"What do I see? Untuswa, the wanderer? Untuswa, who fled from the
north to _konza_ to another King? Ha! Greeting, Untuswa, for it seems
long since we have beheld thee."
So spake Dingane, softly, flatteringly, even as Umzilikazi was wont to
do what time the stake or the alligators were preparing for somebody,
and I indeed felt dead already.
"And these," went on the King, bending his stern gaze upon my following.
"A warrior-like band indeed, and it seems a pity to slay such, yet must
they all die."
This he said almost to himself, else had the slayers been at work
already. And I--the boldness of desperation came into me then.
"We are the King's cattle," I said. "We are here to place our lives
beneath the foot of the Elephant. Yet, O Ruler of the World, there are
some who should taste the goring of our horns. We are the King's
fighting-bulls. And, Great Great One, suffer us ere we die to spill
once more the blood of the King's enemies."
"Yet, Untuswa, it sometimes happens that fighting-bulls, growing mad,
turn and gore their owners. They had better have been slain first,"
said Dingane, with dark suspicion in his tone.
Now I saw what was to be done, though I hardly knew what to say.
"I would ask the Great Great One wherefore these are here at all, but
that they may drink the blood of the King's enemies?" I urged, amazed
at my own boldness. "Were they here for any other purpose, why then
they were already dead, Father of the Wise. _Au_! they seek but to die
in the ranks of those who fight. That is all, Calf of a Black Bull."
And they on whose behalf I spoke uttered a great murmur of assent,
together with words of _bonga_ and the King's titles.
Then I saw Dingane whisper to one who sat near him, and this one
retired. _Whau_! that was a moment. We who sat there seemed already
dead. Around crouched the two immense half circles of armed warriors,
their shields lying on the ground before them--all in dead silence--and
in his great chair made out of the carved trunk of a tree, the great
white shield held aloft at the back of his head, the King sat, silent,
stern, gloomy looking. His attitude was that of one who waited. Waited
for what? For the carrying out of his order decreeing, our death?
Then some new event was astir. There stood before the King a woman.
Now my followers dared to breathe again, and the sound went up from
every chest like a sob of relief. And seeing who the woman was, my own
relief became greater still, for she was my sorceress-wife.
"Hearken, Mahlula," said the King. "See you these?"
"I see them, Great Great One," she answered, sweeping a majestic glance
over us. "They are those known as the Bapongqolo. They are here to lay
their lives beneath the foot of the Elephant, and to crave the right to
die fighting for him."
"And how dost thou know that, my sister?" said Dingane suspiciously.
"It is easily known, Father of the Wise, and that not even by my
_muti_," she answered. "There are many among them known by name, and
all have the look of forest-dwellers. And he at their head, look at
him."
"Ha! And is it for good or for ill that they are here?"
"For good, Ruler of the Great. For these are fine wielders of the
spear. And they are many," she answered.
"That is well," said Dingane. "You wanderers, I give you your lives.
You shall join these lion-cubs, and plenty of prey lies awaiting your
teeth."
For some moments, _Nkose_, the roar that went up from all men's throats
would seem about to split the world, for to the praises rolled forth
from those who were thus spared was added the _bonga_ of the whole army.
"Now talk we of Untuswa," said the King, when this had quieted down.
"There is that about him which I like not entirely. What of him,
Mahlula?"
She looked at me long and earnestly, as though she had never seen me
before, but in her sweet eyes I read hope and courage. Then she said:
"I think he is a born leader of warriors, Great Great One."
"Ha! Now shalt thou have a chance of showing thy powers, Mahlula," said
the King. "Thou, Untuswa," pointing at me with his assegai, "shalt also
be put to the proof. I name these the Bapongqolo, and of this regiment
I create thee _induna_, for I have not yet known the predictions of
Mahlula to prove false. Retire now with thy men and form them up among
those yonder."
They who had custodied us now fell back, and as we all gathered up our
weapons again we thundered forth the war-song of Dingane. Then, when we
had formed up at the place pointed out to as, in truth it seemed that
the army had received a most valuable addition in ourselves. Then
dancing was ordered, and the slaughter of cattle, and there was much
feasting.
Now during an earlier part of the war the Amabuna had sent messages to
Dingane proposing peace, and to such the King had listened. Trouble was
threatening at home, for Mpande, the brother of Dingane, was still
plotting, and had by now collected a considerable following. Further,
the Amabuna were increasing in strength, numbers having crossed the
mountains to join them; moreover, several of the tribes who did _konza_
to the royal House had forgotten their tribute, sheltering themselves
behind the Amabuna. So Dingane had listened to the peace proposals of
the Amabuna, and had agreed to pay nearly twenty thousand cattle, and to
return the guns and horses taken at Nkunkundhlovu. For a space then
there was peace. The Amabuna did not even want the cattle just then;
they would rather we should herd them for the time being. So far good.
But one day there came news. Mpande had crossed the Tugela and had fled
to the Amabuna, declaring that he feared for his life. _Au_! and long
since he would have owned no life to fear for, had the King but listened
to the counsels of Tambusa, who would have caused him to be slain. But
it was too late now, and already Dingane had reason to repent him of his
mercy, for now that Mpande had promised them to divide the nation the
Amabuna, ignoring all former promises and arrangements, sent word to
Dingane demanding from him double the number of cattle at first agreed
upon, and without even awaiting his reply they prepared to advance upon
Nkunkundhlovu.
Not for nothing had Mpande plotted. He had gained over to his cause
Nongalaza, an induna of importance. Nongalaza was old, and suffered
from swollen limbs; but he was a skilled and courageous commander, and
he took with him to the side of Mpande and the Amabuna the strength of
four full regiments.
Now Dingane sent an embassy to the leaders of the Amabuna, and the
induna he chose as his "mouth" was Tambusa. He had better have chosen
some other messenger--better for Tambusa, but not better for me,
_Nkose_, for it was during Tambusa's absence that I and the Bapongqolo
arrived to place our lives in the hand of the King.
This, then, is what was happening at that time within the camp of the
Amabuna, and the tale I have from the mouths of several among those who
had fled with Mpande and who witnessed that which was now done.
Tambusa entered the camp of the Amabuna attended by Nkombazana, one of
his own followers. He was received but coldly by the Amabuna. Why had
they broken faith with the Great Great One who sits at Nkunkundhlovu? he
asked. They had demanded twice the number of cattle at first agreed
upon. They were preparing to invade the country, and had declared their
intention of setting up Mpande as King, having deposed Dingane. Who
were they who took to themselves the right to make and unmake Kings for
the Zulu nation? asked Tambusa, proud and defiant. Dingane was King of
the Zulu nation, and as King he would live and die.
"Ah! die perhaps, that is right," said one of the Amabuna, with an evil
laugh.
"A King of the Amazulu does not die of words nor of fear," replied
Tambusa, fiercely scornful. "Yet hearken to my message, even the `word'
of the Great Great One, whose mouth I am. Thus he speaks: `We made an
agreement, have I not kept it? I have returned the guns and horses I
promised; I have sent in part of the cattle I promised, I would have
sent in all, but you preferred to leave the remainder with me for the
present. Well, it is there, send and take it, or shall I send it in?
Now you demand twice the number, and this I do not understand. Now you
prepare to invade us in armed force, and threaten to make Mpande King in
my place. This also I do not understand, and have sent my induna,
Tambusa, as my "mouth" to say so. He is also my "ears," and will listen
to and bring back your words to me.' Thus spoke the Great Great One by
whose light we live."
"Ha! The Great Great One by whose light we live!" jeered some of the
Amabuna. "A Great Great murderer, who shall soon die."
To this Tambusa made no reply. His head was proudly erect, on his face
a sneer of hate and scorn such as he could hardly conceal. Then the
chief of the Amabuna spoke:
"To you we have nothing to say. To your captain"--for so he designated
the King--"we have nothing to say. When the time comes we shall act,
and come it will, very soon."
"We, too, know how to act," answered Tambusa. "_Hlalani gahle_! I
retire."
He turned to leave--turned, to find a line of guns pointed full upon him
at but a few paces distant.
"Halt--Kafir!"
The tone, the insult, the scowl on the shaggy faces which glared at him
from under their wide-brimmed hats, roused all the savage fighting blood
in Tambusa, and those who beheld him say that the great veins in his
forehead swelled until they seemed about to burst with the pressure of
his head-ring. "Kafir!" Thus these refuse whites dared to address the
chief induna of the royal race of Zulu, second only in greatness to the
King himself! But he was helpless, for, as a peace ambassador, he had
of course been obliged to lay down his arms on entering the camp.
Now he turned to the leaders of the Amabuna, who were talking with their
heads together.
"See you this?" he said, waving his hand towards the line of men who
stood threatening him with their guns. "See you this? I, a peace
messenger, am insulted and threatened. I, a peace messenger, am
detained, when I would depart as I came. In truth, it is not good to
trust to the good faith of the Amabuna."
"In truth it is not good to trust to the good faith of the Amazulu,"
answered the leader sternly. "Say, were not our people peace
messengers--our people whose bones lie outside Nkunkundhlovu--who
trusted in the good faith of that murderer, your chief?"
"Ha! But you? You are a holy people--a people of God, you told the
King. We are only poor, ignorant black people," said Tambusa, taunting
them, in his scornful wrath.
"But there is a God of justice," quickly replied the leader, "and He has
delivered you into our hands to be dealt with as one of the chief
murderers of our people. The others He will deliver to us in time. But
enough of that. This is the matter now. The treacherous and cruel
murder of our people at Nkunkundhlovu was counselled by you, Tambusa.
By you it was planned and arranged, by your orders it was carried out.
What have you to say?"
"That is not the matter about which I am here," replied the induna. "If
ye would have me answer on that matter, ye should have sent men to bring
me here, if they could have done it. It is a matter as to which now I
will say no word."
"That is perhaps as well," answered the leader, "for here we have enough
to prove your guilt over and over again." And with the words Tambusa
saw the trap into which he had walked. Mpande had denounced him to the
Amabuna--Mpande, whose death he had repeatedly counselled. He was as
good as dead. Yet he only smiled, rearing his tall and stately form to
its full height, and the smile was one of hatred and scorn and contempt.
But so deeply did it sting those Amabuna that they broke forth into
curses, and some of them, rising from their seats, shook their fists in
his face, crowding around him, and fairly howling with rage, all talking
at once as they heaped every abusive name upon him, the King and the
whole Zulu race. But the smile of contempt and scorn only deepened on
the face of Tambusa as he stood therein his great stature like some
mighty tree, while they snarled and leaped around him like jackals. At
last he who sat at the head of the council succeeded in quieting them.
"Then you have nothing to say--no reason to urge why the punishment of
death should not be dealt out to you?" said this man, speaking solemnly.
"There may be others, perhaps--others more guilty than yourself. If
there is anything you can tell us--"
But here he stopped, for Tambusa had interrupted him by a loud, harsh
laugh, so fierce that it sounded like a war-cry.
"Others? Anything I can tell you?" he repeated, with a very roar. "I,
an induna of the right hand of the Great King, to give _you_
information! _Whau_! ye must be madmen. Not to save a hundred lives
would I give you information as to even the youngest boy just enrolled
among those who bear shields. Do I fear death--I, Tambusa? Why, I
stare it in the face every day. And I think, _Ntshwai-ntshwai_, when
death has been the game some of you must have seen my face before."
[Ntshwai-ntshwai. A nickname bestowed upon the Boers by the Zulus,
being in fact an imitation of the swishing sound of their wide leather
breeches as they moved.]
"He confesses!" cried those standing around. "Enough--enough. Let him
be shot."
The leader of the council, having obtained silence, spoke:
"On your own showing, Tambusa, you are guilty of counselling and
planning the cruel and treacherous murder of our brothers at
Nkunkundhlovu while they were at that place by the invitation of the
King and Zulu nation. They were set upon and slain in cold blood while
partaking of Zulu hospitality; and for your share in this unprovoked and
abominable massacre this council adjudges you, Tambusa, to suffer death;
and that, in execution of this sentence, you be taken outside the camp
and forthwith shot."
There was a deep silence as the leader ceased speaking. It was broken
by the voice of Tambusa:
"I, too, have something to say."
All started. Would this braggart, they thought, turn coward, and
endeavour at the last moment to save his life? Ah, they little knew.
"Speak, then," said the leader. "But let it be brief."
"This boy," said Tambusa, with a wave of the hand towards Nkombazana,
who squatted a little distance off. "He has slain no Amabuna. Let him
go home."
No reply was made at first, and the Amabuna looked at each other. But
Nkombazana, who had heard all, now sprang to his feet. He to go home,
when his father and chief was to die here? No, no! Then, with flashing
eyes, he began bellowing out the number of Amabuna he had slain. Why,
he had helped to batter out the brains of that very party, and had
ripped up white women with his own spear what time we rushed the waggon
camp. If his chief was to die, he would die with him. A warrior must
follow his chief everywhere.
Well, he obtained his wish. The leaders would have spared him at first,
but when they heard him glorying in the slaughter of their countrymen--
and countrywomen, too--they soon desisted in their attempts, and the
Amabuna at large howled for his blood.
So Tambusa and his young follower were ordered to proceed in the midst
of their armed guard to the outskirts of the camp to meet their death.
No further word did Tambusa speak, save one of commendation of the
bravery shown by his follower. He strode forth in the midst of his
guard, his head thrown back--his great stature and fearless countenance
worthy of a Zulu of the noblest rank and birth. When they ordered him
to halt he did so, and, facing round upon the line of levelled guns,
stood proudly, with folded arms, his young follower standing equally
fearless at his side. A line of flame shot forth, and a rolling crash.
Tambusa and Nkombazana sunk quietly to the ground, pierced by many
bullets, dying without a struggle.
Such, then, was the end of Tambusa, and although, _Nkose_, I had no
liking for him nor he for me--indeed, had he lived he would ever have
been my bitterest enemy--yet his end was that of a brave man, and in
every way worthy of an induna of the Zulu nation who sat at the right
hand of the King.