These half-dozen men were all ringed and chiefs. Nomapela I knew by name as an induna of Dingane, and now I thought more than one of the others were known to me by sight. One indeed seemed to think the same as regards myself, for him had I seen eyeing me from time to time, as though he were trying to recollect me. Then, as he turned, displaying a certain scar upon his shoulder, I remembered him well—remembered the scar, too. It was a broad scar, as though the point of his shoulder had been sliced nearly off, and that then the weapon, turning, had buried itself in a deep straight cut. Indeed, I ought to remember it, for it was I who had inflicted it, and that with the very spear I held in my hand.
Often during our march did I find this chief looking thus at me. At last he said quietly:
“The way from the North is far, brother, is it not?”
I assented, and he went on:
“Is the Black Bull of the North growing old and weak that he sends to konza to the Elephant who trumpets at Nkunkundhlovu?”
“No older and no weaker than the day his horns gored back the Elephant, yonder at Inkume,” I answered, betrayed for the moment into speaking up for my nation. “And I think on that day thou, too, didst feel the goring of those horns, Mfulwana,” I added with a half-laugh as I glanced meaningly at the scar upon his shoulder.
“Whau! That was a great fight, induna of the Black Bull,” he answered; and then, we being somewhat apart from the rest, we fought the battle of the Three Rifts over again—in words this time—I and this warrior, whom I had wounded there, and I found that my name and deeds at that place were well known in Zulu-land. Yes, and even how I had met and striven with Mhlangana the brother of Dingane, shield to shield and face to face; but I already knew how that Great One had travelled into the Dark Unknown, for two bulls cannot rule in one kraal.
In due time we came to the White Umfolosi, which was but a short march from Nkunkundhlovu, and were met on the river-bank by many who had come to gaze on the returning impi, and to amuse themselves watching the cattle and the women captives as they crossed the stream. Much whispering, too, did I perceive as regarded myself, for I was the only one of that impi not in war-gear, and the plainness of my attire and my head-ring unadorned with plumes drew every eye to me, all at first deeming me a captive, until they saw that I carried arms, and then they knew not what to make of it.
And now, Nkose, as we came in sight of Nkunkundhlovu, I gazed upon this great place with more than curious eyes. I had seen, when a boy, Tshaka’s great kraal, Dukuza, but this one was even more magnificent. As we looked upon it from the opposite heights, I noticed that the isigodhlo alone occupied fully a quarter of the space within the ring fences, and before this was the King’s cattle kraal. Then the immense number of huts, many rows deep, between the ring fences, hau! it seemed to me that at least twenty thousand warriors might easily have been housed there. And the great space in the centre, hau! so great was it that I thought our own great kraal, Kwa’zingwenya, would find room to stand within that huge circle alone, could it be placed there. But one thing was curious, and that was a stockade of upright logs, which encircled the outside fence, leaving a broad space between, through which an impi might march in columns.
We arrived at about mid-day, and as we filed in through the lower gate our impi began to sing a triumph-song in honour of the King: