But as not unnaturally you have doubts upon that +point, I am prepared to pay forfeit if I fail, or even if circumstances cause +you to fail.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he took a cheque-book from his letter-case and spread it out on the little +table in the tent, on which there were ink and a pen, adding— +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mr. Quatermain, will it meet your views if I fill this up for +£250?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered; “taking everything into consideration the +sum is excessive. But if you do not mind facing the risks of my non-appearance, +to say nothing of your own, you may make it £50.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very moderate in your demands,” he said as he handed me +the cheque which I put in my pocket, reflecting that it would just pay for my +son’s operation. +</p> + +<p> +“And you are very foolish in your offers,” I replied. “Tell +me, why do you make such crack-brained arrangements?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know. Something in me seems to say that we +<i>shall</i> make this expedition and that it will have a very important effect +upon my life. Mind you, it is to be to the Lydenburg district and nowhere else. +And now I am tired, so let’s turn in.” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning we parted and went our separate ways. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> +MR. MARNHAM</h2> + +<p> +So much for preliminaries, now for the story. +</p> + +<p> +The eighteen months had gone by, bringing with them to me their share of +adventure, weal and woe, with all of which at present I have no concern. Behold +me arriving very hot and tired in the post-cart from Kimberley, whither I had +gone to invest what I had saved out of my Matabeleland contract in a very +promising speculation whereof, today, the promise remains and no more. I had +been obliged to leave Kimberley in a great hurry, before I ought indeed, +because of the silly bargain which I have just recorded. Of course I was sure +that I should never see Mr. Anscombe again, especially as I had heard nothing +of him during all this while, and had no reason to suppose that he was in +Africa. Still I had taken his £50 and he <i>might</i> come. Also I have always +prided myself upon keeping an appointment. +</p> + +<p> +The post-cart halted with a jerk in front of the <i>European Hotel</i>, and I +crawled, dusty and tired, from its interior, to find myself face to face with +Anscombe, who was smoking a pipe upon the stoep! +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Quatermain,” he said in his pleasant, drawling voice, +“here you are, up to time. I have been making bets with these five +gentlemen,” and he nodded at a group of loungers on the stoep, “as +to whether you would or would not appear, I putting ten to one on you in +drinks. Therefore you must now consume five whiskies and sodas, which will save +them from consuming fifty and a subsequent appearance at the Police +Court.” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed and said I would be their debtor to the extent of one, which was duly +produced. +</p> + +<p> +After it was drunk Anscombe and I had a chat. He said that he had been to +India, shot, or shot at whatever game he meant to kill there, visited his +relations in England and thence proceeded to keep his appointment with me in +Africa. At Durban he had fitted himself out in a regal way with two wagons, +full teams, and some spare oxen, and trekked to Pretoria where he had arrived a +few days before. Now he was ready to start for the Lydenburg district and look +for those buffalo. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” I said, “the buffalo probably long ago departed. Also +there has been a war with Sekukuni, the Basuto chief who rules all that +country, which remains undecided, although I believe some kind of a peace has +been patched up. This may make hunting in this neighborhood dangerous. Why not +try some other ground, to the north of the Transvaal, for instance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quatermain,” he answered, “I have come all the way from +England, I will not say to kill, but to try to kill buffalo in the Lydenburg +district, with you if possible, if not, without you, and thither I am going. If +you think it unsafe to accompany me, don’t come; I will get on as best I +can alone, or with some other skilled person if I can find one.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you put it like that I shall certainly come,” I replied, +“with the proviso that should the buffalo prove to be non-existent or the +pursuit of them impossible, we either give up the trip, or go somewhere else, +perhaps to the country at the back of Delagoa Bay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed,” he said; after which we discussed terms, he paying me my +salary in advance. +</p> + +<p> +On further consideration we determined, as two were quite unnecessary for a +trip of the sort, to leave one of my wagons and half the cattle in charge of a +very respectable man, a farmer who lived about five miles from Pretoria just +over the pass near to the famous Wonder-boom tree which is one of the sights of +the place. Should we need this wagon it could always be sent for; or, if we +found the Lydenburg hunting-ground, which he was so set upon visiting, +unproductive or impossible, we could return to Pretoria over the high-veld and +pick it up before proceeding elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +These arrangements took us a couple of days or so. On the third we started, +without seeing you, my friend, or any one else that I knew, since just at that +time every one seemed to be away from Pretoria. You, I remember, had by now +become the Master of the High Court and were, they informed me at your office, +absent on circuit. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of our departure was particularly lovely and we trekked away in the +best of spirits, as so often happens to people who are marching into trouble. +Of our journey there is little to say as everything went smoothly, so that we +arrived at the edge of the high-veld feeling as happy as the country which has +no history is reported to do. Our road led us past the little mining settlement +of Pilgrim’s Rest where a number of adventurous spirits, most of them +English, were engaged in washing for gold, a job at which I once took a turn +near this very place without any startling success. Of the locality I need only +say that the mountainous scenery is among the most beautiful, the hills are the +steepest and the roads are, or were, the worst that I have ever travelled over +in a wagon. +</p> + +<p> +However, “going softly” as the natives say, we negotiated them +without accident and, leaving Pilgrim’s Rest behind us, began to descend +towards the low-veld where I was informed a herd of buffalo could still be +found, since, owing to the war with Sekukuni, no one had shot at them of late. +This war had been suspended for a while, and the Land-drost at Pilgrim’s +Rest told me he thought it would be safe to hunt on the borders of that +Chief’s country, though he should not care to do so himself. +</p> + +<p> +Game of the smaller sort began to be plentiful about here, so not more than a +dozen miles from Pilgrim’s Rest we outspanned early in the afternoon to +try to get a blue wildebeeste or two, for I had seen the spoor of these +creatures in a patch of soft ground, or failing them some other buck. +Accordingly, leaving the wagon by a charming stream that wound and gurgled over +a bed of granite, we mounted our salted horses, which were part of +Anscombe’s outfit, and set forth rejoicing. Riding through the scattered +thorns and following the spoor where I could, within half an hour we came to a +little glade. There, not fifty yards away, I caught sight of a single blue +wildebeeste bull standing in the shadow of the trees on the further side of the +glade, and pointed out the ugly beast, for it is the most grotesque of all the +antelopes, to Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Off you get,” I whispered. “It’s a lovely shot, you +can’t miss it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, can’t I!” replied Anscombe. “Do you shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +I refused, so he dismounted, giving me his horse to hold, and kneeling down +solemnly and slowly covered the bull. Bang went his rifle, and I saw a bough +about a yard above the wildebeeste fall on to its back. Off it went like +lightning, whereon Anscombe let drive with the left barrel of the Express, +almost at hazard as it seemed to me, and by some chance hit it above the near +fore-knee, breaking its leg. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a good shot,” he cried, jumping on to his horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent,” I answered. “But what are you going to +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Catch it. It is cruel to leave a wounded animal,” and off he +started. +</p> + +<p> +Of course I had to follow, but the ensuing ride remains among the more painful +of my hunting memories. We tore through thorn trees that scratched my face and +damaged my clothes; we struck a patch of antbear holes, into one of which my +horse fell so that my stomach bumped against its head; we slithered down +granite koppies, and this was the worst of it, at the end of each chapter, so +to speak, always caught sight of that accursed bull which I fondly hoped would +have vanished into space. At length after half an hour or so of this game we +reached a stretch of open, rolling ground, and there not fifty yards ahead of +us was the animal still going like a hare, though how it could do so on three +legs I am sure I do not know. We coursed it like greyhounds, till at last +Anscombe, whose horse was the faster, came alongside of the exhausted creature, +whereon it turned suddenly and charged. +</p> + +<p> +Anscombe held out his rifle in his right hand and pulled the trigger, which, as +he had forgotten to reload it, was a mere theatrical performance. Next second +there was such a mix-up that for a while I could not distinguish which was +Anscombe, which was the wildebeeste, and which the horse. They all seemed to be +going round and round in a cloud of dust. When things settled themselves a +little I discovered the horse rolling on the ground, Anscombe on his back with +his hands up in an attitude of prayer and the wildebeeste trying to make up its +mind which of them it should finish first. I settled the poor thing’s +doubts by shooting it through the heart, which I flatter myself was rather +clever of me under the circumstances. Then I dismounted to examine Anscombe, +who, I presumed, was done for. Not a bit of it. There he sat upon the ground +blowing like a blacksmith’s bellows and panting out— +</p> + +<p> +“What a glorious gallop. I finished it very well, didn’t I? You +couldn’t have made a better shot yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “you finished it very well as you will +find out if you will take the trouble to open your rifle and count your +cartridges. I may add that if we are going to hunt together I hope you will +never lead me such a fool’s chase again.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose, opened the rifle and saw that it was empty, for although he had never +re-loaded he had thrown out the two cartridges which he had discharged in the +glen. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jingo,” he said, “you must have shot it, though I could +have sworn that it was I. Quatermain, has it ever struck you what a strange +thing is the human imagination?” +</p> + +<p> +“Drat the human imagination,” I answered, wiping away the blood +that was trickling into my eye from a thorn scratch. “Let’s look at +your horse. If it is lamed you will have to ride Imagination back to the wagon +which must be six miles away, that is if we can find it before dark.” +</p> + +<p> +Sighing out something about a painfully practical mind, he obeyed, and when the +beast was proved to be nothing more than blown and a little bruised, made +remarks as to the inadvisability of dwelling on future evil events, which I +reminded him had already been better summed up in the New Testament. +</p> + +<p> +After this we contemplated the carcase of the wildebeeste which it seemed a +pity to leave to rot. Just then Anscombe, who had moved a few yards to the +right out of the shadow of an obstructing tree, exclaimed— +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Quatermain, come here and tell me if I have been knocked silly, +or if I really see a quite uncommon kind of house built in ancient Greek style +set in a divine landscape.” +</p> + +<p> +“Temple to Diana, I expect,” I remarked as I joined him on the +further side of the tree. +</p> + +<p> +I looked and rubbed my eyes. There, about half a mile away, situated in a bay +of the sweeping hills and overlooking the measureless expanse of bush-veld +beneath, was a remarkable house, at least for those days and that part of +Africa. To begin with the situation was superb. It stood on a green and +swelling mound behind which was a wooded kloof where ran a stream that at last +precipitated itself in a waterfall over a great cliff. Then in front was that +glorious view of the bush-veld, at which a man might look for a lifetime and +not grow tired, stretching away to the Oliphant’s river and melting at +last into the dim line of the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +The house itself also, although not large, was of a kind new to me. It was +deep, but narrow fronted, and before it were four columns that carried the roof +which projected so as to form a wide verandah. Moreover it seemed to be built +of marble which glistened like snow in the setting sun. In short in that lonely +wilderness, at any rate from this distance, it did look like the deserted +shrine of some forgotten god. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m bothered!” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” answered Anscombe, “to know the name of the +Lydenburg district architect whom I should like to employ; though I suspect it +is the surroundings that make the place look so beautiful. Hullo! here comes +somebody, but he doesn’t look like an architect; he looks like a wicked +baronet disguised as a Boer.” +</p> + +<p> +True enough, round a clump of bush appeared an unusual looking person, mounted +on a very good horse. He was tall, thin and old, at least he had a long white +beard which suggested age, although his figure, so far as it could be seen +beneath his rough clothes, seemed vigorous. His face was clean cut and +handsome, with a rather hooked nose, and his eyes were grey, but as I saw when +he came up to us, somewhat bloodshot at the corners. His general aspect was +refined and benevolent, and as soon as he opened his mouth I perceived that he +was a person of gentle breeding. +</p> + +<p> +And yet there was something about him, something in his atmosphere, so to +speak, that I did not like. Before we parted that evening I felt sure that in +one way or another he was a wrong-doer, not straight; also that he had a +violent temper. +</p> + +<p> +He rode up to us and asked in a pleasant voice, although the manner of his +question, which was put in bad Dutch, was not pleasant, +</p> + +<p> +“Who gave you leave to shoot on our land?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know that any leave was required; it is not customary in these +parts,” I answered politely in English. “Moreover, this buck was +wounded miles away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” he exclaimed in the same tongue, “that makes a +difference, though I expect it was still on our land, for we have a lot; it is +cheap about here.” Then after studying a little, he added apologetically, +“You mustn’t think me strange, but the fact is my daughter hates +things to be killed near the house, which is why there’s so much game +about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then pray make her our apologies,” said Anscombe, “and say +that it shall not happen again.” +</p> + +<p> +He stroked his long beard and looked at us, for by now he had dismounted, then +said— +</p> + +<p> +“Might I ask you gentlemen your names?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” I replied. “I am Allan Quatermain and my friend +is the Hon. Maurice Anscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +He started and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Of Allan Quatermain of course I have heard. The natives told me that you +were trekking to those parts; and if you, sir, are one of Lord +Mountford’s sons, oddly enough I think I must have known your father in +my youth. Indeed I served with him in the Guards.” +</p> + +<p> +“How very strange,” said Anscombe. “He’s dead now and +my brother is Lord Mountford. Do you like life here better than that in the +Guards? I am sure I should.” +</p> + +<p> +“Both of them have their advantages,” he answered evasively, +“of which, if, as I think, you are also a soldier, you can judge for +yourself. But won’t you come up to the house? My daughter Heda is away, +and my partner Mr. Rodd” (as he mentioned this name I saw a blue vein, +which showed above his cheek bone, swell as though under pressure of some +secret emotion) “is a retiring sort of a man—indeed some might +think him sulky until they came to know him. Still, we can make you comfortable +and even give you a decent bottle of wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you very much,” I answered, “we must get back to +the wagon or our servants will think that we have come to grief. Perhaps you +will accept the wildebeeste if it is of any use to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” he said in a voice that suggested regret struggling +with relief. To the buck he made no allusion, perhaps because he considered +that it was already his own property. “Do you know your way? I believe +your wagon is camped out there to the east by what we call the Granite stream. +If you follow this Kaffir path,” and he pointed to a track near by, +“it will take you quite close.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does the path run to?” I asked. “There are no kraals +about, are there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! to the Temple, as my daughter calls our house. My partner and I are +labour agents, we recruit natives for the Kimberley Mines,” he said in +explanation, adding, “Where do you propose to shoot?” +</p> + +<p> +I told him. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that rather a risky district?” he said. “I think +that Sekukuni will soon be giving more trouble, although there is a truce +between him and the English. Still he might send a regiment to raid that +way.” +</p> + +<p> +I wondered how our friend knew so much of Sekukuni’s possible intentions, +but only answered that I was accustomed to deal with natives and did not fear +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he said, “well, you know your own business best. But if +you should get into any difficulty, make straight for this place. The Basutos +will not interfere with you here.” +</p> + +<p> +Again I wondered why the Basutos should look upon this particular spot as +sacred, but thinking it wisest to ask no questions, I only answered— +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you very much. We’ll bear your invitation in mind, +Mr.—” +</p> + +<p> +“Marnham.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marnham,” I repeated after him. “Good-bye and many thanks +for your kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“One question,” broke in Anscombe, “if you will not think me +rude. What is the name of the architect who designed that most romantic-looking +house of yours which seems to be built of marble?” +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter designed it, or at least I think she copied it from some old +drawing of a ruin. Also it <i>is</i> marble; there’s a whole hill of the +stuff not a hundred yards from the door, so it was cheaper to use than anything +else. I hope you will come and see it on your way back, though it is not as +fine as it appears from a distance. It would be very pleasant after all these +years to talk to an English gentleman again.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we parted, I rather offended because he did not seem to include me in the +description, he calling after us— +</p> + +<p> +“Stick close to the path through the patch of big trees, for the ground +is rather swampy there and it’s getting dark.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently we came to the place he mentioned where the timber, although +scattered, was quite large for South Africa, of the yellow-wood species, and +interspersed wherever the ground was dry with huge euphorbias, of which the +tall finger-like growths and sad grey colouring looked unreal and ghostlike in +the waning light. Following the advice given to us, we rode in single file +along the narrow path, fearing lest otherwise we should tumble into some bog +hole, until we came to higher land covered with the scattered thorns of the +country. +</p> + +<p> +“Did that bush give you any particular impression?” asked Anscombe +a minute or two later. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “it gave me the impression that we might +catch fever there. See the mist that lies over it,” and turning in my +saddle I pointed with the rifle in my hand to what looked like a mass of cotton +wool over which, without permeating it, hung the last red glow of sunset, +producing a curious and indeed rather unearthly effect. “I expect that +thousands of years ago there was a lake yonder, which is why trees grow so big +in the rich soil.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are curiously mundane, Quatermain,” he answered. “I ask +you of spiritual impressions and you dilate to me of geological formations and +the growth of timber. You felt nothing in the spiritual line?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt nothing except a chill,” I answered, for I was tired and +hungry. “What the devil are you driving at?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got that flask of Hollands about you, Quatermain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! those are the spirits you are referring to,” I remarked with +sarcasm as I handed it to him. +</p> + +<p> +He took a good pull and replied— +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, except in the sense that bad spirits require good spirits to +correct them, as the Bible teaches. To come to facts,” he added in a +changed voice, “I have never been in a place that depressed me more than +that thrice accursed patch of bush.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did it depress you?” I asked, studying him as well as I could +in the fading light. To tell the truth I feared lest he had knocked his head +when the wildebeeste upset him, and was suffering from delayed concussion. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t tell you, Quatermain. I don’t look like a criminal, do +I? Well, I entered those trees feeling a fairly honest man, and I came out of +them feeling like a murderer. It was as though something terrible had happened +to me there; it was as though I had killed someone there. Ugh!” and he +shivered and took another pull at the Hollands. +</p> + +<p> +“What bosh!” I said. “Besides, even if it were to come true, +I am sorry to say I’ve killed lots of men in the way of business and they +don’t bother me overmuch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever kill one to win a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not. Why, that would be murder. How can you ask me such a +thing? But I have killed several to win cattle,” I reflected aloud, +remembering my expedition with Saduko against the chief Bangu, and some other +incidents in my career. +</p> + +<p> +“I appreciate the difference, Quatermain. If you kill for cows, it is +justifiable homicide; if you kill for women, it is murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I replied, “that is how it seems to work out in +Africa. You see, women are higher in the scale of creation than cows, therefore +crimes committed for their sake are enormously greater than those committed for +cows, which just makes the difference between justifiable homicide and +murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good lord! what an argument,” he exclaimed and relapsed into +silence. Had he been accustomed to natives and their ways he would have +understood the point much better than he did, though I admit it is difficult to +explain. +</p> + +<p> +In due course we reached the wagon without further trouble. While we were +shielding our pipes after an excellent supper I asked Anscombe his impressions +of Mr. Marnham. +</p> + +<p> +“Queer cove, I think,” he answered. “Been a gentleman, too, +and still keeps the manners, which isn’t strange if he is one of the +Marnhams, for they are a good family. I wonder he mentioned having served with +my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“It slipped out of him. Men who live a lot alone are apt to be surprised +into saying things they regret afterwards, as I noticed he did. But why do you +wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because as it happens, although I have only just recalled it, my father +used to tell some story about a man named Marnham in his regiment. I +can’t remember the details, but it had to do with cards when high stakes +were being played for, and with the striking of a superior officer in the +quarrel that ensued, as a result of which the striker was requested to send in +his papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may not have been the same man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not, for I believe that more than one Marnham served in that +regiment. But I remember my father saying, by way of excuse for the person +concerned, that he had a most ungovernable temper. I think he added, that he +left the country and took service in some army on the Continent. I should +rather like to clear the thing up.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t probable that you will, for even if you should ever meet +this Marnham again, I fancy you would find he held his tongue about his +acquaintance with your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what Miss Heda is like,” went on Anscombe after a pause. +“I am curious to see a girl who designs a house on the model of an +ancient ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you won’t, for she’s away somewhere. Besides we are +looking for buffalo, not girls, which is a good thing as they are less +dangerous.” +</p> + +<p> +I spoke thus decisively because I had taken a dislike to Mr. Marnham and +everything to do with him, and did not wish to encourage the idea of further +meetings. +</p> + +<p> +“No, never, I suppose. And yet I feel as though I were certainly destined +to see that accursed yellow-wood swamp again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” I replied as I rose to turn in. Ah! if I had but known! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> +THE HUNTERS HUNTED</h2> + +<p> +While I was taking off my boots I heard a noise of jabbering in some native +tongue which I took to be Sisutu, and not wishing to go to the trouble of +putting them on again, called to the driver of the wagon to find out what it +was. This man was a Cape Colony Kaffir, a Fingo I think, with a touch of +Hottentot in him. He was an excellent driver, indeed I do not think I have ever +seen a better, and by no means a bad shot. Among Europeans he rejoiced in the +name of Footsack, a Boer Dutch term which is generally addressed to troublesome +dogs and means “Get out.” To tell the truth, had I been his master +he would have got out, as I suspected him of drinking, and generally did not +altogether trust him. Anscombe, however, was fond of him because he had shown +courage in some hunting adventure in Matabeleland, I think it was at the +shooting of that very dark-coloured lion whose skin had been the means of +making us acquainted nearly two years before. Indeed he said that on this +occasion Footsack had saved his life, though from all that I could gather I do +not think this was quite the case. Also the man, who had been on many hunting +trips with sportsmen, could talk Dutch well and English enough to make himself +understood, and therefore was useful. +</p> + +<p> +He went as I bade him, and coming back presently, told me that a party of +Basutos, about thirty in number, who were returning from Kimberley, where they +had been at work in the mines, under the leadership of a Bastard named Karl, +asked leave to camp by the wagon for the night, as they were afraid to go on to +“Tampel” in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +At first I could not make out what “Tampel” was, as it did not +sound like a native name. Then I remembered that Mr. Marnham had spoken of his +house as being called the Temple, of which, of course, Tampel was a corruption; +also that he said he and his partner were labour agents. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are they afraid?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Baas, they say that they must go through a wood in a swamp, +which they think is haunted by spooks, and they much afraid of spooks;” +that is of ghosts. +</p> + +<p> +“What spooks?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know, Baas. They say spook of some one who has been +killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish,” I replied. “Tell them to go and catch the spook; +we don’t want a lot of noisy fellows howling chanties here all +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Then it was that Anscombe broke in in his humorous, rather drawling voice. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you be so hard-hearted, Quatermain? After the supernatural +terror which, as I told you, I experienced in that very place, I wouldn’t +condemn a kicking mule to go through it in this darkness. Let the poor devils +stay; I daresay they are tired.” +</p> + +<p> +So I gave in, and presently saw their fires beginning to burn through the end +canvas of the wagon which was unlaced because the night was hot. Also later on +I woke up, about midnight I think, and heard voices talking, one of which I +reflected sleepily, sounded very like that of Footsack. +</p> + +<p> +Waking very early, as is my habit, I peeped out of the wagon, and through the +morning mist perceived Footsack in converse with a particularly +villainous-looking person. I at once concluded this must be Karl, evidently a +Bastard compounded of about fifteen parts of various native bloods to one of +white, who, to add to his attractions, was deeply scarred with smallpox and +possessed a really alarming squint. It seemed to me that Footsack handed to +this man something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of squareface gin +wrapped up in dried grass, and that the man handed back to Footsack some small +object which he put in his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Now, I wondered to myself, what is there of value that one who does not eat +sweets would stow away in his mouth. Gold coin perhaps, or a quid of tobacco, +or a stone. Gold was too much to pay for a bottle of gin, tobacco was too +little, but how about the stone? What stone? Who wanted stones? Then suddenly I +remembered that these people were said to come from Kimberley, and whistled to +myself. Still I did nothing, principally because the mist was still so dense +that although I could see the men’s faces, I could not clearly see the +articles which they passed to each other about two feet lower, where it still +lay very thickly, and to bring any accusation against a native which he can +prove to be false is apt to destroy authority. So I held my tongue and waited +my chance. It did not come at once, for before I was dressed those Basutos had +departed together with their leader Karl, for now that the sun was up they no +longer feared the haunted bush. +</p> + +<p> +It came later, thus: We were trekking along between the thorns upon a level and +easy track which enabled the driver Footsack to sit upon the +“voorkisse” or driving box of the wagon, leaving the lad who is +called the voorlooper to lead the oxen. Anscombe was riding parallel to the +wagon in the hope of killing some guineafowl for the pot (though a very poor +shot with a rifle he was good with a shot-gun). I, who did not care for this +small game, was seated smoking by the side of Footsack who, I noted, smelt of +gin and generally showed signs of dissipation. Suddenly I said to him— +</p> + +<p> +“Show me that diamond which the Bastard Karl gave you this morning in +payment for the bottle of your master’s drink.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a bow drawn at a venture, but the effect of the shot was remarkable. Had +I not caught it, the long bamboo whip Footsack held would have fallen to the +ground, while he collapsed in his seat like a man who has received a bullet in +his stomach. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” he gasped, “Baas, how did you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew,” I replied grandly, “in the same way that I know +everything. Show me the diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” he said, “it was not the Baas Anscombe’s gin, +it was some I bought in Pilgrim’s Rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have counted the bottles in the case and know very well whose gin it +was,” I replied ambiguously, for the reason that I had done nothing of +the sort. “Show me the diamond.” +</p> + +<p> +Footsack fumbled about his person, his hair, his waistcoat pockets and even his +moocha, and ultimately from somewhere produced a stone which he handed to me. I +looked at it, and from the purity of colour and size, judged it to be a diamond +worth £200, or possibly more. After careful examination I put it into my +pocket, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“This is the price of your master’s gin and therefore belongs to +him as much as it does to anybody. Now if you want to keep out of trouble, tell +me—whence came it into the hands of that man, Karl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” replied Footsack, trembling all over, “how do I know? +He and the rest have been working at the mines; I suppose he found it +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! And did he find others of the same sort?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, Baas. At least he said that he had been buying bottles of +gin with such stones all the way down from Kimberley. Karl is a great drunkard, +Baas, as I am sure, who have known him for years.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not all,” I remarked, keeping my eyes fixed on him. +“What else did he say?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said, Baas, that he was very much afraid of returning to the Baas +Marnham whom the Kaffirs call White-beard, with only a few stones left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why was he afraid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because the Baas Whitebeard, he who dwells at Tampel, is, he says, a +very angry man if he thinks himself cheated, and Karl is afraid lest he should +kill him as another was killed, he whose spook haunts the wood through which +those silly people feared to pass last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was killed and who killed him?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas, I don’t know,” replied Footsack, collapsing into +sullen silence in a way that Kaffirs have when suddenly they realize that they +have said too much. Nor did I press the matter further, having learned enough. +</p> + +<p> +What had I learned? This: that Messrs. Marnham & Rodd were illicit diamond +buyers, I.D.B.‘s as they are called, who had cunningly situated +themselves at a great distance from the scene of operations practically beyond +the reach of civilized law. Probably they were engaged also in other nefarious +dealings with Kaffirs, such as supplying them with guns wherewith to make war +upon the Whites. Sekukuni had been fighting us recently, so that there would be +a very brisk market for rifles. This, too, would account for Marnham’s +apparent knowledge of that Chief’s plans. Possibly, however, he had no +knowledge and only made a pretence of it to keep us out of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Later on I confided the whole story and my suspicions to Anscombe, who was much +interested. +</p> + +<p> +“What picturesque scoundrels!” he exclaimed, “We really ought +to go back to the Temple. I have always longed to meet some real live +I.D.B.‘s.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is probable that you have done that already without knowing it. For +the rest, if you wish to visit that den of iniquity, you must do so +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t whited sepulchre be a better term, especially as it seems +to cover dead men’s bones?” he replied in his frivolous manner. +</p> + +<p> +Then I asked him what he was going to do about Footsack and the bottle of gin, +which he countered by asking me what I was going to do with that diamond. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it to you as Footsack’s master,” I said, suiting the +action to the word. “I don’t wish to be mixed up in doubtful +transactions.” +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a long argument as to who was the real owner of the stone, which +ended in its being hidden away to be produced if called for, and in Footsack, +who ought have had a round dozen, receiving a scolding from his master, coupled +with the threat that if he stole more gin he would be handed over to a +magistrate—when we met one. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day we reached the hot, low-lying veld which the herd of +buffalo was said to inhabit. Next morning, however, when we were making ready +to begin hunting, a Basuto Kaffir appeared who, on being questioned, said that +he was one of Sekukuni’s people sent to this district to look for two +lost oxen. I did not believe this story, thinking it more probable that he was +a spy, but asked him whether in his hunt for oxen he had come across buffalo. +</p> + +<p> +He replied that he had, a herd of thirty-two of them, counting the calves, but +that they were over the Oliphant’s River about five-and-twenty miles +away, in a valley between some outlying hills and the rugged range of +mountains, beyond which was situated Sekukuni’s town. Moreover, in proof +of his story he showed me spoor of the beasts heading in that direction which +was quite a week old. +</p> + +<p> +Now for my part, as I did not think it wise to get too near to Sekukuni, I +should have given them up and gone to hunt something else. Anscombe, however, +was of a different opinion and pleaded hard that we should follow them. They +were the only herd within a hundred miles, he said, if indeed there were any +others this side of the Lebombo Mountains. As I still demurred, he suggested, +in the nicest possible manner, that if I thought the business risky, I should +camp somewhere with the wagon, while he went on with Footsack to look for the +buffalo. I answered that I was well used to risks, which in a sense were my +trade, and that as he was more or less in my charge I was thinking of him, not +of myself, who was quite prepared to follow the buffalo, not only to +Sekukuni’s Mountains but over them. Then fearing that he had hurt my +feelings, he apologized, and offered to go elsewhere if I liked. The upshot was +that we decided to trek to the Oliphant’s River, camp there and explore +the bush on the other side on horseback, never going so far from the wagon that +we could not reach it again before nightfall. +</p> + +<p> +This, then, we did, outspanning that evening by the hot but beautiful river +which was still haunted by a few hippopotamus and many crocodiles, one of which +we shot before turning in. Next morning, having breakfasted off cold +guineafowl, we mounted, crossed the river by a ford that was quite as deep as I +liked, to which the Kaffir path led us, and, leaving Footsack with the two +other boys in charge of the wagon, began to hunt for the buffalo in the rather +swampy bush that stretched from the further bank to the slope of the first +hills, eight or ten miles away. I did not much expect to find them, as the +Basuto had said that they had gone over these hills, but either he lied or they +had moved back again. +</p> + +<p> +Not half a mile from the river bank, just as I was about to dismount to stalk a +fine waterbuck of which I caught sight standing among some coarse grass and +bushes, my eye fell upon buffalo spoor that from its appearance I knew could +not be more than a few hours old. Evidently the beasts had been feeding here +during the night and at dawn had moved away to sleep in the dry bush nearer the +hills. Beckoning to Anscombe, who fortunately had not seen the waterbuck, at +which he would certainly have fired, thereby perhaps frightening the buffalo, I +showed him the spoor that we at once started to follow. +</p> + +<p> +Soon it led us into other spoor, that of a whole herd of thirty or forty beasts +indeed, which made our task quite easy, at least till we came to harder ground, +for the animals had gone a long way. An hour or more later, when we were about +seven miles from the river, I perceived ahead of us, for we were now almost at +the foot of the hills, a cool and densely-wooded kloof. +</p> + +<p> +“That is where they will be,” I said. “Now come on carefully +and make no noise.” +</p> + +<p> +We rode to the wide mouth of the kloof where the signs of the buffalo were +numerous and fresh, dismounted and tied our horses to a thorn, so as to +approach them silently on foot. We had not gone two hundred yards through the +bush when suddenly about fifty paces away, standing broadside on in the shadow +between two trees, I saw a splendid old bull with a tremendous pair of horns. +</p> + +<p> +“Shoot,” I whispered to Anscombe, “you will never get a +better chance. It is the sentinel of the herd.” +</p> + +<p> +He knelt down, his face quite white with excitement, and covered the bull with +his Express. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep cool,” I whispered again, “and aim behind the shoulder, +half-way down.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t think he understood me, for at that moment off went the rifle. He +hit the beast somewhere, as I heard the bullet clap, but not fatally, for it +turned and lumbered off up the kloof, apparently unhurt, whereon he sent the +second barrel after it, a clean miss this time. Then of a sudden all about us +appeared buffaloes that had, I suppose, been sleeping invisible to us. These, +with snorts and bellows, rushed off towards the river, for having their senses +about them, they had no mind to be trapped in the kloof. I could only manage a +shot at one of them, a large and long-horned cow which I knocked over quite +dead. If I had fired again it would have been but to wound, a thing I hate. The +whole business was over in a minute. We went and looked at my dead cow which I +had caught through the heart. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s cruel to kill these things,” I said, “for I +don’t know what use we are going to make of them, and they must love life +as much as we do.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll cut the horns off,” said Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“You may if you like,” I answered, “but you will find it a +tough job with a sheath knife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think that shall be the task of the worthy Footsack +to-morrow,” he replied. “Meanwhile let us go and finish off my +bull, as Footsack & Co. may as well bring home two pair of horns as +one.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at the dense bush, and knowing something of the habits of wounded +buffaloes, reflected that it would be a nasty job. Still I said nothing, +because if I hesitated, I knew he would want to go alone. So we started. +Evidently the beast had been badly hit, for the blood spoor was easy to follow. +Yet it had been able to retreat up to the end of the kloof that terminated in a +cliff over which trickled a stream of water. Here it was not more than a +hundred paces wide, and on either side of it were other precipitous cliffs. As +we went from one of these a war-horn, such as the Basutos use, was blown. +Although I heard it, oddly enough, I paid no attention to it at the time, being +utterly intent upon the business in hand. +</p> + +<p> +Following a wounded buffalo bull up a tree-clad and stony kloof is no game for +children, as these beasts have a habit of returning on their tracks and then +rushing out to gore you. So I went on with every sense alert, keeping Anscombe +well behind me. As it happened our bull had either been knocked silly or +inherited no guile from his parents. When he found he could go no further he +stopped, waited behind a bush, and when he saw us he charged in a simple and +primitive fashion. I let Anscombe fire, as I wished him to have the credit of +killing it all to himself, but somehow or other he managed to miss both +barrels. Then, trouble being imminent, I let drive as the beast lowered its +head, and was lucky enough to break its spine (to shoot at the head of a +buffalo is useless), so that it rolled over quite dead at our feet. +</p> + +<p> +“You have got a magnificent pair of horns,” I said, contemplating +the fallen giant. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Anscombe, with a twinkle of his humorous eyes, +“and if it hadn’t been for you I think that I should have got them +in more senses than one.” +</p> + +<p> +As the words passed his lips some missile, from its peculiar sound I judged it +was the leg off an iron pot, hurtled past my head, fired evidently from a +smoothbore gun with a large charge of bad powder. Then I remembered the +war-horn and all that it meant. +</p> + +<p> +“Off you go,” I said, “we are ambushed by Kaffirs.” +</p> + +<p> +We were indeed, for as we tailed down that kloof, from the top of both cliffs +above us came a continuous but luckily ill-directed fire. Lead-coated stones, +pot legs and bullets whirred and whistled all round us, yet until the last, +just when we were reaching the tree to which we had tied our horses, quite +harmlessly. Then suddenly I saw Anscombe begin to limp. Still he managed to run +on and mount, though I observed that he did not put his right foot into the +stirrup. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” I asked as we galloped off. +</p> + +<p> +“Shot through the instep, I think,” he answered with a laugh, +“but it doesn’t hurt a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect it will later,” I replied. “Meanwhile, thank God it +wasn’t at the top of the kloof. They won’t catch us on the horses, +which they never thought of killing first.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are going to try though. Look behind you.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked and saw twenty or thirty men emerging from the mouth of the kloof in +pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“No time to stop to get those horns,” he said with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, “unless you are particularly anxious to say +good-bye to the world pinned over a broken ant-heap in the sun, or something +pleasant of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we rode on in silence, I thinking what a fool I had been first to allow +myself to be overruled by Anscombe and cross the river, and secondly not to +have taken warning from that war-horn. We could not go very fast because of the +difficult and swampy nature of the ground; also the great heat of the day told +on the horses. Thus it came about that when we reached the ford we were not +more than ten minutes ahead of our active pursuers, good runners every one of +them, and accustomed to the country. I suppose that they had orders to kill or +capture us at any cost, for instead of giving up the chase, as I hoped they +would, they stuck to us in surprising fashion. +</p> + +<p> +We splashed through the river, and luckily on the further bank were met by +Footsack who had seen us coming and guessed that something was wrong. +</p> + +<p> +“Inspan!” I shouted to him, “and be quick about it if you +want to see tomorrow’s light. The Basutos are after us.” +</p> + +<p> +Off he went like a shot, his face quite green with fear. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” I said to Anscombe, as we let our horses take a drink for +which they were mad, “we have got to hold this ford until the wagon is +ready, or those devils will get us after all. Dismount and I’ll tie up +the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +He did so with some difficulty, and at my suggestion, while I made the beasts +fast, cut the lace of his boot which was full of blood, and soaked his wounded +foot, that I had no time to examine, in the cool water. These things done, I +helped him to the rear of a thorn tree which was thick enough to shield most of +his body, and took my own stand behind a similar thorn at a distance of a few +paces. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the Basutos appeared, trotting along close together whereon Anscombe, +who was seated behind the tree, fired both barrels of his Express at them at a +range of about two hundred yards. It was a foolish thing to do, first because +he missed them clean, for he had over-estimated the range and the bullets went +above their heads, and secondly because it caused them to scatter and made them +careful, whereas had they come on in a lump we could have taught them a lesson. +However I said nothing, as I knew that reproaches would only make him nervous. +Down went those scoundrels on to their hands and knees and, taking cover behind +stones and bushes on the further bank, began to fire at us, for they were all +armed with guns of one sort and another, and there was only about a hundred +yards of water between us. As they effected this manoeuvre I am glad to say I +was able to get two of them, while Anscombe, I think, wounded another. +</p> + +<p> +After this our position grew quite warm, for as I have said the thorn trunks +were not very broad, and three or four of the natives, who had probably been +hunters, were by no means bad shots, though the rest of them fired wildly. +Anscombe, in poking his head round the tree to shoot, had his hat knocked off +by a bullet, while a slug went through the lappet of my coat. Then a worse +thing happened. Either by chance or design Anscombe’s horse was struck in +the neck and fell struggling, whereon my beast, growing frightened, broke its +riem and galloped to the wagon. That is where I ought to have left them at +first, only I thought that we might need them to make a bolt on, or to carry +Anscombe if he could not walk. +</p> + +<p> +Quite a long while went by before, glancing behind me, I saw that the oxen that +had been grazing at a little distance had at length arrived and were being +inspanned in furious haste. The Basutos saw it also, and fearing lest we should +escape, determined to try to end the business. Suddenly they leapt from their +cover, and with more courage than I should have expected of them, rushed into +the river, proposing to storm us, which, to speak truth, I think they would +have done had I not been a fairly quick shot. +</p> + +<p> +As it was, finding that they were losing too heavily from our fire, they +retreated in a hurry, leaving their dead behind them, and even a wounded man +who was clinging to a rock. He, poor wretch, was in mortal terror lest we +should shoot him again, which I had not the heart to do, although as his leg +was shattered above the knee by an Express bullet, it might have been true +kindness. Again and again he called out for mercy, saying that he only attacked +us because his chief, who had been warned of our coming “by the White +Man,” ordered him to take our guns and cattle. +</p> + +<p> +“What white man?” I shouted. “Speak or I shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer, for at this moment he fainted from loss of blood and +vanished beneath the water. Then another Basuto, I suppose he was their +captain, but do not know for he was hidden in some bushes, called out— +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think that you shall escape, White Men. There are many more of +our people coming, and we will kill you in the night when you cannot see to +shoot us.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, too, Footsack shouted that the wagon was inspanned and ready. +Now I hesitated what to do. If we made for the wagon, which must be very slowly +because of Anscombe’s wounded foot, we had to cross seventy or eighty +yards of rising ground almost devoid of cover. If, on the other hand, we stayed +where we were till nightfall a shot might catch one of us, or other Basutos +might arrive and rush us. There was also a third possibility, that our +terrified servants might trek off and leave us in order to save their own +lives, which verily I believe they would have done, not being of Zulu blood. I +put the problem to Anscombe, who shook his head and looked at his foot. Then he +produced a lucky penny which he carried in his pocket and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Let us invoke the Fates. Heads we run like heroes; tails we stay here +like heroes,” and he spun the penny, while I stared at him open-mouthed +and not without admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Never, I thought to myself, had this primitive method of cutting a gordian knot +been resorted to in such strange and urgent circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“Heads it is!” he said coolly. “Now, my boy, do you run and +I’ll crawl after you. If I don’t arrive, you know my people’s +address, and I bequeath to you all my African belongings in memory of a most +pleasant trip.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t play the fool,” I replied sternly. “Come, put +your right arm round my neck and hop on your left leg as you never hopped +before.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we started, and really our transit was quite lively, for all those Basutos +began what for them was rapid firing. I think, however, that their best shots +must have fallen, for not a bullet touched us, although before we got out of +their range one or two went very near. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Anscombe, as a last amazing hop brought him to the +wagon rail, “there, you see how wise it is to give Providence a chance +sometimes.” +</p> + +<p> +“In the shape of a lucky penny,” I grumbled as I hoisted him up. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, for why should not Providence inhabit a penny as much as it +does any other mundane thing? Oh, my dear Quatermain, have you never been +taught to look to the pence and let the rest take care of itself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop talking rubbish and look to your foot, for the wagon is +starting,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then off we went at a good round trot, for never have I seen oxen more +scientifically driven than they were by Footsack and his friends on this +occasion, or a greater pace got out of them. As soon as we reached a fairly +level piece of ground I made Anscombe lie down on the cartel of the wagon and +examined his wound as well as circumstances would allow. I found that the +bullet or whatever the missile may have been, had gone through his right instep +just beneath the big sinew, but so far as I could judge without injuring any +bone. There was nothing to be done except rub in some carbolic ointment, which +fortunately he had in his medicine chest, and bind up the wound as best I could +with a clean handkerchief, after which I tied a towel, that was <i>not</i> +clean, over the whole foot. +</p> + +<p> +By this time evening was coming on, so we ate of such as we had with us, which +we needed badly enough, without stopping the wagon. I remember that it +consisted of cheese and hard biscuits. At dark we were obliged to halt a little +by a stream until the moon rose, which fortunately she did very soon, as she +was only just past her full. As soon as she was up we started again, and with a +breathing space or two, trekked all that night, which I spent seated on the +after part of the wagon and keeping a sharp look out, while, notwithstanding +the roughness of the road and his hurt, Anscombe slept like a child upon the +cartel inside. +</p> + +<p> +I was very tired, so tired that the fear of surprise was the only thing that +kept me awake, and I recall reflecting in a stupid kind of way, that it seemed +always to have been my lot in life to watch thus, in one sense or another, +while others slept. +</p> + +<p> +The night passed somehow without anything happening, and at dawn we halted for +a while to water the oxen, which we did with buckets, and let them eat what +grass they could reach from their yokes, since we did not dare to outspan them. +Just as we were starting on again the voortrekker, whom I had set to watch at a +little distance, ran up with his eyes bulging out of his head, and reported +that he had seen a Basuto with an assegai hanging about in the bush, as though +to keep touch with us, after which we delayed no more. +</p> + +<p> +All that day we blundered on, thrashing the weary cattle that at every halt +tried to lie down, and by nightfall came to the outspan near to the house +called the Temple, where we had met the Kaffirs returning from the diamond +fields. This journey we had accomplished in exactly half the time it had taken +on the outward trip. Here we were obliged to stop, as our team must have rest +and food. So we outspanned and slept that night without much fear, since I +thought it most improbable that the Basutos would attempt to follow us so far, +as we were now within a day’s trek of Pilgrim’s Rest, whither we +proposed to proceed on the morrow. But that is just where I made a mistake. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +DOCTOR RODD</h2> + +<p> +I did get a little sleep that night, with one eye open, but before dawn I was +up again seeing to the feeding of our remaining horse with some mealies that we +carried, and other matters. The oxen we had been obliged to unyoke that they +might fill themselves with grass and water, since otherwise I feared that we +should never get them on to their feet again. As it was, the poor brutes were +so tired that some of them could scarcely eat, and all lay down at the first +opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +Having awakened Footsack and the other boys that they might be ready to take +advantage of the light when it came, for I was anxious to be away, I drank a +nip of Hollands and water and ate a biscuit, making Anscombe do the same. +Coffee would have been more acceptable, but I thought it wiser not to light a +fire for fear of showing our whereabouts. +</p> + +<p> +Now a faint glimmer in the east told me that the dawn was coming. Just by the +wagon grew a fair-sized, green-leaved tree, and as it was quite easy to climb +even by starlight, up it I went so as to get above the ground mist and take a +look round before we trekked. Presently the sky grew pearly and light began to +gather; then the edge of the sun appeared, throwing long level rays across the +world. Everywhere the mist lay dense as cotton wool, except at one spot about a +mile behind us where there was a little hill or rather a wave of the ground, +over which we had trekked upon the preceding evening. The top of this rise was +above mist level, and on it no trees grew because the granite came to the +surface. Having discovered nothing, I called to the boys to drive up the oxen, +some of which had risen and were eating again, and prepared to descend from my +tree. +</p> + +<p> +As I did so, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of something that +glittered far away, so far that it would only have attracted the notice of a +trained hunter. Yes, something was shining on the brow of the rise of which I +have spoken. I stared at it through my glasses and saw what I had feared to +see. A body of natives was crossing the rise and the glitter was caused by the +rays of dawn striking on their spears and gun-barrels. +</p> + +<p> +I came down out of that tree like a frightened wild cat and ran to the wagon, +thinking hard as I went. The Basutos were after us, meaning to attack as soon +as there was sufficient light. In ten minutes or less they would be here. There +was no time to inspan the oxen, and even if there had been, stiff and weary as +the beasts were, we should be overtaken before we had gone a hundred yards on +that bad road. What then was to be done? Run for it? It was impossible, +Anscombe could not run. My eye fell upon the horse munching the last of his +mealies. +</p> + +<p> +“Footsack,” I said as quietly as I could, “never mind about +inspanning yet, but saddle up the horse. Be quick now.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me doubtfully, but obeyed, having seen nothing. If he had seen I +knew that he would have been off. I nipped round to the end of the wagon, +calling to the other two boys to let the oxen be a while and come to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Anscombe,” I said, “hand out the rifles and cartridges. +Don’t stop to ask questions, but do what I tell you. They are on the rack +by your side. So. Now put on your revolver and let me help you down. Man, +don’t forget your hat.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed quickly enough, and presently was standing on one leg by my side, +looking cramped and tottery. +</p> + +<p> +“The Basutos are on us,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +He whistled and remarked something about Chapter No. 2. +</p> + +<p> +“Footsack,” I called, “bring the horse here; the Baas wishes +to ride a little to ease his leg.” +</p> + +<p> +He did so, stopping a moment to pull the second girth tight. Then we helped +Anscombe into the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at the long slope in front of us. It was steep and bad going. Anscombe +might get up it on the horse before the Kaffirs overtook us, but it was +extremely problematical if we could do so. I might perhaps if I mounted behind +him and the horse could bear us both, which was doubtful, but how about our +poor servants? He saw the doubt upon my face and said in his quiet way, +</p> + +<p> +“You may remember that our white-bearded friend told us to make straight +for his place in case of any difficulty with the Basutos. It seems to have +arisen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know he did,” I answered, “but I cannot make up my mind +which is the more dangerous, Marnham or the Basutos. I rather think that he set +them on to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible to solve problems at this hour of the morning, +Quatermain, and there is no time to toss. So I vote for the Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems our best chance. At any rate that’s your choice, so +let’s go.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I sang out to the Kaffirs, “The Basutos are on us. We go to Tampel +for refuge. Run!” +</p> + +<p> +My word! they did run. I never saw athletes make better time over the first +quarter of a mile. We ran, too, or at least the horse did, I hanging on to the +stirrup and Anscombe holding both the rifles beneath his arm. But the beast was +tired, also blown out with that morning feed of mealies, so our progress was +not very fast. When we were about two hundred yards from the wagon I looked +back and saw the Basutos beginning to arrive. They saw us also, and uttering a +sort of whistling war cry, started in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +After this we had quite an interesting time. I scrambled on to the horse behind +Anscombe, whereon that intelligent animal, feeling the double weight, reduced +its pace proportionately, to a slow tripple, indeed, out of which it could not +be persuaded to move. So I slipped off again over its tail and we went on as +before. Meanwhile the Basutos, very active fellows, were coming up. By this +time the yellow-wood grove in the swamp, of which I have already written, was +close to us, and it became quite a question which of us would get there first +(I may mention that Footsack & Co. had already attained its friendly +shelter). Anscombe kicked the horse with his sound heel and I thumped it with +my fist, thereby persuading it to a hand gallop. +</p> + +<p> +As we reached the outlying trees of the wood the first Basuto, a lank fellow +with a mouth like a rat trap, arrived and threw an assegai at us which passed +between Anscombe’s back and my nose. Then he closed and tried to stab +with another assegai. I could do nothing, but Anscombe showed himself cleverer +than I expected. Dropping the reins, he drew his pistol and managed to send a +bullet through that child of nature’s head, so that he went down like a +stone. +</p> + +<p> +“And you tell me I am a bad shot,” he drawled. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a fluke,” I gasped, for even in these circumstances truth +would prevail. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait and you’ll see,” he replied, re-cocking the revolver. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact there was no need for more shooting, since at the verge of +the swamp the Basutos pulled up. I do not think that the death of their +companion caused them to do this, for they seemed to take no notice of him. It +was as though they had reached some boundary which they knew it would not be +lawful for them to pass. They simply stopped, took the dead man’s assegai +and shield from the body and walked quietly back towards the wagon, leaving him +where he lay. The horse stopped also, or rather proceeded at a walk. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” exclaimed Anscombe. “Did I not tell you I had a +presentiment that I should kill a man in this accursed wood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I said as soon as I had recovered my breath, “but you +mixed up a woman with the matter and I don’t see one.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” he replied, “I hope we shan’t meet +her later.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we went on as quickly as we could, which was not very fast, for I feared +lest the Basutos should change their minds and follow us. As the risk of this +became less our spirits rose, since if we had lost the wagon and the oxen, at +least we had saved our lives, which was almost more than we could have expected +in the circumstances. At last we came to that glade where we had killed the +wildebeeste not a week before. There lay its skeleton picked clean by the great +brown kites that frequent the bush-veld, some of which still sat about in the +trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose we must go on to Tampel,” said Anscombe rather +faintly, for I could see that his wound was giving him a good deal of pain. +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke from round the tree whence he had first emerged, appeared Mr. +Marnham, riding the same horse and wearing the same clothes. The only +difference between his two entries was that the first took place in the late +evening and the second in the early morning. +</p> + +<p> +“So here you are again,” he said cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, “and it is strange to meet you at the same +spot. Were you expecting us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not more than I expect many things,” he replied with a shrewd +glance at me, adding, “I always rise with the sun, and thinking that I +heard a shot fired in the distance, came to see what was happening. The Basutos +attacked you at daybreak, did they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“They did, but how did you know that, Mr. Marnham?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your servants told me. I met them running to the house looking very +frightened. You are wounded, Mr. Anscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a couple of days ago on the border of Sekukuni’s country +where the natives tried to murder us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he replied without surprise. “I warned you the trip was +dangerous, did I not? Well, come on home where my partner, Rodd, who luckily +has had medical experience, will attend to you. Mr. Quatermain can tell me the +story as we go.” +</p> + +<p> +So we went on up the long slope, I relating our adventures, to which Mr. +Marnham listened without comment. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect that the Kaffirs will have looted the wagon and be on the way +home with your oxen by now,” he said when I had finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not afraid that they will follow us here?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, Mr. Quatermain. We do business with these people, also they +sometimes come to be doctored by Rodd when they are sick, so this place is +sacred ground to them. They stopped hunting you when they got to the +Yellow-wood swamp where our land begins, did they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but now I want to hunt them. Can you give me any help? Those oxen +are tired out and footsore, so we might be able to catch them up.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “We have very few people here, and by the time that +you could get assistance from the Camp at Barberton, if the Commandant is able +and willing to give you any, which I rather doubt, they will be far away. +Moreover,” he added, dropping his voice, “let us come to an +understanding. You are most welcome to any help or hospitality that I can +offer, but if you wish to do more fighting I must ask you to go elsewhere. As I +have told you, we are peaceful men who trade with these people, and do not wish +to be involved in a quarrel with them, which might expose us to attack or bring +us into trouble with the British Government which has annexed but not conquered +their country. Do I make myself clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly. While we are with you we will do nothing, but afterwards we +hold ourselves at liberty to act as we think best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so. Meanwhile I hope that you and Mr. Anscombe will make +yourselves comfortable with us for as long as you like.” +</p> + +<p> +In my own mind I came to the conclusion that this would be for the shortest +time possible, but I only said— +</p> + +<p> +“It is most kind of you to take in complete strangers thus. No, not +complete,” I added, looking towards Anscombe who was following on the +tired horse a few paces behind, “for you knew his father, did you +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“His father?” he said, lifting his eyebrows. “No. Oh! I +remember, I said something to that effect the other night, but it was a +mistake. I mixed up two names, as one often does after a lapse of many +years.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” I answered, but remembering Anscombe’s story +I reflected to myself that our venerable host was an excellent liar. Or more +probably he meant to convey that he wished the subject of his youthful +reminiscences to be taboo. +</p> + +<p> +Just then we reached the house which had a pretty patch of well-kept +flower-garden in front of it, surrounded by a fence covered with wire netting +to keep out buck. By the gate squatted our three retainers, looking very blown +and rather ashamed of themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“Your master wishes to thank you for your help in a dark hour, Footsack, +and I wish to congratulate you all upon the swiftness of your feet,” I +said in Dutch. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Baas, the Basutos were many and their spears are sharp,” he +began apologetically. +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent, you running dog,” I said, “and go help your +master to dismount.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we went through the gate, Anscombe leaning on my shoulder and on that of +Mr. Marnham, and up the path which was bordered with fences of the monthly +rose, towards the house. Really this was almost as charming to look at near at +hand as it had been from far away. Of course the whole thing was crude in +detail. Rough, half-shaped blocks of marble from the neighbouring quarry had +been built into walls and columns. Nothing was finished, and considered bit by +bit all was coarse and ugly. Yet the general effect was beautiful because it +was an effect of design, the picture of an artist who did not fully understand +the technicalities of painting, the work of a great writer who had as yet no +proper skill in words. Never did I see a small building that struck me more. +But then what experience have I of buildings, and, as Anscombe reminded me +afterwards, it was but a copy of something designed when the world was young, +or rather when civilization was young, and man new risen from the infinite ages +of savagery, saw beauty in his dreams and tried to symbolize it in shapes of +stone. +</p> + +<p> +We came to the broad stoep, to which several rough blocks of marble served as +steps. On it in a long chair made of native wood and seated with hide rimpis, +sat or rather lolled a man in a dressing-gown who was reading a book. He raised +himself as we came and the light of the sun, for the verandah faced to the +east, shone full upon his face, so that I saw him well. It was that of a man of +something under forty years of age, dark, powerful, and weary—not a good +face, I thought. Indeed, it gave me the impression of one who had allowed the +evil which exists in the nature of all of us to become his master, or had even +encouraged it to do so. +</p> + +<p> +In the Psalms and elsewhere we are always reading of the righteous and the +unrighteous until those terms grow wearisome. It is only of late years that I +have discovered, or think that I have discovered, what they mean. Our lives +cannot be judged by our deeds; they must be judged by our desires or rather by +our moral attitude. It is not what we do so much as what we try to do that +counts in the formation of character. All fall short, all fail, but in the end +those who seek to climb out of the pit, those who strive, however vainly, to +fashion failure to success, are, by comparison, the righteous, while those who +are content to wallow in our native mire and to glut themselves with the daily +bread of vice, are the unrighteous. To turn our backs thereon wilfully and +without cause, is the real unforgiveable sin against the Spirit. At least that +is the best definition of the problem at which I in my simplicity can arrive. +</p> + +<p> +Such thoughts have often occurred to me in considering the character of Dr. +Rodd and some others whom I have known; indeed the germ of them arose in my +mind which, being wearied at the time and therefore somewhat vacant, was +perhaps the more open to external impressions, as I looked upon the face of +this stranger on the stoep. Moreover, as I am proud to record, I did not judge +him altogether wrongly. He was a blackguard who, under other influences or with +a few added grains of self-restraint and of the power of recovery, might have +become a good or even a saintly man. But by some malice of Fate or some evil +inheritance from an unknown past, those grains were lacking, and therefore he +went not up but down the hill. +</p> + +<p> +“Case for you, Rodd,” called out Marnham. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” he answered, getting to his feet and speaking in a full +voice, which, like his partner’s, was that of an educated Englishman. +“What’s the matter. Horse accident?” +</p> + +<p> +Then we were introduced, and Anscombe began to explain his injury. +</p> + +<p> +“Um!” said the doctor, studying him with dark eyes. “Kaffir +bullet through the foot some days ago. Ought to be attended to at once. Also +you look pretty done, so don’t tire yourself with the story, which I can +get from Mr. Quatermain. Come and lie down and I’ll have a look at you +while they are cooking breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he guided us to a room of which the double French windows opened on to the +stoep, a very pretty room with two beds in it. Making Anscombe lie down on one +of these he turned up his trouser, undid my rough bandage and examined the +wound. +</p> + +<p> +“Painful?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” answered Anscombe, “right up to the thigh.” +</p> + +<p> +After this he drew off the nether garments and made a further examination. +</p> + +<p> +“Um,” he said again, “I must syringe this out. Stay still +while I get some stuff.” +</p> + +<p> +I followed him from the room, and when we were out of hearing on the stoep +inquired what he thought. I did not like the look of that leg. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very bad,” he answered, “so bad that I am wondering if +it wouldn’t be best to remove the limb below the knee and make it a job. +You can see for yourself that it is septic and the inflammation is spreading up +rapidly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Heavens!” I exclaimed, “do you fear +mortification?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. “Can’t say what was on that slug or bit of old iron and +he hasn’t had the best chance since. Mortification, or tetanus, or both, +are more than possible. Is he a temperate man?” +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I know,” I answered, and stared at him while he thought. +Then he said with decision, +</p> + +<p> +“That makes a difference. To lose a foot is a serious thing; some might +think almost as bad as death. I’ll give him a chance, but if those +symptoms do not abate in twenty-four hours, I must operate. You needn’t +be afraid, I was house surgeon at a London Hospital—once, and I keep my +hand in. Lucky you came straight here.” +</p> + +<p> +Having made his preparations and washed his hands, he returned, syringed the +wound with some antiseptic stuff, and dressed and bandaged the leg up to the +knee. After this he gave Anscombe hot milk to drink, with two eggs broken into +it, and told him to rest a while as he must not eat anything solid at present. +Then he threw a blanket over him, and, signing to me to come away, let down a +mat over the window. +</p> + +<p> +“I put a little something into that milk,” he said outside, +“which will send him to sleep for a few hours. So we will leave him +quiet. Now you’ll want a wash.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going to take Mr. Quatermain?” asked Marnham who was +seated on the stoep. +</p> + +<p> +“Into my room,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? There’s Heda’s ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heda might return at any moment,” replied the doctor. “Also +Mr. Quatermain had better sleep in Mr. Anscombe’s room. He will very +likely want some one to look after him at night.” +</p> + +<p> +Marnham opened his mouth to speak again, then changed his mind and was silent, +as a servant is silent under rebuke. The incident was quite trifling, yet it +revealed to me the relative attitude of these two men. Without a doubt Rodd was +the master of his partner, who did not even care to dispute with him about the +matter of the use of his daughter’s bedroom. They were a queer couple +who, had it not been for my anxiety as to Anscombe’s illness, would have +interested me very much, as indeed they were destined to do. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I went to tidy up in the doctor’s room, and as he left me alone +while I washed, had the opportunity of studying it a little. Like the rest of +the house it was lined with native wood which was made to serve as the backs of +bookshelves and of cupboards filled with medicines and instruments. The books +formed a queer collection. There were medical works, philosophical works, +histories, novels, most of them French, and other volumes of a sort that I +imagine are generally kept under lock and key; also some that had to do with +occult matters. There was even a Bible. I opened it thoughtlessly, half in idle +curiosity, to see whether it was ever used, only to replace it in haste. For at +the very page that my eye fell on, I remember it was one of my favourite +chapters in Isaiah, was a stamp in violet ink marked H. M.‘s +Prison—well, I won’t say where. +</p> + +<p> +I may state, however, that the clue enabled me in after years to learn an +episode in this man’s life which had brought about his ruin. There is no +need to repeat it or to say more than that gambling and an evil use of his +medical knowledge to provide the money to pay his debts, were the cause of his +fall. The strange thing is that he should have kept the book which had probably +been given to him by the prison chaplain. Still everybody makes mistakes +sometimes. Or it may have had associations for him, and of course he had never +seen this stamp upon an unread page, which happened to leap to my eye. +</p> + +<p> +Now I was able to make a shrewd guess at his later career. After his trouble he +had emigrated and began to practise in South Africa. Somehow his identity had +been discovered; his past was dragged up against him, possibly by rivals +jealous of his skill; his business went and he found it advisable to retire to +the Transvaal before the Annexation, at that time the home of sundry people of +broken repute. Even there he did not stop in a town, but hid himself upon the +edge of savagery. Here he foregathered with another man of queer character, +Marnham, and in his company entered upon some doubtful but lucrative form of +trade while still indulging his love of medicine by doctoring and operating +upon natives, over whom he would in this way acquire great influence. Indeed, +as I discovered before the day was over, he had quite a little hospital at the +back of the house in which were four or five beds occupied by Kaffirs and +served by two male native nurses whom he had trained. Also numbers of +out-patients visited him, some of whom travelled from great distances, and +occasionally, but not often, he attended white people who chanced to be in the +neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +The three of us breakfasted in a really charming room from the window of which +could be studied a view as beautiful as any I know. The Kaffirs who waited were +well trained and dressed in neat linen uniforms. The cooking was good; there +was real silver on the table, then a strange sight in that part of Africa, and +amongst engravings and other pictures upon the walls, hung an oil portrait of a +very beautiful young woman with dark hair and eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that your daughter, Mr. Marnham?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied rather shortly, “it is her mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately afterwards he was called from the room to speak to some one, +whereon the doctor said— +</p> + +<p> +“A foreigner as you see, a Hungarian; the Hungarian women are very good +looking and very charming.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I have understood,” I answered, “but does this lady live +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no. She is dead, or I believe that she is dead. I am not sure, +because I make it a rule never to pry into people’s private affairs. All +I know about her is that she was a beauty whom Marnham married late in life +upon the Continent when she was but eighteen. As is common in such cases he was +very jealous of her, but it didn’t last long, as she died, or I +understand that she died, within a year of her daughter’s birth. The loss +affected him so much that he emigrated to South Africa with the child and began +life anew. I do not think that they correspond with Hungary, and he never +speaks of her even to his daughter, which suggests that she is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +I reflected that all these circumstances might equally well suggest several +other things, but said nothing, thinking it wisest not to pursue the subject. +Presently Marnham returned and informed me that a native had just brought him +word that the Basutos had made off homeward with our cattle, but had left the +wagon and its contents quite untouched, not even stealing the spare guns and +ammunition. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s luck,” I said, astonished, “but extremely +strange. How do you explain it, Mr. Marnham?” +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“As every one knows, you are a much greater expert in native habits and +customs than I am, Mr. Quatermain.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are only two things that I can think of,” I said. “One +is that for some reason or other they thought the wagon tagati, bewitched you +know, and that it would bring evil on them to touch it, though this did not +apply to the oxen. The other is that they supposed it, but not the oxen, to +belong to some friend of their own whose property they did not wish to +injure.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me sharply but said nothing, and I went on to tell them the +details of the attack that had been made upon us, adding— +</p> + +<p> +“The odd part of the affair is that one of those Basutos called out to us +that some infernal scoundrel of a white had warned Sekukuni of our coming and +that he had ordered them to take our guns and cattle. This Basuto, who was +wounded and praying for mercy, was drowned before he could tell me who the +white man was.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Boer, I expect,” said Marnham quietly. “As you know they +are not particularly well affected towards us English just now. Also I happen +to be aware that some of them are intriguing with Sekukuni against the British +through Makurupiji, his ‘Mouth’ or prime-minister, a very clever +old scamp who likes to have two stools to sit on.” +</p> + +<p> +“And doubtless will end by falling between them. Well, you see, now that +I think of it, the wounded Kaffir only said that they were ordered to take our +guns and oxen, and incidentally our lives. The wagon was not mentioned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Mr. Quatermain. I will send some of our boys to help your +servants to bring everything it contains up here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you lend me a team of oxen,” I asked, “to drag +it to the house?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we have nothing but young cattle left. Both red-water and +lung-sickness have been so bad this season that all the horned stock have been +swept out of the country. I doubt whether you could beg, borrow or steal a team +of oxen this side of Pretoria, except from some of the Dutchmen who won’t +part.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s awkward. I hoped to be able to trek in a day or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your friend won’t be able to trek for a good many days at the +best,” broke in the doctor, who had been listening unconcernedly, +“but of course you could get away on the horse after it has +rested.” +</p> + +<p> +“You told me you left a span of oxen at Pretoria,” said Marnham. +“Why not go and fetch them here, or if you don’t like to leave Mr. +Anscombe, send your driver and the boys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks for the idea. I will think it over,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +That morning after Footsack and the voorlooper had been sent with some of the +servants from the Temple to fetch up the contents of the wagon, for I was too +tired to accompany them, having found that Anscombe was still asleep, I +determined to follow his example. Finding a long chair on the stoep, I sat down +and slumbered in it sweetly for hours. I dreamt of all sorts of things, then +through my dreams it seemed to me that I heard two voices talking, those of our +Marnham and Rodd, not on the stoep, but at a distance from it. As a matter of +fact they were talking, but so far away that in my ordinary waking state I +could never have heard them. My own belief is that the senses, and I may add +the semi-spiritual part of us, are much more acute when we lie half bound in +the bonds of sleep, than when we are what is called wide awake. Doubtless when +we are quite bound they attain the limits of their power and, I think, sail at +times to the uttermost ends of being. But unhappily of their experiences we +remember nothing when we awake. In half sleep it is different; then we do +retain some recollection. +</p> + +<p> +In this curious condition of mind it seemed to me that Rodd said to +Marnham— +</p> + +<p> +“Why have you brought these men here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not bring them here,” he answered. “Luck, Fate, +Fortune, God or the Devil, call it what you will, brought them here, though if +you had your wish, it is true they would never have come. Still, as they have +come, I am glad. It is something to me, living in this hell, to get a chance of +talking to English gentlemen again before I die.” +</p> + +<p> +“English gentlemen,” remarked Rodd reflectively, “Well, +Anscombe is of course, but how about that other hunter? After all, in what way +is he better than the scores of other hunters and Kaffir traders and wanderers +whom one meets in this strange land?” +</p> + +<p> +“In what way indeed?” thought I to myself, in my dream. +</p> + +<p> +“If you can’t see, I can’t explain to you. But as I happen to +know, the man is of blood as good as mine—and a great deal better than +yours,” he added with a touch of insolence. “Moreover, he has an +honest name among white and black, which is much in this country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the doctor in the same reflective voice, “I +agree with you, I let him pass as a gentleman. But I repeat, Why did you bring +them here when with one more word it would have been so easy—” and +he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you, it was not I. What are you driving at?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it is exactly convenient, especially when we are under the +British flag again, to have two people who, we both admit, are English +gentlemen, that is, clean, clear-eyed men, considering us and our affairs for +an indefinite period, just because you wish for the pleasure of their society? +Would it not have been better to tell those Basutos to let them trek on to +Pretoria?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what would have been better. I repeat, what are you +driving at? +</p> + +<p> +“Heda is coming home in a day or two; she might be here any time,” +remarked Rodd as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, because you made me write and say that I wanted her. But what of +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing in particular, except that I am not sure that I wish her to +associate with ‘an English gentleman’ like this Anscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +Marnham laughed scornfully. “Ah! I understand,” he said. “Too +clean and straight. Complications might ensue and the rest of it. Well, I wish +to God they would, for I know the Anscombes, or used to, and I know the genus +called Rodd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be insulting; you may carry the thing too far one day, and +whatever I have done I have paid for. But you’ve not +paid—yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“The man is very ill. You are a skilled doctor. If you’re afraid of +him, why don’t you kill him?” asked Marnham with bitter scorn. +</p> + +<p> +“There you have me,” replied Rodd. “Men may shed much, but +most of them never shed their professional honour. I shall do my honest best to +cure Mr. Anscombe, and I tell you that he will take some curing.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Then I woke up, and as no one was in sight, wondered whether or no I had been +dreaming. The upshot of it was that I made up my mind to send Footsack to +Pretoria for the oxen, not to go myself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +A GAME OF CARDS</h2> + +<p> +I slept in Anscombe’s room that night and looked after him. He was very +feverish and the pain in his leg kept him awake a good deal. He told me that he +could not bear Dr. Rodd and wished to get away at once. I had to explain to him +that this was impossible until his spare oxen arrived which I was going to send +for to Pretoria, but of other matters, including that of the dangerous state of +his foot, I said nothing. I was thankful when towards two in the morning, he +fell into a sound sleep and allowed me to do the same. +</p> + +<p> +Before breakfast time, just as I had finished dressing myself in some of the +clean things which had been brought from the wagon, Rodd came and made a +thorough and business-like examination of his patient, while I awaited the +result with anxiety on the stoep. At length he appeared and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think that we shall be able to save the foot, though I +can’t be quite sure for another twenty-four hours. The worst symptoms +have abated and his temperature is down by two degrees. Anyway he will have to +stay in bed and live on light food till it is normal, after which he might lie +in a long chair on the stoep. On no account must he attempt to stand.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him for his information heartily enough and asked him if he knew +where Marnham was, as I wanted to speak to him with reference to the despatch +of Footsack to fetch the oxen from Pretoria. +</p> + +<p> +“Not up yet, I think,” he answered. “I fancy that yesterday +was one of his ‘wet’ nights, excitement of meeting strangers and so +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wet nights?” I queried, wishing for a clearer explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he is a grand old fellow, one of the best, but like most other +people he has his little weaknesses, and when the fit is on him he can put away +a surprising amount of liquor. I tell you so that you should not be astonished +if you notice anything, or try to argue with him when he is in that state, as +then his temper is apt to be—well, lively. Now I must go and give him a +pint of warm milk; that is his favourite antidote, and in fact the best there +is.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought to myself that we had struck a nice establishment in which to be +tied, literally by the leg, for an indefinite period. I was not particularly +flush at the time, but I know I would have paid a £100 to be out of it; before +the end I should have been glad to throw in everything that I had. But +mercifully that was hidden from me. +</p> + +<p> +Rodd and I breakfasted together and discoursed of Kaffir customs, as to which +he was singularly well informed. Then I accompanied him to see his native +patients in the little hospital of which I have spoken. Believing the man to be +a thorough scamp as I did, it was astonishing to me to note how gentle and +forbearing he was to these people. Of his skill I need say nothing, as that was +evident. He was going to perform an internal operation upon a burly old savage, +rather a serious one I believe; at any rate it necessitated chloroform. He +asked me if I would like to assist, but I declined respectfully, having no +taste for such things. So I left him boiling his instruments and putting on +what looked like a clean nightgown over his clothes, and returned to the stoep. +</p> + +<p> +Here I found Marnham, whose eyes were rather bloodshot, though otherwise, +except for a shaky hand, he seemed right enough. He murmured something about +having overslept himself and inquired very politely, for his manners were +beautiful, after Anscombe and as to whether we were quite comfortable and so +forth. After this I consulted him as to the best road for our servants to +travel by to Pretoria, and later on despatched them, giving Footsack various +notes to ensure the delivery of the oxen to him. Also I gave him some money to +pay for their keep and told him with many threats to get back with the beasts +as quick as he could travel. Then I sent him and the two other boys off, not +without misgivings, although he was an experienced man in his way and promised +faithfully to fulfil every injunction to the letter. To me he seemed so +curiously glad to go that I inquired the reason, since after a journey like +ours, it would have been more natural if he had wished to rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Baas,” he said, “I don’t think this Tampel very +healthy for coloured people. I am told of some who have died here. That man +Karl who gave me the diamond, I think he must have died also, at least I saw +his spook last night standing over me and shaking his head, and the boys saw it +too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! be off with your talk of spooks,” I said, “and come back +quickly with those oxen, or I promise you that you will die and be a spook +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, Baas, I will!” he ejaculated and departed almost at a run, +leaving me rather uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +I believed nothing of the tale of the spook of Karl, but I saw that Footsack +believed in it, and was afraid lest he might be thereby prevented from +returning. I would much rather have gone myself, but it was impossible for me +to leave Anscombe so ill in the hands of our strange hosts. And there was no +one else whom I could send. I might perhaps have ridden to Pilgrim’s Rest +and tried to find a white messenger there; indeed afterwards I regretted not +having done so, although it would have involved at least a day’s absence +at a very critical time. But the truth is I never thought of it until too late, +and probably if I had, I should not have been able to discover anyone whom I +could trust. +</p> + +<p> +As I walked back to the house, having parted from Footsack on the top of a +neighbouring ridge whence I could point out his path to him, I met Marnham +riding away. He pulled up and said that he was going down to the Granite stream +to arrange about setting some one up to watch the wagon. I expressed sorrow +that he should have the trouble, which should have been mine if I could have +got away, whereon he answered that he was glad of the opportunity for a ride, +as it was something to do. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you fill in your time here,” I asked carelessly, “as +you don’t farm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! by trading,” he replied, and with a nod set his horse to a +canter. +</p> + +<p> +A queer sort of trading, thought I to myself, where there is no store. Now what +exactly does he trade in, I wonder? +</p> + +<p> +As it happened I was destined to find out before I was an hour older. Having +given Anscombe a look and found that he was comfortable, I thought that I would +inspect the quarry whence the marble came of which the house was built, as it +had occurred to me that if there was plenty of it, it might be worth exploiting +some time in the future. It had been pointed out to me in the midst of some +thorns in a gully that ran at right angles to the main kloof not more than a +few hundred yards from the house. Following a path over which the stones had +been dragged originally, I came to the spot and discovered that a little cavity +had been quarried in what seemed to me to be a positive mountain of pure white +marble. I examined the place as thoroughly as I could, climbing among some +bushes that grew in surface earth which had been washed down from the top, in +order to do so. +</p> + +<p> +At the back of these bushes there was a hole large enough for a man to creep +through. I crept through with the object of ascertaining whether the marble +veins continued. To my surprise I found a stout yellow-wood door within feet of +the mouth of the hole. Reflecting that no doubt it was here that the quarrymen +kept, or had kept tools and explosives, I gave it a push. I suppose it had been +left unfastened accidentally, or that something had gone wrong with the lock; +at any rate it swung open. Pursuing my researches as to the depth of the marble +I advanced boldly and, the place being dark, struck a match. Evidently the +marble did continue, as I could see by the glittering roof of a cavern, for +such it was. But the floor attracted my attention as well as the roof, for on +it were numerous cases not unlike coffins, bearing the stamp of a well-known +Birmingham firm, labelled “fencing iron” and addressed to Messrs. +Marnham & Rodd, Transvaal, <i>via</i> Delagoa Bay. +</p> + +<p> +I knew at once what they were, having seen the like before, but if any doubt +remained in my mind it was easy to solve, for as it chanced one of the cases +was open and half emptied. I slipped my hand into it. As I thought it contained +the ordinary Kaffir gun of commerce, cost delivered in Africa, say 35s.; cost +delivered to native chief in cash or cattle, say £10, which, when the market is +eager, allows for a decent profit. Contemplating those cases, survivors +probably of a much larger stock, I understood how it came about that Sekukuni +had dared to show fight against the Government. Doubtless it was hence that the +guns had come which sent a bullet through Anscombe’s foot and nearly +polished off both of us. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, as further matches showed me, that cave contained other +stores—item, kegs of gunpowder; item, casks of cheap spirit; item, bars +of lead, also a box marked “bullet moulds” and another marked +“Percussion caps.” I think, too, there were some innocent bags full +of beads and a few packages of Birmingham-made assegai blades. There may have +been other things, but if so I did not wait to investigate them. Gathering up +the ends of my matches and, in case there should be any dust in the place that +would show footmarks, flapping the stone floor behind me with my pocket +handkerchief, I retired and continued my investigations of that wonderful +marble deposit from the bottom of the quarry, to which, having re-arranged the +bushes, I descended by another route, leaping like a buck from stone to stone. +</p> + +<p> +It was just as well that I did so, for a few minutes later Dr. Rodd appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Made a good job of your operation?” I asked cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty fair, thanks,” he answered, “although that Kaffir +tried to brain the nurse-man when he was coming out of the anæsthetic. But are +you interested in geology?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little,” I replied, “that is if there is any chance of +making money out of it, which there ought to be here, as this marble looks +almost as good as that of Carrara. But flint instruments are more my line, that +is in an ignorant and amateur way, as I think they are in yours, for I saw some +in your room. Tell me, what do you think of this. Is it a scraper?” and I +produced a stone out of my pocket which I had found a week before in the +bush-veld. +</p> + +<p> +At once he forgot his suspicions, of which I could see he arrived very full +indeed. This curious man, as it happened, was really fond of flint instruments, +of which he knew a great deal. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you find this here?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I led him several yards further from the mouth of the cave and pointed out the +exact spot where I said I had picked it up amongst some quarry debris. Then +followed a most learned discussion, for it appeared that this was a flint +instrument of the rarest and most valuable type, one that Noah might have used, +or Job might have scraped himself with, and the question was how the dickens +had it come among that quarry debris. In the end we left the problem undecided, +and having presented the article to Dr. Rodd, a gift for which he thanked me +with real warmth, I returned to the house filled with the glow that rewards one +who has made a valuable discovery. +</p> + +<p> +Of the following three days I have nothing particular to say, except that +during them I was perhaps more acutely bored than ever I had been in my life +before. The house was beautiful in its own fashion; the food was excellent; +there was everything I could want to drink, and Rodd announced that he no +longer feared the necessity of operation upon Anscombe’s leg. His +recovery was now a mere matter of time, and meanwhile he must not use his foot +or let the blood run into it more than could be helped, which meant that he +must keep himself in a recumbent position. The trouble was that I had nothing +on earth to do except study the characters of our hosts, which I found +disagreeable and depressing. I might have gone out shooting, but nothing of the +sort was allowed upon the property in obedience to the wish of Miss Heda, a +mysterious young person who was always expected and never appeared, and beyond +it I was afraid to travel for fear of Basutos. I might have gone to +Pilgrim’s Rest or Lydenburg to make report of the nefarious deeds of the +said Basutos, but at best it would have taken one or two days, and possibly I +should have been detained by officials who never consider any one’s time +except their own. +</p> + +<p> +This meant that I should have been obliged to leave Anscombe alone, which I did +not wish to do, so I just sat still and, as I have said, was intensely bored, +hanging about the place and smoking more than was good for me. +</p> + +<p> +In due course Anscombe emerged on to the stoep, where he lay with his leg up, +and was also bored, especially after he had tried to pump old Marnham about his +past in the Guards and completely failed. It was in this mood of utter +dejection that we agreed to play a game of cards one evening. Not that either +of us cared for cards; indeed, personally, I have always detested them because, +with various-coloured counters to represent money which never passed, they had +formed one of the afflictions of my youth. +</p> + +<p> +It was so annoying if you won, to be handed a number of green counters and be +informed that they represented so many hundreds or thousands of pounds, or +vice-versa if you lost, for as it cost no one anything, my dear father insisted +upon playing for enormous stakes. Never in any aspect of life have I cared for +fooling. Anscombe also disliked cards, I think because his ancestors too had +played with counters, such as some that I have seen belonging to the Cocoa-Tree +Club and other gambling places of a past generation, marked as high as a +thousand guineas, which counters must next morning be redeemed in hard cash, +whereby his family had been not a little impoverished. +</p> + +<p> +“I fancy you will find they are high-fliers,” he said when the pair +had left to fetch a suitable table, for the night being very hot we were going +to play on the stoep by the light of the hanging paraffin lamp and some +candles. I replied to the effect that I could not afford to lose large sums of +money, especially to men who for aught I knew might then be engaged in marking +the cards. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” he answered. “Don’t you bother about +that, old fellow. This is my affair, arranged for my special amusement. I +shan’t grumble if the fun costs something, for I am sure there will be +fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” I said, “only if we should happen to win money, +it’s yours, not mine.” +</p> + +<p> +To myself I reflected, however, that with these two opponents we had about as +much chance of winning as a snowflake has of resisting the atmosphere of the +lower regions. +</p> + +<p> +Presently they returned with the table, which had a green cloth over it that +hung down half-way to the ground. Also one of the native boys brought a tray +with spirits, from which I judged by various signs, old Marnham, who had +already drunk his share at dinner, had helped himself freely on the way. Soon +we were arranged, Anscombe, who was to be my partner, opposite to me in his +long chair, and the game began. +</p> + +<p> +I forget what particular variant of cards it was we played, though I know it +admitted of high and progressive stakes. At first, however, these were quite +moderate and we won, as I suppose we were meant to do. After half an hour or so +Marnham rose to help himself to brandy and water, a great deal of brandy and +very little water, while I took a nip of Hollands, and Anscombe and Rodd filled +their pipes. +</p> + +<p> +“I think this is getting rather slow,” said Rodd to Anscombe. +“I vote we put a bit more on.” +</p> + +<p> +“As much as you like,” answered Anscombe with a little drawl and +twinkle of the eye, which always showed that he was amused. “Both +Quatermain and I are born gamblers. Don’t look angry, Quatermain, you +know you are. Only if we lose you will have to take a cheque, for I have +precious little cash.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that will be good enough,” replied the doctor +quietly—“if you lose.” +</p> + +<p> +So the stakes were increased to an amount that made my hair stand up stiffer +even than usual, and the game went on. Behold! a marvel came to pass. How it +happened I do not know, unless Marnham had brought the wrong cards by mistake +or had grown too fuddled to understand his partner’s telegraphic signals, +which I, being accustomed to observe, saw him make, not once but often, still +we won! What is more, with a few set-backs, we went on winning, till presently +the sums written down to our credit, for no actual cash passed, were +considerable. And all the while, at the end of each bout Marnham helped himself +to more brandy, while the doctor grew more mad in a suppressed-thunder kind of +a way. For my part I became alarmed, especially as I perceived that Anscombe +was on the verge of breaking into open merriment, and his legs being up I could +not kick him under the table. +</p> + +<p> +“My partner ought to go to bed. Don’t you think we should +stop?” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“On the whole I do,” replied Rodd, glowering at Marnham, who, +somewhat unsteadily, was engaged in wiping drops of brandy from his long beard. +</p> + +<p> +“D——d if I do,” exclaimed that worthy. “When I +was young and played with gentlemen they always gave losers an opportunity of +revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” replied Anscombe with a flash of his eyes, “let us +try to follow in the footsteps of the gentlemen with whom you played in your +youth. I suggest that we double the stakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right! That’s the old form!” said Marnham. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor half rose from his chair, then sat down again. Watching him, I +concluded that he believed his partner, a seasoned vessel, was not so drunk as +he pretended to be, and either in an actual or a figurative sense, had a card +up his sleeve. If so, it remained there, for again we won; all the luck was +with us. +</p> + +<p> +“I am getting tired,” drawled Anscombe. “Lemon and water are +not sustaining. Shall we stop?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Heaven! no,” shouted Marnham, to which Anscombe replied that if +it was wished, he would play another hand, but no more. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Marnham, “but let it be for double or +quits.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke quite quietly and seemed suddenly to have grown sober. Now I think +that Rodd made up his mind that he really was acting and that he really had +that card up his sleeve. At any rate he did not object. I, however, was of a +different opinion, having often seen drunken men succumb to an access of +sobriety under the stress of excitement and remarked that it did not last long. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really mean that?” I said, speaking for the first time and +addressing myself to the doctor. “I don’t quite know what the sum +involved is, but it must be large.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +Then remembering that at the worst Anscombe stood to lose nothing, I shrugged +my shoulders and held my tongue. It was Marnham’s deal, and although he +was somewhat in the shadow of the hanging lamp and the candles had guttered +out, I distinctly saw him play some hocus-pocus with the cards, but in the +circumstances made no protest. As it chanced he must have hocus-pocused them +wrong, for though <i>his</i> hand was full of trumps, Rodd held nothing at all. +The battle that ensued was quite exciting, but the end of it was that an ace in +the hand of Anscombe, who really was quite a good player, did the business, and +we won again. +</p> + +<p> +In the rather awful silence that followed Anscombe remarked in his cheerful +drawl— +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure that my addition is quite right; we’ll check +that in the morning, but I make out that you two gentlemen owe Quatermain and +myself £749 10s.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the doctor broke out. +</p> + +<p> +“You accursed old fool,” he hissed—there is no other word for +it—at Marnham. “How are you going to pay all this money that you +have gambled away, drunken beast that you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“Easily enough, you felon,” shouted Marnham. “So,” and +thrusting his hand into his pocket he pulled out a number of diamonds which he +threw upon the table, adding, “there’s what will cover it twice +over, and there are more where they came from, as you know well enough, my +medical jailbird.” +</p> + +<p> +“You dare to call me that,” gasped the doctor in a voice laden with +fury, so intense that it had deprived him of his reason, +“you—you—murderer! Oh! why don’t I kill you as I shall +some day?” and lifting his glass, which was half full, he threw the +contents into Marnham’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a nice man for a prospective son-in-law, isn’t +he?” exclaimed the old scamp, as, seizing the brandy decanter, he hurled +it straight at Rodd’s head, only missing him by an inch. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think you had both better go to bed, gentlemen?” I +inquired. “You are saying things you might regret in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently they did think it, for without another word they rose and marched +off in different directions to their respective rooms, which I heard both of +them lock. For my part I collected the I.O.U.‘s; also the diamonds which +still lay upon the table, while Anscombe examined the cards. +</p> + +<p> +“Marked, by Jove!” he said. “Oh! my dear Quatermain, never +have I had such an amusing evening in all my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up, you silly idiot,” I answered. “There’ll be +murder done over this business, and I only hope it won’t be on us.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +MISS HEDA</h2> + +<p> +It might be thought that after all this there would have been a painful +explanation on the following morning, but nothing of the sort happened. After +all the greatest art is the art of ignoring things, without which the world +could scarcely go on, even among the savage races. Thus on this occasion the +two chief actors in the scene of the previous night pretended that they had +forgotten what took place, as I believe, to a large extent truly. The fierce +flame of drink in the one and of passion in the other had burnt the web of +remembrance to ashes. They knew that something unpleasant had occurred and its +main outlines; the rest had vanished away; perhaps because they knew also that +they were not responsible for what they said and did, and therefore that what +occurred had no right to a permanent niche in their memories. It was, as it +were, something outside of their normal selves. At least so I conjectured, and +their conduct seemed to give colour to my guess. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor spoke to me of the matter first. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear there was a row last night,” he said; “it has +happened here before over cards, and will no doubt happen again until matters +clear themselves up somehow. Marnham, as you see, drinks, and when drunk is the +biggest liar in the world, and I, I am sorry to say, am cursed with a violent +temper. Don’t judge either of us too harshly. If you were a doctor you +would know that all these things come to us with our blood, and we didn’t +fashion our own clay, did we? Have some coffee, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Subsequently when Rodd wasn’t there, Marnham spoke also and with that +fine air of courtesy which was peculiar to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I owe a deep apology,” he said, “to yourself and Mr. +Anscombe. I do not recall much about it, but I know there was a scene last +night over those cursed cards. A weakness overtakes me sometimes. I will say no +more, except that you, who are also a man who perhaps have felt weaknesses of +one sort or another, will, I hope, make allowances for me and pay no attention +to anything that I may have said or done in the presence of guests; yes, that +is what pains me—in the presence of guests.” +</p> + +<p> +Something in his distinguished manner caused me to reflect upon every +peccadillo that I had ever committed, setting it in its very worst light. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” I answered, “quite so. Pray do not mention the +matter any more, although—” These words seemed to jerk themselves +out of my throat, “you did call each other by such very hard +names.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay,” he answered with a vacant smile, “but if so they +meant nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I understand, just like a lovers’ quarrel. But look here, you +left some diamonds on the table which I took to keep the Kaffirs out of +temptation. I will fetch them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I? Well, probably I left some I.O.U.‘s also which might serve +for pipelights. So suppose we set the one against the other. I don’t know +the value of either the diamonds or the pipelights, it may be less or more, but +for God’s sake don’t let me see the beastly things again. +There’s no need, I have plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must speak to Anscombe,” I answered. “The money at stake +was his, not mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to whom you will,” he replied, and I noted that the +throbbing vein upon his forehead indicated a rising temper. “But never +let me see those diamonds again. Throw them into the gutter if you wish, but +never let me see them again, or there will be trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he flung out of the room, leaving his breakfast almost untasted. +</p> + +<p> +Reflecting that this queer old bird probably did not wish to be +cross-questioned as to his possession of so many uncut diamonds, or that they +were worth much less than the sum he had lost, or possibly that they were not +diamonds at all but glass, I went to report the matter to Anscombe. He only +laughed and said that as I had got the things I had better keep them until +something happened, for we had both got it into our heads that something would +happen before we had done with that establishment. +</p> + +<p> +So I went to put the stones away as safely as I could. While I was doing so I +heard the rumble of wheels, and came out just in time to see a Cape cart, drawn +by four very good horses and driven by a Hottentot in a smart hat and a red +waistband, pull up at the garden gate. Out of this cart presently emerged a +neatly dressed lady, of whom all I could see was that she was young, slender +and rather tall; also, as her back was towards me, that she had a great deal of +auburn hair. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said Anscombe. “I knew that something would happen. +Heda has happened. Quatermain, as neither her venerated parent nor her loving +fiance, for such I gather he is, seems to be about, you had better go and give +her a hand.” +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed with a groan, heartily wishing that Heda hadn’t happened, since +some sense warned me that she would only add to the present complications. At +the gate, having given some instructions to a very stout young coloured woman +who, I took it, was her maid, about a basket of flower roots in the cart, she +turned round suddenly and we came face to face with the gate between us. For a +moment we stared at each other, I reflecting that she really was very pretty +with her delicately-shaped features, her fresh, healthy-looking complexion, her +long dark eyelashes and her lithe and charming figure. What she reflected about +me I don’t know, probably nothing half so complimentary. Suddenly, +however, her large greyish eyes grew troubled and a look of alarm appeared upon +her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything wrong with my father?” she asked. “I don’t +see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you mean Mr. Marnham,” I replied, lifting my hat, “I +believe that Dr. Rodd and he—” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about Dr. Rodd,” she broke in with a contemptuous +little jerk of her chin, “how is my father?” +</p> + +<p> +“I imagine much as usual. He and Dr. Rodd were here a little while ago, I +suppose that they have gone out” (as a matter of fact they had, but in +different directions). +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s all right,” she said with a sigh of relief. +“You see, I heard that he was very ill, which is why I have come +back.” +</p> + +<p> +So, thought I to myself, she loves that old scamp and she—doesn’t +love the doctor. There will be more trouble as sure as five and two are seven. +All we wanted was a woman to make the pot boil over. +</p> + +<p> +Then I opened the gate and took a travelling bag from her hand with my politest +bow. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Quatermain and that of my friend Anscombe. We are staying +here, you know,” I said rather awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” she answered with a delightful smile, “what a very +strange place to choose to stay in.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a beautiful house,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not bad, although I designed it, more or less. But I was alluding to its +inhabitants.” +</p> + +<p> +This finished me, and I am sure she felt that I could think of nothing nice to +say about those inhabitants, for I heard her sigh. We walked side by side up +the rose-fringed path and presently arrived at the stoep, where Anscombe, whose +hair I had cut very nicely on the previous day, was watching us from his long +chair. They looked at each other, and I saw both of them colour a little, out +of mere foolishness, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +“Anscombe,” I said, “this is—” and I paused, not +being quite certain whether she also was called Marnham. “Heda +Marnham,” she interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—Miss Heda Marnham, and this is the Honourable Maurice +Anscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me for not rising, Miss Marnham,” said Anscombe in his +pleasant voice (by the way hers was pleasant too, full and rather low, with +just a suggestion of something foreign about it). “A shot through the +foot prevents me at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who shot you?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! only a Kaffir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am so sorry, I hope you will get well soon. Forgive me now, I must go +to look for my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is uncommonly pretty,” remarked Anscombe, “and a lady +into the bargain. In reflecting on old Marnham’s sins we must put it to +his credit that he has produced a charming daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too pretty and charming by half,” I grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps Dr. Rodd is of the same way of thinking. Great shame that such a +girl should be handed over to a medical scoundrel like Dr. Rodd. I wonder if +she cares for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just about as much as a canary cares for a tom-cat. I have found that +out already.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Quatermain, you are admirable. I never knew anyone who could +make a better use of the briefest opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +Then we were silent, waiting, not without a certain impatience, for the return +of Miss Heda. She did return with surprising quickness considering that she had +found time to search for her parent, to change into a clean white dress, and to +pin a single hibiscus flower on to her bodice which gave just the touch of +colour that was necessary to complete her costume. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find my father,” she said, “but the boys say +he has gone out riding. I can’t find anybody. When you have been summoned +from a long way off and travelled post-haste, rather to your own inconvenience, +it is amusing, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wagons and carts in South Africa don’t arrive like express trains, +Miss Marnham,” said Anscombe, “so you shouldn’t be +offended.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not at all offended, Mr. Anscombe. Now that I know there is nothing +the matter with my father I’m—But, tell me, how did you get your +wound?” +</p> + +<p> +So he told her with much amusing detail after his fashion. She listened quietly +with a puckered up brow and only made one comment. It was,— +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what white man told those Sekukuni Kaffirs that you were +coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he answered, “but he deserves a bullet +through him somewhere above the ankle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, though few people get what they deserve in this wicked +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I have often thought. Had it been otherwise, for example, I should +have been—” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have been?” she asked, considering him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a better shot than Mr. Allan Quatermain, and as beautiful as a lady +I once saw in my youth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk rubbish before luncheon,” I remarked sternly, and +we all laughed, the first wholesome laughter that I had heard at the Temple. +For this young lady seemed to bring happiness and merriment with her. I +remember wondering what it was of which her coming reminded me, and concluding +that it was like the sight and smell of a peach orchard in full bloom stumbled +on suddenly in the black desert of the burnt winter veld. +</p> + +<p> +After this we became quite friendly. She dilated on her skill in having +produced the Temple from an old engraving, which she fetched and showed to us, +at no greater an expense than it would have cost to build an ordinary house. +</p> + +<p> +“That is because the marble was at hand,” said Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” she replied demurely. “Speaking in a general +sense one can do many things in life—if the marble is at hand. Only most +of us when we look for marble find sandstone or mud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo!” said Anscombe, “I have generally lit upon the +sandstone.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I on the mud,” she mused. +</p> + +<p> +“And I on all three, for the earth contains marble and mud and sandstone, +to say nothing of gold and jewels,” I broke in, being tired of silence. +</p> + +<p> +But neither of them paid much attention to me. Anscombe did say, out of +politeness, I suppose, that pitch and subterranean fires should be added, or +some such nonsense. +</p> + +<p> +Then she began to tell him of her infantile memories of Hungary, which were +extremely faint; of how they came to this place and lived first of all in two +large Kaffir huts, until suddenly they began to grow rich; of her school days +at Maritzburg; of the friends with whom she had been staying, and I know not +what, until at last I got up and went out for a walk. +</p> + +<p> +When I returned an hour or so later they were still talking, and so continued +to do until Dr. Rodd arrived upon the scene. At first they did not see him, for +he stood at an angle to them, but I saw him and watched his face with a great +deal of interest. It, or rather its expression, was not pleasant; before now I +have seen something like it on that of a wild beast which thinks that it is +about to be robbed of its prey by a stronger wild beast, in short, a mixture of +hate, fear and jealousy—especially jealousy. At the last I did not +wonder, for these two seemed to be getting on uncommonly well. +</p> + +<p> +They were, so to speak, well matched. She, of course, was the better looking of +the two, a really pretty and attractive young woman indeed, but the vivacity of +Anscombe’s face, the twinkle of his merry blue eyes and its general +refinement made up for what he lacked—regularity of feature. I think he +had just told her one of his good stories which he always managed to make so +humorous by a trick of pleasing and harmless exaggeration, and they were both +laughing merrily. Then she caught sight of the doctor and her merriment +evaporated like a drop of water on a hot shovel. Distinctly I saw her pull +herself together and prepare for something. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do?” she said rapidly, rising and holding out her slim +sun-browned hand. “But I need not ask, you look so well.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, my dear,” with a heavy emphasis on the +“dear” he answered slowly. “But I needn’t ask, for I +see that you are in perfect health and spirits,” and he bent forward as +though to kiss her. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow or other she avoided that endearment or seal of possession. I +don’t quite know how, as I turned my head away, not wishing to witness +what I felt to be unpleasant. When I looked up again, however, I saw that she +had avoided it, the scowl on his face, the demureness of hers and +Anscombe’s evident amusement assured me of this. She was asking about her +father; he answered that he also seemed quite well. +</p> + +<p> +“Then why did you write to tell me that I ought to come as he was not at +all well?” she inquired, with a lifting of her delicate eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +The question was never answered, for at that moment Marnham himself appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! father,” she said, and rushed into his arms, while he kissed +her tenderly on both cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +So I was not mistaken, thought I to myself, she does really love this moral +wreck, and what is more, he loves her, which shows that there must be good in +him. Is anyone truly bad, I wondered, or for the matter of that, truly good +either? Is it not all a question of circumstance and blood? +</p> + +<p> +Neither then or at any other time have I found an answer to the problem. At any +rate to me there seemed something beautiful about the meeting of these two. +</p> + +<p> +The influence of Miss Heda in the house was felt at once. The boys became +smarter and put on clean clothes. Vases of flowers appeared in the various +rooms; ours was turned out and cleaned, a disagreeable process so far as we +were concerned. Moreover, at dinner both Marnham and Rodd wore dress clothes +with short jackets, a circumstance that put Anscombe and myself to shame since +we had none. It was curious to see how with those dress clothes, which +doubtless awoke old associations within him, Marnham changed his colour like a +chameleon. Really he might have been the colonel of a cavalry regiment rising +to toast the Queen after he had sent round the wine, so polite and polished was +his talk. Who could have identified the man with the dry old ruffian of +twenty-four hours before, he who was drinking claret (and very good claret too) +mixed with water and listening with a polite interest to all the details of his +daughter’s journey? Even the doctor looked a gentleman, which doubtless +he was once upon a time, in evening dress. Moreover, some kind of truce had +been arranged. He no longer called Miss Heda “My dear” or attempted +any familiarities, while she on more than one occasion very distinctly called +him Dr. Rodd. +</p> + +<p> +So much for that night and for several others that followed. As for the days +they went by pleasantly and idly. Heda walked about on her father’s arm, +conversed in friendly fashion with the doctor, always watching him, I noticed, +as a cat watches a dog that she knows is waiting an opportunity to spring, and +for the rest associated with us as much as she could. Particularly did she seem +to take refuge behind my own insignificance, having, I suppose, come to the +conclusion that I was a harmless person who might possibly prove useful. But +all the while I felt that the storm was banking up. Indeed Marnham himself, at +any rate to a great extent, played the part of the cloud-compelling Jove, for +soon it became evident to me, and without doubt to Dr. Rodd also, that he was +encouraging the intimacy between his daughter and Anscombe by every means in +his power. +</p> + +<p> +In one way and another he had fully informed himself as to Anscombe’s +prospects in life, which were brilliant enough. Moreover he liked the man who, +as the remnant of the better perceptions of his youth told him, was one of the +best class of Englishmen, and what is more, he saw that Heda liked him also, as +much indeed as she disliked Rodd. He even spoke to me of the matter in a +round-about kind of fashion, saying that the young woman who married Anscombe +would be lucky and that the father who had him for a son-in-law might go to his +grave confident of his child’s happiness. I answered that I agreed with +him, unless the lady’s affections had already caused her to form other +ties. +</p> + +<p> +“Affections!” he exclaimed, dropping all pretence, “there are +none involved in this accursed business, as you are quite sharp enough to have +seen for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understood that an engagement was involved,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“On my part, perhaps, not on hers,” he answered. “Oh! +can’t you understand, Quatermain, that sometimes men find themselves +forced into strange situations against their will?” +</p> + +<p> +Remembering the very ugly name that I had heard Rodd call Marnham on the night +of the card party, I reflected that I could understand well enough, but I only +said— +</p> + +<p> +“After all marriage is a matter that concerns a woman even more than it +does her father, one, in short, of which she must be the judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Quatermain, but there are some daughters who are prepared to +make great sacrifices for their fathers. Well, she will be of age ere long, if +only I can stave it off till then. But how, how?” and with a groan he +turned and left me. +</p> + +<p> +That old gentleman’s neck is in some kind of a noose, thought I to +myself, and his difficulty is to prevent the rope from being drawn tight. +Meanwhile this poor girl’s happiness and future are at stake. +</p> + +<p> +“Allan,” said Anscombe to me a little later, for by now he called +me by my Christian name, “I suppose you haven’t heard anything +about those oxen, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I could scarcely expect to yet, but why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled in his droll fashion and replied, “Because, interesting as this +household is in sundry ways, I think it is about time that we, or at any rate +that I, got out of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your leg isn’t fit to travel yet, Anscombe, although Rodd says +that all the symptoms are very satisfactory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but to tell you the truth I am experiencing other symptoms quite +unknown to that beloved physician and so unfamiliar to myself that I attribute +them to the influences of the locality. Altitude affects the heart, does it +not, and this house stands high.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t play off your jokes on me,” I said sternly. +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if you find Miss Heda attractive, Allan, or if you are too old. +I believe there comes an age when the only beauties that can move a man are +those of architecture, or scenery, or properly cooked food.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hang it all! I am not Methusaleh,” I replied; “but if you +mean that you are falling in love with Heda, why the deuce don’t you say +so, instead of wasting my time and your own?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because time was given to us to waste. Properly considered it is the +best use to which it can be put, or at any rate the one that does least +mischief. Also because I wished to make you say it for me that I might judge +from the effect of your words whether it is or is not true. I may add that I +fear the former to be the case.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you are in love with the girl you can’t expect one so +ancient as myself, who is quite out of touch with such follies, to teach you +how to act.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Allan. Unfortunately there are occasions when one must rely upon +one’s own wisdom, and mine, what there is of it, tells me I had better +get out of this. But I can’t ride even if I took the horse and you ran +behind, and the oxen haven’t come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you could borrow Miss Marnham’s cart in which to run away +from her,” I suggested sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, though I believe it would be fatal to my foot to sit up in a +cart for the next few days, and the horses seem to have been sent off +somewhere. Look here, old fellow,” he went on, dropping his bantering +tone, “it’s rather awkward to make a fool of oneself over a lady +who is engaged to some one else, especially if one suspects that with a little +encouragement she might begin to walk the same road. The truth is I have taken +the fever pretty bad, worse than ever I did before, and if it isn’t +stopped soon it will become chronic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, Anscombe, only intermittent at the worst, and African malaria +nearly always yields to a change of climate.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I expect a cynic and a misogynist to understand the simple +fervour of an inexperienced soul—Oh! drat it all, Quatermain, stop your +acid chaff and tell me what is to be done. Really I am in a tight place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very; so tight that I rejoice to think, as you were kind enough to point +out, that my years protect me from anything of the sort. I have no advice to +give; I think you had better ask it of the lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we did have a little conversation, hypothetical of course, about +some friends of ours who found themselves similarly situated, and I regret to +say without result.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed. I did not know you had any mutual acquaintances. What did she +say and do?” +</p> + +<p> +“She said nothing, only sighed and looked as though she were going to +burst into tears, and all she did was to walk away. I’d have followed her +if I could, but as my crutch wasn’t there it was impossible. It seemed to +me that suddenly I had come up against a brick wall, that there was something +on her mind which she could not or would not let out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and if you want to know, I will tell you what it is. Rodd has got a +hold over Marnham of a sort that would bring him somewhere near the gallows. As +the price of his silence Marnham has promised him his daughter. The daughter +knows that her father is in this man’s power, though I think she does not +know in what way, and being a good girl—” +</p> + +<p> +“An angel you mean—do call her by her right name, especially in a +place where angels are so much wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, an angel if you like—she has promised on her part to marry a +man she loathes in order to save her parent’s bacon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I concluded, from what we heard in the row. I wonder which of +that pair is the bigger blackguard. Well, Allan, that settles it. You and I are +on the side of the angel. You will have to get her out of this scrape +and—if she’ll have me, I’ll marry her; and if she +won’t, why it can’t be helped. Now that’s a fair division of +labour. How are you going to do it? I haven’t an idea, and if I had, I +should not presume to interfere with one so much older and wiser than +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that by the time you appeared in it, the game of heads I win +and tails you lose had died out of the world,” I replied with an +indignant snort. “I think the best thing I can do will be to take the +horse and look for those oxen. Meanwhile you can settle your business by the +light of your native genius, and I only hope you’ll finish it without +murder and sudden death.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, old fellow,” said Anscombe earnestly, “you +don’t really mean to go off and leave me in this hideousness? I +haven’t bothered much up to the present because I was sure that you would +find a way out, which would be nothing to a man of your intellect and +experience. I mean it honestly, I do indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you? Well, I can only say that my mind is a perfect blank, but if you +will stop talking I will try to think the matter over. There’s Miss Heda +in the garden cutting flowers. I will go to help her, which will be a very +pleasant change.” +</p> + +<p> +And I went, leaving him to stare after me jealously. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +THE STOEP</h2> + +<p> +When I reached Miss Heda she was collecting half-opened monthly roses from the +hedge, and not quite knowing what to say I made the appropriate quotation. At +least it was appropriate to my thought, and, from her answer, to hers also. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said, “I am gathering them while I may,” and +she sighed and, as I thought, glanced towards the verandah, though of this I +could not be sure because of the wide brim of the hat she was wearing. +</p> + +<p> +Then we talked a little on indifferent matters, while I pricked my fingers +helping to pluck the roses. She asked me if I thought that Anscombe was getting +on well, and how long it would be before he could travel. I replied that Dr. +Rodd could tell her better than myself, but that I hoped in about a week. +</p> + +<p> +“In a week!” she said, and although she tried to speak lightly +there was dismay in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you don’t think it too long,” I answered; “but +even if he is fit to go, the oxen have not come yet, and I don’t quite +know when they will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too long!” she exclaimed. “Too long! Oh! if you only knew +what it is to me to have such guests as you are in this place,” and her +dark eyes filled with tears. +</p> + +<p> +By now we had passed to the side of the house in search of some other flower +that grew in the shade, I think it was mignonette, and were out of sight of the +verandah and quite alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Quatermain,” she said hurriedly, “I am wondering whether +to ask your advice about something, if you would give it. I have no one to +consult here,” she added rather piteously. +</p> + +<p> +“That is for you to decide. If you wish to do so I am old enough to be +your father, and will do my best to help.” +</p> + +<p> +We walked on to an orange grove that stood about forty yards away, ostensibly +to pick some fruit, but really because we knew that there we should be out of +hearing and could see any one who approached. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Quatermain,” she said presently in a low voice, “I am in +great trouble, almost the greatest a woman can have. I am engaged to be married +to a man whom I do not care for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why not break it off? It may be unpleasant, but it is generally +best to face unpleasant things, and nothing can be so bad as marrying a man +whom you do not—care for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I cannot—I dare not. I have to obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“How old are you, Miss Marnham?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be of age in three months’ time. You may guess that I did +not intend to return here until they were over, but I was, well—trapped. +He wrote to me that my father was ill and I came.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate when they are over you will not have to obey any one. It is +not long to wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is an eternity. Besides this is not so much a question of obedience +as of duty and of love. I love my father who, whatever his faults, has always +been very kind to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I am sure he loves you. Why not go to him and tell him your +trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“He knows it already, Mr. Quatermain, and hates this marriage even more +than I do, if that is possible. But he is driven to it, as I am. Oh! I must +tell the truth. The doctor has some hold over him. My father has done something +dreadful; I don’t know what and I don’t want to know, but if it +came out it would ruin my father, or worse, worse. I am the price of his +silence. On the day of our marriage he will destroy the proofs. If I refuse to +marry him, they will be produced and then—” +</p> + +<p> +“It is difficult,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“It is more than difficult, it is terrible. If you could see all there is +in my heart, you would know how terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I can see, Miss Heda. Don’t say any more now. Give me time +to consider. In case of necessity come to me again, and be sure that I will +protect you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are going in a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Many things happen in a week. Sufficient to the day is its evil. At the +end of the week we will come to some decision unless everything is already +decided.” +</p> + +<p> +For the next twenty-four hours I reflected on this pretty problem as hard as +ever I did on anything in all my life. Here was a young woman who must somehow +be protected from a scoundrel, but who could not be protected because she +herself had to protect another scoundrel—to wit, her own father. Could +the thing be faced out? Impossible, for I was sure that Marnham had committed a +murder, or murders, of which Rodd possessed evidence that would hang him. Could +Heda be married to Anscombe at once? Yes, if both were willing, but then +Marnham would still be hung. Could they elope? Possibly, but with the same +result. Could I take her away and put her under the protection of the Court at +Pretoria? Yes, but with the same result. I wondered what my Hottentot retainer, +Hans, would have advised, he who was named Light-in-Darkness, and in his own +savage way was the cleverest and most cunning man that I have met. Alas! I +could not raise him from the grave to tell me, and yet I knew well what he +would have answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” he would have said, “this is a rope which only the +pale old man (i.e., death) can cut. Let this doctor die or let the father die, +and the maiden will be free. Surely heaven is longing for one or both of them, +and if necessary, Baas, I believe that I can point out a path to heaven!” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed to myself at the thought, which was one that a white man could not +entertain even as a thought. And I felt that the hypothetical Hans was right, +death alone could cut this knot, and the reflection made me shiver. +</p> + +<p> +That night I slept uneasily and dreamed. I dreamed that once more I was in the +Black Kloof in Zululand, seated in front of the huts at the end of the kloof. +Before me squatted the old wizard, Zikali, wrapped up in his +kaross—Zikali, the “Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” +whom I had not seen for years. Near him were the ashes of a fire, by the help +of which I knew he had been practising divination. He looked up and laughed one +of his terrible laughs. +</p> + +<p> +“So you are here again, Macumazahn,” he said, “grown older, +but still the same; here at the appointed hour. What do you come to seek from +the Opener of Roads? Not Mameena as I think this time. No, no, it is she who +seeks you this time, Macumazahn. She found you once, did she not? Far away to +the north among a strange people who worshipped an Ivory Child, a people of +whom I knew in my youth, and afterwards, for was not their prophet, Harut, a +friend of mine and one of our brotherhood? She found you beneath the tusks of +the elephant, Jana, whom Macumazahn the skilful could not hit. Oh! do not look +astonished.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” I asked in my dream. +</p> + +<p> +“Very simply, Macumazahn. A little yellow man named Hans has been with me +and told me all the story not an hour ago, after which I sent for Mameena to +learn if it were true. She will be glad to meet you, Macumazahn, she who has a +hungry heart that does not forget. Oh! don’t be afraid. I mean here +beneath the sun, in the land beyond there will be no need for her to meet you +since she will dwell ever at your side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you lie to me, Zikali?” I seemed to ask. “How can a +dead man speak to you and how can I meet a woman who is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seek the answer to that question in the hour of the battle when the +white men, your brothers, fall beneath assegai as weeds fall before the +hoe—or perhaps before it. But have done with Mameena, since she who never +grows more old can well afford to wait. It is not of Mameena that you came to +speak to me; it is of a fair white woman named Heddana you would speak, and of +the man she loves, you, who will ever be mixing yourself up in affairs of +others, and therefore must bear their burdens with no pay save that of honour. +Hearken, for the time is short. When the storm bursts upon them bring hither +the fair maiden, Heddana, and the white lord, Mauriti, and I will shelter them +for your sake. Take them nowhere else. Bring them hither if they would escape +trouble. I shall be glad to see you, Macumazahn, for at last I am about to +smite the Zulu House of Senzangacona, my foes, with a bladder full of blood, +and oh! it stains their doorposts red.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I woke up, feeling afraid, as one does after a nightmare, and was +comforted to hear Anscombe sleeping quietly on the other side of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Mauriti. Why did Zikali call him Mauriti?” I wondered drowsily to +myself. “Oh! of course his name is Maurice, and it was a Zulu corruption +of a common sort as was Heddana of Heda.” Then I dozed off again, and by +the morning had forgotten all about my dream until it was brought back to me by +subsequent events. Still it was this and nothing else that put it into my head +to fly to Zululand on an emergency that was to arise ere +long.<a href="#fn-7.1" name="fnref-7.1" id="fnref-7.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-7.1" id="fn-7.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-7.1">[1]</a> +For the history of Zikali and Mameena see the book called <i>Child of Storm</i> +by H. Rider Haggard. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Rodd was absent from dinner, and on inquiring where he might be, I +was informed that he had ridden to visit a Kaffir headman, a patient of his who +lived at a distance, and would very probably sleep at the kraal, returning +early next day. One of the topics of conversation during dinner was as to where +the exact boundary line used to run between the Transvaal and the country over +which the Basuto chief, Sekukuni, claimed ownership and jurisdiction. Marnham +said that it passed within a couple of miles of his house, and when we rose, +the moon being very bright, offered to show me where the beacons had been +placed years before by a Boer Commission. I accepted, as the night was lovely +for a stroll after the hot day. Also I was half conscious of another undefined +purpose in my mind, which perhaps may have spread to that of Marnham. Those two +young people looked very happy together there on the stoep, and as they must +part so soon it would, I thought, be kind to give them the opportunity of a +quiet chat. +</p> + +<p> +So off we went to the brow of the hill on which the Temple stood, whence old +Marnham pointed out to me a beacon, which I could not see in the dim, silvery +bush-veld below, and how the line ran from it to another beacon somewhere else. +</p> + +<p> +“You know the Yellow-wood swamp,” he said. “It passes +straight through that. That is why those Basutos who were following you pulled +up upon the edge of the swamp, though as a matter of fact, according to their +ideas, they had a perfect right to kill you on their side of the line which +cuts through the middle.” +</p> + +<p> +I made some remark to the effect that I presumed that the line had in fact +ceased to exist at all, as the Basuto territory had practically become British; +after which we strolled back to the house. Walking quietly between the tall +rose hedges and without speaking, for each of us was preoccupied with his own +thoughts, suddenly we came upon a very pretty scene. +</p> + +<p> +We had left Anscombe and Heda seated side by side on the stoep. They were still +there, but much closer together. In fact his arms were round her, and they were +kissing each other in a remarkably whole-hearted way. About this there could be +no mistake, since the rimpi-strung couch on which they sat was immediately +under the hanging lamp—a somewhat unfortunate situation for such +endearments. But what did they think of hanging lamps or any other lights, save +those of their own eyes, they who were content to kiss and murmur words of +passion as though they were as much alone as Adam and Eve in Eden? What did +they think either of the serpent coiled about the bole of this tree of +knowledge whereof they had just plucked the ripe and maddening fruit? +</p> + +<p> +By a mutual instinct Marnham and I withdrew ourselves, very gently indeed, +purposing to skirt round the house and enter it from behind, or to be seized +with a fit of coughing at the gate, or to do something to announce our presence +at a convenient distance. When we had gone a little way we heard a crash in the +bushes. +</p> + +<p> +“Another of those cursed baboons robbing the garden,” remarked +Marnham reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he is going to rob the house also,” I replied, turning to +point to something dark that seemed to be leaping up on to the verandah. +</p> + +<p> +Next moment we heard Heda utter a little cry of alarm, and a man say in a low +fierce voice— +</p> + +<p> +“So I have caught you at last, have I!” +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor has returned from his business rounds sooner than was +expected, and I think that we had better join the party,” I remarked, and +made a bee line for the stoep, Marnham following me. +</p> + +<p> +I think that I arrived just in time to prevent mischief. There, with a revolver +in his hand, stood Rodd, tall and formidable, his dark face looking like that +of Satan himself, a very monument of rage and jealousy. There in front of him +on the couch sat Heda, grasping its edge with her fingers, her cheeks as pale +as a sheet and her eyes shining. By her side was Anscombe, cool and collected +as usual, I noticed, but evidently perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is any shooting to be done,” he was saying, “I +think you had better begin with me.” +</p> + +<p> +His calmness seemed to exasperate Rodd, who lifted the revolver. But I too was +prepared, for in that house I always went armed. There was no time to get at +the man, who was perhaps fifteen feet away, and I did not want to hurt him. So +I did the best I could; that is, I fired at the pistol in his hand, and the +light being good, struck it near the hilt and knocked it off the barrel before +he could press the trigger, if he really meant to shoot. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a good shot,” remarked Anscombe who had seen me, +while Rodd stared at the hilt which he still held. +</p> + +<p> +“A lucky one,” I answered, walking forward. “And now, Dr. +Rodd, will you be so good as to tell me what you mean by flourishing a +revolver, presumably loaded, in the faces of a lady and an unarmed man?” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil is that to you,” he asked furiously, “and +what do you mean by firing at me?” +</p> + +<p> +“A great deal,” I answered, “seeing that a young woman and my +friend are concerned. As for firing at you, had I done so you would not be +asking questions now. I fired at the pistol in your hand, but if there is more +trouble next time it shall be at the holder,” and I glanced at my +revolver. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing that I meant business he made no reply, but turned upon Marnham who had +followed me. +</p> + +<p> +“This is your work, you old villain,” he said in a low voice that +was heavy with hate. “You promised your daughter to me. She is engaged to +me, and now I find her in this wanderer’s arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have I to do with it?” said Marnham. “Perhaps she has +changed her mind. You had better ask her.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need to ask me,” interrupted Heda, who now seemed to +have got her nerve again. “I <i>have</i> changed my mind. I never loved +you, Dr. Rodd, and I will not marry you. I love Mr. Anscombe here, and as he +has asked me to be his wife I mean to marry him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” he sneered, “you want to be a peeress one day, no +doubt. Well, you never shall if I can help it. Perhaps, too, this fine +gentleman of yours will not be so particularly anxious to marry you when he +learns that you are the daughter of a murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +That word was like a bombshell bursting among us. We looked at each other as +people, yet dazed with the shock, might on a battlefield when the noise of the +explosion has died and the smoke cleared away, to see who is still alive. +Anscombe spoke the first. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean or to what you refer,” he said +quietly. “But at any rate this lady who has promised to marry me is +innocent, and therefore if all her ancestors had been murderers it would not in +the slightest turn me from my purpose of marrying her.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him, and all the gratitude in the world shone in her frightened +eyes. Marnham stepped, or rather staggered forward, the blue vein throbbing on +his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“He lies,” he said hoarsely, tugging at his long beard. +“Listen now and I will tell you the truth. Once, more than a year ago, I +was drunk and in a rage. In this state I fired at a Kaffir to frighten him, and +by some devil’s chance shot him dead. That’s what he calls being a +murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have another tale,” said Rodd, “with which I will not +trouble this company just now. Look here, Heda, either you fulfil your promise +and marry me, or your father swings.” +</p> + +<p> +She gasped and sank together on the seat as though she had been shot. Then I +took up my parable. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the man,” I asked, “to accuse others of crime? Let +us see. You have spent several months in an English prison (I gave the name) +for a crime I won’t mention.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know—” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, I do know and the prison books will show it. Further, your +business is that of selling guns and ammunition to the Basutos of +Sekukuni’s tribe, who, although the expedition against them has been +temporarily recalled, are still the Queen’s enemies. Don’t deny it, +for I have the proofs. Further, it was you who advised Sekukuni to kill us when +we went down to his country to shoot the other day, because you were afraid +that we should discover whence he got his guns.” (This was a bow drawn at +a venture, but the arrow went home, for I saw his jaw drop.) “Further, I +believe you to be an illicit diamond buyer, and I believe also that you have +again been arranging with the Basutos to make an end of us, though of these +last two items at present I lack positive proof. Now, Dr. Rodd, I ask you for +the second time whether you are a person to accuse others of crimes and +whether, should you do so, you will be considered a credible witness when your +own are brought to light?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had been guilty of any of these things, which I am not, it is +obvious that my partner must have shared in all of them, except the first. So +if you inform against me, you inform against him, and the father of Heda, whom +your friend wishes to marry, will, according to your showing, be proved a +gun-runner, a thief and a would-be murderer of his guests. I should advise you +to leave that business alone, Mr. Quatermain.” +</p> + +<p> +The reply was bold and clever, so much so that I regarded this blackguard with +a certain amount of admiration, as I answered— +</p> + +<p> +“I shall take your advice if you take mine to leave another business +alone, that of this young lady and her father, but not otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then spare your breath and do your worst; only careful, sharp as you +think yourself, that your meddling does not recoil on your own head. Listen, +Heda, either you make up your mind to marry me at once and arrange that this +young gentleman, who as a doctor I assure you is now quite fit to travel +without injury to his health, leaves this house to-morrow with the spy +Quatermain—you might lend him the Cape cart to go in—or I start +with the proofs to lay a charge of murder against your father. I give you till +to-morrow morning to have a family council to think it over. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” I answered as he passed me, “and please be +careful that none of us see your face again before to-morrow morning. As you +may happen to have heard, my native name means Watcher-by-Night,” and I +looked at the revolver in my hand. +</p> + +<p> +When he had vanished I remarked in as cheerful voice as I could command, that I +thought it was bedtime, and as nobody stirred, added, “Don’t be +afraid, young lady. If you feel lonely, you must tell that stout maid of yours +to sleep in your room. Also, as the night is so hot I shall take my nap on the +stoep, there, just opposite your window. No, don’t let us talk any more +now. There will be plenty of time for that to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +She rose, looked at Anscombe, looked at me, looked at her father very +pitifully; then with a little exclamation of despair passed into her room by +the French window, where presently I heard her call the native maid and tell +her that she was to sleep with her. +</p> + +<p> +Marnham watched her depart. Then he too went with his head bowed and staggering +a little in his walk. Next Anscombe rose and limped off into his room, I +following him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, young man,” I said, “you have put us all in the soup +now and no mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Allan, I am afraid I have. But on the whole don’t you think +it rather interesting soup—so many unexpected ingredients, you +see!” +</p> + +<p> +“Interesting soup! Unexpected ingredients!” I repeated after him, +adding, “Why not call it hell’s broth at once?” +</p> + +<p> +Then he became serious, dreadfully serious. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” he said, “I love Heda, and whatever her family +history may be I mean to marry her and face the row at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“You could scarcely do less in all the circumstances, and as for rows, +that young lady would soon fit herself into any place that you can give her. +But the question is, how can you marry her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! something will happen,” he replied optimistically. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right there. Something will certainly happen, but the +point is—what? Something was very near happening when I turned up on that +stoep, so near that I think it was lucky for you, or for Miss Heda, or both, +that I have learned how to handle a pistol. Now let me see your foot, and +don’t speak another word to me about all this business to-night. +I’d rather tackle it when I am clear-headed in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Well, I examined his instep and leg very carefully and found that Rodd was +right. Although it still hurt him to walk, the wound was quite healed and all +inflammation had gone from the limb. Now it was only a question of time for the +sinews to right themselves. While I was thus engaged he held forth on the +virtues and charms of Heda, I making no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“Lie down and get to sleep, if you can,” I said when I had +finished. “The door is locked and I am going on to the stoep, so you +needn’t be afraid of the windows. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +I went out and sat myself down in such a position that by the light of the +hanging lamp, which still burned, I could make sure that no one could approach +either Heda’s or my room without my seeing him. For the rest, all my life +I have been accustomed to night vigils, and the loaded revolver hung from my +wrist by a loop of hide. Moreover, never had I felt less sleepy. There I sat +hour after hour, thinking. +</p> + +<p> +The substance of my thoughts does not matter, since the events that followed +make them superfluous to the story. I will merely record, therefore, that +towards dawn a great horror took hold of me. I did not know of what I was +afraid, but I was much afraid of something. Nothing was passing in either +Heda’s or our room, of that I made sure by personal examination. +Therefore it would seem that my terrors were unnecessary, and yet they grew and +grew. I felt sure that something was happening somewhere, a dread occurrence +which it was beyond my power to prevent, though whether it were in this house +or at the other end of Africa I did not know. +</p> + +<p> +The mental depression increased and culminated. Then of a sudden it passed +completely away, and as I mopped the sweat from off my brow I noticed that dawn +was breaking. It was a tender and beautiful dawn, and in a dim way I took it as +a good omen. Of course it was nothing but the daily resurrection of the sun, +and yet it brought to me comfort and hope. The night was past with all its +fears; the light had come with all its joys. From that moment I was certain +that we should triumph over these difficulties and that the end of them would +be peace. +</p> + +<p> +So sure was I that I ventured to take a nap, knowing that the slightest +movement or sound would wake me. I suppose I slept until six o’clock, +when I was aroused by a footfall. I sprang up, and saw before me one of our +native servants. He was trembling and his face was ashen beneath the black. +Moreover he could not speak. All he did was to put his head on one side, like a +dead man, and keep on pointing downwards. Then with his mouth open and starting +eyes he beckoned to me to follow him. +</p> + +<p> +I followed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +RODD’S LAST CARD</h2> + +<p> +The man led me to Marnham’s room, which I had never entered before. All I +could see at first, for the shutters were closed, was that the place seemed +large, as bedchambers go in South Africa. When my eyes grew accustomed to the +light, I made out the figure of a man seated in a chair with his head bent +forward over a table that was placed at the foot of the bed almost in the +centre of the room. I threw open the shutters and the morning light poured in. +The man was Marnham. On the table were writing materials, also a brandy bottle +with only a dreg of spirit in it. I looked for the glass and found it by his +side on the floor, shattered, not merely broken. +</p> + +<p> +“Drunk,” I said aloud, whereon the servant, who understood me, +spoke for the first time, saying in a frightened voice in Dutch— +</p> + +<p> +“No, Baas, dead, half cold. I found him so just now.” +</p> + +<p> +I bent down and examined Marnham, also felt his face. Sure enough, he was dead, +for his jaw had fallen; also his flesh was chill, and from him came a horrible +smell of brandy. I thought for a moment, then bade the boy fetch Dr. Rodd and +say nothing to any one else, He went, and now for the first time I noticed a +large envelope addressed “Allan Quatermain, Esq.” in a somewhat +shaky hand. This I picked up and slipped into my pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Rodd arrived half dressed. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter now?” he growled. +</p> + +<p> +I pointed to Marnham, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“That is a question for you to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! drunk again, I suppose,” he said. Then he did as I had done, +bent down and examined him. A few seconds later he stepped or reeled back, +looking as frightened as a man could be, and exclaiming— +</p> + +<p> +“Dead as a stone, by God! Dead these three hours or more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” I answered, “but what killed him?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know?” he asked savagely. “Do you suspect me of +poisoning him?” +</p> + +<p> +“My mind is open,” I replied; “but as you quarrelled so +bitterly last night, others might.” +</p> + +<p> +The bolt went home; he saw his danger. +</p> + +<p> +“Probably the old sot died in a fit, or of too much brandy. How can one +know without a post-mortem? But that mustn’t be made by me. I’m off +to inform the magistrate and get hold of another doctor. Let the body remain as +it is until I return.” +</p> + +<p> +I reflected quickly. Ought I to let him go or not? If he had any hand in this +business, doubtless he intended to escape. Well, supposing this were so and he +did escape, that would be a good thing for Heda, and really it was no affair +of mine to bring the fellow to justice. Moreover there was nothing to show that +he was guilty; his whole manner seemed to point another way, though of course +he might be acting. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” I replied, “but return as quickly as +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood for a few seconds like a man who is dazed. It occurred to me that it +might have come into his mind with Marnham’s death that he had lost his +hold over Heda. But if so he said nothing of it, but only asked— +</p> + +<p> +“Will you go instead of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the whole I think not,” I replied, “and if I did, the +story I should have to tell might not tend to your advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, damn you!” he exclaimed and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later he was galloping towards Pilgrim’s Rest. Before I +departed from the death chamber I examined the place carefully to see if I +could find any poison or other deadly thing, but without success. One thing I +did discover, however. Turning the leaf of a blotting-book that was by +Marnham’s elbow, I came upon a sheet of paper on which were written these +words in his hand, “Greater love hath no man than this—” that +was all. +</p> + +<p> +Either he had forgotten the end of the quotation or changed his mind, or was +unable through weakness to finish the sentence. This paper also I put in my +pocket. Bolting the shutters and locking the door I returned to the stoep, +where I was alone, for as yet no one else was stirring. Then I remembered the +letter in my pocket and opened it. It ran— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“D<small>EAR</small> M<small>R</small>. Q<small>UATERMAIN</small>,— +<br /> + “I have remembered that those who quarrel with Dr. Rodd are apt to +die soon and suddenly; at any rate life at my age is always uncertain. +Therefore, as I know you to be an honest man, I am enclosing my will that it +may be in safe keeping and purpose to send it to your room to-morrow morning. +Perhaps when you return to Pretoria you will deposit it in the Standard Bank +there, and if I am still alive, forward me the receipt. You will see that I +leave everything to my daughter whom I dearly love, and that there is enough to +keep the wolf from her door, besides my share in this property, if it is ever +realized. +<br /> + “After all that has passed to-night I do not feel up to writing a +long letter, so +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Remain sincerely yours,<br /> +“H. A. M<small>ARNHAM</small>.” +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“PS.—I should like to state clearly upon paper that my earnest hope +and wish are that Heda may get clear of that black-hearted, murderous, +scoundrel Rodd and marry Mr. Anscombe, whom I like and who, I am sure, would +make her a good husband.” +</p> + +<p> +Thinking to myself this did not look very like the letter of a suicide, I +glanced through the will, as the testator seemed to have wished that I should +do so. It was short, but properly drawn, signed, and witnessed, and bequeathed +a sum of £9,000, which was on deposit at the Standard Bank, together with all +his other property, real and personal, to Heda for her own sole use, free from +the debts and engagements of her husband, should she marry. Also she was +forbidden to spend more than £1,000 of the capital. In short the money was +strictly tied up. With the will were some other papers that apparently referred +to certain property in Hungary to which Heda might become entitled, but about +these I did not trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Replacing these documents in a safe inner pocket in the lining of my waistcoat, +I went into our room and woke up Anscombe who was sleeping soundly, a fact that +caused an unreasonable irritation in my mind. When at length he was thoroughly +aroused I said to him— +</p> + +<p> +“You are in luck’s way, my friend. Marnham is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! poor Heda,” he exclaimed, “she loved him. It will half +break her heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it breaks half of her heart,” I replied, “it will mend +the other half, for now her filial affection can’t force her to marry +Rodd, and that is where you are in luck’s way.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I told him all the story. +</p> + +<p> +“Was he murdered or did he commit suicide?” he asked when I had +finished. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, and to tell you the truth I don’t want to +know; nor will you if you are wise, unless knowledge is forced upon you. It is +enough that he is dead, and for his daughter’s sake the less the +circumstances of his end are examined into the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Heda!” he said again, “who will tell her? I +can’t. <i>You</i> found him, Allan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expected that job would be my share of the business, Anscombe. Well, +the sooner it is over the better. Now dress yourself and come on to the +stoep.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I left him and next minute met Heda’s fat, half-breed maid, a stupid +but good sort of a woman who was called Kaatje, emerging from her +mistress’s room with a jug, to fetch hot water, I suppose. +</p> + +<p> +“Kaatje,” I said, “go back and tell the Missie Heda that I +want to speak to her as soon as I can. Never mind the hot water, but stop and +help her to dress.” +</p> + +<p> +She began to grumble a little in a good-natured way, but something in my eye +stopped her and she went back into the room. Ten minutes later Heda was by my +side. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Mr. Quatermain?” she asked. “I feel sure that +something dreadful has happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has, my dear,” I answered, “that is, if death is +dreadful. Your father died last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she said, “oh!” and sank back on to the seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Bear up,” I went on, “we must all die one day, and he had +reached the full age of man.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I loved him,” she moaned. “He had many faults I know, +still I loved him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the lot of life, Heda, that we should lose what we love. Be +thankful, therefore, that you have some one left to love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thank God! that’s true. If it had been him—no, +it’s wicked to say that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I told her the story, and while I was doing so, Anscombe joined us, +walking by aid of his stick. Also I showed them both Marnham’s letter to +me and the will, but the other bit of paper I did not speak of or show. +</p> + +<p> +She sat very pale and quiet and listened till I had done. Then she said— +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it is as well,” I answered. “If you can bear it, +come at once, and do you come also, Anscombe.” +</p> + +<p> +We went to the room, Anscombe and Heda holding each other by the hand. I +unlocked the door and, entering, threw open a shutter. There sat the dead man +as I had left him, only his head had fallen over a little. She gazed at him, +trembling, then advanced and kissed his cold forehead, muttering, +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, father. Oh! good-bye, father.” +</p> + +<p> +A thought struck me, and I asked— +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any place here where your father locked up things? As I have +shown you, you are his heiress, and if so it might be as well in this house +that you should possess yourself of his property.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a safe in the corner,” she answered, “of which he +always kept the key in his trouser pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then with your leave I will open it in your presence.” +</p> + +<p> +Going to the dead man I searched his pocket and found in it a bunch of keys. +These I withdrew and went to the safe over which a skin rug was thrown. I +unlocked it easily enough. Within were two bags of gold, each marked £100; also +another larger bag marked “My wife’s jewelry. For Heda”; also +some papers and a miniature of the lady whose portrait hung in the +sitting-room; also some loose gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Now who will take charge of these?” I asked. “I do not think +it safe to leave them here.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, of course,” said Anscombe, while Heda nodded. +</p> + +<p> +So with a groan I consigned all these valuables to my capacious pockets. Then I +locked up the empty safe, replaced the keys where I had found them on Marnham, +fastened the shutter and left the room with Anscombe, waiting for a while +outside till Heda joined us, sobbing a little. After this we got something to +eat, insisting on Heda doing the same. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving the table I saw a curious sight, namely, the patients whom Rodd was +attending in the little hospital of which I have spoken, departing towards the +bush-veld, those of them who could walk well and the attendants assisting the +others. They were already some distance away, too far indeed for me to follow, +as I did not wish to leave the house. The incident filled me with suspicion, +and I went round to the back to make inquiries, but could find no one. As I +passed the hospital door, however, I heard a voice calling in Sisutu— +</p> + +<p> +“Do not leave me behind, my brothers.” +</p> + +<p> +I entered and saw the man on whom Rodd had operated the day of our arrival, +lying in bed and quite alone. I asked him where the others had gone. At first +he would not answer, but when I pretended to leave him, called out that it was +back to their own country. Finally, to cut the story short, I extracted from +him that they had left because they had news that the Temple was going to be +attacked by Sekukuni and did not wish to be here when I and Anscombe were +killed. How the news reached him he refused, or could not, say; nor did he seem +to know anything of the death of Marnham. When I pressed him on the former +point, he only groaned and cried for water, for he was in pain and thirsty. I +asked him who had told Sekukuni’s people to kill us, but he refused to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” I said, “then you shall lie here alone and die +of thirst,” and again I turned towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +At this he cried out— +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you. It was the white medicine-man who lives here; he who +cut me open. He arranged it all a few days ago because he hates you. Last night +he rode to tell the impi when to come.” +</p> + +<p> +“When is it to come?” I asked, holding the jug of water towards +him. +</p> + +<p> +“To-night at the rising of the moon, so that it may get far away before +the dawn. My people are thirsty for your blood and for that of the other white +chief, because you killed so many of them by the river. The others they will +not harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you learn all this?” I asked him again, but without +result, for he became incoherent and only muttered something about being left +alone because the others could not carry him. So I gave him some water, after +which he fell asleep, or pretended to do so, and I left him, wondering whether +he was delirious, or spoke truth. As I passed the stables I saw that my own +horse was there, for in this district horses are always shut up at night to +keep them from catching sickness, but that the four beasts that had brought +Heda from Natal in the Cape cart were gone, though it was evident that they had +been kraaled here till within an hour or two. I threw my horse a bundle of +forage and returned to the house by the back entrance. The kitchen was empty, +but crouched by the door of Marnham’s room sat the boy who had found him +dead. He had been attached to his master and seemed half dazed. I asked him +where the other servants were, to which he replied that they had all run away. +Then I asked him where the horses were. He answered that the Baas Rodd had +ordered them to be turned out before he rode off that morning. I bade him +accompany me to the stoep, as I dared not let him out of my sight, which he did +unwillingly enough. +</p> + +<p> +There I found Anscombe and Heda. They were seated side by side upon the couch. +Tears were running down her face and he, looking very troubled, held her by the +hand. Somehow that picture of Heda has always remained fixed in my mind. Sorrow +becomes some women and she was one of them. Her beautiful dark grey eyes did +not grow red with weeping; the tears just welled up in them and fell like +dewdrops from the heart of a flower. +</p> + +<p> +She sat very upright and very still, as he did, looking straight in front of +her, while a ray of sunshine, falling on her head, showed the chestnut-hued +lights in her waving hair, of which she had a great abundance. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed the pair of them, thus seated side by side, reminded me of an engraving +I had seen somewhere of the statues of a husband and wife in an old Egyptian +tomb. With just such a look did the woman of thousands of years ago sit gazing +in patient hope into the darkness of the future. Death had made her sad, but it +was gone by, and the little wistful smile about her lips seemed to suggest that +in this darkness her sorrowful eyes already saw the stirring of the new life to +be. Moreover, was not the man she loved the companion of her hopes as he had +been of her woes. Such was the fanciful thought that sprang up in my mind, even +in the midst of those great anxieties, like a single flower in a stony +wilderness of thorns or one star on the blackness of the night. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment it had gone and I was telling them of what I had learned. They +listened till I had finished. Then Anscombe said slowly— +</p> + +<p> +“Two of us can’t hold this house against an impi. We must get out +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Both your conclusions seem quite sound,” I remarked, “that +is if yonder old Kaffir is telling the truth. But the question is—how? We +can’t all three of us ride on one nag, as you are still a cripple.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is the Cape cart,” suggested Heda. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but the horses have been turned out, and I don’t know where +to look for them. Nor dare I send that boy alone, for probably he would bolt +like the others. I think that you had better get on my horse and ride for it, +leaving us to take our chance. I daresay the whole thing is a lie and that we +shall be in no danger,” I added by way of softening the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“That I will never do,” she replied with so much quiet conviction +that I saw it was useless to pursue the argument. +</p> + +<p> +I thought for a moment, as the position was very difficult. The boy was not to +be trusted, and if I went with him I should be leaving these two alone and, in +Anscombe’s state, almost defenceless. Still it seemed as though I must. +Just then I looked up, and there at the garden gate saw Anscombe’s +driver, Footsack, the man whom I had despatched to Pretoria to fetch his oxen. +I noted that he looked frightened and was breathless, for his eyes started out +of his head. Also his hat was gone and he bled a little from his face. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing us he ran up the path and sat down as though he were tired. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the oxen?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Baas,” he answered, “the Basutos have got them. We heard +from an old black woman that Sekukuni had an impi out, so we waited on the top +of that hill about an hour’s ride away to see if it was true. Then +suddenly the doctor Baas appeared riding, and I ran out and asked him if it +were safe to go on. He knew me again and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes, quite safe, for have I not just ridden this road without +meeting so much as a black child. Go on, man; your masters will be glad to have +their oxen, as they wish to trek, or will by nightfall.’ Then he laughed +and rode away. +</p> + +<p> +“So we went on, driving the oxen. But when we came to the belt of thorns +at the bottom of the hill, we found that the doctor Baas had either lied to us +or he had not seen. For there suddenly the tall grass on either side of the +path grew spears; yes, everywhere were spears. In a minute the two voorloopers +were assegaied. As for me, I ran forward, not back, since the Kaffirs were +behind me, across the path, Baas, driving off the oxen. They sprang at me, but +I jumped this way and that way and avoided them. Then they threw +assegais—see, one of them cut my cheek, but the rest missed. They had +guns in their hands also, but none shot. I think they did not wish to make a +noise. Only one of them shouted after me— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Tell Macumazahn that we are going to call on him tonight when he +cannot see to shoot. We have a message for him from our brothers whom he killed +at the drift of the Oliphant’s River.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then I ran on here without stopping, but I saw no more Kaffirs. That is +all, Baas.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I did not delay to cross-examine the man or to sift the true from the false +in his story, since it was clear to me that he had run into a company of +Basutos, or rather been beguiled thereto by Rodd, and lost our cattle, also his +companions, who were either killed as he said, or had escaped some other way. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, man,” I said. “I am going to fetch some horses. Do +you stay here and help the Missie to pack the cart and make the harness ready. +If you disobey me or run away, then I will find you and you will never run +again. Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +He vowed that he did and went to get some water, while I explained everything +to Anscombe and Heda, pointing out that all the information we could gather +seemed to show that no attack was to be made upon the house before nightfall, +and that therefore we had the day before us. As this was so I proposed to go to +look for the horses myself, since otherwise I was sure we should never find +them. Meanwhile Heda must pack and make ready the cart with the help of +Footsack, Anscombe superintending everything, as he could very well do since he +was now able to walk leaning on a stick. +</p> + +<p> +Of course neither of them liked my leaving them, but in view of our necessities +they raised no objection. So off I went, taking the boy with me. He did not +want to go, being, as I have said, half dazed with grief or fear, or both, but +when I had pointed out to him clearly that I was quite prepared to shoot him if +he played tricks, he changed his mind. Having saddled my mare that was now +fresh and fat, we started, the boy guiding me to a certain kloof at the foot of +which there was a small plain of good grass where he said the horses were +accustomed to graze. +</p> + +<p> +Here sure enough we found two of them, and as they had been turned out with +their headstalls on, were able to tie them to trees with the riems which were +attached to the headstalls. But the others were not there, and as two horses +could not drag a heavy Cape cart, I was obliged to continue the search. Oh! +what a hunt those beasts gave me. Finding themselves free, for as Rodd’s +object was that they should stray, he had ordered the stable-boy not to +kneel-halter them, after filling themselves with grass they had started off for +the farm where they were bred, which, it seemed, was about fifty miles away, +grazing as they went. Of course I did not know this at the time, so for several +hours I rode up and down the neighbouring kloofs, as the ground was too hard +for me to hope to follow them by their spoor. +</p> + +<p> +It occurred to me to ask the boy where the horses came from, a question that he +happened to be able to answer, as he had brought them home when they were +bought the year before. Having learned in what direction the place lay I rode +for it at an angle, or rather for the path that led to it, making the boy run +alongside, holding to my stirrup leather. About three o’clock in the +afternoon I struck this path, or rather track, at a point ten or twelve miles +away from the Temple, and there, just mounting a rise, met the two horses +quietly walking towards me. Had I been a quarter of an hour later they would +have passed and vanished into a sea of thorn-veld. We caught them without +trouble and once more headed homewards, leading them by their riems. +</p> + +<p> +Reaching the glade where the other two were tied up, we collected them also and +returned to the house, where we arrived at five o’clock. As everything +seemed quiet I put my mare into the stable, slipped its bit and gave it some +forage. Then I went round the house, and to my great joy found Anscombe and +Heda waiting anxiously, but with nothing to report, and with them Footsack. +Very hastily I swallowed some food, while Footsack inspanned the horses. In a +quarter of an hour all was ready. Then suddenly, in an inconsequent female +fashion, Heda developed a dislike to leaving her father unburied. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady,” I said, “it seems that you must choose +between that and our all stopping to be buried with him.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw the point and compromised upon paying him a visit of farewell, which I +left her to do in Anscombe’s company, while I fetched my mare. To tell +the truth I felt as though I had seen enough of the unhappy Marnham, and not +for £50 would I have entered that room again. As I passed the door of the +hospital, leading my horse, I heard the old Kaffir screaming within and sent +the boy who was with me to find out what was the matter with him. That was the +last I saw of either of them, or ever shall see this side of kingdom come. I +wonder what became of them? +</p> + +<p> +When I got back to the front of the house I found the cart standing ready at +the gate, Footsack at the head of the horses and Heda with Anscombe at her +side. It had been neatly packed during the day by Heda with such of her and our +belongings as it would hold, including our arms and ammunition. The rest, of +course, we were obliged to abandon. Also there were two baskets full of food, +some bottles of brandy and a good supply of overcoats and wraps. I told +Footsack to take the reins, as I knew him to be a good driver, and helped +Anscombe to a seat at his side, while Heda and the maid Kaatje got in behind in +order to balance the vehicle. I determined to ride, at any rate for the +present. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way, Baas?” asked Footsack. +</p> + +<p> +“Down to the Granite Stream where the wagon stands,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“That will be through the Yellow-wood Swamp. Can’t we take the +other road to Pilgrim’s Rest and Lydenburg, or to Barberton?” asked +Anscombe in a vague way, and as I thought, rather nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, “that is unless you wish to meet those +Basutos who stole the oxen and Dr. Rodd returning, if he means to +return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! let us go through the Yellow-wood,” exclaimed Heda, who, I +think, would rather have met the devil than Dr. Rodd. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! if I had but known that we were heading straight for that person, sooner +would I have faced the Basutos twice over. But I did what seemed wisest, +thinking that he would be sure to return with another doctor or a magistrate by +the shorter and easier path which he had followed in the morning. It just shows +once more how useless are all our care and foresight, or how strong is Fate, +have it which way you will. +</p> + +<p> +So we started down the slope, and I, riding behind, noted poor Heda staring at +the marble house, which grew ever more beautiful as it receded and the +roughness of its building disappeared, especially at that part of it which hid +the body of her old scamp of a father whom still she loved. We came down to the +glen and once more saw the bones of the blue wildebeeste that we had +shot—oh! years and years ago, or so it seemed. Then we struck out for the +Granite Stream. +</p> + +<p> +Before we reached the patch of Yellow-wood forest where I knew that the cart +must travel very slowly because of the trees and the swampy nature of the +ground, I pushed on ahead to reconnoitre, fearing lest there might be Basutos +hidden in this cover. Riding straight through it I went as far as the deserted +wagon at a sharp canter, seeing nothing and no one. Once indeed, towards the +end of the wood where it was more dense, I thought that I heard a man cough and +peered about me through the gloom, for here the rays of the sun, which was +getting low in the heavens, scarcely penetrated. As I could perceive no one I +came to the conclusion that I must have been deceived by my fancy. Or perhaps +it was some baboon that coughed, though it was strange that a baboon should +have come to such a low-lying spot where there was nothing for it to eat. +</p> + +<p> +The place was eerie, so much so that I bethought me of tales of the ghosts +whereby it was supposed to be haunted. Also, oddly enough, of Anscombe’s +presentiment which he had fulfilled by killing a Basuto. Look! There lay his +grinning skull with some patches of hair still on it, dragged away from the +rest of the bones by a hyena. I cantered on down the slope beyond the wood and +through the scattered thorns to the stream on the banks of which the wagon +should be. It had gone, and by the freshness of the trail, within an hour or +two. A moment’s reflection told me what had happened. Having stolen our +oxen the Basutos drove them to the wagon, inspanned them and departed with +their loot. On the whole I was glad to see this, since it suggested that they +had retired towards their own country, leaving our road open. +</p> + +<p> +Turning my horse I rode back again to meet the cart. As I reached the edge of +the wood at the top of the slope I heard a whistle blown, a very shrill +whistle, of which the sound would travel for a mile or two on that still air. +Also I heard the sound of men’s voices in altercation and caught words, +such as—“Let go, or by Heaven—!” then a furious laugh +and other words which seemed to be—“In five minutes the Kaffirs +will be here. In ten you will be dead. Can I help it if they kill you after I +have warned you to turn back?” Then a woman’s scream. +</p> + +<p> +Rodd’s voice, Anscombe’s voice and Kaatje’s scream—not +Heda’s but Kaatje’s! +</p> + +<p> +Then as I rode furiously round the last patch of intervening trees the sound of +a pistol shot. I was out of them now and saw everything. There was the cart on +the further side of a swamp. The horses were standing still and snorting. +Holding the rein of one of the leaders was Rodd, whose horse also stood close +by. He was rocking on his feet and as I leapt from my mare and ran up, I saw +his face. It was horrible, full of pain and devilish rage. With his disengaged +hand he pointed to Anscombe sitting in the cart and grasping a pistol that +still smoked. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve killed me,” he said in a hoarse, choking voice, for +he was shot through the lung, “to get her,” and he waved his hand +towards Heda who was peering at him between the heads of the two men. +“You are a murderer, as her father was, and as David was before you. +Well, I hope you won’t keep her long. I hope you’ll die as I do and +break her false heart, you damned thief.” +</p> + +<p> +All of this he said in a slow voice, pausing between the words and speaking +ever more thickly as the blood from his wound choked him. Then of a sudden it +burst in a stream from his lips, and still pointing with an accusing finger at +Anscombe, he fell backwards into the slimy pool behind him and there vanished +without a struggle. +</p> + +<p> +So horrible was the sight that the driver, Footsack, leapt from the cart, +uttering a kind of low howl, ran to Rodd’s horse, scrambled into the +saddle and galloped off, striking it with his fist, where to I do not know. +Anscombe put his hand before his eyes, Heda sank down on the seat in a heap, +and the coloured woman, Kaatje, beat her breast and said something in Dutch +about being accursed or bewitched. Luckily I kept my wits and went to the +horses’ heads, fearing lest they should start and drag the trap into the +pool. “Wake up,” I said. “That fellow has only got what he +deserved, and you were quite right to shoot him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you think so,” answered Anscombe absently. “It was +so like murder. Don’t you remember I told you I should kill a man in this +place and about a woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember nothing,” I answered boldly, “except that if we +stop here much longer we shall have those Basutos on us. That brute was +whistling to them and holding the horses till they came to kill us. Pull +yourself together, take the reins and follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, being a skilful whip enough who, as he informed me afterwards, had +been accustomed to drive a four-in-hand at home. Mounting my horse, which stood +by, I guided the cart out of the wood and down the slope beyond, till at length +we came to our old outspan where I proposed to turn on to the wagon track which +ran to Pilgrim’s Rest. I say proposed, for when I looked up it I +perceived about five hundred yards away a number of armed Basutos running +towards us, the red light of the sunset shining on their spears. Evidently the +scout or spy to whom Rodd whistled, had called them out of their ambush which +they had set for us on the Pilgrim’s Rest road in order that they might +catch us if we tried to escape that way. +</p> + +<p> +Now there was only one thing to be done. At this spot a native track ran across +the little stream and up a steepish slope beyond. On the first occasion of our +outspanning here I had the curiosity to mount this slope, reflecting as I did +so that although rough it would be quite practicable for a wagon. At the top of +it I found a wide flat plain, almost high-veld, for the bushes were very few, +across which the track ran on. On subsequent inquiry I discovered that it was +one used by the Swazis and other natives when they made their raids upon the +Basutos, or when bodies of them went to work in the mines. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me,” I shouted and crossed the stream which was shallow +between the little pools, then led the way up the stony slope. The four horses +negotiated it very well and the Cape cart, being splendidly built, took no +harm. At the top I looked back and saw that the Basutos were following us. +</p> + +<p> +“Flog the horses!” I cried to Anscombe, and off we went at a hand +gallop along the native track, the cart swaying and bumping upon the rough +veld. The sun was setting now, in half an hour it would be quite dark. +</p> + +<p> +Could we keep ahead of them for that half hour? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +FLIGHT</h2> + +<p> +The sun sank in a blaze of glory. Looking back by the light of its last rays I +saw a single native silhouetted against the red sky. He was standing on a mound +that we had passed a mile or more behind us, doubtless waiting for his +companions whom he had outrun. So they had not given up the chase. What was to +be done? Once it was completely dark we could not go on. We should lose our +way; the horses would get into ant-bear holes and break their legs. Perhaps we +might become bogged in some hollow, therefore we must wait till the moon rose, +which would not be for a couple of hours. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile those accursed Basutos would be following us even in the dark. This +would hamper them, no doubt, but they would keep the path, with which they were +probably familiar, beneath their feet, and what is more, the ground being soft +with recent rain, they could feel the wheel spoor with their fingers. I looked +about me. Just here another track started off in a nor’-westerly +direction from that which we were following. Perhaps it ran to Lydenburg; I do +not know. To our left, not more than a hundred yards or so away, the higher +veld came to an end and sloped in an easterly direction down to bush-land +below. +</p> + +<p> +Should I take the westerly road which ran over a great plain? No, for then we +might be seen for miles and cut off. Moreover, even if we escaped the natives, +was it desirable we should plunge into civilization just now and tell all our +story, as in that case we must do. Rodd’s death was quite justified, but +it had happened on Transvaal territory and would require a deal of explanation. +Fortunately there was no witness of it, except ourselves. Yes, there was +though—the driver Footsack, if he had got away, which, being mounted, +would seem probable, a man who, for my part, I would not trust for a moment. It +would be an ugly thing to see Anscombe in the dock charged with murder and +possibly myself, with Footsack giving evidence against us before a Boer jury +who might be hard on Englishmen. Also there was the body with a bullet in it. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly there came into my mind a recollection of the very vivid dream of +Zikali which had visited me, and I reflected that in Zululand there would be +little need to trouble about the death of Rodd. But Zululand was a long way +off, and if we were to avoid the Transvaal, there was only one way of going +there, namely through Swaziland. Well, among the Swazis we should be quite safe +from the Basutos, since the two peoples were at fierce enmity. Moreover I knew +the Swazi chiefs and king very well, having traded there, and could explain +that I came to collect debts owing to me. +</p> + +<p> +There was another difficulty. I had heard that the trouble between the English +Government and Cetewayo, the Zulu king, was coming to a head, and that the High +Commissioner, Sir Bartle Frere, talked of presenting him with an ultimatum. It +would be awkward if this arrived while we were in the country, though even so, +being on such friendly terms with the Zulus of all classes, I did not think +that I, or any with me, would run great risks. +</p> + +<p> +All these thoughts rushed through my brain while I considered what to do. At +the moment it was useless to ask the opinion of the others who were but +children in native matters. I and I alone must take the responsibility and act, +praying that I might do so aright. Another moment and I had made up my mind. +</p> + +<p> +Signing to Anscombe to follow me, I rode about a hundred yards or more down the +nor’-westerly path. Then I turned sharply along a rather stony ridge of +ground, the cart following me all the time, and came back across our own track, +my object being of course to puzzle any Kaffirs who might spoor us. Now we were +on the edge of the gentle slope that led down to the bush-veld. Over this I +rode towards a deserted cattle kraal built of stones, in the rich soil of which +grew sundry trees; doubtless one of those which had been abandoned when +Mosilikatze swept all this country on his way north about the year 1838. The +way to it was easy, since the surrounding stones had been collected to build +the kraal generations before. As we passed over the edge of the slope in the +gathering gloom, Heda cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” and pointed in the direction whence we came. Far away a +sheet of flame shot upwards. +</p> + +<p> +“The house is burning,” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I said, “it can be nothing else;” adding to +myself, “a good job too, for now there will be no postmortem on old +Marnham.” +</p> + +<p> +Who fired the place I never learnt. It may have been the Basutos, or +Marnham’s body-servant, or Footsack, or a spark from the kitchen fire. At +any rate it blazed merrily enough notwithstanding the marble walls, as a +wood-lined and thatched building of course would do. On the whole I suspected +the boy, who may very well have feared lest he should be accused of having had +a hand in his master’s death. At least it was gone, and watching the +distant flames I bethought me that with it went all Heda’s past. +Twenty-four hours before her father was alive, the bondservant of Rodd and a +criminal. Now he was ashes and Rodd was dead, while she and the man she loved +were free, with all the world before them. I wished that I could have added +that they were safe. Afterwards she told me that much the same ideas passed +through her own mind. +</p> + +<p> +Dismounting I led the horses into the old kraal through the gap in the wall +which once had been the gateway. It was a large kraal that probably in bygone +days had held the cattle of some forgotten head chief whose town would have +stood on the brow of the rise; so large that notwithstanding the trees I have +mentioned, there was plenty of room for the cart and horses in its centre. +Moreover, on such soil the grass grew so richly that after we had slipped their +bits, the horses were able to fill themselves without being unharnessed. Also a +little stream from a spring on the brow ran within a few yards whence, with the +help of Kaatje, a strong woman, I watered them with the bucket which hung +underneath the cart. Next we drank ourselves and ate some food in the darkness +that was now complete. Then leaving Kaatje to stand at the head of the horses +in case they should attempt any sudden movement, I climbed into the cart, and +we discussed things in low whispers. +</p> + +<p> +It was a curious debate in that intense gloom which, close as our faces were +together, prevented us from seeing anything of each other, except once when a +sudden flare of summer lightning revealed them, white and unnatural as those of +ghosts. On our present dangers I did not dwell, putting them aside lightly, +though I knew they were not light. But of the alternative as to whether we +should try to escape to Lydenburg and civilization, or to Zululand and +savagery, I felt it to be my duty to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“To put it plainly,” said Anscombe in his slow way when I had +finished, “you mean that in the Transvaal I might be tried as a murderer +and perhaps convicted, whereas if we vanish into Zululand the probability is +that this would not happen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean,” I whispered back, “that we might both be tried and, +if Footsack should chance to appear and give evidence, find ourselves in an +awkward position. Also there is another witness—Kaatje, and for the +matter of that, Heda herself. Of course her evidence would be in our favour, +but to make it understood by a jury she would have to explain a great deal of +which she might prefer not to speak. Further, at the best, the whole business +would get into the English papers, which you and your relatives might think +disagreeable, especially in view of the fact that, as I understand, you and +Heda intend to marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still I think that I would rather face it out,” he said in his +outspoken way, “even if it should mean that I could never return to +England. After all, of what have I to be afraid? I shot this scoundrel because +I was obliged to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but it is of this that you may have to convince a jury who might +possibly find a motive in Rodd’s past, and your present, relationship to +the same lady. But what has she to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to say,” whispered Heda, “that for myself I care +nothing, but that I could never bear to see all these stories about my poor +father raked up. Also there is Maurice to be considered. It would be terrible +if they put him in prison—or worse. Let us go to Zululand, Mr. +Quatermain, and afterwards get out of Africa. Don’t you agree, +Maurice?” +</p> + +<p> +“What does Mr. Quatermain think himself?” he answered. “He is +the oldest and by far the wisest of us and I will be guided by him.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I considered and said— +</p> + +<p> +“There is such a thing as flying from present troubles to others that may +be worse, the ‘ills we know not of.’ Zululand is disturbed. If war +broke out there we might all be killed. On the other hand we might not, and it +ought to be possible for you to work up to Delagoa Bay and there get some ship +home, that is if you wish to keep clear of British law. I cannot do so, as I +must stay in Africa. Nor can I take the responsibility of settling what you are +to do, since if things went wrong, it would be on my head. However, if you +decide for the Transvaal or Natal and we escape, I must tell you that I shall +go to the first magistrate we find and make a full deposition of all that has +happened. It is not possible for me to live with the charge of having been +concerned in the shooting of a white man hanging over me that might be brought +up at any time, perhaps when no one was left in the country to give evidence on +my behalf, for then, even if I were acquitted my name would always be +tarnished. In Zululand, on the other hand, there are no magistrates before whom +I could depose, and if this business should come out, I can always say that we +went there to escape from the Basutos. Now I am going to get down to see if the +horses are all right. Do you two talk the thing over and make up your minds. +Whatever you agree on, I shall accept and do my best to carry through.” +Then, without waiting for an answer, I slipped from the cart. +</p> + +<p> +Having examined the horses, who were cropping all the grass within reach of +them, I crept to the wall of the kraal so as to be quite out of earshot. The +night was now pitch dark, dark as it only knows how to be in Africa. More, a +thunderstorm was coming up of which that flash of sheet lightning had been a +presage. The air was electric. From the vast bush-clad valley beneath us came a +wild, moaning sound caused, I suppose, by wind among the trees, though here I +felt none; far away a sudden spear of lightning stabbed the sky. The brooding +trouble of nature spread to my own heart. I was afraid, and not of our present +dangers, though these were real enough, so real that in a few hours we might +all be dead. +</p> + +<p> +To dangers I was accustomed; for years they had been my daily food by day and +by night, and, as I think I have said elsewhere, I am a fatalist, one who knows +full well that when God wants me He will take me; that is if He can want such a +poor, erring creature. Nothing that I did or left undone could postpone or +hasten His summons for a moment, though of course I knew it to be my duty to +fight against death and to avoid it for as long as I might, because that I +should do so was a portion of His plan. For we are all part of a great pattern, +and the continuance or cessation of our lives re-acts upon other lives, and +therefore life is a trust. +</p> + +<p> +No, it was of greater things that I felt afraid, things terrible and imminent +which I could not grasp and much less understand. I understand them now, but +who would have guessed that on the issue of that whispered colloquy in the cart +behind me, depended the fate of a people and many thousands of lives? As I was +to learn in days to come, if Anscombe and Heda had determined upon heading for +the Transvaal, there would, as I believe, have been no Zulu war, which in its +turn meant that there would have been no Boer Rebellion and that the mysterious +course of history would have been changed. +</p> + +<p> +I shook myself together and returned to the cart. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I whispered, but there was no answer. A moment later there +came another flash of lightning. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” said Heda, “how many do you make it? +</p> + +<p> +“Ninety-eight,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I counted ninety-nine,” she said, “but anyway it was within +the hundred. Mr. Quatermain, we will go to Zululand, if you please, if you will +show us the way there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right,” I answered, “but might I ask what that has to do +with your both counting a hundred?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only this,” she said, “we could not make up our minds. +Maurice was for the Transvaal, I was for Zululand. So you see we agreed that if +another flash came before we counted a hundred, we would go to Zululand, and if +it didn’t, to Pretoria. A very good way of settling, wasn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent!” I replied, “quite excellent for those who could +think of such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact I don’t know which of them thought of it because I +never inquired. But I did remember afterwards how Anscombe had tossed with a +lucky penny when it was a question whether we should or should not run for the +wagon during our difficulty by the Oliphant’s River; also when I asked +him the reason for this strange proceeding he answered that Providence might +inhabit a penny as well as anything else, and that he wished to give it—I +mean Providence—a chance. How much more then, he may have argued, could +it inhabit a flash of lightning which has always been considered a divine +manifestation from the time of the Roman Jove, and no doubt far before him. +</p> + +<p> +Forty or fifty generations ago, which is not long, our ancestors set great +store by the behaviour of lightning and thunder, and doubtless the instinct is +still in our blood, in the same way that all our existing superstitions about +the moon come down to us from the time when our forefathers worshipped her. +They did this for tens of hundreds or thousands of years, and can we expect a +few coatings of the veneer that we politely call civilization, which after all +is only one of our conventions that vanish in any human stress such as war, to +kill out the human impulse it seems to hide? I do not know, though I have my +own opinion, and probably these young people never reasoned the matter out. +They just acted on an intuition as ancient as that which had attracted them to +each other, namely a desire to consult the ruling fates by omens or symbols. Or +perhaps Anscombe thought that as his experience with the penny had proved so +successful, he would give Providence another “chance.” If so it +took it and no mistake. Confound it! I don’t know what he thought; I only +dwell on the matter because of the great results which followed this +consultation of the Sybilline books of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +As it happened my speculations, if I really indulged in any at that time, were +suddenly extinguished by the bursting of the storm. It was of the usual +character, short but very violent. Of a sudden the sky became alive with +lightnings and the atmosphere with the roar of winds. One flash struck a tree +quite near the kraal, and I saw that tree seem to melt in its fiery embrace, +while about where it had been, rose a column of dust from the ground beneath. +The horses were so frightened that luckily they stood quite quiet, as I have +often known animals to do in such circumstances. Then came the rain, a +torrential rain as I, who was out in it holding the horses, became painfully +aware. It thinned after a while, however, as the storm rolled away. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly in a silence between the tremendous echoes of the passing thunder I +thought that I heard voices somewhere on the brow of the slope, and as the +horses were now quite calm, I crept through the trees to that part of the +enclosure which I judged to be nearest to them. +</p> + +<p> +Voices they were sure enough, and of the Basutos who were pursuing us. What was +more, they were coming down the slope. The top of the old wall reached almost +to my chin. Taking off my hat I thrust my head forward between two loose +stones, that I might hear the better. +</p> + +<p> +The men were talking together in Sisutu. One, whom I took to be their captain, +said to the others— +</p> + +<p> +“That white-headed old jackal, Macumazahn, has given us the slip again. +He doubled on his tracks and drove the horses down the hillside to the lower +path in the valley. I could feel where the wheels went over the edge.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is so, Father,” answered another voice, “but we shall +catch him and the others at the bottom if we get there before the moon rises, +since they cannot have moved far in this rain and darkness. Let me go first and +guide you who know every tree and stone upon this slope where I used to herd +cattle when I was a child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do so,” said the captain. “I can see nothing now the +lightning has gone, and were it not that I have sworn to dip my spear in the +blood of Macumazahn who has fooled us again, I would give up the hunt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it would be better to give it up in any case,” said a +third voice, “since it is known throughout the land that no luck has ever +come to those who tried to trap the Watcher-by-Night. Oh! he is a leopard who +springs and is gone again. How many are the throats in which his fangs have +met. Leave him alone, I say, lest our fate should be that of the white doctor +in the Yellow-wood Swamp, he who set us on this hunt. We have his wagon and his +cattle; let us be satisfied.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will leave him alone when he sleeps for the last time, and not +before,” answered the captain, “he who shot my brother in the drift +the other day. What would Sekukuni say if we let him escape to bring the Swazis +on us? Moreover, we want that white maiden for a hostage in case the English +should attack us again. Come, you who know the road, and lead us.” +</p> + +<p> +There was some disturbance as this man passed to the front. Then I heard the +line move forward. Presently they were going by the wall within a foot or two +of me. Indeed by ill-luck just as we were opposite to each other the captain +stumbled and fell against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“There is an old cattle kraal here,” he said. “What if those +white rats have hidden in it?” +</p> + +<p> +I trembled as I heard the words. If a horse should neigh or make any noise that +could be heard above the hiss of the rain! I did not dare to move for fear lest +I should betray myself. There I stood so close to the Kaffirs that I could +smell them and hear the rain pattering on their bodies. Only very stealthily I +drew my hunting knife with my right hand. At that moment the lightning, which I +thought had quite gone by, flashed again for the last time, revealing the fat +face of the Basuto captain within a foot of my own, for he was turned towards +the wall on which one of his hands rested. Moreover, the blue and ghastly light +revealed mine to him thrust forward between the two stones, my eyes glaring at +him. +</p> + +<p> +“The head of a dead man is set upon the wall!” he cried in terror. +“It is the ghost of—” +</p> + +<p> +He got no further, for as the last word passed his lips I drove the knife at +him with all my strength deep into his throat. He fell back into the arms of +his followers, and next instant I heard the sound of many feet rushing in +terror down the hill. What became of him I do not know, but if he still lives, +probably he agrees with his tribesman that Macumazahn—Watcher-by-Night, +or his ghost “is a leopard who springs and kills and is gone +again”; also, that those who try to trap him meet with no luck. I say, or +his ghost—because I am sure he thought that I was a spirit of the dead; +doubtless I must have looked like one with my white, rain-drowned face +appearing there between the stones and made ghastly and livid by the lightning. +</p> + +<p> +Well, they had gone, the whole band of them, not less than thirty or forty men, +so I went also, back to the cart where I found the others very comfortable +indeed beneath the rainproof tilt. Saying nothing of what had happened, of +which they were as innocent as babes, I took a stiff tot of brandy, for I was +chilled through by the wet, and while waiting for the moon to rise, busied +myself with getting the bits back into the horses’ mouths—an +awkward job in the dark. At length it appeared in a clear sky, for the storm +had quite departed and the rain ceased. As soon as there was light enough I +took the near leader by the bridle and led the cart to the brow of the hill, +which was not easy under the conditions, making Kaatje follow with my horse. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as there were no signs of any Basutos, we started on again, I riding +about a hundred yards ahead, keeping a sharp look-out for a possible ambush. +Fortunately, however, the veld was bare and open, consisting of long waves of +ground. One start I did get, thinking that I saw men’s heads just on the +crest of a wave, which turned out to be only a herd of springbuck feeding among +the tussocks of grass. I was very glad to see them, since their presence +assured me that no human being had recently passed that way. +</p> + +<p> +All night long we trekked, following the Kaffir path for as long as I could see +it, and after that going by my compass. I knew whereabouts the drift of the +Crocodile River should be, as I had crossed it twice before in my life, and +kept my eyes open for a certain tall koppie which stood within half a mile of +it on the Swazi side of the river. Ultimately to my joy I caught sight of this +hill faintly outlined against the sky and headed for it. Half a mile further on +I struck a wagon-track made by Boers trekking into Swazi-Land to trade or +shoot. Then I knew that the drift was straight ahead of us, and called to +Anscombe to flog up the weary horses. +</p> + +<p> +We reached the river just before the dawn. To my horror it was very full, so +full that the drift looked dangerous, for it had been swollen by the +thunder-rain of the previous night. Indeed some wandering Swazis on the further +bank shouted to us that we should be drowned if we tried to cross. +</p> + +<p> +“Which means that the only thing to do is to stay until the water runs +down,” I said to Anscombe, for the two women, tired out, were asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” he answered, “unless those +Basutos—” +</p> + +<p> +I looked back up the long slope down which we had come and saw no one. Then I +raised myself in my stirrups and looked along another track that joined the +road just here, leading from the bush-veld, as ours led from the high-veld. The +sun was rising now, dispersing the mist that hung about the trees after the +wet. Searching among these with my eyes, presently I perceived the light +gleaming upon what I knew must be the points of spears projecting above the +level of the ground vapour. +</p> + +<p> +“Those devils are after us by the lower road,” I said to Anscombe, +adding, “I heard them pass the old cattle kraal last night. They followed +our spoor over the edge of the hill, but in the dark lost it among the +stones.” +</p> + +<p> +He whistled and asked what was to be done. +</p> + +<p> +“That is for you to decide,” I answered. “For my part +I’d rather risk the river than the Basutos,” and I looked at the +slumbering Heda. +</p> + +<p> +“Can we bolt back the way we came, Allan?” +</p> + +<p> +“The horses are very spent and we might meet more Basutos,” and +again I looked at Heda. +</p> + +<p> +“A hard choice, Allan. It is wonderful how women complicate everything in +life, because they are life, I suppose.” He thought a moment and went on, +“Let’s try the river. If we fail, it will be soon over, and it is +better to drown than be speared.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or be kept alive by savages who hate us,” I exclaimed, with my +eyes still fixed upon Heda. +</p> + +<p> +Then I got to business. There were hide riems on the bridles of the leaders. I +undid these and knotted their loose ends firmly together. To them I made fast +the riem of my own mare, slipping a loop I tied in it, over my right hand and +saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Now I will go first, leading the horses. Do you drive after me for all +you are worth, even if they are swept off their feet. I can trust my beast to +swim straight, and being a mare, I hope that the horses will follow her as they +have done all night. Wake up Heda and Kaatje.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, and looking very pale, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Heda my dear, I am sorry to disturb you, but we have to get over a river +with a rough bottom, so you and Kaatje must hang on and sit tight. Don’t +be frightened, you are as safe as a church.” +</p> + +<p> +“God forgive him for that lie,” thought I to myself as, having +tightened the girths, I mounted my mare. Then gripping the riem I kicked the +beast to a canter, Anscombe flogging up the team as we swung down the bank to +the edge of the foaming torrent, on the further side of which the Swazis +shouted and gesticulated to us to go back. +</p> + +<p> +We were in it now, for, as I had hoped, the horses followed the mare without +hesitation. For the first twenty yards or so all went well, I heading up the +stream. Then suddenly I felt that the mare was swimming. +</p> + +<p> +“Flog the horses and don’t let them turn,” I shouted to +Anscombe. +</p> + +<p> +Ten more yards and I glanced over my shoulder. The team was swimming also, and +behind them the cart rocked and bobbed like a boat swinging in a heavy sea. +There came a strain on the riem; the leaders were trying to turn! I pulled hard +and encouraged them with my voice, while Anscombe, who drove splendidly, kept +their heads as straight as he could. Mercifully they came round again and +struck out for the further shore, the water-logged cart floating after them. +Would it turn over? That was the question in my mind. Five seconds; ten seconds +and it was still upright. Oh! it was going. No, a fierce back eddy caught it +and set it straight again. My mare touched bottom and there was hope. It +struggled forward, being swept down the stream all the time. Now the horses in +the cart also found their footing and we were saved. +</p> + +<p> +No, the wet had caused the knot of one of the riems to slip beneath the strain, +or perhaps it broke—I don’t know. Feeling the pull slacken the +leaders whipped round on to the wheelers. There they all stood in a heap, their +heads and part of their necks above water, while the cart floated behind them +on its side. Kaatje screamed and Anscombe flogged. I leapt from my mare and +struggled to the leaders, the water up to my chin. Grasping their bits I +managed to keep them from turning further. But I could do no more and death +came very near to us. Had it not been for some of those brave Swazis on the +bank it would have found us, every one. But they plunged in, eight of them, +holding each other’s hands, and half-swimming, half-wading, reached us. +They got the horses by the head and straightened them out, while Anscombe plied +his whip. A dash forward and the wheels were on the bottom again. +</p> + +<p> +Three minutes later we were safe on the further bank, which my mare had already +reached, where I lay gasping on my face, ejaculating prayers of thankfulness +and spitting out muddy water. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> +NOMBÉ</h2> + +<p> +The Swazis, shivering, for all these people hate cold, and shaking themselves +like a dog when he comes to shore, gathered round, examining me. +</p> + +<p> +“Why!” said one of them, an elderly man who seemed to be their +leader, “this is none other than Macumazahn, Watcher-by-Night, the old +friend of all us black people. Surely the spirits of our fathers have been with +us who might have risked our lives to save a Boer or a half-breed.” (The +Swazis, I may explain, did not like the Boers for reasons they considered +sound.) +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I said, sitting up, “it is I, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why,” asked the man, “did you, whom all know to be +wise, show yourself to have suddenly become a fool?” and he pointed to +the raging river. +</p> + +<p> +“And why,” I asked, “do you show yourself a fool by supposing +that I, whom you know to be none, am a fool? Look across the water for your +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked and saw the Basutos, fifty or more of them, arriving, just too late. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are these?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“They are the people of Sekukuni whom you should know well enough. They +have hunted us all night, yes, and before, seeking to murder us; also they have +stolen our oxen, thirty-two fine oxen which I give to your king if he can take +them back. Now perhaps you understand why we dared the Crocodile River in its +rage.” +</p> + +<p> +At the name of Sekukuni the man, who it seemed was the captain of some border +guards, stiffened all over like a terrier which perceives a rat. +“What!” he exclaimed, “do these dirty Basuto dogs dare to +carry spears so near our country? Have they not yet learned their +lesson?” +</p> + +<p> +Then he rushed into the water, shaking an assegai he had snatched up, and +shouted, +</p> + +<p> +“Bide a while, you fleas from the kaross of Sekukuni, till I can come +across and crack you between my thumb and finger. Or at the least wait until +Macumazahn has time to get his rifle. No, put down those guns of yours; for +every shot you fire I swear that I will cut ten Basuto throats when we come to +storm your koppies, as we shall do ere long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent,” I said, “and let me speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I, too, called across the river, asking where was that fat captain of +theirs, as I would talk with him. One of the men shouted back that he had +stopped behind, very sick, because of a ghost that he had seen. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” I answered, “a ghost who pricked him in the throat. +Well, I was that ghost, and such are the things that happen to those who would +harm Macumazahn and his friends. Did you not say last night that he is a +leopard who leaps out in the dark, bites and is gone again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” the man shouted back, “and it is true, though had we +known, O Macumazahn, that you were the ghost hiding in those stones, you should +never have leapt again. Oh! that white medicine-man who is dead has sent us on +a mad errand.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you will think when I come to visit you among your koppies. Go home +and take a message from Macumazahn to Sekukuni, who believes that the English +have run away from him. Tell him that they will return again and these Swazis +with them, and that then he will cease to live and his town will be burnt and +his tribe will no more be a tribe. Away now, more swiftly than you came, since +the water by which you thought to trap us is falling, and a Swazi impi gathers +to make an end of every one of you.” +</p> + +<p> +The man attempted no answer, nor did his people so much as fire on us. They +turned tail and crept off like a pack of frightened jackals—pursued by +the mocking of the Swazis. +</p> + +<p> +Still in a way they had the laugh of us, seeing that they gave us a terrible +fright and stole our wagon and thirty-two oxen. Well, a year or two later I +helped to pay them back for that fright and even recovered some of the oxen. +</p> + +<p> +When they had gone the Swazis led us to a kraal about two miles from the river, +sending on a runner with orders to make huts and food ready for us. It was just +as much as we could do to reach it, for we were all utterly worn out, as were +the horses. Still we did get there at last, the hot sun warming us as we went. +Arrived at the kraal I helped Heda and Kaatje from the cart—the former +could scarcely walk, poor dear—and into the guest hut which seemed clean, +where food of a sort and fur karosses were brought to them in which to wrap +themselves while their clothes dried. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving them in charge of two old women, I went to see to Anscombe, who as yet +could not do much for himself, also to the outspanning of the horses which were +put into a cattle kraal, where they lay down at once without attempting to eat +the green forage which was given to them. After this I gave our goods into the +charge of the kraal-head, a nice old fellow whom I had never met before, and he +led Anscombe to another hut close to that where the women were. Here we drank +some maas, that is curdled milk, ate a little mutton, though we were too +fatigued to be very hungry, and stripping off our wet clothes, threw them out +into the sun to dry. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a close shave,” said Anscombe as he wrapped up in the +kaross. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” I answered. “So close that I think you must have been +started in life with an extra strong guardian angel well accustomed to native +ways.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he replied, “and, old fellow, I believe that on earth +he goes by the name of Allan Quatermain.” +</p> + +<p> +After this I remember no more, for I went to sleep, and so remained for about +twenty-four hours. This was not wonderful, seeing that for two days and nights +practically I had not rested, during which time I went through much fatigue and +many emotions. +</p> + +<p> +When at length I did wake up, the first thing I saw was Anscombe already +dressed, engaged in cleaning my clothes with a brush from his toilet case. I +remember thinking how smart and incongruous that dressing-bag, made +appropriately enough of crocodile hide, looked in this Kaffir hut with its +silver-topped bottles and its ivory-handled razors. +</p> + +<p> +“Time to get up, Sir. Bath ready, Sir,” he said in his jolly, +drawling voice, pointing to a calabash full of hot water. “Hope you slept +as well as I did, Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“You appear to have recovered your spirits,” I remarked as I rose +and began to wash myself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sir, and why not? Heda is quite well, for I have seen her. These +Swazis are very good people, and as Kaatje understands their language, bring us +all we want. Our troubles seem to be done with. Old Marnham is dead, and +doubtless cremated; Rodd is dead and, let us hope, in heaven; the Basutos have +melted away, the morning is fine and warm and a whole kid is cooking for +breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish there were two, for I am ravenous,” I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“The horses are getting rested and feeding well, though some of their +legs have filled, and the trap is little the worse, for I have walked to look +at them, or rather hopped, leaning on the shoulder of a very sniffy Swazi boy. +Do you know, old fellow, I believe there never were any Basutos; also that the +venerable Marnham and the lurid Rodd had no real existence, that they were but +illusions, a prolonged nightmare—no more. Here is your shirt. I am sorry +that I have not had time to wash it, but it has cooked well in the sun, which, +being flannel, is almost as good.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate Heda remains,” I remarked, cutting his nonsense short, +“and I suppose she is not a nightmare or a delusion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thank God! she remains,” he replied with earnestness. +“Oh! Allan, I thought she must drown in that river, and if I had lost +her, I think I should have gone mad. Indeed, at the moment I felt myself going +mad while I dragged and flogged at those horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you didn’t lose her, and if she had drowned, you would have +drowned also. So don’t talk any more about it. She is safe, and now we +have got to keep her so, for you are not married yet, my boy, and there are +generally more trees in a wood than one can see. Still we are alive and well, +which is more than we had any right to expect, and, as you say, let us thank +God for that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then I put on my coat and my boots which Anscombe had greased as he had no +blacking, and crept from the hut. +</p> + +<p> +There, only a few yards away, engaged in setting the breakfast in the shadow of +another hut on a tanned hide that served for a tablecloth while Kaatje saw to +the cooking close by, I found Heda, still a little pale and sorrowful but +otherwise quite well and rested. Moreover, she had managed to dress herself +very nicely, I suppose by help of spare clothes in the cart, and therefore +looked as charming as she always did. I think that her perfect manners were one +of her greatest attractions. Thus on this morning her first thought was to +thank me very sweetly for all she was good enough to say I had done for her and +Anscombe, thereby, as she put it, saving their lives several times over. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady,” I answered as roughly as I could, +“don’t flatter yourself on that point; it was my own life of which +I was thinking.” +</p> + +<p> +But she only smiled and, shaking her head in a fascinating way that was +peculiar to her, remarked that I could not deceive her as I did the Kaffirs. +After this the solid Kaatje brought the food and we breakfasted very heartily, +or at least I did. +</p> + +<p> +Now I am not going to set out all the details of our journey through +Swazi-Land, for though in some ways it was interesting enough, also as +comfortable as a stay among savages can be, for everywhere we were kindly +received, to do so would be too long, and I must get on with my story. At the +king’s kraal, which we did not reach for some days as the absence of +roads and the flooded state of the rivers, also the need of sparing our horses, +caused us to travel very slowly, I met a Boer who I think was concession +hunting. +</p> + +<p> +He told me that things were really serious in Zululand, so serious that he +thought there was a probability of immediate war between the English and the +Zulus. He said also that Cetewayo, the Zulu king, had sent messengers to stir +up the Basutos and other tribes against the white men, with the result that +Sekukuni had already made a raid towards Pilgrim’s Rest and Lydenburg. +</p> + +<p> +I expressed surprise and asked innocently if he had done any harm. The Boer +replied he understood that they had stolen some cattle, killed two white men, +if not more, and burnt their house. He added, however, that he was not sure +whether the white men had been killed by the Kaffirs or by other white men with +whom they had quarrelled. There was a rumour to this effect, and he understood +that the magistrate of Barberton had gone with some mounted police and armed +natives to investigate the matter. +</p> + +<p> +Then we parted, as, having got his concession to which the king Umbandine had +put his mark when he was drunk on brandy that the Boer himself had brought with +him as a present, he was anxious to be gone before he grew sober and revoked +it. Indeed, he was in so great a hurry that he never stopped to inquire what I +was doing in Swazi-Land, nor do I think he realized that I was not alone. +Certainly he was quite unaware that I had been mixed up in these Basuto +troubles. Still his story as to the investigation concerning the deaths of +Marnham and Rodd made me uneasy, since I feared lest he should hear something +on his journey and put two and two together, though as a matter of fact I +don’t think he ever did either of these things. +</p> + +<p> +The Swazis told me much the same story as to the brewing Zulu storm. In fact an +old Induna or councillor, whom I knew, informed me that Cetewayo had sent +messengers to them, asking for their help if it should come to fighting with +the white men, but that the king and councillors answered that they had always +been the Queen’s children (which was not strictly true, as they were +never under English rule) and did not wish to “bite her feet if she +should have to fight with her hands.” I replied that I hoped they would +always act up to these fine words, and changed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +Now once more the question arose as to whether we should make for Natal or +press on to Zululand. The rumour of coming war suggested that the first would +be our better course, while the Boer’s story as to the investigation of +Rodd’s death pointed the other way. Really I did not know which to do, +and as usual Anscombe and Heda seemed inclined to leave the decision to me. I +think that after all Natal would have gained the day had it not been for a +singular circumstance, not a flash of lightning this time. Indeed, I had almost +made up my mind to risk trouble and inquiry as to Rodd’s death, +remembering that in Natal these two young people could get married, which, +being in loco parentis, I thought it desirable they should do as soon as +possible, if only to ease me of my responsibilities. Also thence I could attend +to the matter of Heda’s inheritance and rid myself of her father’s +will that already had been somewhat damaged in the Crocodile River, though not +as much as it might have been since I had taken the precaution to enclose it in +Anscombe’s sponge bag before we left the house. +</p> + +<p> +The circumstance was this: On emerging from the cart one morning, where I slept +to keep an eye upon the valuables, for it will be remembered that we had a +considerable sum in gold with us, also Heda’s jewels, a Swazi informed me +that a messenger wished to see me. I asked what messenger and whence did he +come. He replied that the messenger was a witch-doctoress named Nombé, and that +she came from Zululand and said that I knew her father. +</p> + +<p> +I bade the man bring her to me, wondering who on earth she could be, for it is +not usual for the Zulus to send women as messengers, and from whom she came. +However, I knew exactly what she would be like, some hideous old hag smelling +horribly of grease and other abominations, with a worn snake skin and some +human bones tied about her. +</p> + +<p> +Presently she came, escorted by the Swazi who was grinning, for I think he +guessed what I expected to see. I stared and rubbed my eyes, thinking that I +must still be asleep, for instead of a fat old Isanusi there appeared a tall +and graceful young woman, rather light-coloured, with deep and quiet eyes and a +by no means ill-favoured face, remarkable for a fixed and somewhat mysterious +smile. She was a witch-doctoress sure enough, for she wore in her hair the +regulation bladders and about her neck the circlet of baboon’s teeth, +also round her middle a girdle from which hung little bags of medicines. +</p> + +<p> +She contemplated me gravely and I contemplated her, waiting till she should +choose to speak. At length, having examined me inch by inch, she saluted by +raising her rounded arm and tapering hand, and remarked in a soft, full +voice— +</p> + +<p> +“All is as the picture told. I perceive before me the lord +Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought this a strange saying, seeing that I could not recollect having given +my photograph to any one in Zululand. +</p> + +<p> +“You need no magic to tell you that, doctoress,” I remarked, +“but where did you see my picture?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the dust far away,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“And who showed it to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“One who knew you, O Macumazahn, in the years before I came out of the +Darkness, one named Opener of Roads, and with him another who also knew you in +those years, one who has gone down to the Darkness.” +</p> + +<p> +Now for some occult reason I shrank from asking the name of this “one who +had gone down to the Darkness,” although I was sure that she was waiting +for the question. So I merely remarked, without showing surprise— +</p> + +<p> +“So Zikali still lives, does he? He should have been dead long +ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know well that he lives, Macumazahn, for how could he die till his +work was accomplished? Moreover, you will remember that he spoke to you when +last moon was but just past her full—in a dream, Macumazahn. I brought +that dream, although you did not see me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pish!” I exclaimed. “Have done with your talk of dreams. Who +thinks anything of dreams?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do,” she replied even more placidly than before, “you +whom that dream has brought hither—with others.” +</p> + +<p> +“You lie,” I said rudely. “The Basutos brought me +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Watcher-by-Night is pleased to say that I lie, so doubtless I do +lie,” she answered, her fixed smile deepening a little. Then she folded +her arms across her breast and remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a messenger, O seer of pictures in the dust and bearer of the +cup of dreams,” I said with sarcasm. “Who sends a message by your +lips for me, and what are the words of the message?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lords the Spirits spoke the message by the mouth of the master +Zikali. He sends it on to you by the lips of your servant, the doctoress +Nombé.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you indeed a doctoress, being so young?” I asked, for somehow +I wished to postpone the hearing of that message. +</p> + +<p> +“O Macumazahn, I have heard the call, I have felt the pain in my back, I +have drunk of the black medicine and of the white medicine, yes, for a whole +year. I have been visited by the multitude of Spirits and seen the shades of +those who live and of those who are dead. I have dived into the river and drawn +my snake from its mud; see, its skin is about me now,” and opening the +mantle she wore she showed what looked like the skin of a black mamba, fastened +round her slender body. “I have dwelt in the wilderness alone and +listened to its voices. I have sat at the feet of my master, the Opener of +Roads, and looked down the road and drunk of his wisdom. Yes, I am in truth a +doctoress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, after all this, you should be as wise as you are pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Once before, Macumazahn, you told a maid of my people that she was +pretty and she came to no good end; though to one that was great. Therefore do +not say to me that I am pretty, though I am glad that you should think so who +can compare me with so many whom you have known,” and she dropped her +eyes, looking a little shy. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first human touch I had seen about her, and I was glad to have found +a weak spot in her armour. Moreover, from that moment she was always my friend. +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, Nombé. Now for your message.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Lords the Spirits, speaking through Zikali as one who makes music +speak through a pipe of reeds, say—” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what the spirits say. Tell me what Zikali says,” I +interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, Macumazahn. These are the words of Zikali: ‘O +Watcher-by-Night, the time draws on when the +Thing-who-should-never-have-been-born will be as though he never had been born, +whereat he rejoices. But first there is much for him to do, and as he told you +nearly three hundred moons ago, in what must be done you will have your part. +Of that he will speak to you afterwards. Macumazahn, you dreamed a dream, did +you not, lying asleep in the house that was built of white stone which now is +black with fire? I, Zikali, sent you that dream through the arts of a child of +mine who is named Nombé, she to whom I have given a Spirit to guide her feet. +You did well to follow it, Macumazahn, for had you tried the other path, which +would have led you back to the towns of the white men, you and those with you +must have been killed, how it does not matter. Now by the mouth of Nombé I say +to you, do not follow the thought that is in your mind as she speaks to you and +go to Natal, since if you do so, you and those with you will come to much shame +and trouble that to you would be worse than death, over the matter of the +killing of a certain white doctor in a swamp where grow yellow-wood trees. For +there in Natal you will be taken, all of you, and sent back to the Transvaal to +be tried before a man who wears upon his head horse’s hair stained white. +But if you come to Zululand this shadow shall pass away from you, since great +things are about to happen which will cause so small a matter to be forgot. +Moreover, I Zikali, who do not lie, promise this: That however great may be +their dangers here in Zululand, those half-fledged ones whom you, the old +night-hawk, cover with your wings, shall in the end suffer no harm; those of +whom I spoke to you in your dream, the white lord, Mauriti, and the white lady, +Heddana, who stretch out their arms one to another. I wait to welcome you, here +at the Black Kloof, whither my daughter Nombé will guide you. Cetewayo, the +king, also will welcome you, and so will another whose name I do not utter. Now +choose. I have spoken.’” +</p> + +<p> +Having delivered her message Nombé stood quite still, smiling as before, and +apparently indifferent as to its effect. +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know that you come from Zikali?” I asked. “You may +be but the bait set upon a trap.” +</p> + +<p> +From somewhere within her robe she produced a knife and handed it to me, +remarking— +</p> + +<p> +“The Master says you will remember this, and by it know that the message +comes from him. He bade me add that with it was carved a certain image that +once he gave to you at Panda’s kraal, wrapped round with a woman’s +hair, which image you still have.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at the knife and did remember it, for it was one of those of Swedish +make with a wooden handle, the first that I had ever seen in Africa. I had made +a present of it to Zikali when I returned to Zululand before the war between +the Princes. The image, too, I still possessed. It was that of the woman called +Mameena who brought about the war, and the wrapping which covered it was of the +hair that once grew upon her head. +</p> + +<p> +“The words are Zikali’s,” I said, returning her the knife, +“but why do you call yourself the child of one who is too old to be a +father?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Master says that my great-grandmother was his daughter and that +therefore I am his child. Now, Macumazahn, I go to eat with my people, for I +have servants with me. Then I must speak with the Swazi king, for whom I also +have a message, which I cannot do at present because he is still drunk with the +white man’s liquor. After that I shall be ready to return with you to +Zululand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never said that I was going to Zululand, Nombé.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet your heart has gone there already, Macumazahn, and you must follow +your heart. Does not the image which was carved with the knife you gave, hold a +white heart in its hand, and although it seems to be but a bit of Umzimbeete +wood, is it not alive and bewitched, which perhaps is why you could never make +up your mind to burn it, Macumazahn?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had,” I replied angrily; but having thrown this last +spear, with a flash of her unholy eyes Nombé had turned and gone. +</p> + +<p> +A clever woman and thoroughly coached, thought I. Well, Zikali was never one to +suffer fools, and doubtless she is another of the pawns whom he uses on his +board of policy. Oh! she, or rather he was right; my heart was in Zululand, +though not in the way he thought, and I longed to see the end of that great +game played by a wizard against a despot and his hosts. +</p> + +<p> +So we went to Zululand because after talking it over we all came to the +conclusion that this was the best thing to do, especially as there we seemed to +be sure of a welcome. For later in the day Nombé repeated to Anscombe and Heda +the invitation which she had delivered to me, assuring them also that in +Zululand they would come to no harm. +</p> + +<p> +It was curious to watch the meeting between Heda and Nombé. The doctoress +appeared just as we had risen from breakfast, and Heda, turning round, came +face to face with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your witch, Mr. Quatermain?” she asked me in her vivacious +way. “Why, she is different from what I expected, quite good-looking and, +yes, impressive. I am not sure that she does not frighten me a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does the Inkosikaasi (i.e., the chieftainess) say concerning me, +Macumazahn?” asked Nombé. +</p> + +<p> +“Only what I said, that you are young who she thought would be old, and +pretty who she thought would be ugly.” +</p> + +<p> +“To grow old we must first be young, Macumazahn, and in due season all of +us will become ugly, even the Inkosikaasi. But I thought she said also that she +feared me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know English, Nombé?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but I know how to read eyes, and the Inkosikaasi has eyes that +talk. Tell her that she has no reason to fear me who would be her friend, +though I think that she will bring me little luck.” +</p> + +<p> +It was scarcely necessary, so far as Heda was concerned, but I translated, +leaving out the last sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Say to her that I am grateful who have few friends, and that I will fear +her no more,” said Heda. +</p> + +<p> +Again I translated, whereon Nombé stretched out her hand, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Let her not scorn to take it, it is clean. It has brought no man to his +death—” Here she looked at Heda meaningly. “Moreover, though +she is white and I am black, I like herself am of high blood and come of a race +of warriors who did nothing small, and lastly, we are of an age, and if she is +beautiful, I am wise and have gifts great as her own.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more I interpreted for the benefit of Anscombe, for Heda understood Zulu +well enough, although she had pretended not to do so, after which the two shook +hands, to Anscombe’s amusement and my wonder. For I felt this scene to be +strained and one that hid, or presaged, something I did not comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the Chief she loves?” said Nombé to me, studying Anscombe +with her steady eyes after Heda had gone. “Well, he is no common man and +brave, if idle; one, too, who may grow tall in the world, should he live, when +he has learned to think. But, Macumazahn, if she met you both at the same time +why did she not choose you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just now you said you were wise, Nombé,” I replied laughing, +“but now I see that, like most of your trade, you are but a vain boaster. +Is there a hat upon my head that you cannot see the colour of my hair, and is +it natural that youth should turn to age?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes if the mind is old, Macumazahn, which is why I love the +Spirits only who are more ancient than the mountains, and with them Zikali +their servant, who was young before the Zulus were a people, or so he says, and +still year by year gathers wisdom as the bee gathers honey. Inspan your horses, +Macumazahn, for I have done my business and am ready to start.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +ZIKALI</h2> + +<p> +Ten days had gone by when once more I found myself drawing near to the mouth of +the Black Kloof where dwelt Zikali the Wizard. Our journey in Zululand had been +tedious and uneventful. It seemed to me that we met extraordinarily few people; +it was as though the place had suddenly become depopulated, and I even passed +great kraals where there was no one to be seen. I asked Nombé what was the +meaning of this, for she and three silent men she had with her were acting as +our guides. Once she answered that the people had moved because of lack of +food, as the season had been one of great scarcity owing to drought, and once +that they had been summoned to a gathering at the king’s kraal near +Ulundi. At any rate they were not there, and the few who did appear stared at +us strangely. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, I noticed that they were not allowed to speak to us. Also Heda was +kept in the cart and Nombé insisted that the rear canvas curtain should be +closed and a blanket fastened behind Anscombe who drove, evidently with the +object that she should not be seen. Further, on the plea of weariness, from the +time that we entered Zulu territory Nombé asked to be allowed to ride in the +cart with Kaatje and Heda, her real reason, as I was sure, being that she might +keep a watch on them. Lastly we travelled by little-frequented tracks, halting +at night in out-of-the-way places, where, however, we always found food +awaiting us, doubtless by arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +With one man whom I had known in past days and who recognized me, I did manage +to have a short talk. He asked me what I was doing in Zululand at that time. I +replied that I was on a visit to Zikali, whereon he said I should be safer with +him than with any one else. +</p> + +<p> +Our conversation went no further, for just then one of Nombé’s servants +appeared and made some remark to the man of which I could not catch the +meaning, whereon he promptly turned and departed, leaving me wondering and +uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently we were being isolated, but when I remonstrated with Nombé she only +answered with her most unfathomable smile— +</p> + +<p> +“O Macumazahn, you must ask Zikali of all these things. I am no one and +know nothing, who only do what the Master tells me is for your good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am minded to turn and depart from Zululand,” I said angrily, +“for in this low veld whither you have led us there is fever and the +horses will catch sickness or be bitten by the tsetse fly and perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say, Macumazahn, who only travel by the road the Master pointed +out. Yet if you will be guided by me, you will not try to leave +Zululand.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that I am in a trap, Nombé.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that the country is full of soldiers and that all white men have +fled from it. Therefore, even if you were allowed to pass because the Zulus +love you, Macumazahn, it might well happen that those with you would stay +behind, sound asleep, Macumazahn, for which, like you, I should be +sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +After this I said no more, for I knew that she meant to warn me. We had entered +on this business and must see it through to its end, sweet or bitter. +</p> + +<p> +As for Anscombe and Heda their happiness seemed to be complete. The novelty of +the life charmed them, and of its dangers they took no thought, being content +to leave me, in whom they had a blind faith, to manage everything. Moreover, +Heda, who in the joy of her love was beginning to forget the sorrow of her +father’s death and the other tragic events through which she had just +passed, took a great fancy to the young witch-doctoress who conversed with her +in Zulu, a language of which, having lived so long in Natal, Heda knew much +already. Indeed, when I suggested to her that to be over-trusting was not wise, +she fired up and replied that she had been accustomed to natives all her life +and could judge them, adding that she had every confidence in Nombé. +</p> + +<p> +After this I held my tongue and said no more of my doubts. What was the use +since Heda would not listen to them, and at that time Anscombe was nothing but +her echo? +</p> + +<p> +So this, for me, very dull journey continued, till at length, after being held +up for a couple of days by a flooded river where there was nothing to do but +sit and smoke, as Nombé requested me not to make a noise by shooting at the big +game that abounded, we began to emerge from the bush-veld on to the lovely +uplands in the neighbourhood of Nongoma. Leaving these on our right we headed +for a place called Ceza, a natural stronghold consisting of a flat plain on the +top of a mountain, which plain is surrounded by bush. It is at the foot of this +stronghold that the Black Kloof lies, being one of the ravines that run up into +the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +So thither we came at last. It was drawing towards sunset, a tremendous and +stormy sunset, as we approached the place, and lo! it looked exactly as it had +done when first I saw it more than a score of years before, forbidding as the +mouth of hell, vast and lonesome. There stood the columns of boulders +fantastically piled one upon another; there grew the sparse trees upon its +steep sides, mingled with aloes that looked like the shapes of men; there was +the granite bottom swept almost clean by floods in some dim age, and the little +stream that flowed along it. There, too, was the spot where once I had +outspanned my wagons on the night when my servants swore that they saw the +Imikovu, or wizard-raised spectres, floating past them on the air in the shapes +of the Princes and others who were soon to fall at the battle of the Tugela. Up +it we went, I riding and Nombé, who had descended from the cart that followed, +walking by my side and watching me. +</p> + +<p> +“You seem sad, Macumazahn,” she said at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Nombé, I am sad. This place makes me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the place, Macumazahn, or is it the thought of one whom once you +met in the place, one who is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at her, pretending not to understand, and she went on— +</p> + +<p> +“I have the gift of vision, Macumazahn, which comes at times to those of +my trade, and now and again, amongst others, I have seemed to see the spirit of +a certain woman haunting this kloof as though she were waiting for some +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, and what may that woman be like?” I inquired carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“As it chances I can see her now gliding backwards in front of you just +there, and therefore am able to answer your question, Macumazahn. She is tall +and slender, beautifully made, and light-coloured for one of us black people. +She has large eyes like a buck, and those eyes are full of fire that does not +come from the sun but from within. Her face is tender yet proud, oh! so proud +that she makes me afraid. She wears a cloak of grey fur, and about her neck +there is a circlet of big blue beads with which her fingers play. A thought +comes from her to me. These are the words of the thought: ‘I have waited +long in this dark place, watching by day and night till you, the +Watcher-by-Night, return to meet me here. At length you have come, and in this +enchanted place my hungry spirit can feed upon your spirit for a while. I thank +you for coming, who now am no more lonely. Fear nothing, Macumazahn, for by a +certain kiss I swear to you that till the appointed hour when you become as I +am, I will be a shield upon your arm and a spear in your hand.’ Such are +the words of her thought, Macumazahn, but she has gone away and I hear no more. +It was as though your horse rode over her and she passed through you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, like one who wished to answer no questions, Nombé turned and went back to +the cart, where she began to talk indifferently with Heda, for as soon as we +entered the kloof her servants had drawn back the curtains and let fall the +blanket. As for me, I groaned, for of course I knew that Zikali, who was well +acquainted with the appearance of Mameena, had instructed Nombé to say all this +to me in order to impress my mind for some reason of his own. Yet he had done +it cleverly, for such words as those Mameena might well have uttered could her +great spirit have need to walk the earth again. Was such a thing possible, I +wondered? No, it was not possible, yet it was true that her atmosphere seemed +to cling about this place and that my imagination, excited by memory and +Nombé’s suggestions, seemed to apprehend her presence. +</p> + +<p> +As I reflected the horse advanced round the little bend in the ever-narrowing +cliffs, and there in front of me, under the gigantic mass of overhanging rock, +appeared the kraal of Zikali surrounded by its reed fence. The gate of the +fence was open, and beyond it, on his stool in front of the large hut, sat +Zikali. Even at that distance it was impossible to mistake his figure, which +was like no other that I had known in the world. A broad-shouldered dwarf with +a huge head, deep, sunken eyes and snowy hair that hung upon his shoulders; the +whole frame and face pervaded with an air of great antiquity, and yet owing to +the plumpness of the flesh and that freshness of skin which is sometimes seen +in the aged, comparatively young-looking. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the great wizard Zikali, known throughout the land for longer than any +living man could remember as “Opener of Roads,” a title that +referred to his powers of spiritual vision, also as the +“Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” a name given to him by +Chaka, the first and greatest of the Zulu kings, because of his deformity. +</p> + +<p> +There he sat silent, impassive, staring open-eyed at the red ball of the +setting sun, looking more like some unshapely statue than a man. His silent, +fierce-faced servants appeared. To me they looked like the same men whom I had +seen here three and twenty years before, only grown older. Indeed, I think they +were, for they greeted me by name and saluted by raising their broad spears. I +dismounted and waited while Anscombe, whose foot was now quite well again, +helped Heda from the cart which was led away by the servants. Anscombe, who +seemed a little oppressed, remarked that this was a strange place. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Heda, “but it is magnificent. I like it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then her eye fell upon Zikali seated before the hut and she turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! what a terrible-looking man,” she murmured, “if he is a +man.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid Kaatje saw him also and uttered a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be frightened, dear,” said Anscombe, “he is only +an old dwarf.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so,” she exclaimed doubtfully, “but to me he is +like the devil.” +</p> + +<p> +Nombé slid past us. She threw off the kaross she wore and for the first time +appeared naked except for the mucha about her middle and her ornaments. Down +she went on her hands and knees and in this humble posture crept towards +Zikali. Arriving in front of him she touched the ground with her forehead, then +lifting her right arm, gave the salute of <i>Makosi</i>, to which as a great +wizard he was entitled, being supposed to be the home of many spirits. So far +as I could see he took no notice of her. Presently she moved and squatted +herself down on his right hand, while two of his attendants appeared from +behind the hut and took their stand between him and its doorway, holding their +spears raised. About a minute later Nombé beckoned to us to approach, and we +went forward across the courtyard, I a little ahead of the others. As we drew +near Zikali opened his mouth and uttered a loud and terrifying laugh. How well +I remembered that laugh which I had first heard at Dingaan’s kraal as a +boy after the murder of Retief and the +Boers.<a href="#fn-11.1" name="fnref-11.1" id="fnref-11.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-11.1" id="fn-11.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-11.1">[1]</a> +See the book called <i>Marie,</i> by H. Rider Haggard. +</p> + +<p> +“I begin to think that you are right and that this old gentleman must be +the devil,” said Anscombe to Heda, then lapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +As I was determined not to speak first I took the opportunity to fill my pipe. +Zikali, who was watching me, although all the while he seemed to be staring at +the setting sun, made a sign. One of the servants dashed away and immediately +returned, bearing a flaming brand which he proffered to me as a pipe-lighter. +Then he departed again to bring three carved stools of red wood which he placed +for us. I looked at mine and knew it again by the carvings. It was the same on +which I had sat when first I met Zikali. At length he spoke in his deep, slow +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Many years have gone by, Macumazahn, since you made use of that stool. +They are cut in notches upon the leg you hold and you may count them if you +will.” +</p> + +<p> +I examined the leg. There were the notches, twenty-two or three of them. On the +other legs were more notches too numerous to reckon. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not look at those, Macumazahn, for they have nothing to do with you. +They tell the years since the first of the House of Senzangacona sat upon that +stool, since Chaka sat upon it, since Dingaan and others sat upon it, one +Mameena among them. Well, much has happened since it served you for a rest. You +have wandered far and seen strange things and lived where others would have +died because it was your lot to live, of all of which we will talk afterwards. +And now when you are grey you have come back here, as the Opener of Roads told +you you would do, bringing with you new companions, you who have the art of +making friends even when you are old, which is one given to few men. Where are +those with whom you used to company, Macumazahn? Where are Saduko and Mameena +and the rest? All gone except the Thing-who-should-never-have-been-born,” +and again he laughed loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“And who it seems has never learned when to die,” I remarked, +speaking for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so, Macumazahn, because I cannot die until my work is finished. But +thanks be to the spirits of my fathers and to my own that I live on to glut +with vengeance, the end draws near at last, and as I promised you in the dead +days, you shall have your share in it, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, then continued, still staring at the sinking sun, which made his +remarks about us, whom he did not seem to see, uncanny— +</p> + +<p> +“That white man with you is brave and well-born, one who loves fighting, +I think, and the maiden is fair and sweet, with a high spirit. She is thinking +to herself that I am an old wizard whom, if she were not afraid of me, she +would ask to tell her her fortune. See, she understands and starts. Well, +perhaps I will one day. Meanwhile, here is a little bit of it. She will have +five children, of whom two will die and one will give her so much trouble that +she will wish it had died also. But who their father will be I do not say. +Nombé my child, lead away this White One and her woman to the hut that has been +made ready for her, for she is weary and would rest. See, too, that she lacks +for nothing which we can give her who is our guest. Let the white lord, +Mauriti, accompany her to the hut and be shown that next to it in which he and +Macumazahn will sleep, so that he may be sure that she is safe, and attend to +the horses if he wills. There is a place to tether them behind the huts, and +the men who travelled with you will help him. Afterwards, when I have spoken +with him, Macumazahn can join them that they may eat before they sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +These directions I translated to Anscombe, who went gladly enough with Heda, +for I think they were both afraid of the terrible old dwarf and did not desire +his company in the gathering gloom. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun sinks once more, Macumazahn,” he said when they were gone, +“and the air grows chill. Come with me now into my hut where the fire +burns, for I am aged and the cold strikes through me. Also there we can be +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +So speaking he turned and crawled into the hut, looking like a gigantic +white-headed beetle as he did so, a creature, I remembered, to which I had once +compared him in the past. I followed, carrying the historic stool, and when he +had seated himself on his kaross on the further side of the fire, took up my +position opposite to him. This fire was fed with some kind of root or wood that +gave a thin clear flame with little or no smoke. Over it he crouched, so +closely that his great head seemed to be almost in the flame at which he stared +with unblinking eyes as he had done at the sun, circumstances which added to +his terrifying appearance and made me think of a certain region and its +inhabitants. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you come here, Macumazahn?” he asked after studying me for +a while through that window of fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Because you brought me, Zikali, partly through your messenger, Nombé, +and partly by means of a dream which she says you sent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I, Macumazahn? If so, I have forgotten it. Dreams are as many as +gnats by the water; they bite us while we sleep, but when we wake up we forget +them. Also it is foolishness to say that one man can send a dream to +another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your messenger lied, Zikali, especially as she added that she +brought it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course she lied, Macumazahn. Is she not my pupil whom I have trained +from a child? Moreover, she lied well, it would seem, who guessed what sort of +a dream you would have when you thought of turning your steps to +Zululand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you play at sticks (i.e., fence) with me, Zikali, seeing that +neither of us are children?” +</p> + +<p> +“O Macumazahn, that is where you are mistaken, seeing that both of us, +old though we be and cunning though we think ourselves, are nothing but babes +in the arms of Fate. Well, well, I will tell you the truth, since it would be +foolish to try to throw dust into such eyes as yours. I knew that you were down +in Sekukuni’s country and I was watching you—through my spies. You +have been nowhere during all these years that I was not watching +you—through my spies. For instance, that Arab-looking man named Harut, +whom first you met at a big kraal in a far country, was a spy of mine. He has +visited me lately and told me much of your doings. No, don’t ask me of +him now who would talk to you of other matters—” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Harut still live then, and has he found a new god in place of the +Ivory Child?” I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, if he did not live, how could he visit and speak with me? +Well, I watched you there by the Oliphant’s River where you fought +Sekukuni’s people, and afterwards in the marble hut where you found the +old white man dead in his chair and got the writings that you have in your +pocket which concern the maiden Heddana; also afterwards when the white man, +your friend, killed the doctor who fell into a mud hole and the Basutos stole +his cattle and wagon.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know all these things, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I not told you—through my spies. Was there not a half-breed +driver called Footsack, and do not the Basutos come and go between the Black +Kloof and Sekukuni’s town, bearing me tidings?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Zikali, and so does the wind and so do the birds.” +</p> + +<p> +“True! O Macumazahn, I see that you are one who has watched Nature and +its ways as closely as my spies watch you. So I learned these matters and knew +that you were in trouble over the death of these white men, and your friends +likewise, and as you were always dear to me, I sent that child Nombé to bring +you to me, thinking from what I knew of you that you would be more likely to +follow a woman who is both wise and good to look at, than a man who might be +neither. I told her to say to you that you and the others would be safer here +than in Natal at present. It seems that you hearkened and came. That is +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I hearkened and came. But, Zikali, that is not all, for you know +well that you sent for me for your own sake, not for mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“O Macumazahn, who can prevent a needle from piercing cloth when it is +pushed by a finger like yours? Your wits are too sharp for me, Macumazahn; your +eyes read through the blanket of cunning with which I would hide my thought. +You speak truly. I did send for you for my own sake as well as for yours. I +sent for you because I wanted your counsel, Macumazahn, and because Cetewayo +the king also wants your counsel, and I wished to see you before you saw +Cetewayo. Now you have the whole truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want my counsel about, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +He leaned forward till his white locks almost seemed to mingle with the thin +flame, through which he glared at me with eyes that were fiercer than the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, you remember the story that I told you long ago, do you +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Zikali. It was that you hate the House of Senzangacona which +has given all its kings to Zululand. First, because you are one of the Dwandwe +tribe whom the Zulus crushed and mocked at. Secondly, because Chaka the Lion +named you the 'Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born’ and killed your +wives, for which crime you brought about the death of Chaka. Thirdly, because +you have matched your single wit for many years against all the power of the +royal House and yet kept your life in you, notably when Panda threatened you in +my presence at the trial of one who has ‘gone down,’ and you told +him to kill you if he dared. Now you would prove that you were right by causing +your cunning to triumph over the royal House.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, quite true, O Macumazahn. You have a good memory, Macumazahn, +especially for anything that has to do with that woman who has ‘gone +down.’ I sent her down, but how was she named, Macumazahn? I forget, I +forget, whose mind being old, falls suddenly into black pits of +darkness—like her who went down.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and we stared at each other through the veil of fire. Then as I made +no answer, he went on— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I remember now, she was called Mameena, was she not, a name taken +from the wailing of the wind? Hark! It is wailing now.” +</p> + +<p> +I listened; it was, and I shivered to hear it, since but a minute before the +night had been quite still. Yes, the wind moaned and wailed about the rocks of +the Black Kloof. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, enough of her. Why trouble about the dead when there are so many +to be sent to join them? Macumazahn, the hour is at hand. The fool Cetewayo has +quarrelled with your people, the English, and on my counsel. He has sent and +killed women, or allowed others to do so, across the river in Natal. His +messengers came to me asking what he should do. I answered, 'Shall a king of +the blood of Chaka fear to allow his own wicked ones to be slain because they +have stepped across a strip of water, and still call himself king of the +Zulus?’ So those women were dragged back across the water and killed; and +now the Queen’s man from the Cape asks many things, great fines of +cattle, the giving up of the slayers, and that an end should be made of the +Zulu army, which is to lay down its spears and set to hoeing like the old women +in the kraals.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if the king refuses, what then, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Macumazahn, the Queen’s man will declare war on the Zulus; +already he gathers his soldiers for the war.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will Cetewayo refuse, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know. His mind swings this way and that, like a pole balanced +on a rock. The ends of the pole are weighted with much counsel, and it hangs so +even that if a grasshopper lit on one end or the other, it would turn the +scale.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you wish me to be that grasshopper, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who else? That is why I brought you to Zululand.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you wish me to counsel Cetewayo to lie down in the bed that the +English have made for him. If he seeks my advice I will do so gladly, for so I +am sure he will sleep well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you mock me, Macumazahn? I wish you to counsel Cetewayo to throw +back his word into the teeth of the Queen’s man and to fight the +English.” +</p> + +<p> +“And thus bring destruction on the Zulus and death to thousands of them +and of my own people, and in return gain nothing but remorse. Do you think me +mad or wicked, or both, that I should do this thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Macumazahn, you would gain much. I could show you where the +king’s cattle are hidden. The English will never find them, and after the +war you might take as many as you chose. But it would be useless, for knowing +you well, I am sure that you would only hand them over to the British +Government, as once you handed over the cattle of Bangu, being fashioned that +way by the Great-Great, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I might, but then what should I gain, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“This: you would so bring things about that, being broken by war, the +Zulu power could never again menace the white men, which would be a great and +good deed, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap—I am not sure. But of this I am sure, that I will not +thrust my face into your nest of wasps, that the English hornets may steal the +honey when they are disturbed. I leave such matters to the Queen and those who +rule under her. So have done with such talk, for you do but waste your breath, +Zikali.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is as I guessed it would be,” he answered, shaking his great +head. “You are too honest to prosper in the world, Macumazahn. Well, I +must find other means to bring the House of Cetewayo to the end that he +deserves, who has been an evil and a cruel king.” +</p> + +<p> +All this he said, showing neither surprise nor resentment, which convinced me +of what I had suspected throughout, that never for an instant did he believe +that I should fall in with his suggestions and try to influence the Zulus to +declare war. No, this talk of his was but a blind; there was some deeper scheme +at work in his cunning old brain which he was hiding from me. Why exactly had +he beguiled me to Zululand? I could not divine, and to ask him would be worse +than useless, but then and there I made up my mind that I would get away from +the Black Kloof early on the following morning, if that were possible. +</p> + +<p> +He began to speak of other matters in a low, droning voice, like a man who +converses with himself. Sad, all of them, such as the haunted death of Saduko +who had betrayed his lord, the Prince Umbelazi, because of a woman, every +circumstance of which seemed to be familiar to him. +</p> + +<p> +I made no answer, who was waiting for an opportunity to leave the hut, and did +not care to dwell on these events. He ceased and brooded for a while, then said +suddenly— +</p> + +<p> +“You are hungry and would eat, Macumazahn, and I who eat little would +sleep, for in sleep the multitudes of Spirits visit me, bringing tidings from +afar. Well, we have spoken together and of that I am glad, for who knows when +the chance will come again, though I think that soon we shall meet at Ulundi, +Ulundi where Fate spreads its net. What was it I had to say to you? Ah! I +remember. There is one who is always in your thoughts and whom you wish to see, +one too who wishes to see you. You shall, you shall in payment for the trouble +you have taken in coming so far to visit a poor old Zulu doctor whom, as you +told me long ago, you know to be nothing but a cheat.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and, why I could not tell, I grew weak with fear of I knew not what, +and bethought me of flight. +</p> + +<p> +“It is cold in this hut, is it not?” he went on. “Burn up, +fire, burn up!” and plunging his hand into a catskin bag of medicines +which he wore, he drew out some powder which he threw upon the embers that +instantly burst into bright flame. +</p> + +<p> +“Look now, Macumazahn,” he said, “look to your right.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked and oh Heaven! there before me with outstretched arms and infinite +yearning on her face, stood Mameena, Mameena as I had last seen her after I +gave her the promised kiss that she used to cover her taking of the poison. For +five seconds, mayhap, she stood thus, living, wonderful, but still as death, +the fierce light showing all. Then the flame died down again and she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +I turned and next instant was out of the hut, pursued by the terrible laughter +of Zikali. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +TRAPPED</h2> + +<p> +Outside in the cool night air I recovered myself, sufficiently at any rate to +be able to think, and saw at once that the thing was an illusion for which +Zikali had prepared my mind very carefully by means of the young +witch-doctoress, Nombé. He knew well enough that this remarkable woman, +Mameena, had made a deep impression on me nearly a quarter of a century before, +as she had done upon other men with whom she had been associated. Therefore it +was probable that she would always be present to my thought, since whatever a +man forgets, he remembers the women who have shown him favour, true or false, +for Nature has decreed it thus. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, this was one to be remembered for herself, since she was beautiful +and most attractive in her wild way. Also she had brought about a great war, +causing the death of thousands, and lastly her end might fairly be called +majestic. All these impressions Zikali had instructed Nombé to revivify by her +continual allusions to Mameena, and lastly by her pretence that she saw her +walking in front of me. Then when I was tired and hungry, in that place which +for me was so closely connected with this woman, and in his own uncanny +company, either by mesmerism or through the action of the drug he threw upon +the fire, he had succeeded in calling up the illusion of her presence to my +charmed sight. All this was clear enough, what remained obscure was his object. +</p> + +<p> +Possibly he had none beyond an impish desire to frighten me, which is common +enough among practitioners of magic in all lands. Well, for a little while he +had succeeded, although to speak truth I remained uncertain whether in a sense +I was not more thrilled and rejoiced than frightened. Mameena had never been so +ill to look upon, and I knew that dead or living I had nothing to fear from her +who would have walked through hell fire for my sake, would have done anything, +except perhaps sacrifice her ambition. No, even if this were her ghost I should +have been glad to see her again. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not a ghost; it was only a fancy reproduced exactly as my mind had +photographed her, almost as my eyes last saw her, when her kiss was still warm +upon my lips. +</p> + +<p> +Such were my thoughts as I stood outside that hut with the cold perspiration +running down my face, for to tell the truth my nerves were upset, although +without reason. So upset were they that when suddenly a silent-footed man +appeared out of the darkness I jumped as high as though I had set my foot on a +puff-adder, and until I recognized him by his voice as one of Nombé’s +servants who had accompanied us from Swazi-Land, felt quite alarmed. As a +matter of fact he had only come to tell me that our meal was ready and that the +other “high White Ones” were waiting for me. +</p> + +<p> +He led me round the fence that encircled Zikali’s dwelling-place, to two +huts that stood nearly behind it, almost against the face of the rock which, +overhanging in a curve, formed a kind of natural roof above them. I thought +they must have been built since I visited the place, as I, who have a good +memory for such things, did not remember them. Indeed, on subsequent +examination I found that they were quite new, for the poles that formed their +uprights were still green and the grass of the thatch was scarcely dry. It +looked to me as if they had been specially constructed for our accommodation. +</p> + +<p> +In one of these huts, that to the right which was allotted to Anscombe and +myself, I found the others waiting for me, also the food. It was good of its +sort and well cooked, and we ate it by the light of some candles that we had +with us, Kaatje serving us. Yet, although a little while before I had been +desperately hungry, now my appetite seemed to have left me and I made but a +poor meal. Heda and Anscombe also seemed oppressed and ate sparingly. We did +not talk much until Kaatje had taken away the tin plates and gone to eat her +own supper by a fire that burned outside the hut. Then Heda broke out, saying +that she was terrified of this place and especially of its master, the old +dwarf, and felt sure that something terrible was going to happen to her. +Anscombe did his best to calm her, and I also told her she had nothing to fear. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is nothing to fear, Mr. Quatermain,” she answered, +turning on me, “why do you look so frightened yourself? By your face you +might have seen a ghost.” +</p> + +<p> +This sudden and singularly accurate thrust, for after all I had seen something +that looked very like a ghost, startled me, and before I could invent any +soothing and appropriate fib, Nombé appeared, saying that she had come to lead +Heda to her sleeping-place. After this further conversation was impossible +since, although Nombé knew but few words of English, she was a great +thought-reader and I feared to speak of anything secret in her presence. So we +all went out of the hut, Nombé and I drawing back a little to the fire while +the lovers said good-night to each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Nombé,” I said, “the Inkosikazi Heddana is afraid. The rocks +of this kloof lie heavy on her heart; the face of the Opener of Roads is +fearful to her and his laughter grates upon her ears. Do you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand, Macumazahn, and it is as I expected. When you yourself are +frightened it is natural that she, an untried maiden, should be frightened also +in this home of spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is men we fear, not spirits, now when all Zululand is boiling like a +pot,” I replied angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Have it as you will, Macumazahn,” she said, and at that moment her +quiet, searching eyes and fixed smile were hateful to me. “At least you +admit that you do fear. Well, for the lady Heddana fear nothing. I sleep across +the door of her hut, and while I who have learned to love her, live, I +say—for her fear nothing, whatever may chance or whatever you may see or +hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, but, Nombé, you might die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I may die, but be sure of this, that when I die she will be safe, +and he who loves her also. Sleep well, Macumazahn, and do not dream too much of +what you heard and saw in Zikali’s house.” +</p> + +<p> +Then before I could speak she turned and left me. +</p> + +<p> +I did <i>not</i> sleep well; I slept very badly. To begin with, Maurice +Anscombe, generally the most cheerful and nonchalant of mortals with a jest for +every woe, was in a most depressed condition, and informed me of it several +times, while I was getting ready to turn in. He said he thought the place +hateful and felt as if people he could not see were looking at him (I had the +same sensation but did not mention the fact to him). When I told him he was +talking stuff, he only replied that he could not help it, and pointed out that +it was not his general habit to be downcast in any danger, which was quite +true. Now, he added, he was enjoying much the same sensations as he did when +first he saw the Yellow-wood Swamp and got the idea into his head that he would +kill some one there, which happened in due course. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean that you think you are going to kill somebody else?” I +asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered, “I think I am going to be killed, or +something like it, probably by that accursed old villain of a witch-doctor, who +I don’t believe is altogether human.” +</p> + +<p> +“Others have thought that before now, Anscombe, and to be plain, I +don’t know that he is. He lives too much with the dead to be like other +people.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with Satan, to whom I expect he makes sacrifices. The truth is +I’m afraid of his playing some of his tricks with Heda. It is for her I +fear, not for myself, Allan. Oh! why on earth did you come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because you wished it and it seemed the safest thing to do. Look here, +my boy, as usual the trouble comes through a woman. When a man’s +single—you know the rest. You used to be able to laugh at anything, but +now that you are practically double you can’t laugh any more. Well, +that’s the common lot of man and you’ve got to put up with it. Adam +was pretty jolly in his garden until Eve was started, but you know what +happened afterwards. The rest of his life was a compound of temptation, +anxiety, family troubles, remorse, hard labour with primitive instruments, and +a flaming sword behind him. If you had left your Eve alone you would have +escaped all this. But you see you didn’t, and as a matter of fact, nobody +ever does who is worth his salt, for Nature has arranged it so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You appear to talk with experience, Allan,” he retorted blandly. +“By the way, that girl Nombé, when she isn’t star-gazing or +muttering incantations, is always trying to explain to Heda some tale about you +and a lady called Mameena. I gather that you were introduced to her in this +neighbourhood where, Nombé says, you were in the habit of kissing her in +public, which sounds an odd kind of a thing to do; all of which happened before +she, Nombé, was born. She adds, according to Kaatje’s interpretation, +that you met her again this afternoon, which, as I understand the young woman +has been long dead, seems so incomprehensible that I wish you would +explain.” +</p> + +<p> +“With reference to Heda,” I said, ignoring the rest as unworthy of +notice, “I think you may make your mind easy. Zikali knows that she is in +my charge and I don’t believe that he wants to quarrel with me. Still, as +you are uncomfortable here, the best thing to do will be to get away as early +as possible to-morrow morning, where to we can decide afterwards. And now I am +going to sleep, so please stop arguing.” +</p> + +<p> +As I have already hinted, my attempts in the sleep line proved a failure, for +whenever I did drop off I was pursued by bad dreams, which resulted from lying +down so soon after supper. I heard the cries of desperate men in their mortal +agony. I saw a rain-swollen river; its waters were red with blood. I beheld a +vision of one who I knew by his dress to be a Zulu king, although I could not +see his face. He was flying and staggering with weariness as he fled. A great +hound followed him. It lifted its head from the spoor; it was that of Zikali +set upon the hound’s body, Zikali who laughed instead of baying. Then one +whose copper ornaments tinkled as she walked, entered beside me, whispering +into my ear. “A quarter of a hundred years have gone by since we talked +together in this haunted kloof,” she seemed to whisper, “and before +we talk again face to face there remain to pass of years”— +</p> + +<p> +Here she ceased, though naturally I should have liked to hear the number. But +that is just where dreams break down. They tell us only of what we know, or can +evolve therefrom. Of what it is impossible for us to know they tell us +nothing—at least as a general rule. +</p> + +<p> +I woke up with a start, and feeling stifled in that hot place and aggravated by +the sound of Anscombe’s peaceful breathing, threw a coat about me and, +removing the door-board, crept into the air. The night was still, the stars +shone, and at a little distance the embers of the fire still glowed. By it was +seated a figure wrapped in a kaross. The end of a piece of wood that the fire +had eaten through fell on to the red ashes and flamed up brightly. By its light +I saw that the figure was Nombé’s. The eternal smile was still upon her +face, the smile which suggested a knowledge of hidden things that from moment +to moment amused her soul. Her lips moved as though she were talking to an +invisible companion, and from time to time, like one who acts upon directions, +she took a pinch of ashes and blew them, either towards Heda’s hut or +ours. Yes, she did this when all decent young women should have been asleep, +like one who keeps some unholy, midnight assignation. +</p> + +<p> +Talking with her master, Zikali, or trying to cast spells upon us, confound +her! thought I to myself, and very silently crept back into the hut. Afterwards +it occurred to me that she might have had another motive, namely of watching to +see that none of us left the huts. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the night went by somehow. Once, listening with all my ears, I +thought that I caught the sound of a number of men tramping and of some low +word of command, but as I heard no more, concluded that fancy had deceived me. +There I lay, puzzling over the situation till my head ached, and wondering how +we were to get clear of the Black Kloof and Zikali, and out of Zululand which I +gathered was no place for white people at the moment. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to me that the only thing was to make start for Dundee on the Natal +border, and for the rest to trust to fortune. If we got into trouble over the +death of Rodd, unpleasant as this would be, the matter must be faced out, that +was all. For even if any witness appeared against us, the man had been killed +in self-defence whilst trying to bring about our deaths at the hands of +Basutos. I could see now that I was foolish not to have taken this line from +the first, but as I think I have already explained, what weighed with me was +the terror of involving these young people in a scandal which might shadow all +their future lives. Also some fate inch by inch had dragged me into Zululand. +Fortunately in life there are few mistakes, and even worse than mistakes that +cannot be repaired, if the wish towards reparation is real and earnest. Were it +otherwise not many of us would escape destruction in one form or another. +</p> + +<p> +Thus I reflected until at length light flowing faintly through the smoke-hole +of the hut told me that dawn was at hand. Seeing it I rose quietly, for I did +not wish to wake Anscombe, dressed and left the hut. My object was to find +Nombé, who I hoped would be still sitting by the fire, and send her to Zikali +with a message that I wished to speak with him at once. Glancing round me in +the grey dawn I saw that she was gone and that as yet no one seemed to be +stirring. Hearing a horse snort at a little distance, I made my way towards the +sound and in a little bay of the overhanging cliff discovered the cart and near +by our beasts tied up with a plentiful supply of forage. Since so far as I +could judge in that uncertain light, nothing seemed to be wrong with them +except weariness, for three of them were still lying down, I walked on to the +gate of the fence which surrounded Zikali’s big hut, proposing to wait +there until some one appeared by whom I could send my message. +</p> + +<p> +I reached the gate which I tried and found to be fastened on its inner side. +Then I sat down, lit my pipe and waited. It was extraordinarily lonesome in +that place; at least this was the feeling that came over me. No doubt the sun +was up behind the Ceza Stronghold that I have mentioned, which towered high +behind me, for the sky above grew light with the red rays of its rising. But +all the vast Black Kloof with its huge fantastic rocks was still plunged in +gloom, whereof the shadows seemed to oppress my heart, weary as I was with my +wakeful night and many anxieties. I was horribly nervous also and, as it +proved, not without reason. Presently I heard rustlings on the further side of +the fence as of people creeping about cautiously, and the sound of whispering. +Then of a sudden the gate was thrown open and through it emerged about a dozen +Zulu warriors, all of them ringed men, who instantly surrounded me, seated +there upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at them and they looked at me for quite a long while, since following +my usual rule, I determined not to be the first to speak. Moreover, if they +meant to kill me there was no use in speaking. At length their leader, an +elderly man with thin legs, a large stomach and a rather pleasant countenance, +saluted politely, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, O Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, O Captain, whose name and business I do not know,” I +answered. +</p> + +<p> +“The winds know the mountain on which they blow, but the mountain does +not know the winds which it cannot see,” he remarked with poetical +courtesy; a Zulu way of saying that more people are acquainted with Tom Fool +than Tom Fool is aware of. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, Captain; yet the mountain can feel the winds,” and I +might have added, smell them, for the Kloof was close and these Kaffirs had not +recently bathed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am named Goza and come on an errand from the king, O +Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, Goza, and is your errand to cut my throat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at present, Macumazahn, that is, unless you refuse to do what the +king wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what does the king wish, Goza?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wishes, Macumazahn, that you, his friend, should visit him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which is just what I was on my way to do, Goza.” (This was not +true, but it didn’t matter, for, if a lie, in the words of the +schoolgirl’s definition, is an abomination to the Lord, it is a very +present help in time of trouble.) “After we have eaten I and my friends +will accompany you to the king’s kraal at Ulundi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Macumazahn. The king said nothing about your friends, of whom I +do not think he has ever heard any more than we have. Moreover, if your friends +are white, you will do well not to mention them, since the order is that all +white people in Zululand who have not come here by the king’s desire, are +to be killed at once, except yourself, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so, Goza? Well, as you will have understood, I am quite alone here +and have no friends. Only I did not wish to travel so early.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we understand that you are quite alone and have no friends, is +it not so, my brothers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, we understand,” they exclaimed in chorus, one of them +adding, “and shall so report to the King.” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of blankets do you like; the plain grey ones or the white ones +with the blue stripes?” I asked, desiring to confirm them in this +determination. +</p> + +<p> +“The grey ones are warmer, Macumazahn, and do not show dirt so +much,” answered Goza thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Good, I will remember when I have the chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“The promise of Macumazahn is known from of old to be as a tree that +elephants cannot pull down and white ants will not eat,” said the +sententious Goza, thereby intimating his belief that some time or other they +would receive those blankets. As a matter of fact the survivors of the party +and the families of the others did receive them after the war, for in dealing +with natives I have always made a point of trying to fulfil any promise or +engagement made for value received. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” went on Goza, “will the Inkosi be pleased to +start, as we have to travel far to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible,” I replied. “Before I leave I must eat, for who +can journey upon yesterday’s food? Also I must saddle my horse, collect +what belongs to me, and bid farewell to my host, Zikali.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of meat we have plenty with us, Macumazahn, and therefore you will not +hunger on the way. Your horse and everything that is yours shall be brought +after you; since were you mounted on that swift beast and minded to escape, how +could we catch you with our feet, and did you please to shoot us with your +rifle, how could we who have only spears, save ourselves from dying? As for the +Opener of Roads, his servants have told us that he means to sleep all to-day +that he may talk with spirits in his dreams, and therefore it is useless for +you to wait to bid him farewell. Moreover, the orders of the king are that we +should bring you to him at once.” +</p> + +<p> +After this for a time there was silence, while I sat immovable revolving the +situation, and the Zulus regarded me with a benignant interest. Goza took his +snuff-box from his ear, shook out some into the palm of his hand and, after +offering it to me in vain, inhaled it himself. +</p> + +<p> +“The orders of the king are (sneeze) that we should bring you to him +alive if possible, and if not (sneeze) dead. Choose which you will, Macumazahn. +Perhaps you may prefer to go to Ulundi dead, which would—ah! how strong +is this snuff, it makes me weep like a woman—save you the trouble of +walking. But if you prefer that we should carry you, be so good, Macumazahn, +first to write the words which will cause the grey blankets to be delivered to +us, for we know well that even your bones would desire to keep your promise. Is +it not a proverb in the land from the time of the slaying of Bangu when you +gave the cattle you had earned to Saduko’s wanderers?” +</p> + +<p> +I listened and an idea occurred to me, as perhaps it had to Goza. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you, Goza,” I said, “and I will start for Ulundi on +my feet—to save <i>you</i> the trouble of carrying me. But as the times +are rough and accidents may always happen; as, too, I wish to make sure that +you should get those blankets, and it may chance that I shall arrive there on +my back, first I will write words which, if they are delivered to the +witch-doctoress Nombé, will, sooner or later, turn into blankets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Write the words quickly, Macumazahn, and they will be delivered,” +said Goza. +</p> + +<p> +So I drew out my pocket-book and wrote— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“D<small>EAR</small> A<small>NSCOMBE</small>,—<br /> + “There is treachery afoot and I think that Zikali is at the bottom of +it. I am being carried off to Cetewayo at Ulundi, by a party of armed Zulus who +will not allow me to communicate with you, probably by Zikali’s orders. +You must do the best you can for Heda and yourself. Escape to Natal if you are +able. Of course I will help if I get the chance, but if war is about to break +out Cetewayo may kill me. I think that you can trust Nombé; also that Zikali +does not wish to work you any ill unless he is obliged, though I have no doubt +that he has trapped us here for some dark purpose of his own. Tell him through +Nombé that if harm comes to you I will kill him if I live, and that if I die, I +will settle the score with him afterwards. God save and bless you both. Keep up +your courage and use your wits. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your friend,<br /> +“A. Q.” +</p> + +<p> +I tore out the sheet, folded, addressed it and presented it to Goza, remarking +that although it seemed to be but paper, it really was fourteen +blankets—if given at once to Nombé. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded and handed it to one of his men, who departed in the direction of our +huts. So, thought I to myself, Nombé knows all about this business, which means +that it is being worked by Zikali. That is why she spoke to me as she did last +night. +</p> + +<p> +“It is time to start, Macumazahn, and I think you told us that you would +prefer to do so on your feet,” said Goza, looking suggestively at his +spear. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready,” I said, rising because I must. For a moment I +contemplated the door in the kraal fence, wondering whether it would be safe to +bolt through it and take refuge with Zikali. No, it was not safe, since Zikali +sat there in his hut pulling the strings and probably might refuse to see me. +Moreover, it was likely enough that before I could find him one of those broad +spears would find my heart. There was nothing to be done except submit. Still I +did call out in a loud voice— +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, Zikali. I leave you without a present against my will who am +being taken by soldiers to visit the king at Ulundi. When we meet again I will +talk all this matter over with you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer, and as Goza took the opportunity to say that he disliked +the noise of shouting extremely, which sometimes made him do things that he +afterwards regretted, I became silent. Then we departed, I in the exact centre +of that guard of Zulus, heavy-hearted and filled with fears both for myself and +those I left behind me. +</p> + +<p> +Down the Black Kloof we tramped, emerging on the sunlit plain beyond without +meeting any one. A couple of miles further on we came to a small stream where +Goza announced we would halt to eat. So we ate of cold toasted meat which one +of the men produced from a basket he carried, unpalatable food but better than +nothing. Just as we had finished I looked up and saw the soldier to whom my +note had been given. He was leading my mare that had been saddled. On it were +my large saddle-bags packed with my belongings, also my thick overcoat, +mackintosh, waterbottle, and other articles down to a bag of tobacco, a spare +pipe and a box of wax matches. Moreover, the man carried my double-barrelled +Express rifle and a shot-gun that could be used for ball, together with two +bags of cartridges. Practically nothing belonging to me had been forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +I asked him who had collected the things. He replied the doctress Nombé had +done so and had brought him the horse saddled to carry them. He did not know +who saddled the horse as he had seen no one but Nombé to whom he had given the +writing which she hid away. In answer to further questions, he said that Nombé +had sent me a message. It was— +</p> + +<p> +“I bid farewell to Macumazahn for a little while and wish him good +fortune till we meet again. Let him not be afraid in the battle, for even if he +is hurt it will not be to death, since those go with him whom he cannot see, +and protect him with their shields. Say to Macumazahn that I, Nombé, remember +in the morning what I said in the night and that what seems to be quite lost is +ofttimes found again. Wish him good fortune and tell him I am sorry that I had +not time to cause his spare garments to be cleansed with water, but that I have +been careful to find his little box with the white man’s +medicines.” +</p> + +<p> +I could extract nothing more from this soldier, who was either very stupid, or +chose to appear so; nor indeed did I dare to put direct questions about the +cart and those who travelled in it. +</p> + +<p> +Soon we marched again, for Goza would not allow me to ride the horse, fearing +that I should escape on it. Nor would he let me carry either of the guns lest I +should make use of them. All day we travelled, reaching the Nongoma heights in +the late afternoon. On this beautiful spot we found a kraal situated where +afterwards a magistracy was built when we conquered the country, whence there +is one of the finest views in Zululand. There was no one in the kraal except +two old women who appeared to be deaf and dumb for all I could get out of them. +These aged dames, however, or others who were hidden, had made ready for our +arrival, since a calf lay skinned and prepared for cooking, and by it big +gourds filled with Kaffir beer and “maas” or curdled milk. +</p> + +<p> +In due course we ate of these provisions, and after we had finished I gave Goza +a stiff tot of brandy, of which Nombé, or perhaps Anscombe, had thoughtfully +sent a bottle with my other baggage. The strong liquor made the old fellow +talkative and enabled me to get a good deal of information out of him. Thus I +learned that certain demands, as to which he was rather vague, had been made +upon Cetewayo by the English Government, and that the King was now considering +whether he should accede to them or fight. The Great Council of the nation was +summoned to attend at Ulundi within a few days, when the matter would be +decided. Meanwhile all the regiments were being gathered, or, as we should say, +mobilized; an army, said Goza, greater than any that Chaka had ever led. +</p> + +<p> +I asked him what I had to do with this business, that I, a peaceful traveller +and an old friend of the Zulus, should be made prisoner and dragged off to +Ulundi. He replied he did not know who was not in the council of the High Ones, +but he thought that Cetewayo the king wished to see me because I was their +friend, perhaps that he might send me as a messenger to the white people. I +asked him how the king knew that I was in the country, to which he replied that +Zikali had told him I was coming, he did not know how, whereon he, Goza, was +sent at once to fetch me. I could get no more out of him. +</p> + +<p> +I wondered if it would be worth while to make him quite drunk and then attempt +to escape on the horse, but gave up the idea. To begin with, his men were at +hand and there was not enough brandy to make them all drunk. Also even if I +succeeded in winning away here in the heart of Zululand, it would not help +Anscombe or Heda and I should probably be cut off and killed before I could get +out of the country. So I abandoned the plan and went to sleep instead. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning we left Nongoma early in the hope of reaching Ulundi that evening +if the Ivuna and Black Umfolozi Rivers proved fordable. As it chanced, although +they were high, we were able to cross them, I seated on the horse which two of +the Zulus led. Next we tramped for miles through the terrible Bekameezi Valley, +a hot and desolate place which the Zulus swear is haunted. So unhealthy is this +valley, which is the home of large game, that whole kraals full of people who +have tried to cultivate the rich land, have died in it of fever, or fled away +leaving their crops unreaped. Now no man dwells there. After this we climbed a +terrible mount to the high land of Mahlabatini, and having eaten, pushed on +once more. +</p> + +<p> +At length we sighted the great hill-encircled plain of Ulundi which may be +called the cradle of the Zulu race as, politically speaking, it was destined to +be its coffin. On the ridge to the west once stood the Nobamba kraal where +dwelt Senzangacona, the father of Chaka the Lion. Nearer to the White Umfolozi +was Panda’s dwelling-place, Nodwengu, which once I knew so well, while on +the slope of the hills of the north-east stood the town of Ulundi in which +Cetewayo dwelt, bathed in the lights of sunset. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed it and all the vast plain were red as though with blood, red as they +were destined to be on the coming day of the last battle of the Zulus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +CETEWAYO</h2> + +<p> +It was dark when at last we reached the Ulundi kraal, for the growing moon was +obscured by clouds. Therefore I could see nothing and was only aware, by the +sound of voices and the continual challenging, that we were passing through +great numbers of men. At length we were admitted at the eastern gate and I was +taken to a hut where I at once flung myself down to sleep, being so weary that +I could not attempt to eat. Next morning as I was finishing my breakfast in the +little fenced courtyard of this guest-hut, Goza appeared and said that the king +commanded me to be brought to him at once, adding that I must “speak +softly” to him, as he was “very angry.” +</p> + +<p> +So off we went across the great cattle kraal where a regiment of young men, two +thousand strong or so, were drilling with a fierce intensity which showed they +knew that they were out for more than exercise. About the sides of the kraal +also stood hundreds of soldiers, all of them talking and, it seemed to me, +excited, for they stamped upon the ground and even jumped into the air to give +point to their arguments. Suddenly some of them caught sight of me, whereon a +tall, truculent fellow called out— +</p> + +<p> +“What does a white man at Ulundi at such a time, when even John Dunn dare +not come? Let us kill him and send his head as a present to the English general +across the Tugela. That will settle this long talk about peace or war.” +</p> + +<p> +Others of a like mind echoed this kind proposal, with the result that presently +a score or so of them made a rush at me, brandishing their sticks, since they +might not carry arms in the royal kraal. Goza did his best to keep them off, +but was swept aside like a feather, or rather knocked over, for I saw him on +his back with his thin legs in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“You must climb out of this pit by yourself,” he began, addressing +me in his pompous and figurative way. Then somebody stamped on his face, and +fixing his teeth in his assailant’s heel, he grew silent for a while. +</p> + +<p> +The truculent blackguard, who was about six feet three high and had a mouth +like a wolf’s throat, arrived in front of me and, bending down, roared +out— +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to kill you, White Man.” +</p> + +<p> +I had a pistol in my pocket and could perfectly well have killed him, as I was +much tempted to do. A second’s reflection showed me, however, that this +would be useless, and in a sense put me in the wrong, though when the matter +came on for argument it would interest me no more. So I just folded my arms +and, looking up at him, said— +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Black Man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because your face is white,” he roared. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, “because your heart is black and your eyes +are so full of blood that you do not know Macumazahn when you see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wow!” said one, “it is Watcher-by-Night whom our fathers +knew before us. Leave him alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” shouted the great fellow, “I will send him to watch +where it is always night, I who keep a club for white rats,” and he +brandished his stick over me. +</p> + +<p> +Now my temper rose. Watching my opportunity, I stretched out my right foot and +hooked him round the ankle, at the same time striking up with all my force. My +fist caught him beneath the chin and over he went backwards sprawling on the +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of a dog!” I said, “if a single stick touches me, at +least you shall go first,” and whipping out my revolver, I pointed it at +him. +</p> + +<p> +He lay quiet enough, but how the matter would have ended I do not know, for +passion was running high, had not Goza at this moment risen with a bleeding +nose and called out— +</p> + +<p> +“O Fools, would you kill the king’s guest to whom the king himself +has given safe-conduct. Surely you are pots full of beer, not men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” answered one. “This is the Place of Soldiers. The +king’s house is yonder. Give the old jackal a start of a length of ten +assegais. If he reaches it first, he can shake hands with his friend, the king. +If not we will make him into medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, run for it, Jackal,” clamoured the others, knocking +their shields with their sticks, as men do who would frighten a buck, and +opening out to make a road for me. +</p> + +<p> +Now while all this was going on, with some kind of sixth sense I had noted a +big man whose face was shrouded by a blanket thrown over his head, who very +quietly had joined these drunken rioters, and vaguely wondered who he might be. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not run,” I said slowly, “that I may be saved by the +king. Nay, I will die here, though some of you shall die first. Go to the king, +Goza, and tell him how his servants have served his guest,” and I lifted +my pistol, waiting till the first stick touched me to put a bullet through the +bully on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no need,” said a deep voice that proceeded from the +draped man of whom I have spoken, “for the king has come to see for +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the blanket was thrown back, revealing Cetewayo grown fat and much aged +since last I saw him, but undoubtedly Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“Bayete!” roared the mob in salute, while some of those who had +been most active in the tumult tried to slip away. +</p> + +<p> +“Let no man stir,” said Cetewayo, and they stood as though they +were rooted to the ground, while I slipped my pistol back into my pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, White Man?” he asked, looking at me, “and what +do you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“The King should know Macumazahn,” I answered, lifting my hat, +“whom Dingaan knew, whom Panda knew well, and whom the King knew before +he was a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know you,” he answered, “although since we spoke +together you have shrunk like an oxhide in the sun, and time has stained your +beard white.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the King has grown fat like the ox on summer grass. As for what I do +here, did not the King send for me by Goza, and was I not brought like a baby +in a blanket.” +</p> + +<p> +“The last time we met,” he went on, taking no heed of my words, +“was yonder at Nodwengu when the witch Mameena was tried for sorcery, she +who made my brother mad and brought about the great battle, in which you fought +for him with the Amawombe regiment. Do you not remember how she kissed you, +Macumazahn, and took poison between the kisses, and how before she grew silent +she spoke evil words to me, saying that I was doomed to pull down my own House +and to die as she died, words that have haunted me ever since and now haunt me +most of all? I wish to speak to you concerning them, Macumazahn, for it is said +in the land that this beautiful witch loved you alone and that you only knew +her mind.” +</p> + +<p> +I made no reply, who was heartily tired of this subject of Mameena whom no one +seemed able to forget. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he went on, “we will talk of that matter alone, since +it is not natural that you should wish to speak of your dead darlings before +the world,” and with a wave of the hand he put the matter aside. Then +suddenly his attitude changed. His face, that had been thoughtful and almost +soft, became fierce, his form seemed to swell and he grew terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that dog doing?” he asked of Goza, pointing to the brute +whom I had knocked down and who still lay prostrate on his back, afraid to +stir. +</p> + +<p> +“O King,” answered Goza, “he was trying to kill Macumazahn +because he is a white man, although I told him that he was your guest, being +brought to you by the royal command. He was trying to kill him by giving him a +start of ten spears’ length and making him run to the isigodhlo (the +king’s house) and beating him to death with the sticks of these men if +they caught him, which, as he is old and they are young, they must have done. +Only the Watcher-by-Night would not run; no, although he is so small he knocked +him to the earth with his fist, and there he lies. That is all, O King.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rise, dog,” said Cetewayo, and the man rose trembling with fear, +and, being bidden, gave his name, which I forget. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, dog,” went on the king in the same cold voice. “What +Goza says is true, for I saw and heard it all with my eyes and ears. You would +have made yourself as the king. You dared to try to kill the king’s guest +to whom he had given safe-conduct, and to stain the king’s doorposts with +his blood, thereby defiling his house and showing him to the white people as a +murderer of one of them whom he had promised to protect. Macumazahn, do +<i>you</i> say how he shall die, and I will have it done.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish him to die,” I answered, “I think that he and +those with him were drunk. Let him go, O King.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Macumazahn, I will let him go. See now, we are in the centre of the +cattle-kraal, and to the eastern gate is as far as to the isigodhlo. Let this +man have a start of ten spears’ length and run to the eastern gate, as he +would have made Macumazahn run to the king’s house, and let his +companions, those who would have hunted Macumazahn, hunt him. +</p> + +<p> +“If he wins through to the gate he can go on to the Government in Natal +and tell them of the cruelty of the Zulus. Only then, let those who hunted him +be brought before me for trial and perhaps we shall see how <i>they</i> can +run.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the poor wretch caught hold of my hand, begging me to intercede for him, +but soldiers who had come up dragged him away and, having measured the distance +allowed him, set him on a mark made upon the ground. Presently at a word off he +sped like an arrow, and after him went his friends, ten or more of them. I +think they caught him just by the gate doubling like a hare, or so the shouts +of laughter from the watching regiment told me, for myself I would not look. +</p> + +<p> +“That dog ate his own stomach,” said Cetewayo grimly, thereby +indicating in native fashion that the biter had been bit or the engineer hoist +with his petard. “It is long since there has been a war in the land, and +some of these young soldiers who have never used an assegai save to skin an ox +or cut the head from a chicken, shout too loud and leap too high. Now they will +be quieter, and while you stay here you may walk where you will in safety, +Macumazahn,” he added thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +Then dismissing the matter from his mind, as we white people dismiss any +trivial incident in a morning stroll, he talked for a few minutes to the +commanding officer of the regiment that was drilling, who ran up to make some +report to him, and walked back towards the isigodhlo, beckoning me to follow +with Goza. +</p> + +<p> +After waiting for a little while outside the gate in the surrounding fence, a +body-servant ordered us to enter, which we did to find the king seated on the +shady side of his big hut quite alone. At a sign I also sat myself down upon a +stool that had been set for me, while Goza, whose nose was still bleeding, +squatted at my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Your manners are not so good as they were once, Macumazahn,” said +Cetewayo presently, “or perhaps you have been so long away from the royal +kraal that you have forgotten its customs.” +</p> + +<p> +I stared at him, wondering what he could mean, whereon he added with a +laugh— +</p> + +<p> +“What is that in your pocket? Is it not a loaded pistol, and do you not +remember that it is death to appear before the king armed? Now I might kill you +and have no blame, although you are my guest, for who knows that you are not +sent by the English Queen to shoot me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ask the King’s pardon,” I said humbly enough. “I did +not think about the pistol. Let your servants take it away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it is safer in your pocket, where I saw you place it in the +cattle-kraal, Macumazahn, than in their hands, which do not know how to hold +such things. Moreover, I know that you are not one who stabs in the dark, even +when our peoples growl round each other like two dogs about to fight, and if +you were, in this place your life would have to pay for mine. There is beer by +your side; drink and fear nothing. Did you see the Opener of Roads, Goza, and +if so, what is his answer to my message?” +</p> + +<p> +“O King, I saw him,” answered Goza. “The Father of the +doctors, the friend and master of the Spirits, says he has heard the +King’s word, yes, that he heard it as it passed the King’s lips, +and that although he is very old, he will travel to Ulundi and be present at +the Great Council of the nation which is to be summoned on the eighth day from +this, that of the full moon. Yet he makes a prayer of the King. It is that a +place may be prepared for him, for his people and for his servants who carry +him, away from this town of Ulundi, where he may sojourn quite alone, a decree +of death being pronounced against any who attempt to break in upon his privacy, +either where he dwells or upon his journey. These are his very words, O King: +</p> + +<p> +“‘I, who am the most ancient man in Zululand, dwell with the +spirits of my fathers, who will not suffer strangers to come nigh them and who, +if they are offended, will bring great woes upon the land. Moreover, I have +sworn that while there is a king in Zululand and I draw the breath of life, +never again will I set foot in a royal kraal, because when last I did so at the +slaying of the witch, Mameena, the king who is dead thought it well to utter +threats against me, and never more will I, the Opener of Roads, be threatened +by a mortal. Therefore if the King and his Council seek to drink of the water +of my wisdom, it must be in the place and hour of my own choosing. If this +cannot be, let me abide here in my house and let the King seek light from other +doctors, since mine shall remain as a lamp to my own heart.’” +</p> + +<p> +Now I saw that these words greatly disturbed Cetewayo who feared Zikali, as +indeed did all the land. +</p> + +<p> +“What does the old wizard mean?” he asked angrily. “He lives +alone like a bat in a cave and for years has been seen of none. Yet as a bat +flies forth at night, ranging far and wide in search of prey, so does his +spirit seem to fly through Zululand. Everywhere I hear the same word. It +is—‘What says the Opener of Roads?’ It is—‘How +can aught be done unless the Opener of Roads has declared that it shall be +done, he who was here before the Black One (Chaka) was born, he who it is said +was the friend of Inkosi Umkulu, the father of the Zulus who died before our +great-grandfathers could remember; he who has all knowledge and is almost a +spirit, if indeed he be not a spirit?’ I ask you, Macumazahn, who are his +friend, what does he mean, and why should I not kill him and be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“O King,” I answered, “in the days of your uncle Dingaan, +when Dingaan slew the Boers who were his guests, and thus began the war between +the White and the Black, I, who was a lad, heard the laughter of Zikali for the +first time yonder at the kraal Ungungundhlovu, I who rode with Retief and +escaped the slaughter, but his face I did not see. Many years later, in the +days of Panda your father, I saw his face and therefore you name me his friend. +Yet this friend who drew me to visit him, perhaps by your will, O King, has now +caused me to be brought here to Ulundi doubtless by your will, O King, but +against my own, for who wishes to come to a town where he is well-nigh slain by +the first brawler he meets in the cattle kraal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet you were not slain, Macumazahn, and perhaps you do not know all the +story of that brawler,” replied Cetewayo almost humbly, like one who begs +pardon, though the rest of what I had said he ignored. “But still you are +Zikali’s friend, for between you and him there is a rope which enabled +him to draw you to Zululand, which rope I have heard called by a woman’s +name. Therefore by the spirit of that woman, which still can draw you like a +rope, I charge you, tell me—what does this old wizard mean, and why +should I not kill him and be rid of one who haunts my heart like an evil vision +of the night and, as I sometimes think, is an <i>umtakati</i>, an evil-doer, +who would work ill to me and all my House, yes, and to all my people?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know what he means, O King?” I answered with +indignation, though in fact I could guess well enough. “As for killing +him, cannot the King kill whom he will? Yet I remember that once I heard your +father ask much the same question and of Zikali himself, saying that he was +minded to find out whether or no he were mortal like other men. I remember also +Zikali answered that there was a saying that when the Opener of Roads came to +the end of his road, there would be no more a king of Zululand, as there was +none when first he set foot upon his road. Now I have spoken, who am a white +man and do not understand your sayings.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember it also, Macumazahn, who was present at the time,” he +replied heavily. “My father feared this Zikali and his father feared him, +and I have heard that the Black One himself, who feared nothing, feared him +also. And I, too, fear him, so much that I dare not make up my mind upon a +great matter without his counsel, lest he should bewitch me and the nation and +bring us to nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, then turning to Goza, asked, “Did the Opener of Roads tell you +where he wished to dwell when he comes to visit me here at Ulundi?” +</p> + +<p> +“O King,” answered Goza, “yonder in the hills, not further +away than an aged man can walk in the half of an hour, is a place called the +Valley of Bones, because there in the days of those who went before the King, +and even in the King’s day, many evildoers have been led to die. Zikali +would dwell in this Valley of Bones, and there and nowhere else would meet the +King and the Great Council, not in the daylight but after sunset when the moon +has risen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said Cetewayo, starting, “the place is ill-omened and, +they say, haunted, one that no man dares to approach after the fall of darkness +for fear lest the ghosts of the dead should leap upon him gibbering.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such were the words of the Opener of Roads, O King,” replied Goza. +“There and nowhere else will he meet the King, and there he demands that +three huts should be built to shelter him and his folk and stored with all +things needful. If this be not granted to him, then he refuses to visit the +King or to give counsel to the nation.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it then,” said Cetewayo. “Send messengers to the +Opener of Roads, Goza, saying that what he desires shall be done. Let my +command go out that under pain of death none spy upon him while he journeys +hither or returns. Let the huts be built forthwith, and when it is known that +he is coming, let food in plenty be placed in them and afterwards morning by +morning taken to the mouth of the valley. Bid him announce his arrival and the +hour he chooses for our meeting by messenger. Begone.” +</p> + +<p> +Goza leapt up, gave the royal salute, and retreated backwards from the presence +of the king, leaving us alone. I also rose to depart, but Cetewayo motioned to +me to be seated. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn,” he said, “the Great Queen’s man who has +come to Natal (Sir Bartle Frere) threatens me with war because two evil-doing +women were taken on the Natal side of the Tugela and brought back to Zululand +and killed by Mehlokazulu, being the wives of his father, Sirayo, which was +done without my knowledge. Also two white men were driven away from an island +in the Tugela River by some of my soldiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all, O King?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No. The Queen’s man says I kill my people without trial, which is +a lie told him by the missionaries, and that girls have been killed also who +refused to marry those to whom they were given and ran away with other men. +Also that wizards are smelt out and slain, which happens but rarely now; all of +this contrary to the promises I made to Sompseu when he came to recognize me as +king upon my father’s death, and some other such small matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is demanded if you would avoid war, O King?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing less than this, Macumazahn: That the Zulu army should be +abolished and the soldiers allowed to marry whom and when they please, because, +says the Queen’s man, he fears lest it should be used to attack the +English, as though I who love the English, as those have done who went before +me, desire to lay a finger on them. Also that another Queen’s man should +be sent to dwell here in my country, to be the eyes and ears of the English +Government and have power with me in the land; yes, and more demands which +would destroy the Zulus as a people and make me, their king, but a petty +kraal-head.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what will the King answer?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I know not what to answer. The fine of two thousand cattle I will pay +for the killing of the women. If it may be, I wish no quarrel with the English, +though gladly I would have fought the Dutch had not Sompseu stretched out his +arm over their land. But how can I disband the army and make an end of the +regiments that have conquered in so many wars? Macumazahn, I tell you that if I +did this, in a moon I should be dead. Oh! you white people think there is but +one will in Zululand, that of the king. But it is not so, for he is but a +single man among ten thousand thousand, who lives to work the people’s +wish. If he beats them with too thick a stick, or if he brings them to shame or +does what the most of them do not wish, then where is the king? Then, I say, he +goes a road that was trodden by Chaka and Dingaan who were before me, yes, the +red road of the assegai. Therefore today, I stand like a man between two +falling cliffs. If I run towards the English the Zulu cliff falls upon me. If I +run towards my own people, the English cliff falls upon me, and in either case +I am crushed and no more seen. Tell me then, Macumazahn, you whose heart is +honest, what must I do?” +</p> + +<p> +So he spoke, wringing his hands, with tears starting to his eyes, and upon my +word, although I never liked Cetewayo as I had liked his father, Panda, perhaps +because I loved his brother, Umbelazi, whom he killed, and had known him do +many cruel deeds, my heart bled for him. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you, King,” I answered, thinking that I must say +something, “but I pray you do not make war against the queen, for she is +the most mighty One in the whole earth, and though her foot, of which you see +but the little toe here in Africa, seems small to you, yet if she is angered, +it will stamp the Zulus flat, so that they cease to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Many have told me this, Macumazahn. Yes, even Uhamu, the son of my uncle +Unzibe, or, as some say, the son of his spirit, to which his mother was married +after Unzibe was dead, and others throughout the land, and in truth I think it +myself. But who can hold the army which shouts for war? <i>Ow!</i> the Council +must decide, which means perhaps that Zikali will decide, for now all hang upon +his lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am sorry,” I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you? So am I. Yet his counsel must be asked, and better that it +should be here in my presence than yonder secretly at the Black Kloof. I would +kill him if I dared, but I dare not, who am sure—why I may not +say—that the same sun will see his death and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand to show that the talk on this matter was ended, then +added— +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, you are my prisoner for a while, but give me your word that +you will not try to escape and you may go where you will within an hour’s +ride of Ulundi. I would pay you well to stop here with me, but this I know you +would never do should there be trouble between us and your people. Therefore I +promise you that if war breaks out I will send you safely to Natal, or perhaps +sooner, as my messenger, whence doubtless you will return to fight against me. +Know that I have given orders that every other white man or woman who is found +in Zululand shall be killed as a spy. Even John Dunn has fled or is flying, or +so I hear, John Dunn who has fed out of my hand and grown rich on my gifts. You +yourself would have been killed as you came from Swazi-Land in your cart, had +not command been sent to those chiefs through whose lands you passed that +neither they nor their people were so much as to look at you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now for one intense moment I thought, as hard as ever I had done in my life. It +was evident—unless he were dealing very cunningly with me, which I did +not believe—that Cetewayo knew nothing of Anscombe and Heda, but thought +that I had come into Zululand alone. Should I or should I not tell him and beg +his protection for them? If I did so he might refuse or be unable to give it to +them far away in the midst of a savage population aflame with the lust of war. +As the incident of the morning showed, it was as much as he could do to protect +myself, although the Zulus knew me for their friend. On the other hand no one +who dwelt under Zikali’s blanket, to use the Kaffir idiom, would be +touched, because he was looked on as half divine and therefore everything under +it down to the rat in his thatch was sacred. Now Zikali by implication and +Nombé with emphasis, had promised to safeguard these two. Surely, therefore, +they would run less risk in the Black Kloof than here at Ulundi, if ever they +got so far. +</p> + +<p> +All this went through my brain in an instant, with the result that I made up my +mind to say nothing. As the issue proved, this was a terrible mistake, but who +can always judge rightly? Had I spoken out it seems to me probable that +Cetewayo would have granted my prayer and ordered that these two should be +escorted out of Zululand before hostilities began, although of course they +might have been murdered on the way. Also, for a reason that will become +evident later, it is possible that there would never have been any hostilities. +All I can plead is, that I acted for the best and Fate would have it so. +Another moment and the chance was gone. +</p> + +<p> +The gate opened and a body-servant appeared announcing that one of the great +captains with some of his officers waited to see the king. Cetewayo made a +sign, whereon the servant called out something, and they entered, three or four +of them, saluting loudly. Seeing me they stopped and stared, whereon Cetewayo +shortly, but with much clearness, repeated to them and to an induna who +accompanied them, what he had already said to me, namely that I was his guest, +sent for by him that he might use me as a messenger if he thought fit. He added +that the man who dared to speak a word against me, or even to look at me +askance, should pay the price with his life, however high his station, and he +commanded that the heralds should proclaim this his decree throughout Ulundi +and the neighbouring kraals. Then he held out his hand to me in token of +friendship, bidding me to “go softly” and come to see him whenever +I wished, and dismissed me in charge of the induna, one of the captains and +some soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Within five minutes of reaching my hut I heard a loud-voiced crier proclaiming +the order of the king and knew that I had no more to fear. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +THE VALLEY OF BONES</h2> + +<p> +The week that followed my interview with Cetewayo was indeed a miserable time +for me. For myself, as I have said, I had no fear, for the king’s orders +were strictly obeyed. Moreover, the tale of what had happened to the brute who +wished to hunt me down in the cattle-kraal had travelled far and wide and none +sought to share his fate. My hut was inviolate and well supplied with necessary +food, as was my mare, and I could wander where I liked and talk with whom I +would. I could even ride to exercise the horse, though this I did very +sparingly and only in the immediate neighbourhood of the town for fear of +exciting suspicion or meeting Zulus whom the king’s word had not reached. +Indeed on these occasions I was always accompanied by a guard of swift-footed +and armed soldiers sent “to protect me,” or more probably to kill +me if I did anything that seemed suspicious. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of my rambles I met sundry natives whom I had known in the old +days, some of them a long while ago. They all seemed glad to see me and were +quite ready to talk of past times, but of the present they would say little or +nothing, except that they were certain there would be war. Of Anscombe and Heda +I could hear nothing, and indeed did not dare to make any direct inquiries +concerning them, but several reliable men assured me that the last missionaries +and traders having departed, there was not a white man, woman or child left in +Zululand except myself. It was “all black” they said, referring to +the colour of their people, as it had been before the time of Chaka. So I was +forced to eat out my heart with anxiety in silence, hoping and praying that +Zikali had played an honest part and sent them away safely. +</p> + +<p> +Why should he not have done so, seeing that it was my presence he had desired, +not theirs? They were only taken, or rather snared, because they were with me +and could not be separated, or so I believed at the time. +</p> + +<p> +One ray of comfort I did get. About the fifth day after my interview I saw +Goza, who told me that the king’s messengers were back from the Black +Kloof and had brought “a word” for me from Zikali himself. The word +was— +</p> + +<p> +“Bid Goza say to Macumazahn that I was sorry not to see him to say +good-bye, because that morning I slept heavily. Bid him say that I am glad he +has seen the king, since for this purpose I sought his presence in Zululand. +Bid him say that he is to fear nothing, and that if his heart is heavy about +others whom he loves, he should make it light again, since the Spirits have +them in their keeping as they have him, and never were they or he more safe +than they are to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I looked at Goza and asked if I could see this messenger. He replied, No, +as he had already been despatched upon another errand. Then I asked him if the +messenger had said anything else. He answered, Yes, one thing that he had +forgotten, namely that the writing about blankets should now be in Natal. Then +suddenly he changed the subject and asked me if I would like to accompany him +to the Valley of Bones where he was ordered to inspect the huts which were +being built for Zikali and his people. Of course I said I should, hoping, quite +without result, that I might get something more out of him on the road. +</p> + +<p> +Now this town of Cetewayo’s stands, or rather stood, for it has long been +burnt, on the slope of the hills to the north-east of the plains of Ulundi. +Above it these hills grow steeper, and deep in the recesses of one of them is +the Valley of Bones. There is nothing particularly imposing about the place; no +towering cliffs or pillars of piled granite, as at the Black Kloof. It is just +a vale cut out by water, bordered by steep slopes on either side, and a still +steeper slope strown with large rocks at its end. Dotted here and there on +these slopes grew tall aloes that from a little distance looked like scattered +men, whereof the lower leaves were shrivelled and blackened by veld fires. Also +there were a few euphorbias, grey, naked-looking things that end in points like +fingers on a hand, and among them some sparse thorn trees, struggling to live +in an inhospitable soil. +</p> + +<p> +The place has one peculiarity. Jutting into it from the hillside is a ridge or +spur, sixty or seventy yards in length by perhaps twenty broad, that ends in a +flat point of rock which stands about forty feet above the level of the rest of +the little valley. On this ridge also grew tall aloes until near its extremity +the soil ceased, or had been washed away from the water-worn core of rock. +</p> + +<p> +It was, and no doubt still is, a desolate-looking spot, at any rate for most of +the day when owing to the shadow of the surrounding hills, it receives but +little sun. Everything about it, especially when I was there in a time of rain, +seemed dank and miserable, although the flat floor of the kloof was clothed +with a growth of tall, coarse grass, and weeds that bore an evil-smelling +flower. Perhaps some sense of appropriateness had caused the Zulu kings to +choose this lonesome, deathly-looking gorge as one of their execution grounds. +At any rate many had been slain here, for skulls and the larger human bones, +some of them black with age, lay all about among the grass, as they had been +scattered by hyenas and jackals. They were particularly thick beneath and +around the table-like rock that I have mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +Goza told me that this was because the King’s Slayers made a custom of +dragging the victim along the projecting tongue to the edge of this rock and +hurling him, either dead or living, to the ground beneath; or, in the case of +witches; driving them over after they had been blinded. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the spot that Zikali had selected to abide in during his visit to +Ulundi. Certainly where privacy was an object it was well chosen, for, as +Cetewayo had said and as Goza emphasized to me, it had the repute of being the +most thoroughly haunted place in all Zululand, with the sole exception, +perhaps, of the ridge opposite to Dingaan’s old kraal where once I shot +the vultures for my life and those of my companions.<a href="#fn-14.1" name="fnref-14.1" id="fnref-14.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +Even in the daytime people gave it a wide berth, and at night nothing would +induce them to approach it, at any rate alone. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-14.1" id="fn-14.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-14.1">[1]</a> +See the book called <i>Marie,</i> by H. Rider Haggard. +</p> + +<p> +Here to one side of and near the root of the tongue of land of which I have +spoken, the huts that Zikali had demanded for himself and his company were +being rapidly built, close to a spring of water, by a large body of men who +laboured as though they wished to be done with their task. Also about half way +up the donga, for really it was nothing more, at a distance of perhaps five and +twenty paces from its flat point whence the condemned were hurled, a circular +space of ground had been cleared and levelled which was large enough to +accommodate fifty or sixty men. On this space, Goza told me, the King and the +Council were to sit when they came to seek light from Zikali. +</p> + +<p> +In my heart I reflected that the light they were likely to get from him would +be such as may be supposed to be thrown by hell fire. For be it remembered I +knew what these people never seemed to understand, that Zikali was the most +bitter of their enemies. To begin with, he was of Undwandwe blood, one of the +people whom the great king Chaka had destroyed. Then this same Chaka had robbed +him of his wives and murdered his children, in revenge for which he had plotted +the slaying of Chaka, as he did that of his brothers, Umhlangana and Dingaan, +the latter of whom he involved in a quarrel with the Boers. Subsequently he +brought about the war between the princes Cetewayo and Umbelazi, in which I +played a part. +</p> + +<p> +Now I was certain that he intended to bring about another war between the +English and the Zulus, knowing well that in the end the latter would be +destroyed, and with them the royal House of Senzangacona which he had sworn to +level with the dust. Had he not told me as much years ago, and was he one to go +back upon his word? Had he not used Mameena with her beauty and ambitions as +his tool, and when she was of no further service to him, given her to death, as +he had used scores of others and in due season given them to death? Was I not +myself perhaps one of those tools destined to be thrown into the pit of doom +when my turn came, though in what way I could help his plots was more than I +could see, since he knew well that I should do my best to oppose him? Oh! I had +half a mind to go to Cetewayo and tell him all I knew about Zikali, even if it +involved the breaking of confidences. +</p> + +<p> +But stay! Even if I were believed, this far-seeing wizard held hostages for my +good behaviour, and if I betrayed him what would happen to those hostages? He +sent me messages saying that they were safe, suggesting that they had escaped +to Natal. How was I to know that these were true? I was utterly bewildered; I +could not guess why I had been beguiled into Zululand, and I dared not step +either this way or that for fear lest I should fall into some pit dug by his +cunning hands and, what was worse, drag down others with me. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, was this man quite human, or perhaps an emissary of Satan upon earth +who had knowledge denied to other men and a certain mastery over the Powers of +Ill? Again I could not say. His term of life seemed to be extraordinarily +prolonged, though none knew how old exactly he might be. Also he had a +wonderful knowledge of what was passing in the minds of others, and by his +arts, as I had experienced only the other day, could summon up apparitions or +illusions before their eyes. Further, he was aware of events which had happened +at a distance and could send or read dreams, since otherwise how did Nombé know +what I had dreamt at Marnham’s house? Lastly he could foretell the +future, as once he had done in my own case, prophecying that I should be +injured by a buffalo with a split horn. +</p> + +<p> +Yet all of this might be nothing more than a mixture of keen observation, +clever spying, trickery and mesmerism. I could not say which it was, nor can I +with certainty to this hour. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the thoughts that passed through my mind as I walked back from the +Vale of Bones by the side of the big-paunched Goza, whom I caught eyeing me +from time to time as a curious crow eyes any object that has attracted his +attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Goza,” I said at last, “do the Zulus really mean to fight +the English?” +</p> + +<p> +He turned and pointed to a spot where the hills ran down into the great plain. +Here two regiments were manoeuvring. One of these held the slopes of the hill +and the other was attacking them from the plain, so fiercely that at a distance +their onslaught looked like that of actual warfare. +</p> + +<p> +“That looks like fighting, does it not, Macumazahn?” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Goza, yet it may be but play.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, Macumazahn. It may be fighting or it may be but play. Am I a +prophet that I should be able to say which it is? Of that there is but one man +in Zululand who knows the truth. It is he for whom the new huts are being built +up yonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think he really knows, Goza?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Macumazahn, I do not think, I am sure. He is the greatest of all +wizards, as he was when my father held on to his mother’s apron. He pulls +the strings and the Great-ones of the country dance. If he wishes war, there +will be war. If he wishes peace, there will be peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which does he wish, Goza?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought perhaps you could tell me that, Macumazahn, who, he says, are +such an old friend of his; also why he chooses to sojourn in a dark hole among +the dead instead of in the sunshine among the living, here at Ulundi.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I cannot, Goza, since the Opener of Roads does not open his heart +to me but keeps his secrets to himself. For the rest, those who talk with the +dead may prefer to dwell among the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now as always you speak truth, Macumazahn,” said Goza, looking at +me in a way which suggested to me that he believed I spoke anything but the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed I am convinced he thought that I was in the council of Zikali and +acquainted with his plans. Also I am sure he knew that I had not come to +Zululand alone, the incident of the blankets, which I had promised to him a +bribe to keep silence, showed it, and suspected that my companions were parties +to some plot together with myself. And yet at the time I could not be quite +sure, and therefore dared not ask anything concerning them lest thus I should +reveal their existence and bring them to death. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact I need not have been anxious on this point, since if Goza, +who I may state, was a kind of secret service officer as well as a head +messenger, knew, as I think probable, he had been commanded by Zikali to hold +his tongue under penalty of a curse. Perhaps the same was true of the soldiers +who had come with him to take me to Ulundi. The hint of Zikali was as powerful +as the word of the king, since they, like thousands of others, believed that +whereas Cetewayo could kill them, Zikali, like Satan, could blast their spirits +as well as their bodies. But how was I to guess all these things at that time? +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +During the next two days nothing happened, though I heard that there had been +one if not two meetings of the Council at the King’s House during which +the position of affairs was discussed. Cetewayo I did not see, although twice +he sent messengers to me bringing gifts of food, who were charged to inquire +whether I was well and happy and if any had offered me hurt or insult. To these +I answered that I was well and unmolested but not happy, who grew lonesome, +being but a solitary white man among so many thousands of the Zulus. +</p> + +<p> +On the third morning, that of the day of the full moon, Goza came and informed +me that Zikali had arrived at the Valley of Bones before dawn. I asked him how +he, who was so old and feeble, had walked so far. He answered that he had not +walked, or so he understood, but had been carried in a litter, or rather in two +litters, one for himself and one for his “spirit.” This staggered +me even where Zikali was concerned, and I inquired what on earth Goza meant. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, how can I tell you who only know what I myself am +told?” he exclaimed. “Such is the report that the Opener of Roads +has made himself by messengers to the king. None have seen him, for he journeys +only in the night. Moreover, when Zikali passes all men are blind and even +women’s tongues grow dumb. Perchance by ‘his spirit’ he means +his medicine or the witch-doctoress, Nombé, whom folks say he created, since +none have seen her father or her mother, or heard who begat her; or perchance +his snake is hid behind the mats of the second litter, if in truth there was +one.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so,” I said, feeling that it was useless to pursue the +matter. “Now, Goza, I would see Zikali and at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“That cannot be, Macumazahn, since he has given out that he will see no +one, who rests after his journey, and the king has issued orders that any who +attempt to approach the Valley of Bones shall die, even if they be of the royal +blood. Yes, if so much as a dog dares to draw near that place, it must die. The +soldiers who ring it round have killed one already, so strict are the orders, +also a boy who went towards it searching for a calf, which I think a bad +omen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will send a message to him,” I persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Do so,” mocked Goza. “Look, yonder sails a vulture. Ask it +to take your message, for nothing else will. Be not foolish, Macumazahn, but +have patience, for to-night you shall see the Opener of Roads when he attends +the Council of the king in the Valley of Bones. This is the order of the +king—that at the rising of the moon I lead you thither, so that you may +be present at the Council in case he wishes to ask you any questions about the +White People or to give you any message to the Government in Natal. Therefore +at sunset I will come for you. Till then, farewell. I have business that cannot +wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can I see the king?” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Macumazahn. All to-day he makes sacrifice to the spirits of his +ancestors and must not be approached,” Goza called back as he departed. +</p> + +<p> +Availing myself of the permission of the king to go where I would, a little +later in the day I walked out of the town towards the Valley of Bones in order +to ascertain for myself whether what Goza had told me was true. So it proved, +for about three hundred yards from the mouth of the valley, which at that +distance looked like a black hole in the hills, I found soldiers stationed +about ten paces apart in a great circle which ran right up the hillside and +vanished over the crest. Strolling up to one of these, whose face I thought I +knew, I asked him if he would let me pass to see my friend, the Opener of +Roads. +</p> + +<p> +The man, who was something of a humourist replied— +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly if you wish, Macumazahn. That is to say, I will let your +spirit pass, but to do this, if you come one step nearer I must first make a +hole in you with my spear out of which it can fly.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him for his information and gave him some snuff, which he took +gratefully, being bored by his long vigil. Then I asked him how many people the +great witch-doctor had with him. He said he did not know, but he had seen a +number of tall men come to the mouth of the donga to fetch food that had been +placed there. Again I inquired if he had seen any women, whereon he replied +none, Zikali being, he understood, too old to trouble himself about the other +sex. Just then an officer, making his rounds, came up and looked at me so +sternly that I thought it well to retreat. Evidently there was no chance of +getting through that line. +</p> + +<p> +On my way back I walked as near the fence of the King’s House as I dared, +and saw witch-doctors passing in and out in their hideous official panoply. +This told me that here also Goza had spoken the truth—the king was +performing magical ceremonies, which meant that it would be impossible to +approach him. In every direction I met with failure. The Fates were against me; +it lay over me like a spell. Indeed I grew superstitious and began to think +that Zikali had bewitched me, as he was said to have the power to do. Well, +perhaps he had, for the mere fact of finding myself opposed by this persistent +wall of difficulties and silence convinced me that there was something behind +it to be learned. +</p> + +<p> +I went back very dejected to my hut and talked to my mare which whinnied and +rubbed its nose against me, for although it was well fed and looked after, the +poor beast seemed as lonely as I was myself. No wonder, since like myself it +was separated from all its kind and weary of inaction. After this I ate and +smoked and finally dozed, no more, for whenever I tried to go to sleep I +thought that I heard Zikali laughing at me, as mayhap he was doing yonder in +his hut. +</p> + +<p> +At length that wearisome day drew towards its end. The sun began to sink, a +huge red ball of fire, now and again veiled by clouds, for the sky was stormy. +Its fierce rays, striking upon other clouds, peopled the enormous heavens with +fantastic shapes of light which were thickest over the hills wherein was the +Valley of Bones. To my strained mind these clouds looked like battling armies, +figures of flame warring against figures of darkness. The darkness won; no, the +light broke out again and conquered it. And see, there above them both squatted +a strange black presence crowned with fire. It might have been that of Zikali +magnified ten thousand times, and hark! it laughed with the low reverberating +voice of distant thunder. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I felt that I was no longer alone and looking round, saw Goza at my +side. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you see up there, Macumazahn, that you stare so hard?” he +asked, pointing at the sky with his stick. +</p> + +<p> +“Impis fighting,” I answered briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must be a ‘heaven-doctor,’ Macumazahn, for I only +see black and red clouds. Well, it is time to go to learn whether or no the +impis will fight, for Zikali awaits us and the Council has started already. By +the way, the king says that you will do well to put your pistol in your pocket +in case any should seek to harm you in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is there. But, Goza, I pray you to protect me, since in the dark +bullets fly wide, and if I began to shoot, one might hit you, Goza.” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled, making no answer, but I noticed that during the rest of that night +he was careful to keep behind me as much as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Our way led us through the town where everybody seemed to be standing about +doing nothing and speaking very little. There was a curious air of expectancy +upon their faces. They knew that the crisis was at hand, that their +nation’s fate hung upon the scales, and they watched my every look and +movement as though in them they expected to read an omen. I too watched them +out of the corners of my eyes, wondering whether I should escape from their +savage company alive. If once the blood lust broke out among them, it seemed to +me that I should have about as much chance as a chopped fox among a pack of +hungry hounds. +</p> + +<p> +Once out of the town we saw no one until we came to the circle of guards which +I have already mentioned, who stood there like an endless line of black +statues. In answer to their challenge Goza gave some complicated password in +which my name occurred, whereon they opened out and let us through. Then we +marched on to the mouth of the kloof. The place was very dark, for now the sun +was down in the west and the moon in the east was cut off from us by the hills +and would not be visible here for half an hour or more. Presently I saw a spot +of light. It was a small fire burning near the tongue of rock which I have +described. +</p> + +<p> +At a distance, in front of the fire on the patch of prepared ground, squatted a +number of men, between twenty and thirty of them, in a semicircle. They were +wrapped up in karosses and blankets, and in their centre sat a large figure on +a chair of wood. +</p> + +<p> +“The King and the Great Council,” whispered Goza. +</p> + +<p> +One of them looked round and saw us. At some sign from the king he rose, and +against the fire I saw that he was the Prime Minister, Umnyamana. He came to me +and, with a nod of recognition, conducted me some paces to the right where a +euphorbia tree grew among the rank herbage. Here I found a stool placed ready +on which I sat down, Goza, who of course was not of the Council, squatting at +my side in the grass. +</p> + +<p> +Now I found that I was so situated that I could not well be seen from the fire, +or even from the rock above it, while I, by moving my head a little, could see +both quite clearly. After this as the last reflection from the sunk sun faded, +the darkness increased until nothing remained visible except the fire and the +massive outline of the rock behind. The silence was complete, for none of the +Council spoke. They were so still that they might have been dead, so still that +a beetle suddenly booming past me made me start as though it had been a bullet. +The general impression was almost mesmeric. I felt as though I were going to +sleep and yet my mind remained painfully awake, so that I was able to think +things out. +</p> + +<p> +I understood clearly that the body of men to my left had come together to +decide whether there should be peace or war; that there were divisions of +opinion among them; that the king was ready to follow the party which should +prove itself the strongest, but that the real voice of decision would speak +from behind that fire. It was the case of the Delphic Oracle over again with a +priest instead of a priestess, and what a priest! +</p> + +<p> +It was evident to me also that Zikali, who knew human nature, and especially +savage human nature, had arranged all this with a view to scenic and indeed +supernatural effect. Moreover, he had done it very well, since I knew myself +that in this place and hour words and occurrences would affect me deeply at +which I should have laughed in the sunlight and open plain. Already the Zulus +were affected, for I could hear the teeth of some of them chattering, and Goza +began to shiver at my side. He muttered that it was cold, and lied for the +donga was extremely hot and stuffy. +</p> + +<p> +At length the silver radiance of the moon spread itself on the high curtain of +the dark. Then the edge of her orb appeared above the hill and an arrow of +white light fell into the little valley. It struck upon and about the jutting +rock, revealing a misshapen, white-headed figure squatted between its base and +the fire, the figure of Zikali. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +THE GREAT COUNCIL</h2> + +<p> +None had seen or heard him come, and though doubtless he had but crept round +the rock and taken his place in the darkness, there appeared to be something +mysterious about this sudden appearance of Zikali. So the Zulu nobles thought +at any rate, for they uttered a low “Ow!” of fear and wonder. +</p> + +<p> +There he sat like a huge ape staring at the sky, for the firelight shone on his +deep and burning eyes. The moonlight increased, but now and again it was broken +by little clouds which caused strange shadows to appear about the rock. Some of +these shadows looked as though veiled figures were approaching the wizard, +bending over him and departing again, after giving him their message or +counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“His Spirits visit him,” whispered Goza, but I made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +This went on for quite a long time, until the full round of the moon appeared +above the hill indeed, and, for the while, the clouds had cleared away. Still +Zikali sat silent and I, who was acquainted with the habits of this people, +knew that I was witnessing a conflict between two they considered to be +respectively a spiritual and an earthly king. It is my belief that unless he +were first addressed, Zikali would have sat all night without opening his lips. +Possibly Cetewayo would have done the same if the impatience of public opinion +had allowed him. At any was rate it was he who gave way. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Makosi</i>, master of many Spirits, on behalf of the Council and the +People of the Zulus I, the King, greet you here in the place that you have +chosen,” said Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +Zikali made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +The silence went on as before, till at length, after a pause and some +whispering, Cetewayo repeated his salutation, adding— +</p> + +<p> +“Has age made you deaf, O Opener of Roads, that you cannot hear the voice +of the King?” +</p> + +<p> +Then at last Zikali answered in his low voice that yet seemed to fill all the +kloof— +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Child of Senzangacona, age has not made me deaf, but my spirit in +these latter days floats far from my body. It is like a bladder filled with air +that a child holds by a string, and before I can speak I must draw it from the +heavens to earth again. What did you say about the place that I have chosen? +Well, what better place could I choose, seeing that it was here in this very +Vale of Bones that I met the first king of the Zulus, Chaka the Wild Beast, who +was your uncle? Why then should I not choose it to meet the last king of the +Zulus?” +</p> + +<p> +Now I, listening, knew at once that this saying might be understood in two +ways, namely that Cetewayo was the reigning king, or that he was the last king +who would ever reign. But the Council interpreted it in the latter and worse +sense, for I saw a quiver of fear go through them. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I not choose it,” went on Zikali, “seeing also +that this place is holy to me? Here it was, O Son of Panda, that Chaka brought +my children to be killed and forced me, sitting where you sit, to watch their +deaths. There on the rock above me they were killed, four of them, three sons +and a daughter, and the slayers—they came to an evil end, those slayers, +as did Chaka—laughed and cast them down from the rock before me. Yes, and +Chaka laughed, and I too laughed, for had not the king the right to kill my +children and to steal their mothers, and was I not glad that they should be +taken from the world and gathered to that of Spirits whence they always talk to +me, yes, even now? That is why I did not hear you at first, King, because they +were talking to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, turning one ear upwards, then continued in a new and tender voice, +“What is it you say to me, Noma, my dear little Noma? Oh! I hear you, I +hear you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now he shifted himself along the ground on his haunches some paces to the +right, and began to search about, groping with his long fingers. “Where, +where?” he muttered. “Oh, I understand, further under the root, a +jackal buried it, did it? Pah! how hard is this soil. Ah! I have it, but look, +Noma, a stone has cut my finger. I have it, I have it,” and from beneath +the root of some fallen tree he drew out the skull of a child and, holding it +in his right hand, softly rubbed the mould off it with his left. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Noma, it might be yours, it is of the right size, but how can I be +sure? What is it you say? The teeth? Ah! now I remember. Only the day before +you were taken I pulled out that front tooth, did I not, and beneath it was +another that was strangely split in two. If this skull was yours, it will be +there. Come to the fire, Noma, and let us look; the moonlight is faint, is it +not?” +</p> + +<p> +Back to the fire he shifted himself, and bending towards the blaze, made an +examination. +</p> + +<p> +“True, Noma, true! Here is the split tooth, white as when I saw it all +those years ago. Oh! dear child of my body, dear child of my spirit, for we do +not beget with the body alone, Noma, as you know better than I do to-day, I +greet you,” and pressing the skull to his lips, he kissed it, then set it +down in front of him between himself and the fire with the face part pointing +to the king, and burst into one of his eerie and terrible laughs. +</p> + +<p> +A low moan went up from his audience, and I felt the skin of Goza, who had +shrunk against me, break into a profuse sweat. Then suddenly Zikali’s +voice changed once more and became hard and businesslike, if I may call it so, +similar to that of other professional doctors. +</p> + +<p> +“You have sent for me, O King, as those who went before you have sent +when great things were about to happen. What is the matter on which you would +speak to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know well, Opener of Roads,” answered Cetewayo, rather shakily +I thought. “The matter is one of peace or war. The English threaten me +and my people and make great demands on me; amongst others that the army should +be disbanded. I can set them all out if you will. If I refuse to do as they bid +me, then within a few days they will invade Zululand; indeed their soldiers are +already gathered at the drifts.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not needful, King,” answered Zikali, “since I know +what all know, neither more nor less. The winds whisper the demands of the +white men, the birds sing them, the hyenas howl them at night. Let us see how +the matter stands. When your father died Sompseu (Sir T. Shepstone), the great +white chief, came from the English Government to name you king. This he could +not do according to our law, since how can a stranger name the King of the +Zulus? Therefore the Council of the Nation and the doctors—I was not +among them, King—moved the spirit of Chaka the Lion into the body of +Sompseu and made him as Chaka was and gave him power to name you to rule over +the Zulus. So it came about that to the English Queen through the spirit of +Chaka you swore certain things; that slaying for witchcraft should be +abolished; that no man should die without fair and open trial, and other +matters.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused a while, then went on, “These oaths you have broken, O King, as +being of the blood you are and what you are, you must do.” +</p> + +<p> +Here there was disturbance among the Council and Cetewayo half rose from his +seat, then sat down again. Zikali, gazing at the sky, waited till it had died +away, then went on— +</p> + +<p> +“Do any question my words? If so, then let them ask of the white men +whether they be true or no. Let them ask also of the spirits of those who have +died for witchcraft, and of the spirits of the women who have been slain and +whose bodies were laid at the cross-roads because they married the men they +chose and not the soldiers to whom the king gave them.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I ask the white men who are far away?” broke out Cetewayo, +ignoring the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Are the white men so far away, King? It is true that I see none and hear +none, yet I seem to smell one of them close at hand.” Here he took up the +skull which he had laid down and whispered to it. “Ah! I thank you, my +child. It seems, King, that there is a white man here hidden in this kloof, he +who is named Macumazahn, a good man and a truthful, known to many of us from of +old, who can tell you what his people think, though he is not one of their +indunas. If you question my words, ask him.” +</p> + +<p> +“We know what the white men think,” said Cetewayo, “so there +is no need to ask Macumazahn to sing us an old song. The question is—what +must the Zulus do? Must they swallow their spears and, ceasing to be a nation, +become servants, or must they strike with them and drive the English into the +sea, and after them the Boers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me first, King, who dwell far away and alone, knowing little of +what passes in the land of Life, what the Zulus desire to do. Before me sits +the Great Council of the Nation. Let it speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Then one by one the members of the Council uttered their opinions in order of +rank or seniority. I do not remember the names of all who were present, or what +each of them said. I recall, however, that Sigananda, a very old chief—he +must have been over ninety—spoke the first. He told them that he had been +friend of Chaka and one of his captains, and had fought in most of his battles. +That afterwards he had been a general of Dingaan’s until that king killed +the Boers under Retief, when he left him and finally sided with Panda in the +civil war in which Dingaan was killed with the help of the Boers. That he had +been present at the battle of the Tugela, though he took no actual part in the +fighting, and afterwards became a councillor of Panda’s and then of +Cetewayo his son. It was a long and interesting historical recital covering the +whole period of the Zulu monarchy which ended suddenly with these words— +</p> + +<p> +“I have noted, O King and Councillors, that whenever the black vulture of +the Zulus was content to attack birds of his own feather, he has conquered. But +when it has met the grey eagles of the white men, which come from over the sea, +he has been conquered, and my heart tells me that as it was in the past, so it +shall be in the future. Chaka was a friend of the English, so was Panda, and so +has Cetewayo been until this hour. I say, therefore, let not the King tear the +hand which fed him because it seems weak, lest it should grow strong and clutch +him by the throat and choke him.” +</p> + +<p> +Next spoke Undabuko, Dabulamanzi and Magwenga, brothers of the king, who all +favoured war, though the two last were guarded in their speech. After these +came Uhamu, the king’s uncle—he who was said to be the son of a +Spirit—who was strong for peace, urging that the king should submit to +the demands of the English, making the best terms he could, that he +“should bend like a reed before the storm, so that after the storm had +swept by, he might stand up straight again, and with him all the other reeds of +the people of the Zulus.” +</p> + +<p> +So, too, said Seketwayo, chief of the Umdhlalosi, and more whom I cannot +recall, six or seven of them. But Usibebu and the induna Untshingwayo, who +afterwards commanded at Isandhlwana, were for fighting, as were Sirayo, the +husband of the two women who had been taken on English territory and killed, +and Umbilini, the chief of Swazi blood whose surrender was demanded by Sir +Bartle Frere and who afterwards commanded the Zulus in the battle at Ihlobane. +Last of all spoke the Prime Minister, Umnyamana, who declared fiercely that if +the Zulu buffalo hid itself in the swamp like a timid calf when the white bull +challenged it on the hills, the spirits of Chaka and all his forefathers would +thrust its head into the mud and choke it. +</p> + +<p> +When all had finished Cetewayo spoke, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“That is a bad council which has two voices, for to which of them must +the Captain listen when the impis of the foe gather in front of him? Here I +have sat while the moon climbs high and counted, and what do I find? That one +half of you, men of wisdom and renown, say Yes, and that the other half of you, +men of wisdom and renown, say No. Which then is it to be, Yes or No? Are we to +fight the English, or are we to sit still?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is for the king to decide,” said a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“See what it is to be a king,” went on Cetewayo with passion. +“If I declare for war and we win, shall I be greater than I am? If +victory gives me more land, more subjects, more wives and more cattle, what is +the use of these things to me who already have enough of all of them? And if +defeat should take everything from me, even my life perhaps, then what shall I +have gained? I will tell you—the curse of the Zulus upon my name from +father to son for ever. They will say, ‘Cetewayo, son of Panda, pulled +down a House that once was great. Because of some small matter he quarrelled +with the English who were always the friends of our people, and brought the +Zulus to the dust.’ Sintwangu, my messenger, who brought heavy words from +the Queen’s <i>induna</i> which we must answer with other words or with +spears, says that the English soldiers in Natal are few, so few that we Zulus +can swallow them like bits of meat and still be hungry. But are these all the +soldiers of the English? I am not sure. You are one of that people, +Macumazahn,” he added, turning his massive shape towards me, “tell +us now, how many soldiers has your Queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“King,” I answered, “I do not know for certain. But if the +Zulus can muster fifty thousand spears, the Queen, if there be need, can send +against them ten times fifty thousand, and if she grows angry, another ten +times fifty, every one armed with a rifle that will fire five bullets a minute, +and to accompany the soldiers, hundreds of cannon whereof a single shot would +give Ulundi to the flames. Out of the sea they will come, shipload after +shipload, white men from where the sun sets and black men from where the sun +rises, so many that Zululand would not hold them.” +</p> + +<p> +Now at these words, which I delivered as grandly as I could, something like a +groan burst from the Council, though one man cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Do not listen to the white traitor, O King, who is sent here to turn our +hearts to water with his lies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn may lie to us,” went on Cetewayo, “though in the +past none in the land have ever known him to lie, but he was not sent to do so, +for I brought him here. For my part I do not believe that he lies. I believe +that these English are as many as the pebbles in a river bed, and that to them +Natal, yes, and all the Cape is but as a single, outlying cattle kraal, one +cattle kraal out of a hundred. Did not Sompseu once tell us that they were +countless, on that day when he came many years ago after the battle of the +Tugela to name me to succeed my father Panda, the day when my faction, the +Usutu, roared round him for hours like a river in flood, and he sat still like +a rock in the centre of a river? Also I am minded of the words that Chaka said +when Dingaan and Umbopa had stabbed him and he lay dying at the kraal Duguza, +that although the dogs of his own House whom his hand fed, had eaten him up, he +heard the sound of the running of the feet of a great white people that should +stamp them and the Zulus flat.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused; and the silence was so intense that the crackling of Zikali’s +fire, which kept on burning brightly although I saw no fuel added to it, +sounded quite loud. Presently it was broken, first by a dog near at hand, +howling horribly at the moon, and next by the hooting of a great owl that +flitted across the donga, the shadow of its wide wings falling for a moment on +the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen!” exclaimed Cetewayo, “a dog that howls! Methinks +that it stands upon the roof of the House of Senzangacona. And an owl that +hoots. Methinks that owl has its nest in the world of Spirits! Are these good +omens, Councillors? I trow not. I say that I will not decide this matter of +peace or war. If there is one of my own blood here who will do so, come, let +him take my place and let me go away to my own lordship of Gikazi that I had +when I was a prince before the witch Mameena who played with all men and loved +but one”—here everybody turned and stared towards me, yes, even +Zikali whom nothing else had seemed to move, till I wished that the ground +would swallow me up—“caused the war between me and my brother +Umbelazi whose blood earth will not swallow nor suns dry—” +</p> + +<p> +“How can that be, O King?” broke in Umnyamana the Prime Minister. +“How can any of your race sit in your seat while you still live? Then +indeed there would be war, war between tribe and tribe and Zulu and Zulu till +none were left, and the white hyenas from Natal would come and chew our bones +and with them the Boers that have passed the Vaal. See now. Why is this Nyanga +(i.e. witch-doctor) here?” and he pointed to Zikali beyond the fire. +“Why has the Opener of Roads been brought from the Black Kloof which he +has not left for years? Is it not that he may give us counsel in our need and +show us a sign that his counsel is good, whether it be for war or peace? Then +when he has made divination and given the counsel and shown the sign, then, O +King, do you speak the word of war or peace, and send it to the Queen by yonder +white man, and by that word we, the people, will abide.” +</p> + +<p> +At this suggestion, which I had no doubt was made by some secret agreement +between Umnyamana and Zikali, Cetewayo seemed to grasp. Perhaps this was +because it postponed for a little while the dreadful moment of decision, or +perhaps because he hoped that in the eyes of the nation it would shift the +responsibility from his shoulders to those of the Spirits speaking through the +lips of their prophet. At any rate he nodded and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“It is so. Let the Opener of Roads open us a road through the forests and +the swamps and the rocks of doubt, danger and fear. Let him give us a sign that +it is a good road on which we may safely travel, and let him tell us whether I +shall live to walk that road and what I shall meet thereon. I promise him in +return the greatest fee that ever yet was paid to a doctor in Zululand.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Zikali lifted his big head, shook his grey locks, and opening his wide +mouth as though he expected manna to fall into it from the sky, he laughed out +loud. +</p> + +<p> +“O-ho-ho,” he laughed, “Oho-ho-ho-o, it is worth while to +have lived so long when life has brought me to such an hour as this. What is it +that my ears hear? That I, the Indwande dwarf, I whom Chaka named +‘The-Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born,’ I, one of the race +conquered and despised by the Zulus, am here to speak a word which the Zulus +dare not utter, which the King of the Zulus dares not utter. O-ho-ho-ho! And +what does the King offer to me? A fee, a great fee for the word that shall +paint the Zulus red with blood or white with the slime of shame. Nay, I take no +fee that is the price of blood or shame. Before I speak that word +unknown—for as yet my heart has not heard it, and what the heart has not +heard the lips cannot shape—I ask but one thing. It is an oath that +whatever follows on the word, while there is a Zulu left living in the world, +I, the Voice of the Spirits, shall be safe from hurt or from reproach, I and +those of my House and those over whom I throw my blanket, be they black or be +they white. That is my fee, without which I am silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Izwa!</i> We hear you. We swear it on behalf of the people,” +said every councillor in the semi-circle in front of him; yes, and the king +said it also, stretching out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said Zikali, “it is an oath, it is an oath, sworn +here upon the bones of the dead. Evil-doers you call them, but I say to you +that many of those who sit before me have more evil in their hearts than had +those dead. Well, let it be proclaimed, O King, and with it this—that ill +shall it go with him who breaks the oath, with his family, with his kraal and +all with whom he has to do. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what is it you ask of me? First of all, counsel as to whether you +should fight the English Queen, a matter on which you, the Great Ones, are +evenly divided in opinion, as is the nation behind you. O King, Indunas, and +Captains, who am I that I should judge of such a matter which is beyond my +trade, a matter of the world above and of men’s bodies, not of the world +below and of men’s spirits? Yet there was one who made the Zulu people +out of nothing, as a potter fashions a vessel from clay, as a smith fashions an +assegai out of the ore of the hills, yes, and tempers it with human +blood.<a href="#fn-15.1" name="fnref-15.1" id="fnref-15.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +Chaka the Lion, the Wild Beast, the King among Kings, the Conqueror. I knew +Chaka as I knew his father, yes, and <i>his</i> father. Others still living +knew him also, say you, Sigananda there for instance,” and he pointed to +the old chief who had spoken first. “Yes, Sigananda knew him as a boy +knows a great man, as a soldier knows a general. But I knew his heart, aye, I +shaped his heart, I was its thought. Had it not been for me he would never have +been great. Then he wronged me”—here Zikali took up the skull which +he said was that of his daughter, and stroked it—“and I left him. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-15.1" id="fn-15.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-15.1">[1]</a> +The old Zulu smiths dipped their choicest blades in the blood of men.—A. +Q. +</p> + +<p> +“He was not wise, he should have killed one whom he had wronged, but +perhaps he knew that I could not be killed; perhaps he had tried and found that +he was but throwing spears at the moon which fell back on his own head. I +forget. It is so long ago, and what does it matter? At least I took away from +him the prop of my wisdom, and he fell—to rise no more. And so it has +been with others. So it has been with others. Yet while he was great I knew his +heart who lived in his heart, and therefore I ask myself, had he been sitting +where the King sits to-day, what would Chaka have done? I will tell you. If not +only the English but the Boers also and with them the Pondos, the Basutos and +all the tribes of Africa had threatened him, he would have fought +them—yes, and set his heel upon their necks. Therefore, although I give +no counsel upon such a matter, I say to you that the counsel of Chaka +is—fight—and conquer. Hearken to it or pass it by—I care not +which.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and a loud “<i>Ow</i>” of wonder and admiration rose from +his audience. Myself I nearly joined in it, for I thought this one of the +cleverest bits of statecraft that ever I had heard of or seen. The old wizard +had taken no responsibility and given no answer to the demand for advice. All +this he had thrust on to the shoulders of a dead man, and that man one whose +name was magical to every Zulu, the king whose memory they adored, the great +General who had gorged them with victory and power. Speaking as Chaka, after a +long period of peace, he urged them once more to lift their spears and know the +joys of triumph, thereby making themselves the greatest nation in Southern +Africa. From the moment I heard this cunning appeal, I know what the end would +be; all the rest was but of minor and semi-personal interest. I knew also for +the first time how truly great was Zikali and wondered what he might have +become had Fortune set him in different circumstances among a civilized people. +</p> + +<p> +Now he was speaking again, and quickly before the impression died away. +</p> + +<p> +“Such is the word of Chaka spoken by me who was his secret councillor, +the Councillor who was seldom seen, and never heard. Does not Sigananda yonder +know the voice which amongst all those present echoes in his ears alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” cried the old chief. Then with his eyes starting +almost from his head, Sigananda leapt up and raising his hand, gave the royal +salute, the Bayete, to the spirit of Chaka, as though the dead king stood +before him. +</p> + +<p> +I think that most of those there thought that it did stand before him, for some +of them also gave the Bayete and even Cetewayo raised his arm. +</p> + +<p> +Sigananda squatted down again and Zikali went on. +</p> + +<p> +“You have heard. This captain of the Lion knows his voice. So, that is +done with. Now you ask of me something else—that I who am a doctor, the +oldest of all the doctors and, it is thought—I know not—the wisest, +should be able to answer. You ask of me—How shall this war prosper, if it +is made—and what shall chance to the King during and after the war, and +lastly you ask of me a sign. What I tell to you is true, is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” answered the Council. +</p> + +<p> +“Asking is easy,” continued Zikali in a grumbling voice, “but +answering is another matter. How can I answer without preparation, without the +needful medicines also that I have not with me, who did not know what would be +sought of me, who thought that my opinion was desired and no more? Go away now +and return on the sixth night and I will tell you what I can do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so,” cried the king. “We refuse to go, for the matter is +immediate. Speak at once, Opener of Roads, lest it should be said in the land +that after all you are but an ancient cheat, a stick that snaps in two when it +is leant on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ancient cheat! I remember that is what Macumazahn yonder once told me I +am, though afterwards—Perhaps he was right, for who in his heart knows +whether or not he be a cheat, a cheat who deceives himself and through himself +others. A stick that snaps in two when it is leant on! Some have thought me so +and some have thought otherwise. Well, you would have answers which I know not +how to give, being without medicine and in face of those who are quite ignorant +and therefore cannot lend me their thoughts, as it sometimes happens that men +do when workers of evil are sought out in the common fashion. For then, as you +may have guessed, it is the evil-doer who himself tells the doctor of his +crime, though he may not know that he is telling it. Yet there is another stone +that I alone can throw, another plan that I alone can practise, and that not +always. But of this I would not make use since it is terrible and might +frighten you or even send you back to your huts raving so that your wives, yes, +and the very dogs fled, from you.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and for the first time did something to his fire, for I saw his +hands going backwards and forwards, as though he warmed them at the flames. +</p> + +<p> +At length an awed voice, I think it was that of Dabulamanzi, asked— +</p> + +<p> +“What is this plan, Inyanga? Let us hear that we may judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“The plan of calling one from the dead and hearkening to the voice of the +dead. Is it your desire that I should draw water from this fount of wisdom, O +King and Councillors?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +WAR</h2> + +<p> +Now men began to whisper together and Goza groaned at my side. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather would I look down a live lion’s throat than see the +dead,” he murmured. But I, who was anxious to learn how far Zikali would +carry his tricks, contemptuously told him to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the king called me to him and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, you white men are reported to know all things. Tell me now, +is it possible for the dead to appear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not sure,” I answered doubtfully; “some say that it is +and some say that it is not possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the king. “Have you ever seen one you knew in +life after death?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I replied, “that is—yes. That is—I do not +know. When you will tell me, King, where waking ends and sleep begins, then I +will answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn,” he exclaimed, “just now I announced that you +were no liar, who perceive that after all you are a liar, for how can you both +have seen, and not seen, the dead? Indeed I remember that you lied long ago, +when you gave it out that the witch Mameena was not your lover, and afterwards +showed that she was by kissing her before all men, for who kisses a woman who +is not his lover, or his mother? Return, since you will not tell me the +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +So I went back to my stool, feeling very small and yet indignant, for how was +it possible to be definite about ghosts, or to explain the exact facts of the +Mameena myth which clung to me like a Wait-a-bit thorn. +</p> + +<p> +Then after a little consultation Cetewayo said— +</p> + +<p> +“It is our desire, O Opener of Roads, that you should draw wisdom from +the fount of Death, if indeed you can do so. Now let any who are afraid depart +and wait for us who are not afraid, alone and in silence at the mouth of the +kloof.” +</p> + +<p> +At this some of the audience rose, but after hesitating a little, sat down +again. Only Goza actually took a step forward, but on my remarking that he +would probably meet the dead coming up that way, collapsed, muttering something +about my pistol, for the fool seemed to think I could shoot a spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“If indeed I can do so,” repeated Zikali in a careless fashion. +“That is to be proved, is it not? Perhaps, too, it may be better for +every one of you if I fail than if I succeed. Of one thing I warn you, should +the dead appear stir not, and above all touch not, for he who does either of +these things will, I think, never live to look upon the sun again. But first +let me try an easier fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +Then once again he took up the skull that he said had been his +daughter’s, and whispered to it, only to lay it down presently. +</p> + +<p> +“It will not serve,” he said with a sigh and shaking his locks. +“Noma tells me that she died a child, one who had no knowledge of war or +matters of policy, and that in all these things of the world she still remains +a child. She says that I must seek some one who thought much of them; one, too +who still lives in the heart of a man who is present here, if that be possible, +since from such a heart alone can the strength be drawn to enable the dead to +appear and speak. Now let there be silence—Let there be silence, and woe +to him that breaks it.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence there was indeed, and in it Zikali crouched himself down till his head +almost rested on his knee, and seemed to go to sleep. He awoke again and +chanted for half a minute or so in some language I could not understand. Then +voices began to answer him, as it seemed to me from all over the kloof, also +from the sky or rock above. Whether the effect was produced by ventriloquism or +whether he had confederates posted at various points, I do not know. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate this lord of “multitudes of spirits” seemed to be +engaged in conversation with some of them. What is more, the thing was +extremely well done, since each voice differed from the other; also I seemed to +recognize some of them, Dingaan’s for instance, and Panda’s, yes, +and that of Umbelazi the Handsome, the brother of the king whose death I +witnessed down by the Tugela. +</p> + +<p> +You will ask me what they said. I do not know. Either the words were confused +or the events that followed have blotted them from my brain. All I remember is +that each of them seemed to be speaking of the Zulus and their fate and to be +very anxious to refer further discussion of the matter to some one else. In +short they seemed to talk under protest, or that was my impression, although +Goza, the only person with whom I had any subsequent debate upon the subject, +appeared to have gathered one that was different, though what it was I do not +recall. The only words that remained clear to me must, I thought, have come +from the spirit of Chaka, or rather from Zikali or one of his myrmidons +assuming that character. They were uttered in a deep full voice, spiced with +mockery, and received by the wizard with <i>Sibonga</i>, or titles of praise, +which I who am versed in Zulu history and idiom knew had only been given to the +great king, and indeed since his death had become unlawful, not to be used. The +words were— +</p> + +<p> +“What, Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born, do you think yourself a +Thing-that-should-never-die, that you still sit beneath the moon and weave +witchcrafts as of old? Often have I hunted for you in the Under-world who have +an account to settle with you, as you have an account to settle with me. So, +so, what does it matter since we must meet at last, even if you hide yourself +at the back of the furthest star? Why do you bring me up to this place where I +see some whom I would forget? Yes, they build bone on bone and taking the red +earth, mould it into flesh and stand before me as last I saw them newly dead. +Oh! your magic is good, Spell-weaver, and your hate is deep and your vengeance +is keen. No, I have nothing to tell you to-day, who rule a greater people than +the Zulus in another land. Who are these little men who sit before you? One of +them has a look of Dingaan, my brother who slew me, yes, and wears his armlet. +Is he the king? Answer not, for I do not care to know. Surely yonder withered +thing is Sigananda. I know his eye and the <i>Iziqu</i> on his breast. Yes, I +gave it to him after the great battle with Zweede in which he killed five men. +Does he remember it, I wonder? Greeting, Sigananda; old as you are you have +still twenty and one years to live, and then we will talk of the battle with +Zweede. Let me begone, this place burns my spirit, and in it there is a stench +of mortal blood. Farewell, O Conqueror!” +</p> + +<p> +These were the words that I thought I heard Chaka say, though I daresay that I +dreamt them. Indeed had it been otherwise, I mean had they really been spoken +by Zikali, there would surely have been more in them, something that might have +served his purpose, not mere talk which had all the inconsequence of a dream. +Also no one else seemed to pay any particular attention to them, though this +may have been because so many voices were sounding from different places at +once, for as I have said, Zikali arranged his performance very well, as well as +any medium could have done on a prepared stage in London. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment, as though at a signal, the voices died away. Then other things +happened. To begin with I felt very faint, as though all the strength were +being taken out of me. Some queer fancy got a hold of me. I don’t quite +know what it was, but it had to do with the Bible story of Adam when he fell +asleep and a rib was removed from him and made into a woman. I reflected that I +felt as Adam must have done when he came out of his trance after this terrific +operation, very weak and empty. Also, as it chanced, presently I saw +Eve—or rather a woman. Looking at the fire in a kind of disembodied way, +I perceived that dense smoke was rising from it, which smoke spread itself out +like a fan. It thinned by degrees, and through the veil of smoke I perceived +something else, namely, a woman very like one whom once I had known. There she +stood, lightly clad enough, her fingers playing with the blue beads of her +necklace, an inscrutable smile upon her face and her large eyes fixed on +nothingness. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! Heaven, I knew her, or rather thought I did at the moment, for now I am +almost sure that it was Nombé dressed, or undressed, for the part. That +knowledge came with reflection, but then I could have sworn, being deceived by +the uncertain light, that the long dead Mameena stood before us as she had +seemed to stand before me in the hut of Zikali, radiating a kind of +supernatural life and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +A little wind arose, shaking the dry leaves of the aloes in the kloof; I +thought it whispered—<i>Hail, Mameena!</i> Some of the older men, too, +among them a few who had seen her die, in trembling voices murmured, “It +is Mameena!” whereon Zikali scowled at them and they grew silent. +</p> + +<p> +As for the figure it stood there patient and unmoved, like one who has all time +at its disposal, playing with the blue beads. I heard them tinkle against each +other, which proves that it was human, for how could a wraith cause beads to +tinkle, although it is true that Christmas-story ghosts are said to clank their +chains. Her eyes roved idly and without interest over the semi-circle of +terrified men before her. Then by degrees they fixed themselves upon the tree +behind which I was crouching, whereon Goza sank paralyzed to the ground. She +contemplated this tree for a while that seemed to me interminable; it reminded +me of a setter pointing game it winded but could not see, for her whole frame +grew intent and alert. She ceased playing with the beads and stretched out her +slender hand towards me. Her lips moved. She spoke in a sweet, slow voice, +saying— +</p> + +<p> +“O Watcher-by-Night, is it thus you greet her to whom you have given +strength to stand once more beneath the moon? Come hither and tell me, have you +no kiss for one from whom you parted with a kiss?” +</p> + +<p> +I heard. Without doubt the voice was the very voice of Mameena (so well had +Nombé been instructed). Still I determined not to obey it, who would not be +made a public laughing-stock for a second time in my life. Also I confess this +jesting with the dead seemed to me somewhat unholy, and not on any account +would I take a part in it. +</p> + +<p> +All the company turned and stared at me, even Goza lifted his head and stared, +but I sat still and contemplated the beauties of the night. +</p> + +<p> +“If it is the spirit of Mameena, he will come,” whispered Cetewayo +to Umnyamana. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” answered the Prime Minister, “for the rope of his +love will draw him. He who has once kissed Mameena, <i>must</i> kiss her again +when she asks.” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing this I grew furiously indignant and was about to break into +explanations, when to my horror I found myself rising from that stool. I tried +to cling to it, but, as it only came into the air with me, let it go. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold me, Goza,” I muttered, and he like a good fellow clutched me +by the ankle, whereon I promptly kicked him in the mouth, at least my foot +kicked him, not my will. Now I was walking towards that Shape—shadow or +woman—like a man in his sleep, and as I came she stretched out her arms +and smiled oh! as sweetly as an angel, though I felt quite sure that she was +nothing of the sort. +</p> + +<p> +Now I stood opposite to her alongside the fire of which the smoke smelt like +roses at the dawn, and she seemed to bend towards me. With shame and +humiliation I perceived that in another moment those arms would be about me. +But somehow they never touched me; I lost sight of them in the rose-scented +smoke, only the sweet, slow voice which I could have sworn was that of Mameena, +murmured in my ear—well, words known to her and me alone that I had never +breathed to any living being, though of course I am aware now that they must +also have been known to somebody else. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you doubt me any longer?” went on the murmuring. “Say, am +I Nombé now? Or—or am I in truth that Mameena, whose kiss thrills your +lips and soul? Hearken, Macumazahn, for the time is short. In the rout of the +great battle that shall be, do not fly with the white men, but set your face +towards Ulundi. One who was your friend will guard you, and whoever dies, no +harm shall come to you now that the fire which burns in my heart has set all +Zululand aflame. Hearken once more. Hans, the little yellow man who was named +Light-in-Darkness, he who died among the Kendah people, sends you salutations +and gives you praise. He bids me tell you that now of his own accord he renders +to me, Mameena, the royal salute, because royal I must ever be; because also he +and I who are so far apart are yet one in the love that is our life.” +</p> + +<p> +The smoke blew into my face, causing me to reel back. Cetewayo caught me by the +arm, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us, are the lips of the dead witch warm or cold?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” I groaned, “for I never touched her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How he lies! Oh! how he lies even about what our eyes saw,” said +Cetewayo reflectively as I blundered past him back to my seat, on which I sank +half swooning. When I got my wits again the figure that pretended to be Mameena +was speaking, I suppose in answer to some question of Zikali’s which I +had not heard. It said— +</p> + +<p> +“O Lord of the Spirits, you have called me from the land of Spirits to +make reply as to two matters which have not yet happened upon the earth. These +replies I will give but no others, since the mortal strength that I have +borrowed returns whence it came. The first matter is, if there be war between +the White and Black, what will happen in that war? I see a plain ringed round +with hills and on it a strange-shaped mount. I see a great battle; I see the +white men go down like corn before a tempest; I see the spears of the +<i>impis</i> redden; I see the white soldiers lie like leaves cut from a tree +by frost. They are dead, all dead, save a handful that have fled away. I hear +the <i>ingoma</i> of victory sung here at Ulundi. It is finished. +</p> + +<p> +“The second matter is—what shall chance to the king? I see him +tossed on the Black Water; I see him in a land full of houses, talking with a +royal woman and her councillors. There, too, he conquers, for they offer him +tribute of many gifts. I see him here, back here in Zululand, and hear him +greeted with the royal salute. Last of all I see him dead, as men must die, and +hear the voice of Zikali and the mourning of the women of his house. It is +finished. Farewell, King Cetewayo, I pass to tell Panda, your father, how it +fares with you. When last we parted did I not prophesy to you that we should +meet again at the bottom of a gulf? Was it this gulf, think you, or another? +One day you shall learn. Farewell, or fare ill, as it may happen!” +</p> + +<p> +Once more the smoke spread out like a fan. When it thinned and drew together +again, the Shape was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Now I thought that the Zulus would be so impressed by this very queer +exhibition, that they would seek no more supernatural guidance, but make up +their minds for war at once. This, however, was just what they did not do. As +it happened, among the assembled chiefs, was one who himself had a great repute +as a witch-doctor, and therefore burned with jealousy of Zikali who appeared to +be able to do things that he had never even attempted. This man leapt up and +declared that all which they had seemed to hear and see was but cunning +trickery, carried out after long preparation by Zikali and his confederates. +The voices, he said, came from persons placed in certain spots, or sometimes +were produced by Zikali himself. As for the vision, it was not that of a spirit +but of a real woman, in proof of which he called attention to certain +anatomical details of the figure. Finally, with much sense, he pointed out that +the Council would be mad to come to any decision upon such evidence, or to give +faith to prophecies, whereof the truth or falsity could only be known in the +future. +</p> + +<p> +Now a fierce debate broke out, the war party maintaining that the +manifestations were genuine, the peace party that they were a fraud. In the +end, as neither side would give way and as Zikali, when appealed to, sat silent +as a stone, refusing any explanation, the king said— +</p> + +<p> +“Must we sit here talking, talking, till daylight? There is but one man +who can know the truth, that is Macumazahn. Let him deny it as he will, he was +the lover of this Mameena while she was alive, for with my own eyes I saw him +kiss her before she killed herself. It is certain, therefore, that he knows if +the woman we seemed to see was Mameena or another, since there are things which +a man never forgets. I propose, therefore, that we should question him and form +our own judgment of his answer.” +</p> + +<p> +This advice, which seemed to promise a road out of a blind ally, met with +instant acceptance. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be so,” they cried with one voice, and in another minute I +was once more conducted from behind my tree and set down upon the stool in +front of the Council, with my back to the fire and Zikali, “that his eyes +might not charm me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Watcher-by-Night,” said Cetewayo, “although you have +lied to us in a certain matter, of this we do not think much, since it is one +upon which both men and women always lie, as every judge will know. Therefore +we still believe you to be an honest man, as your dealings have proved for many +years. As an honest man, therefore, we beg you to give us a true answer to a +plain question. Was the Shape we saw before us just now a woman or a spirit, +and if a spirit, was it the ghost of Mameena, the beautiful witch who died near +this place nearly the quarter of a hundred years ago, she whom you loved, or +who loved you, which is just the same thing, since a man always loves a woman +who loves him, or thinks that he does?” +</p> + +<p> +Now after reflection I replied in these words and as conscientiously as I +could— +</p> + +<p> +“King and Councillors, I do not know if what we all saw was a ghost or a +living person, but, as I do not believe in ghosts, or at any rate that they +come back to the world on such errands, I conclude that it was a living person. +Still it may have been neither, but only a mere picture produced before us by +the arts of Zikali. So much for the first question. Your second is—was +this spirit or woman or shadow, that of her whom I remember meeting in Zululand +many years ago? King and Councillors, I can only say that it was very like her. +Still one handsome young woman often greatly resembles another of the same age +and colouring. Further, the moon gives an uncertain light, especially when it +is tempered by smoke from a fire. Lastly, memory plays strange tricks with all +of us, as you will know if you try to think of the face of any one who has been +dead for more than twenty years. For the rest, the voice seemed similar, the +beads and ornaments seemed similar, and the figure repeated to me certain words +which I thought I alone had heard come from the lips of her who is dead. Also +she gave me a strange message from another who is dead, referring to a matter +which I believed was known only to me and that other. Yet Zikali is very clever +and may have learned these things in some way unguessed by me, and what he has +learned, others may have learned also. King and Councillors, I do not think +that what we saw was the spirit of Mameena. I think it a woman not unlike to +her who had been taught her lesson. I have nothing more to say, and therefore I +pray you not to ask me any further questions about Mameena of whose name I grow +weary.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Zikali seemed to wake out of his indifference, or his torpor, for +he looked up and said darkly— +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange that the cleverest are always those who first fall into +the trap. They go along, gazing at the stars at night, and forget the pit which +they themselves have dug in the morning. <i>O-ho-ho! Oho-ho!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Now the wrangling broke out afresh. The peace party pointed triumphantly to the +fact that I, the white man who ought to know, put no faith in this apparition, +which was therefore without doubt a fraud. The war party on the other hand +declared that I was deceiving them for reasons of my own, one of which would be +that I did not wish to see the Zulus eat up my people. So fierce grew the +debate that I thought it would end in blows and perhaps in an attack on myself +or Zikali who all the while sat quite careless and unmoved, staring at the +moon. At length Cetewayo shouted for silence, spitting, as was his habit when +angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Make an end,” he cried, “lest I cause some of you to grow +quiet for ever,” whereon the recriminations ceased. “Opener of +Roads,” he went on, “many of those who are present think like +Macumazahn here, that you are but an old cheat, though whether or no I be one +of these I will not say. They demand a sign of you that none can dispute, and I +demand it also before I speak the word of peace or war. Give us then that sign +or begone to whence you came and show your face no more at Ulundi.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sign does the Council require, Son of Panda?” asked Zikali +quietly. “Let them agree on one together and tell me now at once, for I +who am old grow weary and would sleep. Then if it can be given I will give it; +and if I cannot give it, I will get me back to my own house and show my face no +more at Ulundi, who do not desire to listen again to fools who babble like +contending waters round a stone and yet never stir the stone because they run +two ways at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the Councillors stared at each other, for none knew what sign to ask. At +length old Sigananda said— +</p> + +<p> +“O King, it is well known that the Black One who went before you had a +certain little assegai handled with the royal red wood, which drank the blood +of many. It was with this assegai that Mopo his servant, who vanished from the +land after the death of Dingaan, let out the life of the Black One at the kraal +Duguza, but what became of it afterwards none have heard for certain. Some say +that it was buried with the Black One, some that Mopo stole it. Others that +Dingaan and Umhlagana burned it. Still a saying rose like a wind in the land +that when that spear shall fall from heaven at the feet of the king who reigns +in the place of the Black One, then the Zulus shall make their last great war +and win a victory of which all the world shall hear. Now let the Opener of +Roads give us this sign of the falling of the Black One’s spear and I +shall be content.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you know the spear if it fell?” asked Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“I should know it, O King, who have often held it in my hand. The end of +the haft is gnawed, for when he was angry the Black One used to bite it. Also a +thumb’s length from the blade is a black mark made with hot iron. Once +the Black One made a bet with one of his captains that at a distance of ten +paces he would throw the spear deeper into the body of a chief whom he wished +to kill, than the captain could. The captain threw first, for I saw him with my +eyes, and the spear sank to that place on the shaft where the mark is, for the +Black One burned it there. Then the Black One threw and the spear went through +the body of the chief who, as he died, called to him that he too should know +the feel of it in his heart, as indeed he did.” +</p> + +<p> +I think that Cetewayo was about to assent to this suggestion, since he who +desired peace believed it impossible that Zikali should suddenly cause this +identical spear to fall from heaven. But Umnyamana, the Prime Induna, +interposed hurriedly— +</p> + +<p> +“It is not enough, O King. Zikali may have stolen the spear, for he was +living and at the kraal Duguza at that time. Also he may have put about the +prophecy whereof Sigananda speaks, or at least so men would say. Let him give +us a greater sign than this that all may be content, so that whether we make +war or peace it may be with a single mind. Now it is known that we Zulus have a +guardian spirit who watches over us from the skies, she who is called +Nomkubulwana, or by some the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, the Princess of Heaven. It is +known also that this Princess, who is white of skin and ruddy-haired, appears +always before great things happen in our land. Thus she appeared before the +Black One died. Also she appeared to a number of children before the battle of +the Tugela. It is said, too, that but lately she appeared to a woman near the +coast and warned her to cross the Tugela because there would be war, though +this woman cannot now be found. Let the Opener of Roads call down Nomkubulwana +before our eyes from heaven and we will admit, every man of us, that this is a +sign which cannot be questioned.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if he does this thing, which I hold no doctor in the world can do, +what shall it signify?” asked Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“O King,” answered Umnyamana, “if he does so, it shall +signify war and victory. If he does not do so, it shall signify peace, and we +will bow our heads before the <i>Amalungwana basi bodwe</i>” (i.e., +“the little English,” used as a term of derision). +</p> + +<p> +“Do all agree?” asked Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“We agree,” answered every man, stretching out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Opener of Roads, it stands thus: If you can call Nomkubulwana, +should there be such a spirit, to appear before our eyes, the Council will take +it as a sign that the Heavens direct us to fight the English.” +</p> + +<p> +So spoke Cetewayo, and I noted a tone of triumph in his voice, for his heart +shrank from this war, and he was certain that Zikali could do nothing of the +sort. Still the opinion of the nation, or rather of the army, was so strong in +favour of it that he feared lest his refusal might bring about his deposition, +if not his death. From this dilemma the supernatural test suggested by the +Prime Minister and approved by the Council that represented the various tribes +of people, seemed to offer a path of escape. So I read the situation, as I +think rightly. +</p> + +<p> +Upon hearing these words for the first time that night Zikali seemed to grow +disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +“What do my ears hear?” he exclaimed excitedly. “Am I the +<i>Umkulukulu</i>, the Great-Great (i.e., God) himself, that it should be asked +of me to draw the Princess of Heaven from beyond the stars, she who comes and +goes like the wind, but like the wind cannot be commanded? Do they hear that if +she will not come to my beckoning, then the great Zulu people must put a yoke +upon their shoulders and be as slaves? Surely the King must have been listening +to the doctrines of those English teachers who wear a white ribbon tied about +their necks, and tell us of a god who suffered himself to be nailed to a cross +of wood, rather than make war upon his foes, one whom they call the Prince of +Peace. Times have changed indeed since the days of the Black One. Yes, generals +have become like women; the captains of the <i>impis</i> are set to milk the +cows. Well, what have I to do with all this? What does it matter to me who am +so very old that only my head remains above the level of the earth, the rest of +me being buried in the grave, who am not even a Zulu to boot, but a Dwandwe, +one of the despised Dwandwe whom the Zulus mocked and conquered? +</p> + +<p> +“Hearken to me, Spirits of the House of Senzangacona”—here he +addressed about a dozen of Cetewayo’s ancestors by name, going back for +many generations. “Hearken to me, O Princess of Heaven, appointed by the +Great-Great to be the guardian of the Zulu race. It is asked that you should +appear, should it be your wish to signify to these your children that they must +stand upon their feet and resist the white men who already gather upon their +borders. And should it be your wish that they should lay down their spears and +go home to sleep with their wives and hoe the gardens while the white men count +the cattle and set each to his work upon the roads, then that you should not +appear. Do what you will, O Spirits of the House of Senzangacona, do what you +will, O Princess of Heaven. What does it matter to the +Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born, who soon will be as though he never had +been born, whether the House of Senzangacona and the Zulu people stand or fall? +</p> + +<p> +“I, the old doctor, was summoned here to give counsel. I gave counsel, +but it passed over the heads of these wise ones like a shadow of which none +took note. I was asked to prophesy of what would chance if war came. I called +the dead from their graves; they came in voices, and one of them put on the +flesh again and spoke from the lips of flesh. The white man to whom she spoke +denied her who had been his love, and the wise ones said that she was a cheat, +yes, a doll that I had dressed up to deceive them. This spirit that had put on +flesh, told of what would chance in the war, if war there were, and what would +chance to the King, but they mock at the prophecy and now they demand a sign. +Come then, Nomkubulwana, and give them the sign if you will and let there be +war. Or stay away and give them no sign if you will, and let there be peace. It +is nought to me, nought to the Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus he rambled on, as it occurred to me who watched and listened, talking +against time. For I observed that while he spoke a cloud was passing over the +face of the moon, and that when he ceased speaking it was quite obscured by +this cloud, so that the Vale of Bones was plunged in a deep twilight that was +almost darkness. Further, in a nervous kind of way, he did something more to +his wizard’s fire which again caused it to throw out a fan of smoke that +hid him and the execution rock in front of which he sat. +</p> + +<p> +The cloud floated by and the moon came out as though from an eclipse; the smoke +of the fire, too, thinned by degrees. As it melted and the light grew again, I +became aware that something was materializing, or had appeared on the point of +the rock above us. A few seconds later, to my wonder and amazement, I perceived +that this something was the spirit-like form of a white woman which stood quite +still upon the very point of the rock. She was clad in some garment of gleaming +white cut low upon her breast, that may have been of linen, but from the way it +shone, suggested that it was of glittering feathers, egrets’ for +instance. Her ruddy hair was outspread, and in it, too, something glittered, +like mica or jewels. Her feet and milk-hued arms were bare and poised in her +right hand was a little spear. +</p> + +<p> +Nor did I see alone, since a moan of fear and worship went up from the +Councillors. Then they grew silent and stared and stared. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Zikali lifted his head and looked at them through the thin flame of +the fire which made his eyes shine like those of a tiger or of a cornered +baboon. +</p> + +<p> +“At what do you gaze so hard, King and Councillors?” he asked. +“I see nothing. At what then do you gaze so hard?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the rock above you stands a white spirit in her glory. It is the +Inkosazana herself,” muttered Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“Has she come then?” mocked the old wizard. “Nay, surely it +is but a dream, or another of my tricks; some black woman painted white that I +have smuggled here in my medicine bag, or rolled up in the blanket on my back. +How can I prove to you that this is not another cheat like to that of the +spirit of Mameena whom the white man, her lover, did not know again? Go near to +her you must not, even if you could, seeing that if by chance she should +<i>not</i> be a cheat, you would die, every man of you, for woe to him whom +Nomkubulwana touches. How then, how? Ah! I have it. Doubtless in his pocket +Macumazahn yonder hides a little gun, Macumazahn who with such a gun can cut a +reed in two at thirty paces, or shave the hair from the chin of a man, as is +well known in the land. Let him then take his little gun and shoot at that +which you say stands upon the rock. If it be a black woman painted white, +doubtless she will fall down dead, as so many have fallen from that rock. But +if it be the Princess of Heaven, then the bullet will pass through her or turn +aside and she will take no harm, though whether Macumazahn will take any harm +is more than I can say.” +</p> + +<p> +Now when they heard this many remained silent, but some of the peace party +began to clamour that I should be ordered to shoot at the apparition. At length +Cetewayo seemed to give way to this pressure. I say seemed, because I think he +wished to give way. Whether or not a spirit stood before him, he knew no more +than the rest, but he did know that unless the vision were proved to be mortal +he would be driven into war with the English. Therefore he took the only chance +that remained to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn,” he said, “I know you have your pistol on you, +for only the other day you brought it into my presence, and through light and +darkness you nurse it as a mother does her firstborn. Now since the Opener of +Roads desires it, I command you to fire at that which seems to stand above us. +If it be a mortal woman, she is a cheat and deserves to die. If it be a spirit +from heaven it can take no harm. Nor can you take harm who only do that which +you must.” +</p> + +<p> +“Woman or spirit, I will not shoot, King,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so? What! do you defy me, White Man? Do so if you will, but learn +that then your bones shall whiten here in this Vale of Bones. Yes, you shall be +the first of the English to go below,” and turning, he whispered +something to two of the Councillors. +</p> + +<p> +Now I saw that I must either obey or die. For a moment my mind grew confused in +face of this awful alternative. I did not believe that I saw a spirit. I +believed that what stood above me was Nombé cunningly tricked out with some +native pigments which at that distance and in that light made her look like a +white woman. For oddly enough at that time the truth did not occur to me, +perhaps because I was too surprised. Well, if it were Nombé, she deserved to be +shot for playing such a trick, and what is more her death, by revealing the +fraud of Zikali, would perhaps avert a great war. But then why did he make the +suggestion that I should be commanded to fire at this figure? Slowly I drew out +my pistol and brought it to the full cock, for it was loaded. +</p> + +<p> +“I will obey, King,” I said, “to save myself from being +murdered. But on your head be all that may follow from this deed.” +</p> + +<p> +Then it was for the first time that a new idea struck me so clearly that I +believe it was conveyed direct from Zikali’s brain to my own. <i>I might +shoot, but there was no need for me to hit.</i> After that everything grew +plain. +</p> + +<p> +“King,” I said, “if yonder be a mortal, she is about to die. +Only a spirit can escape my aim. Watch now the centre of her forehead, for +there the bullet will strike!” +</p> + +<p> +I lifted the pistol and appeared to cover the figure with much care. As I did +so, even from that distance I thought I saw a look of terror in its eyes. Then +I fired, with a little jerk of the wrist sending the ball a good yard above her +head. +</p> + +<p> +“She is unharmed,” cried a voice. “Macumazahn missed +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn does not miss,” I replied loftily. “If that at +which he aimed is unharmed, it is because it cannot be hit.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>O-ho-o!</i>” laughed Zikali, “the White Man who does not +know the taste of his own love’s lips, says that he has fired at that +which cannot be hit. Let him try again. No, let him choose another target. The +Spirit is the Spirit, but he who summoned her may still be a cheat. There is +another bullet in your little gun, White Man; see if it can pierce the heart of +Zikali, that the King and Council may learn whether he be a true prophet, the +greatest of all the prophets that ever was, or whether he be but a common +cheat.” +</p> + +<p> +Now a sudden rage filled me against this old rascal. I remembered how he had +brought Mameena to her death, when he thought that it would serve him, and +since then filled the land with stories concerning her and me, which met me +whatever way I turned. I remembered that for years he had plotted to bring +about the destruction of the Zulus, and to further his dark ends, was now +engaged in causing a fearful war which would cost the lives of thousands. I +remembered that he had trapped me into Zululand and then handed me over to +Cetewayo, separating me from my friends who were in my charge, and for aught I +knew, giving them to death. Surely the world would be well rid of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Have your will,” I shouted and covered him with the pistol. +</p> + +<p> +Then there came into my mind a certain saying—“Judge not that ye be +not judged.” Who and what was I that I should dare to arraign and pass +sentence upon this man who after all had suffered many wrongs? As I was about +to fire I caught sight of some bright object flashing towards the king from +above, and instantaneously shifted my aim and pressed the trigger. The thing, +whatever it might be, flew in two. One part of it fell upon Zikali, the other +part travelled on and struck Cetewayo upon the knee. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a great confusion and a cry of “The king is +stabbed!” I ran forward to look and saw the blade of a little assegai +lying on the ground and on Cetewayo’s knee a slight cut from which blood +trickled. +</p> + +<p> +“It is nothing,” I said, “a scratch, no more, though had not +the spear been stopped in its course it might have been otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried Zikali, “but what was it that caused the cut? +Take this, Sigananda, and tell me what it may be,” and he threw towards +him a piece of red wood. +</p> + +<p> +Sigananda looked at it. “It is the haft of the Black One’s +spear,” he exclaimed, “which the bullet of Macumazahn has severed +from the blade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” said Zikali, “and the blade has drawn the blood of the +Black One’s child. Read me this omen, Sigananda; or ask it of her who +stands above you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now all looked to the rock, but it was empty. The figure had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Your word, King,” said Zikali. “Is it for peace or +war?” +</p> + +<p> +Cetewayo looked at the assegai, looked at the blood trickling from his knee, +looked at the faces of the councillors. +</p> + +<p> +“Blood calls for blood,” he moaned. “My word +is—<i>War!</i>” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +KAATJE BRINGS NEWS</h2> + +<p> +Zikali burst into one of his peals of laughter, so unholy that it caused the +blood in me to run cold. +</p> + +<p> +“The King’s word is <i>war</i>,” he cried. “Let +Nomkubulwana take that word back to heaven. Let Macumazahn take it to the White +Men. Let the captains cry it to the regiments and let the world grow red. The +King has chosen, though mayhap, had I been he, I should have chosen otherwise; +yet what am I but a hollow reed stuck in the ground up which the spirits speak +to men? It is finished, and I, too, am finished for a while. Farewell, O King! +Where shall we meet again, I wonder? On the earth or under it? Farewell, +Macumazahn, I know where we shall meet, though you do not. O King, I return to +my own place, I pray you to command that none come near me or trouble me with +words, for I am spent.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is commanded,” said Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the fire went out mysteriously, and the wizard rose and hobbled off +at a surprising pace round the corner of the projecting rock. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay!” I called, “I would speak with you;” but +although I am sure he heard me, he did not stop or look round. +</p> + +<p> +I sprang up to follow him, but at some sign from Cetewayo two <i>indunas</i> +barred my way. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you not hear the King’s command, White Man?” one of them +asked coldly, and the tone of his question told me that war having been +declared, I was now looked upon as a foe. I was about to answer sharply when +Cetewayo himself addressed me. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn,” he said, “you are now my enemy, like all your +people, and from sunrise to-morrow morning your safe-conduct here ends, for if +you are found at Ulundi two hours after that time, it will be lawful for any +man to kill you. Yet as you are still my guest, I will give you an escort to +the borders of the land. Moreover, you shall take a message from me to the +Queen’s officers and captains. It is—that I will send an answer to +their demands upon the point of an assegai. Yet add this, that not I but the +English, to whom I have always been a friend, sought this war. If Sompseu had +suffered me to fight the Boers as I wished to do, it would never have come +about. But he threw the Queen’s blanket over the Transvaal and stood upon +it, and now he declares that lands which were always the property of the Zulus, +belong to the Boers. Therefore I take back all the promises which I made to him +when he came hither to call me King in the Queen’s name, and no more do I +call him my father. As for the disbanding of my <i>impis</i>, let the English +disband them if they can. I have spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I have heard,” I answered, “and will deliver your words +faithfully, though I hold, King, that they come from the lips of one whom the +Heavens have made mad.” +</p> + +<p> +At this bold speech some of the Councillors started up with threatening +gestures. Cetewayo waved them back and answered quietly, “Perhaps it was +the Queen of Heaven who stood on yonder rock who made me mad. Or perhaps she +made me wise, as being the Spirit of our people she should surely do. That is a +question which the future will decide, and if ever we should meet after it is +decided, we will talk it over. Now, <i>hamba gachle!</i> (go in peace).” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear the king and I will go, but first I would speak with +Zikali.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, White Man, you must wait till this war is finished or till you +meet him in the Land of Spirits. Goza, lead Macumazahn back to his hut and set +a guard about it. At the dawn a company of soldiers will be waiting with orders +to take him to the border. You will go with him and answer for his safety with +your life. Let him be well treated on the road as my messenger.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Cetewayo rose and stood while all present gave him the royal salute, after +which he walked away down the kloof. I remained for a moment, making pretence +to examine the blade of the little assegai that had been thrown by the figure +on the rock, which I had picked from the ground. This historical piece of iron +which I have no doubt is the same that Chaka always carried, wherewith, too, he +is said to have killed his mother, Nandie, by the way I still possess, for I +slipped it into my pocket and none tried to take it from me. +</p> + +<p> +Really, however, I was wondering whether I could in any way gain access to +Zikali, a problem that was settled for me by a sharp request to move on, +uttered in a tone which admitted of no further argument. +</p> + +<p> +Well, I trudged back to my hut in the company of Goza, who was so overcome by +all the wonders he had seen that he could scarcely speak. Indeed, when I asked +him what he thought of the figure that had appeared upon the rock, he replied +petulantly that it was not given to him to know whence spirits came or of what +stuff they were made, which showed me that he at any rate believed in its +supernatural origin and that it had appeared to direct the Zulus to make war. +This was all I wanted to find out, so I said nothing more, but gave up my mind +to thought of my own position and difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +Here I was, ordered on pain of death to depart from Ulundi at the dawn. And yet +how could I obey without seeing Zikali and learning from him what had happened +to Anscombe and Heda, or at any rate without communicating with him? Once more +only did I break silence, offering to give Goza a gun if he would take a +message from me to the great wizard. But with a shake of his big head, he +answered that to do so would mean death, and guns were of no good to a dead man +since, as I had shown myself that night, they had no power to shoot a spirit. +</p> + +<p> +This closed the business on which I need not have troubled to enter, since an +answer to all my questionings was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +We reached the hut where Goza gave me over to the guard of soldiers, telling +their officer that none were to be permitted to enter it save myself and that I +was not to be permitted to come out of it until he, Goza, came to fetch me a +little before the dawn. +</p> + +<p> +The officer asked if any one else was to be permitted to come out, a question +that surprised me, though vaguely, for I was thinking of other things. Then +Goza departed, remarking that he hoped I should sleep better than he would, who +“felt spirits in his bones and did not wish to kiss them as I seemed to +like to do.” I replied facetiously, thinking of the bottle of brandy, +that ere long I meant to feel them in my stomach, whereat he shook his head +again with the air of one whom nothing connected with me could surprise, and +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +I crawled into the hut and put the board over the bee-hole-like entrance behind +me. Then I began to hunt for the matches in my pocket and pricked my finger +with the point of Chaka’s historical assegai. While I was sucking it to +my amazement I heard the sound of some one breathing on the further side of the +hut. At first I thought of calling the guard, but on reflection found the +matches and lit the candle, which stood by the blankets that served me as a +bed. As soon as it burned up I looked towards the sound, and to my horror +perceived the figure of a sleeping woman, which frightened me so much that I +nearly dropped the candle. +</p> + +<p> +To tell the truth, so obsessed was I with Zikali and his ghosts that for a few +moments it occurred to me that this might be the Shape with which I had talked +an hour or two before. I mean that which had seemed to resemble the long-dead +lady Mameena, or rather the person made up to her likeness, come here to +continue our conversation. At any rate I was sure, and rightly, that here was +more of the handiwork of Zikali who wished to put me in some dreadful position +for reasons of his own. +</p> + +<p> +Pulling myself together I advanced upon the lady, only to find myself no wiser, +since she was totally covered by a kaross. Now what was to be done? To escape, +of which of course I had thought at once, was impossible since it meant an +assegai in my ribs. To call to the guard for help seemed indiscreet, for who +knew what those fools might say? To kick or shake her would undoubtedly be rude +and, if it chanced to be the person who had played Mameena, would certainly +provoke remarks that I should not care to face. There seemed to be only one +resource, to sit down and wait till she woke up. +</p> + +<p> +This I did for quite a long time, till at last the absurdity of the position +and, I will admit, my own curiosity overcame me, especially as I was very tired +and wanted to go to sleep. So advancing most gingerly, I turned down the kaross +from over the head of the sleeping woman, much wondering whom I should see, for +what man is there that a veiled woman does not interest? Indeed, does not half +the interest of woman lie in the fact that her nature is veiled from man, in +short a mystery which he is always seeking to solve at his peril, and I might +add, never succeeds in solving? +</p> + +<p> +Well, I turned down that kaross and next instant stepped back amazed and, to +tell the truth, somewhat disappointed, for there, with her mouth open, lay no +wondrous and spiritual Mameena, but the stout, earthly and most +prosaic—Kaatje! +</p> + +<p> +“Confound the woman!” thought I to myself. “What is she doing +here?” +</p> + +<p> +Then I remembered how wrong it was to give way to a sense of romantic +disappointment at such a time, though as a matter of fact it is always in a +moment of crisis or of strained nerves that we are most open to the insidious +advances of romance. Also that there was no one on earth, or beyond it, whom I +ought more greatly to have rejoiced to see. I had left Kaatje with Anscombe and +Heda; therefore Kaatje could tell me what had become of them. And at this +thought my heart sank—why was she here in this most inappropriate +meeting-place, alone? Feeling that these were questions which must be answered +at once, I prodded Kaatje in the ribs with my toe until, after a good deal of +prodding, she awoke, sat up and yawned, revealing an excellent set of teeth in +her cavernous, quarter-cast mouth. Then perceiving a man she opened that mouth +even wider, as I thought with the idea of screaming for help. But here I was +first with her, for before a sound could issue I had filled it full with the +corner of the kaross, exclaiming in Dutch as I did so— +</p> + +<p> +“Idiot of a woman, do you not know the Heer Quatermain when you see +him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Baas,” she answered, “I thought you were some wicked +Zulu come to do me a mischief.” Then she burst into tears and sobs which +I could not stop for at least three minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Be quiet, you fat fool!” I cried exasperated, “and tell me, +where are your mistress and the Heer Anscombe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Baas, but I hope in heaven” (Kaatje was some +kind of a Christian), she replied between her sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“In heaven! What do you mean?” I asked, horrified. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, Baas, that I hope they are in heaven, because when last I saw +them they were both dead, and dead people must be either in heaven or hell, and +heaven, they say, is better than hell.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Dead!</i> Where did you see them dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“In that Black Kloof, Baas, some days after you left us and went away. +The old baboon man who is called Zikali gave us leave through the witch-girl, +Nombé, to go also. So the Baas Anscombe set to work to inspan the horses, the +Missie Heda helping him, while I packed the things. When I had nearly finished +Nombé came, smiling like a cat that has caught two mice, and beckoned to me to +follow her. I went and saw the cart inspanned with the four horses all looking +as though they were asleep, for their heads hung down. Then after she had +stared at me for a long while Nombé led me past the horses into the shadow of +the overhanging cliff. There I saw my mistress and the Baas Anscombe lying side +by side quite dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that they were dead?” I gasped. “What had +killed them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that they were dead because they <i>were</i> dead, Baas. Their +mouths and eyes were open and they lay upon their backs with their arms +stretched out. The witch-girl, Nombé, said some Kaffirs had come and strangled +them and then gone away again, or so I understood who cannot speak Zulu so very +well. Who the Kaffirs were or why they came she did not say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what did you do?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +I ran back to the hut, Baas, fearing lest I should be strangled also, and wept +there till I grew hungry. When I came out of it again they were gone. Nombé +showed me a place under a tree where the earth was disturbed. She said that +they were buried there by order of her master, Zikali. I don’t know what +became of the horses or the cart.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what happened to you afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Baas, I was kept for several days, I cannot remember how many, and only +allowed out within the fence round the huts. Nombé came to see me once, +bringing this,” and she produced a package sewn up in a skin. “She +said that I was to give it to you with a message that those whom you loved were +quite safe with One who is greater than any in the land, and therefore that you +must not grieve for them whose troubles were over. I think it was two nights +after this that four Zulus came, two men and two women, and led me away, as I +thought to kill me. But they did not kill me; indeed they were very kind to me, +although when I spoke to them they pretended not to understand. They took me a +long journey, travelling for the most part in the dark and sleeping in the day. +This evening when the sun set they brought me through a Kaffir town and thrust +me into the hut where I am without speaking to any one. Here, being very tired, +I went to sleep, and that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +And quite enough too, thought I to myself. Then I put her through a +cross-examination, but Kaatje was a stupid woman although a good and faithful +servant, and all her terrible experiences had not sharpened her intelligence. +Indeed, when I pressed her she grew utterly confused, began to cry, thereby +taking refuge in the last impregnable female fortification, and snivelled out +that she could not bear to talk of her dear mistress any more. So I gave it up, +and two minutes later she was literally snoring, being very tired, poor thing. +</p> + +<p> +Now I tried to think matters out as well as this disturbance would allow, for +nothing hinders thought so much as snores. But what was the use of thinking? +There was her story to take or to leave, and evidently the honest creature +believed what she said. Further, how could she be deceived on such a point? She +swore that she had seen Anscombe and Heda dead and afterwards had seen their +graves. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, there was confirmation in Nombé’s message which could not well +have been invented, that spoke of their being well in the charge of a +“Great One,” a term by which the Zulus designate God, with all +their troubles finished. The reason and manner of their end were left +unrevealed. Zikali might have murdered them for his own purposes, or the Zulus +might have killed them in obedience to the king’s order that no white +people in the land were to be allowed to live. Or perhaps the Basutos from +Sekukuni’s country, with whom the Zulus had some understanding, had +followed and done them to death; indeed the strangling sounded more Basuto than +Zulu—if they were really strangled. +</p> + +<p> +Almost overcome though I was, I bethought me of the package and opened it, only +to find another apparent proof of their end, for it contained Heda’s +jewels as I had found them in the bag in the safe; also a spare gold watch +belonging to Anscombe with his coat-of-arms engraved upon it. That which he +wore was of silver and no doubt was buried with him, since for superstitious +reasons the natives would not have touched anything on his person after death. +This seemed to me to settle the matter, presumptively at any rate, since to +show that robbery was not the cause of their murder, their most valuable +possessions which were not upon their persons had been sent to me, their +friend. +</p> + +<p> +So this was the end of all my efforts to secure the safety and well-being of +that most unlucky pair. I wept when I thought of it there in the darkness of +the hut, for the candle had burned out, and going on to my knees, put up an +earnest prayer for the welfare of their souls; also that I might be forgiven my +folly in leading them into such danger. And yet I did it for the best, trying +to judge wisely in the light of such experience of the world as I possessed. +</p> + +<p> +Now alas! when I am old I have come to the conclusion that those things which +one tries to do for the best one generally does wrong, because nearly always +there is some tricky fate at hand to mar them, which in this instance was named +Zikali. The fact is, I suppose, that man who thinks himself a free agent, can +scarcely be thus called, at any rate so far as immediate results are concerned. +But that is a dangerous doctrine about which I will say no more, for I daresay +that he is engaged in weaving a great life-pattern of which he only sees the +tiniest piece. +</p> + +<p> +One thing comforted me a little. If these two were dead I could now leave +Zululand without qualms. Of course I was obliged to leave in any case, or die, +but somehow that fact would not have eased my conscience. Indeed I think that +had I believed they still lived, in this way or in that I should have tried not +to leave, because I should have thought it for the best to stay to help them, +whereby in all human probability I should have brought about my own death +without helping them at all. Well, it had fallen out otherwise and there was an +end. Now I could only hope that they had gone to some place where there are no +more troubles, even if, at the worst, it were a place of rest too deep for +dreams. +</p> + +<p> +Musing thus at last I dozed off, for I was so tired that I think I should have +slept although execution awaited me at the dawn instead of another journey. I +did not sleep well because of that snoring female on the other side of the hut +whose presence outraged my sense of propriety and caused me to be invaded by +prophetic dreams of the talk that would ensue among those scandalmongering +Zulus. Yes, it was of this I dreamed, not of the great dangers that threatened +me or of the terrible loss of my friends, perhaps because to many men, of whom +I suppose I am one, the fear of scandal or of being the object of public +notice, is more than the fear of danger or the smart of sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +So the night wore away, till at length I woke to see the gleam of dawn +penetrating the smoke-hole and dimly illuminating the recumbent form of Kaatje, +which to me looked most unattractive. Presently I heard a discreet tapping on +the doorboard of the hut which I at once removed, wriggling swiftly through the +hole, careless in my misery as to whether I met an assegai the other side of it +or not. Without a guard of eight soldiers was standing, and with them Goza, who +asked me if I were ready to start. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite,” I answered, “as soon as I have saddled my +horse,” which by the way had been led up to the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon this was done, for I brought out most of my few belongings with me +and the bag of jewels was in my pocket. Then it was that the officer of the +guard, a thin and melancholy-looking person, said in a hollow voice, addressing +himself to Goza— +</p> + +<p> +“The orders are that the White Man’s wife is to go with him. Where +is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where a man’s wife should be, in his hut I suppose,” +answered Goza sleepily. +</p> + +<p> +Rage filled me at the words. Seldom do I remember being so angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I said, “if you mean that Half-cast whom someone has +thrust upon me, she is in there. So if she is to come with us, perhaps you will +get her out.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus adjured the melancholy-looking captain, who was named Indudu, perhaps +because he or his father had longed to the Dudu regiment, crawled into the hut, +whence presently emerged sounds not unlike those which once I heard when a +<i>ringhals</i> cobra followed a hare that I had wounded into a hole, a muffled +sound of struggling and terror. These ended in the sudden and violent +appearance of Kaatje’s fat and dishevelled form, followed by that of the +snakelike Indudu. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing me standing there before a bevy of armed Zulus, she promptly fell upon +my neck with a cry for help, for the silly woman thought she was going to be +killed by them. Gripping me as an octopus grips its prey, she proceeded to +faint, dragging me to my knees beneath the weight of eleven stone of solid +flesh. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said one of the Zulus not unkindly, “she is much afraid +for her husband whom she loves.” +</p> + +<p> +Well, I disentangled myself somehow, and seizing what I took to be a gourd of +water in that dim light, poured it over her head, only to discover too late +that it was not water but clotted milk. However the result was the same, for +presently she sat up, made a dreadful-looking object by this liberal +application of curds and whey, whereon I explained matters to her to the best +of my power. The end of it was that after Indudu and Goza had wiped her down +with tufts of thatch dragged from the hut and I had collected her gear with the +rest of my own, we set her on the horse straddlewise, and started, the objects +of much interest among such Zulus as were already abroad. +</p> + +<p> +At the gate of the town there was a delay which made me nervous, since in such +a case as mine delay might always mean a death-warrant. I knew that it was +quite possible Cetewayo had changed, or been persuaded to change his mind and +issue a command that I should be killed as one who had seen and knew too much. +Indeed this fear was my constant companion during all the long journey to the +Drift of the Tugela, causing me to look askance at every man we met or who +overtook us, lest he should prove to be a messenger of doom. +</p> + +<p> +Nor were these doubts groundless, for as I learned in the after days, the Prime +Minister, Umnyamana, and others had urged Cetewayo strongly to kill me, and +what we were waiting for at the gate were his final orders on the subject. +However, in this matter, as in more that I could mention, the king played the +part of a man of honour, and although he seemed to hesitate for reasons of +policy, never had any intention of allowing me to be harmed. On the contrary +the command brought was that any one who harmed Macumazahn, the king’s +guest and messenger, should die with all his House. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst we tarried a number of women gathered round us whose conversation I +could not help overhearing. One of them said to another— +</p> + +<p> +“Look at the white man, Watcher-by-Night, who can knock a fly off an +ox’s horn with a bullet from further away than we could see it. He it was +who loved and was loved by the witch Mameena, whose beauty is still famous in +the land. They say she killed herself for his sake, because she declared that +she would never live to grow old and ugly, so that he turned away from her. My +mother told me all about it only last night.” +</p> + +<p> +Then you have a liar for a mother, thought I to myself, for to contradict such +a one openly would have been undignified. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so?” asked one of her friends, deeply interested. +“Then the lady Mameena must have had a strange taste in men, for this one +is an ugly little fellow with hair like the grey ash of stubble and a wrinkled +face of the colour of a flayed skin that has lain unstretched in the sun. +However, I have been told that witches always love those who look +unnatural.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Number one, “but you see now that he is old he +has to be satisfied with a different sort of wife. She is not beautiful, is +she, although she has dipped her head in milk to make herself look +white?” +</p> + +<p> +So it went on till at length a runner arrived and whispered something to Indudu +who saluted, showing me that it was a royal message, and ordered us to move. Of +this I was glad, for had I stopped there much longer, I think I should have +personally assaulted those gossiping female idiots. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Of our journey through Zululand there is nothing particular to say. We saw but +few people, since most of the men had been called up to the army, and many of +the kraals seemed to be deserted by the women and children who perhaps were +hidden away with the cattle. Once, however, we met an impi about five thousand +strong, that seemed to cover the hillside like a herd of game. It consisted of +the Nodwengu and the Nokenke regiments, both of which afterwards fought at +Isandhlwana. Some of their captains with a small guard came to see who we were, +fine, fierce-looking men. They stared at me curiously, and with one of them, +whom I knew, I had a little talk. He said that I was the last white man in +Zululand and that I was lucky to be alive, for soon these, and he pointed to +the hordes of warriors who were streaming past, would eat up the English to +“the last bone.” I answered that this remained to be seen, as the +English were also great eaters, whereat he laughed, replying, that it was true +that the white men had already taken the first bite—a very little one, +from which I gathered that some small engagement had happened. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, farewell, Macumazahn,” he said, as he turned to go, “I +hope that we shall meet in the battle, for I want to see if you can run as well +as you can shoot.” +</p> + +<p> +This roused my temper and I answered him— +</p> + +<p> +“I hope for your sake that we shall not meet, for if we do I promise that +before I run I will show you what you never saw before, the gateway of the +world of Spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +I mention this conversation because by some strange chance it happened at +Isandhlwana that I killed this man, who was named Simpofu. +</p> + +<p> +During all those days of trudging through hot suns and thunderstorms, for I had +to give up the mare to Kaatje who was too fat to walk, or said she was, I was +literally haunted by thoughts of my murdered friends. Heaven knows how bitterly +I reproached myself for having brought them into Zululand. It seemed so +terribly sad that these young people who loved each other and had so bright a +future before them, should have escaped from a tragic past merely to be +overwhelmed by such a fate. Again and again I questioned that lump Kaatje as to +the details of their end and of all that went before and followed after the +murder. +</p> + +<p> +But it was quite useless; indeed, as time went on she seemed to become more +nebulous on the point as though a picture were fading from her mind. But as to +one thing she was always quite clear, that she had seen them dead and had seen +their new-made grave. This she swore “by God in Heaven,” completing +the oath with an outburst of tears in a way that would have carried conviction +to any jury, as it did to me. +</p> + +<p> +And after all, what was more likely in the circumstances? Zikali had killed +them, or caused them to be killed; or possibly they were killed in spite of him +in obedience to the express, or general, order of the king, if the deed was not +done by the Basutos. And yet an idea occurred to me. How about the woman on the +rock that the Zulus thought was their Princess of the Heavens? Obviously this +must be nonsense, since no such deity existed, therefore the person must either +have been a white woman or one painted up to resemble a white woman; seen from +a distance in moonlight it was impossible to say which. Now, if it were a white +woman, she might, from her shape and height and the colour of her hair, be Heda +herself. Yet it seemed incredible that Heda, whom Kaatje had seen dead some +days before, could be masquerading in such a part and make no sign of +recognition to me, even when I covered her with my pistol, whereas that Nombé +would play it was likely enough. +</p> + +<p> +Only then Nombé must be something of a quick-change artist since but a little +while before she was beyond doubt personating the dead Mameena. If it were not +so I must have been suffering from illusions, for certainly I seemed to see +some one who looked like Mameena, and only Zikali, and through him Nombé, had +sufficient knowledge to enable her to fill that role with such success. Perhaps +the whole business was an illusion, though if so Zikali’s powers must be +great indeed. But then how about the assegai that Nomkubulwana, or rather her +effigy, had seemed to hold and throw, whereof the blade was at present in my +saddle-bag. That at any rate was tangible and real, though of course there was +nothing to prove that it had really been Chaka’s famous weapon. +</p> + +<p> +Another thing that tormented me was my failure to see Zikali. I felt as though +I had committed a crime in leaving Zululand without doing this and hearing from +his own lips—well, whatever he chose to tell me. I forget if I said that +while we were waiting at the gate where those silly women talked so much +nonsense about Mameena and Kaatje, that I made another effort through Goza to +get into touch with the wizard, but quite without avail. Goza only answered +what he said before, that if I wished to die at once I had better take ten +steps towards the Valley of Bones, whence, he added parenthetically, the Opener +of Roads had already departed on his homeward journey. This might or might not +be true; at any rate I could find no possible way of coming face to face with +him, or even of getting a message to his ear. No, I was not to blame; I had +done all I could, and yet in my heart I felt guilty. But then, as cynics would, +say, failure is guilt. +</p> + +<p> +At length we came to the ford of the Tugela, and as fortunately the water was +just low enough, bade farewell to our escort before crossing to the Natal side. +My parting with Goza was quite touching, for we felt that it partook of the +nature of a deathbed adieu, which indeed it did. I told him and the others that +I hoped their ends be easy, and that whether they met them by bullets or by +bayonet thrusts, the wounds would prove quickly mortal so that they might not +linger in discomfort or pain. Recognizing my kind thought for their true +welfare they thanked me for it, though with no enthusiasm. Indudu, however, +filled with the spirit of repartee, or rather of “tu quoque”, said +in his melancholy fashion that if he and I came face to face in war, he would +be sure to remember my words and to cut me up in the best style, since he could +not bear to think of me languishing on a bed of sickness without my wife Kaatje +to nurse me (they knew I was touchy about Kaatje). Then we shook hands and +parted. Kaatje, hung round with paraphernalia like the White Knight in +“Alice through the Looking-glass,” clinging to a cooking-pot and +weeping tears of terror, faced the foaming flood upon the mare, while I grasped +its tail. +</p> + +<p> +When we were as I judged out of assegai shot, I turned, with the water up to my +armpits, and shouted some valedictory words. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your king,” I said, “that he is the greatest fool in +the world to fight the English, since it will bring his country to destruction +and himself to disgrace and death, as at last, in the words of your proverb, +‘the swimmer goes down with the stream.’” +</p> + +<p> +Here, as it happened, I slipped off the stone on which I was standing and +nearly went down with the stream myself. +</p> + +<p> +Emerging with my mouth full of muddy water I waited till they had done laughing +and continued— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell that old rogue, Zikali, that I know he has murdered my friends and +that when we meet again he and all who were in the plot shall pay for it with +their lives.” +</p> + +<p> +Now an irritated Zulu flung an assegai, and as the range proved to be shorter +than I thought, for it went through Kaatje’s dress, causing her to scream +with alarm, I ceased from eloquence, and we struggled on to the further bank, +where at length we were safe. +</p> + +<p> +Thus ended this unlucky trip of mine to Zululand. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +ISANDHLWANA</h2> + +<p> +We had crossed the Tugela by what is known as the Middle Drift. A mile or so on +the further side of it I was challenged by a young fellow in charge of some +mounted natives, and found that I had stumbled into what was known as No. 2 +Column, which consisted of a rocket battery, three battalions of the Native +Contingent and some troops of mounted natives, all under the command of Colonel +Durnford, R.E. +</p> + +<p> +After explanations I was taken to this officer’s head-quarter tent. He +was a tall, nervous-looking man with a fair, handsome face and long +side-whiskers. One of his arms, I remember, was supported by a sling. I think +it had been injured in some Kaffir fighting. When I was introduced to him he +was very busy, having, I understood from some one on his staff, just received +orders to “operate against Matshana.” +</p> + +<p> +Learning that I had come from Zululand and was acquainted with the Zulus, he at +once began to cross-examine me about Matshana, a chief of whom he seemed to +know very little indeed. I told him what I could, which was not much, and +before I could give him any information of real importance, was shown out and +most hospitably entertained at luncheon, a meal of which I partook with +gratitude in some garments that I had borrowed from one of the officers, while +my own were set in the sun to dry. Well can I recall how much I enjoyed the +first whisky and soda that I had tasted since I left “the Temple,” +and the good English food by which it was accompanied. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I remembered Kaatje, whom I had left outside with some native women, +and went to see what had happened to her. I found her finishing a hearty meal +and engaged in conversation with a young gentleman who was writing in a +notebook. Afterwards I discovered that he was a newspaper correspondent. What +she told him and what he imagined, I do not know, but I may as well state the +results at once. Within a few days there appeared in one of the Natal papers +and, for aught I know, all over the earth, an announcement that Mr. Allan +Quatermain, a well-known hunter in Zululand, after many adventures, had escaped +from that country, “together with his favourite native wife, the only +survivor of his extensive domestic establishment.” Then followed some +wild details as to the murder of my other wives by a Zulu wizard called +“Road Mender, or Sick Ass” (i.e., Opener of Roads, or Zikali), and +so on. +</p> + +<p> +I was furious and interviewed the editor, a mild and apologetic little man, who +assured me that the despatch was printed exactly as it had been received, as +though that bettered the case. After this I commenced an action for libel, but +as I was absent through circumstances over which I had no control when it came +on for trial, the case was dismissed. I suppose the truth was that they mixed +me up with a certain well-known white man in Zululand, who had a large +“domestic establishment,” but however this may be, it was a long +while before I heard the last of that “favourite native wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Later in the day I and Kaatje, who stuck to me like a burr, departed from the +camp. +</p> + +<p> +The rest of our journey was uneventful, except for more misunderstandings about +Kaatje, one of which, wherein a clergyman was concerned, was too painful to +relate. At last we reached Maritzburg, where I deposited Kaatje in a +boarding-house kept by another half-cast, and with a sigh of relief betook +myself to the <i>Plough Hotel</i>, which was a long way off her. +</p> + +<p> +Subsequently she obtained a place as a cook at Howick, and for a while I saw +her no more. +</p> + +<p> +At Maritzburg, as in duty bound, I called upon various persons in authority and +delivered Cetewayo’s message, leaving out all Zikali’s witchcraft +which would have sounded absurd. It did not produce much impression as, +hostilities having already occurred, it was superfluous. Also no one was +inclined to pay attention to the words of one who was neither an official nor a +military officer, but a mere hunter supposed to have brought a native wife out +of Zululand. +</p> + +<p> +I did, however, report the murder of Anscombe and Heda, though in such times +this caused no excitement, especially as they were not known to the officials +concerned with such matters. Indeed the occurrence never so much as got into +the papers, any more than did the deaths of Rodd and Marnham on the borders of +Sekukuni’s country. When people are expecting to be massacred themselves, +they do not trouble about the past killing of others far away. Lastly, I posted +Marnham’s will to the Pretoria bank, advising them that they had better +keep it safely until some claim arose, and deposited Heda’s jewels and +valuables in another branch of the same bank in Maritzburg with a sealed +statement as to how they came into my possession. +</p> + +<p> +These things done, I found it necessary to turn myself to the eternal problem +of earning my living. I am a very rich man now as I write these reminiscences +here in Yorkshire—King Solomon’s mines made me that—but up to +the time of my journey to Kukuana Land with my friends, Curtis and Good, +although plenty of money passed through my hands on one occasion and another, +little of it ever seemed to stick. In this way or that it was lost or melted; +also I was not born one to make the best of his opportunities in the way of +acquiring wealth. Perhaps this was good for me, since if I had gained the cash +early I should not have met with the experiences, and during our few transitory +years, experience is of more real value than cash. It may prepare us for other +things beyond, whereas the mere possession of a bank balance can prepare us for +nothing in a land where gold ceases to be an object of worship as it is here. +Yet wealth is our god, not knowledge or wisdom, a fact which shows that the +real essence of Christianity has not yet permeated human morals. It just runs +over their surface, no more, and for every eye that is turned towards the +divine Vision, a thousand are fixed night and day upon Mammon’s +glittering image. +</p> + +<p> +Now I owned certain wagons and oxen, and just then the demand for these was +keen. So I hired them out to the military authorities for service in the war, +and incidentally myself with them. I drove what I considered a splendid bargain +with an officer who wrote as many letters after his name as a Governor-General, +but was really something quite humble. At least I thought it splendid until +outside his tent I met a certain transport rider of my acquaintance whom I had +always looked upon as a perfect fool, who told me that not half an hour before +he had got twenty per cent. more for unsalted oxen and very rickety wagons. +However, it did not matter much in the end as the whole outfit was lost at +Isandhlwana, and owing to the lack of some formality which I had overlooked, I +never recovered more than a tithe of their value. I think it was that I +neglected to claim within a certain specified time. +</p> + +<p> +At last my wagons were laden with ammunition and other Government goods and I +trekked over awful roads to Helpmakaar, a place on the Highlands not far from +Rorke’s Drift where No. 3 Column was stationed. Here we were delayed +awhile, I and my wagons having moved to a ford of the Buffalo, together with +many others. It was during this time that I ventured to make very urgent +representations to certain highly placed officers, I will not mention which, as +to the necessity of laagering, that is, forming fortified camps, as soon as +Zululand was entered, since from my intimate knowledge of its people I was sure +that they would attack in force. These warnings of mine were received with the +most perfect politeness and offers of gin to drink, which all transport riders +were supposed to love, but in effect were treated with the contempt that they +were held to deserve. The subject is painful and one on which I will not dwell. +Why should I complain when I know that cautions from notable persons such as +Sir Melmoth Osborn, and J. J. Uys, a member of one of the old Dutch fighting +families, met with a like fate. +</p> + +<p> +By the way it was while I was waiting on the banks of the river that I came +across an old friend of mine, a Zulu named Magepa, with whom I had fought at +the battle of the Tugela. A few days later this man performed an extraordinary +feat in saving his grandchild from death by his great swiftness in running, +whereof I have preserved a note somewhere or other. +</p> + +<p> +Ultimately on January 11 we received our marching orders and crossed the river +by the drift, the general scheme of the campaign being that the various columns +were to converge upon Ulundi. The roads, if so they can be called, were in such +a fearful state that it took us ten days to cover as many miles. At length we +trekked over a stony nek about five hundred yards in width. To the right of us +was a stony eminence and to our left, its sheer brown cliffs of rock rising +like the walls of some cyclopean fortress, the strange, abrupt mount of +Isandhlwana, which reminded me of a huge lion crouching above the +hill-encircled plain beyond. At the foot of this isolated mount, whereof the +aspect somehow filled me with alarm, we camped on the night of January 21, +taking no precautions against attack by way of laagering the wagons. Indeed the +last thing that seemed to occur to those in command was that there would be +serious fighting; men marched forward to their deaths as though they were going +on a shooting-party, or to a picnic. I even saw cricketing bats and wickets +occupying some of the scanty space upon the wagons. +</p> + +<p> +Now I am not going to set out all the military details that preceded the +massacre of Isandhlwana, for these are written in history. It is enough to say +that on the night of January 21, Major Dartnell, who was in command of the +Natal Mounted Police and had been sent out to reconnoitre the country beyond +Isandhlwana, reported a strong force of Zulus in front of us. Thereon Lord +Chelmsford, the General-in-Chief, moved out from the camp at dawn to his +support, taking with him six companies of the 24th regiment, together with four +guns and the mounted infantry. There were left in the camp two guns and about +eight hundred white and nine hundred native troops, also some transport riders +such as myself and a number of miscellaneous camp-followers. I saw him go from +between the curtains of one of my wagons where I had made my bed on the top of +a pile of baggage. Indeed I had already dressed myself at the time, for that +night I slept very ill because I knew our danger, and my heart was heavy with +fear. +</p> + +<p> +About ten o’clock in the morning Colonel Durnford, whom I have mentioned +already, rode up with five hundred Natal Zulus, about half of whom were +mounted, and two rocket tubes which, of course, were worked by white men. This +was after a patrol had reported that they had come into touch with some Zulus +on the left front, who retired before them. As a matter of fact these Zulus +were foraging in the mealie fields, since owing to the drought food was very +scarce in Zululand that year and the regiments were hungry. I happened to see +the meeting between Colonel Pulleine, a short, stout man who was then in +command of the camp, and Colonel Durnford who, as his senior officer, took it +over from him, and heard Colonel Pulleine say that his orders were “to +defend the camp,” but what else passed between them I do not know. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Colonel Durnford saw and recognized me. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think the Zulus will attack us, Mr. Quatermain?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think so, Sir,” I answered, “as it is the day +of the new moon which they hold unlucky. But to-morrow it may be +different.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he gave certain orders, dispatching Captain George Shepstone with a body +of mounted natives along the ridge to the left, where presently they came in +contact with the Zulus about three miles away, and making other dispositions. A +little later he moved out to the front with a strong escort, followed by the +rocket battery, which ultimately advanced to a small conical hill on the left +front, round which it passed, never to return again. +</p> + +<p> +Just before he started Colonel Durnford, seeing me still standing there, asked +me if I would like to accompany him, adding that as I knew the Zulus so well I +might be useful. I answered, Certainly, and called to my head driver, a man +named Jan, to bring me my mare, the same that I had ridden out of Zululand, +while I slipped into the wagon and, in addition to the beltful that I wore, +filled all my available pockets with cartridges for my double-barrelled Express +rifle. +</p> + +<p> +As I mounted I gave Jan certain directions about the wagon and oxen, to which +he listened, and then to my astonishment held out his hand to me, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Baas. You have been a kind master to me and I thank +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say that?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, Baas, all the Kaffirs declare that the great Zulu <i>impi</i> +will be on to us in an hour or two and eat up every man. I can’t tell how +they know it, but so they swear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” I answered, “it is the day of new moon when the +Zulus don’t fight. Still if anything of the sort should happen, you and +the other boys had better slip away to Natal, since the Government must pay for +the wagons and oxen.” +</p> + +<p> +This I said half joking, but it was a lucky jest for Jan and the rest of my +servants, since they interpreted it in earnest and with the exception of one of +them who went back to get a gun, got off before the Zulu horn closed round the +camp, and crossed the river in safety. +</p> + +<p> +Next moment I was cantering away after Colonel Durnford, whom I caught up about +a quarter of a mile from the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Now of course I did not see all of the terrible battle that followed and can +only tell of that part of it in which I had a share. Colonel Durnford rode out +about three and a half miles to the left front, I really don’t quite know +why, for already we were hearing firing on the top of the Nqutu Hills almost +behind us, where Captain Shepstone was engaging the Zulus, or so I believe. +Suddenly we met a trooper of the Natal Carabineers whose name was Whitelaw, who +had been out scouting. He reported that an enormous <i>impi</i> was just ahead +of us seated in an <i>umkumbi</i>, or semi-circle, as is the fashion of the +Zulus before they charge. At least some of them, he said, were so seated, but +others were already advancing. +</p> + +<p> +Presently these appeared over the crest of the hill, ten thousand of them I +should say, and amongst them I recognized the shields of the Nodwengu, the +Dududu, the Nokenke and the Ingoba-makosi regiments. Now there was nothing to +be done except retreat, for the <i>impi</i> was attacking in earnest. The +General Untshingwayo, together with Undabuko, Cetewayo’s brother, and the +chief Usibebu who commanded the scouts, had agreed not to fight this day for +the reason I have given, because it was that of the new moon, but circumstances +had forced their hand and the regiments could no longer be restrained. So to +the number of twenty thousand or more, say one-third of the total Zulu army, +they hurled themselves upon the little English force that, owing to lack of +generalship, was scattered here and there over a wide front and had no +fortified base upon which to withdraw. +</p> + +<p> +We fell back to a donga which we held for a little while, and then as we saw +that there we should presently be overwhelmed, withdrew gradually for another +two miles or so, keeping off the Zulus by our fire. In so doing we came upon +the remains of the rocket battery near the foot of the conical hill I have +mentioned, which had been destroyed by some regiment that passed behind us in +its rush on the camp. There lay all the soldiers dead, assegaied through and +through, and I noticed that one young fellow who had been shot through the +head, still held a rocket in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Now somewhat behind and perhaps half a mile to the right of this hill a long, +shallow donga runs across the Isandhlwana plain. This we gained, and being +there reinforced by about fifty of the Natal Carabineers under Captain +Bradstreet, held it for a long while, keeping off the Zulus by our terrible +fire which cut down scores of them every time they attempted to advance. At +this spot I alone killed from twelve to fifteen of them, for if the big bullet +from my Express rifle struck a man, he did not live. Messengers were sent back +to the camp for more ammunition, but none arrived, Heaven knows why. My own +belief is that the reserve cartridges were packed away in boxes and could not +be got at. At last our supply began to run short, so there was nothing to be +done except retreat upon the camp which was perhaps half a mile behind us. +</p> + +<p> +Taking advantage of a pause in the Zulu advance which had lain down while +waiting for reserves, Colonel Durnford ordered a retirement that was carried +out very well. Up to that time we had lost only quite a few men, for the Zulu +fire was wild and high and they had not been able to get at us with the +assegai. As we rode towards the mount I observed that firing was going on in +all directions, especially on the nek that connected it with the Nqutu range +where Captain Shepstone and his mounted Basutos were wiped out while trying to +hold back the Zulu right horn. The guns, too, were firing heavily and doing +great execution. +</p> + +<p> +After this all grew confused. Colonel Durnford gave orders to certain officers +who came up to him, Captain Essex was one and Lieutenant Cochrane another. Then +his force made for their wagons to get more ammunition. I kept near to the +Colonel and a while later found myself with him and a large, mixed body of men +a little to the right of the nek which we had crossed in our advance from the +river. Not long afterwards there was a cry of “The Zulus are getting +round us!” and looking to the left I saw them pouring in hundreds across +the ridge that joins Isandhlwana Mountain to the Nqutu Range. Also they were +advancing straight on to the camp. +</p> + +<p> +Then the rout began. Already the native auxiliaries were slipping away and now +the others followed. Of course this battle was but a small affair, yet I think +that few have been more terrible, at any rate in modern times. The aspect of +those plumed and shielded Zulus as they charged, shouting their war-cries and +waving their spears, was awesome. They were mown down in hundreds by the +Martini fire, but still they came on, and I knew that the game was up. A +maddened horde of fugitives, mostly natives, began to flow past us over the +nek, making for what was afterwards called Fugitives’ Drift, nine miles +away, and with them went white soldiers, some mounted, some on foot. Mingled +with all these people, following them, on either side of them, rushed Zulus, +stabbing as they ran. Other groups of soldiers formed themselves into rough +squares, on which the savage warriors broke like water on a rock. By degrees +ammunition ran out; only the bayonet remained. Still the Zulus could not break +those squares. So they took another counsel. Withdrawing a few paces beyond the +reach of the bayonets, they overwhelmed the soldiers by throwing assegais, then +rushed in and finished them. +</p> + +<p> +This was what happened to us, among whom were men of the 24th, Natal +Carabineers and Mounted Police. Some had dismounted, but I sat on my horse, +which stood quite still, I think from fright, and fired away so long as I had +any ammunition. With my very last cartridge I killed the Captain Indudu who had +been in charge of the escort that conducted me to the Tugela. He had caught +sight of me and called out— +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Macumazahn, I will cut you up nicely as I promised.” +</p> + +<p> +He got no further in his speech, for at that moment I sent an Express bullet +through him and his tall, melancholy figure doubled up and collapsed. +</p> + +<p> +All this while Colonel Durnford had been behaving as a British officer should +do. Scorning to attempt flight, whenever I looked round I caught sight of his +tall form, easy to recognize by the long fair moustaches and his arm in a +sling, moving to and fro encouraging us to stand firm and die like men. Then +suddenly I saw a Kaffir, who carried a big old smooth-bore gun, aim at him from +a distance of about twenty yards, and fire. He went down, as I believe dead, +and that was the end of a very gallant officer and gentleman whose military +memory has in my opinion been most unjustly attacked. The real blame for that +disaster does not rest upon the shoulders of either Colonel Durnford or Colonel +Pulleine. +</p> + +<p> +After this things grew very awful. Some fled, but the most stood and died where +they were. Oddly enough during all this time I was never touched. Men fell to +my right and left and in front of me; bullets and assegais whizzed past me, yet +I remained quite unhurt. It was as though some Power protected me, which no +doubt it did. +</p> + +<p> +At length when nearly all had fallen and I had nothing left to defend myself +with except my revolver, I made up my mind that it was time to go. My first +impulse was to ride for the river nine miles away. Looking behind me I saw that +the rough road was full of Zulus hunting down those who tried to escape. Still +I thought I would try it, when suddenly there flashed across my brain the +saying of whoever it was that personated Mameena in the Valley of Bones, to the +effect that in the great rout of the battle I was not to join the flying but to +set my face towards Ulundi and that if I did so I should be protected and no +harm would come to me. I knew that all this prophecy was but a vain thing +fondly imagined, although it was true that the battle and the rout had come. +And yet I acted on it—why Heaven knows alone. +</p> + +<p> +Setting the spurs to my horse I galloped off past Isandhlwana Mount, on the +southern slopes of which a body of the 24th were still fighting their last +fight, and heading for the Nqutu Range. The plain was full of Zulus, reserves +running up; also to the right of me the Ulundi and Gikazi divisions were +streaming forward. These, or some of them, formed the left horn of the impi, +but owing to the unprepared nature of the Zulu battle, for it must always be +remembered that they did not mean to fight that day, their advance had been +delayed until it was too late for them entirely to enclose the camp. Thus the +road, if it can so be called, to Fugitives’ Drift was left open for a +while, and by it some effected their escape. It was this horn, or part of it, +that afterwards moved on and attacked Rorke’s Drift, with results +disastrous to itself. +</p> + +<p> +For some hundreds of yards I rode on thus recklessly, because recklessness +seemed my only chance. Thrice I met bodies of Zulus, but on each occasion they +scattered before me, calling out words that I could not catch. It was as though +they were frightened of something they saw about me. Perhaps they thought that +I was mad to ride thus among them. Indeed I must have looked mad, or perhaps +there was something else. At any rate I believed that I was going to win right +through them when an accident happened. +</p> + +<p> +A bullet struck my mare somewhere in the back. I don’t know where it came +from, but as I saw no Zulu shoot, I think it must have been one fired by a +soldier who was still fighting on the slopes of the mount. The effect of it was +to make the poor beast quite ungovernable. Round she wheeled and galloped at +headlong speed back towards the peak, leaping over dead and dying and breaking +through the living as she went. In two minutes we were rushing up its northern +flank, which seemed to be quite untenanted, towards the sheer brown cliff which +rose above it, for the fighting was in progress on the other side. Suddenly at +the foot of this cliff the mare stopped, shivered and sank down dead, probably +from internal bleeding. +</p> + +<p> +I looked about me desperately. To attempt the plain on foot meant death. What +then was I to do? Glancing at the cliff I saw that there was a gully in it worn +by thousands of years of rainfall, in which grew scanty bushes. Into this I +ran, and finding it practicable though difficult, began to climb upwards, quite +unnoticed by the Zulus who were all employed upon the further side. The end of +it was that I reached the very crest of the mount, a patch of bare, brown rock, +except at one spot on its southern front where there was a little hollow in +which at this rainy season of the year herbage and ferns grew in the +accumulated soil, also a few stunted, aloe-like plants. +</p> + +<p> +Into this patch I crept, having first slaked my thirst from a little pool of +rain water that lay in a cup-like depression of the rock, which tasted more +delicious than any nectar, and seemed to give me new life. Then covering myself +as well as I could with grasses and dried leaves from the aloe plants, I lay +still. +</p> + +<p> +Now I was right on the brink of the cliff and had the best view of the +Isandhlwana plain and the surrounding country that can be imagined. From my +lofty eyrie some hundreds of feet in the air, I could see everything that +happened beneath. Thus I witnessed the destruction of the last of the soldiers +on the slopes below. They made a gallant end, so gallant that I was proud to be +of the same blood with them. One fine young fellow escaped up the peak and +reached a plateau about fifty feet beneath me. He was followed by a number of +Zulus, but took refuge in a little cave whence he shot three or four of them; +then his cartridges were exhausted and I heard the savages speaking in praise +of him—dead. I think he was the last to die on the field of Isandhlwana. +</p> + +<p> +The looting of the camp began; it was a terrible scene. The oxen and those of +the horses that could be caught were driven away, except certain of the former +which were harnessed to the guns and some of the wagons and, as I afterwards +learned, taken to Ulundi in proof of victory. Then the slain were stripped and +Kaffirs appeared wearing the red coats of the soldiers and carrying their +rifles. The stores were broken into and all the spirits drunk. Even the medical +drugs were swallowed by these ignorant men, with the result that I saw some of +them reeling about in agony and others fall down and go to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +An hour or two later an officer who came from the direction in which the +General had marched, cantered right into the camp where the tents were still +standing and even the flag was flying. I longed to be able to warn him, but +could not. He rode up to the headquarters marquee, whence suddenly issued a +Zulu waving a great spear. I saw the officer pull up his horse, remain for a +moment as though indecisive, then turn and gallop madly away, quite unharmed, +though one or two assegais were thrown and many shots fired at him. After this +considerable movements of the Zulus went on, of which the net result was, that +they evacuated the place. +</p> + +<p> +Now I hoped that I might escape, but it was not to be, since on every side +numbers of them crept up Isandhlwana Mountain and hid behind rocks or among the +tall grasses, evidently for purposes of observation. Moreover some captains +arrived on the little plateau where was the cave in which the soldier had been +killed, and camped there. At least at sundown they unrolled their mats and ate, +though they lighted no fire. +</p> + +<p> +The darkness fell and in it escape for me from that guarded place was +impossible, since I could not see where to set my feet and one false step on +the steep rock would have meant my death. From the direction of Rorke’s +Drift I could hear continuous firing; evidently some great fight was going on +there, I wondered vaguely—with what result. A little later also I heard +the distant tramp of horses and the roll of gun wheels. The captains below +heard it too and said one to another that it was the English soldiers +returning, who had marched out of the camp at dawn. They debated one with +another whether it would be possible to collect a force to fall upon them, but +abandoned the idea because the regiments who had fought that day were now at a +distance and too tired, and the others had rushed forward with orders to attack +the white men on and beyond the river. +</p> + +<p> +So they lay still and listened, and I too lay still and listened, for on that +cloudy, moonless night I could see nothing. I heard smothered words of command. +I heard the force halt because it could not travel further in the gloom. Then +they lay down, the living among the dead, wondering doubtless if they +themselves would not soon be dead, as of course must have happened had the Zulu +generalship been better, for if even five thousand men had been available to +attack at dawn not one of them could have escaped. But Providence ordained it +otherwise. Some were taken and the others left. +</p> + +<p> +About an hour before daylight I heard them stirring again, and when its first +gleams came all of them had vanished over the nek of slaughter, with what +thoughts in their hearts, I wondered, and to what fate. The captains on the +plateau beneath had gone also, and so had the circle of guards upon the slopes +of the mount, for I saw these depart through the grey mist. As the light +gathered, however, I observed bodies of men collecting on the nek, or rather on +both neks, which made it impossible for me to do what I had hoped, and run to +overtake the English troops. From these I was utterly cut off. Nor could I +remain longer without food on my point of rock, especially as I was sure that +soon some Zulus would climb there to use it as an outlook post. So while I was +still more or less hidden by the mist and morning shadows, I climbed down it by +the same road that I had climbed up, and thus reached the plain. Not a living +man, white or black, was to be seen, only the dead, only the dead. I was the +last Englishman to stand upon the plain of Isandhlwana for weeks or rather +months to come. +</p> + +<p> +Of all my experiences this was, I think, the strangest, after that night of +hell, to find myself alone upon this field of death, staring everywhere at the +distorted faces which on the previous morn I had seen so full of life. Yet my +physical needs asserted themselves. I was very hungry, who for twenty-four +hours had eaten nothing, faint with hunger indeed. I passed a provision wagon +that had been looted by the Zulus. Tins of bully beef lay about, also, among a +wreck of broken glass, some bottles of Bass’s beer which had escaped +their notice. I found an assegai, cleaned it in the ground which it needed, and +opening one of the tins, lay down in a tuft of grass by a dead man, or rather +between him and some Zulus whom he had killed, and devoured its contents. Also +I knocked the tops off a couple of the beer bottles and drank my fill. While I +was doing this a large rough dog with a silver-mounted collar on its neck, I +think of the sort that is called an Airedale terrier, came up to me whining. At +first I thought it was an hyena, but discovering my mistake, threw it some bits +of meat which it ate greedily. Doubtless it had belonged to some dead officer, +though there was no name on the collar. The poor beast, which I named Lost, at +once attached itself to me, and here I may say that I kept it till its death, +which occurred of jaundice at Durban not long before I started on my journey to +King Solomon’s Mines. No man ever had a more faithful friend and +companion. +</p> + +<p> +When I had eaten and drunk I looked about me, wondering what I should do. Fifty +yards away I saw a stout Basuto pony still saddled and bridled, although the +saddle was twisted out of its proper position, which was cropping the grass as +well as it could with the bit in its mouth. Advancing gently I caught it +without trouble, and led it back to the plundered wagon. Evidently from the +marks upon the saddlery it had belonged to Captain Shepstone’s force of +mounted natives. +</p> + +<p> +Here I filled the large saddlebags made of buckskin with tins of beef, a couple +more bottles of beer and a packet of <i>tandstickor</i> matches which I was +fortunate enough to find. Also I took the Martini rifle from a dead soldier, +together with a score or so of cartridges that remained in his belt, for +apparently he must have been killed rather early in the fight. +</p> + +<p> +Thus equipped I mounted the pony and once more bethought me of escaping to +Natal. A look towards the nek cured me of that idea, for coming over it I saw +the plumed heads of a whole horde of warriors. Doubtless these were returning +from the unsuccessful attack on Rorke’s Drift, though of that I knew +nothing at the time. So whistling to the dog I bore to the left for the Nqutu +Hills, riding as fast as the rough ground would allow, and in half an hour was +out of sight of that accursed plain. +</p> + +<p> +One more thing too I did. On its confines I came across a group of dead Zulus +who appeared to have been killed by a shell. Dismounting I took the headdress +of one of them and put it on, for I forgot to say that I had lost my hat. It +was made of a band of otterskin from which rose large tufts of the black +feathers of the finch which the natives call <i>sakabula</i>. Also I tied his +kilt of white oxtails about my middle, precautions to which I have little doubt +I owe my life, since from a distance they made me look like a Kaffir mounted on +a captured pony. +</p> + +<p> +Then I started on again, whither I knew not. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +ALLAN AWAKES</h2> + +<p> +Now I have no intention of setting down all the details of that dreadful +journey through Zululand, even if I could recall them, which, for a reason to +be stated, I cannot do. I remember that at first I thought of proceeding to +Ulundi with some wild idea of throwing myself on the mercy of Cetewayo under +pretence that I brought him a message from Natal. Within a couple of hours, +however, from the top of a hill I saw ahead of me an <i>impi</i> and with it +captured wagons, which was evidently heading for the king’s kraal. So as +I knew what kind of a greeting these warriors would give me, I bore away in +another direction with the hope of reaching the border by a circuitous route. +In this too I had no luck, since presently I caught sight of outposts stationed +upon rocks, which doubtless belonged to another <i>impi</i> or regiment. Indeed +one soldier, thinking from my dress that I also was a Zulu, called to me for +news from about half a mile away, in that peculiar carrying voice which Kaffirs +can command. I shouted back something about victory and that the white men were +wiped out, then put an end to the conversation by vanishing into a patch of +dense bush. +</p> + +<p> +It is a fact that after this I have only the dimmest recollection of what +happened. I remember off-saddling at night on several occasions. I remember +being very hungry because all the food was eaten and the dog, Lost, catching a +bush buck fawn, some of which I partially cooked on a fire of dead wood, and +devoured. Next I remember—I suppose this was a day or two +later—riding at night in a thunderstorm and a particularly brilliant +flash of lightning which revealed scenery that seemed to be familiar to me, +after which came a shock and total unconsciousness. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +At length my mind returned to me. It was reborn very slowly and with horrible +convulsions, out of the womb of death and terror. I saw blood flowing round me +in rivers, I heard the cries of triumph and of agony. I saw myself standing, +the sole survivor, on a grey field of death, and the utter loneliness of it ate +into my soul, so that with all its strength it prayed that it might be numbered +in this harvest. But oh! it was so strong, that soul which could not, would not +die or fly away. So strong, that then, for the first time, I understood its +immortality and that it could <i>never</i> die. This everlasting thing still +clung for a while to the body of its humiliation, the mass of clay and nerves +and appetites which it was doomed to animate, and yet knew its own separateness +and eternal individuality. Striving to be free of earth, still it seemed to +walk the earth, a spirit and a shadow, aware of the hatefulness of that to +which it was chained, as we might imagine some lovely butterfly to be that is +fated by nature to suck its strength from carrion, and remains unable to soar +away into the clean air of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Something touched my hand and I reflected dreamily that if I had been still +alive, for in a way I believed that I was dead, I should have thought it was a +dog’s tongue. With a great effort I lifted my arm, opened my eyes and +looked at the hand against the light, for there was light, to see it was so +thin that this light shone through between the bones. Then I let it fall again, +and lo! it rested on the head of a dog which went on licking it. +</p> + +<p> +A dog! What dog? Now I remembered; one that I had found on the field of +Isandhlwana. Then I must be still alive. The thought made me cry, for I could +feel the tears run down my cheeks, not with joy but with sorrow. I did not wish +to go on living. Life was too full of struggle and of bloodshed and bereavement +and fear and all horrible things. I was prepared to exchange my part in it just +for rest, for the blessing of deep, unending sleep in which no more dreams +could come, no more cups of joy could be held to thirsting lips, only to be +snatched away. +</p> + +<p> +I heard something shuffling towards me at which the dog growled, then seemed to +slink away as though it were afraid. I opened my eyes again, looked, and closed +them once more in terror, for what I saw suggested that perhaps I was dead +after all and had reached that hell which a certain class of earnest Christian +promises to us as the reward of the failings that Nature and those who begat us +have handed on to us as a birth doom. It was something unnatural, grey-headed, +terrific—doubtless a devil come to torment me in the inquisition vaults +of Hades. Yet I had known the like when I was alive. How had it been called? I +remembered, “The-thing-that-never-should-have-been-born.” Hark! It +was speaking in that full deep voice which was unlike to any other. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, Macumazahn,” it said. “I see that you have come +back from among the dead with whom you have been dwelling for a moon and more. +It is not wise of you, Macumazahn, yet I am glad who have matched my skill +against Death and won, for now you will have much to tell me about his +kingdom.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was Zikali—Zikali who had butchered my friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Away from me, murderer!” I said faintly, “and let me die, or +kill me as you did the others.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, but very softly, not in his usual terrific fashion, repeating the +word “murderer” two or three times. Then with his great hand he +lifted my head gently as a woman might, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Look before you, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked and saw that I was in some kind of a cave. Outside the sun was setting +and against its brightness I perceived two figures, a white man and a white +woman who were walking hand in hand and gazing into each other’s eyes. +They were Anscombe and Heda passing the mouth of the cave. +</p> + +<p> +“Behold the murdered, O Macumazahn, dealer of hard words.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a trick,” I murmured. “Kaatje saw them dead and +buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I forgot. The fat fool-woman saw them dead and buried. Well, +sometimes the dead come to life again and for good purpose, as you should know, +Macumazahn, who followed the counsel of a certain Mameena and wandered here +instead of rushing onto the Zulu spears.” +</p> + +<p> +I tried to think the thing out and could not, so only asked— +</p> + +<p> +“How did I come? What happened to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think the sun smote you first who had no covering on your head and the +lightning smote you afterwards. Yet all the while that reason had left you, One +led your horse and after the Heavens had tried to kill you and failed, perhaps +because my magic was too strong for them, One sent that beast which you found, +yes, sent it here to lead us to where you lay. There you were discovered and +brought hither. Now sleep lest you should go further than even I can fetch you +back again.” +</p> + +<p> +He held his hands above my head, seeming to grow in stature till his white hair +touched the roof of the cave, and in an instant I fancied that I was falling +away, deep, deep into a gulf of nothingness. +</p> + +<p> +There followed another period of dreaming, in which dreams I seemed to meet all +sorts of people, dead and living, especially Lady Ragnall, a friend of mine +with whom I had been concerned in a very strange adventure among the Kendah +people<a href="#fn-19.1" name="fnref-19.1" id="fnref-19.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +and with whom in days to come I was destined to be concerned again, although of +course I knew nothing of this, in a still stranger adventure of what I may call +a spiritual order, which I may or may not try to reduce to writing. It seemed +to me that I was constantly dining with her <i>tête-à-tête</i> and that she +told me all sorts of queer things between the courses. Doubtless these +illusions occurred when I was fed. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-19.1" id="fn-19.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-19.1">[1]</a> +See the book called <i>The Ivory Child.</i>—E<small>DITOR</small>. +</p> + +<p> +At length I woke up again, feeling much stronger, and saw the dog, Lost, +watching me with its great tender eyes—oh! they talk of the eyes of +women, but are they ever as beautiful as those of a loving dog? It lay by my +low bed-stead, a rough affair fashioned of poles and strung with rimpis or +strings of raw hide, and by it, stroking its head, sat the witch-doctoress, +Nombé. I remember how pleasing she looked, a perfect type of the eternal +feminine with her graceful, rounded shape and her continual, mysterious smile +which suggested so much more than any mortal woman has to give. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day to you, Macumazahn,” she said in her gentle voice, +“you have gone through much since last we met on the night before Goza +took you away to Ulundi.” +</p> + +<p> +Now remembering all, I was filled with indignation against this little humbug. +</p> + +<p> +“The last time we met, Nombé,” I said, “was when you played +the part of a woman who is dead in the Vale of Bones by the king’s +kraal.” +</p> + +<p> +She regarded me with a kindly commiseration, and answered, shaking her +head— +</p> + +<p> +“You have been very ill, Macumazahn, and your spirit still tricks you. I +played the part of no woman in any valley by the king’s kraal, nor were +my eyes rejoiced with the sight of you there or elsewhere till they brought you +to this place, so changed that I should scarcely have known you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You little liar!” I said rudely. +</p> + +<p> +“Do the white people always name those liars who tell them true things +they cannot understand?” she inquired with a sweet innocence. Then +without waiting for an answer, she patted my hand as though I were a fretful +child and gave me some soup in a gourd, saying, “Drink it, it is good. +The lady Heddana made it herself in the white man’s fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +I drank the soup, which <i>was</i> very good, and as I handed back the gourd, +answered— +</p> + +<p> +“Kaatje has told me that the lady Heddana is dead. Can the dead make +soup?” +</p> + +<p> +She considered the point while she threw some bits of meat out of the bottom of +the gourd to the dog, Lost, then replied— +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, Macumazahn, or indeed whether the dead eat as we do. Next +time my Spirit visits me I will make inquiry and tell you the answer. But I do +know that it is very strange that you, who always turn your back upon the +truth, are so ready to accept falsehoods. Why should you believe that the lady +Heddana is dead just because Kaatje told you so, when I who am still alive had +sworn to you that I would protect her with my life? Nay, speak no more now. +To-morrow if you are well enough you shall see and judge for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew up the kaross over me, again patted my hand in her motherly fashion +and departed, still smiling, after which I went to sleep again, so dreamlessly +that I think there was some native soporific in that soup. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day two of Zikali’s servants who did the rougher work of +my sick room, if I may so call it, arrived and said that they were going to +carry me out of the cave for a while, if that were my will. I who longed to +breathe the fresh air again, said that it was very much my will, whereon they +grasped the rough bedstead which I have described by either end and very +carefully bore me down the cave and through its narrow entrance, where they set +the bedstead in the shadow of the overhanging rock without. When I had +recovered a little, for even that short journey tired me, I looked about me and +perceived that as I had expected, I was in the Black Kloof, for there in front +of me were the very huts which we had occupied on our arrival from Swazi-Land. +</p> + +<p> +I lay a while drawing in the sweet air which to me was like a draught of +nectar, and wondering whether I were not still in a dream. For instance, I +wondered if I had truly seen the figures of Anscombe and Heda pass the mouth of +the cave, on that day when I awoke, or if these were but another of +Zikali’s illusions imprinted on my weakened mind by his will power. For +of what he and Nombé told me I believed nothing. Thus marvelling I fell into a +doze and in my doze heard whisperings. I opened my eyes and lo! there before me +stood Anscombe and Heda. It was she who spoke the first, for I was tongue-tied; +I could not open my lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Mr. Quatermain, dear Mr. Quatermain!” she murmured in her +sweet voice, then paused. +</p> + +<p> +Now at last words came to me. “I thought you were both dead,” I +said. “Tell me, are you really alive?” +</p> + +<p> +She bent down and kissed my brow, while Anscombe took my hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you know,” she answered. “We are both of us alive and +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” I exclaimed. “Kaatje swore that she saw you dead +and buried.” +</p> + +<p> +“One sees strange things in the Black Kloof,” replied Anscombe +speaking for the first time, “and much has happened to us since we were +parted, to which you are not strong enough to listen now. When you are better, +then we will tell you all. So grow well as soon as you can.” +</p> + +<p> +After this I think I fainted, for when I came to myself again I was back in the +cave. +</p> + +<p> +Another ten days or so went by before I could even leave my bed, for my +recovery was very slow. Indeed for weeks I could scarcely walk at all, and six +whole months passed before I really got my strength again and became as I used +to be. During those days I often saw Anscombe and Heda, but only for a few +minutes at a time. Also occasionally Zikali would visit me, speaking a little, +generally about past history, or something of the sort, but never of the war, +and go away. At length one day he said to me— +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, now I am sure you are going to live, a matter as to which I +was doubtful, even after you seemed to recover. For, Macumazahn, you have +endured three shocks, of which to-day I am not afraid to talk to you. First +there was that of the battle of Isandhlwana where you were the last white man +left alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that, Zikali?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It does not matter. I do know. Did you not ride through the Zulus who +parted this way and that before you, shouting what you could not understand? +One of them you may remember even saluted with his spear.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did, Zikali. Tell me, why did they behave thus, and what did they +shout?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not tell you, Macumazahn. Think over it for the rest of your +life and conclude what you choose; it will not be so wonderful as the truth. At +least they did so, as a certain doll I dressed up yonder in the Vale of Bones +told you they would, she whose advice you followed in riding towards Ulundi +instead of back to the river where you would have met your death, like so many +others of the white people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that doll, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, ask me not. Perhaps it was Nombé, perhaps another. I have +forgotten. I am very old and my memory begins to play me strange tricks. Still +I recollect that she was a good doll, so like a dead woman called Mameena that +I could scarcely have known them apart. Ah! that was a great game I played in +the Vale of Bones, was it not, Macumazahn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Zikali, yet I do not understand why it was played.” +</p> + +<p> +“Being so young you still have the impatience of youth, Macumazahn, +although your hair grows white. Wait a while and you will understand all. Well, +you lay that night on the topmost rock of Isandhlwana, and there you saw and +heard strange things. You heard the rest of the white soldiers come and lie +down to rest among their dead brothers, and depart again unharmed. Oh! what +fools are these Zulu generals nowadays. They send out an <i>impi</i> to attack +men behind walls, spears against rifles, and are defeated. Had they kept that +<i>impi</i> to fall on the rest of the English when they walked into the trap, +not a man of your people would have been left alive. Would that have happened +in the time of Chaka?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not, Zikali. Still I am glad that it did happen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not too, Macumazahn, but small men, small wit. Also like you I +am glad that it did not happen, since it is the Zulus I hate, not the English +who have now learned a lesson and will not be caught again. Oh! many a captain +in Zululand is to-day flat as a pricked bladder, and even their victory, as +they call it, cost them dear. For, mind you, Macumazahn, for every white man +they killed two of them died. So, so! In the morning you left the hill—do +not look astonished, Macumazahn. Perhaps those captains on the rock beneath you +let you go for their own purposes, or because they were commanded, for though +weak I can still lift a stone or two, Macumazahn, and afterwards told me all +about it. Then you found yourself alone among the dead, like the last man in +the world, Macumazahn, and that dog at your side, also a horse came to you. +Perhaps I sent them, perhaps it was a chance. Who knows? Not I myself, for as I +have said, my memory has grown so bad. That was your first shock, Macumazahn, +the shock of standing alone among the dead like the last man in the world. You +felt it, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“As I hope I shall never feel anything again. It nearly drove me +mad,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Very nearly indeed, though I have felt worse things and only laughed, as +I would tell you, had I the time. Well, then the sun struck you, for at this +season of the year it is very hot in those valleys for a white man with no +covering to his head, and you went quite mad, though fortunately the dog and +the horse remained as Heaven had made them. That was the second shock. Then the +storm burst and the lightning fell. It ran down the rifle that you still +carried, Macumazahn. I will show it to you and you will see that its stock is +shattered. Perhaps I turned the flash aside, for I am a great thunder-herd, or +perhaps it was One mightier than I. That was the third shock, Macumazahn. Then +you were found, still living—how, the white man, your friend, will tell +you. But you should cherish that dog of yours, Macumazahn, for many a man might +have served you worse. And being strong, though small, or perhaps because you +still have work left to do in the world before you leave it for a while, you +have lived through all these things and will in time recover, though not +yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, Zikali, though on the whole I am not sure that I wish to +recover.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you do, Macumazahn, because the religion of you white men makes you +fear death and what may come after it. You think of what you call your sins and +are afraid lest you should be tortured because of them, not understanding that +the spirit must be judged not by what the flesh has done but by what the spirit +desired to do, by <i>will</i> not by <i>deed,</i> Macumazahn. The evil man is +he who wishes to do evil, not he who wishes to do good and falls now and again +into evil. Oh! I have hearkened to your white teachers and I know, I +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then by your own standard you are evil, Zikali, since you wished to +bring about war, and not in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oho! Macumazahn, you think that, do you, who cannot understand that what +seems to be evil is often good. I wished to bring about war and brought it +about, and maybe what bred the wish was all that I have suffered in the past. +But say you, who have seen what the Zulu Power means, who have seen men, women +and children killed by the thousand to feed that Power, and who have seen, too, +what the English Power means, is it evil that I should wish to destroy the +House of the Zulu kings that the English House may take its place and that in a +time to come the Black people may be free?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are clever, Zikali, but it is of your own wrongs that you think. How +about that skull which you kissed in the Vale of Bones?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap, Macumazahn, but my wrongs are the wrongs of a nation, therefore +I think of the nation, and at least I do not fear death like you white men. Now +hearken. Presently your friends will tell you a story. The lady Heddana will +tell you how I made use of her for a certain purpose, for which purpose indeed +I drew the three of you into Zululand, because without her I could not have +brought about this war into which Cetewayo did not wish to enter. When you have +heard that story, do not judge me too hardly, Macumazahn, who had a great end +to gain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet whatever the story may be, I do judge you hardly, Zikali, who +tormented me with a false tale, causing the woman Kaatje to lie to me and swear +that she saw these two dead before her—how I know not.” +</p> + +<p> +“She did not lie to you, Macumazahn. Has not such a one as I the power to +make a fat fool think that she saw what she did not see? As to how! How did I +make you think in yonder hut of mine that you saw what you did not +see—perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why did you mock me in this fashion, Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, Macumazahn, you are blind as a bat in sunlight. When your friends +have told you the story, you will understand why. Yet I admit to you that +things went wrong. You should have heard that tale <i>before</i> Cetewayo +brought you to the Vale of Bones. But the fool-woman delayed and blundered, and +when she reached Ulundi the gates were shut against her as a spy, and not +opened till too late, so that you only found her when you returned from the +Council. I knew this, and that was why I dared to bid you fire at that which +stood upon the rock. Had you heard Kaatje’s tale you might have aimed +straight, as also you would have certainly shot straight at me, out of revenge +for the deaths of those you loved, Macumazahn, though whether you could have +killed me before all the game is played is another matter. As it was, I was +sure that you would not pierce the heart of one who <i>might</i> be a certain +white woman, sure also that you would not pierce my heart whose death +<i>might</i> bring about her death and that of another.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very subtle, Zikali,” I said in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“So you hold because I am very simple, who understand the spirit of +man—and some other things. For the rest, had you not believed that these +two were dead, you would never have left Zululand. You would have tried to +escape to get to them and have been killed. Is it not so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think I should have tried, Zikali. But why did you keep them +prisoner?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the same reason that I still keep them—and you—to hold +them back a while from the world of ghosts. Had I sent them away after that +night of the declaration of war, they would have been killed before they had +gone an hour’s journey. Oh! I am not so bad as you think, Macumazahn, and +I never break my word. Now I have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“How goes the war?” I asked as he shuffled to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“As it must go, very ill for the Zulus. They have driven back the white +men who gather strength from over the Black Water and will come on presently +and wipe them out. Umnyamana would have had Cetewayo invade Natal and sweep it +clean, as of course he should have done. But I sent him word that if he did so +Nomkubulwana, yes, she and no other, had told me that all the spirits would be +against him, and he hearkened. When next you think me wicked, remember that, +Macumazahn. Now it is but a matter of time, and here you must bide till all is +finished. That will be good for you who need rest, though the other two find it +wearisome. Still for them it is good also to watch the fruit ripen on their +tree of love. It will be the sweeter when they eat it, Macumazahn, and teach +them how to live together. <i>Oho! Oho-ho!</i>” and he shambled off. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +HEDA’S TALE</h2> + +<p> +That evening when I was lying on my bed outside the cave, I heard the tale of +Anscombe and Heda. Up to a certain point he told it, then she went on with the +story. +</p> + +<p> +“On the morning after our arrival at this place, Allan,” said +Anscombe, “I woke up to find you gone from the hut. As you did not come +back I concluded that you were with Zikali, and walked about looking for you. +Then food was brought to us and Heda and I breakfasted together, after which we +went to where we heard the horses neighing and found that yours was gone. +Returning, much frightened, we met Nombé, who gave me your note which explained +everything, and we inquired of her why this had been done and what was to +become of us. She smiled and answered that we had better ask the first question +of the king and the second of her master Zikali, and in the meanwhile be at +peace since we were quite safe. +</p> + +<p> +“I tried to see Zikali but could not. Then I went to inspan the horses +with the idea of following you, only to find that they were gone. Indeed I have +not seen them from that day to this. Next we thought of starting on foot, for +we were quite desperate. But Nombé intervened and told us that if we ventured +out of the Black Kloof we should be killed. In short we were prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +“This went on for some days, during which we were well treated but could +not succeed in seeing Zikali. At length one morning he sent for us and we were +taken to the enclosure in front of his hut, Kaatje coming with us as +interpreter. For a while he sat still, looking very grim and terrible. Then he +said— +</p> + +<p> +“‘White Chief and Lady, you think ill of me because Macumazahn has +gone and you are kept prisoners here, and before all is done you will think +worse. Yet I counsel you to trust me since everything that happens is for your +good.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At this point Heda, who, as you know, talked Zulu fairly well, though +not so well as she does now, broke in, and said some very angry things to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” interrupted Heda. “I told him that he was a liar and I +believed that he had murdered you and meant to murder us.” +</p> + +<p> +“He listened stonily,” continued Anscombe, “and answered, +‘I perceive, Lady Heddana, that you understand enough of our tongue to +enable me to talk to you; therefore I will send away this half-breed woman, +since what I have to say is secret.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then he called servants by clapping his hands and ordered them to remove +Kaatje, which was done. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now, Lady Heddana,’ he said, speaking very slowly so that +Heda might interpret to me and repeating his words whenever she did not +understand, ‘I have a proposal to make to you. For my own ends it is +necessary that you should play a part and appear before the king and the +Council as the goddess of this land who is called the Chieftainess of Heaven, +which goddess is always seen as a white woman. Therefore you must travel with +me to Ulundi and there do those things which I shall tell you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘And if I refuse to play this trick,’ said Heda, ‘what +then?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then, Lady Heddana, this white lord whom you love and who is to +be your husband will—die—and after he is dead you must still do +what I desire of you, or—die also.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Would he come with me to Ulundi?’ asked Heda. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not so, Lady. He would stay here under guard, but quite safe, and +you will be brought back to him, safe. Choose now, with death on the one hand +and safety on the other. I would sleep a little. Talk the matter over in your +own tongue and when it is settled awaken me again,’ and he shut his eyes +and appeared to go to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“So we discussed the situation, if you can call it discussion when we +were both nearly mad. Heda wished to go. I begged her to let me be killed +rather than trust herself into the hands of this old villain. She pointed out +that even if I were killed, which she admitted might not happen, she would +still be in his hands whence she could only escape by her own death, whereas if +she went there was a chance that we might both continue to live, and that after +all death was easy to find. So in the end I gave way and we woke up Zikali and +told him so. +</p> + +<p> +“He seemed pleased and spoke to us gently, saying, ‘I was sure that +wisdom dwelt behind those bright eyes of yours, Lady, and again I promise you +that neither you nor the lord your lover shall come to any harm. Also that in +payment I and my child, Nombé, will protect you even with our lives, and +further, that I will bring back your friend, Macumazahn, to you, though not +yet. Now go and be happy together. Nombé will tell the lady Heddana when she is +to start. Of all this say nothing on your peril to the woman Kaatje, since if +you do, it will be necessary that she should be made silent. Indeed, lest she +should learn something, to-morrow I shall send her on to await you at Ulundi, +therefore be not surprised if you see her go, and take no heed of aught she may +say in going. Nombé, my child, will fill her place as servant to the lady +Heddana and sleep with her at night that she may not be lonely or +afraid.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then he clapped his hands again and servants came and conducted us back +to the huts. And now, Allan, Heda will go on with the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr. Quatermain,” she said, “nothing more happened that +day which we spent with bursting hearts. Kaatje did not question us as to what +the witch-doctor had said after she was sent away. Indeed I noticed that she +was growing very stupid and drowsy, like a person who has been drugged, as I +daresay she was, and would insist upon beginning to pack up the things in a +foolish kind of way, muttering something about our trekking on the following +day. The night passed as usual, Kaatje sleeping very heavily by my side and +snoring so much” (here I groaned sympathetically) “that I could get +little rest. On the next morning after breakfast as the huts were very hot, +Nombé suggested that we should sit under the shadow of the overhanging rock, +just where we are now. Accordingly we went, and being tired out with all our +troubles and bad nights, I fell into a doze, and so, I think, did Maurice, +Nombé sitting near to us and singing all the while, a very queer kind of song. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently, through my doze as it were, I saw Kaatje approaching. Nombé +went to meet her, still singing, and taking her hand, led her to the cart, +where they seemed to talk to the horses, which surprised me as there were no +horses. Then she brought her round the cart and pointed to us, still singing. +Now Kaatje began to weep and throw her hands about, while Nombé patted her on +the shoulder. I tried to speak to her but could not. My tongue was tied, why I +don’t know, but I suppose because I was really asleep, and Maurice also +was asleep and did not wake at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Anscombe, “I remember nothing of all this +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“After a while Kaatje went away, still weeping, and then I fell asleep in +earnest and did not wake until the sun was going down, when I roused Maurice +and we both went back to the hut, where I found that Nombé had cooked our +evening meal. I looked for Kaatje, but could not find her. Also in searching +through my things I missed the bag of jewels. I called to Nombé and asked where +Kaatje was, whereon she smiled and said that she had gone away, taking the bag +with her. This pained me, for I had always found Kaatje quite +honest—” +</p> + +<p> +“Which she is,” I remarked, “for those jewels are now in a +bank at Maritzburg.” +</p> + +<p> +Heda nodded and went on, “I am glad to hear it; indeed, remembering what +Zikali had said, I never really suspected her of being a thief, but thought it +was all part of some plan. After this things went on as before, except that +Nombé took Kaatje’s place and was with me day and night. Of +Kaatje’s disappearance she would say nothing. Zikali we did not see. +</p> + +<p> +“On the third evening after the vanishing of Kaatje, Nombé came and said +that I must make ready for a journey, and while she spoke men arrived with a +litter that had grass mats hung round it. Nombé brought out my long cape and +put it over me, also a kind of veil of white stuff which she threw over my +head, so as to hide my face. I think it was made out of one of our travelling +mosquito nets. Then she said I must say good-bye to Maurice for a while. There +was a scene as you may imagine. He grew angry and said that he would come with +me, whereon armed men appeared, six of them, and pushed him away with the +handles of their spears. In another minute I was lifted into the litter which +Nombé entered with me, and so we were parted, wondering if we should ever see +each other more. At the mouth of the kloof I saw another litter surrounded by a +number of Zulus, which Nombé said contained Zikali. +</p> + +<p> +“We travelled all that night and two succeeding nights, resting during +the day in deserted kraals that appeared to have been made ready for us. It was +a strange journey, for although the armed men flitted about us, neither they +nor the bearers ever spoke, nor did I see Zikali, or indeed any one else. Only +Nombé comforted me from time to time, telling me there was nothing to fear. +Towards dawn on the third night we travelled over some hills and I was put into +a new hut and told that my journey was done as we had reached a place near +Ulundi. +</p> + +<p> +“I slept most of the following day, but after I had eaten towards +evening, Zikali crept into the hut, just as a great toad might do, and squatted +down in front of me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lady,’ he said, ‘listen. To-night, perhaps one hour +after sundown, perhaps two, perhaps three, Nombé will lead you, dressed in a +certain fashion, from this hut. See now, outside of it there is a tongue of +rock up which you may climb unnoted by the little path that runs between those +big stones. Look,’ and he showed me the place through the door-hole. +‘The path ends on a flat boulder at the end of the rock. There you will +take your stand, holding in your right hand a little assegai which will be +given to you. Nombé will not accompany you to the rock, but she will crouch +between the stones at the head of the path and perhaps from time to time +whisper to you what to do. Thus when she tells you, you must throw the little +spear into the air, so that it falls among a number of men gathered in debate +who will be seated about twenty paces from the rock. For the rest you are to +stand quite still, saying nothing and showing no alarm whatever you may hear or +see. Among the men before you may be your friend, Macumazahn, but you must not +appear to recognize him, and if he speaks to you, you must make no answer. Even +if he should seem to shoot at you, do not be afraid. Do you understand? If so, +repeat what I have told you.’ I obeyed him and asked what would happen if +I did not do these things, or some of them. +</p> + +<p> +“He answered, ‘You will be killed, Nombé will be killed, the lord +Mauriti your lover will be killed, and your friend Macumazahn will be killed. +Perhaps even I shall be killed and we will talk the matter over in the land of +ghosts.’ +</p> + +<p> +“On hearing this I said I would do my best to carry out his orders, and +after making me repeat them once more, he went away. Later, Nombé dressed me up +as you saw me, Mr. Quatermain, put some glittering powder into my hair and +touched me beneath the eyes with a dark kind of pigment. Also she gave me the +little spear and made me practise standing quite still with it raised in my +right hand, telling me that when I heard her say the word 'Throw,’ I was +to cast it into the air. Then the moon rose and we heard men talking at a +distance. At last some one came to the hut and whispered to Nombé, who led me +out to the little path between the rocks. +</p> + +<p> +“This must have been nearly two hours after I heard the men begin to +talk—” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but where was Nombé all those +two hours?” +</p> + +<p> +“With me. She never left my side, Mr. Quatermain, and while I was on the +rock she was crouched within three paces of me between two big stones at the +mouth of the path.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed,” I replied faintly, “this is very interesting. +Please continue—but one word, how was Nombé dressed? Did she wear a +necklace of blue beads?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as she always is, or rather less so, for she had nothing on except +her moocha, and certainly no blue beads. But why do you ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“From curiosity merely. I mean, I will tell you afterwards, pray go +on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I stepped forward on to the rock and at first saw nothing, because +at that moment the moon was hid by a cloud; indeed Nombé had waited for the +cloud to pass over its face, before she thrust me forward. Also some smoke from +a fire below was rising straight in front of me. Presently the cloud passed, +the smoke thinned, and I saw the circle of those savage men seated beneath, and +in their centre a great chief wearing a leopard’s skin cloak who I +guessed was the king. You I did not see, Mr. Quatermain, because you were +behind a tree, yet I felt that you were there, a friend among all those foes. I +stood still, as I had been taught to do, and heard the murmur of astonishment +and caught the gleam of the moonlight from the white feathers that were sewn +upon my robe. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I heard also the voice of Zikali speaking from beneath. He called +on you to come out to shoot at me, and the man whom I took to be the king, +ordered you to obey. You appeared from behind the tree, and I was certain from +the look upon your face that at that distance you did not know who I was in my +strange and glittering raiment. You lifted the pistol and I was terribly +afraid, for I had seen you shoot with it before on the verandah of the Temple +and knew well that you do not miss. Very nearly I screamed out to you, but +remembered and was silent, thinking that after all it did not much matter if I +died, except for the sake of Maurice here. Also by now I guessed that I was +being used to deceive those men before me into some terrible act, and that if I +died, at least they would be undeceived. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that an age passed between the time you pointed the pistol and +I saw the flash for which I was waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not have waited, Heda,” I interposed, “for if I had +really aimed at you you would never have seen that flash, at least so it is +said. I too guessed enough to shoot above you, although at the time I did not +know that it was you on the rock; indeed I thought it was Nombé painted +up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I heard the bullet sing over me. Then I heard the voice of Zikali +challenging you to shoot him, and to tell the truth, hoped that you would do +so. Just before you fired for the second time, Nombé whispered to +me—‘Throw’ and I threw the little red-handled spear into the +air. Then as the pistol went off Nombé whispered—‘Come.’ I +slipped away down the path and back with her into the hut, where she kissed me +and said that I had done well indeed, after which she took off my strange robe +and helped me to put on my own dress. +</p> + +<p> +“That is all I know, except that some hours later I was awakened from +sleep and put into the litter where I went to sleep again, for what I had gone +through tired me very much. I need not trouble you with the rest, for we +journeyed here in the same way that we had journeyed to Ulundi—by night. +I did not see Zikali, but in answer to my questions, Nombé told me that the +Zulus had declared war against the English. What part in the business I had +played, she would not tell me, and I do not know to this hour, but I am sure +that it was a great one. +</p> + +<p> +“So we came back to the Black Kloof, where I found Maurice quite well, +and now he had better go on with the tale, for if I begin to tell you of our +meeting I shall become foolish.” +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t much more to tell,” said Anscombe, “except +about yourself. While Heda was away I was kept a prisoner and watched day and +night by Zikali’s people who would not let me stir a yard, but otherwise +treated me kindly. Then one day at sunrise, or shortly after it, Heda +re-appeared and told me all this story, for the end of which, as you may +imagine, I thanked God. +</p> + +<p> +“After that we just lived on here, happily enough since we were together, +until one day Nombé told us that there had been a great battle in which the +Zulus had wiped out the English, killing hundreds and hundreds of them, +although for every soldier that they killed, they had lost two. Of course this +made us very sad, especially as we were afraid you might be with our troops. We +asked Nombé if you were present at the battle. She answered that she would +inquire of her Spirit and went through some very strange performances with +ashes and knuckle bones, after which she announced that you had been in the +battle but were alive and coming this way with a dog that had silver on it. We +laughed at her, saying that she could not possibly know anything of the sort, +also that dogs as a rule did not carry silver. Whereon she only smiled and +said—‘Wait.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I think it was three days later that one night towards dawn I was +awakened by hearing a dog barking outside my hut, as though it wished to call +attention to its presence. It barked so persistently and in a way so unlike a +Kaffir dog, that at length about dawn I went out of the hut to see what was the +matter. There, standing a few yards away surrounded by some of Zikali’s +people, I saw Lost and knew at once that it was an English Airedale, for I have +had several of the breed. It looked very tired and frightened, and while I was +wondering whence on earth it could have come, I noticed that it had a +silver-mounted collar and remembered Nombé and her talk about you and a dog +that carried silver on it. From that moment, Allan, I was certain that you were +somewhere near, especially as the beast ran up to me—it would take no +notice of the Kaffirs—and kept looking towards the mouth of the kloof, as +though it wished me to follow it. Just then Nombé arrived, and on seeing the +dog looked at me oddly. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I have a message for you from my master, Mauriti,’ she said +to me through Heda, who by now had arrived upon the scene, having also been +aroused by Lost’s barking. ‘It is that if you wish to take a walk +with a strange dog you can do so, and bring back anything you may +find.’” +</p> + +<p> +“The end of it was that after we had fed Lost with milk and meat, I and +six of Zikali’s men started down the kloof, Lost going ahead of us and +now and again running back and whining. At the mouth of the kloof it led us +over a hill and down into a bush-veld valley where the thorns grew very thick. +When we had gone along the valley for about two miles, one of the Kaffirs saw a +Basuto pony still saddled, and caught it. The dog went on past the pony to a +tree that had been shattered by lightning, and there within a few yards of the +tree we found you lying senseless, Allan, or, as I thought at first, dead, and +by your side a Martini rifle of which the stock also seemed to have been broken +by lightning. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we put you on a shield and carried you here, meeting no one, and +that is all the story, Allan.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and we stared at each other. Then I called Lost and patted its head, +and the dear beast licked my hand as though it understood that it was being +thanked. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange tale,” I said, “but God Almighty has put much +wisdom into His creatures of which we know nothing. Let us thank Him,” +and in our hearts we did. +</p> + +<p> +Thus was I rescued from death by the intelligence and fidelity of a four-footed +creature. Doubtless in my semi-conscious state that resulted from shock, +weariness and sun-stroke, I had all the while headed sub-consciously and +without any definite object for the Black Kloof. When I was within a few miles +of it I was stunned by the lightning which ran down the rifle to the ground, +though not actually struck. Then the dog, which had escaped, played its part, +wandering about the country to find help for me, and so I was saved. +</p> + +<p> +Now of the long months that followed I have little to tell. They were not +unhappy in their way, for week by week I felt myself growing stronger, though +very slowly. There was a path, steep, difficult and secret, which could be +gained through one of the caves in the precipice, not that in which I slept. +This path ran up a water-cut kloof through a patch of thorns to a flat +tableland that was part of the Ceza stronghold. By it, when I had gained +sufficient strength, sometimes we used to climb to the plateau, and there take +exercise. It was an agreeable change from the stifling atmosphere of the Black +Kloof. The days were very dull, for we were as much out of the world as though +we had been marooned on a desert island. Still from time to time we heard of +the progress of the war through Nombé, for Zikali I saw but seldom. +</p> + +<p> +She told of disasters to the English, of the death of a great young Chief who +was deserted by his companions and died fighting bravely—afterwards I +discovered that this was the Prince Imperial of France—of the advance of +our armies, of defeats inflicted upon Cetewayo’s impis, and finally of +the destruction of the Zulus on the battlefield of Ulundi, where they hurled +themselves by thousands upon the British square, to be swept away by case-shot +and the hail of bullets. This battle, by the way, the Zulus call, not Ulundi or +Nodwengu, for it was fought in front of Panda’s old kraal of that name, +but Ocwecweni, which means—“the fight of the sheet-iron +fortress.” I suppose they give it this name because the hedge of +bayonets, flashing in the sunlight, reminded them of sheet-iron. Or it may be +because these proved as impenetrable as would have done walls of iron. At any +rate they dashed their naked bodies against the storm of lead and fell in +heaps, only about a dozen of our men being killed, as the little graveyard in +the centre of the square entrenchment, about which still lie the empty +cartridge cases, records to-day. +</p> + +<p> +There, then, on that plain perished the Zulu kingdom which was built up by +Chaka. +</p> + +<p> +Now it was after this event that I saw Zikali and begged him to let us go. I +found him triumphant and yet strangely disturbed and, as I thought, more +apprehensive than I had ever seen him. +</p> + +<p> +“So, Zikali,” I said, “if what I hear is true, you have had +your way and destroyed the Zulu people. Now you should be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is man ever happy, Macumazahn, when he has gained that which he sought +for years? The two out there sigh and are sad because they cannot be married +after their own white fashion, though what there is to keep them apart I do not +know. Well, in time they will be married, only to find that they are not so +happy as they thought they would be. Oh! a day will come when they will talk to +each other and say—‘Those moons which we spent waiting together in +the Black Kloof were the true moons of sweetness, for then we had something to +gain; now we have gained all—and what is it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“So it is with me, Macumazahn. Since the Zulus under Chaka killed out my +people, the Ndwandwe, year by year I have plotted and waited to see them wedded +to the assegai. Now it has come about. You white men have stamped them flat +upon the plain of Ulundi; they are no more a nation. And yet I am not happy, +for after all it was the House of Senzangacona and not the people of the Zulus, +that harmed me and mine, and Cetewayo still lives. While the queen bee remains +there may be a hive again. While an ember still glows in the dead ashes, the +forest may yet be fired. Perhaps when Cetewayo is dead, then I shall be happy. +Only his death and mine are set by Fate as close together as two sister grains +of corn upon the cob.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned the subject, again asking his leave to depart to Natal or to join the +English army. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot go yet,” he answered sternly, “so trouble me no +more. The land is full of wandering bands of Zulus who would kill you and your +blood would be on my head. Moreover, if they saw a white woman who had +sheltered with me, might they not guess something? To dress a doll for the part +of the Inkosazana-y-Zulu is the greatest crime in the world, Macumazahn, and +what would happen to the Opener of Roads and all his House if it were even +breathed that he had dressed that doll and thus brought about the war which +ruined them? When Cetewayo is killed and the dead are buried and peace falls +upon the land, the peace of death, then you shall go, Macumazahn, and not +before.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, Zikali, send a message to the captains of the English army and +tell them that we are here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send a message to the hyenas and tell them where the carcase is; send a +message to the hunters and tell them where the buck Zikali crouches on its +form! Hearken, Macumazahn, if you do this, or even urge me again to do it, +neither you nor your friends shall ever leave the Black Kloof. I have +spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +Then understanding that the case was hopeless, I left him and he glowered after +me, for fear had made him cruel. He had won the long game and success had +turned to ashes in his mouth. Or rather, he had not won—yet—since +his war was against the House of Senzangacona from which he and his tribe had +suffered cruel wrong. To pull it down he must pull down the Zulu nation; it was +like burning a city to destroy a compromising letter. He had burnt the city, +but the letter still remained intact and might be produced in evidence against +him. In other words Cetewayo yet lived. Therefore his vengeance remained quite +unslaked and his danger was as great, or perhaps greater than it had ever been +before. For was he not the prophet who by producing the Princess of Heaven, the +traditional goddess of the Zulus, before the eyes of the king and Council, had +caused them to decide for war? And supposing it were so much as breathed that +this spirit which they seemed to see, had been but a trick and a fraud, what +then? He would be tortured to death if his dupes had time, or torn limb from +limb if they had not, that is if he could die like other men—a matter as +to which personally I had no doubts. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after I left Zikali Heda and I ate our evening meal together. Anscombe, +as it chanced, had gone by the secret path to the tableland of which I have +spoken, where he amused himself, as of course we were not allowed to fire a +gun, by catching partridges, with the help of an ingenious system of grass nets +which he had invented. There were springs on this tableland that formed little +pools of water, at which the partridges, also occasionally guineafowl and bush +pheasants, came to drink at sunrise and sunset. Here it was that he set his +nets and retired to work them at those hours by means of strings that he pulled +from hiding-places. So Heda and I were alone. +</p> + +<p> +I told her of my ill success with Zikali, at which she was much disappointed. +Then by an afterthought I suggested that perhaps she might try to do something +in the way of getting a message through to the English camp at Ulundi, or +elsewhere, by help of the witch-doctoress, Nombé, adding that I would speak to +her myself had I not observed that I seemed to be out of favour with her of +late. Heda shook her head and answered that she thought it would be useless to +try, also too dangerous. Remembering Zikali’s threat, on reflection I +agreed with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Mr. Quatermain,” she added, “is it possible for one +woman to be in love with another?” +</p> + +<p> +I stared at her and replied that I did not understand what she meant, since +women, so far as I had observed them, were generally in love either with a man +or with themselves, perhaps more often with the latter than the former. Rather +a cheap joke I admit, with just enough truth in it to make it +acceptable—in the Black Kloof. +</p> + +<p> +“So I thought,” she answered, “but really Nombé behaves in a +most peculiar way. As you know she took a fancy to me from the beginning, +perhaps because she had never had any other woman with whom to associate, +having, so far as I can make out, been brought up here among men from a child. +Indeed, her story is that she was one of twins and therefore as the younger, +was exposed to die according to the Zulu superstition. Zikali, however, or a +servant of his who knew what was happening, rescued and reared her, so +practically I am the only female with whom she has ever been intimate. At any +rate her affection for me has grown and grown until, although it seems +ungrateful to say so, it has become something of a nuisance. She has told me +again and again that she would die to protect me, and that if by chance +anything happened to me, she would kill herself and follow me into another +world. She is continually making divinations about my future, and as these, in +which she entirely believes, always show me as living without her, she is much +distressed and at times bursts into tears.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hysteria! It is very common among the Zulu women, and especially those +of them who practise magic arts,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, but as it results in the most intense jealousy, Nombé’s +hysteria is awkward. For instance, she is horribly jealous of Maurice.” +</p> + +<p> +“The instincts of a chaperone developed early,” I suggested again. +</p> + +<p> +“That won’t quite do, Mr. Quatermain,” answered Heda with a +laugh, “since she is even more jealous of you. With reference to Maurice, +she explains frankly that if we marry she might, as she puts it, +‘continue to sit outside the hut,’ but that in your case you live +‘in my head,’ where she cannot come between you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mad,” I remarked, “quite mad. Still madness has to be dealt +with in this world like other things, and Nombé, being an abnormal person, may +suffer from abnormal ideas. It just amounts to this; she has conceived a +passionate devotion to you, at which I am sure neither Maurice nor I can +wonder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are those the kind of compliments you used to pay in your youth, Mr. +Quatermain? I expect so, and now that you are old you cannot stop them. Well, I +thank you all the same, because perhaps you mean what you say. But what is to +be done about Nombé? Hush! here she comes. I will leave you to reason with her, +if you get the chance,” and she departed in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +Nombé arrived, and something in her aspect told me that I was going to get the +chance. Her eternal smile was almost gone and her dark, beautiful eyes flashed +ominously. Still she began by asking in a mild voice whether the lady Heddana +had eaten her supper with appetite. It will be observed that she was not +interested in my appetite or whether enough was left for Anscombe when he +returned. I replied that so far as I noted she had consumed about half a +partridge, with other things. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad,” said Nombé, “since I was not here to attend upon +her, having been summoned to speak with the Master.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she sat down and looked at me like a thunder storm. +</p> + +<p> +“I nursed you when you were so ill, Macumazahn,” she began, +“but now I learn that for the milk with which I fed you, you would force +me to drink bitter water that will poison me.” +</p> + +<p> +I replied I was well aware that without her nursing I should long ago have been +dead, which was what caused me to love her like my own daughter. But would she +kindly explain? This she did at once. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been plotting to take away from me the lady Heddana who to me +is as mother and sister and child. It is useless to lie to me, for the Master +has told me all; moreover, I knew it for myself, both through my Spirit and +because I had watched you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no intention of lying to you, Nombé, about this or any other +matter, though I think that sometimes in the past you have lied to me. Tell me, +do you expect the Inkosi Mauriti, the lady Heddana and myself to pass the rest +of our lives in the Black Kloof, when they wish to get married and go across +the Black Water to where their home will be, and I wish to attend to my +affairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what I expect, Macumazahn, but I do know that never while +I live will I be parted from the lady Heddana. At last I have found some one to +love, and you and the other would steal her away from me.” +</p> + +<p> +I studied her for a while, then asked— +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you not marry, Nombé, and have a husband, and children to +love?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marry?” she replied. “I am married to my Spirit which does +not dwell beneath the sun, and my children are not of earth; moreover, all men +are hateful to me,” and her eyes added, “especially you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a calf with a dog’s head,” I replied in the words of +the native proverb, meaning that she said what was not natural. “Well, +Nombé, if you are so fond of the lady Heddana, you had better arrange with her +and the Inkosi Mauriti to go away with them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know well I cannot, Macumazahn. I am tied to my Master by ropes that +are stronger than iron, and if I attempted to break them my Spirit would wither +and I should wither with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me! what a dreadful business. That is what comes of taking to +magic. Well, Nombé, I am afraid I have nothing to suggest, nor, to tell you the +truth, can I see what I have to do with the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she sprang up in a rage, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that not only will you give me no help, but that you also +mock at me, Macumazahn. Moreover, as it is with you, so it is with Mauriti, who +pretends to love my lady so much, though I love her more with my little finger +than he does with all his body and what he calls his soul. Yes, he too mocks at +me. Now if you were both dead,” she added with sudden venom, “my +lady would not wish to go away. Be careful lest a spell should fall upon you, +Macumazahn,” and without more words she turned and went. +</p> + +<p> +At first I was inclined to laugh; the whole thing seemed so absurd. On +reflection, however, I perceived that in reality it was very serious to people +situated as we were. This woman was a savage; more, a mystic savage of +considerable powers of mind—a formidable combination. Also there were no +restraints upon her, since public opinion had as little authority in the Black +Kloof as the Queen’s Writ. Lastly, it was not unknown for women to +conceive these violent affections which, if thwarted, filled them with +something like madness. Thus I remembered a very terrible occurrence of my +youth which resulted in the death of one who was most dear to me. I will not +dwell on it, but this, too, was the work of a passionate creature, woman I can +scarcely call her, who thought she was being robbed of one whom she adored. +</p> + +<p> +The end of it was that I did not enjoy my pipe that night, though luckily +Anscombe returned after a successful evening’s netting, about which he +was so full of talk that there was no need for me to say much. So I put off any +discussion of the problem until the morrow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +THE KING VISITS ZIKALI</h2> + +<p> +Next morning, as a result of my cogitations, I went to see Zikali. I was +admitted after a good deal of trouble and delay, for although his retinue was +limited and, with the exception of Nombé, entirely male, this old prophet kept +a kind of semi-state and was about as difficult to approach as a European +monarch. I found him crouching over a fire in his hut, since at this season of +the year even in that hot place the air was chilly until midday. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Macumazahn?” he asked. “As to your going away, +have patience. I learn that he who was King of the Zulus is in full flight, +with the white men tracking him like a wounded buck. When the buck is caught +and killed, then you can go.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is about Nombé,” I answered, and told him all the story, which +did not seem to surprise him at all. +</p> + +<p> +“Now see, Macumazahn,” he said, taking some snuff, “how hard +it is to dam up the stream of nature. This child, Nombé, is of my blood, one +whom I saved from death in a strange way, not because she was of my blood but +that I might make an experiment with her. Women, as you who are wise and have +seen much will know, are in truth superior to men, though, because they are +weaker in body, men have the upper hand of them and think themselves their +masters, a state they are forced to accept because they must live and cannot +defend themselves. Yet their brains are keener, as an assegai is keener than a +hoe; they are more in touch with the hidden things that shape out fate for +people and for nations; they are more faithful and more patient, and by +instinct if not by reason, more far-seeing, or at least the best of them are +so, and by their best, like men, they should be judged. Yet this is the hole in +their shield. When they love they become the slaves of love, and for +love’s sake all else is brought to naught, and for this reason they +cannot be trusted. With men, as you know, this is otherwise. They, too, love, +by Nature’s law, but always behind there is something greater than love, +although often they do not understand what that may be. To be powerful, +therefore, a woman must be one who does not love too much. If she cannot love +at all, then she is hated and has no power, but she must not love too much. +</p> + +<p> +“Once I thought that I had found such a woman; she was named Mameena, +whom all men worshipped and who played with all men, as I played with her. But +what was the end of it? Just as things were going very well she learned to love +too much some man of strange notions, who would have thwarted me and brought +everything to nothing, and therefore I had to kill her, for which I was +sorry.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he paused to take some more snuff, watching me over the spoon as he drew +it up his great nostrils, but as I said nothing, went on— +</p> + +<p> +“Now after Mameena was dead I bethought me that I would rear up a woman +who could still love but should never love a man and therefore never become mad +or foolish, because I believed that it was only man who in taking her heart +from woman, would take her wits also. This child, Nombé, came to my hand, and +as I thought, so I did. Never mind how I did it, by medicine perhaps, by magic +perhaps, by watering her pride and making it grow tall perhaps, or by all +three. At least it was done, and this I know of Nombé, she will never care for +any man except as a woman may care for a brother. +</p> + +<p> +“But now see what happens. She, the wise, the instructed, the +man-despiser, meets a woman of another race who is sweet and good, and learns +to love her, not as maids and mothers love, but as one loves the Spirit that +she worships. Yes, yes, to her she is a goddess to be worshipped, one whom she +desires to serve with all her heart and strength, to bow down before, making +offerings, and at the end to follow into death. So it comes about that this +Nombé, whose mind I thought to make as the wings of a bird floating on the air +while it searches for its prey, has become even madder than other women. It is +a disappointment to me, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be a disappointment to you, Zikali, and all that you say is very +interesting. But to us it is a danger. Tell me, will you command Nombé to cease +from her folly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will I forbid the mist to rise, or the wind to blow, or the lightning to +strike? As she is, she is. Her heart is filled with black jealousy of Mauriti +and of you, as a butcher’s gourd is filled with blood, for she is not one +who desires that her goddess should have other worshippers; she would keep her +for herself alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then in this way or in that the gourd must be emptied, Zikali, lest we +should be forced to drink from it and that black blood should poison us.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, unless it be broken, Macumazahn? If Heddana departs and leaves her, +she will go mad, and accompany her she cannot, for her Spirit dwells +here,” and he tapped his own breast. “It would pull her back again +and she would become a great trouble to me, for then that Spirit of hers would +not suffer me to sleep, with its continual startings in search of what it had +lost, and its returnings empty-handed. Well, have no fear, for at the worst the +bowl can be broken and the blood poured upon the earth, as I have broken finer +bowls than this before; had I all the bits of them they would make a heap so +high, Macumazahn!” and he held out his hand on a level with his head, a +gesture that made my back creep. “I will tell her this and it may keep +her quiet for a while. Of poison you need not be afraid, since unlike mine, her +Spirit hates it. Poison is not one of its weapons as it is with mine. But of +spells, beware, for her Spirit has some which are very powerful.” +</p> + +<p> +Now I jumped up, filled with indignation, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“I do not believe in Nombé’s spells, and in any case how am I to +guard against them?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you do not believe there is no need to guard, and if you do believe, +then it is for you to find out how to guard, Macumazahn. Oh! I could tell you +the story of a white teacher who did not believe and would not guard—but +never mind, never mind. Good-bye, Macumazahn, I will speak with Nombé. Ask her +for a lock of her hair to wear upon your heart after she has enchanted it. The +charm is good against spells. O-ho—Oho-o! What fools we are, white and +black together! That is what Cetewayo is thinking to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +After this Nombé became much more agreeable. That is to say she was very +polite, her smile was more fixed and her eyes more unfathomable than ever. +Evidently Zikali had spoken to her and she had listened. Yet to tell the truth +my distrust of this handsome young woman grew deeper day by day. I recognized +that there was a great gulf between her and the normal, that she was a creature +fashioned by Zikali who had trained her as a gardener trains a tree, nay, who +had done more, who had grafted some foreign growth of exotic and unnatural +spiritualism on to her primitive nature. The nature remained the same, but the +graft or grafts bore strange flowers and fruit, unholy flowers and poisonous +fruit. Therefore she was not to blame—sometimes I wonder whether in this +curious world, could one see their past and their future, anybody is to blame +for anything—but this did not make her the less dangerous. +</p> + +<p> +Some talks I had with her only increased my apprehensions, for I found that in +a way she had no conscience. Life, she told me, was but a dream, and all its +laws as evolved by man were but illusions. The real life was elsewhere. There +was the distant lake on which the flower of our true existence floated. Without +this unseen lake of supernatural water the flower could not float; indeed there +would be no flower. Moreover, the flower did not matter; sometimes it would +have this shape and colour, sometimes that. It was but a thing destined to grow +and bloom and rot, and during its day to be ugly or to be beautiful, to smell +sweet or ill, as it might chance, and ultimately to be absorbed back into the +general water of Life. +</p> + +<p> +I pointed out to her that all flowers had roots which grew in soil. Looking at +an orchid-like plant that crept along the bough of a tree, she answered that +this was not true as some grew upon air. But however this might be, the soil, +or the moisture in the air, was distilled from thousands of other flower lives +that had flourished in their day and been forgotten. It did not matter when +they died or how many other flowers they choked that they might live. Yet each +flower had its own spirit which always had been and always would be. +</p> + +<p> +I asked her of the end and the object of that spirit. She answered darkly that +she did not know and if she did, would not say, but that these were very +dreadful. +</p> + +<p> +Such were some of her vague and figurative assertions which I only record to +indicate their uncomfortable and indeed but half human nature. I forgot to add +that she declared that every flower or life had a twin flower or life, which in +each successive growth it was bound to find and bloom beside, or wither to the +root and spring again and that ultimately these two would become one, and as +one flourish eternally. Of all of which I understood and understand little, +except that she had grasped the elements of some truth which she could not +express in clear and definite language. +</p> + +<p> +One day I was seated in Zikali’s hut whither by permission I had come to +ask the latest news, when suddenly Nombé appeared and crouched down before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who gave you leave to enter here, and what is your business?” he +asked angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Home of Spirits,” she replied in a humble voice, “be not +angry with your servant. Necessity gave me leave, and my business is to tell +you that strangers approach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they that dare to enter the Black Kloof unannounced?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cetewayo the King is one of them, the others I do not know, but they are +many, armed all of them. They approach your gate; before a man can count two +hundred they will be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the white chief and the lady Heddana?” asked Zikali. +</p> + +<p> +“By good fortune they have gone by the secret path to the tableland and +will not be back till sunset. They wished to be alone, so I did not accompany +them, and Macumazahn here said that he was too weary to do so.” (This was +true. Also like Nombé I thought that they wished to be alone.) +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Go, tell the king that I knew of his coming and am awaiting him. +Bid my servants kill the ox which is in the kraal, the fat ox that they thought +is sick and therefore fit food for a sick king,” he added bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +She glided away like a startled snake. Then Zikali turned to me and said +swiftly— +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, you are in great danger. If you are found here you will be +killed, and so will the others whom I will send to warn not to return till this +king has gone away. Go at once to join them. No, it is too late, I hear the +Zulus come. Take that kaross, cover yourself with it and lie among the baskets +and beerpots here near the entrance of the hut in the deepest of the shadows, +so that if any enter, perchance you will not be found. I too am in danger who +shall be held to account for all that has happened. Perhaps they will kill me, +if I can be killed. If so, get away with the others as best you can. Nombé will +tell you where your horses are hidden. In that case let Heddana take Nombé with +her, for when I am dead she will go, and shake her off in Natal if she troubles +her. Whatever chances, remember, Macumazahn, that I have done my best to keep +my word to you and to protect you and your friends. Now I go to look on this +pricked bladder who was once a king.” +</p> + +<p> +He scrambled from the hut with slow, toad-like motions, while I with motions +that were anything but slow, grabbed the grey catskin kaross and ensconced +myself among the beerpots and mats in such a position that my head, over which +I set a three-legged carved stool of Zikali’s own cutting, was but a few +inches to the left of the door-hole and therefore in the deepest of the +shadows. Thence by stretching out my neck a little, I could see through the +hole, also hear all that passed outside. Unless a deliberate search of the hut +should be made I was fairly safe from observation, even if it were entered by +strangers. One fear I had, however, it was lest the dog Lost should get into +the place and smell me out. I had left him tied to the centre pole in my own +hut, because he hated Zikali and always growled at him. But suppose he gnawed +through the cord, or any one let him loose! +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had Zikali seated himself in his accustomed place before the hut, than +the gate of the outer fence opened and approaching through it I saw forty or +fifty fierce and way-worn men. In front of them, riding on a tired horse that +was led by a servant, was Cetewayo himself. He was assisted to dismount, or +rather threw his great bulk into the arms that were waiting to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +Then after some words with his following and with one of Zikali’s people, +followed by three or four indunas and leaning on the arm of Umnyamana, the +Prime Minister, he entered the enclosure, the rest remaining without. Zikali, +who sat as though asleep, suddenly appeared to wake up and perceive him. +Struggling to his feet he lifted his right arm and gave the royal salute of +Bayete, and with it titles of praise, such as “Black One!” +“Elephant!” “Earth-Shaker!” “Conqueror!” +“Eater-up of the White men!” “Child of the Wild Beast (Chaka) +whose teeth are sharper than the Wild Beast’s ever were!” and so +on, until Cetewayo, growing impatient, cried out— +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent, Wizard. Is this a time for fine words? Do you not know my +case that you offend my ears with them? Give us food to eat if you have it, +after which I would speak with you alone. Be swift also; here I may not stay +for long, since the white dogs are at my heels.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew that you were coming, O King, to honour my poor house with a +visit,” said Zikali slowly, “and therefore the ox is already killed +and the meat will soon be on the fire. Meanwhile drink a sup of beer, and +rest.” +</p> + +<p> +He clapped his hands, whereon Nombé and some servants appeared with pots of +beer, of which, after Zikali had tasted it to show that it was not poisoned, +the king and his people drank thirstily. Then it was taken to those outside. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this that my ears hear?” asked Zikali when Nombé and the +others had gone, “that the White Dogs are on the spoor of the Black +Bull?” +</p> + +<p> +Cetewayo nodded heavily, and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“My impis were broken to pieces on the plain of Ulundi; the cowards ran +from the bullets as children run from bees. My kraals are burnt and I, the +King, with but a faithful remnant fly for my life. The prophecy of the Black +One has come true. The people of the Zulus are stamped flat beneath the feet of +the great White People.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember that prophecy, O King. Mopo told it to me within an hour of +the death of the Black One when he gave me the little red-handled assegai that +he snatched from the Black One’s hand to do the deed. It makes me almost +young again to think of it, although even then I was old,” replied Zikali +in a dreamy voice like one who speaks to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Hearing him from under my kaross I bethought me that he had really grown old at +last, who for the moment evidently forgot the part which this very assegai had +played a few months before in the Vale of Bones. Well, even the greatest +masters make such slips at times when their minds are full of other things. But +if Zikali forgot, Cetewayo and his councillors remembered, as I could see by +the look of quick intelligence that flashed from face to face. +</p> + +<p> +“So! Mopo the murderer, he who vanished from the land after the death of +my uncle Dingaan, gave you the little red assegai, did he, Opener of Roads! And +but a few months ago that assegai, which old Sigananda knew again, thrown by +the hand of the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, drew blood from my body after the white man, +Macumazahn, had severed its shaft with his bullet. Now tell me, Opener of +Roads, how did it pass from your keeping into that of the spirit +Nomkubulwana?” +</p> + +<p> +At this question I distinctly saw a shiver shake the frame of Zikali who +realized too late the terrible mistake he had made. Yet as only the great can +do, he retrieved and even triumphed over his error. +</p> + +<p> +“Oho-ho!” he laughed, “who am I that I can tell how such +things happen? Do you not know, O King, that the Spirits leave what they will +and take what they will, whether it be but a blade of grass, or the life of a +man”—here he looked at Cetewayo—“or even of a people? +Sometimes they take the shadow and sometimes the substance, since spirit or +matter, all is theirs. As for the little assegai, I lost it years ago. I +remember that the last time I saw it was in the hands of a woman named Mameena +to whom I showed it as a strange and bloody thing. After her death I found that +it was gone, so doubtless she took it with her to the Under-world and there +gave it to the Queen Nomkubulwana, with whom you may remember this Mameena +returned from that Under-world yonder in the Bones.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be so,” said Cetewayo sullenly, “yet it was no spirit +iron that cut my thigh, but what do I know of the ways of Spirits? Wizard, I +would speak with you in your hut alone where no ear can hear us.” +</p> + +<p> +“My hut is the King’s,” answered Zikali, “yet let the +King remember that those Spirits of which he does not know the ways, can always +hear, yes, even the thoughts of men, and on them do judgment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fear not,” said Cetewayo, “amongst many other things I +remember this also.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Zikali turned and crept into the hut, whispering as he passed me— +</p> + +<p> +“Lie silent for your life.” And Cetewayo having bidden his retinue +to depart outside the fence and await him there, followed after him. +</p> + +<p> +They sat them down on either side of the smouldering fire and stared at each +other through the thin smoke there in the gloom of the hut. By turning my head +that the foot of the king had brushed as he passed, I could watch them both. +Cetewayo spoke the first in a hoarse, slow voice, saying— +</p> + +<p> +“Wizard, I am in danger of my life and I have come to you who know all +the secrets of this land, that you may tell me in what place I may hide where +the white men cannot find me. It must be told into my ear alone, since I dare +not trust the matter to any other, at any rate until I must. They are traitors +every man of them, yes, even those who seem to be most faithful. The fallen man +has no friends, least of all if he chances to be a king. Only the dead will +keep his counsel. Tell me of the place I need.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dingaan, who was before you, once asked this same thing of me, O King, +when he was flying from Panda your father, and the Boers. I gave him advice +that he did not take, but sought a refuge of his own upon a certain +Ghost-mountain. What happened to him there that Mopo, of whom you spoke a while +ago, can tell you if he still +lives.”<a href="#fn-21.1" name="fnref-21.1" id="fnref-21.1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn-21.1" id="fn-21.1"></a> <a href="#fnref-21.1">[1]</a> +See <i>Nada the Lily.</i>—E<small>DITOR</small>. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely you are an ill-omened night-bird who thus croak to me continually +of the death of kings,” broke in Cetewayo with suppressed rage. Then +calming himself with an effort added, “Tell me now, where shall I +hide?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you know, King? Then hearken. On the south slope of the Ingome +Range west of the Ibululwana River, on the outskirts of the great forest, there +is a kloof whereof the entrance, which only one man can pass at a time, is +covered by a thicket of thorns and marked by a black rock shaped like a great +toad with an open mouth, or, as some say, like myself, +'The-Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.’ Near to this rock dwells an +old woman, blind of one eye and lacking a hand, which the Black One cut off +shortly before his death, because when he killed her father, she saw the future +and prophesied a like death to him, although then she was but a child. This +woman is of our company, being a witch-doctoress. I will send a Spirit to her, +if you so will it, to warn her to watch for you and your company, O King, and +show you the mouth of the kloof, where are some old huts and water. There you +will never be found unless you are betrayed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who can betray me when none know whither I am going?” asked +Cetewayo. “Send the Spirit, send it at once, that this one-armed witch +may make ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the hurry, King, seeing that the forest is far away? Yet be it +as you will. Keep silence now, lest evil should befall you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then of a sudden Zikali seemed to go off into one of his trances. His form grew +rigid, his eyes closed, his face became fixed as though in death, and foam +appeared upon his lips. He was a dreadful sight to look on, there in the gloomy +hut. +</p> + +<p> +Cetewayo watched him and shivered. Then he opened his blanket and I perceived +that fastened about him by a loop of hide in such a fashion that it could be +drawn out in a moment, was the blade of a broad assegai, the shaft of which was +shortened to about six inches. His hand grasped this shaft, and I understood +that he was contemplating the murder of Zikali. Then it seemed to me that he +changed his mind and that his lips shaped the words—“Not +yet,” though whether he really spoke them I do not know. At least he +withdrew his hand and closed the blanket. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Zikali opened his eyes, staring at the roof of the hut, whence came a +curious sound as of squeaking bats. He looked like a dead man coming to life +again. For a few moments he turned up his ear as though he listened to the +squealing, then said— +</p> + +<p> +“It is well. The Spirit that I summoned has visited her of our company +who is named One-hand and returned with the answer. Did you not hear it +speaking in the thatch, O King?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard something, Wizard,” answered Cetewayo in an awed voice. +“I thought it was a bat.” +</p> + +<p> +“A bat it is, O King, one with wide wings and swift. This bat says that +my sister, One-hand, will meet you on the third day from now at this hour on +the further side of the ford of the Ibululwana, where three milk-trees grow +together on a knoll. She will be sitting under the centre milk-tree and will +wait for two hours, no more, to show you the secret entrance to the +kloof.” +</p> + +<p> +“The road is rough and long, I shall have to hurry when worn out with +travelling,” said Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, O King. Therefore my counsel is that you begin the journey +as soon as possible, especially as I seem to hear the baying of the white dogs +not far away.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Chaka’s head! I will not,” growled Cetewayo, “who +thought to sleep here in peace this night.” +</p> + +<p> +“As the King wills. All that I have is the King’s. Only then +One-hand will not be waiting and some other place of hiding must be found, +since this is known to me only and to her; also that Spirit which I sent will +make no second journey, nor can I travel to show it to the King.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Wizard, it is known to you and to myself. Methinks it would be +better were it known to me alone. I have a spoonful of snuff to share (i.e., a +bone to pick) with you, Wizard. It would seem that you set my feet and those of +the Zulu people upon a false road, yonder in the Vale of Bones, causing me to +declare war upon the white men and thereby bringing us all to ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap my memory grows bad, O King, for I do not remember that I did +these things. I remember that the spirit of a certain Mameena whom I called up +from the dead, prophesied victory to the King, which victory has been his. Also +it prophesied other victories to the King in a far land across the water, which +victories doubtless shall be his in due season; for myself I gave no +‘counsel to the King or to his indunas and generals.’” +</p> + +<p> +“You lie, Wizard,” exclaimed Cetewayo hoarsely. “Did you not +summon the shape of the Princess of Heaven to be the sign of war, and did she +not hold in her hand that assegai of the Black One which you have told me was +in your keeping? How did it pass from your keeping into the hand of a +spirit?” +</p> + +<p> +“As to that matter I have spoken, O King. For the rest, is Nomkubulwana +my servant to come and go at my bidding?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” said Cetewayo coldly. “I think also that you +who know the place where I purpose to hide, would do well to forget it. Surely +you have lived too long, O Opener of Roads, and done enough evil to the House +of Senzangacona, which you ever hated.” +</p> + +<p> +So he spoke, and once more I saw his hand steal towards the spearhead which was +hidden beneath the blanket that he wore. +</p> + +<p> +Zikali saw it also and laughed. “Oho!” he laughed, +“forgetting all my warnings, and that the day of my death will be his +own, the King thinks to kill me because I am old and feeble and alone and +unarmed. He thinks to kill me as the Black One thought, as Dingaan thought, as +even Panda thought, yet I live on to this day. Well, I bear no malice since it +is natural that the King should wish to kill one who knows the secret of where +he would hide himself for his own life’s sake. That spearhead which the +King is fingering is sharp, so sharp that my bare breast cannot turn its edge. +I must find me a shield! I must find me a shield! Fire, you are not yet dead. +Awake, make smoke to be my shield!” and he waved his long, monkey-like +arms over the embers, from which instantly there sprang up a reek of thin white +smoke that appeared to take a vague and indefinite shape which suggested the +shadow of a man; for to me it seemed a nebulous and wavering shadow, no more. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you staring at, O King?” went on Zikali in a fierce and +thrilling voice. “Who is it that you see? Who has the fire sent to be my +shield? Ghosts are so thick here that I do not know. I cannot tell one of them +from the other. Who is it? Who, who of all that you have slain and who +therefore are your foes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Umbelazi, my brother,” groaned Cetewayo. “My brother +Umbelazi stands before me with spear raised; he whom I brought to his death at +the battle of the Tugela. His eyes flame upon me, his spear is raised to +strike. He speaks words I cannot understand. Protect me, O Wizard! Lord of +Spirits, protect me from the spirit of Umbelazi.” +</p> + +<p> +Zikali laughed wildly and continued to wave his arms above the fire from which +smoke poured ever more densely, till the hut was full of it. +</p> + +<p> +When it cleared away again Cetewayo was gone! +</p> + +<p> +“Saw you ever the like of that?” said Zikali, addressing the kaross +under which I was sweltering. “Tell me, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, thrusting out my head as a tortoise does, +“when in this very hut you seemed to produce the shape, also out of +smoke, I think, of one whom I used to know. Say, how do you do it, +Zikali?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do it. Who knows? Perchance I do nothing. Perchance I think and you +fools see, no more. Or perchance the spirits of the dead who are so near to us, +come at my call and take themselves bodies out of the charmed smoke of my fire. +You white men are wise, answer your own question, Macumazahn. At least that +smoke or that ghost saved me from a spear thrust in the heart, wherewith +Cetewayo was minded to pay me for showing him a hiding-place which he desired +should be secret to himself alone. Well, well, I can pay as well as Cetewayo +and my count is longer. Now lie you still, Macumazahn, for I go out to watch. +He will not bide long in this place which he deems haunted and ill-omened. He +will be gone ere sunset, that is within an hour, and sleep elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he crept from the hut and presently, though I could see nothing, for now +the gate of the fence was shut, I heard voices debating and finally that of +Cetewayo say angrily— +</p> + +<p> +“Have done! It is my will. You can eat your food outside of this place +which is bewitched; the girl will show us where are the huts of which the +wizard speaks.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later Zikali crept back into the hut, laughing to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“All is safe,” he said, “and you can come out of your hole, +old jackal. He who calls himself a king is gone, taking with him those whom he +thinks faithful, most of whom are but waiting a chance to betray him. What did +I say, a king? Nay, in all Africa there is no slave so humble or so wretched as +this broken man. Oh! feather by feather I have plucked my fowl and by and by I +shall cut his throat. You will be there, Macumazahn, you will be there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust not,” I answered as I mopped my brow. “We have been +near enough to throat-cutting this afternoon to last me a long while. Where has +the king gone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not far, Macumazahn. I have sent Nombé to guide him to the huts in the +little dip five spear throws to the right of the mouth of the kloof where live +the old herdsman and his people who guard my cattle. He and all the rest are +away with the cattle that are hidden in the Ceza Forest out of reach of the +white men, so the huts are empty. Oh! now I read what you are thinking. I do +not mean that he should be taken there. It is too near my house and the king +still has friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you send Nombé?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because he would have no other guide, who does not trust my men. He +means to keep her with him for some days and then let her go, and thus she will +be out of mischief. Meanwhile you and your friends can depart untroubled by her +fancies, and join the white men who are near. Tomorrow you shall start.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is good,” I said with a sigh of relief. Then an idea struck +me and I added, “I suppose no harm will come to Nombé, who might be +thought to know too much?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not,” he replied indifferently, “but that is a matter +for her Spirit to decide. Now go, Macumazahn, for I am weary.” +</p> + +<p> +I also was weary after my prolonged seclusion under that very hot skin rug. For +be it remembered I was not yet strong again, and although this was not the real +reason why I had stopped behind when the others went to the plateau, I still +grew easily tired. My real reason was that of Nombé—that I thought they +preferred to be alone. I looked about me and saw with relief that Cetewayo and +every man of his retinue were really gone. They had not even waited to eat the +ox that had been killed for them, but had carried off the meat with other +provisions to their sleeping-place outside the kloof. Having made sure of this +I went to my hut and loosed Lost that fortunately enough had been unable to +gnaw through the thick buffalo-hide riem with which I had fastened him to the +pole. +</p> + +<p> +He greeted me with rapture as though we had been parted for years. Had he +belonged to Ulysses himself he could not have been more joyful. When one is +despondent and lonesome, how grateful is the whole-hearted welcome of a dog +which, we are sometimes tempted to think, is the only creature that really +cares for us in the world. Every other living thing has side interests of its +own, but that of a dog is centred in its master, though it is true that it also +dreams affectionately of dinner and rabbits. +</p> + +<p> +Then with Lost at my feet I sat outside the hut smoking and waiting for the +return of Anscombe and Heda. Presently I caught sight of them in the gloaming. +Their arms were around one another, and in some remarkable way they had managed +to dispose their heads, forgetting that the sky was still light behind them, in +such fashion that it was difficult to tell one from the other. I reflected that +it was a good thing that at last we were escaping from this confounded kloof +and country for one where they could marry and make an end, and became +afflicted with a sneezing fit. +</p> + +<p> +Heda asked where Nombé was and why supper was not ready, for Nombé played the +part of cook and parlourmaid combined. I told her something of what had +happened, whereon Heda, who did not appreciate its importance in the least, +remarked that she, Nombé, might as well have put on the pot before she went and +done sundry other things which I forget. Ultimately we got something to eat and +turned in, Heda grumbling a little because she must sleep alone, for she had +grown used to the company of the ever-watchful Nombé, who made her bed across +the door-hole of the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Anscombe was soon lost in dreams, if he did dream, but I could not sleep well +that night. I was fearful of I knew not what, and so, I think, was Lost, for he +fidgeted and kept poking me with his nose. At last, I think it must have been +about two hours after midnight, he began to growl. I could hear nothing, +although my ears are sharp, but as he went on growling I crept to the door-hole +and drew aside the board. Lost slipped out and vanished, while I waited, +listening. Presently I thought I heard a soft foot-fall and a whisper, also +that I saw the shape of a woman which reminded me of Nombé, shown faintly by +the starlight. It vanished in a moment and Lost returned wagging his tail, as +he might well have done if it were Nombé who was attached to the dog. As +nothing further happened I went back to bed, reflecting that I was probably +mistaken, since Nombé had been sent away for some days by Zikali and would +scarcely dare to return at once, even if she could do so. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly before daylight Lost began to growl again in a subdued and thunderous +fashion. This time I got up and dressed myself more or less. Then I went out. +The dawn was just breaking and by its light I saw a strange scene. About fifty +yards away in the narrow nek that ran over some boulders to the site of our +huts, stood what seemed to be the goddess Nomkubulwana as I had seen her on the +point of rock in the Vale of Bones. She wore the same radiant dress and in the +dim glow had all the appearance of a white woman. I stood amazed, thinking that +I dreamt, when from round the bend emerged a number of Zulus, creeping forward +stealthily with raised spears. +</p> + +<p> +They caught sight of the supernatural figure which barred their road, halted +and whispered to each other. Then they turned to fly, but before they went one +of them, as it seemed to me through sheer terror, hurled his assegai at the +figure which remained still and unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +In thirty seconds they were gone; in sixty their footsteps had died away. Then +the figure wheeled slowly round and by the strengthening light I perceived that +a spear transfixed its breast. +</p> + +<p> +As it sank to the ground I ran up to it. It was Nombé with her face and arms +whitened and her life-blood running down the glittering feather robe. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +THE MADNESS OF NOMBÉ</h2> + +<p> +The dog reached Nombé first and began to lick her face, its tongue removing +patches of the white which had not had time to dry. She was lying, her back +supported by one of the boulders. With her left hand she patted the dog’s +head feebly and with her right drew out the assegai from her body, letting it +fall upon the ground. Recognizing me she smiled in her usual mysterious fashion +and said— +</p> + +<p> +“All is well, Macumazahn, all is very well. I have deserved to die and I +do not die in vain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk, let me see your wound,” I exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +She opened her robe and pointed; it was quite a small gash beneath the breast +from which blood ebbed slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it be, Macumazahn,” she said. “I am bleeding inside and +it is mortal. But I shall not die yet. Listen to me while I have my mind. +Yesterday when Mauriti and Heddana went up to the plain I wished to go with +them because I had news that Zulus were wandering everywhere and thought that I +might be able to protect my mistress from danger. Mauriti spoke to me roughly, +telling me that I was not wanted. Of that I thought little, for to such words I +am accustomed from him; moreover, they are to be forgiven to a man in love. But +it did not end there, for my lady Heddana also pierced me with her tongue, +which hurt more than this spear thrust does, Macumazahn, for I could see that +her speech had been prepared and that she took this chance to throw it at me. +She said that I did not know where I should sit; that I was a thorn beneath her +nail, and that whenever she wished to talk with Mauriti, or with you, +Macumazahn, I was ever there with my ear open like the mouth of a gourd. She +commanded me in future to come only when I was called; all of which things I am +sure Mauriti had taught her, who in herself is too gentle even to think +them—unless you taught her, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head and she went on— +</p> + +<p> +“No, it was not you who also are too gentle, and having suffered +yourself, can feel for those who suffer, which Mauriti who has never suffered +cannot do. Still, you too thought me a trouble, one that sticks in the flesh +like a hooked thorn, or a tick from the grass, and cannot be unfastened. You +spoke to the Master about it and he spoke to me.” +</p> + +<p> +This time I nodded in assent. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not blame you, Macumazahn; indeed now I see that you were wise, for +what right has a poor black doctoress to seek the love, or even to look upon +the face of the great white lady whom for a little while Fate has caused to +walk upon the same path with her? But yesterday I forgot that, Macumazahn, for +you see we are all of us, not one self, but many selves, and each self has its +times of rule. Nombé alive and well was one woman, Nombé dying is another, and +doubtless Nombé dead will be a third, unless, as she prays, she should sleep +for ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn, those words of Heddana’s were to me what gall is to +sweet milk. My blood clotted and my heart turned sour. It was not against her +that I was angry, because that can never happen, but against Mauriti and +against you. My Spirit whispered in my ear. It said, ‘If Mauriti and +Macumazahn were dead the lady Heddana would be left alone in a strange land. +Then she would learn to rest upon you as upon a stick, and learn to love the +stick on which she rested, though it be so rough and homely.’ But how can +I kill them, I asked of my Spirit, and myself escape death? +</p> + +<p> +“‘Poison is forbidden to you by the pact between us,’ +answered my Spirit, ‘yet I will show you a way, who am bound to serve you +in all things good or ill.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then we nodded to each other in my breast, Macumazahn, and I waited for +what should happen who knew that my Spirit would not lie. Yes, I waited for a +chance to kill you both, forgetting, as the wicked forget in their madness, +that even if I were not found out, soon or late Heddana would guess the truth +and then, even if she had learned to love me a thousand times more than she +ever could, would come to hate me as a mother hates a snake that has slain her +child. Or even if she never learned or guessed in life, after death she would +learn and hunt me and spit on me from world to world as a traitoress and a +murderer, one who has sinned past pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she seemed to grow faint and I turned to seek for help. But she caught +hold of my coat and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me out, Macumazahn, or I will run after you till I fall and +die.” +</p> + +<p> +So thinking it best, I stayed and she went on— +</p> + +<p> +“My Spirit, which must be an evil one since Zikali gave it me when I was +made a doctoress, dealt truly with me, for presently the king and his people +came. Moreover, my Spirit brought it about that the king would have no other +guide but me to lead him to the kraal where he slept last night, and I went as +though unwillingly. At the kraal the king sent for me and questioned me in a +dark hut, pretending to be alone, but I who am a doctoress knew that two other +men were in that hut, taking note of all my words. He asked me of the +Inkosazana-y-Zulu who appeared in the Vale of Bones and of the little assegai +she held in her hand, and of the magic of the Opener of Roads, and many other +things. I said that I knew nothing of the Inkosazana, but that without doubt my +Master was a great magician. He did not believe me. He threatened that I should +be tortured very horribly and was about to call his servants to torment me till +I told the truth. Then my Spirit spoke in my heart saying, ‘Now the door +is open to you, as I promised. Tell the king of the two white men whom the +Master hides, and he will send to kill them, leaving the lady Heddana and you +alone together.’ So I pretended to be afraid and told him, whereon he +laughed and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“‘For your sake I am glad, girl, that you have spoken the truth; +besides it is useless to torture a witch, since then the spirit in her only +vomits lies.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Next he called aloud and a man came, who it was I could not see in the +dark. The king commanded him to take me to one of the other huts and tie me up +there to the roof-pole. The man obeyed, but he did not tie me up; he only +blocked the hut with the door-board, and sat with me there in the dark alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I grew cunning and began to talk with him, spreading a net of sweet +words, as the fowler spreads a net for cranes from which he would tear the +crests. Soon by his talk I found out that the king and his people knew more +than I guessed. Macumazahn, they had seen the cart which still stands under the +overhanging rock by the mouth of the cave. I asked him if that were all, +pretending that the cart belonged to my Master, to whom it had been brought +from the field of Isandhlwana, that he might be drawn about in it, who was too +weak to walk. +</p> + +<p> +“The man said that if I would kiss him he would tell me everything. I +bade him tell me first, swearing that then I would kiss him. Yes, Macumazahn, +I, whom no man’s lips have ever touched, fell as low as this. So he grew +foolish and told me. He told me that they had also seen a kappje such as white +women wear, hanging on the hut fence, and I remembered that after washing the +headdress of my mistress I had set it there to dry in the sun. He told me also +that the King suspected that she who wore that kappje was she who had played +the part of the Inkosazana in the Vale of Bones. I asked him what the king +would do about the matter, at the same time denying that there was any white +woman in the Black Kloof. He said that at dawn the king would send and kill +these foreign rats, whom the Opener of Roads kept in the thatch of his hut. Now +he drew near and asked his pay. I gave it to him—with a knife-point, +Macumazahn. Oh! that was a good thrust. He never spoke again. Then I slipped +away, for all the others were asleep, and was here a little after +midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I saw you, Nombé,” I said, “but was not sure, so I +did nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled and answered— +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I was afraid that the Watcher-by-Night would be watching by night; +also the dog ran up to me, but he knew me and I sent him back again. Now while +I was coming home, thoughts entered my heart. I saw, as one sees by a lightning +flash, all that I had done. The king and his people were not sure that the +Master was hiding white folk here and would never have sent back to kill them +on the chance. I had made them sure, as indeed, being mad, I meant to do. +Moreover, in throwing spears at the kites I had killed my own dove, since it +was on the false Inkosazana who had caused them to declare war and brought the +land to ruin, that they wished to be avenged, and perchance on him who taught +her her part, not on one or two wandering white men. I saw that when +Cetewayo’s people came, and there were many more of them outside, several +hundreds I think, they would shave the whole head and burn the whole tree. +Every one in the kloof would be killed. +</p> + +<p> +“How could I undo the knot that I had tied and stamp out the fire that I +had lit? That was the question. I bethought me of coming to you, but without +arms how could you help? I bethought me of going to the Master, but I was +ashamed. Also, what could he do with but a few servants, for the most of his +people are away with the cattle? He is too weak to climb the steep path to the +plain above, nor was there time to gather folk to carry him. Lastly, even if +there were time which there was not, and we went thither they would track us +out and kill us. For the rest I did not care, nor for myself, but that the lady +Heddana should be butchered who was more to me than a hundred lives, and +through my treachery—ah! for that I cared. +</p> + +<p> +“I called on my Spirit to help me, but it would not come. My Spirit was +dead in me because now I would do good and not ill. Yet another Spirit came, +that of one Mameena whom once you knew. She came angrily, like a storm, and I +shrank before her. She said, ‘Vile witch, you have plotted to murder +Macumazahn, and for that you shall answer to me before another sun has set over +this earth of yours. Now you seek a way of escape from your own wickedness. +Well, it can be had, but at a price.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What price, O Lady of Death?’ I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The price of your own life, Witch.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I laughed into that ghost face of hers and said— +</p> + +<p> +“‘Is this all? Be swift and show me the way, O Lady of Death, and +afterwards we will balance our account.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then she whispered into the ear of my heart and was gone. I ran on, for +the dawn was near. I whitened myself with lime, I put on the glittering cloak +and powdered my hair with the sparkling earth. I took a little stick in my hand +since I could find no spear and had no time to search, and just as day began to +break, I crept out and stood in the bend of the path. The slayers came, twelve +or so of them, but behind were many more. They saw the Inkosazana-y-Zulu +barring their way and were much afraid. They fled, but out of his fright one of +them threw a spear which went home, as I knew it would. He watched to see if I +should fall, but I would not fall. Then he fled faster than the rest, knowing +himself accursed who had lifted steel against the Queen of Heaven, and oh! I am +glad, I am glad!” +</p> + +<p> +She ceased, exhausted, yet with a great exultation in her beautiful eyes; +indeed at that moment she looked a most triumphant creature. I stared at her, +thrilled through and through. She had been wicked, no doubt, but how splendid +was her end; and, thank Heaven! she was troubled with no thought of what might +befall her after that end, although I was sure she believed that she would live +again to face Mameena. +</p> + +<p> +I knew not what to do. I did not like to leave her, especially as no earthly +power could help her case, since slowly but quite surely she was bleeding to +death from an internal wound. By now the sun was up and Zikali’s people +were about. One of them appeared suddenly and saw, then with a howl of terror +turned to fly away. +</p> + +<p> +“Fool! Fool!” I cried, “go summon the lady Heddana and the +Inkosi Mauriti. Bid them come swiftly if they would see the doctoress Nombé +before she dies.” +</p> + +<p> +The man leapt off like a buck, and within a few minutes I saw Heda and Anscombe +running towards us, half dressed, and went to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“I have only time to tell you this,” I answered. “Nombé is +dying. She gave her life to save you, how I will explain afterwards. The +assegai that pierced her was meant for your heart. Go, thank her, and bid her +farewell. Anscombe, stop back with me.” +</p> + +<p> +We stood still and watched from a little distance. Heda knelt down and put her +arms about Nombé. They whispered together into each other’s ears. Then +they kissed. +</p> + +<p> +It was at this moment that Zikali appeared, leaning on two of his servants. By +some occult art or instinct he seemed to know all that had happened, and oh! he +looked terrible. He crouched down in front of the dying woman and, toadlike, +spat his venom at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You lost your Spirit, did you?” he said. “Well, it came back +to me laden with the black honey of your treachery, to me, its home, as a bee +comes to its hive. It has told me everything, and well for you, Witch, it is +that you are dying. But think not that you shall escape me there in the world +below, for thither I will follow you. Curses on you, traitress, who would have +betrayed me and brought all my plans to naught. Ow! in a day to come I will pay +you back a full harvest for this seed of shame that you have sown.” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her eyes and looked at him, then answered quite softly— +</p> + +<p> +“I think your chain is broken, O Zikali, no more my master. I think that +love has cut your chain in two and I fear you never more. Keep the spirit you +lent to me; it is yours, but the rest of me is my own, and in the house of my +heart another comes to dwell.” +</p> + +<p> +Then once more she stretched out her arms towards Heda and murmuring, +“Sister, forget me not, Sister, who will await you for a thousand +years,” she passed away. +</p> + +<p> +It was a good ending to a bad business, and I confess I felt glad when it was +finished. Only afterwards I regretted very much that I had not found an +opportunity to ask her whether or no she had masqueraded as Mameena in the +Valley of Bones. Now it is too late. +</p> + +<p> +We buried poor Nombé decently in her own little hut where she used to practise +her incantations. Zikali and his people wished apparently to throw her to the +vultures for some secret reason that had to do with their superstitions. But +Heda, who, now that Nombé was dead, developed a great affection for her not +unmixed with a certain amount of compunction for which really she had no cause, +withstood him to his face and insisted upon a decent interment. So she was laid +to earth still plastered with the white pigment and wrapped in the bloodstained +feather robe. I may add that on the following morning one of Zikali’s +servants informed me solemnly that because of this she had been seen during the +night riding up and down the rocks on a baboon as Zulu umtagati are supposed to +do. I have small doubt that as soon as we were gone they dug her up again and +threw her to the vultures and the jackals according to their first intention. +</p> + +<p> +On this day we at length escaped from the Black Kloof, and in our own cart, for +during the night our horses arrived mysteriously from somewhere, in good +condition though rather wild. I went to say good-bye to Zikali, who said +little, except that we should meet once more after many moons. Anscombe and +Heda he would not see at all, but only sent them a message, to the effect that +he hoped they would think kindly of him through the long years to come, since +he had kept his promise and preserved them safe through many dangers. I might +have answered that he had first of all put them into the dangers, but +considered it wise to hold my tongue. I think, however, that he guessed my +thought, if one can talk of guessing in connection with Zikali, for he said +that they had no reason to thank him, since if he had served their turn they +had served his, adding— +</p> + +<p> +“It will be strange in the times to be for the lady Heddana to remember +that it was she and no other who crumpled up the Zulus like a frostbitten +winter reed, since had she not appeared upon the rock in the Valley of Bones, +there would have been no war.” +</p> + +<p> +“She did not do this, you did it, Zikali,” I said, “making +her your tool through love and fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Macumazahn, I did not do it; it was done by what you call God and I +call Fate in whose hand I am the tool. Well, say to the lady Heddana that in +payment I will hold back the ghost of Nombé from haunting her, if I can. Say +also that if I had not brought her and her lover to Zululand they would have +been killed.” +</p> + +<p> +So we went from that hateful kloof which I have never seen since and hope I +shall never see again, two of Zikali’s men escorting us until we got into +touch with white people. To these we said as little as possible. I think they +believed that we were only premature tourists who had made a dash into Zululand +to visit some of the battlefields. Indeed none of us ever reported our strange +adventures, and after my experience with Kaatje we were particularly careful to +say nothing in the hearing of any gentleman connected with the Press. But as a +matter of fact there were so many people moving about and such a continual +coming and going of soldiers and their belongings, that after we had managed to +buy some decent clothes, which we did at the little town of Newcastle, nobody +paid any attention to us. +</p> + +<p> +On our way to Maritzburg one amusing thing did happen. We met Kaatje! It was +about sunset that we were driving up a steep hill not far from Howick. At least +I was driving, but Anscombe and Heda were walking about a hundred yards ahead +of the cart, when suddenly Kaatje appeared over a rise and came face to face +with them while taking an evening stroll, or as I concluded afterwards, making +some journey. She saw, she stared, she uttered one wild yell, and suddenly +bundled over the edge of the road. Never would I have believed that such a fat +woman could have run so fast. In a minute she was down the slope and had +vanished into a dense kloof where, as night was closing in and we were very +tired, it was impossible for us to follow her. Nor did subsequent inquiry in +Howick tell us where she was living or whence she came, for some months before +she had left the place she had taken there as a cook. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the end of Kaatje so far as we were concerned. Doubtless to her dying +day she remained, or will remain, a firm believer in ghosts. +</p> + +<p> +Anscombe and Heda were married at Maritzburg as soon as the necessary +formalities had been completed. I could not attend the ceremony, which was a +disappointment to me and I hope to them, but unfortunately I had a return of my +illness and was laid up for a week. Perhaps this was owing to the hot sun that +struck me on the neck one afternoon coming down the Town Hill where I was +obliged to hang on to the rear of the cart because the brakes had given out. +However I was able to send Heda a wedding gift in the shape of her jewels and +money that I recovered from the bank, which she had never expected to see +again; also to arrange everything about her property. +</p> + +<p> +They went down to Durban for their honeymoon and, some convenient opportunity +arising, sailed thence for England. I received an affectionate letter from them +both, which I still treasure, thanking me very much for all I had done for +them, that after all was little enough. Also Anscombe enclosed a blank cheque, +begging me to fill it in for whatever sum I considered he was indebted to me on +the balance of account. I thought this very kind of him and a great mark of +confidence, but the cheque remained blank. +</p> + +<p> +I never saw either of them again, and though I believe that they are both +living, for the most part abroad—in Hungary I think—I do not +suppose that I ever shall. When I came to England some years later after King +Solomon’s mines had made me rich, I wrote Anscombe a letter. He never +answered it, which hurt me at the time. Afterwards I remembered that in their +fine position it was very natural that they should not wish to renew +acquaintance with an individual who had so intimate a knowledge of certain +incidents that they probably regarded as hateful, such as the deaths of Marnham +and Dr. Rodd, and all the surrounding circumstances. If so, I daresay that they +were wise, but of course it may have been only carelessness. It is so easy for +busy and fashionable folk not to answer a rather troublesome letter, or to +forget to put that answer in the post. Or, indeed, the letter may never have +reached them—such things often go astray, especially when people live +abroad. At any rate, perhaps through my own fault, we have drifted apart. I +daresay they believe that I am dead, or not to be found somewhere in Africa. +However, I always think of them with affection, for Anscombe was one of the +best travelling companions I ever had, and his wife a most charming girl, and +wonder whether Zikali’s prophecy about their children will come true. +Good luck go with them! +</p> + +<p> +As it chances, since then I passed the place where the Temple stood, though at +a little distance. I had the curiosity, however, at some inconvenience, to ride +round and examine the spot. I suppose that Heda had sold the property, for a +back-veld Boer, who was absent at the time, had turned what used to be +Rodd’s hospital into his house. Close by, grim and gaunt, stood the +burnt-out marble walls of the Temple. The verandah was still roofed over, and +standing on the spot whence I had shot the pistol out of Rodd’s hand, I +was filled with many memories. +</p> + +<p> +I could trace the whole plan of the building and visited that part of it which +had been Marnham’s room. The iron safe that stood in the corner had been +taken away, but the legs of the bedstead remained. Also not far from it, +overgrown with running plants, was a little heap which I took to be the ashes +of his desk, for bits of burnt wood protruded. I grubbed among them with my +foot and riding crop and presently came across the remains of a charred human +skull. Then I departed in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +My way took me through the Yellow-wood grove, past the horns of the blue +wildebeeste which still lay there, past that mud-hole also into which Rodd had +fallen dead. Here, however, I made no more search, who had seen enough of +bones. To this day I do not know whether he still lies beneath the slimy ooze, +or was removed and buried. +</p> + +<p> +Also I saw the site of our wagon camp where the Basutos attacked us. But I will +have done with these reminiscences which induce melancholy, though really there +is no reason why they should. +</p> + +<p> +Tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe—everything wears out, everything +crumbles, everything vanishes—in the words of the French proverb that my +friend Sir Henry Curtis is so fond of quoting, that at last I wrote it down in +my pocket-book, only to remember afterwards that when I was a boy I had heard +it from the lips of an old scamp of a Frenchman, of the name of Leblanc, who +once gave me and another lessons in the Gallic tongue. But of him I have +already written in <i>Marie,</i> which is the first chapter in the Book of the +fall of the Zulus. That headed <i>Child of Storm</i> is the second. These pages +form the third and last. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! indeed, tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> +THE KRAAL JAZI</h2> + +<p> +Now I shall pass over all the Zulu record of the next four years, since after +all it has nothing to do with my tale and I do not pretend to be writing a +history. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Garnet Wolseley set up his Kilkenny cat Government in Zululand, or the Home +Government did it for him, I do not know which. In place of one king, thirteen +chiefs were erected who got to work to cut the throats of each other and of the +people. +</p> + +<p> +As I expected would be the case, Zikali informed the military authorities of +the secret hiding-place in the Ingome Forest where he suggested to Cetewayo +that he should refuge. The ex-king was duly captured there and taken first to +the Cape and then to England, where, after the disgrace of poor Sir Bartle +Frere, an agitation had been set on foot on his behalf. Here he saw the Queen +and her ministers, once more conquering, as it had been prophesied that he +would by her who wore the shape of Mameena at the memorable scene in the Valley +of Bones when I was present. Often I have thought of him dressed in a black +coat and seated in that villa in Melbury Road in the suburb of London which I +understand is populated by artists. A strange contrast truly to the savage +prince receiving the salute of triumph after the Battle of the Tugela in which +he won the kingship, or to the royal monarch to whose presence I had been +summoned at Ulundi. However, he was brought back to Zululand again by a British +man-of-war, re-installed to a limited chieftainship by Sir Theophilus +Shepstone, and freed from the strangling embrace of the black coat. +</p> + +<p> +Then of course there was more fighting, as every one knew would happen, except +the British Colonial Office; indeed all Zululand ran with blood. For in England +Cetewayo and his rights, or wrongs, had, like the Boers and their rights, or +wrongs, become a matter of Party politics to which everything else must give +way. Often I wonder whether Party politics will not in the end prove the ruin +of the British Empire. Well, thank Heaven, I shall not live to learn. +</p> + +<p> +So Cetewayo came back and fought and was defeated by those who once had been +his subjects. Now for the last scene, that is all with which I need concern +myself. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of February, 1884, business took me to Zululand; it had to do +with a deal in cattle and blankets. As I was returning towards the Tugela who +should I meet but friend Goza, he who had escorted me from the Black Kloof to +Ulundi before the outbreak of war, and who afterwards escorted me and that +unutterable nuisance, Kaatje, out of the country. At first I thought that we +came together by accident, or perhaps that he had journeyed a little way to +thank me for the blankets which I had sent to him, remembering my ancient +promise, but afterwards I changed my opinion on this point. +</p> + +<p> +Well, we talked over many matters, the war, the disasters that had befallen +Zululand, and so forth. Especially did we talk of that night in the Valley of +Bones and the things we had seen there side by side. I asked him if the people +still believed in the Inkosazana-y-Zulu who then appeared in the moonlight on +the rock. He answered that some did and some did not. For his part, he added, +looking at me fixedly, he did not, since it was rumoured that Zikali had +dressed up a white woman to play the part of the Spirit. Yet he could not be +sure of the matter, since it was also said that when some of Cetewayo’s +people went to kill this white woman in the Black Kloof, Nomkubulwana, the +Princess of Heaven herself, rose before them and frightened them away. +</p> + +<p> +I remarked that this was very strange, and then quite casually asked him whom +Zikali had dressed up to play the part of the dead Mameena upon that same +occasion, since this was a point upon which I always thirsted for definite +intelligence. He stared at me and replied that I ought to be able to answer my +own question, since I had been much nearer to her who looked like Mameena than +any one else, so near indeed that all present distinctly saw her kiss me, as it +was well known she had liked to do while still alive. I replied indignantly +that they saw wrong and repeated my question. Then he answered straight +out— +</p> + +<p> +“O Macumazahn, we Zulus believe that what we saw on that night was not +Nombé or another dressed up, but the spirit of the witch Mameena itself. We +believe it because we could see the light of Zikali’s fire through her, +not always, but sometimes; also because all that she said has come true, though +everything is not yet finished.” +</p> + +<p> +I could get no more out of him about the matter, for when I tried to speak of +it again, he turned the subject, telling me of his wonderful escapes during the +war. Presently he rose to go and said casually— +</p> + +<p> +“Surely I grow old in these times of trouble, Macumazahn, for thoughts +slip through my head like water through the fingers. Almost I had forgotten +what I wished to say to you. The other day I met Zikali, the Opener of Roads. +He told me that you were in Zululand and that I should meet you—he did +not say where, only that when I did meet you, I was to give you a message. This +was the message—that when on your way to Natal you came to the kraal +Jazi, you would find him there; also another whom you used to know, and must be +sure not to go away without seeing him, since that was about to happen in which +you must take your part.” +</p> + +<p> +“Zikali!” I exclaimed. “I have heard nothing of him since the +war. I thought that by now he was certainly dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no, Macumazahn, he is certainly not dead, but just the same as ever. +Indeed it is believed that he and no other has kept all this broth of trouble +on the boil, some say for Cetewayo’s sake, and some say because he wishes +to destroy Cetewayo. But what do I know of such matters who only desire to live +in peace under whatever chief the English Queen sends to us, as she has a right +to do having conquered us in war? When you meet the Opener of Roads at the +kraal Jazi, ask him, Macumazahn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where the devil is the kraal Jazi?” I inquired with irritation. +“I never heard of such a place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did I, therefore I cannot tell you, Macumazahn. For aught I can say +it may be down beneath where dead men go. But wherever it is there certainly +you will meet the Opener of Roads. Now farewell, Macumazahn. If it should +chance that we never look into each other’s eyes again, I am sure you +will think of me sometimes, as I shall of you, and of all that we have seen +together, especially on that night in the Vale of Bones when the ghost of the +witch Mameena prophesied to us and kissed you before us all. She must have been +very beautiful, Macumazahn, as indeed I have heard from those who remember her, +and I don’t wonder that you loved her so much. Still for my part I had +rather be kissed by a living woman than by one who is dead, though doubtless it +is best to be kissed by none at all. Again, farewell, and be sure to tell the +Opener of Roads that I gave you his message, lest he should lay some evil charm +upon me, who have seen enough evil of late.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus talking Goza departed. I never saw him again, and do not know if he is +dead or alive. Well, he was a kindly old fellow, if no hero. +</p> + +<p> +I had almost forgotten the incident of this meeting when a while later I found +myself in the neighbourhood of the beautiful but semi-tropical place called +Eshowe, which since those days has become the official home of the British +Resident in Zululand. Indeed, although the house was not then finished, if it +had been begun, Sir Melmoth Osborn already had an office there. I wished to see +him in order to give him some rather important information, but when I reached +a kraal of about fifty huts some five hundred yards from the site of the +present Residency, my wagon stuck fast in the boggy ground. While I was trying +to get it out a quiet-faced Zulu, whose name, I remember, was Umnikwa, informed +me that Malimati, that is Sir Melmoth Osborn’s native name, was somewhere +at a little distance from Eshowe, too far away for me to get to him that night. +I answered, Very well, I would sleep where I was, and asked the name of the +kraal. +</p> + +<p> +He replied, Jazi, at which I started, but only said that it was a strange name, +seeing that it meant “Finished,” or “Finished with +joy.” Umnikwa answered, Yes, but that it had been so called because the +chief Umfokaki, or The Stranger, who married a sister of the king, was killed +at this kraal by his brother, Gundane, or the Bat. I remarked that it was an +ill-omened kind of name, to which the man replied, Yes, and likely to become +more so, since the King Cetewayo who had been sheltering there “beneath +the armpit” of Malimati, the white lord, for some months, lay in it +dying. I asked him of what he was dying, and he replied that he did not know, +but that doubtless the father of the witch-doctors, named Zikali, the Opener of +Roads, would be able to tell me, as he was attending on Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“He has sent me to bid you to come at once, O Macumazahn,” he added +casually, “having had news that you were arriving here.” +</p> + +<p> +Showing no surprise, I answered that I would come, although goodness knows I +was surprised enough, and leaving my servants to get my wagon out of the bog, I +walked into the kraal with the messenger. He took me to a large hut placed +within a fence about the gate of which some women were gathered, who all looked +very anxious and disturbed. Among them I saw Dabuko the king’s brother, +whom I knew slightly. He greeted me and told me that Cetewayo was at the point +of death within the hut, but like Umnikwa, professed ignorance of the cause of +his illness. +</p> + +<p> +For a long while, over an hour I should think, I sat there outside the hut, or +walked to and fro. Until darkness came I could occupy myself with contemplating +the scenery of the encircling hills, which is among the most beautiful in +Zululand with its swelling contours and rich colouring. But after it had set in +only my thoughts remained, and these I found depressing. +</p> + +<p> +At length I made up my mind that I would go away, for after all what had I to +do with this business of the death of Cetewayo, if in truth he was dying? I +wished to see no more of Cetewayo of whom all my recollections were terrific or +sorrowful. I rose to depart, when suddenly a woman emerged from the hut. I +could not see who she was or even what she was like, because of the gloom; also +for the reason that she had the corner of her blanket thrown over her face as +though she wished to keep it hidden. For a moment she stopped opposite to me +and said— +</p> + +<p> +“The king who is sick desires to see you, Macumazahn.” Then she +pointed to the door-hole of the hut and vanished, shutting the gate of the +fence behind her. Curiosity overcame me and I crawled into the hut, pushing +aside the door-board in order to do so and setting it up again when I was +through. +</p> + +<p> +Inside burned a single candle fixed in the neck of a bottle, faintly +illuminating that big and gloomy place. By its feeble light I saw a low +bedstead on the left of the entrance and lying on it a man half covered by a +blanket in whom I recognized Cetewayo. His face was shrunken and distorted with +pain, and his great bulk seemed less, but still without doubt it was Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said feebly, “you find me in evil +case, but I heard that you were here and thought that I should like to see you +before I die, because I know that you are honest and will report my words +faithfully. I wish you to tell the white men that my heart never really was +against them; they have always been the friends of my heart, but others forced +me down a road I did not wish to travel, of which now I have come to the +end.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with you, King?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, Macumazahn, but I have been sick for some days. The +Opener of Roads who came to doctor me, because my wives believed those white +medicine-men wished me dead, says that I have been poisoned and must die. If +you had been here at first you might perhaps have given me some medicine. But +now it is too late,” he added with a groan. +</p> + +<p> +“Who then poisoned you, King?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you, Macumazahn. Perhaps my enemies, perhaps my brothers, +perhaps my wives. All wish to have done with me, and the Great One, who is no +longer wanted, is soon dead. Be thankful, Macumazahn, that you never were a +king, for sad is the lot of kings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, then, is the Opener of Roads?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He was here a little while ago. Perhaps he has gone out to take the +King’s head” (i.e., to announce his death) “to Malimati and +the white men,” he answered in a faint voice. +</p> + +<p> +Just then I heard a shuffling noise proceeding from that part of the hut where +the shadow was deepest, and looking, saw an emaciated arm projected into the +circle of the light. It was followed by another arm, then by a vast head +covered with long white hair that trailed upon the ground, then by a big, +misshapen body, so wasted that it looked like a skeleton covered with +corrugated black skin. Slowly, like a chameleon climbing a bough, the thing +crept forward, and I knew it for Zikali. He reached the side of the bed and +squatted down in his toad-like fashion, then, again like a chameleon, without +moving his head turned his deep and glowing eyes towards me. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, O Macumazahn,” he said in his low voice. “Did I not +promise you long ago that you should be with me at the last, and are you not +with me and another?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so, Zikali,” I answered. “But why do you not send +for the white doctors to cure the king?” +</p> + +<p> +“All the doctors, white and black, in the whole world cannot cure him, +Macumazahn. The Spirits call him and he dies. At his call I came fast and far, +but even I cannot cure him—although because of him I myself must +die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at me, Macumazahn, and say if I am one who should travel. Well, all +come to their end at last, even the +'Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born.’” +</p> + +<p> +Cetewayo lifted his head and looked at him, then said heavily— +</p> + +<p> +“Perchance it would have been better for our House if that end had been +sooner. Now that I lie dying many sayings concerning you come into my mind that +I had forgotten. Moreover, Opener of Roads, I never sent for you, whoever may +have done so, and it was not until after you came here that the great pain +seized me. How did it happen,” he went on with gathering force, +“that the white men caught me in the secret place where you told me I +should hide? Who pointed out that hidden hole to the white men? But what does +it matter now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at all, O Son of Panda,” answered Zikali, “even less +than it matters how I escaped the spear-head hidden in your robe, yonder in my +hut in the Black Kloof where, had it not been for a certain spirit that stood +between you and me, you would have murdered me. Tell me, Son of Panda, during +these last three days have you thought at all of your brother Umbelazi, and of +certain other brethren of yours whom you killed at the battle of the Tugela, +when the white man here led the charge of the Amawombe against your regiments +and ate up three of them?” +</p> + +<p> +Cetewayo groaned but said nothing. I think he had become too faint to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Son of Panda,” went on Zikali in an intense and hissing +voice. “Many, many years ago, before Senzangacona, your grandfather, saw +the light—who knows how long before—a man was born of high blood in +the Dwandwe tribe, which man was a dwarf. Chaka the Black One conquered the +Dwandwe, but this man of high blood was spared because he was a dwarf, an +abortion, to whom Chaka gave the name of the +'Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born,’ keeping him about him to be a +mock in times of peace and safety, and because he was wise and learned in +magic, to be a counsellor in times of trouble. Moreover, Chaka killed this +man’s wives and children for his sport, save one whom he kept to be his +‘sister.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore for the sake of his people and his butchered wives and +children, this wizard swore an oath of vengeance against Chaka and all his +House. Working beneath the ground like a rat, he undermined the throne of Chaka +and brought him to his death by the spears of his brethren and of Mopo his +servant, whom Chaka had wronged. Still working in the dark like a rat, he +caused Dingaan, who stabbed Chaka, to murder the Boer Retief and his people, +and thus called down upon his head the vengeance of the Whites, and afterwards +brought Dingaan to his death. Then Panda, your father, arose, and his life this +'Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born’ spared because once Panda had +done him a kindness. Only through the witch Mameena he brought sorrow on him, +causing war to arise between his children, one of whom was named Cetewayo. +</p> + +<p> +“Then this Cetewayo ruled, first with his father Panda and afterwards in +his place, and trouble arose between him and the English. Son of Panda, you +will remember that this Cetewayo was in doubt whether to fight the English and +demanded a sign of the Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born. He gave the +sign, causing the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, the Princess of Heaven, to appear before +him and thereby lifting the spear of War. Son of Panda, you know how that war +went, how this Cetewayo was defeated and came to the +‘Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born’ like a hunted hyena, to +learn of a hole where he might hide. You know, too, how he strove to murder the +poor old doctor who showed him such a hole; how he was taken prisoner and sent +across the water and afterwards set up again in the land that had learned to +hate him, to bring its children to death by thousands. And you know how at last +he took refuge beneath the wing of the white chief, here in the kraal Jazi, and +lived, spat upon, an outcast, until at length he fell sick, as such men are apt +to do, and the Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born was sent for to doctor +him. And you know also how he lies dying, within him an agony as though he had +swallowed a red hot spear, and before him a great blackness peopled by the +ghosts of those whom he has slain, and of his forefathers whose House he has +pulled down and burned.” +</p> + +<p> +Zikali ceased, and thrusting his hideous head to within an inch or two of that +of the dying man, he glowered at him with his fierce and fiery eyes. Then he +began to whisper into the king’s ear, who quivered at his words, as the +victim quivers beneath the torturer’s looks. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the end of the candle fell into the bottle which was of clear +white glass, and there burned for a little while dully before it went out. +Never shall I forget the scene illumined by its blue and ghastly light. The +dying man lying on the low couch, rocking his head to and fro; the wizard +bending over him like some grey vampire bat sucking the life-blood from his +helpless throat. The terror in the eyes of the one, the insatiable hate in the +eyes of the other. Oh! it was awful! +</p> + +<p> +“Macumazahn,” gasped Cetewayo in a rattling whisper, “help +me, Macumazahn. I say that I am poisoned by this Zikali, who hates me. Oh! +drive away the ghosts! Drive them away!” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him and at his tormentor squatted by him like a mocking fiend, and +as I looked the candle went out. +</p> + +<p> +Then my nerve broke, the cold sweat poured from my face and I fled from the hut +as a man might from a scene in hell, followed by the low mocking laugh of +Zikali. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the women and others were gathered in the gloom. I told them to go to +the king, who was dying, and blundered up the slope to search for some white +man. No one was to be found, but a Kaffir messenger by the office told me that +Malimati was still away and had been sent for. So I returned to my wagon and +lay down in it exhausted, for what more could I do? +</p> + +<p> +It was a rough night. Thunder muttered and rain fell in driving gusts. I dozed +off, only to be awakened by a sound of wailing. Then I knew that the king was +dead, for this was the Isililo, the cry of mourning. I wondered whether the +murderers—for that he was poisoned I had no doubt—were among those +who wailed. +</p> + +<p> +Towards dawn the storm rolled off and the night grew serene and clear, for a +waning moon was shining in the sky. The heat of that stifling place oppressed +me; my blood seemed to be afire. I knew that there was a stream in a gorge +about half a mile away, for it had been pointed out to me. I longed for a swim +in cool water, who, to tell truth, had found none for some days, and bethought +me that I would bathe in this stream before I trekked from that hateful spot, +for to me it had become hateful. Calling my driver, who was awake and talking +with the voorloopers, for they knew what was passing at the kraal and were +alarmed, I told them to get the oxen ready to start as I would be back +presently. Then I set off for the stream and, after a longish walk, scrambled +down a steep ravine to its banks, following a path made by Kaffir women going +to draw water. Arrived there at last I found that it was in flood and rising +rapidly, at least so I judged from the sound, for in that deep, tree-hung place +the light was too faint to allow me to see anything. So I sat down waiting for +the dawn and wishing that I had not come because of the mosquitoes. +</p> + +<p> +At length it broke and the mists lifted, showing that the spot was one of great +beauty. Opposite to me was a waterfall twenty or thirty feet high, over which +the torrent rushed into a black pool below. Everywhere grew tall ferns and +beyond these graceful trees, from whose leaves hung raindrops. In the centre of +the stream on the edge of the fall was a rock not a dozen feet away from me, +round which the water foamed. Something was squatted on this rock, at first I +could not see what because of the mist, but thought that it was a grey-headed +baboon, or some other animal, and regretted that I had not brought a gun with +me. Presently I became aware that it must be a man, for, in a chanting voice, +it began to speak or pray in Zulu, and hidden behind a flowering bush, I could +hear the words. They were to this effect— +</p> + +<p> +“O my Spirit, here where thou foundest me when I was young, hundreds of +years ago” (he said hundreds, but I suppose he meant tens), “I come +back to thee. In this pool I dived and beneath the waters found thee, my Snake, +and thou didst wind thyself about my body and about my heart” (here I +understood that the speaker was alluding to his initiation as a witch-doctor +which generally includes, or used to include, the finding of a snake in a river +that coils itself about the neophyte). “About my body and in my heart +thou hast dwelt from that sun to this, giving me wisdom and good and evil +counsel, and that which thou hast counselled, I have done. Now I return thee +whence thou camest, there to await me in the new birth. +</p> + +<p> +“O Spirits of my fathers, toiling through many years I have avenged you +on the House of Senzangacona, and never again will there be a king of the +Zulus, for the last of them lies dead by my hand. O my murdered wives and my +children, I have offered up to you a mighty sacrifice, a sacrifice of thousands +upon thousands. +</p> + +<p> +“O Umkulu-kulu, Great One of the heavens, who sentest me to earth, I have +done thy work upon the earth and bring back to thee thy harvest of the seed +that thou hast sown, a blood-red harvest, O Umkulu-kulu. Be still, be still, my +Snake, the sun arises, and soon, soon shalt thou rest in the water that wast +thine from the beginning of the world!” +</p> + +<p> +The voice ceased, and presently a spear of light piercing the mists, lit upon +the speaker. It was Zikali and about him was wound a great yellow-bellied +snake, of which the black head with flickering tongue waved above his head and +seemed from time to time to lick him on the brow. (I suppose it had come to him +from the water, for its skin glittered as though with wet.) He stood up on +tottering feet, staring at the red eye of the rising sun, then crying, +<i>“Finished, finished with joy!”</i> with a loud and dreadful +laughter, he plunged into the foaming pool beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the end of Zikali the Wizard, Opener of Roads, the +“Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born,” and such was the +vengeance that he worked upon the great House of Senzangacona, bringing it to +naught and with it the nation of the Zulus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FINISHED ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 1724-h.htm or 1724-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/1724/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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