“All their enemies did the King say?”
“All—all whom they can reach.”
“Ah! But what of those who would reach them? With every nation, however great, there is at least one other which it has cause to fear—at least one other which is stronger than itself, or which any day may become so.”
Now the cry of anger, of disgust, which arose to our lips was checked, for beyond a lightening up of the eyes the King’s face showed no sign that he had grasped the full meaning of this speech. For we knew—we izinduna—that in his heart of hearts Umzilikazi was uneasy on the subject of the Amabuna and Dingane, but especially Dingane. He knew that, sooner or later, the arm of Dingane would be long enough to reach him; and it was for this reason that such immense pains were taken to keep up the strength and efficiency of our army. Even then, nearly half of it was composed of slaves reared among base peoples. How should these withstand, in the day of trial, the pure blood and disciplined numbers of the impis of Dingane? We had overthrown Tshaka’s impi among the mountain passes, but that was a running fight, and but for the cloud which descended upon the crests of Kwahlamba and rested there for days the end might well have been different, and to-day there might have been no new nation ruled over by the son of Matyobane. It was a dangerous speech to utter into the ears of the Great Great One, for a King likes not to be reminded that there may be a mightier king than himself. It was a speech which, coming from the lips of many a man, might well have amounted to a prayer for death.
“Nations are like lions,” replied Umzilikazi; “the stronger drives out the weaker, that it may keep its hunting-grounds for itself alone. The weaker, in turn, drives out the weaker still; and so things go on, and ever will go on.”
“Not so, Black Elephant. The time will come—has come in some parts of the earth—when the strong no longer drive out the weak, but both shall sit down side by side in peace. There is One who gave His life that this should come to pass, and that all should be turned into the way of the truth. And He who thus suffered death to save a world was the Son of a King—a King beside whom the might of the mightiest King the earth ever saw is less than the weakness of a child beside the strength of an elephant. For He was the Son of God.”
“What was He like? How did He die, the son of this mighty King?” said Umzilikazi.
“Thus, ruler of a nation which loves war. Thus.”
And the white isanusi drew from his robe something we had beheld sticking in it, and had deemed some portion of his múti, and held it out towards the King. And we, too, all saw it. It was a black cross, and upon it, fashioned in some shining metal, was stretched the Figure of a Man.
A gasp of astonishment went up from every throat; for we Zulus, Nkose, are always anxious to hear something new. Au! This was something new, if ever anything was.