No words did I utter, Nkose. I sprang to her side and we embraced long and warmly. Then we sat down to talk, for we had much to say.
“Welcome, Untúswa,” she repeated, still holding my hands. “Welcome, thou great brave one who would have slain a King who knew not how to keep faith.”
“Ha! But how didst thou know?” I cried in amazement.
“What do I not know? Tell me that,” she said, smiling at me. “Listen; I saw the midnight struggle in the ‘great hut’ of the isigodhlo. I saw the dark way along the cliffs of the Inkume. Was not my múti in the buck with its fawn that saved thee from the pursuing impi by showing no alarm, even as the múti upon thy neck saved thee when Umzilikazi lay prone and stupified?”
“E-hé! but that is indeed so. And it was thy múti which saved me from the hatred of Tambusa and Tola but a few days since,” I answered. “But, tell me now, Lalusini, was not that tale true which was told me by old Gegesa?”
“It was true so far as she knew. Ha! when Umzilikazi’s slaying dogs came to hale me forth in the black night, I laughed to myself, for I knew I had that by which the alligators should not harm me. I leaped into the dreadful pool where so many have died—and—came out quietly on the other side what time those dogs returned to report to Umzilikazi that the sorceress he hated would trouble him no more; but perhaps in that they lied—ah, ah, Untúswa, perhaps they lied! Not for nothing did that Great One from whom I sprung cause me to be taught the deepest mysteries of the magic of the wise. And thyself, Untúswa, through many wanderings earnest thou here?”
“Whau! Not to thee need I tell of my wanderings, Lalusini, thou to whom all things are known.” I said.
“And I think among such things are all thy wanderings,” she laughed. “Thou camest here to deliver the Amandebeli into the hand of Dingane.”
“That is so, Lalusini; and for thy death the whole House of Matyobane should have died a thousand deaths. And now?”
“And now? We will see what the future may unfold.”