Kitabı oku: «The White Shield», sayfa 11
Chapter Eighteen.
In Dark Warning
There she stood – she on whom my thoughts had dwelt day and night – she for whom I had sought so carefully and yet so fruitlessly – she whom I had never expected to behold again. There she stood, and as quick murmurs of amazement, of admiration, went up from all who beheld, her eyes swept around our circle and rested upon my face – yet hardly rested – for in them there was no brightening, no recognition. She looked at me as she looked at the others – as though she had never seen me before.
Now I remembered Masuka’s strange, dark, prophecy – how that the “she-eagle” should return, but that then the alligators should be fed. The King would remember the name as spoken by Tauane – and that, coupled with Nangeza’s accusation, ah – good night! Well, I cared not. I, like others, leaned eagerly forward as I crouched, straining my eyes to gaze upon the beauty of the sorceress. Yet even then, while her glance was not directly meeting mine, I seemed to read in her eyes an unspoken, yet none the less vividly-flashed, message – even as I had read the glance of old Masuka that dreadful day upon which I stood between the King’s assegai and doom. And the language I read in this glance was – “Caution!”
She was attired in the short, apron-like girdle of the Bakoni, ornamented with rich bead-work, and a light mantle of dressed fawn-skin similarly adorned hung from one shoulder. As when I saw her first, she wore upon her arms and neck bands of solid gold, after the manner of the richer of the Bakoni, and her hair was gathered up from the scalp into a high cone as the Zulu women wear it.
“Who art thou, my sister?” said the King, not choosing to show the astonishment which even he felt.
“I am of the Bakoni, Great Great One. I am called Lalusini,” she answered in purest Zulu.
“Of the Bakoni? Lalusini? Hau! That is no name ever brought forth of the twisted tongues of those chattering dogs. It is a full ripe Zulu name, born of the race of the Heavens,” returned the King. “Say now, Lalusini. What wert thou among the Bakoni dogs whom we have stamped flat? A prisoner?”
“Yea and nay, Black Black One. I was the Queen of their múti.”
“Ha! Yet another magician! It seems that all the magicians in the world find their way, or are brought here: first old Masuka, then the white man – now this one,” said Umzilikazi. “Ha, Untúswa – thou magician-finder! How is it thou didst not find this one – thou who didst find the rest?”
I only made murmur, for I guessed that the King was mocking me. And the moment was in truth a trial as he went on —
“Say now, Queen of the Bakoni múti. How didst thou escape death or capture when my children stamped flat thy people?”
“By the name thou spakest just now, Black Elephant – Queen of the Bakoni múti, Now of what use is múti if it fails in the day of necessity?”
“Thy story I will yet hear,” answered the King. “Now say, Lalusini, knowest thou Untúswa?”
“Untúswa? I seem to have heard that name. Surely it was that of the King’s messenger, who with only one young man, and he unringed, did hold the Bakoni in defiance like a lion at bay.”
“And thou hast not beheld him since that day?”
“I think not, Great Great One – and that day only from afar did I behold him. Nay I saw him once at the council, and then nearer. He was a tall man, who carried a very large spear.”
“Look around, my sister, and tell me if he is here to-day,” said the King.
Lalusini looked first among such groups of warriors as were mustered around. Then she stepped over to the assemblage of izinduna among whom I sat, and looked long and earnestly. Umzilikazi, meanwhile, was watching her narrowly.
“I think that is the King’s messenger,” she said, gazing into my face. “He has the look of such a warrior as that one was.”
But before anything more could be said Nangeza sprang forward, and her eyes were glittering with hate, and in her voice was a snarl as that of a wild beast.
“She is the witch whom Untúswa saved from the slaughter, reserving her for himself. Look, O King! Now they pretend not to know each other,” shrieked Nangeza, darting her hand furiously forth as though it contained a weapon.
Now, Nkose, it was a dreadful moment for me, for at first there was dead silence. All were too amazed even to exclaim. I merely uttered a disdainful click, shaking my head. But Lalusini – she turned towards Nangeza, glanced her up and down, and laughed – laughed softly, musically. Then, waving her hands into the air, she began to sing, and the words were in the tongue of the Bakoni, which none there present understood. Yet her voice was musical and sweet, and in it there thrilled a mystery. All watched in silence as she moved her hands and feet to the measure of her chant. Since I understood this tongue, Nkose, I listened as though a great serpent were tightening its coils more and more around me, for her words were dark and full of a strange and terrifying mystery. Her song ceased.
“What dost thou seek here now, my sister?” softly said the King, for even he could not refuse to acknowledge the influence of her charm. “Is it to make múti among thine own people, having had enough of the Bakoni dogs whom we have eaten up?”
“I think there are enough who make such múti here, Black Elephant,” she answered. “Not for this have I come. I am here to save the Father of a new nation.”
“Hau!” we gasped, stricken well-nigh dumb, for the words were spoken slow and sad, and with weighty warning. None doubted but that they applied to a near attack on the part of our most to be dreaded enemies, and at once all men’s minds flew to the impis of Dingane advancing upon us in force – or, perhaps, the Amabuna, or even both in concert. Dismay was on every face, for we liked not to be thus taken by surprise. But upon that of Umzilikazi was a frown of terrible import, which meant badly for those from whose quarter the foe should first appear, they having failed to report it.
“Thy words are dark indeed,” he said. “Explain, sorceress, for time does not wait.”
But Lalusini, for reply, only returned a swift, silent glance. Then once more she burst into song, again in the Bakoni tongue. Her head was thrown back, and she seemed to be gazing at some momentous object invisible to us. She seemed to lose herself, to utterly forget our presence, as her voice rose wild and sweet and clear. Yes, indeed, there was a mystery in her song, and it seemed to me that the words had a very certain meaning; also that, all the while standing facing me as she was, her glance betimes met mine quickly, as in a flash, and with a purpose. It was, I felt, in her mind that I should mark her words and weigh them well. Thus they ran: —
“The Lion sinks
To the serpent’s fang;
The eagle drops
To the bowstring’s twang.
“Great is small;
Little is great;
Great ones fall
When the mean deal fate.
“The serpent’s coil
Hides the fangs of death;
A coil of blue
Veils the serpent’s breath.
“See the White Bull’s pride
O’er the Black Bull wave;
Now, the White Bull’s hide
May the Black Bull save.”
Whau, Nkose! Then was amazement my master – I its slave! The “coil of blue!” Such a blue-beaded girdle was that of Nangeza’s skirt, beside which she wore little else when summoned before the King. Upon this my eyes fixed themselves, only, however, to follow once more the meaning glance of Lalusini. And the King sat wondering, yet not understanding the múti song. And above his head, waving softly to and fro in the hand of its bearer, rose aloft the royal white shield. It was as the buzzing of bees within my ears that I heard the voice of the Great Great One.
“I have a mind to end this indaba,” he was saying. “Thou, Nangeza, hast a pestilent tongue and an evil heart; wherefore my servant Untúswa must seek a new wife, for thy place among us shall be empty. Take her hence. The alligators are hungry.”
“So, too, is Death, thou fool who art King!” yelled Nangeza. I saw her hand swift at her girdle. Something flashed through the air. It struck – struck hard and quivering – into the great white shield, which, quick as the movement, as the flash itself, I had snatched from the shield-bearer, and whirled down so as to cover the person of the King. It was one of those short, javelin-shaped arrows, such as were used by the mountain tribes, and sometimes among the Bakoni. And the point thereof was green and sticky with the most deadly of poisons.
That was a scene – the wild, quavering gasp of horror that went up from all who beheld! Nangeza, yelling, and biting like a wild beast, in the grasp of those who had seized her; myself, immovable as a stone, still holding the shield with the poisoned dart sticking through it – exactly as I flung it between the Great Great One and certain death. And the only two who were completely unconcerned were Lalusini and the King himself.
“Whau!” cried Umzilikazi, having taken a pinch of snuff. “I think that would have made me sneeze, Untúswa. See, the point was coming straight for my face, and it was flung hard – flung hard! Yet thou hast saved me from such a scratch, Untúswa – and it was well! Strange, too, that thou shouldst have been the one to do it, seeing that she was thine inkosikazi!”
There was suspicion in the tone – deadly suspicion – as the King sat looking at me with half-closed eyes, speaking softly withal.
“It is not strange, Father, seeing that I was the one who alone understood the Bakoni witch-song,” I replied.
“Ha! And what said that?”
“‘A coil of blue veils the serpent’s breath.’ Also, ‘Now the White Bull’s hide may the Black Bull save.’ And, indeed, was it not so, Black Bull, Whose horns gore not merely, but kill?” I said.
“This, then, was the warning thou wouldst have conveyed, thou strange sorceress,” said the King, pausing a moment, while shouts of amazement and of konza went up from all. “Verily, thy múti is great. But of this witch first. The alligators are hungry; but their teeth are not sharp enough for such royal prey as this. The stake of impalement is a still sharper tooth. Away with her! Yet for the alligators we will find some meat. It seems that Untúswa’s wives are of a bad disposition – at any rate, after dwelling side by side with yonder witch, they will have drunk in some of her evil mind. Let them, therefore, be taken to the alligators.”
Now, Nkose, my heart was sad, for I loved my two younger wives, who were ever laughing and pleasant, and needed not to be told twice to do a thing. But these, as the slayers sprang forward to drag them forth to the terrible pool of death, flung themselves on the ground weeping.
“Spare us, Father!” howled Fumana. “She who has done evil is nothing to us.”
“We only live by the light of the King’s presence,” groaned Nxope.
“Spare us, Great Great One!” wept Fumana.
“We are only weak women, and fear the dreadful death, O Elephant who art strong!” screamed Nxope.
“Peace, witches!” said the King. “Well, Untúswa! And thou! What hast thou to say? Do not these deserve to die?”
That was something of a question, Nkose; and one which it might cost a man his life to hesitate in answering. For did I not at once agree, after what had happened, the people would howl for my death, as being privy to the bold attempt upon the King’s life, just made by my chief wife; and I suspected the question was put to try me. Yet I was fond of these two women, who had always done well by me; nor did I ever err on the side of timidity in those days. So I made answer —
“I think these two are innocent of the other’s evil-doing, Great Great One. The wisdom of the King is great, and his justice is terrible. Yet I would crave the boon of their lives; for I have never known them do or think harm. So, too, shall I be left without wives at all, if these are taken from me.”
“New wives shall be found for thee, Untúswa – and better than the old ones,” answered Umzilikazi, half in mockery. “Ha! I think thou keepest thy wives too long. Whau! A bowl of tywala, when fresh, is needful and pleasant; but if kept too long, it grows sour and unwholesome, even harmful, and is only fit to be thrown away. So it is with a woman. But thou, sister, whose múti is great enough to discover serpent’s fangs beneath a witch’s girdle – what sayest thou? Is it well that these two should live?”
I looked at Lalusini and saw that her eyes were full of pity for these two horribly frightened women crouching there before the King, and then I knew that her heart was not dark and fierce as that of Nangeza, else had they certainly been dead.
“I think it well they should live, Great Great One, for they are innocent of the other’s ill-doing,” she answered.
“Ha! sayest thou so? Well, I give ye your lives, ye two. Begone! For the other, it seems that the stake is long in making ready.”
This dreadful form of death, remember, being seldom used amongst us, some time must elapse while its instrument was preparing. Meanwhile, all crying aloud in praise of the King’s mercy and justice, Nangeza seized the opportunity of wrenching herself from the grasp of those who held her, and before any could stay her – so lithe and active was she – she was darting across the plain in leaps and bounds, fleeing with the speed of a buck.
“To the alligators!” she cried, laughing wildly. “The alligators are hungry. They must be fed! They must be fed!”
The ground was open, the way but short. Before any could come up with her she had gained the brink of the cliff overhanging the pool. She turned and stood facing us, and there, in sight of all, shrieked out a last curse upon the King, upon me, and upon the whole nation; then, just as the foremost of the pursuers sprang to seize her, she flung herself backward from the brink. There was a loud splash, but no cry, and they who hurried to look declared that the water was lashed into a red-and-white foam, as the ravenous monsters rushed upon their prey, rending it limb from limb in a moment; and, indeed, though this is a hideous death enough, it is but a mere passing pang when compared with the black, lingering agony of the stake of impalement.
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.
