Were my movements actuated by ambition alone, Nkose, then indeed my heart might have begun to fail me. Here was I, in the dead of night, all unbidden, within the sacred precincts of the isigodhlo. To be found there was death—were I the highest in the nation—death by impalement, or some other form of lingering torment. But now the thoughts engendered by such knowledge availed not to daunt me. The spirit of Lalusini, agonised and bloody, rose ever before my eyes, beckoning me onward, and my one thought was how soon I might bury my spear in the heart of her slayer.
But for my spear, here before me, was work already. From round one of the huts a man appeared, so suddenly as to collide with me in the darkness, had I not quickly stepped aside. Immediately I struck—and struck home. The broad blade had cleft his heart, and breathing only a soft sigh he sank motionless—being stone dead. I bent over his face, and recognised one of the izinceku, or body-servants of the King. Of these I knew there were two on watch at night. I had yet to reckon with the other.
Now I stood motionless, and held my breath, listening. I was among the huts of the royal women, and there, but twenty paces distant, was that of the King. For arms, I had but a single broad-bladed assegai, the gift of Umzilikazi himself, as I have told you, Nkose, in a former tale; not even a shield, for such would but encumber me if it came to a close hand-to-hand struggle. My own craft and quickness were to be as a shield.
Two steps at a time, treading softer than any cat, I gained the outside of the large hut. Peering round I saw what I expected. Right across the door lay the body of a man. It was the other inceku.
He was sleeping. I could hear his soft regular breathing. But before I could enter that door he must exchange his sleep for the sleep of death.
He was lying on his back, his face turned upward to the stars, his body filling almost the whole width between the outside screen and the door itself. To reach him I could hardly hope without some slight sound of a scuffle. I flattened myself on the ground, and so crept noiselessly along his side.
Whau! but again the blade went home. Right under the fifth rib it glided, and the red blood flowed forth warm upon my hand. This one, too, died without a struggle.
Pausing again, I listened. All was still inside the hut. I began to cut the thong fastenings of the wicker door. What if Umzilikazi, experienced warrior as he was, awakened by the small amount of noise I had caused, were standing ready for me, waiting in the darkness with assegai uplifted to plunge the broad blade in between my shoulders as I crept in through the low doorway. Then the thought came to me that by reason of his very security, hemmed around with guards, the sleep of the King would be sound and unsuspicious. The fastenings were now cut, and grasping the wicker door firmly, I let it down noiselessly upon the floor of the hut.
There was another screen inside which I had forgotten. Peering around this I saw that the interior was not in darkness. The smouldering embers of a fire glowed in the hollow in the centre of the floor, and by its indistinct light I could make out the King, asleep among a pile of blankets against the thatch wall.
But in a moment he started from his sleep and sat upright.