“And thou, Untúswa,” said Dingane, “thou hast fought these Amabuna. What is thy mind in this matter?”
“It is that of Tambusa, Great Great One,” I answered. “These Amabuna fight hard and die hard, nor is their word to be trusted. He whom I served knew how to handle them—and there is but one way.” Then I told that tale of how they would have enslaved our nation, and how they plotted with certain of Umzilikazi’s izinduna to procure the death of that king; and all who heard me murmured aloud that there was but one way for these people, and that was the way of the spear.
“A swarm of locusts beaten off returns again,” I ended, “and again and again, until the land is eaten up; but a swarm of locusts stamped flat—au! there is no more of that swarm. That is my counsel, Lion of Zulu.”
And again all murmured aloud in approval of my words, for it was intolerable to us that these strangers should swarm down upon the land, not even so much as asking leave of the King; and this, Nkose, I felt, as though I had done konza to the House of Senzangakona all my life, instead of growing great in the service of another king; for, after all, this was the land of my birth—this people the parent race from which we were all proud to have sprung. Moreover, for the present, I thought no more of my revenge. Here was more than one great and glorious battle awaiting; it was long since I had taken part in such a one, and the blood rushed and danced in my veins at the thought.
From day to day our spies brought in word to the King. The Amabuna continued to advance, and they were in great force. Their leaders and picked men were stern, determined-looking fighters, fierce of aspect, with their long guns and leather breeches and shaggy beards; and our warriors, listening, lay under arms, their eyes glaring like those of lions, as they awaited the word that should let them loose.
Then came tidings that the Amabuna had formed a great camp some ten days distant from Nkunkundhlovu, and that several of their leaders were advancing to talk with the King.
Soon they arrived. They were but a few men, with their servants. Dingane received them in but quiet state, seated at the head of the great open space of the kraal. Save the King’s body-guard, but few warriors were visible, yet so little did we trust the Amabuna that every hut in Nkunkundhlovu held two or three armed men ready to spring forth on a given signal, the while relays of spies watched their distant camp, so as to pass the word should any sudden and hostile movement be made thence.
The leaders of the Amabuna rode into the kraal. They were required to leave their guns with their horses in the centre of the kraal. This they did not at all like, even when told that it was death for any man—black or white—to come armed into the presence of the King. But they had to do it, or return as they came.
“Ah, ah! This is not the head of the snake, only its tongue,” growled Tambusa aside to some of us as we watched the approach of the white men. “Soon shall we have its head.”
Dingane was seated in his chair of state, and received the Amabuna pleasantly. Bowls of tywala were handed round, and then, sitting in a half circle in front of him, the indaba commenced.