ALLAN DELIVERS THE MESSAGE
Once more I sat in the Black Kloof face to face with old Zikali.
“So you have got back safely, Macumazahn,” he said. “Well, I told you
you would, did I not? As for what happened to you upon the journey, let
it be, for now that I am old long stories tire me and I daresay that
there is nothing wonderful about this one. Where is the charm I lent
you? Give it back now that it has served its turn.”
“I have not got it, Zikali. I passed it on to Umslopogaas of the Axe to
save his life from the King’s men.”
“Oh! yes, so you did. I had forgotten. Here it is,” and opening his
robe of fur, he showed me the hideous little talisman hanging about his
neck, then added, “Would you like a copy of it, Macumazahn, to keep as
a memory? If so, I will carve one for you.”
“No,” I answered, “I should not. Has Umslopogaas been here?”
“Yes, he has been and gone again, which is one of the reasons why I do
not wish to hear your tale a second time.”
“Where to? The Town of the People of the Axe?”
“No, Macumazahn, he came thence, or so I understood, but thither he
will return no more.”
“Why not, Zikali?”
“Because after his fashion he made trouble there and left some dead
behind him; one Lousta, I believe, whom he had appointed to sit on his
stool as chief while he was away, and a woman called Monazi, who was
his wife, or Lousta’s wife, or the wife of both of them, I forget
which. It is said that having heard stories of her—and the ears of
jealousy are long, Macumazahn—he cut off this woman’s head with a sweep
of the axe and made Lousta fight him till he fell, which the fool did
almost before he had lifted his shield. It served him right who should
have made sure that Umslopogaas was dead before he wrapped himself in
his blanket and took the woman to cook his porridge.”
“Where has the Axe-bearer gone?” I asked without surprise, for this
news did not astonish me.
“I neither know nor care, Macumazahn. To become a wanderer, I suppose.
He will tell you the tale when you meet again in the after-days, as I
understand he thinks that you will do.[1] Hearken! I have done with
this lion’s whelp, who is Chaka over again, but without Chaka’s wit.
Yes, he is just a fighting man with a long reach, a sure eye and the
trick of handling an axe, and such are of little use to me who know too
many of them. Thrice have I tried to make him till my garden, but each
time he has broken the hoe, although the wage I promised him was a
royal _kaross_ and nothing less. So enough of Umslopogaas, the
Woodpecker. Almost I wish that you had not lent him the charm, for then
the King’s men would have made an end of him, who knows too much and
like some silly boaster, may shout out the truth when his axe is aloft
and he is full of the beer of battle. For in battle he will live and in
battle he will die, Macumazahn, as perhaps you may see one day.”
[1] For the tale of this meeting see the book called “Allan
Quatermain.”—Editor.
“The fate of your friends does not trouble you over much,
Opener-of-Roads,” I said with sarcasm.
“Not at all, Macumazahn, because I have none. The only friends of the
old are those whom they can turn to their own ends, and if these fail
them they find others.”
“I understand, Zikali, and know now what to expect from you.”
He laughed in his strange way and answered,
“Aye, and it is good that you must expect, good in the future as in the
past, for _you_, Macumazahn, who are brave in your own fashion, without
being a fool like Umslopogaas, and, although you know it not, like some
master-smith, forge my assegais out of the red ore I give you,
tempering them in the blood of men, and yet keep your mind innocent and
your hands clean. Friends like you are useful to such as I, Macumazahn,
and must be well paid in those wares that please them.”
The old wizard brooded for a space, while I reflected upon his amazing
cynicism, which interested me in a way, for the extreme of unmorality
is as fascinating to study as the extreme of virtue and often more so.
Then jerking up his great head, he asked suddenly,
“What message had the White Queen for me?”
“She said that you troubled her too much at night in dreams, Zikali.”
“Aye, but if I cease to do so, ever she desires to know the reason why,
for I hear her asking me in the voices of the wind, or in the
twittering of bats. After all, she is a woman, Macumazahn, and it must
be dull sitting alone from year to year with naught to stay her
appetite save the ashes of the past and dreams of the future, so dull
that I wonder, having once meshed you in her web, how she found the
heart to let you go before she had sucked out your life and spirit. I
suppose that having made a mock of you and drained you dry, she was
content to throw you aside like an empty gourd. Perchance, had she kept
you at her side, you would have been a stone in her path in days to
come. Perchance, Macumazahn, she waits for other travellers and would
welcome them, or one of them alone, saying nothing of a certain
Watcher-by-Night who has served her turn and vanished into the night.
“But what other message had the White Queen for the poor old savage
witch-doctor whose talk wearies her so much in her haunted sleep?”
Then I told him of the picture that Ayesha had shown me in the water;
the picture of a king dying in a hut and of two who watched his end.
Zikali listened intently to every word, then broke into a peal of his
unholy laughter.
“_Oho-ho!_” he laughed, “so all goes well, though the road be long,
since whatever this White One may have shown you in the fire of the
heavens above, she could show you nothing but truth in the water of the
earth below, for that is the law of our company of seers. You have
worked well for me, Macumazahn, and you have had your fee, the fee of
the vision of the dead which you desired above all mortal things.”
“Aye,” I answered indignantly, “a fee of bitter fruits whereof the
juice burns and twists the mouth and the stones still stick fast within
the gizzard. I tell you, Zikali, that she stuffed my heart with lies.”
“I daresay, Macumazahn, I daresay, but they were very pretty lies, were
they not? And after all I am sure that there was wisdom in them, as you
will discover when you have thought them over for a score of years.
“Lies, lies, all is lies! But beyond the lie stands Truth, as the White
Witch stands behind her veil. You drew the veil, Macumazahn, and saw
that beneath which brought you to your knees. Why, it is a parable.
Wander on through the Valley of Lies till at last it takes a turn, and,
glittering in the sunshine, glittering like gold, you perceive the
Mountain of everlasting Truth, sought of all men but found by few.
“Lies, lies, all is lies! Yet beyond I tell you, beauteous and eternal
stands the Truth, Macumazahn. _Oho-ho! Oho-ho!_ Fare you well,
Watcher-by-Night, fare you well, Seeker after Truth. After the Night
comes Dawn and after Death comes what—Macumazahn? Well, you will learn
one day, for always the veil is lifted, at last, as the White Witch
shewed you yonder, Macumazahn.”