It was, as the King had said, a dangerous service. The Bakoni, I knew, were relying on their numbers. It was extremely probable they would put me to death in the first instance, and, at any rate, certain that they would do so later, when they realised that our impis were actually drawing near to sweep them off the face of the earth. Yet I felt sure that the Great Great One had some reason in sending me; and, even had I not, never was I known to think twice when ordered to any post of danger. I was the only induna with the King there in our advanced camp, but among the royal body-guard was that aforementioned younger brother of mine, Mgwali, son of the same mother as Sekweni, who was put to death for suffering himself to be overpowered at his post. Him now I named to the King.
“It is well,” said Umzilikazi. “Go now to this chief named Tauane, which appears to mean in the tongue of his race, ‘A Young Lion,’ and say that not many days off draweth near an old lion, whose roar is louder—that unless I behold the usual tribute, brought by himself in person, before we are within a day’s march of his town, he and his people are already dead. Go!”
I stood before the King, cried aloud the Bayéte, and strode off. I armed myself with my great war-shield, several strong assegais, and a heavy knobstick. Then I took in my hand the King’s Assegai, and sent for my brother Mgwali.
“Pick out four of the slaves, load them with such things as we need for a long march, and follow me. It is the ‘word’ of the King!”
I stepped forth from the camp with my face turned northward. Before I had gone far I heard a sound of singing, and footsteps behind me, and immediately I was overtaken by my brother, and behind him the four Amaholi bearing loads.
“Whither are we bound, son of my father?” he asked, now that he had time for speech. I told him.
“Whau! It is like the King sending two men to take a whole nation by the beard!” he said, with a joyous laugh. “Yet, Untúswa, I am glad to be one of those chosen, for know that I am tired of my own hair, and would fain wear the ring instead of it. Moreover, thou sayest that these Bakoni maidens are fair.”
“Thou shalt soon see for thyself, Mgwali. Yet it may be that a grimmer embrace awaits us both in their town. How likest thou that, son of my father?”
“I care not. Hau! Ibúbese!” he cried, hurling an assegai with the quickness of lightning at a long, yellow gliding shape, which had darted from a thicket in front of us. But the lion uttered a quick, frightened yelp, and made off unhurt. The spear had fallen short.
“No more of that—no more of that!” I cried, in anger. “We are on the King’s service, boy. No time have we to stop and hunt. Our game lies yonder, and it may be yet more dangerous than the slaying of lions.”