But scarcely had the rear of the last column passed out through the gates than flames and smoke were seen issuing from four points of the kraal at once. The King had given secret orders that it should be thus fired; and the blaze, once kindled, leaped from dome to dome of the thatch huts, running along the dry thorn fences with a crackling roar like the volleys from the guns of the Amabuna; and now in a marvellously short space of time the immense circle of Ekupumuleni was wrapped in huge sheets of flame; and in the dense smoke-clouds which rolled down upon the whole of its area, before towering aloft to the heavens, the bodies upon the stakes were completely swallowed up. And then all cried aloud in praise of the mercy of the King, who had thus shortened the just suffering of those traitors by the swift death of suffocation, while rendering them such a noble tomb as the ashes of a royal dwelling.
Such then was the end of Ekupumuleni, the Place of Rest; and again as we resumed our journeyings, again as we swept northward upon our devastating way, our path might have been read by the line of the vultures in the heavens, by the track of wild beasts through the brake and the grass, running side by side with us, well knowing who should supply them with plentiful and easy prey.
Now none knew why the King should have been minded to spare my father, Ntelani, for that the latter had been spared all now knew. Yet he was cut off from all fellowship with his equals, and was forced to accompany our march, sullen and sad, unarmed, and in the midst of a guard consisting only of slaves. Some thought it was because he was the father of him who wielded the King’s Assegai; others that he was reserved for an even worse fate; but all wondered he did not take his own life rather than live on thus—he an induna of high degree, now forced to herd with Amaholi and the lowest of the people.
The little blue-eyed child whom I had taken from among the Amabuna had by now quite lost all fear of us, and would laugh and play as merry as the merriest of our children. My two younger wives cared for her greatly; indeed, I think they loved her more than they did their own children. But Nangeza, my inkosikazi, looked upon this little one with a scowling brow. It would draw ill upon us, she used to declare, to bring into our midst a child of such a race. However, beyond frowns and growlings even she dare not go; for the child had been given into my charge by the King, and to harm it meant death; nor was Nangeza tired of life just then. This little one, too, feared nothing, not even the King himself; and often, when Umzilikazi was moving abroad, and all were bowing down before him with words of bonga, she would dart away from those who would have restrained her, and run out all alone, and, standing before the Great Great One, throw up her tiny hand in the air, and cry aloud the Bayéte, her blue eyes laughing up into the King’s face. And he would talk softly to her, and presently send round a couple of white calves or two or three goats for her to play with. And we named her Kwelanga, from “Kanya Kwelanga,” the “Light of the Sun,” because her hair, all bright as of gold, seemed to reflect that light.
So our nation journeyed on, and more than one moon had waxed and waned. And there was a brightening up of spirits among the warriors, and talk and songs of war; for now we knew we were drawing near the country of the People of the Blue Cattle, the land of richness and promise, the land which should be ours.
Chapter Seven.
Untúswa’s Embassy.
We had halted some days at a convenient place to hunt. The King was in high good humour, for the land with each day’s progress fell off in no wise from the report I had made upon it.