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diff --git a/8184-0.txt b/8184-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e083c53 --- /dev/null +++ b/8184-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13132 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ghost Kings, by H. Rider Haggard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Ghost Kings + +Author: H. Rider Haggard + +Release Date: June 27, 2003 [eBook #8184] +[Most recently updated: August 9, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, S. R. Ellison and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST KINGS *** + + + + +The Ghost Kings + +by H. Rider Haggard + + +Contents + + CHAPTER 1. THE GIRL + CHAPTER 2. THE BOY + CHAPTER 3. GOOD-BYE + CHAPTER 4. ISHMAEL + CHAPTER 5. NOIE + CHAPTER 6. THE CASTING OF THE LOTS + CHAPTER 7. THE MESSAGE OF THE KING + CHAPTER 8. MR. DOVE VISITS ISHMAEL + CHAPTER 9. THE TAKING OF NOIE + CHAPTER 10. THE OMEN OF THE STAR + CHAPTER 11. ISHMAEL VISITS THE Inkosazana + CHAPTER 12. RACHEL SEES A VISION + CHAPTER 13. RICHARD COMES + CHAPTER 14. WHAT CHANCED AT RAMAH + CHAPTER 15. RACHEL COMES HOME + CHAPTER 16. THE THREE DAYS + CHAPTER 17. RACHEL LOSES HER SPIRIT + CHAPTER 18. THE CURSE OF THE Inkosazana + CHAPTER 19. RACHEL FINDS HER SPIRIT + CHAPTER 20. THE MOTHER OF THE TREES + CHAPTER 21. THE CITY OF THE DEAD + CHAPTER 22. IN THE SANCTUARY + CHAPTER 23. THE DREAM IN THE NORTH + CHAPTER 24. THE END AND THE BEGINNING + + + + +EXTRACT FROM LETTER HEADED “THE KING’S KRAAL, ZULULAND, 12TH MAY, +1855.” + + +“The Zulus about here have a strange story of a white girl who in +Dingaan’s day was supposed to ‘hold the spirit’ of some legendary +goddess of theirs who is also white. This girl, they say, was very +beautiful and brave, and had great power in the land before the battle +of the Blood River, which they fought with the emigrant Boers. Her +title was Lady of the Zulus, or more shortly, Zoola, which means +Heaven. + +“She seems to have been the daughter of a wandering, pioneer +missionary, but the king, I mean Dingaan, murdered her parents, of whom +he was jealous, after which she went mad and cursed the nation, and it +is to this curse that they still attribute the death of Dingaan, and +their defeats and other misfortunes of that time. + +“Ultimately, it appears, in order to be rid of this girl and her evil +eye, they sold her to the doctors of a dwarf people, who lived far away +in a forest and worshipped trees, since when nothing more has been +heard of her. But according to them the curse stopped behind. + +“If I can find out anything more of this curious story I will let you +know, but I doubt if I shall be able to do so. Although fifteen years +or so have passed since Dingaan’s death in 1840 the Kaffirs are very +shy of talking about this poor lady, and, I think, only did so to me +because I am neither an official nor a missionary, but one whom they +look upon as a friend because I have doctored so many of them. When I +asked the Indunas about her at first they pretended total ignorance, +but on my pressing the question, one of them said that ‘all that tale +was unlucky and “went beyond” with Mopo.’ Now Mopo, as I think I wrote +to you, was the man who stabbed King Chaka, Dingaan’s brother. He is +supposed to have been mixed up in the death of Dingaan also, and to be +dead himself. At any rate he vanished away after Panda came to the +throne.” + + + + +CHAPTER I. +THE GIRL + + +The afternoon was intensely, terribly hot. Looked at from the high +ground where they were encamped above the river, the sea, a mile or two +to her right—for this was the coast of Pondo-land—to little Rachel Dove +staring at it with sad eyes, seemed an illimitable sheet of stagnant +oil. Yet there was no sun, for a grey haze hung like a veil beneath the +arch of the sky, so dense and thick that its rays were cut off from the +earth which lay below silent and stifled. Tom, the Kaffir driver, had +told her that a storm was coming, a father of storms, which would end +the great drought. Therefore he had gone to a kloof in the mountains +where the oxen were in charge of the other two native boys—since on +this upland there was no pasturage to drive them back to the waggon. +For, as he explained to her, in such tempests cattle are apt to take +fright and rush away for miles, and without cattle their plight would +be even worse than it was at present. + +At least this was what Tom said, but Rachel, who had been brought up +among natives and understood their mind, knew that his real reason was +that he wished to be out of the way when the baby was buried. Kaffirs +do not like death, unless it comes by the assegai in war, and Tom, a +good creature, had been fond of that baby during its short little life. +Well, it was buried now; he had finished digging its resting-place in +the hard soil before he went. Rachel, poor child, for she was but +fifteen, had borne it to its last bed, and her father had unpacked his +surplice from a box, put it on and read the Burial Service over the +grave. Afterwards together they had filled in that dry, red earth, and +rolled stones on to it, and as there were few flowers at this season of +the year, placed a shrivelled branch or two of mimosa upon the +stones—the best offering they had to make. + +Rachel and her father were the sole mourners at this funeral, if we may +omit two rock rabbits that sat upon a shelf of stone in a neighbouring +cliff, and an old baboon which peered at these strange proceedings from +its crest, and finally pushed down a boulder before it departed, +barking indignantly. Her mother could not come because she was ill with +grief and fever in a little tent by the waggon. When it was all over +they returned to her, and there had been a painful scene. + +Mrs. Dove was lying on a bed made of the cartel, or frame strung with +strips of green hide, which had been removed from the waggon, a pretty, +pale-faced woman with a profusion of fair hair. Rachel always +remembered that scene. The hot tent with its flaps turned up to let in +whatever air there might be. Her mother in a blue dressing-gown, dingy +with wear and travel, from which one of the ribbon bows hung by a +thread, her face turned to the canvas and weeping silently. The gaunt +form of her father with his fanatical, saint-like face, pale beneath +its tan, his high forehead over which fell one grizzled lock, his thin, +set lips and far-away grey eyes, taking off his surplice and folding it +up with quick movements of his nervous hands, and herself, a scared, +wondering child, watching them both and longing to slip away to indulge +her grief in solitude. It seemed an age before that surplice was +folded, pushed into a linen bag which in their old home used to hold +dirty clothes, and finally stowed away in a deal box with a broken +hinge. At length it was done, and her father straightened himself with +a sigh, and said in a voice that tried to be cheerful: + +“Do not weep, Janey. Remember this is all for the best. The Lord hath +taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.” + +Her mother sat up looking at him reproachfully with her blue eyes, and +answered in her soft Scotch accent: + +“You said that to me before, John, when the other one went, down at +Grahamstown, and I am tired of hearing it. Don’t ask me to bless the +Lord when He takes my babes, no, nor any mother, He Who could spare +them if He chose. Why should the Lord give me fever so that I could not +nurse it, and make a snake bite the cow so that it died? If the Lord’s +ways are such, then those of the savages are more merciful.” + +“Janey, Janey, do not blaspheme,” her father had exclaimed. “You should +rejoice that the child is in Heaven.” + +“Then do you rejoice and leave me to grieve. From to-day I only make +one prayer, that I may never have another. John,” she added with a +sudden outburst, “it is your fault. You know well I told you how it +would be. I told you that if you would come this mad journey the babe +would die, aye, and I tell you”—here her voice sank to a kind of +wailing whisper—“before the tale is ended others will die too, all of +us, except Rachel there, who was born to live her life. Well, for my +part, the sooner the better, for I wish to go to sleep with my +children.” + +“This is evil,” broke in her husband, “evil and rebellious—” + +“Then evil and rebellious let it be, John. But why am I evil if I have +the second sight like my mother before me? Oh! she warned me what must +come if I married you, and I would not listen; now I warn you, and you +will not listen. Well, so be it, we must dree our own weird, everyone +of us, a short one; all save Rachel, who was born to live her life. +Man, I tell you, that the Spirit drives you on to convert the heathen +just for one thing, that the heathen may make a martyr of you.” + +“So let them,” her father answered proudly. “I seek no better end.” + +“Aye,” she moaned, sinking back upon the cartel, “so let them, but my +babe, my poor babe! Why should my babe die because too much religion +has made you mad to win a martyr’s crown? Martyrs should not marry and +have children, John.” + +Then, unable to bear any more of it, Rachel had fled from the tent, and +sat herself down at a distance to watch the oily sea. + +It has been said that Rachel was only fifteen, but in Southern Africa +girls grow quickly to womanhood; also her experiences had been of a +nature to ripen her intelligence. Thus she was quite able to form a +judgment of her parents, their virtues and their weaknesses. Rachel was +English born, but had no recollection of England since she came to +South Africa when she was four years old. It was shortly after her +birth that this missionary-fury seized upon her father as a result of +some meetings which he had attended in London. He was then a clergyman +with a good living in a quiet Hertfordshire parish, and possessed of +some private means, but nothing would suit him short of abandoning all +his prospects and sailing for South Africa, in obedience to his “call.” +Rachel knew all this because her mother had often told her, adding that +she and her people, who were of a good Scotch family, had struggled +against this South African scheme even to the verge of open quarrel. + +At length, indeed, it came to a choice between submission and +separation. Mr. Dove had declared that not even for her sake would he +be guilty of “sin against the Spirit” which had chosen him to bring +light to those who sat in darkness—that is, the Kaffirs, and especially +to that section of them who were in bondage to the Boers. For at this +time an agitation was in progress in England which led ultimately to +the freeing of the slaves of the Cape Dutch, and afterwards to the +exodus of the latter into the wilderness and most of those wars with +which our generation is familiar. So, as she was devoted to her +husband, who, apart from his religious enthusiasm, or rather +possession, was in truth a very lovable man, she gave way and came. +Before they sailed, however, the general gloom was darkened by Mrs. +Dove announcing that something in her heart told her that neither of +them would ever see home again, as they were doomed to die at the hands +of savages. + +Now whatever the reason or explanation, scientifically impossible as +the fact might be, it remained a fact that Janey Dove, like her mother +and several of her Scottish ancestors, was foresighted, or at least so +her kith and kin believed. Therefore, when she communicated to them her +conviction as though it were a piece of everyday intelligence, they +never doubted its accuracy for a minute, but only redoubled their +efforts to prevent her from going to Africa. Even her husband did not +doubt it, but remarked irritably that it seemed a pity she could not +sometimes be foresighted as to agreeable future events, since for his +part he was quite willing to wait for disagreeable ones until they +happened. Not that he quailed personally from the prospect of +martyrdom; this he could contemplate with complacency and even +enthusiasm, but, zealot though he was, he did shrink from the thought +that his beautiful and delicate wife might be called upon to share the +glory of that crown. Indeed, as his own purpose was unalterable, he now +himself suggested that he should go forth to seek it alone. + +Then it was that his wife showed an unsuspected strength of character. +She said that she had married him for better or for worse against the +wishes of her family; that she loved and respected him, and that she +would rather be murdered by Kaffirs in due season than endure a +separation which might be lifelong. So in the end the pair of them with +their little daughter Rachel departed in a sailing ship, and their +friends and relations knew them no more. + +Their subsequent history up to the date of the opening of this story +may be told in very few words. As a missionary the Reverend John Dove +was not a success. The Boers in the eastern part of the Cape Colony +where he laboured, did not appreciate his efforts to Christianise their +slaves. The slaves did not appreciate them either, inasmuch as, saint +though he might be, he quite lacked the sympathetic insight which would +enable him to understand that a native with thousands of generations of +savagery behind him is a different being from a highly educated +Christian, and one who should be judged by another law. Their sins, +amongst which he included all their most cherished inherited customs, +appalled him, as he continually proclaimed from the housetops. +Moreover, when occasionally he did snatch a brand from the burning, and +the said brand subsequently proved that it was still alight, or worse +still, replaced its original failings by those of the white man, such +as drink, theft and lying, whereof before it had been innocent, he +would openly condemn it to eternal punishment. Further, he was too +insubordinate, or, as he called it, too honest, to submit to the +authority of his local superiors in the Church, and therefore would +only work for his own hand. Finally he caused his “cup to overflow,” as +he described it, or, in plain English, made the country too hot to hold +him, by becoming involved in a bitter quarrel with the Boers. Of these, +on the whole, worthy folk, he formed the worst; and in the main a very +unjust opinion, which he sent to England to be reprinted in Church +papers, or to the Home Government to be published in Blue-books. In due +course these documents reached South Africa again, where they were +translated into Dutch and became incidentally one of the causes of the +Great Trek. + +The Boers were furious and threatened to shoot him as a slanderer. The +English authorities were also furious, and requested him to cease from +controversy or to leave the country. At last, stubborn as he might be, +circumstances proved too much for him, and as his conscience would not +allow him to be silent, Mr. Dove chose the latter alternative. The only +question was whither he should go. As he was well off, having inherited +a moderate fortune in addition to what he had before he left England, +his poor wife pleaded with him to return home, pointing out that there +he would be able to lay his case before the British public. This course +had attractions for him, but after a night’s reflection and prayer, he +rejected it as a specious temptation sent by Satan. + +What, he argued, should he return to live in luxury in England not only +unmartyred but a palpable failure, his mission quite unfulfilled? His +wife might go if she liked, and take their surviving children, Rachel +and the new-born baby boy, with her (they had buried two other little +girls), but he would stick to his post and his duty. He had seen some +Englishmen who had visited the country called Natal where white people +were beginning to settle. In that land it seemed there were no +slave-driving Boers, and the natives, according to all accounts, much +needed the guidance of the Gospel, especially a certain king of the +people called Zulus, who was named Chaka or Dingaan, he was not sure +which. This ferocious person he particularly desired to encounter, +having little doubt that in the absence of the contaminating Boer, he +would be able to induce him to see the error of his ways and change the +national customs, especially those of fighting and, worse still, of +polygamy. + +His unhappy wife listened and wept, for now the martyr’s crown which +she had always foreseen, seemed uncomfortably near, indeed as it were, +it glowed blood red within reach of her hand. Moreover, in her heart +she did not believe that Kaffirs could be converted, at any rate at +present. They were fighting men, as her Highland forefathers had been, +and her Scottish blood could understand the weakness, while, as for +this polygamy, she had long ago secretly concluded that the practice +was one which suited them very well, as it had suited David and +Solomon, and even Abraham. But for all this, although she was sure in +her uncanny fashion that her baby’s death would come of her staying, +she refused to leave her husband as she had refused eleven years +before. + +Doubtless affection was at the bottom of it, for Janey Dove was a very +faithful woman; also there were other things—her fatalism, and stronger +still, her weariness. She believed that they were doomed. Well, let the +doom fall; she had no fear of the Beyond. At the best it might be +happy, and at the worst deep, everlasting rest and peace, and she felt +as though she needed thousands of years of rest and peace. Moreover, +she was sure no harm would come to Rachel, the very apple of her eye; +that she was marked to live and to find happiness even in this wild +land. So it came about that she refused her husband’s offer to allow +her to return home where she had no longer any ties, and for perhaps +the twentieth time prepared herself to journey she knew not whither. + +Rachel, seated there in the sunless, sweltering heat, reflected on +these things. Of course she did not know all the story, but most of it +had come under her observation in one way or other, and being shrewd by +nature, she could guess the rest, for she who was companionless had +much time for reflection and for guessing. She sympathised with her +father in his ideas, understanding vaguely that there was something +large and noble about them, but in the main, body and mind, she was her +mother’s child. Already she showed her mother’s dreamy beauty, to which +were added her father’s straight features and clear grey eyes, together +with a promise of his height. But of his character she had little, that +is outside of a courage and fixity of purpose which marked them both. +For the rest she was far, or fore-seeing, like her mother, apprehending +the end of things by some strange instinct; also very faithful in +character. + +Rachel was unhappy. She did not mind the hardship and the heat, for she +was accustomed to both, and her health was so perfect that it would +have needed much worse things to affect her. But she loved the baby +that was gone, and wondered whether she would ever see it again. On the +whole she thought so, for here that intuition of hers came in, but at +the best she was sure that there would be long to wait. She loved her +mother also, and grieved more for her than for herself, especially now +when she was so ill. Moreover, she knew and shared her mind. This +journey, she felt, was foolishness; her father was a man “led by a +star” as the natives say, and would follow it over the edge of the +world and be no nearer. He was not fit to have charge of her mother. + +Of herself she did not think so much. Still, at Grahamstown, for a year +or so there had been other children for companions, Dutch most of them, +it is true, and all rough in mind and manner. Yet they were white and +human. While she played with them she could forget she knew so much +more than they did; that, for instance, she could read the Gospels in +Greek—which her father had taught her ever since she was a little +child—while they could scarcely spell them out in the Taal, or Boer +dialect, and that they had never heard even of William the Conqueror. +She did not care particularly about Greek and William the Conqueror, +but she did care for friends, and now they were all gone from her, gone +like the baby, as far off as William the Conqueror. And she, she was +alone in the wilderness with a father who talked and thought of Heaven +all day long, and a mother who lived in memories and walked in the +shadow of doom, and oh! she was unhappy. + +Her grey eyes filled with tears so that she could no longer see that +everlasting ocean, which she did not regret as it wearied her. She +wiped them with the back of her hand that was burnt quite brown by the +sun, and turning impatiently, fell to watching two of those strange +insects known as the Praying Mantis, or often in South Africa as +Hottentot gods, which after a series of genuflections, were now +fighting desperately among the dead stalks of grass at her feet. Men +could not be more savage, she reflected, for really their ferocity was +hideous. Then a great tear fell upon the head of one of them, and +astonished by this phenomenon, or thinking perhaps that it had begun to +rain, it ran away and hid itself, while its adversary sat up and looked +about it triumphantly, taking to itself all the credit of conquest. + +She heard a step behind her, and having again furtively wiped her eyes +with her hand, the only handkerchief available, looked round to see her +father stalking towards her. + +“Why are you crying, Rachel?” he asked in an irritable voice. “It is +wrong to cry because your little brother has been taken to glory.” + +“Jesus cried over Lazarus, and He wasn’t even His brother,” she +answered in a reflective voice, then by way of defending herself added +inconsequently: “I was watching two Hottentot gods fight.” + +As Mr. Dove could think of no reply to her very final Scriptural +example, he attacked her on the latter point. + +“A cruel amusement,” he said, “especially as I have heard that boys, +yes, and men, too, pit these poor insects against each other, and make +bets upon them.” + +“Nature is cruel, not I, father. Nature is always cruel,” and she +glanced towards the little grave under the rock. Then, while for the +second time her father hesitated, not knowing what to answer, she added +quickly, “Is mother better now?” + +“No,” he said, “worse, I think, very hysterical and quite unable to see +things in the true light.” + +She rose and faced him, for she was a courageous child, then asked: + +“Father, why don’t you take her back? She isn’t fit to go on. It is +wrong to drag her into this wilderness.” + +At this question he grew very angry, and began to scold and to talk of +the wickedness of abandoning his “call.” + +“But mother has not got a ‘call,’” she broke in. + +Then, as for the third time he could find no answer, he declared +vehemently that they were both in league against him, instruments used +by the Evil One to tempt him from his duty by working on his natural +fears and affections, and so forth. + +The child watched him with her clear grey eyes, saying nothing further, +till at last he grew calm and paused. + +“We are all much upset,” he went on, rubbing his high forehead with his +thin hand. “I suppose it is the heat and this—this—trial of our faith. +What did I come to speak to you about? Oh! I remember; your mother will +eat nothing, and keeps asking for fruit. Do you know where there is any +fruit?” + +“It doesn’t grow here, father.” Then her face brightened, and she +added: “Yes, it does, though. The day that we outspanned in this camp +mother and I went down to the river and walked to that kind of island +beyond the dry donga to get some flowers that grow on the wet ground. I +saw lots of Cape gooseberries there, all quite ripe.” + +“Then go and get some, dear. You will have plenty of time before dark.” + +She started up as though to obey, then checked herself and said: + +“Mother told me that I was not to go to the river alone, because we saw +the spoor of lions and crocodiles in the mud.” + +“God will guard you from the lions and the crocodiles, if there are +any,” he answered doggedly, for was not this an opportunity to show his +faith? “You are not afraid, are you?” + +“No, father. I am afraid of nothing, perhaps because I don’t care what +happens. I will get the basket and go at once.” + +In another minute she was walking quickly towards the river, a lonely +little figure in that great place. Mr. Dove watched her uneasily till +she was hidden in the haze, for his reason told him that this was a +foolish journey. + +“The Lord will send His angels to protect her,” he muttered to himself. +“Oh! if only I could have more faith, all these troubles come upon me +from a lack of faith, and through that I am continually tempted. I +think I will run after her and go, too. No, there is Janey calling me, +I cannot leave her alone. The Lord will protect her, but I need not +mention to Janey that she has gone, unless she asks me outright. She +will be quite safe, the storm will not break to-night.” + + + + +CHAPTER II. +THE BOY + + +The river towards which Rachel headed, one of the mouths of the +Umtavuna, was much further off than it looked; it was, indeed, not less +than a mile and a half away. She had said that she feared nothing, and +it was true, for extraordinary courage was one of this child’s +characteristics. She could scarcely ever remember having felt +afraid—for herself, except sometimes of her father when he grew +angry—or was it mad that he grew?—and raged at her, threatening her +with punishment in another world in reward for her childish sins. Even +then the sensation did not last long, because she could not believe in +that punishment which he so vividly imagined. So it came about that now +she had no fear when there was so much cause. + +For this place was lonely; not a living creature could be seen. +Moreover, a dreadful hush brooded on the face of earth, and in the sky +above; only far away over the mountains the lightning flickered +incessantly, as though a monster in the skies were licking their +precipices and pinnacles with a thousand tongues of fire. Nothing +stirred, not even an insect; every creature that drew breath had hidden +itself away until the coming terror was overpast. + +The atmosphere was full of electricity struggling to be free. Although +she knew not what it was, Rachel felt it in her blood and brain. In +some strange way it affected her mind, opening windows there through +which the eyes of her soul looked out. She became aware of some new +influence drawing near to her life; of a sudden her budding womanhood +burst into flower in her breast, shone on by an unseen sun; she was no +more a child. Her being quickened and acknowledged the kinship of all +things that are. That brooding, flame-threaded sky—she was a part of +it, the earth she trod, it was a part of her; the Mind that caused the +stars to roll and her to live, dwelt in her bosom, and like a babe she +nestled within the arm of its almighty will. + +Now, as in a dream, Rachel descended the steep, rock-strewn banks of +the dry branch of the river-bed, wending her way between the boulders +and noting that rotten weeds and peeled brushwood rested against the +stems of the mimosa thorns which grew there, tokens which told her that +here in times of flood the water flowed. Well, there was little enough +of it now, only a pool or two to form a mirror for the lightning. In +front of her lay the island where grew the Cape gooseberries, or winter +cherries as they are sometimes called, which she came to seek. It was a +low piece of ground, a quarter of a mile long, perhaps, but in the +centre of it were some great rocks and growing among the rocks, trees, +one of them higher than the rest. Beyond it ran the true river, even +now at the end of the dry season three or four hundred yards in +breadth, though so shallow that it could be forded by an ox-drawn +waggon. + +It was raining on the mountains yonder, raining in torrents poured from +those inky clouds, as it had done off and on for the past twenty-four +hours, and above their fire-laced bosom floated glorious-coloured +masses of misty vapour, enflamed in a thousand hues by the arrows of +the sinking sun. Above her, however, there was no sun, nothing but the +curtain of cloud which grew gradually from grey to black and minute by +minute sank nearer to the earth. + +Walking through the dry river-bed, Rachel reached the island which was +the last and highest of a line of similar islands that, separated from +each other by narrow breadths of water, lay like a chain, between the +dry donga and the river. Here she began to gather her gooseberries, +picking the silvery, octagonal pods from the green stems on which they +grew. At first she opened these pods, removing from each the yellow, +sub-acid berry, thinking that thus her basket would hold more, but +presently abandoned that plan as it took too much time. Also although +the plants were plentiful enough, in that low and curious light it was +not easy to see them among the dense growth of reedy vegetation. + +While she was thus engaged she became aware of a low moaning noise and +a stirring of the air about her which caused the leaves and grasses to +quiver without bending. Then followed an ice-cold wind that grew in +strength until it blew keen and hard, ruffling the surface of the +marshy pools. Still Rachel went on with her task, for her basket was +not more than half full, till presently the heavens above her began to +mutter and to groan, and drops of rain as large as shillings fell upon +her back and hands. Now she understood that it was time for her to be +going, and started to walk across the island—for at the moment she was +near its farther side—to reach the deep, rocky river-bed or donga. + +Before ever she came there, with awful suddenness and inconceivable +fury, the tempest burst. A hurricane of wind tore down the valley to +the sea, and for a few minutes the darkness became so dense that she +could scarcely stumble forward. Then there was light, a dreadful light; +all the heavens seemed to take fire, yes, and the earth, too; it was as +though its last dread catastrophe had fallen on the world. + +Buffeted, breathless, Rachel at length reached the edge of the deep +river-bed that may have been fifty yards in width, and was about to +step into it when she became aware of two things. The first was a +seething, roaring noise so loud that it seemed to still even the +bellowing of the thunder, and the next, now seen, now lost, as the +lightning pulsed and darkened, the figure of a youth, a white youth, +who had dismounted from a horse that remained near to but above him, +and stood, a gun in his hand, upon a rock at the farther side of the +donga. + +He had seen her also and was shouting to her, of this she was sure, for +although the sound of his voice was lost in the tumult, she could +perceive his gesticulations when the lightning flared, and even the +movement of his lips. Wondering vaguely what a white boy could be doing +in such a place and very glad at the prospect of his company, Rachel +began to advance towards him in short rushes whenever the lightning +showed her where to set her feet. She had made two of these rushes when +from the violence and character of his movements at length she +understood that he was trying to prevent her from coming further, and +paused confused. + +Another instant and she knew why. Some hundreds of yards above her the +river bed took a turn, and suddenly round this turn, crested with foam, +appeared a wall of water in which trees and the carcases of animals +were whirled along like straws. The flood had come down from the +mountains, and was advancing on her more swiftly than a horse could +gallop. Rachel ran forward a little way, then understanding that she +had no time to cross, stood bewildered, for the fearful tumult of the +elements and the dreadful roaring of that advancing wall of foam +overwhelmed her senses. The lightnings went out for a moment, then +began to play again with tenfold frequency and force. They struck upon +the nearing torrent, they struck in the dry bed before it, and leapt +upwards from the earth as though Titans and gods were hurling spears at +one another. + +In the lurid sheen of them she saw the lad leap from his rock and rush +towards her. A flash fell and split a boulder not thirty paces from +him, causing him to stagger, but he recovered himself and ran on. Now +he was quite close, but the water was closer still. It was coming in +tiers or ledges, a thin sheet of foam in front, then other layers laid +upon it, each of them a few yards behind its fellow. On the top ledge, +in its very crest, was a bull buffalo, dead, but held head on and down +as though it were charging, and Rachel thought vaguely that from the +direction in which it came in a few moments its horns would strike her. +Another second and an arm was about her waist—she noted how white it +was where the sleeve was rolled up, dead white in the lightning—and she +was being dragged towards the shore that she had left. The first film +of water struck her and nearly washed her from her feet, but she was +strong and active, and the touch of that arm seemed to have given her +back her wit, so she regained them and splashed forward. Now the next +tier took them both above the knees, but for a moment shallowed so that +they did not fall. The high bank was scarce five yards away, and the +wall of waters perhaps a score. + +“Together for life or death!” said an English voice in her ear, and the +shout of it only reached her in a whisper. + +The boy and the girl leapt forward like bucks. They reached the bank +and struggled up it. The hungry waters sprang at them like a living +thing, grasping their feet and legs as though with hands; a stick as it +whirled by them struck the lad upon the shoulder, and where it struck +the clothes were rent away and red blood appeared. Almost he fell, but +this time it was Rachel who supported him. Then one more struggle and +they rolled exhausted on the ground just clear of the lip of the racing +flood. + +Thus through tempest, threatened by the waters of death from which he +snatched her, and companioned by heaven’s lightnings, did Richard +Darrien come into the life of Rachel Dove. + +Presently, having recovered their breath, they sat up and looked at +each other by lightning light, which was all there was. He was a +handsome lad of about seventeen, though short for his years; sturdy in +build, very fair-skinned and curiously enough with a singular +resemblance to Rachel, except that his hair was a few shades darker +than hers. They had the same clear grey eyes, and the same well-cut +features; indeed seen together, most people would have thought them +brother and sister, and remarked upon their family likeness. Rachel +spoke the first. + +“Who are you?” she shouted into his ear in one of the intervals of +darkness, “and why did you come here?” + +“My name is Richard Darrien,” he answered at the top of his voice, “and +I don’t know why I came. I suppose something sent me to save you.” + +“Yes,” she replied with conviction, “something sent you. If you had not +come I should be dead, shouldn’t I? In glory, as my father says.” + +“I don’t know about glory, or what it is,” he remarked, after thinking +this saying over, “but you would have been rolling out to sea in the +flood water, like that buffalo, with not a whole bone in you, which +isn’t my idea of glory.” + +“That’s because your father isn’t a missionary,” said Rachel. + +“No, he is an officer, naval officer, or at least he was, now he trades +and hunts. We are coming down from Natal. But what’s your name?” + +“Rachel Dove.” + +“Well, Rachel Dove—that’s very pretty, Rachel Dove, as you would be if +you were cleaner—it is going to rain presently. Is there any place +where we can shelter here?” + +“I am as clean as you are,” she answered indignantly. “The river +muddied me, that’s all. You can go and shelter, I will stop and let the +rain wash me.” + +“And die of the cold or be struck by lightning. Of course I knew you +weren’t dirty really. Is there any place?” + +She nodded, mollified. + +“I think I know one. Come,” and she stretched out her hand. + +He took it, and thus hand in hand they made their way to the highest +point of the island where the trees grew, for here the rocks piled up +together made a kind of cave in which Rachel and her mother had sat for +a little while when they visited the place. As they groped their way +towards it the lightning blazed out and they saw a great jagged flash +strike the tallest tree and shatter it, causing some wild beast that +had sheltered there to rush past them snorting. + +“That doesn’t look very safe,” said Richard halting, “but come on, it +isn’t likely to hit the same spot twice.” + +“Hadn’t you better leave your gun?” she suggested, for all this while +that weapon had been slung to his back and she knew that lightning has +an affinity for iron. + +“Certainly not,” he answered, “it is a new one which my father gave me, +and I won’t be parted from it.” + +Then they went on and reached the little cave just as the rain broke +over them in earnest. As it chanced the place was dry, being so +situated that all water ran away from it. They crouched in it +shivering, trying to cover themselves with dead sticks and brushwood +that had lodged here in the wet season when the whole island was under +water. + +“It would be nice enough if only we had a fire,” said Rachel, her teeth +chattering as she spoke. + +The lad Richard thought a while. Then he opened a leather case that +hung on his rifle sling and took from it a powder flask and flint and +steel and some tinder. Pouring a little powder on the damp tinder, he +struck the flint until at length a spark caught and fired the powder. +The tinder caught also, though reluctantly, and while Rachel blew on +it, he felt round for dead leaves and little sticks, some of which were +coaxed into flame. + +After this things were easy since fuel lay about in abundance, so that +soon they had a splendid fire burning in the mouth of the cave whence +the smoke escaped. Now they were able to warm and dry themselves, and +as the heat entered into their chilled bodies, their spirits rose. +Indeed the contrast between this snug hiding place and blazing fire of +drift wood and the roaring tempest without, conduced to cheerfulness in +young people who had just narrowly escaped from drowning. + +“I am so hungry,” said Rachel, presently. + +Again Richard began to search, and this time produced from the pocket +of his coat a long and thick strip of sun-dried meat. + +“Can you eat biltong?” he asked. + +“Of course,” she answered eagerly. + +“Then you must cut it up,” he said, giving her the meat and his knife. +“My arm hurts me, I can’t.” + +“Oh!” she exclaimed, “how selfish I am. I forgot about that stick +striking you. Let me see the place.” + +He took off his coat and knelt down while she stood over him and +examined his wound by the light of the fire, to find that the left +upper arm was bruised, torn and bleeding. As it will be remembered that +Rachel had no handkerchief, she asked Richard for his, which she soaked +in a pool of rain water just outside the cave. Then, having washed the +hurt thoroughly, she bandaged his arm with the handkerchief and bade +him put on his coat again, saying confidently that he would be well in +a few days. + +“You are clever,” he remarked with admiration. “Who taught you to +bandage wounds?” + +“My father always doctors the Kaffirs and I help him,” Rachel answered, +as, having stretched out her hands for the pouring rain to wash them, +she took the biltong and began to cut it in thin slices. + +These she made him eat before she touched any herself, for she saw that +the loss of blood had weakened him. Indeed her own meal was a light +one, since half the strip of meat must, she declared, be put aside in +case they should not be able to get off the island. Then he saw why she +had made him eat first and was very angry with himself and her, but she +only laughed at him and answered that she had learned from the Kaffirs +that men must be fed before women as they were more important in the +world. + +“You mean more selfish,” he answered, contemplating this wise little +maid and her tiny portion of biltong, which she swallowed very slowly, +perhaps to pretend that her appetite was already satisfied with its +superabundance. Then he fell to imploring her to take the rest, saying +that he would be able to shoot some game in the morning, but she only +shook her little head and set her lips obstinately. + +“Are you a hunter?” she asked to change the subject. + +“Yes,” he answered with pride, “that is, almost. At any rate I have +shot eland, and an elephant, but no lions yet. I was following the +spoor of a lion just now, but it got up between the rocks and bolted +away before I could shoot. I think that it must have been after you.” + +“Perhaps,” said Rachel. “There are some about here; I have heard them +roaring at night.” + +“Then,” he went on, “while I was staring at you running across this +island, I heard the sound of the water and saw it rushing down the +donga, and saw too that you must be drowned, and—you know the rest.” + +“Yes, I know the rest,” she said, looking at him with shining eyes. +“You risked your life to save mine, and therefore,” she added with +quiet conviction, “it belongs to you.” + +He stared at her and remarked simply: + +“I wish it did. This morning I wished to kill a lion with my new +_roer_,” and he pointed to the heavy gun at his side, “above everything +else, but to-night I wish that your life belonged to me—above anything +else.” + +Their eyes met, and child though she was, Rachel saw something in those +of Richard that caused her to turn her head. + +“Where are you going?” she asked quickly. + +“Back to my father’s farm in Graaf-Reinet, to sell the ivory. There are +three others besides my father, two Boers and one Englishman.” + +“And I am going to Natal where you come from,” she answered, “so I +suppose that after to-night we shall never see each other again, +although my life does belong to you—that is if we escape.” + +Just then the tempest which had lulled a little, came on again in fury, +accompanied by a hurricane of wind and deluge of rain, through which +the lightning blazed incessantly. The thunderclaps too were so loud and +constant that the sound of them, which shook the earth, made it +impossible for Richard and Rachel to hear each other speak. So they +were silent perforce. Only Richard rose and looked out of the cave, +then turned and beckoned to his companion. She came to him and watched, +till suddenly a blinding sheet of flame lit up the whole landscape. +Then she saw what he was looking at, for now nearly all the island, +except that high part of it on which they stood, was under water, +hidden by a brown, seething torrent, that tore past them to the sea. + +“If it rises much more, we shall be drowned,” he shouted in her ear. + +She nodded, then cried back: + +“Let us say our prayers and get ready,” for it seemed to Rachel that +the “glory” of which her father spoke so often was nearer to them than +ever. + +Then she drew him back into the cave and motioned to him to kneel +beside her, which he did bashfully enough, and for a while the two +children, for they were little more, remained thus with clasped hands +and moving lips. Presently the thunder lessened a little so that once +more they could hear each other speak. + +“What did you pray about?” he asked when they had risen from their +knees. + +“I prayed that you might escape, and that my mother might not grieve +for me too much,” she answered simply. “And you?” + +“I? Oh! the same—that you might escape. I did not pray for my mother as +she is dead, and I forgot about father.” + +“Look, look!” exclaimed Rachel, pointing to the mouth of the cave. + +He stared out at the darkness, and there, through the thin flames of +the fire, saw two great yellow shapes which appeared to be walking up +and down and glaring into the cave. + +“Lions,” he gasped, snatching at his gun. + +“Don’t shoot,” she cried, “you might make them angry. Perhaps they only +want to take refuge like ourselves. The fire will keep them away.” + +He nodded, then remembering that the charge and priming of his +flint-lock _roer_ must be damp, hurriedly set to work by the help of +Rachel to draw it with the screw on the end of his ramrod, and this +done, to reload with some powder that he had already placed to dry on a +flat stone near the fire. This operation took five minutes or more. +When at length it was finished, and the lock reprimed with the dry +powder, the two of them, Richard holding the _roer_, crept to the mouth +of the cave and looked out again. + +The great storm was passing now, and the rain grew thinner, but from +time to time the lightning, no longer forked or chain-shaped, flared in +wide sheets. By its ghastly illumination they saw a strange sight. +There on the island top the two lions marched backwards and forwards as +though they were in a cage, making a kind of whimpering noise as they +went, and staring round them uneasily. Moreover, these were not alone, +for gathered there were various other animals, driven down by the flood +from the islands above them, reed and water bucks, and a great eland. +Among these the lions walked without making the slightest effort to +attack them, nor did the antelopes, which stood sniffing and staring at +the torrent, take any notice of the lions, or attempt to escape. + +“You are right,” said Richard, “they are all frightened, and will not +harm us, unless the water rises more, and they rush into the cave. +Come, make up the fire.” + +They did so, and sat down on its further side, watching till, as +nothing happened, their dread of the lions passed away, and they began +to talk again, telling to each other the stories of their lives. + +Richard Darrien, it seemed, had been in Africa about five years, his +father having emigrated there on the death of his mother, as he had +nothing but the half-pay of a retired naval captain, and he hoped to +better his fortunes in a new land. He had been granted a farm in the +Graaf-Reinet district, but like many other of the early settlers, met +with misfortunes. Now, to make money, he had taken to elephant-hunting, +and with his partners was just returning from a very successful +expedition in the coast lands of Natal, at that time an almost +unexplored territory. His father had allowed Richard to accompany the +party, but when they got back, added the boy with sorrow, he was to be +sent for two or three years to the college at Capetown, since until +then his father had not been able to afford him the luxury of an +education. Afterwards he wished him to adopt a profession, but on this +point he—Richard—had made up his mind, although at present he said +little about that. He would be a hunter, and nothing else, until he +grew too old to hunt, when he intended to take to farming. + +His story done, Rachel told him hers, to which he listened eagerly. + +“Is your father mad?” he asked when she had finished. + +“No,” she answered. “How dare you suggest it? He is only very good; +much better than anybody else.” + +“Well, it seems to come to much the same thing, doesn’t it?” said +Richard, “for otherwise he would not have sent you to gather +gooseberries here with such a storm coming on.” + +“Then why did your father send you to hunt lions with such a storm +coming on?” she asked. + +“He didn’t send me. I came of myself; I said that I wanted to shoot a +buck, and finding the spoor of a lion I followed it. The waggons must +be a long way ahead now, for when I left them I returned to that kloof +where I had seen the buck. I don’t know how I shall overtake them +again, and certainly nobody will ever think of looking for me here, as +after this rain they can’t spoor the horse.” + +“Supposing you don’t find it—I mean your horse—tomorrow, what shall you +do?” asked Rachel. “We haven’t got any to lend you.” + +“Walk and try to catch them up,” he replied. + +“And if you can’t catch them up?” + +“Come back to you, as the wild Kaffirs ahead would kill me if I went on +alone.” + +“Oh! But what would your father think?” + +“He would think there was one boy the less, that’s all, and be sorry +for a while. People often vanish in Africa where there are so many +lions and savages.” + +Rachel reflected a while, then finding the subject difficult, suggested +that he should find out what their own particular lions were doing. So +Richard went to look, and reported that the storm had ceased, and that +by the moonlight he could see no lions or any other animals, so he +thought that they must have gone away somewhere. The flood waters also +appeared to be running down. Comforted by this intelligence Rachel +piled on the fire nearly all the wood that remained to them. Then they +sat down again side by side, and tried to continue their conversation. +By degrees it drooped, however, and the end of it was that presently +this pair were fast asleep in each other’s arms. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +GOOD-BYE + + +Rachel was the first to wake, which she did, feeling cold, for the fire +had burnt almost out. She rose and walked from the cave. The dawn was +breaking quietly, for now no wind stirred, and no rain fell. So dense +was the mist which rose from the river and sodden land, however, that +she could not see two yards in front of her, and fearing lest she +should stumble on the lions or some other animals, she did not dare to +wander far from the mouth of the cave. Near to it was a large, +hollow-surfaced rock, filled now with water like a bath. From this she +drank, then washed and tidied herself as well as she could without the +aid of soap, comb or towels, which done, she returned to the cave. + +As Richard was still sleeping, very quietly she laid a little more wood +on the embers to keep him warm, then sat down by his side and watched +him, for now the grey light of the dawning crept into their place of +refuge. To her this slumbering lad looked beautiful, and as she studied +him her childish heart was filled with a strange, new tenderness, such +as she had never felt before. Somehow he had grown dear to her, and +Rachel knew that she would never forget him while she lived. Then +following this wave of affection came a sharp and sudden pain, for she +remembered that presently they must part, and never see each other any +more. At least this seemed certain, for how could they when he was +travelling to the Cape and she to Natal? + +And yet, and yet a strange conviction told her otherwise. The power of +prescience which came to her from her mother and her Highland +forefathers awoke in her breast, and she knew that her life and this +lad’s life were interwoven. Perhaps she dozed off again, sitting there +by the fire. At any rate it appeared to her that she dreamed and saw +things in her dream. Wild tumultuous scenes opened themselves before +her in a vision; scenes of blood and terror, sounds, too, of voices +crying war. It appeared to her as if she were mad, and yet ruled a +queen, death came near to her a score of times, but always fled away at +her command. Now Richard Darrien was with her, and now she had lost him +and sought—ah! how she sought through dark places of doom and unnatural +night. It was as though he were dead, and she yet living, searched for +him among the habitations of the dead. She found him also, and drew him +towards her. How, she did not know. + +Then there was a scene, a last scene, which remained fixed in her mind +after everything else had faded away. She saw the huge trunks of forest +trees, enormous, towering trees, gloomy trees beneath which the +darkness could be felt. Down their avenues shot the level arrows of the +dawn. They fell on her, Rachel, dressed in robes of white skin, turning +her long, outspread hair to gold. They fell upon little people with +faces of a dusky pallor, one of them crouched against the bole of a +tree, a wizened monkey of a man who in all that vastness looked small. +They fell upon another man, white-skinned, half-naked, with a yellow +beard, who was lashed by hide ropes to a second tree. It was Richard +Darrien grown older, and at his feet lay a broad-bladed spear! + +The vision left her, or she was awakened from her sleep, whichever it +might be, by the pleasant voice of this same Richard, who stood yawning +before her, and said: + +“It is time to get up. I say, why do you look so queer? Are you ill?” + +“I have been up, long ago,” she answered, struggling to her feet. “What +do you mean?” + +“Nothing, except that you seemed a ghost a minute ago. Now you are a +girl again, it must have been the light.” + +“Did I? Well, I dreamed of ghosts, or something of the sort,” and she +told him of the vision of the trees, though of the rest she could +remember little. + +“That’s a queer story,” he said when she had finished. “I wish you had +got to the end of it, I should like to know what happened.” + +“We shall find out one day,” she answered solemnly. + +“Do you mean to say that you believe it is true, Rachel?” + +“Yes, Richard, one day I shall see you tied to that tree.” + +“Then I hope you will cut me loose, that is all. What a funny girl you +are,” he added doubtfully. “I know what it is, you want something to +eat. Have the rest of that biltong.” + +“No,” she answered. “I could not touch it. There is a pool of water out +there, go and bathe your arm, and I will bind it up again.” + +He went, still wondering, and a few minutes later returned, his face +and head dripping, and whispered: + +“Give me the gun. There is a reed buck standing close by. I saw it +through the mist; we’ll have a jolly breakfast off him.” + +She handed him the _roer_, and crept after him out of the cave. About +thirty yards away to the right, looming very large through the dense +fog, stood the fat reed buck. Richard wriggled towards it, for he +wanted to make sure of his shot, while Rachel crouched behind a stone. +The buck becoming alarmed, turned its head, and began to sniff at the +air, whereon he lifted the gun and just as it was about to spring away, +aimed and fired. Down it went dead, whereon, rejoicing in his triumph +like any other young hunter who thinks not of the wonderful and happy +life that he has destroyed, Richard sprang upon it exultantly, drawing +his knife as he came, while Rachel, who always shrank from such sights, +retreated to the cave. Half an hour later, however, being healthy and +hungry, she had no objection to eating venison toasted upon sticks in +the red embers of their fire. + +Their meal finished at length, they reloaded the gun, and although the +mist was still very dense, set out upon a journey of exploration, as by +now the sun was shining brightly above the curtain of low-lying vapour. +Stumbling on through the rocks, they discovered that the water had +fallen almost as quickly as it rose on the previous night. The island +was strewn, however, with the trunks of trees and other debris that it +had brought down, amongst which lay the carcases of bucks and smaller +creatures, and with them a number of drowned snakes. The two lions, +however, appeared to have escaped by swimming, at least they saw +nothing of them. Walking cautiously, they came to the edge of the +donga, and sat down upon a stone, since as yet they could not see how +wide and deep the water ran. + +Whilst they remained thus, suddenly through the mist they heard a voice +shouting from the other side of the donga. + +“Missie,” cried the voice in Dutch, “are you there missie?” + +“That is Tom, our driver,” she said, “come to look for me. Answer for +me, Richard.” + +So the lad, who had very good lungs, roared in reply: + +“Yes, I’m here, safe, waiting for the mist to lift, and the water to +run down.” + +“God be thanked,” yelled the distant Tom. “We thought that you were +surely drowned. But, then, why is your voice changed?” + +“Because an English heer is with me,” cried Rachel. “Go and look for +his horse and bring a rope, then wait till the mist rises. Also send to +tell the pastor and my mother that I am safe.” + +“I am here, Rachel,” shouted another voice, her father’s. “I have been +looking for you all night, and we have got the Englishman’s horse. +Don’t come into the water yet. Wait till we can see.” + +“That’s good news, any way,” said Richard, “though I shall have to ride +hard to catch up the waggons.” + +Rachel’s face fell. + +“Yes,” she said; “very good news.” + +“Are you glad that I am going, then?” he asked in an offended tone. + +“It was you who said the news was good,” she replied gently. + +“I meant I was glad that they had caught my horse, not that I had to +ride away on it. Are you sorry, then?” and he glanced at her anxiously. + +“Yes, I am sorry, for we have made friends, haven’t we? It won’t matter +to you who will find plenty of people down there at the Cape, but you +see when you are gone I shall have no friend left in this wilderness, +shall I?” + +Again Richard looked at her, and saw that her sweet grey eyes were full +of tears. Then there rose within the breast of this lad who, be it +remembered, was verging upon manhood, a sensation strangely similar, +had he but known it, to that which had been experienced an hour or two +before by the child at his side when she watched him sleeping in the +cave. He felt as though these tear-laden grey eyes were drawing his +heart as a magnet draws iron. Of love he knew nothing, it was but a +name to him, but this feeling was certainly very new and queer. + +“What have you done to me?” he asked brusquely. “I don’t want to go +away from you at all, which is odd, as I never liked girls much. I tell +you,” he went on with gathering vehemence, “that if it wasn’t that it +would be mean to play such a trick upon my father, I wouldn’t go. I’d +come with you, or follow after—all my life. Answer me—what have you +done?” + +“Nothing, nothing at all,” said Rachel with a little sob, “except tie +up your arm.” + +“That can’t be it,” he replied. “Anyone could tie up my arm. Oh! I know +it is wrong, but I hope I shan’t be able to overtake the waggons, for +if I can’t I will come back.” + +“You mustn’t come back; you must go away, quite away, as soon as you +can. Yes, as soon as you can. Your father will be very anxious,” and +she began to cry outright. + +“Stop it,” said Richard. “Do you hear me, stop it. I am not going to be +made to snivel too, just because I shan’t see a little girl any more +whom I never met—till yesterday.” + +These last words came out with a gulp, and what is more, two tears came +with them and trickled down his nose. + +For a moment they sat thus looking at each other pitifully, and—the +truth must be told—weeping, both of them. Then something got the better +of Richard, let us call it primeval instinct, so that he put his arms +about Rachel and kissed her, after which they continued to weep, their +heads resting upon each other’s shoulders. At length he let her go and +stood up, saying argumentatively: + +“You see now we are really friends.” + +“Yes,” she answered, again rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand +for lack of a pocket handkerchief in the fashion that on the previous +day had so irritated her father, “but I don’t know why you should kiss +me like that, just because you are my friend, or” she added with an +outburst of truthfulness, “why I should kiss you.” + +Richard stood over her frowning and reflecting. Then he gave up the +problem as beyond his powers of interpretation, and said: + +“You remember that rubbish you dreamt just now, about my being tied to +a tree and the rest of it? Well, it wasn’t nice, and it gives me the +creeps to think of it, like the lions outside the cave. But I want to +tell you that I hope it is true, for then we shall meet again, if it is +only to say good-night.” + +“Yes, Richard,” she answered, placing her slim fingers into his big +brown hand, “we shall meet again, I am sure—I am quite sure. And I +think that it will be to say, not good-night,” and she looked up at him +and smiled, “but good-morning.” + +As Rachel spoke a puff of wind blew down the donga, rolling up the mist +before it, and of a sudden shining above them they saw the glorious +sun. As though by magic butterflies appeared basking upon the +rain-shattered lily blooms; bright birds flitted from tree to tree, +ringdoves began to coo. The terror of the tempest and the darkness of +night were overpast; the world awoke again to life and love and joy. +Instantly this change reflected itself in their young hearts. They +whose natures had as it were ripened prematurely in the stress of +danger and the shadow of death, became children once again. The very +real emotions that they had experienced were forgotten, or at any rate +sank into abeyance. Now they thought, not of separation or of the dim, +mysterious future that stretched before them, but only of how they +should ford the stream and gain its further side, where Rachel saw her +father, Tom, the driver, and the other Kaffirs, and Richard saw his +horse which he had feared was lost. + +They ran down to the brink of the water and examined it, but here it +was still too deep for them to attempt its crossing. Then, directed by +the shouts and motions of the Kaffir Tom and Mr. Dove, they proceeded +up stream for several hundred yards, till they came to a rapid where +the lessening flood ran thinly over a ridge of rock, and after +investigation, proceeded to try its passage hand in hand. It proved +difficult but not dangerous, for when they came near to the further +side where the current was swift and the water rather deep, Tom threw +them a waggon rope, clinging on to which they were dragged—wet, but +laughing—in safety to the further bank. + +“Ow!” exclaimed the Kaffirs, clapping their hands. “She is alive, the +lightnings have turned away from her, she rules the waters, and the +lightnings!” and then and there, after the native fashion, they gave +Rachel a name which was destined to play a great part in her future. +That name was “Lady of the Lightnings,” or, to translate it more +accurately, “of the Heavens.” + +“I never thought to see you again,” said her father, looking at Rachel +with a face that was still white and scared. “It was very wrong of me +to send you so far with that storm coming on, and I have had a terrible +night—yes, a terrible night; and so has your poor mother. However, she +knows that you are safe by now, thank God, thank God!” and he took her +in his arms and kissed her. + +“Well, father, you said that He would look after me, didn’t you? And so +He did, for He sent Richard here. If it hadn’t been for Richard I +should have been drowned,” she added inconsequently. + +“Yes, yes,” said Mr. Dove. “Providence manifests itself in many ways. +But who is your young friend whom you call Richard? I suppose he has +some other name.” + +“Of course,” answered that youth himself, “everybody has except +Kaffirs. Mine is Darrien.” + +“Darrien?” said Mr. Dove. “I had a friend called Darrien at school. I +never saw him after I left, but I believe that he went into the Navy.” + +“Then he must be my father, sir, for I have heard him say that there +had been no other Darrien in the service for a hundred years.” + +“I think so,” answered Mr. Dove, “for now that I look at you, I can see +a likeness. We slept side by side in the same dormitory once +five-and-thirty years ago, so I remember. And now you have saved my +daughter; it is very strange. But tell me the story.” + +So between them they told it, although to one scene of it—the +last—neither of them thought it necessary to allude; or perhaps it was +forgotten. + +“Truly the Almighty has had you both in His keeping,” exclaimed Mr. +Dove, when their tale was done. “And now, Richard, my boy, what are you +going to do? You see, we caught your horse—it was grazing about a mile +away with the saddle twisted under its stomach—and wondered what white +man could possibly have been riding it in this desolate place. +Afterwards, however, one of my voor-loopers reported that he had seen +two waggons yesterday afternoon trekking through the poort about five +miles to the north there. The white men with them said that they were +travelling towards the Cape, and pushing on to get out of the hills +before the storm broke. They bade him, if he met you, to bid you follow +after them as quickly as you could, and to say that they would wait for +you, if you did not arrive before, at the Three Sluit outspan on this +side of the Pondo country, at which you stopped some months ago.” + +“Yes,” answered Richard, “I remember, but that outspan is thirty miles +away, so I must be getting on, or they will come back to hunt for me.” + +“First you will stop and eat with us, will you not?” said Mr. Dove. + +“No, no, I have eaten. Also I have saved some meat in my pouch. I must +go, I must indeed, for otherwise my father will be angry with me. You +see,” he added, “I went out shooting without his leave.” + +“Ah! my boy,” remarked Mr. Dove, who seldom neglected an opportunity +for a word in season, “now you know what comes of disobedience.” + +“Yes, I know, sir,” he answered looking at Rachel. “I was just in time +to save your daughter’s life here; as you said just now, Providence +sent me. Well, good-bye, and don’t think me wicked if I am very glad +that I was disobedient, as I believe you are, too.” + +“Yes, I am. Good comes out of evil sometimes, though that is no reason +why we should do evil,” the missionary added, not knowing what else to +say. Richard did not attempt to argue the point, for at the moment he +was engaged in bidding farewell to Rachel. It was a very silent +farewell; neither of them spoke a word, they only shook each other’s +hand and looked into each other’s eyes. Then muttering something which +it was as well that Mr. Dove did not hear, Richard swung himself into +the saddle, for his horse stood at hand, and, without even looking +back, cantered away towards the mountains. + +“Oh!” exclaimed Rachel presently, “call him, father.” + +“What for?” asked Mr. Dove. + +“I want to give him our address, and to get his.” + +“We have no address, Rachel. Also he is too far off, and why should you +want the address of a chance acquaintance?” + +“Because he saved my life and I do,” replied the child, setting her +face. Then, without another word, she turned and began to walk towards +their camp—a very heavy journey it was to Rachel. + +When Rachel reached the waggon she found that her mother was more or +less recovered. At any rate the attack of fever had left her so that +she felt able to rise from her bed. Now, although still weak, she was +engaged in packing away the garments of her dead baby in a travelling +chest, weeping in a silent, piteous manner as she worked. It was a very +sad sight. When she saw Rachel she opened her arms without a word, and +embraced her. + +“You were not frightened about me, mother?” asked the child. + +“No, my love,” she answered, “because I knew that no harm would come to +you. I have always known that. It was a mad thing of your father to +send you to such a place at such a time, but no folly of his or of +anyone else can hurt you who are destined to live. Never be afraid of +anything, Rachel, for remember always you will only die in old age.” + +“I am not sure that I am glad of that,” answered the girl, as she +pulled off her wet clothes. “Life isn’t a very happy thing, is it, +mother, at least for those who live as we do?” + +“There is good and bad in it, dear; we can’t have one without the +other—most of us. At any rate, we must take it as it comes, who have to +walk a path that we did not make, and stop walking when our path comes +to an end, not a step before or after. But, Rachel, you are changed +since yesterday. I see it in your face. What has happened to you?” + +“Lots of things, mother. I will tell you the story, all of it, every +word. Would you like to hear it?” + +Her mother nodded, and, the baby-clothes being at last packed away, +shut the lid of the box with a sigh, sat down upon it and listened. + +Rachel told her of her meeting with Richard Darrien, and of how he +saved her from the flood. She told of the strange night that they had +spent together in the little cave while the lions marched up and down +without. She told of her vigil over the sleeping Richard at the +daybreak, and of the dream that she had dreamed when she seemed to see +him grown to manhood, and herself grown to womanhood, and clad in white +skins, watching him lashed to the trunk of a gigantic tree as the first +arrows of sunrise struck down the lanes of some mysterious forest. She +told of how her heart had been stirred, and of how afterwards in the +mist by the water’s brink his heart had been stirred also, and of how +they had kissed each other and wept because they must part. + +Then she stopped, expecting that her mother would be angry with her and +scold her for her thoughts and conduct, as she knew well her father +would have done. But she was not angry, and she did not scold. She only +stretched out her thin hands and stroked the child’s fair hair, saying: + +“Don’t be frightened, Rachel, and don’t be sad. You think that you have +lost him, but soon or late he will come back to you, perhaps as you +dreamed—perhaps otherwise.” + +“If I were sure of that, mother, I would not mind anything,” said the +girl, “though really I don’t know why I should care,” she added +defiantly. + +“No, you don’t know now, but you will one day, and when you do, +remember that, however long it seems to wait, you may be quite sure, +because I who have the gift of knowing, told you so. Now tell me again +what Richard Darrien was like while you remember, for perhaps I may +never live to see his face, and I wish to get it into my mind.” + +So Rachel told her, and when she had described every detail, asked +suddenly: + +“Must we really go on, mother, into this awful wilderness? Would not +father turn back if you asked him?” + +“Perhaps,” she answered. “But I shall not ask. He would never forgive +me for preventing him from doing what he thinks his duty. It is a +madness when we might be happy in the Cape or in England, but that +cannot be helped, for it is also his destiny and ours. Don’t judge +hardly of your father, Rachel, because he is a saint, and this world is +a bad place for saints and their families, especially their families. +You think that he does not feel; that he is heartless about me and the +poor babe, and sacrifices us all, but I tell you he feels more than +either you or I can do. At night when I pretend to go to sleep I watch +him groaning over his loss and for me, and praying for strength to bear +it, and for help to enable him to do his duty. Last night he was nearly +crazed about you, and in all that awful storm, when the Kaffirs would +not stir from the waggon, went alone down to the river guided by the +lightnings, but of course returned half dead, having found nothing. By +dawn he was back there again, for love and fear would not let him rest +a minute. Yet he will never tell you anything of that, lest you should +think that his faith in Providence was shaken. I know that he is +strange—it is no use hiding it, but if I were to thwart him he would go +quite mad, and then I should never forgive myself, who took him for +better and for worse, just as he is, and not as I should like him to +be. So, Rachel, be as happy as you can, and make the best of things, as +I try to do, for your life is all before you, whereas mine lies behind +me, and yonder,” and she pointed towards the place where the infant was +buried. “Hush! here he comes. Now, help me with the packing, for we are +to trek to the ford this afternoon.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +ISHMAEL + + +It may he doubted whether any well-born young English lady ever had a +stranger bringing-up than that which fell to the lot of Rachel Dove. To +begin with, she had absolutely no associates, male or female, of her +own age and station, for at that period in its history such people did +not exist in the country where she dwelt. Practically her only +companions were her father, a religious enthusiast, and her mother, a +half broken-hearted woman, who never for a single hour could forget the +children she had lost, and whose constitutional mysticism increased +upon her continually until at times it seemed as though she had added +some new quality to her normal human nature. + +Then there were the natives, amongst whom from the beginning Rachel was +a sort of queen. In those first days of settlement they had never seen +anybody in the least like her, no one so beautiful—for she grew up +beautiful—so fearless, or so kind. The tale of that adventure of hers +as a child upon the island in the midst of the flooded torrent spread +all through the country with many fabulous additions. Thus the Kaffirs +said that she was a “Heaven-herd,” that is, a magical person who can +ward off or direct the lightnings, which she was supposed to have done +upon this night; also that she could walk upon the waters, for +otherwise how did she escape the flood? And, lastly, that the wild +beasts were her servants, for had not the driver Tom and the natives +seen the spoor of great lions right at the mouth of the cave where she +and her companion sheltered, and had they not heard that she called +these lions into the cave to protect her and him from the other +creatures? Therefore, as has been said, they gave her a name, a very +long name that meant Chieftainess, or Lady of Heaven, +_Inkosazana-y-Zoola;_ for Zulu or Zoola, which we know as the title of +that people, means Heaven, and _Udade-y-Silwana,_ or Sister of wild +beasts. As these appellations proved too lengthy for general use, even +among the Bantu races, who have plenty of time for talking, ultimately +it was shortened to Zoola alone, so that throughout that part of +South-Eastern Africa Rachel came to enjoy the lofty title of “Heaven,” +the first girl, probably, who was ever so called. + +With all natives from her childhood up, Rachel was on the best of +terms. She was never familiar with them indeed, for that is not the way +for a white person to win the affection, or even the respect of a +Kaffir. But she was intimate in the sense that she could enter into +their thoughts and nature, a very rare gift. We whites are apt to +consider ourselves the superior of such folk, whereas we are only +different. In fact, taken altogether, it is quite a question whether +the higher sections of the Bantu peoples are not our equals. Of course, +we have learned more things, and our best men are their betters. But, +on the other hand, among them there is nothing so low as the +inhabitants of our slums, nor have they any vices which can surpass our +vices. Is an assegai so much more savage than a shell? Is there any +great gulf fixed between a Chaka and a Napoleon? At least they are not +hypocrites, and they are not vulgar; that is the privilege of civilised +nations. + +Well, with these folk Rachel was intimate. She could talk to the +warrior of his wars, to the woman of her garden and her children to the +children of that wonder world which surrounds childhood throughout the +universe. And yet there was never a one of these but lifted the hand to +her in salute when her shadow fell upon them. To them all she was the +Inkosazana, the Great Lady. They would laugh at her father and mimic +him behind his back, but Rachel they never laughed at or mimicked. Of +her mother also, although she kept herself apart from them, much the +same may be said. For her they had a curious name which they would not, +or were unable to explain. They called her +“Flower-that-grows-on-a-grave.” For Mr. Dove their appellation was less +poetical. It was “Shouter-about-Things-he-does-not-understand,” or, +more briefly, “The Shouter,” a name that he had acquired from his habit +of raising his voice when he grew moved in speaking to them. The things +that he did not understand, it may be explained, were not to their +minds his religious views, which, although they considered them +remarkable, were evidently his own affair, but their private customs. +Especially their family customs that he was never weary of denouncing +to the bewilderment of these poor heathens, who for their part were not +greatly impressed by those of the few white people with whom they came +in contact. Therefore, with native politeness, they concluded that he +spoke thus rudely because he did not understand. Hence his name. + +But Rachel had other friends. In truth she was Nature’s child, if in a +better and a purer sense than Byron uses that description. The sea, the +veld, the sky, the forest and the river, these were her companions, for +among them she dwelt solitary. Their denizens, too, knew her well, for +unless she were driven to it, never would she lift her hand against +anything that drew the breath of life. The buck would let her pass +quite close to them, nor at her coming did the birds stir from off +their trees. Often she stood and watched the great elephants feeding or +at rest, and even dared to wander among the herds of savage buffalo. Of +only two living things was she afraid—the snake and the crocodile, that +are cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field, +because being cursed they have no sympathy or gentleness. She feared +nothing else, she who was always fearless, nor brute or bird, did they +fear her. + +After Rachel’s adventure in the flooded river she and her parents +pursued their journey by slow and tedious marches, and at length, +though in those days this was strange enough, reached Natal unharmed. +At first they went to live where the city of Durban now stands, which +at that time had but just received its name. It was inhabited by a few +rough men, who made a living by trading and hunting, and surrounded +themselves with natives, refugees for the most part from the Zulu +country. Amongst these people and their servants Mr. Dove commenced his +labours, but ere long a bitter quarrel grew up between him and them. + +These dwellers in the midst of barbarism led strange lives, and Mr. +Dove, who rightly held it to be his duty to denounce wrong-doing of +every sort, attacked them and their vices in no measured terms, and +upon all occasions. For long years he kept up the fight, until at +length he found himself ostracised. If they could avoid it, no white +men would speak to him, nor would they allow him to instruct their +Kaffirs. Thus his work came to an end in Durban as it had done in other +places. Now, again, his wife and daughter hoped that he would leave +South Africa for good, and return home. But it was not to be, for once +more he announced that it was laid upon him to follow the example of +his divine Master, and that the Spirit drove him into the wilderness. +So, with a few attendants, they trekked away from Durban. + +On this occasion it was his wild design to settle in Zululand—where +Chaka, the great king, being dead, Dingaan, his brother and murderer, +ruled in his place—and there devote himself to the conversion of the +Zulus. Indeed, it is probable that he would have carried out this plan +had he not been prevented by an accident. One night when they were +about forty miles from Durban they camped on a stream, a tributary of +the Tugela River, which ran close by, and formed the boundary of the +Zulu country. It was a singularly beautiful spot, for to the east of +them, about a mile away, stretched the placid Indian Ocean, while to +the west, overshadowing them almost, rose a towering cliff, over which +the stream poured itself, looking like a line of smoke against its +rocky face. They had outspanned upon a rising hillock at the foot of +which this little river wound away like a silver snake till it joined +the great Tugela. In its general aspect the country was like an English +park, dotted here and there with timber, around which grazed or rested +great elands and other buck, and amongst them a huge rhinoceros. + +When the waggon had creaked to the top of the rise, for, of course, +there was no road, and the Kaffirs were beginning to unyoke the hungry +oxen, Rachel, who was riding with her father, sprang from her horse and +ran to it to help her mother to descend. She was now a tall young +woman, full of health and vigour, strong and straightly shaped. Mrs. +Dove, frail, delicate, grey-haired, placed her foot upon the disselboom +and hesitated, for to her the ground seemed far off, and the heels of +the cattle very near. + +“Jump,” said Rachel in her clear, laughing voice, as she smacked the +near after-ox to make it turn round, which it did obediently, for all +the team knew her. “I’ll catch you.” + +But her mother still hesitated, so thrusting her way between the ox and +the front wheel Rachel stretched out her arms and lifted her bodily to +the ground. + +“How strong you are, my love!” said her mother, with a sort of +wondering admiration and a sad little smile; “it seems strange to think +that I ever carried you.” + +“One had need to be in this country, dear,” replied Rachel cheerfully. +“Come and walk a little way, you must be stiff with sitting in that +horrid waggon,” and she led her quite to the top of the knoll. “There,” +she added, “isn’t the view lovely? I never saw such a pretty place in +all Africa. And oh! look at those buck, and yes—that is a rhinoceros. I +hope it won’t charge us.” + +Mrs. Dove obeyed, gazing first at the glorious sea, then at the plain +and the trees, and lastly behind her at the towering cliff steeped in +shadow—for the sun was westering—down the face of which the waterfall +seemed to hang like a silver rope. + +As her eyes fell upon this cliff Mrs. Dove’s face changed. + +“I know this spot,” she said in a hurried voice. “I have seen it +before.” + +“Nonsense, mother,” answered Rachel. “We have never trekked here, so +how could you?” + +“I can’t say, love, but I have. I remember that cliff and the +waterfall; yes, and those three trees, and the buck standing under +them.” + +“One often feels like that, about having seen places, I mean, mother, +but of course it is all nonsense, because it is impossible, unless one +dreams of them first.” + +“Yes, love, unless one dreams. Well, I think that I must have dreamt. +What was the dream now? Rachel weeping—Rachel weeping—my love, I think +that we are going to live here, and I think—I think——” + +“All right,” broke in her daughter quickly, with a shade of anxiety in +her voice as though she did not wish to learn what her mother thought. +“I don’t mind, I am sure. I don’t want to go to Zululand, and see this +horrid Dingaan, who is always killing people, and I am quite sure that +father would never convert him, the wicked monster. It is like the +Garden of Eden, isn’t it, with the sea thrown in. There are all the +animals, and that green tree with the fruit on it might be the Tree of +Life, and—oh, my goodness, there is Adam!” + +Mrs. Dove followed the line of her daughter’s outstretched hand, and +perceived three or four hundred yards away, as in that sparkling +atmosphere it was easy to do, a white man apparently clad in skins. He +was engaged in crawling up a little rise of ground with the obvious +intention of shooting at some blesbuck which stood in a hollow beyond +with quaggas and other animals, while behind him was a mounted Kaffir +who held his master’s horse. + +“I see,” said Mrs. Dove, mildly interested. “But he looks more like +Robinson Crusoe without his umbrella. Adam did not kill the animals in +the Garden, my dear.” + +“He must have lived on something besides forbidden apples,” remarked +Rachel, “unless perhaps he was a vegetarian as father wants to be. +There—he has fired!” + +As she spoke a cloud of smoke arose above the man, and presently the +loud report of a _roer_ reached their ears. One of the buck rolled over +and lay struggling on the ground, while the rest, together with many +others at a distance, turned and galloped off this way and that, +frightened by this new and terrible noise. The old rhinoceros under the +tree rose snorting, sniffed the air, then thundered away up wind +towards the man, its pig-like tail held straight above its back. + +“Adam has spoilt our Eden; I hope the rhinoceros will catch him,” said +Rachel viciously. “Look, he has seen it and is running to his horse.” + +Rachel was right. Adam—or whatever his name might be—was running with +remarkable swiftness. Reaching the horse just as the rhinoceros +appeared within forty yards of him, he bounded to the saddle, and with +his servant galloped off to the right. The rhinoceros came to a +standstill for a few moments as though it were wondering whether it +dared attack these strange creatures, then making up its mind in the +negative, rushed on and vanished. When it was gone, the white man and +the Kaffir, who had pulled up their horses at a distance, returned to +the fallen buck, cut its throat, and lifted it on to the Kaffir’s +horse, then rode slowly towards the waggon. + +“They are coming to call,” said Rachel. “How should one receive a +gentleman in skins?” + +Apparently some misgivings as to the effect that might be produced by +his appearance occurred to the hunter. At any rate, he looked first at +the two white women standing on the brow, and next at his own peculiar +attire, which appeared to consist chiefly of the pelt of a lion, plus a +very striking pair of trousers manufactured from the hide of a zebra, +and halted about sixty yards away, staring at them. Rachel, whose sight +was exceedingly keen, could see his face well, for the light of the +setting sun fell on it, and he wore no head covering. It was a dark, +handsome face of a man about thirty-five years of age, with +strongly-marked features, black eyes and beard, and long black hair +that fell down on to his shoulders. They gazed at each other for a +while, then the man turned to his after-rider, gave him an order in a +clear, strong voice, and rode away inland. The after-rider, on the +contrary, directed his horse up the rise until he was within a few +yards of them, then sprang to the ground and saluted. + +“What is it?” asked Rachel in Zulu, a language which she now spoke +perfectly. + +“Inkosikaas” (that is—Lady), answered the man, “my master thinks that +you may be hungry and sends you a present of this buck,” and, as he +spoke, he loosed the riem or hide rope by which it was fastened behind +his saddle, and let the animal fall to the ground. + +Rachel turned her eyes from it, for it was covered with blood, and +unpleasant to look at, then replied: + +“My father and my mother thank your master. How is he named, and where +does he dwell?” + +“Lady, among us black people he is named Ibubesi (lion), but his white +name is Hishmel.” + +“Hishmel, Hishmel?” said Rachel. “Oh! I know, he means Ishmael. There, +mother, I told you he was something biblical, and of course Ishmael +dwelt in the wilderness, didn’t he, after his father had behaved so +badly to poor Hagar, and was a wild man whose hand was against every +man’s.” + +“Rachel, Rachel,” said her mother suppressing a little smile. “Your +father would be very angry if he heard you. You should not speak +lightly of holy persons.” + +“Well, mother, Abraham may have been a holy person, but we should think +him a mean old thing nowadays, almost as mean as Sarah. You know they +were most of them mean, so what is the use of pretending they were +not?” + +Then without waiting for an answer she asked the Kaffir again: “Where +does the Inkoos Ishmael dwell?” + +“In the wilderness,” answered the man appropriately. “Now his kraal is +yonder, two hours’ ride away. It is called Mafooti,” and he pointed +over the top of the precipice, adding: “he is a hunter and trades with +the Zulus.” + +“Is he Dutch?” asked Rachel, whose curiosity was excited. + +The Kaffir shook his head. “No, he hates the Dutch; he is of the people +of George.” + +“The people of George? Why, he must mean a subject of King George—an +Englishman.” + +“Yes, yes, Lady, an Englishman, like you,” and he grinned at her. “Have +you any message for the Inkoos Hishmel?” + +“Yes. Say to the Inkoos Ishmael or Lion-who-dwells-in-the-wilderness, +hates the Dutch and wears zebra-skin trousers, that my father and my +mother thank him very much for his present, and hope that his health is +good. Go. That is all.” + +The man grinned again, suspecting a joke, for the Zulus have a sense of +humour, then repeated the message word for word, trying to pronounce +Ishmael as Rachel did, saluted, mounted his horse, and galloped off +after his master. + +“Perhaps you should have kept that Kaffir until your father came,” +suggested Mrs. Dove doubtfully. + +“What was the good?” said Rachel. “He would only have asked Mr. Ishmael +to call in order that he might find out his religious opinions, and I +don’t want to see any more of the man.” + +“Why not, Rachel?” + +“Because I don’t like him, mother. I think he is worse than any of the +rest down there, too bad to stop among them probably, and—” she added +with conviction, “I think we shall have more of his company than we +want before all is done. Oh! it is no good to say that I am +prejudiced—I do, and what is more, he came into our Garden of Eden and +shot the buck. I hope he will meet that rhinoceros on the way home. +There!” + +Although she disapproved, or tried to think that she did, of such +strong opinions so strongly expressed, Mrs. Dove offered no further +opposition to them. The fact was that her daughter’s bodily and mental +vigour overshadowed her, as they did her husband also. Indeed, it +seemed curious that this girl, so powerful in body and in mind, should +have sprung from such a pair, a wrong-headed, narrow-viewed saint whose +right place in the world would have been in a cell in the monastery or +one of the stricter orders, and a gentle, uncomplaining, high-bred +woman with a mind distinguished by its affectionate and mystical +nature, a mind so unusual and refined that it seemed to be, and in +truth was, open to influences whereof, mercifully enough, the majority +of us never feel the subtle, secret power. + +Of her father there was absolutely no trace in Rachel, except a certain +physical resemblance—so far as he was concerned she must have thrown +back to some earlier progenitor. Even their intellects and moral +outlook were quite different. She had, it is true, something of his +scholarly power; thus, notwithstanding her wild upbringing, as has been +said, she could read the Greek Testament almost as well as he could, or +even Homer, which she liked because the old, bloodthirsty heroes +reminded her of the Zulus. He had taught her this and other knowledge, +and she was an apt pupil. But there the resemblance stopped. Whereas +his intelligence was narrow and enslaved by the priestly tradition, +hers was wide and human. She searched and she criticised; she believed +in God as he did, but she saw His purpose working in the evil as in the +good. In her own thought she often compared these forces to the Day and +Night, and believed both of them to be necessary to the human world. +For her, savagery had virtues as well as civilisation, although it is +true of the latter she knew but little. + +From her mother Rachel had inherited more, for instance her grace of +speech and bearing, and her intuition, or foresight. Only in her case +this curious gift did not dominate her, her other forces held it in +check. She felt and she knew, but feeling and knowledge did not +frighten or make her weak, any more than the strength of her frame or +of her spirit made her unwomanly. She accepted these things as part of +her mental equipment, that was all, being aware that to her a door was +opened which is shut firmly enough in the faces of most folk, but not +on that account in the least afraid of looking through it as her mother +was. + +Thus when she saw the man called Ishmael, she knew well enough that he +was destined to bring great evil upon her and hers, as when as a child +she met the boy Richard Darrien, she had known other things. But she +did not, therefore, fear the man and his attendant evil. She only +shrank from the first and looked through the second, onward and outward +to the ultimate good which she was convinced lay at the end of +everything, and meanwhile, being young and merry, she found his +zebra-skin trousers very ridiculous. + +Just as Rachel and her mother finished their conversation about Mr. +Ishmael, Mr. Dove arrived from a little Kloof, where he had been +engaged with the Kaffirs in cutting bushes to make a thorn fence round +their camp as a protection against lions and hyenas. He looked older +than when we last met him, and save for a fringe of white hair, which +increased his monkish appearance, was quite bald. His face, too, was +even thinner and more eager, and his grey eyes were more far-away than +formerly; also he had grown a long white beard. + +“Where did that buck come from?” he asked, looking at the dead +creature. + +Rachel told him the story with the result that, as her mother had +expected, he was very indignant with her. It was most unkind, and +indeed, un-Christian, he said, not to have asked this very courteous +gentleman into the camp, as he would much have liked to converse with +him. He had often reproved her habit of judging by external, and in the +veld, lion and zebra skins furnish a very suitable covering. She should +remember that such were given to our first parents. + +“Oh! I know, father,” broke in Rachel, “when the climate grew too cold +for leaf petticoats and the rest. Now don’t begin to scold me, because +I must go to cook the dinner. I didn’t like the look of the man; +besides, he rode off. Then it wasn’t my business to ask him here, but +mother’s, who stood staring at him and never said a single word. If you +want to see him so much, you can go to call upon him to-morrow, only +don’t take me, please. And now will you send Tom to skin the buck?” + +Mr. Dove answered that Tom was busy with the fence, and, ceasing from +argument which he felt to be useless with Rachel, suggested doubtfully +that he had better be his own butcher. + +“No, no,” she replied, “you know you hate that sort of thing, as I do. +Let it be till the Kaffirs have time. We have the cold meat left for +supper, and I will boil some mealies. Go and help with the fence, +father, while I light the fire.” + +Usually Rachel was the best of sleepers. So soon as she laid her head +upon whatever happened to serve her for a pillow, generally a saddle, +her eyes shut to open no more till daylight came. On this night, +however, it was not so. She had her bed in a little flap tent which +hooked on to the side of the waggon that was occupied by her parents. +Here she lay wide awake for a long while, listening to the Kaffirs who, +having partaken heartily of the buck, were now making themselves drunk +by smoking _dakka_, or Indian hemp, a habit of which Mr. Dove had tried +in vain to break them. At length the fire around which they sat near +the thorn fence on the further side of the waggon, grew low, and their +incoherent talk ended in silence, punctuated by snores. Rachel began to +doze but was awakened by the laughing cries of the hyenas quite close +to her. The brutes had scented the dead buck and were wandering round +the fence in hope of a midnight meal. Rachel rose, and taking the gun +that lay at her side, threw a cloak over her shoulders and left the +tent. + +The moon was shining brightly and by its light she saw the hyenas, two +of them, wolves as they are called in South Africa, long grey creatures +that prowled round the thorn fence hungrily, causing the oxen that were +tied to the trek tow and the horses picketed on the other side of the +waggon, to low and whinny in an uneasy fashion. The hyenas saw her +also, for her head rose above the rough fence, and being cowardly +beasts, slunk away. She could have shot them had she chose, but did +not, first because she hated killing anything unnecessarily, even a +wolf, and secondly because it would have aroused the camp. So she +contented herself by throwing more dry wood on to the fire, stepping +over the Kaffirs, who slept like logs, in order to do so. Then, resting +upon her gun like some Amazon on guard, she gazed a while at the lovely +moonlit sea, and the long line of game trekking silently to their +drinking place, until seeing no more of the wolves or other dangerous +beasts, she turned and sought her bed again. + +She was thinking of Mr. Ishmael and his zebra-skin trousers; wondering +why the man should have filled her with such an unreasoning dislike. If +she had disliked him at a distance of fifty paces, how she would hate +him when he was near! And yet he was probably only one of those broken +soldiers of fortune of whom she had met several, who took to the +wilderness as a last resource, and by degrees sank to the level of the +savages among whom they lived, a person who was not worth a second +thought. So she tried to put him from her mind, and by way of an +antidote, since still she could not sleep, filled it with her +recollections of Richard Darrien. Some years had gone by since they had +met, and from that time to this she had never heard a word of him in +which she could put the slightest faith. She did not even know whether +he were alive or dead, only she believed that if he were dead she would +be aware of it. No, she had never heard of him, and it seemed probable +that she never would hear of him again. Yet she did not believe that +either. Had she done so her happiness—for on the whole Rachel was a +happy girl—would have departed from her, since this once seen lad never +left her heart, nor had she forgotten their farewell kiss. + +Reflecting thus, at length Rachel fell off to sleep and began to dream, +still of Richard Darrien. It was a long dream whereof afterwards she +could remember but little, but in it there were shoutings, and black +faces, and the flashing of spears; also the white man Ishmael was +present there. One part, however, she did remember; Richard Darrien, +grown taller, changed and yet the same, leaning over her, warning her +of danger to come, warning her against this man Ishmael. + +She awoke suddenly to see that the light of dawn was creeping into her +tent, that low, soft light which is so beautiful in Southern Africa. +Rachel was disturbed, she felt the need of action, of anything that +would change the current of her thoughts. No one was about yet. What +should she do? She knew; the sea was not more than a mile away, she +would go down to it and bathe, and be back before the rest of them were +awake. + + + + +CHAPTER V. +NOIE + + +That a girl should set out alone to bathe through a country inhabited +chiefly by wild beasts and a few wandering savages, sounds a somewhat +dangerous form of amusement. So it was indeed, but Rachel cared nothing +for such dangers, in fact she never even thought of them. Long ago she +had discovered that the animals would not harm her if she did not harm +them, except perhaps the rhinoceros, which is given to charging on +sight, and that was large and could generally be discovered at a +distance. As for elephants and lions, or even buffalo, her experience +was that they ran away, except on rare occasions when they stood still, +and stared at her. Nor was she afraid of the savages, who always +treated her with the utmost respect, even if they had never seen her +before. Still, in case of accidents she took her double-barrelled gun, +loaded in one barrel with ball, and in the other with loopers or slugs, +and awakened Tom, the driver, to tell him where she was going. The man +stared at her sleepily, and murmured a remonstrance, but taking no heed +of him she pulled out some thorns from the fence to make a passage, and +in another minute was lost to sight in the morning mist. + +Following a game path through the dew-drenched grass which grew upon +the swells and valleys of the veld, and passing many small buck upon +her way, in about twenty minutes, just as the light was really +beginning to grow, Rachel reached the sea. It was dead calm, and the +tide chancing to be out, soon she found the very place she sought—a +large, rock-bound pool where there would be no fear of sharks that +never stay in such a spot, fearing lest they should be stranded. +Slipping off her clothes she plunged into the cool and crystal water +and began to swim round and across the pool, for at this art she was +expert, diving and playing like a sea-nymph. Her bath done she dried +herself with a towel she had brought, all except her long, fair hair, +which she let loose for the wind to blow on, and having dressed, stood +a while waiting to see the glory of the sun rising from the ocean. + +Whilst she remained thus, suddenly she heard the sound of horses +galloping towards her, two of them, she could tell that from the hoof +beats, although the low-lying mist made them invisible. A few more +seconds and they emerged out of the fog. The first thing that she saw +were stripes which caused her to laugh, thinking that she had mistaken +zebras for horses. Then the laugh died on her lips as she recognised +that the stripes were those of Mr. Ishmael’s trousers. Yes, there was +no doubt about it, Mr. Ishmael, wearing a rough coat instead of his +lion-skin, but with the rest of his attire unchanged, was galloping +down upon her furiously, leading a riderless horse. Remembering her wet +and dishevelled hair, Rachel threw the towel over it, whence it hung +like an old Egyptian head-dress, setting her beautiful face in a most +becoming frame. Next she picked up the double-barrelled gun and cocked +it, for she misdoubted her of this man’s intentions. Not many modern +books came her way, but she had read stories of young women who were +carried off by force. + +For an instant she was frightened, but as she lifted the hammer of the +second barrel her constitutional courage returned. + +“Let him try it,” she thought to herself. “If he had come ten minutes +ago it would have been awful, but now I don’t care.” + +By this time Mr. Ishmael had arrived, and was dragging his horse to its +haunches; also she saw that evidently he was much more frightened than +she had been. The man’s handsome face was quite white, and his lips +were trembling. “Perhaps that rhinoceros is after him again,” thought +Rachel, then added aloud quietly: + +“What is the matter?” + +“Forgive me,” he answered in a rich, and to Rachel’s astonishment, +perfectly educated voice, “forgive me for disturbing you. I am ashamed, +but it is necessary. The Zulus—” and he paused. + +“Well, sir,” asked Rachel, “what about the Zulus?” + +“A regiment of them are coming down here on the warpath. They are +hunting fugitives. The fugitives, about fifty of them, passed my camp +over an hour ago, and I saw the Impi following them. I rode to warn you +all. They told me you were down by the sea. I came to bring you back to +your waggon lest you should be cut off.” + +“Thank you very much,” said Rachel. “But I am not afraid of the Zulus. +I do not think that they will hurt me.” + +“Not hurt you! Not hurt you! White and beautiful as you are. Why not?” + +“Oh! I don’t know,” she replied with a laugh, “but you see I am called +Inkosazana-y-Zoola. They won’t touch one with that name.” + +“Inkosazana-y-Zoola,” he repeated astonished. “Why she is their Spirit, +yes, and I remember—white like you, so they say. How did you get that +name? But mount, mount! They will kill you first, and ask how you were +called afterwards. Your father is much afraid.” + +“My mother would not be afraid; she knows,” muttered Rachel to herself, +as she sprang to the saddle of the led-horse. + +Then, without more words, they began to gallop back towards the camp. +Before they reached the crest of the second rise the sun shone out in +earnest, thinning the seaward mist, although between them and the camp +it still hung thick. Then suddenly in the fog-edge Rachel saw this +sight: Towards them ran a delicately shaped and beautiful native girl, +naked except for her moocha, and of a very light, copper-colour, whilst +after her, brandishing an assegai, came a Zulu warrior. Evidently the +girl was in the last stage of exhaustion; indeed she reeled over the +ground, her tongue protruded from her lips and her eyes seemed to be +starting from her head. + +“Come on,” shouted the man called Ishmael. “It is only one of the +fugitives whom they are killing.” + +But Rachel did nothing of the sort; she pulled up her horse and waited. +The girl caught sight of her and with a wild hoarse scream, redoubled +her efforts, so that her pursuer, who had been quite close, was left +behind. She reached Rachel and flung her arms about her legs gasping: + +“Save me, white lady, save me!” + +“Shoot her if she won’t leave go,” shouted Ishmael, “and come on.” + +But Rachel only sprang from the horse and stood face to face with the +advancing Zulu. + +“Stand,” she said, and the man stopped. + +“Now,” she asked, “what do you want with this woman?” + +“To take her or to kill her,” gasped the soldier. + +“By whose order?” + +“By order of Dingaan the King.” + +“For what crime?” + +“Witchcraft; but who are you who question me, white woman?” + +“One whom you must obey,” answered Rachel proudly. “Go back and leave +the girl. She is mine.” + +The man stared at her, then laughed aloud and began to advance again. + +“Go back,” repeated Rachel. + +He took no heed but still came on. + +“Go back or die,” she said for the third time. + +“I shall certainly die if I go back to Dingaan without the girl,” +replied the soldier who was a bold-looking savage. “Now you, Noie, will +you return with me or shall I kill you? Say, witch,” and he lifted his +assegai. + +The girl sank in a heap upon the veld. “Kill,” she murmured faintly, “I +will not go back. I did not bewitch him to make him dream of me, and I +will be Death’s wife, not his; a ghost in his kraal, not a woman.” + +“Good,” said the man, “I will carry your word to the king. Farewell, +Noie,” and he raised the assegai still higher, adding: “Stand aside, +white woman, for I have no order to kill you also.” + +By way of answer Rachel put the gun to her shoulder and pointed it at +him. + +“Are you mad?” shouted Ishmael. “If you touch him they will murder +every one of us. Are you mad?” + +“Are you a coward?” she asked quietly, without taking her eyes off the +soldier. Then she said in Zulu, “Listen. The land on this side of the +Tugela has been given by Dingaan to the English. Here he has no right +to kill. This girl is mine, not his. Come one step nearer and you die.” + +“We shall soon see who will die,” answered the warrior with a laugh, +and he sprang forward. + +They were his last words. Rachel aimed and pressed the trigger, the gun +exploded heavily in the mist; the Zulu leapt into the air and fell upon +his back, dead. The white man, Ishmael, rode to them, pulled up his +horse and sat still, staring. It was a strange picture in that lonely, +silent spot. The soldier so very still and dead, his face hidden by the +shield that had fallen across it; the tall, white girl, rigid as a +statue, in whose hand the gun still smoked, the delicate, fragile +Kaffir maiden kneeling on the veld, and looking at her wildly as though +she were a spirit, and the two horses, one with its ears pricked in +curiosity, and the other already cropping grass. + +“My God! What have you done?” exclaimed Ishmael. + +“Justice,” answered Rachel. + +“Then your blood be on your own head. I am not going to stop here to +have my throat cut.” + +“Don’t,” answered Rachel. “I have a better guardian than you, and will +look after my own blood.” + +To this speech the white man seemed to be able to find no answer. +Turning his horse he galloped off swearing, but not towards the camp, +whereon the other horse galloped after him, and presently they all +vanished in the mist, leaving the two women alone. + +At this moment from the direction of the waggon they heard the sound of +shouting and of screams, which appeared to come from the valley between +them and it. + +“The king’s men are killing my people,” muttered the girl Noie. “Go, or +they will kill you too.” + +Rachel thought a moment. Evidently it was impossible to get through to +the camp; indeed, even had they tried to do so on the horses they would +have been cut off. An idea came to her. They stood upon the edge of a +steep, bush-clothed kloof, where in the wet season a stream ran down to +the sea. This stream was now represented by a chain of deep and muddy +pools, one of which pools lay directly underneath them. + +“Help me to throw him into the water,” said Rachel. + +The girl understood, and with desperate energy they seized the dead +soldier, dragged him to the edge of the little cliff and thrust him +over. He fell with a heavy splash into the pool and vanished. + +“Crocodiles live there,” said Rachel, “I saw one as I passed. Now take +the shield and spear and follow me.” + +She obeyed, for with hope her strength seemed to have returned to her, +and the two of them scrambled down the cliffs into the kloof. As they +reached the edge of the pool they saw great snouts and a disturbance in +the water. Rachel was right, crocodiles lived there. + +“Now,” she said, “throw your moocha on that rock. They will find it and +think——” + +Noie nodded and did so, rending its fastening and wetting it in the +water. Then quite naked she took Rachel’s hand and swiftly, swiftly, +the two of them leapt from stone to stone, so as to leave no +footprints, heading for the sea. Only the fugitive stopped once to +drink of the fresh water, for she was perishing with thirst. Now when +Rachel was bathing she had observed upon the farther side of her pool +and opening out of it, as it were, a little pocket in the rock, where +the water was not more than three feet deep and covered by a dense +growth of beautiful seaweed, some black and some ribbon-like and +yellow. The pool was long, perhaps two hundred paces in all, and to go +round it they would be obliged to expose themselves upon the sand, and +thus become visible from a long way off. + +“Can you swim?” said Rachel to Noie. + +Again she nodded, and the two of them slipped into the water and swam +across the pool till they reached the pocket-like place, on the edge of +which they sat down, covering themselves with the seaweed. + +They had not been there five minutes when they heard the sound of +voices drawing near down the kloof, and at once slid into the water, +covering themselves in it in such fashion that only their heads +remained above the surface, mixed with the black and yellow seaweed, so +that without close search none could have said which was hair and which +was weed. + +“The Zulus,” said Noie, shivering so that the water shook about her, +“they seek me.” + +“Lie still, then,” answered Rachel. “I can’t shoot now, the gun is +wet.” + +The voices died away, and the two girls thought that the speakers had +gone, but rendered cautious, still remained hidden in the water. It was +well for them that they did so for presently they heard the voices +again and much nearer. The Zulus were walking round the pool. Two of +them came quite close to their little hiding-place, and sat down on +some rocks to rest, and talk. Peeping through her covering of seaweed +Rachel could see them, great men who held red spears in their hands. + +“You are a fool,” said one of them to the other, “and have given us +this walk for nothing, as though our feet were not sore enough already. +The crocodiles have that Noie, her witchcraft could not save her from +them; it was a baboon’s spoor you saw in the mud, not a woman’s.” + +“It would seem so, brother,” answered the other, “as we found the +moocha. Still, if so, where is Bomba who was running her down? And what +made that blood-mark on the grass?” + +“Doubtless,” replied the first man, “Bomba came up with her there and +wounded her, whereon being a woman and a coward, she ran from him and +jumped into the pool in which the crocodiles finished her. As for +Bomba, I expect that he has gone back to Zululand, or is asleep +somewhere resting. The other spoor we saw was that of a white woman, +who puts skins upon her feet. There is a camp of them up yonder, but +you remember, our orders were not to touch any of the people of George, +so we need not trouble about them.” + +“Well, brother, if you are sure, we had better be starting back, lest +there should be trouble with the white people. Dingaan will be +satisfied when we show him the moocha, and sleep in peace henceforth. +She must really have been _tagati_ (uncanny), that little Noie, for +otherwise, although it is true she was pretty, why should Dingaan who +has all Zululand to choose from, have fallen in love with her, and why +should she have refused to enter his house, and persuaded all her kraal +to run away? For my part, I don’t believe that she is dead now, +notwithstanding the moocha. I think that she is a witch, and has +changed into something else—a bird or a snake, perhaps. Well, the rest +of them will never change into anything, except black mould. Let us +see. We have killed every one; all the common people, the mother of +Noie, the dwarf-wizard Seyapi her father, and her other mothers, four +of them, and her brothers and sisters, twelve in all.” + +At these words Noie again trembled beneath her seaweed, so that the +water shook all about her. + +“There is a fish there,” said the first Kaffir, “I saw it rise. It is a +small pool, shall we try to catch it?” + +“No, brother,” answered the other, “only coast people eat fish. I am +hungry, but I will wait for man’s food. Take that, fish!” and he threw +a stone into the pool which struck Rachel on the side, and caused her +fair hair to float about among the yellow seaweed. + +Then the two of them got up and went away, walking arm-in-arm like +friends and amiable men, as they were in their own fashion. + +For a long time the girls remained beneath their seaweed, fearing lest +the men or others should return, until at length they could bear the +cold of the water no longer, and crept out of it to the brink of the +little pool, where, still wreathed in seaweed, they sat and warmed +themselves in the hot sunlight. Now Noie seemed to be half dead; indeed +Rachel thought that she would die. + +“Awake,” she said, “life is still before you.” + +“Would that it were behind me, Lady,” moaned the poor girl. “You +understand our tongue—did you not hear? My father, my own mother, my +other mothers, my brothers and sisters, all killed, all killed for my +sake, and I left living. Oh! you meant kindly, but why did you not let +Bomba pass his spear through me? It would have been quickly over, and +now I should sleep with the rest.” + +Rachel made no answer, for she saw that talking was useless in such a +case. Only she took Noie’s hand and pressed it in silent sympathy, +until at length the poor girl, utterly outworn with agony and the +fatigue of her long flight, fell asleep, there in the sunshine. Rachel +let her sleep, knowing that she would take no harm in that warmth. +Quietly she sat at her side for hour after hour while the fierce sun, +from which she protected her head with seaweed, dried her garments. At +length the shadows told her that midday was past, and the sea water +which began to trickle over the surrounding rocks that the tide was +approaching its full. They could stop there no longer unless they +wished to be drowned. + +“Come,” she said to Noie, “the Zulus have gone, and the sea is here. We +must swim to the shore and go back to my father’s camp.” + +“What place have I in your kraal, Lady?” asked the girl when her senses +had returned to her. + +“I will find you a place,” Rachel answered; “you are mine now.” + +“Yes, Lady, that is true,” said Noie heavily, “I am yours and no one +else’s,” and taking Rachel’s hand she pressed it to her forehead. + +Then together once more they swam the pool, and not too soon, for the +tide was pouring into it. Reaching the shore in safety, no easy task +for Rachel, who must hold the heavy gun above her head, Noie tied +Rachel’s towel about her middle to take the place of her moocha, and +very cautiously they crept up the kloof, fearing lest some of the Zulus +might still be lurking in the neighbourhood. + +At length they came to the pool into which they had thrown the soldier +Bomba, and saw two crocodiles, doubtless those that had eaten him, +lying asleep in the sun upon flat rocks at its edge. Here they were +obliged to leave the kloof both because they feared to pass the +crocodiles, and for the reason that their road to the camp ran another +way. So they climbed up the cliff and looked about, but could see only +a pair of oribe bucks, one lying down under a tree, and one eating +grass quite close to its mate. + +“The Zulus have gone or there would be no buck here,” said Rachel. +“Come, now, hold the shield before you and the spear in your hand, to +hide that you are a woman, and let us go on boldly.” + +So they went till they reached the crest of the next rise, and then +sprang back behind it, for lying here and there they saw people who +seemed to be asleep. + +“The Zulus resting!” exclaimed Rachel. + +“Nay,” answered the girl with a sigh. “My people, dead! See the +vultures gathered round them.” + +Rachel looked again, and saw that it was so. Without a word they walked +forward, and as they passed each body Noie gave it its name. Here lay a +brother, there a sister, yonder four folk of her father’s kraal. They +came to a tall and handsome woman of middle age, and she shivered as +she had done in the pool and said in an icy voice: + +“The mother who bore me!” + +A few more steps and in a patch of high grass that grew round an +ant-heap, they found two Zulu soldiers, each pierced through with a +spear. Seated against the ant-heap also, as though he were but resting, +was a light-coloured man, a dwarf in stature, spare of frame, and with +sharp features. His dress, if he wore any, seemed to have been removed +from him, for he was almost naked, and Rachel noticed that no wound +could be seen on him. + +“Behold my father!” said Noie in the same icy voice. + +“But,” whispered Rachel, “he only sleeps. No spear has touched him.” + +“Not so, he is dead, dead by the White Death after the fashion of his +people.” + +Now Rachel wondered what this White Death might be, and of which people +the man was one. That he was not a Zulu who had been stunted in his +growth she could see for herself, nor had she ever met a native who at +all resembled him. Still she could ask no questions at that time; the +thing was too awful. Moreover Noie had knelt down before the body, and +with her arms thrown around its neck, was whispering into its ear. For +a full minute she whispered thus, then set her own ear to the cold +stirless lips, and for another minute or more, seemed to listen +intently, nodding her head from time to time. Never before had Rachel +witnessed anything so uncanny, and oddly enough, the fact that this +scene was enacted in the bright sunlight added to its terrors. She +stood paralysed, forgetting the Zulus, forgetting everything except +that to all appearance the living was holding converse with the dead. + +At length Noie rose, and turning to her companion said: + +“My Spirit has been good to me; I thank my Spirit, which brought me +here before it was too late for us to talk together. Now I have the +message.” + +“The message! Oh! what message?” gasped Rachel. + +An inscrutable look gathered on the face of the beautiful native girl. + +“It is to me alone,” she answered, “but this I may say, much of it was +of you, Inkosazana-y-Zoola.” + +“Who told you that was my native name?” asked Rachel, springing back. + +“It was in the message, O thou before whom kings shall bow.” + +“Nonsense,” exclaimed Rachel, “you have heard it from our people.” + +“So be it, Lady; I have heard it from your people whom I have never +seen. Now let us go, your father is troubled for you.” + +Again Rachel looked at her sideways, and Noie went on: + +“Lady, from henceforth I am your servant, am I not? and that service +will not be light.” + +“She thinks I shall make her dig,” thought Rachel to herself, as the +girl continued in her low, soft voice: + +“Now I ask you one thing—when I tell you my story, let it be for your +breast alone. Say only that I am a common girl whom you saved from the +soldier.” + +“Why not?” answered Rachel. “That is all I have to tell.” + +Then once more they went on, Rachel wondering if she dreamed, the girl +Noie walking at her side, stern and cold-faced as a statue. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +THE CASTING OF THE LOTS + + +They reached the crest of the last rise, and there, facing them on the +slope of the opposite wave of land, stood the waggon, surrounded by the +thorn fence, within which the cattle and horses were still enclosed, +doubtless for fear of the Zulus. Nothing could be more peaceful than +the aspect of that camp. To look at it no one would have believed that +within a few hundred yards a hideous massacre had just taken place. +Presently, however, voices began to shout, and heads to bob up over the +fence. Then it occurred to Rachel that they must think she was a +prisoner in the charge of a Zulu, and she told Noie to lower the shield +which she still held in front of her. The next instant some thorns were +torn out, and her father, a gun in his hand, appeared striding towards +them. + +“Thank God that you are safe,” he said as they met. “I have suffered +great anxiety, although I hoped that the white man Israel—no, +Ishmael—had rescued you. He came here to warn us,” he added in +explanation, “very early this morning, then galloped off to find you. +Indeed his after-rider, whose horse he took, is still here. Where on +earth have you been, Rachel, and”—suddenly becoming aware of Noie, who, +arrayed only in a towel, a shield, and a stabbing spear, presented a +curious if an impressive spectacle—“who is this young person?” + +“She is a native girl I saved from the massacre,” replied Rachel, +answering the last question first. “It is a long story, but I shot the +man who was going to kill her, and we hid in a pool. Are you all safe, +and where is mother?” + +“Shot the man! Shed human blood! Hid in a pool!” ejaculated Mr. Dove, +overcome. “Really, Rachel, you are a most trying daughter. Why should +you go out before daybreak and do such things?” + +“I don’t know, I am sure, father; predestination, I suppose—to save her +life, you know.” + +Again he contemplated the beautiful Noie, then, murmuring something +about a blanket, ran back to the camp. By this time Mrs. Dove had +climbed out of the waggon, and arrived with the Kaffirs. + +“I knew you would be safe, Rachel,” she said in her gentle voice, +“because nothing can hurt you. Still you do upset your poor father +dreadfully, and—what are you going to do with that naked young woman?” + +“Give her something to eat, dear,” answered Rachel. “Don’t ask me any +more questions now. We have been sitting up to our necks in water for +hours, and are starved and frozen, to say nothing of worse things.” + +At this moment Mr. Dove arrived with a blanket, which he offered to +Noie, who took it from him and threw it round her body. Then they went +into the camp, where Rachel changed her damp clothes, whilst Noie sat +by her in a corner of the tent. Presently, too, food was brought, and +Rachel ate hungrily, forcing Noie to do the same. Then she went out, +leaving the girl to rest in the tent, and with certain omissions, such +as the conduct of Noie when she found her dead father, told all the +story which, wild as were the times and strange as were the things that +happened in them, they found wonderful enough. + +When she had done Mr. Dove knelt down and offered up thanks for his +daughter’s preservation through great danger, and with them prayers +that she might be forgiven for having shot the Zulu, a deed that, +except for the physical horror of it, did not weigh upon Rachel’s mind. + +“You know, father, you would have done the same yourself,” she +explained, “and so would mother there, if she could hold a gun, so what +is the good of pretending that it is a sin? Also no one saw it except +that white man and the crocodiles which buried the body, so the less we +say about the matter the better it will be for all of us.” + +“I admit,” answered Mr. Dove, “that the circumstances justified the +deed, though I fear that the truth will out, since blood calls for +blood. But what are we to do with the girl? They will come to seek her +and kill us all.” + +“They will not seek, father, because they think that she is dead, and +will never know otherwise unless that white man tells them, which he +will scarcely do, as the Zulus would think that he shot the soldier, +not I. She has been sent to us, and it is our duty to keep her.” + +“I suppose so,” said her father doubtfully. “Poor thing! Truly she has +cause for gratitude to Providence: all her relations killed by those +bloodthirsty savages, and she saved!” + +“If all of you were killed and I were saved, I do not know that I +should feel particularly grateful,” answered Rachel. “But it is no use +arguing about such things, so let us be thankful that we are not killed +too. Now I am tired out, and going to lie down, for of course we can’t +leave this place at present, unless we trek back to Durban.” + +Such was the finding of Noie. + +When Rachel awoke from the sleep into which she had fallen, sunset was +near at hand. She left the tent where Noie still lay slumbering or lost +in stupor, to find that only her mother and Ishmael’s after-rider +remained in the camp, her father having gone out with the Kaffirs, in +order to bury as many of the dead as possible before night came, and +with it the jackals and hyenas. Rachel made up the fire and set to work +with her mother’s help to cook their evening meal. Whilst they were +thus engaged her quick ears caught the sound of horses’ hoofs, and she +looked up to perceive the white man, Ishmael, still leading the spare +horse on which she had ridden that morning. He had halted on the crest +of ground where she had first seen him upon the previous day, and was +peering at the camp, with the object apparently of ascertaining whether +its occupants were still alive. + +“I will go and ask him in,” said Rachel, who, for reasons of her own, +wished to have a word or two with the man. + +Presently she came up to him, and saw at once that he seemed to be very +much ashamed of himself. + +“Well,” she said cheerfully, “you see here I am, safe enough, and I am +glad that you are the same.” + +“You are a wonderful woman,” he replied, letting his eyes sink before +her clear gaze, “as wonderful as you are beautiful.” + +“No compliments, please,” said Rachel, “they are out of place in this +savage land.” + +“I beg your pardon, I could not help speaking the truth. Did they kill +the girl and let you go?” + +“No, I managed to hide up with her; she is here now.” + +“That is very dangerous, Miss Dove. I know all about it; it is she whom +Dingaan was after. When he hears that you have sheltered her he will +send and kill you all. Take my advice and turn her out at once. I say +it is most dangerous.” + +“Perhaps,” answered Rachel calmly, “but all the same I shall do nothing +of the sort unless she wishes to go, nor do I think that my father will +either. Now please listen a minute. If this story comes to the ears of +the Zulus—and I do not see why it should, as the crocodiles have eaten +that soldier—who will they think shot him, I or the white man who was +with me? Do you understand?” + +“I understand and shall hold my tongue, for your sake.” + +“No, for your own. Well, by way of making the bargain fair, for my part +I shall say as little as possible of how we separated this morning. Not +that I blame you for riding off and leaving an obstinate young woman +whom you did not know to take her chance. Still, other people might +think differently.” + +“Yes,” he answered, “they might, and I admit that I am ashamed of +myself. But you don’t know the Zulus as I do, and I thought that they +would be all on us in a moment; also I was mad with you and lost my +nerve. Really I am very sorry.” + +“Please don’t apologise. It was quite natural, and what is more, all +for the best. If we had gone on we should have ridden right into them, +and perhaps never ridden out again. Now here comes my father; we have +agreed that you will not say too much about this girl, have we not?” + +He nodded and advanced with her, leading the horses, for he had +dismounted, to meet Mr. Dove at the opening in the fence. + +“Good evening,” said the clergyman, who seemed depressed after his sad +task, as he motioned to one of the Kaffirs to put down his mattock and +take the horses. “I don’t quite know what happened this morning, but I +have to thank you for trying to save my daughter from those cruel men. +I have been burying their victims in a little cleft that we found, or +rather some of them. The vultures you know——” and he paused. + +“I didn’t save her, sir,” answered the stranger humbly. “It seemed +hopeless, as she would not leave the Kaffir girl.” + +Mr. Dove looked at him searchingly, and there was a suspicion of +contempt in his voice as he replied: + +“You would not have had her abandon the poor thing, would you? For the +rest, God saved them both, so it does not much matter exactly how, as +everything has turned out for the best. Won’t you come in and have some +supper, Mr.—Ishmael—I am afraid I do not know the rest of your name.” + +“There is no more to know, Mr. Dove,” he replied doggedly, then added: +“Look here, sir, as I daresay you have found out, this is a rough +country, and people come to it, some of them, whose luck has been rough +elsewhere. Now, perhaps I am as well born as you are, and perhaps _my_ +luck was rough in other lands, so that I chose to come and live in a +place where there are no laws or civilisation. Perhaps, too, I took the +name of another man who was driven into the wilderness—you will +remember all about him—also that it does not seem to have been his +fault. Any way, if we should be thrown up together I’ll ask you to take +me as I am, that is, a hunter and a trader ‘in the Zulu,’ and not to +bother about what I have been. Whatever I was christened, my name is +Ishmael now, or among the Kaffirs Ibubesi, and if you want another, let +us call it Smith.” + +“Quite so, Mr. Ishmael. It is no affair of mine,” replied Mr. Dove with +a smile, for he had met people of this sort before in Africa. + +But within himself already he determined that this white and perchance +fallen wanderer was one whom, perhaps, it would be his duty to lead +back into the paths of Christian propriety and peace. + +These matters settled, they went into the little camp, and a sentry +having been set, for now the night was falling fast, Ishmael was +introduced to Mrs. Dove, who looked him up and down and said little, +after which they began their supper. When their simple meal was +finished, Ishmael lit his pipe and sat himself upon the disselboom of +the waggon, looking extremely handsome and picturesque in the flare of +the firelight which fell upon his dark face, long black hair and +curious garments, for although he had replaced his lion-skin by an old +coat, his zebra-hide trousers and waistcoat made of an otter’s pelt +still remained. Contemplating him, Rachel felt sure that whatever his +present and past might be, he had spoken the truth when he hinted that +he was well-born. Indeed, this might be gathered from his voice and +method of expressing himself when he grew more at ease, although it was +true that sometimes he substituted a Zulu for an English word, and +employed its idioms in his sentences, doubtless because for years he +had been accustomed to speak and even to think in that language. + +Now he was explaining to Mr. Dove the political and social position +among that people, whose cruel laws and customs led to constant fights +on the part of tribes or families, who knew that they were doomed, and +their consequent massacre if caught, as had happened that day. Of +course, the clergyman, who had lived for some years at Durban, knew +that this was true, although, never having actually witnessed one of +these dreadful events till now, he did not realise all their horror. + +“I fear that my task will be even harder than I thought,” he said with +a sigh. + +“What task?” asked Ishmael. + +“That of converting the Zulus. I am trekking to the king’s kraal now, +and propose to settle there.” + +Ishmael knocked out his pipe and filled it again before he answered. +Apparently he could find no words in which to express his thoughts, but +when at length these came they were vigorous enough. + +“Why not trek to hell and settle _there_ at once?” he asked, “I beg +pardon, I meant heaven, for you and your likes. Man,” he went on +excitedly, “have you any heart? Do you care about your wife and +daughter?” + +“I have always imagined that I did, Mr. Ishmael,” replied the +missionary in a cold voice. + +“Then do you wish to see their throats cut before your eyes, or,” and +he looked at Rachel, “worse?” + +“How can you ask such questions?” said Mr. Dove, indignantly. “Of +course I know that there are risks among all wild peoples, but I trust +to Providence to protect us.” + +Mr. Ishmael puffed at his pipe and swore to himself in Zulu. + +“Yes,” he said, when he had recovered a little, “so I suppose did +Seyapi and his people, but you have been burying them this +afternoon—haven’t you?—all except the girl, Noie, whom you have +sheltered, for which deed Dingaan will bury you all if you go into +Zululand, or rather throw you to the vultures. Don’t think that your +being an _umfundusi_, I mean a teacher, will save you. The Almighty +Himself can’t save you there. You will be dead and forgotten in a +month. What’s more, you will have to drive your own waggon in, for your +Kaffirs won’t, they know better. A Bible won’t turn the blade of an +assegai.” + +“Please, Mr. Ishmael, please do not speak so—so irreligiously,” said +Mr. Dove in an irritated but nervous voice. “You do not seem to +understand that I have a mission to perform, and if that should involve +martyrdom——” + +“Oh! bother martyrdom, which is what you are after, no doubt, ‘casting +down your golden crown upon a crystal sea,’ and the rest of it—I +remember the stuff. The question is, do you wish to murder your wife +and daughter, for that’s the plain English of it?” + +“Of course not. How can you suggest such a thing?” + +“Then you had better not cross the Tugela. Go back to Durban, or stop +where you are at least, for, unless he finds out anything, Dingaan is +not likely to interfere with a white man on this side of the river.” + +“That would involve abandoning my most cherished ambition, and impulses +that—but I will not speak to you of things which perhaps you might not +understand.” + +“I dare say I shouldn’t, but I do understand what it feels like to have +your neck twisted out of joint. Look here, sir, if you want to go into +Zululand, you should go alone; it is no place for white ladies.” + +“That is for them to judge, sir,” answered Mr. Dove. “I believe that +their faith will be equal to this trial,” and he looked at his wife +almost imploringly. + +For once, however, she failed him. + +“My dear John,” she said, “if you want my opinion, I think that this +gentleman is quite right. For myself I don’t care much, but it can +never have been intended that we should absolutely throw away our +lives. I have always given way to you, and followed you to many strange +places without grumbling, although, as you know, we might be quite +comfortable at home, or at any rate in some civilised town. Now I say +that I think you ought not to go to Zululand, especially as there is +Rachel to think of.” + +“Oh! don’t trouble about me,” interrupted that young lady, with a shrug +of her shoulders. “I can take my chance as I have often done +before—to-day, for instance.” + +“But I do trouble about you, my dear, although it is true I don’t +believe that you will be killed; you know I have always said so. Still +I do trouble, and John—John,” she added in a kind of pitiful cry, +“can’t you see that you have worn me out? Can’t you understand that I +am getting old and weak? Is there nobody to whom you have a duty as +well as to the heathen? Are there not enough heathen here?” she went on +with gathering passion. “If you must mix with them, do what this +gentleman says, and stop here, that is, if you won’t go back. Build a +house and let us have a little peace before we die, for death will come +soon enough, and terribly enough, I am sure,” and she burst into a fit +of weeping. + +“My dear,” said Mr. Dove, “you are upset; the unhappy occurrences of +to-day, which—did we but know it—are doubtless all for the best, and +your anxiety for Rachel have been too much for you. I think that you +had better go to bed, and you too, Rachel. I will talk the matter over +further with Mr. Ishmael, who, perhaps, has been sent to guide me. I am +not unreasonable, as you think, and if he can convince me that there is +any risk to your lives—for my own I care nothing—I will consider the +suggestion of building a mission-station outside Zululand, at any rate +for a few years. It may be that it is not intended that we should enter +that country at present.” + +So Mrs. Dove and her daughter went, but for two hours or more Rachel +heard her father and the hunter talking earnestly, and wondered in a +sleepy fashion to what conclusion he had come. Personally she did not +mind much on which side of the Tugela they were to live, if they must +bide at all in the region of that river. Still, for her mother’s sake +she determined that if she could bring it about, they should stay where +they were. Indeed there was no choice between this and returning to +England, as her father had quarrelled too bitterly with the white men +at Durban to allow of his taking up his residence among them again. + +When Rachel woke on the following morning the first thing she saw in +the growing light was the orphaned native Noie, seated on the further +side of the little tent, her head resting upon her hand, and gazing at +her vacantly. Rachel watched her a while, pretending to be still +asleep, and for the first time understood how beautiful this girl was +in her own fashion. Although small, that is in comparison with most +Kaffir women, she was perfectly shaped and developed. Her soft skin in +that light looked almost white, although it had about it nothing of the +muddy colour of the half-breed; her hair was long, black and curly, and +worn naturally, not forced into artificial shapes as is common among +the Kaffirs. Her features were finely cut and intellectual, and her +eyes, shaded by long lashes, somewhat oblong in shape, of a brown +colour, and soft as those of a buck. Certainly for a native she was +lovely, and what is more, quite unlike any Bantu that Rachel had ever +seen, except indeed that dead man whom she said was her father, and +who, although he was so small, had managed to kill two great Zulu +warriors before, mysteriously enough, he died himself. + +“Noie,” said Rachel, when she had completed her observations, whereon +with a quick and agile movement the girl rose, sank again on her knees +beside her, took the hand that hung from the bed between her own, and +pressed it to her lips, saying in the soft Zulu tongue, + +“Inkosazana, I am here.” + +“Is that white man still asleep, Noie?” + +“Nay, he has gone. He and his servant rode away before the light, +fearing lest there might still be Zulus between him and his kraal.” + +“Do you know anything about him, Noie?” + +“Yes, Lady, I have seen him in Zululand. He is a bad man. They call him +there ‘Lion,’ not because he is brave, but because he hunts and springs +by night.” + +“Just what I should have thought of him,” answered Rachel, “and we know +that he is not brave,” she added with a smile. “But never mind this +jackal in a lion’s hide; tell me your story, Noie, if you will, only +speak low, for this tent is thin.” + +“Lady,” said the girl, “you who were born white in body and in spirit, +hear me. I am but half a Zulu. My father who died yesterday in the +flesh, departing back to the world of ghosts, was of another people who +live far to the north, a small people but a strong. They live among the +trees, they worship trees; they die when their tree dies; they are +dealers in dreams; they are the companions of ghosts, little men before +whom the tribes tremble; who hate the sun, and dwell in the deep of the +forest. Myself I do not know them; I have never seen them, but my +father told me these things, and others that I may not repeat. When he +was a young man my father fled from his people.” + +“Why?” asked Rachel, for the girl paused. + +“Lady, I do not know; I think it was because he would have been their +priest, or one of their priests, and he feared I think that he had seen +a woman, a slave to them, whom therefore he might not marry. I think +that woman was my mother. So he fled from them—with her, and came to +live among the Zulus. He was a great doctor there in Chaka’s time, not +one of the _Abangomas_, not one of the ‘Smellers-out-of-witches,’ not a +‘Bringer-down-to-death,’ for like all his race he hated bloodshed. No, +none of these things, but a doctor of medicines, a master of magic, an +interpreter of dreams, a lord of wisdom; yes, it was his wisdom that +made Chaka great, and when he withdrew it from him because of his +cruelties, then Chaka died. + +“Lady, Dingaan rules in Chaka’s place, Dingaan who slew him, but +although he had been Chaka’s doctor, my father was spared because they +feared him. I was the only child of my mother, but he took other wives +after the Zulu fashion, not because he loved them, I think, but that he +might not seem different to other men. So he grew great and rich, and +lived in peace because they feared him. Lady, my father loved me, and +to me alone he taught his language and his wisdom. I helped him with +his medicines; I interpreted the dreams which he could not interpret, +his blanket fell upon me. Often I was sought in marriage, but I did not +wish to marry, Wisdom is my husband. + +“There came an evil day; we knew that it must come, my father and I, +and I wished to fly the land, but he could not do so because of his +other wives and children. The maidens of my district were marshalled +for the king to see. His eye fell upon me, and he thought me fair +because I am different from Zulu women, and—you can guess. Yet I was +saved, for the other doctors and the head wives of the king said that +it was not wise that I should be taken into his house, I who knew too +many secrets and could bewitch him if I willed, or prison him with +drugs that leave no trace. So I escaped a while and was thankful. Now +it came about that because he might not take me Dingaan began to think +much of me, and to dream of me at nights. At last he asked me of my +father, as a gift, not as a right, for so he thought that no ill would +come with me. But I prayed my father to keep me from Dingaan, for I +hated Dingaan, and told him that if I were sent to the king, I would +poison him. My father listened to me because he loved me and could not +bear to part with me, and said Dingaan nay. Now Dingaan grew very angry +and asked counsel of his other doctors, but they would give him none +because they feared my father. Then he asked counsel of that white man, +Hishmel, who is called the Lion, and who is much at the kraal of +Umgungundhlovu.” + +“Ah!” said Rachel, “now I understand why he wished you to be killed.” + +“The white man, Hishmel, the jackal in a lion’s skin, as you named him, +laughed at Dingaan’s fears. He said to him, ‘It is of the father, +Seyapi, you should be afraid. He has the magic, not the girl. Kill the +father, and his house, and take the daughter whom your heart desires, +and be happy.’ + +“So spoke Hishmel, and Dingaan thought his counsel good, and paid him +for it with the teeth of elephants, and certain women for whom he +asked. Now my father foreboded ill, and I also, for both of us had +dreamed a dream. Still we did not fly until the slayers were almost at +the gates, because of his other wives and his children. Nor, save for +them would he have fled then, or I either, but would have died after +the fashion of his people, as he did at last.” + +“The White Death?” queried Rachel. + +“Yes, Lady, the White Death. Still in the end we fled, thinking to gain +the protection of the white men down yonder. I went first to escape the +king’s men who had orders to take me alive and bring me to him, that is +why we were not together at the end. Lady, you know the rest. Hishmel +doubtless had seen you, and thinking that the Impi would kill you, came +to warn you. Then we met just as I was about to die, though perhaps not +by that soldier’s spear, as you thought. I have spoken.” + +“What message came to you when you knelt down before your dead father?” +asked Rachel for the second time, since on this point she was intensely +curious. + +Again that inscrutable look gathered on the girl’s face, and she +answered. + +“Did I not tell you it was for my ear alone, O Inkosazana-y-Zoola? I +dare not say it, be satisfied. But this I may say. Your fate and mine +are intertwined; yours and mine and another’s, for our spirits are +sisters which have dwelt together in past days.” + +“Indeed,” said Rachel smiling, for she who had mixed with them from her +childhood knew something of the mysticism of the natives, also that it +was often nonsense. “Well, Noie, I love you, I know not why. Perhaps, +for all you have suffered. Yet I say to you that if you wish to remain +my sister in the spirit, you had better separate from me in the flesh. +That jackal man knows your secret, girl, and soon or late will loose +the assegai on you.” + +“Doubtless,” she answered, “doubtless many things will come about. But +they are doomed to come about. Whether I go or whether I stay they will +happen. Say you therefore, Lady, and I will obey. Shall I go or shall I +stay, or shall I die before your eyes?” + +“It is on your own head,” answered Rachel shrugging her shoulders. + +“Nay, nay, Lady, you forget, it is on yours also, seeing that if I stay +I may bring peril on you and your house. Have you then no order for +me?” + +“Noie, I have answered—one. Judge you.” + +“I will not judge. Let Heaven-above judge. Lady, give me a hair from +your head.” + +Rachel plucked out the hair and handed it, a shining thread of gold, to +Noie who drew one from her own dark tresses, and laid them side by +side. + +“See,” she said, “they are of the same length. Now, without the wind +blows gently; come then to the door of the tent, and I will throw these +two hairs into the wind. If that which is black floats first to the +ground, then I stay, if that which is golden, then I go to seek my +hair. Is it agreed?” + +“It is agreed.” + +So the two girls went to the entrance of the tent, and Noie with a +swift motion tossed up the hairs. As it happened one of those little +eddies of wind which are common in South Africa, caught them, causing +them to rise almost perpendicularly into the air. At a certain height, +about forty feet, the supporting wind seemed to fail, that is so far as +the hair from Noie’s head was concerned, for there it floated high +above them like a black thread in the sunlight, and gently by slow +degrees came to the earth just at their feet. But the hair from +Rachel’s head, being caught by the fringe of the whirlwind, was borne +upwards and onwards very swiftly, until at length it vanished from +their sight. + +“It seems that I stay,” said Noie. + +“Yes,” answered Rachel. “I am very glad; also if any evil comes of it +we are not to blame, the wind is to blame.” + +“Yes, Lady, but what makes the wind to blow?” + +Again Rachel shrugged her shoulders, and asked a question in her turn. + +“Whither has that hair of mine been borne, Noie?” + +“I do not know, Lady. Perhaps my father’s spirit took it for his own +ends. I think so. I think it went northwards. At any rate when mine +fell, it was snatched away, was it not? And yet they both floated up +together. I think that one day you will follow that hair of yours, +Lady, follow it to the land where great trees whisper secrets to the +night.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +THE MESSAGE OF THE KING + + +So it chanced that Noie became a member of the Dove household. For +obvious reasons she changed her name, and thenceforward was called +Nonha. Also it happened that Mr. Dove abandoned his idea of settling as +a missionary in Zululand, and instead, took up his residence at this +beautiful spot. He called it Ramah because it was a place of weeping, +for here all the family and dependents of Seyapi had been destroyed by +the spear. Mrs. Dove thought it an ill-omened name enough, but after +her manner gave way to her husband in the matter. + +“I think there will be more weeping here before everything is done,” +she said. + +Rachel answered, however, that it was as good as any other, since names +could alter nothing. Here, then, at Ramah, Mr. Dove built him a house +on that knoll where first he had pitched his camp. It was a very good +house after its fashion, for, as has been said, he did not lack for +means, and was, moreover, clever in such matters. He hired a mason who +had drifted to Natal to cut stone, of which a plenty lay at hand, and +two half-breed carpenters to execute the wood-work, whilst the Kaffirs +thatched the whole as only they can do. Then he set to work upon a +church, which was placed on the crest of the opposite knoll where the +white man, Ishmael, had appeared on the evening of their arrival. Like +the house, it was excellent of its sort, and when at length it was +finished after more than a year of labour, Mr. Dove felt a proud man. + +Indeed at Ramah he was happier than he had ever been since he landed +upon the shores of Africa, for now at length his dream seemed to be in +the way of realisation. Very soon a considerable native village sprang +up around him, peopled almost entirely by remnants of the Natal tribes +whom Chaka had destroyed and who were but too glad to settle under the +aegis of the white man, especially when they discovered how good he +was. Of the doctrines which he preached to them day and night, most of +them, it is true, did not understand much. Still they accepted them as +the price of being allowed “to live in his shadow,” but in the vast +majority of cases they sturdily refused to put away all wives but one, +as he earnestly exhorted them to do. + +At first he wished to eject them from the settlement in punishment of +this sin, but when it came to the point they absolutely refused to go, +demonstrating to him that they had as much right to live there as he +had, an argument that he was unable to controvert. So he was obliged to +submit to the presence of this abomination, which he did in the hope +that in time their hard hearts would be softened. + +“Continue to preach to us, O Shouter,” they said, “and we will listen. +Mayhap in years to come we shall learn to think as you do. Meanwhile +give us space to consider the point.” + +So he continued to preach, and contented himself with baptising the +children and very old people who took no more wives. Except on this one +point, however, they got on excellently together. Indeed, never since +Chaka broke upon them like a destroying demon had these poor folk been +so happy. The missionary imported ploughs and taught them to improve +their agriculture, so that ere long this rich, virgin soil brought +forth abundantly. Their few cattle multiplied also in an amazing +fashion, as did their families, and soon they were as prosperous as +they had been in the good old days before they knew the Zulu assegai, +especially as, to their amazement, the Shouter never took from them +even a calf or a bundle of corn by way of tax. Only the shadow of that +Zulu assegai still lay upon them, for if Chaka was dead Dingaan ruled a +few miles away across the Tugela. Moreover, hearing of the rise of this +new town, and of certain strange matters connected with it, he sent +spies to inspect and enquire. The spies returned and reported that +there dwelt in it only a white medicine-man with his wife, and a number +of Natal Kaffirs. Also they reported in great detail many wonderful +stories concerning the beautiful maiden with a high name who passed as +the white teacher’s daughter, and who had already become the subject of +so much native talk and rumour. On learning all these things Dingaan +despatched an embassy, who delivered this message: + +“I, Dingaan, king of the Zulus, have heard that you, O White Shouter, +have built a town upon my borders, and peopled it with the puppies of +the jackals whom Chaka hunted. I send to you now to say that you and +your jackals shall have peace from me so long as you harbour none of my +runaways, but if I find but one of them there, then an Impi shall wipe +you out. I hear also that there dwells with you a beautiful white +maiden said to be your daughter, who is known, throughout the land as +Inkosazana-y-Zoola. Now that is the name of our Spirit who, the doctors +say, is also white, and it is strange to us that this maiden should +bear that great name. Some of the _Isanusis_, the prophetesses, declare +that she is our Spirit in the flesh, but that meat sticks in my throat, +I cannot swallow it. Still, I invite this maiden to visit me that I may +see her and judge of her, and I swear to you, and to her, by the ghosts +of my ancestors, that no harm shall come to her then or at any time. He +who so much as lays a finger upon her shall die, he and all his house. +Because of her name, which I am told she has borne from a child, all +the territories of the Zulus are her kraal and all the thousands of the +Zulus are her servants. Yea, because of her high name I give to her +power of life and death wherever men obey my word, and for an offering +I send to her twelve of my royal white cattle and a bull, also an ox +trained to riding. When she visits me let her ride upon the white ox +that she may be known, but let no man come with her, for among the +people of the Zulus she must be attended by Zulus only. I have spoken. +I pray that she who is named Princess of the Zulus will appear before +my messengers and acknowledge the gift of the King of the Zulus, that +they may see her in the flesh and make report of her to me.” + +Now when Mr. Dove had received this message, one evening at sundown, he +went into the house and repeated it to Rachel, for it puzzled him much, +and he knew not what to answer. + +Rachel in her turn took counsel with Noie who was hidden away lest +some of the embassy should see and recognise her. + +“Speak with the messengers,” said Noie, “it is well to have power among +the Zulus. I, who have some knowledge of this business, say, speak with +them alone, and speak softly, saying that one day you will come.” + +So having explained the matter to her father, and obtained his consent, +Rachel, who desired to impress these savages, threw a white shawl about +her, as Noie instructed her to do. Then, letting her long, golden hair +hang down, she went out alone carrying a light assegai in her hand, to +the place where the messengers, six of them, and those who had driven +the cattle from Zululand, were encamped in the guest kraal, at the gate +of which, as it chanced, lay a great boulder of rock. On this boulder +she took her stand, unobserved, waiting there till the full moon shone +out from behind a dark cloud, turning her white robe to silver. Now of +a sudden the messengers who were seated together, talking and taking +snuff, looked up and saw her. + +“_Inkosazana-y-Zoola_!” exclaimed one of them, rising, whereon they all +sprang to their feet and perceiving this beautiful and mysterious +figure, by a common impulse lifted their right arms and gave to her +what no woman had ever received before—the royal salute. + +“Bayète!” they cried, “Bayète!” then stood silent. + +“I hear you,” said Rachel, who spoke their tongue as well as she did +her own. “It has been reported to me that you wished to see me, O +Mouths of the King. Behold I am pleased to appear before you. What +would you of Inkosazana-y-Zoola, O Mouths of the King?” + +Then their spokesman, an old man of high rank, with a withered hand, +stepped forward from the line of his companions, stared at her for a +while, and saluted again. + +“Lady,” he said humbly, “Lady or Spirit, we would know how thou camest +by that great name of thine.” + +“It was given me as a child far away from here,” she answered, “because +in a mighty tempest the lightnings turned aside and smote me not; +because the waters raged yet drowned me not; because the lions slept +with me yet harmed me not. It came to me from the high Heaven that was +my friend. I do not know how it came.” + +“We have heard the story,” answered the old man (which indeed they had +with many additions), “and we believe. We believe that the Heavens +above gave thee their own name which is the name of the Spirit of our +people. That Spirit I have seen in a dream, and she was like to thee, O +Inkosazana-y-Zoola.” + +“It may be so, Mouth of the King, still I am woman, not spirit.” + +“Yet in every woman there dwells a spirit, or so we believe, and in +thee a great one, or so we have heard and believe, O Lady of the +Heavens. To thee, then, again we repeat the words of Dingaan and of his +council which to-day we have said in the ears of him who thinks himself +thy father. To thee the roads are open; thine are the cattle and the +kraals; here is an earnest of them. Thine are the lives of men. Command +now, if thou wilt, that one of us be slain before thee, and whilst thou +watchest, he shall look his last upon the moon.” + +“I hear you,” said Rachel, quietly, “but I seek the life of none who +are good. I thank the King for his gift; I wish the King well. I +remember that life and death lie in my hands. Say these words to the +King.” + +“We will say them, but wilt thou not come, O Lady, as the King desires? +A regiment shall meet thee on the river bank and lead thee to his +house. Unharmed shalt thou come, unharmed shalt thou return, and what +thou askest that shall be given thee.” + +“One day, perchance, I will come, but not now. Go in peace, O Mouths of +the King.” + +As she spoke another dark cloud floated across the moon, and when it +had passed away she stood no more upon the rock. Then, seeing that she +was gone, those messengers gathered up their spears and mats, and +returned swiftly to Zululand. + +When she reached the house again Rachel told her father and mother all +that had passed, laughing as she spoke. + +“It seems scarcely right, my dear,” said Mr. Dove, when she had done. +“Those benighted heathens will really believe that you are something +unearthly.” + +“Then let them,” she answered. “It can do no one any harm, and the +power of life and death with the rest of it, unless it was all talk as +I suspect, might be very useful one day. Who knows? And now the +Princess of the Heavens will go and set the supper, as Noie—I beg +pardon, Nonha—is off duty for the present.” + +Afterwards she asked Noie who was the old man with a withered hand who +had spoken as the “King’s Mouth.” + +“Mopo is his name, Mopo or Umbopo, none other, O Zoola,” she answered. +“It was he who stabbed T’Chaka, the Black One. It is said also that +alone among men living, he has seen the White Spirit: the Inkosazana. +Thrice he has seen her, or so goes the tale that my father, who knew +everything, told to me. That is why Dingaan sent him here to make +report of you.” And she told her all the wonderful story of Mopo and of +the death of T’Chaka, which Rachel treasured in her mind.[*] + +[*] For the history of Mopo, see “Nada the Lily.”—AUTHOR. + + +Such was Rachel’s first introduction to the Zulus, an occasion on which +her undoubted histrionic abilities stood her in good stead. + +This matter of the embassy happened and in due course was almost +forgotten, that is until a certain event occurred which brought it into +mind. For some time, however, Rachel thought of it a good deal, +wondering how it came about that her native name and the strange +significance which they appeared to give to it had taken such a hold of +the imagination of the Zulus. Ultimately she discovered that the white +man, Ishmael, was the chief cause of these things. He had lived so long +among savages that he had caught something of their mind and dark +superstitions. To him, as to them, it seemed a marvellous thing that +she should have acquired the title of the legendary Spirit of the Zulu +people. The calm courage, too, so unusual in a woman, which she showed +when she shot the warrior, and at the risk of her own life saved that +of the girl, Noie, impressed him as something almost ultra-human, +especially when he remembered his own conduct on that occasion. All of +this story, of course, he did not tell to the Zulus for he feared lest +they should take vengeance for his share in it. But of Rachel he +discoursed to the King and his _indunas_, or great men, as a white +witch-doctoress of super-natural power, whose name showed that she was +mixed up with the fortunes of the race. Therefore, in the end, Dingaan +sent Mopo, “he who knew the Spirit,” to make report of her. + +When he was not absent upon his hunting or trading expeditions, Ishmael +visited Ramah a great deal and, as Rachel soon discovered, not without +an object. Indeed, almost from the first, her feminine instincts led +her to suspect that this man who, notwithstanding his good looks, +repelled her so intensely, was falling in love with her, which in truth +he had done once and for all at their first meeting. In the beginning +he did not, it is true, say much that could be so interpreted, but his +whole attitude towards her suggested it, as did other things. For +instance, when he came to visit the Doves, he discarded his garments of +hide, including the picturesque zebra-skin trousers, and appeared +dressed in smart European clothes which he had contrived to obtain from +Durban, and a large hat with a white ostrich feather, that struck +Rachel as even more ludicrous than the famous trousers. Also he was +continuously sending presents of game and of skins, or of rare +karosses, that is, fur rugs, which he ordered to be delivered to her +personally—tokens, all of them, that she could not misunderstand. Her +father, however, misunderstood them persistently, although her mother +saw something of the truth, and did her best to shield her from +attentions which she knew to be unwelcome. Mr. Dove believed that it +was his company which Ishmael sought. Indeed in this matter the man was +very clever, contriving to give the clergyman the impression that he +required spiritual instruction and comfort, which, of course, he found +forthcoming in an abundant supply. When Mrs. Dove remonstrated, saying +that she misdoubted her of him and his character, her husband answered +obstinately, that it was his duty to turn a sinner from his way, and +declined to pursue the conversation. So Ishmael continued to come. + +For her part Rachel did her best to avoid him, instructing Noie to keep +a constant look-out both with her eyes and through the Kaffirs, and to +warn her of his advent. Then she would slip away into the bush or down +to the seashore, and remain there till he was gone, or if he came when +she could not do so, in the evening for instance, would keep Noie at +her side, and on the first opportunity retire to her own room. + +Now the result of this method of self-protection was to cause Ishmael +to hate Noie as bitterly as she hated him. He guessed that the girl +knew the dreadful truth about him; that it was he, and no other, who +had counselled Dingaan to kill her father and all his family, and take +her by force into his house, and although she said nothing of it, he +suspected that she had told everything to Rachel. Moreover, it was she +who always thwarted him, who prevented him time upon time from having a +single word alone with her mistress. Therefore he determined to be +revenged upon Noie whenever an opportunity occurred. But as yet he +could find none, since if he were to tell the Zulus that she still +lived, and cause her to be killed or taken away, he was sure that it +would mean a final breach with the Dove family, all of whom had learned +to love this beautiful orphan maid. So he nursed his rage in secret. + +Meanwhile his passion increased daily, burning ever more fiercely for +its continued repression, until at length the chance for which he had +waited so long came to him. + +Having become aware of Rachel’s habit of slipping away whenever he +appeared, he showed himself on horseback at a little distance, then +waited a while and, instead of going up to the mission station, rode +round it, and hid in some bush whence he could command a view of the +surrounding country. Presently he saw Rachel, who was alone, for she +had not waited to call Noie, hurrying towards the seashore, along the +edge of that kloof down which ran the stream where the crocodiles +lived. Presently, when she had gone too far to return to the house if +she caught sight of him, he followed after her, and, leaving his horse, +at last came up with her seated on a rock by the pool in which she had +bathed on the morning of the massacre. + +Walking softly in his veld-schoens, or shoes made of raw hide, on the +sand, Rachel knew nothing of his coming until his shadow fell upon her. +Then she sprang up and saw him, smiling and bowing, the ostrich-plume +hat in his hand. Her first impulse was to run away, but recovering +herself she nodded in a friendly fashion, and bade him “Good day,” +adding: + +“What are you doing here, Mr. Ishmael, hunting?” + +“Yes,” he answered, “that’s it. Hunting you. It has been a long chase, +but I have caught you at last.” + +“Really, I am not a wild creature, Mr. Ishmael,” she said indignantly. + +“No,” he answered, “you are more beautiful and more dangerous than any +wild creature.” + +Rachel looked at him. Then she made as though she would pass him, +saying that she was going home. Now Ishmael stood between two rocks +filling the only egress from this place. + +He stretched out his arms so that his fingers touched the rocks on +either side, and said: + +“You can’t. You must listen to me first. I came here to say what I have +wanted to tell you for a long time. I love you, and I ask you to marry +me.” + +“Indeed,” she replied, setting her face. “How can that be? I understood +that you were already married—several times over.” + +“Who told you that?” he asked, angrily. “I know—that accursed little +witch, Noie.” + +“Don’t speak any ill of Noie, please; she is my friend.” + +“Then you have a liar for your friend. Those women are only my +servants.” + +“It doesn’t matter to me what they are, Mr. Ishmael. I have no wish to +know your private affairs. Shall we stop this talk, which is not +pleasant?” + +“No,” he answered. “I tell you that I love you and I mean to marry you, +with your will or without it. Let it be with your will, Rachel,” he +added, pleadingly, “for I will make you a good husband. Also I am +well-born, much better than you think, and I am rich, rich enough to +take you out of this country, if you like. I have thousands of cattle, +and a great deal of money put by, good English gold that I have got +from the sale of ivory. You shall come with me from among all these +savage people back to England, and live as you like.” + +“Thank you, but I prefer the savages, as you seem to have done until +now. No, do not try to touch me; you know that I can defend myself if I +choose,” and she glanced at the pistol which she always carried in that +wild land, “I am not afraid of you, Mr. Ishmael; it is you who are +afraid of me.” + +“Perhaps I am,” he exclaimed, “because those Zulus are right, you are +_tagati_, an enchantress, not like other women, white or black. If it +were not so, would you have driven me mad as you have done? I tell you +I can’t sleep for thinking of you. Oh! Rachel, Rachel, don’t be angry +with me. Have pity on me. Give me some hope. I know that my life has +been rough in the past, but I will become good again for your sake and +live like a Christian. But if you refuse me, if you send me back to +hell—then you shall learn what I can be.” + +“I know what you are, Mr. Ishmael, and that is quite enough. I do not +wish to be unkind, or to say anything that will pain you, but please go +away, and never try to speak to me again like this, as it is quite +useless. You must understand that I will never marry you, never.” + +“Are you in love with somebody else?” he asked hoarsely, and at the +question, do what she would to prevent it, Rachel coloured a little. + +“How can I be in love here, unless it were with a dream?” + +“A dream, a dream of a man you mean. Well, don’t let him cross my path, +or it will soon be the dream of a ghost. I tell you I’d kill him. If I +can’t have you, no one else shall. Do you understand?” + +“I understand that I am tired of this. Let me go home, please.” + +“Home! Soon you will have no home to go to except mine—that is, if you +don’t change your mind about me. I have power here—don’t you +understand? I have power.” + +As he spoke these words the man looked so evil that Rachel shivered a +little. But she answered boldly enough: + +“I understand that you have no power at all against me; no one has. It +is I who have the power.” + +“Yes, because as I said, you are _tagati_, but there are others——” + +As these words passed his lips someone slipped by him. Starting back, +he saw that it was Noie, draped in her usual white robe, for nothing +would induce her to wear European clothes. Passing him as though she +saw him not, she went to Rachel and said: + +“Inkosazana, I was at my work in the house yonder and I thought that I +heard you calling me down here by the seashore, so I came. Is it your +pleasure that I should accompany you home?” + +“For instance,” he went on furiously, “there is that black slut whom +you are fond of. Well, if I can’t hurt you, I can hurt her. Daughter of +Seyapi, you know how runaways die in Zululand, or if you don’t you +shall soon learn. I will pay you back for all your tricks,” and he +stopped, choking with rage. + +Noie looked him up and down with her soft, dreamy brown eyes. + +“Do you think so, Night-prowler?” she asked. “Do you think that what +you did to the father and his house, you will do to the daughter also? +Well, it is strange, but last night, just before the cock crew, I sat +by Seyapi’s grave, and he spoke to me of you, White Man. Listen, now, +and I will tell you what he said,” and stepping forward she whispered +in his ear. + +Rachel, watching, saw the man’s swarthy face turn pale as he hearkened, +then he lifted his hand as though to strike her, let it fall again, and +muttering curses in English and in Zulu, turned and walked, or rather +staggered away. + +“What did you tell him, Noie?” asked Rachel. + +“Never mind, Zoola,” she answered. “Perhaps the truth; perhaps what +came into my mind. At any rate I frightened him away. He was making +love to you, was he not, the low _silwana _(wild beast)? Ah! I thought +so, for that he has wished to do for long. And he threatened, did he +not? Well, you are right; he cannot hurt you at all, and me only a +little, I think. But he is very dangerous and very strong, and can hurt +others. If your father is wise he will leave this place, Zoola.” + +“I think so too,” answered Rachel. “Let us go home and tell him so.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +MR. DOVE VISITS ISHMAEL + + +When Rachel and Noie reached the house, which they did not do for some +time, as they waited to make sure that Ishmael had really gone, it was +to see the man himself riding away from its gate. + +“Be prepared,” said Noie; “I think that he has been here before us to +pour poison into your father’s ears.” + +So it proved to be, indeed, for on the stoep or verandah they found Mr. +Dove walking up and down evidently much disturbed in mind. + +“What is all this trouble, Rachel?” he asked. “What have you done to +Mr. Smith”—for Mr. Dove in pursuance of the suggestion made by the man, +had adopted that name for him which he considered less peculiar than +Ishmael. “He has been here much upset, declaring that you have used him +cruelly, and that Nonha threatened him with terrible things in the +future, of which, of course, she can know nothing.” + +“Well, father, if you wish to hear,” answered Rachel, “Mr. Ishmael, or +Mr. Smith as you call him, has been asking me to marry him, and when I +refused, as of course I did, behaved very unpleasantly.” + +“Indeed, Rachel. I gathered from him that something of the sort had +happened, only his story is that it was you who behaved unpleasantly, +speaking to him as though he were dirt. Now, Rachel, of course I do not +want you to marry this person, in fact, I should dislike it, although I +have seen a great change for the better in him lately—I mean +spiritually, of course—and an earnest repentance for the errors of his +past life. All I mean is that the proffered affection of an honest man +should not be met with scorn and sharp words.” + +Up to this point Rachel endured the lecture in silence, but now she +could bear no more. + +“Honest man!” she exclaimed. “Father, are you deaf and blind, or only +so good yourself that you cannot see evil in others? Do you know that +it was this ‘honest man’ who brought about the murder of all Noie’s +people in order that he might curry favour with the Zulus?” + +Mr. Dove started, and turning, asked: + +“Is that so, Nonha?” + +“It is so, Teacher,” answered Noie, “although I have never spoken of it +to you. Afterwards I will tell you the story, if you wish.” + +“And do you know,” went on Rachel, “why he will never let you visit his +kraal among the hills yonder? Well, I will tell you. It is because this +‘honest man,’ who wishes me to marry him, keeps his Kaffir wives and +children there!” + +“Rachel!” replied her father, in much distress, “I will never believe +it; you are only repeating native scandal. Why, he has often spoken to +me with horror of such things.” + +“I daresay he has, father. Well, now, I ask you to judge for yourself. +Take a guide and start two hours before daybreak to-morrow morning to +visit that kraal, and see if what I say is not true.” + +“I will, indeed,” exclaimed Mr. Dove, who was now thoroughly aroused, +for it was conduct of this sort that had caused his bitter quarrel with +the first settlers in Natal. “I cannot believe the story, Rachel, I +really cannot; but I promise you that if I should find cause to do so, +the man shall never put foot in my house again.” + +“Then I think that I am rid of him,” said Rachel, with a sigh of +relief, “only be careful, dear, that he does not do you a mischief, for +such men do not like to be found out.” Then she left the stoep, and +went to tell her mother all that had happened. + +When she had heard the story, Mrs. Dove, who detested Ishmael as much +as her daughter did, tried to persuade her husband not to visit his +kraal, saying that it would only breed a feud, and that under the +circumstances, it would be easy to forbid him the house upon other +grounds. But Mr. Dove, obstinate as usual, refused to listen to her, +saying that he would not judge the man without evidence, and that of +the natives could not be relied on. Also, if the tale were true, it was +his duty as his spiritual adviser to remonstrate with him. + +So his poor wife gave up arguing, as she always did, and long before +dawn on the following morning, Mr. Dove, accompanied by two guides, +departed upon his errand. + +After he had ridden some twelve miles across the plain which lay behind +Ramah, just at daybreak, he reached a pass or nek between two swelling +hills, beyond which the guides said lay the kraal that was called +Mafooti. Presently he saw it, a place situated in a cup-like valley, +chosen evidently because the approaches to it were easy to defend. On a +knoll in the centre of this rich valley stood the kraal, a small native +town surrounded by walls, and stone enclosures full of cattle. As they +approached the kraal, from its main entrance issued four or five +good-looking native women, one of them accompanied by a boy, and all +carrying hoes in their hands, for they were going out at sunrise to +work in the mealie fields. When they saw Mr. Dove they stood still, +staring at him, till he called to them not to be afraid, and riding up, +asked them who they were. + +“We are of the number of the wives of Ibubesi, the Lion,” answered +their spokeswoman, who held the little boy by the hand. + +“Do you mean the _Umlungu_ (that is, the white man), Ishmael?” he asked +again. + +“Whom else should we mean?” she answered. “I am his head wife, now that +he has put away old Mami, and this is his son. If the light were +stronger you would see that he is almost white,” she added, with pride. + +Mr. Dove knew not what to answer; this intelligence overwhelmed him, +and he sat silent on his horse. The wives of Ishmael prepared to pass +on to the mealie fields, then stopped, and began to whisper together. +At length the mother of the boy turned and addressed him, while the +others crowded behind her to listen. + +“We desire to ask you a question, Teacher,” she said, somewhat shyly, +for evidently they knew well enough who he was. “Is it true that we are +to have a new sister?” + +“A new sister! What do you mean?” asked Mr. Dove. + +“We mean, Teacher,” she replied smiling, “that we have heard that +Ibubesi is courting the beautiful Zoola, the daughter of your head +wife, and we thought that perhaps you had come to arrange about the +cattle that he must pay for her. Doubtless if she is so fair, it will +be a whole herd.” + +This was too much, even for Mr. Dove. + +“How dare you talk so, you heathen hussies?” he gasped. “Where is the +white man?” + +“Teacher,” she replied with indignation, and drawing herself up, “why +do you call us bad names? We are respectable women, the wives of one +husband, as respectable as your own, although not so numerous, or so we +hear from Ibubesi. If you desire to see him, he is in the big hut, +yonder, with our youngest sister, she whom he married last month. We +wish you good day, as we go to hoe our lord’s fields, and we hope that +when she comes, the Inkosazana, your daughter, will not be as rude as +you are, for if so, how shall we love her as we wish to do?” Then +wrapping her blanket round her with a dignified air, the offended lady +stalked off, followed by her various “sisters.” + +As for Mr. Dove, who for once in his life was in a towering rage, he +cut his horse viciously with the sjambok, or hippopotamus-hide whip, +which he carried, and followed by his guides, galloped forward to a big +hut in the centre of the kraal. + +Apparently Ishmael heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs, for as the +missionary was dismounting he crawled out of the bee-hole of the hut +upon his hands and knees, as a Kaffir does, followed by a young woman +in the lightest of attire, who was yawning as though she had just been +aroused from sleep. What is more, except for the colour of his skin, he +_was_ a Kaffir and nothing else, for his costume consisted of a skin +moocha such as the natives wear, and a fur kaross thrown over his +shoulders. Straightening himself, Ishmael saw for the first time who +was his visitor. His jaw dropped, and he uttered an ejaculation that +need not be recorded, then stood silent. Mr. Dove was silent also; for +his wrath would not allow him to speak. + +“How do you do, sir?” Ishmael jerked out at last. “You are an early +visitor, and find me somewhat unprepared. If I had known that you were +coming I would”—then suddenly he remembered his attire, or the lack of +it, also his companion who was leaning on his shoulder, and peeping at +the white man over it. Drawing the kaross tightly about him, he gave +the poor girl a backward kick, and with a Kaffir oath bade her begone, +then went on hurriedly: “I am afraid my dress is not quite what you are +accustomed to, but among these poor heathens I find it necessary to +conform more or less to their ways in order to gain their confidence +and—um—affection. Will you come into the hut? My servant there will get +you some _tywala_ (Kaffir beer)—I mean some _amasi_ (curdled milk) at +once, and I will have a calf killed for breakfast.” + +Mr. Dove could bear it no longer. + +“Ishmael, or Smith, or Ibubesi—whichever name you may prefer,” he broke +out, “do not lie to me about your servant, for now I know all the +truth, which I refused to believe when my daughter and Nonha told it +me. You are a black-hearted villain. But yesterday you dared to come +and ask Rachel to marry you, and now I find that you are living—oh! I +cannot say it, it makes me ashamed of my race. Listen to me, sir. If +ever you dare to set foot in Ramah again, or to speak to my wife and +daughter, the Kaffirs shall whip you off the place. Indeed,” he added, +shaking his sjambok in Ishmael’s face, “although I am an older man than +you are, were it not for my office I would give you the thrashing you +deserve.” + +At first Ishmael had shrunk beneath this torrent of invective, but the +threat of violence roused his fierce nature. His face grew evil, and +his long black hair and beard bristled with wrath. + +“You had best get out of this, you prayer-snuffling old humbug,” he +said savagely, “for if you stop much longer I will make you sing +another tune. We have sea-cow whips here, too, and you shall learn what +a hiding means, such a hiding that your own family won’t know you, if +you live to get back to them. Look here, I offered to marry your +daughter on the square, and I meant what I said. I’d have got rid of +all this black baggage, and she should have been the only one. Well, +I’ll marry her yet, only now she’ll just take her place with the +others. We are all one flesh and blood, black and white, ain’t we? I +have often heard you preach it. So what will she have to complain of?” +he sneered. “She can go and hoe mealies like the rest.” + +As this brutal talk fell upon his ears Mr. Dove’s reason departed from +him entirely. After all, he was an English gentleman first, and a +clergyman afterwards; also he loved his daughter, and to hear her +spoken of like this was intolerable to him, as it would have been to +any father. Lifting the sjambok he cut Ishmael across the mouth so +sharply that the blood came from his lips, then suddenly remembering +that this deed would probably mean his death, stood still awaiting the +issue. As it chanced it did not, for the man, like most brutes and +bullies, was a coward, as Rachel had already found out. Obeying his +first impulse he sprang at the clergyman with an oath, then seeing that +his two guides, who carried assegais, had ranged themselves beside him, +checked himself, for he feared lest those spears should pierce his +heart. + +“You are in my house,” he said, wiping the blood from his beard, “and +an old man, so I can’t kill you as I would anyone else. But you have +made me your enemy now, you fool, and others can. I have protected you +so far for your daughter’s sake, but I won’t do it any longer. You +think of that when your time comes.” + +“My time, like yours, will come when God wills,” answered Mr. Dove +unflinchingly, “not when you or anyone else wills. I do not fear you in +the least. Still, I am sorry that I struck you, it was a sin of which I +repent as I pray that you may repent.” + +Then he mounted his horse and rode away from the kraal Mafooti. + +When Mr. Dove reached Ramah he only said to Rachel that what she had +heard was quite true, and that he had forbidden Ishmael the house. Of +course, however, Noie soon learnt the whole story from the Kaffir +guides, and repeated it to her mistress. To his wife, on the other +hand, he told everything, with the result that she was very much +disturbed. She pointed out to him that this white outcast was a most +dangerous man, who would certainly be revenged upon them in one way or +another. Again she implored him, as she had often done before, to leave +these savage countries wherein he had laboured for all the best years +of his life, saying that it was not right that he should expose their +daughter to the risks of them. + +“But,” answered her husband, “you have often told me that you were sure +no harm would come to Rachel, and I think that, too.” + +“Yes, dear, I am sure; still, for many reasons it does not seem right +to keep her here.” She did not add, poor, unselfish woman, that there +was another who should be considered as well as Rachel. + +“How can I go away,” he went on excitedly, “just when all the seed that +I have sown is ripening to harvest? If I did so, my work would be +utterly lost, and my people relapse into barbarism again. I am not +afraid of this man, or of anything that he can do to my body, but if I +ran away from him it would be injuring my soul, and what account should +I give of my cowardice when my time comes? Do you go, my love, and take +Rachel with you if you wish, leaving me to finish my work alone.” + +But now, as before, Mrs. Dove would not go, and Rachel, when she was +asked, shrugged her shoulders and answered laughing that she was not +afraid of anybody or anything, and, except for her mother’s sake, did +not care whether she went or stayed. Certainly she would not leave her, +nor, she added, did she wish to say goodbye to Africa. + +When she was asked why, she replied vaguely that she had grown up +there, and it was her home. But her mother, watching her, knew well +enough that she had another reason, although no word of it ever passed +her lips. In Africa she had met Richard Darrien as a child, and in +Africa and nowhere else she believed she would meet him again as a +woman. + +The weeks and months went by, bringing to the Ramah household no sight +or tidings of the white man, Ishmael. They heard through the Kaffirs, +indeed, that although he still kept his kraal at Mafooti, he himself +had gone away on some trading journey far to the north, and did not +expect to return for a year, news at which everyone rejoiced, except +Noie, who shook her wise little head and said nothing. + +So all fear of the man gradually died away, and things were very +peaceful and prosperous at Ramah. + +In fact this quiet proved to be but the lull before the storm. + +One day, about eight months after Mr. Dove had visited the kraal +Mafooti, another embassy came to Rachel from the Zulu king, Dingaan, +bringing with it a present of more white cattle. She received them as +she had done before, at night and alone, for they refused to speak to +her in the presence of other people. + +In substance their petition was the same that it had been before, +namely, that she would visit Zululand, as the king and his indunas +desired her counsel upon an important matter. When asked what this +matter was they either were, or pretended to be, ignorant, saying that +it had not been confided to them. Thereon she said that if Dingaan +chose to submit the question to her by messenger, she would give him +her opinion on it, but that she could not come to his kraal. They asked +why, seeing that the whole nation would guard her, and no hair of her +head be harmed. + +“Because I am a child in the house of my people, and they will not +allow me to leave even for a day,” she answered, thinking that this +reply would appeal to a race who believe absolutely in obedience to +parents and every established authority. + +“Is it so?” remarked the old induna who spoke as Dingaan’s Mouth—not +Mopo, but another. “Now, how can the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, before whom a +whole nation will bow, be in bonds to a white _Umfundusi_, a mere +sky-doctor? Shall the wide heavens obey a cloud?” + +“If they are bred of that cloud,” retorted Rachel. + +“The heavens breed the cloud, not the cloud the heavens,” answered the +induna aptly. + +Now it occurred to Rachel that this thing was going further than it +should. To be set up as a kind of guardian spirit to the Zulus had +seemed a very good joke, and naturally appealed to the love of power +which is common to women. But when it involved, at any rate in the eyes +of that people, dominion over her own parents, the joke was, she felt, +becoming serious. So she determined suddenly to bring it to an end. + +“What mean you, Messenger of the King?” she asked. “I am but the child +of my parents, and the parents are greater than the child, and must be +obeyed of her.” + +“Inkosazana,” answered the old man with a deprecatory smile, “if it +pleases you to tell us such tales, our ears must listen, as if it +pleased you to order us to be killed, we must be killed. But learn that +we know the truth. We know how as a child you came down from above in +the lightning, and how these white people with whom you dwell found you +lying in the mist on the mountain top, and took you to their home in +place of a babe whom they had buried.” + +“Who told you that story?” asked Rachel amazed. + +“It was revealed to the council of the doctors, Lady.” + +“Then that was revealed which is not true. I was born as other women +are, and my name of ‘Lady of the Heavens’ came to me by chance, as by +chance I resemble the Spirit of your people.” + +“We hear you,” answered the “Mouth” politely. “You were born as other +women are, by chance you had your high name, by chance you are tall and +fair and golden-haired like the Spirit of our people. We hear you.” + +Then Rachel gave it up. + +“Bear my words to the King,” she said, and they rose, saluted her with +a Bayète, that royal salute which never before had been given to woman, +and departed. + +When they had gone Rachel went in to supper and told her parents all +the story. Mr. Dove, now that she seemed to take a serious view of the +matter, affected to treat it as absurd, although when she had laughed, +his attitude, it may be remembered, was different. He talked of the +silly Zulu superstitions, showed how they had twisted up the story of +the death of her baby brother, and her escape from the flood in the +Umtavuna river, into that which they had narrated to her. He even +suggested that the whole thing was nonsense, part of some political +move to enable the King, or a party in the state, to declare that they +had with them the word of their traditional spirit and oracle. + +Mrs. Dove, however, who that night was strangely depressed and uneasy, +thought far otherwise. She pointed out that they were playing with vast +and cruel forces, and that whatever these people exactly believed about +Rachel, it was a dreadful thing for a girl to be put in a position in +which the lives of hundreds might hang upon her nod. + +“Yes, and,” she added hysterically, “perhaps our own lives also—perhaps +our own lives also!” + +To change the conversation, which was growing painful, Rachel asked if +anyone had seen Noie. Her father answered that two hours ago, just +before the embassy arrived, he had met her going down to the banks of +the stream, as he supposed, to gather flowers for the table. Then he +began to talk about the girl, saying what a sweet creature she was, and +how strange it seemed to him that although she appeared to accept all +the doctrines of the Christian faith, as yet she had never consented to +be baptised. + +It was while he was speaking thus that Rachel suddenly observed her +mother fall forward, so that her body rested on the table, as though a +kind of fit had seized her. Rachel sprang towards her, but before she +reached her she appeared to have quite recovered, only her face looked +very white. + +“What on earth is the matter, mother?” + +“Oh! don’t ask me,” she answered, “a terrible thing, a sort of fancy +that came to me from talking about those Zulus. I thought I saw this +place all red with blood and tongues of fire licking it up. It went as +quickly as it came, and of course I know that it is nonsense.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +THE TAKING OF NOIE + + +Presently Mrs. Dove, who seemed to have quite recovered from her +curious seizure, went to bed. + +“I don’t like it, father,” said Rachel when the door had closed behind +her. “Of course it is contrary to experience and all that, but I +believe that mother is fore-sighted.” + +“Nonsense, dear, nonsense,” said her father. “It is her Scotch +superstition, that is all. We have been married for five-and-twenty +years now, and I have heard this sort of thing again and again, but +although we have lived in wild places where anything might happen to +us, nothing out of the way ever has happened; in fact, we have always +been most mercifully preserved.” + +“That’s true, father, still I am not sure; perhaps because I am rather +that way myself, sometimes. Thus I _know_ that she is right about me; +no harm will happen to me, at least no permanent harm. I feel that I +shall live out my life, as I feel something else.” + +“What else, Rachel?” + +“Do you remember the lad, Richard Darrien?” she asked, colouring a +little. + +“What? The boy who was with you that night on the island? Yes, I +remember him, although I have not thought of him for years.” + +“Well, I feel that I shall see him again.” + + Mr. Dove laughed. “Is that all?” he said. “If he is still alive and in + Africa, it wouldn’t be very wonderful if you did, would it? And at any + rate, of course, you will one day when we all cease to be alive. + Really,” he added with irritation, “there are enough bothers in life + without rubbish of this kind, which comes from living among savages + and absorbing their ideas. I am beginning to think that I shall have + to give way and leave Africa, though it will break my heart just when, + after all the striving, my efforts are being crowned with success.” + +“I have always told you, father, that I don’t want to leave Africa, +still, there is mother to be considered. Her health is not what it +was.” + +“Well,” he said impatiently, “I will talk to her and weigh the thing. +Perhaps I shall receive guidance, though for my part I cannot see what +it matters. We’ve got to die some time, and if necessary I prefer that +it should be while doing my duty. ‘Take no thought for the morrow, +sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ has always been my motto, +who am content with what it pleases Providence to send me.” + +Then Rachel, seeing no use in continuing the conversation, bade him +good-night, and went to look for Noie, only to discover that she was +not in the house. This disturbed her very much, although it occurred to +her that she might possibly be with friends in the village, hiding till +she was sure the Zulu embassy had gone. So she went to bed without +troubling her father. + +At daybreak next morning she rose, not having slept very well, and went +out to look for the girl, without success, for no one had heard or seen +anything of her. As she was returning to the house, however, she met a +solitary Zulu, a dignified middle-aged man, whom she thought she +recognised as one of the embassy, although of this she could not be +sure, as she had only seen these people in the moonlight. The man, who +was quite unarmed, except for a kerry which he carried, crouched down +on catching sight of her in token of respect. As she approached he +rose, and gave her the royal salute. Then she was sure. + +“Speak,” she said. + +“Inkosazana,” he answered humbly, “be not angry with me, I am Tamboosa, +one of the King’s indunas. You saw me with the others last night.” + +“I saw you.” + +“Inkosazana, there has been dwelling with you one Noie, the daughter of +Seyapi the wizard, who with all his house was slain at this place by +order of the King. She also should have been slain, but we have learned +that you called down lightning from Heaven, and that with it you slew +the soldier who had run her down, slew him and burned him up, as you +had the right to do, and took the girl to be your slave, as you had the +right to do.” + +“Speak on,” said Rachel, showing none of the surprise which she felt. + +“Inkosazana, we know that you have come to love this girl. Therefore, +yesterday before we spoke with you we seized her as we were commanded, +and hid her away, awaiting your answer to our message. Had you +consented to visit the King at his Great Place, we would have let her +go. But as you did not consent my companions have taken her to the +King.” + +“An ill deed. What more, Tamboosa?” + +“This; the King says by my mouth—Let the Inkosazana come and command, +and her servant Noie shall go free and unharmed, for is she not a dog +in her hut? But if she comes not and at once, then the girl dies.” + +“How know I that this tale is true, Tamboosa?” asked Rachel, +controlling herself with an effort, for she loved Noie dearly. + +The man turned towards some bushes that grew at a distance of about +twenty paces, and cried: “Come hither.” + +Thereon from among the bushes where she lay hidden, rose a little maid +of about fourteen, whom Rachel knew well as a girl that Noie often took +with her to carry baskets and other things. + +“Tell now the tale of the taking of Noie and deliver the message that +she gave to you,” commanded Tamboosa. + +Thereon the trembling child began, and after the native fashion, +suppressing no detail or circumstance, however small, narrated how the +Zulus had surprised her and Noie while they were gathering flowers, and +having bound their arms, had caused them to be hurried away unseen to +some dense bush about four miles off. Here they had been kept hidden +till in the night the embassy returned. Then they had spoken with Noie, +who in the end called her and gave her a message. This was the message: +“Say to the Inkosazana that the Zulus have caught me, and are taking me +to Dingaan the King. Say that they declare that if she is pleased to +come and speak the word, I shall be set free unharmed, that is, if she +comes at once. But if she does not come, then I shall be killed. Say to +her that I do not ask that she should come who am ready to die, and +that though I believe that no harm will happen to her in Zululand, I +think that she had better not come. Say that, living or dead, I love +her.” + +Then the maid described how the embassy went on with Noie, leaving her +in the charge of the man Tamboosa, who at the first break of dawn +brought her back to Ramah, and made her hide in the bush. + +Now Rachel had no more doubts. Clearly the tale was true, and the +question was—what must be done? She thought a while, then bade Tamboosa +and the child to follow her to the mission-house. On the stoep she +found her father and mother sitting in the sun and drinking coffee, +after the South African fashion. + +“What is it?” asked Mr. Dove, looking at the man anxiously. + +Rachel ordered him to repeat his story, and this he did, addressing +Rachel alone, for of her father and mother he would take no notice. +When he had done the child told her tale also. + +“Go now, and wait without,” said Rachel, when it was finished. + +“Inkosazana, I go,” answered the man, “but if it pleases you to save +your servant, know that you must come swiftly. If you are not across +the Tugela by sunset this night, word will be passed to the King, and +she dies at once. Know also that you must come alone with me, for if +any, white or black, accompany you, they will be killed.” + +“Now,” said Rachel when the three of them were left alone, “now what is +to be done?” + +Mrs. Dove shook her head helplessly, and looked at her husband, who +broke into a tirade against the Zulus, their superstitions, cruelties, +customs, and everything that was theirs, and ended by declaring that it +was of course utterly impossible that Rachel should go upon such a mad +errand, and thus place herself in the power of savages. + +“But, father,” she said when he had done, “do you understand that you +are pronouncing Noie’s death sentence? If you were in my place, would +you not go?” + +“Of course I would. In fact I propose to do so as it is. No doubt +Dingaan will listen to me.” + +“You mean that Dingaan will kill you. Did you not hear what that man +Tamboosa said? Father, you must not go.” + +“No, John,” broke in Mrs. Dove, “Rachel is right, you must not go, for +you would never come back again. Also, how can you be so cruel as to +think of leaving me here alone?” + +“Then I suppose that we must abandon that poor girl to her fate,” +exclaimed Mr. Dove. + +“How can you suppose anything so merciless, father, when it is in my +power to save her?” asked Rachel. “If I let those horrible Zulus kill +her I shall never be happy again all my life.” + +“And what if the horrible Zulus kill you?” + +“They will not kill me, father; mother knows they will not, and so do +I. But as they have got this madness into their heads, I am sure that +if I do not go they will send an impi here to kill everybody else, and +take me prisoner. The kidnapping of Noie is only a first move. It is +one of two things: either I must visit Zululand, save Noie, and play my +part there as best I can, or we must desert Noie, and all leave this +place at once, tomorrow if possible. But then, as I told you, I shall +never forgive myself, especially as I am not in the least afraid of the +Zulus.” + +“It is true that God can protect you as much in Zululand as He can +here,” replied Mr. Dove, beginning to weaken in face of this desperate +alternative. + +“Of course, father, but if I go to Zululand I want you and mother to +trek to Durban, and remain there till I return.” + +“Why, Rachel? It is absurd.” + +“Because I do not think that you are safe here, and it is not at all +absurd,” she answered stubbornly. “These people choose to believe that +I am in some way in bondage to you; you remember all their talk about +the heavens and the cloud. Of course it may mean nothing, but you will +be much better in Durban for a while, where you can take to the water +if necessary.” + +Now Mr. Dove’s obstinacy asserted itself. He refused to entertain any +such idea, giving reason after reason why he should not do so. Thus for +another half hour the argument raged till at length a compromise was +arrived at, as usual in such cases, not of too satisfactory an order. +Rachel was to be allowed to undertake her mission on behalf of Noie, +and her parents were to remain at Ramah. On her return, which they +hoped would be within a week or eight days, the question of the +abandonment of the mission was to be settled by the help of the +experience she had gained. To this arrangement, then, they agreed, +reluctantly enough all of them, in order to save Noie’s life, and for +no other reason. + +The momentous decision once taken, in half an hour Rachel was ready for +her journey, which she determined she would make upon her own horse, a +grey mare that she had ridden for a long while, and could rely on in +every way. The white riding-ox that Dingaan had sent as a present was +also to accompany her, to carry her spare garments and other articles +packed in skin bags, such as coffee, sugar and a few medicines, and to +serve as a remount in case anything should happen to the horse. When it +was laden Rachel sent for the Zulu, Tamboosa, and, pointing to the ox, +said: + +“I come to visit Dingaan the king, and to claim my servant. Lead the +beast on, I will overtake you presently.” + +The man saluted and began to _bonga_, that is, to give her titles of +praise, but she cut him short with a wave of her hand, and he departed +leading the ox. + +Now while Mr. Dove saw to the saddling of the horses, for he was to +ride with her as far as the Tugela, Rachel went to bid farewell to her +mother. She found her by herself in the sitting-room, seated at an open +window, and looking out sadly towards the sea. + +“I am quite ready, dear,” she said in a cheerful voice. “Don’t look so +sad, I shall be back again in a week with Noie.” + +“Yes,” answered Mrs. Dove, “I think that you and Noie will come back +safely, but—” and she paused. + +“But what, mother?” + +“Oh! I don’t know. I am very much oppressed, my heart is heavy in me. I +hate parting with you, Rachel. Remember we have never been separated +since you were born.” + +Her daughter looked at her, and was filled with grief and compunction. + +“Mother,” she said, “if you feel like that—well, I love Noie, but after +all you are more to me than Noie, and if you wish I will give up this +business and stop with you. It is very terrible, but it can’t be +helped; Noie will understand, poor thing,” and her eyes filled with +tears at the thought of the girl’s dreadful fate. + +“No, Rachel, somehow I think it best that you should go, not only for +Noie’s sake, but for your own. If your father would leave here to-day +or to-morrow, as you suggested, it might be otherwise, but he won’t do +that, so it is no use talking of it. Let us hope for the best.” + +“As you wish, mother.” + +“Now, dear, kiss me and go. I hear your father calling you; and, +Rachel, if we should not meet again in this world, I know you won’t +forget me, or that there is another where we shall. I did not want to +frighten you with my fancies, which come from my not being well. +Goodbye, my love, good-bye. God be with you, and make you happy, +always—always.” + +Then Rachel kissed her in silence, for she could not trust herself to +speak, and turning, left the room whence her mother watched her go, +also in silence. In another minute she was mounted, and, accompanied by +her father, riding on the road along which Tamboosa had led the white +ox. + +Presently they overtook him, whereon he stopped, and looking at Mr. +Dove, said: + +“Inkosazana, the King’s orders are that none should accompany you into +Zululand.” + +“Be silent,” answered Rachel, proudly. “He rides with me as far as the +river bank.” + +Then they went on, and Rachel was relieved to find that whatever might +have been her mother’s mood, that of her father was fairly cheerful. +Indeed, his mind was so occupied with the details and object of her +journey that he quite forgot its dangers. + +Two hours’ steady riding brought them to the ford of the Tugela river, +across which lay Zululand. On the hills beyond it they could see a +number of Kaffirs watching, who on catching sight of Rachel, ran down +to the river and entered it, shouting and beating the water with their +sticks, as she guessed, to scare away any crocodiles that might be +lurking there. + +Now that the moment of separation had come, Mr. Dove grew loth to part +with his daughter, and again suggested to Tamboosa that he should +accompany her to Dingaan’s Great Place. + +“If you set a foot across that river, Praying Man,” answered the induna +grimly, “you shall die; look, there are the spears that will kill you.” + +As he spoke he pointed to the crest of the opposing hill over which, +running swiftly in ordered companies, now appeared a Zulu regiment who +carried large white shields and wore white plumes rising from their +head rings. + +“It is the escort of the Inkosazana,” he added. “Do you think that she +can take hurt among so many? And do you think, if you dare to disobey +the words of Dingaan, that you can escape so many? Go back now, lest +they should come over and kill you where you are.” + +Then, seeing that both argument and resistance were useless, and that +Tamboosa would brook no delay, Mr. Dove hurriedly embraced his daughter +in farewell. Indeed, Rachel was glad that there was no time for words, +for this parting was more terrible to her than she cared to own, and +she feared lest she should break down before the Zulu who was watching +her, and thereby be lowered in his eyes and in those of his people. + +It was over and done. She had entered the water, riding her grey mare +while Tamboosa led the white ox at her side. Presently she looked +back, and saw her father kneeling in prayer upon the bank. + +“What does the man?” asked Tamboosa, uneasily. “Is he bewitching us?” + +“Nay,” she answered, “he prays to the Heavens for us.” + +On they went between the two lines of natives, who ceased their beating +of the water, and were silent as she passed. The river was shallow, and +they crossed it with ease. By now the regiment was gathered on its +further bank, two thousand men or more, brought hither to do honour to +this white girl in whom they chose to consider that the guardian spirit +of their people was incarnate. Contemplating them, Rachel wondered how +it came about that they should be thus prepared for her advent. The +answer rose in her mind. If she had refused to visit Zululand, it was +their mission to fetch her. It was wise, therefore, that she had come +of her own will. + +Forward she rode, a striking figure in her long white cloak, down which +her bright hair hung, sitting very proud and upright on her horse, +without a sign of doubt or fear. As she approached, the captains of the +regiment ran forward to meet her with lifted shield and crouching +bodies. + +“Hail!” cried their leader. “In the name of the Great Elephant, of +Dingaan the King, hail to thee, Princess of the Heavens, Holder of the +Spirit of Nomkubulwana.” + +Rachel rode on, taking no notice, marvelling who Nomkubulwana, whose +spirit she was supposed to enshrine, might be. Afterwards she +discovered that it was only another name for the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, +that mysterious white ghost believed by this people to control their +destinies, with whom it had pleased them to identify her. As her horse +left the wide river and set foot upon dry land, every man of the two +thousand soldiers, who were watching, as it seemed to her, with wonder +and awe, began to beat his ox-hide shield with the handle of his spear. +They beat very softly at first, producing a sound like the distant +murmur of the sea, then harder and harder till its volume grew to a +mighty roar, impossible to describe, a sound like the sound of thunder +that echoed along the water and from hill to hill. The mighty noise +sank and died away as it had begun, and for a moment there was silence. +Then at some signal every spear flashed aloft in the sunlight, and from +every throat came the royal salute—_Bayète_. It was a tremendous and +most imposing welcome, so tremendous that Rachel could no longer doubt +that this people regarded her as a being apart, and above the other +white folk whom they knew. + +At the time, however, she had little space for such thoughts, since the +mare she rode, terrified by the tumult, bucked and shied so violently +that she could scarcely keep her seat. She was a good rider, which was +fortunate for her, since, had she been ignominiously thrown upon such +an occasion, her prestige must have suffered, if indeed it were not +destroyed. As it proved, it was greatly enhanced by this accident. Many +of the Zulus of that day had never even seen a horse, which was +considered by all of them to be a dangerous if not a magical beast. +That a woman could remain seated on such a wild animal when it sprang +into the air, and swerved from side to side, struck them, therefore, as +something marvellous and out of experience, a proof indeed that she was +not as others are. + +She quieted the mare, and rode on between the white-shielded ranks, +who, their greeting finished, remained absolutely still like bronze +statues watching her with wondering eyes. When at length they were +passed, the captains and a guard of about fifty men ran ahead of her. +Then she came, and after her Tamboosa, leading the white ox, followed +by another guard, which in turn was followed by the entire regiment. +Thus royally escorted, asking no questions, and speaking no word, did +Rachel make her entry into Zululand. Only in her heart she wondered +whither she was going, and how that strange journey would end, +wondered, too, how it would fare with her father and her mother till +she returned to them. + +Well might she wonder. + +When she had ridden thus for about two hours an incident occurred which +showed her how great, and indeed how dreadful was the eminence on which +she had been set among these people. Suddenly some cattle, frightened +by the approach of the impi, rushed through it towards their kraal, and +a bull that was with them, seeing this unaccustomed apparition of a +white woman mounted on a strange animal, put down its head and charged +her furiously. She saw it coming, and by pulling the mare on to its +haunches, avoided its rush. Now at the time she was riding on a path +which ran along the edge of a little rock-strewn donga not more than +eight or ten feet deep, but steep-sided. Into this donga the bull, +which had shut its eyes to charge after the fashion of its kind, +plunged headlong, and as it chanced struck its horns against a stone, +twisting and dislocating the neck, so that it lay there still and dead. + +When the Zulus saw what had happened they uttered a long-drawn _Ow-w_ +of amazement, for had not the beast dared to attack the White Spirit, +and had not the Spirit rewarded it with instant death? Then a captain +made a motion with his hand and instantly men sprang upon the remaining +cattle, four or five of them that were following the bull, and +despatched them with assegais. Before Rachel could interfere they were +pierced with a hundred wounds. Now there was a little pause, while the +carcases of the beasts were dragged out of her path, and the +bloodstains covered from her eyes with fresh earth. Just as this task +was finished there appeared, scrambling up the donga, and followed by +some men, a fat and hideous-looking woman, with fish bladders in her +hair, and snake-skins tied about her, who, from her costume, Rachel +knew at once must be an _Isanuzi_ or witch-doctoress. Evidently she was +in a fury, as might be seen by the workings of her face, and the +extraordinary swiftness with which she moved notwithstanding her years +and bulk. + +“Who has dared to kill my cattle?” she screamed. “Is it thou whom men +name Nomkubulwana?” + +“Woman,” answered Rachel quietly, “the Heavens killed the bull which +would have hurt me. For the rest, ask of the captains of the King.” + +The witch-doctoress glanced at the dead bull which lay in the donga, +its head twisted up in an unnatural fashion at right angles to the +body, and for a moment seemed afraid. Then her rage at the loss of her +herd broke out afresh, for she was a person in authority, one +accustomed to be feared because of her black arts and her office. + +“When the Inkosazana is seen in Zululand,” she gasped, “death walks +with her. There is the token of it,” and she pointed to the dead +cattle. “So it has ever been and so shall it ever be. Red is thy road +through life, White One. Go back, go back now to thine own kraal, and +see whether or no my words are true,” and springing at the horse she +seized it by the bridle as though she would drag it round. + +Now in her hand Rachel held a little rod of white rhinoceros horn which +she used as a riding whip, and with this rod she pointed at the woman, +meaning that some of those with her should cause her to loose the +bridle. Too late she remembered that in this savage land such a motion +when made by the King or one in supreme command, had another dreadful +interpretation—death without pity or reprieve. + +In an instant, before she could interfere, before she could speak, the +witch-doctoress lay dead upon the carcase of the dead bull. + +“What of the others, Queen, what of the others?” asked the chief of the +slayers, bending low before her, and pointing with his spear to the +attendants of the witch-doctoress, who fled aghast. “Do they join this +evil-doer who dared to lift her hand against thee?” + +“Nay,” she answered in a low voice, for horror had made her almost +dumb. “I give them life. Forward.” + +“She gives them life!” shouted the praisers about her. “The Bearer of +life and death gives life to the children of the evil-doer,” and as the +great cavalcade marched forward, company after company took up these +words and sang them as a song. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +THE OMEN OF THE STAR + + +As it chanced and can easily be understood, Rachel could not have made +a more effective entry into Zululand, or one more calculated to confirm +her supernatural reputation. When the “wild beast” she rode plunged +about she had remained seated on it as though she grew there, whereas +every warrior knew that he would have fallen off. When the bull charged +her that bull had died, slain by the Heavens. When the Isanuzi, a witch +of repute, had lifted voice and hand against her she had commanded her +death, showing that she feared no rival magic. True the woman would +have been killed in any case, for such was the order of the King as to +all who should dare to affront the Inkosazana, yet the captains had +waited to see what Rachel would do that they might judge her +accordingly. If she had shown fear, if she had even neglected to +avenge, they might have marvelled whether after all she were more than +a beautiful white maiden filled with the wisdom of the whites. + +Now they knew better; she was a Spirit having the power of a Spirit +over beast and man, who smote as a Spirit should. The fame of it went +throughout the land, and little chance thenceforward had Rachel of +escaping from the shadow of her own fearful renown. + +Towards sundown they came to a kraal set upon a hill, and it was asked +of her if she were pleased to spend the night there. She bowed her head +in assent, and they entered the kraal. It was quite empty save for +certain maidens dressed in bead petticoats, who waited there to serve +her. All the other inhabitants had gone. They took her to a large and +beautifully clean hut. Kneeling on their knees, the maidens presented +her with food—meat and curdled milk, and roasted cobs of corn. She ate +of the corn and the milk, but the meat she sent away as a gift to the +captains. Then alone in that kraal, in which after they had served her +even the girls seemed to fear to stay, Rachel slept as best she might +in such solitude, while without the fence two thousand armed savages +watched over her safety. + +It was a troubled sleep, for she dreamed always of that +dreadful-looking Isanuzi with the fish-bladders in her hair, yelling to +her that her path through life was watered with blood, and bidding her +go back to her own kraal and see whether the words were true, an +ominous saying of which she could not read the riddle. She dreamed also +of the woman’s coarse, furious face turned suddenly to one of abject +terror, and then of the dreadful end—the red death without mercy and +without appeal which she had let loose by a motion of her hand. Another +dream she had was of her father and her mother, who seemed to be lying +side by side staring towards her with wide-open eyes, and that when she +spoke to them they would not answer. + +So the long night wore away, till at length Rachel woke with a start +thinking that a hand had been laid upon her face, to see by the faint +light of dawn which struggled into the hut through the cracks of the +door-boards that the hand was only a great rat that had crawled over +her and now nibbled at her hair. She sat up, frightening it and its +companions away, then rose and washed herself with water that stood by +in great gourds while without she heard the women singing some kind of +song or hymn of which she could not catch the words. + +Scarcely was she ready than they entered the hut, saluting her and +bringing more food. Rachel ate, then bade one of them say to the +captain of the impi that she was ready to start. Presently the girl +returned with the message that all was prepared. She walked from the +kraal to find her mare, which had been well fed and groomed by +Tamboosa, who had seen horses in Natal, and knew how they should be +treated, saddled and waiting, whilst before and behind it, arranged as +on the previous day, stood the warriors, who received her in dead, +respectful silence. + +She mounted, and the procession went forward. With a two hours’ halt at +midday they marched on over hill and dale, passing many villages of +beehive-shaped huts. As they came the inhabitants of these places +deserted them and fled, crying _“Nomkubulwana! Nomkubulwana!”_ It was +evident to Rachel that the tale of the death of the Isanuzi had +preceded her, and they feared lest, should they cross her path, her +fate would be their fate. Indeed, one of the strangest circumstances of +this strange adventure was the complete loneliness in which she lived. +Except those who were actually ordered to wait upon her, none dared +come near to Rachel; she was holy, a Spirit, to approach whom unbidden +might mean death. + +At nightfall they reached another empty kraal, where again she slept +alone. When they left it in the morning she called Tamboosa to her and +asked him at what hour they would come to Dingaan’s great town, +Umgugundhlovo, which means the Place of the trumpeting of the Elephant. +He answered, at sunset. + +So she rode on all that day also till as the sun began to sink, from a +hill whereon grew large euphorbia trees, on a plain backed by +mountains, she saw the town surrounded by a fence, inside of which were +thousands of huts, that in their turn surrounded a great open space. +Now they pushed forward quickly, and as darkness fell approached the +main gate of the place, where, as usual, there was no one to be seen. +But here they did not enter, marching on till they came to another +gate, that of the Intunkulu, the King’s house, where, their escort +done, the regiment turned and went away, leaving Rachel alone with the +envoy, Tamboosa, who still led the white ox. They entered this gate, +and presently came to a second. It was that of the Emposeni, the +Dwelling of the King’s wives, out of which appeared women crawling on +the ground before Rachel, and holding in their left hands torches of +grass. These undid the baggage from the ox, and at their signals, for +they did not seem to dare to speak to her, Rachel dismounted. Thereon +Tamboosa saluted her, and taking the horse by the bridle, led it away +with the ox. + +Then Rachel felt that she was indeed alone, for Tamboosa at any rate +had seen her home, which now was so far away. Still proudly enough she +followed the women, who, bent double as before, led her to a great hut +lit by a rude lamp filled with melted hippopotamus fat, where they set +down her bags, and departed, to return presently with food and water. + +Having washed off the dust of her long journey, and combed out her +hair, Rachel ate all she could, for she was hungry, and guessed that +she might need her strength that night. Then she lay down upon a pile +of beautiful karosses that had been placed ready for her, and rested. +An hour or more went by, and just as she was beginning to fall asleep +the door-board of the hut was thrust aside, and a tall woman entered, +who knelt to her and said: + +“Hail, Inkosazana! The King asks whether it be thy pleasure to appear +before him this night.” + +“It is my pleasure,” answered Rachel; “for that purpose have I +travelled here. Lead me to the King.” + +So the woman went out of the hut, Rachel following her to find that the +moon shone brightly in a clear sky. The woman conducted her through +tortuous reed fences, until presently they came to an open court where, +in the shadow of a hut, sat a number of men wrapped about with fur +karosses. Guessing that she was in the presence of Dingaan, Rachel drew +her white cloak round her tall form and walked forward slowly, till she +reached the centre of the space, where she stopped and stood quite +still, looking like a ghost in the moonlight. Then all the men to right +and left rose and saluted her silently by the uplifting of one arm; +only he who was in the midst of them remained seated and did not +salute. Still she stayed motionless, uttering no word for a long while, +six or seven minutes, perhaps. Her silence fought against theirs, and +she knew that the one who spoke first would own to inferiority. + +At length, in answering salutation, she lifted the little wand of white +horn that she carried and turned slowly as though to leave the place, +so that now the moonlight glistened on her lovely hair. Then, fearing +perhaps lest she should depart or vanish away, the man seated in the +centre said in a low half-awed voice: + +“I am Dingaan, King of the Amazulu. Say, White One, who art thou?” + +“By what name am I known here, O Dingaan the King?” she replied, +answering the question with a question. + +“By a high name, White One, a name that is seldom spoken, the name of +Inkosazana-y-Zoola, the title of Nomkubulwana, the Spirit of our +people. How camest thou by that name?” + +“My name is my name,” she said. + +“We know, White One; the wind has borne all that story through the +land, it whispers it from the leaves of the forest and the reeds of the +water and the grass of the plains. We know that the Heavens gave thee +their own name, O Child of Heaven, O Holder of the Spirit of +Nomkubulwana.” + +“Thou sayest it, King. I do not say it, thou sayest it.” + +“I say it, and having seen thee I know that it is true, for thy beauty, +White One, is not the beauty of woman alone, although still thou beest +woman. Now I confirm to thee the words my messengers bore thee in past +days. Here, with me, thou rulest. The land is thine, my impis wait thy +word. Death and life are in thy hands; command, and they go forth to +slay; command, and they return again. Only thou rulest alone with me, +and the black folk, not the white, shall be thy servants.” + +“I hear thee, King. Now, as a first fruit, give to me Noie, daughter of +Seyapi, my slave whom the soldiers stole away from Ramah beyond the +river where I dwell.” + +“She is dead, White One, she is dead for her crimes,” answered Dingaan, +looking at her. + +Now Rachel’s heart sank in her, for it might well be that a trick had +been played on her, and that this was true. Or perhaps this tale of +Noie’s death was but a trap to test her powers; moreover, it was not +likely that the King, who had promised that she should live, would dare +to break his word to one whom he believed or half-believed to be a +spirit. + +For a moment she thought; then, after her nature, determined to be bold +and hazard all upon a throw. Therefore she did not argue or reproach, +but said: + +“She is not dead. I have questioned every spear in Zululand, and none +of them is red with her blood.” + +“Thou art right,” he answered; “the spears are clean. She died in the +river.” + +Now Rachel was sure, and answered in her clear voice: + +“I have questioned the waters, and I have questioned the crocodiles, +and they answer that Noie has passed them safely.” + +“Thou art right, White One. She died by a rope in yonder huts.” + +Now Rachel looked at the huts and cried: + +“Noie, I hear thee, I see thee, I smell thee out. Come forth, Noie.” + +The King and his councillors stared at her, whispering to one another, +and before ever they had done their whisperings out from among the +gloom of the huts crept Noie. + +To Rachel she crept, taking no heed even of the King, and crouching +down in the faint shadow of her that the moonlight threw, she flung her +arms about her knees and pressed her forehead on her feet. Now Rachel’s +heart bounded with joy at the sight of her, and she longed to bend down +and kiss her, but did not, lest her great dignity should be lessened in +the eyes of the King; only she said: + +“I greet you, Noie; be seated in my shadow, where you are safe, and +tell me, have these men dealt well by you?” + +“Not so ill, Inkosazana, that is since I reached the Great Kraal. But +one of them, he who sits yonder,” and she pointed to a certain induna, +“struck me on the journey, and took away my food.” + +Now Rachel looked at the man angrily, playing with the little wand in +her hand, whereon this induna shivered with terror, fearing lest she +should point it at him. Rising, he came to Rachel and flung himself +down before her. + +“What have you to say,” asked Rachel, “you who have dared to strike my +servant?” + +“Inkosazana,” he mumbled, “the maid was obstinate, and tried to run +away, and our orders were to bring her to the King. Spare my life, I +pray thee.” + +“King,” said Rachel, “I have power over this man, have I not?” + +“It is so,” answered Dingaan. “Kill him if thou wilt.” + +Rachel seemed to consider while the poor wretch, with chattering teeth, +implored her to forgive. Then she turned to Noie, saying: + +“He struck you, not me. I give him to you to do by as you will. Shall +he sleep to-night with the living or the dead?” + +Noie looked at him, and next at a mark on her arm, and the induna, +ceasing from his prayers to Rachel, clutched Noie by the ankle, and +begged her mercy. + +“Your life has been given to you,” he said, “give mine to me, lest +ill-fortune follow you.” + +“Do you remember,” asked Noie contemptuously, “how, when you had beaten +me, yonder by the Tugela, you said you hoped that it would be your luck +to put a spear through this heart of mine? And do you remember that I +answered you that the spear would be over your own heart first, and +that thereon you called me ‘Daughter of Wizards’ and struck me +again—me, the child of Seyapi, upon whom the mantle of the Inkosazana +lies, me who have drunk of her wisdom and of his—you struck _me_, you +dog,” and lifting her foot she spurned him in the face. + +Now the King and his company, concluding that the thing was finished, +glanced at Rachel to see her point with the rod and thus give the man +to death. But Rachel waited, sure that Noie had not done. Moreover, +whatever Noie might say, she had determined to save him. + +Meanwhile, the girl, after a pause, said: + +“Were you a man you would be too proud to ask your life of me, but you +are a dog; and, Dog, I remember that you have children, among them a +daughter of my own age, whom I saw come out to greet you. For her +sake, then, take your life, and with it this new name that I give +you—‘Soldier-who-strikes-girls.’” + +So the man rose, and weak with shame and the agony of suspense, crept +swiftly from the place, fearing lest the Inkosazana or her servant +might change her mind and kill him after all. But Noie’s name clung to +him so closely that at length, unable to bear the ridicule of it, he +and his family fled from Zululand. + +So this matter ended. + +Now the King spoke, saying: + +“White One, thy magic is great, and thine eyes could pierce the +darkness and see thy servant hidden, and call her forth to thee. Yet +know, she is mine, not thine, for when she fled I had already chosen +her to be my wife, and afterwards I sent and killed the wizard Seyapi, +and all his House.” + +“But this girl thou didst not kill, O King, for I saved her.” + +“It is so, White One. I have heard lately how thou didst call down the +lightning and burn up my soldier who followed after her, so that +nothing of him remained.” + +“Yes,” said Rachel quietly, “as, were it to please me, I could burn +thee up also, O King,” a saying at which. Dingaan looked afraid. + +“Yet,” he went on, waving his hand as though to put aside this +unpleasant suggestion, “the maid is mine, not thine, and therefore I +took her.” + +“How didst thou learn that she dwelt at my kraal?” asked Rachel. + +The King hesitated. + +“The white man, Ishmael, he whom thou callest Ibubesi, told thee, did +he not?” + +Dingaan bowed his head. + +“And he told thee that thou couldst make what promises thou wouldst to +me as to the girl’s life, but that afterwards when thou hadst called me +here to claim it, thou mightest kill her or keep her as a wife, as it +pleased thee.” + +“I can hide nought from thee; it is so,” said Dingaan. + +“Is that still in thy mind, O King?” asked Rachel again, beginning to +play with the little wand. + +“Not so, not so,” he answered hurriedly. “Hadst thou not come the girl +would have died, as she deserved to do according to our law. But thou +hast come and claimed her, O Holder of the Spirit of Nomkubulwana, and +she sits in thy shadow and is clothed with thy garment. Take her then, +for henceforth she is holy, as thou art holy.” + +Rachel heard, and without any change of countenance waved her hand to +show that this question was finished. Then she asked suddenly: + +“What is this great matter whereof thou wouldst speak with me, O King?” + +“Surely thy wisdom has told thee, White One,” he answered uneasily. + +“Perchance, yet I would have it from thy lips, and now.” + +Now Dingaan consulted a little with his council. + +“White One,” he said presently, “the thing is grave, and we need +guidance. Therefore, as the circle of the witch-doctors have declared +must be done, we ask it of thee who art named with the name of the +Spirit of our people and hast of her wisdom. Thou knowest, White One, +of the fights in past years between the white people of Natal and the +Zulus, in which many were slain on either side. But now, when we are at +peace with the English, we hear of another white people, the Amaboona” +(_i.e._ the Dutch Boers), “who are marching towards us from the Cape, +and have already fought with Moselikatze—the traitor who was once my +captain—and killed thousands of his men. These Amaboona threaten us +also, and say aloud that they will eat us up, for they are brave and +armed with the white man’s weapons that spit out lightning. Now, White +One, what shall we do? Shall I send out my impis and fall on them while +they are unprepared, and make an end of them, as seems wisest, and is +the wish of my indunas? Or, shall I sit at home and watch, trying to be +at peace with them, and only strike back if they strike at me? Answer +not lightly, O Zoola, for much may hang upon thy words. Remember also +that he whose name may not be spoken, the Lion who ruled before me and +is gone, with his last breath uttered a certain prophecy concerning the +white people and this land.” + +“Let me hear that prophecy, O King.” + +“Come forth,” said Dingaan pointing to a councillor who sat in the +circle, “come forth, thou who knowest, and tell the tale in the ears of +this White One.” + +A figure rose, a draped figure whose face was hidden in a hood of +blanket. It came forward, and as it came it drew the blanket tighter +about it. Rachel, watching all things, saw, or thought she saw, that +one of its hands was white as though it had been burned with fire. +Surely she had seen such a hand before. + +“Speak,” she said. + +“Name me by my name and tell me who I am and I will obey thee,” +answered the man. + +Then she was sure, for she remembered the voice. She looked at him +indifferently and asked: + +“By what name shall I name you, O Slayer of a King? Will you be called +Mopo or Umbopa, who have borne them both?” + +Now Dingaan stared, and the shrouded form before her started as though +in surprise. + +“Why do you seek to mock me?” she went on. “Can a blanket of bark hide +that face of yours from these eyes of mine which saw it a while ago at +Ramah, when you came thither to judge of me, O Mouth of the King?” + +Now the man let the blanket slip from his head and looked at her. + +“It seems that it cannot,” he answered. “Then I told thee that I had +dreamed of the Spirit of our people, and that thou, White One, wast +like to her of whom I had dreamed. Canst thou tell me what was the +fashion of that dream of mine?” + +Now Rachel understood that notwithstanding his words at Ramah, this man +still doubted her, and was set up to prove her, and all that Noie had +told her about him and the secret history of the Zulus came back into +her mind. + +“Surely Mopo or Umbopa,” she replied, “you dreamed three dreams, not +one. Is it of the last you speak?—that dream at the kraal Duguza, when +the Inkosazana rode past you on a storm clothed in lightning, and +shaking in her hand a spear of fire?” + +“Yes, I speak of it,” he replied in an awed voice, “but if thou art but +a woman as thou hast said, how knowest thou these things?” + +“Perchance I am both woman and spirit, and perchance the past tells +them to me,” Rachel answered; “but the past has many voices, and now +that I dwell in the flesh I cannot hear them all. Let me search you +out. Let me read your heart,” and she bent forward and fixed her eyes +upon him, holding him with her eyes. + +“Ah! now I see and I hear,” she said presently. “Had you not a sister, +Mopo, a certain Baleka, who afterwards entered the house of the Black +One and bore a son and died in the Tatiyana Cleft? Shall I tell you how +she died?” + +“Tell it not! Tell it not!” exclaimed the old man quaveringly. + +“So be it. There is no need. Yet ere she died you made a promise to +this Baleka, and that promise you kept at the kraal Duguza, you and the +prince Umhlangana, and another prince whose name I forget,” and she +looked at Dingaan, who put his hand before his face. “You kept that +promise with an assegai—let me look, let me look into your heart—yes, +with a little assegai handled with the royal red wood, an assegai that +had drunk much blood.” + +Now a low moan broke from the lips of Dingaan, and those who sat with +them, while Umbopa shivered as though with cold. + +“Have mercy, I pray thee,” he gasped. “Forgive me if at times since we +met at Ramah I thought thee but a white maiden, beautiful and bold, as +thou didst declare thyself to be. Now I see thou hast the spirit, or +else how didst thou know these things?” + +Noie heard and smiled in the shadow, but Rachel stood silent. + +“I was bidden to tell thee of the last words of the Black One,” went on +Umbopa hurriedly; “but what need is there to tell thee anything who +knowest all? They were that he heard the sound of the running of the +feet of a great white people which shall stamp out the children of the +Zulus.” + +“Nay,” answered Rachel, “I think they were; _‘Wherefore wouldst thou +kill me, Mopo?’”_ + +Again Dingaan moaned, for he had heard these very words spoken. Umbopa +turned and stared at him, and he stared at Umbopa. + +“Come hither,” said Rachel, beckoning to the old man. + +He obeyed, and she threw the corner of her cloak over his head, and +whispered into his ear. He listened to her whisperings, then with a cry +broke from her and fled away out of the council of the King. + +When he had gone there was silence, though Dingaan looked a question +with his eyes. + +“Ask it not,” she said, “ask it not of me, or of him. I think this Mopo +here had his secrets in the past. I think that once he sat in a hut at +night and bargained with certain Great Ones, a prince who lives, and a +prince who died. Come hither, come hither, thou son of Senzangacona, +come from the fields of Death and tell me what was that bargain which +thou madest with Mopo, thou and another?” and once again Rachel +beckoned, this time upwards in the air. + +Now the face of Dingaan went grey, even in the moonlight it went grey +beneath the blackness of his skin, for there rose before his mind a +vision of a hut and of Mopo and of Umhlangana, the prince his brother +whom he had slain, and of himself, seated in the darkness, their heads +together beneath a blanket whispering of the murder of a king. + +“Thou knowest all,” he gasped, “thou art Nomkubulwana and no other. +Spare us, Spirit who canst summon our dead sins from the grave of time, +and make them walk alive before us.” + +“Nay, nay,” she answered, mockingly, “surely I am but a woman, daughter +of a Teacher who lives yonder over the Tugela, a white maiden who eats +and sleeps and drinks as other maidens do. Take notice, King, and you +his captains, that I am no spirit, nothing but a woman who chances to +bear a high name, and to have some wisdom. Only,” she added with +meaning, “if any harm should come to me, if I should die, then I think +that I should become a spirit, a terrible spirit, and that ill would it +go with that people against whom my blood was laid.” + +“Oh!” said the King, who still shook with fear, “we know, we know. Mock +us not, I pray. Thou art the Spirit who hast chosen to wear the robe of +woman, as flame hides itself in flint, and woe be to the hand that +strikes the fire from this stone. White One, give us now that wisdom +whereof thou speakest. Shall I fall upon the Boers or shall I let them +be?” + +Rachel looked upwards, studying the stars. + +“She takes counsel with the Heavens, she who is their daughter,” +muttered one of the indunas in a low voice. + +As he spoke it chanced that a bright meteor travelling from the +south-west swept across the sky to burst and vanish over the kraal of +Umgugundhlovo. + +“It is a messenger to her,” said one. “I saw the fire shine upon her +hair and vanish in her breast.” + +“Nay,” answered another, “it is the _Ehlose_, the guardian ghost of the +Amazulu that appears and dies.” + +“Not so,” broke in a third, “that light shows the Amaboona travelling +from the south-west to be eaten up in the blackness of our impis.” + +“Such a star runs ever before the death of kings. It fell the night ere +the Black One died,” murmured a fourth as though he spoke to himself. + +Only Dingaan, taking no heed of them, said, addressing Rachel: + +“Read thou the omen.” + +“Nay,” she replied upon the swift impulse of the moment, “I read it +not. Interpret it as ye will. Here is my answer to thy question, King. +_Those who lift the spear shall perish by the spear.”_ + +At this saying the captains murmured a little, for they, who desired +war, understood that she counselled peace between them and the Boers, +though others thought that she meant that the Boers would perish. +Dingaan also looked downcast. Watching their faces, Rachel was sure +that not even her hand could hold them back from their desire. That war +must come. Again she spoke: + +“The star travels whither it is thrown by the hand of the Umkulunkulu, +the Master of men; the spear finds the heart to which it is appointed. +Read you the omen as you will. I have spoken, but ye will not +understand. That which shall be, shall be.” + +She bent her head, and turned her ear towards the ground as though to +hearken. + +“What was that tale of the last words of the Great Lion who is gone?” +she went on. “Ask it of Mopo, ask it of Dingaan the King. It seems to +me that I also hear the feet of a people travelling over plain and +mountain, and the rivers behind them run red with blood. Are they black +feet or white feet? Read ye the omen as ye will. I have spoken for the +first time and the last; trouble me no more with this matter of the +white men and your war,” and turning, Rachel glided from the court, +followed by Noie with bowed head. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +ISHMAEL VISITS THE INKOSAZANA + + +When at last they were in the hut and the door-board had been safely +closed, Rachel took Noie in her arms and kissed her. But Noie did not +kiss her back; she only pressed her hand against her forehead. + +“Why do you not kiss me, Noie?” asked Rachel. + +“How can I kiss you, Inkosazana,” replied the girl humbly, “I who am +but the dog at your feet, the dog whom twice it has pleased you to save +from death.” + +“Inkosazana!” exclaimed Rachel. “I weary of that name. I am but a woman +like yourself, and I hate this part which I must play.” + +“Yet it is a high part, and you play it very well. While I listened to +you to-night, Zoola, twice and thrice I wondered if you are not +something more than you deem yourself to be. That beautiful body of +yours is but a cup like those of other women, but say, who fills the +cup with the wine of wisdom? Why do kings and councillors fear you, and +why do you fear nothing? Why did dead Seyapi talk to me of you in +dreams? What strange chance gave you that name of yours and made you +holy in these men’s eyes? What power teaches you the truth and gives +you wit and strength to speak it? Why are you different from the rest +of maidens, white or black?” + +“I do not know, Noie. Something tells me what to do and say. Also, I +understand these Zulus, and you have taught me much. You told me all +the hidden tale of yonder Mopo a year gone by, or more, as you have +told me many of the darkest secrets of this people that you had from +your father, who knew them all. At the pinch I remembered it, no more, +and played upon them by my knowledge.” + +“What was it you said to Mopo under your cloak, Lady?” + +Rachel smiled as she answered: + +“I only asked him if it were not in his mind, having killed one king, +to kill another also, and that spear went home.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Noie in admiration, “at least I never told you that.” + +“No; I read it in his eyes; for a moment all his heart was open to +me—yes, and the heart of Dingaan also. He fears Mopo, and Mopo hates +him, and one day hate and fear will come together.” + +“Ah!” said Noie again, “you know much.” + +“Yes,” answered Rachel with sudden passion, “more than I wish to know. +Noie, you are right, I am not altogether as others are; there is a +power in my blood. I see and hear what should not be seen and heard; at +times fears fill me, or joys lift me up, and I think that I draw near +to another world than ours. No; it is folly. I am over-wrought. Who +would not be that must endure so much and be set upon this throne, a +goddess among barbarians with life and death upon my lips? Oh! when the +King asked me his riddle I knew not what to answer, who feared lest ten +thousand lives might pay the price of a girl’s incautious words. Then +that meteor broke; there have been several this night, but none noted +them till I looked upwards, and you know the rest. Let them guess its +meaning, which they cannot, for it has none.” + +“Why did you not speak more plainly, Zoola?” + +“Oh! because I dared not. Who am I to meddle with such matters, who +came here but to save you? I warned them not to make war upon the +Boers; what more could I do? Moreover, it is useless, for fight they +must and will and pay the price. Of that I am sure. I feel it here,” +and she pressed her hand upon her heart. “Yes, and other nearer things! +Oh! Noie, I would that I were back at home. Say, can we start to-morrow +at the dawn?” + +Noie shook her head. + +“I do not think that they will let you go; they will keep you to be +their great doctoress. You should not have come. I sent you word—what +did my life matter?” + +“Keep me,” answered Rachel, stamping her foot. “They dare not; here at +least I am the Inkosazana, and I will be obeyed.” + +Noie made no answer; only she said: + +“Ishmael is here. I have seen him. He wished to have me killed at once +because he is afraid of me. But when he was sure that you were coming, +Dingaan would not break his word which he had sent to you.” + +Rachel’s face fell. + +“Ishmael!” she exclaimed in dismay, then recovered herself and added: +“Well, I am not afraid of Ishmael, for here his life is in my hand. Oh! +I am worn out; I cannot talk of the man to-night. I must sleep, Noie, I +must sleep. Come, lie at my side and let us sleep.” + +“Nay,” answered the girl; “my place is at the door. But drink this milk +and lay you down without fear, for I will watch.” + +Rachel obeyed, and Noie sat by her, holding her hand, till presently +her eyes shut and she slept. But Noie did not sleep. All that night she +sat there watching and listening, till at length the dawn came and she +lay down also by the door and rested. + +The sun was high in the heavens when Rachel woke. + +“Good morrow to you, Zoola,” said the sweet voice of Noie. “You have +slept well. Now you must rise, bathe yourself and eat, for already +messengers from the King have been to the outer gate, saying that they +wait to escort you to a better house that has been made ready for you.” + +“I hoped that they waited to escort me out of Zululand,” answered +Rachel. + +“I asked them of that, Zoola, but they declared it must not be, as the +council of the doctors had been summoned to consider your sayings, and +two days will pass before it can meet. Also they declare that your +horse is sick and not fit to travel, meaning that they will not let you +go.” + +“But I have the right to go, Noie.” + +“The bird has the right to fly, but what if it is in a cage, Zoola?” + +“I am queen here, Noie; the bars will burst at my word.” + +“It may be so, Zoola, but what if the bird should find that it has no +nest to fly to?” + +“What do you mean?” asked Rachel, paling. + +“Only that it seems best that you should not anger these Zulus, Lady, +lest it should come into their minds to destroy your nest, thinking +that so you might come to love this cage. No, no, I have heard nothing, +but I guess their thoughts. You need rest; bide here, where you are +safe, a day or two, and let us see what happens.” + +“Speak plainly, Noie. I do not understand your parable of birds and +cages.” + +“Zoola, I obey. I think that if you say you will go, none, not the King +himself, would dare to stay you, though you would have to go on foot, +for then that horse would die. But an impi would go with you, or before +you, and woe betide those who held you from returning to Zululand! Do +you understand me now?” + +“Yes,” answered Rachel. “You mean!—oh! I cannot speak it. I will remain +here a few days.” + +So she rose and bathed herself and was dressed by Noie, and ate of the +food that had been brought to the door of the hut. Then she went out, +and in the little courtyard found a litter waiting that was hung round +with grass mats. + +“The King’s word is that you should enter the litter,” said Noie. + +She did so, whereon Noie clapped her hands and girls in bead dresses +ran in, and having prostrated themselves before the litter, lifted it +up and carried it away, Noie walking at its side. + +Rachel, peeping between the mats, saw that she was borne out of the +town, surrounded, but at a distance, by a guard of hundreds of armed +men. Presently they began to ascend a hill, whereon grew many trees, +and after climbing it for a while, reached a large kraal with huts +between the outer and inner fence, and in its centre a great space of +park-like land through which ran a stream. + +Here, by the banks of the stream, stood a large new hut, and behind at +a little distance two or three other huts. In front of this great hut +the litter was set down by the bearers, who at once went away. Then at +Noie’s bidding Rachel came out of it and looked at the place which had +been given her in which to dwell. + +It was a beautiful spot, away from the dust and the noises of the Great +Kraal, and so placed upon a shoulder of the hillside that the soldiers +who guarded this House of the Inkosazana, as it was called, could not +be seen or heard. Yet Rachel looked at it with distaste, feeling that +it was that cage of which Noie had spoken. + +A cage it proved indeed, a solitary cage, for here Rachel abode in +regal seclusion and in state that could only be called awful. No man +might approach her house unbidden, and the maidens who waited upon her +did so with downcast eyes, never speaking, and falling on to their +knees if addressed. On the first day of her imprisonment, for it was +nothing less, an unhappy Zulu, through ignorance or folly, slipped +through the outer guard and came near to the inner fence. Rachel, who +was seated above, heard some shouts of rage and horror, and saw +soldiers running towards him, and in another minute a body being +carried away upon a shield. He had died for his sacrilege. + +Once a day ambassadors came to her from the King to ask of her health, +and if she had orders to give, but now even these men were not allowed +to look upon her. They were led in by the women, each of them with a +piece of bark cloth over his head, and from beneath this cloth they +addressed her as though she were in truth divine. On the first day she +bade them tell the King that her mission being ended, it was her desire +to depart to her own home beyond the river. They heard her words in +silence, then asked if she had anything to add. She replied—yes, it was +her will that they should cease to wear veils in her presence, also +that no more men should be killed upon her account as had happened that +morning. They said that they would convey the order at once, as several +were under sentence of death who had argued as to whether she were +really the Inkosazana. So she sent them away instantly, fearing lest +they should be too late, and they were led off backwards bowing and +giving the royal salute. Afterwards she rejoiced to hear that her +commands had arrived just in time, and that the blood of these poor +people was not upon her head. + +Next day the messengers returned at the same hour, unveiled as she +desired, bearing the answer of the King and his council. It was to the +effect that the Inkosazana had no need to ask permission to come or to +go. Her Spirit, they knew, was mighty and could wander where it willed; +all the impis of the Zulus could not hold her Spirit. But—and here came +the sting of this clever answer—it was necessary, until her sayings had +been considered, that the body in which that Spirit abode should remain +with them a while. Therefore the King and his counsellors and the whole +nation of the Zulus prayed her to be satisfied with the sending of her +Spirit across the Tugela, leaving her body to dwell a space in the +House of the Inkosazana. + +Rachel looked at them in despair, for what was she to reply to such +reasoning as this? Before she could make up her mind, their spokesman +said that a white man, Ibubesi, who said that he had often spoken with +her, asked leave to visit her in her house. + +Now Rachel thought a while. Ishmael was the last person in the whole +world whom she wished to see. After the interview when they parted, and +all that had happened since, it could not be otherwise. She remembered +the threats he had uttered then, and to her father afterwards, the +brutal and revolting threats. Some of these had been directed against +Noie, and subsequently Noie was kidnapped by the Zulus. That those +directed at herself had not been fulfilled was, she felt sure, due to a +lack of opportunity alone. + +Little wonder, then, that she feared and hated the man. Still he was of +white blood, and perhaps for this reason had authority among the Zulus, +who, as she knew, often consulted him. Moreover, notwithstanding his +vapourings, like the Zulus whose superstitions he had contracted, he +looked upon herself with something akin to fear. If she saw him she had +no cause to dread anything that he could do to her, at any rate in this +country where she was supreme, whereas on the other hand she might +obtain information from him which would be very useful, or make use of +him to enable her to escape from Zululand. On the whole, then, it +seemed wisest to grant him an interview, especially as she gathered +from the fact that the question was raised by Dingaan’s indunas, that +for some reason of his own, the King hoped that she would do so. + +Still she hesitated, loathing and despising him as she did. + +“You have heard,” she said in English to Noie, who stood behind her. +“Now what shall I say?” + +“Say—come,” answered Noie in the same tongue. + +“Read his black heart and find out truth; he no can keep it from you. +Say—come with soldiers. If he behave bad, tell them kill him. They obey +you. No mind me. I not afraid of that wild beast now.” + +Then Rachel said to the indunas: + +“I hear the King’s word, and understand that he wishes me to receive +this Ibubesi. Yet I know that man, as I know all men, white and black. +He is an evil man, and it is not my pleasure to speak with him alone. +Let him come with a guard of six captains, and let the captains be +armed with spears, so that if I give the word there may be an end of +this Ibubesi.” + +Then the messengers saluted and departed as before. + +On the morrow at about the same hour a praiser, or herald, arrived +outside the inner fence of the kraal, and after he had shouted out +Rachel’s titles, attributes, beauties and supernatural powers for at +least ten minutes, never repeating himself, announced that the indunas +of the King were without accompanied by the white man, Ibubesi, +awaiting her permission to enter. She gave it through Noie; and, the +horn wand in her hand, seated herself upon a carved stool in front of +the great hut. Presently an altercation arose upon the further side of +the reed fence in which she recognised Ishmael’s strident voice, +mingled with the deeper tones of the Zulus, who seemed to be insisting +upon something. + +“They command him to take off his headdress,” said Noie, “and threaten +to beat him if he will not.” + +“Go, tell them to admit him as he is, that I may see his face, and +learn if he be the white man whom I knew, or another,” answered Rachel, +and she went. + +Then the gate was opened and the messengers were led in by women. After +these came six captains, carrying broad spears, as she had commanded, +and last of all Ishmael himself. Rachel’s whole nature shrank at the +sight of his dark, handsome features. She loathed the man now as +always; her instinct warned her of danger at his hands. Also she +remembered his threats when last they met and she rejected him, and +what had passed between him and her father on the following day. But of +all this she showed nothing, remaining seated in silence with calm, set +face. + +Ishmael was advancing with a somewhat defiant air. Except for a kaross +upon his shoulders he wore European dress, and the ridiculous hat with +the white ostrich feather in it, both of them now much the worse for +wear, which she remembered so well. Also he had a lighted pipe in his +mouth. Presently one of the captains appeared to become suddenly aware +of this pipe, for, stretching out his hand, he snatched it away, and +the hat with it, throwing them upon the ground. Ishmael, whose teeth +and lips were hurt, turned on the man with an oath and struck him, +whereon instantly he was seized, and would perhaps have been killed +before Rachel could interfere had it not been unlawful to shed blood in +her presence. As it was, with a motion of her wand, she signified that +he was to be loosed, a command that Noie interpreted to them. At any +rate, they let him go, though a captain placed his feet on the hat and +pipe. Then Ishmael came forward and said awkwardly: + +“How do you do? I did not expect to see you here,” and he devoured her +beauty with his bold, greedy eyes, though not without doubt and dread, +or so thought Rachel. + +Taking no notice of his greeting, she said in a cold voice: + +“I have sent for you here to ask if you have any reason as to why I +should not order you to be killed for your crime against my servant, +Noie, and therefore against me?” + +Now Ishmael paled, for he had not expected such a welcome, and began to +deny the thing. + +“Spare your falsehoods,” went on Rachel. “I have it from the King’s +lips, and from my own knowledge. Remember only that here I am the +Inkosazana, with power of life and death. If I speak the word, or point +at you with this wand, in a minute you will have gone to your account.” + +“Inkosazana or not,” he answered in a cowed voice, “you know too much. +Well, then, she was taken that you might follow her to Zululand to ask +her life, and you see that the plan was good, for you came; and,” he +added, recovering some of his insolence and familiarity: “we are here +together, two white people among all these silly niggers.” + +Rachel looked him up and down; then she looked at the indunas seated in +silence before her, at the great limbed captains with their broad +spears beyond, reminding her in their plumes and attitudes of some +picture that she had seen of Roman gladiators about to die. Lastly she +looked at the delicately shaped Noie by her side, with her sweet, +inscrutable face, the woman whose parents and kin this outcast had +brought to a bloody death, the woman whom to forward his base ends he +had vilely striven to murder. Slowly she looked at them all and at him, +and said: + +“Shall I explain to these nobles and captains what you call them, and +what you are called among your own people? Shall I tell them something +of your story, Mr. Ishmael?” + +“You can do what you like,” he answered sullenly. “You know why I got +you here—because I love you: I told you that many months ago. While you +were down at Ramah I had no chance with you, because of that old +hypocrite of a father of yours, and this black girl,” and he looked at +Noie viciously. “Here I thought that it would be different—that you +would be glad of my company, but you have turned yourself into a kind +of goddess and hold me off,” and he paused. + +“Go on,” said Rachel. + +“All right, I will. You may think yourself a goddess, as I do myself +sometimes. But I know that you are a woman too, and that soon you will +get tired of this business. You want to go home to your father and +mother, don’t you? Well, you can’t. You are a prisoner here, for these +fools have got it into their heads that you are their Spirit, and that +it would be unlucky to let you out of the country. So here you must +stop, for years perhaps, or till they are sick of you and kill you. +Just understand, Rachel, that nobody can help you to escape except me, +and that I shan’t do so for nothing.” + +Rachel straightened herself upon her seat, gripping the edge of it with +her hands, for her temper was rising, while Noie bent forward and said +something in her ear. + +“What is that black devil whispering to you?” he asked. “Telling you to +have me killed, I expect. Well, you daren’t, for what would your holy +parents say? It would be murder, wouldn’t it, and you would go to hell, +where I daresay you come from, for otherwise how could you be such a +witch? Look here,” he went on, changing his tone, “don’t let’s +squabble. Make it up with me. I’ll get you clear of this and marry you +afterwards on the square. If you won’t, it will be the worse for +you—and everybody else, yes, everybody else.” + +“Mr. Ishmael,” answered Rachel calmly, “you are making a very great +mistake, about my scruples as to taking life I mean, amongst other +things. Once when it was necessary you saw me kill a man. Well, if I am +forced to it, what I did then I will do again, only not with my own +hand. Mr. Ishmael, you said just now that you could get me out of +Zululand. I take you at your word, not for my own sake, for I am +comfortable enough here, but for that of my father and mother, who will +be anxious,” and her voice weakened a little as she spoke of them. + +“Do you? Well, I won’t. I am comfortable here also, and shall be more +so as the husband of the Inkosazana. This is a very pretty kraal, and +it is quite big enough for two,” he added with an amorous sneer. + +Now for a minute at least Rachel sat still and rigid. When she spoke +again it was in a kind of gasp: + +“Never,” she said, “have you gone nearer to your death, you wanderer +without name or shame. Listen now. I give you one week to arrange my +escape home. If it is not done within that time, I will pay you back +for those words. Be silent, I will hear no more.” + +Then she called out: + +“Rise, men, and bear the message of the Inkosazana to Dingaan, King of +the Zulus. Say to Dingaan that this wandering white dog whom he has +sent into my house has done me insult. Say that he has asked me, the +Inkosazana-y-Zoola, to be one of his wives.” + +At these words the counsellors and captains uttered a shout of rage, +and two of the latter seized Ishmael by the arm, lifting their spears +to plunge them into him. Rachel waved her wand and they let them fall +again. + +“Not yet,” she said. “Take him to the King, and if my word comes to the +King, then he dies, and not till then. I would not have his vile blood +on my hands. Unless I speak, I, Queen of the Heavens, leave him to the +vengeance of the Heavens. My mantle is over him, lead him back to the +King and let me see his face no more.” + +“We hear and it shall be so,” they answered with one voice, then +forgetting their ceremony hustled Ishmael from the kraal. + +“Have I done well?” asked Rachel of Noie, when they were alone. + +“No, Zoola,” she answered, “you should have killed the snake while you +were hot against him, since when your blood grows cold you can never do +it, and he will live to bite you.” + +“I have no right to kill a man, Noie, just because he makes love to me, +and I hate him. Also, if I did so he could not help me to escape from +Zululand, which he will do now because he is afraid of me.” + +“Will he be afraid of you when you are both across the Tugela?” asked +Noie. “Inkosazana, give me power and ask no questions. Ibubesi killed +my father and mother and brethren, and has tried to kill me. Therefore +my heart would not be sore if, after the fashion of this land, I paid +him spears for battle-axes, for he deserves to die.” + +“Perhaps, Noie, but not by my word.” + +“Perhaps by your hand, then,” said Noie, looking at her curiously. +“Well, soon or late he will die a red death—the reddest of deaths, I +learned that from the spirit of my father.” + +“The spirit of your father?” said Rachel, looking at her. + +“Certainly, it speaks to me often and tells me many things, though I +may not repeat them to you till they are accomplished. Thus I was not +afraid in the hands of Dingaan, for it told me that you would save me.” + +“I wish it would speak to me and tell me when I can go home,” said +Rachel with a sigh. + +“It would if it could, Zoola, but it cannot because the curtain is too +thick. Had all you loved been slain before your eyes, then the veil +would be worn thin as mine is, and through it, you who are akin to +them, would hear the talk of the ghosts, and dimly see them wandering +beneath their trees.” + +“Beneath their trees——!” + +“Yes, the trees of their life, of which all the boughs are deeds and +all the leaves are words, under the shadow of which they must abide for +ever. My people could tell you of those trees, and perhaps they will +one day when we visit them together. Nay, pay no heed, I was wandering +in my talk. It is the sight of that wild beast, Ibubesi. You will not +let me kill him! Well, doubtless it is fated so. I think one day you +will be sorry—but too late.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +RACHEL SEES A VISION + + +That evening Ishmael was brought before the King. He was in evil case, +for the captains, some of whom had grudges against him, when he tried +to break away from them outside the gate, had beaten him with their +spear shafts nearly all the way from the kraal to the Great Place, +remarking that he fought and remonstrated, that the Inkosazana had +forbidden them to kill him, but had said nothing as to giving him the +flogging which he deserved. His clothes were torn, his hat and pipe +were lost—indeed hours before Noie had thrown both of them into the +fire—his eyes were black from the blow of a heavy stick and he was +bruised all over. + +Such was his appearance when he was thrust before Dingaan, seething +with rage which he could scarcely suppress, even in that presence. + +“Did you visit the Inkosazana to-day, White Man?” asked the King +blandly, while the indunas stared at him with grim amusement. + +Then Ishmael broke out into a recital of his wrongs, demanding that the +captains who had beaten him, a white man, and a great person, should be +killed. + +“Silence,” said Dingaan at length. “The question, Night-prowler, is +whether you should not be killed, you dog who dared to insult the +Inkosazana by offering yourself to her as a husband. Had she commanded +you to be speared, she would have done well, and if you trouble me with +your shoutings, I will send you to sleep with the jackals to-night +without waiting for her word.” + +Now, seeing his danger, Ishmael was silent, and the King went on: + +“Did you discover, as I bade you, why it is that the Inkosazana desires +to leave us?” + +“Yes, King. It is because she would return to her own people, the old +prayer-doctor and his wife.” + +“They are not her people!” exclaimed Dingaan. “We know that she came to +them out of the storm, and that they are but the foster-parents chosen +for her by the Heavens. You were the first to tell us that story, and +how she caused the lightning to burn up my soldier yonder at Ramah. We +are her people and no others. Can the Inkosazana have a father and a +mother?” + +“I don’t know,” answered Ishmael, “but she is a woman and I never knew +a woman who was without them. At least I am sure that she looks upon +them as her father and mother, obeying them in all things, and that she +will never leave them while they live, unless they command her to do +so.” + +Dingaan stared at him with his pig-like eyes, repeating after +him—“while they live, unless they command her to do so.” Then he asked: + +“If the Inkosazana desires to go, who is there that dares to stay her, +and if she puts out her magic, who is there that has the power? If a +hand is lifted against her, will she not lay a curse on us and bring +destruction upon us?” + +“I don’t know,” answered Ishmael again, “but if she goes back among the +white folk and is angry, I think that she will bring the Boers upon +you.” + +Now Dingaan’s face grew very troubled, and bidding Ishmael stand back +awhile, he consulted with his council. Then he said: + +“Listen to me, White Man. It would be a very evil thing if the +Inkosazana were to leave us, for with her would go the Spirit of our +people, and their good luck, so say the witch-doctors with one voice, +and I believe them. Further, it is our desire that she should remain +with us a while. This day the Council of the Diviners has spoken, +saying that the words of the Inkosazana which she uttered here are too +hard for them, and that other doctors of a people who live far away, +must be sent for and brought face to face with her. Therefore here at +Umgugundhlovo she should abide until they come.” + +“Indeed,” answered Ishmael indifferently. + +In the doctors who dwell far away, and the council of the Diviners he +had no belief. But understanding the natives as he did he guessed +correctly enough that the latter found themselves in a cleft stick. +Worked on by their superstitions, which he had first awakened for his +own ends, they had accepted Rachel as something more than human, as the +incarnation of the Spirit of their people. This Mopo, who was said to +have killed Chaka by command of that Spirit, had acknowledged her to +be, and therefore they did not dare to declare that her words spoken as +an oracle were empty words. But neither did they dare to interpret the +saying that she meant that no attack must be made upon the Boers and +should be obeyed. To do this would be to fly in the face of the martial +aspirations of the nation and the secret wishes of the King, and +perhaps if war ultimately broke out, would cost them their lives. So it +came about that they announced that they could not understand her +sayings, and had decided to thrust off the responsibility on to the +shoulders of some other diviners, though who these men might be Ishmael +neither knew nor took the trouble to ask. + +“But,” went on the King, “who can force the dove to build in a tree +that does not please it, seeing that it has wings and can fly away? Yet +if its own tree, that in which it was reared from the nest, could be +brought to it, it might be pleased to abide there. Do you understand, +White Man?” + +“No,” answered Ishmael, though in fact he understood well enough that +the King was playing upon Rachel’s English name of Dove, and that he +meant that her home might be moved into Zululand. “No, the Inkosazana +is not a bird, and who can carry trees about?” + +“Have the spear-shafts knocked the wit out of you, Ibubesi,” asked +Dingaan, impatiently, “or are you drunk with beer? Learn then my +meaning. The Inkosazana will not stay because her home is yonder, +therefore it must be brought here and she will stay. At first I gave +orders that if this old white teacher and his wife tried to accompany +her, they should be killed. Now I eat up those words. They must come to +Zululand.” + +“How will you persuade them to be such fools?” asked Ishmael. + +“How did I persuade the Inkosazana herself to come? Was it not to seek +one whom she loved?” + +“They will think that you have killed her, and wish to kill them also.” + +“No, because you will go in command of an impi and show them +otherwise.” + +“I cannot go; your brutes of captains have hurt my head, and lamed me; +I cannot walk or ride.” + +“Then you can be carried in a litter, or,” he added threateningly, “you +can abide here with the vultures. The Inkosazana is merciful, but why +should I not avenge her wrongs upon you, white dog, who have dared to +scratch at the kraal gate of the Inkosazana-y-Zoola?” + +Now Ishmael saw that he had no choice; also a dark thought rose dimly +in his mind. He desired to win Rachel above everything on earth, he was +mad with love—or what he understood as love—of her, and this business +might be worked to his advantage. Moreover, to stay was death. So he +fell to bargaining for a reward for his services, a large reward in +cattle and ivory; half of it to be paid down at once, and it was +promised to him. Then he took his instructions. These were that he was +to travel to the mission station of Ramah in command of a small impi of +three hundred men, whose only orders would be that they were to obey +him in all things! That he was to tell the Umfundusi who was called +Shouter, that if they wished to see her any more, he and his wife must +come to dwell with the Inkosazana, in Zululand: that if they refused he +was to bring them by force. If, perchance, the Inkosazana, choosing to +exercise her authority, crossed the Tugela and reached Ramah before he +could do this, he was still to bring them, for then she would follow. +In the same way, if the Shouter and his wife met her on the road, they +were to travel on, for then she would turn and accompany them. He was +to go at once and execute these orders. + +“I hear,” said Ishmael, “and will start as soon as the cattle have been +delivered and sent on with the ivory to my kraal, Mafooti.” + +There was something in the man’s voice, or in the look of low cunning +which spread itself over his face, that attracted Dingaan’s attention. + +“The cattle and the ivory shall be sent,” he said, sternly, “but ill +shall it be for you, Ibubesi, if you seek to trick me in this matter. +You have grown rich on my bounty, and yonder at your place, Mafooti, +you have many cows, many wives, many children—my spies have given me +count of all of them. Now, if you play me false, or if you dare to lift +a finger against the White One, know that I will burn that kraal and +slay the inhabitants with the spear and take the cattle, and when I +catch you, Ibubesi, I will kill you, slowly, slowly. I have spoken, go. + +“I go, Great Elephant, Calf of the Black Cow, and I will obey in all +things,” answered Ishmael in a humble voice, for he was frightened. +“The white people shall be brought, only I trust to you to protect me +from the anger of the Inkosazana for all that I may do.” + +“You must make your own peace with the Inkosazana,” answered Dingaan, +and turning, he crept into his hut. + +An hour later the great induna, Tamboosa, appeared at Rachel’s kraal, +and craved leave to speak with her. + +“What is it?” asked Rachel when he had been admitted. “Have you come to +lead me out of Zululand, Tamboosa?” + +“Nay, White One,” he answered, “the land needs you yet awhile. I have +come to tell you that Dingaan would speak with your servant Noie, if it +be your good pleasure to let her visit him. Fear not. No harm shall +come to her, if it does you may order me to be put to death. You, +yourself, could not be safer than she shall be.” + +“Are you afraid to go?” asked Rachel of Noie. + +“Not I,” answered the girl, with a laugh. “I trust to the King’s word +and to your might.” + +“Depart then,” said Rachel, “and come back as swiftly as you may. +Tamboosa shall lead you.” + +So Noie went. + +Two hours after sundown, while Rachel was eating her evening meal in +her Great Hut, attended by the maidens, the door-board was drawn aside, +and Noie entered, saluted, and sat down. Rachel signed to the women to +clear away the food and depart. When they had gone she asked what the +King’s business was, eagerly enough, for she hoped that it had to do +with her leaving Zululand. + +“It is a long story, Zoola,” answered Noie, “but here is the heart of +it. I told you when first we met that I am not of this people, although +my mother was a Zulu. I told you that I am of the Dream-people, the +Ghost-people, the little Grey-people, who live away to the north +beneath their trees, and worship their trees.” + +“Yes,” answered Rachel, “and that is why you care nothing for men as +other women do, but dream dreams and talk with spirits. But what of +it?” + +“That is why I dream dreams and talk with spirits, as one day I hope +that I shall teach you to do, you whose soul is sister to my soul,” +replied Noie, her large eyes shining strangely in her delicate face. +“And this of it—the Ghost-people are diviners, they can read the future +and see the hearts of men; there are no diviners like them. Therefore +chiefs and peoples who dwell far away send to them with great gifts, +and pray them come read their fate, but they will seldom listen or +obey. Now Dingaan and his councillors are troubled about this matter of +the Boers, and the meaning of the words you spoke as to their waging +war on them, and of the omen of the falling star. The council of the +doctors can interpret none of these things, nor dare they ask you to do +so, since you bade them speak no more to you of that matter, and they +know, that if they did, either you would not answer, or, worse still, +say words that would displease them.” + +“They are right there,” said Rachel. “To have to play the dark oracle +once is enough for me. If I speak again, it shall be plainly.” + +“Therefore they have bethought them of the Dealers in Dreams and desire +to bring you face to face with their prophets, the Ghost-Kings, that +these may see your greatness and tell them the meaning of your words, +and of the omen that you caused to travel through the skies.” + +“Do you mean that they wish me to visit these Ghost-Kings, Noie?” + +“Not so, Zoola, for then they must part with your presence. They wish +that the priests of the Ghost-Kings should visit you, bearing with them +the word of the Mother of the Trees.” + +“Visit me! How can they? Who will bring them here?” + +“They wish that I should bring them, for as they know, I am of their +blood, and I alone can talk their language, which my father taught me +from a child.” + +“But, Noie, that would mean that we must be separated,” said Rachel, in +alarm. + +“Yes, it would mean that, still I think it best that you should humour +them and let me go, for otherwise I do not know how you will ever +escape from Zululand. Now I told the King that I thought you would +permit it on one condition only—that after you had been brought face to +face with the priests of the Ghost-Kings, and they had interpreted your +riddle, you should be escorted whence you came, and he answered that it +should be so, and that meanwhile you could abide here in honour, peace +and safety. Moreover, he promised that a messenger should be sent to +Ramah to explain the reason of your delay.” + +“But how long will you be on the journey, Noie, and what if these +prophets of yours refuse to visit Dingaan?” + +“I cannot tell you who have never travelled that road. But I will march +fast, and if I tire, swift runners shall bear me in a litter. To those +who have the secret of its gate that country is not so very far away. +Also, the Old Mother of the Trees is my father’s aunt, and I think that +the prophets will come at my prayer, or at the least send the answer to +the question. Indeed, I am sure of it—ask me not why.” + +Still for a long while Rachel reasoned against this separation, which +she dreaded, while Noie reasoned for it. She pointed out that here at +least none could harm her, as they had seen in the treatment meted out +to Ishmael, a white man whom the Zulus looked upon as their friend. +Also she said with conviction that these mysterious Ghost-Kings were +very powerful, and could free her from the clutches of the Zulus, and +protect her from them afterwards, as they would do when they came to +know her case. + +The end of it was that Rachel gave way, not because Noie’s arguments +convinced her, but because she was sure that she had other reasons she +did not choose to advance. + +From that day when each of them tossed up a hair from her head at +Ramah, notwithstanding the difference of their race and circumstances, +these two had been as sisters. Rachel believed in Noie more, perhaps, +than in any other living being, and thus also did Noie believe in +Rachel. They knew that their destinies were intertwined, and were sure +that not rivers or mountains or the will and violence of men, could +keep them separate. + +“I see,” said Rachel, at length, “that you believe that my fate hangs +upon this embassy of yours.” + +“I do believe it,” answered Noie, confidently. + +“Then go, but come back as swiftly as you may, for, my sister, I know +not how without you I shall live on in this lonely greatness,” and she +took her in her arms and kissed her lips. + +Afterwards, as they were laying themselves down to sleep, Rachel asked +her if she had heard anything about Ishmael. She answered that she +learned at the Great Kraal that he had been brought before the King +that afternoon, and then taken back to his hut, where he was under +guard. One of her escort told her, too, that since he saw the King, +Ibubesi had fallen very sick, it was thought from a blow that he had +received at the house of Inkosazana, and that now he was out of his +mind and being attended by the doctors. “I wish,” added Noie viciously, +“that he were out of his body also, for then much sorrow would be +spared. But that cannot be before the time.” + +On the next day before noon, Noie departed upon her journey. Rachel +sent for the captains of her escort and the Isanusis, or doctors, who +were to accompany her, and in a few stern words gave her into their +charge, saying that they should answer for her safety with their lives, +to which they replied that they knew it, and would do so. If any harm +came to the daughter of Seyapi through their fault, they were prepared +to die. Then she talked for a long while with Noie, telling her all she +knew of the Boers and the purpose of their wanderings, that she might +be able to repeat it to her people, and show them how dreadful would be +a war between this white folk and the Zulus. + +Noie answered that she would give her message, but that it was +needless, since the Ghost-Kings could see all that passed “in the bowls +of water beneath their trees, and doubtless knew already of her coming +and of the cause of it,” a reply of which Rachel had not time to +inquire the meaning. After this they embraced and parted, not without +some tears. + +When the gate shut behind Noie, Rachel walked to the high ground at the +back of her hut, whence she could see over the fence of the kraal, and +watched her departure. She had an escort of a hundred picked soldiers, +with whom went fifty or sixty strong bearers, who carried food, +karosses, and a litter. Also there were three doctors of magic and +medicine, and two women, widows of high rank who were to attend upon +her. At the head of this procession, save for two guides, walked Noie +herself, with sandals on her feet, a white robe about her shoulders, +and in her hand a little bough on which grew shining leaves, whereof +Rachel did not know the meaning. She watched them until they passed +over the brow of the hill, on the crest of which Noie turned and waved +the bough towards her. Then Rachel went back to her hut, and sat there +alone and wept. + +This was the beginning of many dreadful days, most of which she passed +wandering about within the circuit of the kraal fence, a space of some +three or four acres, or seated under the shadow of certain beautiful +trees, which overhung a deep, clear pool of the stream that ran through +the kraal, a reed-fringed pool whereon floated blooming lilies. That +quiet water, the happy birds that nested in the trees and the flowering +lilies seemed to be her only friends. Of the last, indeed, she would +count the buds, watching them open in the morning and close again for +their sleep at night, until a day came when their loveliness turned to +decay, and others appeared in their place. + +On the morrow of Noie’s departure, Tamboosa and other indunas visited +her, and asked her if she would not descend to the kraal of the King, +and help him and his council to try cases, since while she was in the +land she was its first judge. She answered, “No, that place smelt too +much of blood.” If they had cases for her to try, let them be brought +before her in her own house. This she said idly, thinking no more of +it, but next day was astonished to learn that the plaintiff and +defendant in a great suit, with their respective advocates, and from +thirty to forty witnesses, were waiting without to know when it was her +pleasure to attend to their business. + +With characteristic courage Rachel answered, “Now.” Her knowledge of +law was, it is true, limited to what, for lack of anything more +exciting, she had read in some handbooks belonging to her father, who +had been a justice of the peace in the Cape Colony, and to a few cases +which she had seen tried in a rough-and-ready fashion at Durban, to +which must be added an intimate acquaintance with Kaffir customs. +Still, being possessed with a sincere desire to discover the truth and +execute justice, she did very well. The matter in dispute was a large +one, that of the ownership of a great herd of cattle which was claimed +as an inheritance by each of the parties. Rachel soon discovered that +both these men were very powerful chiefs, and that the reason of their +cause being remitted to her was that the King knew that if he decided +in favour of either of them he would mortally offend the other. + +For a long while Rachel, seated on her stool, listened silently to the +impassioned pleadings of the plaintiff’s lawyers. Presently this +plaintiff was called as a witness, and in the course of his evidence +said something which convinced her that he was lying. Then breaking her +silence for the first time, she asked him how he dared to give false +witness before the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, to whom the truth was always +open, and who was acquainted with every circumstance connected with the +cattle in dispute. The man, seeing her eyes fixed upon him, and being +convinced of her supernatural powers, grew afraid, broke down, and +publicly confessed his attempted fraud, into which he said he had been +led by envy of his cousin, the defendant’s, riches. + +Rachel gave judgment accordingly, commanding that he should pay the +costs in cattle and a fine to the King, and warned him to be more +upright in future. The result was that her fame as a judge spread +throughout the land, and every day her gates were beset with suitors +whose causes she dealt with to the best of her ability, and to their +entire satisfaction. Criminal prosecutions that involved the +death-sentence or matters connected with witchcraft, however, she +steadily refused to try, saying that the Inkosazana should not cause +blood to flow. These things she left to the King and his Council, +confining herself to such actions as in England would come before the +Court of Chancery. Thus to her reputation as a spiritual queen, Rachel +added that of an upright judge who could not be influenced by fear or +bribes, the first, perhaps, that had ever been known in Zululand. + +But she could not try such cases all day, the strain was too great, +although in the end most of them partook of the nature of arbitrations, +since the parties involved, having come to the conclusion that it was +not possible to deceive one so wise, grew truthful and submitted their +differences to the decision of her wisdom. + +After they were dismissed, which was always at noon, for she opened her +court at seven and would not sit more than five hours, Rachel was left +in her solitary state until the next morning, and oh! the hours hung +heavily upon her hands. A messenger was despatched to Ramah, but after +ten days he returned saying that the Tugela was in flood, and he could +not cross it. She sent him out again, and a week later was told that he +had been killed by a lion on his journey. Then another messenger was +chosen, but what became of him she never knew. + +It was about this time that Rachel learned that Ishmael, having +recovered from his sickness, had escaped from Umgugundhlovo by night, +whither none seemed to know. From that moment fears gathered thick upon +the poor girl. She dreaded Ishmael and guessed that his departure +without communicating with her boded her no good. Indeed, once or twice +she almost wished that she had taken Noie’s counsel and given him over +to the justice of the King. Meanwhile of Noie herself nothing had been +heard. She had vanished into the wilderness. + +Living this strange and most unnatural life, Rachel’s nerves began to +give way. While she tried her cases she seemed stern and calm. But when +the crowd of humble suitors had dispersed from the outer court in which +she sat as a judge, and the shouts of the praisers rushing up and down +beyond the fence and roaring out her titles had died away, and having +dismissed the obsequious maidens who waited upon her, she retired to +the solitude of her hut to rest—ah! then it was different. Then she lay +down upon her bed of rich furs and at times burst into tears because +she who seemed to be a supernatural queen, was really but a white girl +deserted by God and man. + +Now it was the season of thunderstorms, and almost every afternoon +these dreadful tempests broke over her kraal, which shook in the roll +and crash of the meeting clouds, while beyond the fence the jagged +lightning struck and struck again upon the ironstone of the hillside. + +She had never feared such storms before, but now they terrified her. +She dreaded their advent, and the worst of it was that she must not +show her dread, she who was supposed to rule and direct the lightning. +Indeed, the bounteous rains which fell ensuring a full harvest after +several years of drought, were universally attributed to the good +influence of her presence in the land. In the same way when a +thunderbolt struck the hut of a doctor who but a day or two before had +openly declared his disbelief in her powers, killing him and his +principal wife, and destroying his kraal by fire, the accident was +attributed to her vengeance, or to that of the Heavens, who were angry +at this lack of faith. After this remarkable exhibition of supernatural +strength, needless to say, the voice of adverse criticism was stayed; +Rachel became supreme. + +But the storms passed, and when they had rolled away at length, doing +her no hurt, and the sun shone out again, she would go and sit beneath +the trees at the edge of the beautiful pool until the closing lilies +and the chill of the air told her that night drew on. + +Oh! those long nights—how endless they seemed to Rachel in her +loneliness. Now she who used to sleep so well, could not sleep, or when +she slept she dreamed. She dreamed of her mother, always of her mother, +that she was ill, and calling her, until she came to believe that in +truth this was so. So much did this conviction work upon her mind, that +she determined not to wait for the return of Noie, but at all costs to +try to leave Zululand, and through Tamboosa declared her will to the +King. Next morning the answer came back that of course none could +control her movements, but if she would go, she must fly, as all the +rivers were in flood, as she might see if she would walk to the top of +the mountain behind her kraal. Tamboosa added that a company of men who +had been sent to recapture Ishmael, were kept for a week upon the banks +of the first of them, and at length, being unable to cross, had +returned, as her messenger had done. Knowing from other sources that +this was true, Rachel made no answer. What she did not know, however, +was that Ishmael had crossed the smaller rivers before the flood came +down, and gone on to meet the soldiers, who were ordered to await him +on the banks of the Tugela. + +Escape was evidently impossible at present, and if it had been +otherwise, clearly the Zulus did not mean to let her go. She must abide +here in the company of her terrors and her dreams. + +At length, happily for her, these distressing dreams of Rachel’s began +to be varied by others of a pleasanter complexion, of which, although +they were vivid enough, she could only remember upon waking that they +had to do with Richard Darrien, the companion of her adventure in the +river, of whom she had heard nothing for so many years. For aught she +knew he might have died long ago, and yet she did not think that he was +dead. Well, if he lived he might have forgotten her, and yet she did +not believe that he had forgotten her, he who as a boy had wished to +follow her all his life, and whom she had thought of day by day from +that hour to this. Yes, she had thought of him, but not thus. Why, at +such a time, did he arise in strength before her, seeming to occupy all +her soul? Why was her mind never free of him? Could it be that they +were about to meet again? She shivered as the hope took hold of her, +shivered with joy, and remembered that her mother had always said that +they would meet. Could it be that he of all men on the earth, for if he +lived he was a man now, was coming to rescue her? Oh! then she would +fear nothing. Then in every peril she would feel safe as a child in its +mother’s arms. No, the thing was too happy to come about; her +imagination played tricks with her, no more. And yet, and yet, why did +he haunt her sleep? + +The dreary days went on; a month had passed since Noie vanished over +yonder ridge, and worst of all, for three nights the dreams of Richard +had departed, while those of her mother remained. + +Rachel was worn out; she was in despair. All that morning she had spent +in trying a long and heavy case, which occupied but wearied her mind, +one of those eternal cases about the inheritance of cattle which were +claimed by three brothers, descendants of different wives of a +grandfather who had owned the herd. Finally she had effected a +compromise between the parties, and amidst their salutes and +acclamations, retired to her hut. But she could not eat; the sameness +of the food disgusted her. Neither could she rest, for the daily +tempest was coming up, and the heavy atmosphere, or the electricity +with which it was charged, and the overpowering heat, exasperated her +nervous system and made sleep impossible. At length came the usual rush +of icy wind and the bursting of the great storm. The thunder crashed +and bellowed; the lightning flickered and flared; the rain fell in a +torrent. It passed as it always did, and the sun shone out again. +Gasping with relief, Rachel went out of the oven-like hut into the +cool, sweet air, and sat down upon a tanned bull’s hide which she had +ordered her servants to spread for her by the pool of water upon the +bank beneath the trees. It was very pleasant here, and the raindrops +shaken from the wet leaves fell upon her fevered face and hands and +refreshed her. + +She tried to forget her troubles for a little while, and began to think +of Richard Darrien, her boy-lover of a long-past hour, wondering what +he looked like now that he was grown to be a man. + +“If only you would come to help me! Oh! Richard, if only you would come +to help me,” the poor, worn-out girl murmured to herself, and so +murmuring fell asleep. + +Suddenly it seemed to her that she was wide awake, and staring into a +part of the pool beneath her where the bottom was of granite and the +water clear. In this water she saw a picture. She saw a great laager of +waggons, and outside of one of them a group of bearded, jovial-looking +men smoking and talking. Presently another man of sturdy build and +resolute carriage, who was followed by a weary Kaffir, walked up to +them. His back was towards her so that she could not see his face, but +now she was able to hear all that was said, although the voices seemed +thin and far away. + +“What is it, Nephew?” asked the oldest of the bearded men, speaking in +Dutch. “Why are you in such a hurry?” + +“This, Uncle,” he answered, in the same language, and in a pleasant +voice that sounded familiar to Rachel’s ears. “That spy, Quabi, whom we +sent out a long time ago and who was reported dead, reached Dingaan’s +kraal, and has come back with a strange story.” + +“Almighty!” grunted the old man, “all these spies have strange stories, +but let him tell it. Speak on, swartzel.”[*] + +[*] Black-fellow. + + +Then the tired spy began to talk, telling a long tale. He described how +he had got into Zululand, and reached Umgugundhlovo and lodged there +with a relative of his, and done his best to collect information as to +the attitude of the King and indunas towards the Boers. While he was +there the news came that the white Spirit, who was called +Inkosazana-y-Zoola, was approaching the kraal from Natal, where she +dwelt with her parents, who were teachers. + +“Almighty!” interrupted the old man again, “What rubbish is this? How +can a Spirit, white or black, have parents who are teachers?” + +The weary-looking spy answered that he did not know, it was not for him +to answer riddles, all he knew was that there was great excitement +about the coming of this Queen of the Heavens, and he, being desirous +of obtaining first-hand information, slipped out of the town with his +relative, and walked more than a day’s journey on the path that ran to +the Tugela, till they came to a place where they hid themselves to see +her pass. This place he described with minuteness, so minutely, indeed, +that in her dream, Rachel recognised it well. It was the spot where the +witch-doctoress had died. He went on with his story; he told of her +appearance riding on the white horse and surrounded by an impi. He +described her beauty, her white cloak, her hair hanging down her back, +the rod of horn she carried in her hand, the colour of her eyes, the +shape of her features, everything about her, as only a native can. Then +he told of the incident of the cattle rushing across her path, of the +death of the bull that charged her, of the appearance of the furious +witch-doctoress who seized the rein of the horse, of the pointing of +the wand, and the instant execution of the woman. + +He told of how he had followed the impi to the Great Place, of the +story of Noie as he had heard it, and the reports that had reached him +concerning the interview between the King and this white Inkosazana, +who, it was said, advised him not to fight the Boers. + +“And where is she now?” asked the old Dutchman. + +“There, at Umgugundhlovo,” he answered, “ruling the land as its head +Isanuzi, though it is said that she desires to escape, only the Zulus +will not let her go.” + +“I think that we should find out more about this woman, especially as +she seems to be a friend to our people,” said the old Boer. “Now, who +dares to go and learn the truth?” + +“I will go,” said the young man who had brought in the spy, and as he +spoke he turned, and lo! _his face was the face of Richard Darrien_, +bearded and grown to manhood, but without doubt Richard Darrien and +none other. + +“Why do you offer to undertake so dangerous a mission?” asked the Boer, +looking at the young man kindly. “Is it because you wish to see this +beautiful white witch of whom yonder Quabi tells us such lies, Nephew?” + +The shadow of Richard nodded, and his face reddened, for the Boers +around him were laughing at him. + +“That is right, Uncle,” he answered boldly. “You think me a fool, but I +am not. Many years ago I knew a little maid who was the daughter of a +teacher, and who, if she lives, must have grown into such a woman as +Quabi describes. Well, I joined you Boers last year in order to look +for that maid, and I am going to begin to look for her across the river +yonder.” + +As the words reached whatever sense of Rachel’s it was that heard them, +of a sudden, in an instant, laager, Boers, and Richard vanished. In her +sleep she tried to recreate them, at first without avail, then the +curtain of darkness appeared to lift, and in the still water of the +pool she saw another picture, that of Richard Darrien mounted on a +black horse with one white foot, riding along a native path through a +bush-clad country, while by his side trotted the spy whose name was +Quabi. + +They were talking together, and she heard, or, at any rate, knew their +words. + +“How far is it now to Umgugundhlovo?” asked Richard. + +“Three days’ journey, Inkosi, if we are not stopped by flooded rivers,” +answered Quabi. + +For one second only Rachel saw and heard these things, then they, too, +passed away, and she awoke to see in front of her the pool empty save +for its lilies, and above to hear the whispering of the evening wind +among the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +RICHARD COMES + + +As the sun set Rachel rose and walked to her hut. She was utterly +dazed, she could not understand. Was this but a fiction of an +overwrought and disordered mind, or had she seen a vision of things +passing, or that had passed, far away? If it were a dream, then this +was but another drop in her cup of bitterness. If a true vision—oh! +then what did it mean to her? It meant that Richard Darrien lived, +Richard, of whom her heart had been full for years. It meant that his +heart was full of her also, for had she not seemed to hear him say that +he had travelled from the Cape with the Boers to look for her, and was +he not journeying alone through a hostile land to pursue his search? +Who would do such a thing for the sake of a girl unless—unless? It +meant that he would protect her, would rescue her from her terrible +plight, would take her from among these savages to her home again—oh! +and perhaps much more that she did not dare to picture to herself. + +Yet how could such things be? They were contrary to experience, at any +rate, to the experience of white folk, though natives would believe in +them easily enough. Yet in Nature things might be possible which were +generally held to be impossible. Her mother had certain gifts—had she, +perhaps, inherited them? Had her helplessness appealed to the pity of +some higher power? Had her ceaseless prayers been heard? Yet, why +should the universal laws be stretched for her? Why should she be +allowed to lift a corner of the black veil of ignorance that hems us +in, and see a glimpse of what lies beyond? If Richard were really +coming, in a day or two she would have learned of his arrival +naturally; there was no need that these mysterious influences should be +set to work to inform her of his approach. + +How selfish she was. The warning might concern him, not her. It was +probable enough that the Zulus would kill a solitary white man, +especially if they discovered that he proposed to visit their +Inkosazana. Well, she had the power to protect him. If she “threw her +mantle” over him, no man in all the land would dare to do him violence. +Surely it was for this reason that she had been allowed to learn these +things, if she had learned them, not for her own sake, but his. _If_ +she had learned them! Well, she would take the risk, would run the +chance of failure and of mockery, yes, and of the loss of her power +among these people. It should be done at once. + +Rachel clapped her hands, and a maiden appeared whom she bade summon +the captain of the guard without the gate. Presently he came, +surrounded by a band of her women, since no man might visit the +Inkosazana alone. Bidding him to cease from his salutations, she +commanded him to go swiftly to the Great Place and pray of Dingaan that +he would send her an escort and a litter, as she must see him that +night on a matter which would not brook delay. + +In an hour, just after she had finished her food, which she ate with +more appetite than she had known for days, it was reported that they +were there. Throwing on her white cloak, and taking her horn wand, she +entered the litter and, guarded by a hundred men, was borne swiftly to +the House of Dingaan. At its gate she descended, and once more entered +that court by the moonlight. + +As before, there sat the King and his indunas without the Great Hut, +and while she walked towards them every man rose crying “Hail! +Inkosazana.” Yes, even Dingaan, mountain of flesh though he was, +struggled from his stool and saluted her. Rachel acknowledged the +salutation by raising her wand, motioned to them to be seated, and +waited. + +“Art thou come, White One,” asked Dingaan, “to make clear those dark +words thou spokest to us a moon ago?” + +“Nay, King,” she answered, “what I said then, I said once and for all. +Read thou the saying as thou wilt, or let the Ghost-people interpret it +to thee. Hear me, King and Councillors. Ye have kept me here when I +would be gone, my business being ended, that I might be a judge among +this people. Ye have told me that the rivers were in flood, that the +beast I rode was sick, that evil would befall the land if I deserted +you. Now I know, and ye know, that if it pleased me I could have +departed when and whither I would, but it was not fitting that the +Inkosazana should creep out of Zululand like a thief in the night, so I +abode on in my house yonder. Yet my heart grew wrath with you, and I, +to whom the white people listen also, was half minded to bring hither +the thousands of the Amaboona who are encamped beyond the Buffalo +River, that they might escort me to my home.” + +Now at these bold words the King looked uneasy, and one of the +councillors whispered to another, + +“How knows she that the white men are camped beyond the Buffalo?” + +“Yet,” went on Rachel, “I did not do so, for then there must have been +much fighting and bloodshed, and blood I hate. But I have done this. +With these Amaboona travels an English chief, a young man, one Darrien, +whom I knew from long years ago, and who does me reverence. Him, then, +I have commanded to journey hither, and to lead me to my own place +across the Tugela. To-night I am told he sleeps a short three days’ +journey from this town, and I am come here to bid you send out swift +messengers to guide him hither.” + +She ceased, and they stared at her awhile. Then the King asked, + +“What messenger is it, Inkosazana, that thou hast sent to this white +chief, Dario? We have seen none pass from thy house.” + +“Dost thou think, then, King, that thou canst see my messengers? My +thoughts flew from me to him, and called in his ear in the night, and I +saw his coming in the still pool that lies near my huts.” + +“_Ow!_” exclaimed one of the Council, “she sent her thoughts to him +like birds, and she saw his coming in the water of the pool. Great is +the magic of the Inkosazana.” + +“The chief, Darrien,” went on Rachel, without heeding the interruption, +although she noted that it was Mopo of the withered hand who had spoken +from beneath the blanket wrapped about his head, “may be known thus. He +is fair of face, with eyes like my eyes, and beard and hair of the +colour of gold. If I saw right, he rides upon a black horse with one +white foot and his only companion is a Kaffir named Quabi who, I +think,” and she passed her hand across her forehead, “yes, who was +surely visiting a relation of his, at this, the Great Place, when I +crossed the Tugela.” + +Now the King asked if any knew of this Quabi, and an induna answered in +an awed voice, that it was true that a man so called had been in the +town at the time given by the Inkosazana, staying with a soldier whose +name he mentioned, but who was now away on service. He had, however, +departed before the Inkosazana arrived, or so he believed, whither he +knew not. + +“I thought it was so,” went on Rachel. “As I saw him in the pool he is +a thin man whose shoulders stoop, and whose beard is white, although +his hair is black. He wears no ring upon his head.” + +“That is the man,” said the induna, “being a stranger I noted him well, +as it was my business to do.” + +“Summon the messengers swiftly, King,” went on Rachel, “and let them +depart at once, for know that this white chief and his servant are +under the protection of the Heavens, and if harm comes to them, then I +lay my curse upon the land, and it shall break up in blood and ruin. +Bid them say to Darrien, that the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, she who stood +with him once on the rock in the river while the lightnings fell and +the lions roared about them, sends him greetings and awaits him.” + +Now Dingaan turned to an induna and said, + +“Go, do the bidding of the Inkosazana. Bid swift runners search out +this white chief, and lead him to her house, and remember that if aught +of ill befalls him, those men die, and thou diest also.” + +The induna leapt up and departed, and Rachel also made ready to go. A +moment later the captain of the gate entered, fell upon his knees +before Dingaan, and said, + +“O King, tidings.” + +“What are they, man?” he asked. + +“King, the watchmen report that it has been called from hilltop to +hilltop that a white man who rides a black horse, has crossed the +Buffalo, and travels towards the Great Place. What is thy pleasure? +Shall he be killed or driven back?” + +“When did that news come?” asked the King in the silence which followed +this announcement. + +“Not a minute gone,” he answered. “The inner watchman ran with it, and +is without the gates. There has been no other tidings from the West for +days.” + +“Thy watchmen call but slowly, King, the water in the pool speaks +swifter,” said Rachel, then still in the midst of a heavy silence, for +this thing was fearful to them, she turned and departed. + +“So it is true, so it is true!” Rachel kept repeating to herself, the +words suiting themselves to the time of the footfall of her bearers. +She was spent with all the labour and emotions of that long day, +culminating in the last scene, when she must play her dangerous, +superhuman part before these keen-witted savages. She could think no +more; scarcely could she undress and throw herself upon her bed in the +hut. Yet that night she slept soundly, better than she had done since +Noie went away. No dreams came to trouble her and in the morning she +woke refreshed. + +But now doubts did come. Might she not be mistaken after all? She knew +the marvellous powers of the natives in the matter of the transmission +of news, powers so strange that many, even among white people, +attributed them to witchcraft. She had no doubt, therefore, as to the +fact of some Englishman or Boer having entered Zululand. Doubtless the +news of his arrival had been conveyed over scores of miles of country +by the calling of it as the captain said, from hill to hill, or in some +other fashion. But might not this arrival and the circumstance of her +dream or vision be a mere coincidence? What was there to show that the +stranger who was riding a black horse was really Richard Darrien? +Perhaps it was all a mistake, and he was only one of those white +wanderers of the stamp of the outcast Ishmael who, even at that date, +made their way into savage countries for the purposes of gain or to +enjoy a life of licence. And yet, and yet Quabi, of whom she also +dreamed, had visited the Great Place—as she dreamed. + +The next two days were terrible to Rachel. She endured them as she had +endured all those that went before, trying the cases that were brought +to her, keeping up her appearance of distant dignity and utter +indifference. She asked no questions, since to do so would be to show +doubt and weakness, although she was aware that the tale of her vision +had spread through the land, and that the issue of the matter was of +intense interest to thousands. From some talk which she overheard while +she pretended to be listening to evidence, she learned even that two +men going to execution had discussed it, saying that they regretted +they would not live to know the truth. On the second day she did hear +one piece of news, for although she sat by her pool and again tried to +sleep by its waters, these remained blind and dumb. + +The induna, Tamboosa, on one of his ceremonial visits, after speaking +of the health of her mare, which, it seemed was improving, mentioned +incidentally that the messengers running night and day had met the +white man and “called back” that he was safe and well. He added that +had it not been for her vision this said white man would certainly have +been killed as a spy. + +“Yes, I knew that,” answered Rachel, indifferently, although her heart +thumped within her bosom. “I forget if I said that the Inkosi was to be +brought straight here when he arrives. If not, let it be known that +such is my command. The King can receive him afterwards if it pleases +him to do so, as probably we shall not depart until the next day.” + +Then she yawned, and as though by an afterthought asked if any news had +been “called back” from Noie. + +Tamboosa answered, No; no system of intelligence had been organised in +the direction in which she had gone, for that country was empty of +enemies, and indeed of population. However, this would not distress the +Inkosazana, who had only to consult her Spirit to see all that happened +to her servant. + +Rachel replied that of course this was so, but as a matter of fact she +had not troubled about the matter, then waved her hand to show that the +interview was at an end. + +It was the morning of the third day, and while Rachel was delivering +judgment in a case, a messenger entered and whispered something to the +induna on duty, who rose and saluted her. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“Only this, Inkosazana; the white Inkoos from the Buffalo River has +arrived, and is without.” + +“Good,” said Rachel, “let him wait there.” Then she went on with her +judgment. Yes, she went on, although her eyes were blind, and the blood +beating in her ears sounded like the roll of drums. She finished it, +and after a decent interval, bowed her head in acknowledgement of the +customary salutes, and made the sign which intimated that the Court was +to be cleared. + +Slowly, slowly, all the crowd melted away, leaving her alone with her +women. + +“Go,” she said to one of them, “and bid the captain admit this white +chief. Say that he is to come unarmed and alone. Then depart, all of +you. If I should need you I will call.” + +The girl went on her errand while her companions filed away through the +back gate of the inner fence. Rachel glanced round to make sure of her +solitude. It was complete, no one was left. There she sat in state upon +her carved stool, her wand in her hand, her white cloak upon her +shoulders, and the sunlight that passed over the round of the hut +behind her glinting on her hair till it shone like a crown of gold, but +leaving her face in shadow; sat quite still like some lovely tinted +statue. + +The gate of the inner fence opened and closed again after a man who +entered. He walked forward a few paces, then stood still, for the flood +of light that revealed him so clearly at first prevented him from +seeing her seated in the shadow. Oh! there could be no further +doubt—before her was Richard Darrien, the lad grown to manhood, from +whom she had parted so many years ago. Now, as then, he was not tall, +though very strongly built, and for the rest, save for his short beard, +the change in him seemed little. The same clear, thoughtful, grey eyes, +the same pleasant, open face, the same determined mouth. She was not +disappointed in him, she knew this at once. She liked him as well as +she had done at the first. + +Now he caught sight of her and stayed there, staring. She tried to +speak, to welcome him, but could not, no words would come. He also +seemed to be smitten with dumbness, and thus the two of them remained a +while. At last he took off his hat almost mechanically, as though from +instinct, and said vaguely, + +“You are the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, are you not?” + +“I am so called,” she answered softly, and with effort. + +The moment that he heard her voice, with a movement so swift that it +was almost a spring, he advanced to her, saying, + +“Now I am sure; you are Rachel Dove, the little girl who—Oh, Rachel, +how lovely you have grown!” + +“I am glad you think so, Richard,” she answered again in the same low, +deep voice, a voice laden with the love within her, and reddening to +her eyes. Then she let fall her wand, and rising, stretched out both +her hands to him. + +They were face to face, now, but he did not take those hands; he passed +his arms about her, drew her to him unresisting, and kissed her on the +lips. She slipped from his embrace down on to her stool, white now as +she had been red. Then while he stood over her, trembling and confused, +Rachel looked up, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and whispered, + +“Why should I be ashamed? It is Fate.” + +“Yes,” he answered, “Fate.” + +For so both of them knew it to be. Though they had seen each other but +once before, their love was so great, the bond between their natures so +perfect and complete, that this outward expression of it would not be +denied. Here was a mighty truth which burst through all wrappings of +convention and proclaimed itself in its pure strength and beauty. That +kiss of theirs was the declaration of an existent unity which +circumstances did not create, nor their will control, and thus they +confessed it to each other. + +“How long?” she asked, looking up at him. + +“Eight years to-day,” he answered, “since I rode away after those +waggons.” + +“Eight years,” she repeated, “and no word from you all that time. You +have behaved badly to me, Richard.” + +“No, no, I could not find out. I wrote three times, but always the +letters were returned, except one that went to the wrong people, who +were angry about it. Then two years ago, I heard that your father and +mother had been in Natal, but had gone to England, and that you were +dead. Yes, a man told me that you were dead,” he added with a gulp. “I +suppose he was speaking of somebody else, as he could not remember +whether the name was Dove or Cove, or perhaps he was just lying. At any +rate, I did not believe, him. I always felt that you were alive.” + +“Why did you not come to see, Richard?” + +“Why? Because it was impossible. For years my father was an invalid, +paralysed; and I was his only child, and could not leave him.” + +She looked a question at him. + +“Yes,” he answered with a nod, “dead, ten months ago, and for a few +weeks I had to remain to arrange about the property, of which he left a +good deal, for we did well of late years. Just then I heard a rumour of +an English missionary and his wife and daughter who were said to be +living somewhere beyond the boundaries of Natal, in a savage place on +the Transvaal side of the Drakensberg, and as some Boers I knew were +trekking into that country I came with them on the chance—a pretty poor +one, as the story was vague enough.” + +“You came—you came to seek the girl, Rachel Dove?” + +“Of course. Otherwise why should I have left my farms down in the Cape +to risk my neck among these savages?” + +“And then,” went on Rachel, “you or somebody else sent in the spy, +Quabi, who returned to the Boer camp with his story about the +Inkosazana-y-Zoola. You remember you brought him in limping to that old +fellow with a grey beard and a large pipe, and the others who laughed +at the tale. I mean when you said that this Inkosazana seemed very like +an English maid, ‘the daughter of a teacher,’ whom you were looking +for, and that you would go to find out the truth of the business.” + +“Yes, that’s all right; but Rachel,” he added with a start, “how do you +know anything about it—Oom Piet and the rest, and the words I used? +Your spies must be very good and quick, for you can’t have seen Quabi.” + +“My spies are good and quick. Did you get my message sent by the King’s +men? It was that she who stood with you on the rock in the river, +greeted you and awaited you?” + +“Yes, I could not understand. I do not understand now. Just before that +they were going to kill me as a Boer spy. Who told you everything?” + +“My heart,” she answered smiling. “I dreamed it all. I suppose that I +was allowed to save your life that I might bring you here to save me. +Listen now, Richard, while I tell you the strangest story that you ever +heard; and if you don’t believe it, go and ask the King and his +indunas.” + +Then she told him of her vision by the pool and all that happened after +it. When she had finished Richard could only shake his head and say: + +“Still I don’t understand; but no wonder these Zulus have made a +goddess of you. Well, Rachel, what is to happen now? If you are to stop +here they mayn’t care for me as a high priest.” + +“I am not; I am going home, and you must take me. I told them that you +were coming to do so. You have your horse, have you not, the black +horse with the white forefoot? Well, we will start at once—no, you must +eat first, and there are things to arrange. Now stand at a distance +from me and look as respectful as you can, for I fill a strange +position here.” + +Then Rachel clapped her hands and the women came running in. + +“Bring food for the Inkosi Darrien,” she said, “and send hither the +captain of the gate.” + +Presently the man arrived crouched up in token of respect, and shouting +her titles. + +“Go to the King,” said Rachel, “and tell him the Inkosazana commands +that the horse on which she came be brought to her at once, as she +leaves Zululand for a while; also that an impi be assembled within an +hour to escort her and this white chief, her servant, to the Tugela. +Say that the Inkosi Darrien has brought her tidings which make it +needful that she should travel hence speedily if the Zulus, her people, +are to be saved from great misfortune, and say, too, that he goes with +her. If the King or his indunas would see the Inkosazana, or the chief +Darrien, let him or the indunas meet them on their road, since they +have no time to visit the Great Place. Let Tamboosa be in command of +the impi, and say also that if it is not here at once, the Inkosazana +will be angry and summon an impi of her own. Go now, for the lives of +many hang upon your speed; yes, the lives of the greatest in the land.” + +The man saluted and shot away like an arrow. + +“Will they obey you?” asked Richard. + +“I think so, because they are afraid of me, especially since I saw you +coming. At any rate we must act at once, it is our best chance—before +they have time to think. Here is some food—eat. Woman, go, tell the +guard that the Inkosi’s horse must be fed at the gate, for he will need +it presently, and his servant also.” + +“I have no servant, Inkosazana,” broke in Richard. “I left Quabi at a +kraal fifty miles away, laid up with a cut foot. As soon as he is +better he will slip back across the Buffalo River.” + +Then while Richard ate, which he did heartily enough, for joy had made +him very hungry, they talked, who had much to tell. He asked her why +she thought it necessary to leave Zululand at once. She answered, for +two reasons, first because of her desperate anxiety about her father +and mother, as to whom her heart foreboded ill, and secondly for his +own sake. She explained that the Zulus who had set her up as an image +or a token of the guiding Spirit of their nation, were madly jealous +concerning her, so jealous that if he remained here long she was by no +means certain that even her power could protect him when they came to +understand that he was much to her. It was impossible that she could +see him often, and much more so that he could remain in her kraal. +Therefore if they were detained he would be obliged to live at some +distance from her where an assegai might find him at night or poison be +put in his food. At present they were impressed by her foreknowledge of +his arrival, and that was why he had been admitted to her at once. But +this would wear off—and then who could say, especially if Ishmael +returned? + +He asked who Ishmael was and what he had to do with her. Rachel told +him briefly, and though she suppressed much, he looked very grave at +that story. + +While she was finishing it a woman called without for leave to enter, +and, as before, Rachel bade him stand in a respectful attitude, and at +a distance from her. Richard obeyed, and the woman came in to say that +certain of the King’s indunas craved audience with her. They were +admitted and saluted her in their usual humble fashion, but of Richard, +beyond eyeing him curiously and, as she thought, hostilely, they took +not the slightest heed. + +“Are all things ready for my journey, as I commanded?” asked Rachel at +once. + +“Inkosazana,” answered their spokesman, “they are ready, for how canst +thou be disobeyed? Tamboosa and the impi wait without. Yet, Inkosazana, +the heart of the Black One and the hearts of his councillors, and of +all the Zulu people are cut in two because thou wouldst go and leave +them mourning. Their hearts are sore also with this white man Dario, +who has come to lead thee hence, so sore, that were he not thy +servant,” the induna added grimly, “he at least should stay in +Zululand.” + +“He is my servant,” answered Rachel haughtily, “whom I sent for. Let +that suffice. Remember my words, all of you, and let them be told again +in the ears of the King, that if any harm comes to this white chief who +is my guest and yours, then there will be blood between me and the +people of the Zulus that shall be terribly avenged in blood.” + +The indunas seemed to cower at this declaration, but made no answer. +Only the chief of them said: + +“The King would know if the Inkosi, thy servant, brings thee any +tidings of the Amaboona, the white folk with whom he has been +journeying.” + +“He brings tidings that they seek peace with the Zulus, to whom they +will do no hurt if no hurt is done to them. Shall I tell them that the +Zulus also seek peace?” + +“The King gave us no message on that matter, Inkosazana,” replied the +induna. “He awaits the coming of the prophets of the Ghost-folk to +interpret the meaning of thy words, and of the omen of the falling +star.” + +“So be it,” said Rachel. “When my servant, Noie, returns, let her be +sent on to me at once, that I may hear and consider the words of her +people,” and she began to rise from her seat to intimate that the +interview was finished. + +“Inkosazana,” said the induna hurriedly, “one question from the +King—when dost thou return to Zululand?” + +“I return when it is needful. Fear not, I think that I shall return, +but I say to the King and to all of you: Be careful when I come that +there is no blood between me and you, lest great evil fall upon your +heads from Heaven. I have spoken. Good fortune go with you till we meet +again.” + +The indunas looked at each other, then rose and departed humbly as they +had entered. + +An hour later, surrounded by the impi, and followed by Richard, Rachel +was on the Tugela road. At the crest of a hill she pulled rein and +looked back at the great kraal, Umgugundhlovu. Then she beckoned +Richard to her side and said: + +“I think that before long I shall see that hateful place again.” + +“Why?” he asked. + +“Because of the way in which those indunas looked at each other just +now. There was some evil secret in their eyes. Richard, I am afraid.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +WHAT CHANCED AT RAMAH + + +The news which reached Rachel that Ishmael had been ill after the rough +handling of the captains in her presence, was true enough. For many +days he was far too ill to travel, and when he recovered sufficiently +to start he could only journey slowly to the Tugela. + +It will be remembered that she was told that he had escaped, as indeed +he seemed to do, slipping off at night, but this escape of his was +carefully arranged beforehand, nor did any attempt to re-capture him +upon his way. When at length he came to the river he found the small +impi awaiting him, not knowing whither they were to go or what they +were to do, their only orders being that they must obey him in all +things. He found also that the Tugela was in furious flood, so that to +ford it proved quite impossible. Here, then, he was obliged to remain +for ten full days while the water ran down. + +Ishmael was not idle during those ten days, which be spent in +recovering his health, and incidentally in reflection. Thus he thought +a great deal of his past life, and did not find the record +satisfactory. With his exact history we need not trouble ourselves. He +was well-born, as he had told Rachel, but had been badly brought up. +His strong passions had led him into trouble while young, and instead +of trying to reform him his belongings had cast him off. Then he had +enlisted in the army, and so reached South Africa. There he committed a +crime—as a matter of fact it was murder or something like it—and fled +from justice far into the wilderness, where a touch of imagination +prompted him to take the name of Ishmael. + +For a while this new existence suited him well enough. Thus he had +wives in plenty of a sort, and he grew rich, becoming just such a +person as might be expected from his environment and unchecked natural +tendencies. At length it happened that he met Rachel, who awoke in him +certain forgotten associations. She was an English lady, and he +remembered that once he had been an English gentleman, years and years +ago. Also she was beautiful, which appealed to his strong animal +nature, and spiritual, which appealed to a materialist soaked in Kaffir +superstition. So he fell in love with her, really in love; that is to +say, he came to desire to make her his wife more than he desired +anything else on earth. For her sake he grew to dislike his black +consorts, however handsome; even the heaping up of herds of cattle +after the native fashion ceased to appeal to him. He wanted to live as +his forbears had lived, quietly, respectably, with a woman of his own +class. + +So he made advances to her, with the results we know. For fifteen years +or more he had been a savage, and he could not hide his savagery from +her eyes any more than he could break off the ties and entanglements +that had grown up about him. Had she happened to care for him, it is +very possible, however, that in this he would have succeeded in time. +He might even have reformed himself completely, and died in old age a +much-respected colonial gentleman; perhaps a member of the local +Legislature. But she did not; she detested him; she knew him for what +he was, a cowardly outcast whose good looks did not appeal to her. So +the spark of his new aspirations was trampled out beneath her merciless +heel, and there remained only the acquired savagery and superstition +mixed with the inborn instincts of a blackguard. + +It was this superstition of his that had brought all her troubles upon +Rachel, for however it came about, he had conceived the idea that she +was something more than an ordinary woman and, with many tales of her +mysterious origin and powers, imparted it to the Zulus, in whose minds +it was fostered by the accident of the coincidence of her native name +and personal loveliness with those of the traditional white Spirit of +their race, and by Mopo’s identification of her with that Spirit. Thus +she became their goddess and his; at any rate for a time. But while +they desired to worship her only, and use her rumoured wisdom as an +oracle, he sought to make her his wife; the more impossible it became, +the more he sought it. She refused him with contumely, and he laid +plots to decoy her to Zululand, thinking that there she would be in his +power. In the end he succeeded, basely enough, only to find that he was +in her power, and that the contumely, and more, were still his share. + +But all this did not in the least deter him from his aim, and as it +chanced, fortune had put other cards into his hand. He knew that Rachel +would not stay among the Zulus, as they knew it. Therefore they had +commissioned him to bring her people to her. If her people were not +brought he was sure that she would come to seek them, and _if she found +no one_, then where could she go, or at least who would be at hand to +help her? Surely his opportunity had come at last, and marriage by +capture did not occur to him, who had spent so many years among +savages, as a crime from which to shrink. Only he feared that the +prospective captive, the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, was not one with whom it +was safe to trifle. But his love was stronger than his fear. He thought +that he would take the risk. + +Such were the reflections of Ishmael upon the banks of the flooded +Tugela, and when at length the waters went down sufficiently to enable +him and the soldiers under his command to cross into Natal, he was +fully determined to put them into practice, if the chance came his way. +How this might best be done he left to luck, for if it could be avoided +he did not wish to have more blood upon his hands. Only Rachel must be +rendered homeless and friendless, for then who could protect her from +him? An answer came into his mind—she might protect herself, or that +Power which seemed to go with her might protect her. Something warned +him that this evil enterprise was very dangerous. Yet the fire that +burnt within him drove him on to face the danger. + +Ishmael was still on the Zululand bank of the river when one day about +noon an urgent message reached him from Dingaan. It said that the King +was angry as a wounded buffalo to learn, as he had just done, that he, +Ibubesi, still lingered on his road, and had not carried out his +mission. The Inkosazana, accompanied by a white man, was travelling to +Ramah, and unless he went forward at once, would overtake him. +Therefore he must march instantly and bring back the old Teacher and +his wife as he had been bidden. Should he meet the Inkosazana and her +companion as he returned with the white prisoners she must not be +touched or insulted in any way, only his ears and those of the soldiers +with him were to be deaf to her orders or entreaties to release them, +for then she would surely turn and follow of her own accord back to the +Great Place. If the white man with her made trouble or resisted, he was +to be bound, but on no account must his blood be made to flow, for if +this happened it would bring a curse upon the land, and he, Dingaan, +swore by the head of the Black One who was gone (that is Chaka) that he +would kill him, Ibubesi, in payment. Yes, he would smear him with honey +and bind him over an ant-heap in the sun till he died, if he hunted +Africa from end to end to catch him. Moreover, should he fail in the +business, he would send a regiment and destroy his town at Mafooti, +and put his wives and people to the spear, and seize his cattle. All +this also he swore by the head of the Black One. + +Now when Ishmael received this message he was much frightened, for he +knew that these were not idle threats. Indeed, the exhausted messenger +told him that never had any living man seen Dingaan so mad with rage as +he was when he learned that he, Ibubesi, was still lingering on the +banks of the Tugela, adding that he had foamed at the mouth with fury +and uttered terrible threats. Ishmael sent him back with a humble +answer, pointing out that it had been impossible to cross the river, +which was “in wrath,” but that now he would do all things as he was +commanded, and especially that not a hair of the white man’s head +should be harmed. + +“Then you must do them quickly,” said the messenger with a grim smile +as he rose and prepared to go, “for know that the Inkosazana is not +more than half a day’s march behind you, accompanied by the white +Inkoos Dario.” + +“What is this Dario like?” asked Ishmael. + +“Oh! he is young and very handsome, with hair and beard of gold, and +eyes that are such as those of the Inkosazana herself. Some say that he +is her brother, another child of the Heavens, and some that he is her +husband. Who am I that I should speak of such high things? But it is +evident that she loves him very much, for by her magic she told the +King of his coming, and even when he is behind her she is always trying +to turn her head to look at him.” + +“Oh! she loves him very much, does she?” said Ishmael, setting his +white teeth. Then he turned, and calling the captain of the impi, gave +orders that the river must be crossed at once, for so the King +commanded, and it was better to die with honour by water than with +shame by the spear. + +So they waded and swam the river with great difficulty, but, as it +chanced, without loss of life, Ishmael being borne over it upon the +shoulders of the strongest men. Upon its further bank he summoned the +captains and delivered to them the orders of the King. Then they set +out for Ramah, Ishmael carried in a litter made of boughs. + +Whilst the soldiers were constructing this litter, he called two men of +the Swamp-dwellers, who had their homes upon the banks of the Tugela, +and promising them a reward, bade them run to his town, Mafooti, and +tell his head man there to come at once with thirty of the best +soldiers, and to hide them in the bush of the kloof above Ramah, where +he would join them that night. The men, who knew Ibubesi, and what +happened to those who failed upon his business, went swiftly, and a +little while afterwards, the litter being finished, Ishmael entered it, +and the impi started for Ramah. + +Before sundown they appeared upon a ridge overlooking the settlement, +just as the herds were driving the cattle into their kraals. Seeing the +Zulus while as yet they were some way off, these herds shouted an +alarm, whereon the people of the place, thinking that Dingaan had sent +a regiment to wipe them out, fled to the bush, the herds driving the +cattle after them. Man, woman, and child, deserting their pastor, who +knew nothing of all this, being occupied with a sad business, they +fled, incontinently, so that when Ishmael and the impi entered Ramah, +no one was left in it save a few aged and sick people, who could not +walk. + +At the outskirts of the town Ishmael descended from his litter and +commanded the soldiers to surround it, with orders that they were to +hurt no one, but if the white Umfundusi, who was called Shouter, or his +wife attempted to escape, they were to be seized and brought to him. +Then taking with him some of the captains and a guard of ten men, he +advanced to the mission-house. + +The door was open, and, followed by the Zulus, he entered to search the +place, for he feared that its inhabitants might have seen them, and +have gone with the others. Looking into the first room that they +reached, of which, as it chanced, the door was also open, Ishmael saw +that this was not so, for there upon the bed lay Mrs. Dove, apparently +very ill, while by the side of the bed knelt her husband, praying. For +a few moments Ishmael and the savages behind him stood still, staring +at the pair, till suddenly Mrs. Dove turned her head and saw them. +Lifting herself in the bed she pointed with her finger, and Ishmael +noticed that her lips were quite blue, and that she did not seem to be +able to speak. Then Mr. Dove, observing her outstretched hand, looked +round. He had not seen Ishmael since that day when he struck him after +their stormy interview at Mafooti, but recognising the man at once, he +asked sternly: + +“What are you doing, sir, with these savages in my house? Cannot you +see that my wife is sick, and must not be disturbed?” + +“I am sorry,” Ishmael answered shamefacedly, for in his heart he was +afraid of Mr. Dove, “but I am sent to you with a message from Dingaan +the King, and,” he added as an afterthought, “from your daughter.” + +“From my daughter!” exclaimed Mr. Dove eagerly. “What of her? Is she +well? We cannot get any certain news of her, only rumours.” + +“I saw her but once.” replied Ishmael, “and she was well enough, then. +You know the Zulus have made her their Inkosazana, and keep her +guarded.” + +“Does she live quite alone then with these savages?” + +“She did, but I am sorry I must tell you that she seems to have a +companion now, some scoundrel of a white man with whom she has taken +up,” he sneered. + +“My daughter take up with a scoundrel of a white man! It is false. What +is this man’s name?” + +“I don’t know, but the natives call him Dario, and say that he is +young, and has fair hair, and that she is in love with him. That’s all +I can tell you about the man.” + +Mr. Dove shook his head, but his wife sat up suddenly in bed, and +plucked him by the sleeve, for she had been listening intently to +everything that passed. + +“Dario! Young, fair hair, in love with him—” she repeated in a thick +whisper, then added, “John, it is Richard Darrien grown up—the boy who +saved her in the Umtooma River, years ago, and whom she has never +forgotten. Oh! thank God! Thank God! With him she will be safe. I +always knew that he would find her, for they belong to each other,” and +she sank back exhausted. + +“That’s what the Zulus say, that they belong to each other,” replied +Ishmael, with another sneer. “Perhaps they are married native fashion.” + +“Stop insulting my daughter, sir,” said Mr. Dove angrily. “She would +not take a husband as you take your wives, nor if this man is Richard +Darrien, as I pray, would he be a party to such a thing. Tell me, are +they coming here?” + +“Not they, they are far too comfortable where they are. Also the Zulus +would prevent them. But don’t be sad about it, for I am sent to take +you both to join her at the Great Place where you are to live.” + +“To join her! It is impossible,” ejaculated Mr. Dove, glancing at his +sick wife. + +“Impossible or not, you’ve got to come at once, both of you. That is +the King’s order and the Inkosazana’s wish, and what is more there is +an impi outside to see that you obey. Now I give you five minutes to +get ready, and then we start.” + +“Man, are you mad? How can my wife travel to Zululand in her state? She +cannot walk a step.” + +“Then she can be carried,” answered Ishmael callously. “Come, don’t +waste time in talking. Those are my orders, and I am not going to have +my throat cut for either of you. If Mrs. Dove won’t dress wrap her up +in blankets.” + +“You go, John, you go,” whispered his wife, “or they will kill you. +Never mind about me; my time has come, and I die happy, for Richard +Darrien is with Rachel.” + +The mention of Richard’s name seemed to infuriate Ishmael. At any rate +he said brutally: + +“Are you coming, or must I use force?” + +“Coming, you wicked villain! How can I come?” shouted Mr. Dove, for he +was mad with grief and rage. “Be off with your savages. I will shoot +the first man who lays a finger on my wife,” and as he spoke he +snatched a double-barrelled pistol which hung upon the wall and cocked +it. + +Ishmael turned to the Zulus who stood behind him watching this scene +with curiosity. + +“Seize the Shouter,” he said, “and bind him. Lift the old woman on her +mattress, and carry her. If she dies on the road we cannot help it.” + +The captains hesitated, not from fear, but because Mrs. Dove’s +condition moved even their savage hearts to pity. + +“Why do you not obey?” roared Ishmael. “Dogs and cowards, it is the +King’s word. Take her up or you shall die, every man of you, you know +how. Knock down the old Evildoer with your sticks if he gives trouble.” + +Now the men hesitated no longer. Springing forward, several of them +seized the mattress and began to lift it bodily. Mrs. Dove rose and +tried to struggle from the bed, then uttered a low moaning cry, fell +back, and lay still. + +“You devils, you have killed her!” gasped Mr. Dove, as lifting the +pistol he fired at the Zulu nearest to him, shooting him through the +body so that he sank upon the floor dying. Then, fearing lest he should +shoot again, the captains fell upon the poor old man, striking him with +kerries and the handles of their spears, for they sought to disable him +and make him drop the pistol. + +As it chanced, though this was not their intention, in the confusion a +heavy blow from a knobstick struck him on the temple. The second barrel +of the pistol went off, and the bullet from it but just missed Ishmael +who was standing to one side. When the smoke cleared away it was seen +that Mr. Dove had fallen backwards on to the bed. The martyrdom he +always sought and expected had overtaken him. He was quite dead. They +were both dead! + +The head induna in command of the impi stepped forward and looked at +them, then felt their hearts. + +“_Wow!_” he said, “these white people have ‘gone beyond.’ They have +gone to join the spirits, both of them. What now, Ibubesi?” + +Ishmael, who stood in the corner, very white-faced, and staring with +round eyes, for the tragedy had taken a turn that he did not intend or +expect, shook himself and rubbed his forehead with his hand, answering: + +“Carry them into the Great Place, I suppose. The King ordered that they +should be brought there. Why did you kill that old Shouter, you fools?” +he added with irritation. “You have brought his blood and the curse of +the Inkosazana on our heads.” + +“_Wow!_” answered the induna again, “you bade us strike him with +sticks, and our orders were to obey you. Who would have guessed that +the old man’s skull was so thin from thinking? You or I would never +have felt a tap like that. But they are ‘gone beyond,’ and we will not +defile ourselves by touching them. Dead bones are of no use to anyone, +and their ghosts might haunt us. Come, brethren, let us go back to the +King and make report. The order was Ibubesi’s, and we are not to +blame.” + +“Yes,” they answered, “let us go back and make report. Are you coming, +Ibubesi?” + +“Not I,” he answered. “Do I want to have my neck twisted because of +your clumsiness? Go you and win your own peace if you can, but if you +see the Inkosazana, my advice is that you avoid her lest she learn the +truth, and bring your deaths upon you, for, know, she travels hither, +and she called these folk father and mother.” + +“Without doubt we will avoid her,” said the captain, “who fear her +terrible curse. But, Ibubesi, it is on you that it will fall, not on us +who did but obey you as we were bidden; yes, on you she will bring down +death before this moon dies. Make your peace with the Heavens, if you +can, Ibubesi, as we go to try to make ours with the King.” + +“Would you bewitch me, you ill-omened dog?” shouted Ishmael, wiping the +sweat of fear off his brow. “May you soon be stiff!” + +“Nay, nay, Ibubesi, it is you who shall be stiff. The Inkosazana will +see to that, and were I not sure of it I would make you so myself, who +am a noble who will not be called names by a white _umfagozan_, a +low-born fellow who plots for blood, but leaves its shedding to brave +men. Farewell, Ibubesi; if the jackals leave anything of you after the +Inkosazana has spoken, we will return to bury your bones,” and he +turned to go. + +“Stay,” cried the dying man on the floor, “would you leave me here in +pain, my brothers?” + +The induna stepped to him and examined him. + +“It is mortal,” he said, shaking his head, “right through the liver. +Why did not the white man’s thunder smite Ibubesi instead of you, and +save the Inkosazana some trouble? Well, your arms are still strong and +here is a spear; you know where to strike. Be quick with your messages. +Yes, yes, I will see that they are delivered. Good-night, my brother. +Do you remember how we stood side by side in that big fight twenty +years ago, when the Pondo giant got me down and you fell on the top of +me and thrust upwards and killed him? It was a very good fight, was it +not? We will talk it over again in the World of Spirits. Good-night, my +brother. Yes, yes, I will deliver the message to your little girl, and +tell her where the necklace is to be found, and that you wish her to +name her firstborn son after you. Good-night. Use that assegai at once, +for your wound must be painful, or perhaps as you are down upon the +ground Ibubesi will do it for you. Good-night, my brother, and Ibubesi, +good-night to you also. We cross the Tugela by another drift, wait you +here for the Inkosazana, and tell her how the Shouter died.” + +Then they turned and went. The wounded man watched them pass the door, +and when the last of them had gone he used the assegai upon himself, +and with his failing hand flung it feebly at Ishmael. + +The dying Zulu’s spear struck Ishmael, who had turned his head away, +upon the cheek, just pricking it and causing the blood to flow, no +more. Ishmael was still also, paralysed almost, or so he seemed, for +even the pain of the cut did not make him move. He stared at the bodies +of Mr. and Mrs. Dove; he stared at the dead Zulu, and in his heart a +voice cried: “You have murdered them. By now they are pleading to God +for vengeance on you, Ishmael, the outcast. You will never dare to be +alone again, for they will haunt you.” + +As he thought it the relaxed hand of the old clergyman who had fallen +in a sitting posture on the bed, slipped from his wounded head which he +had clasped just before he died, and for a moment seemed to point at +him. He shivered, but still he could not stir. How dreadful and solemn +was that face! And those eyes, how they searched out the black record +of his heart! The quiet rays of the afternoon sun suddenly flowed in +through the window place and illumined the awful, accusing face till it +shone like that of a saint in glory. A drop of blood from the cut upon +his cheek splashed on to the floor, and the noise of it struck on his +strained nerves loud as a pistol-shot. Blood, his own blood wherewith +he must pay for that which he had shed. The sight and the thought +seemed to break the spell. With an oath he bounded out of the room like +a frightened wolf, those dead staring at him as he went, and rushed +from the house that held them. + +Beyond its walls Ishmael paused. The Zulus had fled in one direction, +and the inhabitants of Ramah in another; there was no one to be seen. +His eye fell upon the dense mass of bush above the station, and he +remembered the message that he had sent to his own people to meet him +there. Perhaps they had already arrived. He would go to see, he who was +in such sore need of human company. As he went his numbed faculties +returned to him, and in the open light of day some of his terror +passed. He began to think again. What was done was done; he could not +bring the dead back to life. He was not really to blame, and after all, +things had worked out well for him. Save for this white man, Dario, +Rachel was now alone in the world, and dead people did not speak, there +was no one to tell her of his share in the tragedy. Why should she not +turn to him who had no one else to whom she could go? The white man, if +he were still with her, could be got rid of somehow; very likely he +would run away, and they two would be left quite alone. At any rate it +was for her sake that he had entered on this black road of sin, and +what did one step more matter, the step that led him to his reward? Of +course it might lead him somewhere else. Rachel was a woman to be +feared, and the Zulus were to be feared, and other things to which he +could give no shape or name, but that he felt pressing round him, were +still more to be feared. Perhaps he would do best to fly, far into the +interior, or by ship to some other land where none would know him and +his black story. What! Fly companioned by those ghosts, and leave +Rachel, the woman for whom he burned, with this Dario, whom the Zulus +said she loved, and with whom her mother, just before her end, had +declared that she would be safe? Never. She was his; he had bought her +with blood, and he would have the due the devil owed him. + +He was in the bush now, and a voice called him, that of his head man. + +“Come out, you dog,” he said, searching the dense foliage with his +eyes, and the man appeared, saluting him humbly. + +“We received your message and we have come, Inkoos. We are but just +arrived. What has chanced here that the town is so still?” + +“The Zulus have been and gone. They have killed the white Teacher and +his wife, though I thought to save them—look at my wound. Also the +people are fled.” + +“Ah!” replied the head man, “that was an ill deed, for he was holy, and +a great prophet, and doubtless his spirit is strong to revenge. Well +for you is it, Master, that you had no hand in the deed, as at first I +feared might be the case, for know that last night a strange dog +climbed on to your hut and howled there and would not be driven away, +nor could we kill it with spears, so we think it was a ghost. All your +wives thought that evil had drawn near to you.” + +Ishmael struck him across the mouth, exclaiming: + +“Be silent, you accursed wizard, or you shall howl louder than your +ghost-dog.” + +“I meant no harm,” answered the man humbly, but with a curious gleam in +his eye. “What are your commands, Chief?” + +“That we watch here. I think that the daughter of the Shouter, she who +is called Inkosazana-y-Zoola, is coming, and she may need help. Have +you brought thirty men with you as I bade you through my messengers?” + +“Aye, Ibubesi, they are all hidden in the bush. I go to summon them, +though I think that the mighty Inkosazana, who can command all the Zulu +impis and all the spirits of the dead, will need little help from us.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +RACHEL COMES HOME + + +As Rachel had travelled up from the Tugela to the Great Place, so she +travelled back from the Great Place to the Tugela in state and dignity +such as became a thing divine, perhaps the first white woman, moreover, +who had ever entered Zululand. All day she rode alone, Tamboosa leading +the white ox before her and Richard following behind, while in front +and to the rear marched the serried ranks of the impi, her escort. At +night, as before, she slept alone in the empty kraals provided for her, +attended by the best-born maidens, Richard being lodged in some hut +without the fence. + +So at length, about noon one day, they reached the banks of the Tugela, +not many hours after Ishmael had crossed it, and camped there. Now, +after she had eaten, Rachel sent for Richard, with whom she had found +but few opportunities to talk during that journey. He came and stood +before her, as all must do, and she addressed him in English while the +spies and captains watched him sullenly, for they were angry at this +use of a foreign tongue which they could not understand. Preserving a +cold and distant air, she asked him of his health, and how he had +fared. + +“Well enough,” he answered. “And now, what are your plans? The river is +in flood, you will find it difficult to cross. Still it can be done, +for I hear that the white man, Ishmael, of whom you told me, forded it +this morning with a company of armed men.” + +Aware of the eyes that watched her, with an effort Rachel showed no +surprise. + +“How is that?” she asked. “I thought the man fled from Zululand many +days ago. Why then does he leave the country with soldiers?” + +“I can’t tell you, Rachel. There is something queer about the business. +When I inquire, everyone shrugs his shoulders. They say that the King +knows his own business. If I were you I would ask no questions, for you +will learn nothing, and if you do not ask they will think that you know +all.” + +“I understand,” she said. “But, Richard, I must cross the river to-day. +You and I must cross it alone and reach Ramah to-night. Richard, +something weighs upon my heart; I am terribly afraid.” + +“How will you manage it?” he asked, ignoring the rest. + +“I can’t tell you yet, Richard, but keep my horse and yours saddled +there where you are encamped,” and she nodded towards a hut about fifty +yards away. “I think that I shall come to you presently. Now go.” + +So he saluted her and went. + +Presently Rachel sent for Tamboosa and the captains, and asked the +state of the river which was out of sight about half a mile from them. +They replied that it was “very angry”; none could think of attempting +its passage, as much water was coming down. + +“Is it so?” she said indifferently. “Well, I must look,” and with slow +steps she walked towards the hut where she knew the horses were, +followed by Tamboosa and the captains. + +Reaching it, she saw them standing saddled on its further side, and by +them Richard, seated on the ground smoking. As she came he rose and +saluted her, but, taking no heed of him, she went to her grey mare, +and, placing her foot in the stirrup, sprang to the saddle, motioning +to him to do likewise. + +“Whither goest thou, Inkosazana?” asked Tamboosa anxiously. + +“To throw a charm on the waters,” she answered, “so that they may run +down and I can cross them to-morrow. Come, Dario, and come Tamboosa, +but let the rest stay behind, since common eyes must not look upon my +magic, and he who dares to look shall be struck with blindness.” + +The captains hesitated, and turning on them fiercely she commanded them +to obey her word lest some evil should befall them. + +Then they fell back and she rode towards the Tugela, followed by +Richard on horseback and Tamboosa on foot. Arrived at that spot on the +bank where she had received the salutation of the regiment when she +entered Zululand, Rachel saw at once that although the great river was +full it could easily be forded on horseback. Calling Richard to her, +she said: + +“We must go, and now, while there is no one to stop us but Tamboosa. Do +not hurt him unless he tries to spear you, for he has been kind to me.” + +Then she addressed Tamboosa, saying: + +“I have spoken to the waters and they will not harm me. The hour has +come when I must leave my people for a while, and go forward alone with +my white servant, Dario. These are my commands, that none should dare +to follow me save only yourself, Tamboosa, who can bring on the white +ox with its load so soon as the water has run down and deliver them to +me at Ramah. Do you hear me?” + +“I hear, Inkosazana,” answered the old induna, “and thy words split my +heart.” + +“Yet you will obey them, Tamboosa.” + +“Yes, I will obey them who know what would befall me otherwise, and +that it is the King’s will that none should dare to thwart thee, even +if they could. Yet I think that very soon thou wilt return to thy +children. Therefore, why not abide with us until to-morrow, when the +waters will be low?” + +“Tamboosa,” said Rachel, leaning forward and looking him in the eyes, +“why did Ibubesi cross this river with soldiers but a few hours +ago—Ibubesi, who fled from the Great Place when the moon was young that +now is full? Look, there goes their spoor in the mud.” + +“I know not,” he answered, looking down. “Inkosazana, to-morrow I will +bring on the white ox to Ramah, and I will bring it alone.” + +“So be it, Tamboosa, but if by chance you should not find me, ask where +Ibubesi is, and if need be, seek for me with an impi, Tamboosa—for me +and for this white man, Dario,” and again she bent forward and looked +at him. + +“I know not what thou meanest, Inkosazana,” he replied. “But of this be +sure, that if I cannot find thee, then I will seek for thee, if need be +with every spear in Zululand at my back.” + +“Farewell, then, Tamboosa, and to the regiment farewell also. Say to +the captains that it is my will that they should return to the Great +Place, bearing my greetings to the King and those of the white lord, +Dario. Look for me to-morrow at Ramah.” + +Then, followed by Richard, she rode her horse past him into the lip of +the water. As she went Tamboosa drew himself up and gave her the +Bayète, the royal salute. + +Although it was red with earth and flecked with foam and the roar of it +was loud as it sped towards the sea, the river did not prove very +difficult to ford. But once, indeed, were the horses swept off their +feet and forced to swim, and then but for a few paces, after which they +regained them, and plunged to the farther bank without accident. + +“Free at last, Rachel, with our lives before us and nothing more to +fear,” called Richard in his cheery voice, as he forced his horse +alongside of hers. Then suddenly he caught sight of her face and saw +that it was white and drawn as though with pain; also that she leaned +forward on her saddle, clasping its pommel as though she were about to +faint. + +“What is it?” he exclaimed in alarm. “Did the flood frighten you, +Rachel—are you ill?” + +For a few moments she made no answer, then straightened herself with a +sigh and said in a low voice: + +“Richard, I have been so long among those Zulus playing the part of a +spirit that I begin to think I am one, or that their magic has got hold +of me. I tell you that in the roar of the water I heard voices—the +voices of my father and mother calling me and speaking of you—and, +Richard, they seemed to be in great fear and pain, for a minute or more +I heard them, then a dreadful cold wind blew on me—not this wind, it +seemed to come from above—and everything passed away, leaving my mind +numb and empty so that I do not remember how we came out of the river. +Don’t laugh at me, Richard; it is so. The Kaffirs are right; I have +some power of the sort. Remember how I saw you travelling towards me in +the pool.” + +“Why should I laugh at you, dearest?” he asked anxiously, for something +of this uncanny fear passed from her mind into his, with which it was +in tune. “Indeed, I don’t laugh who know that you are not quite like +other women. But, Rachel, the strain of those two months has worn you +out, and now the reaction is too much. Perhaps it is nothing.” + +“Perhaps,” she answered sadly, “I hope so. Richard, what is the time?” + +“About a quarter to six, to judge by the sun,” he answered, + +“Then we shall not be able to reach Ramah before dark.” + +“No, Rachel, but there is a good moon.” + +“Yes, there is a good moon; I wonder what it will show us,” and she +shivered. + +Then they pressed their horses to a canter and rode on, speaking +little, for the fount of words seemed to be frozen in them, although +Richard recollected, with a curious sense of wonder how he had looked +forward to this opportunity of long, unfettered talk with Rachel and +how much he had to tell her. Over hill and valley, through bush and +stream they rode, till at last with the short twilight they reached the +plain that ran to Ramah. Then came the dark in which they must ride +slowly, till presently the round edge of the moon pushed itself up +above the shoulder of a hill and there was light again—pure, peaceful +light that turned the veld to silver and shone whitely on the pale face +of Rachel. + +Ramah was before them. They had met no living thing save some wild game +trekking to the water, and heard no sound save the distant roar of some +beast of prey. Ramah was before them. The moon shone on the roofs of +the Mission-house and the little church and the clusters of Kaffir huts +beyond. But, oh! it was silent: no cattle lowed, no child cried, nor +did the bell of the church ring for evening prayer as at this hour it +should have done. Also no lamp showed in the windows of the +Mission-house and no smoke rose from the cooking fires of the kraals. + +“Where are all the people, Richard?” whispered Rachel. “There is the +place unharmed, but where are the people?” + +But Richard could only shake his head: the terror of something dreadful +had got hold of him also, and he knew not what to say. + +Now they had come to the wall of the Mission-house and sprang from +their horses which they left loose. As they advanced side by side +towards the open gate, something leapt the stoep and rushed through it. +It was a striped hyena; they could see the hair bristle on its back as +it passed them with a whining growl. Hand in hand they ran to the house +across the little garden patch—Rachel, led by some instinct, guiding +her companion straight to her parents’ room whereof the windows, that +opened like doors, stood wide as the gate had done. + +One more moment and they were there; another, and the moonlight showed +them all. + +For a long while—to Richard it seemed hours—Rachel said nothing; only +stood still like the statue of a woman, staring at those cold faces +that looked back at her through the unearthly moonlight. Indeed, it was +Richard who spoke first, feeling that if he did not this dreadful +silence would choke him or cause him to faint. + +“The Zulus have murdered them,” he said hoarsely, glancing at the dead +Kaffir on the floor. + +“No,” she answered in a cold, small voice; “Ishmael, Ishmael!” and she +pointed to something that lay at his feet. + +Richard stooped and picked it up. It was a fly wisp of rhinoceros horn +which the man had let fall when the Zulu’s spear struck him. + +“I know it,” she went on; “he always carried it. He is the real +murderer. The Zulus would not have dared,” and she choked and was +silent. + +“Let me think,” said Richard confusedly. “There is something in my +mind. What is it? Oh! I know. If you are right that devil has not done +this for nothing. He is somewhere near; he wants to take you”; and he +ground his teeth at the thought, then added: “Rachel, we must get out +of this and ride for Durban, at once—at once; the white people will +protect you there.” + +“Who will bury my father and mother?” she asked in the same cold voice. + +“I do not know, it does not matter, the living are more than the dead. +I can return and see to it afterwards.” + +“You are right,” she answered. Then she knelt down by the bed and +lifting her beautiful, agonised face, put up some silent prayer. Next +she rose and kissed first her father, then her mother, kissed their +dead brows in a last farewell and turned to go. As she went her eyes +fell upon the assegai that lay near to the dead Zulu. Stooping down, +she took it and with it in her hand passed on to the stoep. Here her +strength seemed to fail her, for she reeled against the wall, then with +an effort flung herself into Richard’s arms, moaning: + +“Only you left, Richard, only you. Oh! if you were taken from me also, +what would become of me?” + +A moment later she became aware that the stoep was swarming with men +who seemed to arise out of the shadows. A voice said in the Kaffir +tongue: + +“Seize that fellow and bind him.” + +Instantly, before he could do anything, before he could even turn, +Richard was torn from her, struggling furiously, and thrown to the +ground. Rachel sprang to the wall and stood with her back to it, +raising the spear she held. It flashed into her mind that these were +Zulus, and of Zulus she was not afraid. + +“What dogs are these,” she cried, “that dare to lift a hand against the +Inkosazana and her servant?” + +The black men about her swayed and murmured, then made way for a man +who walked up the steps of the stoep. The moonlight fell upon him and +she saw that it was Ishmael. + +“Rachel,” he said, taking off his hat politely, “these are my people. +We saw that white scoundrel assault you, and of course seized him at +once. As you know a dreadful thing has happened here. This afternoon +the Zulus killed your father and mother, or rather they killed your +father, and your mother, who was ill, died with the shock, because they +refused to go to Zululand whither Dingaan had ordered that they should +be taken. So seeing that you were travelling here I came to rescue you, +lest you should fall into their hands, and,” he added lamely, “you know +the rest.” + +Ishmael had spoken in English, but Rachel answered him in Zulu. + +“I know all, Night-prowler,” she cried aloud. “I know that my father +and mother were killed by your order, and in your presence; their +spirits told me so but now, and for that crime I sentence you to +death!” and she pointed at him with the spear. “Heaven above and earth +beneath,” she went on, “bear witness that I sentence this man to death. +People of the Zulus, hear me in your kraals far away. Hear me, Dingaan, +sitting in your Great Place. Hear me, every captain and induna, hear +the voice of your Inkosazana: I sentence this man to death, since +because of him there is blood between me and my people, the blood of my +father and my mother. Now, Night-prowler, do your worst before you die, +but know this, you his servants, that if I am harmed, or if this white +man, the chief Dario, is harmed, then you shall die also, every one of +you. What is your will, Night-prowler?” + +“I will tell you that at Mafooti,” answered Ishmael, trying to look +bold. “I am not afraid of you like those Zulu savages, and Dingaan is a +long way off. Will you come quietly? I hope so, for I don’t want to +hurt you or put you to shame, but you’ve got to come, and this Dario, +too. If you make any trouble, I will have him killed at once. +Understand, Rachel, that if you don’t come, he shall be killed at once. +My people may be afraid of you, but they won’t mind cutting his +throat,” he added significantly. + +“Never mind about me,” said Richard in a choked voice from the ground +where he was pinned down by the Kaffirs. “Do what you think best for +yourself, Rachel.” + +Now Rachel, whose wits were made keen by doubt and anguish, looked at +the faces of the natives about her, and even in that dim moonlight read +them like a book, as she could always do. She saw that they were afraid +of her, and that if she commanded them, they would let her go free, +whatever their master might say or do. But she saw also that Ishmael +spoke truth when he declared that they had no such dread of Richard, +and might even believe that he was doing her some violence. If she +escaped therefore it would be at the cost of Richard’s life. Instantly +in her bold fashion she made up her mind. It was borne in upon her that +she had declared the truth; that Ishmael was doomed, that he had no +power to work her any hurt, however sore her case might seem. Since +Richard’s life hung on it she would go with him. + +“Servants of Ibubesi,” she said, “lift the white chief Dario to his +feet, and listen to my words.” + +They obeyed her at once, without even waiting for their master to +speak, only holding Richard by the arms. + +Now the most of the men went into the garden followed by Ishmael, and +taking Richard with them, but a few remained to watch her. From this +garden presently arose a sound of great quarrelling. Rachel was too far +off to understand what was said, but from the sounds she judged that +Ishmael was giving orders to his people which they refused to obey, for +she could hear him cursing them furiously. Presently she heard +something else—the loud report of a gun followed by groans. Then a +Kaffir ran up to them and whispered something to those who surrounded +her; it was that head man whom Ishmael had struck on the mouth in the +bush when he told him that a dog had howled upon his hut, and his face +was very frightened. + +Rachel leaned against the wall and looked at him, for she could not +speak, she who thought that Richard had been murdered. + +“Have no fear, Inkosazana,” said the man, answering the question in her +eyes. “Ibubesi has killed one of us because we do not like this +business and would clean it off our hands, that is all. The chief Dario +is safe, and I swear to thee that no harm shall come to him from us. We +will care for him and protect him to the death, and if we lead him away +a prisoner it is because we must, since otherwise Ibubesi will kill us +all. Therefore be merciful to us when the spear of thy power is +lifted.” + +Before Rachel could answer Ishmael’s voice was heard asking why they +did not bring the Inkosazana as the horses were ready. + +“I pray thee come, Zoola,” said the man hurriedly, “or he will shoot +more of us.” + +So Rachel walked down the steps of the stoep in front of them, holding +her head high, leaving behind her the house of Ramah and its dead. At +the gate of the garden stood the horses, on one of which, his own, +Richard was already mounted, his arms bound, his feet made fast beneath +it with a hide rope. Her path lay past him, and as she went by he said +in a voice that was choking with rage: + +“I am helpless, I cannot save you, but our hour will come.” + +“Yes, Richard,” she answered quietly, “our hour will come when his has +gone,” and with the spear in her hand once more she pointed at Ishmael, +who stood by watching them sullenly. Then she mounted her horse—how she +could never remember—and they were separated. + +After this she seemed to hear Ishmael talking to her, arguing, +explaining, but she made no answer to his words. Her mind was a blank, +and all she knew was that they were riding on for hours. Her tired +horse stumbled up a pass and down its further side. Then she heard dogs +bark and saw lights. The horse stopped and she slid from it, and as she +was too exhausted to walk, was supported or carried into a hut, as she +thought by women who seemed very much afraid of touching her, after +which she seemed to sink into blackness. + +Rachel woke from her stupor to find herself lying on a bed in a great +Kaffir hut that was furnished like a European room, for in it were +chairs and a table, also rough window places closed with reed mats that +took the place of glass. Through the smoke-hole at the top of the hut +struck a straight ray of sunlight, by which she judged that it must be +about midday. She began to think, till by degrees everything came back +to her, and in that hour she nearly died of horror and of grief. Indeed +she was minded to die. There at her side lay a means of death—the +assegai which she had found by the body of the Zulu in Ramah, and none +had taken from her. She lifted it and felt its edge, then laid it down +again. Into the darkness of her despair some comfort seemed to creep. +She was sure that Richard lived, and if she died, he would die also. +While he lived, why should she die? Moreover, it would be a crime which +she should only dare when all hope had gone and she stood face to face +with shame. + +Thrusting aside these thoughts she rose. On the table stood curdled +milk and other food of which she forced herself to eat, that her +strength might return to her, for she knew that she would need it all. +Then she washed and dressed herself, for in a corner of the hut was +water in wooden bowls, and even a comb and other things, that +apparently had been set there for her to use. This done, she went to +the door, which was made like that of a house, and finding that it was +not secured, opened it and looked out. Beyond was a piece of ground +floored with the soil taken from ant-heaps, and polished black after +the native fashion. This space was surrounded by a high stone wall, and +had at the end of it another very strong door. In its centre grew a +large, shady tree under which was placed a bench. Taking the assegai +with her she went to the door in the high wall and found that it was +barred on the further side. Then she returned and sat down on the bench +under the tree. + +It seemed that she had been observed, for a little while afterwards +bolts were shot back, the door in the wall opened, and Ishmael entered, +closing it behind him. She looked at the man, and at the sight of his +handsome, furtive face, his dark, guilt-laden eyes, her gorge rose. She +was alone in this secret place with the murderer of her father and her +mother, who sought her love. Yet, strangely enough, her heart was +filled not with tears, but with contempt and icy anger. She did not +shrink away from him as he came towards her in his gaudy clothes, with +an assumed air of insolent confidence, but sat pale and proud, as she +had sat at Umgugundhlovu, when the Zulus brought their causes before +her for judgment. + +He advanced into the shadow of the tree, took off his hat with a +flourish and bowed. Then as she made no answer to these salutations, +but only searched him with her grey eyes, he began to speak in jerky +sentences. + +“I hope you have slept well, Rachel; I am, glad to see you looking so +fresh. I was afraid that you would be over-tired after your long day. +You rode many miles. Of course what you found at Ramah must have been a +great shock to you. I want to explain to you quietly that I am not in +the least to blame about that terrible business. It was those accursed +Zulus who exceeded their orders.” + +So he went on, pausing between each remark for an answer, but no answer +came. At length he stopped, confused, and Rachel, lifting the assegai, +examined its blade, and asked him suddenly: + +“Whose blood is on this spear? Yours?” + +“A little of it, perhaps,” he answered. “That fool of a Kaffir +flourished it about after your father shot him and cut me with it +accidentally,” and he pointed to the wound on his face. + +Rachel bent down and began to rub the blade against the foot of the +bench as though to clean it. He did not know what she meant by this +act, yet it frightened him. + +“What are you doing?” he asked. + +She paused in her task and said, looking up at him: + +“I do not wish that your blood should defile mine even in death,” and +went on with her cleansing of the spear. + +He watched her for a little while, then broke out: + +“Curse it all! I don’t understand you. What do you mean?” + +“Ask the Zulus,” she answered. “They understand me, and they will tell +you. Or if there is no time, ask my father and mother—afterwards.” + +Ishmael paled visibly, then recovered himself with an effort and said: + +“Let us finish with all this witch-doctor nonsense, and come to +business. I had nothing to do with the death of your parents, indeed, I +was wounded in trying to protect them——” + +“Then why do I see both of them behind you with such accusing eyes?” +she asked quietly. + +He stalled, turned his head and stared about him. + +“You won’t frighten me like that,” he went on. “I am not a silly +Kaffir, so give it up. Look here, Rachel, you know I have loved you for +a long while, and though you treat me so badly I love you more than +ever now. Will you marry me?” + +“I told you last night that you would be dead in a few days. Do not +waste your time in talking of marriage. Sit in the dust and repent your +sins before you go down into the dust.” + +“All right, Rachel, I know you are a good prophet——” + +“Noie, too, is a good prophet,” she broke in reflectively. “You used +the Zulus to kill _her_ father and mother also, did you not? Do you +remember a message that she gave you from Seyapi one evening, down by +the sea, before you kidnapped her to be a bait to trap me in Zululand?” + +“Remember!” he answered, scowling. “Am I likely to forget her +devilries? If you are the witch, she is the familiar, the black +_ehlosé_ (spirit) who whispers in your ears. Had she not gone I should +never have caught you.” + +“But she will come back—although I fear not in time to bid you +farewell.” + +“You tell me that I shall soon be dead,” he exclaimed, ignoring this +talk of Noie. “Well, I am not frightened. I don’t believe you know +anything about it, but if you are right the more reason I should live +while I can. According to you, Rachel, we have no time to waste in a +long engagement. When is it to be?” + +“Never!” she answered contemptuously, “in this or any other world. +Never! Why, you are hateful to me; when I see you, I shiver as though a +snake crawled across my foot, and when I look at your hands they are +red with blood, the blood of my parents and of Noie’s parents, and of +many others. That is my answer.” + +He looked at her a while, then said: + +“You seem to forget that I am only asking for what I can take. No one +can see you or hear you here, except my women. You are in my power at +last, Rachel Dove.” + +These words which Ishmael intended should frighten her, as they might +well have done, produced, as it chanced, a quite different effect. +Rachel broke into a scornful laugh. + +“Look,” she said, pointing to an eagle that circled so high in the blue +heavens above them that it seemed no larger than a hawk, “that bird is +more in your power, and nearer to you than I am. Before you laid a +finger on me I would find a dozen means of death, but that, I tell you +again, you will never live to do.” + +For a while Ishmael was silent, weighing her words in his mind. +Apparently he could find no answer to them, for when he spoke again it +was of another matter. + +“You say that you hate me, Rachel. If so, it is because of that +accursed fellow, Darrien—whom you don’t hate. Well, he, at any rate, is +in my power. Now look here. You’ve got to make your choice. Either you +stop all this nonsense and become my wife, or—your friend Darrien dies. +Do you hear me?” + +Rachel made no answer. Now for the first time she was really +frightened, and feared lest her speech should show it. + +“You have been through a lot,” he went on, slowly; “you are tired out, +and don’t know what you say, and you believe that I killed the old +people, which I didn’t, and, of course, that has set you against me. +Now, I don’t want to be rough, or to hurry you, especially as I have +plenty of things to see about before we are married. So I give you +three days. If you don’t change your mind at the end of them, the young +man dies, that’s all, and afterwards we will see whether or no you are +in my power. Oh! you needn’t stare. I’ve gone too far to turn back, and +I don’t mind a few extra risks. Meanwhile make yourself easy, dear +Richard shall be well looked after, and I won’t bother you with any +more love-making. That can wait.” + +Rachel rose from her seat and pointed with the spear to the door in the +wall. + +“Go,” she said. + +“All right, I am going, Rachel. Good-bye till this time three days. I +hope my women will make you as comfortable as possible in this rough +place. Ask them for anything you want. Good-bye, Rachel,” and he went, +bolting the wall door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +THE THREE DAYS + + +He was gone, his presence had ceased to poison the air, and, the long +strain over, Rachel gave a gasp of relief. Then she sat down upon the +bench and began to think. Her position, and that of Richard, was +desperate; it seemed scarcely possible that they could escape with +their lives, for if he died, she would die also—as to that she was +quite determined. But at least they had three days, and who could say +what would happen in three days? For instance, they might escape +somehow, the Providence in which she believed might intervene, or the +Zulus might come to seek her, if they only knew where she was gone. Oh! +why had she not brought a guard of them with her to Ramah? At least +they would never have insulted her, and Ishmael’s shrift would have +been short. + +She wondered why he had given her three days. A reason suggested itself +to her mind. Perhaps he believed what she had told him—that she was as +safe from him as the eagle in the air—and was sure that the only way to +snare her was by using Richard as a lure, in other words, by +threatening to murder him. It is true that he could have brought the +matter to a head at once, but then, if she remained obdurate, he must +carry out his threat, and this, she believed, he was afraid to do +unless it was absolutely forced upon him. Doubtless he had reflected +that in three days she might weaken and give way. + +Whilst Rachel brooded thus the door in the wall opened, and through it +came three women, who saluted her respectfully, and announced that they +were sent to clean the hut, and attend upon her. Rachel took stock of +them carefully. Two of them were young, ordinary, good-looking Kaffirs, +but the third was between thirty and forty, and no longer attractive, +having become old early, as natives do. Moreover, her face was sad and +sympathetic. Rachel asked her her name. She answered that it was Mami, +and that they were all the wives of Ibubesi. + +The women went about their duties in the hut in silence, and a while +afterwards announced that all was made clean, and that they would +return presently with food. Rachel answered that it was not necessary +that three of them should be put to so much trouble. It would be enough +if Mami came. She desired to be waited on by Mami alone, her sisters +need not come any more. + +They all three saluted again, and said that she should be obeyed; the +two younger ones with alacrity. To Rachel it was evident that these +women were much afraid of her. Her reputation had reached them, and +they shrank from this task of attending on the mighty Inkosazana of the +Zulus in her cage, not knowing what evil it might bring upon them. + +An hour later the door was unbolted, and Mami reappeared with the food +that had been very carefully cooked. Rachel ate of it, for she was +determined to grow strong again, she who might need all her strength, +and while she ate talked to Mami, who squatted on the ground before +her. Soon she drew her story from her. The woman was Ishmael’s first +Kaffir wife, but he had never cared for her, and against all law and +custom she was discarded, and made a slave. Even some of her cattle had +been taken from her and given to other wives. So her heart was bitter +against Ishmael, and she said that although once she was proud to be +the wife of a white man, now she wished that she had never seen his +face. + +Here, then, was material ready to Rachel’s hand, but she did not press +the matter too far at this time. Only she said that she wished Mami to +stay with her after the evening meal, and to sleep in her hut, as she +was not accustomed to be alone at night. Mami replied that she would do +so gladly if Ibubesi allowed it, although she was not worthy of such +honour. + +As it happened, Ishmael did allow it, for he thought that he could +trust this old drudge, and told her to act as a spy upon Rachel, and +report to him all that she said or did. Very soon Rachel found this out +and warned her against obeying him, since if she did so it would come +to her knowledge, and then great evil would fall on one who betrayed +the words of the Inkosazana. + +Mami answered that she knew it, and that Rachel need not be afraid. Any +tale would do for Ishmael, whom she hated. Then, saying little herself, +Rachel encouraged her to talk, which Mami did freely. So she heard some +news. She learned, for instance, that the whole town of Mafooti, +whereof Ibubesi was chief, which counted some sixty or seventy heads of +families, was much disturbed by the events of the last few days. They +did not like the Inkosazana being brought there, thinking that where +she went the Zulus would follow, and as they were of Zulu blood +themselves, they knew what that meant. They were alarmed at the deaths +of the white sky-doctor, who was called Shouter, and his wife, with +which Ibubesi had something to do, for they feared lest they should be +held responsible for their blood. They objected to the imprisonment of +the white chief, Dario, among them, because “he had hurt no one, and +was under the mantle of the Inkosazana, who was a spirit, not a woman,” +and who had warned them that if any harm came to her or to him, death +would be their reward. They were angry, also, because Ibubesi had +killed one of them in some quarrel about the chief Dario at Ramah. +Still, they were so much afraid of Ibubesi, who was a great tyrant, +that they did not dare to interfere with him and his plans, lest they +should lose their cattle, or, perhaps, their lives. So they did not +know what to do. As for Ibubesi himself, he was actively engaged in +strengthening the fortifications of the place; even the old people and +the children were being forced to carry stones to the walls, from which +it was evident that he feared some attack. + +When Rachel had gathered this and much other information concerning +Ishmael’s past and habits, she asked Mami if she could convey a message +from her to Richard. The woman answered that she would try on the +following morning. So Rachel told her to say that she was safe and +well, but that he must watch his footsteps, as both of them were in +great danger. More she did not dare to say, fearing lest Mami should +betray her, or be beaten till she confessed everything. Then, as there +was nothing more to be done, Rachel lay down and slept as best she +could. + +The next day passed in much the same fashion as the first had done. For +the most of it Rachel sat under the tree in the walled yard, +companioned only by her terrible thoughts and fears. Nobody came near +her, and nothing happened. In the morning Mami went out, and returning +at the dinner hour, told Rachel that she had seen Ishmael, who had +questioned her closely as to what the Inkosazana had done and said, to +which she replied that she had only eaten and slept, and invoked the +spirits on her knees. As for words, none had passed her lips. She had +not been able to get near the huts where Dario was in prison, as +Ishmael was watching her. For the rest, the work of fortification went +on without cease, even Ishmael’s own wives being employed thereon. + +In the afternoon Mami went out again and did not return till night, +when she had much to tell. To begin with, while the sentry was dozing, +being wearied with carrying stones to the wall, she had managed to +approach the fence of the hut where Richard was confined. She said that +he was walking up and down inside the fence with his hands tied, and +she had spoken to him through a crack in the reeds, and given him +Rachel’s message. He listened eagerly, and bade her tell the Inkosazana +that he thanked her for her words; that he, too, was strong and well, +though much troubled in mind, but the future was in the hands of the +Heavens, and that she must keep a high heart. Just then the sentry woke +up, so Mami could not wait to hear any more. + +That evening, however, a lad who had been sent out of the town to drive +in some cattle, had returned with the tidings which she, Mami, heard +him deliver to Ibubesi with her own ears. + +He said that whilst he was collecting the oxen, a ringed Zulu came upon +him, who from his manner and bearing he took to be a great chief, +although he was alone, and seemed to be tired with walking. The Zulu +has asked him if it were true that the Inkosazana and the white chief +Dario were in prison at Mafooti, and when he hesitated about replying, +threatened him with his assegai, saying that he would cut out his heart +unless he told the truth. The Zulu replied that he knew it, as he had +just come from Ramah, where he had seen strange things, and spoken with +a man of Ibubesi’s, whom he found dying in the garden of the house. +Then he had given him this message: + +“Say to Ibubesi that I know all his wickedness, and that if the +Inkosazana is harmed, or a drop of the blood of the white chief, +Dario, is shed, I will destroy him and everything that lives in his +town down to the rats. Say to him also that he cannot escape, as +already he is ringed in by the children of the Shouter, who have come +back, and are watching him.” + +The lad had asked who it was that sent such a message, whereon he +answered, “I am the Horn of the Black Bull; I am the Trunk of the +Elephant; I am the Mouth of Dingaan.” + +Then straightway he turned and departed at a run towards Zululand. +Moreover, Mami described the man in the words of the lad, and Rachel +thought that he could be none other than Tamboosa, whom she had +commanded to follow her with the white ox. Mami added that when he +received this message Ibubesi seemed much disturbed, though to his +people he declared that it was all nonsense, as Dingaan’s Mouth would +not come alone, or deliver the King’s word to a boy. But the people +thought otherwise, and murmured among themselves, fearing the terrible +vengeance of Dingaan. + +On the next day Mami went out again. At nightfall, when she returned, +she told Rachel that she had not found it possible to approach the huts +where Dario was, as the hole she made in the fence to speak with him +had been discovered, and a stricter watch was kept over him. Ibubesi, +she said, was in an ill humour, and working furiously to finish his +fortifications, as he was now sure that the town was being watched, +either by the Kaffirs of Ramah, or others. As for the people of +Mafooti, they were grumbling very much, both on account of the +heavy labour of working at the walls, and because they were in terror +of being attacked and killed in payment for the evil deeds of their +chief. Mami declared, indeed, that so great was their fear and +discontent, that she thought they would desert the town in a body, were +it not that they dreaded lest they should fall into the hands of the +Kaffirs who were watching it. Rachel asked her whether they would not +then take her and Dario and deliver them up to the Zulus, or to the +white people on the coast. Mami answered she thought they would be +afraid to do this, as Ibubesi alone had guns, and would shoot plenty of +them; also if the Zulus found them with their Inkosazana they would +kill them. She added that she had seen Ibubesi, who bade her tell the +Inkosazana that he was coming for her answer on the morrow. + +Rachel slept ill that night. The space of her reprieve had gone by, and +next morning she must face the issue. For herself she did not so +greatly care, for at the worst she had a refuge whither Ishmael could +not follow her—the grave. After all she had endured it seemed to her +that this must be a peaceful place; moreover, in her case what Power +could blame her? But there was Richard to be thought of. If she refused +Ishmael he swore that he would kill Richard. And yet how could she pay +that price even to save her lover’s life? Perhaps he would not kill him +after all; perhaps he would be afraid of the vengeance of the Zulus, +and was only trying to frighten her. Ah! if only the Zulus would +come—before it was too late! It was scarcely to be hoped for. Tamboosa, +if it were he who had spoken with the lad, would not have had time to +return to Zululand and collect an impi, and when they did come, the +deed might be done. If only these servants of Ibubesi would rise +against him and kill him, or carry off Richard and herself! Alas! they +feared the man too much, and she could not get at them to persuade +them. There was nothing that she could do except pray. Richard and she +must take their chance. Things must go as they were decreed. + +If she could have seen Ishmael at this hour and read his thoughts, that +sight and knowledge might have brought some comfort to her tortured +heart. The man was seated in his hut alone, staring at the floor and +pulling his long black beard with hands rough from toiling at the +walls. He was drinking also, stiff tots of rum and water, but the fiery +liquor seemed to bring him no comfort. As he drank, he thought. He was +determined to get possession of Rachel; that desire had become a +madness with him. He could never abandon it while he lived. But _she_ +might not live. She had sworn that she would rather die than become his +wife, and she was not a woman who broke her word. Also she hated him +bitterly, and with good cause. There was only one way to work on +her—through her love for this man, Richard Darrien; for that she did +love him, he had little doubt. If it were choice between yielding and +the death of Darrien, then perhaps she might give way. But there came +the rub. + +Dingaan had sworn to him that if he made Darrien’s blood to flow, then +he should be killed, and, like Rachel, Dingaan kept his oaths. +Moreover, that Zulu who met the cattle herd had sworn it again in +almost the same words. Therefore it would seem that if he wished to +continue to breathe, Darrien’s blood must not be made to flow. All the +rest might be explained when the impi came, as it would do sooner or +later, especially if he could show to them that the Inkosazana was his +willing wife, but the murder of Darrien could never be explained. Well, +the man might die, or seem to die, and then who could hold him +responsible? Or if they did, if any of his people remained faithful to +him, an attack might be beaten off. Brave as they were, the Zulus could +not storm those walls on which he had spent so much labour, though now +he almost wished that he had left the walls alone and settled the +affair of Rachel and of Darrien first. + +Ishmael poured out more rum and drank it, neat this time, as though to +nerve himself for some undertaking. Then he went to the door of the hut +and called, whereon presently a hideous old woman crept in and squatted +down in the circle of light thrown by the lamp. She was wrinkled and +deformed, and her snake-skin moocha, with the inflated fish-bladder in +her hair, showed that she was a witch-doctoress. + +“Well, Mother,” he said, “have you made the poison?” + +“Yes, Ibubesi, yes. I have made it as I alone can do. Oh! it is a +wonderful drug, worth many cows. How many did you say you would give +me? Six?” + +“No, three; but if it does what is wanted you shall have the other +three as well. Tell me again, how does it work?” + +“Thus, Ibubesi. Whoever drinks this medicine becomes like one dead—none +can tell the difference, no, not a doctor even—and remains so for a +long while—perhaps one day, perhaps two, perhaps even three. Then life +returns, and by degrees strength, but not memory; for whole moons the +memory is gone, and he who has drunk remains like a child that has +everything to learn.” + +“You lie, Mother. I never heard of such a medicine.” + +“You never heard of it because none can make it save me, and I had its +secret from my grandmother; also few can afford to pay me for it. +Still, it has been used, and were I not afraid I could give you cases. +Stay, I will show you. Call that beast,” and she pointed to a dog that +was asleep at the side of the hut. “Here is milk; I will show you.” + +Ishmael hesitated, for he was fond of this dog; then as he wished to +test the stuff he called it. It came and sat down beside him, looking +up in his face with faithful eyes. Then the old witch poured milk into +a bowl, and in the milk mixed some white powder which she took out of a +folded leaf, and offered it to the animal. The dog sniffed the milk, +growled slightly, and refused it. + +“The evil beast does not like me; he bit me the other day,” said the +old doctoress. “Do you give it to him, Ibubesi; he will trust you.” + +So Ishmael patted the dog on the head, then offered it the milk, which +it lapped up to the last drop. + +“There, evil beast,” said the woman, with a chuckle, “you won’t bite me +any more; you’ll forget all about me for a long time. Look at him, +Ibubesi, look at him.” + +As she spoke, the poor dog’s coat began to stare; then it uttered a low +howl, ran to Ishmael, tried to lick his hand, and rolled over, to all +appearance quite dead. + +“You have killed my dog, which I love, you hag!” he said angrily. + +“Then why did you give medicine to what you love, Ibubesi? But have no +fear, the evil beast has only taken a small dose; to-morrow morning it +will awake, but it will not know you or anyone. Who is the medicine +for, Ibubesi? The Lady Zoola? If so, it may not work on her, for she is +mighty, and cannot be harmed.” + +“Fool! Do you think that I would play tricks with the Inkosazana?” + +“No, you want to marry her, don’t you? but it seems to me that she has +no mind that way. Then it is for the man for whom she has a mind? Well, +Ibubesi, you have promised the six cows, and you saved me once from +being killed for witchcraft, so I will say something. Don’t give it to +the chief Dario.” + +“Why not, you old fool; will it kill him after all?” + +“No, no; it will do what I said, no less and no more, in this +quantity,” and she handed him another powder wrapped in dry leaves; +“but I have had bad dreams about you, Ibubesi, and they were mixed up +with the Inkosazana and this white man Dario. I dreamed they brought +your death upon you—a dreadful death. Ibubesi, be wise, set Dario free, +and change your mind as to marrying the Inkosazana, who is not for +you.” + +“How can I change my mind, Descendant of Wizards?” broke out Ishmael. +“Can a river penned between rocks change its course? Can it run +backwards from the sea to the hill? This woman draws me as the sea +draws the river; because of her my blood is afire. I had rather win her +and die, than live rich and safe without her to old age. The more she +hates and scorns me, the more I love her.” + +“I understand,” said the doctoress, nodding her head till the bladder +in her hair bobbed about like a float at which a fish is pulling. “I +understand. I have seen people like this before—men and women too—when +a bad spirit enters into them because of some crime they have +committed. The Inkosazana, or those who guard her, have sent you this +bad spirit, and, Ibubesi, you must run the road upon which it is +appointed that you should travel; for joy or sorrow you must run that +road. But when we meet in the world of ghosts, which I think will be +soon, do not blame me, do not say that I did not warn you. Now it is +all right about those cows, is it not? although I dare say the Zulus +will milk them and not I, for to-night I seem to smell Zulus in the +air,” and she lifted her broad nose and sniffed like a hound. “I wish +you could have left the Inkosazana alone, and that Dario too, for he is +a part of her; in my dreams they seemed to be one. But you won’t, you +will walk your own path; so good night, Ibubesi. The dog will wake +again in the morning, but he will not know you. Good night, Ibubesi—of +course I understand that the cows will be young ones that have not had +more than two calves. Mix the powder in milk, or water, or anything; it +is without taste or colour. Good night, Ibubesi,” and without waiting +for an answer the old wretch crept out of the hut. + +When she was gone Ishmael cursed her aloud, then drank some more rum, +which he seemed to need. The place was very lonely, and the sight of +his dog, lying to all appearance dead at his side, oppressed him. He +patted its head and it did not move; he lifted its paw and it fell down +flabbily. The brute was as dead as anything could be. It occurred to +him that before night came again he might look like that dog. His story +might be told; he might have left the earth in company of all the deeds +that he had done thereon. He had imagination enough to know his sins, +and they were an evil host to face. Old Dove and his wife, for +instance—holy people who believed in God and Vengeance, and had never +done any wrong, only striven for years and years to benefit others; it +would not be pleasant to meet them. Rachel had said that she saw them +standing behind him, and he felt as though they were there at that +moment. Look, one of them crossed between him and the lamp—there was +the mark of the kerry on his head—and the woman followed; he could see +her blue lips as she bent down to look at the dog. It was unbearable. +He would go and talk to Rachel, and ask her if she had made up her +mind. No, for if he broke in on her thus at night, he was sure that she +would kill either herself or him with that spear she had taken from the +dead Zulu, reddened with his own blood. He would keep faith with her +and wait till the morrow. He would send for one of his wives. No, the +thought of those women made him sick. He would go round the +fortifications and beat any sentries whom he found asleep, or receive +the reports of the spies. To stop in that hut in the company of a dog +which seemed to be dead, and of imaginations that no rum could drown, +was impossible. + + +Once more the morning came, and Rachel sat in the walled yard awaiting +the dreadful hour of her trial, for it was the day and time that +Ishmael had appointed for her answer. Until now Rachel had cherished +hopes that something might happen: that the people of Mafooti might +intervene to save her and Richard; that the Zulus might appear, even +that Ishmael might relent and let them go. But Mami had been out that +morning and brought back tidings which dispelled these hopes. She had +ventured to sound some of the leading men, and said that, like all the +people, they were very sullen and alarmed, but declared, as she had +expected, that they dare do nothing, for Ibubesi would kill them, and +if they escape him the Zulus would kill them because the Inkosazana was +found in their possession. Of the Zulus themselves, scouts who had been +out for miles, reported that they had seen no sign. It was clear also +that Ishmael was as determined as ever, for he had sent her a message +by Mami that he would wait upon her as he had promised, and bring the +white man with him. + +Then what should she say and what should she do? Rachel could think of +no plan; she could only sit still and pray while the shadow of that +awful hour crept ever nearer. + +It had come; she heard voices without the wall, among them Ishmael’s. +Her heart stopped, then bounded like a live thing in her breast. He was +commanding someone to “catch that dog and tie it up, for it was +bewitched, and did not know him or anyone,” then the sound of a dog +being dragged away, whining feebly, and then the door opened. First +Ishmael came in with an affectation of swaggering boldness, but looking +like a man suffering from the effects of a long debauch. About his eyes +were great black rings, and in them was a stare of sleeplessness. He +carried a double-barrelled gun under his arm, but the hand with which +he supported it shook visibly, and at every unusual sound he started. +After him came Richard, his wrists bound together behind him, and on +his legs hide shackles which only just allowed him to shuffle forward +slowly. Moreover he was guarded by four men who carried spears. Rachel +glanced quickly at his face, and saw that it was pale and resolute; +quite untouched by fear. + +“Are you well?” she asked quietly, taking no note of Ishmael. + +“Yes,” he answered, “and you, Rachel?” + +“Quite well bodily, Richard, but oh! my soul is sick.” + +Before he could reply Ishmael turned on him savagely, and bade him be +silent, or it would be the worse for him. Then he took off his hat with +his shaking hand, and bowed to Rachel. + +“Rachel,” he said, “I have kept my promise, and left you alone for +three days, but time is up and now this gentleman and I have come to +hear your decision, which is so important to both of us.” + +“What am I to decide?” she asked in a low voice, looking straight +before her. + +“Have you forgotten? Your memory must be very bad. Well, it is best to +have no mistake, and no doubt our friend here would like to know +exactly how things stand. You have to decide whether you will take me +as your husband to-day of your own free will, or whether Mr. Richard +Darrien shall suffer the punishment of death, for having tried to kill +his sentry and escape, a crime of which he has been guilty, and +afterwards I should take you as my wife with, or without, your +consent.” + +When Richard heard these words the veins in his forehead swelled with +rage and horror till it seemed as though they would burst. + +“You unutterable villain,” he gasped, “you cowardly hound! Oh! if only +my hands were free.” + +“Well, they ain’t, Mr. Darrien, and it’s no use your tugging at that +buffalo hide, so hold your tongue, and let us hear the lady’s answer,” +sneered Ishmael. + +“Richard, Richard,” said Rachel in a kind of wail, “you have heard. It +is a matter of your life. What am I to do?” + +“Do?” he answered, in loud, firm tones, “do? How can you ask me such a +question? The matter is not one of my life, but of your—of your—oh! I +cannot say it. Let this foul beast kill me, of course, and then, if you +care enough, follow the same road. A few years sooner or later make +little difference, and so we shall soon be together again.” + +She thought a moment, then said quietly: + +“Yes, I care enough, and a hundred times more than that. Yes, that is +the only way out. Listen, you Ishmael:—Richard Darrien, the man to whom +I am sworn, and I, give you this answer. Murder him if you will, and +bring God’s everlasting vengeance on your head. He will not buy his +life on such terms, and if I consented to them I should be false to +him. Murder him as you murdered my father and mother, and when I know +that he is dead I will go to join him and them.” + +“All right, Rachel,” said Ishmael, whose face was white with fury, “I +think I will take you at your word, and you can go to look for him down +below, if you like, for if I am not to get you here, he shan’t. Now +then, say your prayers, Mr. Darrien,” and stepping forward slowly he +cocked the double-barrelled gun. + +“Men of Mafooti,” exclaimed Rachel in Zulu, “Ibubesi is about to do +murder on one who like myself is under the mantle of Dingaan. If his +blood should flow to-day or to-morrow, yours shall flow in payment, +yours, and that of your wives and children, for the crime of the chief +is the crime of the people.” + +At her words the four natives who had been watching this scene +uneasily, although they could not understand the English talk, called +out to Ishmael in remonstrance. His only answer was to lift the gun, +and for an instant that seemed infinite Rachel waited to hear its +explosion, and to see the grey-eyed, open-faced man she loved, who +stood there like a rock, fall a shattered corpse. Then one of the +Kaffirs, bolder than the rest, struck up the barrels with his arm, and +not too soon, for whether or no he had meant to pull the trigger, the +rifle went off. + +“Try the other barrel,” said Richard sarcastically, as the smoke +cleared away, “that shot was too high.” + +Perhaps Ishmael might have done so, for the man was beside himself, but +the Kaffirs would have no more of it. They rushed between them, lifting +their spears threateningly, and shouting that they would not allow the +blood of the white lord and the curse of the Inkosazana to be brought +upon their heads and those of their families. Rather than that they +would bind him, Ibubesi, and give him over to the Zulus. Then, whether +or not he had really meant to kill Richard, Ishmael thought it politic +to give way. + +“So be it,” he said to Rachel, “I am merciful, and both of you shall +have another chance. I am going with this fellow, but the woman, Mami, +shall come to you. If within three hours you send her to me with a +message to say that you have changed your mind, he shall be spared. If +not, before nightfall you shall see his body, and afterwards we will +settle matters.” + +“Rachel, Rachel,” cried Richard, “swear that you will send no such +message.” + +Now the brute, Ishmael, rushed at him to strike him in the face. But +Richard saw him coming, and bound though he was, put down his head and +butted at him so fiercely, that being much the stronger man, he knocked +him to the ground, where he lay breathless. + +“Swear, Rachel, swear,” he repeated, “or dead or living, I will never +forgive you.” + +“I swear,” she said, faintly. + +Then he shuffled towards her. Bending down he kissed her on the face, +and she kissed him back; no more words passed between them; this was +their farewell. Two of the Kaffirs lifted Ishmael, and helped him from +the yard, whilst the other two led away Richard, who made no +resistance. At the gate he turned, and their eyes met for a moment. +Then it closed behind him, and she was left alone again. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +RACHEL LOSES HER SPIRIT + + +A little while later Mami entered, and said that she had been sent by +Ibubesi to serve the Inkosazana as a messenger, should she need one. +Rachel, seated on the bench, motioned to her to go into the hut and +bide there, and she obeyed. + +Minute by minute the time ebbed away, and still Rachel sat motionless +on the bench. Towards the end of the third hour someone unbolted and +knocked at the door. Mami opened it and reported that Ibubesi stood +without, and desired to know whether she had any word for him. + +“None,” answered Rachel, remembering her oath, and the door was barred +again. + +After this a great silence seemed to fall upon the place. The sky was +grey with distant rain, and the air heavy, and whatever may have been +the cause, no sound came from man or beast without. To Rachel’s +strained nerves it seemed as though the Angel of Death had spread his +wings above the town. There she sat paralysed, wondering what evil +thing was being worked upon her lover; wondering if she had done right +to give him as a sacrifice to this savage in order to save herself from +dreadful wrong—wondering, wondering till the powers of her mind seemed +to die within her, leaving it grey and empty as the grey and empty sky +above. + +Night drew on and the setting sun, bursting through the envelope of +cloud, filled earth and sky with fire, and it came into Rachel’s heart, +she knew not whence, that fire was near, that soon it would swallow up +all this place. + +Look! the door was opening; it swung wide, and through it advanced +eight Kaffirs, carrying something on a litter made of shields, +something that was covered with a blanket of bark. They drew near to +her with bent heads, and set down their burden at her feet. Then one of +them lifted the blanket, revealing the body of Richard Darrien, and +saying in an awed voice, + +“Inkosazana, Ibubesi sends you this to look or to show you that he +keeps his word. Later he will visit you himself.” + +Rachel knelt down by the litter of shields and looked at Richard’s +face. The stamp of death was on it. She felt his hand, it was turning +cold; she felt his heart, it did not beat. + +“Show me this dead lord’s wounds,” she said in an awful whisper, “that +presently mine may be like to them.” + +“Inkosazana,” said the spokesman, “he has no wound.” + +“How, then, did he die? Strange that he should die, and I not feel his +spirit pass.” + +“Inkosazana, he was thirsty, and drank, then he died.” + +“So, so! he was slain by poison, and I have no poison. Mami, come forth +and look on the white lord whom Ibubesi has murdered by poison.” + +The woman Mami, who had been sleeping in the hut, awoke and obeyed. She +saw, and wailed aloud. + +“Woe to Mafooti!” she cried, like one inspired, “and woe, woe to those +that dwell therein, for now vengeance, red vengeance, shall fall on +them from Heaven. The blood of the innocent is upon them, the curse of +the Inkosazana is upon them, the spears of the Zulus are upon them. +Slay the _silwana,_ the wild beast—Ibubesi, and fly, people of Mafooti, +fly, fly with that dead thing. Leave it not here to bear witness +against you. Carry it far away, and heap a mountain on it. Bury it in a +valley that no man can find; bury it in the black water, lest it should +arise and bear witness against you. Leave it not here, but let the +darkness cover it, and fly with it into the darkness, as I do,” and +turning she sped to the door and through it. + +The light from the sunk sun went out smothered in the gathering +thunder-clouds. Through the gloom the terrified bearers muttered to +each other. + +“Throw it down and away!” said one. + +“Nay,” answered another, “wisdom has come to Mami, her _ehlosé_ has +spoken to her. Take it with you, lest it should remain to bear witness +against us.” + +“Remember what the Zulu swore,” said a third, “that if harm came to +this lord they would kill all, down to the rats. Take it away so that +it may not be found. If you meet Ibubesi, spear him. If not, leave him +the vengeance for his share.” + +Now, moved as though by a common impulse, the bearers cast back the +blanket over the corpse, and lifting the litter, departed at a run. The +door was shut and bolted behind them, and darkness fell upon the earth. + +For a while Rachel stood still in the darkness. + +“Now I am alone,” she said in a quiet voice, yet to her ears the words +seemed to be uttered with a roar of thunder that echoed through the +firmament, and pierced upwards to the feet of God. + +Then suddenly something snapped in her brain and she was changed. The +horror left her, the terror left her, she felt very well and strong, so +well that she laughed aloud, and again that laugh filled earth and +heaven. Oh! she was hungry, and food stood on a table near by. She +sprang to it and ate, ate heartily. Then she drank, muttering to +herself, “Richard drank before he died. Let me drink also and cease to +be alone.” + +Her meal finished, she walked up and down the place singing a song that +seemed to be caught up triumphantly by a million voices, the voices of +all who had ever lived and died. Their awful music stunned her and she +ceased. Look! Wild beasts wearing the face of Ibubesi were licking the +clouds with their tongues of fire. It was curious, but in that +high-walled place she could not see it well. Now from the top of the +hut the view would be better. Yes, and Ishmael was coming to visit her. +Well, they would meet for the last time on the top of the hut. She was +not afraid of him, not at all; but it would be strange to see him +scrambling up the hut, and they would talk there for a little while +with their faces close together, till—ah!—till what—? Till something +strange happened, something unhappy for Ishmael. Oh! no, no, she would +not kill herself, she would wait to see what it was that happened to +Ishmael, that strange thing which she knew so well, and yet could not +remember. + +How easy this hut was to climb, a cat could not have run up with less +trouble. Now she stood on the top of it, her spear in one hand, and +holding with the other to the pole that was set there to scare away the +lightning; stood for a long time watching the wild beasts licking the +clouds with their red tongues. + +The beasts grew weary of lapping up clouds. Their appetites were +satisfied for a while, at any rate she saw their tongues no more. The +air was very hot and heavy, and the darkness very dense, it seemed to +press about her as though she were plunged in cream. Yet Rachel thought +that she heard sounds through it, a sound of feet to the west and a +sound of feet to the east. + +Then she heard another sound, that of the door in the wall opening, and +of a soft, tentative footfall, like to the footfall of a questing wolf. +She knew it at once, for now her senses were sharper than those of any +savage; it was the step of Ibubesi, the Night-prowler. She felt +inclined to laugh; it was so funny to think of herself standing there +on the top of a hut while the Night-prowler slunk about below looking +for her. But she refrained, remembering the dreadful noise when all the +Heavens began to laugh in answer. So she was silent, for the Heavens do +not reverberate silence, although she could hear her own thoughts +passing through them, passing up one by one on their infinite journey. + +Listen! He was walking round and round the yard. He went to the bench +beneath the tree and felt along it with his fingers to see if she were +there. Now he was entering the hut and groping at the bedstead, and now +he had kindled a light, for the rays of it shone faintly up through the +smoke-hole. Discovering nothing he came out again, leaving the lamp +burning within, and called her softly. + +“Rachel,” he said, “Rachel, where are you?” + +There was no answer, and he began to talk to himself. + +“Has she got away?” he muttered. “Some of them have gone, I know, the +accursed, cowardly fools. No, it is not possible, the watch was too +good, unless she is really a spirit, and has melted, as spirits do. I +hope not, for if so she will haunt me, and I want her company in the +flesh, not in the spirit. I ought to have it too, for it has cost me +pretty dear. She must have bewitched me, or why should I risk +everything for her, just one white woman who hates the sight of me? The +devil is at the back of it. This was his road from the first.” + +So he went on until Rachel could bear it no more, the thing was too +absurd. + +“Yes, yes,” she said from the top of the hut, “his road from the first, +and it ends not far away, at the red gates of Hell, Night-prowler.” + +The man below gasped, and fell against the fence. + +“Whose voice is that? Where are you?” he asked of the air. + +Then as there was no answer, he added: “It sounded like Rachel, but it +spoke above me. I suppose that she has killed herself. I thought she +might, but better that she should be dead than belong to that fellow. +Only then why does she speak?” + +He started to feel his way towards the hut, perhaps to fetch the lamp, +when suddenly the skies behind were illumined in a blaze of light, a +broad slow blaze that endured for several seconds. By it the eyes of +Rachel, made quick with madness, saw many things. From her perch on the +top of the hut she saw the town of Mafooti. On the plain to the west +she saw a number of black dots, which she took to be people and cattle +travelling away from the town. In the nek to the east she saw more +dots, each of them crested with white, and carrying something white. +Surely it was a Zulu impi marching! Some of these dots had come to the +wall of the town; yes, and some of them were on the crest of it, while +yet others were creeping down its main street not a hundred yards away. + +Also these caught sight of something, for they paused and seemed to +fall together as though in fear. Lastly, just before the light went +out, she perceived Ishmael in the yard below, glaring up at her, for +he, too, had seen her. Seen her standing above him in the air, the +spear in her hand, and in her eyes fire. But of the dots to the east +and of the dots to the west he had seen nothing. He appeared to fall to +his knees and remain there muttering. Then the Heavens blazed again, +for the storm was coming up, and by the flare of them he read the +truth. This was no ghost, but the living woman. + +“Oh!” he said, recovering himself, “that’s where you’ve got to, is it? +Come down, Rachel, and let us talk.” + +She made no answer, none at all, she who was so curious to see what he +would do. For quite a long while he harangued her from below, walking +round and round the hut. Then at length in despair he began to climb +it. But in that darkness which now and again turned to dazzling light, +unlike Rachel, he found the task difficult, and once, missing his hold, +he fell to the ground heavily. Finding his feet he rushed at the hut +with an oath, and clutching the straw and the grass strings that bound +it, struggled almost to the top, to be met by the point of Rachel’s +spear held in his face. There then he hung, looking like a toad on the +slope of a rock, unable to advance because of that spear, and unwilling +to go down, lest his labour must be begun again. + +“Rachel,” he said, “come down, Rachel. Whatever I have done has been +for your sake, come down and tell me that you forgive me.” + +She laughed out loud, a wild, screaming laugh, for really he looked +most ridiculous, sprawling there on the bend of the hut, and the +lightning showed her all sorts of pictures in his eyes. + +“Did Richard Darrien forgive you?” she asked. “And what did you mix +that poison with? Milk? The milk of human kindness! It was a very good +poison, Toad, so good that I think you must have drawn it from your own +blood. When you are dead all the Bushmen should come and dip their +arrows in you, for then even crocodiles and the big snakes would die at +a scratch.” + +He made no answer, so she went on. + +“Have your people forgiven you? If so, why do they flee away, carrying +that white thing which was a man? Have my father and mother forgiven +you? Do you hear what they are saying to me—that judgment is the +Lord’s? Have the Zulus forgiven you, the Zulus who believe that +judgment is the King’s—and the Inkosazana’s? Turn now, and ask them, +for here they are,” and she pointed over his head with her spear. +“Turn, Toad, and set out your case and I will stand above and try it, +the case of Dingaan against Ibubesi, and one by one I will call up all +those who died through you, and they shall give their evidence, and I, +the Judge, will sum it up to a jury of sharp spears. See, here come the +spears. Look at the wall, Toad, _look at the wall!_” + +As she raved on and pointed with her assegai, the lightning blazed out, +and Ishmael, who had looked round at her bidding, saw Zulu warriors +leaping down from the crest of the wall, and Zulu captains rushing in +by the opened door. At this terrible sight he slid to the ground +purposing to reach his gun which he had left there, and defend or kill +himself, who knows which? But before ever he could lay a hand upon it, +those fierce men had pounced upon him like leopards on a goat. Now they +held him fast, and a voice—it was that of Tamboosa, called through the +darkness, + +“Hail to thee! Inkosazana. Come down now and pass judgment on this wild +beast who would have harmed thee.” + +“Tamboosa,” she cried, “the Inkosazana has fled away, only the white +woman in whom she dwelt remains; her spirit hangs in wrath over the +people of the Zulus, as an eagle hangs above a hare. Tamboosa, there is +blood between the Inkosazana and the people of the Zulus, the blood of +those who gave her the body that she wore, who lie slain by them upon +the bed at Ramah. Tamboosa, there is blood between her and Ibubesi, the +blood of the white man who loved the body that she wore, and whom she +loved, the white lord whom Ibubesi did to death this day because she +who was the Inkosazana would not give herself to him. Tamboosa, the +Inkosazana has suffered much from this Ibubesi, many an insult, many a +shame, and when she called upon the Zulus, out of all their thousand +thousands there was not a single spear to help her, because they were +too busy killing those holy ones whom she called her father and her +mother. And so, Tamboosa, the spirit of the Inkosazana departed like a +bird from the egg, leaving but this shell behind, that is full of +sorrows and of dreams. Yet, Tamboosa, she still speaks through these +lips of mine, and she says that from the seed of blood that they have +sown, her people, the Zulus, must harvest woe upon woe, as while she +dwelt among them, she warned them that it would be if ill came to those +she loved. Tamboosa, this is her command—that ye shield the breast in +which she hid from the wild beast, Ibubesi and all evil men, and that +ye lead this shape to Noie, the daughter of Seyapi, whom Ibubesi +brought to death, for with Noie it would dwell.” + +Thus she wailed through the deep darkness, while the soldiers who +packed the space below groaned in their grief and terror because the +soul of the Inkosazana had been made a wanderer by their sins, and the +curse of the Inkosazana had fallen on their land. + +Again the lightning flared, and in it they saw her standing on the +crest of the hut. She had let drop the spear as though she needed it no +more, and her arms were outstretched to the Heavens, and her beautiful +face was upturned, and her long hair floated in the wind. Seen thus by +that quick, white light, which shone in the madness of her eyes, she +seemed no woman but what they had fabled her to be, a queen of Spirits, +and at the vision of her they groaned again, while some of them fell to +the earth and hid their faces with their hands. + +The darkness fell once more, and a man went into the hut to bring out +the lamp that burned there. When he returned Rachel stood among them; +they had not seen or heard her descend. Ishmael saw her also, and +feeling his doom in the fierce eyes that glowered at him, stretched out +his hand and caught her by the robe, praying for pity. + +At his touch she uttered a wild scream, which pierced like a knife +through the hearts of all that heard it. + +“Suffer it not,” she cried, “oh! my people, suffer not that I be thus +defiled.” + +They rent him from her with blows and execrations, looking up to their +chief for his word to tear him to pieces. + +“No,” said Tamboosa, grimly, “he shall to the King to tell this story +ere he die.” + +“Save me, Rachel, save me,” he moaned. “You don’t know what they mean. +I was mad with love for you, do not judge me harshly and send me to be +tortured.” + +This appeal of his seemed to pierce the darkness of her brain, and for +a little while her face grew human. + +“I judge not,” she answered in Zulu; “pray to the Great One above who +judges. Oh! man, man,” she went on in a kind of eerie whisper, “what +have I done to you that you should treat me thus? Why did you command +the soldiers to kill my father and my mother? Why did you poison my +lover? Why did you drive away my soul, and fill me with this madness? +Take me away from this accursed town, Tamboosa, before Heaven’s +vengeance falls on it, and let me see that face no more.” + +Then some of them made a guard about her and led her thence, along the +central street, and through the barricaded gates, that they broke down +for her passage. They led her to a little cave in the slope of the +opposing hill, for although no rain fell, the gathered storm was +breaking; the lightning flashed thick and fast, the thunder groaned and +bellowed, and a wild wind beat the screeching trees. + +Here in the mouth of this cave Rachel sat herself down and looked at +the kraal, Mafooti, awaiting she knew not what, while the impi pillaged +the town, and Ishmael, already half dead with fear, remained bound to +the roof-tree of the hut that had been her prison. + +Whilst she waited thus, and watched, of a sudden one of the outer huts +began to burn, though whether the lightning or some soldier had fired +it none could tell. Then, in an instant, as it seemed, driven by the +raging wind, the flame leapt from roof to roof till Mafooti was but a +sheet of fire. The soldiers at their work of pillage saw, and rushed +hither and thither, confusedly, for they did not know the paths, and +were tangled in the fences. + +A figure appeared running down the central street, a figure of flame, +for his clothes burned on him, and those by Rachel said, + +“See, see, _Ibubesi!_” + +He could not reach the gate, for a blazing hut fell across his path. +Turning he sped to the edge of a cliff that rose near by, where, +because of its steepness, there was no wall. Here for a while he ran up +and down till the wind-driven fire from new-lit huts at its brink leapt +out upon him like thin, scarlet tongues. He threw himself to the +ground, he rose again, beating his head with his hand, for his long +hair was ablaze. Then in his torment and despair, of a sudden he threw +himself backwards into the dark gulf beneath. Fifty feet and more he +fell to the rocks below, and where he fell there he lay till he died, +and on the morrow the Zulus found and buried him. + +Thus did Ishmael depart out of the life of Rachel to the end which he +had earned. + +Nor did he go alone, for of the Zulus in the town many were caught by +the fire, and perished, so many that when the regiment mustered at +dawn, that same regiment which had escorted the Inkosazana to the banks +of the Tugela, fifty and one men were missing, whilst numbers of others +appeared burned and blistered. + +“Ah!” said Tamboosa as he surveyed the injured and counted the dead, +“the curse is quickly at work among us, and I think that this is but +the beginning of evil. Well, I expected it, no less.” + +As for the town of Mafooti it was utterly destroyed. To this day the +place is a wilderness where the grass grows rank between the crumbling, +fire-blackened walls. For the people of Ibubesi who had fled, returned +thither no more, nor would others build where it had been, since still +they swear that the spot is haunted by the figure of a white man who, +in times of thunder, rushes across it wrapped in fire, and plunges +blazing into the gulf upon its northern side. + +After the storm came the rain which poured all night long, a steady +sheet of water reaching from earth to heaven. Rachel watched it +vacantly for a while, then went to the head of the little cave and lay +down wrapped in karosses that they had made ready for her. Moreover, +she slept as a child sleeps until the sun shone bright on the morrow, +then she woke and asked for food. + +But the impi did not sleep. All night long the soldiers stood in +huddled groups beneath such shelter as the trees and rocks would give +to them, while the water poured on them pitilessly till their teeth +chattered and their limbs were frozen. Some died of the cold that +night, and afterwards many others fell sick of agues and fevers of the +lungs which killed a number of them. + +In the morning when the storm was past and the sun shone hotly Tamboosa +called the Council of the captains together, and consulted with them as +to whether they should follow after the people of Mafooti who had fled, +and destroy them, or return straight to Zululand. Most of the captains +answered that of Mafooti and its people they had seen enough. Ibubesi +was dead, slain by the vengeance of Heaven; the Inkosazana they had +rescued, alive, though filled with madness; the white lord, Dario, had +been murdered by Ibubesi, it was said with poison, and doubtless his +body was burned in the fire. As for the people of Mafooti themselves, +it would seem that most of them were innocent as they had fled the +place, deserting their chief. To these arguments other captains +answered that the people of Mafooti were not innocent inasmuch as they +had helped Ibubesi to carry off the Inkosazana and the white lord, +Dario, from Ramah, and consented to their imprisonment and to the death +of one of them, only flying when they had tidings that the impi was on +the way. Moreover the command was that every one of these dogs should +be killed, whereas they had killed none of them, but only taken those +cattle which were left behind in their flight. At length the dispute +growing fierce, the captains being unable to come to an agreement, +decided that they would lay the matter before the Inkosazana, and be +guided by the words that fell from her, if they could understand them. + +So Tamboosa went into the cave with one other man, and talked to +Rachel, who sat staring at him with stony eyes as though she understood +nothing. When at length he ceased, however, she cried: + +“Lead me to Noie at the Great Place. Lead me to Noie,” nor would she +say any more. + +So, as the people of Mafooti had fled they knew not where, and they had +secured some of the cattle, and as many of the soldiers were sick from +the cold and burns received in the fire, Tamboosa told the regiment +that it was the will of the Inkosazana that they should return to +Zululand. + +A while later they started, those of them who were so badly burned that +they could not travel, being carried on shields. But Rachel would not +be carried, choosing to walk alone surrounded at a distance by a ring +of soldiers who guarded her. For hours she walked thus, showing no sign +of weariness, but now and again bursting out into shrill laughter, as +though she saw things that moved her to merriment. Only the regiment +that listened was not merry, for it had heard the words that the +Inkosazana spoke in the town of Mafooti, foretelling evil to the Zulus +because of the blood that was between them and her. They thought that +she laughed over the misfortunes that were to come, and over those that +had already befallen them in the fire and in the rain. + +About midday they halted to eat, and as before Rachel took food in +plenty, for now that her mind was wandering her body seemed to call for +sustenance. When their meal was finished they moved down to the banks +of the Buffalo River, which ran near by, to find that it was in great +flood after the heavy rain and that it was not safe to try the ford. So +they determined to camp there on the banks, murmuring among themselves +that all went ill with them upon this journey, as was to be expected, +and that they would have done better if they had spent the time in +hunting down the people of Mafooti, instead of sitting idle like tired +storks upon the banks of a river. Yet bad as things might seem, they +were destined to be worse, for while some of them were cutting boughs +and grass to make a hut for the Inkosazana, Rachel, who stood watching +them with empty eyes, of a sudden laughed in her mad fashion, and sped +like a swallow to the lip of the foaming ford. Here, before they could +come up with her, she threw off the outer cloak she wore and rushed +into the water till the current bore her from her feet. Then while the +whole regiment shouted in dismay, she began to swim, striking out for +the further bank, and being swept downwards by the stream. Now +Tamboosa, who was almost crazed with fear lest she should drown, called +out that where the Inkosazana went, they must follow, even to their +deaths. + +“It is so!” answered the soldiers, as each man locking his arms round +the middle of him who stood in front, company by company, they plunged +into the water in a fourfold chain, hoping thus to bridge it from bank +to bank. + +Meanwhile Rachel swam on in the strength of her madness as a woman has +seldom swum before. Again and again the muddy waters broke over her +head and the soldiers groaned, thinking that she was drowned. But +always that golden hair reappeared above them. A great tree swept down +upon her but she dived beneath it. She was dashed against a tall rock, +but she warded herself away from it with her hands and still swam on, +till at length with a shout of joy the Zulus saw her find her feet and +struggle slowly to the further bank. Yes, and up it till she reached +its crest where she stood and watched them idly as though unconscious +of the danger she had passed, and of the water that ran from her hair +and breast. + +“Where a woman can go, we can follow,” said some, but others answered: + +“She is not a woman, but a spirit. Death himself cannot kill her.” + +Now the fourfold chain was near the centre of the ford, when suddenly +those at the tip of it were lifted from their feet as Rachel had been, +nor could those behind hold on to them. They were torn from their grasp +and swept away, the most of them never to be seen again, for of these +men but few could swim. Thrice this happened until strong swimmers were +sent to the front, and at length these men won across as Rachel had +done, and caught hold of the stones on the further side, thus forming a +living chain from bank to bank, whereof the centre floated and was bent +outwards by the weight of the water as the back of a bow bends when the +string is drawn. + +By the help of this human rope thus formed the companies began to come +over, supporting themselves against it, till presently the strain and +the push of them and of the angry river overcame its strength, and the +chain burst in the middle so that many were borne down the stream and +drowned. Yet with risk and toil and loss it joined itself together +again and held fast until every man was over, save the sick and some +lads who were left to tend them and the cattle on the further bank. +Then that cable of brave warriors began to struggle forward like a +great snake dragging its tail after it, and, so by degrees drew itself +to safety and gasping out foam and water saluted the Inkosazana where +she stood. + +Many were drowned, and others were bruised by rocks, but of this they +thought little since she was safe and they had found her again, to have +lost whom would have been a shame from generation to generation. She +watched the captains reckoning up the number of the dead, and when +Tamboosa and some of them came to make report of it to her, a shadow as +of pity floated across her stony eyes. + +“Not on my head,” she cried, “not on my head! There is blood between +the Inkosazana and her people of the Zulus, and that blood avenges +itself in blood,” and she laughed her eerie laugh. + +“It is true, it is just, O Queen,” answered Tamboosa solemnly; “the +nation must pay for the sin of its children as the wild beast, Ibubesi, +has paid for his sins.” + +Then as they could travel no further that day, they built a hut, and +lit a great fire by which Rachel sat and dried herself, nor did she +take any harm from the water, for as the Zulus had said, it seemed as +though nothing could harm her now. + +The soldiers also lit fires and despatched messengers to neighbouring +kraals commanding them to bring food, and to send maidens to attend on +the Inkosazana, while others went to a mountain to call all this +ill-tidings from hill to hill till it came to the Great Place of the +King. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +THE CURSE OF THE INKOSAZANA + + +That night the regiment and Rachel slept upon the bank of the river, +and nothing happened save that lions carried off two soldiers, while +two more who had been injured against the rocks, died. Also others fell +sick. On the following morning food arrived in plenty from the +neighbouring kraals, and with it some girls of high birth to attend +upon the Inkosazana. + +But with these Rachel would have nothing to do, and when they came near +to her only said: + +“Where is Noie, daughter of Seyapi? Lead me to Noie.” + +So they began their march again, Rachel walking as before in the centre +of a ring of soldiers, and that night slept at a kraal upon a hill. +Here messengers from the King met them charged with many fine words, to +which Rachel listened without understanding them, and then scared them +away with her laughter. Also they brought a beautiful cloak made of the +skins of a rare white monkey, and this she took and wrapped herself in +it, for she seemed to understand that her clothes were ragged. + +That day they passed through fertile country, where much corn was +grown. Here they saw a strange sight, for as they went clouds seemed to +arise in the sky from behind them, which presently were seen to be not +clouds, but tens of millions of great winged grasshoppers that lit upon +the corn, devouring it and every other green thing. Within a few hours +nothing was left except the roots and bare branches, while the women of +that land ran to and fro wailing, knowing that next winter they and +their children must starve, and the cattle lowed about them hungrily, +for the locusts had devoured all the grass. Moreover, having eaten +everything, these insects themselves began to die in myriads so that +soon the air was poisoned. The waters were also poisoned with their +dead bodies, and at once sickness came which presently grew into a +pestilence. + +Now the men of the country sent a deputation to the Inkosazana, praying +her to remove the curse, but when they had spoken she only repeated the +words she had used upon the banks of the Buffalo River. + +“Not on my head, not on my head! There is blood between the Inkosazana +and her people of the Zulus. Famine and war and death upon the people +of the Zulus because they have shed the holy blood!” + +Then the men grew afraid and went away, and the regiment marched on +accompanied by the myriads of the locusts that wasted all the land +through which they passed. + +At length, followed by a wail of misery, they came to the Great Place +and entered it, preceded by the locusts which already were heaped up in +the streets like winter leaves, and for lack of other provender gnawed +at the straw of the huts, and the shields and moochas of the soldiers. +It was a strange sight to see the men trying to stamp them to death, +and the women and children rushing to and fro shrieking and brushing +them from their hair. + +Amid such scenes as these they passed through the town of Umgugundhlovu +into which Rachel had been brought in order that the people might see +that their Inkosazana had returned, and on to that kraal upon the hill, +where she had spent all those weary weeks until Richard came. She +reached it as the sun was setting, and although she did not seem to +know any of them was received with joy and adoration by the women who +had been her attendants. Here she slept that night, for they thought +that she must be too weary to see the King at once; moreover, he +desired first to receive the reports of Tamboosa and the captains, and +to learn all that had happened in this strange business. + +Next morning, whilst Rachel sat by the pool in which, once she had seen +the vision of Richard, Tamboosa and an escort came to bring her to +Dingaan. When they told her this, she said neither yea nor nay, but, +refusing to enter a litter they had brought, walked at the head of +them, back to the Great Place, and, watched by thousands, through the +locust-strewn streets to the Intunkulu, the House of the King. Here, in +front of his hut, and surrounded by his Council, sat Dingaan and the +indunas who rose to greet her with the royal salute. She advanced +towards them slowly, looking more beautiful than ever she had done, but +with wild, wandering eyes. They set a stool for her, and she sat down +on the stool, staring at the ground. Then as she said nothing, Dingaan, +who seemed very sad and full of fear, commanded Tamboosa to report all +that had happened in the ears of the Council, and he took up his tale. + +He told of the journey to the Tugela, and of how the Inkosazana and the +white lord, Dario, had crossed the river alone but a few hours after +Ibubesi, ordering him to follow next day, also alone, with the white ox +that bore her baggage. He told how he had done so, and on reaching +Ramah had found the white Umfundusi and his wife lying dead in their +room, and on the floor of it a Zulu of the men who had been sent with +Ibubesi, also dead, and in the garden of the house a man of the people +of Ibubesi, dying, who, with his last breath narrated to him the story +of the taking of the Inkosazana and the white lord, by Ibubesi. He told +of how he had run to the town of Mafooti, to find out the truth, and of +the message that he had sent by the herd boy to Ibubesi and his people. +Lastly he told all the rest of that story, of how he had come back to +Zululand “as though he had wings,” and finding the regiment that had +escorted the Inkosazana still in camp near the river, had returned with +them to attack Mafooti, which they discovered to be deserted by its +people. + +While he described how by the flare of the lightning they saw the +Inkosazana standing on the roof of a hut, how they captured the wild +beast, Ibubesi, how they learned that the Spirit of the Inkosazana was +“wandering,” and the dreadful words she said, the burning of Mafooti, +and the fearful death of Ibubesi by fire, all the Council listened in +utter silence. Thus they listened also whilst he showed how evil after +evil had fallen upon the regiment, evil by fire and water and sickness, +as evil had fallen upon the land also by the plague of locusts. + +At length Tamboosa’s story was finished, and certain men were brought +forward bound, who had been the captains of the band that went with +Ishmael, among them those who had killed, or caused to die, the white +teacher and his wife. + +Upon the stern command of the King these men also told their story, +saying that they had not meant to kill the white man and that what they +did was done at the word of Ibubesi, whom they were ordered to obey in +all things, but who, as they now understood, had dared to lay a plot to +capture the Inkosazana for himself. When they had finished the King +rose and poured out his wrath on them, because through their deeds the +Spirit of the Inkosazana had been driven away, and her curse laid upon +the land, where already it was at work. Then he commanded that they +should be led thence, all of them, and put to a terrible death, and +with them those captains of the regiment who had spoken against the +following of the people of Mafooti, who should, he said, have been +destroyed, every one. + +At his words executioners rushed in to seize these wretched men, and +then it was that Rachel, who all this while had sat as though she heard +nothing, lifted her head and spoke, for the first time. + +“Set them free, set them free!” she commanded. “Vengeance is from +Heaven, and Heaven will pour it out in plenty. Not on my hands, not on +my hands shall be the blood of those who sent the Spirit of the +Inkosazana to wander in the skies. Who was it that bade an impi run to +Ramah, and what did they there in the house of those who gave me birth? +When the Master calls, the dogs must search and kill. Set them free, +lest there be more blood between the Inkosazana and her people of the +Zulus.” + +When he heard these words, spoken in a strange, wailing voice, Dingaan +trembled, for he knew that it was he who had bidden his dogs to run. + +“Let them go,” he said, “and let the land see them no more for ever.” + +So those men went thankfully enough, and the land saw them no more. As +they passed the gate other men entered, starved and hungry-looking men, +whose bones almost pierced their skins, and who carried in their hands +remnants of shields that looked as though they had been gnawed by rats. +They saluted the King with feeble voices, and squatted down upon the +ground. + +“Who are those skeletons,” he asked angrily, “who dare to break in upon +my Council?” + +“King,” answered their spokesman, “we are captains of the Nobambe, the +Nodwenge, and the Isangu regiments whom thou didst send to destroy the +chief, Madaku and his people, who dwell far away in the swamp land to +the north near where the Great River runs into the sea. King, we could +not come at this chief because he fled away on rafts and in boats, he +and his people, and we lost our path among the reeds where again and +again we were ambushed, and many of us sank in the swamps and were +drowned. Also, we found no food, and were forced to live upon our +shields,” and he held up a gnawed fragment in his hand. “So we perished +by hundreds, and of all who went forth but twenty-one times ten remain +alive.” + +When Dingaan heard this he groaned, for his arms had been defeated and +three of his best regiments destroyed. But Rachel laughed aloud, the +terrible laugh at which all who heard it shivered. + +“Did I not say,” she asked, “that Heaven would pour out its vengeance +in plenty because of the blood that runs between the Spirit of the +Inkosazana and her people of the Zulus?” + +“Truly this curse works fast and well,” exclaimed Dingaan. Then, +turning to the men, he shouted: “Be gone, you starved rats, you cowards +who do not know how to fight, and be thankful that the Great Elephant +(Chaka) is dead, for surely he would have fed you upon shields until +you perished.” + +So these captains crept away also. + +Ere they were well gone a man appeared craving audience, a fat man who +wore a woeful countenance, for tears ran down his bloated cheeks. +Dingaan knew him well, for every week he saw him, and sometimes +oftener. + +“What is it, Movo, keeper of the kine,” he asked anxiously, “that you +break in on me thus at my Council?” + +“O King,” answered the fat man, “pardon me, but, O King, my tidings are +so sad that I availed myself of my privilege, and pushed past the +guards at the gate.” + +“Those who bear ill news ever run quickly,” grunted the King. “Stop +that weeping and out with it, Movo.” + +“Shaker of the Earth! Eater up of Enemies!” said Movo, “thou thyself +art eaten up, or at least thy cattle are, the cattle that I love. A +sore sickness has fallen on the great herd, the royal herd, the white +herd with the twisted horns, and,” here he paused to sob, “a thousand +of them are dead, and many more are sick. Soon there will be no herd +left,” and he wept outright. + +Now Dingaan leapt up in his wrath and struck the man so sharply with +the shaft of the spear he held that it broke upon his head. + +“Fat fool that you are,” he exclaimed. “What have you done to my +cattle? Speak, or you shall be slain for an evil-doer who has bewitched +them.” + +“Is it a crime to be fat, O King,” answered the indignant Movo, rubbing +his skull, “when others are so much fatter?” and he looked +reproachfully at Dingaan’s enormous person. “Can I help it if a +thousand of thy oxen are now but hides for shields?” + +“Will you answer, or will you taste the other end of the spear?” asked +Dingaan, grasping the broken shaft just above the blade. “What have you +done to my cattle?” + +“O King, I have done nothing to them. Can I help it if those accursed +beasts choose to eat dead locusts instead of grass, and foam at the +mouth and choke? Can the cattle help it if all the grass has become +locusts so that there is nothing else for them to eat? I am not to +blame, and the cattle are not to blame. Blame the Heavens above, to +whom thou, or rather,” he added hastily, “some wicked wizard must have +given offence, for no such thing as this has been known before in +Zululand.” + +Again Rachel broke in with her wild laughter, and said: + +“Did I not tell thee that vengeance would be poured down in plenty, +poured down like the rain, O Dingaan? Vengeance on the King, vengeance +on the people, vengeance on the soldiers, vengeance on the corn, +vengeance on the kine, vengeance on the whole land, because blood runs +between the Spirit of the Inkosazana and the race of the Amazulu, whom +once she loved!” + +“It is true, it is true, White One, but why dost thou say it so often?” +groaned the maddened Dingaan. “Why show the whip to those who must feel +the blow? Now, you Movo, have you done?” + +“Not quite, O King,” answered the melancholy Movo, still rubbing his +head. “The cattle of all the kraals around are dying of this same +sickness, and the crops are quite eaten, so that next winter everyone +must perish of famine.” + +“Is that all, O Movo?” + +“Not quite, O King, since messengers have come to me, as head keeper of +the kine, to say that all the other royal herds within two days’ +journey are also stricken, although if I understand them right, of some +other pest. Also, which I forgot to add—” + +“Hunt out this bearer of ill-tidings,” roared Dingaan, “hunt him out, +and send orders that his own cattle be taken to fill up the holes in my +blanket.” + +Now some attendants sprang on the luckless Movo and began to beat him +with their sticks. Still, before he reached the gates he succeeded in +turning round weeping in good earnest and shouted: + +“It is quite useless, O King, all my cattle are dead, too. They will +find nothing but the horns and the hoofs, for I have sold the hides to +the shield-makers.” + +Then they thrust him forth. + +He was gone, and for a while there was silence, for despair filled the +hearts of the King and his Councillors, as they gazed at Rachel +dismayed, wondering within themselves how they might be rid of her and +of the evils which she had brought upon them because of the blood of +her people which lay at their doors. + +Whilst they still stared thus in silence yet another messenger came +running through the gate like one in great haste. + +“Now I am minded to order this fellow to be killed before he opens his +mouth,” said Dingaan, “for of a surety he also is a bearer of +ill-tidings.” + +“Nay, O King,” cried out the man in alarm, “my news is only that an +embassy awaits without.” + +“From whom?” asked Dingaan anxiously. “The white Amaboona?” + +“Nay, O King, from the queen of the Ghost-people to whom thou didst +dispatch Noie, daughter of Seyapi, a while ago.” + +Hearing the name Noie, Rachel lifted her head, and for the first time +her face grew human. + +“I remember,” said Dingaan. “Admit the embassy.” + +Then followed a long pause. At length the gate opened and through it +appeared Noie herself, clad in a garb of spotless white, and somewhat +travel-worn, but beautiful as ever. She was escorted by four gigantic +men who were naked except for their moochas, but wore copper ornaments +on their wrists and ankles, and great rings of copper in their ears. +After her came three litters whereof the grass curtains were tightly +drawn, carried by bearers of the same size and race, and after these a +bodyguard of fifty soldiers of a like stature. This strange and +barbarous-looking company advanced slowly, whilst the Council stared at +them wondering, for never before had they seen people so huge, and +arriving in front of the King set down the litters, staring back in +answer with their great round eyes. + +As they came Rachel rose from her stool and turned slowly so that she +and Noie, who walked in front of the embassy, stood face to face. For a +moment they gazed at each other, then Noie, running forward, knelt +before Rachel and kissed the hem of her robe, but Rachel bent down and +lifted her up in her strong arms, embracing her as a mother embraces a +child. + +“Where hast thou been, Sister?” she asked. “I have sought thee long.” + +“Surely on thy business, Zoola,” answered Noie, scanning her curiously. +“Dost thou not remember?” + +“Nay, I remember naught, Noie, save that I have sought thee long. My +Spirit wanders, Noie.” + +“Lady,” she said, “my people told me that it was so. They told me many +terrible things, they who can see afar, they for whom distance has no +gates, but I did not believe them. Now I see with my own eyes. Be at +peace, Lady, my people will give thee back thy Spirit, though perchance +thou must travel to find it, for in their land all spirits dwell. Be at +peace and listen.” + +“With thee, Noie, I am at peace,” replied Rachel, and still holding her +hand, she reseated herself upon the stool. + +“Where are the messengers?” asked Dingaan. “I see none.” + +“King,” answered Noie, “they shall appear.” + +Then she made signs to the escort of giants, some of whom came forward +and drew the curtains of the litters, whilst others opened huge +umbrellas of split cane which they carried in their hands. + +“Now what weapons are these?” asked Dingaan. “Daughter of Seyapi, you +know that none may appear before the King armed.” + +“Weapons against the sun, O King, which my people hate.” + +“And who are the wizards that hate the sun?” queried Dingaan again in +an astonished voice. Then he was silent, for out of the first litter +came a little man, pale as the shoot from a bulb that has grown in +darkness, with large, soft eyes like the eyes of an owl, that blinked +in the light, and long hair out of which all the colour seemed to have +faded. + +As the man, who, like Noie, was dressed in a white robe, and in size +measured no more than a twelve-year-old child, set his sandalled feet +upon the ground, one of the huge guards sprang forward to shield him +with the umbrella, but being awkward, struck his leg against the pole +of the litter and stumbled against him, nearly knocking him to the +ground, and in his efforts to save himself, letting fall the umbrella. +The little man turned on him furiously, and holding one hand above his +head as though to shield himself from the sun, with the other pointed +at him, speaking in a low sibilant voice that sounded like the hiss of +a snake. Thereon the guard fell to his knees, and bending down with +outstretched arms, beat his forehead on the earth as though in prayer +for mercy. The sight of this giant making supplication to one whom he +could have killed with a blow, was so strange that Dingaan, unable to +restrain his curiosity, asked Noie if the dwarf was ordering the other +to be killed. + +“Nay, King,” answered Noie, “for blood is hateful to these people. He +is saying that the soldier has offended many times. Therefore he curses +him and tells him that he shall wither like a plucked leaf and die +without seeing his home again.” + +“And will he die?” asked Dingaan. + +“Certainly, King; those upon whom the Ghost-people lay their curse must +obey the curse. Moreover, this man deserves his doom, for on the +journey he killed another to take his food.” + +“Of a truth a terrible people!” said Dingaan uneasily. “Bid them lay no +curse on me lest they should see more blood than they wish for.” + +“It is foolish to threaten the Great Ones of the Ghost-folk, King, for +they hear even what they seem not to understand,” answered Noie +quietly. + +“Wow!” exclaimed the King; “let my words be forgotten. I am sorry that +I troubled them to come so far to visit me.” + +Meanwhile the offender had crept back upon his hands and knees, looking +like a great beaten dog, whilst another soldier, taking his umbrella, +held it over the angry dwarf. Also from the other litters two more +dwarfs had descended, so like to the first that it was difficult to +tell them apart, and were in the same fashion sheltered by guards with +umbrellas. Mats were brought for them also, and on these they sat +themselves down at right angles to Dingaan, and to Rachel, whose stool +was set in front of the King, whilst behind them stood three of their +escort, each holding an umbrella over the head of one of them with the +left hand, while with the right they fanned them with small branches +upon which the leaves, although they were dead, remained green and +shining. + +With Dingaan and his Council the three dwarfs did not seem to trouble +themselves, but at Rachel they peered earnestly. Then one of them made +a sign and muttered something, whereon a soldier of the escort stepped +forward with a fourth umbrella, which he opened over the heads of +Rachel, and of Noie who stood at her side. + +“Why does he do that?” asked Dingaan. “The Inkosazana is not a bat that +she fears the sun.” + +“He does it,” answered Noie, “that the Inkosazana may sit in the shade +of the wisdom of the Ghost-people, and that her heart which is hot with +many wrongs, may grow cool in the shade.” + +“What does he know about the Inkosazana and her wrongs?” asked Dingaan +again, but Noie only shrugged her shoulders and made no answer. + +Now one of the dwarfs made another sign, whereon more guards advanced, +carrying small bowls of polished wood. These bowls they set upon the +ground before the three dwarfs, one before each of them, filling them +to the brim with water from a gourd. + +“If your people are thirsty, Noie,” exclaimed the King, “I have beer +for them to drink, for at least the locusts have left me that. Bid them +throw away the water, and I will give them beer.” + +“It is not water, King,” she answered, “but dew gathered from certain +trees before sunrise, and it is their spirits that are thirsty for +knowledge, not their bodies, for in this dew they read the truth.” + +“Then the Inkosazana must be of their family, Noie, for she read of the +coming of the white chief Dario in water, or so they say.” + +“Perhaps, O King, if it is so these prophets will know it and +acknowledge her.” + +Now for a long while there was silence, so long a while indeed that +Dingaan and his Councillors began to move uneasily, for they felt as +though the dwarf men were fingering their heart-strings. At length the +three dwarfs lifted their wrinkled faces that were bleached to the +colour of half-ripe corn, and gazed at each other with their round, +owl-like eyes; then as though with one accord they said to each other: + +“What seest thou, Priest?” and at some sign from them Noie translated +the words into Zulu. + +Now the first of them, he who had cursed the soldier, spoke in his low +hissing voice, a voice like to the whisper of leaves in the wind, Noie +rendering his words. + +“I see two maidens standing by a house that moves when cattle draw it. +One of them is dark-skinned, it is she,” and he pointed to Noie, “the +other is fair-skinned, it is she,” and he pointed to Rachel. “They +cast, each of them, a hair from her head into the air. The black hair +falls to the ground, but a spirit catches the hair of gold and bears it +northward. It is the spirit of Seyapi whom the Zulus slew. Northwards +he bears it, and lays it in the hand of the Mother of the Trees, and +with it a message.” + +“Yes, with it a message,” repeated the other two nodding their heads. + +Then one of them drew a little package wrapped in leaves from his robe, +and motioned to Noie that she should give it to Rachel. Noie obeyed, +and the man said: + +“Let us see if she has vision. Tell us, thou White One, what lies +within the leaves.” + +Rachel, who had been sitting like a person in a dream, took the packet, +and, without looking at it, answered: + +“Many other leaves, and within the last of them a hair from this head +of mine. I see it, but three knots have been tied therein. They are +three great troubles.” + +“Open,” said the dwarf to Noie, who cut the fibre binding the packet, +and unfolded many layers of leaves. Within the last leaf was a golden +hair, and in it were tied three knots. + +Noie laid the hair upon the head of Rachel—it was hers. Then she showed +it to the King and his Council, who stared at the knots not knowing +what to say, and after they had looked at it, refolded it in the leaves +and returned the packet to the dwarf. + +Now the dwarf who had read the picture in his bowl turned to him who +sat nearest and asked: + +“What seest thou, Priest?” + +The man stared at the limpid water and answered: + +“I see this place at night. I see yonder King and his Councillors +talking to a white man with evil eyes and the face of a hawk, who has +been wounded on the head and foot. I read their lips. They bargain +together; it is of the bringing of an old prophet and his wife hither +by force. I see the prophet and his wife in a house, and with them +Zulus. By the command of the white man with the evil eyes the Zulus +kill the prophet whose head is bald, and his wife dies upon the bed. +Before they kill the prophet he slays one of the Zulus with smoke that +comes from an iron tube.” + +When he heard all this Dingaan groaned, but the dwarf who had spoken, +taking no heed of him, said to the third dwarf: + +“What seest thou, Priest?” to which that dwarf answered: + +“I see the White One yonder standing on a hut, but her Spirit has fled +from her, it has fled from her to haunt the Trees. In her hand is a +spear, and below is the white man with the evil eyes, held by Zulus. I +read her words: she says that there is blood,” and he shivered as he +said the word, “yes, blood between her Spirit and the people of the +Zulus. She prophesies evil to them. I see the ill; I see many burnt in +a great fire. I see many drowned in an angry river. I see the demons of +sickness lay hold of many. I see her Spirit call up the locusts from +the coast land. I see it bring disaster on their arms; I see it scatter +plague among their cattle; I see a dim shape that it summons striding +towards this land. It travels fast over a winter veld, and the head of +it is the head of a skull, and the name of it is Famine.” + +As he ended his words the three dwarfs bent forward, and with one +movement seized their bowls and emptied them on to the ground, saying: + +“Earth, Earth, drink, drink and bear record of these visions!” + +Now the Council was much disturbed, for, although there were great +witch doctors among them, none had known magic like to this. Only +Dingaan stared down brooding. Then he looked up, and his fat body shook +with hoarse laughter. + +“You play pretty tricks, little men,” he said, “with your giants and +your boughs and your huts that open, and your bowls of water. But for +all that they are only tricks, since Noie, or others have told you of +these things that happened in the past. Now if you are wizards indeed, +read me the riddle of the words of the Inkosazana that she spoke before +her Spirit left her because of the evil acts of the wolf, Ibubesi. Show +me the answer to them in your bowls of water, little men, or be driven +hence as cheats and liars. Also tell us your names by which we may know +you.” + +When Noie had translated this speech the three dwarfs gathered +themselves under one umbrella, and spoke to each other; then they slid +back to their places, and the first of them, he who had cursed the +soldier, said: + +“King of the Zulus, I am Eddo, this on my right is Pani, and that on my +left is Hana. We are children of the Mother of the Trees; we are +high-priests of the Grey-people, the Dream-people, who rule by dreams +and wisdom, not by spears as thou dost, O King. We are the Ghost-kings +whom the ghosts obey, we are the masters of the dead, and the readers +of hearts. Those are our names and titles, O King. We have travelled +hither because thou sentest a messenger of our own blood who whispered +a strange tale in the ear of the Mother of the Trees, a tale of one of +whom we knew already but desired to see,” and all three of them nodded +towards Rachel seated on her stool. “We will read thy riddle, O King, +but first thou must fix the fee.” + +“What do you demand, Ghost-people?” asked Dingaan. “Cattle are somewhat +scarce here just now, and wives, I think, would be of little use to +you. What is there, then, that you desire, and I can give?” + +They looked at each other, then Eddo said, pointing with his thin hand +upon which the nails grew long: + +“We ask for the White One who sits there. We think that her Spirit +dwells with us already, and we ask her body that we may join it to the +Spirit again.” + +Now the Council murmured, but Dingaan replied: + +“Once we sought to keep her in whom dwelt the Inkosazana of the Zulus. +But things have gone amiss, and she brings curses on us. If shape and +spirit were joined together again, mayhap the curses would be taken off +our heads. Yet we dare not give her to you, unless she gives herself of +her own will. Moreover, first the divination, then the pay. Is that +enough?” + +“It is enough,” they answered, speaking all together. “Set out the +matter, King of the Zulus, and we will see what we can do.” + +Then Dingaan beckoned to a man with a withered hand who sat close to +him, listening and noting all things, but saying nothing, and said: + +“Stand forth, thou Mopo, and tell the tale.” + +So Mopo rose and began his story. He told how he alone among the people +of the Zulus had thrice seen the spirit of the Inkosazana in the days +of the “Black-One-who-was-gone.” He told how many moons ago the white +man, Ibubesi, had come to the Great Place speaking of a beautiful white +maiden who was known by the name of the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, a maiden +who ruled the lightning, and was not as other maidens are, and how he +had been sent to see her, and found that as was the Spirit of the +Inkosazana which he knew, so was this maiden. + +“_Wow_!” he added, “save that the one walked on air and the other on +earth, they are the same.” + +Moreover, as a spirit she seemed wise. He told of the trapping of Noie, +and of the decoying of Rachel into Zululand, and of the interview +between her and the King by moonlight when she smelt out Noie. Now he +was going on to speak of the question put by Dingaan to the Inkosazana, +and the answer that she gave to him, when one of the little men who all +this while sat as though they were asleep, blinking their eyes in the +light—it was Eddo—said: + +“Surely thou forgettest something, Tongue of the King, thou who are +named Mopo, or Umbopa, Son of Makedama; thou forgettest certain words +which the Inkosazana whispered to thee when she threw her cloak about +thy head ere thou fleddest away from the Council of the King. Of +course, we do not know the words, but why dost thou not repeat them, +Tongue of the King?” + +Mopo stared at them, and his teeth chattered, then he answered: + +“Because they have nothing to do with the story, Ghost-men; because +they were of my own death, which is a little matter.” + +The three dwarfs turned their heads towards each other and said, each +to the other: + +“Hearest thou, Priest, and hearest thou, Priest, and hearest thou, +Priest? He says that the words were of his own death and have nothing +to do with the story,” and they smiled and nodded, and appeared to go +to sleep again. + +Now Mopo went on with his tale. He told of the question of the King, +how he had asked the Inkosazana whether he should fall upon the Boers +or let them be; of how she had searched the Heavens with her eyes; of +how the meteor had travelled before them, and burst over the kraal, +Umgugundhlovu, that star which she said was thrown by the hand of the +Great-Great, the Umkulunkulu, and of how she had sworn that she also +heard the feet of a people travelling over plain and mountain, and saw +the rivers behind them running red with blood. Lastly, he told of how +she had refused to add to or take from her words, or to set out their +meaning. + +Then Mopo sat himself down again in the circle of the Councillors, and +watched and hearkened like a hungry wolf. + +“Ye have heard, Ghost-men,” said the King. “Now, if ye are really wise, +interpret to us the meaning of this saying of the Inkosazana, and of +the running star which none can read.” + +The priests awoke and consulted with each other, then Eddo said: + +“This matter is too high for us, King of the Zulus.” + +Dingaan heard, and laughed angrily. + +“I thought it, I thought it!” he cried. “Ye are but cheats after all +who, like any common doctor, repeat the gossip that ye have heard, and +pretend that it is a message from Heaven. Now why should I not whip you +from my town with rods till ye see that red blood which ye so greatly +fear?” + +At the mention of the word blood, the little men seemed to curl up like +cut grass before fire; then Eddo smiled, a sickly smile, and answered: + +“Be gentle, King, walk softly, King. We are but poor cheats, yet we +will do our best, we, or another for us. A new bowl, a big bowl, a red +bowl for the red King, and fill it to the brink with dew.” + +As he piped out the words a man from among their company appeared with +a vessel much larger than those into which they had gazed, and made of +beautiful, polished, blood-hued wood that gleamed in the sunlight. Eddo +took it in his hand and another slave filled it with water from the +gourd; the last drop of the water filled it to the brim. Then the three +of them muttered invocations over it, and Eddo, beckoning to Noie, bade +her bear it to the Inkosazana that she might gaze therein. + +Rachel received it and looked; as she looked all the emptiness left her +eyes which grew quick and active and full of horror. + +“Thou seest something, Maiden?” queried Eddo. + +“Aye,” answered Rachel, “I see much. Must I speak?” + +“Nay, nay! Breathe on the water thrice and fix the visions. Now bear +the bowl to yonder King and let him look. Perchance he also will see +something.” + +Rachel breathed on the water thrice, rose like one in a trance, and +advancing to Dingaan placed the brimming bowl upon his knees. + +“Look, King, look,” cried Eddo, “and tell us if in what thou seest lies +an answer to the oracle of the Inkosazana.” + +Dingaan stared at the water, angrily at first, as one who smells a +trick. Then his face changed. + +“By the head of the Black One,” he said, “I see people fighting in this +kraal, white men and Zulus, and the white men are mastered and the +Zulus drag them out to death. The Zulus conquer, O my people. It is as +I thought that it would be—that is the meaning of the riddle of the +Inkosazana.” + +“Good, good,” said the Council. “Doubtless it shall come to pass.” + +But the dwarf Eddo only smiled again and waved his hand. + +“Look once more, King,” he said in his low, hissing voice, and Dingaan +looked. + +Now his face darkened. “I see fire,” he said. “Yes, in this kraal. +Umgugundhlovu burns, my royal House burns, and yonder come the white +men riding upon horses. Oh! they are gone.” + +Eddo waved his hand, saying: + +“Look again and tell us what thou seest, King.” + +Unwillingly enough, but as though he could not resist, Dingaan looked +and said: + +“I see a mountain whereof the top is like the shape of a woman, and +between her knees is the mouth of a cave. Beneath the floor of that +cave I see bodies, the body of a great man and the body of a girl; she +must have been fair, that girl.” + +Now when he heard this the Councillor who was named Mopo, he with the +withered hand, started up, then sat down again, but all were so intent +upon listening to Dingaan that none noticed his movements save Noie and +the priests of the ghosts. + +“I see a man, a fat man come out of the cave,” went on Dingaan. “He +seems to be wounded and weary, also his stomach is sunken as though +with hunger. Two other men seize him, a tall warrior with muscles that +stand out on his legs, and another that is thin and short. They drag +him up the mountain to a great cleft that is between the breasts of her +who sits thereon. They speak with him, but I cannot see their faces, +for they are wrapped in mist, or the face of the fat man, for that also +is wrapped in mist. They hale him to the edge of the cleft, they hurl +him over, he falls headlong, and the mist is swept from his face. Ah! +_it is my own face!_”[*] + +[*] See “Nada the Lily,” CHAPTER XXXV. + + +“Priest,” whispered each of the little men to his fellow in the dead +silence that followed, “Priest, this King says that he sees his own +face. Priest, tell me now, has not the spirit of the Inkosazana +interpreted the oracle of the Inkosazana? Will not yonder King be +hurled down this cleft? Is _he_ not the star that falls?” + +And they nodded and smiled at each other. + +But Dingaan leapt up in his rage and terror, and with him leapt up the +Councillors and witch doctors, all save he who was named Mopo, son of +Makedama, who sat still gazing at the ground. Dingaan leapt up, and +seizing the bowl hurled it from him so that the water in it fell over +Rachel like rain from the clouds. He leapt up, and he cursed the +Ghost-priests as evil wizards, bidding them begone from his land. He +raved at them, he threatened them, he cursed them again and again. The +little men sat still and smiled till he grew weary and ceased. Then +they spoke to each other, saying: + +“He has sprinkled the White One with the dew of out Trees, and +henceforth she belongs to the Trees. Is it not so, Priest?” + +They nodded in assent, and Eddo rose and addressed the King in a new +voice, a shrill commanding voice, saying: + +“O man, thou that art called a King and causest much blood to flow, +thou are but a bubble on a river of blood, thou slayer that shalt be +slain, thou thrower of spears upon whom the spear shall fall, thou who +shalt look upon the Face of Stone that knows not pity, thou whom the +earth shall swallow, thou who shalt perish at the hands of—” + +“The faces of the slayers were veiled, Priest,” broke in the other two +dwarfs, peeping up at him from beneath the shadow of their umbrellas; +“surely the faces of those slayers were veiled, O Priest.” + +“Thou who shalt perish at the hands of avengers whose faces are veiled, +thy riddle is read for thee as the Mother of the Trees decreed that it +should be read. It is well read, it is truly read, it shall befall in +its season. Now give to thy servants their reward and let them depart +in peace. Give to them that White One whose lost Spirit spoke to thee +from the water.” + +“Take her,” roared Dingaan, “take her and begone, for to the Zulus she +and Noie, the witch, bring naught but ill.” + +But one of the Council cried: + +“The Inkosazana cannot be sent away with these magicians unless it is +her will to go.” + +Then the little men nodded to Noie, and Noie whispered in the ear of +Rachel. + +Rachel listened and answered: “Whither thou goest, Noie, thither I go +with thee, I who seek my Spirit.” + +So Noie took Rachel by the hand and led her from the Council-place of +the King, and as she went, followed by the Ghost-priests and their +escort, for the last time all the Councillors rose up and gave to her +the royal salute. Only Dingaan sat upon the ground and beat it with his +fists in fury. + +Thus did the Inkosazana-y-Zoola depart from the Great Place of the King +of the Zulus, and Mopo, the son of Makedama, shading his eyes with his +hand, watched her go from between his withered fingers. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +RACHEL FINDS HER SPIRIT + + +Northward, ever northward, journeyed Rachel with the Ghost-priests; for +days and weeks they journeyed, slowly, and for the most part at night, +since these people dreaded the glare of the sun. Sometimes she was +borne along in a litter with Noie upon the shoulders of the huge +slaves, but more often she walked between the litters in the midst of a +guard of soldiers, for now she was so strong that she never seemed to +weary, nor even in the fever swamps where many fell ill, did any +sickness touch her. Also this labour of the body seemed to soothe her +wandering and tormented mind, as did the touch of Noie’s hand and the +sound of Noie’s voice. At times, however, her madness got hold of her +and she broke out into those bursts of wild laughter which had scared +the Zulus. Then Eddo would descend from his litter and lay his long +fingers on her forehead and look into her eyes in such a fashion that +she went to sleep and was at peace. But if Noie spoke to her in these +sleeps, she answered her questions, and even talked reasonably as she +had done before the people of Mafooti laid the body of Richard at her +feet, and she stood upon the roof of the hut which Ishmael strove to +climb. + +Thus it was that Noie came to learn all that had happened to her since +they parted, for though she had gathered much from them, the Zulus +could not, or would not tell her everything. In past days she had heard +from Rachel of the lad, Richard Darrien, who had been her companion +years before through that night of storm on the island in the river, +and now she understood that her lady loved this Richard, and that it +was because of his murder by the wild brute, Ibubesi, that she had +become mad. + +Yes, she was mad, and for that reason Noie rejoiced that the dwarf +people were taking her to their home, since if she could be cured at +all, they were able to heal her, they the great doctors. Moreover, if +these priests and the Zulus would have let her go, whither else could +she have gone whose parents and lover were dead, except to the white +people on the coast, who did not reverence the insane, as do all black +folk, but would have locked her up in a house with others like her +until she died. No, although she knew that there were dangers before +them, many and great dangers, Noie rejoiced that things had befallen +thus. + +Also in her tender care already Rachel improved much, and Noie believed +that one day she would be herself again. Only she wished that she and +her lady were alone together; that there were no priests with them, and +above all no Eddo. For Eddo as she knew well was jealous of her +authority over Rachel; jealous too of the love that they bore one to +the other. He wished to use this crazed white chieftainess who had been +accepted as their Inkosazana by the great Zulu people, for his own +purposes. This had been clear from the beginning, and that was why when +he first heard of her he had consented to go on the embassy to Dingaan, +since by his magic he could foresee much of the future that was dark to +Noie, whose blood was mixed and who had not all the gifts of the +Ghost-kings. + +Moreover, the Mother of the Trees was Noie’s great aunt, being the +sister of her grandfather, or of his father, Noie was not sure which, +for she had dwelt among them but a few days, and never thought to +inquire of the matter. But of one thing she was sure, that Eddo the +first priest, hated this Mother of the Trees, who was named Nya, and +desired that “when her tree fell” the next mother should be his +servant, which Nya was not. Perhaps, reflected Noie, it was in his mind +that her lady would fill this part, and being mad, obey him in all +things. + +Still she kept a watch upon her words, and even on her thoughts, for +Eddo and his fellow-priests, Pani and Hana, were able to peer into +human hearts, and read their secrets. Also she protected Rachel from +him as much as she was able, never leaving her side for a moment, +however weary she might be, for she feared lest he should become the +master of her will. Only when the fits of madness fell upon her +mistress, she was forced to allow Eddo to quell them with his touch and +eye, since herself she lacked this power, nor dared she call the others +to her help, for they were under the hand of Eddo. + +Northward, ever northward. First they passed through the Zulus and +their subject tribes who knew of them and of the Inkosazana. All of +these were suffering from the curse that lay upon the land because, as +they believed, there was blood between the Inkosazana and her people. +The locusts devoured their crops and the plague ravaged their cattle, +so that they were terrified of her, and of the little Grey-folk with +whom she travelled, the wizards who had shown fearful things to Dingaan +and left him sick with dread. They fled at their approach, only leaving +a few of their old people to prostrate themselves before this +Inkosazana who wandered in search of her own Spirit, and the Dream-men +who dwelt with the ghosts in the heart of a forest, and to pray her and +them to lift this cloud of evil from the land, bringing gifts of such +things as were left to them. + +At length all the Zulus were passed, and they entered into the +territories of other tribes, wild, wandering tribes. But even these +knew of the Ghost-kings, and attempted nothing against them, as they +had attempted nothing against Noie and her escort when she travelled +through this land on her embassy to the People of the Trees. Indeed, +some of their doctors would visit them at their camps and ask an +oracle, or an interpretation of dreams, or a charm against their +enemies, or a deadly poison, offering great gifts in return. At times +Eddo and his fellow-priests would listen, and the giants would bring a +tiny bowl filled with dew into which they gazed, telling them the +pictures they saw there, though this they did but seldom, as the supply +of dew which they had brought with them from their own country ran low, +and since it could not be used twice they kept it for their own +purposes. + +Next they came to a country of vast swamps, where dwelt few men and +many wild beasts, a country full of fevers and reeds and pools, in +which lived snakes and crocodiles. Yet no harm came to them from these +things, for the Ghost-priests had medicines that warded off sickness, +and charms that protected them from all evil creatures, and in their +bowls they read what road to take and how dangers could be avoided. So +they passed the swamps safely; only here that slave whom Eddo had +cursed at the kraal of Dingaan, and who from that day onward had wasted +till he seemed to be nothing but a great skeleton, sickened and died. + +“Did I not tell you that it should be so?” said Eddo to the other +slaves, who trembled before him as reeds tremble in the wind. “Be +warned, ye fools, who think that the strength of men lies in their +bodies and their spears.” Then he kicked the corpse of the dead giant +gently with his sandalled foot, and bade his brothers throw him into a +pool for the crocodiles to eat. + +Having passed the swamps and many rivers, at length they turned +westward, travelling for days over grassy uplands like to those of +Natal, among which wandered pastoral tribes with their herds of cattle. +On these plains were multitudes of game and many lions, especially in +the bush-clad slopes of great isolated mountains that rose up here and +there. These lions roared round them at night, but the priests did not +seem to be afraid, for when the brutes became overbold they placed +deadly poison in the carcases of buck that the nomad tribes brought +them as offerings, of which the lions ate and died in numbers. Also +they sold some of the poison to the tribe for a great price in cattle, +as to the delivery of which cattle they gave minute directions, for +they knew that none dared to cheat the Mother of the Trees and her +prophets. + +After the plains were left behind, they reached a vast, fertile and +low-lying country that sloped upwards for miles and miles, which, as +Noie explained to Rachel, when she would listen, was the outer +territory of the Ghost-people, for here dwelt the race of the Umkulus, +or Great Ones, who were their slaves, that folk to which the soldiers +of their escort belonged. Of these there were thousands and tens of +thousands who earned their living by agriculture, since although they +were so huge and fierce-looking, they did not fight unless they were +attacked. The chiefs of this people had their dwellings in vast caves +in the sides of cliffs which, if need be, could be turned into +impregnable fortresses, but their real ruler was the Mother of the +Trees, and their office was to protect the country of the Trees and +furnish it with food, since the Tree-people were dreamers who did +little work. + +While they travelled through this land all the headmen of the Umkulus +accompanied them, and every morning a council was held at which these +made report to the priests of all that had chanced of late, and laid +their causes before them for judgment. These causes Eddo and his +fellow-priests heard and settled as seemed best to them, nor did any +dare to dispute their rulings. Indeed, even when they deposed a high +chief and set another in his place, the man who had lost all knelt +before them and thanked them for their goodness. Also they tried +criminals who had stolen women or committed murder, but they never +ordered such men to be slain outright. Sometimes Eddo would look at +them dreamily and curse them in his slow, hissing voice, bidding them +waste in body and in mind, as he had done to the soldier at +Umgugundhlovu, and die within one year, or two, or three, as the case +might be. Or sometimes, if the crime was very bad, he would command +that they should be sent to “travel in the desert,” that is, wander to +and fro without food or water until death found them. Now and again +miserable-looking men, mere skeletons, with hollow cheeks, and eyes +that seemed to start from their heads, would appear at their camps +weeping and imploring that the curse which had been laid upon them in +past days should be taken off their heads. At such people Eddo and his +brother-priests, Pani and Hana, would laugh softly, asking them how +they throve upon the wrath of the Mother of the Trees, and whether they +thought that others who saw them would be encouraged to sin as they had +done. But when the poor wretches prayed that they might be killed +outright with the spear, the priests shrank up in horror beneath their +umbrellas, and asked if they were mad that they should wish them to +“sprinkle their trees with blood.” + +One morning a number of these bewitched Umkulus, men, women and +children, appeared, and when the three priests mocked them, as was +their wont, and the guards, some of whom were their own relatives, +sought to beat them away with sticks, threw themselves upon the ground +and burst into weeping. Rachel, who was camped at a little distance +with Noie, in a reed tent that the guard had made for her, which they +folded up and carried as they did the umbrellas, heard the sound of +this lamentation, and came out followed by Noie. For a space she stood +contemplating their misery with a troubled air, then asked Noie why +these people seemed so starved and why they wept. Noie told her that +when she was on her embassy the head of their kraal, an enormous man of +middle age, whom she pointed out to Rachel, had sought to detain her +because she was beautiful, and he wished to make her his wife, although +he knew well that she was on an embassy to the Mother of the Trees. She +had escaped, but it was for this reason that the curse of which they +were perishing had been laid upon him and his folk. + +Now Rachel went on to where the three priests sat beneath their +umbrellas dozing away the hours of sunlight, beckoning to the doomed +family to follow her. + +“Wake, priests,” she cried in a loud voice, and they looked up +astonished, rubbing their eyes, and asked what was the matter. + +“This,” said Rachel. “I command you to lift the weight of your +malediction off the head of these people who have suffered enough.” + +“Thou commandest us!” exclaimed Eddo astonished. “And if we will not, +Beautiful One, what then?” + +“Then,” answered Rachel, “_I_ will lift it and set it on to your heads, +and you shall perish as they are perishing. Oh! you think me mad, you +priests, who kill more cruelly than did the Zulus, and mad I am whose +Spirit wanders. Yet I tell you that new powers grow within me, though +whence they come I know not, and what I say I can perform.” + +Now they stared at her muttering together, and sending for a wooden +bowl, peeped into it. Whatever it was they saw there did not please +them, for at length Eddo addressed the crowd of suppliants, saying: + +“The Mother of the Trees forgives; the knot she tied she looses; the +tree she planted she digs up. You are forgiven. Bones, put on strength; +mouths, receive food; eyes, forget your blindness, and feet, your +wanderings. Grow fat and laugh; increase and multiply; for the curse we +give you a blessing, such is the will of the Mother of the Trees.” + +“Nay, nay,” cried Rachel, when she understood their words, “believe him +not, ye starvelings. Such is the will of the Inkosazana of the Zulus, +she who has lost her Spirit and another’s, and travels all this weary +way to find them.” + +Then her madness seemed to come upon her again, for she tossed her arms +on high and burst into one of her wild fits of laughter. But those whom +she had redeemed heeded it not, for they ran to her, and since they +dared not touch her, or even her robe, kissed the ground on which she +had stood and blessed her. Moreover from that moment they began to +mend, and within a few days were changed folk. This Noie knew, for they +followed up Rachel to the confines of the desert, and she saw it with +her eyes. Also the fame of the deed spread among the Umkulu people who +groaned under the cruel rule of the Ghost-kings, and mad or sane, from +that day forward they adored Rachel even more than the Zulus had done, +and like the Zulus believed her to be a Spirit. No mere human being, +they declared, could have lifted off the curse of the Mother of the +Trees from those upon whom it had fallen. + +Thenceforward Eddo, Pani, and Hana hid their judgments from Rachel, and +would not suffer such suppliants to approach the camp. Also when they +seized a number of men because these had conspired together to rebel +against the Ghost-people, and brought them on towards their own country +for a certain purpose, they forced them to act as bearers like the +others, so that Rachel might not guess their doom. For now, with all +their power, they also were afraid of this white Inkosazana, as Dingaan +had been afraid. + +So they travelled up this endless slope of fertile land, leaving all +the kraals of the giant Umkulus behind them, and one morning at the +dawn camped upon the edge of a terrible desert; a place of dry sands +and sun-blasted rocks, that looked like the bottom of a drained ocean, +where nothing lived save the fire lizards and certain venomous snakes +that buried themselves in the sand, all except their heads, and only +crawled out at night. After the people of the Umkulus this horrible +waste was the great defence of the Ghost-kings, whose country it ringed +about, since none could pass it without guides and water. Indeed, Noie +had been forced to stay here for days with her escort, until the Mother +of the Trees, learning of her coming in some strange fashion, had sent +priests and guards to bring her to her land. But the Zulus who were +with her they did not bring, except one witch-doctor to bear witness to +her words. These they left among the Umkulus till she should return, +nor were those Zulus sorry who had already heard enough of the magic of +the Ghost-kings, and feared to come face to face with them. + +But it is true that they also feared the Umkulus, whom, because of +their great size and the fierceness of their air, the Zulus took to be +evil spirits, though if this were so, they could not understand why +they should obey a handful of grey dwarfs who lived far from them +beyond the desert. Still these Umkulus did them no harm, for on her +return Noie found them all safe and well. + +That afternoon Rachel and the dwarfs plunged into the dreadful +wilderness, heading straight for the ball of the sinking sun. Here, +although she wished to do so, she was not allowed to walk, for fear +lest the serpents should bite her, said Eddo, but must journey in the +litter with Noie. So they entered it, and were borne forward at a great +pace, the bearers travelling at a run, and being often changed. Also +many other bearers came with them, and on the shoulders of each of them +was strapped a hide bag of water. Of this they soon discovered the +reason, for the sand of that wilderness was white with salt; the air +also seemed to be full of salt, so that the thirst of those who +travelled there was sharp and constant, and if it could not be +satisfied they died. + +It was a very strange journey, and although she did not seem to take +much note of them at the time, its details and surroundings burned +themselves deeply into Rachel’s mind. The hush of the infinite desert, +the white moonlight gleaming upon the salt, white sand; the tall rocks +which stood up here and there like unfinished obelisks and colossal +statues, the snowy clouds of dust that rose beneath the feet of the +company; the hoarse shouts of the guides, the close heat, the halts for +water which was greedily swallowed in great gulps; the occasional cry +and confusion when a man fell out exhausted, or because he had been +bitten by one of the serpents—all these things, amongst others, were +very strange. + +Once Rachel asked vaguely what became of these outworn and +snake-poisoned men, and Noie only shook her head in answer, for she did +not think fit to tell her that they were left to find their way back, +or to perish, as might chance. + +All that night and for the first hours of the day that followed, they +went forward swiftly, camping at last to eat and sleep in the shadow of +a mass of rock that looked like a gigantic castle with walls and +towers. Here they remained in the burning heat until the sun began to +sink once more, and then went on again, leaving some of the bearers +behind them, because there was no longer water for so many. There the +great men sat in patient resignation and watched them go, they who knew +that having little or no water, few of them could hope to see their +homes again. Still, so great was their dread of the Ghost-priests, that +they never dared to murmur, or to ask that any of the store of water +should be given to them, they who were but cattle to be used until they +died. + +The second night’s journey was like the first, for this desert never +changed its aspect, and on the following morning they halted beneath +another pile of fantastic, sand-burnished rocks, from some of which +hung salt like icicles. Here one of the bearers who had been denied +water as a punishment for laziness, although in truth he was sick, +began to suck the salt-icicles. Suddenly he went raving mad, and +rushing with a knife at Eddo, Pani, and Hana where they sat under their +cane umbrellas that, for the sake of coolness, were damped with this +precious water, he tried to kill them. + +Then as they saw the knife gleaming, all their imperturbable calm +departed from these dwarfs. They squeaked in terror with thin voices as +rats speak; they rolled upon the ground yelling to the slaves to save +them from a “red death.” The man was seized and, though he fought with +all his giant strength, held down and choked in the sand. Once, +however, he twisted his head free, howling a curse at them. Also he +managed to hurl his knife at Eddo, and the point of it scratched him on +the hand, causing the pale blood to flow, a sight at which Eddo and the +other priests broke into tears and lamentations, that continued long +after the Umkulu was dead. + +“Why are they such cowards?” asked Rachel, dreamily, for she had not +seen the murder of the slave, and thought that Eddo had only scratched +himself. + +“Because they fear the sight of blood, Zoola,” answered Noie, “which is +a very evil omen to them. Death they do not fear who are already among +ghosts, but if it is a red death, their souls are spilt with their +life, or so they believe.” + +Towards noon that day the sky banked up with lurid-coloured clouds; the +sun which should have shone so hotly, went out, and a hush that was +almost fearful in its heat and intensity, fell upon the desert. The +Umkulu bearers became disturbed, and gathered together into knots, +talking in low tones. Eddo and his brother priests who, either because +of the adventure of the morning or the oppressive air, could not sleep, +as was usual with them, were also disturbed. They crept from beneath +their umbrellas which, as the sun had vanished, were of no use to them, +and stood together staring at the salty plain, which under that leaden +and lowering sky looked white as snow, and at the brooding clouds +above. They even sent for their bowls to read in them pictures of what +was about to happen, but there was no dew left, so these could not be +used. + +Then they consulted with the captains of the bearers, who told them +what no magic was needed to guess—that a mighty storm was gathering, +and that if it overtook them in the desert, they would be buried +beneath the drifting sand. Now this was a “white death” which the +dwarfs did not seem to desire, so they ordered an instant departure, +instead of delaying the start until sunset, as they had intended, for +then, if all went well, they would have arrived at their homes by dawn, +and not in the middle of the night. So that litters were made ready, +and they went forward through the overpowering heat, that caused the +bearers to hang out their tongues and reel as they walked. + +Towards evening the storm began to stir. Little wandering puffs of wind +blew upon them and died away, and lightnings flickered intermittently. +Then a hot breeze sprang up that gradually increased in strength until +the sand rolled and rippled before it, now one way and now another, for +this breeze seemed to blow in turn from every quarter of the heavens. +Suddenly, however, after trying them all, it settled in the west, and +drove straight into their faces with ever increasing force. Now Eddo +thrust out his head between the curtains of his litter and called to +the bearers to hurry, as they had but a little distance of desert left +to pass, after which came the grass country where there would be no +danger from the sand. They heard and obeyed, changing the pole gangs +frequently, as those who carried the litters became exhausted. + +But the storm was quicker than they; it burst upon them while they were +still in the waste, though not in its full strength. Then the darkness +came, utter darkness, for no moon or stars could be seen, and salt and +sand drove down on them like hail. Through it all, the bearers fought +on, though how they found their way Noie, who was watching them, could +not guess, since no landmarks were left to guide them. They fought on, +blinded, choked with the salt sand that drove into their eyes and +lungs, till man after man, they fell down and perished. Others took +their places, and yet they fought on. + +It must have been near to midnight when the company, or those who were +left of them, staggered to the edge of that dreadful wilderness which +was but a vast plain of stone and sand, bordered on the west as on the +east by slopes of fertile soil. For a while the fierce tempest lifted a +little, and the light of the stars which struggled through breaks in +the clouds showed that they were marching down a steep descent of +grassland. Thus they went on for several more hours, till at length the +bearers of the litter in which were Rachel and Noie, who for a long +time had been staggering to and fro like drunken men, came to a halt, +and litter and all, sank to the ground, utterly exhausted. + +Rachel and Noie disentangled themselves from the litter, for they were +unhurt, and stood by it, not knowing where to go, till presently two +other litters containing the priests came up, for the third had been +abandoned, and its occupant crowded in with Eddo. Now a great clamour +arose in the darkness, the priests hissing commands to the surviving +bearers to take up the litter and proceed. But great as was their +strength, this the poor men could not do. There they lay upon the +ground answering that Eddo might curse them if he wished, or even kill +them as their brothers had been killed, but they were unable to stir +another step until they had rested and drunk. Where they were, there +they must lie until rain fell. Then the priests wished Rachel to enter +one of their litters, leaving Noie to walk, which they were afraid to +do themselves. But when she understood, Rachel cut the matter short by +answering, + +“Not so, I will walk,” and picking up the spear of one of the fallen +Umkulu to serve as a staff, she took Noie by the hand and started +forward down the hill. + +One of the priests clasped her robe to draw her back, but she turned on +him with the spear, whereon he shrank back into his litter like a snail +into his shell and left her alone. So following the steep path they +marched on, and after them came the two litters with the priests, +carried by all the bearers who could still stand, for these old men +weighed no more than children. From far below them rose a mighty sound +as of an angry sea. + +“What is that noise?” called Rachel into the ear of Noie, for the gale +was rising again. + +“The sound of wind in the forest where the Tree-folk dwell,” she +answered. + +Then the dawn broke, an awful, blood-red dawn, and by degrees they saw. +Beneath them ran a shallow river, and beyond it, stretching for league +upon league farther than the eye could see, lay the mighty forest +whereof the trees soared two hundred feet or more into the air; the +dark illimitable forest that rolled as the sea rolls beneath the +pressure of the gale, and indeed, seen from above, looked like a green +and tossing ocean. At the sight of the water Rachel and Noie began to +run towards it hand in hand, for they were parched with thirst whose +mouths were full of the salt dust of the desert. The bearers of the +litters in which were the three priests ran also, paying no heed to the +cries of the dwarfs within. At length it was reached, and throwing +themselves down they drank until that raging thirst of theirs was +satisfied; even Eddo and his companions crawled out of their litters +and drank. Then having washed their hands and faces in the cool water, +they forded the fleet stream, and, filled with a new life, followed the +road that ran beyond towards the forest. Scarcely had they set foot +upon the farther bank when the heart of the tempest, which had been +eddying round them all night long, burst over them in its fury. The +lightnings blazed, the thunder rolled, and the wild wind grew to a +hurricane, so fierce that the litters in which were Eddo, Pani, and +Hana were torn from the grasp of the bearers and rolled upon the +ground. From the wreck of them, for they were but frail things, the +little grey priests emerged trembling, or rather were dragged by the +hands of their giant bearers, to whom they clung as a frightened infant +clings to its mother. Rachel saw them and laughed. + +“Look at the Masters of Magic!” she cried to Noie, “those who kill with +a curse, those who rule the Ghosts,” and she pointed to the tiny, +contemptible figures with fluttering robes being dragged along by those +giants whom but a little while before they had threatened with death. + +“I see them,” answered Noie into her ear. “Their spirits are strong +when they are at peace, but in trouble they fear doom more than others. +Now, if I were those Umkulu, I would make an end of them while they +can.” + +But these great, patient men did otherwise; indeed, when the dwarfs, +worn out and bewildered by the hurricane, could walk no more, they took +them up and carried them as a woman carries a babe. + +Now they were passing a belt of open land between the river and the +forest in which terrified mobs of cattle rushed to and fro, while their +herds, slave-men of large size like the Umkulu, tried to drive them to +some place where they would be safe from the tempest. In this belt also +grew broad fields of grain, which furnished food for the Tree-folk. At +last they came to the confines of the forest, and Rachel, looking round +her with wondering eyes, saw at the foot of each great tree a tiny hut +shaped like a tent, and in front of the hut a dwarf seated on the +ground staring into a bowl of water, and beating his breast with his +hands. + +“What do they?” she asked of Noie. + +“They strive to read their fates, Lady, and weep because the wind +ripples the dew in their bowls, so that they can see nothing, and +cannot be sure whether their tree will stand or fall. Follow me, follow +me; I know the way, here we are not safe.” + +The hurricane was at its height; the huge trees about them rocked and +bent like reeds, great boughs came crashing down; one of them fell upon +a praying dwarf and crushed him to a pulp. Those around him saw it and +uttered a wild shrill scream; Eddo, Pani, and Hana saw it and screamed +also, in the arms of their bearers, for this sight of blood was +terrible to them. The forest was alive with the voices of the storm, it +seemed to howl and groan, and the lightnings illumined its gloomy +aisles. The grandeur and the fearfulness of the scene excited Rachel; +she waved the spear she carried, and began to laugh in the wild fashion +of her madness, so that even the grey dwarfs, seated each at the foot +of his tree, ceased from his prayers to glance at her askance. + +On they went, expecting death at every step, but always escaping it, +until they reached a wide clearing in the forest. In the centre of this +clearing grew a tree more huge than any that Rachel had ever dreamed +of, the bole of it, that sprang a hundred feet without a branch, was +thicker than Dingaan’s Great Hut, and its topmost boughs were lost in +the scudding clouds. In front of this tree was gathered a multitude of +people, men, women, and children, all dwarfs, and all of them on their +knees engaged in prayer. At its bole, by a tent-shaped house, stood a +little figure, a woman whose long grey hair streamed upon the wind. + +“The Mother of the Trees,” cried Noie through the screaming gale. “Come +to her, she will shelter us,” and she gripped Rachel’s arm to lead her +forward. + +Scarcely had they gone a step when the lightning blazed above them +fearfully, and with it came an awful rush of wind. Perhaps that flash +fell upon the tree, or perhaps the wind snapped its roots. At least its +mighty trunk burst in twain, and with a crash that for a moment seemed +to master even the roar of the volleying thunder, down it came to +earth. Two huge limbs fell on either side of Rachel and Noie, but they +were not touched. A bough struck the Umkulu slave who was carrying +Eddo, and swept off his head, leaving the dwarf unharmed. Another bough +fell upon Pani and his bearer, and buried them in the earth beneath its +bulk, so that they were never seen again. As it chanced the most of the +worshippers were beyond the reach of the falling branches, but some of +these that were torn loose in the fall, or shattered by the lightning, +the wind caught and hurled among them, slaying several and wounding +others. + +In ten seconds the catastrophe had come and gone, the Queen-Tree that +had ruled the forest for a thousand years was down, a stack of green +leaves, through which the shattered branches showed like bones, and a +prostrate, splintered trunk. The shock threw Noie and Rachel to the +ground, but Rachel, rising swiftly, pulled Noie to her feet after her; +then, acting upon some impulse, leapt forward, and climbing on to the +trunk where it forked, ran down it till she almost reached its base, +and stood there against the great shield of earth that had been torn up +with the roots. After that last fearful outburst a stillness fell, the +storm seemed to have exhausted itself, at any rate for a while. Rachel +was able to get her breath and look about her. + +All around were lines of enormous trees, solemn aisles that seemed to +lead up to the Queen of the Trees, and down these aisles, piercing the +shadows cast by the interlacing branches overhead, shone the lights of +that lurid morning. Rachel saw, and something struggled in the darkness +of her brain, as the light struggled in the darkness of the forest +aisles. She remembered—oh! what was it she remembered? Now she knew. It +was the dream she had dreamed upon the island in the river, years and +years ago, a dream of such trees as these, and of little grey people +like to these, and of the boy, Richard, grown to manhood, lashed to the +trunk of one of the trees. What had happened to her? She could recall +nothing since she saw the body of Richard upon its bier in the kraal +Mafooti. + +But this was not the kraal Mafooti, nor had Noie, who stood at her +side, been with her there, Noie, who had gone on an embassy to her +father’s folk, the dwarf people. Ah! these people were dwarfs. Look at +them running to and fro screaming like little monkeys. She must have +been dreaming a long, bad dream, whereof the pictures had escaped her. +Doubtless she was still dreaming and presently would awake. Well, the +torment had gone out of it, and the fear, only the wonder remained. She +would stand still and see what happened. Something was happening now. A +little thin hand appeared, gripping the rough bark at the side of the +fallen tree. + +She peeped over the swell of it and saw an old dwarf woman with long +white hair, whose feet were set in a cleft of the shattered bole, and +who hung to it as an ape hangs. Beneath her to the ground was a fall of +full thirty feet, for the base of the bole was held high up by the +roots, so that the little woman’s hair hung down straight towards the +ground, whither she must presently fall and be killed. Rachel wondered +how she had come there, if she had clung to the trunk when it fell, or +been thrown up by the shock, or lifted by a bough. Next she wondered +how long it would be before she was obliged to leave go, and whether +her white head or her back would first strike the earth all that depth +beneath. Then it occurred to her that she might be saved. + +“Hold my feet,” she said to Noie, who had followed her along the trunk, +speaking in her own natural voice, at the sound of which Noie looked at +her in joyful wonder. “Hold my feet; I think I can reach that old +woman,” and without waiting for an answer she laid herself down upon +the bole, her body hanging over the curve of it. + +Now Noie saw her purpose, and seating herself with her heels set +against the roughness of the bark, grasped her by the ankles. +Supporting some of her weight on one hand, with the other Rachel +reached downwards all the length of her long arm, and just as the grasp +of the old woman below was slackening, contrived to grip her by the +wrist. The dwarf swung loose, hanging in the air, but she was very +light, of the weight of a five-year-old child, perhaps, no more, and +Rachel was very strong. With an effort she lifted her up till the +monkey-like fingers gripped the rough bark again. Another effort and +the little body was resting on the round of the tree, one more and she +was beside her. + +Now Rachel rose to her feet again and laughed, but it was not the mad +laughter that had scared Ishmael and the Zulus; it was her own +laughter, that of a healthy, cultured woman. + +The little creature, crouching on hands and knees at Rachel’s feet, +lifted her head and stared with her round eyes. At that moment, too, +the sun broke out, and its rays, shining where they had never shone for +ages, fell upon Rachel, upon her bright hair, and the white robes in +which the dwarfs had clothed her, and the gleaming spear in her hand, +causing her to look like some ancient statue of a goddess upon a temple +roof. + +“Who art thou,” said the dwarf woman in the hissing voice of her race, +“thou Beautiful One? I know! I know! Thou art that Inkosazana of the +Zulus of whom we have had many visions, she for whom I sent. But the +Inkosazana was mad, she had lost her Spirit; it has been seen here. +Beautiful One, _thou_ art not mad.” + +“What does she say, Noie?” asked Rachel. “I can only understand some +words.” + +Noie told her, and Rachel hid her eyes in her hand. Presently she let +it fall, saying: + +“She is right. I lost my Spirit for a while; it went away with another +Spirit. But I think that I have found it again. Tell her, Noie, that I +have travelled far to seek my Spirit, and that I have found it again.” + +Noie, who could scarcely take her eyes from Rachel’s face, obeyed, but +the old woman hardly seemed to heed her words; a grief had got hold of +her. She rocked herself to and fro like a monkey that has lost its +young, and cried out: + +“My tree has fallen, the tree of my House, which stood from the +beginning of the world, has fallen, but that of Eddo still stands,” and +she pointed to another giant of the forest that soared up, unharmed, at +a little distance. “Nya’s tree has fallen—Eddo’s tree still stands. His +magic has prevailed against me, his magic has prevailed against me!” + +As she spoke a man appeared scrambling along the bole towards them; it +was Eddo himself. His round eyes shone, on his pale face there was a +look of triumph, for whoever might be lost, the danger had passed him +by. + +“Nya,” he piped, tapping her on the shoulder, “thy Ghost has deserted +thee, old woman, thy tree is down. See, I spit upon it,” and he did so. +“Thou art no longer Mother of the Trees; thou art only the old woman +Nya. The Ghost people, the Dream people, the little Grey people, have a +new queen, and I am her minister, for I rule her Spirit. Yonder she +stands,” and he pointed at the tall and glittering Rachel. “Now, thou +new-born Mother of the Trees, who wast the Inkosazana of the Zulus, +obey me. Give death to this old woman, the Red Death, that her spirit +may be spilt with her blood, and lost for ever. Give it to her with +that spear in thy hand, while I hide my eyes, and reign thou in her +place through me,” and he bowed his head and waited. + +“Not the Red Death, not the Red Death,” wailed Nya. “Give me the White +Death and save my soul, Beautiful One, and in return I will give thee +something that thou desirest, who am still the wisest of them all, +although my Tree is down.” + +Noie whispered for a while in Rachel’s ear. Then while all the dwarf +people gathered beneath them, watching, Rachel bent forward, and +putting her arms about the trembling creature, lifted her up as though +she were a child, and held her to her bosom. + +“Mother,” she said, “I give thee no death, red or white; I give thee +love. Thy tree is down; sit thou in my shadow and be safe. On him who +harms thee”—and she looked at Eddo—“on him shall the Red Death fall.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +THE MOTHER OF THE TREES + + +When Eddo understood these words he lifted his head and stared at +Rachel amazed. + +“This is thy doing, Bastard,” he said savagely, addressing Noie, who +had translated them. “I have felt thee fighting against me for long, +and now thou causest this Inkosazana to defy me. It was thou who didst +work upon that old woman, thine aunt, to command that the white witch +should be brought hither, and because as yet I dared not disobey, I +made a terrible journey to bring her. Yes, and I did this gladly, for +when my eyes fell upon her, there in the town of Dingaan, I saw that +she was great and beautiful, but that her Spirit had gone, and I knew +that I could make her mouth to speak my words, and her pure eyes to see +things that are denied to mine, even the future as, when I bade her, +she saw it yonder in the court of Dingaan. But now it seems that her +Spirit has returned to her, so that there is no room for mine in her +heart, and she speaks her own words, not my words. And thou hast done +this thing, O Bastard.” + +“Perhaps,” answered Noie unconcernedly. + +“Thou thinkest,” went on Eddo, in his fury beating the bole on which he +sat, “thou thinkest to protect that old hag, Nya, because her blood +runs in thee. But, fool, it is in vain, for her tree is down, her tree +is down, and as its leaves wither, and its sap dries up, so must she +wither and her blood dry up until she dies, she who thought to live on +for many years.” + +“What does that matter?” asked Noie, “seeing that then she will only +join the great company of the ghosts with whom she longs to be, and +return with them to torment thee, Eddo, until thou, too, art one of +them, and lookest on the face of Judgment.” + +“Thou thinkest,” screamed the dwarf, ignoring this ominous suggestion, +“thou thinkest, when she is gone, to be queen in her place, or to rule +as high priestess through this White One.” + +“If I do, that will be a bad hour for thee, Eddo,” replied Noie. + +“It shall not be, woman. No bastard shall reign here as Mother of the +Trees while the nations round cringe before her feet. I have spells; I +have poisons; I have slaves who can shoot with arrows.” + +“Then use them if thou canst, thou evil-doer,” said “Noie +contemptuously. + +“Aye, I will use them all, and not on thee only, but on that white +witch whom thou lovest. She shall never pass living from this land that +is ringed in by the desert and the forest. She shall choose me to reign +through her as her high priest, or she shall die—die miserably. For a +little while that old hag, Nya, may protect her with her wisdom, but +when she passes, as she must, and quickly, for I will light fires +beneath this fallen tree of hers, then I tell thee the Beautiful One +shall choose between my rule and doom.” + +Now Noie would hear no more. + +“Dog,” she cried, “filthy night-bird, darest thou speak thus of the +Inkosazana? Another word and I will offer that heart of thine to the +sun thou hatest,” and snatching the spear from Rachel’s hand, she +charged at him, holding it aloft. + +Eddo saw her come. With a scream of fear he leapt to his feet, and ran +swiftly along the bole till he reached the mass of the fallen branches. +Into these he sprang, swinging himself from bough to bough like an ape +until he vanished amongst the dark green foliage. Then, having quite +lost sight of him, Noie returned laughing to Rachel, by whom stood the +old Mother of the Trees who had slid from her arms, and gave her back +the spear, saying in the dwarf language: + +“This Eddo speaks great words, but he is also a great coward.” + +“Yes, yes,” answered the old woman, “he is a great coward, because like +all our folk he fears the Red Death; but, child, I tell thee he is +terrible. He hates me because I rule through the white art, not the +black, but while my tree stood he must obey me, and I was safe. Now it +is down, and he may kill me if he can, according to the custom of my +land, and set up another to be queen, she at whose feet my tree bowed +itself and fell by the will of the Heavens, and whom, therefore, the +people will accept. Through her he will wield all the power of the +Ghost-kings, over whom no man may rule, but a woman only. Come, Child, +and thou, White One, come also. I know where we may hide. Lady, the +power that was mine is thine; protect me till I die, and in payment I +will give thee whatever thy heart desires.” + +“I ask no payment,” Rachel answered wearily, when she understood the +words; “and I think that it is I who need protection from that wicked +dwarf.” + +Then, guided by Nya, who clung to Rachel’s hand, they walked down the +bole of the tree and along a great branch, till at length they reached +a place whence they could climb to the ground. Before they were clear +of the boughs the dethroned Mother, from whose round eyes the tears +fell, turned and kissed the bark of one of them, wailing aloud. + +“Farewell, thou mighty one, under whose shade I, and the queens of my +race before me, have dreamed for centuries. Thou art fallen beneath the +stroke of Heaven, and great was thy fall, and I am fallen with thee. +Save me from the Red Death, O Spirit of my tree, that in the land of +ghosts I still may sleep beneath thy shade for ever.” + +Then she ran to the very point of the tree and broke off its topmost +twig, which was covered with narrow and shining green leaves, and +holding it in her hand, returned to Rachel. + +“I will plant it,” she said, “and perchance it will grow to be the +house of queens unborn. Come, now, come,” and she turned her face +towards the forest. + +The thunder had rolled away, and from time to time the sun shone +fiercely, so fiercely that, unable to bear its rays, all the dwarfs who +were gathered about the fallen tree had retreated into the shadow of +the other trees around the open space. There they stood and sat +watching the three of them go by. Men, women and children, they all +watched, and Rachel they saluted with their raised hands; but to her +who had been their mother for unknown years they did no reverence. Only +one hideous little man ran up to her and called out: + +“Thou didst punish me once, old woman, now why should I not kill thee +in payment? Thy tree is down at last.” + +Nya looked at him sadly, and answered: + +“I remember. Thou shouldst have died, for thy sin was great, but I laid +a lesser burden on thee. Man, thou canst not kill me yet; my tree is +down, but it is not dead.” + +She held up the green bough in her hand and looked at him from beneath +it, then went on slowly: “Man, my wisdom remains within me, and I tell +thee that before I die thou shalt die, and not as thou desirest. +Remember my words, people of the Ghosts.” + +Then she walked on with the others, leaving the dwarf staring after her +with a face wherein hate struggled with fear. + +“Thou liest,” he screamed after her; “thy power is gone with thy tree.” + +Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when they heard a crash which +caused them to look round. A bough, broken by the storm, had fallen +from on high. It had fallen on to the head of the dwarf, and there he +lay crushed and dead. + +“Ah!” piped the other dwarfs, pointing towards the corpse with their +fingers, and closing their eyes to shut out the sight of blood, “ah! +Nya is right; she still has power. Those who would kill her must wait +till her tree dies.” + +Taking no heed of what had happened, Nya walked on into the forest. For +a while Rachel noted the little huts built, each of them, at the foot +of a tree. There were hundreds of these huts that they could see, +showing that the people were many, but by degrees they grew fewer, only +one was visible here and there, set beneath some particularly vigorous +and handsome timber. At last they ceased altogether; they had passed +through that city, the strangest city in the world. + +Trees—everywhere trees, hundreds of trees, tens of thousands of trees +soaring up to heaven, making a canopy of their interlacing boughs, +shutting out the light so that beneath them was a deep oppressive +gloom. There was silence also, for if any beasts or birds dwelt there +the hurricane had scared them away, silence only broken from time to +time by the crash of some giant of the forest that, its length of days +fulfilled at last, sank suddenly to ruin, to be buried in a tomb of +brushwood whence in due course its successor would arise. + +“Another life gone,” said the old woman, Nya, flitting before them like +a little grey ghost, every time that this weird sound struck upon their +ears; “whose was it, I wonder? I will look in my bowl, I will look in +my bowl.” + +For, as Rachel discovered afterwards, these people believed that the +spirit of each tree of the forest is attached to the spirit of a human +being, although that being may dwell in other lands, far away, which +dies when the tree dies, sometimes slowly by disease, and sometimes in +swift collapse, so that they pass together into the world of ghosts. + +On they flitted through the gloom, on for mile after mile. Although the +leaf-strewn ground showed no traces of it, evidently they were +following some kind of path, for no fallen trunks barred their +progress, nor were there any creepers or brushwood, although to right +and left of them all these could be seen in plenty. At last, quite of a +sudden, for the bole of a tree at the end of the path had hidden it +from them, they came upon a clearing in the forest. It seemed to be a +natural, or, at any rate, a very ancient clearing, since in it no +stumps were visible, nor any scrub, or creepers, only tall grass and +flowering plants. In the centre of this place, covering a quarter of +it, perhaps, was a vast circular wall, fifty feet or more in height, +and clothed with ferns. This wall, they noted, was built of huge blocks +of stone, so huge indeed that it seemed wonderful that they could have +been moved by human beings. At the sight of that marvellous wall Rachel +and Noie halted involuntarily, and Noie asked: + +“Who made it, Mother?” + +“The giants who lived when the world was young. Can our hands lift such +stones?” Nya answered, as, bending down, she thrust the top shoot from +her fallen tree deep into the humid soil, then added: “On, child; there +is danger here.” + +As she spoke something hissed through the air just above her head, and +stuck fast in the bark of a sapling. Noie sprang forward and plucked it +out. It was a little reed, feathered with grasses, and having a sharp +ivory point, smeared with some green substance. + +“Touch it not,” cried Nya, “it is deadly poison. Eddo’s work, Eddo’s +work! but my hour is not yet. Into the open before another comes.” + +So they ran forward, all three of them, seeing and hearing nothing of +the shooter of the arrow. As they approached the titanic wall they saw +that it enclosed a mound, on the top of which mound grew a cedar-like +tree with branches so wide that they seemed to overshadow half of the +enclosure. There were no gates to this wall, but while they wondered +how it could be entered, Nya led them to a kind of cleft in its stones, +not more than two feet in width, across which cleft were stretched +strings of plaited grass. She pressed herself against them, breaking +them, and walked forward, followed by Rachel and Noie. Suddenly they +heard a noise above them, and, looking up, saw white-robed dwarfs +perched upon the stones of the cleft, holding bent bows in their hands, +whereof the arrows were pointed at their breasts. Nya halted, beckoning +to them, whereon, recognising her, they dropped the arrows into the +little quivers which they wore, and scrambled off, whither Rachel could +not see. + +“These are the guardians of the Temple that cannot either speak or +hear, who were summoned by the breaking of the thread,” said Nya, and +went forward again. + +Now to the right, and now to the left, ran the narrow path that wound +its way in the thickness of the mighty wall, which towered so high +above them that they walked almost in darkness, and at each turn of it +were recesses; and above these projecting stones, where archers could +stand for its defence. At length this path ended in a _cul-de-sac_, for +in front of them was nothing but blank masonry. Whilst Rachel and Noie +stared at it wondering whither they should go now, a large stone in +this wall turned, leaving a narrow doorway through which they passed, +whereon it shut again behind them, though by what machinery they could +not see. + +Thus they passed through the wall, emerging, however, at a different +point in its circumference to that at which they had entered. In the +centre of the enclosure rose the hill of earth that they had seen from +without, which evidently was kept free from weeds and swept, and on its +crest grew the huge cedar-like tree, the Tree of the Tribe. Between the +base of this hill and the foot of the wall was a wide ring of level +ground, also swept and weeded, and on this space, neatly arranged in +lines, were hundreds of little hillocks that resembled ant-heaps. + +“The burying-place of the Ghost-priests, Lady,” said Nya, nodding at +the hillocks. “Soon my bones will be added to them.” + +Walking across this strange cemetery, they came to the foot of the +mound that was entirely overshadowed by the cedar above, from the +outspread limbs of which hung long grey moss, that swayed ceaselessly +in the wind. Here dwarfs appeared from right and left, the same whom +they had seen within the thickness of the wall, or others like to them, +some male and some female; melancholy-eyed little creatures who bowed +to Nya, and looked with fear and wonder at the tall white Rachel. +Evidently they were all of them deaf mutes, for they made signs to Nya, +who answered them with other signs, the purport of which seemed to +sadden and disturb them greatly. + +“They have seen the fall of my tree in their bowls,” explained Nya to +Noie, “and ask me if it is a true vision. I tell them that I am come +here to die and that is why they are sad. This is the place of dying of +all the Ghost-priests, whence they pass into the world of spirits, and +here no blood may be shed, no, not that of the most wicked evil-doer. +If any one of the family of the priests reaches this place living, the +glory of the White Death is won. Follow and see.” + +So they followed her up the mound, past what looked like the entrance +to a cave, until they reached a low fence of reeds whereof the gate +stood open. + +“The gate is open, but enter not there,” whispered the old Mother of +the Trees, “for those who enter there live not long. Look, Lady, look.” + +Rachel peered through the gate, but so dense was the gloom in that holy +spot that at first she could only see the enormous red bole of the +cedar, and the ghostly, moss-clad branches which sprang from it at no +great height above the ground. Presently, however, her eyes, grown +accustomed to the light, distinguished several little white-robed +figures seated upon the earth at some distance from the trunk staring +into vessels of wood which were placed before them. These figures +appeared to be those of both men and women, while one was that of a +child. Even as they watched, the figure nearest to them fell forward +over its bowl and lay quite still, whereon those around it set up a +feeble, piping cry, that yet had in it a note of gladness. The +dwarf-mutes who had accompanied them, and who alone seemed to have a +right of entry into this sad place, ran forward and looked. Then very +gently they lifted up the fallen figure and bore it out. As it was +carried past them Rachel noted that it was the body of quite a young +woman, whose little face, wasted to nothing, still looked sweet and +gentle. + +“Was she ill?” asked Rachel in an awed voice. + +“Perhaps,” answered the Mother, shaking her grey head, “or perhaps she +was very unhappy, and came here to die. What does it matter? She is +happy now.” + +“Ask her, Noie, if all must die who sit beneath that tree,” said +Rachel. + +“Aye,” answered Nya, “all save these dumb people who have been priests +of the Tree from generation to generation. To touch its stem is to +perish soon or late, for it is the Tree of Life and Death, and in it +dwells the Spirit of the whole race.” + +“What then would happen if it fell down, or was destroyed like your +tree, Mother?” + +“Then the race would perish also,” answered Nya, “since their Spirit +would lack a home and depart to the world of Ghosts, whither they must +follow. When it dies of old age, if it should ever die, then the race +will die with it.” + +“And if someone should cut it down, Mother, what then?” + +Now when Noie translated these words to her, the face of the old queen +was filled with horror, and as her face was, so was Noie’s face. + +“White Maiden,” she gasped, “speak not such wickedness lest the very +thought of it should bring the curse upon us all. He who destroyed that +tree would bring ruin upon this people. They would fly away, every one +of them, far into the heart of the forest, and be seen no more by man. +Moreover, he who did this evil thing would perish and pass down to +vengeance among the ghosts, such vengeance as may not be spoken. Put +that thought from thy mind, I pray thee, and let it never pass thy lips +again.” + +“Do you believe all this, Noie?” asked Rachel in English with a smile. + +“Yes, Zoola,” answered Noie, shuddering, “for it is true. My father +told me of it, and of what happened once to some wild men who broke +into the sanctuary, and shot arrows at the Tree. No, no, I will not +tell the story; it is dreadful.” + +“Yet it must be foolishness, Noie, for how can a tree have power over +the lives of men?” + +“I do not know, but it has, it has! If I were but to cast a stone at +it, I should be dead in a day, and so would you—yes, even you—nothing +could save you. Oh!” she went on earnestly, “swear to me, Sister, that +you will never so much as touch that tree; I pray you, swear.” + +So Rachel swore, to please her, for she was tired of this tree and its +powers. + +Then they went down the hill again, till they came to the mouth of the +cave. + +“Enter, Lady,” Nya said, “for this must be thy home a while until thou +goest to rule as Mother of the Trees after me, or, if it pleases thee +better, up yonder to die.” + +They went into the cave, having no choice. It was a great place lit +dimly by the outer light, and farther down its length with lamps. +Looking round her, Rachel saw that its roof was supported by white +columns which she knew to be stalactites, for as a child she had seen +their like. At the end of it, where the lamps burned and a fountain +bubbled from the ground, rose a very large column shaped like the trunk +of a tree, with branches at the top that looked like the boughs of a +tree. Gazing at it Rachel understood why these dwarfs, or some ancient +people before them, had chosen this cave as their temple. + +“The ghost Tree of my race,” said old Nya, pointing to it, “the only +tree that never falls, the Tree that lives and grows for ever. Yes, it +grows, for it is larger now than when my mother was a child.” + +As they drew near to this wondrous and ghostly looking object Rachel +saw piled around and beyond it many precious things. There was gold in +dust and heaps, and rings and nuggets; there were shining stones, red +and green and white, that she knew were jewels; there were tusks of +ivory and carvings in ivory; there were karosses and furs mouldering to +decay; there were grotesque gods, fetishes of wood and stone. + +“Offerings,” said Nya, “which all the nations that live in darkness +bring to the Mother of the Trees, and the priests of the Cave. Costly +things which they value, but we value them not, who prize power and +wisdom only. Yes, yes, costly things which they give to the Mother of +the Trees, the fools without a spirit, when they come here to ask her +oracle. Look, there are some of the gifts which were sent by Dingaan of +the Zulus in payment for the oracle of his death. Thou broughtest them, +Noie, my child.” + +“Yes,” answered Noie, “I brought them, and the Inkosazana here, she +delivered the oracle. Eddo gave her the bowl, and she saw pictures in +the bowl and showed them to Dingaan.” + +“Nay, nay,” said the old woman testily, “it was I who saw the pictures, +and I showed them to Eddo and to this white virgin. You cannot +understand, but it was so, it was so. Eddo’s gift of vision is small, +mine is great. None have ever had it as I have it, and that is why Eddo +and the others have suffered my tree to live so long, because the light +of my wisdom has shone about their heads and spoken through their +tongues, and when I am gone they will seek and find it not. In thee +they might have found it, Maiden, had thy heart remained empty, but +now, it is full again and what room is there for wisdom such as +ours?—the wisdom of the ghosts, not the wisdom of life and love and +beating hearts.” + +Noie translated the words, but Rachel seemed to take no heed of them. + +“Dingaan?” she asked. “Is Dingaan dead? He was well enough when—when +Richard came to Zululand, and since then I have seen nothing of him. +How did he die?” + +“He did not die, Zoola,” answered Noie, “though I think that ere long +he will die, for you told him so. It was you who died for a while, not +Dingaan. By-and-bye you shall learn all that story. Now you are very +weary and must rest.” + +“Yes,” said Rachel with a sob, “I think I died when Richard died, but +now I seem to have come to life again—that is the worst of it. Oh!! +Noie, Noie, why did you not let me remain dead, instead of bringing me +to life again in this dreadful place?” + +“Because it was otherwise fated, Sister,” replied Noie. “No, do not +begin to laugh and cry; it was otherwise fated,” and bending down she +whispered something into Nya’s ear. + +The old dwarf nodded, then, taking Rachel by the hand, led her to where +some skins were spread upon the floor. + +“Lie down,” she said, “and rest. Rest, beautiful White One, and wake up +to eat and be strong again,” and she gazed into Rachel’s eyes as Eddo +had done when the fits of wild laughter were on her, singing something +as she gazed. + +While she sang the madness that was gathering there again went out of +Rachel’s eyes, the lids closed over them, and presently they were fast +shut in sleep, nor did she open them again for many hours. + +Rachel awoke and sat up looking round her wonderingly. Then by the dim +light of the lamps she saw Noie seated at her side, and the old +dwarf-woman, who was called Mother of the Trees, squatted at a little +distance watching them both—and remembered. + +“Thou hast had happy dreams, Lady, and thou art well again, is it not +so?” queried Nya. + +“Aye, Mother,” she answered, “too happy, for they make my waking the +more sad. And I am well, I who desire to die.” + +“Then go up through the open gate which thou sawest not so long ago, +and satisfy thy desire, as it is easy to do,” replied Nya grimly. +“Nay,” she added in a changed voice, “go not up, thou art too young and +fair, the blood runs too red in those blue veins of thine. What hast +thou to do with ghosts and death, and the darkness of the trees, thou +child of the air and sunshine? Death for the dwarf-folk, death for the +dealers in dreams, death for the death-lovers, but for thee life—life.” + +“Tell her, Noie,” said Rachel, “that my mother, who was fore-sighted, +always said that I should live out my days, and I fear that it is true, +who must live them out alone.” + +“Yes, yes, she was right, that mother of thine,” answered Nya, “and for +the rest, who knows? But thou art hungry, eat; afterwards we will +talk,” and she pointed to a stool upon which was food. + +Rachel tasted and found it very good, a kind of porridge, made of she +knew not what, and with it forest fruits, but no flesh. So she ate +heartily, and Noie ate with her. Nya ate also, but only a very little. + +“Why should I trouble to eat?” she said, “I to whom death draws near?” + +When they had finished eating, at some signal which Rachel did not +perceive, mutes came in who bore away the fragments of the meal. After +they had gone the three women washed themselves in the water of the +fountain. Then Noie combed out Rachel’s golden hair, and clothed her +again in her robe of silken fur that she had cleansed, throwing over it +a mantle of snowy white fibre, such as the dwarfs wove into cloth, +which she and Nya had made ready while Rachel slept. + +As Noie put it about her mistress and stepped back to see how it became +her beauty, two of the dwarf-mutes appeared creeping up the cave, and +squatting down before Nya began to make signs to her. + +“What is it?” asked Rachel nervously. + +“Eddo is without,” answered the Mother, “and would speak with us.” + +“I fear Eddo and will not go,” exclaimed Rachel. + +“Nay, have no fear, Maiden, for here he can not harm thee or any of us; +it is the place of sanctuary. Come, let us see this priest; perhaps we +may learn something from him.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +THE CITY OF THE DEAD + + +Nya led the way down the cave, followed by Rachel and Noie. Squatted in +its entrance, so as to be out of reach of the rays of the sun, sat +Eddo, looking like a malevolent toad, and with him were Hana and some +other priests. As Rachel approached they all rose and saluted, but to +Nya and Noie they gave no salute. Only to Nya Eddo said: + +“Why art thou not within the Fence, old woman?” and he pointed with his +chin towards the place of death above. “Thy tree is down, and all last +night we were hacking off its branches that it may dry up the sooner. +It is time for thee to die.” + +“I die when my tree dies, not before, Priest,” answered Nya. “I have +still some work to do before I die, also I have planted my tree again +in good soil, and it may grow.” + +“I saw,” said Eddo; “it is without the wall there, but many a +generation must go by before a new Mother sits beneath its shade. Well, +die when it pleases you, it does not matter when, since thou art no +more our Mother. Moreover, learn that all have deserted thee, save a +very few, most of whom have just now passed within the Fence above that +they may attend thee amongst the ghosts.” + +“I thank them,” said Nya simply, “and in that world we will rule +together.” + +“The rest,” went on Eddo, “have turned against thee, having heard how +thou didst bring one of us to the Red Death yesterday by thy evil +magic, him upon whom the bough fell.” + +“Who was it that strove to bring me to the Red Death before I reached +the sanctuary? Who shot the poisoned arrow, Priest?” + +“I do not know,” answered Eddo, “but it seems that he shot badly for +thou art still here. Now enough of thee, old woman. For many years we +bore thy rule, which was always foolish, and sometimes bad, because we +could not help it, for the tree of her who went before thee fell at thy +feet, as thy tree has fallen at the feet of the White Virgin there. For +long thou and I have struggled for the mastery, and now thou art dead +and I have won, so be silent, old woman, and since that arrow missed +thee, go hence in peace, for none need thee any more, who hast neither +youth, nor comeliness, nor power.” + +“Aye,” answered Nya, stung to fury by these insults, “I shall go hence +in peace, but thou shalt not abide in peace, thou traitor, nor those +who follow thee. When youth and comeliness fade then wisdom grows, and +wisdom is power, Eddo, true power. I tell thee that last night I looked +in my bowl and saw things concerning thee—aye, and all of our people, +that are hid from thy eyes, terrible things, things that have not +befallen since the Tree of the Tribe was a seed, and the Spirit of the +Tribe came to dwell within it.” + +“Speak them, then,” said Eddo, striving to hide the fear which showed +through his round eyes. + +“Nay, Priest, I speak them not. Live on and thou shalt discover them, +thou and thy traitors. Well have I served you all for many years, mercy +have I given to all, white magic have I practised and not black, none +have died that I could save, none have suffered whom I could protect, +no, not even the slave-peoples beneath our rule. All this have I done, +knowing that ye plotted against me, knowing that ye strove to kill my +tree by spells, knowing what the end must be. It has come at last, as +come it must, and I do not grieve. Fool, I knew that it would come, and +I knew the manner of its coming. It was I who sent for this virgin +queen whom ye would set up to rule over you, foreseeing that at her +feet my tree would fall. The ghost of Seyapi, who is of my blood, +Seyapi whom years ago ye drove away for no offence, to dwell in a +strange land, told me of her and of this Noie, his daughter, and of the +end of it all. So she came; thou didst not bring her as thou +thoughtest, _I_ brought her, and my tree fell at her feet as it was +doomed to fall, and she saved me from the Red Death as she was doomed +to do, giving me love, not hate, as I gave her love not hate. For the +rest ye shall see—all of you. I am finished—I am dead—but I live on +elsewhere, and ye shall see.” + +Now Eddo would have answered, but the priest Hana, who appeared to be +much frightened by Nya’s words, plucked at his sleeve, whispering in +his ear, and he was silent. Presently he spoke again, but to Rachel, +bidding Noie translate: + +“Thou White Maid,” he said, “who wast called Princess of the Zulus, pay +no heed to this old dotard, but listen to me. When thy Spirit wandered +yonder, even then I saw the seeds of greatness in thee, and begged thee +from the savage Dingaan. Also I and Pani, who is dead, and Hana, who +lives, read by our magic that at thy feet the tree of Nya would fall, +and that after her thou wast appointed to rule over us. All the +Ghost-people read it also, and now they have named thee their Mother, +and chosen thee a tree, a great tree, but young and strong, that shall +stand for ages. Come forth, then, and take thy seat beneath that tree, +and be our queen.” + +“Why should I come?” asked Rachel. “It seems that you dwarfs bring your +queens to ill ends. Choose you another Mother.” + +“Inkosazana, we cannot if we would,” answered Eddo, “for these matters +are not in our hands, but in those of our Spirit. Hearken, we will deal +well with thee; we will make thee great, and grow in thy greatness, for +thou shall give us of thy wisdom, that although thou knowest it not, +thou hast above all other women. We weary of little things, we would +rule the world. All the nations from sea to sea shall bow down before +thee, and seek thine oracle. Thou shall take their wealth, thou shalt +drive them hither and thither as the wind drives clouds. Thou shalt +make war, thou shalt ordain peace. At thy pleasure they shall rise up +in life and lie down in death. Their kings shall cower before thee, +their princes shall bring thee tribute, thou shalt reign a god.” + +“Until it shall please Eddo to bring thee to thine end, Lady, as it +pleases him to bring me to mine,” muttered Nya behind her. “Be not +beguiled, Maiden; remain a woman and uncrowned, for so thou shalt find +most joy.” + +“Thou meanest, Eddo,” said Rachel, “that thou wilt rule and I do thy +bidding. Noie, tell him that I will have none of it. When I came here a +great sorrow had made me mad, and I knew nothing. Now I have found my +Spirit again, and presently I go hence.” + +At this answer Eddo grew very angry. + +“One thing I promise thee, Zoola,” he said; “in the name of all the +Ghost-people I promise it, that thou shalt not go hence alive. In this +sanctuary thou art safe indeed, seated in the shadow of the Death-tree +that is the Tree of Life, but soon or late a way will be found to draw +thee hence, and then thou shalt learn who is the stronger—thou or +Eddo—as the old woman behind thee has learned. Fare thee well for a +while. I will tell the people that thou art weary and restest, and +meanwhile I rule in thy name. Fare thee well, Inkosazana, till we meet +without the wall,” and he rose and went, accompanied by Hana and the +other priests. + +When he had gone a little way he turned, and pointing up the hill, +screamed back to Nya: + +“Go and look within the Fence, old hag. There thou wilt see the best of +those that clung to thee, seeking for peace. Art thou a coward that +thou lingerest behind them?” + +“Nay, Eddo,” she answered, “thou art the coward that hast driven them +to death, because they are good and thou art evil. When my hour is ripe +I join them, not before. Nor shalt thou abide here long behind me. One +short day of triumph for thee, Eddo, and then night, black night for +ever.” + +Eddo heard, and his yellow face grew white with rage, or fear. He +stamped upon the ground, he shook his small fat fists, and spat out +curses as a toad spits venom. Nya did not stay to listen to them, but +walked up the cave and sat herself down upon her mat. + +“Why does he hate thee so, Mother?” asked Rachel. + +“Because those that are bad hate those that are good, Maiden. For many +a year Eddo has sought to rule through me, and to work evil in the +world, but I have not suffered it. He would abandon our secret, ancient +faith, and reign a king, as Dingaan the Zulu reigns. He would send the +slave-tribes out to war and conquer the nations, and build him a great +house, and have many wives. But I held him fast, so that he could do +few of these things. Therefore he plotted against me, but my magic was +greater than his, and while my tree stood he could not prevail. At +length it fell at thy feet, as he knew that it was doomed to fall, for +all these things are fore-ordained, and at once he would have slain me +by the Red Death, but thou didst protect me, and for that blessed be +thou for ever.” + +“And why does he wish to make me Mother in thy place, Nya?” + +“Because my tree fell at thy feet, and all the people demand it. +Because he thinks that once the bond of the priesthood is tied between +you, and his blood runs in thee, thy pure spirit will protect his +spirit from its sins, and that thy wisdom, which he sees in thee, will +make him greater than any of the Ghost-people that ever lived. Yet +consent not, for afterwards if thou dost thwart him, he will find a way +to bring down thy tree, and with it thy life, and set another to rule +in thy place. Consent not, for know that here thou art safe from him.” + +“It may be so, Mother, but how can I dwell on in this dismal place? +Already my heart is broken with its sorrows, and soon, like those poor +folk, I should seek peace within the Fence.” + +“Tell me of those sorrows,” said Nya gently. “Perhaps I do not know +them all, and perhaps I could help thee.” + +So Rachel sat herself down also, and Noie, interpreting for her, told +all her tale up to that point when she saw the body of Richard borne +away, for after this she remembered nothing until she found herself +standing upon the fallen tree in the land of the Ghost Kings. It was a +long tale, and before ever she finished it night fell, but throughout +its telling the old dwarf-woman said never a word, only watched +Rachel’s face with her kind, soft eyes. At last it was done, and she +said: + +“A sad story. Truly there is much evil in the world beyond the country +of the Trees, for here at least we shed little blood. Now, Maiden, what +is thy desire?” + +“This is my desire,” said Rachel, “to be joined again to him I love, +whom Ishmael slew; yes, and to my father and mother also, whom the +Zulus slew at the command of Ishmael.” + +“If they are all dead, how can that be, Maiden, unless thou seekest +them in death? Pass within the Fence yonder, and let the poison of the +Tree of the Tribe fall upon thee, and soon thou wilt find them.” + +“Nay, Mother, I may not, for it would be self-murder, and my faith +knows few greater crimes.” + +“Then thou must wait till death finds thee, and that road may be very +long.” + +“Already it is long, Mother, so long that I know not how to travel it, +who am alone in the world without a friend save Noie here,” and she +began to weep. + +“Not so. Thou hast another friend,” and she laid her hand upon Rachel’s +heart, “though it is true that I may bide with thee but a little +while.” + +After this they were all silent for a space, until Nya looked up at +Rachel and asked suddenly: + +“Art thou brave?” + +“The Zulus and others thought so, Mother; but what can courage avail me +now?” + +“Courage of the body, nothing, Maiden; courage of the spirit much, +perhaps. If thou sawest this lover of thine, and knew for certain that +he lives on beneath the world awaiting thee, would it bring thee +comfort?” + +Rachel’s breast heaved and her eyes sparkled with joy, as she answered: + +“Comfort! What is there that could bring so much? But how can it be, +Mother, seeing that the last gulf divides us, a gulf which mortals may +not pass and live?” + +“Thou sayest it; still I have great power, and thy spirit is white and +clean. Perhaps I could despatch it across that gulf and call it back to +earth again. Yet there are dangers, dangers to me of which I reck +little, and dangers to thee. Whither I sent thee, there thou mightest +bide.” + +“I care not if I bide there, Mother, if only it be with him! Oh! send +me on this journey to his side, and living or dead I will bless thee.” + +Now Nya thought a while and answered: + +“For thy sake I will try what I would try for none other who has +breathed, or breathes, for thou didst save me from the Red Death at the +hands of Eddo. Yes, I will try, but not yet—first thou must eat and +rest. Obey, or I do nothing.” + +So Rachel ate, and afterwards, feeling drowsy, even slept a while, +perhaps because she was still weary with her journeying and her +new-found mind needed repose, or perhaps because some drug had been +mingled with her drink. When she awoke Nya led her to the mouth of the +cave. There they stood awhile studying the stars. No breath of air +stirred, and the silence was intense, only from time to time the sound +of trees falling in the forest reached their ears. Sometimes it was +quite soft, as though a fleece of wool had been dropped to the earth, +that was when the tree that died had grown miles and miles away from +them; and sometimes the crash was as that of sudden thunder, that was +when the tree which died had grown near to them. + +A sense of the mystery and wonder of the place and hour sank into +Rachel’s heart. The stars above, the mighty entombing forest, in which +the trees fell unceasingly after their long centuries of life, the +encircling wall, built perhaps by hands that had ceased from their +labours hundreds of thousands of years before those trees began to +grow; the huge moss-clad cedar upon the mound beneath the shadow of +whose branches day by day its worshippers gave up their breath, that +immemorial cedar whereof, as they believed, the life was the life of +the nation; the wizened little witch-woman at her side with the seal of +doom already set upon her brow and the stare of farewell in her eyes; +the sad, spiritual face of Noie, who held her hand, the loving, +faithful Noie, who in that light seemed half a thing of air; the grey +little dwarf-mutes who squatted on their mats staring at the ground, or +now and again passed down the hill from the Fence of Death above, +bearing between them a body to its burial; all were mysterious, all +were wonderful. + +As she looked and listened, a new strength stirred in Rachel’s heart. +At first she had felt afraid, but now courage flowed into her, and it +seemed to come from the old, old woman at her side, the mistress of +mysteries, the mother of magic, in whom was gathered the wisdom of a +hundred generations of this half human race. + +“Look at the stars, and the night,” she was saying in her soft voice, +“for soon thou shalt be beyond them all, and perchance thou shall never +see them more. Art thou fearful? If so, speak, and we will not try this +journey in search of one whom we may not find.” + +“No,” answered Rachel; “but, Mother, whither go we?” + +“We go to the Land of Death. Come, then, the moment is at hand. It is +hard on midnight. See, yonder star stands above the holy Tree,” and she +pointed to a bright orb that hung almost over the topmost bough of the +cedar, “it marks thy road, and if thou wouldst pass it, now is the +hour.” + +“Mother,” asked Noie, “may I come with her? I also have my dead, and +where my Sister goes I follow.” + +“Aye, if thou wilt, daughter of Seyapi, the path is wide enough for +three, and if I stay on high, perchance thou that art of my blood +mayest find strength to guide her earthwards through the wandering +worlds.” + +Then Nya walked up the cave and sat herself down within the circle of +the lamps with her back to the stalactite that was shaped like a tree, +bidding Rachel and Noie be seated in front of her. Two of the +dwarf-mutes appeared, women both of them, and squatted to right and +left, each gazing into a bowl of limpid dew. Nya made a sign, and still +gazing into their bowls, these dwarfs began to beat upon little drums +that gave out a curious, rolling noise, while Nya sang to the sound of +the drums a wild, low song. With her thin little hands she grasped the +right hand of Rachel and of Noie and gazed into their eyes. + +Things changed to Rachel. The dwarfs to right and left vanished away, +but the low murmuring of their drums grew to a mighty music, and the +stars danced to it. The song of Nya swelled and swelled till it filled +all the space between earth and heaven; it was the rush of the gale +among the forests, it was the beating of the sea upon an illimitable +coast, it was the shout of all the armies of the world, it was the +weeping of all the women of the world. It lessened again, she seemed to +be passing away from it, she heard it far beneath her, it grew tiny in +its volume—tiny as if it were an infinite speck or point of sound which +she could still discern for millions and millions of miles, till at +length distance and vastness overcame it, and it ceased. It ceased, +this song of the earth, but a new song began, the song of the rushing +worlds. Far away she could hear it, that ineffable music, far in the +utter depths of space. Nearer it would come and nearer, a ringing, +glorious sound, a sound and yet a voice, one mighty voice that sang and +was answered by other voices as sun crossed the path of sun, and caught +up and re-echoed by the innumerable choir of the constellations. + +They were falling past her, those vast, glowing suns, those rounded +planets that were now vivid with light, and now steeped in gloom, those +infinite showers of distant stars. They were gone, they and their music +together; she was far beyond them in a region where all life was +forgotten, beyond the rush of the uttermost comet, beyond the last +glimmer of the spies and outposts of the universe. One shape of light +she sped into the black bosom of fathomless space, and its solitude +shrivelled up her soul. She could not endure, she longed for some shore +on which to set her mortal feet. + +Behold! far away a shore appeared, a towering, cliff-bound shore, upon +whose iron coasts all the black waves of space beat vainly and were +eternally rolled back. Here there was light, but no such light as she +had ever known; it did not fall from sun or star, but, changeful and +radiant, welled upward from that land in a thousand hues, as light +might well from a world of opal. In its dazzling, beautiful rays she +saw fantastic palaces and pyramids, she saw seas and pure white +mountains, she saw plains and new-hued flowers, she saw gulfs and +precipices, and pale lakes pregnant with wavering flame. All that she +had ever conceived of as lovely or as fearful, she beheld, far lovelier +or a thousandfold more fearful. + +Like a great rose of glory that world bloomed and changed beneath her. +Petal by petal its splendours fell away and were swallowed in the sea +of space, whilst from the deep heart of the immortal rose new +splendours took their birth, and fresh-fashioned, mysterious, +wonderful, reappeared the measureless city with its columns, its +towers, and its glittering gates. It endured a moment, or a million +years, she knew not which, and lo! where it had been, stood another +city, different, utterly different, only a hundred times more glorious. +Out of the prodigal heart of the world-rose were they created, into the +black bosom of nothingness were they gathered; whilst others, ever more +perfect, pressed into their place. So, too, changed the mountains, and +so the trees, while the gulfs became a garden and the fiery lakes a +pleasant stream, and from the seed of the strange flowers grew +immemorial forests wreathed about with rosy mists and bedecked in +glimmering dew. With music they were born, on the wings of music they +fled away, and after them that sweet music wailed like memories. + +A hand took hers and drew her downwards, and up to meet her leapt +myriads of points of light, in every point a tiny face. They gazed at +her with their golden eyes; they whispered together concerning her, and +the sound of their whispering was the sound of a sea at peace. They +accompanied her to the very heart of the opal rose of life whence all +these wonders welled, they set her in a great grey hall roofed in with +leaning cliffs, and there they left her desolate. + +Fear came upon her, the loneliness choked her, it held her by the +throat like a thing alive. She seemed about to die of it, when she +became aware that once more she was companioned. Shapes stood about +her. She could not see the shapes, save dimly now and again as they +moved, but their eyes she could see, their great calm, pitiful eyes, +which looked down on her, as the eye of a giant might look down upon a +babe. They were terrible, but she did not fear them so much as the +loneliness, for at least they lived. + +One of the shapes bent over her, for its holy eyes drew near to her, +and she heard a voice in her heart asking her for what great cause she +had dared to journey hither before the time. She answered, in her +heart, not with her lips, that she was bereaved of all she loved and +came to seek them. Then, still in her heart, she heard that voice +command: + +“Let all this Rachel’s dead be brought before her.” + +Instantly doors swung open at the end of that grey hall, and through +them with noiseless steps, with shadowy wings, floated a being that +bore in its arms a child. Before her it stayed, and the light of its +starry head illumined the face of the child. She knew it at once—it was +that baby brother whose bones lay by the shore of the African sea. It +awoke from its sleep, it opened its eyes, it stretched out its arms and +smiled at her. Then it was gone. + +Other Shapes appeared, each of them bearing its burden—a companion who +had died at school, friends of her youth and childhood whom she had +thought yet living, a young man who once had wished to marry her and +who was drowned, the soldier whom she had killed to save the life of +Noie. At the sight of him she shrank, for his blood was on her hands, +but he only smiled like the rest, and was borne away, to be followed by +that witch-doctoress whom the Zulus had slain because of her, who +neither smiled nor frowned but passed like one who wonders. + +Then another shadow swept down the hall, and in its arms her mother—her +mother with joyful eyes, who held thin hands above her as though in +blessing, and to whom she strove to speak but strove in vain. She was +borne on still blessing her, and where she had been was her father, who +blessed her also, and whose presence seemed to shed peace upon her +soul. He pointed upwards and was gone, gazing at her earnestly, and lo! +a form of darkness cast something at her feet. It was Ishmael who knelt +before her, Ishmael whose tormented face gazed up at her as though +imploring pardon. + +A struggle rent her heart. Could she forgive? Oh! could she forgive him +who had slain them all? Now she was aware that the place was filled +with the points of light that were Spirits, and that every one of them +looked at her awaiting the free verdict of her heart. Rank upon rank, +also, the mighty Shapes gathered about her, and in their arms her dead, +and all of them looked and looked, awaiting the free verdict of her +heart. Then it arose within her, drawn how she knew not from every +fibre of her infinite being, it arose within her, that spirit of pity +and of pardon. As the dead had stretched out their arms above her, so +she stretched out her arms over the head of that tortured soul, and for +the first time her lips were given power to speak. + +“As I hope for pardon, so I pardon,” she said. “Go in peace!” + +Voices and trumpets caught up the words, and through the grey hall they +rang and echoed, proclaimed for ever and as they died away he too was +gone, and with him went the myriad points of flame, in each of which +gleamed a tiny face. She looked about her seeking another Spirit, that +Spirit she had travelled so far and dared so much to find. But there +came only a little dwarf that shambled alone down the great hall. She +knew him at once for Pani, the priest, he who had been crushed in the +tempest, Pani, the brother of Eddo. No Shape bore him, for he who on +earth had been half a ghost, could walk this ghost-world on his mortal +feet, or so her mind conceived. Past her he shuffled shamefaced, and +was gone. + +Now the great doors at the end of the hall closed; from far away she +could see them roll together like lightning-severed clouds, and once +more that awful loneliness overcame her. Her knees gave way beneath +her, she sank down upon the floor, one little spot of white in its +expanse, wishing that the roof of rock would fall and hide her. She +covered her face with her golden hair, and wept behind its veil. She +looked up and saw two great eyes gazing at her—no face, only two great, +steady eyes. Then a voice speaking in her heart asked her why she wept, +whose desire had been fulfilled, and she answered that it was because +she could not find him whom she sought, Richard Darrien. Instantly the +tongues and trumpets took up the name. + +“Richard Darrien!” they cried, “Richard Darrien!” + +But no Shape swept in bearing the spirit of Richard in its arms. + +“He is not here,” said the voice in her heart. “Go, seek him in some +other world.” + +She grew angry. + +“Thou mockest me,” she answered, “He is dead, and this is the home of +the dead; therefore he must be here. Shadow, thou mockest me.” + +“I mock not,” came the swift answer. “Mortal, look now and learn.” + +Again the doors burst open, and through them poured the infinite rout +of the dead. That hall would not hold them all, therefore it grew and +grew till her sight could scarcely reach from wall to wall. Shapes +headed and marshalled them by races and by generations, perhaps because +thus only could her human heart imagine them, but now none were borne +in their arms. They came in myriads and in millions, in billions and +tens of billions, men and women and children, kings and priests and +beggars, all wearing the garments of their age and country. They came +like an ocean-tide, and their floating hair was the foam on the tide, +and their eyes gleamed like the first shimmer of dawn above the snows. +They came for hours and days and years and centuries, they came +eternally, and as they came every finger of that host, compared to +which all the sands of all the seas were but as a handful, was pointed +at her, and every mouth shaped the words: + +“Is it I whom thou seekest?” + +Million by million she scanned them all, but the face of Richard +Darrien was not there. + +Now the dead Zulus were marching by. Down the stream of Time they +marched in their marshalled regiments. Chaka stood over her—she knew +him by his likeness to Dingaan—and threatened her with a little, +red-handled spear, asking her how she dared to sit upon the throne of +the Spirit of his nation. She began to tell him her story, but as she +spoke the wide receding walls of that grey hall fell apart and +crumbled, and amidst a mighty laughter the great-eyed Shapes rebuilt +them to the fashion of the cave in the mound beneath the tree of the +dwarf-folk. The sound of the trumpets died away, the shrill, sweet +music of the spheres grew far and faint. + +Rachel opened her eyes. There in front of her sat Nya, crooning her low +song, and there, on either side crouched the mutes tapping upon their +little drums and gazing into their bowls of water, while against her +leaned Noie, who stirred like one awaking from sleep. Ages and ages ago +when she started on that dread journey, the dwarf to her left was +stretching out her hand to steady the bowl at her feet, and now it had +but just reached the bowl. A great moth had singed its wings in the +lamp, and was fluttering to the ground—it was still in mid-air. Noie +was placing her arm about her neck, and it had but begun to fall upon +her shoulder! + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +IN THE SANCTUARY + + +Nya ceased her singing, and the dwarf women their beating on the drums. + +“Hast thou been a journey, Maiden?” she asked, looking at Rachel +curiously. + +“Aye, Mother,” she answered in a faint voice, “and a journey far and +strange.” + +“And thou, Noie, my niece?” + +“Aye, Mother,” she answered, shivering as though with cold or fear, +“but I went not with my Sister here, I went alone—for years and years.” + +“A far journey thou sayest, Inkosazana, and one that was for years and +years, thou sayest, Noie, yet the eyes of both of you have been shut +for so long only as it takes a burnt moth to fall from the lamp flame +to the ground. I think that you slept and dreamed a moment, that is +all.” + +“Mayhap, Mother,” replied Rachel, “but if so mine was a most wondrous +dream, such as has never visited me before, and as I pray, never may +again. For I was borne beyond the stars into the glorious cities of the +dead, and I saw all the dead, and those that I had known in life were +brought to me by Shapes and Powers whereof I could only see the eyes.” + +“And didst thou find him whom thou soughtest most of all?” + +“Nay,” she answered, “him alone I did not find. I sought him, I prayed +the Guardians of the dead to show him to me, and they called up all the +dead, and I scanned them every one, and they summoned him by his name, +but he was not of their number, and he came not. Only they spoke in my +heart, bidding me to look for him in some other world.” + +“Ah!” exclaimed Nya starting a little, “they said that to thee, did +they? Well, worlds are many, and such a search would be long.” Then as +though to turn the subject, she added, “And what sawest thou, Noie?” + +“I, Mother? I went not beyond the stars, I climbed down endless ladders +into the centre of the earth, my feet are still sore with them. I +reached vast caves full of a blackness that shone, and there many dead +folk were walking, going nowhere, and coming back from nowhere. They +seemed strengthless but not unhappy, and they looked at me and asked me +tidings of the upper world, but I could not answer them, for whenever I +opened my lips to speak a cold hand was laid upon my mouth. I wandered +among them for many moons, only there was no moon, nothing but the +blackness that shone like polished coal, wandered from cave to cave. At +length I came to a cave in which sat my father, Seyapi, and near to him +my mother, and my other mothers, his wives, and my brothers and +sisters, all of whom the Zulus killed, as the wild beast, Ibubesi, told +them to do.” + +“I saw Ibubesi, and he prayed me for my pardon, and I granted it to +him,” broke in Rachel. + +“I did not see him,” went on Noie fiercely, “nor would I have pardoned +him if I had. Nor do I think that my father and his family pardon him; +I think that they wait to bear testimony against him before the Lord of +the dead.” + +“Did Seyapi tell you so?” asked Rachel. + +“Nay, he sat there beneath a black tree whereof I could not see the +top, and gazed into a bowl of black water, and in that bowl he showed +me many pictures of things that have been and things that are to come, +but they are secret, I may say nothing of them.” + +“And what was the end of it, my niece?” asked Nya, bending forward +eagerly. + +“Mother, the end of it was that the black tree which was shaped like +the tree of our tribe above us, took fire and went up in a fierce +flame. Then the roofs of the caves fell in and all the people of the +dwarfs flew through the roofs, singing and rejoicing, into a place of +light; only,” she added slowly, “it seemed to me that I was left alone +amidst the ruins of the caves, I and the white ghost of the tree. Then +a voice cried to me to make my heart bold, to bear all things with +patience, since to those who dare much for love’s sake, much will be +forgiven. So I woke, but what those words mean I cannot guess, seeing +that I love no man, and never shall,” and she rested her chin upon her +hand and sat there musing. + +“No,” replied Nya, “thou lovest no man, and therefore the riddle is +hard,” but as she spoke her eyes fell upon Rachel. + +“Mother,” said Rachel presently, “my heart is the hungrier for all that +it has fed upon. Can thy magic send me back to that country of the dead +that I may search for him again? If so, for his sake I will dare the +journey.” + +“Not so,” answered Nya shaking her head; “it is a road that very few +have travelled, and none may travel twice and live.” + +Now Rachel began to weep. + +“Weep not, Maiden, there are other roads and perchance to-morrow thou +shall walk them. Now lie down and sleep, both of you, and fear no +dreams.” + +So they laid themselves down and slept, but the old witch-wife, Nya, +sat waiting and watched them. + +“I think I understand,” she murmured to herself, as she gazed at the +slumbering Rachel, “for to her who is so pure and good, and who has +suffered such cruel wrong, the Guardians would not lie. I think that I +understand and that I can find a path. Sleep on, sweet maiden, sleep on +in hope.” + +Then she looked at Noie and shook her grey head. + +“I do not understand,” she muttered. “The black tree shaped like the +Tree of our Tribe, and Seyapi of the old blood seated beneath it. The +tree that went up in fire, and the maid of the old blood left alone +with the ghost of it, while the dwarf people fled into light and +freedom. What does it mean? Ah! that picture in the bowl! Now I can +guess. ‘Those who dare much for love.’ It did not say for love of man, +and woman can love woman. But would she dare a deed that none of our +race could even dream? Well, the Zulu blood is bold. Perhaps, perhaps. +Oh! Eddo, thou black sorcerer, whither art thou leading the Children of +the Tree? On thy head be it, Eddo, not on mine; on thy head for ever +and for ever.” + +When Rachel awoke, refreshed, on the following day, she lay a while +thinking. Every detail of her vision was perfectly clear in her mind, +only now she was sure that it had been but a dream. Yet what a +wonderful dream! How, even in her sleep, had she found the imagination +to conceive circumstances so inconceivable? That magic rush beyond the +stars; that mighty world set round with black cliffs against which +rolled the waves of space; that changeful, wondrous world which +unfolded itself petal by petal like a rose, every petal lovelier and +different from the last; that grey hall roofed with tilted precipices; +and then those dead, those multitudes of the dead! + +What power had been born in her that she could imagine such things as +these? Vision she had, like her mother, but not after this sort. +Perhaps it was but an aftermath of her madness, for into the minds of +the mad creep strange sights and sounds, and this place, and the people +amongst whom she sojourned, the Ghost-people, the grey Dwarf-people, +the Dealers in dreams, the Dwellers in the sombre forest, might well +open new doors in such a soul as hers. Or perhaps she was still mad. +She did not know, she did not greatly care. All she knew was that her +poor heart ached with love for a man who was dead, and yet whom she +could not find even among the dead. She had wished to die, but now she +longed for death no more, fearing lest after all there should be +something in that vision which the magic of Nya had summoned up, and +that when she reached the further shore she might not find him who +dwelt in a different world. Oh! if only she could find him, then she +would be glad enough to go wherever it was that he had gone. + +Now Noie was awake at her side, and they talked together. + +“We must have dreamt dreams, Noie,” she said. “Perhaps the Mother +mingled some drug with our food.” + +“I do not know, Zoola,” answered Noie; “but, if so, I want no more of +those dreams which bode no good to me. Besides, who can tell what is +dream and what is truth? Mayhap this world is the dream, and the truth +is such things as we saw last night,” and she would say no more on the +matter. + +Nothing happened within the Wall that day—that is, nothing out of the +common. A certain number of the privileged, priestly caste of the +dwarfs were carried or conducted into the holy place, and up to the +Fence of Death that they might die there, and a certain number were +brought out for burial. Some of those who came in were folk weary of +life, or, in other words, suicides, and these walked; and some were +sick of various diseases, and these were carried. But the end was the +same, they always died, though whether this result was really brought +about by some poison distilled from the tree, as Nya alleged, or +whether it was the effect of a physical collapse induced by that +inherited belief, Rachel never discovered. + +At least they died, some almost at once, and some within a day or two +of entering that deadly shade, and were borne away to burial by the +mutes who spent their spare time in the digging of little graves which +they must fill. Indeed, these mutes either knew, or pretended that they +knew who would be the occupant of each grave. At least they intimated +by signs that this was revealed to them in their bowls, and when the +victims appeared within the Wall, took pleasure in leading them to the +holes they had prepared, and showing to them with what care these had +been dug to suit their stature. For this service they received a fee +that such moribund persons brought with them, either of finely woven +robes, or of mats, or of different sorts of food, or sometimes of gold +and copper rings manufactured by the Umkulu or other subject savages, +which they wore upon their wrists and ankles. + +Certain of these doomed folk, however, went to their fate with no light +hearts, which was not wonderful, as it seemed that these were neither +ill nor sought a voluntary euthanasia. They were political victims sent +thither by Eddo as an alternative to the terror of the Red Death, +whereby according to their strange and ancient creed, they would have +risked the spilling of their souls. For the most part the crime of +these poor people was that they had been adherents and supporters of +the old Mother of the Tree, Nya, over whom Eddo was at last triumphant. +On their way up to the Fence such individuals would stop to exchange a +last few, sad words with their dethroned priestess. + +Then without any resistance they went on with the rest, but from them +the mutes received scant offerings, or none at all, with the result +that they were cast into the worst situated and most inconvenient +graves, or even tumbled two or three together into some shapeless +corner hole. But, after all, that mattered nothing to them so long as +they received sepulchre within the Wall, which was their birth-or, +rather, their death-right. + +The priest-mutes themselves were a strange folk, and, oddly enough, +Rachel observed, by comparison, quite cheerful in their demeanour, for +when off duty they would smile and gibber at each other like monkeys, +and carry on a kind of market between themselves. They lived in that +part of the circumference of the Wall which was behind the hill whereon +grew the sacred tree. Here no burials took place, and instead of graves +appeared their tiny huts arranged in neat streets and squares. In these +they and their forefathers had dwelt from time immemorial; indeed, each +little hut with a few yards of fenced-in ground about it ornamented +with dwarf trees, was a freehold that descended from father to son. For +the mutes married, and were given in marriage, like other folk, though +their children were few, a family of three being considered very large, +while many of the couples had none at all. But those who were born to +them were all deaf-mutes, although their other senses seemed to be +singularly acute. + +These mutes had their virtues; thus some of them were very kind to each +other, and especially to those from the outer forest world who came +hither to bid farewell to that world, and others, renouncing marriage +and all earthly joys, devoted their lives, which appeared to be long, +to the worship of the Spirit of the Tree. Also they had their vices, +such as theft, and the seducing away of the betrothed of others, but +the chief of them was jealousy, which sometimes led to murder by +poisoning, an art whereof they were great masters. + +When such a crime was discovered, and a case of it happened during the +first days of Rachel’s sojourn among them, the accused was put upon his +trial before the chief of the mutes, evidence for and against him being +given by signs which they all understood. Then if a case were +established against him, he was forced to drink a bowl of medicine. If +he did this with impunity he was acquitted, but if it disagreed with +him his guilt was held to be established. Now came the strange part of +the matter. All his life the evil-doer had been accustomed to go within +the Fence about his business and take no harm, but after such +condemnation he was conducted there with the usual ceremonies and very +shortly perished like any other uninitiated person. Whether this issue +was due to magic or to mental collapse, or to the previous +administration of poison, no one seemed to know, not even Nya herself. +So, at least, she declared to Rachel. + +At each new moon these mutes celebrated what Rachel was informed they +looked upon as a festival. That is, they climbed the Tree of the Tribe +and scattered themselves among its enormous branches, where for several +hours they mumbled and gibbered in the dark like a troop of baboons. +Then they came down, and mounting the huge, surrounding wall, crept +around its circumference. Occasionally this journey resulted in an +accident, as one of them would fall from the wall and be dashed to +pieces, although it was noticed that the unfortunate was generally a +person who, although guilty of no actual crime, chanced to be out of +favour with the other priests and priestesses. After the circuit of the +wall had been accomplished, with or without accidents, the dwarfs +feasted round a fire, drinking some spirit that threw them into a sleep +in which wonderful visions appeared to them. Such was their only +entertainment, if so it could be called, since doubtless the ceremony +was of a religious character. For the rest they seldom if ever left the +holy place, which was known as “Within the Wall,” most of them never +doing so in the course of a long life. + +Beyond the burial of the dead they did no work, as their food was +brought to them daily by outside people, who were called “the slaves of +the Wall.” Their only method of conversation was by signs, and they +seemed to desire no other. Indeed, if, as occasionally happened, a +child was born to any of them who could hear or speak like other human +beings, it was either given over to the other dwarfs, or if the +discovery was not made until it was old enough to observe, it was +sacrificed by being bound to the trunk of the tribal tree “lest it +should tell the secret of the Tree.” + +Such were the weird, half-human folk among whom Rachel was destined to +dwell. The Zulus had been bad and bloodthirsty, but compared to these +little wizards they seemed to her as angels. The Zulus at any rate had +left her her thoughts, but these stunted wretches, she was sure, pried +into them and read them with the help of their bowls, for often she +caught sight of them signing to each other about her as she passed, and +pointing with grins to pictures which they saw in the water. + +It was night again, still, silent night made odorous with the heavy +cedar scents of the huge tree upon the mound. Rachel and Noie sat +before Nya in the cave beneath the burning lamp about which fluttered +the big-winged, gilded moths. + +“Thou didst not find him yonder among the Shades,” said Nya suddenly, +as though she were continuing a conversation. “Say now, Maiden, art +thou satisfied, or wouldst thou seek for him again?” + +“I would seek him through all the heavens and all the earths. Mother, +my soul burns for a sight of him, and if I cannot find him, then I must +die, and go perchance where he is not.” + +“Good,” said Nya; “the effort wearies me, for I grow weak, yet for thy +sake I will try to help thee, who saved me from the Red Death.” + +Then the dwarf-women came in and beat upon their drums, and, as before, +the old Mother of the Trees began to sing, but Noie sat aside, for in +this night’s play she would take no part. Again Rachel sank into sleep, +and again it seemed to her that she was swept from the earth into the +region of the stars and there searched world after world. + +She saw many strange and marvellous things, things so wonderful that +her memory was buried beneath the mass of them, so that when she woke +again she could not recall their details. Only of Richard she saw +nothing. Yet as her life returned to her, it seemed to Rachel that for +one brief moment she was near to Richard. She could not see him, and +she could not hear him, yet certainly he was near her. Then her eyes +opened, and Nya ceasing from her song, asked: + +“What tidings, Wanderer?” + +“Little,” she answered feebly, for she was very tired, and in a faint +voice she told her all. + +“Good,” said Nya, nodding her grey head. “This time he was not so far +away. To-morrow I will make thy spirit strong, and then perhaps he will +come to thee. Now rest.” + +So next night Nya laid her charm upon Rachel as before, and again her +spirit sought for Richard. This time it seemed to her that she did not +leave the earth, but with infinite pain, with terrible struggling, +wandered to and fro about it, bewildered by a multitude of faces, led +astray by myriads of footsteps. Yet in the end she found him. She heard +him not, she saw him not, she knew not where he was, but undoubtedly +for a while she was with him, and awoke again, exhausted, but very +happy. + +Nya heard her story, weighing every word of it but saying nothing. Then +she signed to the dwarfs to bring her a bowl of dew, and stared in it +for a long while. The dwarf-women also stared into their bowls, and +afterwards came to her, talking to her on their fingers, after which +all three of them upset the dew upon a rock, “breaking the pictures.” + +“Hast thou seen aught?” asked Rachel eagerly. + +“Yes, Maiden,” answered the mother. “I and these wise women have seen +something, the same thing, and therefore a true thing. But ask not what +it was, for we may not tell thee, nor would it help thee if we did. +Only be of a good courage, for this I say, there is hope for thee.” + +So Rachel went to sleep, pondering on these words, of which neither she +nor Noie could guess the meaning. The next night when she prayed Nya to +lay the spell upon her, the old Mother would not. + +“Not so,” she said. “Thrice have I rent thy soul from thy body and sent +it afar, and this I may do no more and keep thee living, nor could I if +I would, for I grow feeble. Neither is it necessary, seeing that +although thou knowest it not, that spirit of thine, having found him, +is with him wherever he may be, yes, at his side comforting him.” + +“Aye, but where is he, Mother? Let me look in the bowl and see his +face, as I believe that thou hast done.” + +“Look if thou wilt,” and she motioned to one of the dwarf-women to +place a bowl before her. + +So Rachel looked long and earnestly, but saw nothing of Richard, only +many fantastic pictures, most of which she knew again for scenes from +her own past. At length, worn out, she thrust away the bowl, and asked +in a bitter voice why they mocked her, and how it came about that she +who had seen the coming of Richard in the pool in Zululand, and the +fate of Dingaan the King in the bowl of Eddo, could now see nothing of +any worth. + +“As regards the vision of the pool I cannot say, Maiden,” replied Nya, +“for that was born of thine own heart, and had nothing to do with our +magic. As regards the visions in the bowl of Eddo, they were his +visions, not thine, or rather my visions that I saw before he started +hence. I passed them on to him, and he passed them on to thee, and thou +didst pass them on to King Dingaan. Far-sighted and pure-souled as thou +art, yet not having been instructed in their wizardry, thou wilt see +nothing in the bowls of the dwarfs unless their blood is mingled with +thy blood.” + +“‘Their blood mingled with my blood?’ What dost thou mean, Mother?” + +“What I say, neither more nor less. If Eddo has his will, thou wilt +rule after me here as Mother of the Trees. But first thy veins must be +opened, and the veins of Eddo must be opened, and Eddo’s blood must be +poured into thee, and thy blood into him. Then thou wilt be able to +read in the bowls as we can, and Eddo will be thy master, and thou must +do his bidding while you both shall live.” + +“If so,” answered Rachel, “I think that neither of us will live long.” + +That night Rachel felt too exhausted to sleep, though why this should +be she could not guess, as she had done nothing all day save watch the +mutes at their dreary tasks, and it was strange, therefore, that she +should feel as though she had made a long journey upon her feet. About +an hour before the dawn she saw Nya rise and glide past her towards the +mouth of the cave, carrying in her hand a little drum, like those used +by the mute women. Something impelled her to follow, and waking Noie at +her side, she bade her come also. + +Outside of the cave by the faint starlight they saw the little shape of +Nya creeping down the mound, and thence across the open space towards +the wall, and went after her, thinking that she intended to pass the +wall. But this she did not do, for when she came to its foot Nya, +notwithstanding her feebleness, began to climb the rough stones as +actively as any cat, and though their ascent seemed perilous enough, +reached the crest of the wall sixty feet above in safety, and there sat +herself down. Next they heard her beating upon the drum she bore, +single strokes always, but some of them slow, and some rapid, with a +pause between every five or ten strokes, “as though she were spelling +out words,” thought Rachel. + +After a while Nya ceased her beating, and in the utter silence of the +night, which was broken only, as always, by the occasional crash of +falling trees, for no breath of air stirred, and all the beasts of prey +had sought their lairs before light came, both she and Noie seemed to +hear, far, infinitely far away, the faint beat of an answering drum. It +would appear that Nya heard it also, for she struck a single note upon +hers as though in acknowledgement, after which the distant beating went +on, paused as though for a reply from some other unheard drum, and +again from time to time went on, perhaps repeating that reply. + +For a long while this continued until the sky began to grow grey +indeed, when Nya beat for several minutes and was answered by a single, +far-off note. Then glancing at the heavens she prepared to descend the +wall, while Rachel and Noie slipped back to the cave and feigned to be +asleep. Soon she entered, and stood over them shaking her grey head and +asking how it came about that they thought that she, the Mother of the +Trees, should be so easily deceived. + +“So thou sawest us,” said Rachel, trying not to look ashamed. + +“No; I saw you not with my eyes, either of you, but I felt both of you +following me, and heard in my heart what you were whispering to each +other. Well, Inkosazana, art thou the wiser for this journey?” + +“No, Mother, but tell us if thou wilt what thou wast beating on that +drum.” + +“Gladly,” she answered. “I was sending certain orders to the slave +peoples who still know me as Mother of the Trees, and obey my words. +Perhaps thou dost not believe that while I sat upon yonder wall I +talked across the desert to the chiefs of the marches upon the far +border of the land of the Umkulu, and that by now at my bidding they +have sent out men upon an errand of mine.” + +“What was the errand, Mother?” asked Rachel curiously. + +“I said the errand was mine, not thine, Maiden. It is not pressing, but +as I do not know how long my strength will last, I thought it well that +it should be settled.” Then without more words she coiled herself up on +her mat and seemed to go to sleep. + +It was after this incident of the drums that Rachel experienced the +strangest days, or rather weeks of her life. Nya sent her into no more +trances, and to all outward seeming nothing happened. Yet within her +much did happen. Her madness had utterly left her and still she was not +as other women are, or as she herself had been in health. Her mind +seemed to wander and she knew not whither it wandered. Yet for long +hours, although she was awake and, so Noie said, talking or eating or +walking as usual, it was away from her, and afterwards she could +remember nothing. Also this happened at night as well as during the +day, and ever more and more often. + +She could remember nothing, yet out of this nothingness there grew upon +her a continual sense of the presence of Richard Darrien, a presence +that seemed to come nearer and nearer, closer and closer to her heart. +It was the assurance of this presence that made those long days so +happy to her, though when she was herself, she felt that it could be +naught but a dream. Yet why should a dream move her so strangely, and +why should a dream weary her so much? Why, after sleeping all night, +should she awake feeling as though she had journeyed all night? Why +should her limbs ache and she grow thin like one who travels without +cease? Why should she seem time after time to have passed great +dangers, to have known cold, and heat and want and struggle against +waters and the battling against storms? Why should her knowledge of +this Richard, of the very heart and soul of Richard, grow ever deeper +till it was as though they were not twain, but one? + +She could not answer these questions, and Noie could not answer them, +and when she asked Nya the old Mother shook her head and could not, or +would not answer. Only the dwarf-mutes seemed to know the answer, for +when she passed them they nudged each other, and grinned and thrust +their little woolly heads together staring, several of them, into one +bowl. But if Noie and Nya knew nothing of the cause of these things the +effect of them stirred them both, for they saw that Rachel, the tall +and strong, grew faint and weak and began to fade away as one fades +upon whom deadly sickness has laid its hand. + +Thus three weeks or so went by, until one day in some fashion of her +own Nya caused to arise in the mind of Eddo a knowledge of her desire +to speak with him. Early the next morning Eddo arrived at the Holy +Place accompanied only by his familiar, Hana, and Nya met them alone in +the mouth of the cave. + +“I see that thou art very white and thin, but still alive, old woman,” +sneered Eddo, adding: “All the thousands of the people yonder thought +that long ere this thou wouldst have passed within the Fence. May I +take back that good tidings to them?” + +The ancient Mother of the Trees looked at him sternly. + +“It is true, thou evil mocker,” she said, “that I am white and thin. It +is true that I grow like to the skeleton of a rotted leaf, all ribs and +netted veins without substance. It is true that my round eyes start +from my head like to those of a bush plover, or the tree lizard, and +that soon I must pass within the Fence, as thou hast so long desired +that I should do that thou mayest reign alone over the thousands of the +People of the Dwarfs and wield their wisdom to increase thy power, thou +poison-bloated toad. All these things are true, Eddo, yet ere I go I +have a word to say to thee to which thou wilt do well to listen.” + +“Speak on,” said Eddo. “Without doubt thou hast wisdom of a sort; honey +thou hast garnered during many years, and it is well that I should suck +the store before it is too late.” + +“Eddo,” said Nya, “I am not the only one in this Holy Place who grows +white and thin. Look, there is another,” and she nodded towards Rachel, +who walked past them aimlessly with dreaming eyes, attended by Noie, +upon whose arm she leant. + +“I see,” answered Eddo; “this haunted death-prison presses the life out +of her, also I think that thou hast sent her Spirit travelling, as thou +knowest how to do, and such journeys sap the strength of flesh and +blood.” + +“Perhaps; but now before it is too late I would send her body +travelling also; only thou, who hast the power for a while, dost bar +the road.” + +“I know,” said Eddo, nodding his head and looking at his companion. “We +all know, do we not, Hana? we who have heard certain beatings of drums +in the night, and studied dew drops beneath the trees at dawn. Thou +wouldst send her to meet another traveller.” + +“Yes, and if thou art wise thou wilt let her go.” + +“Why should I let her go,” asked the priest passionately, “and with her +all my greatness? She must reign here after thee, for at her feet thy +Tree fell, and it is the will of the people, who weary of dwarf queens +and desire one that is tall and beautiful and white. Moreover, when my +blood has been poured into her, her wisdom will be great, greater than +thine or that of any Mother that went before thee, for she is ‘_Wensi_’ +the Virgin, and her soul is purer than them all. I will not let her go. +If she leaves this Holy Place where none may do her harm, she shall +die, and then her Spirit may go to seek that other traveller.” + +“Thou art mad, Eddo, mad and blind with pride and folly. Let her be, +and choose another Mother. Now, there is Noie.” + +“Thy great-niece, Nya, who thinks as thou thinkest, and hates those +whom thou hatest. Nay, I will have none of that half-breed. Yonder +white Inkosazana shall be our queen and no other.” + +“Then, Eddo,” whispered Nya, leaning forward and looking into his eyes, +“she shall be the last Mother of this people. Fool, there are those who +fight for her against whom thou canst not prevail. Thou knowest them +not, but I know them, and I tell thee that they make ready thy doom. +Have thy way, Eddo; it was not for her that I pleaded with thee, but +for the sake of the ancient People of the Ghosts, whose fate draws nigh +to them. Fool, have thy way, spin thy web, and be caught in it thyself. +I tell thee, Eddo, that thy death shall be redder than any thou hast +ever dreamed, nor shall it fall on thee alone. Begone now, and trouble +me no more till in another place all that is left of thee shall creep +to my feet, praying me for a pardon thou shalt not find. Begone, for +the last leaf withers on my Tree and to-morrow I pass within the Fence. +Say to the people that their Mother against whom they rebelled is dead, +and that she bids them prepare to meet the evil which, alive, she +warded from their heads.” + +Now Eddo strove to answer, but could not, for there was something in +the flaming eyes of Nya which frightened him. He looked at Hana, and +Hana looked back at him, then taking each other’s hand they slunk away +towards the wall, staggering blindly through the sunshine towards the +shade. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +THE DREAM IN THE NORTH + + +Richard Darrien remembered drinking a bowl of milk in the hut in which +he was imprisoned at Mafooti, and instantly feeling a cold chill run to +his heart and brain, after which he remembered no more for many a day. +At length, however, by slow degrees, and with sundry slips back into +unconsciousness, life and some share of his reason and memory returned +to him. He awoke to find himself lying in a hut roughly fashioned of +branches, and attended by a Kaffir woman of middle age. + +“Who are you?” he asked. + +“I am named Mami,” she answered. + +“Mami, Mami! I know the name, and I know the voice. Say, were you one +of the wives of Ibubesi, she who spoke with me through the fence?” and +he strove to raise himself on his arm to look at her, but fell back +from weakness. + +“Yes, Inkoos, I was one of his wives.” + +“Was? Then where is Ibubesi now?” + +“Dead, Inkoos. The fire has burned him up with his kraal Mafooti.” + +“With the kraal Mafooti! Where, then, is the Inkosazana? Answer, woman, +and be swift,” he cried in a hollow voice. + +“Alas! Inkoos, alas! she is dead also, for she was in the kraal when +the fire swept it, and was seen standing on the top of a hut where she +had taken refuge, and after that she was seen no more.” + +“Then let me die and go to her,” exclaimed Richard with a groan, as he +fell back upon his bed, where he lay almost insensible for three more +days. + +Yet he did not die, for he was young and very strong, and Mami poured +milk down his throat to keep the life in him. Indeed little by little +something of his strength came back, so that at last he was able to +think and talk with her again, and learned all the dreadful story. + +He learned how the people of Mafooti, fearing the vengeance of Dingaan, +had fled away from their kraal, carrying what they thought to be his +body with them, lest it should remain in evidence against them, and +taking all the cattle that they could gather. Every one of them had +fled that could travel, only Ibubesi and a few sick, and certain folk +who chanced to be outside the walls, remaining behind. It was from two +of these, who escaped during the burning of the kraal by the Zulus, or +by fire from the Heavens, they knew not which, that they had heard of +the awful end of Ibubesi, and of his prisoner, the Inkosazana. As for +themselves, they had travelled night and day, till they reached a +certain secret and almost inaccessible place in the great Quathlamba +Mountains, in which people had lived whom Chaka wiped out, and there +hidden themselves. In this place they remained, hoping that Dingaan +would not care to follow them so far, and purposing to make it their +home, since here they found good mealie lands, and fortunately the most +of their cattle remained alive. That was all the story, there was +nothing more to tell. + +A day or two later Richard was able to creep out of the hut and see the +place. It was as Mami had said, very strong, a kind of tableland ringed +round with precipices that could only be climbed through a single +narrow nek, and overshadowed by the great Quathlamba range. The people, +who were engaged in planting their corn, gathered round him, staring at +him as though he were one risen from the dead, and greeted him with +respectful words. He spoke to several of them, including the two men +who had seen the burning of Mafooti, though from a little distance. But +they could tell him no more than Mami had done, except that they were +sure that the Inkosazana had perished in the flames, as had many of the +Zulus, who broke into the town. Richard was sure of it also—who would +not have been?—and crept back broken-hearted to his hut, he who had +lost all, and longed that he might die. + +But he did not die, he grew strong again, and when he was well and fit +to travel, went to the headmen of the people, saying that now he +desired to leave them and return to his own place in the Cape Colony. +The headmen said No, he must not leave, for in their hearts they were +sure that he would go, not to the Cape Colony, but to Zululand, there +to discover all he could as to the death of the Inkosazana. So they +told him that with them he must bide, for then if the Zulus tracked +them out they would be able to produce him, who otherwise would be put +to the spear, every man of them, as his murderers. The sin of Ibubesi +who had been their chief, clung to them, and they knew well what +Dingaan and Tamboosa had sworn should happen to those who harmed the +white chief, Dario, who was under the mantle of their Inkosazana. + +Richard reasoned with them, but it was of no use, they would not let +him go. Therefore in the end he appeared to fall in with their humour, +and meanwhile began to plan escape. One dark night he tried it indeed, +only to be seized in the mouth of the nek, and brought back to his hut. +Next morning the headman spoke with him, telling him that he should +only depart thence over their dead bodies, and that they watched him +night and day; that the nek, moreover, was always guarded. Then they +made an offer to him. He was a white man, they said, and cleverer than +they were; let them come under his wing, let him be their chief, for he +would know how to protect them from the Zulus and any other enemies. He +could take over the wives of Ibubesi (at this proposition Richard +shuddered), and they would obey him in all things, only he must not +attempt to leave them—which he should never do alive. + +Richard put the proposal by, but in the end, not because he wished it, +but by the mere weight of his white man’s blood, and for the lack of +anything else to do, drifted into some such position. Only at the wives +of Ibubesi, or any other wives, he would not so much as look, a slight +that gave offence to those women, but made the others laugh. + +So, for certain long weeks he sat in that secret nook in the mountains +as the chief of a little Kaffir tribe, occupying himself with the +planting of crops, the building of walls and huts, the drilling of men +and the settling of quarrels. All day he worked thus, but after the day +came the night when he did not work, and those nights he dreaded. For +then the languor, not of body, but of mind, which the poison the old +witch-doctoress had given to Ishmael had left behind it, would overcome +him, bringing with it black despair, and his grief would get a hold of +him, torturing his heart. For of the memory of Rachel he could never be +rid for a single hour, and his love for her grew deeper day by day. And +she was dead! Oh, she was dead, leaving him living. + +One night he dreamed of Rachel, dreamed that she was searching for him +and calling him. It was a very vivid dream, but he woke up and it +passed away as such dreams do. Only all the day that followed he felt a +strange throbbing in his head, and found himself turning ever towards +the north. The next night he dreamed again of her, and heard her say, +“The search has been far and long, but I have found you, Richard. Open +your eyes now, and you will see my face.” So he opened his eyes, and +there, sure enough, in the darkness he perceived the outline of her +sweet, remembered face, about which fell her golden hair. For one +moment only he perceived it, then it was gone, and after that her +presence never seemed to leave him. He could not see her, he could not +touch her, and yet she was ever at his side. His brain ached with the +thought of her, her breath seemed to fan his hands and hair. At night +her face floated before him, and in his dreams her voice called him, +saying: _“Come to me, come to me, Richard. I am in need of you. Come to +me. I myself will be your guide.”_ + +Then he would wake, and remembering that she was dead, grew sure and +ever surer that the Spirit of Rachel was calling him down to death. It +called him from the north, always from the north. Soon he could +scarcely walk southwards, or east or west, for ere he had gone many +yards his feet turned and set his face towards the north, that was to +the narrow nek between the precipices which the Kaffirs guarded night +and day. + +One evening he went to his hut to sleep, if sleep would come to him. It +came, and with it that face and voice, but the face seemed paler, and +the voice more insistent. + +“Will you not listen to me,” it said, “you who were my love? For how +long must I plead with you? Soon my power will leave me, the +opportunity will be passed, and then how will you find me, Richard, my +lover? Rise up, rise up and follow ere it be too late, for I myself +will be your guide.” + +He awoke. He could bear it no more. Perhaps he was mad, and these were +visions of his madness, mocking visions that led him to his death. +Well, if so, he still would follow them. Perhaps her body was buried in +the north. If so, he would be buried there also; perhaps her Soul dwelt +in the north. If so, his soul would fly thither to join it. The Kaffirs +would kill him in the pass. Well, if so, he would die with his face set +northwards whither Rachel drew him. + +He rose up and wrapped himself in a cloak of goatskins. He filled a +hide bag with sun-dried flesh and parched corn, and hung it about his +shoulders with a gourd of water, for after all he might live a little +while and need food and drink. As he had no gun he took a staff and a +knife and a broad-bladed spear, and leaving the hut, set his face +northward and walked towards the mouth of the nek. At the first step +which he took the torment in his head seemed to leave him, who fought +no longer, who had seemed obedient to that mysterious summons. +Quietness and confidence possessed him. He was going to his end, but +what did it matter? The dream beckoned and he must follow. The moon +shone bright, but he took no trouble to hide himself, it did not seem +to be worth while. + +Now he was in the nek and drawing near to the place where the guard was +stationed, still he marched on, boldly, openly. As he thought, they +were on the alert. They drew out from behind the rocks and barred his +path. + +“Whither goest thou, lord Dario?” asked their captain. “Thou knowest +that here thou mayest not pass.” + +“I follow a Ghost to the north,” he answered, “and living or dead, I +pass.” + +“_Ow_!” said the captain. “He says that he follows a Ghost. Well, we +have nothing to do with ghosts. Take him, unharmed if possible, but +take him.” + +So, urged thereto by their own fears, since for their safety’s sake +they dared not let him go, the men sprang towards him. They sprang +towards him where he stood waiting the end, for give back he would not, +and of a sudden fell down upon their faces, hiding their heads among +the stones. Richard did not know what had happened to them that they +behaved thus strangely, nor did he care. Only seeing them fallen he +walked on over them, and pursued his way along the nek and down it to +the plains beyond. + +All that night he walked, looking behind him from time to time to see +if any followed, but none came. He was alone, quite alone, save for the +dream that led him towards the north. At sunrise he rested and slept a +while, then, awaking after midday, went on his road. He did not know +the road, yet never was he in doubt for a moment. It was always clear +to him whither he should go. That night he finished his food and again +slept a while, going forward at the dawn. In the morning he met some +Kaffirs, who questioned him, but he answered only that he was following +a Dream to the north. They stared at him, seemed to grow frightened and +ran away. But presently some of them came back and placed food in his +path, which he took and left them. + +He came to the kraal Mafooti. It was utterly deserted, and he wandered +amidst its ashes. Here and there he found the bones of those who had +perished in the fire, and turned them over with his staff wondering +whether any of them had belonged to Rachel. In that place he slept a +night thinking that perhaps his journey was ended, and that here he +would die where he believed Rachel had died. But when he waked at the +dawn, it was to find that something within him still drew him towards +the north, more strongly indeed than ever before. + +So he left what had been the town Mafooti. Walking along the edge of +the cleft into which Ishmael had leapt on fire, he climbed the walls +built with so much toil to keep out the Zulus, and at last came to the +river which Rachel had swum. It was low now, and wading it he entered +Zululand. Here the natives seemed to know of his approach, for they +gathered in numbers watching him, and put food in his path. But they +would not speak to him, and when he addressed them saying that he +followed a Dream and asking if they had seen the Dream, they cried out +that he was _tagali_, bewitched, and fled away. + +He continued his journey, finding each night a hut prepared for him to +sleep in, and food for him to eat, till at length one evening he +reached the Great Place, Umgugundhlovu. Through its streets he marched +with a set face, while thousands stared at him in silence. Then a +captain pointed out a hut to him, and into it he entered, ate and +slept. At dawn he rose, for he knew that here he must not tarry; the +spirit face of Rachel still hung before him, the spirit voice still +whispered—“_Forward, forward to the north. I myself will be your +guide_.” In his path sat the King and his Councillors, and around them +a regiment of men. He walked through them unheeding, till at length, +when he was in front of the King, they barred his road, and he halted. + +“Who art thou and what is thy business?” asked an old Councillor with a +withered hand. + +“I am Richard Darrien,” he answered, “and here I have no business. I +journey to the north. Stay me not.” + +“We know thee,” said the Councillor, “thou art the lord Dario that +didst dwell in the shadow of the Inkosazana. Thou art the white chief +whom the wild beast, Ibubesi, slew at the kraal Mafooti. Why does thy +ghost come hither to trouble us?” + +“Living or dead, ghost or man, I travel to the north. Stay me not,” he +answered. + +“What seekest thou in the north, thou lord Dario?” + +“I seek a Dream; a Spirit leads me to find a Dream. Seest thou it not, +Man with the withered hand?” + +“Ah!” they repeated, “he seeks a Dream. A Spirit leads him to find a +Dream in the north.” + +“What is this Dream like?” asked Mopo of the withered hand. + +“Come, stand at my side and look. There, dost thou see it floating in +the air before us, thou who hast eyes that can read a Dream?” + +Mopo came and looked, then his knees trembled a little and he said: + +“Aye, lord Dario, I see and I know that face.” + +“Thou knowest the face, old fool,” broke in Dingaan angrily. “Then +whose is it?” + +“O King,” answered Mopo, dropping his eyes, “it is not lawful to speak +the name, but the face is the face of one who sat where that wanderer +stands, and showed thee certain pictures in a bowl of water.” + +Now Dingaan trembled, for the memory of those visions haunted him night +and day; moreover he thought at times that they drew near to their +fulfilment. + +“The white man is mad,” he said, “and thou, Mopo, art mad also. I have +often thought it, and that it would be well if thou wentest on a long +journey—for thy health. This Dario shall stay here a while. I will not +suffer him to wander through my land crazing the people with his tales +of dreams and visions. Take him and hold him; the Circle of the Doctors +shall inquire into the matter.” + +So Dingaan spoke, who in his heart was afraid lest this wild-eyed Dario +should learn that he had given the Inkosazana to the dwarf folk when +she was mad, to appease them after they had prophesied evil to him. +Also he remembered that it was because of the murders done by Ibubesi +that the Inkosazana had gone mad, and did not understand if Dario had +been killed at the kraal Mafooti how it could be that he now stood +before him. Therefore he thought that he would keep him a prisoner +until he found out all the truth of the matter, and whether he were +still a man or a ghost or a wizard clothed in the shape of the dead. + +At the bidding of the King, guards sprang forward to seize Richard, but +the old Councillor, Mopo, shrunk away behind him hiding his eyes with +his withered hand. They sprang forward, and yet they laid no finger on +him, but fell off to right and left, saying: + +“Kill us, if thou wilt, Black One, we cannot!” + +“The wizard has bewitched them,” said Dingaan angrily. “Here, you +Doctors, you whose trade it is to catch wizards, take this white fellow +and bind him.” + +Unwillingly enough the Doctors, of whom there were eight or ten sitting +apart, rose to do the King’s bidding. They came on towards Richard, +some of them singing songs, and some muttering charms, and as they came +he laughed and said: + +“Beware! you _Abangoma_, the Dream is looking at you very angrily.” +Then they too broke away to right and left, crying out that this was a +wizard against whom they had no power. + +Now Dingaan grew mad with wrath, and shouted to his soldiers to seize +the white man, and if he resisted them to kill him with their sticks, +for of witchcraft they had known enough in Zululand of late. + +So thick as bees the regiment formed up in front of him, shouting and +waving their kerries, for here in the King’s Place they bore no spears. + +“Make way there,” said Richard, “I can stay no longer, I must to the +north.” + +The soldiers did not stir, only a captain stepped out bidding him give +up his spear and yield himself, or be killed. Richard walked forward +and at a sign from the captain, men sprang at him, lifting their +kerries, to dash out his brains. Then suddenly in front of Richard +there appeared something faint and white, something that walked before +him. The soldiers saw it, and the kerries fell from their hands. The +regiment behind saw it, and turning, burst away like a scared herd of +cattle. They did not wait to seek the gates, they burst through the +fence of the enclosure, and were gone, leaving it flat behind them. The +King and his Councillors saw it also, and more clearly than the rest. + +_“The Inkosazana!”_ they cried. “It is the Inkosazana who walks before +him that she loved!” and they fell upon their faces. Only Dingaan +remained seated on his stool. + +“Go,” he said hoarsely to Richard, “go, thou wizard, north or south or +east or west, if only thou wilt take that Spirit with thee, for she +bodes evil to my land.” + +So Richard, who had seen nothing, marched away from the kraal +Umgugundhlovu, and once more set his face towards the north, the north +that drew him as it draws the needle of a compass. + +The road that Rachel and the dwarfs had travelled he travelled also. +Although from day to day he knew not where his feet would lead him, +still he travelled it step by step. Nor did any hurt come to him. In +the country where men dwelt, being forewarned of his coming by +messengers, they brought him food and guarded him, and when he passed +out into the wilderness some other power guarded him. He had no fear at +all. At night he would lie down without a fire, and the lions would +roar about him, but they never harmed him. He would plunge into a swamp +or a river and always pass it safely. When water failed he would find +it without search; when there was no food, it would seem to be brought +to him. Once an eagle dropped a bustard at his feet. Once he found a +buck fresh slain by leopards. Once when he was very hungry he saw that +he had laid down to sleep by a nest of ostrich eggs, and this food he +cooked, making fire after the native fashion with sharp sticks, as he +knew how to do. + +At length all the swamps were passed and in the third week of his +journeyings he reached the sloping uplands, on the edge of which he +awoke one morning to find himself surrounded by a circle of great men, +giants, who stood staring at him. He arose, thinking that at last his +hour had come, as it seemed to him that they were about to kill him. +But instead of killing him these huge men saluted him humbly, and +offered him food upon their knees, and new hide shoes for his feet—for +his own were worn out—and cloaks and garments of skin, which things he +accepted thankfully, for by now he was almost naked. Then they brought +a litter and wished him to enter it, but this he refused. Heeding them +no more, as soon as he had eaten and filled his bag and water-bottle, +he started on towards the north. Indeed, he could not have stayed if he +had wished; his brain seemed to be full of one thought only, to travel +till he reached his journey’s end, whatever it might be, and before his +eyes he saw one thing only, the spirit face of Rachel, that led him on +towards that end. Sometimes it was there for hours, then for hours +again it would be absent. When it was present he looked at it; when it +was gone he dreamed of it, for him it was the same. But one thing was +ever with him, that magnet in his heart which drew his feet towards the +north, and from step to step showed him the road that he should travel. + +A number of the giant men accompanied him. He noticed it, but took no +heed. So long as they did not attempt to stay or turn him he was +indifferent whether they came or went away. As a result he travelled in +much more comfort, since now everything was made easy and ready for +him. Thus he was fed with the best that the land provided, and at night +shelters were built for him to sleep in. He discovered that a captain +of the giants could understand a few words of some native language +which he knew, and asked him why they helped him. The captain replied +by order of “Mother of Trees.” Who or what “Mother of Trees” might be +Richard was unable to discover, so he gave up his attempts at talk and +walked on. + +They traversed the fertile uplands and reached the edge of the fearful +desert. It did not frighten him; he plunged into it as he would have +plunged into a sea, or a lake of fire, had it lain in his way. He was +like a bird whose instinct at the approach of summer or of winter leads +it without doubt or error to some far spot, beyond continents and +oceans, some land that it has never seen, leads it in surety and peace +to its appointed rest. A guard of the giant men came with him into the +desert, also carriers who bore skins of water. In that burning heat the +journey was dreadful, yet Richard accomplished it, wearing down all his +escort, until at its further lip but one man was left. There even he +sank exhausted and began to beat upon a little drum that he carried, +which drum had been passed on to him by those who were left behind. But +Richard was not exhausted. His strength seemed to be greater than it +had ever been before, or that which drew him forward had acquired more +power. He wondered vaguely why a man should choose such a place and +time to play upon a drum, and went on alone. + +Before him, some miles away, he saw a forest of towering trees that +stretched further than his eye could reach. As he approached that +forest heading for a certain tall tree, why he knew not, the sunset +dyed it red as though it had been on fire, and he thought that he +discerned little shapes flitting to and fro amidst the boles of trees. +Then he entered the forest, whereof the boughs arched above him like +the endless roof of a cathedral borne upon innumerable pillars. There +was deep gloom that grew presently to darkness wherein here and there +glow-worms shone faintly like tapers dying before an altar, and winds +sighed like echoes of evening prayers. He could see to walk no longer, +sudden weariness overcame him, so according to his custom he laid +himself down to sleep at the bole of a great tree. + +A while had passed, he never knew how long, when Richard was awakened +from deep slumber by feeling many hands fiercely at work upon him. +These hands were small like those of children; this he could tell from +the touch of them, although the darkness was so dense that he was able +to see nothing. Two of them gripped him by the throat so as to prevent +him from crying out; others passed cords about his wrists, ankles and +middle until he could not stir a single limb. Then he was dragged back +a few paces and lashed to the bole of a tree, as he guessed, that under +which he had been sleeping. The hands let go of him, and his throat +being free he called out for help. But those vast forest aisles seemed +to swallow up his voice. It fell back on him from the canopy of huge +boughs above, it was lost in the immense silence. Only from close at +hand he heard little peals of thin and mocking laughter. So he too grew +silent, for who was there to help him here? He struggled to loose +himself, for the impalpable power which had guided him so far was now +at work within him more strongly than ever before. It called to him to +come, it drew him onward, it whispered to him that the goal was near. +But the more he writhed and twisted the deeper did the cruel cords or +creepers cut into his flesh. Yet he fought on till, utterly exhausted, +his head fell forward, and he swooned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +THE END AND THE BEGINNING + + +On the day following that when she had summoned Eddo to speak with her, +Nya sat at the mouth of the cave. It was late afternoon, and already +the shadows gathered so quickly that save for her white hair, her +little childlike shape, withered now almost to a skeleton, was scarcely +visible against the black rock. Walking to and fro in her aimless +fashion, as she would do for hours at a time, Rachel accompanied by +Noie passed and repassed her, till at length the old woman lifted her +head and listened to something which was quite inaudible to their ears. +Then she beckoned to Noie, who led Rachel to her. + +“Maiden beloved,” she said in a feeble voice, after they had sat down +in front of her, “my hour has come, I have sent for thee to bid thee +farewell till we meet again in a country where thou hast travelled for +a little while. Before the sun sets I pass within the Fence.” + +At this tidings Rachel began to weep, for she had learned to love this +old dwarf-woman who had been so kind to her in her misery, and she was +now so weak that she could not restrain her fears. + +“Mother,” she said, “for thee it is joy to go. I know it, and therefore +cannot wish that thou shouldst stay. Yet what shall I do when thou hast +left me alone amidst all these cruel folk? Tell me, what shall I do?” + +“Perchance thou wilt seek another helper, Maiden, and perchance thou +shall find another to guard and comfort thee. Follow thy heart, obey +thy heart, and remember the last words of Nya—that no harm shall come +to thee. Nay—if I know it, I may tell thee no more, thou who couldst +not hear what the drums said to me but now. Farewell,” and turning +round she made a sign to certain dwarf-mutes who were gathered behind +her as though they awaited her commands. + +“Hast thou no last word for me, Mother?” asked Noie. + +“Aye, Child,” she answered. “Thy heart is very bold, and thou also must +follow it. Though thy sin should be great, perchance thy greater love +may pay its price. At least thou art but an arrow set upon the string, +and that which must be, will be. I think that we shall meet again ere +long. Come hither and kneel at my side.” + +Noie obeyed, and for a little space Nya whispered in her ear, while as +she listened Rachel saw strange lights shining in Noie’s eyes, lights +of terror and of pride, lights of hope and of despair. + +“What did she say to you, Noie?” asked Rachel presently. + +“I may not tell, Zoola,” she answered. “Question me no more.” + +Now the mutes brought forward a slight litter woven of boughs on which +the withered leaves still hung, boughs from Nya’s fallen tree. In this +litter they placed her, for she could no longer walk, and lifted it on +to their shoulders. For one moment she bade them halt, and calling +Rachel and Noie to her, kissed them upon the brow, holding up her thin +child-like hands over them in blessing. Then followed by them both, the +bearers went forward with their burden, taking the road that ran up the +hill towards the sacred tree. As the sun set they passed within the +Fence, and laying down the litter without a word by the bole of the +tree, turned and departed. + +The darkness fell, and through it Rachel and Noie heard Nya singing for +a little while. The song ceased, and they descended the hill to the +cave, for there they feared to stay lest the Tree should draw them +also. They ate a little food whilst the two women mutes who had sat on +each side of Nya when she showed her magic, stared, now at them, and +now into the bowls of dew that were set before them, wherein they +seemed to find something that interested them much. Noie prayed Rachel +to sleep, and she tried to do so, and could not. For hour after hour +she tossed and turned, and at length sat up, saying to Noie: + +“I have fought against it, and I can stay here no longer. Noie, I am +being drawn from this place out into the forest, and I must go.” + +“What draws thee, Sister?” asked Noie. “Is it Eddo?” + +“No, I think not, nothing to do with Eddo. Oh! Noie, Noie, it is the +spirit of Richard Darrien. He is dead, but for days and weeks his +spirit has been with my spirit, and now it draws me into the forest to +die and find him.” + +“Then that is an evil journey thou wouldst take, Zoola?” + +“Not so, Noie, it is the best and happiest of journeys. The thought of +it fills me with joy. What said Nya? Follow thy heart. So I follow it. +Noie, farewell, for I must go away.” + +“Nay,” answered Noie, “if thou goest I go, who also was bidden to +follow my heart that is sister to thy heart.” + +Rachel reasoned with her, but she would not listen. The end of it was +that the two of them rose and threw on their cloaks; also Rachel took +the great Umkulu spear which she had used as a staff on her journey +from the desert to the forest. All this while the dwarf-women watched +her, but did nothing, only watched. + +They left the cave and walked to the mouth of the zig-zag slit in the +great wall which was open. + +“Perhaps the mutes will kill us in the heart of the wall,” said Noie. + +“If so the end will be soon and swift,” answered Rachel. + +Now they were in the cleft, following its slopes and windings. Above +them they could hear the movements of the guardians of the wall who sat +amongst the rough stones, but these did not try to stop them; indeed +once or twice when they did not know which way to turn in the darkness, +little hands took hold of Rachel’s cloak and guided her. So they passed +through the wall in safety. Outside of it Rachel paused a moment, +looking this way and that. Then of a sudden she turned and walked +swiftly towards the south. + +It was dark, densely dark in the forest, yet she never seemed to lose +her path. Holding Noie by the hand she wound in and out between the +tree-trunks without stumbling or even striking her foot against a root. +For an hour or more they walked on this, the strangest of strange +journeys, till at length Rachel whispered: + +“Something tells me to stay here,” and she leaned against a tree and +stayed, while Noie, who was tired, sat down between the jutting roots +of the tree. + +It was a dead tree, and the top of it had been torn off in some +hurricane so that they could see the sky above them, and by the grey +hue of it knew that it was drawing near to dawn. + +The sun rose, and its arrows, that even at midday could never pass the +canopy of foliage, shot straight and vivid between the tall bare +trunks. Oh! Rachel knew the place. It was that place which she had +dreamed of as a child in the island of the flooded river. Just so had +the light of the rising sun fallen on the boles of the great trees, and +on her white cloak and out-spread hair, fallen on her and on another. +She strained her eyes into the gloom. Now those rays pierced it also, +and now by them she saw the yellow-bearded, half-naked man of that +long-dead dream leaning against the tree. His eyes were shut, without +doubt he was dead, this was but a vision of him who had drawn her +hither to share his death. It was the spirit of Richard Darrien! + +She drew a little nearer, and the eyes opened, gazing at her. Also from +that form of his was cast a long shadow—there it lay upon the dead +leaves. How came it, she wondered, that a spirit could throw a shadow, +and why was a spirit bound to a tree, as now she perceived he was? He +saw her, and in those grey eyes of his there came a wonderful look. He +spoke. + +“You have drawn me from far, Rachel, but I have never seen all of you +before, only your face floating in the air before me, although others +saw you. Now I see you also, so I suppose that my time has come. It +will soon be over. Wait a little there, where I can look at you, and +presently we shall be together again. I am glad.” + +Rachel could not speak. A lump rose in her throat and choked her. +Betwixt fear and hope her heart stood still. Only with the spear in her +hand she pointed at her own shadow thrown by the level rays of the +rising sun. He looked, and notwithstanding the straitness of his bonds +she saw him start. + +“If you are a ghost why have you a shadow?” he asked hoarsely. “And if +you are not a ghost, how did you come into this haunted place?” + +Still Rachel did not seem to be able to speak. Only she glided up to +him and kissed him on the lips. Now at length he understood—they both +understood that they were still living creatures beneath the sky, not +the denizens of some dim world which lies beyond. + +“Free me,” he said in a faint voice, for his brain reeled. “I was bound +here in my sleep. They will be back presently.” + +Her intelligence awoke. With a few swift cuts of the spear she held +Rachel severed his bonds, then picked up his own assegai that lay at +his feet she thrust it into his numbed hand. As he took it the forest +about them seemed to become alive, and from behind the boles of the +trees around appeared a number of dwarfs who ran towards them, headed +by Eddo. Noie sprang forward also, and stood at their side. Rachel +turned on Eddo swiftly as a startled deer. She seemed to tower over +him, the spear in her hand. + +“What does this mean, Priest?” she asked. + +“Inkosazana,” he answered humbly, “it means that I have found a way to +tempt thee from within the Wall where none might break thy sanctuary. +Thou drewest this man to thee from far with the strength that old Nya +gave thee. We knew it all, we saw it all, and we waited. Day by day in +our bowls of dew we watched him coming nearer to thee. We heard the +messages of Nya on the drums, bidding the Umkulu meet and escort him; +we heard the last answering message from the borders of the desert, +telling her that he was nigh. Then while he followed his magic path +through the darkness of the forest we seized and bound him, knowing +well that if he could not come to thee, thou wouldst come to him. And +thou hast come.” + +“I understand. What now, Eddo?” + +“This, Inkosazana: Thou hast been named Mother of the Trees by the +people of the Dwarfs; be pleased to come with us that we may instal +thee in thy great office.” + +“This lord here,” said Rachel, “is my promised husband. What of him?” + +Eddo bowed and smiled, a fearful smile, and answered: + +“The Mother of the Trees has no husband. Wisdom is her husband. He has +served his purpose, which was to draw thee from within the Wall, and +for this reason only we permitted him to enter the holy forest living. +Now he bides here to die, and since he has won thy love we will honour +him with the White Death. Bind him to the tree again.” + +In an instant the spear that Rachel held was at Eddo’s throat. + +“Dwarf,” she cried, “this is my man, and I am no Mother of Trees and no +pale ghost, but a living woman. Let but one of these monkeys of thine +lay a hand upon him, and thou diest, by the Red Death, Eddo, aye, by +the Red Death. Stir a single inch, and this spear goes through thy +heart, and thy spirit shall be spilled with thy blood.” + +The little priest sank to his knees trembling, glancing about him for a +means of escape. + +“If thou killest me, thou diest also,” he hissed. + +“What do I care if I die?” she answered. “If my man dies, I wish to +die,” then added in English: “Richard, take hold of him by one arm, and +Noie, take the other. If he tries to escape kill him at once, or if you +are afraid, I will.” + +So they seized him by his arms. + +“Now,” said Rachel, “let us go back to the Sanctuary, for there they +dare not touch us. We cannot try the desert without water; also they +would follow and kill us with their poisoned arrows. Tell them, Noie, +that if they do not attempt to harm us, we will set this priest of +theirs free within the Wall. But if a hand is lifted against us, then +he dies at once—by the Red Death.” + +“Touch them not, touch them not,” piped Eddo, “lest my ghost should be +spilt with my blood. Touch them not, I command you.” + +The company of dwarfs chattered together like parrots at the dawn, and +the march began. First went Eddo, dragged along between Richard and +Noie, and after them, the raised spear in her hand, followed Rachel, +while on either side, hiding themselves behind the boles of the trees, +scrambled the people of the dwarfs. Back they went thus through the +forest, Rachel telling them the road till at length the huge grey wall +loomed up before them. They came to the slit in it, and Noie asked: + +“What shall we do now? Kill this priest, take him in with us as a +hostage, or let him go?” + +“I said that he should be set free,” answered Rachel, “and he would do +us more harm dead than living; also his blood would be on our hands. +Take him through the Wall, and loose him there.” + +So once more they passed the slopes and passages, while the mutes above +watched them from their stones with marvelling eyes, till they reached +the open space beyond, and there they loosed Eddo. The priest sprang +back out of reach of the dreaded spears, and in a voice thick with +rage, cried to them: + +“Fools! You should have killed me while you could, for now you are in a +trap, not I. You are strong and great, but you cannot live without +food. We may not enter here to hurt you, but you shall starve, you +shall starve until you creep out and beg my mercy.” + +Then making signs to the dwarfs who sat about above, he vanished +between the stones. + +“You should have killed him, Zoola,” said Noie, “for now he will live +to kill us.” + +“I think not, Sister,” answered Rachel. “Nya said that I should follow +my heart, and my heart bid me let him go. Our hands are clean of his +blood, but if he had died, who can tell? Blood is a bad seed to sow.” + +Then, forgetting Eddo, she turned to Richard and began to ply him with +questions. + +But he seemed to be dazed and could answer little. It was as though +some unnatural, supporting strength had been withdrawn, and now all the +fatigues of his fearful journey were taking effect upon him. He could +scarcely stand, but reeled to and fro like a man in drink, so that the +two women were obliged to support him across the burial ground towards +the cave. Advancing thus they entered into the shadow of the Holy Tree, +and there at the edge of it met another procession descending from the +mound. Eight mutes bore a litter of boughs, and on it lay Nya, dead, +her long white hair hanging down on either side of the litter. With +bowed heads they stood aside to let her pass to the grave made ready +for her in a place of honour near the Wall where for a thousand years +only the Mothers of the Trees had been laid to rest. + +Then they went on, and entered the cave where the lamps burned before +the great stalactite and the heap of offerings that were piled about +it. Here sat the two women priests gazing into their bowls as they had +left them. The death of Nya had not moved them, the advent of this +white man did not seem to move them. Perhaps they expected him; at any +rate food was made ready, and a bed of rugs prepared on which he could +lie. + +Richard ate some of the food, staring at Rachel all the while with +vacant eyes as though she were still but a vision, the figment of a +dream. Then he muttered something about being very tired, and sinking +back upon the rugs fell into a deep sleep. + +In that sleep he remained scarcely stirring for full four-and-twenty +hours, while Rachel watched by his side, till at length her weariness +overcame her, and she slept also. When she opened her eyes again they +saw no other light than that which crept in from the mouth of the cave. +The lamps which always burned there were out. Noie, who was seated near +by, heard her stir, and spoke. + +“If thou art rested, Zoola,” she said, “I think that we had better +carry the white lord from this place, for the two witch-women have +gone, and I can find no more oil to fill the lamps.” + +So they felt their way to Richard, purposing to lift him between them, +but at Rachel’s touch he awoke, and with their help walked out of the +cave. In the open space beyond they saw a strange sight, for across it +were streaming all the dwarf-mutes carrying their aged and sick and +infants, and bearing on their backs or piled up in litters their mats +and cooking utensils. Evidently they were deserting the Sanctuary. + +“Why are they going?” asked Rachel. + +“I do not know,” answered Noie, “but I think it is because no food has +been brought to them as usual, and they are hungry. You remember that +Eddo said we should starve. Only fear of death by hunger would make +them leave a place where they and their forefathers have lived for +generations.” + +Presently they were all gone. Not a living creature was left within the +Wall except these three, nor were any more dwarfs brought in to die +beneath the Holy Tree. Now, at length Richard seemed to awake, and +taking Rachel by the hand began to ask questions of her in a low +stammering voice, since words did not seem to come readily to him who +had not spoken his own language for so long. + +“Before you begin to talk, Sister,” broke in Noie, “let us go and see +if we can close the cleft in the Wall, for otherwise how shall we sleep +in peace? Eddo and the dwarfs might creep in by night and murder us.” + +“I do not think they dare shed blood in their Holy Place,” answered +Rachel. “Still, let us see what we can do; it may be best.” + +So they went to the cleft, and as the stone door was open and they +could not shut it, at one very narrow spot they rolled down rocks from +the loose sides of the ancient wall above in such a fashion that it +would be difficult to pass through or over them from without. This hard +task took them many hours, moreover, it was labour wasted, since, as +Rachel had thought probable, the dwarfs never tried to pass the Wall, +but waited till hunger forced them to surrender. + +Towards evening they returned to the cave and collected what food they +could find. It was but little, enough for two spare meals, no more; nor +could they discover any in the town of the dwarfs behind the Tree. Only +of water they had plenty from the stream that ran out of the cave. + +They ate a few mouthfuls, then took their mats and cloaks and went to +camp by the opening in the wall, so that they might guard against +surprise. Now for the first time they found leisure to talk, and Rachel +and Richard told each other a little of their wonderful stories. But +they did not tell them all, for their minds seemed to be bewildered, +and there was much that they were not able to explain. It was enough +for them to know that they had been brought together again thus +marvellously, by what power they knew not, and that still living, they +who for long weeks had deemed the other dead, were able to hold each +other’s hands and gaze into each other’s eyes. Moreover, now that this +had been brought about they were tired, so tired that they could +scarcely speak above a whisper. The end of it was that they fell +asleep, all of them, and so slept till morning, when they awoke +somewhat refreshed, and ate what remained of the food. + +The second day was like the first, only hotter and more sultry. Noie +climbed to the top of the wall to watch, while Richard and Rachel +wandered about among the little, antheap-like graves, and through the +dwarf village, talking and wondering, happy even in their wretchedness. +But before the day was gone hunger began to get a hold of them; also +the terrible, stifling heat oppressed them so that their words seemed +to die between their lips, and they could only sit against the wall, +looking at one another. + +Towards evening Noie descended from the Wall and reported that large +numbers of the dwarfs were keeping watch without, flitting to and fro +between the trunks of the trees like shadows. The stifling night went +by, and another day dawned. Having no food they went to the stream and +drank water. Then they sat down in the shadow and waited through the +long hot hours. Towards evening, when it grew a little cooler, they +gathered up their strength and tried to find some way of escape before +it was too late. Richard suggested that as flight was impossible they +should give themselves up to the dwarfs, but Rachel answered No, for +then Eddo would certainly kill him and Noie, and take her to fill the +place of Mother of the Trees until she became useless to him, when she +would be murdered also. + +“Then there is nothing left for us but to die,” said Richard. + +“Nothing but to die,” she answered, “to die together; and, dear, that +should not be so hard, seeing that for so long we have thought each +other dead apart.” + +“Yet it is hard,” answered Richard, “after living through so much and +being led so far to die at last and go whither we know not, before our +time.” + +Rachel looked at Noie, who sat opposite to them, her head rested on her +hand. + +“Have you anything to say, Sister?” she asked. + +“Yes, Zoola. Here is a little moss that I have found upon the stones,” +and she produced a small bundle. “Let us boil it and eat, it will keep +us alive for another day.” + +“What is the use?” asked Rachel, “unless there is more.” + +“There is no more,” said Noie, “for the leaves of yonder tree are +deadly poison, and here grows no other living thing. Still, eat and +live on, for I wait a message.” + +“A message from whom?” asked Rachel. + +“A message from the dead, Sister. It was promised to me by Nya before +she passed, and if it does not come, then it will be time to die.” + +So they made fire and boiled the moss till it was a horrible, sticky +substance, which they swallowed as best they could, washing it down +with gulps of water. Still it was food of a kind, and for a while +stayed the gnawing, empty pains within them; only Noie ate but little, +so that there might be more for the others. + +That night was even hotter than those that had gone before, and during +the day which followed the place became like a hell. They crept into +the cave and lay there gasping, while from without came loud cracking +sounds, caused, as they thought, by the trees of the forest splitting +in the heat. About midday the sky suddenly became densely overcast, +although no breath stirred; the air was thicker than ever, to breathe +it was like breathing hot cream. In their restless despair they +wandered out of the cave, and to their surprise saw a dwarf standing +upon the top of the wall. It was Eddo, who called to them to come out +and give themselves up. + +“What are the terms?” asked Noie. + +“That thou and the Wanderer shall die by the White Death, and that the +Inkosazana shall be installed Mother of the Trees,” was the answer. + +“We refuse them,” said Noie. “Let us go now and give us food and +escort, and thou shall be spared. Refuse, and it is thou and thy people +who will die by that Red Death which Nya promised thee.” + +“That we shall learn before to-morrow,” said Eddo with a mocking laugh, +and vanished down the wall. + +As he went a hot gust of wind burst upon them, causing the forest +without to rock and groan. Noie turned her face towards it and seemed +to listen. + +“What is it?” asked Rachel. + +“I heard a voice in the wind, Sister,” she answered. “The message I +awaited has come to me.” + +“What message?” asked Richard listlessly. + +“That I will tell you by and by, Chief,” she answered. “Come to the +cave, it is no longer safe here, the hurricane breaks.” + +So supporting each other they crept back to the cave, and there Noie +made fire, feeding it with the idols and precious woods that had been +brought thither as offerings. Richard and Rachel watched her wondering, +for it seemed strange that she should make a fire in that heat where +there was nothing to cook. Meanwhile gust succeeded gust, until a +tempest of screaming wind swept over them, though no rain fell. Soon it +was so fierce that the deep-rooted Tree of the Tribe rocked above them, +and loose stones were blown from the crest of the great wall. + +Then of a sudden Noie sprang up, and seized a flaming brand from the +fire; it was the limb of a fetish, made of some resinous wood. She ran +from the cave swiftly, before they could stop her, and vanished in the +gathering gloom, to return again in a few moments weak and breathless. +“Come out, now,” she said, “and see a sight such as you shall never +behold again,” and there was something so strange in her voice that, +notwithstanding their weakness, they rose and followed her. + +Outside the cave they could not stand because of the might of the +hurricane, but cast themselves upon the ground, and following Noie’s +outstretched arm, looked up towards the top of the mound. Then they saw +that the Tree of the Tribe was _on fire_. Already its vast trunk and +boughs were wrapped in flame, which burnt furiously because of the +resin within them, while long flakes of blazing moss were being swept +away to leeward, to fall among the forest that lay beyond the wall. + +“Did you do this?” cried Rachel to Noie. + +“Aye, Zoola, who else? That was the message which came to me. Now my +office is fulfilled, but you two will live though I must die, I who +have destroyed the People of the Dwarfs; I who was born that I should +destroy them.” + +“Destroyed them!” exclaimed Rachel. “What do you mean?” + +“I mean that when their Tree dies, they die, the whole race of them. +Oh! Nya told me, Nya told me—they die as their Tree dies, by fire. To +the Wall, to the Wall now, and look. Follow me.” + +Forgetting their hunger-bred weakness in the wild excitement of that +moment, Rachel and Richard struggled hand in hand, after Noie’s thin, +ethereal form. Across the open space they struggled, through the +furious bufferings of the gale, sometimes on their feet, sometimes on +their hands and knees, till they came to the great wall where a +stairway ran up it to an outlook tower. Up this stair they climbed +slowly since at times the weight of the wind pinned them against the +blocks of stone, till at length they reached its crest and crept into +the shelter of the hollow tower. Hence, looking through the loopholes +in the ancient masonry, they saw a fearful sight. The flakes of burning +moss from the Tree of the Tribe had fallen among the tops of the +forest, parched almost to tinder with drought and heat, and fired them +here and there. Fanned by the screaming gale the flames spread rapidly, +leaping from tree to tree, now in one direction, now in another, as the +hurricane veered, which it did continually, till the whole green forest +became a sheet of fire, an ever-widening sheet which spread east and +west and north and south for miles and miles and tens of miles. + +Earth and sky were one blaze of light given out by the torch-like +resinous trees as they burned from the top downwards. By that intense +light the three watchers could see hundreds of the People of the Dwarfs +flitting about between the trunks. Waving their arms and gibbering, +they rushed this way and that, to the north to be met by fire, to the +south to be met by fire, till at length the blazing boughs and boles +fell upon them and they disappeared in showers of red sparks, or, more +fortunate, fled away, never to return, before the flame that leapt +after them. One company of them ran towards the Sanctuary; they could +see them threading their path between the trees, and growing ever fewer +as the burning branches fell among them from above. They leapt, they +ran, they battled, springing this way and that, but ever the great +flaring boughs crashed down among them, crushing them, shrivelling them +up, till at length of all their number but a single man staggered into +the open belt between the edge of the forest and the wall. His white +hair and his garments seemed to be smouldering. He gripped at them with +his hands, then coming to a little bush—it was the top of Nya’s tree +which she had thrust into the ground to grow there—dragged it up and +began to beat himself with it as though to extinguish the flames. In an +instant it took fire also, burning him horribly, so that with a yell he +threw it to the ground, and ran on towards the wall. As he came they +saw his face. It was that of Eddo. + +At this moment, seized by some sudden weakness, Noie sank down upon the +stones. Richard bent over her to lift her to her feet again, but she +thrust him away, saying slowly and in gasps: + +“Let me be, the doom has hold of me, I am dying. I passed within the +Fence to fire the Tree, and its poison is at work within me, and the +curse of all my people has fallen on my head. Yet I have saved thee, my +sister, I have saved thee and thy lover, for the Dwarfs are no more, +the Grey People are grey ashes. For my love’s sake I did the sin; let +my love atone the sin if it may, or at the least think kindly of me +through the long, happy years that are to come, and at the end of them +then seek for lost Noie in the World of Ghosts if she may be found +there.” + +As she spoke they heard a sound of something scrambling among the +stones, and at one of the four entrances of the turret there appeared a +hideous, fire-twisted face, and a little form about which hung charred +and smouldering strips of raiment. It was Eddo, who had climbed the +wall and found them out. There he sat glowering at them, or rather at +Noie, who was crouched upon the floor. + +“Come hither, daughter of Seyapi,” he screamed in his hissing, +snake-like voice, “come hither, and see thy work, thou who hast made an +end of the ancient People of the Ghosts. Come hither and tell me why +thou didst this thing, for I would learn the truth before I die, that I +may make report of it to the Fathers of our race.” + +Noie heard, and crept towards him; to Rachel and Richard it seemed as +though she could not disobey that summons. Now they sat face to face +outside the turret, clinging to the stones, and her long hair flowed +outwards on the gale. + +“I did it, Eddo,” she said, “to save one whom I love, and him whom she +loves. I did it to avenge the death of Nya upon you all, as she bade me +to do. I did it because the cup of thy wickedness is full, and because +I was appointed to bring thy doom upon thee. Thus ends the greatness +thou hast plotted so many years to win, Eddo.” + +“Aye,” he answered, “thus it ends, for the magic of the White One there +has overcome me, and thus with it ends the reign of the Ghost Kings, +and the forest wherein they reigned, and thus too, thou endest, +traitress, who hast murdered them and whose soul shall be spilt with +their souls.” + +As the words left his lips suddenly Eddo sprang upon Noie and gripped +her about the middle. Richard and Rachel leapt forward, but before ever +they could lay a hand upon her to save her, the dwarf in his rage and +agony had dragged her to the edge of the wall. For a moment they +struggled there in the vivid light of the flaming forest. Then Eddo +screamed aloud, one wild savage shriek, and still holding Noie in his +arms hurled himself from the wall, to fall crushed upon its foundation +stones sixty feet beneath. + +Thus perished Noie, who, for love’s sake, gave her life to save Rachel, +as once Rachel had saved her. + + +It was morning, and after the tempest the sky was clear and cool, for +heavy rain had fallen when the wind dropped, although far away the +dense clouds of rolling smoke showed where the great fire still ate +into the heart of the forest. Rachel and Richard, seated hand in hand +in the little tower on the wall, looked at one another in that pure +light, and saw signs in each other’s face that could not be mistaken. + +“What shall we do?” asked Richard. “Death is very near to us.” + +Rachel thought awhile, then answered: + +“The dwarfs are gone, we have nothing more to fear from them. Yonder +where the fire did not burn, dwell their slaves, whose villages are +full of food, and beyond them live the Umkulu, who know and would +befriend me. Let us go and seek food who desire to live on together, if +we may.” + +So they climbed down the wall, and with difficulty, for they were very +feeble, crawled over the stones which they had piled up in the passage +to keep out the dwarfs, and thus passed to the open belt beyond. A +strange scene met their eyes, all the wide lands that had been covered +with giant trees were now piled over with white ashes amongst which, +here and there, stood a black and smouldering trunk. The journey was +terrible, but following a ridge of rock whereon no great trees had +grown, hand in hand they passed through the outer edge of the burnt +forest in safety, until they came to one of the towns of the slaves +upon the fertile plain beyond, which led up to the desert. No human +being could they see, since all had fled, but the kraal was full of +sheep and cattle that had been penned there before the fire began, and +in the huts were milk and food in plenty. They drank of the milk and, +after a while, ate a little, then rested and drank more milk, till +their strength began to return to them. Towards evening they went out +of the town, and standing on a mound looked at the fire-wasted plain +behind, and the green, grassy slopes in front. + +They seemed quite alone in the world, those two, and yet their hearts +were full of joy and thankfulness, for while they were left to each +other they knew that they could never be alone. + +“See, Rachel,” said Richard, pointing to the smouldering wreck of the +forest, “there lies our past, and here in front of us spreads the +future clothed with flowers.” + +“Yes, Richard,” she answered, “but Noie and all whom I love save you +are buried in that past, and in front of us the desert is not far +away.” + +“Life is ours, Rachel, and love is ours, and that which saved us +through many a danger and brought me back to you, will surely keep us +safe. Do you fear to pass the desert at my side?” + +She looked at him with shining eyes, and answered: + +“No, Richard, I fear no more, for now I seem to hear the voice of Noie +speaking in my heart, telling me that trouble is behind us, and that we +shall live out our lives together, as my mother foresaw that we should +do.” + +And there on the mound, standing between that dead sea of ashes and the +green slopes of flowering plain, Rachel stretched out her arms to the +man to whom she was decreed. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GHOST KINGS *** + +***** This file should be named 8184-0.txt or 8184-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/8/8184/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +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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