“Bayéte!” I cried, with right hand aloft. Then I started upon my errand, and more than ever did I rejoice that my spear had remained bright in the face of the entreaties of Lalusini.
Chapter Twenty Four.
The Stroke of Sopuza.
“Bayéte, Nkulu-nkulu!
Father! we thy children have found thee at last!
Lo! long have we wandered weeping, but now we are comforted.
Come forth and show us the brightness of thy head-ring.”
Thus sang a great half circle of armed warriors, mustered on the slope beneath Dingane’s place of concealment.
Thus again and again they sang, but still Dingane did not appear.
For I had fulfilled my errand, Nkose, and this was the result—an array of warriors nearly as large as the original strength of the Amandebeli what time we followed Umzilikazi over the mountains. I had gone hither and thither, had turned night into day, had not spared myself, or feared danger. I had found out and rallied all the scattered bands which at heart had remained faithful to Dingane. I had drawn men from the kraals of Mpande himself, and from beneath the very shadow of the camps of the Amabuna. But one moon had died since I took leave of the King—I alone. Yet here I was, returning at the head of a splendid army—an army nearly as large as that with which Umzilikazi had founded a new nation. In truth, Dingane had not trusted me in vain.
Here were Silwane and Nomapela, and others of the old war-captains. Here was a remnant of the old Imbele-bele regiment—the Bapongqolo, too, my staunch refugees—and as much of the army as had survived the defeat by Nongalaza. All had in truth thought Dingane to be dead, but as I passed through their midst carrying word to the contrary, they had sprung to arms, and mustering swiftly and secretly, had returned to do konza to their rightful King. And here they were.