The Induna's Wife

We who hear it can see Nongalaza riding on horseback along his rank – he and other of Mpande’s indunas – and with shout and gesture they point behind them, then wave their men on. And in the distance can be heard the rattle of the discharge of guns.

“They come, the Amabuna!”

That cry loses us the day. The younger regiments waver, fall into confusion, and flee. The men of the Imbele-bele – a splendid ringed regiment – stand their ground. So, too, do the Bapongqolo. Then we have work to do. One glance behind us, and we can see the land covered with fleeing fugitives; but the spot whence the King watched the battle is empty. We have saved the King.

Well, we are doomed. Thick and fast our warriors fall, being hugely outnumbered, and it wants but the coming of the Amabuna to make an end of us completely.

Now Nongalaza came riding along in my direction, where I, at the head of the Bapongqolo, stood at bay, and waved on his army, crying aloud that they should make an end of us, at all events. So seeing the rebel host – which now was stronger than we – sweeping up to surround us, I gave the word to retreat, and not too soon either, for we had to fight our way through the closing “horns.” But the land on that side was broken, and seamed with dongas; and Nongalaza’s people, tumbling over each other in their hurry and confusion, were less quick than we. Yet many were slain in that rout, and ere night fell the land seemed alive with pursuers and pursued. But I set my face in the direction of the Ngome forests, where my outlawry had been spent. There, I knew, were holes and retreats wherein not all the men of Nongalaza twice over would succeed in finding me.

And, as night fell, the dull red glow of burning kraals lit up the land, and from afar you could hear the exultant war-song – the song of victory. Yet not altogether, for the song of Mpande was the song of bondage too, in that he, a prince of the House of Senzangakona, had purchased his kingship dear; for he had purchased it at the price of doing konza to the Amabuna, in order to be allowed to hold it – in order to sit in the seat of Tshaka the Mighty, and of the warrior-king Dingane, who, however, might even yet be heard of again.

The slaughter on either side that day was immense, Nkose. Yet not by might or by bravery did Nongalaza win that victory. Oh, no! He won it by a trick. Had he not cried that the Amabuna were at hand, we should not have given way. But up till then we had gained no great advantage, and the approach of these people, who could gallop into our very midst and discharge their guns without harm to themselves, took all heart out of our warriors, already hard pressed by the forces of Nongalaza, nearly equal as these were to our own. So we fled, and lost the day. Yet we need not have, for the Amabuna were not really coming. But a good general will despise no method of snatching a victory, and Nongalaza was right.

Chapter Twenty Three.

A Hard Ordeal

“Waken, Untúswa!”

The whisper was soft, so, too, was the touch, yet I sprang to my feet, grasping my spear. But at the same moment my grasp on it relaxed, for before me stood Lalusini.

Wearied with the hard fierce fighting of the day, I had crept into a secure hiding-place beneath a rock overhung with all manner of undergrowth, and had slept soundly. Yet my dreams had been full of warring and battle, and now my great assegai was clotted and foul with blood, and more than one deep gash on body or limb felt stiff and smarting.

But all thought of myself seemed at an end as I looked at Lalusini. There was a hard fierce look upon her face such as I had never seen there before, and in it I saw a strong likeness to Dingane.

“The time has come, Untúswa,” she said shortly. “Take thy spear, look well to its point, and follow me.”

“That I will gladly do, Lalusini,” I answered. “But, as we travel, tell me, what work is before me now?”

“One stroke of thy broad spear – the King’s Assegai – ha, ha! it is well named – it will be a royal weapon indeed! One stroke of thy broad spear and we shall be great together, great even as I have often predicted to thee. Come! Let us hasten.”

There was an eager fierceness in her tone and manner that kept me marvelling; however, I would see what her plan was.

She led the way – not speaking. We passed beneath spreading forest trees, where the thick undergrowth impeded our advance, and the silence of the shade was only broken by the call of birds. It seemed as though men’s feet had never trodden here; yet I knew the spot, for this was one of the very refuges I had at first thought of running for myself.

“There,” said Lalusini, in a quick, fierce whisper, pointing with her hand. “Strike hard and true. So shall we be great together.”

I went forward. In front was a low cliff, hanging over as though it had intended to form a cave, but was not quite sure of its own mind. Under the shelter thus formed, just screened from view in front by a dense growth of scrub lay the form of a man.

Cautiously I peered through the bushes, then put them aside. The form, which was turned away from me, did not stir. Noiselessly I stepped beside it, and then as I bent down to gaze into the face, I could hardly forbear a start. It was the face of Dingane – the face of the King.

Yes; it was the Great Great One himself. He was sound asleep, his head pillowed on one hand, interposed between it and the rock. But how came he here, he who moved armed men in their countless might – he before whom the nations trembled and hid their heads – how came he here, in hiding and alone?

But was he alone? It seemed so, for I could descry no sign – no sound of the presence of men. And while I thus gazed, again that soft whisper breathed into my ear, “Strike, and strike hard! So shall we be great together!”

Strike! Nothing could have been easier. The large form lay there without movement, the heave of the breast, above the heart, turned towards me as though inviting the stroke. Yet, as I gazed, the noble majesty on the countenance of the sleeping King seemed to paralyse my arm. One blow, and Lalusini, by her sorcery, aided by my own warrior prowess, might set me upon Dingane’s seat. Yet, I could not do it.

Then I thought the sleeper stirred.

“He wakes,” I whispered, withdrawing again behind the bushes. Lalusini followed me.

“And art thou so weak, Untúswa?” she said. “Au! For this have I laboured, for this have I plotted and exercised my magic until it was nearly too much forme. Yet not all for greatness, but for revenge. The blood of Tshaka the Mighty flowed over the spear of Dingane; now shall the blood of Dingane flow over thy spear!”

Still I moved not, and she went on:

“The blood of that Mighty One from whom I am sprang, and who caused me to learn my magic that through it vengeance might fall, shall it not be avenged? The time has come for which I have waited and striven. Now go, and make an end of it, Untúswa, so shall we be great together; else canst thou be great alone – or small – with no help from me.”

Now I nerved myself. That which she seemed to threaten looked too terrible, for in truth, by her I was as one bewitched.

“Go, Untúswa. My múti is upon him. He will not waken too readily,” she whispered, in her sweetest of tones, gently pushing me towards the cave once more.

Again I parted the bushes and peered through; again I stood over the sleeping King. A great white shield lay almost beneath him, and two broad assegais had slid from his relaxed grasp. I raised my spear – No, I could not do it.

Had he been awake, and standing up, the deed would be an easy one at that moment; but alone, deserted, and asleep – no, I could not thus slay him.

And then I thought of the favour he had shown me, even to allowing me the chance of escaping to the Bapongqolo, what time Tambusa and Umhlela had striven to compass my death. I thought how he had spared me, spared the Bapongqolo, and had raised me to honour when all men trembled at his frown; and now that he lay here, a deserted fugitive, I could not turn against him. His life lay within my hand, yet I could not take it. No, not to win greatness for myself; not even to retain Lalusini’s love.

“Farewell, Untúswa!” came that soft whisper behind me. “Farewell; we may meet no more.”

She stepped swiftly through the belt of bushes. For a moment I stood stupidly gazing after her, then I followed. But she had disappeared. I called her, I searched for her. All in vain.

Then I went back to the sleeping King. Him I would save at all events. I had helped in saving him during the battle yesterday, by holding back the impi of Nongalaza; to-day I would save him entirely by myself. Even now Lalusini might have gone to find those who would carry out her bidding readily enough.

“Awaken, Great Great One!” I said, not too loud, lest others ears might be about. “Thy servant knows of a better sleeping-place than this.”

At first Dingane seemed to arouse himself but slowly. Then he sprang up, gripping his shield and spears.

“Who art thou?” he cried, darting upon me his lion-like glance. “Ha! Untúswa, is it? Another traitor perhaps. How sayest thou, Untúswa? All, all are traitors.”

“No traitor am I, Black Elephant,” I answered. “It is safer, however, for the lion of Zulu to make his lair elsewhere.”

In the glance which Dingane bent upon me was distrust, suspicion, contempt by turns, but no sign of fear.

“What, Untúswa, and art thou faithful to me – thou, the wanderer – thou who art not of us, while they whom my hand has fed have deserted me – have turned their spears against me? Whau! It cannot be.”

“Who am I to fill the ears of the Great Great One with words,” I answered. “Yet, my father – wanderer or no wanderer – I know of no man whom the Lion of Zulu may more safely trust.”

“What, then, are thy counsels, Untúswa?” said the King.

“This, Lion. Hard by is a place known to none, where thou canst sit still in safety until the army is collected again. It was badly routed in the more open plain, yet here in these fastnesses none will dare venture – not even the Amabuna – until the trumpeting of the Elephant shall scatter the traitors and rebels once more. Such is my counsel, Ruler of the Great.”

“I will even trust thee, Untúswa,” said the King. “And now let us go forth.”

I picked up my shield and weapons, which, of course, I had let fall, being in the royal presence, and we took our way thence, I walking in advance and spying carefully around to guard against possible surprise.

For long we thus travelled, and when night came we sat and feasted upon the meat of a young impala which I had killed by a lucky spear-cast; but we slept away from any fire, and in a place of secure concealment. On the morrow we kept on our way once more, and by noon came to the resting-place I had designed for the King. This was a group of caves, somewhat high up among the rocks of the Lebombo range. Beneath, the slope fell away, bushy, but not too thickly so as to prevent us from descrying the approach of friend or foe, while on either side so strewn with rocks and boulders was the base of the cliff that retreat would be easy in the event of pursuit.

“Whau, Untúswa!” said the King, with a laugh in his eyes. “When Tambusa would have broken a nest of wasps around thy kraal, thou wert turning thy wanderings to good account!”