The Induna's Wife

“That is so, Great Great One,” I answered, recalling to mind the words of Sifadu – “The day might come when Dingane himself would be glad to join us.” And strange it was that my enforced flight from the hate of the principal indunas should be the means of providing the King with a place of refuge and concealment in the day of his downfall.

So we rested there for many days, Dingane and I. Yes, this dreaded one, before whom all men and all nations had trembled, now treated me as a friend, so entirely does adversity draw the greater and the lesser together. Yet never for a moment did I forget who it was that I thus foregathered with; never was there aught that was unbecoming in word or tone or action of mine towards the King – the real and true ruler of the great Zulu nation.

Often would the thought of Lalusini return to me, of her purposed revenge, which she intended to seize through me. This, then, was that for which she had plotted – this the means by which I was to become great. Had I in refusing it acted the part of a fool? No, that could not be, for, Nkose, although I spared not such as would injure me or could not keep faith, yet never did I lift hand against any who did well by me. Wherefore now I rejoiced that I had not slain the King – had not slain a sleeping and helpless man at the bidding of a woman, even though that woman were Lalusini.

Sometimes a gloom would settle upon the mind of Dingane. His sun had set, he would declare. The power of Zulu was a thing of the past, now that the nation was divided. But at such times I would say what I could to cheer him, telling him portions of my own story, which, in truth, had been wonderful. The army was scattered. Time was needed to collect it, and that time, I thought, had now arrived. I saw that everything was at hand that the Great One might need, and then I prepared to depart.

“I know not, Untúswa,” he said, as I took leave of him. “But for thy faithfulness these many days I might bethink me that soon thou shouldst return at the head of an impi to earn the reward promised by Mpande and the Amabuna to him who should deliver to them the real King – ”

But I interrupted; somewhat unbecomingly, I admit:

“If that is thy thought, father, slay me as I stand,” and dropping my weapons I advanced a pace or two.

“Nay, nay, Untúswa,” he said, “that is what I might have thought, not what I thought,” replied the King gently. “Fare-thee-well, Untúswa, and may success be thine. Fare-thee-well, Untúswa, my servant – Untúswa, my friend.”

“Bayéte!” I cried, with right hand aloft. Then I started upon my errand, and more than ever did I rejoice that my spear had remained bright in the face of the entreaties of Lalusini.

Chapter Twenty Four.

The Stroke of Sopuza

“Bayéte, Nkulu-nkulu!
Father! we thy children have found thee at last!
Lo! long have we wandered weeping, but now we are comforted.
Come forth and show us the brightness of thy head-ring.”

Thus sang a great half circle of armed warriors, mustered on the slope beneath Dingane’s place of concealment.

Thus again and again they sang, but still Dingane did not appear.

For I had fulfilled my errand, Nkose, and this was the result – an array of warriors nearly as large as the original strength of the Amandebeli what time we followed Umzilikazi over the mountains. I had gone hither and thither, had turned night into day, had not spared myself, or feared danger. I had found out and rallied all the scattered bands which at heart had remained faithful to Dingane. I had drawn men from the kraals of Mpande himself, and from beneath the very shadow of the camps of the Amabuna. But one moon had died since I took leave of the King – I alone. Yet here I was, returning at the head of a splendid army – an army nearly as large as that with which Umzilikazi had founded a new nation. In truth, Dingane had not trusted me in vain.

Here were Silwane and Nomapela, and others of the old war-captains. Here was a remnant of the old Imbele-bele regiment – the Bapongqolo, too, my staunch refugees – and as much of the army as had survived the defeat by Nongalaza. All had in truth thought Dingane to be dead, but as I passed through their midst carrying word to the contrary, they had sprung to arms, and mustering swiftly and secretly, had returned to do konza to their rightful King. And here they were.

Now they redoubled their entreaties, singing louder and louder their songs of praise.

Sun of suns, come forth in thy brightness;
We thy children sit in darkest night.
If thou wilt not show us thy face.
Lion of Zulu – thy cubs still have teeth,
Teeth that are sharpened for war.

This time the King appeared. But before the great burst of sibonga which greeted his presence had died away he turned his back and retired, for by this means he chose to mark his displeasure over their seeming desertion.

Again and again they howled forth their songs of praise and entreaty. The King appeared again. This time he did not go back. He surveyed them a few moments in silence, then he called:

“Come hither, Untúswa.”

I disarmed, and crept up to where he stood.

“Sit here, Untúswa,” he said, pointing to the ground at his feet. “This is thy place. For the rest they can still remain at a distance.”

So I sat, Nkose, thinking how strange it was that I, who had begun my life as the son of an induna, should live to become the principal fighting chief of Umzilikazi’s army, and then come to earn the confidence of the Great Great One, the King of the mighty Zulu nation – should be bidden to sit near him while all others were kept at a distance – should live to become the most trusted councillor of two mighty Kings; for such I saw was the honour before me now.

Then Dingane, lifting up his voice, addressed the warriors. For the battle against Mpande’s force he commended them greatly. Their bravery was worthy of all praise, and not for lack of it on their part had Nongalaza won the day, having done so by a mere trick – a clever trick, it was true. But when they fled their terror had been too great. They had forgotten their King. One man alone had cleaved to the King, and that man was Untúswa – a wanderer – not even one of themselves. Still, remembering how valiantly they had fought, remembering how speedily they had returned to their rightful place, he would forget that.

The groans wherewith the listeners had heard his reproaches now turned to murmurs of delight. Dingane went on:

The nation was divided, but it must be reunited once more. With such as they whom he saw before him this might soon be done. Men of the pure blood of Zulu could not sit down for long beneath the sway of one who was a mere slave of the Amabuna. They would return – return to the strength and root of the great Zulu power, their rightful King. But those who had remained faithful would ever be held in the highest honour.

As the Great One finished speaking, a mighty roar went up from the assembled warriors. They hailed him as their guide, their father, their deliverer, and by every title of bonga. Then much time was given up to songs and dances, for all rejoiced that they were no longer a broken remnant, and that the King was at their head once more.

The plan which Dingane now decided on was a waiting one. He relied on desertions from Mpande, whom we now learned by means of our spies had been placed by the Amabuna in his seat, who now reigned King. Whau! was ever such a thing heard of? A King of the Amazulu, the conquerors of the world, holding his seat by favour of white people – and such white people! But it could not last – no, it could not last. The heavens might well fell.

We moved down to a more accessible site in the Ngome wilds, and there kraals were erected, and time was bestowed upon gathering together such of the nation as remained faithful, and encouraging others to come in. Meanwhile a careful look-out was kept upon a possible invasion; but Mpande, who seemed not to care about venturing beyond the Tugela, made no hostile movement, neither did the Amabuna, and for a time we enjoyed rest and a breathing-space while our plans were maturing.

I, for my part, was now advanced to a position of great honour, not less indeed than that formerly held by Tambusa himself. That induna was now dead; so too was Umhlela, as I have told you, Nkose; and such of my enemies who survived had but one fear now, and that was lest I might turn my greatness to account in compassing their destruction. But of this I had no thought, so completely was my mind full of how to restore the ascendency of Dingane and the might of the nation.

All this while I saw nothing of Lalusini, nor by the most deftly veiled questionings could I obtain tidings of her from any. Whither had she gone? Would she not reappear as she had done before? And for all my greatness my heart was sore – very sore, as I thought of her and longed for her; yet never for a moment did I repent me that I had not slain the King at her bidding.

Now Dingane had built for himself a great kraal on one of the wildest slopes of the Ngome hills. It was surrounded by dense forests and rocks and precipices, and the ways of approach being but few, and always securely guarded, the King felt safe from all possibility of attack. But shortly an alarm was given. Impis from Mpande were reported near – not to attack us, for they were not large enough – but as spies. So the King sent forth two regiments under Silwane to cut them off, if possible, so that, finding themselves surrounded, they would accept the offer of their lives, and return to their allegiance. I, however, was not sent out.

Whau, Nkose! Well do I remember that evening. The sun had gone down in a mass of heavy cloud, and in the red glow that remained an awful and brooding silence rested upon the surrounding forests. Then it grew dark, and, after we had eaten, the King and I sat long into the night conversing, and upon him seemed to lie that gloom which had darkened his mind when he and I together had been fugitives and in hiding. But I strove to cheer him, and our conversation being ended he dismissed me, and retired within the isigodhlo.

I, too, retired to rest. For long I lay thinking, not able to sleep; then I dozed off and dreamed. It seemed to me that once more I was back at Kwa’zingwenya. Once more, my heart full of rage over the disappearance of Lalusini, I was creeping stealthily to slay Umzilikazi in his sleep. Once more I sprang upon him, spear uplifted. Once more I heard the shouts of his bodyguard, as they swarmed to his aid. Then I awoke – awoke suddenly, and with a start. Ha! the shouts were real – I was not dreaming now – and with them I heard the hurried tramp of rushing feet go by my hut.

Those were times for quick thought – for quick action. In a moment I was outside the hut, fully armed, listening. Ha! The tumult, the shouting and tramp of feet! It came from the isigodhlo.

Thither I sprang. I could see the King’s body-guard there before me, for the moon was up; could see the flash of spears, the sheen of white shields. Several dark bodies lay upon the ground, and at these they were stabbing and hacking. Just as I came up another was dragged forth by the heels and cut to pieces there and then.

The King had been stabbed. Such was the news now spoken in awed whispers. But, who were these? Emissaries of Mpande? No. By their head-rings and ornaments they were not of us. They were Amaswazi.

Quickly I took in what had happened. There was the hole in the fence through which these had crept. Even as I had stolen upon Umzilikazi so had these stolen upon Dingane, but with better effect.

Howls of horror over the deed went up from all. By this time the whole kraal was aroused, and such few as were left in it came flocking out. But I, being in great authority, quelled the tumult.

“How happened it?” I asked.

“Thus, father,” replied the captain of the King’s guard, a young man, but just ringed. “Yonder crept these scorpions,” pointing to the hole I had already observed, “and struck the Great Great One in his sleep. But now are they all dead, we have made an end of them.”

“It were better to have prevented the deed, Sodosi,” I said severely. “Yet ‘all’ didst thou say? Wait! Follow me. I need but three or four.”

With this number I crept through the hole, and as we did so, there sprang up suddenly in the darkness under the shade of the fence two men, making for the forest edge as hard as they could run. But I could run, too, in those days, Nkose, and one of them as he reached it fell dead with the blade of my assegai driven right through his back. The other was attacked by my followers, and from the sounds of the struggle I judged that he was fighting well and desperately. But they could take care of him. I had another matter to attend to.

For in the gloom just in front of me I could hear a faint and stealthy rustle, and towards it I moved, silently and swiftly, listening the while lest I might be drawn into a trap. No! It was but one man. I could see a form, dark and tall, moving from tree to tree, but it seemed as though I would never come within striking distance. I was now far beyond my followers, but I felt somehow that the capture of this one fugitive was to be desired more than the deaths of all the others put together.

Still this figure eluded me, now showing for a moment in the moonlight, now vanishing in the shade. Here at last was an open space and the runaway could not diverge. One final effort, a mighty rush, and I was upon him.