Chapter Thirteen.
The Tongue of the Snake.
The cloud which had rolled down upon the land of Zulu from the slopes of Kwahlamba was destined to be no mere summer cloud, Nkose, but was charged with thunders, black and threatening. The army, which had been doctored and made ready for war, wearied the King with its clamour to be sent forth against the invaders, and long and oft would Dingane hold council with the izinduna as to what was best to be done to repel this peril. Now I reckoned it a sign of the honour in which I was held that at such conferences I was ever commanded to be present.
But counsels were various. Some were for falling upon the Amabuna in the passes of Kwahlamba; others for allowing them all to cross in peace, and when encamped on our side to throw the whole strength of our army upon them, and, having cut off their retreat, to put every one of them—man, woman and child—to the assegai—even the suckling babe.
“I have a mind to send to the white people at Tegwini,” (Durban. Literally “The Bay”) said the King. “They are my friends, but not of this new race. It may be that they will aid me to get rid of these Amabuna.”
But Tambusa, who hated all whites, opposed this idea of the King’s. The people at Tegwini, he urged, would stand by these other whites and support them. White was white, and black was black, and all white people stood together against black, although they professed very great friendship when but a mere handful, and had anything to gain by it. He had always objected to this handful of English being allowed to remain at Tegwini from the very first. If it was inexpedient to kill them they should have been sent away right out of the country.
In this counsel Tambusa was right, as subsequent events proved; but, Nkose, few men would have dared to speak their minds thus boldly. But Tambusa although he hated me, I could not but regard with respect as a brave man, and as such he lived and died, as will be shown.
“And thou, Untúswa,” said Dingane, “thou hast fought these Amabuna. What is thy mind in this matter?”
“It is that of Tambusa, Great Great One,” I answered. “These Amabuna fight hard and die hard, nor is their word to be trusted. He whom I served knew how to handle them—and there is but one way.” Then I told that tale of how they would have enslaved our nation, and how they plotted with certain of Umzilikazi’s izinduna to procure the death of that king; and all who heard me murmured aloud that there was but one way for these people, and that was the way of the spear.
“A swarm of locusts beaten off returns again,” I ended, “and again and again, until the land is eaten up; but a swarm of locusts stamped flat—au! there is no more of that swarm. That is my counsel, Lion of Zulu.”
And again all murmured aloud in approval of my words, for it was intolerable to us that these strangers should swarm down upon the land, not even so much as asking leave of the King; and this, Nkose, I felt, as though I had done konza to the House of Senzangakona all my life, instead of growing great in the service of another king; for, after all, this was the land of my birth—this people the parent race from which we were all proud to have sprung. Moreover, for the present, I thought no more of my revenge. Here was more than one great and glorious battle awaiting; it was long since I had taken part in such a one, and the blood rushed and danced in my veins at the thought.
From day to day our spies brought in word to the King. The Amabuna continued to advance, and they were in great force. Their leaders and picked men were stern, determined-looking fighters, fierce of aspect, with their long guns and leather breeches and shaggy beards; and our warriors, listening, lay under arms, their eyes glaring like those of lions, as they awaited the word that should let them loose.
Then came tidings that the Amabuna had formed a great camp some ten days distant from Nkunkundhlovu, and that several of their leaders were advancing to talk with the King.
Soon they arrived. They were but a few men, with their servants. Dingane received them in but quiet state, seated at the head of the great open space of the kraal. Save the King’s body-guard, but few warriors were visible, yet so little did we trust the Amabuna that every hut in Nkunkundhlovu held two or three armed men ready to spring forth on a given signal, the while relays of spies watched their distant camp, so as to pass the word should any sudden and hostile movement be made thence.
The leaders of the Amabuna rode into the kraal. They were required to leave their guns with their horses in the centre of the kraal. This they did not at all like, even when told that it was death for any man—black or white—to come armed into the presence of the King. But they had to do it, or return as they came.
“Ah, ah! This is not the head of the snake, only its tongue,” growled Tambusa aside to some of us as we watched the approach of the white men. “Soon shall we have its head.”
Dingane was seated in his chair of state, and received the Amabuna pleasantly. Bowls of tywala were handed round, and then, sitting in a half circle in front of him, the indaba commenced.
They had travelled far, they said, even as the People of God in old times, seeking a land where they might dwell in peace. Such a land they had found, a land over which the Zulu King claimed ownership, but which was little used, if at all, by him or his people. Now this land, which lay between the Tugela and the Umzimvubu, they desired to treat for. For it they would give part payment in cattle and horses, and part payment in acting as friends to the Zulu people, supporting them by force of arms in all their lawful quarrels. So should two peoples flourish and grow great, dwelling in peace side by side, the waters of the Tugela alone dividing them.
“I know not,” answered Dingane, speaking pleasantly. “When two great bulls stand looking at each other over one fence, are they friends for long?” And we all murmured aloud in praise of the wisdom of the King.
But the Amabuna replied that the land on each side of the proposed boundary was large enough for both.
“The kraal in which stands each of those bulls is large enough for him,” said Dingane, still speaking pleasantly; “yet it is not long before one of them is through the fence to drive out the other. Then he rules over both kraals.”
What the King said was very true; yet it would not be so in this case, urged the Amabuna, for there could be no reason why either should seek a quarrel with the other. The people of their race sought a quarrel with no man. They only desired to be let alone.
“Why, then, did ye leave your own land?” asked Dingane. “Why did ye not stay the other side of Kwahlamba?”
We, who sat around the King, narrowly watching the countenances of the Amabuna, could see that these men did not like that question at all. They did not answer for a moment; then they said, through him who spoke as their tongue, for they knew not ours:
“We crossed the mountains in obedience to the will of God. It was His will that we should seek out a new land for our wives and our children, and His finger it was that guided us hither. We are even as the People of God in old times, who went to dwell in the land which He had promised them; and, even as they, we are ruled and led by the Great Book.”
Now we who listened could have laughed aloud, for we had heard something of that people of old to which the Amabuna referred. Many a tale had the Umfundisi, who dwelt hard by, told us of that people; how it swept onward, a fierce and unsparing scourge, destroying and enslaving tribes and nations, and seizing their flocks and their herds and their women; and we liked to listen to such tales, for they were those of a right valiant warrior race—indeed, me they reminded of our fierce and destroying flight under Umzilikazi. But now we thought those Amabuna must be fools, indeed; for if they were the children of that people, still less did we desire them as neighbours.
“So ye are the people of God, brothers?” said the King softly, his head on one side.
“That is so, King,” they answered, looking upward solemnly.
“Why then, indeed, should we be as brothers, for we are the People of the Heavens,” (Such is the literal meaning of “Amazulu”) said Dingane. “Talk we now of the land. As ye say, I have not much use, nor my people, for this land—yet it is a large country. I know not. I must consider it further. Yet stay, there is somewhat ye can do for us as a pledge and an earnest of our future friendship.”
“And that?”
“Yonder in the mountains dwells a dog, the head of a tribe of dogs—not large, but difficult to come at, because of the ruggedness of the country they inhabit. This dog has stolen much cattle and many horses from my people and hidden them away in his mountain retreats. Now I am without warriors, for the army is away on two expeditions to the northward.”
We who listened thought we saw the countenances of the Amabuna change at this, and inwardly we laughed. If they only knew—ah, if they only knew!
“Wherefore,” went on the King, “if as an earnest of your friendship ye will go and retake this our property, and restore it to us, then it may be we may grant you the use of the land ye need.”
“And what is the name of the chief of these robbers, King?” asked the Amabuna.
“U’ Sikonyela.”
“The cattle shall be restored, King. Do you require Sikonyela to be delivered up to you?”
“No. I am merciful, and will spare him this time. Only warn him that now the Amazulu and the Amabuna are brothers. Now, fare-ye-well. When ye have obtained the restoration of our property, then return hither, and we will talk further about the land.”
Then the Amabuna rose and shook the King by the hand, and we, as they took leave of us, all called out “Hambani-gahle!” (“Go ye in peace”) with right good-will. So they took their horses and guns and rode away from Nkunkundhlovu, very pleased with themselves and with the King. But the multitude of armed warriors concealed within the huts were not pleased, in that there was no work for their spears that day; but that was to come. Ah, yea! plenty of work would there be for their spears before many moons were dead.
And we izinduna, how we laughed among ourselves, for we knew the mind of Dingane. These people must in truth be mad, and worse than mad, to think that the King would give them a vast tract of country in exchange for their friendship and a few cattle—would welcome this swarm of buzzing devouring locusts beating down upon our lands. Hau! Mad, indeed, were they. They opened their mouth wide—very wide—and we thought we knew how we would fill it, but not with the country that lay between the Tugela and the Umzimvubu. Oh, no!
There were some among us who would have persuaded Dingane to order the death of the Umfundisi, for we feared lest he should warn the Amabuna; but this the King refused to do. The white teacher was not of their race, and he had no quarrel with the English; besides, the very feet of a white man being slain would implant suspicion in the minds of the new arrivals. But the Umfundisi, unknown to himself, was closely watched, and meanwhile our plans were fully matured.