“Thou wouldst say, Mopo, that if these princes die never canst thou or any other man give them the royal names. Do I hear aright, Mopo?”
“Who am I that I should lift up my voice asking for the blood of princes?” I answered. “Judge thou, O King!”
Now, Chaka brooded awhile, then he spoke: “Say, Mopo, can it be done this night?”
“There are but few men in the kraal, O King. All are gone out to war; and of those few many are the servants of the princes, and perhaps they might give blow for blow.”
“How then, Mopo?”
“Nay, I know not, O King; yet at the great kraal beyond the river sits that regiment which is named the Slayers. By midday to-morrow they might be here, and then—”
“Thou speakest wisely, my child Mopo; it shall be for to-morrow. Go summon the regiment of the Slayers, and, Mopo, see that thou fail me not.”
“If I fail thee, O King, then I fail myself, for it seems that my life hangs on this matter.”
“If all the words that ever passed thy lips are lies, yet is that word true, Mopo,” said Chaka: “moreover, know this, my servant: if aught miscarries thou shalt die no common death. Begone!”
“I hear the king,” I answered, and went out.