“Ruler of the World, thy people turn to thee!
Father of nations, thy children creep beneath thy shadow!
Pursuer of the disobedient, thy scourges return to thee red;
Red with the blood of those who have fallen beneath thy glance.
Thy glance withers, O Stabber of the Sun; O Divider of the Stars.
Before it nations are consumed and creep away to die!”
Thus sang they in praise of Dingane, and two regiments within the centre space, drawn up under arms, took up the song, strophe by strophe! clashing together their war shields as they sang.
Now, as we entered, the King himself came forth from the isigodhlo, preceded by the izimbonga, running and roaring, and trumpeting and hissing, as they shouted aloud the royal titles—and so long, indeed, were these, and so many, that I thought they would last until sundown. But at length they desisted, and the thunder of the “Bayéte!” went up with a roar as from the voice of one, as every warrior tossed aloft his unarmed right hand, hailing the King.
I had seen this all my life when Umzilikazi appeared in state; but, somehow, here it seemed to impress me as it had never before done. The vastness of this great place, Nkunkundhlovu, “The Rumble of the Elephant,” the perfect order and splendid array of the regiments under arms, and, above all, the knowledge that here was the fountain-head of the pure-blooded race of Zulu—the parent stock, the ruler and eater-up of all nations, feared even by the white people, of whom just then we were more than beginning to hear—all this told upon me, and great as our new nation was, it was only great by reason of distance and strategy when compared with this. And now, Nkose, you will understand with what curiosity I gazed upon him to whom all nations did konza—the mighty Dingane, slayer of Tshaka the Terrible, and who now sat in that Great One’s seat.
He was a very tall man, in the full strength of middle age, but that largeness of limb which peculiarly distinguishes the House of Senzangakona imparted to him a stoutness of aspect which made his height appear less than it really was. And his look was right kingly. Straight he walked, with his head thrown back—lord, indeed, of the “People of the Heavens” (The literal meaning of “Amazulu.”)—and his eyes burned like stars, as, without bending his head, his glance swept down over the array of warriors there assembled.
He took his seat upon a wooden chair covered with a leopard-skin robe, which was set at the upper end of the great space, the chief indunas squatting on the ground on either side. The shield-bearer stood behind the royal chair, holding aloft the great white shield of state, an office I had many a time fulfilled in times past for Umzilikazi. Then he beckoned Nomapela and the other leaders of the returning impi, to draw near and make their report. They crept up, uttering the phrases of sibonga, and set forth what had been done. They had gone through that section of the Swazi people who had defied the King and made raids upon tribes who did konza to the Great Great One, and had carried the torch and the assegai upon their path. None had escaped, save, perhaps, a few who had fled to the mountains, having got warning of the approach of the slayers.
“That they should not have been allowed to do,” said Dingane. “Yet in pouring tywala from one bowl to another, a few drops will now and then perforce be spilled. And what spoil have ye brought?”
“Much cattle and good, Ruler of the World,” answered Nomapela. “Some we left, for it looked weak and sickly, and we knew it was not the will of the King that the remnant of that people should starve.”
“Ye have done well on the whole, my children,” said Dingane, who looked pleased. “And how—what of the women? Were any good enough to bring hither?”
“Au! Are any good enough for the Father of Nations?” quickly replied Nomapela. “Yet some we thought too well favoured to feed the blade of the spear, and these we brought.”