The Induna's Wife

“We think the same, Jambúla,” I answered. “But what I cannot quite think out is how. But that will come.”

“Nevertheless, let it be this night, father. I have a plan.”

This plan he then unfolded to me, and by the time we had talked it out and around it was nearly dark – nearly time to set it working.

Never had any spot struck upon my mind as more ghostly and even terrifying than that haunted valley when night drew fairly down; and, Nkose, what I had seen and gone through in the wizard cave that morning seemed to have sapped my former fearlessness. A low-lying mist wreathed around the tree-stems and bushes, thick to near the height of a man, then thinning out dimly just enough to show out the twinkle of a star or two. But there was light enough for our purpose.

Hard by the place where Suru, the first slave, had been killed was an open space, thickly studded with rocks embedded in the earth, and one side of this open was overhung with mimosas of a good height and strength. Clambering up one of these, I lay out upon the spreading branches. Jambúla remained below.

The night watch wore on – even the night side of life seemed hushed in this abode of wizardry and fear. Suddenly all the blood within me tingled and burned. Something was moving. And then above the ghostly wreathings of the white mist I could see the gigantic head – the huge horns curving upwards – of the ghost-beast.

Only the head was visible as, tilted upwards, nose in air, it moved above the sea of vapour, to and fro, as though seeking for something or somebody – for a fresh victim, perhaps – and I thought it might indeed soon find one. And as I looked the mist suddenly rolled away, revealing the dark form of Jambúla, standing upright against a small rock.

For the moment the beast did not see him. It continued to run hither and thither in the moonlight, and as I marked its gigantic proportions, my heart sank, for I knew that to kill such a thing as this single-handed was very nearly the hardest task ever entrusted to me.

It was huge in the dim light – black as night, and as large as an elephant almost. There was that in the very size of the thing no less than in the glaring ferocity of its eyes – which was enough to turn a man’s heart to water – for it could not be a thing of this earth. How, then, could it be slain?

Now it began to mutter, like the growlings of a heavy thunderstorm, as it ran to and fro, shaking its horrible head, and its dark, shaggy frontlet of hair. Whau! That was a fearful sight as the thing drew nearer. What of Jambúla! He had not moved, beyond half turning his head to get a better view of the horror. Would his heart fail him? I almost expected it would.

Ha! It had seen him. It dropped into a sort of stealthy crouch, more like that of a leopard or a lion than the movement of any horned animal; and thus it came up swiftly behind him.

But Jambúla was not asleep – oh no! There was no lack of wakefulness in him. In a moment he whirled behind a rock, as the ghost-bull, uttering a roar that shook the world, came at him with the swiftness of a lightning flash.

Then began a scene indeed. Jambúla, watching his opportunity, flitted from rock to rock, but not less swiftly did the monster come after him – seeming to fly through the air as it leaped over some of the lower rocks which were in its way. Hau! Could this last? Would not Jambúla, out of breath, falter for one instant? Would not his foot stumble in the tortuous rapidity of his flight? Au! Did that happen he were lost – we both were lost.

Hither and thither he sped, the horrible beast ever behind him, roaring in a fashion to turn a man’s heart to water – the foam flying from its mouth, the points of its huge horns tossing wildly, its savage eyes seeming indeed to flash flame. Would they never come beneath the tree where I – the great assegai gripped and ready – lay out along the bough waiting my chance?

This came. Jambúla, who had been drawing the thing nearer and nearer to my side of the ground, now broke from his shelter, and ran with all the swiftness of which he was capable beneath my place of ambush. After him came the ghost-beast, right under me.

This was my chance, Nkose, and my only one. Swift as the movements of the horror itself, I dropped down upon the thing’s back, and clinging fast with the one hand, with the other I drove the point of my great assegai into the joint of the spinal bone behind the skull.

Whau, Nkose! That was a moment. I know not quite what I expected to happen. I felt the point of the great horn, thrown backward, narrowly graze my side; then I was hurled through the air, as the huge body, arrested in mid course, turned right over, falling with its head twisted under its own enormous weight.

I was on my feet in a moment – not daring to think I had slain the monster – although I had felt the blade of my noble spear bite deep into the marrow. But there it lay, a huge black mass in the moonlight. While I stood contemplating it, still panting after my exertions and the fall, I heard the voice of Jambúla:

“That was well done, my father. Those horns will deal out the Red Death no more.”

“I know not whether a headless ghost may come to life again, Jambúla,” I said, “but anyhow we will cut off the head of this one. But, first of all, this” – and I buried the blade of my great spear in the thing’s heart.

We were both strong men, Jambúla and I, yet it was with a vast deal of labour we at last succeeded in cutting off the head, which was twisted under the huge body.

“Whau!” exclaimed Jambúla, gazing upon the great deluge of blood which poured forth upon the ground. “It is as though the blood of all those slain by the Red Death were flowing there. But now, father, suffer me to ran to Maqandi’s kraal and fetch slaves to carry this, and indeed, the skin and hoofs, to lay before the King, for we have no time to lose.”

“No time to lose!” I repeated. “What mean you?”

He pointed upward with his blood-smeared assegai.

“The moon,” he said.

Then, indeed, Nkose, amazement was my lot – amazement and dismay. And well it might be. For last night the moon had not quite passed its first quarter. To-night it was nearly full.

Like one in a dream I gazed. Anything might be possible in this abode of tagati, but that the moon should change in one day from half to nearly full —au! that was too much.

“What does it mean, Jambúla?” I said at length. “Last night the moon was less than half, and now – ?”

“Au!” muttered Jambúla, bringing his hand to his mouth with a strange sort of laugh. “Who am I that I should contradict you, my father? But last night the moon was nearly as it is now. But the night you left us it was but at half.”

“And was not that last night, O fool? In truth the wizardry of this place has eaten into thy brain. And yet – !”

There was the moon, Nkose, within a day or two of full. It could not lie, even though Jambúla could. Stupidly I gazed at it, then at him.

“And how long ago is it that I left you, Jambúla?”

“Six days, father.”

Ha! Now I saw. Now everything was clear. The wizard, and the múti fire – the green, choking vapour that had filled my lungs and brain, causing me to see strange and fearful things – had kept me in a state of slumber. For six days I had lain within the heart of the rock, and I had thought it but the short part of one day. My hunger on my recovery – the state of putrefaction of the body of the slave whom I had supposed to have been slain only that morning – the change of the moon – all, indeed, stood clear enough now.

But whatever Jambúla may have imagined, it was not in my mind to tell him, or anybody, what had really happened, for it is not good among us for a man to have a name for dealings with abatagati. So I sent him off there and then to Maqandi’s kraal, with orders to bring back a number of men immediately to flay the great ghost-bull and carry the hide, with the head and hoofs, before the King, without loss of time.

After he had gone, and while I sat alone in the haunted place, I watched by the great black mass lying so still and quiet; and, Nkose, I believe I should have felt little surprise had the thing come to life again, head and all, so great was the awe it had set up among us. I am not even sure that I did not once or twice hear the voice of old Gasitye, and behold his spidery old form shambling among the trees. The dawn came at last, however, but before it came Jambúla, with a number of the iron-working slaves. These were in great delight over the slain monster who had destroyed so many of them, yet no time did I allow them to give way to their joy over dancing and such. It behoved us to return to the Great Great One with all speed, for on the next night the moon would be at full.

Chapter Seven.

The Faith of a King

The news of what had been done had already spread fast and far, and before I reached Maqandi’s kraal a great crowd of the iron-workers had assembled. These increased more and more, and presently a vast number of these people had joined in my train, dancing in their joy, and singing songs of triumph and of praise of myself, who had rid them of a twofold terror – of destruction by this thing of tagati, and of peril of wholesale death by the assegai when the patience of the King should become exhausted. But little attention did I pay to all this, for my allotted time had nearly expired, and it would be all I could do to reach Kwa’zingwenya ere it had quite. So I levied upon Maqandi for a large body of slaves, and pushed on, travelling night and day, and taking little or no rest.

No time even had I to visit my own kraal, which was somewhat off the line of my nearest road. However, I sent messengers there, and swift runners to Kwa’zingwenya, that news of my success might reach the King as early as possible.

But as I travelled on swiftly through the night, whose dawn should see me laying my trophies at the feet of the Great Great One, my mind was torn by many misgivings, and many an anxious glance did I send upward to the heavens. The moon was at the full.

Fair and splendid rose the dawn of that day, and as I came in sight of our Great Place, and of the people flocking thither – for here, too, the news had spread, and all were eager to hear about what had been done, and, if possible, to behold the actual skin and horns of the great tagati beast – I forgot my fears, and felt proud and light-hearted as ever when I had accomplished something great. And thus I stalked into the great circle, looking neither to right nor left, and seemingly not hearing the murmurs and exclamations of wonder which broke from all who beheld the immense horned head borne behind me by the slaves.

“The Great Great One is sleeping, Untúswa,” said the commander of the armed body-guard before the gate of the isigodhlo. “His orders are that none should awaken him.”

“Yet what will he say if such news as I bring be allowed to grow old? How will that be, Ngoza?”

“Whau! I know not, son of Ntelani,” was the answer. “But I may not go behind my orders. There is no safely that way.”

Now I liked not this reply. I noticed, moreover, that the guard before the isigodhlo was much larger than usual, and in those days, Nkose, anything unusual was likely to foreshadow trouble for somebody. Further, there was a shortness in the tone of the captain of the guard which sounded strange as addressed to one of my rank and influence. There was nothing for it, however, but patience, so I sat down to await the pleasure of the Great Great One.

As I sat there, taking snuff, I ran my eyes over those present, both near and far, seemingly with unconcern, but in reality with something of anxiety. Many of my own followers could I discern among the throng, and their women; but among these last was no sign of Lalusini. Yet this did not disconcert me, for of late my inkosikazi had rather avoided coming overmuch within the notice of the Great Great One.

Presently an inceku came out and spoke to the captain of the guard. Immediately it was proclaimed that the Great Great One was about to appear; and, preceded by the izimbonga, or praisers, bellowing the royal titles, Umzilikazi came forth and took his seat at the head of the great circle, where he was wont to sit each morning and discuss matters of state, or pronounce judgment on offenders.

As soon as the prostrate multitude had made an end of shouting the royal praises I advanced to the King and made my report, leaving out, however, my experience of the witchcraft of Gasitye.

“Thou hast done well, Untúswa,” he said when I had concluded. “Now bid them bring hither that head.”