The White Shield

Thus died Nangeza, my inkosikazi, she whom I had stolen from the isigodhlo in times past, and in doing so had thrust my head deep within the red jaws of death. Now she died thus, brave, fierce, defiant to the last; and, Nkose– I think it was about time she did.

Chapter Nineteen.

The White Shield

“Praise on now, ye izimbonga, shout aloud, my children,” said the King, “for we are rid of a most pestilent witch, even though Untúswa has lost his inkosikazi. Well, what matter? We can find him a new one. Look, Untúswa. This stranger is fair. Will she not make a noble substitute for the evildoer who sleeps yonder beneath the water?”

Now, Nkose, my heart leaped within me at the words; yet I did not like the tone, for I could see that the King was mocking me, and I suspected a trap; for Umzilikazi’s ways were dark at times, and of late his suspicions, in one direction or the other, were seldom at rest. Still, I answered, as was my wont, boldly —

“She would indeed, Father. Is this, then, the ‘word’ of the Lion to the lion-cub?”

All gazed silently and in wonder at my boldness, for none doubted but that this beautiful stranger should reign queen in the isigodhlo.

“Ah, ah, Untúswa,” mocked the King. “Know you not that she is a sorceress, and such can wed with none? Yet, it is a pity – a pity,” he added, gazing longingly at the beauty of Lalusini, who stood with a half smile on her lips, looking down at us as though we were a couple of children discussing our games. Indeed, there were not wanting some who thought, that, noble and stately as the King’s presence was, the aspect of this strange woman was the more royal of the two.

Now, Umzilikazi took up the great white shield, and began examining the little hole, or rather slit, made by the poisoned dart, murmuring softly to himself the while. Then, carefully, he picked up the little weapon itself, which I had immediately plucked from the royal shield, and flung down in disgust. An idea seemed to strike him.

“See, Untúswa, here is a great múti shield,” he said. “It will make a fitting mate to the dark-handled umkonto. And as it has once stood between my life and treason, so may it always. Take it, Untúswa, my shield-bearer. It will be seen afar in the line of battle, when the meat stands ready to the teeth of the lion-cubs. Take it, Untúswa. It is thine.”

Speaking thick and fast the words of bonga, I bent down and received this great gift from the hand of the King. It was a splendid bull-hide shield, of pure white, and not bound with black facings, as was the way with those borne by the royal guard. It was a royal shield, and of the royal colour, and was tufted with the tail-tuft of a bull, also pure white. And now I held two royal gifts: the King’s Assegai, and the great white shield of the King. And since I had held the first naught but success had been mine. What would not follow upon the possession of the last?

The arrow which Nangeza had thrown we examined also. It was larger somewhat than those usually shot by the mountain tribes, and looked as though it had been made for this purpose. The point, too, was thick and green with an ugly poison, which was not all snake-poison, but a mixture of such with something of the nature of distilled herbs. Now, from whom had she obtained that secret? Then the King and I put our heads together, and whispered, and some of the royal guard bounded forth, to return immediately, dragging two men whom we knew to be of our own izanusi; yet not altogether, for they were of a lower class, who assisted our witch-doctors without being altogether of them. They were not our own people, both being of the Bapedi, and as they were brought before the presence, their knees knocked together, and their eyes protruded with fear.

“Take that arrow, ye dogs who are no izanusi, but cheats,” said the King. “Now touch each other with the point thereof.”

“We are but dust beneath the feet of the King,” whined one, yet not obeying.

“To do this is death, Great Great One,” moaned the other.

“Ha! And do ye hesitate? Who hesitates to face death at the word of the King? And if it is death for most men, ye jackals, is not your múti strong enough to render this of no avail? I speak not twice.”

So these two grasped the arrow – first one, then the other – and obeyed the King’s word. And we, bending forward, watched them keenly and with joy; for we hated these crawling snakes of izanusi, who would have made of themselves, King, army, nation, all rolled into one. And we took care that there was no trickery in what they now did. So it happened that not long after they had pricked each other with the arrow they grew heavy and sleepy, and soon rolled over dead, and frothing at the mouth. For Umzilikazi judged that these two had supplied Nangeza with the poison, and there was nothing he loved so much as making the evil which one had prepared for another the manner whereby that one himself should fall.

“Now talk we of Kwelanga,” he said, when the bodies had been removed. “Thou, Lalusini, will the little one ever return to us?”

“They who wander abroad by night without weapons of defence run great danger, O Elephant,” she replied. “When such are but little children, what chance have they?”

“Yet the witch who is gone accused thee of a hand in her disappearance?”

“Then did she lie, Great Great One,” answered Lalusini softly. “No part did I bear in this. Yet one thing my serpent tells me. Not for ill was this child of the sunshine saved from reddening the Amandebeli spears what time the other children of the Amabuna perished thereby. Wherefore, when her voice again shall be heard, neglect it not, lest a nation be a nation no more. Lo, it groweth dark and all things are night! I hear the sound of a trampling of feet, of the quiver of spears as the forest boughs in a gale, the clash and roar of hosts in battle, the song of victory!”

“And to whom the victory, my sister?” said the King.

Lalusini turned wonderingly at the voice and passed her hand once or twice over her brow. Her eyes came back to earth again, and she seemed as one who has but awakened from a long, deep sleep. And we who beheld it were stricken with awe, for we knew that the sorceress had parted with her spirit for a time; and this, soaring away through the fields of space and of the future, had beheld that to which her lips had given utterance, and, indeed, a great deal more to which they had not. And now, her vision ended, it; was not within her power to reply to the King’s question.

“Get thee gone now, and rest, my sister, for I perceive that thy powers are great,” said Umzilikazi with a wave of the hand. And at the signal, some of the women who hung upon the outskirts of the crowd, came forward to lead the stranger to a large new hut which had been prepared for her reception.

When the assembly of the people had dispersed, the King and I still lingered talking over these matters.

“Is it for good or for ill she has come among us, Untúswa?” he said.

“For good, Great Great One.”

“Ha! So thou ever sayest. Yet her prophecy as regarded the little one was strange.”

“Strange it was, Black Elephant, but it was not lightly spoken.”

“She is a greater magician than this white man, for no such saying, light or dark, did he ever utter concerning us.”

“That is true, Father. Yet he is a good man.”

“And the sayings of that witch who was thy chief wife, Untúswa. They, too, were strange.”

“Whau! They were the ravings of a jealous and evil-tongued woman, Calf of a Black Bull. But now I am without a chief wife, give me, I pray thee, this sorceress, Father, for there is that about her which I love, O Stabber of the Sun.”

“So, so!” said Umzilikazi, laughing softly, and there was a look on his face which brought back the days when I, being a boy, desired leave to tunga. “So, so, Untúswa? She would make a noble substitute for thy dead witch? Ha! Yet be content, thou holder of the royal spear and the royal shield.”

There was that in the words – in the look – as the King dismissed me which left an uncomfortable load upon my mind; and, indeed, I felt as though I had acted like a fool.

Now, as I returned to the huts I occupied when at Kwa’zingwenya upon the King’s business, my two younger wives came about me with words of love and thankfulness, because my voice had been raised on their behalf when they were adjudged to die the death which had overtaken Nangeza. Yet for these I had no ears and but little patience, for my mind was filled with the Bakoni sorceress. Moreover, I now foresaw strife between these two; for, Nangeza being gone, these would not rest until one or other of them had taken her place, nor would they suffer me to rest – for so it is with women: each must always be the greater. So I answered them but shortly, bidding them gather up their possessions and start back at once to my kraal – happy that they could go back well and strong in the flesh, and not as weeping ghosts whose bodies were dead moaning over the ashes of their former home. But for my part I chose to remain at Kwa’zingwenya for a space, for I feared lest Lalusini should escape me again. Yet was I as powerless with regard to her as the lowest of our Amaholi; for was not her life the property of the King, even as the lives of all of us? Truly within the nation I was great. Yet did my will cross that of the King and —Au! where is the smoke of yesterday’s fire?

Thinking such thoughts, I was wandering at eventide between the great kraal and the river when I came upon old Masuka gathering herbs.

“Greeting, thou holder of the royal spear and the royal shield,” said the old man, looking at me sideways, like a bird, out of his bright eyes. Again I felt uneasy, for his words were exactly those which the King had uttered – his tone mocking and ill-omened.

“Greeting, my father,” I answered, trying to seem unconcerned. “Now we have yet another magician among us – this time a female one.”

“That is so, Untúswa. Ah, ah! what was my ‘word’ to thee? ‘The she-eagle will return and – the alligators shall be fed.’ Did I lie in that?”

“Not so, my father. Truth was there in the word, for it has been shown this day.”

“Your black cow has given good milk, my son. Whau, Untúswa! You should be an isanusi yourself, who did so readily read the way of the Bakoni witch-song. But now great things are to come upon us – upon you: yes – strange things.”

“What is the strangest thing which is to come upon me, my father?” I said, again seeking to pry into the future.

“Ha! The place of the Three Rifts,” he answered, darkly.

“But I know not such a place, my father.”

“Thou wilt know it, Untúswa; thou wilt know it – one day.”

No more would the old man tell, and so I left him, pondering greatly over these things as I went. And it seemed to me that the air was dark with sorcery and magic, and that snares lay spread all around, lurking for the steps of him who should tread unwarily; and, indeed, this was so, for the old Mosutu’s foresight was no mere empty frothing, but of portentous weight, as, indeed, were all his utterances.

While these things were in progress, Nkose, the white priest was absent from Kwa’zingwenya; for since the day of his interference at the Pool of the Alligators, the King chose, when possible, to find some pretext for removing him to a distance what time evil-doers were to die the death. For if the stranger were again to interfere, he, too, must die, for it would be impossible to overlook such rebellion a second time, even from a white man. Now, Umzilikazi did not desire his death, wherefore he would direct that some should lure the stranger to a distant kraal, on the pretence that certain people there were eager to listen to his teaching, all in accordance with the crafty scheme which had kept him from pursuing his journey to the south, and rendered him content to remain among us. And, no matter what the weather, no matter how great his own fatigue, upon receiving such a call, the white priest would start immediately, through heat or cold or storm, though the rivers were in flood or sickness lurked in the low-lying swamps. So it had been in this instance; and not until several days had gone by since the death of Nangeza did he return, weary with travel, and sad that his teachings should be of so small avail.

But very much more sad was he on learning of the disappearance of Kwelanga, and he wept, that white isanusi; for he loved the little one, who, after all, was of his own colour, the only one of such among us. And he, like ourselves, doubted not but that she had been slain and devoured by wild beasts. Yet, loudly did he give thanks to the King who had permitted him to perform the water-rite over her; since by this, he said, though her body were dead, her spirit should live in happiness forever. And we, hearing these words, glanced at one another with meaning. Did they not accord with Lalusini’s saying, that again should Kwelanga’s voice be heard, though with a warning, forasmuch that not for ill had we saved her alive when all others were slain?

Now, although this white priest had declared in a friendly manner towards old Masuka, and, indeed, showed no enmity towards our own izanusi, his mind seemed evil towards Lalusini. Her he could never be brought to regard with over-great friendliness, but yet was guarded in his utterances; and, while he looked upon her coldly, said naught against her. But she, for her part, in nowise seemed to return his manner, for she ever spake softly and kindly to him – even as she did to all – but in a way as though she herself were too great to feel enmity or ill-will to such small things as those around her. And this, indeed, was partly true.

Chapter Twenty.

Dreams – New and Great

Now, time went by, and of Lalusini I saw nothing, nor could I find opportunity of speaking with her alone. I was greatly troubled in mind, too; for I thought the King desired her – he who cared not usually about women – and my days were heavy and my dreams dark.

We were seated alone, the King and I. We had been talking over many things, as our way was; for Umzilikazi seemed to trust me more and more, till it was whispered that I had become the most powerful man in the nation, young as I was – more powerful than Mcumbete, the chief induna, or even than Kalipe, the commander of the army. As we sat thus, the King said —

“It seems to me, son of Ntelani, that we have sorcerers enough and to spare. Now this one which came last among us is one too many. Wherefore, as she is young and well-favoured, I will take her to wife, so shall she practise sorcery no more.”

Here was a dark curtain for my eyes – I, who loved Lalusini. But I only answered that it was good – that the small wishes of the King were the great ones of his children.

“That is well said, Untúswa! Go now, and bring hither this sorceress, that she may learn to what great end she was born.”

I saluted, and, going forth, proceeded straight to Lalusini’s hut, sending in women to tell her the Great Great One desired speech with her. Then I returned to the King, fearing to be alone with Lalusini, lest I should by word or look betray myself – betray us both. And as I went I remembered her words, spoken first in the hiding-place up yonder, on the mountain of death: “There is that by which even Umzilikazi dare not wed me.” What was behind this saying? For a matter which should come between the King and his will must indeed be weighty – nothing less than one of life or death.

Lalusini stood before the King, royal in the stately splendour of her beauty; her large eyes smiling down upon him as she uttered the Bayéte in a voice like the murmuring of trees, yet not bending over much.

“Whau! It shall be so!” I heard him mutter, after gazing at her for a short space in silence and admiration.

“Hearken, my sister!” he said aloud. “Among this people there are sorcerers and diviners enough already. And now thou art another of them – yet thy múti is great.”

“Would the King sit here to-day, but for that múti?” she answered. “Here or on a darker seat? Yet it matters not that I should wander again if I am to find no resting-place among this people. Still, there are others.”

“That is not my mind, thou who art from nowhere,” said Umzilikazi. “Thou art indeed fair and goodly enough for a queen – and a queen thou shalt be. Thou shalt be at the head of the isigodhlo, and the delight of a King.”

Now my eyes were fixed upon the face of Lalusini; but over it came no change.

“That cannot be, Great Great One!” she answered.

“Cannot be? Ha!” cried Umzilikazi, gazing at her in displeasure and amazement. “Are, then, the wishes of a King to be uttered twice?”

“Thou art all-powerful, O Black Elephant,” she said. “The elephant may rend down forest-trees and loosen rocks with his might. Yet even he cannot walk against a broad river in flood. There is a law which is greater than even the wishes of the mightiest of kings.”

“What meanest thou, my sister?” said Umzilikazi, in a low but terrible voice.

“Thou doest well to call me thus, son of Matyobane; for within me runs the blood of Matyobane.”

“Ha!”

So great was his astonishment that for a space, save that one amazed gasp, no word could the King utter. Now stood revealed the meaning of that saying of hers; for, Nkose, so strict is this custom among us Amazulu, that no man may take to wife any girl within whose veins runs a drop of his own blood, or, indeed, as to whom exists the barest suspicion that such may be the case. Wherefore, in declaring herself to be of the blood of Umzilikazi’s father, Lalusini knew that even the King himself dare not take her to wife; nor, indeed, would he desire to, once convinced of the truth of her words.

“Is this indeed so?” he said at last, frowning suspiciously, for a king likes not to be balked in the desire of his heart, be the reason never so good.

“Say, then, who was thy father?”

“First look at me; Great Great One. Are we not of a royal tree, we in whom runs the same blood?”

Now the King started slightly, and I, too, marking that royal stamp which rested upon Lalusini, saw for the first time a certain degree of likeness between them.

“Of my father I cannot speak,” she went on. “My mother was Laliwa, sister of Matyobane.”

“Au!”

“A wonder!” broke from myself and the King at once. For she had named one of the inferior wives of Tshaka the Terrible. Well might we cry out in amazement. This strange beautiful woman, this sorceress of the Bakoni, whose witcheries had inspired both of us with love for her, was of the royal house of Senzangakona, was the daughter of that mighty king, the terror of whose name spread as far as it was known – and even among ourselves – the great Tshaka, from whom we had revolted and fled. Truly indeed had she spoken when saying that she came of a stock greater than that of Umzilikazi.

“Wonderful things have we heard to-day,” said the King. Then jestingly: “Say, daughter of the Lion whose roar is now silent! Here is a valiant fighter, my war-captain and councillor, Untúswa. Wouldst thou not wed with such, the gates of the isigodhlo being now closed?”

Lalusini turned her eyes full upon me for the first time, and the glance expressed amusement, yet beneath it I could discern something more.

“Did I mate with any, it would indeed be with such a warrior,” she said. “But this is not the day for thoughts of such things, O son of Matyobane, for great events are maturing.”

“And these events – are they for good or for ill?” said Umzilikazi.

“For good or for ill? Ha! There is a darkness over the earth, yet not the darkness of night. Lo, I see the world beneath the glow of the full moon, and it is bright as noonday, though softer. And now it is dark, and the face of the moon is wrapped in blackness until it shines forth once more. Then beware, King and founder of a new nation; for the scream of the vultures is borne upon the winds from afar, crying that a banquet awaits – yes, a banquet awaits!”

Now, Lalusini had sunk back into the state of one who dreams, and when she awakened, returning as it were to earth once more, she seemed not to know what words she had uttered, or, indeed, if she had uttered any. But the King and I forgot them not, and often afterwards did we talk them over together.

Now Lalusini began to sing in a strange, far-distant tone, and low, but the words were in the Bakoni tongue, and were mysterious enough even to me. And the song was of a shield, and seemed to tell of battle and of blood.

“See, Great Great One,” she cried, ceasing, and pointing to the white shield which the King had given me. “He who bears yonder shield must not part from it, even for a space, until after the blackness of the moon. Then it may be that he will part with it forever – yet not.”

Her words were dark now, yet, in the fulness of time, were they to be made plain enough. But the King, dissatisfied, pressed for an explanation.

“Seek not to look into the mysteries of my magic, son of Matyobane,” she replied, utterly fearless, “for to do so is to render them evil.”

“And I fear not such. No dread do I stand in of the sorcery of any. Ask now, my sister – where is Isilwane, once head of the izanusi? Where Notalwa – and others?” said Umzilikazi, frowning.

“Yet, let will be. Say, Calf of a Black Bull – was my múti for good or for ill, that guided the shield now borne by Untúswa? The magic of the Bakoni is as superior to that of the Amazulu as the might in battle of these last is to that of the peoples they have made an end of.”

“What now is thy story, my sister?” said the King, leaving that question. And some of her story Lalusini gave us then and there – how that she alone of all his children would Tshakathe Mighty recognise, even if there were any others who were not slain, for that King desired not children, lest, growing up, they should plot against him and depose him. Lalusini, however, he destined to some great though hidden end, and caused the land far and wide to be searched for those who could teach her the deeper and most hidden mysteries of their magic. Then it befell that the two brothers of Tshaka – Dingane and Mhlangana – rose up against the Great One and slew him, and Lalusini with her mother, Laliwa, and some others, fled afar to escape the death of the spear, and after many wanderings and perils reached the land of the Bakoni, which they deemed remote enough from Dingane. Here Tauane, the chief of that people, would have wedded her, but she would have none of him or his plans.

“Au! that dog who is burnt!” cried Umzilikazi. “I would he were here again, that I might make him once more taste fire. Au! A dog, to think to blend the branches of the royal stem of Senzangakona with the rank weeds of his jackal tribe.”

“Not to no purpose had I learned the magic of the wise,” went on Lalusini. “I divined your coming, Great Great One; yes, long before Untúswa’s first embassy appeared in the land, and I welcomed it. Nothing of it did I say in warning to Tauane and the People of the Blue Coloured Cattle, save darkly, and, as it were, in jest. And they mocked.”

“If you welcomed our coming, my sister, why didst thou disappear into air for a space thereafter?” said Umzilikazi cunningly.

“Ha! no evil lay behind that, son of Matyobane. Can two bulls of equal size dwell in one kraal? Yet Zululand is now just such a kraal, having two kings, Dingane and Mhlangana. Yet it should have but one.”

“Hau!” cried the King. “Should that one be Dingane?”

“Not Dingane should it be, Elephant of the Amandebeli,” she replied.

“Mhlangana, then?”

“Not Mhlangana, Great Great One in whom flows the blood of my mother.”

“Ha! Who, then, Queen of the Bakoni múti?”

“Umzilikazi, the son of Matyobane.”

“Ha!” broke from us both at the surpassing boldness of this declaration; and for some moments we sat staring in silence at this wonderful woman. Then the King took snuff, and, as he did so, I well knew what was passing in his mind. For, had but another regiment or two cleaved to us, what time the Amandebeli and we of the Umtetwa tribe, and others, fled from Zululand, no flight need we have made at all. We would have marched to Dukuza, and eaten up the whole usurping House of Senzangakona. Ofttimes had the King thus talked to me since; sorrowing even now, when it was too late, that the opportunity should have been allowed to pass. And now this woman – this sorceress of a strange tribe, yet claiming mighty descent – came thus to hold before Umzilikazi’s gaze a vision of such power as, even in the fulness of his might, the great Tshaka had never wielded. To combine the warrior strength of our nation with that of the parent stock of Zululand! Whau! there was a destiny! We should rule the world itself with such a power behind us. No wonder a strange light gleamed in the eyes of the King as they beheld such a vision.