THE SLAYING OF THE BOERS
On the morrow I led Umslopogaas apart, and spoke to him thus:— “My son,
yesterday, when you did not know me except as the Mouth of Dingaan, you
charged me with a certain message for Dingaan the king, that, had it
been delivered into the ears of the king, had surely brought death upon
you and all your people. The tree that stands by itself on a plain,
Umslopogaas, thinks itself tall and that there is no shade to equal its
shade. Yet are there other and bigger trees. You are such a solitary
tree, Umslopogaas, but the topmost branches of him whom I serve are
thicker than your trunk, and beneath his shadow live many woodcutters,
who go out to lop those that would grow too high. You are no match for
Dingaan, though, dwelling here alone in an empty land, you have grown
great in your own eyes and in the eyes of those about you. Moreover,
Umslopogaas, know this: Dingaan already hates you because of the words
which in bygone years you sent by Masilo the fool to the Black One who
is dead, for he heard those words, and it is his will to eat you up. He
has sent me hither for one reason only, to be rid of me awhile, and,
whatever the words I bring back to him, the end will be the same—that
night shall come when you will find an impi at your gates.”
“Then what need to talk more of the matter, my father?” asked
Umslopogaas. “That will come which must come. Let me wait here for the
impi of Dingaan, and fight till I die.”
“Not so, Umslopogaas, my son; there are more ways of killing a man than
by the assegai, and a crooked stick can still be bent straight in the
stream. It is my desire, Umslopogaas, that instead of hate Dingaan
should give you love; instead of death, advancement; and that you shall
grow great in his shadow. Listen! Dingaan is not what Chaka was,
though, like Chaka, he is cruel. This Dingaan is a fool, and it may
well come about that a man can be found who, growing up in his shadow,
in the end shall overshadow him. I might do it—I myself; but I am old,
and, being worn with sorrow, have no longing to rule. But you are
young, Umslopogaas, and there is no man like you in the land. Moreover,
there are other matters of which it is not well to speak, that shall
serve you as a raft whereon to swim to power.”
Now Umslopogaas glanced up sharply, for in those days he was ambitious,
and desired to be first among the people. Indeed, having the blood of
Chaka in his veins, how could it be otherwise?
“What is your plan, my father?” he asked. “Say how can this be brought
about?”
“This and thus, Umslopogaas. Among the tribe of the Halakazi in
Swaziland there dwells a maid who is named the Lily. She is a girl of
the most wonderful beauty, and Dingaan is afire with longing to have
her to wife. Now, awhile since Dingaan dispatched an embassy to the
chief of the Halakazi asking the Lily in marriage, and the chief of the
Halakazi sent back insolent words, saying that the Beauty of the Earth
should be given to no Zulu dog as a wife. Then Dingaan was angry, and
he would have gathered his impis and sent them against the Halakazi to
destroy them, and bring him the maid, but I held him back from it,
saying that now was no time to begin a new war; and it is for this
cause that Dingaan hates me, he is so set upon the plucking of the
Swazi Lily. Do you understand now, Umslopogaas?”
“Something,” he answered. “But speak clearly.”
“Wow, Umslopogaas! Half words are better than whole ones in this land
of ours. Listen, then! This is my plan: that you should fall upon the
Halakazi tribe, destroy it, and bring back the maid as a peace-offering
to Dingaan.”
“That is a good plan, my father,” he answered. “At the least, maid or
no maid, there will be fighting in it, and cattle to divide when the
fighting is done.”
“First conquer, then reckon up the spoils, Umslopogaas.”
Now he thought awhile, then said, “Suffer that I summon Galazi the
Wolf, my captain. Do not fear, he is trusty and a man of few words.”
Presently Galazi came and sat down before us. Then I put the matter to
him thus: that Umslopogaas would fall upon the Halakazi and bring to
Dingaan the maid he longed for as a peace-offering, but that I wished
to hold him back from the venture because the Halakazi people were
great and strong. I spoke in this sense so that I might have a door to
creep out should Galazi betray the plot; and Umslopogaas read my
purpose, though my craft was needless, for Galazi was a true man.
Galazi the Wolf listened in silence till I had finished, then he
answered quietly, but it seemed to me that a fire shone in his eyes as
he spoke:—
“I am chief by right of the Halakazi, O Mouth of Dingaan, and know them
well. They are a strong people, and can put two full regiments under
arms, whereas Bulalio here can muster but one regiment, and that a
small one. Moreover, they have watchmen out by night and day, and spies
scattered through the land, so that it will be hard to take them
unawares; also their stronghold is a vast cave open to the sky in the
middle, and none have won that stronghold yet, nor could it be found
except by those who know its secret. They are few, yet I am one of
them, for my father showed it to me when I was a lad. Therefore, Mouth
of Dingaan, you will know that this is no easy task which Bulalio would
set himself and us—to conquer the Halakazi. That is the face of the
matter so far as it concerns Bulalio, but for me, O Mouth, it has
another face. Know that, long years ago, I swore to my father as he lay
dying by the poison of a witch of this people that I would not rest
till I had avenged him—ay, till I had stamped out the Halakazi, and
slain their men, and brought their women to the houses of strangers,
and their children to bonds! Year by year and month by month, and night
by night, as I have lain alone upon the Ghost Mountain yonder, I have
wondered how I might bring my oath to pass, and found no way. Now it
seems that there is a way, and I am glad. Yet this is a great
adventure, and perhaps before it is done with the People of the Axe
will be no more.” And he ceased and took snuff, watching our faces over
the spoon.
“Galazi the Wolf,” said Umslopogaas, “for me also the matter has
another face. You have lost your father at the hands of these Halakazi
dogs, and, though till last night I did not know it, I have lost my
mother by their spears, and with her one whom I loved above all in the
world, my sister Nada, who loved me also. Both are dead and the
Halakazi have killed them. This man, the mouth of Dingaan,” and he
pointed to me, Mopo, “this man says that if I can stamp out the
Halakazi and make captive of the Lily maid, I shall win the heart of
Dingaan. Little do I care for Dingaan, I who would go my way alone, and
live while I may live, and die when I must, by the hands of Dingaan as
by those of another—what does it matter? Yet, for this reason, because
of the death of Macropha, my mother, and Nada, the sister who was dear
to me, I will make war upon these Halakazi and conquer them, or be
conquered by them. Perhaps, O Mouth of Dingaan, you will see me soon at
the king’s kraal on the Mahlabatine, and with me the Lily maid and the
cattle of the Halakazi; or perhaps you shall not see me, and then you
will know that I am dead, and the Warriors of the Axe are no more.”
So Umslopogaas spoke to me before Galazi the Wolf, but afterwards he
embraced me and bade me farewell, for he had no great hope that we
should meet again. And I also doubted it; for, as Galazi said, the
adventure was great; yet, as I had seen many times, it is the bold
thrower who oftenest wins. So we parted—I to return to Dingaan and tell
him that Bulalio, Chief of the People of the Axe, had gone up against
the Halakazi to win the Lily maid and bring her to him in atonement;
while Umslopogaas remained to make ready his impi for war.
I went swiftly from the Ghost Mountain back to the kraal Umgugundhlovu,
and presented myself before Dingaan, who at first looked on me coldly.
But when I told him my message, and how that the Chief Bulalio the
Slaughterer had taken the war-path to win him the Lily, his manner
changed. He took me by the hand and said that I had done well, and he
had been foolish to doubt me when I lifted up my voice to persuade him
from sending an impi against the Halakazi. Now he saw that it was my
purpose to rake this Halakazi fire with another hand than his, and to
save his hand from the burning, and he thanked me.
Moreover, he said, that if this Chief of the People of the Axe brought
him the maid his heart desired, not only would he forgive him the words
he had spoken by the mouth of Masilo to the Black One who was dead, but
also all the cattle of the Halakazi should be his, and he would make
him great in the land. I answered that all this was as the king willed.
I had but done my duty by the king and worked so that, whatever befell,
a proud chief should be weakened and a foe should be attacked at no
cost to the king, in such fashion also that perhaps it might come about
that the king would shortly have the Lily at his side.
Then I sat down to wait what might befall.
Now it is, my father, that the white men come into my story, whom we
named the Amaboona, but you call the Boers. _Ou!_ I think ill of those
Amaboona, though it was I who gave them the victory over Dingaan—I and
Umslopogaas.
Before this time, indeed, a few white men had come to and fro to the
kraals of Chaka and Dingaan, but these came to pray and not to fight.
Now the Boers both fight and pray, also they steal, or used to steal,
which I do not understand, for the prayers of you white men say that
these things should not be done.
Well, when I had been back from the Ghost Mountain something less than
a moon, the Boers came, sixty of them commanded by a captain named
Retief, a big man, and armed with _roers_—the long guns they had in
those days—or, perhaps they numbered a hundred in all, counting their
servants and after-riders. This was their purpose: to get a grant of
the land in Natal that lies between the Tugela and the Umzimoubu
rivers. But, by my counsel and that of other indunas, Dingaan bargained
with the Boers that first they should attack a certain chief named
Sigomyela, who had stolen some of the king’s cattle, and who lived near
the Quathlamba Mountains, and bring back those cattle. This the Boers
agreed to, and went to attack the chief, and in a little while they
came back again, having destroyed the people of Sigomyela, and driving
his cattle before them as well as those which had been stolen from the
king.
The face of Dingaan shone when he saw the cattle, and that night he
called us, the council of the _Amapakati_, together, and asked us as to
the granting of the country. I spoke the first, and said that it
mattered little if he granted it, seeing that the Black One who was
dead had already given it to the English, the People of George, and the
end of the matter would be that the Amaboona and the People of George
would fight for the land. Yet the words of the Black One were coming to
pass, for already it seemed we could hear the sound of the running of a
white folk who should eat up the kingdom.
Now when I had spoken thus the heart of Dingaan grew heavy and his face
dark, for my words stuck in his breast like a barbed spear. Still, he
made no answer, but dismissed the council.
On the morrow the king promised to sign the paper giving the lands they
asked for to the Boers, and all was smooth as water when there is no
wind. Before the paper was signed the king gave a great dance, for
there were many regiments gathered at the kraal, and for three days
this dance went on, but on the third day he dismissed the regiments,
all except one, an impi of lads, who were commanded to stay. Now all
this while I wondered what was in the mind of Dingaan and was afraid
for the Amaboona. But he was secret, and told nothing except to the
captains of the regiment alone—no, not even to one of his council. Yet
I knew that he planned evil, and was half inclined to warn the Captain
Retief, but did not, fearing to make myself foolish. Ah! my father, if
I had spoken, how many would have lived who were soon dead! But what
does it matter? In any case most of them would have been dead by now.
On the fourth morning, early, Dingaan sent a messenger to the Boers,
bidding them meet him in the cattle kraal, for there he would mark the
paper. So they came, stacking their guns at the gate of the kraal, for
it was death for any man, white or black, to come armed before the
presence of the king. Now, my father, the kraal Umgugundhlovu was built
in a great circle, after the fashion of royal kraals. First came the
high outer fence, then the thousands of huts that ran three parts round
between the great fence and the inner one. Within this inner fence was
the large open space, big enough to hold five regiments, and at the top
of it—opposite the entrance—stood the cattle kraal itself, that cut off
a piece of the open space by another fence bent like a bow. Behind this
again were the _Emposeni_, the place of the king’s women, the
guard-house, the labyrinth, and the _Intunkulu_, the house of the king.
Dingaan came out on that day and sat on a stool in front of the cattle
kraal, and by him stood a man holding a shield over his head to keep
the sun from him. Also we of the _Amapakati_, the council, were there,
and ranged round the fence of the space, armed with short sticks
only—not with kerries, my father—was that regiment of young men which
Dingaan had not sent away, the captain of the regiment being stationed
near to the king, on the right.
Presently the Boers came in on foot and walked up to the king in a
body, and Dingaan greeted them kindly and shook hands with Retief,
their captain. Then Retief drew the paper from a leather pouch, which
set out the boundaries of the grant of land, and it was translated to
the king by an interpreter. Dingaan said that it was good, and put his
mark upon it, and Retief and all the Boers were pleased, and smiled
across their faces. Now they would have said farewell, but Dingaan
forbade them, saying that they must not go yet: first they must eat and
see the soldiers dance a little, and he commanded dishes of boiled
flesh which had been made ready and bowls of milk to be brought to
them. The Boers said that they had already eaten; still, they drank the
milk, passing the bowls from hand to hand.
Now the regiment began to dance, singing the _Ingomo_, that is the war
chant of us Zulus, my father, and the Boers drew back towards the
centre of the space to give the soldiers room to dance in. It was at
this moment that I heard Dingaan give an order to a messenger to run
swiftly to the white Doctor of Prayers, who was staying without the
kraal, telling him not to be afraid, and I wondered what this might
mean; for why should the Prayer Doctor fear a dance such as he had
often seen before? Presently Dingaan rose, and, followed by all, walked
through the press to where the Captain Retief stood, and bade him
good-bye, shaking him by the hand and bidding him _hambla gachle_, to
go in peace. Then he turned and walked back again towards the gateway
which led to his royal house, and I saw that near this entrance stood
the captain of the regiments, as one stands by who waits for orders.
Now, of a sudden, my father, Dingaan stopped and cried with a loud
voice, “_Bulalani Abatakati!_” (slay the wizards), and having cried it,
he covered his face with the corner of his blanket, and passed behind
the fence.
We, the councillors, stood astounded, like men who had become stone;
but before we could speak or act the captain of the regiment had also
cried aloud, “_Bulalani Abatakati!_” and the signal was caught up from
every side. Then, my father, came a yell and a rush of thousands of
feet, and through the clouds of dust we saw the soldiers hurl
themselves upon the Amaboona, and above the shouting we heard the sound
of falling sticks. The Amaboona drew their knives and fought bravely,
but before a man could count a hundred twice it was done, and they were
being dragged, some few dead, but the most yet living, towards the
gates of the kraal and out on to the Hill of Slaughter, and there, on
the Hill of Slaughter, they were massacred, every one of them. How? Ah!
I will not tell you—they were massacred and piled in a heap, and that
was the end of their story, my father.
Now I and the other councillors turned away and walked silently towards
the house of the king. We found him standing before his great hut, and,
lifting our hands, we saluted him silently, saying no word. It was
Dingaan who spoke, laughing a little as he spoke, like a man who is
uneasy in his mind.
“Ah, my captains,” he said, “when the vultures plumed themselves this
morning, and shrieked to the sky for blood, they did not look for such
a feast as I have given them. And you, my captains, you little guessed
how great a king the Heavens have set to rule over you, nor how deep is
the mind of the king that watches ever over his people’s welfare. Now
the land is free from the White Wizards of whose footsteps the Black
One croaked as he gave up his life, or soon shall be, for this is but a
beginning. Ho! Messengers!” and he turned to some men who stood behind
him, “away swiftly to the regiments that are gathered behind the
mountains, away to them, bearing the king’s words to the captains. This
is the king’s word: that the impi shall run to the land of Natal and
slay the Boers there, wiping them out, man, woman, and child. Away!”
Now the messengers cried out the royal salute of _Bayéte_, and, leaping
forward like spears from the hand of the thrower, were gone at once.
But we, the councillors, the members of the _Amapakati_, still stood
silent.
Then Dingaan spoke again, addressing me:—
“Is thy heart at rest now, Mopo, son of Makedama? Ever hast thou
bleated in my ear of this white people and of the deeds that they shall
do, and lo! I have blown upon them with my breath and they are gone.
Say, Mopo, are the Amaboona wizards yonder all dead? If any be left
alive, I desire to speak with one of them.”
Then I looked Dingaan in the face and spoke.
“They are all dead, and thou, O King, thou also art dead.”
“It were well for thee, thou dog,” said Dingaan, “that thou shouldst
make thy meaning plain.”
“Let the king pardon me,” I answered; “this is my meaning. Thou canst
not kill this white men, for they are not of one race, but of many
races, and the sea is their home; they rise out of the black water.
Destroy those that are here, and others shall come to avenge them, more
and more and more! Now thou hast smitten in thy hour; in theirs they
shall smite in turn. Now _they_ lie low in blood at thy hand; in a day
to come, O King, _thou_ shalt lie low in blood at theirs. Madness has
taken hold of thee, O King, that thou hast done this thing, and the
fruit of thy madness shall be thy death. I have spoken, I, who am the
king’s servant. Let the will of the king be done.”
Then I stood still waiting to be killed, for, my father, in the fury of
my heart at the wickedness which had been worked I could not hold back
my words. Thrice Dingaan looked on me with a terrible face, and yet
there was fear in his face striving with its rage, and I waited calmly
to see which would conquer, the fear or the rage. When at last he
spoke, it was one word, “_Go!_” not three words, “_Take him away._” So
I went yet living, and with me the councillors, leaving the king alone.
I went with a heavy heart, my father, for of all the evil sights that I
have seen it seemed to me that this was the most evil—that the Amaboona
should be slaughtered thus treacherously, and that the impis should be
sent out treacherously to murder those who were left of them, together
with their women and children. Ay, and they slew—six hundred of them
did they slay—yonder in Weenen, the land of weeping.
Say, my father, why does the Umkulunkulu who sits in the Heavens above
allow such things to be done on the earth beneath? I have heard the
preaching of the white men, and they say that they know all about
Him—that His names are Power and Mercy and Love. Why, then, does He
suffer these things to be done—why does He suffer such men as Chaka and
Dingaan to torment the people of the earth, and in the end pay them but
one death for all the thousands that they have given to others? Because
of the wickedness of the peoples, you say; but no, no, that cannot be,
for do not the guiltless go with the guilty—ay, do not the innocent
children perish by the hundred? Perchance there is another answer,
though who am I, my father, that I, in my folly, should strive to
search out the way of the Unsearchable? Perchance it is but a part of
the great plan, a little piece of that pattern of which I spoke—the
pattern on the cup that holds the waters of His wisdom. _Wow!_ I do not
understand, who am but a wild man, nor have I found more knowledge in
the hearts of you tamed white people. You know many things, but of
these you do not know: you cannot tell us what we were an hour before
birth, nor what we shall be an hour after death, nor why we were born,
nor why we die. You can only hope and believe—that is all, and perhaps,
my father, before many days are sped I shall be wiser than all of you.
For I am very aged, the fire of my life sinks low—it burns in my brain
alone; there it is still bright, but soon that will go out also, and
then perhaps I shall understand.