Mitford Bertram. The King's Assegai: A Matabili Story
Prologue
Chapter One. Tshaka’s Impi
Chapter Two. The King’s Promise
Chapter Three. The Basutu Kraals
Chapter Four. The Tyay’igama Dance
Chapter Five. The Mosutu Witch-Doctor
Chapter Six. A Formidable Rival
Chapter Seven. The Fate of the Sentinel
Chapter Eight. The Prophecy of Masuka
Chapter Nine. The Kraal, Ekupumuleni
Chapter Ten “Farewell, Gungana!”
Chapter Eleven. The Eaters of Men
Chapter Twelve. A Wild and Desperate Scheme
Chapter Thirteen. In Outlawry
Chapter Fourteen. To Doom
Chapter Fifteen. The King’s Sentence
Epilogue “Well, Untúswa, I believe now, at any rate, that all the gold this waggon could carry would not purchase that assegai from you,” I said, as soon as the old man had finished. “But what of Nangeza? Was she put to death?”
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Now I saw I was going to get at a wonderful story. The incidents and recollections which would cluster round that beautifully-made dark-handled spear could not fail to be copious as well as passing strange. Then, in his pleasant and flowing Zulu voice —the voice par excellence for narrative purposes – the old man began:
“I am Untúswa, the son of Ntelani, a Zulu of the tribe of Umtetwa. I was a boy in the days when Tshaka, the great King, ruled this land, and trampled his enemies flatter than the elephant tramples the grass-blades. But I was full of the fighting blood which has made our people what they are – what they wore, rather” – he parenthesised sadly, recollecting that we were looking down upon the relics of fallen greatness, as represented by the silent desolation of the razed capital – “ah, yes! But instead of fighting for Tshaka I fought under a very different sort of king.
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“Above was the narrow opening of the pass, and between, for a little distance, a well-nigh open space. Here we met them hand to hand; here we held them back, while those behind pressed them onward by sheer force of weight. Foot by foot we met them, forced slowly back, but ever with our faces toward them. The ground was wet with blood, alive with falling, writhing bodies. The heights rang back our screams of rage, our defiant war-cries, and the clangour of our blows. Foot by foot we gave way; but they never got above us, never got around us. Thus shone forth the generalship of our chief in choosing this for our fighting-ground.
“Above us the pass narrowed to a steep rock-gateway overhung by lofty slopes. Suddenly, at the signal of a loud, sharp whistle, our men ceased the fight as though slain, and, turning, sprang into retreat, pouring through this great natural door. With a roar the king’s impi dashed forward in pursuit, then paused in obedience to the mandate of its leaders, who suspected a snare.
