Chapter Six.
A Formidable Rival.
“Shortly after these things happened, it befell that I was alone in attendance upon the King, in his hut; for although, being on the march, no kraal could be built, yet if we came to a halting-place he liked, Umzilikazi would cause a few huts to be erected for himself and his wives.
“‘Well, Untúswa,’ he said to me, being in a chatty mood, for he would ofttimes unbend thus and talk familiarly with me when we were alone together, while keeping great indunas like my father, or Gungana, at a distance, and in humble attitude. But, then, me he regarded as a child. ‘Well, Untúswa, and what think you of this stranger izanusi, whom Gungana has brought us? Is it for good or for ill that he is among us?’
“‘Who am I, that I should presume to answer such a question, O Great Great One?’ I said. ‘Yet his múti was wonderful—it caused all men to tremble.’
“The King laughed.
“‘Did I tremble, son of Ntelani? Was there fear in my face?’ he said.
“‘Fear? Fear in the eyes of the Elephant whose tread shaketh the world! Now, my father, how could such a thing be?’ I answered.
“‘Good,’ he said, filling out a measure of snuff. Then, with his spoon arrested in mid-air: ‘I think he has come among us for good, Untúswa. Gungana did well to spare his life and bring him hither.’
“Now, I bethought me that this praise should have been mine. Had the King’s mind been different on the matter, then Gungana was welcome to all the responsibility of it. Now, not so. Wherefore I said—being young, and believing as we still do when young, that right, and not might, is right:
“‘That is but a blind side of the case, O Black Black One! I it was who spared the old Mosutu’s life—who not only spared, but saved it—and that in order that he might show the powers of his múti before the eyes of the King.’
“And then I told the whole tale of how I had saved the magician from the spears even of my brethren-in-arms. But I was not quite prepared for the manner in which it was received.
“‘So, Untúswa, you are a bigger man than your induna?’ said Umzilikazi, in that quiet, half-laughing, but terrible voice he took when he desired to make men’s hearts tremble within them. ‘And did you think, then, to tell me what I knew not—I, to whom all things are known; to whom not a single thing passes unknown, Untúswa, not one single thing?’
“Au, Nkose! Then, as the King spoke these words, I knew what fear was if I had never known before. For I thought of Nangeza, and of the sure penalty that we had incurred. No wonder that, with the King’s terrible eyes upon me, seeming to burn the very thoughts out of my breast—no wonder, Nkose, I should have felt myself growing grey with fear. But I cried aloud in praise of the wisdom of the Great Great One, and so akin is the most desperate fear to the most intrepid valour, that I—at that moment when the King was in the most to be dreaded of all his moods—took upon myself to urge my claim to the promised reward. Even while doing so I felt that I was digging my own grave. But to my surprise the King burst out laughing.
“‘Au!’ he cried. ‘Ntelani has bred a lion-cub indeed, and one who knows not fear. But here again, Untúswa, are you not showing yourself, for all your valour, to be but a child? The firing of the kraal was a right valorous deed; yet where was the valour of it in comparison with that of standing before the King this day, to belittle one of the King’s indunas, and to importune the King at a moment when he would fain sleep? Valour without wisdom means but the destruction of its owner, wherefore learn judgment before aspiring to the isicoco. Now go, Untúswa, the would-be kehla.’ (Head-ringed man.)
“I shouted the King’s titles and went out. But although flattery was on my tongue, hatred and fury were in my heart—the former begotten of those mocking words, the latter of bitter and galling disappointment. I had distinguished myself as surely no young warrior had ever done before. I had gone singlehanded and alone into the midst of swarming enemies, and had saved the day to our impi on the point of defeat. I had, in sparing the Mosutu witch-doctor, performed an act which was gratifying to the King, and when I claimed credit for it, he had curtly given me to understand that I was a fool. I had made an enemy of a powerful induna rather than forego one hair’s-breadth of my claim to distinction. All this I had done deeming my reward near at hand, and sure; but the King had mocked me, and driven me forth with jeering laughter. Well, whether he knew everything or not, death could come but once, and the enjoyment of life was a thing of the present.
“Fired by these thoughts, I sped forth to the place where I knew I should find Nangeza helping to herd her father’s cattle. She was there, even as I expected, with her little sister, Sitele. I gave her a sign as I passed—for there were other women within sight and I dared not be seen speaking with her—and sped on as though I were going to look for game. But once out of sight of all, I doubled back until I came to a deep, bushy valley which was cleft by a watercourse, now dry. Here I sat down and waited; nor was it long before I was joined by Nangeza.
“‘Ha! is that you, son of Ntelani!’ she cried, pretending surprise in case our meeting was witnessed. ‘I have come here to cut firewood,’ showing a thong for tying it in a bundle.
“‘There is no one here. We are quite safe, for I have examined the place well,’ I answered, drawing her into a still more hidden spot. Then I told her all that had happened, and how the King had again refused my prayer to be allowed to tunga. And the worst of it was I dared not apply again for a long time to come. It would almost certainly cost me my life to do so.
“‘Not that it matters,’ I ended sorrowfully. ‘It seems to me, Nangeza, that life has no more value—I, who am destined to remain an umfane for ever, to do deeds of valour for which others get all the praise.’
“‘I, too, have ill news for thee, Untúswa,’ she said. ‘This day has lobola been sent to my father’s house—for me.’
(Lobola: The price in cattle paid by the intending bridegroom to the parent or guardian of a girl.)
“‘Ha!’ I cried. Then a sort of cold despair came over me. ‘And has your father accepted it?’ I said.
“‘No. He says it is not enough.’
“‘They all say that at first,’ I answered. ‘But he will accept it or demand a little more. And now, Nangeza, who is the sender of the lobola?’
“‘Gungana, the King’s induna.’
“‘U’gungana!’ I roared, springing to my feet and gripping my assegais. ‘Hau! I will kill him, though I die myself in doing so!’
“‘Gahle, gahle! (Gently, gently!) Untúswa!’ she cried, flinging her arms round me, and dragging me back by main force.
“‘U’Gungana! Hau! the jackal, the coward dog!’ I went on, in the fury and ungovernable excitement into which the news had thrown me. ‘He stole the praise that was due to me! he claimed credit for the deed he was too cowardly to perform himself! he it is who has poisoned the King’s ear against me! He shall die—shall die this day!’
“‘He shall not, Untúswa. Listen now—no, you cannot fling me off. I am too strong for even you to do that, and I will not let you go. Listen, now, to what I have to say.’
“She spoke truly. I could not shake her off. Calmed by her voice, I sat down gloomily to listen, and bit by bit she unfolded to me a most amazing plan.
“‘It is even as the King has just told you, son of Ntelani,’ she ended up. ‘Valour without wisdom is the destruction of its owner. Be guided by me, and one day you shall be a greater man than Gungana. I shall be your Inkosikazi yet.’
(Inkosikazi: The principal wife of a chief.)
“‘Hail, Inkosikazi! We bow down to thee! We do thee obeisance, Inkosikazi!’
“And shrill screams of mocking laughter from the bush on the other side of the donga accompanied this most startling interruption.
“‘Now, these spies shall die, else are the two of us dead!’ I muttered in desperation, gripping my assegais and making to spring across the donga. But again Nangeza restrained me.
“‘Gahle, gahle! Wilt thou never learn wisdom?’ she whispered. ‘They are but girls. Speak to them fair.’
“‘Come forth,’ I cried, ‘lest I come to seek you!’
“‘Spare yourself the trouble, son of Ntelani!’ they cried, laughing, and stepping from their hiding-place.
“Three there were. Two of them were sisters; the other I recognised as a distant relation of my father Ntelani. And then the awful consternation which had entered my mind at the idea of our deadly plot having been overheard gave way to relief as I remembered that Nangeza’s voice had been sunk to the lowest of whispers. Only the last words had been uttered aloud, and these, if absurd, were not perilous. Gungana, as the commander of my own regiment, would be a natural object of emulation; nor was my love’s ambition to see me a leader of men the less natural.
“‘Hail, Izintombi (Maidens)!’ I cried, with a loud laugh. ‘You do well thus to greet Nangeza. For I intend to lobola for all three of you, as well as for her. Then will she be your Inkosikazi indeed.’
“‘Has the King already granted you the head-ring, Untúswa?’ asked one of the two sisters, when the screams of laughter with which they heard my remark had subsided.
“‘You cannot lobola for all of us,’ said the other girl; ‘for am I not Ntelani’s “sister”?’
(Sister or Cousin means ‘related.’ The impediment of ‘consanguinity’ is respected with extraordinary rigour, and no Zulu will marry even the most distant cousin, or any girl whom there may be reason to suspect of sharing the very faintest strain of his blood.)
“‘Whau! that is the more the pity,’ I said. ‘As things are, I meant to have sent lobola for all three of you, although I am but poor. For how could I make choice of one or two where all are so perfect?’
“This I said in order to keep the good word of their tongues, lest they might whisper abroad evil concerning Nangeza and myself, for even then, Nkose, I knew that the surest way to a woman’s heart was to tickle her ears with soft and pleasant speech.
“‘Yau! Only hear him!’ they cried. ‘The son of Ntelani has found his tongue. Forget not, then, when the Great Great One allows thee to tunga. Forget not, then, thy word. Fare thee well now, Untúswa—also his Inkosikazi!’
“And away they sped, laughing and singing. Not until the sound of their voices had died out did I again speak.
“‘I had rather we had not met these, Nangeza,’ I said. ‘What if they chatter?’
“‘That they will not do. They know you are in the King’s favour, Untúswa; besides, you are a famous fighter, and no girl among us would do anything to injure you. But this place is too open. Come, I know of a better.’
“We plunged into the most tangled recesses of the bush, and here, where the boughs met overhead, with creepers trailing in long lines like the white beards of old men, we rested. But our talk was of love, not of the weighty plan wherein life was the stake, about which we had talked before.
“Suddenly there was a rustling noise in the bushes close to us, and, lo! in the most startling manner there rose up the heads of two great mambas. At sight of us they gave vent to a furious hiss, waving their crests to and fro.
“We Zulus, you know, Nkose, like not to kill a serpent, for the guardian spirit who watches over us often takes that shape, and how can we make war upon it? So when these two mambas rose up against us I lifted no weapon. I only prayed, ‘O’zinyoka, do us no hurt,’ and the two of us withdrew. But as we did so the serpents slowly followed us, with crests erect, and hissing. At last they ceased to follow us, and we could hear the rustle of the bushes as they returned. Then we sat down again—and— Whau!, Nkose! when people are young, and the talk is of love, time goes upon eagle wings. Suddenly Nangeza cried out that we must part, for the sun would soon be down and we had some distance to travel if we would pass the King’s outposts before dark.
“We arose to retrace our steps. Already the thorns and dry grass were beginning to crackle under our feet, when I caught Nangeza’s wrist and breathed:
“‘Silence!’
“The place where we had first rested was on the edge of an open glade, and the distance we had withdrawn from this while retiring before the serpents was about twice that to which a man could fling a spear. On one side of this glade stood a tall rock.
“‘Men are coming,’ I whispered—‘armed men.’
“We stood thus as still as stones, listening hard. Then I could hear, re-echoed back from the face of the rock, the light tread of feet, the rustle of branches pushed aside, and now and then the rattle of assegai hafts; and soon, as we crouched low to the earth, we could hear an armed force advance into the open glade and halt.
“Now, Nkose, my heart stood still, for I remembered the King’s words that morning. Could it be that he who knew everything had sent men after us to surprise us two together and kill us? Then I heard a warrior’s deep tones say:
“‘Au! here are footprints—those of an intombi. Those of a man, too!’ he added, as one who has made a discovery. ‘Come, let us see where they lead.’
“Crouching down among the thorns and long dry grass we lay, expecting our end; for to be found thus together, at this distance from the camp, meant certain death. There was not a chance for us. We heard the parting of the bushes—then, from where we lay, we could see the heads of several men following our trail, and, but that the trees threw a darkness around and they were too intent on reading their way, they could not have failed to see us. No, there was no escape. We should be seized, dragged before the King, and not another sun should we see rise.
“But then, while the bitterness of death lay dark upon our hearts, we saw the foremost of the men stop, with a startled look upon his face. Then a quick exclamation escaped him, and he and the rest turned, and went back again. And we knew the meaning of that hissing noise, and the prayer to the serpents cried out by the warriors as they retreated was the same as my own.
“When they returned to the impi, the leader was angry with them.
“‘What?’ we could hear him say. ‘Are we come out to do the King’s errand, that a number of you should turn from your way to follow upon the tracks of a man and a maid? What have we to do with such, I say? Good indeed was it, that the Izinyoka should have been there to teach so many fools their duty. Now we must on.’
“Then we heard the rattle of assegais and shields as once more the impi fell into rank, and soon the sound of their footsteps died into silence. We left our hiding-place cautiously, and as we went we were very full of thankfulness to our Izinyoka, who had come in our path, and in the path of those who would have found us, and had saved us from destruction; and we debated as to the part our serpents had played, and we decided that the serpent of Nangeza, being that of prudence, was the one which had obliged us to retire from our first hiding-place, while the influence of my serpent, being that of the warrior, was the one which availed to drive back the searchers—as befitting the serpent of such a warrior as myself—and who may say that this was not so.? At any rate, the joining together of our two Izinyoka, to protect us, struck us as a good omen for the future; for where should we have been had we remained in our first resting-place—where now, had not those who were searching been frightened back?
“But although we had so far escaped, yet were we in the greatest jeopardy. For the sun was nearly down, and how should we reach the camp, each by a roundabout way, before it grew dark? and how should we pass the King’s outposts after? Nangeza might go in by herself, pleading some excuse; but I—how was I to remain out? for even though the King should not require my attendance upon him—and on this I could not reckon—yet he who wanders abroad at night incurs peril from the staff of the ‘smeller-out,’ for we hold that tagati always takes place during the hours of darkness, and the man who loves to wander abroad at such times, what can he be seeking but means to practise the foul and evil spells of wizardry?
“Long before we reached the camp it grew quite dark, and now we did not separate, for I would not leave Nangeza; for multitudes of wild beasts accompanied our migration, because of the abundant feasts we provided them with almost daily—even the flesh of men—and already we could hear their roarings and snarlings in the darkness. Moreover, it might be easier for two to pass the outposts together, than to double the chances of failure by making two separate attempts.
“As we advanced, noiselessly, stealthily, in the gloom, we heard a low humming sound, which seemed to come from the earth. We stood for a moment holding our breath, for we knew that sound. It was the voice of a man, singing, and he might have been twelve spear-lengths in front of us. We knew the ground also. We were in a little valley between two low hills. Probably on each of the latter was another sentinel. Nangeza threw her skin kaross over both our heads, and breathed forth her plan—for the plan was hers. I was for taking the risk of slipping past—she, for the bolder but safer method of overpowering the sentinel.
“Worming like serpents along the ground, we made our way up behind him bit by bit, and the time consumed must have been enormous, for we would not risk failure for the sake of impatience. But this fool surely courted his own undoing, for he sat there singing. Every time he stopped singing we stopped in our advance, but so fond was he of his own voice that he soon began again. Then Nangeza, creeping up behind him, flung her kaross over his head, at the same time throwing her arms around him and pinioning his tightly to his sides.
“The man struggled, but with the kaross over his head and in his mouth he could not cry out. Still, he struggled, and it took us both all we could do to master him quickly. We could easily have killed him, but had decided it were better not to. At length, with the thong Nangeza had brought to tie the firewood we bound him hand and foot, having gagged him with his own mútya, and thus we left him.
“All this while we had spoken no word, lest our voices should be recognised by him; further, we had been careful to leave nothing which might lead to suspicion travelling our way. We were now safe within the outposts, and in the huge camp we could easily pass unnoticed. It was time to separate, and as we did so Nangeza said:
“‘Farewell now, Untúswa. Have patience and courage. I shall see thee an induna yet.’
“‘That may be so,’ I answered rather gloomily, for now that the adventure was over all my foreboding and disappointment came back. ‘But we have only seen the first of this night’s doings. The last may wear a very different sort of countenance.’
“And thus we parted.
“Now, Nkose, a portion of my gloom came of the knowledge of what would happen to the sentinel whom we had overpowered. Death would be his lot as surely as though I had driven my spear through his heart. I had a mind to go back and loose him, but that would mean giving my life for his, and I was not tired of life just yet. Moreover, it would mean the sacrifice of Nangeza also, and it were better that one person should perish than that two should. Yet, being still young and soft of heart, I felt sad as I thought of the doomed sentinel.”