“‘You have made more trouble by slaying Njalo-njalo,’ said Ngubu discontentedly. ‘Whau, Untúswa! It is on us the King’s wrath will fall.’
“‘The King’s wrath never yet fell upon anybody who slew a coward, for he loves not such,’ I answered. ‘And now, Ngubu, being unarmed, I need no bonds. I have done with hope. I care not to flee again into this region of wizards and ghosts.’
“Herein I spoke the truth. So weighed down had my mind become by the gloom and the solitude, and being cut off from my kind, that I welcomed capture. So joyous a sound in my ears was that of their voices, so cheering a sight to my eyes was that of my fellow-warriors in their fighting array, that I even looked with calmness upon the now near approach of my certain death; and thus walking in their midst as one of themselves, except that I was unarmed, I journeyed back to doom.
“Indeed, when after many days we got clear of the mountains and drew near to Ekupumuleni, my guards were even more sad of heart than myself as they thought upon my sure fate. But so glad was I to see the great kraal—‘the resting-place,’ and, as regarded myself, too surely the last—once more, that it was like coming home; but it would be to me in a brief space a home of darkness and of night!
“A guard of women presently met us, accompanied by an inceku, bringing word from the King that Nangeza was to be handed over to them. So they led her away in their midst, and I knew we had looked upon each other’s faces for the last time, unless perchance we should look upon them once more again at the place of doom.”
Chapter Fifteen.
The King’s Sentence.
“As we drew near Ekupumuleni we passed by the mound where the slayers were wont to do their work, and which robe at no long distance from the great kraal. I could see skulls glistening white among the grass on the mound, and I knew that in a very brief space my bones would lie there too, picked clean by the wild beasts of the waste. But even then I cannot say that I exactly feared. Too often had I gazed upon Death’s face and laughed—for, indeed, to look for death was the daily portion of a warrior. Still, that was in the roar and excitement of battle, feeling an enemy sink down beneath each of my blows, while now— It might be that the King in his wrath would order me, would order us, a lingering death of torture. Well, still I was a warrior, and must die, in whatsoever manner death met me, strong, fearless to the last.