"I hope the brute won't turn obstreperous, Vidler," said the magistrate
of Esifeni to the clerk of the court, as the two met on the verandah.
"'Pon my soul it isn't fair to stick us in such a position. Here we
are, with three or four police, stuck away in the thick of a perfect
hotbed of rebellion, and expected to keep it in order."
The other shrugged, but said nothing. He was fully alive to the
difficulties of their position. The "brute" referred to was no less a
personage than Sapazani, who was expected that morning to answer to a
summons with regard to certain matters, specially ordered by the Chief
Commissioner.
"This country's being run on the wrong tack altogether," went on the
magistrate. "Here's a tinpot township with three or four stores, as
many more tin houses, and a Methodist chapel, and the Residency. Sounds
big, don't it, Vidler? especially when there's wind enough to blow out
the Union Jack we delight to fly from the pole in the garden. And all
the force we've got to back it up is four police. Why, we're only here
on sufferance. It isn't fair that a man with a wife and family should
be forced to live at the mercy of that ruffian Sapazani."
The magistrate of Esifeni was not a timid man, but the monotony of life
at his remote post rather tended to make him "nervy." Of late,
moreover, he had seen and heard enough to make him anxious, and the
largest thorn in his side was named Sapazani.
Between himself and the chief there existed a latent hostility which,
never failed to peep out more or less whenever they met. Of late they
had met rather more often than either wanted, but official duty required
it; otherwise Downes would gladly have treated Sapazani on the principle
of giving an organ-grinder sixpence to go to the next street.
"Wonder if that's him," said the clerk, shading his eyes to gaze at a
distant cloud of dust coming over the rise, for the township was
situated in a shallow, open hollow. "Yes, it is," he went on, "and he's
bringing a regular impi with him as usual."
The magistrate frowned.
"Damn him," he said. "I'm always giving him hints about that, and by
way of taking them he turns up next time with a bigger crowd still.
It's done for impudence, Vidler."
"I'm afraid it is, sir. But in this case we mustn't forget that our
force consists of four police, two of whom happen to be just now absent;
and, incidentally, that you have a wife and family."
"Quite right, Vidler, quite right. I'll keep my temper, somehow," he
added, half savagely, half weariedly.
His subordinate was doubtful on this point, but forbore to say so. The
day was abominably oppressive, and the hot wind from the north raked
everything. It was the worst possible sort of day for the transaction
of a difficult and delicate _indaba_, when both parties to the same were
in a state of mutual friction.
The Zulus were now within recognising distance. Sapazani was clad in a
well-cut riding suit of Bedford cord, with boots and spurs, but there
was nothing between the sun and the shine of his head-ring, and he rode
a good horse. Undhlawafa and a few others were also mounted, and then
came a string of followers, clad mostly in a long military surtout. As
Vidler had said, it seemed a regular impi, for there certainly could not
have been much less than a hundred.
"There's one point on which Sapazani and I agree," said the magistrate,
as he watched the approach of the _cortege_, "but not for the same
reason, and that is obliging these fellows to wear clothes when they
come into a township. It facilitates concealed weapons, but a chap with
nothing but a _mutya_ on has nowhere to conceal anything."
There was a stretch of grass between the Court House and the main road.
Here the chiefs dismounted and came forward. Some dozen perhaps were
there, the main body of their followers squatting themselves a little
distance away. They gave the salute civilly but coldly--
"_Nkose_!"
This was calculated to start the talk wrong, Downes holding that, as
representing the British Government, he ought to be given the salute
royal, "_Bayete_."
The magistrate was seated in the verandah, with a table in front of him
covered with papers; on his right was the clerk, and two members of the
Natal Police stood on the other side. But before everything had been
got into order Sergeant Meyrick had remarked to Trooper Francis--
"What's the odds we're here to draw our next month's pay, Frank?
Sapazani's an awful rascal, and he don't bring a whole crowd like that
here for nothing."
"Depends upon how much Downes can keep his rag in," was the answer. But
their revolvers were loaded, and they had other ammunition handy.
The _indaba_ began upon small matters, a recent dispute or two as to the
ownership of cattle, or of land commonage, and so forth. Over the way
people were gazing with faint curiosity at the new arrivals, and one or
two storekeepers were trying to inveigle them into a trade. But it was
difficult to scare up much interest in Esifeni. It was not a township
addicted to excitement, and Sapazani was not a popular potentate among
the storekeepers, in that his conservative soul discouraged the purchase
of European goods on the part of his people.
In the preliminary questions Undhlawafa did most of the talking,
referring now and then to the chief, who had been accommodated with a
chair by virtue of his rank. Then the magistrate said--
"Come we now to a weightier matter--"
He was interrupted, brusquely, unexpectedly.
"I talk not before my own dogs," said Sapazani, with a wave of the hand
towards the court induna who was standing at the end of the verandah,
the same man who had brought him a summons to his own kraal, also
towards two native constables who were hanging on the offskirts. The
tone was curt, peremptory, not to say haughty. The magistrate stared at
the speaker, frowned, then said, sarcastically--
"Is this my court or has Sapazani suddenly been chosen to represent the
Government instead?"
But the chief's face underwent no change. He returned the official's
gaze with a straight, haughty stare.
"I talk not before my own dogs," he repeated.
Downes was nonplussed.
"Well, if you prefer it, come within my own room," he said. But the
other curtly refused. He did not know what trap might have been laid
for him there. Once out of sight of his people and where was he?
Certainly between four walls anything might happen, outside, well--he
knew where he was.
"If I talk I talk here," he declared. "Otherwise I go home."
Downes was speechless with rage--we have said that the day was
abnormally hot and oppressive, and that these two men, whenever they
met, invariably got upon each other's nerves. But he haply remembered
the burden of his remarks to Vidler. The whole township was practically
defenceless. No arms were visible certainly, but more than an
uncomfortable suspicion was upon his mind that they were there all the
same. It was a case for making the best of it. The while Vidler had
made the slightest perceptible sign to the court induna that he should
withdraw as though of his own accord, and with him the two native
constables.
"Go easy, sir," he whispered warningly to his superior, in an undertone.
The latter pulled himself together.
"Talk we now of Pandulu," he said.
"Pandulu?" echoed Sapazani.
"Yes. What of him?"
"Who is Pandulu?"
And Undhlawafa and the remainder of the group looked at each other, and
repeated, "Who is Pandulu?"
"He is a man from Natal," answered the magistrate. "He has been seen
near your kraal, Sapazani, he and Babatyana, who is wanted by the
Government. Where are these men?"
"Pandulu? Babatyana? Men from Natal?" repeated the chief. "Now,
_Nkose_, this is like talking through a bullock's skin. No _Amakafula_
have been at my kraal."
"I said not _at_ thy kraal, but near it," was the short reply. "Now a
chief is responsible to Government for all that happens within the tribe
which he rules--under the Government. Under the Government," repeated
Downes emphatically.
"Yet even a chief is not as the white man's God. He does not know
everything," was the sneering reply. "I would ask--why does the
Government allow its own people in Natal to come over into Zululand at
all? We need no _Amakafula_ in this country. Why does it allow them to
come here? Is it that it cannot prevent them?"
And something of their chief's sneer was echoed among the group, in the
shape of a smothered laugh.
"Prevent them?" retorted Downes. "A man of your intelligence, Sapazani,
must know that the Government has the power to sweep this land from end
to end if necessary until there is not a man left alive in it."
"The Government? Which Government?" answered the chief, with his head
on one side. "The Government of Natal or the Government of the Great
King beyond the sea?"
"Both Governments. Both work together. The question is childish."
"Both work together," repeated Sapazani, still with his head on one
side. "_Au_! That is strange. Because when the men down in Natal were
ordered to be shot for killing two of the _Nongqai_ the King's
Government prevented it."
"That was only until they had inquired further into it," answered the
magistrate. "But they were shot--were they not?"
"We have _heard_ so."
There was a note of incredulity about this reply which was exasperating.
Perhaps it was intended to be.
"So it will be with every one who defies the Government, no matter who
he may be," concluded Downes, magisterially, as though clinching the
argument.
"_Nkose_," replied Sapazani, outwardly polite, though subtly sneering,
"I would ask why the Great King has withdrawn all his soldiers from
here. Is it because he is angry with the white people here?"
Murmurs of assent ran through the attendant group. Downes thought to
detect the cloven foot. Those infernal Ethiopian preachers had been
around disseminating that very idea, he remembered.
"It is not," he answered decisively. "It is because he trusts all his
subjects--black as well as white. But should any such show themselves
unworthy of his trust their punishment will be swift and terrible."
"But, _Nkose_, it will take a long time to bring soldiers from across
the sea," persisted Sapazani, speaking softly.
"There are enough on this side of the sea to do it all," said Downes.
"More than enough. Now take warning, Sapazani. You are not loyal. I,
your magistrate, can see that, have seen it for some time past. You are
sheltering these disaffected men--Pandulu and Babatyana." Here Sapazani
smiled to himself as he thought of the "shelter" he had afforded to the
first named. "If this is done it will mean but one thing, that you are
thoroughly disloyal to the Government. Well, the fate of a disloyal
chief is banishment or death; at any rate, banishment, never to return."
Here Sapazani smiled again to himself as he thought of the head of the
royal house, who had been banished but had long since returned. That
smile exasperated Downes still further.
"You will appear here within half-a-moon's time," he went on, "with one
or both of these men. At any rate, you will appear to--"
"_Hau_! Appear here in half-a-moon's time? _Hau_! But I will not, O
little-dog of the King's little-dog Government. Have I nothing else to
do than to wear out the road to Esifeni! I will _not_ appear in
half-a-moon's time, _impela_!"
The interruption was startling. The chief had leaped to his feet, and,
his tall form straightened and his arm thrown forward, was glaring at
the magistrate, with murder in his eyes, as his voice rose to a sullen
roar of defiance.
"For every trivial thing," he went on, "I am summoned to appear at
Esifeni. If a calf is sick I am summoned to Esifeni to explain it. If
a baby dies I am summoned to Esifeni to explain it. _Hau_! I will come
no more--no more. Let the Government do what it will. I, too, have
men. I, too, have men."
His voice had now risen to a perfect roar. The group had uneasily
sprung to its feet. Undhlawafa in vain tried to whisper words of
soothing counsel to the exasperated chief, but they fell on deaf ears.
The ears of the outside attendants were by no means deaf, however, and
now they came crowding up around the scene of the _indaba_. Their
attitude was silent, waiting, ominous.
Now the best of Downes came out. He did not believe he had many moments
more to live, nor did one of those four white men; they marked the way
in which the _right_ hand of each composing that crowd was concealed
within its owner's clothing. The hot fit of temper had left him, and he
sat there confronting the enraged chief with the dignity of one who felt
as an upholder of the Great British Empire at all risks to himself.
Above and beyond the threatening half-circle he could see the flag of
the Empire drooping limply over the roof which sheltered his dear ones,
and it flashed through his mind that these might, perhaps, be left
uninjured. Then he rose to his feet.
"Go," he said. "I talk not with a chief who talks to me in that way. I
am here alone, and these are all who are with me. But I am strong with
the strength of the whole Empire which that flag represents. Go, and
return not to talk in this way to the representative of the King."
For one tense moment they looked each other in the eyes. Then Sapazani
spoke--
"I go," he said. "When I return it will not be in this way."
He turned and, without a word of farewell, strode away. His followers
were puzzled, therefore subdued. But the bright blades concealed
beneath their clothing remained there, still bright, still undimmed.