“So, Mopo, my uncle, if I am the son of Chaka and Baleka, Nada the Lily is no sister to me.”
“Nay, Umslopogaas, she is only your cousin.”
“Over near of blood,” he said; “yet that shall not stand between us,” and his face grew glad.
I looked at him in question.
“You grow dull, my uncle. This is my meaning: that I will marry Nada if she still lives, for it comes upon me now that I have never loved any woman as I love Nada the Lily,” and while he spoke, I heard the rat stir in the thatch of the hut.
“Wed her if you will, Umslopogaas,” I answered, “yet I think that one Zinita, your Inkosikasi, will find words to say in the matter.”
“Zinita is my head wife indeed, but shall she hold me back from taking other wives, after the lawful custom of our people?” he asked angrily, and his anger showed that he feared the wrath of Zinita.
“The custom is lawful and good,” I said, “but it has bred trouble at times. Zinita can have little to say if she continues in her place and you still love her as of old. But enough of her. Nada is not yet at your gates, and perhaps she will never find them. See, Umslopogaas, it is my desire that you should rule in Zululand by right of blood, and, though things point otherwise, yet I think a way can be found to bring it about.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Thus: Many of the great chiefs who are friends to me hate Dingaan and fear him, and did they know that a son of Chaka lived, and that son the Slaughterer, he well might climb to the throne upon their shoulders. Also the soldiers love the name of Chaka, though he dealt cruelly with them, because at least he was brave and generous. But they do not love Dingaan, for his burdens are the burdens of Chaka but his gifts are the gifts of Dingaan; therefore they would welcome Chaka’s son if once they knew him for certain. But it is here that the necklet chafes, for there is but my word to prove it. Yet I will try.”