With the slaughter of the witch doctors Dingane had retired, and the
vast assemblage of the people, breaking up, was streaming away in
different directions. Mahlula had disappeared.
Then, having gained my huts, I gave orders that I was to be left alone,
and sat down to take snuff and to think. For here was a wonderful
thing. She whom I had thought dead was alive again--had reappeared at
the very moment when death would otherwise have overtaken me. There was
something of fear in my mind as I thought of it all. Was it really
Lalusini whom I had seen, or was it another sorceress who bore to her a
most marvellous likeness--a sister, perhaps? But even the House of
Senzangakona could not produce two such, I reflected; and then the very
method she had adopted of averting from me the doom was the method of
Lalusini. And now I longed for her again, for, as I told you, _Nkose_,
I loved her as you white men love your women; but if, for some reason,
she had been forced to hide herself under another name, how could I, the
wanderer, the stranger, the man who had come hither to deliver his own
nation to destruction, reveal the real relationship between us by laying
claim to her?
How was it I had never heard men speak of her? No talk, no word of a
marvellous witch doctress, of a sorceress like no other ever seen, had
reached my ear. Tola I knew, and those who worked magic with him, but
of this one never a word. Was it because I was a stranger and not yet
fully trusted? But old Gegesa's tale was untrue anyhow, for here was
Lalusini alive and well, and beautiful as ever. Then I thought how to
get speech with her.
To this end I went out. First I sought the hut of Silwane. But when
after bringing round the talk to the events of the morning I would have
drawn out of him what he knew as to the sorceress Mahlula, I found that
he knew but little, as did those who sat in his hut. Her appearance in
their midst was mystery, her movements were mystery, her very dwelling
was mystery; and hearing this I thought how greatly I could have amazed
Silwane by revealing how it was through the magic of this sorceress that
our arms had won success over the great _impi_ he had helped to command
at the Place of the Three Rifts. But from them I could obtain no
tidings, nor from any with whom I talked on the subject; and as day
after day went by, I began to wish I had not beheld Lalusini again, for
now it seemed as though I were losing her once more.
Then my mind went back--back over my life since I had first beheld
Lalusini and at great peril had managed to keep her for myself; back
over our first meetings in the rock chamber of the Mountain of Death,
what time we had eaten up the Bakoni, the nation who owned the Blue
Cattle, and I remembered her words: "There is a people into whose midst
I will one day return, and there I shall be great indeed, and you
through me." Ha! Was this part of a scheme--of a carefully-matured
plan? It seemed like it. So I resolved to wait and let things shape
their course.
Now the very day on which I had formed this resolve I chanced to be
outside of Nkunkundhlovu alone. Two girls strode by me with bundles on
their heads, and as they did so, one whispered, "This night--induna of
the Great One who site in the north. This night, by the two large
reed-beds at the turn of the river. Mahlula waits."
The speaker passed on, but I, _Nkose_--my blood leaped at the words. At
last I would have speech with Lalusini. At last we would meet face to
face. Yet, even in the midst of my joy came a misgiving. Was it a
snare--was it a trap Tambusa had set for my undoing? for the man who
wanders at night on mysterious business--_au_! he is soon an object of
suspicion, and to be an object of suspicion at that time meant death.
This, however, I was ready to risk, but for all that I resolved to
proceed warily, and he who should attempt treachery upon me might well
wish he never had. So with my great assegai, together with a heavy
knob-stick and a small shield, I wandered up the river shortly before
sundown, and did not return to Nkunkundhlovu for the night.
It had fallen quite dark, though the stars glittered forth in countless
eyes from the blackness above. There was just the faintest murmur of
the wind in the reed-beds, like the sigh of one who waits, and
expecting, is disappointed for the time. The water flowed, evenly and
smooth, lapping a low rock slab on the opposite bank, and now and again
a soft splash and ripple as some crocodile rose or sank. In the air was
a feeling of wizardry and awe; but I had passed through too many strange
things to hold such in fear. Yet it seemed over long that I sat by that
dark water and whispering reeds, waiting, while I listened to the many
voices of the night, near and far.
"Greeting, Untuswa!"
The words seemed to come out of nowhere. Quickly I looked up, but the
voice was not that of Lalusini! Then I made out a dark shape--a very
shadow.
"Follow now, holder of the White Shield," it said, and immediately began
to move away.
The voice was that of a woman--soft and pleasing. Keeping the shadow in
view, yet warily, I moved forward. Beneath the heavy gloom of trees
overhanging the river bank we moved, and I had quite lost to view my
guide, but at such times her voice would lead me; and at last I found
she had halted at the entrance to a great rift like unto that wherein I
had hid what time Jambula was surprised by the _impi_ in search of me.
My guide signed me to follow, and lo! we were threading our way in
darkness between two great walls of earth. Then a light shone dully
forth, and there, in a cave formed by the closing of the earth walls
overhead, I beheld a fire.
"Advance now, induna of another King," said the voice of my guide, "for
my errand is done."
Even as I looked round for her she had disappeared. But raising my eyes
to the lighted space in front I beheld that which made me forget all
else, for before me stood Lalusini.
In the circle of firelight there she stood, a smile of welcome wreathing
her lips, her splendid form erect and tall as when I last saw it
standing to watch me out of sight what time I had started for the Valley
of the Red Death. There she stood, her hands extended towards me.
"Welcome, Untuswa," she said. "Thus do we meet once more."
No words did I utter, _Nkose_. I sprang to her side and we embraced
long and warmly. Then we sat down to talk, for we had much to say.
"Welcome, Untuswa," she repeated, still holding my hands. "Welcome,
thou great brave one who would have slain a King who knew not how to
keep faith."
"Ha! But how didst thou know?" I cried in amazement.
"What do I not know? Tell me that," she said, smiling at me. "Listen;
I saw the midnight struggle in the `great hut' of the _isigodhlo_. I
saw the dark way along the cliffs of the Inkume. Was not my _muti_ in
the buck with its fawn that saved thee from the pursuing _impi_ by
showing no alarm, even as the _muti_ upon thy neck saved thee when
Umzilikazi lay prone and stupified?"
"_E-he_! but that is indeed so. And it was thy _muti_ which saved me
from the hatred of Tambusa and Tola but a few days since," I answered.
"But, tell me now, Lalusini, was not that tale true which was told me by
old Gegesa?"
"It was true so far as she knew. Ha! when Umzilikazi's slaying dogs
came to hale me forth in the black night, I laughed to myself, for I
knew I had that by which the alligators should not harm me. I leaped
into the dreadful pool where so many have died--and--came out quietly on
the other side what time those dogs returned to report to Umzilikazi
that the sorceress he hated would trouble him no more; but perhaps in
that they lied--ah, ah, Untuswa, perhaps they lied! Not for nothing did
that Great One from whom I sprung cause me to be taught the deepest
mysteries of the magic of the wise. And thyself, Untuswa, through many
wanderings earnest thou here?"
"_Whau_! Not to thee need I tell of my wanderings, Lalusini, thou to
whom all things are known." I said.
"And I think among such things are all thy wanderings," she laughed.
"Thou camest here to deliver the Amandebeli into the hand of Dingane."
"That is so, Lalusini; and for thy death the whole House of Matyobane
should have died a thousand deaths. And now?"
"And now? We will see what the future may unfold."
Thus we sat and talked on far into the night, and many a question did I
put to Talumni concerning her own wanderings, and how she had first
appeared at Nkunkundhlovu. I found she had been there before my own
arrival; but when I asked why she had taken another name, and whether
Dingane really believed the account she had given of herself, she said:
"I know not how clear of suspicion is the King's mind, but that it is
not entirely clear let this tell: Never once has the Great Great One
desired that I should become an inmate of the _isigodhlo_. Now
Dingane's love for handsome women is known to the whole nation, and I--
well I am not quite the least comely of my sex, Untuswa." This she said
with a playful smile. "Therefore it may be that he suspects something."
Then I told her about Tambusa, and how his enmity placed me in daily
peril. Her face clouded somewhat.
"We must suffer him for the present, Untuswa," she said. "He may be
necessary to me in my plans, and to compass his death would be to
jeopardise those plans. He and Umhlela are all powerful in the nation,
yet they must remain so for a little longer. Still, be wary and
cautious, for even the shield of my _muti_ may not always be broad
enough to shelter thee."
The night had fled as we sat thus together--yes, indeed, it had fled--
and now Lalusini bade me leave her and return, so that I might have time
to travel while it was yet dark, and mix with those who were about
outside of Nkunkundhlovu in the morning. This would be the easier, as
the morning would be a misty one, for which reason, indeed, she had
chosen this night for our meeting.
Thus we parted, and it was arranged that I should not seek her out again
until she sent me word, as before. She wanted for nothing--there were
those who supplied her wants, and her dwelling-place was safe and
secure. None dared invade it.
As once more I threaded my way along the river-bank in the darkness, I
sang softly to myself, not in fear, as many of our people do, to keep
away evil ghosts, but in joy. My beautiful sorceress wife! _Au_! Was
there ever another such?--and she seemed to have returned to me from the
dark deeps of the dead. But with my joy there mingled another thought.
The desire for vengeance seemed to have passed--the longing to deliver
my former nation over to the spears of Dingane seemed wondrously to have
diminished. I remembered old comradeship--and friends, many and brave,
who had charged with me in close and serried line, shoulder to shoulder,
in the lightning rush of our might as we hurled ourselves on the foe;
who had sprung forward with redoubled courage to the rallying wave of my
white shield; and now it seemed that I desired no longer the destruction
of these. With the recovery of Lalusini, my rancour against Umzilikazi
even seemed to melt away. But only to accomplish such destruction had I
been allowed to _konza_ to Dingane, wherefore now I was as one who is
jammed against a tree between the long horns of a fierce and savage
cow--he cannot remain thus for ever, and does he but move, why one horn
or the other must pierce him. Well, at present, with the Amabuna
threatening us, we had enough to take care of for some time to come.
Umzilikazi could not be attended to until afterwards.
While comforting myself with this thought, something happened. There
was a rustling in the grass, and a quick patter of feet. It was the
darkest hour of the night, namely, that which precedes the dawn; but my
eyes, well accustomed to the gloom, could distinguish the swift glide of
fleeing shapes--indeed, a frightened, snarling yelp arose, as one of the
shapes nearly came against me as I stood to listen. But they fled--
those wild creatures of the night--after the manner of beasts who
disperse when suddenly startled from their prey.
Then there came to my ears a low wail, as the moaning of a woman in
fear, or in pain, perhaps both.