Chapter Fourteen.
The Head of the Snake.
No great time went by before those Amabuna returned, having sent word that they were bringing the cattle and horses taken from Sikonyela. There were about three-score and ten, and with them, their slaves—yellow men—to attend them and their horses.
Dingane had received them in but little state before. Now, however, he received them in a great deal. He was attended by all his izinduna and war captains, with the shield-bearer, and the praisers shouting aloud his names with all the power of their mighty voices; and as the Amabuna rode into Nkunkundhlovu by the lower gate and paced, two by two, up to the centre of the great space, two regiments, in full war array, began a grand dance on either side of them, singing a new song in honour of our guests:
“The mouth of the white man is open;
It shall be filled - it shall be filled.
Wide, wide, is it open;
Full, full, very full shall it be filled.
“Lo! they come, the friends of the Amanita;
Full, full, shall their mouths be filled.
The lion of Zulu is as the sun in the heavens;
In his warmth - in his warmth shall his new brothers grow great.”
This and much more did the warriors sing, Nkose, all referring to the hunger for land of these invading whites. They little knew in what manner their mouths were destined to be filled.
“Now we have the head of the snake at last,” growled Tambusa to us in an undertone, during the thunder and din of the singing. “Soon shall his tail, too, cease its writhings.”
Signing the dance and song to cease, the King ordered the cattle taken from Sikonyela to be brought up. The herd was driven past, outside the fence of the kraal. It was not much of a herd, but Dingane was as full of delight over its recovery as though it represented the wealth of a whole nation. Now, he said, he felt sure of the friendship and good faith of these his new brothers; but we, watching, thought: “Can these people be such fools as to think we shall give them half our country in exchange for a few miserable beasts like this?”
Then, while talking about the cattle, Dingane asked the Amabuna to show him how they took cattle from other people in war. This they were very ready to do, and the King having sent the herd some little distance away over the plain, the Amabuna sprang upon their hones and galloped to the place. They dismounted and fired their guns—loaded with powder only—leaping into the saddle again and reloading as they rode; then returning and firing again upon our people, who had been told off to take part in this mimic war. Finally, while some kept on firing, others got between the cattle and our men, and, with shouts and yells, swept the beasts forward. On they came at full gallop, then letting the herd rush wildly by, these three-score and ten Amabuna, as they came before the King, drew up their horses suddenly and in line, and fired their guns in the air in royal salute.
It was well and cleverly done, Nkose, and Dingane was delighted with it, and so, indeed, were we—looking at it as a spectacle. But more than ever were we agreed that men who could make war in that fashion were not the people to welcome as neighbours in a country as large as our own, and with nothing but a river between us and them. Oh, no!
For two whole days the Amabuna remained in their camp outside, and most of the time was spent in talking over the question of the large piece of our country they expected to swallow up. They were well entertained—for many oxen were slaughtered—and the King ordered abundance of beef and beer to be supplied to them—and, indeed, everything they should want. But during this time our spies and runners had reported that their main camp, where the bulk of their people, with their cattle and women, were left, was peaceful and unsuspicious, and that the men were spread out over the country far and wide, hunting and looking at the land—our land—which they hoped should soon be theirs.
On the third night, when all men slept, the King took secret counsel of his principal izinduna, and among them was I; for by reason of having met these people in battle, whereas as yet the Amazulu had not, my opinions carried weight.
“Now I think the time has come to stamp out this locust swarm,” said Dingane.
“We have here the head of the snake,” said Tambusa.
“That shall be crushed to-morrow,” said the King.
“But the writhings of its tail will shake the earth, bringing another snake from over the mountains,” put in Umhlela, thinking of the waggon camp and all the Amabuna left there.
“What sayest thou, Untúswa?” said the King, turning to me.
“This, Great Great One. To destroy a locust swarm and to spare the eggs is of no great use. And the ‘eggs’ of this locust swarm are yonder.”
“Ha! Thou art no fool, Untúswa,” said the King, knowing that I meant the women and children of the invaders.
“This is my counsel, Great Great One. When the forerunners of this locust swarm sleep for ever tomorrow, let those be sent who shall stamp flat the remainder, sparing none.”
All murmured in deep assent, and I continued:
“Let the camp of these plunderers be destroyed as quickly and as silently as possible. Then let strong bodies of warriors waylay the return of those outside. Such, suspecting nothing, will walk into the snare, so shall we be rid of the whole swarm. Thus, on like occasion, acted he whom I formerly served, and our success was thorough.”
“Thou hast the mind of a leader of men Untúswa,” said the King, greatly pleased. “Thou thyself shalt go to-morrow, and see thine own plans carried out.”
I thanked the King, and when we had talked a little longer over our plans we left the presence and went to our huts to sleep, our hearts beating with fierce anticipation over the thought of what the morrow was to bring.
Soon after daybreak Dingane sent word to the Amabuna, who were our visitors, that the time had come to speak decisively about the land, that he had talked the matter over in council with the izinduna of the nation, and now he wanted them all to come into Nkunkundhlovu that all might hear his word and carry it back to their people, who awaited it and them.
Accordingly it was not long before the whole company of the Amabuna, with their slaves and attendants rode up to the gate. But there they were met by some who told them they must leave their horses and guns without the gate. This they liked not at all, objecting that on every other occasion of their visit they had been allowed to enter armed and mounted.
That was true, but on those occasions there were war dances, and the white men themselves had delighted their Amazulu brethren with a mounted display. But this was entirely a peace indaba. No warriors were in Nkunkundhlovu, and it was dead against Zulu custom for strangers to come before the King armed on such an occasion. In fact the King would be highly offended, and would almost certainly refuse to receive them at all.
Less and less did the Amabuna like this proposal. They muttered hurriedly among themselves; then it was just as we knew it would be. They dismounted, stacked their guns outside, and giving their horses to their attendants to hold, entered the kraal.
“Whau! The head of the snake is now under the shadow of the stone that shall crush it,” quoth fierce Tambusa, as we watched the approach of the unarmed Amabuna.
They saluted the King gravely, and sat down; but many of them looked displeased and troubled, and well they might, for what is more helpless than an unarmed man! This time the King, with the izinduna, was seated near the centre of the open space, not at the upper end, as usual.
They spoke about the land. They were glad the King was to give them his word that morning, for the hearts of their countrymen would be glad too, when they should carry back that word.
Now great bowls of tywala were brought, and as the white men drank, the King talked to them. He rejoiced that that great stretch of country should be used by his friends and brothers, the Amabuna. There were a few useless cowardly tribes still in that country, people whom he had spared, but who were thieves; and these he hoped his new friends would prevent from annoying him.
While Dingane was thus talking, people had been coming into the open space by twos and threes, and now there was quite a number of men within the circle. These bearing no arms, but a stick only, roused no suspicion in the minds of the Amabuna, not even when they formed into two lines, or half circles, and began to dance; singing the while the song they had sung to welcome these people on their first arrival.
“The mouth of the white man is open;
It shall be filled - it shall be filled.
Lo! they come, the friends of the Amazulu;
Full, very full, shall their mouths be filled.”
Swaying backward and forward, the two half circles danced, now joining at the lower end, so as to form a wall of bodies between those in the centre and the outer gate, now parting again, and leaving the ends open. And, the while, more and more by degrees swelled the number, and the song rose and fell, not loud, but in long-drawn measured note. The while the King was speaking:
“Fare-ye-well, my brothers,” he said. “Perchance I shall visit ye in this new land, when ye come to dwell in it. Depart now in peace to your countrymen, and tell them how good are the hearts of the Amazulu towards you, how good the heart of their King. Fare-ye-well! Hambani-gahle.” (“Go ye in peace.”)
Dingane had risen while he was speaking, and now, with these words, he turned to depart. The Amabuna, too, had risen.
“The white man’s mouth opens very wide;
It shall be filled - it shall be filled.”
So howled the singers; and lo! a mass of warriors swept in between the King and these strangers; we, the izinduna, being outside the circle. With alarm now in their faces, the Amabuna turned quickly towards the gate whereby they had entered. But on that side, too, the circle was complete. Then they knew that their time had come. They were walled in by a dense array of stalwart warriors.
Now began such a struggle as never could have been seen. Our people had sticks, but were otherwise unarmed, for they might not kill within the precincts of the King’s kraal. The Amabuna, too, were unarmed, for it was to this end they had been obliged to leave their guns outside the gate. But many of them were large and powerful men, and all fought with the courage of desperate men. They struck out with their fists, and with their feet; they tore out eyes; some were able to draw knives, and with these they slashed and thrust, making the blood fly in spouts. Whau! That was a struggle—that was a sight. Whau! Hither and thither it swayed—that heaving, striving mass—the shouts and curses of the desperate Amabuna rising hoarse amid the din and scuffle of feet, the gasping and the yells, as those of our warriors who were on the outside of the struggle encouraged those within it by yell and whistle. Whau! How they howled and leapt, how they swung to and fro, how they even rolled on the ground—great heaps of men piled high upon each other, but all kicking, all struggling. But it could not last, for what could three-score and ten men, all unarmed, however valorous, do against a thousand, or, indeed, several thousand? They were borne down and overpowered at last—some were bound with thongs—but all were dragged out from Nkunkundhlovu to the place where those were killed whom the King adjudged to die, and there beaten to death with sticks, as the usual manner was.
“Hau! The head of the snake is now crushed!” cried Tambusa. “Hambani-gahle, abatagati!” (“Go in peace, doer of dark deeds.”)
Then the hissing and the roars of the savage slayers ceased, and the whole mass of our people trooped back from the place of slaughter, howling, in derision, the song they had made for the Amabuna.
“The mouth of the white man is open very wide;
It has been filled - it has been filled.”
Thus they died, those Amabuna—nor did one of them escape; for even their servants, whom they had left outside to hold their horses, were all seized at the same time, and taken to the place of doom. As Tambusa had declared, the head of the snake was crushed at last.
It is said by you white people, Nkose, that Dingane acted a cruel and treacherous part in thus causing the leaders of the Amabuna to be slain. That may be, when seen with a white man’s eyes. But seen with ours the thing is different. These Amabuna had come to take a large portion of the Zulu country from the Zulu people, and, had they done so, how long would it have been before they had taken the whole? They made a show of asking the land from the King, but had Dingane refused to listen to them, would they have gone back the way they came? Is that the manner of the Amabuna, I would ask you, Nkose? Again, if their hearts were good, and free from deceit, why did they not send messengers to Nkunkundhlovu before they entered the land as they did, to obtain the answer of the King and the Zulu people? But instead of doing this, they came over Kwahlamba in great numbers, with their horses and their guns, their waggons and their oxen, their cattle and their women, falling upon the land like a vast swarm of devouring locusts. Whether they obtained leave or not, they had come to stay, and that we did not wish; and further, by thus entering the Zulu country in armed force without the King’s permission! they had deserved death.
It is true that these people who had been slain were the King’s guests, but then we have a custom under which one great chief must not go to the kraal of another great chief of equal rank. The great chief of the Amabuna claimed to be the equal of the House of Senzangakona. He did not approach the King as a subject, but as an equal; and by our custom Dingane was justified in causing him and his followers to be slain, for he had placed himself within the power of the King, and that as an equal. Whau, Nkose! You white people and ourselves see things differently, and I suppose it will always be so. Dingane and the Zulu people did not choose these invaders to seize their land, so they used what they thought was the quickest and easiest way of preventing them from doing so.