Читать книгу The White Shield - Mitford Bertram - Страница 10

We passed out of the isigodhlo by a secret way; known to and used by the King alone. The night was not a dark one, for the stars were shining bright and clear, and a waning moon hung low down in the heavens. As we stepped rapidly forth across the open plain we could make out the dim outline of the great kraal lying silent and slumbrous. Suddenly the figure of a man rose up, right across our path.

Now we were facing the setting moon, and the man was advancing stealthily in the direction of the kraal, wherefore we met. His face was in darkness. Not so ours, however, and as he recognised the lion countenance of the Great Great One, thus walking abroad by night, he was seized with a mighty fear, and, uttering the Bayéte, he crouched low—hiding his face that we might pass him. And he had looked on the things of this world for the last time, for the words of the Black Elephant were fresh in my ears. This man had recognised the King—had spoken the royal greeting—wherefore, as he crouched, the blade of my broad umkonto drove through between his shoulders, coming out far through his breast. So he died there in the night, uttering no further sound.

“That was well done, Untúswa,” whispered the King. “I have but one word, and now there is one umtagati the less. Proceed!”

So we stepped forward again, leaving the slain man lying there; and as we held on our way, I leading, and gripping my spear, all on the alert lest we should meet others prompt to recognise the King, we heard before and around us the howling of hyenas and the yelping of jackals, with now and again the thunder roar of a lion at no very great distance, also a strange and unearthly wail, which could come from no beast—but only, it might be, from the sad ghosts of those slain, who were weeping over their own shattered bones above the place of slaughter.

“This is a night for abatagati indeed,” growled the King. “Yet there will be more ghosts to weep, Untúswa, after our visit to Ncwelo’s pool.”

“Gahle, Nkulu ’nkulu,” I whispered. (Gently, Great Great One.) “Yonder is Ncwelo’s kraal. If his dogs hear us, will not their tongues be swift to put the conspirators to flight? Yonder by the shade of the trees must we pass, for they whom we seek will have eyes watching the plain in all directions.”

“Lead on, Untúswa,” whispered the King.

Some distance round, under the shade of the trees, had we to travel, for we dared not cross the open, though to do so were far more direct. Au! it was black where the light of the moon and the stars could not pierce, and we had to writhe our way as silently as serpents—indeed more silently, for twice the rustle of some great serpent uncoiling himself to withdraw slowly from our path, and his shrill angry hiss at being disturbed, caused us to pause in order to allow him to retreat.

At length I, who was leading, halted and held up a hand. It was not a sound that I had heard in front through the black gloom, but there had floated to my nostrils on the clear air of the night an odour. It was the smell of a horse. Now of horses among us there were but few—all belonging to the King—and at Ncwelo’s kraal were none. The Great Great One perceived it too, for just then a shaft of moonlight between the tree-tops revealed his face, and upon it was the eager, smiling, terrible expression I had seen there more than once, but usually when leading us into the very thickest of the battle. Yet neither of us spake, and we resumed our way, though tenfold more cautiously than before.

Again I held up my hand. We were now where the ground ended. Before were several jagged pinnacles of rock; in front of these—air. We had made our way by a circuit to the high ground overlooking the back of Ncwelo’s pool.

There it lay, the pool—its surface glistening in the moonlight, reflecting the stars—lying beneath us at a depth, it might be, of eight or ten times the length of a man; and the murmur of voices rose to our ears, together with the occasional stamp of a horse and the sound as of the shaking of a saddle. The grasp of the King’s hand tightened on my shoulder, as we drew ourselves yet nearer to the brink of the rocks and peered cautiously forth.

“Listen, Untúswa,” he breathed into my ear. “Mark well the voices, lest the darkness prevent us from seeing the speakers. Ha!” he added, “that, at any rate, is a voice thou shouldst know.”

And there in truth, Nkose, Umzilikazi spoke no lie; for the voice was that of Ntelani, my father.

It was raised in reproof. Someone at that moment was striking a light—with the stone fire-makers the white men used at that time—and there arose to our nostrils the odour of tobacco being smoked in a pipe. But while this light still flamed we made out with the greatest plainness the faces of six men.

Yes, in that flash we saw them all, for they were immediately below us. Two were white men, with rough faces covered with thick shaggy beards. They wore large hats and clothing made of dressed leather, and were armed with knives and long guns. They were tall, big men, but slow and heavy of speech and aspect. We knew them in a moment for Amabuna (Boers).

The other four were our own people: Tyuyumane, an influential induna and a relation of the King; Notalwa, the head of our witch doctors; Senkonya, another induna, and my father Ntelani. The latter was speaking:

“I fear lest the odour of gwai thus burned spread far into the stillness of the night, for none of us Amazulu use our gwai in such wise. Wherefore it will be known that white men are about.”

But that Ibuna answered roughly that he cared nothing if it reached the nostrils of Umzilikazi himself, save that he uttered the King’s name “Selekas,” so badly did that people speak with our tongue.

The other, however, reproved him, which was well, for our people, traitors though they were, liked not to listen to that sort of talk.

“And now, Ntelani,” went on this man, speaking softly and pleasantly, “if we help you in the matter, how do you propose to carry out the change?”

“Thus,” replied my father, having paused awhile to take snuff and think. “Umzilikazi is great—he is a lion—a buffalo bull—an elephant. The young men are with him. The young men are all his dogs, for he gives them plenty of fighting and abundance of spoil. Moreover, he allows them to tunga while yet children, and exalts them to be izinduna over the heads of their fathers. Their fathers are to be their dogs. He loves not old men as izinduna. He creates izinduna out of children like himself.”

(Note: Tunga means “Sew”—the head-ring—i.e. marry.)

Now the King pushed me as we lay and listened, for both of us understood this speech, which was not even dark. Then my father went on:—

“Here is my plan, leader of the Amabuna. We must have a King, but when the Elephant who now trumpets is henceforth trumpeting in black night the warriors will demand a leader, and no man is there who holds their hearts like one, a lion-cub which I have bred, for he is fearless in war, and him they will have to reign over them. This wish they must have granted, if only to accustom them to the change. He shall be King—King for a day—ah! ah!”

And my father chuckled with malice as he took more snuff.

“But what if he will not? What if he remains faithful to Umzilikazi?” said the leader of the Amabuna; for that people talks plain, and understands not our way of dark speaking.

“Au! Will he not?” sneered my father. “I tell thee, Ibuna, that he would slay the King with his own hand but to sit in his seat, if only for a day.”

Now, Nkose, my fury well-nigh got the mastery over me. Such dangerous and fatal words uttered by my father in the hearing of the Great Great One struck dismay into my heart, for the minds of Kings are ever suspicious, and had not I been brought there half under suspicion myself? Besides, they were not true; for even were the chance to offer, I would not sit in the seat of Umzilikazi in his lifetime. For he had made me great, and, in reality, second only to himself. No thought of treason was in my heart, nor had there ever been since the time when, as a hot-headed and foolish boy, I had all but thrown away my life for the sake of a girl; but since then—au! had the whole nation turned against the King, I, even if the only one, would have kept faithful to him, would have given my life for his. Further, my father’s intended treachery towards myself—towards the King and the nation—made my blood flow hot; for no promises of advantage on the part of these lying Amabuna would ever have deceived me, even could I see of what advantage they could be to us. I began to “see red.” It was all I could do not to plunge down the rocks and slay Ntelani where he sat, even though he were my own father. And something of this must have shown itself—I know not how—for again that grasp of iron was upon my shoulder, pressing me down, and the King’s voice breathed into my ear—

“Gahle, gahle, Untúswa. Hast thou not even yet learned sound judgment, thou who art no more a boy, but a kehla, and the leader of warriors in battle? Give ear now while these creeping scorpions advance even further and further into the black jaws of death.”

So we lay and listened, and presently we knew all there was to know, and, in truth, the news was great, for many things had been hatching within the womb of Time. We learned that Tshaka, the Mighty One, the Lion of Zulu, was no more, and that Dingane, a brother of that Elephant, had reddened his spear in the Great One’s blood, and now sat as King in Zululand. We learned that the Amabuna were coming up out of the west—advancing in great numbers, with guns and horses, desiring the land which lay between the Tugela and the sea—and to obtain this, their leaders sought the aid of our nation, promising to set up as King in Zululand he who should aid them the most in their war against Dingane. But before this should happen, Umzilikazi must be sent to join his father, for great as he might have reason to dread the power of Dingane, these plotters knew that he hated that of the Amabuna still more, and that by no inducement whatever could he be brought to listen to their promises, still less to trust in them.

All this we drank in as we lay there among the rocks, listening to that dark midnight plot—all this and more: how the old men were dissatisfied, because of the favour shown to the younger ones—yet this was necessary, Nkose, for ours was a young nation, which had to carve out its own place with the arms and assegais of its warriors, most of whom were young. So we lay in the black midnight stillness, listening to these abatagati squatted around by the rock-hung pool, and the dismal howling of beasts far and near seemed to re-echo their foul and evil plotting. But at the last we learned something more. Should I, the son of Ntelani, refuse to be made King—for a day—ah! yes, only for a day—the induna Tyuyumane was to reign. And with this understanding the Amabuna rose to depart. As they swung themselves into their saddles the one who had spoken more pleasantly said:

“The day after the new moon then, Ntelani, an Elephant will fall into the staked pit from which there is no escape. Our people, with guns and horses, will be at hand. Is that so?”

“That is so, leader of the Amabuna,” grunted my father. “Au! from the spear of a pitfall there is no escape, even for the Elephant.” And the others laughed deeply as they assented.

“My father,” I whispered, as the Amabuna rode off, “shall I not go down and slay yonder four?”

“Not so, Untúswa,” whispered the King in reply.

“Shall I not then go and call forth an impi to eat up those dirty white jackals, O Elephant for whom no pit shall be laid?”

“Not so, Untúswa. Ha! It is the whole nest of foul birds that shall be destroyed—not two only, that the remainder may take alarm and escape.”

After the Amabuna had gone, those four traitors sat there in the darkness and talked more freely, and in the course of this indaba it was arranged that Tyuyumane should sit in the seat of the Great Great One. But, first of all, on the day after the new moon, when the Amabuna should be at hand with their horses and guns, it was settled that I was to reign for a little while, only to accustom the younger warriors to the change; then I was to be sent to travel the road of Umzilikazi. All this these four fools talked over among themselves, little thinking what ears were drinking in their words—little dreaming what a sharp and fiery throne awaited Tyuyumane—and, indeed, all of them. Then the moon sank down, and darkness lay upon the face of that wizard pool, and silently the conspirators rose and were gone.

“Ha! Untúswa,” whispered the King in mockery, “soon will the nation cry thee the Bayéte. How now? Dost thou not feel already great?”

“Mock me not, Black Elephant,” I pleaded; “mock me not that I am begotten of Ntelani, who is the very chief of fools. If the fooleries, which we have just heard seem to the mind of the Great Great One true, then let him slay me as I stand. If not, suffer that I slay their utterers.”

And, dropping my assegai—the King’s Assegai—I turned my breast to the Black Elephant, even as on that day when I stood expecting the death-stroke in the sight of all the nation.

“Not yet, Untúswa, not yet,” was the answer, uttered softly. “Lead on now, that we may return before these abatagati smell that the Lion has been on their track.”

Now, as we took our way beneath the blackness of the forest shades, it seemed to me, Nkose, that I was standing with one foot upon the point of an exceedingly lofty pinnacle, which point pierced more and more my foot, and yet on each and every side was the dizzy height of death. For now came back to me those plotting and foolish dreams of the days when my principal wife, Nangeza, and myself were making love without permission, and breaking daily the stern law of our nation. Then we had talked over the possibility which lay before every man who knew not fear, and who dared stake everything on fate, and how no man was more fitted to aspire to the rule of a warrior race than such a born warrior as myself; and, although now I had come to see the foolishness of such dreams—for I loved Umzilikazi as a dog does his master—and, further, was happy enough in my position as second fighting induna—yet it might be that Nangeza, who was ill-disposed to me now by reason of her evil and over-reaching temper, had whispered abroad such old tales—adding insidiously to them, as the manner is with women—and these might have reached the ears of the King—as what indeed did not?—and, taken with what he had just heard, might mean my downfall. Yet I could do nothing, save to trust in my steady and faithful services to the King, and the weight and general soundness of my counsel; for, young as I was, the Great Great One took counsel of me oft, though secretly—oftener, indeed, than of older izinduna, such as my father Ntelani, or even Mcumbete, who of all his counsellors was the most trusted.

Suddenly the King’s hand fell upon my shoulder again, pressing me down gently but firmly to the very earth. Not a moment too soon, for as we lay crouching there, over us passed the four conspirators—right over us, so that had they trodden but a foot’s breadth to one side they had touched us. They were now upon the edge of the brush, and we could see their forms clearly outlined against the stars. Moreover, each held his broad assegai in his right hand, for the man who wanders at night does well to be prepared for peril at every step. As for me, I desired nothing better than to have at them then and there; but that restraining grasp relaxed not on my shoulder, and the will of the Great Great One was sufficient. So we let those traitors go for the moment, but better had it been for them had we stricken them down in the darkness as they walked.

We regained the isigodhlo by the same secret way, and perceived of none. But before dismissing me for the night the King whispered a few orders. And then I knew that the morrow would witness terrible things—that, for some at least, it should bring forth that which might well make them wish they had never been born.