“The might of Dingane is at our gates, my father,” he said. “Shall the victory be ours?”
“Ou! Who may say for certain, and time has not been given me to look into the future, lord? Yet the white shield—the white shield. Twice already hath its efficacy been great. It has guarded the life of a King, also that of a nation.”
“The white shield!” repeated Umzilikazi, in vexation. “Are ye all in league, vultures of izanusi? When I ask for an omen, for a glance into the future, ye all croak about a white shield. Go now, old man, and make thy múti, for the army must be doctored before set of sun.”
Masuka saluted and crept out. Then being restless, the King rose and followed. In the gate of the isigodhlo stood the white priest, desiring speech with the King.
“Ha! Yet another magic-maker,” growled Umzilikazi. “Say now, talker with the spirits of the air, will thy sacrifices aid us against the might of Dingane, for they who come against us number more fighters than ourselves, Kalipe being still absent?”
“I had heard that, O King,” said the white man. “To no magic do I pretend, yet it may be that the Great One whom I serve will remember in its hour of need the nation which has received with kindness the humblest of His servants.”
“Ha! I think they who come against us would not so have received thee, my father,” replied Umzilikazi, somewhat impatiently. “Yet practice, I pray thee, thy mystic rites on our behalf, for with this foe at our gates we need all the aids we can get—whether of sorcery or not.”
“That I will gladly do, O King,” replied the white priest. And as he saluted and turned away, I noticed that he looked ill and tired—perhaps through over-much journeying. But soon we saw certain of the slaves entering the dwelling which he kept for his sacred rites, and heard the tinkle of the little bell, and now and again the soft murmur of the white sorcerer’s voice.
“Now, Untúswa, I think we have enough múti of one kind or another,” said the King. “Go, therefore, and muster the fighters who wait without.”
It must not be supposed all this time, Nkose, that nothing was being done. I had sent forth, ordering every regiment to repair immediately to headquarters, and every man who had been enrolled, or who was capable of bearing arms, to assemble without a moment’s waste of time. Further, I had ordered the establishment of chains of scouts and runners to watch and swiftly report any movement on the part of the foe, whom as yet none had seen excepting myself. From all sides now, people were pouring—men mostly—armed men in groups and bands streaming over the plain, all converging on the great kraal, and among these, a compact cloud, huge and dark, marched the splendid regiment of The Scorpions, nearly two thousand strong, young men mostly, and strangers to fear, of which I was the chief commander. On they came, singing the war-song of Umzilikazi, and, filing into Kwa’zingwenya, took up a position in a huge half-circle within the great central space. These, occupying as they did a military kraal of their own, were already fully armed, but others from without were not, and as the latter swarmed in a rush was made upon the places where the shields were kept. But a strong guard had been placed over this, and soon the distribution was finished, and the shield-houses were nearly emptied. Then all were doctored for war and proceeded to the great plain outside to dance the war-dance.