THE MESSAGE OF THE KING
So it chanced that Noie became a member of the Dove household. For
obvious reasons she changed her name, and thenceforward was called
Nonha. Also it happened that Mr. Dove abandoned his idea of settling as
a missionary in Zululand, and instead, took up his residence at this
beautiful spot. He called it Ramah because it was a place of weeping,
for here all the family and dependents of Seyapi had been destroyed by
the spear. Mrs. Dove thought it an ill-omened name enough, but after
her manner gave way to her husband in the matter.
“I think there will be more weeping here before everything is done,”
she said.
Rachel answered, however, that it was as good as any other, since names
could alter nothing. Here, then, at Ramah, Mr. Dove built him a house
on that knoll where first he had pitched his camp. It was a very good
house after its fashion, for, as has been said, he did not lack for
means, and was, moreover, clever in such matters. He hired a mason who
had drifted to Natal to cut stone, of which a plenty lay at hand, and
two half-breed carpenters to execute the wood-work, whilst the Kaffirs
thatched the whole as only they can do. Then he set to work upon a
church, which was placed on the crest of the opposite knoll where the
white man, Ishmael, had appeared on the evening of their arrival. Like
the house, it was excellent of its sort, and when at length it was
finished after more than a year of labour, Mr. Dove felt a proud man.
Indeed at Ramah he was happier than he had ever been since he landed
upon the shores of Africa, for now at length his dream seemed to be in
the way of realisation. Very soon a considerable native village sprang
up around him, peopled almost entirely by remnants of the Natal tribes
whom Chaka had destroyed and who were but too glad to settle under the
aegis of the white man, especially when they discovered how good he
was. Of the doctrines which he preached to them day and night, most of
them, it is true, did not understand much. Still they accepted them as
the price of being allowed “to live in his shadow,” but in the vast
majority of cases they sturdily refused to put away all wives but one,
as he earnestly exhorted them to do.
At first he wished to eject them from the settlement in punishment of
this sin, but when it came to the point they absolutely refused to go,
demonstrating to him that they had as much right to live there as he
had, an argument that he was unable to controvert. So he was obliged to
submit to the presence of this abomination, which he did in the hope
that in time their hard hearts would be softened.
“Continue to preach to us, O Shouter,” they said, “and we will listen.
Mayhap in years to come we shall learn to think as you do. Meanwhile
give us space to consider the point.”
So he continued to preach, and contented himself with baptising the
children and very old people who took no more wives. Except on this one
point, however, they got on excellently together. Indeed, never since
Chaka broke upon them like a destroying demon had these poor folk been
so happy. The missionary imported ploughs and taught them to improve
their agriculture, so that ere long this rich, virgin soil brought
forth abundantly. Their few cattle multiplied also in an amazing
fashion, as did their families, and soon they were as prosperous as
they had been in the good old days before they knew the Zulu assegai,
especially as, to their amazement, the Shouter never took from them
even a calf or a bundle of corn by way of tax. Only the shadow of that
Zulu assegai still lay upon them, for if Chaka was dead Dingaan ruled a
few miles away across the Tugela. Moreover, hearing of the rise of this
new town, and of certain strange matters connected with it, he sent
spies to inspect and enquire. The spies returned and reported that
there dwelt in it only a white medicine-man with his wife, and a number
of Natal Kaffirs. Also they reported in great detail many wonderful
stories concerning the beautiful maiden with a high name who passed as
the white teacher’s daughter, and who had already become the subject of
so much native talk and rumour. On learning all these things Dingaan
despatched an embassy, who delivered this message:
“I, Dingaan, king of the Zulus, have heard that you, O White Shouter,
have built a town upon my borders, and peopled it with the puppies of
the jackals whom Chaka hunted. I send to you now to say that you and
your jackals shall have peace from me so long as you harbour none of my
runaways, but if I find but one of them there, then an Impi shall wipe
you out. I hear also that there dwells with you a beautiful white
maiden said to be your daughter, who is known, throughout the land as
Inkosazana-y-Zoola. Now that is the name of our Spirit who, the doctors
say, is also white, and it is strange to us that this maiden should
bear that great name. Some of the _Isanusis_, the prophetesses, declare
that she is our Spirit in the flesh, but that meat sticks in my throat,
I cannot swallow it. Still, I invite this maiden to visit me that I may
see her and judge of her, and I swear to you, and to her, by the ghosts
of my ancestors, that no harm shall come to her then or at any time. He
who so much as lays a finger upon her shall die, he and all his house.
Because of her name, which I am told she has borne from a child, all
the territories of the Zulus are her kraal and all the thousands of the
Zulus are her servants. Yea, because of her high name I give to her
power of life and death wherever men obey my word, and for an offering
I send to her twelve of my royal white cattle and a bull, also an ox
trained to riding. When she visits me let her ride upon the white ox
that she may be known, but let no man come with her, for among the
people of the Zulus she must be attended by Zulus only. I have spoken.
I pray that she who is named Princess of the Zulus will appear before
my messengers and acknowledge the gift of the King of the Zulus, that
they may see her in the flesh and make report of her to me.”
Now when Mr. Dove had received this message, one evening at sundown, he
went into the house and repeated it to Rachel, for it puzzled him much,
and he knew not what to answer.
Rachel in her turn took counsel with Noie who was hidden away lest
some of the embassy should see and recognise her.
“Speak with the messengers,” said Noie, “it is well to have power among
the Zulus. I, who have some knowledge of this business, say, speak with
them alone, and speak softly, saying that one day you will come.”
So having explained the matter to her father, and obtained his consent,
Rachel, who desired to impress these savages, threw a white shawl about
her, as Noie instructed her to do. Then, letting her long, golden hair
hang down, she went out alone carrying a light assegai in her hand, to
the place where the messengers, six of them, and those who had driven
the cattle from Zululand, were encamped in the guest kraal, at the gate
of which, as it chanced, lay a great boulder of rock. On this boulder
she took her stand, unobserved, waiting there till the full moon shone
out from behind a dark cloud, turning her white robe to silver. Now of
a sudden the messengers who were seated together, talking and taking
snuff, looked up and saw her.
“_Inkosazana-y-Zoola_!” exclaimed one of them, rising, whereon they all
sprang to their feet and perceiving this beautiful and mysterious
figure, by a common impulse lifted their right arms and gave to her
what no woman had ever received before—the royal salute.
“Bayète!” they cried, “Bayète!” then stood silent.
“I hear you,” said Rachel, who spoke their tongue as well as she did
her own. “It has been reported to me that you wished to see me, O
Mouths of the King. Behold I am pleased to appear before you. What
would you of Inkosazana-y-Zoola, O Mouths of the King?”
Then their spokesman, an old man of high rank, with a withered hand,
stepped forward from the line of his companions, stared at her for a
while, and saluted again.
“Lady,” he said humbly, “Lady or Spirit, we would know how thou camest
by that great name of thine.”
“It was given me as a child far away from here,” she answered, “because
in a mighty tempest the lightnings turned aside and smote me not;
because the waters raged yet drowned me not; because the lions slept
with me yet harmed me not. It came to me from the high Heaven that was
my friend. I do not know how it came.”
“We have heard the story,” answered the old man (which indeed they had
with many additions), “and we believe. We believe that the Heavens
above gave thee their own name which is the name of the Spirit of our
people. That Spirit I have seen in a dream, and she was like to thee, O
Inkosazana-y-Zoola.”
“It may be so, Mouth of the King, still I am woman, not spirit.”
“Yet in every woman there dwells a spirit, or so we believe, and in
thee a great one, or so we have heard and believe, O Lady of the
Heavens. To thee, then, again we repeat the words of Dingaan and of his
council which to-day we have said in the ears of him who thinks himself
thy father. To thee the roads are open; thine are the cattle and the
kraals; here is an earnest of them. Thine are the lives of men. Command
now, if thou wilt, that one of us be slain before thee, and whilst thou
watchest, he shall look his last upon the moon.”
“I hear you,” said Rachel, quietly, “but I seek the life of none who
are good. I thank the King for his gift; I wish the King well. I
remember that life and death lie in my hands. Say these words to the
King.”
“We will say them, but wilt thou not come, O Lady, as the King desires?
A regiment shall meet thee on the river bank and lead thee to his
house. Unharmed shalt thou come, unharmed shalt thou return, and what
thou askest that shall be given thee.”
“One day, perchance, I will come, but not now. Go in peace, O Mouths of
the King.”
As she spoke another dark cloud floated across the moon, and when it
had passed away she stood no more upon the rock. Then, seeing that she
was gone, those messengers gathered up their spears and mats, and
returned swiftly to Zululand.
When she reached the house again Rachel told her father and mother all
that had passed, laughing as she spoke.
“It seems scarcely right, my dear,” said Mr. Dove, when she had done.
“Those benighted heathens will really believe that you are something
unearthly.”
“Then let them,” she answered. “It can do no one any harm, and the
power of life and death with the rest of it, unless it was all talk as
I suspect, might be very useful one day. Who knows? And now the
Princess of the Heavens will go and set the supper, as Noie—I beg
pardon, Nonha—is off duty for the present.”
Afterwards she asked Noie who was the old man with a withered hand who
had spoken as the “King’s Mouth.”
“Mopo is his name, Mopo or Umbopo, none other, O Zoola,” she answered.
“It was he who stabbed T’Chaka, the Black One. It is said also that
alone among men living, he has seen the White Spirit: the Inkosazana.
Thrice he has seen her, or so goes the tale that my father, who knew
everything, told to me. That is why Dingaan sent him here to make
report of you.” And she told her all the wonderful story of Mopo and of
the death of T’Chaka, which Rachel treasured in her mind.[*]
[*] For the history of Mopo, see “Nada the Lily.”—AUTHOR.
Such was Rachel’s first introduction to the Zulus, an occasion on which
her undoubted histrionic abilities stood her in good stead.
This matter of the embassy happened and in due course was almost
forgotten, that is until a certain event occurred which brought it into
mind. For some time, however, Rachel thought of it a good deal,
wondering how it came about that her native name and the strange
significance which they appeared to give to it had taken such a hold of
the imagination of the Zulus. Ultimately she discovered that the white
man, Ishmael, was the chief cause of these things. He had lived so long
among savages that he had caught something of their mind and dark
superstitions. To him, as to them, it seemed a marvellous thing that
she should have acquired the title of the legendary Spirit of the Zulu
people. The calm courage, too, so unusual in a woman, which she showed
when she shot the warrior, and at the risk of her own life saved that
of the girl, Noie, impressed him as something almost ultra-human,
especially when he remembered his own conduct on that occasion. All of
this story, of course, he did not tell to the Zulus for he feared lest
they should take vengeance for his share in it. But of Rachel he
discoursed to the King and his _indunas_, or great men, as a white
witch-doctoress of super-natural power, whose name showed that she was
mixed up with the fortunes of the race. Therefore, in the end, Dingaan
sent Mopo, “he who knew the Spirit,” to make report of her.
When he was not absent upon his hunting or trading expeditions, Ishmael
visited Ramah a great deal and, as Rachel soon discovered, not without
an object. Indeed, almost from the first, her feminine instincts led
her to suspect that this man who, notwithstanding his good looks,
repelled her so intensely, was falling in love with her, which in truth
he had done once and for all at their first meeting. In the beginning
he did not, it is true, say much that could be so interpreted, but his
whole attitude towards her suggested it, as did other things. For
instance, when he came to visit the Doves, he discarded his garments of
hide, including the picturesque zebra-skin trousers, and appeared
dressed in smart European clothes which he had contrived to obtain from
Durban, and a large hat with a white ostrich feather, that struck
Rachel as even more ludicrous than the famous trousers. Also he was
continuously sending presents of game and of skins, or of rare
karosses, that is, fur rugs, which he ordered to be delivered to her
personally—tokens, all of them, that she could not misunderstand. Her
father, however, misunderstood them persistently, although her mother
saw something of the truth, and did her best to shield her from
attentions which she knew to be unwelcome. Mr. Dove believed that it
was his company which Ishmael sought. Indeed in this matter the man was
very clever, contriving to give the clergyman the impression that he
required spiritual instruction and comfort, which, of course, he found
forthcoming in an abundant supply. When Mrs. Dove remonstrated, saying
that she misdoubted her of him and his character, her husband answered
obstinately, that it was his duty to turn a sinner from his way, and
declined to pursue the conversation. So Ishmael continued to come.
For her part Rachel did her best to avoid him, instructing Noie to keep
a constant look-out both with her eyes and through the Kaffirs, and to
warn her of his advent. Then she would slip away into the bush or down
to the seashore, and remain there till he was gone, or if he came when
she could not do so, in the evening for instance, would keep Noie at
her side, and on the first opportunity retire to her own room.
Now the result of this method of self-protection was to cause Ishmael
to hate Noie as bitterly as she hated him. He guessed that the girl
knew the dreadful truth about him; that it was he, and no other, who
had counselled Dingaan to kill her father and all his family, and take
her by force into his house, and although she said nothing of it, he
suspected that she had told everything to Rachel. Moreover, it was she
who always thwarted him, who prevented him time upon time from having a
single word alone with her mistress. Therefore he determined to be
revenged upon Noie whenever an opportunity occurred. But as yet he
could find none, since if he were to tell the Zulus that she still
lived, and cause her to be killed or taken away, he was sure that it
would mean a final breach with the Dove family, all of whom had learned
to love this beautiful orphan maid. So he nursed his rage in secret.
Meanwhile his passion increased daily, burning ever more fiercely for
its continued repression, until at length the chance for which he had
waited so long came to him.
Having become aware of Rachel’s habit of slipping away whenever he
appeared, he showed himself on horseback at a little distance, then
waited a while and, instead of going up to the mission station, rode
round it, and hid in some bush whence he could command a view of the
surrounding country. Presently he saw Rachel, who was alone, for she
had not waited to call Noie, hurrying towards the seashore, along the
edge of that kloof down which ran the stream where the crocodiles
lived. Presently, when she had gone too far to return to the house if
she caught sight of him, he followed after her, and, leaving his horse,
at last came up with her seated on a rock by the pool in which she had
bathed on the morning of the massacre.
Walking softly in his veld-schoens, or shoes made of raw hide, on the
sand, Rachel knew nothing of his coming until his shadow fell upon her.
Then she sprang up and saw him, smiling and bowing, the ostrich-plume
hat in his hand. Her first impulse was to run away, but recovering
herself she nodded in a friendly fashion, and bade him “Good day,”
adding:
“What are you doing here, Mr. Ishmael, hunting?”
“Yes,” he answered, “that’s it. Hunting you. It has been a long chase,
but I have caught you at last.”
“Really, I am not a wild creature, Mr. Ishmael,” she said indignantly.
“No,” he answered, “you are more beautiful and more dangerous than any
wild creature.”
Rachel looked at him. Then she made as though she would pass him,
saying that she was going home. Now Ishmael stood between two rocks
filling the only egress from this place.
He stretched out his arms so that his fingers touched the rocks on
either side, and said:
“You can’t. You must listen to me first. I came here to say what I have
wanted to tell you for a long time. I love you, and I ask you to marry
me.”
“Indeed,” she replied, setting her face. “How can that be? I understood
that you were already married—several times over.”
“Who told you that?” he asked, angrily. “I know—that accursed little
witch, Noie.”
“Don’t speak any ill of Noie, please; she is my friend.”
“Then you have a liar for your friend. Those women are only my
servants.”
“It doesn’t matter to me what they are, Mr. Ishmael. I have no wish to
know your private affairs. Shall we stop this talk, which is not
pleasant?”
“No,” he answered. “I tell you that I love you and I mean to marry you,
with your will or without it. Let it be with your will, Rachel,” he
added, pleadingly, “for I will make you a good husband. Also I am
well-born, much better than you think, and I am rich, rich enough to
take you out of this country, if you like. I have thousands of cattle,
and a great deal of money put by, good English gold that I have got
from the sale of ivory. You shall come with me from among all these
savage people back to England, and live as you like.”
“Thank you, but I prefer the savages, as you seem to have done until
now. No, do not try to touch me; you know that I can defend myself if I
choose,” and she glanced at the pistol which she always carried in that
wild land, “I am not afraid of you, Mr. Ishmael; it is you who are
afraid of me.”
“Perhaps I am,” he exclaimed, “because those Zulus are right, you are
_tagati_, an enchantress, not like other women, white or black. If it
were not so, would you have driven me mad as you have done? I tell you
I can’t sleep for thinking of you. Oh! Rachel, Rachel, don’t be angry
with me. Have pity on me. Give me some hope. I know that my life has
been rough in the past, but I will become good again for your sake and
live like a Christian. But if you refuse me, if you send me back to
hell—then you shall learn what I can be.”
“I know what you are, Mr. Ishmael, and that is quite enough. I do not
wish to be unkind, or to say anything that will pain you, but please go
away, and never try to speak to me again like this, as it is quite
useless. You must understand that I will never marry you, never.”
“Are you in love with somebody else?” he asked hoarsely, and at the
question, do what she would to prevent it, Rachel coloured a little.
“How can I be in love here, unless it were with a dream?”
“A dream, a dream of a man you mean. Well, don’t let him cross my path,
or it will soon be the dream of a ghost. I tell you I’d kill him. If I
can’t have you, no one else shall. Do you understand?”
“I understand that I am tired of this. Let me go home, please.”
“Home! Soon you will have no home to go to except mine—that is, if you
don’t change your mind about me. I have power here—don’t you
understand? I have power.”
As he spoke these words the man looked so evil that Rachel shivered a
little. But she answered boldly enough:
“I understand that you have no power at all against me; no one has. It
is I who have the power.”
“Yes, because as I said, you are _tagati_, but there are others——”
As these words passed his lips someone slipped by him. Starting back,
he saw that it was Noie, draped in her usual white robe, for nothing
would induce her to wear European clothes. Passing him as though she
saw him not, she went to Rachel and said:
“Inkosazana, I was at my work in the house yonder and I thought that I
heard you calling me down here by the seashore, so I came. Is it your
pleasure that I should accompany you home?”
“For instance,” he went on furiously, “there is that black slut whom
you are fond of. Well, if I can’t hurt you, I can hurt her. Daughter of
Seyapi, you know how runaways die in Zululand, or if you don’t you
shall soon learn. I will pay you back for all your tricks,” and he
stopped, choking with rage.
Noie looked him up and down with her soft, dreamy brown eyes.
“Do you think so, Night-prowler?” she asked. “Do you think that what
you did to the father and his house, you will do to the daughter also?
Well, it is strange, but last night, just before the cock crew, I sat
by Seyapi’s grave, and he spoke to me of you, White Man. Listen, now,
and I will tell you what he said,” and stepping forward she whispered
in his ear.
Rachel, watching, saw the man’s swarthy face turn pale as he hearkened,
then he lifted his hand as though to strike her, let it fall again, and
muttering curses in English and in Zulu, turned and walked, or rather
staggered away.
“What did you tell him, Noie?” asked Rachel.
“Never mind, Zoola,” she answered. “Perhaps the truth; perhaps what
came into my mind. At any rate I frightened him away. He was making
love to you, was he not, the low _silwana _(wild beast)? Ah! I thought
so, for that he has wished to do for long. And he threatened, did he
not? Well, you are right; he cannot hurt you at all, and me only a
little, I think. But he is very dangerous and very strong, and can hurt
others. If your father is wise he will leave this place, Zoola.”
“I think so too,” answered Rachel. “Let us go home and tell him so.”