UMSLOPOGAAS ANSWERS THE KING
Now the years went on, and this matter slept. Nothing more was heard of
it, but still it only slept; and, my father, I feared greatly for the
hour when it should awake. For the secret was known by two
women—Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, and Baleka, my sister, wife of the
king; and by two more—Macropha and Anadi, my wives—it was guessed at.
How, then, should it remain a secret forever? Moreover, it came about
that Unandi and Baleka could not restrain their fondness for this child
who was called my son and named Umslopogaas, but who was the son of
Chaka, the king, and of Baleka, and the grandson of Unandi. So it
happened that very often one or the other of them would come into my
hut, making pretence to visit my wives, and take the boy upon her lap
and fondle it. In vain did I pray them to forbear. Love pulled at their
heart-strings more heavily than my words, and still they came. This was
the end of it—that Chaka saw the child sitting on the knee of Unandi,
his mother.
“What does my mother with that brat of thine, Mopo?” he asked of me.
“Cannot she kiss me, if she will find a child to kiss?” And he laughed
like a wolf.
I said that I did not know, and the matter passed over for awhile. But
after that Chaka caused his mother to be watched. Now the boy
Umslopogaas grew great and strong; there was no such lad of his years
for a day’s journey round. But from a babe he was somewhat surly, of
few words, and like his father, Chaka, afraid of nothing. In all the
world there were but two people whom he loved—these were I, Mopo, who
was called his father, and Nada, she who was said to be his twin
sister.
Now it must be told of Nada that as the boy Umslopogaas was the
strongest and bravest of children, so the girl Nada was the gentlest
and most fair. Of a truth, my father, I believe that her blood was not
all Zulu, though this I cannot say for certain. At the least, her eyes
were softer and larger than those of our people, her hair longer and
less tightly curled, and her skin was lighter—more of the colour of
pure copper. These things she had from her mother, Macropha; though she
was fairer than Macropha—fairer, indeed, than any woman of my people
whom I have seen. Her mother, Macropha, my wife, was of Swazi blood,
and was brought to the king’s kraal with other captives after a raid,
and given to me as a wife by the king. It was said that she was the
daughter of a Swazi headman of the tribe of the Halakazi, and that she
was born of his wife is true, but whether he was her father I do not
know; for I have heard from the lips of Macropha herself, that before
she was born there was a white man staying at her father’s kraal. He
was a Portuguese from the coast, a handsome man, and skilled in the
working of iron. This white man loved the mother of my wife, Macropha,
and some held that Macropha was his daughter, and not that of the Swazi
headman. At least I know this, that before my wife’s birth the Swazi
killed the white man. But none can tell the truth of these matters, and
I only speak of them because the beauty of Nada was rather as is the
beauty of the white people than of ours, and this might well happen if
her grandfather chanced to be a white man.
Now Umslopogaas and Nada were always together. Together they ate,
together they slept and wandered; they thought one thought and spoke
with one tongue. _Ou!_ it was pretty to see them! Twice while they were
still children did Umslopogaas save the life of Nada.
The first time it came about thus. The two children had wandered far
from the kraal, seeking certain berries that little ones love. On they
wandered and on, singing as they went, till at length they found the
berries, and ate heartily. Then it was near sundown, and when they had
eaten they fell asleep. In the night they woke to find a great wind
blowing and a cold rain falling on them, for it was the beginning of
winter, when fruits are ripe.
“Up, Nada!” said Umslopogaas, “we must seek the kraal or the cold will
kill us.”
So Nada rose, frightened, and hand in hand they stumbled through the
darkness. But in the wind and the night they lost their path, and when
at length the dawn came they were in a forest that was strange to them.
They rested awhile, and finding berries ate them, then walked again.
All that day they wandered, till at last the night came down, and they
plucked branches of trees and piled the branches over them for warmth,
and they were so weary that they fell asleep in each other’s arms. At
dawn they rose, but now they were very tired and berries were few, so
that by midday they were spent. Then they lay down on the side of a
steep hill, and Nada laid her head upon the breast of Umslopogaas.
“Here let us die, my brother,” she said.
But even then the boy had a great spirit, and he answered, “Time to
die, sister, when Death chooses us. See, now! Do you rest here, and I
will climb the hill and look across the forest.”
So he left her and climbed the hill, and on its side he found many
berries and a root that is good for food, and filled himself with them.
At length he came to the crest of the hill and looked out across the
sea of green. Lo! there, far away to the east, he saw a line of white
that lay like smoke against the black surface of a cliff, and knew it
for the waterfall beyond the royal town. Then he came down the hill,
shouting for joy and bearing roots and berries in his hand. But when he
reached the spot where Nada was, he found that her senses had left her
through hunger, cold, and weariness. She lay upon the ground like one
asleep, and over her stood a jackal that fled as he drew nigh. Now it
would seem that there were but two shoots to the stick of Umslopogaas.
One was to save himself, and the other to lie down and die by Nada. Yet
he found a third, for, undoing the strips of his moocha, he made ropes
of them, and with the ropes he bound Nada on his back and started for
the king’s kraal. He could never have reached it, for the way was long,
yet at evening some messengers running through the forest came upon a
naked lad with a girl bound to his back and a staff in his hand, who
staggered along slowly with starting eyes and foam upon his lips. He
could not speak, he was so weary, and the ropes had cut through the
skin of his shoulders; yet one of the messengers knew him for
Umslopogaas, the son of Mopo, and they bore him to the kraal. They
would have left the girl Nada, thinking her dead, but he pointed to her
breast, and, feeling it, they found that her heart still beat, so they
brought her also; and the end of it was that both recovered and loved
each other more than ever before.
Now after this, I, Mopo, bade Umslopogaas stay at home within the
kraal, and not lead his sister to the wilds. But the boy loved roaming
like a fox, and where he went there Nada followed. So it came about
that one day they slipped from the kraal when the gates were open, and
sought out a certain deep glen which had an evil name, for it was said
that spirits haunted it and put those to death who entered there.
Whether this was true I do not know, but I know that in the glen dwelt
a certain woman of the woods, who had her habitation in a cave and
lived upon what she could kill or steal or dig up with her hands. Now
this woman was mad. For it had chanced that her husband had been “smelt
out” by the witch-doctors as a worker of magic against the king, and
slain. Then Chaka, according to custom, despatched the slayers to eat
up his kraal, and they came to the kraal and killed his people. Last of
all they killed his children, three young girls, and would have
assegaied their mother, when suddenly a spirit entered into her at the
sight, and she went mad, so that they let her go, being afraid to touch
her afterwards. So she fled and took up her abode in the haunted glen;
and this was the nature of her madness, that whenever she saw children,
and more especially girl children, a longing came upon her to kill them
as her own had been killed. This, indeed, she did often, for when the
moon was full and her madness at its highest, she would travel far to
find children, snatching them away from the kraals like a hyena. Still,
none would touch her because of the spirit in her, not even those whose
children she had murdered.
So Umslopogaas and Nada came to the glen where the child-slayer lived,
and sat down by a pool of water not far from the mouth of her cave,
weaving flowers into a garland. Presently Umslopogaas left Nada, to
search for rock lilies which she loved. As he went he called back to
her, and his voice awoke the woman who was sleeping in her cave, for
she came out by night only, like a jackal. Then the woman stepped
forth, smelling blood and having a spear in her hand. Presently she saw
Nada seated upon the grass weaving flowers, and crept towards her to
kill her. Now as she came—so the child told me—suddenly a cold wind
seemed to breathe upon Nada, and fear took hold of her, though she did
not see the woman who would murder her. She let fall the flowers, and
looked before her into the pool, and there, mirrored in the pool, she
saw the greedy face of the child-slayer, who crept down upon her from
above, her hair hanging about her brow and her eyes shining like the
eyes of a lion.
Then with a cry Nada sprang up and fled along the path which
Umslopogaas had taken, and after her leapt and ran the mad woman.
Umslopogaas heard her cry. He turned and rushed back over the brow of
the hill, and, lo! there before him was the murderess. Already she had
grasped Nada by the hair, already her spear was lifted to pierce her.
Umslopogaas had no spear, he had nothing but a little stick without a
knob; yet with it he rushed at the mad woman and struck her so smartly
on the arm that she let go of the girl and turned on him with a yell.
Then, lifting her spear, she struck at him, but he leapt aside. Again
she struck; but he sprang into the air, and the spear passed beneath
him. A third time the woman struck, and, though he fell to earth to
avoid the blow, yet the assegai pierced his shoulder. But the weight of
his body as he fell twisted it from her hand, and before she could
grasp him he was up, and beyond her reach, the spear still fast in his
shoulder.
Then the woman turned, screaming with rage and madness, and ran at Nada
to kill her with her hands. But Umslopogaas set his teeth, and, drawing
the spear from his wound, charged her, shouting. She lifted a great
stone and hurled it at him—so hard that it flew into fragments against
another stone which it struck; yet he charged on, and smote at her so
truly that he drove the spear through her, and she fell down dead.
After that Nada bound up his wound, which was deep, and with much pain
he reached the king’s kraal and told me this story.
Now there were some who cried that the boy must be put to death,
because he had killed one possessed with a spirit. But I said no, he
should not be touched. He had killed the woman in defence of his own
life and the life of his sister; and every one had a right to slay in
self-defence, except as against the king or those who did the king’s
bidding. Moreover, I said, if the woman had a spirit, it was an evil
one, for no good spirit would ask the lives of children, but rather
those of cattle, for it is against our custom to sacrifice human beings
to the _Amatonga_ even in war, though the Basuta dogs do so. Still, the
tumult grew, for the witch-doctors were set upon the boy’s death,
saying that evil would come of it if he was allowed to live, having
killed one inspired, and at last the matter came to the ears of the
king. Then Chaka summoned me and the boy before him, and he also
summoned the witch-doctors.
First, the witch-doctors set out their case, demanding the death of
Umslopogaas. Chaka asked them what would happen if the boy was not
killed. They answered that the spirit of the dead woman would lead him
to bring evil on the royal house. Chaka asked if he would bring evil on
him, the king. They in turn asked the spirits, and answered no, not on
him, but on one of the royal house who should be after him. Chaka said
that he cared nothing what happened to those who came after him, or
whether good or evil befell them. Then he spoke to Umslopogaas, who
looked him boldly in the face, as an equal looks at an equal.
“Boy,” he said, “what hast thou to say as to why thou shouldst not be
killed as these men demand?”
“This, Black One,” answered Umslopogaas; “that I stabbed the woman in
defence of my own life.”
“That is nothing,” said Chaka. “If I, the king, wished to kill thee,
mightest thou therefore kill me or those whom I sent? The _Itongo_ in
the woman was a Spirit King and ordered her to kill thee; thou shouldst
then have let thyself be killed. Hast thou no other reason?”
“This, Elephant,” answered Umslopogaas; “the woman would have murdered
my sister, whom I love better than my life.”
“That is nothing,” said Chaka. “If I ordered thee to be killed for any
cause, should I not also order all within thy gates to be killed with
thee? May not, then, a Spirit King do likewise? If thou hast nothing
more to say thou must die.”
Now I grew afraid, for I feared lest Chaka should slay him who was
called my son because of the word of the doctors. But the boy
Umslopogaas looked up and answered boldly, not as one who pleads for
his life, but as one who demands a right:—
“I have this to say, Eater-up of Enemies, and if it is not enough, let
us stop talking, and let me be killed. Thou, O king, didst command that
this woman should be slain. Those whom thou didst send to destroy her
spared her, because they thought her mad. I have carried out the
commandment of the king; I have slain her, mad or sane, whom the king
commanded should be killed, and I have earned not death, but a reward.”
“Well said, Umslopogaas!” answered Chaka. “Let ten head of cattle be
given to this boy with the heart of a man; his father shall guard them
for him. Art thou satisfied now, Umslopogaas?”
“I take that which is due to me, and I thank the king because he need
not pay unless he will,” Umslopogaas answered.
Chaka stared awhile, began to grow angry, then burst out laughing.
“Why, this calf is such another one as was dropped long ago in the
kraal of Senzangacona!” he said. “As I was, so is this boy. Go on, lad,
in that path, and thou mayst find those who shall cry the royal salute
of _Bayéte_ to thee at the end of it. Only keep out of my way, for two
of a kind might not agree. Now begone!”
So we went out, but as we passed them I saw the doctors muttering
together, for they were ill-pleased and foreboded evil. Also they were
jealous of me, and wished to smite me through the heart of him who was
called my son.