Now, in the days which followed upon the revelation of Lalusini’s birth and parentage, and the prospects and possibilities at which she more than hinted, the mind of the King seemed to contain but one thought, and that was the greatness which might be his by boldly risking all to seize it, by judgment in choosing the right time. To this end he would converse with her for a whole day at a time, and, in some wise at least, every day. Indeed, the predictions and influence of the beautiful sorceress seemed to thrust those of old Masuka quite into the background, and seldom now were his divinations required. Yet, Nkose, that astonishing old bag of bones seemed in nowise to resent this waning of the royal favour. His bright, keen eyes would flash forth a laugh when he met or passed Lalusini, but in his greetings of her there was no tone of envy or of ill-will. Even the white priest the King seldom conversed with in those days; nor was this strange, for with such an immense undertaking before our eyes, involving war, and bloodshed, such as, perhaps, the Zulu nation—and certainly our own—had never seen, Umzilikazi had little desire for the conversation of one whose preaching was all of peace. Whau! What had we to do with peace, we who sought the overthrow of mighty Kings? But the white man cared little for this neglect. As long as he was allowed to go about the country striving to win men to his teaching, he was happy.
Now, in these conversations I also took part, I alone being in the secret, for Umzilikazi ordered that no word as to Lalusini’s birth or his own schemes should leak out. Moreover, now I found opportunities of talking alone with her, such as I had dared not before seek.
“Well, Untúswa?” she said, mockingly, one day, when we two talked alone. “So, when the eagle’s nest was empty and the she-eagle had gone, your first thought was that the lion you had then slain had robbed the nest?”
“Who says I slew a lion that day, Lalusini, for I searched the whole mountain, yet upon it was none, save only myself?”
“Ah, ah! son of Ntelani,” she laughed. “Thou who, with one other, didst fight against the whole Bakoni nation, art a child before the Bakoni múti. Be patient. Great things will happen soon.”
“Patient—Hau! It seems to me that we draw no nearer one to another, Lalusini. And I like it not.”
“Yet I have managed to keep outside the isigodhlo, Untúswa,” and again she laughed. “Did I speak truly in that matter?”
“Truly, indeed,” I answered.
“That is well said, valiant fighter, whose greatness is gained by means of women.”
“By means of women?” I repeated, thinking she was again mocking me. “Now, how can that be, Lalusini, seeing that I lead the King’s army, and am ever in the front of the battle?”
“And how earnest thou to win the King’s Assegai, and with it the place of a commander in the King’s armies? Was it not through a woman? Tell me that, Untúswa.”
“It was, indeed,” I answered, remembering Nangeza, and how my foolishness in stealing her from the isigodhlo had won me life and great honour, instead of the death which I had expected and deserved.
“And how earnest thou to win the white shield—the múti shield? See thou part not from it, Untúswa. Was it not through two women: she who would have dealt the death which it turned away, and she whose wisdom entered thy brain at the right moment? Tell me that, son of Ntelani.”
“That, too, is the truth, daughter of Kings,” I answered. “But I would ask this: If Umzilikazi sits in the seat of Dingane, in whose seat am I to sit?”
She laughed softly, musically.
“Ah! ah! Untúswa. Remember my offer to you in the cave of the eagle’s nest. Was it not to rule over a great nation?”
“Hau!” I cried in amazement, seeing the whole truth. Yet could it be real? I, Untúswa, who, though now an induna of weight, was but yesterday a boy. I, Untúswa, had been chosen by this daughter of a royal house—a powerful sorceress, and withal beautiful beyond any woman I had ever seen—to aid her in recovering the throne of Tshaka the Mighty, and to rule over the great Zulu nation as King. And this greatness I had thrust away from me!
“Thou art young yet, Untúswa, though thy deeds have been many and thy name is feared,” she answered, smiling up at me in a kind of pity, and yet I thought with much love in her eyes. “Yet what thou hast done is only a beginning, and what the white shield has done is only a beginning. See thou part not from it.”
“Never will I part from it,” I declared. “And so, Lalusini, this greatness which was held out to me in the cave like the eagle’s nest is now held out to Umzilikazi?”
“Young still—impatient ever—yet an induna,” she said, looking at me as she had done in the old days, when I kept her hidden away, and my visits were stealthy, and made at the risk of my life. “This greatness is for him who may seize it—thou who wouldst love the daughter of a race of kings.”
“That will I do, and seize upon the greatness also,” I said. “Give me but the chance, Lalusini.”
“The chance shall come, but by a way of fear and blood, induna of the King, who hast but begun to live. It may be that we shall be great together—or—shall sit down in darkness forever (Note)—yet not even that, for the vultures and jackals will grow fat.”
Now, towards the full of the moon I was sent by the King upon military business—which was to levy drafts of young men upon certain outlying kraals to the southward. This occupied many days, for the distances to be traversed were great, yet so eager were all to bear arms in those days that even the very children would beg to be enrolled, and parties of them, flourishing sticks and singing war-songs, would march for some distance beside the new warriors on their journey to the military kraals whither these were consigned. Upon this service I was accompanied by my brother, Mgwali, and four men of my own kraal. Our journeyings brought us to a high jagged mountain range, called Inkume, beyond which lay a wild waste country, where none of us dwelt, for it was swampy at the time of the rains and not over-healthy, though some of us would now and again visit it to hunt, for game abounded there.
Now, Nkose, I know not how it was unless that, having so much to do with magic and sorcery, I was becoming half isanusi myself, but something moved me to penetrate beyond this range. I told myself it was to hunt; yet it was not to hunt. I told myself the lions on that side must be strong and large, and I would kill one or two and make for myself some famous war adornments with the mane and tail; yet I knew that I cared little if I found lions or not. Something within myself seemed to urge me onward. Each jagged and fantastic point of overhanging rock seemed to beckon me forward. In the voices of the male baboons crying hoarsely from the crags, in the scream of the black tufted eagle wheeling lazily in the blue heights, I seemed to hear words—tones—calling me ever onward. It was fearsome, it was as a thing of tagati as I plunged deeper and deeper into the great pass which wound through the heart of the mountain range. The lofty cliff walls overhanging my way seemed to stoop, as though to overwhelm me in the mournful blackness which now brooded from the gloomy mountain-shadows; for the sun was already beginning to sink.
I had sent back Mgwali and the others, for something moved me to undertake this expedition alone. I was armed with the great and splendid spear—the King’s Assegai—two or three light casting ones, and a heavy short-handled knobstick; also I carried the great white shield which had saved the King’s life, for, although, when not on a war expedition, it is our custom only to carry small ornamental shields, yet, remembering Lalusini’s oft-repeated warning, I never parted with this one, even when I slept.
The land here was rolling and grassy, dotted with little clusters of trees and bush, and over the plain herds of game were frisking. Far off, waving above the tree-tops, I could make out the snake-like necks of tall giraffes, browsing on the tender shoots; and yet the desire to kill game seemed to have left me, as I walked on and on, thinking of Lalusini and the strange things she had presaged as about to befall our nation—also the great destiny which she had darkly hinted might await myself.
When I turned to retrace my steps, lo! the sun had set below the rim of the world. But upon the tall, smooth-faced cliffs, which sheered upward to the sharp ridge of Inkume, lay an afterglow of surpassing brilliancy—a strange, weird, boding light, as though they had been plunged in a sea of blood. Blood-red, too, were the spurs of the great range. Hau! It was wonderful, it was terrifying, it was tagati! Never did I behold anything like it before.
And now, as I gazed in marvel and awe, the redness grew deeper, then faded; and the great rocks took on a colour as of the livid blue-blackness of a mighty thunder-cloud. And as the shadows were thrown out thus clearly, and every line stood forth, while every hollow receded into gloom, I noticed that the mountains here swept round into almost a half-circle. In front opened the mouth of the pass through which I had come, while on the one hand and on the other a deep, gloomy rift—bush-grown, overhung—ran up far into the heart of the range. Hau! It was as if a cold thing were creeping up my back; for now, as plainly as though they were shouted in my ears, came old Masuka’s words, “The Place of the Three Rifts!”
So I stood and gazed, my hand to my mouth, in amazement, in awe. This, then, was “The Place of the Three Rifts,” Here it was that strange things were to come upon me—so had predicted the old Mosutu.
Now day had faded into night, and already the shadows of forest and plain were blended together. Already the voices of the darkness were raised—the howl of ravening hyenas; the shrill cry of jackals; the wild, yelling bay of wild dogs, ordering the plan of their hunt! and, withal, the croaking of innumerable frogs in the adjoining reed-bed, the screech of the tree-crickets, and the whirr of the night-hawk. And beneath the misty loom of the tall cliffs it seemed to me that the voices of dark ghosts were calling one to another. “The Place of the Three Rifts!” Whau! I would rather engage the wagon-fort of the Amabuna again single-handed than face what might be before me ere morning should break upon that fearsome wizard glen.
While I stood thus, with a strange tagati spell upon me, as firmly rooted as one of the trees growing around, a glow burned in the sky afar, and the land grew light again, as a broad, full moon rose beyond the rim of the world, soaring slowly aloft, a great golden ball. And now the fear began to leave me, for I could see again. Moreover, it is only in the darkness that evil ghosts love to move; or, at any rate, are at their worst. Yet ever, in the tones of the wild creatures of the plain—in the cavernous echo of the sentinel baboon’s resounding bark, high up among the crags—it seemed that wizard voices were calling—grim, threatening, unceasing.
Now I moved forward, as though to root up the dread that was upon me. Moreover, I feared to face that dreadful pass—full of tagati and all evil things—in the darkness. And even then there broke from its portals such a wild, wailing, ghost-like howl, which rose in innumerable clamours, surging in a hundred voices around the caves and corners of the rocks—now roaring, now in strange and whistling scream. Hau! All the terrors of this spell of wizardry returned. Right in the moon-path, between each jutting elbow of the cliff portals, was a huge beast—ghost-like unto a hyena, yet four times larger, and more evil-looking than the largest of those foul and loathsome creatures in mortal life. Squatted on its haunches, its horrible head thrown back, and fangs, now glistening white, now concealed, it bayed hideously to the moon; and I, who feared not death in blood, in any shape or form, felt this ghost-voice go through me, turning my blood to water. This was no real animal, but a terrible ghost. Not to sit in the seat of Dingane would I again thread that pass until the fair and beauteous sun-rays should once more make glad the face of the world, dispersing such to their own abodes of horror and of gloom.
Silently I drew back among the shadows, for I feared to be seen by this ghost-like animal. Then spying a place where the rocks above me seemed to offer a secure hiding-place, which could only be approached from one side, I seized a branch of a tree which was rooted in a cleft, and swung myself up as noiselessly as possible.
I was right in the selection of my hiding-place so far. There was but one way up to it—that by which I had come. Yet behind anything, anybody, might drop down upon me from above. And now that I was here the spell of dread which had been upon me seemed to fade. I thought I could hear the wild, sweet singing of Lalusini, soothing me to sleep. The next thing—au! I was asleep. At first, strange visions chased each other across my dreams. Then I dreamed no more, but slept heavily, for I was weary.
Au, Nkose! How shall I say what next befell? For I saw before me Kwelanga, the little white child whom I had saved from the red spear-blades of our warriors in the wagon-fort of the Amabuna. There she stood, the golden sunlight of her hair dispelling the night; her great blue eyes wide open, and fixed upon mine in terrible fear and anxiety. Then my sleep became dreamless once more.
“Untúswa, my father! Wake, Untúswa, for thy life’s sake!”
Clear—clear through the night—sounded her voice, the voice of the little one whom we had lost. It sounded in warning.
“Waken, waken, Untúswa, my father! Waken for thy life’s sake; lest a nation be a nation no more!”
Now I leaped up; noiselessly, cautiously, as is our habit when alarmed. So strangely clear, so distinct the voice, that I gazed eagerly around, expecting to behold the little one standing before me in the moonlight. And her last words! “Lest a nation be a nation no more.” Whau! Even such had been the words of Lalusini, in her divining vision, when she declared that again should that voice be heard in warning, and charging that its utterances should not be neglected. But the apparition of my dream had faded. I was alone in the silence of the night.
Then, Nkose, I could have wept, for I had loved the little one; and now, deceived by my dream, had hoped to have, by some wonderful means, discovered her, alive and well. For the moment, I forgot all wizardry and presages, as I peered around, calling her softly by name. And then came a sound which put all other thoughts to flight, and stirred my blood until it tingled again—the sound which is as no other—the quivering rattle of assegai-hafts held bunched together in the hands of warriors.
Who were these, moving thus abroad at midnight? Surely, none of our people would find themselves away here in this wizard spot at such an hour. Ha! Could it be some of our own people who had come in search of me, seeing I did not return? Yet, somehow, this did not seem the explanation of it.
While I listened, the sounds were drawing nearer, and they were above me; and now, with the rattle of the supple wood, came the deep smothered tone of a voice or two. Then, before I could move to carry out the plan of concealment which my instinct prompted, there dropped down into the little hollow wherein I stood ten or a dozen men.
Note: This is an allusion—first, to the Zulu method of burying the dead in a sitting posture; second, to the custom of leaving the bodies of those executed for a criminal offence exposed to the carrion beasts and birds, a practice somewhat analogous to the not so very old English one of gibbeting highwaymen and other malefactors in chains.
They were fully armed, these men. Each carried the large war-shield and broad assegai. Further, they were plumed and otherwise adorned as warriors upon a hostile expedition. In the light of the moon I could see that they were all amakehla, or head-ringed men, of middle age, straight and tall, and, indeed, the very pick and flower of such an impi as any induna might be proud to command. But who were they? Not one of their faces was known to me. Clearly they were not of our own people; and, if not, who were they?
They halted on seeing me, uttering a quick murmur of surprise, yet not of a surprise that was over great. Then they lowered their weapons, and, tossing aloft their right hands, they exclaimed—
“Bayéte!”
Yes; to me they cried the Bayéte, these warriors—Bayéte, the salute of a King—to me, Untúswa! In truth, the old Mosutu isanusi spoke not falsely when he declared that the strangest thing would happen to me in the Place of the Three Rifts, for here was I being hailed by armed warriors as a King. For a moment the thought crossed my mind that the Great Great One was no more, and that the people had elected me to sit in his seat, and had sent to find me, but only for a moment. For the light of the moon was strong, and of the faces of these not one did I know.
“Yeh-bo!” I answered, in a deep, muttering tone, some instinct moving me to hide my real voice as much as might be. And I stood straight and erect, waiting for them to continue.
“We have explored this mountain range far on either hand, O Greater of the Twin Stars of the Heavens,” said the foremost, “yet there is no way by which our impis may cross save by yon gloomy pass. And in the mouth thereof sits some strange wizard beast and dismally howls.”
“It is even as Silwane has said, more valiant of two Kings,” declared another.
“Greater of the Twin Stars of the Heavens!”
“Way by which our impis may cross!” Who was the man addressing? To what impis did he make reference? Hau! was this part of the wizardry of the place? And then, Nkose, as the real truth flashed upon me, I knew not whether I were living or dead. These warriors were the advance guard of an impi coming from Zululand. “Bayéte,”—the royal salute; “Greater of the Twin Stars,” must have been intended for one of the two Kings, brothers, then reigning over Zululand, Dingane or Mhlangana. And for one of them these men were mistaking me.
I would ask you, Nkose, was ever any man in such a position? The invading impi must be of immense size if commanded in person by a King, and it was sent to crush us. That was as clear as noonday. Now, indeed, I had a part to play. Were the mistake discovered, I could hardly escape with my life, and, in that case, our whole nation, taken completely by surprise, would be assailed without warning, and, it might be, utterly exterminated. Fortunately, my back was to the moon, whereas they were facing it.
“What is thy will, Father?” went on the man who had been named Silwane. “Shall we send back to hurry on the companies, and force this pass tomorrow night? Yet, it will be better to leave it until the night after.”
“Till the night after?” I said, questioningly, desiring to speak in as few words as possible, lest my voice should betray me, and yet thirsting for more information.
“It will be better so, Greater of two Kings,” went on Silwane. “Unless we fall upon these Amandebeli by surprise, au! the good fortune which was theirs on the Kwahlamba may still be with them; for, unless they have impis out elsewhere, the force they can bring against us can hardly be less than our own.”
This was news which caused my heart to leap with joy, only to droop again immediately, for I recollected that a large impi had gone forth under Kalipe to eat up two chiefs who dwelt to the northward, and who had failed to pay their tribute, thinking themselves strong enough. True, its return was daily expected, but up till now there had been no sign thereof. Of course, in my character of supposed King, I was in favour of the delay, and, indeed, would have ordered yet further, but dared not. The more uncertain were my orders the better, for he whom I was now personating might really have decided views of his own of a contrary policy. Whau, Nkose! in truth was I walking between spears, even as when I put my own words into the mouth of the Bakoni chief in the sight of Umzilikazi and the whole nation. Fortunately, boy as I was before we left Zululand, I had often seen the princes of the House of Senzangakona, and remembered their voices, which I now strove to imitate. And I wanted to find out which of the two Kings I was supposed to be.
“Thy plan is good, Silwane,” I said, and then, carelessly, “Whau! I know not. I who am but a child. I would that the other of the Twin Stars of the Heavens were by me now, for his judgment in such matters is greater than mine. What think you, Silwane?”
“Au!” he cried. “He who sits at Umkunkundhlovu has the wisdom of nations. But it is thou who art skilled in war, O Mhlangana, Twin Star of the Amazulu.”
Ha! It was Mhlangana then whom I was representing, not Dingane. But where was that prince himself? He might appear at any moment, and then—
“Umzilikazi knows well how to use mountain passes,” I said, laughing to myself as I thought of the way we beat back Tshaka’s impi. “Wherefore, move not the soldiers until moonrise to-morrow night, and enter the pass when darkness shall fall on the night after. Meanwhile let none draw near this mountain chain, lest they be sighted by those whom we are come to stamp flat—none, no, not one.”
“And those who are already posted upon the height, father?”
“Let them remain,” I said, “but let them keep well concealed. Stay, where are they posted?”
“Yonder, where the two patches of scrub crown the projecting spur, Great Great One,” said the induna, pointing to a place which I could see, luckily without turning my head, for had the moonbeams fallen on my face that moment I were lost.
“Ha! But one picket? It seems I ordered two to be posted,” I said carelessly.
“One was indeed thy order, Serpent of Wisdom,” replied Silwane. “Yet there are five men in it. Shall I send up and bid two of them take up other position elsewhere?”
“Let be, it matters not,” I answered, still carelessly. “Ten eyes should surely, from such a point, command half the world.”
You will observe, Nkose, that I had found out four things: that a huge Zulu impi was advancing to surprise and utterly destroy us; that in strength it scarcely exceeded that of our whole nation; that it was led in person by Mhlangana, one of the brother Kings of Zululand; and that it would cross the mountains at a certain time. It only remained for me now to do one thing more to complete the trap into which I intended that the might of Zululand should advance—and fall.
“That look-out is sufficient,” I continued, after a moment’s pause. “Yet I think that it is not needful to wait until dark to enter the pass. It may be done at mid-day, if those upon the watch-place signal that none are about. Then that night shall the flames of Kwa’zingwenya light the triumph dance of the might of the People of the Heavens. Let it be known, then, that a white blanket be waved thrice if the way is open.”
“We hear you, Father,” answered the warriors. “The plan will not fail. By the King’s white shield, but the rebel Umzilikazi may soon sit down in darkness forever.”
“The King’s white shield!” Now I saw yet further light. For, accompanying these words, the glances of the warriors had fallen meaningly upon the white shield which I carried—the pure white shield without spot of any other colour—the shield which had saved the life of a king, and was now the means of saving the life of a king once more, and also the life of a nation. This was how the mistake occurred; this was how they had taken me for Mhlangana, seeing the great white royal shield in the moonlight. But where was Mhlangana?
I said just now, Nkose, that there only remained for me one thing more to do, yet, having done it, I found there remained another; and this was, to effect a speedy and safe retreat from a position to which any moment might bring an end—resulting in my own death and the destruction of our nation. How was this to be effected? I dared not move or turn ever so slightly lest the light, falling upon my face, should betray me. To send these men away, and myself remain behind, might arouse their suspicion, and, over and above these considerations, the real Mhlangana might appear at any moment. Truly, Nkose, it required all the múti that old Masuka, and the white isanusi, and Lalusini, and all the greatest magicians the world ever saw, could devise to find me a way out of that trap.
But while these thoughts were racing through my mind a confused murmur rose among the group of warriors. A murmur of astonishment, even of a little alarm. Their faces were turned skyward, seeming to look beyond me as I stood; and, lo! the light had grown so dim that scarcely could I distinguish their features, up till now so plainly visible.
“Au!” they cried. “The moon! The moon! It grows black!”
Now I turned also, deeming it safe to do so, yet with caution, and covering half my face as though bringing my hand up in astonishment. And what I beheld was indeed portentous.
Over the face of the moon a black curtain was spreading slowly, slowly—veiling it not as a cloud veils it, but completely. While we had been talking, we had not noticed the fading light. Now, as we looked, lo! the half of the great golden ball was black. Higher, higher—farther, farther, crept this curtain, till none was left but the outside rim. All the rest of it was black. The world was in darkness.
Now, I had seen something of this kind before; but never before or since have I seen the moon grow so utterly, so completely, black. It seemed darker than the darkest night; yet, in reality, it was not so; but there was a cold and wizard-like breathing in the night air, and even the voices of the creatures of the waste were hushed. And heavy upon my mind lay Lalusini’s warning, and the words of her waking vision, uttered before the King, and relating to the blackening of the moon and of the feast which awaited the vultures. It was all plain enough now; ah, yes! the vultures would soon have a gigantic feast, indeed; but—of whom would it consist—of ourselves, or of the invading might of the two brothers, the Zulu Kings?
Now I saw in the darkness a wide door open for my escape from my perilous position.
“We will return now, my children, having found out all we desire to know,” I said.
“Yeh-bo, Nkulu ’nkulu!” assented the warriors, bending down and uttering words of bonga. Then they opened for me to pass, but I signed them to precede me; and so we all climbed up the rocks till we soon found ourselves on the slope of one of those great rifts which ran down into the half-circular hollow or basin which I had marked out for the deathtrap of Mhlangana’s impi.
“Whau!” muttered Silwane, who walked just in front of me. “The moon is dark for the mourning of a nation, for the death of a king.”
“I think that is even so, Silwane,” I said grimly, my meaning not being his.
The steep slope along which we were proceeding was thickly sprinkled with growths of bush, and here and there great formations of boulders and stones, which rendered the way difficult and toilsome. And now a bit of the moon began to reappear. At all risks I must slip away, even if it aroused suspicion.
I had already drawn back somewhat, falling farther and farther into the rear. Already I judged the distance between myself and the warriors great enough, and the spot favourable, for it was rugged and rock-strewn, and overgrown with bush. Already I had turned the darker side of my shield towards them, and in a moment more would have dropped into concealment, and glided away with the silence and rapidity of a serpent, when, Nkose, the strangest of strange things happened.
Between myself and the warriors in front there was a shape. It seemed to appear out of empty air, for assuredly I had seen it spring out of nowhere. It was the shape of a man, tall and broad. Unlike the warriors in front, he was not adorned as for war, but like myself, though wearing only the mútya as usual, he was fully armed. His back was towards me, and, as I stared wildly at him in the now fast lightening darkness, a movement he made brought full into my view the large war-shield which he carried. Hau! The shield was pure white, like my own—a royal shield. This, then, must be the real Mhlangana.
The time had come, Nkose—had fully come—to take leave of that party, for assuredly had Mhlangana looked back he would have taken me for his ghost, stalking behind him, and who would wish to frighten any so great as one of the brother Kings of Zululand? Whau! So I dropped quietly behind a bush to wait until the party were out of hearing. But before it was so I could hear Mhlangana talking to the warriors; but his words were few, and their tones were even and showed no suspicion that they had been receiving their orders and plan of battle from Umzilikazi’s second fighting induna. And, indeed, as I thought of it, I laughed so to myself that I was forced to sit down upon the ground and take snuff. For these skilled warriors and captains had cried the Bayéte and bent low and uttered bonga to me, Untúswa, who was but yesterday, it seemed, a boy in Zululand; and from me had they taken their orders, which would be for their own destruction. Whau! Nkose! The world may have contained more ridiculous positions, but somehow I hardly think it possible.
“Hamba gahle, Mhlangana! Hambani gahle, warriors of Dingane!” I murmured in scornful farewell.
It did not take me long to reach the entrance of the pass. The wizard beast was no longer there, but even had a hundred such been waiting to bar my way, they would have delayed me no longer than the time it would take to fight my way through them. No fears had I now of ghosts, or shapes of tagati, or any such thing. All such fears had disappeared in the face of this real peril which threatened us as a nation. I laughed at such fears as I sped through that grim pass, its gloomy depths rendered still blacker by the bright moon rays—for the moon was light again now—striking upon the tall cliffs high overhead. And I could hear stones falling among the rocks as though ghosts were at play, and weird wailing voices with shrill, sharp screams of fear, or savage snarls, and indeed, many sounds issuing from the shadows; but of such I took no heed—but, indeed, nothing—neither ghosts nor animals—could, I think, have a wilder, fiercer appearance than mine, as, with head bent forward, and gripping my shield and weapons, I sped through that grim, black defile which was at one moment in shadow, then in moonlight, bearing with me that which was of all things the most portentous—the fate of a nation.
Never before, Nkose—not even in the days when I was young, and for my swiftness and endurance was chosen by Umzilikazi as his chief runner—did I cover the ground as I did that night, wherefore the night was not very far spent when I reached the kraal where I had left Mgwali and my four followers. At me came a troop of dogs, opened-mouthed and baying, but I hammered them soundly with my knobstick, and, recognising me as no enemy, they slunk away yelping and ashamed. But the people turned out, in some alarm, wondering at the suddenness of this midnight disturbance—wondering still more on beholding me; for it was easy to see that I had been running fast and far.
I went into the hut of the headman, and while I was refreshing myself with a bowl of amasi, I issued my orders.
“Listen, Mgwali. Remember you the two shrubs just below the highest point of Inkume, beneath which we speared the she-leopard when last we hunted here?”
“Perfectly, son of my father.”
“Good. At that point lie five Amazulu—warriors of Dingane. These are the eyes of a mighty impi which is advancing against us from the south. But the eyes of Umzilikazi must take the place of the eyes of Dingane.”
“Ou! I am ready, induna of the King!” cried my brother, springing to his feet, and gripping his shield and weapons.
“Gahle!” I said putting out a restraining hand. “Take the four who accompanied us hither, and, for security’s sake, take other four or five, so shall you be two to one.”
Then, Malula, the headman of the kraal, called up two of his sons and three other young men, and ordered them to proceed with Mgwali.
“Now,” I said, “the way is long, but the night is still young, and so are ye. Hearken, son of my father, and all of you. Before break of day must this be done. Not one of those warriors of Dingane must leave his post. If but one escapes, why, then shall ye all writhe upon a seat of pain for many days. When you have taken their places, and they sleep forever, send down one of your number to pass along the word to me and to the Great Great One; then shall ye have further orders when to signal, and how. Mgwali is chief of this party. Now go.”
They started, those youths, and I knew that if a single one of Mhlangana’s outlook escaped, it would only be because Mgwali and his nine followers were all dead.
Now, I started too, being refreshed, and as I went straight as a line for Kwa’zingwenya, I posted runners at different points of the way, for such, Nkose, is our system when we desire to pass the word quickly; and, indeed, I think the wonderful speaking wires of you white people can hardly convey tidings with greater swiftness. Further, I despatched messengers to every kraal on that side of the country, that every man should proceed swiftly, but secretly, to Shushuya, the military kraal of the “Scorpions” regiment, but for the rest none were to flee, and the women and cattle were to go about as usual, and that, did any fail to do this, or seek to flee in panic, assuredly that kraal should be eaten up and its people given over to the assegai. This, in case Mhlangana had other pickets out overlooking our country, for, did the royal general learn that we were not unprepared, it might bring about an entire alteration in his plans, and, of course, in mine. All these orders I gave without halting, they who received them running by my side as I ran. Nor did I fear failure to obey them; for the women, however they might dread the chance of the spears of Mhlangana, would still more fear the certainty of those of Umzilikazi. And the word of a war-captain of my standing at such a time was as the word of the King himself.
Now, as I ran, my mind was busy with the plan I had formed, which was simple. The impi from Zululand should be signalled to advance by Mgwali and our people, who had slain and taken the place of its own outpost. Once in the hollow formed by the spurs of the mountain closing down upon the Place of the Three Rifts, it should be fallen upon by our entire force—save a portion placed in reserve at the narrowest point in the pass; and, being thus taken completely by surprise, I had little doubt but that a panic would ensue which should place it entirely at our mercy. Whau! In that event not many warriors would return to Dingane to tell how deadly was the goring of the horns of the Black Bull whose kraal lay in the north. Nor had I much fear lest the invader’s plan should be altered; for the counsels of Silwane and the others would weigh with Mhlangana; and the bent of those counsels I had fully gathered what time I was receiving royal homage when the moon grew black.
Never had I known till then, Nkose, how great was the secret dread which our King had entertained for the might of Dingane. For when I reached Kwa’zingwenya, and unfolded to him my discovery—the peril that threatened us, and the steps I had taken to meet it—his whole mien grew dark as the moon had done over the Place of the Three Rifts, as troubled as the stirring of shrill winds among the scud of the storm wrack.
“Know you, Untúswa, that we have little more than half our strength to fall back upon?” he said. “Kalipe’s force is away, and of its return there is no sign.”
“Let swift runners be sent to meet it, Great Great One. It may yet arrive in time. Failing that, the pass of the Inkume shall be to the impi of Dingane and Mhlangana what the pass of Kwahlamba was to that of Tshaka.”
“Great talk!” growled the King. “But I think, Untúswa, thou art not much greater than a fool; for instead of yet further delaying our enemies, while speaking with the mouth of Mhlangana, and thus allowing time for Kalipe’s return, thou didst even hurry on the hour of the battle.”
“Had I done otherwise suspicion would have been aroused, and the impi would have been thrown forward at once. Then what time should we have had to muster our forces, O Black Elephant? Now, instead of the hunting dogs of Dingane and Mhlangana surprising us, it is we who shall surprise them, father of a new nation.”
“Ha! that sounds not so ill,” muttered Umzilikazi.
“There is yet more, Serpent of Might,” I said. “Had suspicion been aroused, that moment I were assuredly dead. Who then would have carried warning of the approach of those who come against us?”
“That is true, son of Ntelani. And so they cried the ‘Bayéte’? And for once thou wert a king.”
Now I liked not Umzilikazi’s tone, for it was bitter and jeering—suspicious, too. But his next words scattered all apprehensions on my own account.
“This sorceress—she shall be slain.” He was muttering more to himself than to me. “She it is who has brought her own people upon us.”
“The will of the Great Great One stands,” I said. “Yet let the King pause; for weighty has been the service she has rendered us.”
Umzilikazi looked at me, and his face was clouded with suspicion.
“So, Untúswa? I begin to see,” he said. “The men of Mhlangana are coming to set up a new King here—and a new Queen! Ah, ah, Untúswa, she is fair—the strange sorceress!” he jeered.
“Now have the dreams of the King been bad—even as at the time of Ncwelo’s conspiracy,” I replied, bold as ever. “If you doubt your servant, Father, slay him now, or after we have rolled back the men of Mhlangana.”
The King looked gloomily at me, then he said—
“The sorceress—let her be sent for.”
I gave the order to those without, and soon the door of the hut was darkened and Lalusini entered.
“See, thou witch,” said the King, pointing at her with his spear, “I am minded to slay thee, for now I know whose wizardry has brought the enemy to our gates what time the half of our fighting force is away. Thus, then, was thy flight turned to account after the Bakoni were eaten up.”
But there was no trace of fear in Lalusini’s eyes as she gazed upon the terrible threatening countenance which to any of us would have seemed to bring death very near—only a slight look of wonder.
“Is it for this I have saved the life of a King—the life of a nation?” she said, her clear sweet tones firm and without a tremor: “I would ask the Great Great One—what started Untúswa from his sleep? A voice of warning? Would the warriors of Dingane have spared him, think you, had they come upon him slumbering? How did they mistake him for Mhlangana, and thus fill his ears with their plans? Was it not because of the shield—the royal shield—the white shield? And how did he escape from them to carry hither the word of warning? The blackness of the moon, was it not? And the shield? Who warned him not to part from it day or night until after the blackness of the moon? Au! In a word, who predicted all these things, in warning? and have they not come to pass? Now, son of Matyobane, say. Am I to die?”
She stood, drawn proudly up, and her tone had been that of rebuke. And such is a terrible one to adopt towards him whose word summons the slayers.
“Hearken, my sister,” said Umzilikazi, now speaking softly. “Thy words are not without truth and reason, yet I trust thee not over-much, being of the blood of those who come against us. Thou art great at making múti. Now, in the battle before us, the odds against us are heavy. If thy múti wins us this battle, then thou shalt dwell in great honour and obtain any wish thou shalt express. If we lose it, thou shalt die, and die hard, as the worst sort of witches die.”
“And is this the word of the King?” said Lalusini, a smile gleaming in her great lustrous eyes.
“Such is my word, sister, and my word never fails; else had Untúswa not been seated here this day.”
“I hear the King, and am glad,” she answered. “My word, too, never fails—I, a daughter of the House of Senzangakona. You shall win in this battle, son of Matyobane, shall win it through my múti. Is it permitted that I go now and prepare the same?”
“Go, and may it be well for thee and for us,” said Umzilikazi.
When she had gone forth the King sent for old Masuka.
“The might of Dingane is at our gates, my father,” he said. “Shall the victory be ours?”
“Ou! Who may say for certain, and time has not been given me to look into the future, lord? Yet the white shield—the white shield. Twice already hath its efficacy been great. It has guarded the life of a King, also that of a nation.”
“The white shield!” repeated Umzilikazi, in vexation. “Are ye all in league, vultures of izanusi? When I ask for an omen, for a glance into the future, ye all croak about a white shield. Go now, old man, and make thy múti, for the army must be doctored before set of sun.”
Masuka saluted and crept out. Then being restless, the King rose and followed. In the gate of the isigodhlo stood the white priest, desiring speech with the King.
“Ha! Yet another magic-maker,” growled Umzilikazi. “Say now, talker with the spirits of the air, will thy sacrifices aid us against the might of Dingane, for they who come against us number more fighters than ourselves, Kalipe being still absent?”
“I had heard that, O King,” said the white man. “To no magic do I pretend, yet it may be that the Great One whom I serve will remember in its hour of need the nation which has received with kindness the humblest of His servants.”
“Ha! I think they who come against us would not so have received thee, my father,” replied Umzilikazi, somewhat impatiently. “Yet practice, I pray thee, thy mystic rites on our behalf, for with this foe at our gates we need all the aids we can get—whether of sorcery or not.”
“That I will gladly do, O King,” replied the white priest. And as he saluted and turned away, I noticed that he looked ill and tired—perhaps through over-much journeying. But soon we saw certain of the slaves entering the dwelling which he kept for his sacred rites, and heard the tinkle of the little bell, and now and again the soft murmur of the white sorcerer’s voice.
“Now, Untúswa, I think we have enough múti of one kind or another,” said the King. “Go, therefore, and muster the fighters who wait without.”
It must not be supposed all this time, Nkose, that nothing was being done. I had sent forth, ordering every regiment to repair immediately to headquarters, and every man who had been enrolled, or who was capable of bearing arms, to assemble without a moment’s waste of time. Further, I had ordered the establishment of chains of scouts and runners to watch and swiftly report any movement on the part of the foe, whom as yet none had seen excepting myself. From all sides now, people were pouring—men mostly—armed men in groups and bands streaming over the plain, all converging on the great kraal, and among these, a compact cloud, huge and dark, marched the splendid regiment of The Scorpions, nearly two thousand strong, young men mostly, and strangers to fear, of which I was the chief commander. On they came, singing the war-song of Umzilikazi, and, filing into Kwa’zingwenya, took up a position in a huge half-circle within the great central space. These, occupying as they did a military kraal of their own, were already fully armed, but others from without were not, and as the latter swarmed in a rush was made upon the places where the shields were kept. But a strong guard had been placed over this, and soon the distribution was finished, and the shield-houses were nearly emptied. Then all were doctored for war and proceeded to the great plain outside to dance the war-dance.
The while, Nkose, I had my hands very full, for in the absence of Kalipe I was the general in command, and, indeed, so great was my pride in that position that I would rather risk disaster and defeat than be once more put down to second again. But almost every moment my runners were coming and going, yet not noisily and with fuss, but as though seen by hardly any among us. So far everything had gone well. Mgwali and his scouts had surprised and slain Mhlangana’s outposts, so that none had escaped, and had dragged the bodies far down the mountain on our side, lest the vultures gathering in clouds should be visible to the enemy and convey a warning. Of our men two had been killed and several wounded, nor did this astonish me. No further move had been made by the foe, who still lurked behind the forest belts of the flat country beyond Inkume, little dreaming of the reception we were preparing for him.
Now, as I looked round upon the muster, I felt pride and joy in the host I was to lead forth. The war spirit gleamed in every eye, and in the restless twitching of the limbs of the warriors was a fiery impatience to behold the enemy. None was a stranger to it. Even Ngubazana the Gaza, coming out from helping the white isanusi to perform his rites, looked wistfully at the mustered legions, and upon his face came a warrior light there was no mistaking.
“How now, son of a kindred race?” I said, for I was passing him at the time. “I think this is not the first day thou hast seen warriors mustered for battle.”
“That is so, induna of the regiment of Scorpions,” he answered, with a longing glance at my own especial fighting rank.
“I think, on such a day, thy place is among these, rather than acting as induna to a king of peace, Ngubazana,” I said, somewhat mockingly.
“Whau! You are my father, Untúswa!” cried the Gaza, in a quick, eager, suppressed voice, as though fearful of being overheard by some one. “Give me a shield—give me a broad spear, that I may join them.”
A great shout of laughter, of delight, broke from the warriors; and, at a sign from me, some ran to the shield-house, so that in a moment Ngubazana was fully armed.
“Thy follower is going to help us against Dingane, father,” I cried aloud to the white isanusi, who had just appeared. “Whau! This is no time for thoughts of peace, but for deeds of war!”
“Yeh-bo! Yeh-bo!” chorused the regiment.
“Well, let him go,” said the white priest, quite tranquilly, noting his follower’s hesitation. “Go, now, Ngubazana, and fight like a brave soldier for the King who has sheltered and favoured us. Yet, shed no more blood than is necessary, and slay none when already defenceless. Show mercy, and spare. So, take my blessing with thee.”
Now the first words filled all with great delight, but for the last, au! We, who when we “see red” spare nothing that has life, how should such words commend themselves to us? But we remembered that this was a man whose business was peace.
So Ngubazana bent before the white isanusi, who blessed him with one of his strange signs. Then he leaped with joy into the ranks of The Scorpions, clutching his weapons, and humming to himself the war-song.
The regiments, organised and armed, and decorated for war, filed through the great entrance of the kraal Kwa’zingwenya, and formed up in a vast half-circle upon the plain outside, whither the King had already proceeded, and the Bayéte was roared forth in tremendous volume as the Great Great One stalked majestically into the open formation thus left. His words were few:
“Warriors,” he said, “yonder is a nation’s death or a nation’s life.” Then he gave the signal for the war-dance to begin.
This was short, for we had no time to spare for ornamental ceremonies. When the dance and the song were at their height, they ceased suddenly, and there was dead silence.
Umzilikazi was standing in the midst, clad in his full war costume of white flowing hair and leopard-skin and beadwork, his head crowned with nodding ostrich plumes of black and white. In his left hand he held his lion-skin shield, tufted with the tail of the beast, and a light casting spear.
Now, as we waited, breathless, he took the little assegai in his right hand, and, poising it for a moment with a quivering motion, he hurled it from him—hurled it fast and far—in the direction of the Pass of the Inkume, in the direction of Dingane’s impi, and, as it fell to earth, he pronounced in a loud voice—
“Go, children of Matyobane!”
A great and mighty shout rent the air, and, falling into marching rank, my own company of The Scorpions leading, our impi set forth. In strength we numbered about seven thousand, of whom between two or three thousand were those who had been enrolled from among conquered peoples, and, of course, not equal to those of pure Zulu blood. The strength of Mhlangana’s impi I could only guess, but estimated it to be about ten thousand strong. Wherefore, you see, Nkose, our chances were not great, and depended almost entirely upon our being able to strike the enemy unexpectedly, and roll up his battle rank in the panic of surprise.
While these preparations were going forward, the white isanusi, sad and troubled at heart, in the course of his wanderings ran against Lalusini, who gave him greeting.
“Will your múti avail to bring victory to yon host, my father?” she said, with her sweet smile.
“I know not. If it is the will of the Great Great One who sent me, I have no fear,” he answered.
“Is your power, then, so doubtful, O maker of strange ceremonies?” she went on.
“I pretend to no magic; on the contrary, I reprobate such,” said the white priest, shaking his head, for he distrusted and disliked the beautiful sorceress. “It is not given to us to pry into the future, which is in the sight of One alone.”
“Why, then is my múti greater than yours, white stranger,” she replied. “For I can look into the future, and I foresee that this nation shall win the battle. Yea, I know this.”
“I hope it may be so, Lalusini,” said the white man, still sadly. But the other women who stood by, hearing this presage, cried aloud in astonishment and delight, repeating Lalusini’s words again and again, till they had turned them into something of a song.
As we marched forth thus to war the sky was by degrees blackening up for rain, and a deep, distant roll of thunder was heard from time to time creeping over the ridge of the world. The old women, whose furrowed faces and ragged top-knots stuck over the kraal palisades as they watched us deploy into rank, were dumb and shaking with apathy and fear, for in them still lived an ingrained terror of the might of Tshaka, whereas we young people had almost forgotten it, and with us it was a mere tradition. Of young women and girls there seemed to be none in the kraal, or if there were they were keeping in hiding. And though my thoughts now were all of war, I could not refrain from looking backward to try and obtain a glimpse of Lalusini. But in vain.
Not backward should I have looked, however, but forward; for now, as we turned the corner of a hill, a sound as of singing was heard in front. Whau! There on a little rise stood Lalusini herself. She was arrayed in her beautiful beaded dress, and wore her heavy golden ornaments. Behind her came a great number of girls, all carrying green boughs in their hands and singing songs of war and of victory, as was their wont to hearten us when we set out upon any expedition of weight and importance.
As we came near, Lalusini drew a little apart from the rest, and standing thus upon the summit of the rise, in full view of the whole army, her proudly-reared head and splendid form thrown out by the livid thundercloud behind the hill, she lifted up her voice and sang, this time not in the dark tongue of the Bakoni, but in pure Zulu. And the wild sweetness of her voice was of the sort which renders warriors mad.
“A song of the Shield,
In the battle’s ring!
A droop of the Shield
Guards the life of a King.
“Proud tuft, proud hide,
Which the White Bull gave!
Now the White Bull’s pride
Shall a nation save.
“Burnt kraal, stamped field—
Thick the vultures soar,
And laugh o’er the Shield
In the van of war.
“Rolls the battle song
On the war-wave’s crest,
Bringing might to the strong,
To the weak ones - rest.
“Great is small,
Little is great.
Who may fall
In the coming Fate.
“Who may fear
On the death-soaked field?
None who hear
The Song of The Shield!”
Now the last words were taken up by her band of attendant girls, but the voices of these were soon lost in the great rolling volume of the warriors’ chorus, which was caught up and tossed along the ranks as the roaring of a mighty ocean—
“Who may fear
On the death-soaked field?
None who hear
The Song of The Shield.”
As they marched past, a quick, keen flash darted down from heaven immediately upon the singer, whom all men thought was stricken—yet not; for in the sudden silence that followed, and the muttering rumble of the thunder-tone, she still stood—that splendid daughter of a race of kings—her eyes still turned skyward, her form outlined in its beautiful curves against the livid blue of the storm-cloud.
After this we marched in silence, no more singing or noise of any kind being allowed. But as we held on swiftly through the night, this great array of armed men, like a destroying flight of locusts in its straight, fell course, the echo of that wonderful song was still in every ear, its burden in every heart; and it seemed to each warrior that he had the strength of ten; for the Song of the Shield was surely the song of victory.
To us came from time to time runners, bearing tidings from Mgwali. No move forward had been made by the impi from Zululand, yet now and again, far below upon the plain, our outpost, which had taken the place of that of Mhlangana, could discern a point of white, which was the swift signal of those who had been posted at intervals to watch, and pass along word to Dingane’s leaders.
“Whau! We will give them a brave good-morning, Untúswa,” said the King, as, having gained our position along the ridges of Inkume, shortly after midnight, the Great Great One and I had crept carefully up to Mgwali’s outlook. “See, now, I desire not to hurry the battle, yet the sun will not be very high before we shall whisper them to come on. Thy strategy has been good, Untúswa, yet perchance they will remember the pass in the Kwahlamba and fear to enter this. Ah! would that we could roll down the mountain itself upon them here as there. It would save us many men.”
This we could not do, for the straight cliffs shooting up from, the defile were smooth and firm. No loose rocks were here, hardly a few small stones, so firm were the iron crests of the mountain.
Now I had endeavoured to dissuade the King from accompanying us, pointing out that in the event of our destruction he could, on receiving tidings thereof, safely fall back upon Kalipe’s impi and thus retreat, building up the nation afresh. But my words were laughed at.
“What, Untúswa? Shall I show my back to an enemy because he is strong?” had said Umzilikazi. “Have the horns of the Bull been cut off that he can no longer gore? Whau! thou art brave, son of Ntelani—braver there is none—but young. The generalship that rolled back the impi of Tshaka shall roll back that of Dingane, or—Whau! I would rather die with a great nation than live to reign over a small one.”
Thus spake Umzilikazi, and I think, Nkose, he knew that the life of our nation was an uncertain thing that day, for he took in all the lay of the ground, every stone, every rock, every place or point that could offer us the smallest advantage, with the eye of the great leader he was. Yet with my generalship he interfered not one jot, thoroughly approving it.
Beneath us lay the entrance to the pass, where I had beheld the huge ghost-animal squatted howling, and this widened out into a broad hollow, opening on the outer side, as it were, through great gates between slanting ridges or spurs, rocky and steep; and on the nearer side of these ridges ran up the two great rifts: one on the right hand, the other on the left.
Our force was divided into three. Under cover of the darkness, as the moon sank low, we disposed companies of warriors in each of these side rifts, while, some little way back, within the pass, and where the rocks narrowed, so that but a few men could hold it against an army, were posted picked fighters, including a section of my regiment, The Scorpions. These were to hold the passage against the invaders, while we, swooping down upon them from either side, would have them in a trap.
The party within the pass was under one Gasibona, a brother of that Gungana who had held the command which was now mine, and a brave and skilful fighter. The bulk of The Scorpions were under the second chief, Xulawayo, for the King had ordered me to remain with him during the earlier part of the battle.
“The white shield will be needed later, son of Ntelani,” he said. And I understood.
The sun rose in a ball of flame, and the world grew light. Faraway over the plain beneath us we could see the dewdrops sparkling on the grass and in the bush sprays; but there was no game in sight, not even a small buck. It had fled from the disturbing presence of the Zulu host. Fair and bright now seemed this place, which seen by night was awesome and ghostly. Time went by. Our warriors, rank upon rank, squatted behind their shields eager for the moment, for here, indeed, was an enemy worthy of our strength. No miserable Bapedi or skulking Barutsi these, but men of our own blood, the disciplined troops of mighty Zulu-land.
Now the word was given to show the signal. Three times it waved—the white blanket—and, immediately after, we beheld a white spot showing far away on the plain beneath; then another beyond this. The word was being passed along the line of sentinels that the impi might now advance in safety.
The King, with Mcumbete and two or three more of the izinduna, lay hidden among the crags at the highest point overlooking the pass, hence he might direct our operations by signal, which we then and there arranged. My plan was simple—namely, to draw the host of Mhlangana into the hollow formed by the Place of the Three Rifts, and, at the moment they were about to enter the pass, to fall upon them flank and rear. By this means I hoped to strike terror and confusion among them, so completely would they be taken by surprise. I reckoned that we should slay a great number in the first moments of panic, and, by reducing the odds against us, could, without difficulty, defeat them with enormous slaughter. Au but I reckoned without the generalship of Silwane.
“They come, Great Great One,” I whispered.
Now we could see the sheen of spears, as the impi, looking like an immense mass of black ants, appeared in the far distance. We watched it draw near, and it seemed that our victory was assured. It was advancing in loose order, having no fear or thought of surprise, as indeed why should it have, seeing that its own outpost had signalled the road clear? Ah, they little knew, those warriors of Dingane, that ours was the outpost—ours the signal—luring them to destruction and defeat.
“By the head-ring of my father, but yonder are splendid soldiers!” said the King as we watched the impi draw near. “Yet had we but Kalipe’s force not one of them should be left alive to return and tell Dingane of the strength or weakness of the Amandebeli. Say now, Untúswa. Which is Mhlangana?”
“I see him not, Black Elephant. Perhaps he lingers in rear of the march, fearing no attack.”
“Ha! It may be so. Go now, son of Ntelani, for the hunting dogs of Dingane draw very near. They shall soon feel the horns of the Bull.”
As I started off to join my division, which was halted in the great rift beneath, which ran up from the hollow on the left of the King as he faced it, I could see that the impi was still quite unsuspicious. I saw, too, that in numbers it was slightly inferior to ourselves; but then, against that, our force comprised about two regiments of enrolled slaves, who could not altogether be depended upon, even to save themselves from the assegai. Excepting the few warriors left to guard the pass, our entire force was massed in these two rifts, half in each, and we lay facing each other, awaiting the signal of the King.
But the strategy of Silwane baffled us. Instead of approaching in the same loose and open order to thread the defile, he sent forward an advance guard of about four hundred men.
They passed our hiding-place, for we lay securely concealed. But when they came opposite the mouth of the other rift, they somehow discovered the presence of warriors—armed and lurking. Then Xulawayo, who was in command on that side, ordered a charge, hoping to fall on these men and slay them before they could convey the alarm to the rest. It was a vain thought, however, for these soldiers of Dingane, so far from giving way, raised their war-cry, and stood awaiting the attack.
Further concealment was useless. The whole impi came pouring into the hollow, fearless, but widely alert.
Kept well in hand by their sub-chiefs, they fought splendidly at first. Directly they came in touch with our lines they charged, and charged straight. Whau! We had not reckoned upon this, and soon our regiments of slaves gave way and began to flee, throwing us back in confusion.
Ha! Then followed a wild din. The hollow was a mass of broad shields and fighting forms, surging wildly hither and thither, and the rocks rang with the clash of wood and hard hide; the thunder of the war-shout, the wild death-yell, and the choking groans of the wounded, smitten unto death. Ha! we “saw red”; our one thought was—blood—blood—ah! and it flowed—yes, it flowed! Hau! that fight was short and sharp. Nearly half our strength lay slain or sorely wounded, and the men of Dingane had lost nearly as many. Yet we had been stamped flat that day but for a rumour that spread among our enemies that a large force was advancing to cut them off on their rear. That saved us. They began to retreat, yet not hurriedly and in rout, but facing us and fighting their way. We, for our part, made no pursuit—au! we were glad to let them go—and after making a show of pursuit we retreated, battered, wearied, and utterly disheartened, to the heights above the rift, where we had lain concealed at first. Some there were among us who declared we ought to rejoice, for that, great as had been our losses, still we had beaten back the might of Dingane, who in future would leave us in peace. But I knew better than that, wherefore I would not withdraw the remnant of our forces from that position, but watched and waited.
Now when the retreat began, Ngubazana the Gaza, deeming it a rout, had called a number of young warriors of The Scorpions to follow him, and this band of hotheads had plunged into the thickest of the Zulu ranks. But these turned. Whau! That was no rout, and in a moment there was not one of those young fools left standing. But Ngubazana, who was much older and should have known better, was the last to fall, and he fell fighting, for quite a ring of Silwane’s people went down before his spear. At last they threw a heavy knobstick at him, which felled him, so that he dropped upon the slain which he had heaped up there, and they made an end of him.
Thus he died the death of a warrior, fighting bravely to the last; and it was a strange death for one who had left his country to become the follower and servant of a teacher of peace.