The Induna's Wife
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Now the Amabuna, quick to take advantage of their success, pressed on immediately. But Dingane this time did not wait for them. He was warned that his brother, Mpande, was plotting against him, and he knew better than to be caught between the Amabuna on one side and his own rebellious people on the other. So he had decided to retire.
This was the news which reached us in our retreat, and whereas this would be the tract of country for which the King would make, it would be our retreat no longer. So we were forced to take a line.
Now, Sifadu’s plan was to hand over the whole band of refugees to Mpande, whose emissaries had been among us of late trying to win us over to the side of that prince. But my mind on the matter was different. I had no great opinion of Mpande, whereas Dingane was a real King – one to whom it was good to konza. My flight had been due to the hostility and intriguing of Tambusa, not to the displeasure of the King; and, now that the Great Great One was sore pressed by his enemies, I desired to wield a spear in defence of him. On this matter, too, Lalusini, whom I saw from time to time, was of the same mind as myself, though at that time she would not open her mind to me freely, bidding me, with a smile, to be still and wait.
Soon Sifadu, having his plans ready, called a council of the Bapongqolo to make known to the clan at large what he expected of it. The warriors came, several hundreds of them, in full war adornments, and fully armed, and Sifadu addressed them in a long speech. He recalled how it was that they came to be there, living the life of exiles and outcasts. He reminded them of their relatives slain, their houses stamped flat, their cattle seized to swell the herds of Dingane. The miserable cheat, Tola, whose bones lay broken and scattered around the nest of the black ants, in which they had put him to a just death, was only the mouthpiece of Dingane; the real oppressor was the King himself. Now, would they put themselves beneath the foot of such a King as that when they might obtain revenge for their wrongs, and at the same time lead a quiet life by doing konza to one who had promised them immunity and reward if they aided him now? But they must do this quickly for their own sakes, for their former oppressor with what remained of his army would be upon them in their retreat immediately.
Thus spoke Sifadu, but his words, and the words of others who argued in like manner, were not received as he intended. By more than half of those assembled they were received in silence. The old instinct of trained and disciplined warriors rendered these averse to turning against the King, especially so great a king as Dingane. Besides, it was by no means certain that even a combination of both forces against him would be attended with success. Then, too, they could not bring themselves to enter into alliance with the Amabuna.
Then I spoke. I pointed out that there were several hundreds of us – all good fighting-men – that if we all went in to offer our spears to the King, he, being pressed by enemies, would right gladly receive us. So should we all regain our place in the nation, and be outlaws no longer.
As I went on, the murmurs of assent which greeted my words grew into shouts. The people had long been tired of their runaway state, and here was a chance to set themselves right. They were also not a little tired of the rule of Sifadu.
This Sifadu saw, and leaping up, his countenance ablaze with fury, he came at me, his great spear aloft. So quickly was it done that I had barely time to throw up my shield. So powerful the blow that the blade pierced the tough bull-hide and stuck fast. Then Sifadu, following up his attack in swift fury, struck over my shield with his knob-stick. It was a terrible blow, and partly reached me. I felt half stunned, but infuriate with the pain. So, with a shout, I quit defence and went at Sifadu with a will.
A frightful commotion now arose. The friends of Sifadu would have rushed to his aid, but that they saw that those favourable to me were more numerous. These sprung to meet them, and all being fully armed it looked as though a bloody battle was about to be fought. But some cried aloud against interference, saying that the two of as should strive for the mastery, and to this counsel I added my voice. Sifadu, though, had no voice save to growl and grind his teeth like a maddened beast.
So we fought, we two – none hindering. Our shields flapped together, and for a moment we were immovable – pressing each other equally hard – each striving to run in under the guard of the other. Then the spear-blades – Sifadu having disentangled his – would flash and glance like threads of fire as we leaped and feinted – yet neither of us able to drive home either stroke or stab. A silence had fallen upon the onlookers now, and every head was bent eagerly forward. All this I could see, while never taking my gaze from my enemy.
At last my chance came. Pretending to stumble, I threw myself forward, and with one swift sweep of my assegai I sheared through Sifadu’s leg, gashing the thigh to the bone. He sank to the earth uttering a terrible howl. All the muscles were divided – from the principal blood-vessels red jets were spurting. Whau! He was in a sea of it. But even then, weakening each moment, he gathered strength to hurl his great knobstick at my face. I was prepared for this, however, and caught it on my shield; nor did I hurry to run in and finish him, knowing that while he could move a finger he would still gather himself together for one last desperate slash at me.
“Hamba-gahle, Sifadu,” I said – not mocking him. “This quarrel was not of my seeking, but the son of Ntelani never yet refused a fight.”
He made no reply, glaring at me in hate until very soon he sank down into unconsciousness and death. And all the warriors shouted in assent of my words, save some few – near friends of Sifadu; but for them I cared nothing. And presently some of the older among them came to me, and we talked. We agreed to carry out my plan of returning to the nation, and that at once.
“Whau, Untúswa! Thou hast commanded men from thy youth; it is fitting that thou shouldst be our leader now,” said one of them, after he had talked. “Say I not well, brothers?” turning to the rest.
“E-hé! Siyavuma!” (“We consent”) they cried as one man. Thus, Nkose, I became chief of the Bapongqolo, the tribe of the Wanderers; but, in truth, the honour might be brief, indeed, for it might please the King to make a quick end both of chief and tribe.
Now that we had thus decided, we sent out men to find out how things were going between Dingane and the enemy, and from their report we judged that the time had arrived to come in and lie beneath the foot of the Elephant. The Bapongqolo women were left in concealment in the recesses of the Ngome forests, while we, to the number of several hundreds, marched forth.
Before we crossed the White Umfolosi, I and other of the principal of the refugees climbed to the heights overlooking the Mahlabatini plain. It was somewhat early in the morning, but the brightness of the new day was dimmed – dimmed by a great cloud. Far away to the southward it rose, that cloud – thicker and thicker, higher and higher – a great dull pillar of smoke. Nkunkundhlovu was in flames.
Through the thickness of the smoke-cloud we could see the red leap of the fire. Then was amazement our master. Had the Amabuna gained a victory – so great a victory that they had been able to penetrate to the Great Place of the Elephant whose tread shaketh the world? Whau! it could not be. The marvel was too great.
But as we looked, lo! over the rise which lay back from the river came dense black masses – masses of men – of warriors – for in the morning sunlight we could see the glint of their spears. They moved in regular rank, marching in columns, in perfect order. In perfect order! There lay the whole situation. This was no defeat. The Great Great One, for reasons of his own, had fired Nkunkundhlovu before retreating.
Nearer they drew, those masses of warriors – on, on – rank upon rank of them. We saw them enter the river and cross, and for long it seemed that the flood of the river must be arrested in its run, so vast were the numbers that blackened it as they crossed. Our blood burned within us at the sight of this splendid array. We longed to be among them, bearing our part as men. We had had more than enough of skulking like hunted leopards.
“Ho, Siyonyoba!” I cried to the second leader of the refugees. “Form up our spears in rank, that we go down now and throw in our lot with these.”
Right down we went. The black might of our retreating nation was halting now, rolling up in waves; and there, on the very spot where we were finally repulsed by you English in the battle of Nodwengu, Nkose, when we thought to eat up your red square of soldiers, there did we wanderers, whose lives were forfeit, bring our lives in our hands to lay them at the feet of the King.
(The battle historically known to us as that of Ulundi is always termed by the Zulus the battle of Nodwengu, because fought nearest to the kraal of that name.)
I had sent on men in advance to announce our arrival, and now, as we drew near, the army opened on either side of us so as to leave us a broad road.
A dead silence lay upon the whole dense array. I gave one glance back at those I led – led, it might be, to their death. Truly, a more warrior-like band never desired to serve any King. Their fugitive life had hardened the Bapongqolo. Even the picked regiments of Dingane’s army could not surpass them for hardihood and uprightness of bearing; and though we were probably going to our death, my blood thrilled with pride that I was the elected leader of so splendid a band.
I gave a signal, and striking their shields in measure as they marched, the Bapongqolo raised a great song in praise of Dingane:
“There hovers aloft a bird,An eagle of war,In circles and swoopIt floats above the world.The eye of that eagleWould burn up the world.But the world is allowed to live.So clement, so merciful, is that eagle who restrains his wrath.He retires but to swoop and strike again.Hau! The enemies of that war-eagle shall melt away like yonder smoke.A vulture who devours the flesh of men;So is that bird.Yonder is flesh that he shall presently eat.So great is he,He retires but to swoop and strike again.”So our song thundered forth as we marched straight onward. I gave another signal. Immediately every shield and weapon fell to the ground with one crash, and advancing nearer weaponless, we bent low, a forest of heads, and from every tongue in one roar there ascended the “Bayéte.” For we were now in the presence of the King.
In stern silence Dingane sat gazing upon us. Then he, too, gave a signal. Immediately an armed regiment moved across our rear. Between us and the weapons we had thrown down stood a wall of armed men, and in this I read our sentence of death. We had risked our chance and had foiled. By my counsels, I had led these hundreds of brave men to their doom.
Chapter Twenty One.
The Embassy of Tambusa
“What do I see? Untúswa, the wanderer? Untúswa, who fled from the north to konza to another King? Ha! Greeting, Untúswa, for it seems long since we have beheld thee.”
So spake Dingane, softly, flatteringly, even as Umzilikazi was wont to do what time the stake or the alligators were preparing for somebody, and I indeed felt dead already.
“And these,” went on the King, bending his stern gaze upon my following. “A warrior-like band indeed, and it seems a pity to slay such, yet must they all die.”
This he said almost to himself, else had the slayers been at work already. And I – the boldness of desperation came into me then.
“We are the King’s cattle,” I said. “We are here to place our lives beneath the foot of the Elephant. Yet, O Ruler of the World, there are some who should taste the goring of our horns. We are the King’s fighting-bulls. And, Great Great One, suffer us ere we die to spill once more the blood of the King’s enemies.”
“Yet, Untúswa, it sometimes happens that fighting-bulls, growing mad, turn and gore their owners. They had better have been slain first,” said Dingane, with dark suspicion in his tone.
Now I saw what was to be done, though I hardly knew what to say.
“I would ask the Great Great One wherefore these are here at all, but that they may drink the blood of the King’s enemies?” I urged, amazed at my own boldness. “Were they here for any other purpose, why then they were already dead, Father of the Wise. Au! they seek but to die in the ranks of those who fight. That is all, Calf of a Black Bull.”
And they on whose behalf I spoke uttered a great murmur of assent, together with words of bonga and the King’s titles.
Then I saw Dingane whisper to one who sat near him, and this one retired. Whau! that was a moment. We who sat there seemed already dead. Around crouched the two immense half circles of armed warriors, their shields lying on the ground before them – all in dead silence – and in his great chair made out of the carved trunk of a tree, the great white shield held aloft at the back of his head, the King sat, silent, stern, gloomy looking. His attitude was that of one who waited. Waited for what? For the carrying out of his order decreeing, our death?
Then some new event was astir. There stood before the King a woman. Now my followers dared to breathe again, and the sound went up from every chest like a sob of relief. And seeing who the woman was, my own relief became greater still, for she was my sorceress-wife.
“Hearken, Mahlula,” said the King. “See you these?”
“I see them, Great Great One,” she answered, sweeping a majestic glance over us. “They are those known as the Bapongqolo. They are here to lay their lives beneath the foot of the Elephant, and to crave the right to die fighting for him.”
“And how dost thou know that, my sister?” said Dingane suspiciously.
“It is easily known, Father of the Wise, and that not even by my múti,” she answered. “There are many among them known by name, and all have the look of forest-dwellers. And he at their head, look at him.”
“Ha! And is it for good or for ill that they are here?”
“For good, Ruler of the Great. For these are fine wielders of the spear. And they are many,” she answered.
“That is well,” said Dingane. “You wanderers, I give you your lives. You shall join these lion-cubs, and plenty of prey lies awaiting your teeth.”
For some moments, Nkose, the roar that went up from all men’s throats would seem about to split the world, for to the praises rolled forth from those who were thus spared was added the bonga of the whole army.
“Now talk we of Untúswa,” said the King, when this had quieted down. “There is that about him which I like not entirely. What of him, Mahlula?”
She looked at me long and earnestly, as though she had never seen me before, but in her sweet eyes I read hope and courage. Then she said:
“I think he is a born leader of warriors, Great Great One.”
“Ha! Now shalt thou have a chance of showing thy powers, Mahlula,” said the King. “Thou, Untúswa,” pointing at me with his assegai, “shalt also be put to the proof. I name these the Bapongqolo, and of this regiment I create thee induna, for I have not yet known the predictions of Mahlula to prove false. Retire now with thy men and form them up among those yonder.”
They who had custodied us now fell back, and as we all gathered up our weapons again we thundered forth the war-song of Dingane. Then, when we had formed up at the place pointed out to as, in truth it seemed that the army had received a most valuable addition in ourselves. Then dancing was ordered, and the slaughter of cattle, and there was much feasting.
Now during an earlier part of the war the Amabuna had sent messages to Dingane proposing peace, and to such the King had listened. Trouble was threatening at home, for Mpande, the brother of Dingane, was still plotting, and had by now collected a considerable following. Further, the Amabuna were increasing in strength, numbers having crossed the mountains to join them; moreover, several of the tribes who did konza to the royal House had forgotten their tribute, sheltering themselves behind the Amabuna. So Dingane had listened to the peace proposals of the Amabuna, and had agreed to pay nearly twenty thousand cattle, and to return the guns and horses taken at Nkunkundhlovu. For a space then there was peace. The Amabuna did not even want the cattle just then; they would rather we should herd them for the time being. So far good.
But one day there came news. Mpande had crossed the Tugela and had fled to the Amabuna, declaring that he feared for his life. Au! and long since he would have owned no life to fear for, had the King but listened to the counsels of Tambusa, who would have caused him to be slain. But it was too late now, and already Dingane had reason to repent him of his mercy, for now that Mpande had promised them to divide the nation the Amabuna, ignoring all former promises and arrangements, sent word to Dingane demanding from him double the number of cattle at first agreed upon, and without even awaiting his reply they prepared to advance upon Nkunkundhlovu.
Not for nothing had Mpande plotted. He had gained over to his cause Nongalaza, an induna of importance. Nongalaza was old, and suffered from swollen limbs; but he was a skilled and courageous commander, and he took with him to the side of Mpande and the Amabuna the strength of four full regiments.
Now Dingane sent an embassy to the leaders of the Amabuna, and the induna he chose as his “mouth” was Tambusa. He had better have chosen some other messenger – better for Tambusa, but not better for me, Nkose, for it was during Tambusa’s absence that I and the Bapongqolo arrived to place our lives in the hand of the King.
This, then, is what was happening at that time within the camp of the Amabuna, and the tale I have from the mouths of several among those who had fled with Mpande and who witnessed that which was now done.
Tambusa entered the camp of the Amabuna attended by Nkombazana, one of his own followers. He was received but coldly by the Amabuna. Why had they broken faith with the Great Great One who sits at Nkunkundhlovu? he asked. They had demanded twice the number of cattle at first agreed upon. They were preparing to invade the country, and had declared their intention of setting up Mpande as King, having deposed Dingane. Who were they who took to themselves the right to make and unmake Kings for the Zulu nation? asked Tambusa, proud and defiant. Dingane was King of the Zulu nation, and as King he would live and die.
“Ah! die perhaps, that is right,” said one of the Amabuna, with an evil laugh.
“A King of the Amazulu does not die of words nor of fear,” replied Tambusa, fiercely scornful. “Yet hearken to my message, even the ‘word’ of the Great Great One, whose mouth I am. Thus he speaks: ‘We made an agreement, have I not kept it? I have returned the guns and horses I promised; I have sent in part of the cattle I promised, I would have sent in all, but you preferred to leave the remainder with me for the present. Well, it is there, send and take it, or shall I send it in? Now you demand twice the number, and this I do not understand. Now you prepare to invade us in armed force, and threaten to make Mpande King in my place. This also I do not understand, and have sent my induna, Tambusa, as my “mouth” to say so. He is also my “ears,” and will listen to and bring back your words to me.’ Thus spoke the Great Great One by whose light we live.”
“Ha! The Great Great One by whose light we live!” jeered some of the Amabuna. “A Great Great murderer, who shall soon die.”
To this Tambusa made no reply. His head was proudly erect, on his face a sneer of hate and scorn such as he could hardly conceal. Then the chief of the Amabuna spoke:
“To you we have nothing to say. To your captain” – for so he designated the King – “we have nothing to say. When the time comes we shall act, and come it will, very soon.”
“We, too, know how to act,” answered Tambusa. “Hlalani gahle! I retire.”
He turned to leave – turned, to find a line of guns pointed full upon him at but a few paces distant.
“Halt – Kafir!”
The tone, the insult, the scowl on the shaggy faces which glared at him from under their wide-brimmed hats, roused all the savage fighting blood in Tambusa, and those who beheld him say that the great veins in his forehead swelled until they seemed about to burst with the pressure of his head-ring. “Kafir!” Thus these refuse whites dared to address the chief induna of the royal race of Zulu, second only in greatness to the King himself! But he was helpless, for, as a peace ambassador, he had of course been obliged to lay down his arms on entering the camp.
Now he turned to the leaders of the Amabuna, who were talking with their heads together.
“See you this?” he said, waving his hand towards the line of men who stood threatening him with their guns. “See you this? I, a peace messenger, am insulted and threatened. I, a peace messenger, am detained, when I would depart as I came. In truth, it is not good to trust to the good faith of the Amabuna.”
“In truth it is not good to trust to the good faith of the Amazulu,” answered the leader sternly. “Say, were not our people peace messengers – our people whose bones lie outside Nkunkundhlovu – who trusted in the good faith of that murderer, your chief?”
“Ha! But you? You are a holy people – a people of God, you told the King. We are only poor, ignorant black people,” said Tambusa, taunting them, in his scornful wrath.
“But there is a God of justice,” quickly replied the leader, “and He has delivered you into our hands to be dealt with as one of the chief murderers of our people. The others He will deliver to us in time. But enough of that. This is the matter now. The treacherous and cruel murder of our people at Nkunkundhlovu was counselled by you, Tambusa. By you it was planned and arranged, by your orders it was carried out. What have you to say?”
“That is not the matter about which I am here,” replied the induna. “If ye would have me answer on that matter, ye should have sent men to bring me here, if they could have done it. It is a matter as to which now I will say no word.”
“That is perhaps as well,” answered the leader, “for here we have enough to prove your guilt over and over again.” And with the words Tambusa saw the trap into which he had walked. Mpande had denounced him to the Amabuna – Mpande, whose death he had repeatedly counselled. He was as good as dead. Yet he only smiled, rearing his tall and stately form to its full height, and the smile was one of hatred and scorn and contempt. But so deeply did it sting those Amabuna that they broke forth into curses, and some of them, rising from their seats, shook their fists in his face, crowding around him, and fairly howling with rage, all talking at once as they heaped every abusive name upon him, the King and the whole Zulu race. But the smile of contempt and scorn only deepened on the face of Tambusa as he stood therein his great stature like some mighty tree, while they snarled and leaped around him like jackals. At last he who sat at the head of the council succeeded in quieting them.
“Then you have nothing to say – no reason to urge why the punishment of death should not be dealt out to you?” said this man, speaking solemnly. “There may be others, perhaps – others more guilty than yourself. If there is anything you can tell us – ”
But here he stopped, for Tambusa had interrupted him by a loud, harsh laugh, so fierce that it sounded like a war-cry.
“Others? Anything I can tell you?” he repeated, with a very roar. “I, an induna of the right hand of the Great King, to give you information! Whau! ye must be madmen. Not to save a hundred lives would I give you information as to even the youngest boy just enrolled among those who bear shields. Do I fear death – I, Tambusa? Why, I stare it in the face every day. And I think, Ntshwai-ntshwai, when death has been the game some of you must have seen my face before.”
(Ntshwai-ntshwai. A nickname bestowed upon the Boers by the Zulus, being in fact an imitation of the swishing sound of their wide leather breeches as they moved.)