I knew not what to make of this; yet, while affecting to scorn her tale, I questioned the girl closely. If she, like myself, had but dreamed, why then it was passing strange that our dream should have shown us both the same vision. In truth, I knew not what to think. Powerful beyond all others I knew Lalusini’s magic to be; was it then sufficiently powerful to bring her back from the dead? I thought much of this during the days that followed.
But the days that followed brought that which turned all our thoughts in an entirely new direction, for tidings came which were weighty indeed. The Amabuna (Boers) were advancing into the land of Zulu.
They were swarming in, men said. The slopes of Kwahlamba were covered with flocks and herds—their waggon teams were winding through the mountain passes, seen like vast serpents in the distance, far as the eye could see. In the face of this new enemy Umzilikazi was forgotten. No expedition to the North could be undertaken now. Day by day men brought tidings. The numbers of the Amabuna were countless, they said, and with them, besides their flocks and herds, they had their women and children in their waggons. They had come to remain in this land.
Well was it, now, that the army had been called up, and was disposed in or around the Great Place; well indeed for us now, for we would need all our strength to beat back or stamp out this locust swarm. Bitter and stubborn fighters were they, and knew how to use their long guns. The war-song was sung, and war-dances were held among our regiments, and the talk of all men was of war.
But Dingane was uneasy in his mind, and in his rage at not being sooner informed of the advance of the Amabuna, he sent for the head men of the outlying kraals and had them killed. Two of them he ordered to be impaled upon stakes, within sight of all in Nkunkundhlovu.
Now hard by there dwelt a white man—an Umfundisi (Teacher or missionary), one of your countrymen, Nkose. Him the King had allowed to live there because he was the friend of another white man who had visited the country alone and in a friendly manner a short while before, but Dingane had no love for him or his teaching, nor had any of us in those days. This man, seeing from his house the death of those evil-doers, came quickly down to Nkunkundhlovu, hoping he might save the lives of others, for he was a man with a kind heart and hated to behold suffering.
Now as he came before the King he was very pale, for he had passed close to the place of slaughter where lay those just slain, with broken skulls; and the sight of the agony of the two upon the stakes turned him very sick.
“You are somewhat late, my father,” said Dingane, when the Umfundisi would have pleaded for their lives. “The mouths of those who kept them closed too long are now closed for ever. Yonder they lie.”
“But those under torture, King?” urged the white man, hardly able to look in the direction of the stakes, so filled was he with loathing and disgust. “At least give the word that they be put out of their pain.”
“Au! Here is a marvel!” said Dingane laughing; “the white Umfundisi actually pleading for the death of men!”