Chapter Twenty Five.
Conclusion.
We buried the King with great ceremony and the sacrifice of beasts; and the whole army sat around in deep silence, the silence of grief and mourning for that the nation was now left without a head; but it was a silence that was rendered more awesome by the death-rites of the izanusi and the wailings of the women. Only for a short while, however, was the Great Great One to sit upon that seat, for he was taken up again in the dead of night and removed to a secret grave, known to but very few, as the custom is to keep secret the burial-places of kings.
Yes, with the passing away of Dingane the army was as a body without a head. At such a time the thought would often be in my mind how Lalusini would have me seize the opportunity of putting myself in Dingane’s place; for I too was of a royal tree—that of Dingiswayo, of the tribe of Umtetwa, whose place had been seized by Tshaka—yet not near enough was I to the stem of that tree, being but a branch. But I could clearly see that if opportunity there had been it was now no more. The loyalty of the army to the House of Senzangakona was too great; and now, being without a head, the warriors began to talk among themselves of the expediency of doing konza to the other Great One of that House. So we consulted together—I and Silwane and some of the principal war-chiefs—and in a short time we sent messengers to Mpande, who was the rightful King now, however he might owe his seat to the Amabuna. But with the army that had followed the Great One who was dead turned into his own army, Mpande might perhaps remedy even that.
Our messengers returned accompanied by others, including an induna of note, assuring us of the royal favour. That decided us.
It was a great day, the day that saw the nation reunited once more. Mpande sat in state, as our army filed in to his kraal near the Tugela—for Nodwengu had not then been erected—singing songs of war and praises to the new King; and when as one man the whole number of those black ones threw down their weapons and shields and shouted aloud the “Bayéte,” bending low before him, the look upon the face of the King was one of gladness and great pride. Then he spoke to us. We had fought hard and valiantly for that Great One who was no more. We had been faithful to our rightful King, and had cleaved to him through his reverses. The stroke of some evil wizard had laid that Great One low in the dark hours of the night, but the House of Senzangakona was not dead yet, and we, quick to see this, had hastened to cry the “Bayéte” to the head of that house, and the head of the Zulu nation. By reason of the fidelity we had shown he assured us of his favour, for upon such he felt he could rely.
Then the principal indunas of the returning army were called up, one by one, and “named,” and thus were continued in the commands they had held up till now; some indeed being advanced to even greater honour—among them myself. And Mpande’s word stood, for he ever regarded those who had adhered to Dingane with greater favour than those who had divided the nation with him. But that day was passed in great rejoicing, and many cattle were slaughtered, and the feasting went on far into the night.
Towards its close I retired to my hut, thinking perhaps to find there my Swazi wives, who had been given me by that Great One who was gone. But they were not there, nor was any—and while I was thinking what had become of them the door was pushed softly open, and a voice said:
“Now, Untúswa, do I return. Am I welcome?”