RICHARD COMES
As the sun set Rachel rose and walked to her hut. She was utterly
dazed, she could not understand. Was this but a fiction of an
overwrought and disordered mind, or had she seen a vision of things
passing, or that had passed, far away? If it were a dream, then this
was but another drop in her cup of bitterness. If a true vision—oh!
then what did it mean to her? It meant that Richard Darrien lived,
Richard, of whom her heart had been full for years. It meant that his
heart was full of her also, for had she not seemed to hear him say that
he had travelled from the Cape with the Boers to look for her, and was
he not journeying alone through a hostile land to pursue his search?
Who would do such a thing for the sake of a girl unless—unless? It
meant that he would protect her, would rescue her from her terrible
plight, would take her from among these savages to her home again—oh!
and perhaps much more that she did not dare to picture to herself.
Yet how could such things be? They were contrary to experience, at any
rate, to the experience of white folk, though natives would believe in
them easily enough. Yet in Nature things might be possible which were
generally held to be impossible. Her mother had certain gifts—had she,
perhaps, inherited them? Had her helplessness appealed to the pity of
some higher power? Had her ceaseless prayers been heard? Yet, why
should the universal laws be stretched for her? Why should she be
allowed to lift a corner of the black veil of ignorance that hems us
in, and see a glimpse of what lies beyond? If Richard were really
coming, in a day or two she would have learned of his arrival
naturally; there was no need that these mysterious influences should be
set to work to inform her of his approach.
How selfish she was. The warning might concern him, not her. It was
probable enough that the Zulus would kill a solitary white man,
especially if they discovered that he proposed to visit their
Inkosazana. Well, she had the power to protect him. If she “threw her
mantle” over him, no man in all the land would dare to do him violence.
Surely it was for this reason that she had been allowed to learn these
things, if she had learned them, not for her own sake, but his. _If_
she had learned them! Well, she would take the risk, would run the
chance of failure and of mockery, yes, and of the loss of her power
among these people. It should be done at once.
Rachel clapped her hands, and a maiden appeared whom she bade summon
the captain of the guard without the gate. Presently he came,
surrounded by a band of her women, since no man might visit the
Inkosazana alone. Bidding him to cease from his salutations, she
commanded him to go swiftly to the Great Place and pray of Dingaan that
he would send her an escort and a litter, as she must see him that
night on a matter which would not brook delay.
In an hour, just after she had finished her food, which she ate with
more appetite than she had known for days, it was reported that they
were there. Throwing on her white cloak, and taking her horn wand, she
entered the litter and, guarded by a hundred men, was borne swiftly to
the House of Dingaan. At its gate she descended, and once more entered
that court by the moonlight.
As before, there sat the King and his indunas without the Great Hut,
and while she walked towards them every man rose crying “Hail!
Inkosazana.” Yes, even Dingaan, mountain of flesh though he was,
struggled from his stool and saluted her. Rachel acknowledged the
salutation by raising her wand, motioned to them to be seated, and
waited.
“Art thou come, White One,” asked Dingaan, “to make clear those dark
words thou spokest to us a moon ago?”
“Nay, King,” she answered, “what I said then, I said once and for all.
Read thou the saying as thou wilt, or let the Ghost-people interpret it
to thee. Hear me, King and Councillors. Ye have kept me here when I
would be gone, my business being ended, that I might be a judge among
this people. Ye have told me that the rivers were in flood, that the
beast I rode was sick, that evil would befall the land if I deserted
you. Now I know, and ye know, that if it pleased me I could have
departed when and whither I would, but it was not fitting that the
Inkosazana should creep out of Zululand like a thief in the night, so I
abode on in my house yonder. Yet my heart grew wrath with you, and I,
to whom the white people listen also, was half minded to bring hither
the thousands of the Amaboona who are encamped beyond the Buffalo
River, that they might escort me to my home.”
Now at these bold words the King looked uneasy, and one of the
councillors whispered to another,
“How knows she that the white men are camped beyond the Buffalo?”
“Yet,” went on Rachel, “I did not do so, for then there must have been
much fighting and bloodshed, and blood I hate. But I have done this.
With these Amaboona travels an English chief, a young man, one Darrien,
whom I knew from long years ago, and who does me reverence. Him, then,
I have commanded to journey hither, and to lead me to my own place
across the Tugela. To-night I am told he sleeps a short three days’
journey from this town, and I am come here to bid you send out swift
messengers to guide him hither.”
She ceased, and they stared at her awhile. Then the King asked,
“What messenger is it, Inkosazana, that thou hast sent to this white
chief, Dario? We have seen none pass from thy house.”
“Dost thou think, then, King, that thou canst see my messengers? My
thoughts flew from me to him, and called in his ear in the night, and I
saw his coming in the still pool that lies near my huts.”
“_Ow!_” exclaimed one of the Council, “she sent her thoughts to him
like birds, and she saw his coming in the water of the pool. Great is
the magic of the Inkosazana.”
“The chief, Darrien,” went on Rachel, without heeding the interruption,
although she noted that it was Mopo of the withered hand who had spoken
from beneath the blanket wrapped about his head, “may be known thus. He
is fair of face, with eyes like my eyes, and beard and hair of the
colour of gold. If I saw right, he rides upon a black horse with one
white foot and his only companion is a Kaffir named Quabi who, I
think,” and she passed her hand across her forehead, “yes, who was
surely visiting a relation of his, at this, the Great Place, when I
crossed the Tugela.”
Now the King asked if any knew of this Quabi, and an induna answered in
an awed voice, that it was true that a man so called had been in the
town at the time given by the Inkosazana, staying with a soldier whose
name he mentioned, but who was now away on service. He had, however,
departed before the Inkosazana arrived, or so he believed, whither he
knew not.
“I thought it was so,” went on Rachel. “As I saw him in the pool he is
a thin man whose shoulders stoop, and whose beard is white, although
his hair is black. He wears no ring upon his head.”
“That is the man,” said the induna, “being a stranger I noted him well,
as it was my business to do.”
“Summon the messengers swiftly, King,” went on Rachel, “and let them
depart at once, for know that this white chief and his servant are
under the protection of the Heavens, and if harm comes to them, then I
lay my curse upon the land, and it shall break up in blood and ruin.
Bid them say to Darrien, that the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, she who stood
with him once on the rock in the river while the lightnings fell and
the lions roared about them, sends him greetings and awaits him.”
Now Dingaan turned to an induna and said,
“Go, do the bidding of the Inkosazana. Bid swift runners search out
this white chief, and lead him to her house, and remember that if aught
of ill befalls him, those men die, and thou diest also.”
The induna leapt up and departed, and Rachel also made ready to go. A
moment later the captain of the gate entered, fell upon his knees
before Dingaan, and said,
“O King, tidings.”
“What are they, man?” he asked.
“King, the watchmen report that it has been called from hilltop to
hilltop that a white man who rides a black horse, has crossed the
Buffalo, and travels towards the Great Place. What is thy pleasure?
Shall he be killed or driven back?”
“When did that news come?” asked the King in the silence which followed
this announcement.
“Not a minute gone,” he answered. “The inner watchman ran with it, and
is without the gates. There has been no other tidings from the West for
days.”
“Thy watchmen call but slowly, King, the water in the pool speaks
swifter,” said Rachel, then still in the midst of a heavy silence, for
this thing was fearful to them, she turned and departed.
“So it is true, so it is true!” Rachel kept repeating to herself, the
words suiting themselves to the time of the footfall of her bearers.
She was spent with all the labour and emotions of that long day,
culminating in the last scene, when she must play her dangerous,
superhuman part before these keen-witted savages. She could think no
more; scarcely could she undress and throw herself upon her bed in the
hut. Yet that night she slept soundly, better than she had done since
Noie went away. No dreams came to trouble her and in the morning she
woke refreshed.
But now doubts did come. Might she not be mistaken after all? She knew
the marvellous powers of the natives in the matter of the transmission
of news, powers so strange that many, even among white people,
attributed them to witchcraft. She had no doubt, therefore, as to the
fact of some Englishman or Boer having entered Zululand. Doubtless the
news of his arrival had been conveyed over scores of miles of country
by the calling of it as the captain said, from hill to hill, or in some
other fashion. But might not this arrival and the circumstance of her
dream or vision be a mere coincidence? What was there to show that the
stranger who was riding a black horse was really Richard Darrien?
Perhaps it was all a mistake, and he was only one of those white
wanderers of the stamp of the outcast Ishmael who, even at that date,
made their way into savage countries for the purposes of gain or to
enjoy a life of licence. And yet, and yet Quabi, of whom she also
dreamed, had visited the Great Place—as she dreamed.
The next two days were terrible to Rachel. She endured them as she had
endured all those that went before, trying the cases that were brought
to her, keeping up her appearance of distant dignity and utter
indifference. She asked no questions, since to do so would be to show
doubt and weakness, although she was aware that the tale of her vision
had spread through the land, and that the issue of the matter was of
intense interest to thousands. From some talk which she overheard while
she pretended to be listening to evidence, she learned even that two
men going to execution had discussed it, saying that they regretted
they would not live to know the truth. On the second day she did hear
one piece of news, for although she sat by her pool and again tried to
sleep by its waters, these remained blind and dumb.
The induna, Tamboosa, on one of his ceremonial visits, after speaking
of the health of her mare, which, it seemed was improving, mentioned
incidentally that the messengers running night and day had met the
white man and “called back” that he was safe and well. He added that
had it not been for her vision this said white man would certainly have
been killed as a spy.
“Yes, I knew that,” answered Rachel, indifferently, although her heart
thumped within her bosom. “I forget if I said that the Inkosi was to be
brought straight here when he arrives. If not, let it be known that
such is my command. The King can receive him afterwards if it pleases
him to do so, as probably we shall not depart until the next day.”
Then she yawned, and as though by an afterthought asked if any news had
been “called back” from Noie.
Tamboosa answered, No; no system of intelligence had been organised in
the direction in which she had gone, for that country was empty of
enemies, and indeed of population. However, this would not distress the
Inkosazana, who had only to consult her Spirit to see all that happened
to her servant.
Rachel replied that of course this was so, but as a matter of fact she
had not troubled about the matter, then waved her hand to show that the
interview was at an end.
It was the morning of the third day, and while Rachel was delivering
judgment in a case, a messenger entered and whispered something to the
induna on duty, who rose and saluted her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Only this, Inkosazana; the white Inkoos from the Buffalo River has
arrived, and is without.”
“Good,” said Rachel, “let him wait there.” Then she went on with her
judgment. Yes, she went on, although her eyes were blind, and the blood
beating in her ears sounded like the roll of drums. She finished it,
and after a decent interval, bowed her head in acknowledgement of the
customary salutes, and made the sign which intimated that the Court was
to be cleared.
Slowly, slowly, all the crowd melted away, leaving her alone with her
women.
“Go,” she said to one of them, “and bid the captain admit this white
chief. Say that he is to come unarmed and alone. Then depart, all of
you. If I should need you I will call.”
The girl went on her errand while her companions filed away through the
back gate of the inner fence. Rachel glanced round to make sure of her
solitude. It was complete, no one was left. There she sat in state upon
her carved stool, her wand in her hand, her white cloak upon her
shoulders, and the sunlight that passed over the round of the hut
behind her glinting on her hair till it shone like a crown of gold, but
leaving her face in shadow; sat quite still like some lovely tinted
statue.
The gate of the inner fence opened and closed again after a man who
entered. He walked forward a few paces, then stood still, for the flood
of light that revealed him so clearly at first prevented him from
seeing her seated in the shadow. Oh! there could be no further
doubt—before her was Richard Darrien, the lad grown to manhood, from
whom she had parted so many years ago. Now, as then, he was not tall,
though very strongly built, and for the rest, save for his short beard,
the change in him seemed little. The same clear, thoughtful, grey eyes,
the same pleasant, open face, the same determined mouth. She was not
disappointed in him, she knew this at once. She liked him as well as
she had done at the first.
Now he caught sight of her and stayed there, staring. She tried to
speak, to welcome him, but could not, no words would come. He also
seemed to be smitten with dumbness, and thus the two of them remained a
while. At last he took off his hat almost mechanically, as though from
instinct, and said vaguely,
“You are the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, are you not?”
“I am so called,” she answered softly, and with effort.
The moment that he heard her voice, with a movement so swift that it
was almost a spring, he advanced to her, saying,
“Now I am sure; you are Rachel Dove, the little girl who—Oh, Rachel,
how lovely you have grown!”
“I am glad you think so, Richard,” she answered again in the same low,
deep voice, a voice laden with the love within her, and reddening to
her eyes. Then she let fall her wand, and rising, stretched out both
her hands to him.
They were face to face, now, but he did not take those hands; he passed
his arms about her, drew her to him unresisting, and kissed her on the
lips. She slipped from his embrace down on to her stool, white now as
she had been red. Then while he stood over her, trembling and confused,
Rachel looked up, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and whispered,
“Why should I be ashamed? It is Fate.”
“Yes,” he answered, “Fate.”
For so both of them knew it to be. Though they had seen each other but
once before, their love was so great, the bond between their natures so
perfect and complete, that this outward expression of it would not be
denied. Here was a mighty truth which burst through all wrappings of
convention and proclaimed itself in its pure strength and beauty. That
kiss of theirs was the declaration of an existent unity which
circumstances did not create, nor their will control, and thus they
confessed it to each other.
“How long?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Eight years to-day,” he answered, “since I rode away after those
waggons.”
“Eight years,” she repeated, “and no word from you all that time. You
have behaved badly to me, Richard.”
“No, no, I could not find out. I wrote three times, but always the
letters were returned, except one that went to the wrong people, who
were angry about it. Then two years ago, I heard that your father and
mother had been in Natal, but had gone to England, and that you were
dead. Yes, a man told me that you were dead,” he added with a gulp. “I
suppose he was speaking of somebody else, as he could not remember
whether the name was Dove or Cove, or perhaps he was just lying. At any
rate, I did not believe, him. I always felt that you were alive.”
“Why did you not come to see, Richard?”
“Why? Because it was impossible. For years my father was an invalid,
paralysed; and I was his only child, and could not leave him.”
She looked a question at him.
“Yes,” he answered with a nod, “dead, ten months ago, and for a few
weeks I had to remain to arrange about the property, of which he left a
good deal, for we did well of late years. Just then I heard a rumour of
an English missionary and his wife and daughter who were said to be
living somewhere beyond the boundaries of Natal, in a savage place on
the Transvaal side of the Drakensberg, and as some Boers I knew were
trekking into that country I came with them on the chance—a pretty poor
one, as the story was vague enough.”
“You came—you came to seek the girl, Rachel Dove?”
“Of course. Otherwise why should I have left my farms down in the Cape
to risk my neck among these savages?”
“And then,” went on Rachel, “you or somebody else sent in the spy,
Quabi, who returned to the Boer camp with his story about the
Inkosazana-y-Zoola. You remember you brought him in limping to that old
fellow with a grey beard and a large pipe, and the others who laughed
at the tale. I mean when you said that this Inkosazana seemed very like
an English maid, ‘the daughter of a teacher,’ whom you were looking
for, and that you would go to find out the truth of the business.”
“Yes, that’s all right; but Rachel,” he added with a start, “how do you
know anything about it—Oom Piet and the rest, and the words I used?
Your spies must be very good and quick, for you can’t have seen Quabi.”
“My spies are good and quick. Did you get my message sent by the King’s
men? It was that she who stood with you on the rock in the river,
greeted you and awaited you?”
“Yes, I could not understand. I do not understand now. Just before that
they were going to kill me as a Boer spy. Who told you everything?”
“My heart,” she answered smiling. “I dreamed it all. I suppose that I
was allowed to save your life that I might bring you here to save me.
Listen now, Richard, while I tell you the strangest story that you ever
heard; and if you don’t believe it, go and ask the King and his
indunas.”
Then she told him of her vision by the pool and all that happened after
it. When she had finished Richard could only shake his head and say:
“Still I don’t understand; but no wonder these Zulus have made a
goddess of you. Well, Rachel, what is to happen now? If you are to stop
here they mayn’t care for me as a high priest.”
“I am not; I am going home, and you must take me. I told them that you
were coming to do so. You have your horse, have you not, the black
horse with the white forefoot? Well, we will start at once—no, you must
eat first, and there are things to arrange. Now stand at a distance
from me and look as respectful as you can, for I fill a strange
position here.”
Then Rachel clapped her hands and the women came running in.
“Bring food for the Inkosi Darrien,” she said, “and send hither the
captain of the gate.”
Presently the man arrived crouched up in token of respect, and shouting
her titles.
“Go to the King,” said Rachel, “and tell him the Inkosazana commands
that the horse on which she came be brought to her at once, as she
leaves Zululand for a while; also that an impi be assembled within an
hour to escort her and this white chief, her servant, to the Tugela.
Say that the Inkosi Darrien has brought her tidings which make it
needful that she should travel hence speedily if the Zulus, her people,
are to be saved from great misfortune, and say, too, that he goes with
her. If the King or his indunas would see the Inkosazana, or the chief
Darrien, let him or the indunas meet them on their road, since they
have no time to visit the Great Place. Let Tamboosa be in command of
the impi, and say also that if it is not here at once, the Inkosazana
will be angry and summon an impi of her own. Go now, for the lives of
many hang upon your speed; yes, the lives of the greatest in the land.”
The man saluted and shot away like an arrow.
“Will they obey you?” asked Richard.
“I think so, because they are afraid of me, especially since I saw you
coming. At any rate we must act at once, it is our best chance—before
they have time to think. Here is some food—eat. Woman, go, tell the
guard that the Inkosi’s horse must be fed at the gate, for he will need
it presently, and his servant also.”
“I have no servant, Inkosazana,” broke in Richard. “I left Quabi at a
kraal fifty miles away, laid up with a cut foot. As soon as he is
better he will slip back across the Buffalo River.”
Then while Richard ate, which he did heartily enough, for joy had made
him very hungry, they talked, who had much to tell. He asked her why
she thought it necessary to leave Zululand at once. She answered, for
two reasons, first because of her desperate anxiety about her father
and mother, as to whom her heart foreboded ill, and secondly for his
own sake. She explained that the Zulus who had set her up as an image
or a token of the guiding Spirit of their nation, were madly jealous
concerning her, so jealous that if he remained here long she was by no
means certain that even her power could protect him when they came to
understand that he was much to her. It was impossible that she could
see him often, and much more so that he could remain in her kraal.
Therefore if they were detained he would be obliged to live at some
distance from her where an assegai might find him at night or poison be
put in his food. At present they were impressed by her foreknowledge of
his arrival, and that was why he had been admitted to her at once. But
this would wear off—and then who could say, especially if Ishmael
returned?
He asked who Ishmael was and what he had to do with her. Rachel told
him briefly, and though she suppressed much, he looked very grave at
that story.
While she was finishing it a woman called without for leave to enter,
and, as before, Rachel bade him stand in a respectful attitude, and at
a distance from her. Richard obeyed, and the woman came in to say that
certain of the King’s indunas craved audience with her. They were
admitted and saluted her in their usual humble fashion, but of Richard,
beyond eyeing him curiously and, as she thought, hostilely, they took
not the slightest heed.
“Are all things ready for my journey, as I commanded?” asked Rachel at
once.
“Inkosazana,” answered their spokesman, “they are ready, for how canst
thou be disobeyed? Tamboosa and the impi wait without. Yet, Inkosazana,
the heart of the Black One and the hearts of his councillors, and of
all the Zulu people are cut in two because thou wouldst go and leave
them mourning. Their hearts are sore also with this white man Dario,
who has come to lead thee hence, so sore, that were he not thy
servant,” the induna added grimly, “he at least should stay in
Zululand.”
“He is my servant,” answered Rachel haughtily, “whom I sent for. Let
that suffice. Remember my words, all of you, and let them be told again
in the ears of the King, that if any harm comes to this white chief who
is my guest and yours, then there will be blood between me and the
people of the Zulus that shall be terribly avenged in blood.”
The indunas seemed to cower at this declaration, but made no answer.
Only the chief of them said:
“The King would know if the Inkosi, thy servant, brings thee any
tidings of the Amaboona, the white folk with whom he has been
journeying.”
“He brings tidings that they seek peace with the Zulus, to whom they
will do no hurt if no hurt is done to them. Shall I tell them that the
Zulus also seek peace?”
“The King gave us no message on that matter, Inkosazana,” replied the
induna. “He awaits the coming of the prophets of the Ghost-folk to
interpret the meaning of thy words, and of the omen of the falling
star.”
“So be it,” said Rachel. “When my servant, Noie, returns, let her be
sent on to me at once, that I may hear and consider the words of her
people,” and she began to rise from her seat to intimate that the
interview was finished.
“Inkosazana,” said the induna hurriedly, “one question from the
King—when dost thou return to Zululand?”
“I return when it is needful. Fear not, I think that I shall return,
but I say to the King and to all of you: Be careful when I come that
there is no blood between me and you, lest great evil fall upon your
heads from Heaven. I have spoken. Good fortune go with you till we meet
again.”
The indunas looked at each other, then rose and departed humbly as they
had entered.
An hour later, surrounded by the impi, and followed by Richard, Rachel
was on the Tugela road. At the crest of a hill she pulled rein and
looked back at the great kraal, Umgugundhlovu. Then she beckoned
Richard to her side and said:
“I think that before long I shall see that hateful place again.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because of the way in which those indunas looked at each other just
now. There was some evil secret in their eyes. Richard, I am afraid.”