“Did I not say,” she asked, “that Heaven would pour out its vengeance in plenty because of the blood that runs between the Spirit of the Inkosazana and her people of the Zulus?”
“Truly this curse works fast and well,” exclaimed Dingaan. Then, turning to the men, he shouted: “Be gone, you starved rats, you cowards who do not know how to fight, and be thankful that the Great Elephant (Chaka) is dead, for surely he would have fed you upon shields until you perished.”
So these captains crept away also.
Ere they were well gone a man appeared craving audience, a fat man who wore a woeful countenance, for tears ran down his bloated cheeks. Dingaan knew him well, for every week he saw him, and sometimes oftener.
“What is it, Movo, keeper of the kine,” he asked anxiously, “that you break in on me thus at my Council?”
“O King,” answered the fat man, “pardon me, but, O King, my tidings are so sad that I availed myself of my privilege, and pushed past the guards at the gate.”
“Those who bear ill news ever run quickly,” grunted the King. “Stop that weeping and out with it, Movo.”
“Shaker of the Earth! Eater up of Enemies!” said Movo, “thou thyself art eaten up, or at least thy cattle are, the cattle that I love. A sore sickness has fallen on the great herd, the royal herd, the white herd with the twisted horns, and,” here he paused to sob, “a thousand of them are dead, and many more are sick. Soon there will be no herd left,” and he wept outright.
Now Dingaan leapt up in his wrath and struck the man so sharply with the shaft of the spear he held that it broke upon his head.
“Fat fool that you are,” he exclaimed. “What have you done to my cattle? Speak, or you shall be slain for an evil-doer who has bewitched them.”