GALAZI BECOMES KING OF THE WOLVES
On the morrow Umslopogaas awoke, and knew that strength was growing on
him fast. Still, all that day he rested in the cave, while Galazi went
out to hunt. In the evening he returned, bearing a buck upon his
shoulders, and they skinned the buck and ate of it as they sat by the
fire. And when the sun was down Galazi took up his tale.
“Now Umslopogaas, son of Mopo, hear! I had passed the forest, and had
come, as it were, to the legs of the old stone Witch who sits up aloft
there forever waiting for the world to die. Here the sun shone merrily,
here lizards ran and birds flew to and fro, and though it grew towards
the evening—for I had wandered long in the forest—I was afraid no more.
So I climbed up the steep rock, where little bushes grow like hair on
the arms of a man, till at last I came to the knees of the stone Witch,
which are the space before the cave. I lifted my head over the brink of
the rock and looked, and I tell you, Umslopogaas, my blood ran cold and
my heart turned to water, for there, before the cave, rolled wolves,
many and great. Some slept and growled in their sleep, some gnawed at
the skulls of dead game, some sat up like dogs and their tongues hung
from their grinning jaws. I looked, I saw, and beyond I discovered the
mouth of the cave, where the bones of the boy should be. But I had no
wish to come there, being afraid of the wolves, for now I knew that
these were the ghosts who live upon the mountain. So I bethought me
that I would fly, and turned to go. And, Umslopogaas, even as I turned,
the great club Watcher of the Fords swung round and smote me on the
back with such a blow as a man smites upon a coward. Now whether this
was by chance or whether the Watcher would shame him who bore it, say
you, for I do not know. At the least, shame entered into me. Should I
go back to be mocked by the people of the kraal and by the old woman?
And if I wished to go, should I not be killed by the ghosts at night in
the forest? Nay, it was better to die in the jaws of the wolves, and at
once.
“Thus I thought in my heart; then, tarrying not, lest fear should come
upon me again, I swung up the Watcher, and crying aloud the war-cry of
the Halakazi, I sprang over the brink of the rock and rushed upon the
wolves. They, too, sprang up and stood howling, with bristling hides
and fiery eyes, and the smell of them came into my nostrils. Yet when
they saw it was a man that rushed upon them, they were seized with
sudden fear and fled this way and that, leaping by great bounds from
the place of rock, which is the knees of the stone Witch, so that
presently I stood alone in front of the cave. Now, having conquered the
wolf ghosts and no blow struck, my heart swelled within me, and I
walked to the mouth of the cave proudly, as a cock walks upon a roof,
and looked in through the opening. As it chanced, the sinking sun shone
at this hour full into the cave, so that all its darkness was made red
with light. Then, once more, Umslopogaas, I grew afraid indeed, for I
could see the end of the cave.
“Look now! There is a hole in the wall of the cave, where the firelight
falls below the shadow of the roof, twice the height of a man from the
floor. It is a narrow hole and a high, is it not?—as though one had cut
it with iron, and a man might sit in it, his legs hanging towards the
floor of the cave. Ay, Umslopogaas, a man might sit in it, might he
not? And there a man sat, or that which had been a man. There sat the
bones of a man, and the black skin had withered on his bones, holding
them together, and making him awful to see. His hands were open beside
him, he leaned upon them, and in the right hand was a piece of hide
from his moocha. It was half eaten, Umslopogaas; he had eaten it before
he died. His eyes also were bound round with a band of leather, as
though to hide something from their gaze, one foot was gone, one hung
over the edge of the niche towards the floor, and beneath it on the
floor, red with rust, lay the blade of a broken spear.
“Now come hither, Umslopogaas, place your hand upon the wall of the
cave, just here; it is smooth, is it not?—smooth as the stones on which
women grind their corn. ‘What made it so smooth?’ you ask. I will tell
you.
“When I peered through the door of the cave I saw this: on the floor of
the cave lay a she-wolf panting, as though she had galloped many a
mile; she was great and fierce. Near to her was another wolf—he was a
dog—old and black, bigger than any I have seen, a very father of
wolves, and all his head and flanks were streaked with grey. But this
wolf was on his feet. As I watched he drew back nearly to the mouth of
the cave, then of a sudden he ran forward and bounded high into the air
towards the withered foot of that which hung from the cleft of the
rock. His pads struck upon the rock here where it is smooth, and there
for a second he seemed to cling, while his great jaws closed with a
clash but a spear’s breadth beneath the dead man’s foot. Then he fell
back with a howl of rage, and drew slowly down the cave. Again he ran
and leaped, again the great jaws closed, again he fell down howling.
Then the she-wolf rose, and they sprang together, striving to pull down
him who sat above. But it was all in vain; they could never come nearer
than within a spear’s breadth of the dead man’s foot. And now,
Umslopogaas, you know why the rock is smooth and shines. From month to
month and year to year the wolves had ravened there, seeking to devour
the bones of him who sat above. Night upon night they had leaped thus
against the wall of the cave, but never might their clashing jaws close
upon his foot. One foot they had, indeed, but the other they could not
come by.
“Now as I watched, filled with fear and wonder, the she-wolf, her
tongue lolling from her jaws, made so mighty a bound that she almost
reached the hanging foot, and yet not quite. She fell back, and then I
saw that the leap was her last for that time, for she had oversprung
herself, and lay there howling, the black blood flowing from her mouth.
The wolf saw also: he drew near, sniffed at her, then, knowing that she
was hurt, seized her by the throat and worried her. Now all the place
was filled with groans and choking howls, as the wolves rolled over and
over beneath him who sat above, and in the blood-red light of the dying
sun the sight and sounds were so horrid that I trembled like a child.
The she-wolf grew faint, for the fangs of her mate were buried in her
throat. Then I saw that now was the time to smite him, lest when he had
killed her he should kill me also. So I lifted the Watcher and sprang
into the cave, having it in my mind to slay the wolf before he lifted
up his head. But he heard my footsteps, or perhaps my shadow fell upon
him. Loosing his grip, he looked up, this father of wolves; then,
making no sound, he sprang straight at my throat.
“I saw him, and whirling the Watcher aloft, I smote with all my
strength. The blow met him in mid-air; it fell full on his chest and
struck him backwards to the earth. But there he would not stay, for,
rising before I could smite again, once more he sprang at me. This time
I leaped aside and struck downwards, and the blow fell upon his right
leg and broke it, so that he could spring no more. Yet he ran at me on
three feet, and, though the club fell on his side, he seized me with
his teeth, biting through that leather bag, which was wound about my
middle, into the flesh behind. Then I yelled with pain and rage, and
lifting the Watcher endways, drove it down with both hands, as a man
drives a stake into the earth, and that with so great a stroke that the
skull of the wolf was shattered like a pot, and he fell dead, dragging
me with him. Presently I sat up on the ground, and, placing the handle
of the Watcher between his jaws, I forced them open, freeing my flesh
from the grip of his teeth. Then I looked at my wounds; they were not
deep, for the leather bag had saved me, yet I feel them to this hour,
for there is poison in the mouth of a wolf. Presently I glanced up, and
saw that the she-wolf had found her feet again, and stood as though
unhurt; for this is the nature of these ghosts, Umslopogaas, that,
though they fight continually, they cannot destroy each other. They may
be killed by man alone, and that hardly. There she stood, and yet she
did not look at me or on her dead mate, but at him who sat above. I
saw, and crept softly behind her, then, lifting the Watcher, I dashed
him down with all my strength. The blow fell on her neck and broke it,
so that she rolled over and at once was dead.
“Now I rested awhile, then went to the mouth of the cave and looked
out. The sun was sinking: all the depth of the forest was black, but
the light still shone on the face of the stone woman who sits forever
on the mountain. Here, then, I must bide this night, for, though the
moon shone white and full in the sky, I dared not wend towards the
plains alone with the wolves and the ghosts. And if I dared not go
alone, how much less should I dare to go bearing with me him who sat in
the cleft of the rock! Nay, here I must bide, so I went out of the cave
to the spring which flows from the rock on the right yonder and washed
my wounds and drank. Then I came back and sat in the mouth of the cave,
and watched the light die away from the face of the world. While it was
dying there was silence, but when it was dead the forest awoke. A wind
sprang up and tossed it till the green of its boughs waved like
troubled water on which the moon shines faintly. From the heart of it,
too, came howlings of ghosts and wolves, that were answered by howls
from the rocks above—hearken, Umslopogaas, such howlings as we hear
to-night!
“It was awful here in the mouth of the cave, for I had not yet learned
the secret of the stone, and if I had known it, should I have dared to
close it, leaving myself alone with the dead wolves and him whom the
wolves had struggled to tear down? I walked out yonder on to the
platform and looked up. The moon shone full upon the face of the stone
Witch who sits aloft forever. She seemed to grin at me, and, oh! I grew
afraid, for now I knew that this was a place of dead men, a place where
spirits perch like vultures in a tree, as they sweep round and round
the world. I went back to the cave, and feeling that I must do
something lest I should go mad, I drew to me the carcase of the great
dog-wolf which I had killed, and, taking my knife of iron, I began to
skin it by the light of the moon. For an hour or more I skinned,
singing to myself as I worked, and striving to forget him who sat in
the cleft above and the howlings which ran about the mountains. But
ever the moonlight shone more clearly into the cave: now by it I could
see his shape of bone and skin, ay, and even the bandage about his
eyes. Why had he tied it there? I wondered—perhaps to hide the faces of
the fierce wolves as they sprang upwards to grip him. And always the
howlings drew nearer; now I could see grey forms creeping to and fro in
the shadows of the rocky place before me. Ah! there before me glared
two red eyes: a sharp snout sniffed at the carcase which I skinned.
With a yell, I lifted the Watcher and smote. There came a scream of
pain, and something galloped away into the shadows.
“Now the skin was off. I cast it behind me, and seizing the carcase
dragged it to the edge of the rock and left it. Presently the sound of
howlings drew near again, and I saw the grey shapes creep up one by
one. Now they gathered round the carcase, now they fell upon it and
rent it, fighting horribly till all was finished. Then, licking their
red chops, they slunk back to the forest.
“Did I sleep or did I wake? Nay, I cannot tell. But I know this, that
of a sudden I seemed to look up and see. I saw a light—perchance,
Umslopogaas, it was the light of the moon, shining upon him that sat
aloft at the end of the cave. It was a red light, and he glowed in it
as glows a thing that is rotten. I looked, or seemed to look, and then
I thought that the hanging jaw moved, and from it came a voice that was
harsh and hollow as of one who speaks from an empty belly, through a
withered throat.
“‘Hail, Galazi, child of Siguyana!’ said the voice, ‘Galazi the Wolf!
Say, what dost thou here in the Ghost Mountain, where the stone Witch
sits forever, waiting for the world to die?’
“Then, Umslopogaas, I answered, or seemed to answer, and my voice, too,
sounded strange and hollow:—
“‘Hail, Dead One, who sittest like a vulture on a rock! I do this on
the Ghost Mountain. I come to seek thy bones and bear them to thy
mother for burial.’
“‘Many and many a year have I sat aloft, Galazi,’ answered the voice,
‘watching the ghost-wolves leap and leap to drag me down, till the rock
grew smooth beneath the wearing of their feet. So I sat seven days and
nights, being yet alive, the hungry wolves below, and hunger gnawing at
my heart. So I have sat many and many a year, being dead in the heart
of the old stone Witch, watching the moon and the sun and the stars,
hearkening to the howls of the ghost-wolves as they ravened beneath me,
and learning the wisdom of the old witch who sits above in everlasting
stone. Yet my mother was young and fair when I trod the haunted forest
and climbed the knees of stone. How seems she now, Galazi?’
“‘She is white and wrinkled and very aged,’ I answered. ‘They call her
mad, yet at her bidding I came to seek thee, Dead One, bearing the
Watcher that was thy father’s and shall be mine.’
“‘It shall be thine, Galazi,’ said the voice, ‘for thou alone hast
dared the ghosts to give me sleep and burial. Hearken, thine also shall
be the wisdom of the old witch who sits aloft forever, frozen into
everlasting stone—thine and one other’s. These are not wolves that thou
hast seen, that is no wolf which thou hast slain; nay, they are
ghosts—evil ghosts of men who lived in ages gone, and who must now live
till they be slain by men. And knowest thou how they lived, Galazi, and
what was the food they ate? When the light comes again, Galazi, climb
to the breasts of the stone Witch, and look in the cleft which is
between her breasts. There shalt thou see how these men lived. And now
this doom is on them: they must wander gaunt and hungry in the shape of
wolves, haunting that Ghost Mountain where they once fed, till they are
led forth to die at the hands of men. Because of their devouring hunger
they have leapt from year to year, striving to reach my bones; and he
whom thou hast slain was the king of them, and she at his side was
their queen.
“‘Now, Galazi the Wolf, this is the wisdom that I give thee: thou shalt
be king of the ghost-wolves, thou and another, whom a lion shall bring
thee. Gird the black skin upon thy shoulders, and the wolves shall
follow thee; all the three hundred and sixty and three of them that are
left, and let him who shall be brought to thee gird on the skin of
grey. Where ye twain lead them, there shall they raven, bringing you
victory till all are dead. But know this, that there only may they
raven where in life they ravened, seeking for their food. Yet, that was
an ill gift thou tookest from my mother—the gift of the Watcher, for
though without the Watcher thou hadst never slain the king of the
ghost-wolves, yet, bearing the Watcher, thou shalt thyself be slain.
Now, on the morrow carry me back to my mother, so that I may sleep
where the ghost-wolves leap no more. I have spoken, Galazi.’
“Now the Dead One’s voice seemed to grow ever fainter and more hollow
as he spoke, till at the last I could scarcely hear his words, yet I
answered him, asking him this:—
“‘Who is it, then, that the lion shall bring to me to rule with me over
the ghost-wolves, and how is he named?’
“Then the Dead One spoke once more very faintly, yet in the silence of
the place I heard his words:—
“‘He is named Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, son of Chaka, Lion of the
Zulu.”
Now Umslopogaas started up from his place by the fire.
“I am named Umslopogaas,” he said, “but the Slaughterer I am not named,
and I am the son of Mopo, and not the son of Chaka, Lion of the Zulu;
you have dreamed a dream, Galazi, or, if it was no dream, then the Dead
One lied to you.”
“Perchance this was so, Umslopogaas,” answered Galazi the Wolf.
“Perhaps I dreamed, or perhaps the Dead One lied; nevertheless, if he
lied in this matter, in other matters he did not lie, as you shall
hear.
“After I had heard these words, or had dreamed that I heard them, I
slept indeed, and when I woke the forest beneath was like the clouds of
mist, but the grey light glinted upon the face of her who sits in stone
above. Now I remembered the dream that I had dreamed, and I would see
if it were all a dream. So I rose, and leaving the cave, found a place
where I might climb up to the breasts and head of the stone Witch. I
climbed, and as I went the rays of the sun lit upon her face, and I
rejoiced to see them. But, when I drew near, the likeness to the face
of a woman faded away, and I saw nothing before me but rugged heaps of
piled-up rock. For this, Umslopogaas, is the way of witches, be they of
stone or flesh—when you draw near to them they change their shape.
“Now I was on the breast of the mountain, and wandered to and fro
awhile between the great heaps of stone. At length I found, as it were,
a crack in the stone thrice as wide as a man can jump, and in length
half a spear’s throw, and near this crack stood great stones blackened
by fire, and beneath them broken pots and a knife of flint. I looked
down into the crack—it was very deep, and green with moss, and tall
ferns grew about in it, for the damp gathered there. There was nothing
else. I had dreamed a lying dream. I turned to go, then found another
mind, and climbed down into the cleft, pushing aside the ferns. Beneath
the ferns was moss; I scraped it away with the Watcher. Presently the
iron of the club struck on something that was yellow and round like a
stone, and from the yellow thing came a hollow sound. I lifted it,
Umslopogaas; it was the skull of a child.
“I dug deeper and scraped away more moss, till presently I saw. Beneath
the moss was nothing but the bones of men—old bones that had lain there
many years; the little ones had rotted, the larger ones remained—some
were yellow, some black, and others still white. They were not broken,
as are those that hyenas and wolves have worried, yet on some of them I
could see the marks of teeth. Then, Umslopogaas, I went back to the
cave, never looking behind me.
“Now when I was come to the cave I did this: I skinned the she-wolf
also. When I had finished the sun was up, and I knew that it was time
to go. But I could not go alone—he who sat aloft in the cleft of the
cave must go with me. I greatly feared to touch him—this Dead One, who
had spoken to me in a dream; yet I must do it. So I brought stones and
piled them up till I could reach him; then I lifted him down, for he
was very light, being but skin and bones. When he was down, I bound the
hides of the wolves about me, then leaving the leather bag, into which
he could not enter, I took the Dead One and placed him on my shoulders
as a man might carry a child, for his legs were fixed somewhat apart,
and holding him by the foot which was left on him, I set out for the
kraal. Down the slope I went as swiftly as I could, for now I knew the
way, seeing and hearing nothing, except once, when there came a rush of
wings, and a great eagle swept down at that which sat upon my
shoulders. I shouted, and the eagle flew away, then I entered the dark
of the forest. Here I must walk softly, lest the head of him I carried
should strike against the boughs and be smitten from him.
“For awhile I went on thus, till I drew near to the heart of the
forest. Then I heard a wolf howl on my right, and from the left came
answering howls, and these, again, were answered by others in front of
and behind me. I walked on boldly, for I dared not stay, guiding myself
by the sun, which from time to time shone down on me redly through the
boughs of the great trees. Now I could see forms grey and black
slinking near my path, sniffing at the air as they went, and now I came
to a little open place, and, behold! all the wolves in the world were
gathered together there. My heart melted, my legs trembled beneath me.
On every side were the brutes, great and hungry. And I stood still,
with club aloft, and slowly they crept up, muttering and growling as
they came, till they formed a deep circle round me. Yet they did not
spring on me, only drew nearer and ever nearer. Presently one sprang,
indeed, but not at me; he sprang at that which sat upon my shoulders. I
moved aside, and he missed his aim, and, coming to the ground again,
stood there growling and whining like a beast afraid. Then I remembered
the words of my dream, if dream it were, how that the Dead One had
given me wisdom that I should be king of the ghost-wolves—I and another
whom a lion should bear to me. Was it not so? If it was not so, how
came it that the wolves did not devour me?
“For a moment I stood thinking, then I lifted up my voice and howled
like a wolf, and lo! Umslopogaas, all the wolves howled in answer with
a mighty howling. I stretched out my hand and called to them. They ran
to me, gathering round me as though to devour me. But they did not harm
me; they licked my legs with their red tongues, and fighting to come
near me, pressed themselves against me as does a cat. One, indeed,
snatched at him who sat on my shoulder, but I struck him with the
Watcher and he slunk back like a whipped hound; moreover, the others
bit him so that he yelled. Now I knew that I had no more to fear, for I
was king of the ghost-wolves, so I walked on, and with me came all the
great pack of them. I walked on and on, and they trotted beside me
silently, and the fallen leaves crackled beneath their feet, and the
dust rose up about them, till at length I reached the edge of the
forest.
“Now I remembered that I must not be seen thus by men, lest they should
think me a wizard and kill me. Therefore, at the edge of the forest I
halted and made signs to the wolves to go back. At this they howled
piteously, as though in grief, but I called to them that I would come
again and be their king, and it seemed as though their brute hearts
understood my words. Then they all went, still howling, till presently
I was alone.
“And now, Umslopogaas, it is time to sleep; to-morrow night I will end
my tale.”