So we lay and listened, and presently we knew all there was to know, and, in truth, the news was great, for many things had been hatching within the womb of Time. We learned that Tshaka, the Mighty One, the Lion of Zulu, was no more, and that Dingane, a brother of that Elephant, had reddened his spear in the Great One’s blood, and now sat as King in Zululand. We learned that the Amabuna were coming up out of the west—advancing in great numbers, with guns and horses, desiring the land which lay between the Tugela and the sea—and to obtain this, their leaders sought the aid of our nation, promising to set up as King in Zululand he who should aid them the most in their war against Dingane. But before this should happen, Umzilikazi must be sent to join his father, for great as he might have reason to dread the power of Dingane, these plotters knew that he hated that of the Amabuna still more, and that by no inducement whatever could he be brought to listen to their promises, still less to trust in them.
All this we drank in as we lay there among the rocks, listening to that dark midnight plot—all this and more: how the old men were dissatisfied, because of the favour shown to the younger ones—yet this was necessary, Nkose, for ours was a young nation, which had to carve out its own place with the arms and assegais of its warriors, most of whom were young. So we lay in the black midnight stillness, listening to these abatagati squatted around by the rock-hung pool, and the dismal howling of beasts far and near seemed to re-echo their foul and evil plotting. But at the last we learned something more. Should I, the son of Ntelani, refuse to be made King—for a day—ah! yes, only for a day—the induna Tyuyumane was to reign. And with this understanding the Amabuna rose to depart. As they swung themselves into their saddles the one who had spoken more pleasantly said:
“The day after the new moon then, Ntelani, an Elephant will fall into the staked pit from which there is no escape. Our people, with guns and horses, will be at hand. Is that so?”
“That is so, leader of the Amabuna,” grunted my father. “Au! from the spear of a pitfall there is no escape, even for the Elephant.” And the others laughed deeply as they assented.
“My father,” I whispered, as the Amabuna rode off, “shall I not go down and slay yonder four?”
“Not so, Untúswa,” whispered the King in reply.
“Shall I not then go and call forth an impi to eat up those dirty white jackals, O Elephant for whom no pit shall be laid?”
“Not so, Untúswa. Ha! It is the whole nest of foul birds that shall be destroyed—not two only, that the remainder may take alarm and escape.”
After the Amabuna had gone, those four traitors sat there in the darkness and talked more freely, and in the course of this indaba it was arranged that Tyuyumane should sit in the seat of the Great Great One. But, first of all, on the day after the new moon, when the Amabuna should be at hand with their horses and guns, it was settled that I was to reign for a little while, only to accustom the younger warriors to the change; then I was to be sent to travel the road of Umzilikazi. All this these four fools talked over among themselves, little thinking what ears were drinking in their words—little dreaming what a sharp and fiery throne awaited Tyuyumane—and, indeed, all of them. Then the moon sank down, and darkness lay upon the face of that wizard pool, and silently the conspirators rose and were gone.
“Ha! Untúswa,” whispered the King in mockery, “soon will the nation cry thee the Bayéte. How now? Dost thou not feel already great?”