Kitabı oku: «The White Shield», sayfa 6
“Ho, Tauane! young lion!” I shouted, as the chief passed close beneath. “Yonder is the lion whose roar is the loudest. Go, tell him what has been your treatment of his messengers.”
The chief heard, but made no answer as he hurried away, and we could see him and his war-captains disposing their warriors in battle array. And, indeed, they made a brave show, being more numerous than our own, and as well armed. But who can withstand the rush of the Zulu lion?
From our high position we could take in the whole of that battle. Battle, did I say? It can hardly be called a battle. In spite of the dense and well-armed array confronting them, our warriors did not even slacken their pace. Coming on at a swift but steady run, covered with their great shields, their heads bent slightly forward, their eyes glaring like red coals, the air thrilling with their fierce war-whistle or hiss, as it really was, the aspect of the King’s host was so terrific that the Bakoni, for all their numbers, began to hesitate and look wildly around, thinking of flight. But no time was allowed them even for this. Our people were upon them. The crash of shields was as the thunder of the storm-driven billow striking the shore. Whole lines went down, and, pouring over them, the warriors of the Great King delayed not a moment. The Bakoni could not stand a second time. Their battle rank was broken – rolled up as one might roll up a newly-stripped hide. With wild, shrill shrieks of despair they turned and fled headlong.
Then the roar that went up from the ranks of our warriors was as the roar of an army of lions. Fleet-footed, they pressed on the disordered masses of the flying foe, hewing them down like corn, yet still preserving their own order of battle. The panic which had seized upon the Bakoni was complete. They were slaughtered as they fell, slaughtered like stricken sheep, and over them poured the destroying lines of their devourers – slaying ever, slaying and slaying – showing no mercy; for these people had rejected the King’s mercy with scorn and insult. The day of mercy was now past.
Chapter Nine.
The Living Bridge
We waited no longer, Mgwali and I. We leaped from our shelter, waving our shields and shouting the King’s war-cry. We had to dash through the glowing ring of ashes which still smouldered redly around our place of refuge, but if it burnt us we knew it not, for we were not in the mind to feel hurts. But, as we dashed forth, black and terrible, to take our share in the slaughter, we found ourselves in the thick of the flying Bakoni.
In the very midst of them we were, hemmed in so close that, we had but to move our hands, and with each thrust a man fell, as a slain bullock when the point of the assegai is placed behind his shoulder, and in this manner we swiftly cleared a ring around us. At first they saw nothing, looking neither to the one side nor the other, as they fled, their heads stretched out before them. But when they did look up, and beheld Zulu shields right in among them, Zulu spears rising and falling, they shrieked aloud in their terror, fleeing even more wildly than ever. Thus we, being but two, were carried along in this flying rout – killing, killing, till we were well nigh weary. Never a weapon was raised against us; no resistance even did they attempt. So great was the fear which was upon them that they allowed themselves to be slain like cattle, and Mgwali and I slew and slew, and laughed aloud.
We had gained the further edge of the town, and now we thought it time to get out of the crowd and rejoin our people. So we worked our way clear without difficulty and turned our faces toward our approaching countrymen.
Then as we were among the huts once more, another great mass of Bakoni suddenly appeared, fleeing for their lives. We sprang forth to meet them, sounding our shrill war-whistles, but these valiant warriors, seeing Zulu shields thus suddenly in front of them, halted, and, turning, strove to flee back the way they had come. But their rear ranks, panic-stricken, crashed against them, forcing them on; yet the fear of the enemy they had seen in front – for they could not have noticed that we were but two – was so great that they would not advance, and the whole of that armed crowd stood shouting and shrieking, crumpled back in the most deadly confusion, not knowing which way to run. At last, turning off from their original course, they streamed wildly out upon the plain, we two pursuing them and laughing as we had never laughed in our lives.
But they had not far to run, for the further “horn” of our army had swung round here, and blindly they rushed upon the lines of Zulu spears, even as they had intended, but a brief while back, we should rush upon theirs. A half-circle of tufted shields, and of blades now reddened and reeking, hemmed them in. The air quivered with the shrill buzzing war-whistle. Whau! Nkose! before a man could have counted fifty, there was not one of those Bakoni left alive. Then a mighty shout of laughter arose from the slayers.
“Ho, Untúswa!” they cried. “We thought these dogs had devoured thee. And, thou, Mgwali! Ha! we have been paying them for your deaths. Greeting, sons of Ntelani! Greeting!”
Thus clamoured my comrades. But I made no reply. Up went my right hand, my weapons dropped upon the corpses of the slain Bakoni, and I cried aloud the Bayéte; for I saw that I was standing in the presence of the King.
Umzilikazi was on horseback. He had led the first onset in person; but, finding with what a craven and cowardly foe he had to deal, he had dropped back in disgust, ordering his children to stamp out the lot, save such as it was customary to spare.
“Welcome, Untúswa!” he exclaimed. “I thought you dead – that these cowardly dogs had slain him whom I had sent as my voice. Yet here you meet us – you and the boy yonder – driving hundreds of armed men before you like so many cattle!”
“No praise is due to these dogs that we still live, O Great Great One, for they have killed our slaves, and rushed upon us to kill us, but we fought our way to yonder wall, whence we defied their whole nation. Then they heaped fire around to burn us out. Behold, Elephant, it is still smoking!”
The King’s glance rested upon the stone-wall, and a flash of eager interest lit up his eyes.
“Ha! I have an idea!” he cried. “It is good. Go now among your shields, son of Ntelani. They wait to welcome you. We will make an end of these people, who laughed at my offers of mercy.”
Shouts of greeting hailed my return, as I sped along the ranks, for I was well liked by the fighting men, especially the younger ones, and none had expected ever to behold me again. I joined for a moment in counsel with Kalipe, and then we surrounded the town. We fired the huts, and the flame spread from thatch to thatch, till, before long, it gave forth so great a heat that we could hardly endure to remain at our posts.
But, as the flames began to spread, there came rushing out terrified figures, thick and fast – men, women, and children; all such as had not been able to escape to the fortified hill, which Tauane had so proudly pointed out to me. They came out, only to be met by a ring of blades. They were slain, speared through again and again, and flung back into the flames, all save such few of the young girls who seemed fair enough for captives; yet even of these not many were spared, for our people “saw red,” Nkose, as the custom with us is when there is battle and blood-shedding, and at such times every living thing is slaughtered. Besides, we were doubly exasperated against these, who had dared offer violence to the King’s ambassadors, and mercy was a fire of which no spark was kindled in any of our breasts that day.
Leaving the burning town when there remained no more to slay, we formed in columns, and marched to the fortified mountain. But by the time we reached it, the sun was sinking, and the King gave orders that the army should rest. The mountain was surrounded, so that no living thing thereon might escape, and, great fires being kindled, we went into camp. But, first of all, the King ordered a slaughter of cattle to take place. Whau! that was a sight! They were driven up – hundreds of beasts of the fine blue-coloured cattle – and ringed in by the slayers. Hau! then began a scene! Not all fell at once to the assegai: many escaped. Maddened by the blood, the terrified beasts, their horns clashing and eyes glowing, broke through the ring, and their frenzied bellowing mingled with the deafening whistles of those in pursuit as, with heads lowered, and tails aloft, they scattered over the plain in all directions, some bristling with spears which had been hurled into their bodies. But all, or nearly all, were slaughtered at last, and soon the fires were hissing and sputtering with huge red quarters. Then, as we devoured the blue cattle, we who engirdled the hill united around our fires in one grand war-dance, and the chant of the King’s war-song was more terrible than the thunder of heaven, and, indeed, if those upon the hill, awaiting their fate in the morning, did not die of fear, it must have been that they had no room left for any more fear. And away over the plain a dull red glow hung above the ashes of the burnt town, whence would the night wind ever and again sweep up a whirling shower of sparks.
Not much did we sleep, for we passed the night in dancing and feasting. Then in the grey of dawn we stormed the mountain, surrounded as it was on every side. We had to ascend with some care, yet so eager were our young men that several lost their lives through being crowded over the edge of a cliff rather than pause to allow passage to their fellows. They had tasted blood. All were eager to begin killing again.
A long, low wall lay right across our march. Over this they poured before the word could be given to restrain them, and yells of surprise and pain went up from those who did. For on the other side the ground was staked with spear-heads and spikes of iron, and upon these writhed the bodies of the too eager soldiers. So close together were these spikes that if a man succeeded in freeing himself from one, he was immediately impaled upon another. Moreover, in the struggling and confusion each thrust his fellow down, and thus unknowingly impaled him. Numbers died in this way.
The ascent at this point was steep and rough. Above and in front rose a great cliff, which had to be surmounted by a long gully piercing its face and winding round by a gradual ascent beyond our view. We could see the tracks of cattle, fresh and plentiful, leading up this, and if cattle had been driven by it, why then, indeed, it was a broad and open road for the soldiers of the King.
With shouts of rage, which spoke ill for those above when we should reach them, the warriors wrenched up the blades and spikes, and having thus opened a passage, poured onward and upward. We soon gained the entrance to the gully, and now we could hear the sound of voices above and the lowing of cattle. Then, as we turned the corner of this passage, and were expecting to rush on to the summit with a roar of victory, lo! the way was barred by another stone wall.
Right across our path it stretched, from cliff to cliff, and the defile was there so narrow that scarce fifty men could walk in a line. But this time no man was eager to spring over that wall, fearing the ground might be staked on the other side, and this, indeed, was the case, and with longer and sharper iron points than the place we had already passed. Moreover, these points reached back almost as far as a spear might be thrown.
I gave orders to demolish the wall, but no sooner was the first stone torn up than a volley of rocks was showered upon us from above, killing several. So narrow was the passage wherein we stood that our whole impi could have been slain piecemeal by this means.
As the rocks came crashing down upon us, I noted that the brow of the cliff, on the side whence they fell, overhung. I gave the word then for the warriors to quit the centre way and press themselves closely against the base of this cliff, and when this was done the stones crashed out harmlessly, not being able to fall upon us as we stood. The bulk of the impi was in the background and beyond reach of the falling rocks.
Now, this check concerned me greatly. The only way of ascending further was to tear down the wall and pluck up the stakes; yet every time this was attempted a shower of great stones fell from above, killing more of our people than these cowardly jackals had been able to slay face to face in the open field. Standing beneath the shelter of the overhanging cliff, I thought hard. Then my heart leaped and my blood thrilled wildly. I had lighted upon a plan.
“Come hither, son of my father,” I called, “and carry my word to the Great Great One.”
Now, whether Mgwali liked or not being sent back from the front of the battle that I knew not, for he made no sign thereof, and herein he was wise; for, were he ten times the son of my father, he who should have disputed my orders at such a time would have spoken his last word. For a few moments I whispered in my brother’s ear; then, as I bade him go, he sped away down the mountain side, running and leaping with the speed of a buck.
So we rested beneath the shelter of the cliff for a space, taking snuff, and laughing at the attempts made by those above to reach us with the stones. Once, indeed, they caused some of their oxen to leap out from the height, in the hope that these might crush us, but they were disappointed. We roared with laughter as the crushed beef fell before us, harming nobody, and rolling down the slope in many a shattered and bleeding mass.
At length, as the sun rose clear above the far horizon, striking blood-red upon the iron walls of the great cliffs, a multitude of persons was seen coming up the slope. A loud exclamation of astonishment arose from the warriors as in these they recognised prisoners whom we had taken on our march, and some few of the Bakoni who had been spared in outlying kraals. They were panting and breathless, but they dared not hang back, for they were urged on by the spears of a number of our people behind, foremost among whom I described my brother, Mgwali.
“Now, my children!” I cried. “Behold your bridge! These shall carry us over the spike-studded ground!”
A roar of delight, of admiration, went up from the impi as my plan became clear. Forced onward, the exhausted groans and despairing shrieks of the driven herd, the human herd, mingled with the loud yells of their drivers. As the foremost of them swept past us a shower of rocks from above crashed down upon them, splattering us with their blood, yet even then they dared not waver, for the spears of the breast of the impi had now closed up behind them, goading them on, ruthlessly slaying those who fell exhausted. On they rushed, several hundreds of them, surging over the wall.
But the frantic shrieks of those who fell first upon the spikes availed nothing. The remainder poured over them, for they had to do it – being there for that purpose – and fell in their turn, and others behind them, and so on, until not one of the sharp blades which so thickly studded the ground was visible. All were buried within and beneath the bodies of those we had driven over them. Then, as I gave the signal, the whole impi charged forward, trampling over this shrieking mangled mass of human beings. But we were on clear ground again. My plan had succeeded. I had thrown a bridge over that terrible gulf of spear points —a bridge built of the living bodies of our captives!
As we sprang to the clear summit of the mountain we beheld outstretched before us a broad table-land, grassy and level, and at the further end a rocky cone. This space was alive with cattle and fleeing groups of fugitives, striving to gain that end, for the mountain was only to be gained by two sides. We did not shout now. With heads bent and eyes glowing, each warrior grasping his spear in readiness, we swept across that level summit. Wildly those doomed ones fled – fled for the only side still open; but here they rushed upon the spears of Kalipe, and were driven back, so that they were now hemmed in with blades. Au! then we began to kill! We slew and slew until we could hardly raise our arms; but what I was keenly on the alert for was the chief, Tauane; for Umzilikazi had specially ordered that, if possible, this man should be taken alive.
Wearied with killing, I shouted to the groups of screaming Bakoni still alive, both men and women, who now lay upon the ground, begging hard for their lives:
“Where is Tauane? Where is the Chief of the Blue Cattle?”
They hesitate to reply. Immediately our assegais set to work again. Then some of the women screamed out:
“Yonder he is, Lion. There, among those.”
I followed their glance. A group of men, terror-stricken, sat huddled together, their looks wildly imploring that mercy they knew it would be useless to ask. Already our warriors were bounding upon them with uplifted spears. But I ran forward and ordered them to forbear.
“Greeting, Chief of the Blue Cattle!” I cried aloud in a great mocking voice. “Greeting, young lion, lord of thousands and thousands of spears. What was my ‘word’ but this day? That the next time the Chief of the Bakoni saw my face it would be in the forefront of the destroyers; and it is so. But how do I again behold the chief of so many spears and shields? Is it armed and fighting to the death? Not so. It is crouching low, and weeping even as these miserable women!”
“Xi!” cried the warriors in contemptuous disgust, the sharp click sounding in chorus like the cracking of sticks. “Bayéte, Nkulu ’nkulu!” they mocked. “We konza to thee, young lion, who roars louder than the Lion of the Amandebeli.”
Thus they jeered the fallen chief, and amid their shouts of laughter I gave orders that he should be tied with his right hand to his left ankle, so that he could walk only with great difficulty. This I did, Nkose, because he was contemptible as a pitiful coward. Had he been a brave man, although he was doomed, I would have spared him insult; but for a chief, the chief of a nation, to crouch among the women and whine for mercy —au! he deserved all that befell him.
“Now,” I cried, when I had set aside those whom I judged should be taken alive to the King, “as for these, they shall have a choice of deaths. Yonder the cliff is high, and the way thereto is smooth and level. Hold! give them a fair chance. Go now, ye that remain of the nation of Bakoni! Hambani gahle!”
The warriors roared aloud at this jest. Those of the vanquished who were left alive started to run, doubtless hoping to find a way of escape. But there was none such, for the cliff went down in a smooth wall to a vast depth. Then I gave the word, and the young men leaped forward in pursuit, and in a moment that sunny cliff brow was red with death. Every one of the Bakoni had been forced to spring from the height or was speared.
Chapter Ten.
The Mystery Queen
While the young men were thus amusing themselves, Nkose, I ran my gaze over the faces of the prisoners whom we had spared, and as I did so it fell upon a countenance which made me start and grip my assegai. The man who owned this face met my glance, and shook with fear. And well he might; for, in spite of a plentiful besmearing of red ochre, I knew that face and he saw that I did – knew it for the face of the deserter, the slave Maroane.
“Spare me, father,” he murmured quickly in the Sechuana tongue. “Spare me, and I will tell you something that will be worth knowing – something which the King would give me my life ten times over to know.”
“Speak, dog!” I said. “Speak or die!”
But he would not. He talked swiftly and low in the Sechuana tongue, which none of our people understood, urging me to go apart with him for a space.
Just then the mountain-top was covered with our warriors, for Kalipe’s impi had now joined mine. All were in a state of the highest excitement and delight. Some were resting, some were dancing, some singing, some jeering the prisoners, others caring for wounds they had received, but the hubbub of voices was enough to make a man deaf. In the commotion I managed to get Maroane apart unobserved.
“Now, slave, thy last hour has come,” I said. “What are thy tidings?”
“Spare my life, father, and they shall be yours,” he said. “Only promise me my life.”
“Hearken, dog,” I growled, fingering the point of my spear. “If what thou showest me is worth thy miserable life, then I will not take it. But speak, or I slay thee here. That is my ‘word.’”
He knew it was. He knew that I was not one to speak twice.
“Come with me, father,” he said. “But – come alone.”
We threaded our way through many a noisy and boisterous group who jeered and threatened the man in front of me, reckoning him one of the Bakoni. But I restrained them, giving an order here, and a word of advice there, in my capacity of second in command. All thought I was going on a round of inspection, and then thought no more about anything at all. The while Maroane had been craftily leading me the complete circle of the mountain-top, and now we had gained the rocky cone which arose from the further end. Then, as we passed behind it, and the people were lost to view, Maroane bent down suddenly in the grass and dragged out by the heels the dead body of a man. Another, too, he dragged forth, then turned panting to me.
“In here, leader of the King’s might,” he said.
I looked in amazement. Under the bodies which he had removed was a hole slanting downwards into the earth, partly hidden in the long grass. The slave explained that these two had been purposely killed by their own people, in order to conceal this opening with their bodies.
Now, I had already known what it is to walk in darkness through the heart of the earth, as you will remember, Nkose, when I followed Gungana into the cave of the Izimu, or Eaters-of-Men. But for such places I have no liking, wherefore I growled:
“And what will I find, dog, when I have left the light of day?”
The fellow’s eyes shone with excitement.
“The Queen of the múti of the Bakoni, father. She is beautiful,” he whispered. “And, indeed, my life is well worth this secret.”
“Ha! lead on, dog,” I said. “But beware that thou beholdest not the end of this spear-point through thy chest.”
I trod in Maroane’s footsteps in almost complete darkness for a little way, and while I did so I pondered. What was going to be revealed? I was ever eager to look into strange mysteries – a longing implanted in me, I think, by old Mazuka. And now I heard a wild, sweet voice singing, and it seemed to me the words were in the Zulu tongue.
Now it grew light, and in a moment we walked out from the darkness of the underground passage, and stood in the light of day.
It was a marvellous place, like an enormous bowl hollowed out in the face of the cliff. The rock sloped gradually outward, and above it a narrow belt of blue sky, but overhead the vaulted roof of the cliff. The floor of this place was of solid stone. It was a marvellous hiding-place, for from beneath the face of the cliff showed no sort or sign of a break. Why had not the craven Tayane sought refuge here? But perhaps even from him was the secret hidden.
This strange rock-nest was occupied by one human being – a woman. As I sprang into her view a low sharp scream of terror escaped her, and, covering her head, she sank down at the further end of the place; not, however, before I was able to see that she was of most beautiful and shapely build. She expected instant death. Yet she begged for mercy, and the voice that came from beneath the beaded robe which covered her was marvellously enthralling. She begged that her life might be spared, or taken as quickly and painlessly as possible. That she was terrified could hardly be wondered at, for my appearance must have been terrifying in the extreme. I had borne far from the smallest share in the slaughter of the Bakoni, and now, weapons, shield, and person were covered with blood. As I leaped into view she at once took me for the first of the slayers. But the words with which she appealed to me were spoken well and fluently in our own tongue.
“What is this?” I said. “The tongue of the Zulu in the mouth of a stranger?”
“I know you, son of Ntelani,” she said, without looking up from her crouching attitude. “I have seen you more than once, messenger of the King.”
“But I have not seen you, stranger, who speakest with the voice of the west wind. Uncover now, that I may do so, before we return to the King.”
“To the King? To Umzilikazi?” she uttered, in a tone as of fear. “That may not be. Look now, son of Ntelani, and say whether I am to fall a spoil to the King.”
Throwing off the beaded robe, she stood upright, and now I saw that my first glimpse had told me no lie. She was tall – tall as Nangeza – but never did I see more perfect proportions and rounder, firmer limbs. She, like Nangeza, was light of colour; but, unlike Nangeza, there was a softness, a sweetness in her face, and in her clear eyes, which was enough to befool any man, being young, who looked. She wore the short beaded petticoat and gold ornaments of the Bakoni, but her hair was gathered up in the impiti, or reddened cone, such as is worn by Zulu women.
Now, for all my bragging to the King that I cared not about women, I was, in those days, just as great a fool as others of my age, and although in a general way I did not care to add to the number of my wives, yet, when I came upon such a woman as this, I was apt to leave my reason and ordinary sense so far behind that a long journey would be required to pick it up again. So when this one – revealing herself thus suddenly – threw out those words about falling a spoil to the King, my reason started away – to hunt game perhaps; and the thought that ran through my mind was that I would, by some means, keep her for myself.
“Who art thou, sister?” I said; “and how art thou called?”
“I am called Lalusini, and my Zulu blood is as pure as thine own, son of Ntelani. Perhaps purer.”
“Hau!” I cried, bringing my hand to my mouth in amazement. “Here is a marvel! Then how earnest thou here, Lalusini, whom this dog just now named Queen of the Bakoni múti?”
“In that he told no lie, Untúswa,” she answered, with a glance at the slave. “But the tale is over-long to be told at such a time.”
My attention being recalled to the slave, I turned to look at him. He was crouching on the ground behind me – eyes, ears, mouth, all wide-open, looking scared somewhat; and, indeed, he would have looked more so could he have read what was passing in my mind. For I had resolved that this woman should belong to me alone; and that this should be so I must leave her here – and, indeed, her first words had seemed to point that way – for such an one as she, did Umzilikazi once set his eyes upon her, she would be taken into the isigodhlo at that moment. But the secret of this hiding-place was known to three of us – Maroane being the third – and I felt that it was shared by just one too many.
“I saw thee, Untúswa,” she went on, “thee and another. I saw thee, the chief of two men, laying down terms to an armed and angry nation. I saw thee again – thee and another – in the ruined walls; two men keeping back swarms of yonder dogs; and my heart went out to thee, and to the days when I dwelt among my own people. Yes, my heart went out to thee, thou great, brave fighter; but if it were better that it should go out to the King – ”
This she spoke in a low voice, but with a look that shook my pulses, and made me mad. I sware then that she should not be delivered up to the King, but should remain hidden there, and belong to me, and to me alone; and my words seemed to please her. I promised to return shortly, but now I must depart, or the warriors would be wondering at my absence.
“Lead on now, dog!” I said to the slave. And it was the last word his ears ever heard, for when we had passed through the dark passage, and gained the outer air, I seized him by the ankle, and overthrew him; then bringing my knobstick down upon the back of his neck, I laid him dead before he could utter a sound. No second blow was required. The secret of the hiding-place was now shared by two only.
It is true, Nkose, that I had made a half-promise to spare his life, but to do so now would be to throw away my own. Nor could the dog be relied upon to preserve silence. He had betrayed me once, and deserted to the Bakoni; he would certainly not hesitate to betray me again – this time to the Great Great One himself.
But as I returned, and mixed with the people, I told myself that I was indeed the very king of fools. Had I not thrown away my life before for the sake of a woman, and to-day this same woman was an element of great trouble and disturbance in my life? And now, here I was, older, and with plentiful experience, doing exactly the same thing again! For to secrete captives or cattle taken in war was one of the most deadly offences in the eyes of the King. Its penalty was death, and more than death, for it was usually death by torture. And this deadly offence, I, Untúswa, the second fighting captain and trusted induna of the King, had deliberately committed; and all for the sake of a woman! In truth was I the very chief of fools!
Yet, at the time, I did not so name myself; for as we returned in triumph, with the captives in our midst, streaming down the mountain-side, and singing the war-song of Umzilikazi, I, for once, thought but little of warrior-pride, for my mind was back in that strange hiding-place, and in my ears was still the music of the voice of her whom I had found there. A spell indeed as of witchcraft had she cast over me; and now, as I walked among the triumphant warriors, I seemed quite outside of their rejoicings. It might be witchcraft, I told myself, but it was witchcraft that rose above the fear of death.
