And her eyes full of mockery, were laughing at me.
“The King? Hau! Not so. An indunas wife only shalt thou be, Lalusini—not the wife of a King.”
“Ah, ah! An induna’s wife? But I love not old men, and indunas are always old.”
“Not so, Lalusini. But yesterday I was only a boy, and unringed.”
“Ah, ah! son of Ntelani! You—an induna? You?”
And again she made the rocks ring with the music of her laughter.
“I?—yes, I,” was my answer, given with dignity, for my pride was ruffled. “I am only the second induna in command of the King’s army. Nothing very great. But a small thing. Laugh on, Lalusini; laugh on!”
But she did not laugh. Something in my words seemed to turn her suddenly grave. “Ah—the chance! The chance at last!” I heard her murmur. “I, too, am somebody,” she said. Then, turning to me, “Yes, Untúswa, I am somebody who is great—greater than any man among the Aba-ka-zulu; greater than Umzilikazi himself. And it may be that the day will come when you, too, shall be greater, son of Ntelani—greater than the King yonder.”
“Hau! We are talking in a ring!” I cried, but her words troubled me. “How now didst thou come among the people of the Blue Cattle, Lalusini?—for it seems to me the time has come for me to hear that tale.”
“The time has not come—not yet—but it will. And now tell me of the end of the Bakoni, for I think there must be few still alive.”