HEDA’S TALE
That evening when I was lying on my bed outside the cave, I heard the
tale of Anscombe and Heda. Up to a certain point he told it, then she
went on with the story.
“On the morning after our arrival at this place, Allan,” said Anscombe,
“I woke up to find you gone from the hut. As you did not come back I
concluded that you were with Zikali, and walked about looking for you.
Then food was brought to us and Heda and I breakfasted together, after
which we went to where we heard the horses neighing and found that
yours was gone. Returning, much frightened, we met Nombé, who gave me
your note which explained everything, and we inquired of her why this
had been done and what was to become of us. She smiled and answered
that we had better ask the first question of the king and the second of
her master Zikali, and in the meanwhile be at peace since we were quite
safe.
“I tried to see Zikali but could not. Then I went to inspan the horses
with the idea of following you, only to find that they were gone.
Indeed I have not seen them from that day to this. Next we thought of
starting on foot, for we were quite desperate. But Nombé intervened and
told us that if we ventured out of the Black Kloof we should be killed.
In short we were prisoners.
“This went on for some days, during which we were well treated but
could not succeed in seeing Zikali. At length one morning he sent for
us and we were taken to the enclosure in front of his hut, Kaatje
coming with us as interpreter. For a while he sat still, looking very
grim and terrible. Then he said—
“‘White Chief and Lady, you think ill of me because Macumazahn has gone
and you are kept prisoners here, and before all is done you will think
worse. Yet I counsel you to trust me since everything that happens is
for your good.’
“At this point Heda, who, as you know, talked Zulu fairly well, though
not so well as she does now, broke in, and said some very angry things
to him.”
“Yes,” interrupted Heda. “I told him that he was a liar and I believed
that he had murdered you and meant to murder us.”
“He listened stonily,” continued Anscombe, “and answered, ‘I perceive,
Lady Heddana, that you understand enough of our tongue to enable me to
talk to you; therefore I will send away this half-breed woman, since
what I have to say is secret.’
“Then he called servants by clapping his hands and ordered them to
remove Kaatje, which was done.
“‘Now, Lady Heddana,’ he said, speaking very slowly so that Heda might
interpret to me and repeating his words whenever she did not
understand, ‘I have a proposal to make to you. For my own ends it is
necessary that you should play a part and appear before the king and
the Council as the goddess of this land who is called the Chieftainess
of Heaven, which goddess is always seen as a white woman. Therefore you
must travel with me to Ulundi and there do those things which I shall
tell you.’
“‘And if I refuse to play this trick,’ said Heda, ‘what then?’
“‘Then, Lady Heddana, this white lord whom you love and who is to be
your husband will—die—and after he is dead you must still do what I
desire of you, or—die also.’
“‘Would he come with me to Ulundi?’ asked Heda.
“‘Not so, Lady. He would stay here under guard, but quite safe, and you
will be brought back to him, safe. Choose now, with death on the one
hand and safety on the other. I would sleep a little. Talk the matter
over in your own tongue and when it is settled awaken me again,’ and he
shut his eyes and appeared to go to sleep.
“So we discussed the situation, if you can call it discussion when we
were both nearly mad. Heda wished to go. I begged her to let me be
killed rather than trust herself into the hands of this old villain.
She pointed out that even if I were killed, which she admitted might
not happen, she would still be in his hands whence she could only
escape by her own death, whereas if she went there was a chance that we
might both continue to live, and that after all death was easy to find.
So in the end I gave way and we woke up Zikali and told him so.
“He seemed pleased and spoke to us gently, saying, ‘I was sure that
wisdom dwelt behind those bright eyes of yours, Lady, and again I
promise you that neither you nor the lord your lover shall come to any
harm. Also that in payment I and my child, Nombé, will protect you even
with our lives, and further, that I will bring back your friend,
Macumazahn, to you, though not yet. Now go and be happy together. Nombé
will tell the lady Heddana when she is to start. Of all this say
nothing on your peril to the woman Kaatje, since if you do, it will be
necessary that she should be made silent. Indeed, lest she should learn
something, to-morrow I shall send her on to await you at Ulundi,
therefore be not surprised if you see her go, and take no heed of aught
she may say in going. Nombé, my child, will fill her place as servant
to the lady Heddana and sleep with her at night that she may not be
lonely or afraid.’
“Then he clapped his hands again and servants came and conducted us
back to the huts. And now, Allan, Heda will go on with the story.”
“Well, Mr. Quatermain,” she said, “nothing more happened that day which
we spent with bursting hearts. Kaatje did not question us as to what
the witch-doctor had said after she was sent away. Indeed I noticed
that she was growing very stupid and drowsy, like a person who has been
drugged, as I daresay she was, and would insist upon beginning to pack
up the things in a foolish kind of way, muttering something about our
trekking on the following day. The night passed as usual, Kaatje
sleeping very heavily by my side and snoring so much” (here I groaned
sympathetically) “that I could get little rest. On the next morning
after breakfast as the huts were very hot, Nombé suggested that we
should sit under the shadow of the overhanging rock, just where we are
now. Accordingly we went, and being tired out with all our troubles and
bad nights, I fell into a doze, and so, I think, did Maurice, Nombé
sitting near to us and singing all the while, a very queer kind of
song.
“Presently, through my doze as it were, I saw Kaatje approaching. Nombé
went to meet her, still singing, and taking her hand, led her to the
cart, where they seemed to talk to the horses, which surprised me as
there were no horses. Then she brought her round the cart and pointed
to us, still singing. Now Kaatje began to weep and throw her hands
about, while Nombé patted her on the shoulder. I tried to speak to her
but could not. My tongue was tied, why I don’t know, but I suppose
because I was really asleep, and Maurice also was asleep and did not
wake at all.”
“Yes,” said Anscombe, “I remember nothing of all this business.”
“After a while Kaatje went away, still weeping, and then I fell asleep
in earnest and did not wake until the sun was going down, when I roused
Maurice and we both went back to the hut, where I found that Nombé had
cooked our evening meal. I looked for Kaatje, but could not find her.
Also in searching through my things I missed the bag of jewels. I
called to Nombé and asked where Kaatje was, whereon she smiled and said
that she had gone away, taking the bag with her. This pained me, for I
had always found Kaatje quite honest—”
“Which she is,” I remarked, “for those jewels are now in a bank at
Maritzburg.”
Heda nodded and went on, “I am glad to hear it; indeed, remembering
what Zikali had said, I never really suspected her of being a thief,
but thought it was all part of some plan. After this things went on as
before, except that Nombé took Kaatje’s place and was with me day and
night. Of Kaatje’s disappearance she would say nothing. Zikali we did
not see.
“On the third evening after the vanishing of Kaatje, Nombé came and
said that I must make ready for a journey, and while she spoke men
arrived with a litter that had grass mats hung round it. Nombé brought
out my long cape and put it over me, also a kind of veil of white stuff
which she threw over my head, so as to hide my face. I think it was
made out of one of our travelling mosquito nets. Then she said I must
say good-bye to Maurice for a while. There was a scene as you may
imagine. He grew angry and said that he would come with me, whereon
armed men appeared, six of them, and pushed him away with the handles
of their spears. In another minute I was lifted into the litter which
Nombé entered with me, and so we were parted, wondering if we should
ever see each other more. At the mouth of the kloof I saw another
litter surrounded by a number of Zulus, which Nombé said contained
Zikali.
“We travelled all that night and two succeeding nights, resting during
the day in deserted kraals that appeared to have been made ready for
us. It was a strange journey, for although the armed men flitted about
us, neither they nor the bearers ever spoke, nor did I see Zikali, or
indeed any one else. Only Nombé comforted me from time to time, telling
me there was nothing to fear. Towards dawn on the third night we
travelled over some hills and I was put into a new hut and told that my
journey was done as we had reached a place near Ulundi.
“I slept most of the following day, but after I had eaten towards
evening, Zikali crept into the hut, just as a great toad might do, and
squatted down in front of me.
“‘Lady,’ he said, ‘listen. To-night, perhaps one hour after sundown,
perhaps two, perhaps three, Nombé will lead you, dressed in a certain
fashion, from this hut. See now, outside of it there is a tongue of
rock up which you may climb unnoted by the little path that runs
between those big stones. Look,’ and he showed me the place through the
door-hole. ‘The path ends on a flat boulder at the end of the rock.
There you will take your stand, holding in your right hand a little
assegai which will be given to you. Nombé will not accompany you to the
rock, but she will crouch between the stones at the head of the path
and perhaps from time to time whisper to you what to do. Thus when she
tells you, you must throw the little spear into the air, so that it
falls among a number of men gathered in debate who will be seated about
twenty paces from the rock. For the rest you are to stand quite still,
saying nothing and showing no alarm whatever you may hear or see. Among
the men before you may be your friend, Macumazahn, but you must not
appear to recognize him, and if he speaks to you, you must make no
answer. Even if he should seem to shoot at you, do not be afraid. Do
you understand? If so, repeat what I have told you.’ I obeyed him and
asked what would happen if I did not do these things, or some of them.
“He answered, ‘You will be killed, Nombé will be killed, the lord
Mauriti your lover will be killed, and your friend Macumazahn will be
killed. Perhaps even I shall be killed and we will talk the matter over
in the land of ghosts.’
“On hearing this I said I would do my best to carry out his orders, and
after making me repeat them once more, he went away. Later, Nombé
dressed me up as you saw me, Mr. Quatermain, put some glittering powder
into my hair and touched me beneath the eyes with a dark kind of
pigment. Also she gave me the little spear and made me practise
standing quite still with it raised in my right hand, telling me that
when I heard her say the word 'Throw,’ I was to cast it into the air.
Then the moon rose and we heard men talking at a distance. At last some
one came to the hut and whispered to Nombé, who led me out to the
little path between the rocks.
“This must have been nearly two hours after I heard the men begin to
talk—”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “but where was Nombé all those two hours?”
“With me. She never left my side, Mr. Quatermain, and while I was on
the rock she was crouched within three paces of me between two big
stones at the mouth of the path.”
“Indeed,” I replied faintly, “this is very interesting. Please
continue—but one word, how was Nombé dressed? Did she wear a necklace
of blue beads?”
“Just as she always is, or rather less so, for she had nothing on
except her moocha, and certainly no blue beads. But why do you ask?”
“From curiosity merely. I mean, I will tell you afterwards, pray go
on.”
“Well, I stepped forward on to the rock and at first saw nothing,
because at that moment the moon was hid by a cloud; indeed Nombé had
waited for the cloud to pass over its face, before she thrust me
forward. Also some smoke from a fire below was rising straight in front
of me. Presently the cloud passed, the smoke thinned, and I saw the
circle of those savage men seated beneath, and in their centre a great
chief wearing a leopard’s skin cloak who I guessed was the king. You I
did not see, Mr. Quatermain, because you were behind a tree, yet I felt
that you were there, a friend among all those foes. I stood still, as I
had been taught to do, and heard the murmur of astonishment and caught
the gleam of the moonlight from the white feathers that were sewn upon
my robe.
“Then I heard also the voice of Zikali speaking from beneath. He called
on you to come out to shoot at me, and the man whom I took to be the
king, ordered you to obey. You appeared from behind the tree, and I was
certain from the look upon your face that at that distance you did not
know who I was in my strange and glittering raiment. You lifted the
pistol and I was terribly afraid, for I had seen you shoot with it
before on the verandah of the Temple and knew well that you do not
miss. Very nearly I screamed out to you, but remembered and was silent,
thinking that after all it did not much matter if I died, except for
the sake of Maurice here. Also by now I guessed that I was being used
to deceive those men before me into some terrible act, and that if I
died, at least they would be undeceived.
“I thought that an age passed between the time you pointed the pistol
and I saw the flash for which I was waiting.”
“You need not have waited, Heda,” I interposed, “for if I had really
aimed at you you would never have seen that flash, at least so it is
said. I too guessed enough to shoot above you, although at the time I
did not know that it was you on the rock; indeed I thought it was Nombé
painted up.”
“Yes, I heard the bullet sing over me. Then I heard the voice of Zikali
challenging you to shoot him, and to tell the truth, hoped that you
would do so. Just before you fired for the second time, Nombé whispered
to me—‘Throw’ and I threw the little red-handled spear into the air.
Then as the pistol went off Nombé whispered—‘Come.’ I slipped away down
the path and back with her into the hut, where she kissed me and said
that I had done well indeed, after which she took off my strange robe
and helped me to put on my own dress.
“That is all I know, except that some hours later I was awakened from
sleep and put into the litter where I went to sleep again, for what I
had gone through tired me very much. I need not trouble you with the
rest, for we journeyed here in the same way that we had journeyed to
Ulundi—by night. I did not see Zikali, but in answer to my questions,
Nombé told me that the Zulus had declared war against the English. What
part in the business I had played, she would not tell me, and I do not
know to this hour, but I am sure that it was a great one.
“So we came back to the Black Kloof, where I found Maurice quite well,
and now he had better go on with the tale, for if I begin to tell you
of our meeting I shall become foolish.”
“There isn’t much more to tell,” said Anscombe, “except about yourself.
While Heda was away I was kept a prisoner and watched day and night by
Zikali’s people who would not let me stir a yard, but otherwise treated
me kindly. Then one day at sunrise, or shortly after it, Heda
re-appeared and told me all this story, for the end of which, as you
may imagine, I thanked God.
“After that we just lived on here, happily enough since we were
together, until one day Nombé told us that there had been a great
battle in which the Zulus had wiped out the English, killing hundreds
and hundreds of them, although for every soldier that they killed, they
had lost two. Of course this made us very sad, especially as we were
afraid you might be with our troops. We asked Nombé if you were present
at the battle. She answered that she would inquire of her Spirit and
went through some very strange performances with ashes and knuckle
bones, after which she announced that you had been in the battle but
were alive and coming this way with a dog that had silver on it. We
laughed at her, saying that she could not possibly know anything of the
sort, also that dogs as a rule did not carry silver. Whereon she only
smiled and said—‘Wait.’
“I think it was three days later that one night towards dawn I was
awakened by hearing a dog barking outside my hut, as though it wished
to call attention to its presence. It barked so persistently and in a
way so unlike a Kaffir dog, that at length about dawn I went out of the
hut to see what was the matter. There, standing a few yards away
surrounded by some of Zikali’s people, I saw Lost and knew at once that
it was an English Airedale, for I have had several of the breed. It
looked very tired and frightened, and while I was wondering whence on
earth it could have come, I noticed that it had a silver-mounted collar
and remembered Nombé and her talk about you and a dog that carried
silver on it. From that moment, Allan, I was certain that you were
somewhere near, especially as the beast ran up to me—it would take no
notice of the Kaffirs—and kept looking towards the mouth of the kloof,
as though it wished me to follow it. Just then Nombé arrived, and on
seeing the dog looked at me oddly.
“‘I have a message for you from my master, Mauriti,’ she said to me
through Heda, who by now had arrived upon the scene, having also been
aroused by Lost’s barking. ‘It is that if you wish to take a walk with
a strange dog you can do so, and bring back anything you may find.’”
“The end of it was that after we had fed Lost with milk and meat, I and
six of Zikali’s men started down the kloof, Lost going ahead of us and
now and again running back and whining. At the mouth of the kloof it
led us over a hill and down into a bush-veld valley where the thorns
grew very thick. When we had gone along the valley for about two miles,
one of the Kaffirs saw a Basuto pony still saddled, and caught it. The
dog went on past the pony to a tree that had been shattered by
lightning, and there within a few yards of the tree we found you lying
senseless, Allan, or, as I thought at first, dead, and by your side a
Martini rifle of which the stock also seemed to have been broken by
lightning.
“Well, we put you on a shield and carried you here, meeting no one, and
that is all the story, Allan.”
He stopped and we stared at each other. Then I called Lost and patted
its head, and the dear beast licked my hand as though it understood
that it was being thanked.
“A strange tale,” I said, “but God Almighty has put much wisdom into
His creatures of which we know nothing. Let us thank Him,” and in our
hearts we did.
Thus was I rescued from death by the intelligence and fidelity of a
four-footed creature. Doubtless in my semi-conscious state that
resulted from shock, weariness and sun-stroke, I had all the while
headed sub-consciously and without any definite object for the Black
Kloof. When I was within a few miles of it I was stunned by the
lightning which ran down the rifle to the ground, though not actually
struck. Then the dog, which had escaped, played its part, wandering
about the country to find help for me, and so I was saved.
Now of the long months that followed I have little to tell. They were
not unhappy in their way, for week by week I felt myself growing
stronger, though very slowly. There was a path, steep, difficult and
secret, which could be gained through one of the caves in the
precipice, not that in which I slept. This path ran up a water-cut
kloof through a patch of thorns to a flat tableland that was part of
the Ceza stronghold. By it, when I had gained sufficient strength,
sometimes we used to climb to the plateau, and there take exercise. It
was an agreeable change from the stifling atmosphere of the Black
Kloof. The days were very dull, for we were as much out of the world as
though we had been marooned on a desert island. Still from time to time
we heard of the progress of the war through Nombé, for Zikali I saw but
seldom.
She told of disasters to the English, of the death of a great young
Chief who was deserted by his companions and died fighting
bravely—afterwards I discovered that this was the Prince Imperial of
France—of the advance of our armies, of defeats inflicted upon
Cetewayo’s impis, and finally of the destruction of the Zulus on the
battlefield of Ulundi, where they hurled themselves by thousands upon
the British square, to be swept away by case-shot and the hail of
bullets. This battle, by the way, the Zulus call, not Ulundi or
Nodwengu, for it was fought in front of Panda’s old kraal of that name,
but Ocwecweni, which means—“the fight of the sheet-iron fortress.” I
suppose they give it this name because the hedge of bayonets, flashing
in the sunlight, reminded them of sheet-iron. Or it may be because
these proved as impenetrable as would have done walls of iron. At any
rate they dashed their naked bodies against the storm of lead and fell
in heaps, only about a dozen of our men being killed, as the little
graveyard in the centre of the square entrenchment, about which still
lie the empty cartridge cases, records to-day.
There, then, on that plain perished the Zulu kingdom which was built up
by Chaka.
Now it was after this event that I saw Zikali and begged him to let us
go. I found him triumphant and yet strangely disturbed and, as I
thought, more apprehensive than I had ever seen him.
“So, Zikali,” I said, “if what I hear is true, you have had your way
and destroyed the Zulu people. Now you should be happy.”
“Is man ever happy, Macumazahn, when he has gained that which he sought
for years? The two out there sigh and are sad because they cannot be
married after their own white fashion, though what there is to keep
them apart I do not know. Well, in time they will be married, only to
find that they are not so happy as they thought they would be. Oh! a
day will come when they will talk to each other and say—‘Those moons
which we spent waiting together in the Black Kloof were the true moons
of sweetness, for then we had something to gain; now we have gained
all—and what is it?’
“So it is with me, Macumazahn. Since the Zulus under Chaka killed out
my people, the Ndwandwe, year by year I have plotted and waited to see
them wedded to the assegai. Now it has come about. You white men have
stamped them flat upon the plain of Ulundi; they are no more a nation.
And yet I am not happy, for after all it was the House of Senzangacona
and not the people of the Zulus, that harmed me and mine, and Cetewayo
still lives. While the queen bee remains there may be a hive again.
While an ember still glows in the dead ashes, the forest may yet be
fired. Perhaps when Cetewayo is dead, then I shall be happy. Only his
death and mine are set by Fate as close together as two sister grains
of corn upon the cob.”
I turned the subject, again asking his leave to depart to Natal or to
join the English army.
“You cannot go yet,” he answered sternly, “so trouble me no more. The
land is full of wandering bands of Zulus who would kill you and your
blood would be on my head. Moreover, if they saw a white woman who had
sheltered with me, might they not guess something? To dress a doll for
the part of the Inkosazana-y-Zulu is the greatest crime in the world,
Macumazahn, and what would happen to the Opener of Roads and all his
House if it were even breathed that he had dressed that doll and thus
brought about the war which ruined them? When Cetewayo is killed and
the dead are buried and peace falls upon the land, the peace of death,
then you shall go, Macumazahn, and not before.”
“At least, Zikali, send a message to the captains of the English army
and tell them that we are here.”
“Send a message to the hyenas and tell them where the carcase is; send
a message to the hunters and tell them where the buck Zikali crouches
on its form! Hearken, Macumazahn, if you do this, or even urge me again
to do it, neither you nor your friends shall ever leave the Black
Kloof. I have spoken.”
Then understanding that the case was hopeless, I left him and he
glowered after me, for fear had made him cruel. He had won the long
game and success had turned to ashes in his mouth. Or rather, he had
not won—yet—since his war was against the House of Senzangacona from
which he and his tribe had suffered cruel wrong. To pull it down he
must pull down the Zulu nation; it was like burning a city to destroy a
compromising letter. He had burnt the city, but the letter still
remained intact and might be produced in evidence against him. In other
words Cetewayo yet lived. Therefore his vengeance remained quite
unslaked and his danger was as great, or perhaps greater than it had
ever been before. For was he not the prophet who by producing the
Princess of Heaven, the traditional goddess of the Zulus, before the
eyes of the king and Council, had caused them to decide for war? And
supposing it were so much as breathed that this spirit which they
seemed to see, had been but a trick and a fraud, what then? He would be
tortured to death if his dupes had time, or torn limb from limb if they
had not, that is if he could die like other men—a matter as to which
personally I had no doubts.
Shortly after I left Zikali Heda and I ate our evening meal together.
Anscombe, as it chanced, had gone by the secret path to the tableland
of which I have spoken, where he amused himself, as of course we were
not allowed to fire a gun, by catching partridges, with the help of an
ingenious system of grass nets which he had invented. There were
springs on this tableland that formed little pools of water, at which
the partridges, also occasionally guineafowl and bush pheasants, came
to drink at sunrise and sunset. Here it was that he set his nets and
retired to work them at those hours by means of strings that he pulled
from hiding-places. So Heda and I were alone.
I told her of my ill success with Zikali, at which she was much
disappointed. Then by an afterthought I suggested that perhaps she
might try to do something in the way of getting a message through to
the English camp at Ulundi, or elsewhere, by help of the
witch-doctoress, Nombé, adding that I would speak to her myself had I
not observed that I seemed to be out of favour with her of late. Heda
shook her head and answered that she thought it would be useless to
try, also too dangerous. Remembering Zikali’s threat, on reflection I
agreed with her.
“Tell me, Mr. Quatermain,” she added, “is it possible for one woman to
be in love with another?”
I stared at her and replied that I did not understand what she meant,
since women, so far as I had observed them, were generally in love
either with a man or with themselves, perhaps more often with the
latter than the former. Rather a cheap joke I admit, with just enough
truth in it to make it acceptable—in the Black Kloof.
“So I thought,” she answered, “but really Nombé behaves in a most
peculiar way. As you know she took a fancy to me from the beginning,
perhaps because she had never had any other woman with whom to
associate, having, so far as I can make out, been brought up here among
men from a child. Indeed, her story is that she was one of twins and
therefore as the younger, was exposed to die according to the Zulu
superstition. Zikali, however, or a servant of his who knew what was
happening, rescued and reared her, so practically I am the only female
with whom she has ever been intimate. At any rate her affection for me
has grown and grown until, although it seems ungrateful to say so, it
has become something of a nuisance. She has told me again and again
that she would die to protect me, and that if by chance anything
happened to me, she would kill herself and follow me into another
world. She is continually making divinations about my future, and as
these, in which she entirely believes, always show me as living without
her, she is much distressed and at times bursts into tears.”
“Hysteria! It is very common among the Zulu women, and especially those
of them who practise magic arts,” I answered.
“Perhaps, but as it results in the most intense jealousy, Nombé’s
hysteria is awkward. For instance, she is horribly jealous of Maurice.”
“The instincts of a chaperone developed early,” I suggested again.
“That won’t quite do, Mr. Quatermain,” answered Heda with a laugh,
“since she is even more jealous of you. With reference to Maurice, she
explains frankly that if we marry she might, as she puts it, ‘continue
to sit outside the hut,’ but that in your case you live ‘in my head,’
where she cannot come between you and me.”
“Mad,” I remarked, “quite mad. Still madness has to be dealt with in
this world like other things, and Nombé, being an abnormal person, may
suffer from abnormal ideas. It just amounts to this; she has conceived
a passionate devotion to you, at which I am sure neither Maurice nor I
can wonder.”
“Are those the kind of compliments you used to pay in your youth, Mr.
Quatermain? I expect so, and now that you are old you cannot stop them.
Well, I thank you all the same, because perhaps you mean what you say.
But what is to be done about Nombé? Hush! here she comes. I will leave
you to reason with her, if you get the chance,” and she departed in a
hurry.
Nombé arrived, and something in her aspect told me that I was going to
get the chance. Her eternal smile was almost gone and her dark,
beautiful eyes flashed ominously. Still she began by asking in a mild
voice whether the lady Heddana had eaten her supper with appetite. It
will be observed that she was not interested in my appetite or whether
enough was left for Anscombe when he returned. I replied that so far as
I noted she had consumed about half a partridge, with other things.
“I am glad,” said Nombé, “since I was not here to attend upon her,
having been summoned to speak with the Master.”
Then she sat down and looked at me like a thunder storm.
“I nursed you when you were so ill, Macumazahn,” she began, “but now I
learn that for the milk with which I fed you, you would force me to
drink bitter water that will poison me.”
I replied I was well aware that without her nursing I should long ago
have been dead, which was what caused me to love her like my own
daughter. But would she kindly explain? This she did at once.
“You have been plotting to take away from me the lady Heddana who to me
is as mother and sister and child. It is useless to lie to me, for the
Master has told me all; moreover, I knew it for myself, both through my
Spirit and because I had watched you.”
“I have no intention of lying to you, Nombé, about this or any other
matter, though I think that sometimes in the past you have lied to me.
Tell me, do you expect the Inkosi Mauriti, the lady Heddana and myself
to pass the rest of our lives in the Black Kloof, when they wish to get
married and go across the Black Water to where their home will be, and
I wish to attend to my affairs?”
“I do not know what I expect, Macumazahn, but I do know that never
while I live will I be parted from the lady Heddana. At last I have
found some one to love, and you and the other would steal her away from
me.”
I studied her for a while, then asked—
“Why do you not marry, Nombé, and have a husband, and children to
love?”
“Marry?” she replied. “I am married to my Spirit which does not dwell
beneath the sun, and my children are not of earth; moreover, all men
are hateful to me,” and her eyes added, “especially you.”
“That is a calf with a dog’s head,” I replied in the words of the
native proverb, meaning that she said what was not natural. “Well,
Nombé, if you are so fond of the lady Heddana, you had better arrange
with her and the Inkosi Mauriti to go away with them.”
“You know well I cannot, Macumazahn. I am tied to my Master by ropes
that are stronger than iron, and if I attempted to break them my Spirit
would wither and I should wither with it.”
“Dear me! what a dreadful business. That is what comes of taking to
magic. Well, Nombé, I am afraid I have nothing to suggest, nor, to tell
you the truth, can I see what I have to do with the matter.”
Then she sprang up in a rage, saying—
“I understand that not only will you give me no help, but that you also
mock at me, Macumazahn. Moreover, as it is with you, so it is with
Mauriti, who pretends to love my lady so much, though I love her more
with my little finger than he does with all his body and what he calls
his soul. Yes, he too mocks at me. Now if you were both dead,” she
added with sudden venom, “my lady would not wish to go away. Be careful
lest a spell should fall upon you, Macumazahn,” and without more words
she turned and went.
At first I was inclined to laugh; the whole thing seemed so absurd. On
reflection, however, I perceived that in reality it was very serious to
people situated as we were. This woman was a savage; more, a mystic
savage of considerable powers of mind—a formidable combination. Also
there were no restraints upon her, since public opinion had as little
authority in the Black Kloof as the Queen’s Writ. Lastly, it was not
unknown for women to conceive these violent affections which, if
thwarted, filled them with something like madness. Thus I remembered a
very terrible occurrence of my youth which resulted in the death of one
who was most dear to me. I will not dwell on it, but this, too, was the
work of a passionate creature, woman I can scarcely call her, who
thought she was being robbed of one whom she adored.
The end of it was that I did not enjoy my pipe that night, though
luckily Anscombe returned after a successful evening’s netting, about
which he was so full of talk that there was no need for me to say much.
So I put off any discussion of the problem until the morrow.