"Sit here, Untuswa," he said, pointing to the ground at his feet. "This
is thy place. For the rest they can still remain at a distance."
So I sat, _Nkose_, thinking how strange it was that I, who had begun my
life as the son of an induna, should live to become the principal
fighting chief of Umzilikazi's army, and then come to earn the
confidence of the Great Great One, the King of the mighty Zulu nation--
should be bidden to sit near him while all others were kept at a
distance--should live to become the most trusted councillor of two
mighty Kings; for such I saw was the honour before me now.
Then Dingane, lifting up his voice, addressed the warriors. For the
battle against Mpande's force he commended them greatly. Their bravery
was worthy of all praise, and not for lack of it on their part had
Nongalaza won the day, having done so by a mere trick--a clever trick,
it was true. But when they fled their terror had been too great. They
had forgotten their King. One man alone had cleaved to the King, and
that man was Untuswa--a wanderer--not even one of themselves. Still,
remembering how valiantly they had fought, remembering how speedily they
had returned to their rightful place, he would forget that.
The groans wherewith the listeners had heard his reproaches now turned
to murmurs of delight. Dingane went on:
The nation was divided, but it must be reunited once more. With such as
they whom he saw before him this might soon be done. Men of the pure
blood of Zulu could not sit down for long beneath the sway of one who
was a mere slave of the Amabuna. They would return--return to the
strength and root of the great Zulu power, their rightful King. But
those who had remained faithful would ever be held in the highest
honour.
As the Great One finished speaking, a mighty roar went up from the
assembled warriors. They hailed him as their guide, their father, their
deliverer, and by every title of _bonga_. Then much time was given up
to songs and dances, for all rejoiced that they were no longer a broken
remnant, and that the King was at their head once more.
The plan which Dingane now decided on was a waiting one. He relied on
desertions from Mpande, whom we now learned by means of our spies had
been placed by the Amabuna in his seat, who now reigned King. _Whau_!
was ever such a thing heard of? A King of the Amazulu, the conquerors
of the world, holding his seat by favour of white people--and such white
people! But it could not last--no, it could not last. The heavens
might well fell.
We moved down to a more accessible site in the Ngome wilds, and there
kraals were erected, and time was bestowed upon gathering together such
of the nation as remained faithful, and encouraging others to come in.
Meanwhile a careful look-out was kept upon a possible invasion; but
Mpande, who seemed not to care about venturing beyond the Tugela, made
no hostile movement, neither did the Amabuna, and for a time we enjoyed
rest and a breathing-space while our plans were maturing.
I, for my part, was now advanced to a position of great honour, not less
indeed than that formerly held by Tambusa himself. That induna was now
dead; so too was Umhlela, as I have told you, _Nkose_; and such of my
enemies who survived had but one fear now, and that was lest I might
turn my greatness to account in compassing their destruction. But of
this I had no thought, so completely was my mind full of how to restore
the ascendency of Dingane and the might of the nation.
All this while I saw nothing of Lalusini, nor by the most deftly veiled
questionings could I obtain tidings of her from any. Whither had she
gone? Would she not reappear as she had done before? And for all my
greatness my heart was sore--very sore, as I thought of her and longed
for her; yet never for a moment did I repent me that I had not slain the
King at her bidding.
Now Dingane had built for himself a great kraal on one of the wildest
slopes of the Ngome hills. It was surrounded by dense forests and rocks
and precipices, and the ways of approach being but few, and always
securely guarded, the King felt safe from all possibility of attack.
But shortly an alarm was given. _Impis_ from Mpande were reported
near--not to attack us, for they were not large enough--but as spies.
So the King sent forth two regiments under Silwane to cut them off, if
possible, so that, finding themselves surrounded, they would accept the
offer of their lives, and return to their allegiance. I, however, was
not sent out.
_Whau, Nkose_! Well do I remember that evening. The sun had gone down
in a mass of heavy cloud, and in the red glow that remained an awful and
brooding silence rested upon the surrounding forests. Then it grew
dark, and, after we had eaten, the King and I sat long into the night
conversing, and upon him seemed to lie that gloom which had darkened his
mind when he and I together had been fugitives and in hiding. But I
strove to cheer him, and our conversation being ended he dismissed me,
and retired within the _isigodhlo_.
I, too, retired to rest. For long I lay thinking, not able to sleep;
then I dozed off and dreamed. It seemed to me that once more I was back
at Kwa'zingwenya. Once more, my heart full of rage over the
disappearance of Lalusini, I was creeping stealthily to slay Umzilikazi
in his sleep. Once more I sprang upon him, spear uplifted. Once more I
heard the shouts of his bodyguard, as they swarmed to his aid. Then I
awoke--awoke suddenly, and with a start. Ha! the shouts were real--I
was not dreaming now--and with them I heard the hurried tramp of rushing
feet go by my hut.
Those were times for quick thought--for quick action. In a moment I was
outside the hut, fully armed, listening. Ha! The tumult, the shouting
and tramp of feet! It came from the _isigodhlo_.
Thither I sprang. I could see the King's body-guard there before me,
for the moon was up; could see the flash of spears, the sheen of white
shields. Several dark bodies lay upon the ground, and at these they
were stabbing and hacking. Just as I came up another was dragged forth
by the heels and cut to pieces there and then.
The King had been stabbed. Such was the news now spoken in awed
whispers. But, who were these? Emissaries of Mpande? No. By their
head-rings and ornaments they were not of us. They were Amaswazi.
Quickly I took in what had happened. There was the hole in the fence
through which these had crept. Even as I had stolen upon Umzilikazi so
had these stolen upon Dingane, but with better effect.
Howls of horror over the deed went up from all. By this time the whole
kraal was aroused, and such few as were left in it came flocking out.
But I, being in great authority, quelled the tumult.
"How happened it?" I asked.
"Thus, father," replied the captain of the King's guard, a young man,
but just ringed. "Yonder crept these scorpions," pointing to the hole I
had already observed, "and struck the Great Great One in his sleep. But
now are they all dead, we have made an end of them."
"It were better to have prevented the deed, Sodosi," I said severely.
"Yet `all' didst thou say? Wait! Follow me. I need but three or
four."
With this number I crept through the hole, and as we did so, there
sprang up suddenly in the darkness under the shade of the fence two men,
making for the forest edge as hard as they could run. But I could run,
too, in those days, _Nkose_, and one of them as he reached it fell dead
with the blade of my assegai driven right through his back. The other
was attacked by my followers, and from the sounds of the struggle I
judged that he was fighting well and desperately. But they could take
care of him. I had another matter to attend to.
For in the gloom just in front of me I could hear a faint and stealthy
rustle, and towards it I moved, silently and swiftly, listening the
while lest I might be drawn into a trap. No! It was but one man. I
could see a form, dark and tall, moving from tree to tree, but it seemed
as though I would never come within striking distance. I was now far
beyond my followers, but I felt somehow that the capture of this one
fugitive was to be desired more than the deaths of all the others put
together.
Still this figure eluded me, now showing for a moment in the moonlight,
now vanishing in the shade. Here at last was an open space and the
runaway could not diverge. One final effort, a mighty rush, and I was
upon him.
"Yield now," I roared, raising my bloodstained spear. "Yield or I
cleave thee to the heart."
"As thou wouldst have done Tola," said a soft voice; and then I stood
staring. The tall figure of the fugitive had halted, and, turned
towards me, under the full light of the moon, I beheld the face of
Lalusini.
"What hast thou done, woman?" I stammered, feeling bewitched.
"The stroke of Sopuza has fallen," she answered simply. "The spirit of
Tshaka the Mighty no longer roars aloud for blood. What then?"
"What then?" I repeated, now quite bewildered. "What then?"
But Lalasini laughed, a low, sweet, bewitching laugh.
"Art thou going to deliver me to be torn in pieces by the cubs of the
Lion who is dead, Untuswa?"
For some moments I gazed at her as though I were changed into a stone.
Then I turned away.
"_Hlala gahle_, Lalusini," I said, over my shoulder. Again she laughed.
"_Hamba gahle_, son of Ntelani," she said. "We shall again be together,
but not great together--not great--ah, no!--never now."
Her words seemed to beat within my brain as I took my way backward
through the forest, and there was that in them which I liked. No, in
truth I could not deliver her over to vengeance; any other person--but
Lalusini--ah, no! I could not do it.
"The stroke of Sopuza" had indeed fallen, and these, _Nkose_, were the
words of a prophecy uttered long before by an old magician as to the
manner in which death should one day find out Dingane, and for this
reason fierce war had been waged upon the tribe which owned Sopuza for
chief, and whose dwelling was upon the Swazi border. But, secure in its
mountain fastnesses, our _impis_ had not always been able to reach it.
Quickly I took my way back to the kraal. The King was not dead, and had
been inquiring for me; and when I entered the royal house, he spoke
drowsily, calling me by name. I found that he had received several
stabs, one of them cleaving his entrails in a frightful manner. He
would hardly see the rising of another sun.
"Hither, Untuswa," he murmured. "Didst thou make an end of those
scorpions?"
"An end, indeed, Black Elephant," I answered.
"All of them?"
"That is yet to be done, father. There will shortly be howling
throughout the Swazi nation, for of that race are those who struck the
Great Great One."
"Yet I thought--or dreamed--that the hand of a woman was in it," said
the King.
"Ha! the women of the Amaswazi shall help to pay the penalty, then," I
answered, fearful lest the Great Great One should have recognised
Lalusini, whom I would fain save.
"No matter, the stroke of Sopuza has fallen--ah, yes, it has fallen at
last," he murmured. "And now, Untuswa, send and gather together all the
warriors. Bid that they come in full array of war; for I desire to
feast my eyes upon the sight I have ever loved best."
"That I have already done, father."
"Thou art a very prince of indunas, Untuswa," replied Dingane. "Hast
thou gathered in all?"
"All, father. I have sent swift runners to Silwane's _impi_ and to all
our outlying kraals."
"That is well."
Now the _izanusi_ craved leave to enter, but Dingane would have none of
them. There was but one in whose magic he had any faith, he said, and
that was Mahlula; and since the battle Mahlula had been seen or heard of
by none. Ha! I could have revealed a strange tale, _Nkose_, but that
was furthest of all from my mind. Then the _izanusi_, thus refused
admittance, set up a doleful howling outside the hut, until Dingane,
wrathful, bade me go forth and drive them away, which I was glad to do.
All through the night I sat beside the King, never leaving him; all
through the night bands of warriors were arriving at the kraal, and the
tramp of their feet and the renewed wailings of the King's women in
their huts was all the sound that was heard; for men cared not to talk,
so great a mourning and grief had fallen upon all.
With the dawn of day Dingane aroused himself.
"I will go forth, Untuswa. Give me the aid of thy shoulder."
But even thus it was found that he could not walk, so I caused his chair
to be brought, and thus he was borne forth, I supporting him; but
although four stalwart warriors bent to the task, it was a hard one, for
the men of the House of Senzangakona are large beyond the ordinary, as
you know, _Nkose_.
Outside the kraal the warriors were mustered, squatting behind their
great war-shields, forming a huge half circle even as on the day when
they hailed the fugitive King in his place of concealment, only now
their number had nearly doubled. There they sat, rank upon rank,
motionless. As the King's chair was lowered to the ground the whole of
this dense mass of armed men threw their war-shields to the earth and
fell prostrate upon them, and in the roar of the "_Bayete_" which
thundered forth was a subdued growl of grief and wrath. Then they
arose, and squatted crouching as before.
The eyes of the dying King kindled, as he swept his glance over this
splendid army, and his form seemed to gather renewed life as he sat
upright in his chair, his shield-bearer holding on high the great white
shield behind him. Then he spoke:
"My children, I have called you here because I desire that the last
sight my eyes shall rest on shall be the sight which they have always
loved the most to behold, the sight of warriors under arms, of warriors
of Zulu.
"What prouder name has the world ever known? Warriors of Zulu! And
you--you, my children, have well deserved it and worthily won it. Not
in you was it to place your necks beneath the foot of any base slave of
the Amabuna, any cur who seeks to roar like the lion, any calf who would
fain stamp with the rumble of the elephant, any changeling bastard who
would drag the House of Senzangakona into the dust beneath the shoes of
the Amabuna. Not in you was it to do this. But you have faithfully
cleaved to your real King in shadow as in sunshine, and see now the
result. Look around on your own ranks. Very soon now should we have
gone forth, for not always was it my intention to sit down here and
rest. Then we would have swept the traitors of our own race and the
Amabuna into one common pit, and covered them up and stamped them in
there for ever.
"I cannot talk many more words to you, my children. But if you have
been loyal and faithful to me, your well-being has ever been my care as
your father, your brave deeds have ever been my pride as your King. The
nation has been divided, but I would have knit it together again. I
would have restored it through you, faithful ones, to all its former
greatness. But now I have to leave you. The base hand of evil wizardry
has found me in my sleep, has struck me down in the night, and now I go
into the Dark Unknown."
"_Ma-ye_!" moaned the warriors, their heads bowed in grief as Dingane
paused. Then, gathering once more fresh strength, with an effort the
dying King went on, and his voice rolled clear and strong like a call to
battle:
"Lo! I see not the end. I know not who shall reunite this people, who
shall deliver it from slavery and disgrace--extinction; for now I must
leave it. My eyes are dim and the Dark Unknown is closing in around me.
Yet still my last gaze is upon that sight which is the grandest the
world ever saw--the warriors of Zulu under arms. Farewell, warriors of
Zulu!"
The voice ceased. The head drooped forward on the chest. The great
form would have fallen prone from the chair but for those who stood by.
The King was dead.
Through the dense ranks there shivered forth one deep moan, and for long
no man stirred. All sat in silence, mourning thus the loss of their
father and King.
So died Dingane, the second of the mighty Kings of Zulu. Even as the
great Tshaka had died the death of the spear at his hand, so died he the
death of the spear, being struck in his sleep. But he died as he had
lived, and his was the death of a true warrior-king--his last gaze upon
the ranks of his assembled army--face to face with it--his last words to
it, words of commendation and loving farewell--and who shall say,
_Nkose_, that such was not a great and glorious death?