Sapazani's principal kraal was situated in a bushy hollow, shut in on
three sides by a crescent of cliff and rock abounding in clefts and
caves. It contained something like a hundred dome-shaped huts standing
between their symmetrical ring fences, and the space immediately
surrounding it was open, save for a small clump of the flat-topped
thorn-tree, Sapazani, as we have shown, was ultra-conservative, and the
slovenly and slipshod up-to-date formation of a kraal--or rather lack of
formation, with huts dumped down anyhow--did not obtain among his clan.
They kept to the old-fashioned double-ringed fence.
Now this very conservatism on the part of Sapazani rendered him an
object of suspicion and distrust among the authorities administering the
country, for it pointed to "aims." The other chiefs were content to
come into the townships in grotesque medley of European clothing--as
required by law--trousers, a waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, or long
overcoats and broad-brimmed hats, that give to any savage an absurd and
undignified appearance, but this one not. He was obliged to wear
clothing on the occasions when his presence was officially required at
the seats of administration, but when he did so he wore a riding suit of
unimpeachable cut, and boots and spurs accordingly, but under no
circumstances had he ever been known to wear a hat. He would not cover
up and conceal his head-ring, as did the others. The fact of his not
"falling into line" rendered him open to distrust, as a man with a
strong hankering after the old state of things, and consequently
dissatisfied with the new, therefore a man who might become dangerous.
And there were not wanting, just then, circumstances under which he
might become very dangerous indeed.
Sapazani's kraal was remote from the seat of magistracy of his district,
for which reason he was required to present himself in person, on some
pretext or other, rather more frequently than was usual. To such
summons he never failed to respond without delay. But also he never
failed so to present himself without a considerable following. This
fact sorely puzzled the authorities. They did not like it; yet to
remonstrate would seem to argue that they were afraid of him, an
attitude absolutely fatal to the prestige of the ruling race. And the
said ruling race needed all its prestige just then, when there were less
than a hundred mounted police in the whole of Zululand, and not much
more than three times that number of Volunteer Rifles, but scattered
throughout the length and breadth of the country pursuing their ordinary
civil avocations.
Sapazani was just old enough to have fought as a mere youth in the Zulu
war of '79, and quite old enough to have fought well, and with some
distinction on the Usutu side during the struggle which culminated in
the exile of his present chief to Saint Helena. Now his relations with
his said present chief--repatriated--were something of a mystery to the
ruling race, and there were those who thought that given the opportunity
he would not be averse to usurping his present chief's position and
authority; for he, too, came of royal stock, in that he was of the
Umtetwa tribe and could claim descent from the House of Dingiswayo. His
relations with Ben Halse dated from the time of the above-mentioned
struggle in which his father, Umlali, had been killed, thus leaving him
in undisputed succession to the chieftainship.
The sun was dropping over the lip of cliff-ringed crescent which shut in
the hollow. Sapazani sat outside his hut, surrounded by three or four
indunas, taking snuff; in this, too, he was conservative, not having yet
come to the European pipe. The cattle were being brought in for
milking, and the frantic bellowing of calves, and the responsive "moo"
of their mothers, mingled with the shrill-voiced shouts of the young
boys who were driving the respective herds. His thoughts were busy.
News--great news--had come in. Down in Natal events were stirring. The
tribes there were arming, and they were looking towards Zululand. No
longer were they the white man's dogs, as during the great war, when
they had dared to come into the Zulu country to fight for the white man,
and side by side with him. Now they were looking towards the House of
Senzangakona, and--the representative of that House was dumb.
The song and clear laughter of women and girls bringing up water from
the stream sounded pleasant and melodious upon the evening air, and the
deep-toned voices of men, criticising the condition and well-being of
the cattle in the kraal.
Blue reeks of smoke rose from the huts. The whole scene, in short, was
one of quiet and pastoral peace; but in the chief's plotting brain peace
was the last consideration that entered. Peace! What was he but a mere
slave--obliged to go here, or go there, at the bare official word?
Peace! All the blood in his warrior veins fired at the word. Peace! on
those terms! Every downy-faced youth among the whites expected him to
salute him as a king: he, the descendant of kings. The black preacher
of another race, who had stealthily visited his kraal two moons back
preaching "Africa for the Africans," had inspired him with ideas. He
had listened, had turned the man, so to say, inside out; but one idea
had taken hold. Sapazani was shrewd. He knew that by force of arms, by
sheer force of arms alone, his people were incapable of holding their
own. They could "eat up" every white in the country, and that in a
single night. But they could not hold it afterwards. The whites could
pour in such reinforcements as to eat _them_ up in turn. But the one
idea which the preacher had left in his mind was that the whites were so
divided among themselves that there would be those high in the councils
of the dominant nation who would compel their countrymen to concede to
the Zulus their own land. It was rather mysterious, but he had heard it
from other sources, from one, especially, of weight and knowledge, and
more than half believed it. If that were so, and they could make a
fight for it, why, then, all this officialdom might soon become a thing
of the past, and he--Sapazani--a chief of weight, and in the full prime
of his intellectual and physical gifts, and the descendant of a royal
house, he saw himself king. As well as shrewd, Sapazani was ambitious.
"And the last word of U' Ben was `No,'" the chief was saying.
"That was it," answered Undhlawafa. "But that his child came up while
we talked I think it would have been `Yes.'"
"Ha!" ejaculated Sapazani, now vividly interested. "What said she?"
"That I know not, son of Umlali, for I understand not the tongue of the
Amangisi. But I spoke again about it yesterday, and again he refused."
"Strange!" said the chief. "U' Ben loves money."
"Who does not, son of Umlali, since the whites have brought it into the
country? But though U' Ben loves money, I think that he loves his child
more."
The chief made no reply. A very curious vein of thought--for a Zulu--
was running through his mind, of which, could Ben Halse have had the
smallest inkling, that estimable trader would have cleared out at very
short notice and have set up in business in some other part of South
Africa considerably remote from this.
"U' Ben is a fool," he rejoined after a pause. "He must be growing too
rich. We can get them brought," he went on, talking "dark," "and for
less money. But he has always been a friend, and I wanted to give it to
him. Is his mouth really shut, think you, Undhlawafa?"
"It is, I think. Besides, there is that about him which does not
incline him to move other people to talk," answered the induna
meaningly. "And now, son of Umlali, what of the messenger?"
The chief's face grew heavy, deepening into a scowl.
"Who are these that they are to order us hither and thither?" he said.
"It is only a day ago (figurative) that I was required to attend. Let
the dog come forward."
In compliance with this mandate the said "dog" presently did appear, in
the shape of a well-looking, middle-aged Zulu, wearing a long coat with
brass buttons, also the head-ring. He saluted the chief respectfully
enough, but Sapazani gazed at him sourly.
"So thou art here again, Manyana-ka-Mahlu, and still as the white man's
dog? _Hau_!"
The point of which remark was that the man addressed was court messenger
at the magistracy in whose jurisdiction Sapazani was resident.
"_Nkose_! A man must live," was the answer, with a deprecatory smile.
"And we are not all born chiefs."
Sapazani's eyes blazed into fury, and gripping his stick he half rose.
But a whisper from Undhlawafa restrained him--that, combined with
another thought.
"Dog of the Abelungu," he answered, now cool and sneering. "It is well
for thee that although some of us were _born_ chiefs we _are_ chiefs no
longer. _Hau_! Yet state thy message."
The man was apologetic. Who was he to offend one of the great House of
Umtetwa? he protested. He meant no such thing. He was only showing how
he himself was forced to receive the white man's money. Had there been
any other way of living he need not have done so, but he was poor, and
the white man ruled the land.
Then he proceeded to deliver his message. The attendance of Sapazani
was required three days thence, to give evidence in a rather intricate
case of disputed ownership of cattle then pending between certain of his
own followers. The chief's temper did not improve.
"Ho, Manyana. I wronged thee just now," he said, "I called thee the
white man's dog, but we are all the white man's dogs--I among them the
most. Well, so far thy message. I will be there, as how should it be
otherwise since we lie beneath the heel of these little great great ones
who rule the land?" he concluded, bitterly sneering.
"_Nkose_!"
"Well, there are those who will give thee food and drink. Withdraw."
"_Nkose_!"
The messenger obeyed, and the chief sat moodily. Would anything come of
the unrest that was seething on the other side of the Tugela? He--to be
summoned to take a long journey on account of some trumpery cattle case!
Yet, was that only a pretext? was the sudden suspicion which flashed
through his mind. Well, if it was not much was likely to come of it.
No armed force had been mobilised by the whites as yet in any part of
the country, and in case of any attempt at arresting him, why, as we
have said, he was not in the habit of going into civilisation exactly
alone. The voice of Undhlawafa broke in upon his musings.
"It is not well, son of Umlali, to shake sticks at those who come from
the court," he said drily. He was an old man, and privileged. "Manyana
grows from a good tree, but what if some other had been sent, and had
returned to say that he had been received with roughness, and that
Sapazani was not loyal?"
"Loyal!" echoed the chief, in bitter disgust. "Loyal! _Hau_! Loyal--
to whom?"
Beyond a murmur which might have meant anything, the other made no
reply. Sapazani looked up and around. It was nearly dark. The sounds
of evening had merged into the sounds of night. Most of the inhabitants
of the kraal had retired within the huts, for there was a chill feeling
in the air. He arose.
"The other messenger," he said. "Now we will talk with him."
He, too, went into his hut, and drawing his green blanket round him
proceeded to take snuff. Undhlawafa, who, after a whispered injunction
to some one outside, had followed him, proceeded to do likewise.
Soon a man crept through the low doorway and saluted. In his then frame
of mind the chief noted with double irritation that the new arrival wore
that abomination, in his eyes, the article of European clothing commonly
called a shirt. Squatted on the ground the latter's mission unfolded
itself bit by bit. All the tribes in the north of Natal were ready.
Those in the south of the Zulu country were ready too. How was it with
those in the north?
In reply to this Sapazani and his induna put a number of questions to
the emissary, as the way of natives is. These were answered--some
straightly, some crooked.
"And He--what is _his_ word?"
"He is dumb," replied the emissary. "There are those who have spoken in
his ear, and He is dumb."
Sapazani sat, thinking deeply. "He" applied to the head of the royal
House. More than ever did the insidious poison of the Ethiopian
preacher of whom mention has been made, come back to his mind. Now he
saw his own chance. Not by force of arms alone could a change be
effected; but by the dissensions among the ruling race. Now was the
time--before it should pass.
"Tell him who sent you," he said, "that at the moment I shall be ready.
That is my `word.'"
"_Nkose_!"