The adventures of Umslopooaas and Galaz
The story of the Zulu caravans
Letter
H. RIDER HAGGARD
Translated from English to Finnish
OEN [OE Nyman]
(Previous Part Published Under the Title “Black Hero”)
Helsinki, Publishing Company Kirja, 1922.
CONTENT:
I. Mopo goes in search of the Killer.
II. Mopo reveals himself.
III. The murder of the Boers.
IV. The war against the Halakaz.
V. Nada.
VI. Trial by fire.
VII. Lily’s surrender. VIII
. Umslopogaas finds out who she is.
IX. Nada’s arrival.
X. The women’s war.
XI. Zinita at the king’s.
XII. The last battle of the grey and black people.
XIII. Lily’s farewell.
XIV. The revenge of Mopo and his foster son.
XV. Mopo ends his story.
I.
A MOBILE GOES IN SEARCH OF THE KILLER.
Dingaan did not like Duguza, but moved back to Zululand, building a large city near Mahlabate, which he named “Umgugundhlovu,” or “elephant’s trumpet.” At the same time he ordered that the most beautiful girls in the country should be sought out as wives for him, and although many such were found, he demanded more and more. He had also heard that among the Halakazi tribe of Swaziland there was a wonderfully beautiful girl, named Lily Flower, whose skin was much lighter than ours, and Dingaan began to ardently desire that girl as his wife. He sent orders to the Halakazi chief to hand over the girl to him, but the messengers returned with the news that they had been ill-treated by the Halakazi, beaten and thrashed, and that the king’s demand had been met with gross insults.
The greeting of the Halakaz chief to Dingaan, the king of the Zulu, was as follows: The girl who is called Lily Flower is indeed wonderfully beautiful and still unmarried, for up to now no one has appeared who has taken her fancy, and her relatives love her so much that there is no question of forcing her to marry against her will. The chief also said that the Halakaz despise Dingaan and his Zulus, just as their fathers had despised and defied Chaka, that they spit at the name of Dingaan, and that none of their girls will be given to any Zulu dog as a wife.
The chief then had the girl brought before Dingaan’s envoys, who thought her truly beautiful, for they said that she was as slender as a reed, and that when she walked she resembled the supple swaying of a reed in the wind. Her hair waved in long curls down to her shoulders, her brown eyes were large and gentle like those of a deer, the smile on her lips reminded one of the clear, sparkling water, and when she spoke her voice was sweeter to hear than the sound of musical instruments. They also said that the girl had wanted to speak to them, but the chief had not permitted any conversation, but had ordered her to be taken to her relatives.
When Dingaan heard the story, he went wild like a lion in a net, and now he really wanted the girl for himself. However, he did not get the girl, although he was the most powerful man in the world. He ordered a large army to be assembled, which he was to send to the Swazi country to destroy the entire Halakazi tribe and take the girl prisoner. But when the matter was brought up in a great consultation, I, as the commander of the military forces, opposed the project, saying that the Halakazi tribe was large and powerful, and war against them would cause war against the Swazis as well. The Halakazi lived in large caves, which were almost impossible to conquer. The time was also not right to send an entire army to war for just one girl. Only two or three years had passed since Chaka’s death, and there were many enemies; the ranks of the warriors had been suspiciously thinned in many wars, and more than half of the entire army had fallen in the Limpopo swamps. Now we had to live in peace until the ranks were once more whole, for now our army was as weak as a little child, as a man starved to death. There was no lack of girls; let the king take as many as his heart desired, but let no war be started over this one.
I spoke my words boldly to the king’s face, which no one would have dared to do to Chaka, and my courage touched the others, so that they all supported me. They all knew very well that a war against the Swazis at that moment would have been a most foolish and unfortunate undertaking.
Dingaan listened with frowns, but he was not yet so firmly seated on the throne that he would have dared to ignore our statements. There were still many in the country who loved and respected the memory of Chaka and did not forget that Dingaan and Umhlangana had conspired to murder him. After Chaka was dead the people forgot how cruel and wicked he had been; he was remembered only as a great man who had gathered the Zulus into a mighty nation from an insignificant beginning, like a blacksmith who forges a shining spear from a bar of steel. The yoke had not been much lightened, even though another sat on the throne, for Dingaan killed as Chaka had killed, and Dingaan oppressed as Chaka had oppressed. Therefore Dingaan yielded to the demands of his advisers, and no army was sent against the Halakaz to fetch that girl named Lily Flower. But his desire to have the girl for himself was not quenched, and from then on he hated me with all his heart, for I had thwarted his hopes by my resistance.
Let me say here, although I did not know it at the time, that the girl named Lily Flower was none other than my daughter Nada. It often occurred to me that no one else could be as beautiful as Nada. But I knew for sure that Nada and her mother were dead, for the man who had brought the sad news had himself seen them, their bodies embracing each other, as if the same stab had killed them both. However, he was wrong. My wife Macropha had indeed been killed, but the girl who lay bleeding beside her was not Nada, but someone else. The tribe to which I had sent Macropha and Nada paid tribute to the Halakaz, and the chief of the Halakaz, who had usurped the place of the Wolf-Galaz, had quarreled with the above-mentioned tribe, upon whom he had then fled one night, destroying it completely.
Later I learned that the real cause of the quarrel and the expedition of destruction was none other than Nada’s beauty, which finally proved to be the ruin of the Halakazi as well. The rumor of her beauty had spread everywhere, and the old chief of the Halakazi had ordered that the girl be brought to live with him and to delight him and his surroundings with her beauty, and if he then saw fit, he would marry the girl to some noble Halakazi. But the demand was answered in the negative, for no one who has seen Nada the Lily Flower voluntarily gives up the pleasure of admiring her beauty, although the girl’s condition was such that no one wanted to force her to marry against her will. There were indeed many suitors both there and among the Halakazi, but she only shook her head and said: “No, I will not marry,” and that was all.
There was a sort of common agreement among the men, which at last became a proverb, that it was better for Nada to remain unmarried, so that they might all admire her, than to disappear from their sight into her husband’s hut; for her beauty was granted to be a delight to all, like the beauty of dawn and evening. Nada’s beauty, however, was the cause of much sorrow and weeping, as you will hear. Because of her beauty and grace, the lily itself had to wither and empty the cup of sorrow to the bottom; therefore the heart of Umslopogaas’ son Chaka became desolate and empty like a plain destroyed by the dawn of a fire. Thus it was permitted, my father, and so it was. All men, both white and black, are always seeking that which is beautiful, and when they finally find it, it suddenly disappears or perhaps brings death to them. Joy and beauty have wings, and they do not stay long on earth. They appear suddenly like an eagle from a cloud and disappear just as quickly.
Then I began to suspect a little, my father, that my daughter Nada, whom I had thought dead, was indeed the very girl named Lily Flower, who lived with the Halakaz, and whom King Dingaan wanted to have as his wife.
Having thus thwarted his plan to send an army to pluck the Lily from the garden of the Halakaz, he began to hate me. I also knew his secret, for we had killed Chaka and Umhlangana together, and I had saved Panda when he was about to murder her too, so that he hated me for all that, as little souls often hate those who have helped them forward. He did not wish to harm me, however, for my voice echoed over the whole land, and the people listened when I spoke. He began to look for some excuse to get rid of me for a while, until he had become powerful enough to dare to kill me.
“Mopo,” he said to me one day as I sat before him among his advisers and warlords, “do you remember the last words of the great elephant?” He meant his brother Chaka, though he did not mention his name, for Chaka was now considered sacred in the land, a hlonipa —like all dead kings—whose name it was against the law to mention.
“I remember, O king,” I answered. “Strange words indeed, for they contained a strange prophecy. The throne of kings will not long be yours and your house’s; white men will usurp your kingdom and divide your lands. So the lion of the Zulus prophesied when he died; what is the use of speaking of it? I have heard him prophesy once before, and his words came true. May that prophecy be like an empty egg that will never be hatched, and may its mother never nest on your roof, O king.”
Dingaan trembled with fear, for Chaka’s words troubled him day and night; then he became cruel and roared, biting his lip:
“You fool! Can’t you hear a raven cawing on the roof of some hut without going to tell those inside that it’s waiting to peck their eyes out? Birds of such ill-omen can do very badly, Mopo!” He looked at me menacingly and continued: “I didn’t mean those words that came out of a death-clouded brain by chance, but those that were spoken by a chief named Bulalio, who rules the axe-people tribe far to the north in the shadow of Ghost Mountain. I must have heard the words while sitting in the shade of the reed fence, before I could come to my brother’s aid against that Masilo, whose spear struck the king to death.”
“I remember those words, O king,” said I. “Does the king wish that warriors be sent to discipline that stubborn man? In his last moments one who is dead gave such an order.”
“No, Mopo, I do not want that. Since there was no army to send to destroy the Halakazi and to retrieve one whom I longed for, the joy of my eyes, there will certainly not be found now the warriors needed to destroy that Slayer and his tribe. Moreover, this Bulalio has not offended me, but an elephant whose trumpets have fallen silent. Now I want you, my Mopo servant, to go with just a few warriors to that Bulalio in a friendly manner and say to him: ‘The elephant whose footsteps now tremble the earth is greater than the one who has fallen into the lap of sleep, and his ears have heard that you, the chief of the axe people, do not pay any tribute. You have also said that you do not care one bit about him whose shadow darkens the earth, for the sake of a Mopo. A Mopo has now come to you, Slayer, to hear if there is any truth in the story, for if so, you will soon have feel how crushingly heavy the foot of the trumpeting elephant in Umgugundhlovu is. Think and weigh your words carefully before you answer, Killer!'”
I heard the king’s order, which did not give me much reason to think, for I knew very well that he only wanted to get rid of me for a while, so that he could plot my downfall in peace, and that he did not really care a bit about that insignificant chief living far away who had dared to defy Chaka. I was willing to go, however, for I had a burning desire to see that Bulalio, who had said he would avenge the death of a certain Mopo, and whose exploits were such as Umslopogaas would have done if he had lived. Therefore I answered:
“I have heard your command, O king. Your command will be fulfilled, even if you send a great man for a small matter, O king.”
“Not at all, Mopo,” replied Dingaan. “I feel in my heart that that young cock will grow into a fearsomely large cock if his wattle is not cut off in time, and you, Mopo, know how to cut wattles, even larger ones.”
“I heard your command, O king,” I replied again.
Having selected ten trustworthy men with me, I, Mopo, set out the next morning to journey towards the Ghost Mountain, remembering as I walked the journey I had made long ago along that same road. At that time, my wife Macropha, my daughter Nada, and Umslopogaas Chaka’s son, who was thought to be my son, walked beside me. Now they were all dead, as I thought, and I was journeying alone—to die soon myself. In those days, people did not live long, but so what. After all, I had avenged Chaka and satisfied my heart.
At last we arrived one evening in that lonely region where we had once spent the night on that night of sorrow when Umslopogaas fell prey to a lioness; I went to see the cave where she had found the cubs, and caught a glimpse of the hideous face of the stone sorceress who sat eternally above. I was so distressed that I could not sleep, but sat awake all night, gazing in the bright moonlight at the fierce features of that stone image and the dark forest that reached to my knees, wondering to myself if that forest could possibly hide the crushed bones of Umslopogaas.
Along the way I had been told many stories about that Haunted Mountain, on whose slopes everyone said that ghosts roamed in the form of wolves, and others had heard that there were ghosts there like men, esemkofu —dead people who had been brought back to life by witchcraft. These esemkofu were speechless, for otherwise they would have cried out to all mortals the terrible secrets of death, which is why they could only cry and wail like little children. In the darkness of the silent trees of the forests one could certainly hear their plaintive moans at night: “Ai—ah! Ai—ah!”
You laugh, my father, but I did not laugh when I remembered all those stories; if a man has an immortal soul, where does that soul go after the body dies? It must go somewhere, and would it be so strange that it returns to see its native land? I have never troubled my head with such things, though I am a doctor and know a thing or two about the ghostly people, the amatongo . To tell the truth, I have seen so many deaths and been an assistant in so many, that the dead have never been able to arouse any greater interest in me; then I will see everything when I myself enter their midst.
I sat and looked at the mountain and the forest growing on its slopes, and suddenly I heard a faint sound in the distance, which seemed to come from the very heart of that forest. The sound was at first faint, like a child’s cry heard in the distance, but it grew louder and louder, without my being able to say what it was; now it drew nearer, and at the same time it became clear—it was the howling of wild beasts chasing some game.
The echo echoed from one hillside to the other and my heart pounded. That herd, howling in the silent night, could not be small, now it was already on the other side of the village, and the brawl grew so loud that even my companions woke up from their sleep and looked around.
At the same time a plump koodoo bull appeared, which stopped for a moment on the hilltop, clearly visible against the sky, and then disappeared into the shadow below. To judge by everything, the animal rushed towards us, and after a moment we saw it galloping forward with long leaps. This we saw also—on the hilltop appeared a countless crowd of gray and thin creatures, rushing forward as quickly as the spirits of a hornet, disappearing into the shadow, reappearing in the moonlight, and disappearing again into the darkness of the valley, and behind the herd ran two other creatures—two men.
The bull passed us by scarcely half a spear-throw, and behind it rushed a vast pack of great wolves, from whose mouths came that terrible howl. But who were those two stout and sinewy-looking human-like creatures who hunted with the wolves? They ran swiftly and silently, with wolf teeth gleaming on their foreheads, and wolf fur flapping on their shoulders. One had an axe in his hand—the blade gleaming in the moonlight—and the other a heavy club. I have never seen anyone run so fast. Look, they were rushing down the slope towards us, the wolves left behind except four; we heard the thud of feet: they came, rushed past, and disappeared from our sight, the pack in their wake. The howling grew fainter as the hunt progressed, and at last faded into inaudibility; around us again reigned the deep peace of the still night.
“Well, comrades,” I said to my companions, “what was this vision?”
Someone answered: “We have seen the ghosts that lurk in the bosom of that old witch, and the Wolf-men, those witches—the kings of ghosts!”
II.
THE MOPED EXPRESSES ITSELF.
We watched all night, but we saw no more of the wolves or the men with them. At daybreak I sent word to Bulalio, the chief of the axe people, that a messenger from King Dingaan was coming to him, and wished to speak to him peacefully in his hut. I told the messenger that he must not give my name, but must only call me “Dingaan’s Mouth.” Then I set out with my men, for there was still a long way to go, and the messenger had been ordered to return at once to meet me, to learn what the Slayer, the owner of the slayer, had said.
We wandered until sunset, following the river that flowed at the foot of Ghost Mountain. We met no one, but once we came upon a ruined village, littered with crushed human bones, rusty spears, and the remains of black and white spotted oxhide shields. I examined them and concluded from the colors that they had belonged to warriors whom Chaka had sent years ago to search for Umslopogaas, but who had never returned.
“It must have been bad for those warriors of the Elephant-dead,” I said, “for I certainly think these shields were theirs, and with their eyes they looked at the world from the empty sockets of those skulls.”
“These are their shields and those are surely their skulls,” said someone. “Son of Mopo Makedama, this is not the work of human hands. Men do not crush the bones of their enemies as these have been crushed. Wow! not men, but wolves! And last night we saw wolves hunting, and they did not hunt alone, Mopo! Wow! This land is a haunt of ghosts!”
We continued our journey in silence, and the face of the stone sorceress who sat on the top of that mountain stared at us all the time. At last we reached an open plain and saw on the other side of the river a village of the Axe People, perched on a hill. The village was large and well built, and I could not count the number of cattle roaming the plain. We crossed the river at the ford, and then waited until we saw the man I had sent hurrying towards us. He greeted me, and I asked him what was happening.
“This I can tell you, O Mopo,” replied the man: “I have seen him whose name is Bulalio—he is a big man, tall and sinewy; his face is fierce, and he always carries a formidable spear in his hand—like the one we saw last night. When I was brought before him, I greeted him and spoke the words you dictated to me. He listened, and then burst out laughing, saying: ‘Take my greetings to him who sent you, that the ‘mouth of the ingane’ is welcome and may safely present the case of Dingaan. I would rather see it be Dingaan’s head that comes, and not just the mouth, for then the Weeper would also interfere in the conversation—for a certain Mopo who was murdered by his brother Chaka. The Weeper might have something to say to Dingaan too! But the mouth is not the head, so let the mouth come in peace.'”
I was startled to hear that Mopo’s name had once again been on Bulalio’s lips. Was there anyone else who had loved Mopo so tenderly, except one who had died long ago? Perhaps Bulalio was talking about another Mopo, for I was not the only one of that name—in his great mourning party Chaka had indeed murdered a chief of the same name because—as he said—there was no need for two Mopos in the country, although that other Mopo was still weeping profusely when the eyes of the others had already dried up. I only told my men that Bulalio had guts, and so we entered the village gate. There was no one there to receive us, and the huts inside looked deserted, but further on from the cattle-pen in the middle of the village there was dust rising and a noise as if a group of men were going to war. Some of my men were frightened, thinking they had fallen into some trap, and wanted to turn back, but then they were only frightened when, as we came to the gate of the cattle pen, we saw five hundred men in arms, company by company, commanded by two burly men in front of the lines, bustling and shouting commands.
But I cried out: “No, no! Do not flee! A bold appearance discourages the enemy. And if that Bulalio had wanted to kill us, he would not have had to gather such a large army. He is proud and wants to show his power, not knowing that the king we serve has a company for every one of his warriors. Let us only come forward boldly!”
So we continued our journey towards the group standing at the other end of the enclosure. We were noticed at once, and those men who were practicing their warlike skills came towards us, walking one after the other. The one in front had a spear on his shoulder, and the other was swinging a large club. I looked at the bearer of the spear, and, my father, joy seized my heart, for I knew him, although it had been years since I last saw him.
Umslopogaas it was—my foster-bred Umslopogaas and no other!—he was now a man in his prime, a man like no other in all Zululand. He was stout and strong-looking, a little thin in the upper body, but his shoulders were broad and his chest well arched. His arms were long and moderately thick, but the muscles that stretched the skin were like knots of rope; his legs were also long and very thick at the calves. His eyes were eagle-like, his nose slightly hooked, and he held his head slightly forward, like a man who is always stalking some hidden enemy. He seemed to walk comparatively slowly, but he was approaching surprisingly quickly, his step was strangely gliding, reminiscent of a wolf or a lion, and the fingers that held the Weeper’s horned arm were constantly moving. His companion was half a head shorter than him, a stocky man too, but more solidly built than Umslopogaas. His eyes were small and twinkled incessantly like little stars, and his face was very fierce, especially when he grimaced this way and that, so that his white teeth shone.
When I saw Umslopogaas, I was overjoyed to rush to embrace him, but I restrained myself, for the moment was inopportune, and to prevent him from recognizing me, I drew the hem of my cloak over my face. At that moment he stood before me, examining me with his sharp gaze, and I went up to greet him.
“Hail to you, mouth of Dingaan!” he said in a resounding voice. “You are small for the mouth of so great a chief.”
“Even the body of a great king has its mouths filled with smaller parts, O Chief Bulalio, ruler of the axe people, king of the wolves of Ghost Mountain, who was called Umslopogaas in ancient times, son of Mopo, son of Makedama.”
Hearing the words, Umslopogaas started like a child afraid of noises in the night and stared at me without blinking.
“You know a lot of things,” he said.
“The king’s ears are long, though his mouth is small, O Chief
Bulalio,” I replied.
“How do you know I’m with the wolves of Haunted Mountain, oh mouth?” he asked.
“The eyes of the king see far, O Chief Bulalio. Last night they saw a hunt that was both terrifying and beautiful. A great koodoo bull came running for its life, followed by a countless pack of howling wolves, and two men just like you, wearing wolf skins.”
Umslopogaas raised his dagger as if he intended to crush my head, but then let his weapon fall, while Wolf-Galaz stared at us with wide eyes.
“How do you know that my name was once Umslopogaas, which I have almost forgotten myself? Speak, O Mouth, or I will kill you!”
“Do as you wish, Umslopogaas,” I replied, “but also know that when the brain is rotten, the mouth is mute. Destroying the brain is destroying information.”
“Answer!” he said.
“No. I’m not obligated to do that. I know your biography and that’s fine. Now to my business.”
“I don’t like to be rude in my own territory,” Umslopogaas would snarl, gritting his teeth; “say your piece quickly, you foul-mouthed one!”
“This is my business, little chief: When the great Elephant was yet alive, you sent him greetings through one Masilo—greetings the like of which his ears had never heard, and which would have been your death, you pride-swept fool, had not death at once corrected the great Elephant. Now King Dingaan, whom I serve, and whose shadow now darkens the land, wishes to speak to you through me. He wishes to know whether it is true that you do not acknowledge his supremacy, and do not intend to hand over to him warriors, girls, and cattle as tribute and to aid him in the war? Answer, chief—answer briefly and to the point!”
Umslopogaas was panting with rage and fingering his axe handle angrily. “Thank your luck, O Mouth,” he finally snarled, “that I promised not to touch you, or else you would not have gotten out of here—you would have been like some warriors long ago who came looking for a certain Umslopogaas. I will answer you briefly and to the point. Look at those spears—they are only a quarter of the total number of my troops—that is my answer. Do you see that mountain, that den of wolves and ghosts—no one knows it and no one can enter it but me and one other—that is my answer. The spears and the mountain unite—the spears and the fangs of the wolves bring the mountain to life. Let Dingaan take his tribute from there! I have spoken!”
I laughed sarcastically to test even more the patience of Umslopogaas, my foster-child.
“You fool!” said I; “a boy with the brains of a monkey. Dingaan, whom I serve, can send a hundred for each of your spears; your mountains will be trampled to the ground, and your wolves and ghosts—with Dingaan’s mouth I will spit them in the eyes!” And I spat on the ground.
Umslopogaas was so furious that even the slayer shook. “Hey, Wolf-Galazi!” he growled to the man standing behind him, “shall we kill him and his companions too?”
“No,” replied Galazi, grimacing, “you promised them peace. Let them return to their king-dog, so that he may then send his puppets to fight with our wolves. That is worth watching!”
“Go, O Mouth,” said Umslopogaas, “take heed, lest any misfortune befall you! Outside my gates you will find food to satisfy your hunger. Eat first, and then set off quickly for your home, for if you are found within a spear’s throw of my village at noon tomorrow, you and your companions will remain there forever, O Mouth of King Dingaan!”
I moved as if to leave, but suddenly turned back and said:
“In your greetings to the great Elephant, you spoke of a man—what was his name now—yes, a certain Mopo?”
Umslopogaas started as if stabbed by a spear and stared at me.
“About Mopo! What do you know about Mopo, O Mouth whose eyes are covered?
Mopo is dead—I am his son!”
“That’s right!” I said. “Yes, Mopo is dead—the great Elephant-dead killed a Mopo. How is it to be understood that you, Bulalio, are his son?”
“He is dead,” repeated Umslopogaas, “he and all his house! That is why I hated the great Elephant, and that is why I hate Dingaan, his brother, and may I be as unfortunate as Mopon before I give him even an ox as tribute.”
Up until now I had changed my voice, but now I said it in my normal voice:
“Oh! Those words came straight from your heart, young man, and now I have found out where the evil lies. So you defy the king because of that dead Mopo dog?”
Umslopogaas heard the sound and his anger turned to fear and astonishment. He looked at me searchingly, but said nothing.
“Have you any hut near here, O Chief Bulalio, you enemy of Dingaan, where I, the Mouth of King, can speak with you for a moment alone, to learn your answer word for word, so that I may deliver it to you in its original form. Do not fear, Slayer, to be alone with me in an empty hut! I am old and unarmed, and you have in your hand a weapon that I fear,” and I pointed to the slayer.
“Follow me, O Suu, and you, Galazi, stay with these men,” replied Umslopogaas, starting to walk ahead.
Soon we came to a large hut. He pointed to the doorway, and I crawled in, him following behind me. It was dark inside, for the sun was already beginning to set, so I waited until our eyes adjusted. Then I suddenly threw the cloak from my face and looked Umslopogaas in the eyes.
“Look at me now, O Chief Bulalio, once called Umslopogaas—look at me and tell me who I am?” He looked and his mouth opened in astonishment.
“You are my father Mopo in his old age—Mopo who is dead, or rather Mopo’s spirit,” he replied in a low voice.
“I am your father Mopo, Umslopogaas,” I said. “It took you a long time to recognize me, though I recognized you at once.”
Umslopogaas calmed the Weeping Man, and threw himself into my arms, bursting into tears. I cried too.
“Oh, my father!” she sobbed. “I thought you had died with the others, and now you have come back to me, and I was about to raise my sword against you in my madness. It is good that I have lived—to live to see once more your face, which I thought I would never see again. It has changed greatly—has age and sorrow left their mark on it?”
“Yes, my Umslopogaas child. I thought you were dead too. I thought that lion had killed you, though to tell the truth it seemed very strange to me that anyone but you, Umslopogaas, could have performed the feats that Bulalio, the chief of the axe people, was said to have done—to defy Chaka to his face. But you are not dead, and neither am I—the Mopo that Chaka killed was another of the same name; I killed Chaka and not vice versa!”
“And where is my sister Nada? Oh, tell me quickly!” Umslopogaas asked frantically.
“Your mother Macropha and your sister Nada are dead, Umslopogaas.
They were killed by the Halakazis living in Swaziland.”
“I have heard of that tribe,” he said, “and so has Galazi. He has sworn vengeance upon them—they killed his father, and so now I swear vengeance upon them, for they have slain my mother and my sister. O my sister Nada, O my sister Nada!” and the great man covered his face with his hands and rocked his body in his inconsolable grief.
I already thought of telling Umslopogaas the truth and telling him that Nada was not his sister and he was not my son, but Chaka, whom I had killed. I said nothing, however, although I now wish I had. For I saw how proud and ambitious Umslopogaas was. If he had known that the throne of Zululand was really his, nothing could have restrained him from rising before long in open rebellion against King Dingaan, for which I did not think the time was yet suitable. If I had known a year before that Umslopogaas was still alive, he would have been sitting today on the seat on which Dingaan now sat, but I did not know, and the opportunity had passed for the time being. Dingaan was now king to muster many regiments, for I had opposed all wars, as when there was talk of an expedition against the Swazis. The opportunity had passed, but it might come again, and until then I must keep quiet. I thought it best to first get Umslopogaas to join Dingaan, so that he might gain a great and lasting reputation throughout the land as a mighty chief and the foremost of warriors. Then I would see to it that he should be promoted to the position of advisor and finally to the position of chief of the army, for the chief of the army is already half a king.
So I said nothing about it, but we sat and talked until daybreak, telling each other all that had happened since the lion had robbed him of me. I told him how all my wives and children had been murdered, how I had been tortured, and I showed him my withered hand. I also told him about the death of my sister Baleka and the whole Langen tribe, and how I had avenged all the wrongs I had suffered on Chaka and raised Dingaan to the throne, being now myself the first man in the kingdom after the king, although the king was very afraid of me. But I did not tell him that my sister Baleka was his own mother.
When I had finished my story, Umslopogaas told his own! how Galazi had saved him from the lion’s teeth, and how he became another Wolf-Wolf; of the match in which he defeated Jikiza and his sons, thus becoming the chief of the axe people and taking Zinita as his wife, and how he had then become a mighty man.
I asked him why he was still hunting with the wolves, as he had done last night. He replied that now that he was a great man and had nothing more to gain, he got tired of everything from time to time, and he had to go for a walk with Galaz and the wolves, because it only gave him pleasure and relieved his nagging longing.
I said I would put him on the trail of a better beast before long, and then asked him if he loved his wife Zinita. Umslopogaas replied that he would love Zinita much more if she loved him a little less, for Zinita was jealous and quick-tempered, causing him much trouble. After we had slept a little, he took me out, and my men and I were now entertained most excellently, and I talked to Zinita and Wolf-Galaz. I liked the man at first sight. Such a comrade was good to have by my side in the fury of battle, but I felt a great dislike to Zinita. He was beautiful and well-built, but the look in his black eyes was fierce and piercing, and he would not leave my foster-son in peace for a moment; he, who feared nothing under the sun, seemed to be afraid of Zinita. And Zinita did not like me either; Seeing how Umsiopogaas tried in every way to please me, he immediately became jealous — Galazi was already used to it — and wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible.
I didn’t like him and in my heart I sensed that he would do a lot of harm, which my fear came true in full.
III.
THE MURDER OF THE BOERS.
In the morning I took Umslopogaas aside and said: “My son, yesterday when you thought I was only Dingaan’s mouthpiece, you gave me various greetings to take to King Dingaan—greetings that would certainly have brought death to you and your people if they had reached the king’s ears. The lonely tree in the desert thinks itself very great, Umslopogaas, and thinks that the shade it creates is unparalleled. But there are other trees that are even greater. You, for example, are such a lonely tree, but the top branches of the tree I serve are thicker than your trunk, and in its shade dwell many woodcutters who are sent to cut down other trees that are trying to grow too tall. You cannot compare your strength with Dingaan, although living alone in this distant land you are a very great and mighty man in your own eyes and in the eyes of those around you. Bear this in mind, Umslopogaas: Dingaan hates you for those greetings that you give him. “You sent that Masilo hawk with you to the great Elephant, and he intends to destroy you. He sent me on this journey only to get away from me for a while, and it really doesn’t matter what answer I bring him — the day when you see his warriors swarming before your gates will surely dawn.”
“What will this matter be improved by talking about?” asked Umslopogaas. “What is meant to come, will come. I will wait here for Dingaan to come and fight until I die.”
“Not so, my son Umslopogaas, not so; a man dies in other ways than by being stabbed with a spear, and a crooked staff can still be straightened in the steam. I would hope that Dingaan’s hatred for you would turn into love and that you would prosper in his shadow—achieve fame and power. Listen! Dingaan is not Chaka’s equal, though he is as cruel as Chaka. Dingaan is a tempter, and it may well happen that some man who has risen in his shadow will eventually overshadow him. I could do it any time—yes, I myself, but I am already too old and burdened with sorrow to wish to rule. But you are young, Umslopogaas, and there is no other like you in the land. There are other more important reasons of which I cannot yet speak, but which always give you new strength.”
Umslopogaas looked at me searchingly, for then he was ambitious and always wanted to be first. And could it be otherwise, with Chaka’s blood flowing in his veins?
“What is your plan, my father,” he asked. “How do you intend to accomplish all this?”
“There are many ways, Umslopogaas. In the Halakazi tribe, living in Swaziland, there lives a girl named Lily Flower, who is said to be incomparably beautiful, and whom Dingaan ardently desires to marry. A short time ago, Dingaan sent an embassy to the Halakazi chief to ask for the girl as a wife for the king, but the Halakazi chief replied very insultingly that the world’s beauty would not be given to any Zulu dog. Dingaan became cruel and would have sent an army to destroy the entire Halakazi tribe, but I fought back, saying that now was not a suitable time for war; therefore Dingaan hates me; he has sworn to pick that Swazi lily. Do you understand what I mean, Umslopogaas?”
“Somehow. But you can speak openly.”
“Wow! Umslopogaas. In this country, half words are better than whole words. So listen! This is how I have decided the matter: you will run against the Halakaz tribe and destroy it and bring the girl to Dingaan as a sign of reconciliation and friendship.”
“A good plan, anyway. I’ll try to get the girl, but I don’t care if I don’t succeed; at least we get to fight and share the spoils after the battle.”
“Win first and then worry about the loot, Umslopogaas.”
He thought for a moment and then said, “Allow me to order Galazi here.
He is a trustworthy and quiet man, so don’t be afraid.”
Galazi came immediately, and I explained to him that Umslopogaas intended to attack the Halakazi and take the girl he longed for as a gift and appeasement to Dingaan, which plan, however, I thought was very dangerous, since the Halakazi tribe was known to be large and powerful. By speaking in this way I reserved a back door for myself in case Galazi should betray us, which intention Umslopogaas also noticed, but my caution was unnecessary, for Galazi was trustworthy.
He listened in silence until I had finished, and then said calmly, although it seemed to me that his eyes were flashing:
“Yes, by right I am the chief of the Halakaz, O Mouth of Dingaan, and I know them well. The tribe is large and can field two full regiments, while this Bulali has only one at his disposal, and that too a small one. They have, moreover, guards outside day and night, and the country is full of spies, so that surprise is hardly possible; their main fortification is also a stronger than usual, a large cave, open in the middle, which no one has yet been able to conquer and the entrance to which is known to few. I am one, for my father showed it to me when I was a boy. So you understand that this expedition against the Halakaz, which Umslopogaas is planning, is not such a small matter. With the Bulali it is as I have said, but with me it is different, O Mouth of Dingaan. Years ago I swore to my dying father, who had been poisoned by a daughter of that tribe, a witch, that I would avenge his death. and I will not rest until I have destroyed the whole tribe, killed the men, dragged the women to foreign lands and the children into slavery! Living alone on the slopes of Ghost Mountain, I have thought for years, months and nights about a way to fulfill my oath, but I have come up with nothing. Now the opportunity has finally come, and I am glad. Our intention is indeed dangerous, fulfilling it could sweep the entire axe people into nonexistence.” He fell silent and took a pinch of snuff, eyeing us over the box.
“However, as far as I am concerned, the situation is different from what you seem to think, Wolf-Galazi,” said Umslopogaas. “Those Halakazi dogs killed your father and mother, but they have also killed, as I learned only yesterday, my mother and my sister Nada, whom I loved more than anything in the world and who also loved me. That man, the Mouth of Dingaan,” he pointed to me, “says that I will gain Dingaan’s favor if I can destroy the Halakazi and capture that girl named Lily Flower. Not that I care for Dingaan. I will go my own way, live as long as I live and die when my time comes, but to avenge the death of my mother and my dear sister I will conquer and destroy those Halakazi or perish myself. Perhaps you will see me soon, O Mouth of Dingaan, at the king’s in Mahalabatin, with the Lily Girl and the herd of Halakazi with me. If not, then you will know that I have fallen with my warriors.”
In Galazi’s presence Umslopogaas spoke thus, but when we were alone he embraced me and said a tender farewell, for the hope of a reunion was small. But it often happens that the brave triumph. Then we parted—I to return to Dingaan to tell him that Bulalio, the chief of the axe people, had gone against the Halakaz to bring the girl named Lilja as a peace offering to the king, while Umslopogaas remained to prepare for war.
I hurried back from the Ghost Mountain to Umgugundhlovu and went straight to Dingaan, who at first looked at me very narrowly. But his manner changed as soon as I told him my greetings and how the Bulalio chief had set out on the warpath to win the Lily girl for the king. He thanked me well, holding my hand, and said he had been foolish to doubt me when I had done my best to dissuade him from the war against the Halakaz. Now he saw that my intention had been to light that fire with my other hand and save his hand from being burned.
He also said that if the chief of the axe people would bring him the girl, he would forgive the greetings sent to the great Elephant. He promised to give even the cattle plundered from the Halakaze as a reward to Bulalio and to make him a great man. I replied that all would be as the king wished. I had only done my duty by acting so that a proud chief was humbled and an enemy was defeated—without the king having to lose anything. It might even be so good that Lily Flower would soon be with the king.
Then I waited for the development of events.
Now, my father, the white men, whom we call Amaboon and you call Boers, are also beginning to appear in connection with my story. Oh! I think nothing good of those Amaboons, although it was I who helped them defeat Dingaan—I and Umslopogaas.
A few white men had indeed come to Chaka and Dingaan from time to time, but they mostly, with the exception of a few hunters, came only to pray and not to fight. These Boers, on the other hand, pray and fight and steal, which I cannot understand at all, when your own worshippers declare such a thing to be a sin.
Well, after I had been at home for a month after my journey, there came to Dingaan about sixty Boers, led by a great man named Retief, armed with snares —I mean those long guns which the Boers had at that time—or perhaps a hundred in all, including servants and assistants. Their purpose was to purchase a tract of land in Natal between the Tugela and Umzimoubu rivers. But at the instigation of myself and other advisers, Dingaan made a pact with them that they would first attack a chief named Sigomyela, who had stolen the king’s cattle, and bring back the cattle. The Boers agreed, and it was not long before they returned, driving Sigomyela and the cattle stolen from the king before them.
Dingaan’s face lit up when he saw the spoils, and that very evening he called a great council, the amakapat , to consider the question of the cession of the land. I said at once that it made no difference whether he agreed or not, for the great Elephant had already given the land to the English, the children of King George. Whatever Dingaan did, it would eventually happen that the English and the Amaboonas would fight for the possession of the land. The prophecy of the great Elephant was beginning to come true, for now we could hear the sound of rushing footsteps as the white people approached, who were to invade our kingdom.
Dingaan’s face darkened, for my words had wounded him like a barbed spear, and he ended the meeting without answering anything.
The next morning the king promised to sign the treaty of surrender, which guaranteed the Boers the right of possession of the territory they had asked for, and all was as peaceful as a calm lake. But before the paper was signed, the king gave a great dance, which lasted three days, for the city was overflowing with soldiers, but on the third day the regiments were ordered to leave, except one, composed of young men, who were ordered to stay. I wondered all the time what Dingaan could possibly have in mind, and I feared for the strangers. The regiment had received secret orders, of which not a word was revealed to anyone—not even to me. I knew he was brooding over evil, and I was already going to speak of it to Captain Retief, which I did not do, however, for fear of being ridiculed. Ah, my father, how many would have been saved if I had spoken! But what of that! In any case, only a few of them would be alive. Early on the morning of the fourth day, Dingaan sent word to the Boers, asking them to come to the cattle-pen, where the paper was to be signed. And the Boers came, leaving their guns at the gate, for no one, whether white or black, was allowed to come armed before the king under pain of death. Umgugundhlovu was built, as royal cities usually are, in the shape of a large circle, and its many thousands of huts were placed in three rows between a high inner enclosure, within which a large open field could have accommodated five regiments at once. The cattle-pen, separated by an arched enclosure, was at the other end of the field opposite the gate, and behind it were the emposeni , the residence of the king’s wives, and the store-rooms and the intunkulu , the king’s residence. A seat was reserved for the king in front of the cattle-pen, on which Dingaan sat down as soon as he arrived, and a servant held a shield over him so that the sun would not bother him. We, the advisers, were also present, and the regiment, which had been ordered to remain, was drawn up in line on two sides. The warriors had only short sticks—no clubs, my father—and the chief stood near Dingaan on the right.
The Boers came on foot and entered in a group before the king, who greeted them kindly, even extending his hand to Captain Retief. Then Retief took from a leather case a treaty in which the boundaries of the territory were precisely determined, and which an interpreter translated for the king. Dingaan said that everything was as it should be and drew his wooden sign on the edge of the paper, and Retief and the Boers were very happy. They would have liked to say goodbye at the same time, but Dingaan asked them to stay, saying that first they must eat and watch the warriors dance for a while. He ordered boiled meat and milk to be brought for the guests, but the Boers said that they had already eaten. However, they drank the milk, letting the bowls pass from man to man.
The warriors began to dance, singing Ingomo’a , the Zulu war song, and the Boers withdrew towards the centre of the field to make more room for the warriors. At the same time I heard Dingane order a messenger to hurry to the white prayer-conjurer to tell him that he need not be afraid, and I wondered greatly what that could mean; why should the white prayer-conjurer now be afraid of a dance which he had seen before? Then Dingane rose and went, followed by all, through the crowd to Retief, saying farewell to him by the hand and wishing him a safe journey, hambla gachle . The Boers waved their hats, and the king went towards his own house, at the gate of which I saw the chief of the regiment standing as if awaiting some order.
Suddenly the king stopped and shouted in a resounding voice: “Bulalani abatakati!” (kill those witches) and went behind the enclosure, covering his face with the edge of his cloak.
We advisors stood there as if petrified, and before we could say or do anything, the regimental commander had echoed the cry to his warriors: “Bulalani abatakati!” There was a clatter of advancing feet, accompanied by a shuddering roar, and through the cloud of dust rising into the sky we saw the warriors rushing at the Amaboonai and heard the whir of sticks. The strangers snatched up their knives and defended themselves bravely, but the resistance was broken before they could count to twice a hundred, and most of them were dragged still alive outside the gate, to the Hill of Death, where they were all brutally executed. How? Ah, I won’t tell you that—they were all murdered in one heap, and that was the end of their story. Only one of the group was saved, a young man named Macumazana, or Supervisor, the interpreter, whom only Dingaan spared and later completely freed, I believe, because the young man was English.
I and the other councilors went in silence to the king’s house. He stood before his door, and raising our hands we saluted him without uttering a word. He laughed nervously, like a person with a bad conscience, and said, looking at us insolently:
“When the vultures this morning plucked their feathers and screamed for food, they had no idea that such a feast was coming as I, my good advisor, had prepared for them. Nor do you, my good advisor, seem to have known what a great king Heaven has made you to rule, or how deep the intentions of that king who watches over the welfare of his people really are. Now my country is free from those white witches, about whose steps the great Elephant-dead man chattered at his death-bed, or at least it will be soon, for this is only the beginning. You messengers!” he shouted to the few men standing behind him, “hurry to carry the king’s word to the regiment on the other side of the ridge. The king orders the army to attack Natal at once and kill all the Boers there, women and children too. Go!”
The men saluted the king with a bayéte cry and hurried away as quickly as spears shot from the hand of a thrower, disappearing from our sight. But we, the advisors, the members of the amapakati , stood still, silent.
“Are you satisfied now, Mopo Makedama’s son?” continued Dingaan, turning to me. “I have always been telling you about these white people and the things they will do, and behold, I blew on them and they disappeared. Tell me, Mopo, are all those Amaboonanoids dead? If any are still alive, I want to talk to them.”
I looked Dingaan in the eye and said:
“They are all dead, and you are dead too, O king.”
“It is better for you, you dog,” said Dingaan, “to speak your thoughts more clearly.”
“May the king forgive me,” I replied, “but I meant what I said. You cannot kill these white men to extinction, for they are many races and not just one, and the sea is their home; they emerge from the lap of black waters. Destroy those who are already here, and you will see that others will be avenged more and more. You have struck now, but next time they will strike. They have now humbled themselves to the point of blood before you, but the day dawns when you will have your turn to bleed in your blood before them. You must have lost your mind, O king, to do this, for this will be your death. I, the king’s servant, have spoken. May the king’s will be done.”
I expected the death blow at once, for in the fury of my heart over the heinous crime I had committed I did not spare my words. Dingaan looked at me three times, and his face was a terrible one, with features distorted by rage, rage mingled with fear, and I waited calmly to see which would prevail, rage or fear. When at last he was able to speak, he uttered at last one word, “Go!” and not two, “Kill him!” And we departed at once, leaving the king alone.
My heart was very heavy, my father, for of all the evil designs I had seen, this treacherous murder of the Amaboonai, with their wives and children, seemed to me the most heinous. Yes, in the country called Weenen, or the Tanner of the Weeping, about six hundred Boers were murdered at that time—wives and children too.
Tell me, my father, how can Umkulunkulu, who lives in the heavens above, allow such things to happen on earth below? I have heard white men pray to their God. They say they know him in every way—that he is called Power, Grace, and Love. Why then does he allow such things to happen—why are such persons as Chaka and Dingaan allowed to torment and torture mankind and to atone for the death of many thousands of people by the death of only one? Because of the wickedness of men, you say, but that cannot be, for should not the innocent suffer with the guilty—should not innocent children die by the hundreds? Perhaps there is another answer, but what am I, my father, to try to penetrate to the depths of those great things hidden from men. Wow! I, who am only an uncivilized brute, do not understand it, nor have I met with deeper knowledge and wisdom in the hearts of you white men. You know many things, it is true, but you do not know this; you cannot tell us where we were before we were born and where we go after we die, or why we live and why we die. You only hope and believe—and that is all; perhaps in a few days I shall be wiser than you all. I am very old, and the flame of my life grows weaker every day—it flickers only in my brain, where it is still bright and luminous, but soon it will go out there too, and then perhaps I shall understand everything.
IV.
WAR AGAINST THE HALAKAZES.
Now I want to tell you, my father, how the war of Umslopogaas and Susi-Galaz against the Halakaz was successful. After we set out on our journey home, Umslopogaas had immediately called together all the leaders of the tribe and explained to them that it was his most fervent hope that the axe people would not always have to be just a small and insignificant tribe; that they would grow into a mighty nation, with livestock numbering in the tens of thousands.
He was asked how this could be done—whether he intended to make war on Dingaan himself? Umslopogaas replied that it was not his intention, on the contrary, he had decided to try to gain the king’s favor. He told the men about the Halakazi tribe of Swaziland and the Lily girl, and explained that his intention was to go on a military expedition against that tribe. Some agreed at once, but others resisted, and the heated discussion that arose over the question lasted late into the evening. At last Umslopogaas’ patience ran out and he rose, saying that he was the chief of the axe people by right of the owner of the sword and no one else, and that since he had decided to make war, everyone had to be content with that and that was good enough. If anyone still wanted to oppose him, let him come forward to fight him, and then let the winner decide the matter. No one answered, for there was no one among those present who would have wanted to stand in the way of the Weeper. So it came to pass that it was decided to wage war against the Halakaz, and Umslopogaas sent messengers to summon all the men fit for battle.
But when Zinita, his wife, heard of it, she was in a rage, and scolded Umslopogaas angrily, and cursed me, Mopo, the mouth of Dingaan, because I had, as she rightly said, put those ravings on the head of the Slayer. “Why can’t you live here in peace and plenty, you strange man, but you want to go to war against people who have done you no harm, on which journey you yourself oppress, or at least cause suffering to others? You say you want to take the girl to Dingaan in order to gain this favor. Hasn’t Dingaan got more girls than he can count? Is it not just that you are tired of our present wives and want to have the girl for yourself? To gain favor! By remaining quiet you will gain favor the best of all, Bulalio. If the king sends his warriors against you, then fight, you weak-minded rascal!”
Zinita spoke so insultingly—in her anger she blamed everything she had in her heart, and Umslopogaas could not challenge her to a fight. Umslopogaas was allowed to listen as patiently as he could, for it often happens, my father, that even the greatest men are often insignificant under their own roof. He knew, moreover, that Zinita spoke so bitterly only out of love for him.
On the third day all the men fit for battle were assembled, and there were about two thousand of them, all brave and capable warriors. Umslopogaas came out of his hut with Wolf-Galazi and made a stirring speech to his regiment, explaining at the same time the purpose of the expedition. The warriors listened in silence, and it was quite clear that one was of one mind and another of another, as had been the case with the leaders in the consultation. Then Galazi stepped forward and said that he knew the caves and secret paths of the Halakaz and the number of their cattle, but the men still seemed to hesitate, whereupon Umslopogaas added the following words:
“Tomorrow at dawn I, Bulalio, the wielder of the sword and the leader of the axe people, will set out against the Halakaz, accompanied by my brother Susi-Galazi. If even ten men go with us, then we will go. Now choose, warriors! Let those who want to come, the rest stay home with the akkos and children!”
A thunderous shout echoed from the ranks:
“We will come with you, Bulalio, to victory or death!”
In the morning the troops left, accompanied by the mournful lamentations of the women of the axe people. Zinita alone did not shed tears, but grumbled angrily and predicted that everything would end unhappily. She did not even say goodbye to her husband, but nevertheless burst into tears when he left.
Umslopogaas and his army rushed forward rapidly, starving and thirsty, until they finally reached the Umswazi country, and after some time through a narrow and high mountain pass into the territory of the Halakaz. Wolf-Galazi had feared that the pass was occupied, for he knew that messengers had hurried in droves to warn the Halakaz, although they had not disturbed anyone along the way; they had also taken only as much cattle as was needed for the warriors’ provisions. But there was no one in the pass, and when they had passed through, they rested, for the evening was already late. At daybreak Umslopogaas looked at the open plain spreading out before him, and Galazi showed him a long, low hill, which was about a couple of hours’ journey away.
“There, my brother,” said he, “is the city of Halakazi, where I was born, and on that hill is that great cave.”
The journey continued, and before the sun had even risen high, they reached a village on the hill, from the other side of which they could hear the sound of horns. The whole army of the Halakaz—a very large army —was charging across the plain towards them!
“They must have gathered their men,” said Galazi. “There are at least three of them for every one of us!”
The warriors had also noticed the enemy, and the courage of many began to fail. Then Umslopogaas shouted:
“The Halakazi dogs are there, my child, they are many and we are few, but can anyone tell that we, the sons of the brave Zulu, have fled from the Halakazi dogs? Will we allow our wives and children to sing that song in our ears, O you valiant warriors?”
Some shouted: “No way!” but others remained silent, which is why
Umslopogaas continued:
“Turn back, all you who will; there is still time, but those who are men will follow me. Or go all of you, if you wish, and leave the decision of this matter to the Weeper and the Wading Warden.”
Now a mighty cry rang out:
“We will die together as we have lived!”
“Do you swear?” shouted Umslopogaas, lifting the Weeper high.
“We swear it by the brave man,” replied the warriors.
Then they prepared for battle. The younger ones were placed on a slope, which was very rocky, for it was best to sacrifice them first, and Wolf-Galazi was appointed their leader, but Umslopogaas remained with the older and more experienced warriors on the summit of the mountain.
The Halakazi were already near, and there were four full regiments of them; the whole plain was black with warriors, the air trembled with their roar, and their spears flashed like darting lightning. They stopped at the foot of the slope and sent a herald to ask what the axe-people wanted. Bulalio replied that he wanted these three things: the head of the chief; from then on Galazi would be their chief, the girl named Lilja, and a thousand cattle. If the demands were granted, he would spare the Halakazi; if not, he would destroy them completely.
The herald returned to his people and announced the answer he had received in a resounding voice. Unbridled laughter echoed from the ranks of the Halakaz, making the tanter tremble. A flame of anger burned on Umslopogaas’ forehead, and he shook the Weeper towards the enemy.
“You will sing another song before the sun goes down!” he shouted, and went from row to row, addressing the men by name and encouraging them with brave words.
The Halakazi answered with a furious shout and charged towards the youths led by Galaz, but the soft ground at the foot of the village made it difficult to pass, so that Galazi and his men attacked them with full force, killing a large number of the enemy. But the enemy was so superior that his resistance was soon broken, and before long the battle raged on all sides. However, Galazi carried out his task so skillfully and his young warriors fought with such fury that before they fell or were forced to retreat, the entire enemy army was in battle with them alone. Twice Galazi rallied his men to the attack, causing such confusion among the enemy that all the companies and regiments were finally in complete confusion. However, he was finally forced to retreat, as more than half of the men had fallen and the rest were pushed back in furious fighting up the slope.
Umslopogaas and his men watched the battle from the top of the hill and exclaimed when they saw the enemy’s confusion: “That commander of the Halakazi dogs is quite a ram’s head! There are no men in reserve, and Galazi has already broken his battle formation and mixed the regiments together like milk and cream in a bowl. They are no longer a flock of sheep , but a flock of sheep.”
The warriors lifted their feet, leaned on their spears, and exchanged a word with each other from time to time. “Well struck, Galazi! Wow! There’s another man swinging! Brave boy! What a fine weapon that club of yours is!” The battle began to rage and the warriors’ faces grew grim. Their fingers curled ever tighter around the spear shaft.
One of the chiefs finally shouted to Umslopogaas:
“Say, Bulalio, isn’t it time for us to get to work too? Our legs are getting stiff from standing naked.”
“Wait a little longer,” I replied to Umslopogaas. “Let those dogs tire themselves out first. Let them run wild until they’re exhausted, I say.”
While he was still speaking, the Halakazi formed for an attack and forced Galaz to retreat. So, he was finally forced to retreat with the remnants of his troops, and the Halakazi rushed up the slope after them, their leader in the forefront, surrounded by their bravest.
Umslopogaas leaped up, roaring like a bull. “Now, wolves!” he roared.
The ranks surged forward like a great wave and began to roll down the slope with irresistible force. The Slayer rushed ahead, on the Weeper’s rise, and his stride was swift—so swift that he left his warriors a long way behind. Galazi felt the ground shake, heard the thud of feet, and turned to look, and at the same moment Bulalio sprang past him like a deer. Galazi wheeled after him, and the Wolf-men rushed down the slope, about four spear-lengths apart.
The Halakaz tried to organize themselves to repel the attack, and their chief, surrounded by spears and lances, happened to be in the path of the rushing Umslopogaas. He pressed straight ahead, and twenty spears turned to meet him, and twenty shields rose into the air—a fence through which no one could penetrate alive. But Bulalio was a hero who could handle even that—and all by himself! See how his step stiffens, he stoops, and now he leaps—high into the air; his feet brush the heads of the warriors and bounce on the raised shields. The warriors strike upward with their spears, but he has flown over them like a striking eagle—there are now two chiefs in the fence of spears and shields. But not for long — The Weeper is lifted up, it falls, and neither shield nor scepter can ward off its blow, both are shattered and the Halakazi are without a leader.
The shields are now turning towards the center. You fools! Galazi is upon you! What was that? Turn and see, warriors, how many bones are intact in him, whom the Guardian hits with full force. What! Now another one has fallen! Press closer together, shieldmen—closer! Ah, you are fleeing!
The wave has rolled on the shore. Hear its roar—hear the clang of the shields! Stand firm, Halakaz—stand firm! There are only a handful of them. Look! What! Through Chaka’s head! You will retreat, you will be pushed back—the wave of death spreads with a roar over the sand—the enemy sways hither and thither like a weed uprooted, and the roar heard on every side begins to die down to a low murmur. ” S’gee !” whispers the murmur. ” S’gee! S’gee !”
Forgive me, my father. What have I, an old man, to do with the charm of war and the din of battle? But to die in such a battle is still more wonderful than life. I have seen such battles—I have seen many of them, my father. Yes, they knew how to fight in those days, they really did, but no one was a match for Umslopogaas, Chaka’s son, and his blood brother Wolf-Galaz! Well, they swept the halakazi out of their way as easily as a girl sweeps dust from your hut, as the wind blows away withered leaves. The battle was decided before it had even had time to properly begin, for the enemy turned to flee.
The victory, however, was not yet achieved. The Halakazi had been defeated in the open field, but there were still enough of them alive to defend the great cave, where the final decision had to take place. Thither Bulalio hurried with his remaining men. Unfortunately, many had fallen; but could the death of a warrior be more glorious? And those who remained were truly elite, for now they knew that they could not be easily defeated as long as the scythe and the club led them.
They stood now looking at a rising hill before them, about three thousand paces in circumference. The hill was not high, but inaccessible, with its steep sides only that of rock rabbits and lizards could climb. No one was to be seen. The town near by was also quite deserted, and yet the ground was full of the footprints of animals and men, and from within the mountain came the sound of cattle bleating.
“This is the nest of the Halakazi now,” said Wolf-Galazi.
“A nest indeed,” said Umslopogaas; “but how shall we get at the eggs? The tree is without branches.”
“But there’s a hole in the frame,” Galazi replied.
He went ahead and soon they came to a place where the ground was trampled into mud, like the gate of a cattle pen. There was a shallow cave-like opening in the mountain wall, like the vaults your white men built. But now the opening was filled up to the ceiling with large boulders, so that it was unthinkable to try to get in through it. The passage had been filled in after the cattle had been driven in.
“We can’t get out of here,” said Galazi. “Follow me.”
We went around to the north side of the mountain and there, a couple of spear throws away, stood guard, a warrior who disappeared as soon as he noticed the arrivals.
“There’s a hole where the fox has slipped into his den,” said Galazi.
They hurried to the spot and found a hole in the rock, barely bigger than an anteater’s burrow. Light was shining from the hole and sounds were heard.
“Where is the hyena now, looking for a new den?” cried
Umslopogaas. “A hundred cattle to him who crawls through and opens the way!”
Two young men, enchanted by victory and desiring nothing but fame and booty, leaped forward, exclaiming:
“Here are the hyenas, Bulalio.”
“Then I will go through the hole!” said Umslopogaas, “and let him who gets through hold his own long enough for the others to come to his aid.”
Both charged the hole, and the one who had arrived first threw himself on his knees and crawled in, leaning on his shield and his spear extended forward. The hole went dark for a moment and the man’s movements could be clearly heard. Then there were a couple of loud blows, and the light appeared again. The man was dead.
“He had a bad guardian spirit,” said another; “let’s see if mine is better.”
He dropped to his knees and crawled in like the other, but with the difference that he held the shield over his head. After a moment the blows were heard to fall, crashing against the bull’s-skin shield, and then a muffled groan. He too had been killed, but it seemed that his body had been left in the hole, for no light was visible. And so it had been. After receiving the blow, the man had retreated back into the hole, dying there, and no one came from the other side to pull him out.
The warriors stared into the hole, helpless and bewildered, for it was a sad thing to die like that. Umslopogaas and Galazik also looked at the hole with gloomy looks.
“Wolf is my name,” said Galazi, “and a wolf must not be afraid of the dark; besides, those within are my people, so it is my duty to be the first to greet them,” and he threw himself on his knees without further ado. But Umslopogaas, who had peered into the opening once more, cried out: “Wait, Galazi! I have found a way, and I will go before you. Follow me. And you, my children, shout loudly so that no one can hear us move, and if we get through, you will follow quickly after us, for we cannot hold the mouth of the opening long. If I die, choose for yourselves another leader—Wolf-Galazi, if he is still alive then.”
“Speak not of me, Bulalio,” said Galazi, “for we shall die together as we have lived.”
“So be it, Galazi. Then choose someone else and do not try to enter this way again, for if we are unlucky, the others will not be able to get in either. Get yourselves something to eat and wait until those jackals are in pain—then be on your guard. Farewell, my child!”
“Goodbye, father! Be careful that we don’t have to be left here wandering abandoned like sheep without a shepherd.”
Umslopogaas took off his shield and crawled into the hole, holding the spear in front of him, and Galazi followed at his heels. When he had gone about six spear lengths, Umslopogaas stretched out his hand and, as he had guessed, touched the leg of the man he had just killed. The ever-wise Umslopogaas now did this: he thrust his head under the man’s thighs and gradually slid forward, so that at last the man’s body was completely on his back, and to prevent it from falling he held it by the ankles with the other hand. Then he crawled forward again and found himself approaching the mouth of the hole, which was shaded by immense boulders, so that the place was almost dark. “This is very convenient,” thought Umslopogaas, “for here one cannot distinguish the dead from the living. Perhaps I shall even see the sun again.” At the same time he heard the Halakazi warriors talking at the mouth of the hole.
“I don’t think those Zulu rats will like this,” someone said, “they’re afraid of the rat-catcher’s stick. It’s great sport,” and someone laughed.
Umslopogaas pushed forward as quickly as possible, holding the dead body on his back, and suddenly came to an open space at the mouth of the hole, in the gloomy shadow of a large boulder.
“By our lovely Lily!” cried one warrior, “there is a third! Here is for you, you Zulu rat!” And he struck the dead man hard with his club. “And here!” cried another, driving his spear through the dead man with such force that the point wounded Umslopogaasi too. “And here! And here! And here!” repeated the others, as they struck and stabbed.
Umslopogaas now made a moaning sound and then lay still. “That’s enough,” said the warrior who had struck first. “That one will never return to Zululand again, and I think few will want to come and see what he has become. Let’s stop this game already. Hurry and get the stones with which we stopped up the hole.”
He turned away like the others, and that was exactly what Umslopogaas had expected. He dropped the body from his back and sprang to his feet. The men heard something and turned, but at the same moment the Weeper flashed, and the man who had sworn by Lily fell to the ground. And before the others had time to think, Umslopogaas was standing on a large boulder like a deer against the sky.
“A Zulu rat is not so easily killed, you flies!” he shouted, as warriors began to swarm towards him from all sides. He struck right and left, and so quickly that he could hardly distinguish the blows, for he only pecked again with the spike of his spear. And though the assailant could hardly see, men fell on every side, my father. Now the enemies had him completely surrounded, trying to roll up the boulders like a torrent rushing against a rock. Blows were aimed at him from all sides, but the Weeper could easily ward off those from the front and sides. The greatest danger threatened from behind. Umslopogaas had already received a wound in his neck, and the spear was already rising to pierce his back, when at the same time the hand that held it went limp forever.
Galazi had rushed to the rescue and was in time. The guard swung wildly and the blows rained down so frequently that Umslopogaas’ back was soon free. The veiks were flailing and raging like evil spirits, and in a moment tufts of axe-folk warriors began to appear from the opening, one after another, and rested arms were mixed with the din of battle. The men appeared quickly like ghosts, plunging into the fight as others plunge into water—now there were ten of them, now twenty—and the Halakaz turned to flee, for resistance was of no avail. The rest of the warriors of the valiant man crawled in peace, and the evening was already beginning to fall before all were inside.
V.
NADA.
Umslopogaas inspected his men, and then said:
“It’s already very dark, but we must drive those rabbits out of their hiding places. You know their holes and you know the roads, Galazi, you take my place and lead us.”
Galazi obeyed the command and turned left, and came to a wide clearing with a well in the middle, full of cattle. After a while he turned left again, and now came to the mouth of a large cave, which was quite dark, but nearby was a large pile of dry sticks from which torches could be made.
“There is light for us there,” said Galazi, pointing to the pile, and every other man snatched a torch into his hand, which they lit from a nearby blazing fire. Then they charged in, torches brandished and spears raised. The Halakaz struck back for the last time, and soon a fierce battle raged in the cave, which did not last long, however, for the enemy’s courage had gone. Wow! I do not know how many of the enemy were killed in that battle, but there were many. After the Umslopogaas campaign, only the name of the Halakaz tribe remained—so utterly were they defeated. The warriors of the Axe People drove the enemy from the cave to the open place where the cattle had been driven, and there, among the animals, the battle finally stopped.
Umslopogaas saw a group of men huddled together in a corner of the cave as if to protect something. He charged forward, Galaz and the others following, and as the group dispersed, he saw a tall, slender man leaning against the rock wall, holding a shield before his face.
“Poor coward!” he roared and struck. The spear pierced the shield, but did not hit the head behind it, but struck the rock with a flash, so that sparks flew. At the same time a sweet voice said:
“Ah, don’t kill me, warrior! Why are you angry with me?”
The shield had caught the blade of the scythe and slipped from the keeper’s hand, but there was something in the tone of the voice that seemed to prevent Umslopogaas from striking again; it was as if the tone of that voice had awakened some childhood memory in his heart. The torch burned dimly, but he held it forward in order to examine more closely the man who was pressed against that wall. The suit was that of a man, but that body was not that of a man, but rather that of a young, beautiful woman, almost white in color. The hands that covered her face slowly fell away, and now Umslopogaas could see her clearly. The eyes were bright as stars, the curly hair waved down to her shoulders, and the girl’s whole being was so beautiful and charming that no other had ever been seen among our people. And just as that chord of voice had brought back to Umslopogaas a memory of something he had long since lost, so those radiant eyes seemed to look at him through the darkness of years, and that beauty brought back to him, he himself did not quite know what.
He looked at the girl standing there in all her beauty, and she stared at the strong, blood-red, terrible-looking warrior. They looked at each other for a long time, the flickering flame of the torch illuminating them, the cave wall, and the Weeper’s broad blade as the battle raged around them.
“What is your name, you who are so beautiful to look at?” asked Umslopogaas at last.
“Lilyflower is my name now, but I used to have another name. I was once Nada, daughter of Mopo, but both the name and all I loved are dead, and I will go to them. Kill me and end my pain. I close my eyes so I won’t see the flash of your great killer.”
Umslopogaas looked at him again and the Weeping Man let go of his hand.
“Look at me, daughter of Nada Mopo,” he said in a low voice, “and tell me who I am.”
The girl looked and bent forward eagerly and looked again. The features of her face stiffened, and there was an indescribable astonishment on them. “Through my heart,” she cried, “you are Umslopogaas, my brother who is dead and whom I have only loved in death and in life.”
Umslopogaas pressed her to his chest and kissed her, the sister he had found again after many years, and Nada kissed him.
“Now you kiss me,” said Nada, “and just now your sword cut off a lock of my hair, straying only a finger’s breadth from my head—and the noise of the battle still echoes in my ears! I make a request of you, my brother, only one request: give me a break in the killing, when we have found each other again. The Halakazi are defeated, which is only right for them, for they killed those with whom I was before in the same way. However, they have treated me well, not forcing me to marry and protecting me from Dingaan, so spare them, my brother, if you can.”
Umslopogaas turned and shouted in a resounding voice that the slaughter should cease, and the following order was hastily sent to all sides: “The fighting was to cease immediately, and whoever thereafter raised a hand against any Halakazi would pay with his life for his disobedience.” The warriors obeyed, although the order was given a little too late, and the remaining Halakazi were allowed to be in peace and flee wherever they wished, except for some of the women and children, who it had been decided to take with them as prisoners. And the Halakazi hastened far away that night, never to unite again into one tribe, for they feared the Wolf-Galaz, who would become their leader. They scattered into the open world among the strangers.
When the warriors had eaten their fill of the Halakazi stores, and the cattle had been rounded up and the guards posted to guard against any surprises, Umslopogaas talked for a long time alone with Nada Lilja, telling her all her fate. Nada also told her story, which you already know, my father, how she had lived with her mother in a small village that paid tribute to the Halakazi, and how the fame of her beauty had spread everywhere. She described how the Halakazi had claimed her and finally robbed her by force of arms, when the village was destroyed and the inhabitants were killed, including her mother. From that time on she had been with the Halakazi, who had given her the name Lilja and who had always treated her well and respectfully because of her beauty, without forcing her to marry.
“And why don’t you want to get married, my sister Nada?” asked Umslopogaas.
“I’ve been married for a long time.”
“I don’t know,” Nada replied, looking at the ground. “I don’t feel like it.
I want to be alone.”
“Do you know, Nada,” said Umslopogaas after a moment, “why I went on this expedition, and why the Halakazi have been destroyed and scattered, and their cattle my booty? I will tell you this: I had heard a rumor about a girl named Lilja, the loveliest of women, and I came to seek her as a wife for Dingaan. By getting you into my possession I wanted to make peace with Dingaan, and now I have carried out my plan.”
Hearing this, Nada began to tremble and burst into tears. She fell to the ground and embraced Umslopogaas’ knees, praying movingly: “Oh, do not treat me so cruelly, your own sister. Take your dagger and kill me, put an end to my beauty, which has caused so much harm, most of all to myself! I wish I had not moved my head behind the shield, but had let the dagger shake with full force. I am dressed as a man, so that I could have died like a man. Ah! May my feminine weakness be cursed, which saved me from dying in shame!”
So he prayed to Umslopogaas in a voice that was touchingly sweet, and
Umslopogaas’s heart trembled, although he did not intend to hand over Nada
to Dingaan, as Baleka had been given to Chaka, perhaps to suffer
Baleka’s fate in the end.
“There are many, Nada,” I said, “who think it would be no misfortune to become the wife of the first of the chiefs.”
“My case is different,” replied Nada. “No, I will die first; I will kill myself with my own hand, if necessary.”
Umslopogaas wondered greatly why Nada had such thoughts about marriage, but did not express his thoughts in a word, but only said: “Tell me then, Nada, how am I to get through this? I must go to Dingaan as I promised my father Mopo, and what shall I say when Dingaan inquires about the Lily, which I went to pick and which his heart desires? What shall I say to ward off Dingaan’s wrath and save my life?”
“Tell me this, my brother,” replied Nada, after a moment’s thought: “Tell me that Lilja, who was dressed as a warrior, was mistakenly killed in battle. None of your men know that you have found me; you see, in the moment of their victory they have other things to think about than girls. My plan is this: we will now go searching by starlight until we find the body of some beautiful girl, for in the heat of battle women were undoubtedly killed too, and we will dress her in warrior’s clothes and drag her near one of your fallen warriors. In the morning, when it is light, you will show the body, which we will hide in some dark crypt, passing by your chief and telling him that there lies Lilja, whom one of your warriors struck to death. Then you will throw the man down in a rage beside the girl. The sight will not arouse any greater interest among all the fallen, and if by chance they should examine the girl “If you had come closer, they would have thought that death had already spoiled the beauty of the features. Thus many eyewitnesses can confirm your account and Dingaan will believe your word.”
“But what will happen then, Nada,” asked Umslopogaas, “when my men see you among the prisoners and recognize you for your beauty? Are there then two Lilias like you in this country?”
“I am not known, for I am not seen among others, Umslopogaas. You must get me out of here tonight. I will dress as a young man and wrap myself in a blanket, and if we meet anyone, who can say that I am Lilja?”
“And where are you going, Nada? To die? Then, after meeting each other after years, must we part again forever?”
“Where did you say you live now, my brother? At the foot of a certain Ghost Mountain, known for its peak being shaped like an old woman, huh? Tell me the way there.”
Umslopogaas explained the way carefully and Nada listened in silence.
“Very well,” said he. “I am strong and my legs are swift; perhaps they will carry me that far, and if I can get into the shadow of that mountain, perhaps you will find some hut there where you can hide me, Umslopogaas my brother.”
“Certainly, my sister,” answered Umslopogaas. “The road is long, and many dangers lie in wait for a girl wandering alone, without food or shelter,” and as she spoke she thought of Zinita, for she guessed that she would not love Nada, even though Nada was only her sister.
“However, the journey must be walked and the dangers overcome,” Nada replied with a smile. “Unfortunately, there is no other way.”
Umslopogaas called Wolf-Galazi to him and told him everything, for Galazi was the only one he trusted without hesitation. Galazi listened in silence, and gazed in wonder at Nada’s charming beauty in the dim light of the stars. When all was told, he only said that he did not wonder at all why the Halakazi had defied Dingaan and brought about their own destruction. For his part, however, he was not satisfied with the situation, for death was not yet satisfied; its star shone right before them, and he pointed to Nada.
Nada trembled at the ominous words, and Umslopogaas was indignant, but Galazi did not retract his words. “I have spoken what my heart says,” he replied.
Then they set out to find a body that would be suitable for the purpose, and soon they found what they were looking for, a slender and beautiful girl, whom Galazi carried into a large cave. There were now only the dead, who were resting quietly, at most sleeping.
“They are sleeping peacefully,” said Nada, looking at the fallen, “it is so sweet to be able to rest.”
“We’ll soon experience that too, girl,” Galazi growled, and Nada shivered again.
The dead girl was then dressed in warrior’s clothes and carried to the darkest corner of the cave. A spear and shield were placed beside her, and a fallen warrior of the axe-folk was dragged close by. Umslopogaas and Galazi now set out, supposedly to inspect the guards, going from place to place, Nada following them as a guard. She had a spear and shield with which she shaded her face, and on her back a small bag containing flour and dried meat.
At last they came to the opening through which the cattle had been driven in. The stones had been cleared away, so that those Halakazi, spared at Nada’s request, had been able to escape in peace and unhindered, but now the passage had to be manned in case of surprise. Umslopogaas shouted to the guard warriors who greeted him, but he noticed that the men were so tired that it hardly mattered what he said to them, or what they saw. He went ahead and soon they were on the plain beyond the opening.
Umslopogaas and Nada said goodbye to each other while Galazi stood at a distance, and when Umslopogaas returned a moment later, Galazi noticed that he was sad and gloomy-looking. Galazi looked out over the desert and saw Nada disappearing into the night as quickly as a swallow.
“I don’t know when we’ll meet again,” said Umslopogaas after Nada disappeared into the darkness.
“I wish you would never see each other again,” Galazi replied. “I am sure your sister would cause far greater carnage than her beauty has now wrought, if you ever met. She is a Death Star that will turn the sky red when she appears.”
Umslopogaas did not answer, but slowly stepped through the opening.
“How can this be understood?” said the watchman. “Three went out, but only two returned.”
“Shut up!” snarled Umslopogaas. “Are you drunk on the beer of the Halakaz, or are you blind or asleep? Two went and two came. I returned the warrior who was with us to the camp!”
“So be it, father,” replied the warrior. “Two went and two came. All is well!”
VI.
ACID TEST.
In the morning the warriors awoke refreshed by sleep, and when breakfast was eaten, Umslopogaas reviewed the troops. Nearly half the men who had seen the sun rise yesterday were asleep. Umslopogaas went from line to line, giving thanks for a job well done, which had brought fame and honor to its creator and valuable booty. The warriors struck up a song in honor of both chiefs, which rolled majestically across the field, and when the song had died down, Umslopogaas spoke again. The victory was great and glorious, he said, and the number of cattle taken as booty immense, but something was missing—the girl whom he had come to bring as a gift to Dingaan and for whom this war had been started. Where had Lily-flower become? The prisoners said that she had been seen yesterday among the others in man’s clothing and with a shield in her hand—where had she disappeared to now?
All the warriors said that no one had seen her. Then Galazi stepped forward and spoke as they had previously agreed with Umslopogaas. When they had rushed into the cave, one of his men had attacked an enemy warrior to kill him, but just as the spear was raised to strike, that enemy warrior had dropped his shield and begged for mercy, and Galazi had seen that he was not a man, but a young and beautiful girl. Galazi had shouted to the warrior to leave the girl alone, for it was strictly forbidden to kill women, but that warrior, intoxicated by bloodshed and triumph, had roared back that man or woman, it did not matter, everyone must die, and had killed the girl. Then Galazi had raised his club in a rage and struck the man dead, and now asked for forgiveness if he had done wrong.
“You did quite right, my brother,” said Umslopogaas. “Let us go and see that girl. Perhaps she is Lily Flower, and it is unfortunate if so, for I truly do not know how to explain it to Dingaan.”
A group of chiefs followed Umslopogaas and Galaz to the place where the girl and a fallen axeman had been carried during the night.
“Everything seems to be as my brother Galazi has told us,” said Umslopogaas, waving his torch above the bodies. “This is undoubtedly the Lily Flower, for whom we set out on this expedition, and that over there is the madman who killed himself whom Galazi mentioned. An unhappy place! How will this be explained to Dingaan? But what can it matter; the girl who was the most beautiful of the beautiful is no longer worth looking at. Let us go!” And he turned, saying as he went:
“Wrap the girl in an ox-hide and cover her with salt; we will take her with us!” And so they did.
“It seems so sad, father,” the chiefs now intervened, “but what can be done, what is done cannot be undone, and Dingaan must be without his bride.” The man who had been the chief of the guard when Umslopogaas, Galazi, and a third had passed through the archway, said not a word, but he had his own thoughts on the matter, for it had seemed to him that there were three rather than two. He had also fancied that the third was a young, beautiful girl, for by this time he had seen a charming face behind the shield and the glint of a woman’s eye, an eye that was large and dark, resembling a monster’s. He also noted that Bulalio had not called any of the prisoners to see if the body was that of the Lily girl, and that Bulalio had waved a torch here and there as he looked at the bodies—Bulalio, whose hand was always the most serious of all. The man carefully recorded all these facts, forgetting nothing.
On the way home, my father, it happened that Umslopogaas was very cruel to that same man because he had tried to usurp a share of the spoils of one of his comrades. The man was humiliated and lost his share of the spoils, which is why, although the sentence had been absolutely correct, he began to think more and more about that third person who had gone through the archway without returning and who had seemed to him like a young, beautiful woman. The eyes had also been so feminine.
Umslopogaas had decided to march directly to the king’s address at Umgugunhdlovu, but before he set out, he asked Wolf-Galazi, in the hearing of the warriors, whether he would come with him, or whether he wished to remain chief of the Halakaze, which was his birthright. Galazi replied with a laugh that he had not set out on the expedition to seek chieftainship, but for revenge. There were so few Halakaze left that being their chief meant little. And besides, he added, they, he and Umslopogaas, had grown together like two trees whose roots were intertwined, and he feared that if one were pulled up and planted in the soil of Swaziland, both would wither; at least he, Galazi, would wither, who loved only one man and some wolves.
Umslopogaas said no more about the chieftainship of Galazi, but gave the signal to set out. He had with him a large herd of cattle and many prisoners, young women and children, as presents for Dingaan, whose favor he wished to gain and whose heart he hoped to appease, when he did not bring what Dingaan desired—the Lily, the flower of flowers. But being a cautious man, who did not trust much in the kindness of kings, Umslopogaas, when he reached the border of Zululand, sent the best part of the cattle and the most beautiful girls and children to the care of the axe people, at Ghost Mountain. And this too the former chieftain and now ordinary warrior took to heart.
I sat and waited one morning for the king at Umgugundhlovu, I waited, though Dingaan had not spoken a word to me since yesterday, either good or bad, when I had told him that the blood of the white men he had murdered would be the flower of his own death. For the matter was thus, my father, that Umslopogaas arrived at Umgugundhlovu the morning after the murder of the Amaboonai.
Dingaan was very gloomy and tried to find some amusement. It suddenly occurred to him that a white man had come to the city who wanted to teach us Zulus to worship other gods than the Assegai and the king. The stranger was otherwise a good and decent man, but his teachings, which were very difficult to understand, did not succeed very well. The leaders did not like his teachings, because they seemed to want to make lords lords and kings kings, and to demand peace from those whose feet were made for the path of war. Dingaan called the man to him to argue with him, for Dingaan thought him the most brilliant of geniuses.
The white man came, but was very pale at seeing what had happened to the Boers, for he was of a gentle disposition and hated such acts and sights. The king asked him to sit down and said:
“You once told me, O white man, of a fiery furnace into which all those who have practiced injustice in their lives are cast. Now tell me in your great wisdom, are my fathers in that place?”
“How should I know, O king,” replied the man, “for I cannot judge the deeds of men! I only know this: all those who murder, rob, oppress the innocent, and bear false witness will go to that fiery furnace.”
“I think my fathers have done all that,” answered Dingaan, “and if they are in that place now, I want to go there too, for I want to be with my father to the end. However, I think I will find a way to get out of that place of pain, if I ever get there.”
“How then, O king?”
Dingaan had prepared such a trap for his guest. In the middle of the large open space where the Boers had been attacked, an immense fire of dry brushwood had been built, on top of which was a huge pile of sturdy, dry logs. The fire contained perhaps sixty full loads of firewood.
“You will soon see it with your own eyes,” replied Dingaan, and ordering a fire to be lit, he summoned the regiment of young men who had been left in the city,—the same that had murdered the Boers. There were perhaps about fifteen hundred men in it.
The fire soon burned in a conflagration that grew more intense every moment, so that when the regiment arrived on the scene a huge, uniform flame rose to the height of the hummingbirds, and although we were sitting relatively far away, the heat was almost unbearable, as the wind turned towards us.
“Well, prayer man, is your oven hotter than that?” said the king.
The man replied that he didn’t know, but it was definitely hot.
“I’ll show you how I can get out of there, if I ever get there, even if the fire is ten times bigger and hotter than this. Hey, children!” he shouted, turning to the warriors and jumping up, “you see that pyre. Attack and stomp the fire out. Let only ashes and black coals remain in the place of the flames!”
The white man raised his hands and begged the king to revoke the order that would send so many to their deaths, but the king told him to be silent! Then the man looked up to heaven and prayed to his gods. For a moment the warriors looked at each other in complete bewilderment, for the flames were raging, shooting up high and making the air tremble with heat.
But the regimental commander shouted in a resounding voice: “Hear and fulfill the order with which the king honors us! Great is the king! Yesterday we destroyed the Amaboons, which was nothing, for they were unarmed, but there is an adversary who is our equal. Come, my children, let us bathe in the fire, we who are hotter than fire! Great is our king who honors us!”
He rushed forward, and the warriors followed behind, cheering until the air trembled. Courage was not wanting, and besides, all knew that death awaited those who remained behind, and it was better to die with honor than with shame. Onward they rushed, led by their chief, as joyful as if rushing into battle, and singing Ingomo, the Zulu war song. The chief was already quite close to the flames, and we saw him raise his shield for protection; then he disappeared—jumped straight into the fire, and no one can say whether anything was left of him.
The first company followed immediately after him. The warriors rushed into the fire, beating the flames with their ox-skin shields, trampling them with their bare feet, and throwing burning logs here and there. Not a single one of them was left alive, my father; they fell to the ground like a butterfly to a candle flame, and where they fell, there they perished. But new ones came to replace them, company after company attacked the flames, and in this battle it was the good fortune of those who had to fight the enemy last. The thick smoke, which thickened with its thickening, finally enveloped the pyre in its veil, the flames sank lower and lower, and creatures burned to a white and blinding white, began to appear from the smoke on the other side of the pyre, falling here and there. Others followed behind, the flames were no longer visible, only thick smoke, from the midst of which dark moving creatures were dimly visible. The work was done, my father; they had overcome the fire, and the last seven companies had escaped the flames almost unscathed, though every warrior had walked across the pyre. How many men were destroyed? I do not know, for they were never counted, but the number of men in that regiment was reduced by at least half, including the wounded, and remained so for a long time, until the king replenished it again.
“There you see, prayer magician,” said Dingaan, laughing. “That is how I intend to deal with the furnace you speak of, if there is one; I will order my warriors to put out the fire.”
Then the prayer man left us, saying that he no longer wished to impose his doctrine on the Zulus, and later I heard that he had left the country forever. After he had gone, the remains of the bonfire were cleared away and the dead removed, the injured were treated or killed, depending on the nature of the injury, and the injured even appeared before the king, shouting words of praise.
“You will have new shields and new crests, my children,” said Dingaan, for the shields were blackened and wrinkled, and only a few had hair and crests left.
“Wow!” continued Dingaan, looking at the surviving warriors, “shaving must be very cheap in that place the white man mentioned.”
Then he ordered beer to be brought to the men, for the heat had caused a burning thirst.
I have told this incident, my father, because it also belongs in a way to my story, although you may not guess it. The king had hardly given the order for the ale to be served, when a messenger came to announce that the chief of the axe people, who had returned from his campaign against the Halakaz, was waiting with his warriors outside the gates, carrying a great deal of booty. When I heard this, my heart leaped for joy, for I had been greatly afraid for my foster son. Dingaan also rejoiced and jumped up, dancing like a little child.
“Well, we finally have some good news,” he said, completely forgetting the recent ordeal. “Finally I get to see that Lily I’ve been missing for so long. Tell Bulalio to come to me with his men right away.”
A moment of silence followed. Then singing began to be heard from far away behind the high fence, and two burly men rushed in through the gate. Both had wolf fur on their shoulders and a black plume on their heads, and one carried a large mace in his hand and the other a club. They ran with their heads down and their shields outstretched, like deer being fiercely pursued by a dog, and Umgugundhlovu had never seen such a speed as the Wolf-Wolfs. When they reached the middle of the field they stopped suddenly, so that the ashes of the recent bonfire flew up in a small swirl into the air.
“By my head! behold, they come before me armed,” said Dingaan, frowning, “and it is forbidden on pain of death. Who is that fearsomely large man who now raises his scythe? If I did not know that my brother the great Elephant was dead, I could almost swear that it was he from the days when he defeated Zwide. That was his body, and that was how he turned his head, looking around like a lion.”
“I think he is Bulalio, chief of the axe people, O king,” I replied.
“And the other one? He’s a big man too. I’ve never seen a couple like that!”
“I’m almost certain that it’s Wolf-Galazi, Bulalio’s blood brother and closest man,” I answered again.
Behind them came the axemen, armed now only with short sticks. They came in ranks of four, heads bowed and black shields held out, forming a line behind the Wolf-men until all were in. The Halakazi prisoners were brought in last—a great crowd of women, boys, and girls, huddled behind the warriors like a herd of frightened calves.
“A handsome sight indeed,” said Dingaan, as he looked at that fierce band of black-shielded and black-crested warriors. “I have no braver men in my regiments, and yet I see these only now for the first time,” and he frowned again.
Umslopogaas suddenly raised his spear and broke into a full run, his company after him. They came right up to the mounds, bent backward by the draught, until I thought they intended to trample us to death, but when they were within ten paces of the king Umslopogaas again raised the Weeper and the Galazi Guard, and everyone stopped in their places, breathing in the dust. The warriors had stood in long, closed ranks, their heads down and their shields held out. After standing thus for about a minute, Umslopogaas raised the Weeper a third time, and every man sprang to his toes, thrusting his shield high into the air, and every throat resounded: ” Bayéte !”
“A handsome sight, a handsome sight,” said Dingaan again, “but these warriors, who have not done me or my predecessor, the great Elephant, the slightest service, are too well trained, and that Bulalio is, I say, too capable a chief. Come here, you two!” he then cried.
The wolf-guys stepped forward right in front of the king, who looked at them for a moment without blinking, while both of them looked back just as sternly.
VII.
THE SURRENDER OF THE LILJA.
“What are your names?” asked Dingaan.
“Bulalio the Slayer and the Wolf-Galazi, O king,” replied Umslopogaas.
“So you once sent greetings to the great Elephant, who is dead, Bulalio?”‘
“Exactly, O king. I sent greetings, but as far as I have heard, my messenger Masilo did more than my greetings contained, for he murdered the great Elephant. That Masilo was a very wicked-hearted man.”
Dingaan was a little startled, for he knew the truth of the matter very well, having been present at the deed himself, but he thought that the chief, who had come from distant regions, had heard nothing of the sort, and therefore he did not say any more about the greetings.
“How dare you come before me armed? Don’t you know that it is forbidden under penalty of death?”
“No, O King,” replied Umslopogaas. “Let it be said, however, that this scepter alone, and none else, entitles me to rule over my people. If I am seen without this, any who can may usurp my place, for this scepter is the queen of the axe-people, and its ruler is its servant.”
“A strange thing,” said Dingaan, “but so be it. And you, Wolf, how is your weapon?”
“This mace is my bodyguard, O king,” answered Galazi. “If I am seen without this mace, let anyone who is able take my life, for this mace is my bodyguard and I not its.”
“You have never been nearer to losing both your club and your life,” said Dingaan fiercely.
“It may be so, O King,” replied Galazi. “When the time has come, the Watcher will doubtless cease his watch.”
“You are a strange pair,” said Dingaan. “Where have you been, and what business do you have here in the city of Elephant?”
“We come from afar, O king!” replied Umslopogaas. “We have wandered a long way in search of a certain flower for a certain king, on which journey we trod a garden in the Swazi country, the keepers of which are yonder”—he pointed to the band of prisoners—”and where the cattle that have been grazed are before your gates.”
“Okay, Bulalio! I see the gardeners and I hear the cattle shooting, but where is that flower? Where is the flower you went to look for in the soil of Swaziland? Was the flower you were looking for perhaps a lily?”
“That was it — it was a Lily, oh king, and now that Lily flower has unfortunately withered, oh king! All that remains is the stem, withered and yellowed too, like a human skeleton.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Dingaan, jumping up.
“The king will soon see that,” replied Umslopogaas, turning to his chiefs standing behind him, to whom he said a few words. The ranks parted, and four warriors stepped forward, carrying on their shoulders a stretcher on which rested some object wrapped in raw ox hides. The warriors saluted and laid their burdens before the king.
“Open!” ordered Umslopogaas. The skins were rolled open and the body of a young girl covered in salt was revealed, a girl who had once been beautiful and sweet.
“There is the stem of the Lily Flower, O King,” said Umslopogaas, pointing to his slender body, “the flower has withered after its time of blooming.”
Dingaan stared ahead and deep bitterness took hold of his mind, for he had hoped for nothing so fervently and passionately as to have Lilja as his own.
“Take the carcass away and throw it to the dogs!” he shouted. “I must! I want to know at once how the girl was killed, for which crime I will hold you accountable, Bulalio. Weigh your words carefully and answer well, for now your life depends on your answer.”
Umslopogaas told the story he had made up, which you know, my father, and when he had finished, Galazi stepped forward and told what he knew of the incident, how he had seen one of his warriors strike the girl to death, which warrior he had then struck to death himself in a fit of anger. And some of the chiefs who had seen both the girl and the warrior testified that Umslopogaas and Galazi had spoken the truth.
Dingaan was very angry, but what was done could not be undone. Lilja was dead and the only culprit had already paid for his deed with his life, and was therefore beyond Dingaan’s reach.
“Depart hence, both of you,” said he to the Wolf-Wolfs, “and take your warriors with you. I will take the cattle and the prisoners. And be very grateful that I spare your miserable lives, for you have behaved very unbecomingly. You went forth upon the warpath without my permission, with the result that the girl whom my heart so earnestly longed for was slain. You brought me her body, but not her life.”
When the king said he would spare their lives, Umslopogaas smiled cruelly, looking at his warriors. Then he saluted the king and turned to go. But at that moment a warrior ran from the ranks before Dingaan and cried:
“Will the king allow me to tell the king the truth, and then may I rest under the king’s protection?”
The warrior was the same one who had been the chief of guard that night when three people went through the archway and only two returned, the same man whom Umslopogaas had then demoted to a common warrior.
“Speak and be safe,” replied Dingaan.
“O king,” said the warrior, “your ears are filled with lies. On the night that the Halakazi were defeated, I was the chief of the guard at the gate of their cave fortifications. The night was still and starry, and I was already beginning to tire after the exertions of the day, when at once I heard footsteps and three figures appeared at the gate—Bulalio, Wolf-Galazi, and a third, who was tall and slender and carried his shield high—like this. They passed me quickly, but the cloak of that third brushed me, pushing me a little to the side, and under the cloak was not the breast of a man, O king, but of a woman—a woman who was almost white in color and very lovely. And as he pulled the cloak into place, that third moved his shield. Behind the shield was not the face of a man, O king, but of a girl—a girl who was more beautiful than the moon and whose eyes were brighter than the stars. Three went out of the gate, but only two returned, O king, and As I peered after them, it seemed to me that the third one was hurrying quickly to the plain visible outside, running as girls run. When I asked the elephant Bulalio, the chief of the guard, what had happened to the third one, Bulalio replied that there had only been two of them. Moreover, none of the prisoners had been ordered to say who the dead girl was, which was now too late, and the warrior who had been lying dead beside the girl had not been killed by Galazi’s club. He had been killed outside the cave by a halakazi. I saw him fall with my own eyes, and I even killed his killer. And one more thing, O you lord of the world, the most valuable prisoners and the best cattle are not here, but in the great village of Bulalio, the chief of the axe people. I have spoken, O king, because my heart cannot bear a lie. I have told you the truth, O king, so that you may now protect me from the fury of those Wolf-folk, for “They feel no pity.”
While the traitor was speaking, Umslopogaas had moved, inch by inch, almost imperceptibly, closer and closer, until he could have reached the man with his spear. No one noticed this except me and perhaps Galazik, for all were staring at Dingaan’s face as at an approaching storm cloud.
“Fear not, warrior,” Dingaan hissed, rolling his eyes; “the lion’s paw protects you, my servant.”
The king had not yet finished his words when Umslopogaas sprang upon the traitor without uttering a sound. It was a terrible sight to see Umslopogaas’s gaze as he struck the man with his bare hands, twisting his necks with his terrible strength in the blink of an eye, as a child bends a whip. It all happened so quickly that I did not have time to see what exactly happened — I only heard a vicious crash, and the man’s lifeless body flew in a high arc to Dingan’s feet, while Umslopogaas cried out in an echoing voice:
“There is your servant, O king! Surely he may now rest in your protection!”
The words were followed by a deep silence, for everyone was completely stunned with fear and amazement. Something unprecedented had happened.
“Kill him!” Dingaan finally shouted, shaking with rage. “Kill that dog and all his companions!”
“Now then, the game begins, which I also know,” replied Umslopogaas. “Hey, you warriors of the axe people! Are you going to let those marked rats kill you?” and he pointed at the Weeper to the warriors who had survived the pyre, but whose faces had been scorched by the fire.
An uncontrollable roar of laughter echoed from the ranks, followed by a thunderous shout:
“Not at all, Bulalio!”
The warriors turned towards their enemies, and the clang of shields could be heard from everywhere.
Umslopogaas was with his men, and the king’s warriors rushed forward to fulfill the king’s command. But then Wolf-Galazi rushed before the king and roared, swinging his club high:
“Stop!”
The cry was followed by a deathly silence, for all saw that Dingaan’s head was now in the dark and threatening shadow of the Watcher.
“It is quite useless to sacrifice so many men to death, when one will suffice,” cried Galazi again. “If I see even a flash of the spear, the Watcher will fall where its shadow now lies, and behold! there is one king less in the world. One word, king!”
Dingaan looked at the burly man standing before him and felt the cool shadow of the club on his forehead. He began to tremble—but now with fear and terror. “Go in peace!” he said.
“Well said, King,” said Galazi, grimacing, and slowly retreated to his men, exclaiming: “Praised be the King! The King orders his children to depart in peace!”
But when Dingaan felt the shadow of death pass from his brow, he was about to give the order to his warriors to attack the strangers in a rage, and it was only with great difficulty that I was able to restrain him.
“You will pronounce your own death sentence if you give the order to attack, O King,” I said. “Bulalio will crush with his heel such men as you have at your disposal now, and the Guard will turn to look at you once more.”
Dingaan understood this and controlled himself, for there were no other regiments in the city than the one scorched by the fire. The others had been sent to Natal to massacre the Boers. But he had to get blood, and he turned to me, roaring:
“You are a wretched traitor, Mopo, which I have known for a long time, and I will do to you what that dog did to his servant just now!” And he struck at me with his spear.
But I guessed his intention and dodged the blow by jumping high into the air. Then I turned and fled quickly, a few warriors hurrying after me. The last companies of the Axe People were still close by and noticed my arrival, so that Umslopogaas, who was the last to go, immediately rushed to meet me, whereupon my pursuers stopped, not daring to come within reach of the slayer.
“I have no place here with the king, my son,” I said to Umslopogaas.
“Don’t be afraid, my father, I will find a place for you,” replied
Umslopogaas.
I shouted to the warriors who had pursued me the following greetings to be taken to the king:
“Tell the king that he did very wrong in driving me away, for I, Mopo, helped him to the throne and only I can keep him there. Tell him also that he will do even worse if he goes after me, for the day we meet again will be the day of his death. So says Mopo, the inyanga , the Mopo seer, who has never foretold wrongly.”
We set off and when I returned to Umgugundhlovu, I came to burn everything that Dingaan had left unburned, and the next time I saw Dingaan, well — ah, I’ll tell you about that later.
No one prevented our departure, and after we had walked a short distance,
Umslopogaas stopped and said:
“I wish I could go back to where we came from and kill that Dingaan before he kills me.”
“It is better, however, to leave a frightened lion alone in his den, my son,” said I, “for a lion when harassed is very dangerous. You may be sure that all in Umgugundhlovu are now armed, both young and old, and though Dingaan was afraid a moment ago, he will strike for his life now. You did not kill him when you could have done so, and now the opportunity is gone.”
“That’s sensible,” said Galazi. “I wish I had let
the Guardian fall where its shadow fell.”
“So what is your advice now, father?” asked Umslopogaas.
“This: you two will gather your people and your cattle and leave the shadow of the Ghost Mountain and penetrate north, following the tracks of Mosilikatze the Lion, who moved out of Chaka’s way. There you will rule together or separately, without needing to dream of Dingaan.”
“It’s no use, father,” replied Umslopogaas. “I want to stay at Ghost Mountain as long as I can.”
“So do I,” said Galazi, “and I would rather be right among the rocks. What! Should my wolves hunt alone? Should I let Graysnout, White Fang, Blood Drinker, and Death call me their companions in vain?”
“So be it, children. You are young and do not care for the advice of an elder. So let us throw everything at the mercy of permission.”
I said so, for I did not know why Umslopogaas would not leave his hut. The reason was that he had ordered Nada to hurry there to wait for him.
Later, after meeting Nada, he would have gladly left, but by then the sky was clear and cloudless again; the clouds that foretold a storm had dispersed for a while.
Oh, if Umslopogaas had followed my advice! He would now reign as king, without having to wander like a ghost in foreign lands, I know not where; and Nada would live and the axe people would still exist.
When Dingaan received my greetings, he was greatly frightened, for he knew that I never lied.
He restrained his hand for a moment and did not send an army to destroy Umslopogaas, for it might happen, as I had predicted, that it would be his death. And before his fear had passed, Dingaan was busy with the Amaboonai, who, enraged by the murders, had begun a war against him. He needed all his warriors for that war, and could not even think of a revenge expedition against some insignificant chief living far to the north.
However, he was extremely horrified by what had happened, and, as was his custom, murdered a large number of innocent people to satisfy his thirst for revenge.
VIII.
UMSLOPOGAAS WILL FIND OUT WHO HE IS.
Along the way, Umslopogaas told everything worth telling about his military expedition, and how he had found Nada.
When I heard that my daughter Nada was still alive, I wept with joy, but I was also filled with fear and doubt, like Umslopogaas, for the journey from Swaziland to the Ghost Mountain is a long one for a lonely and insecure girl to make. I had not yet mentioned anything to Umslopogaas about her lineage, for on the journey we were seldom alone, and even the trees have ears, and the wind, which had heard our whispers, might have whispered the same words into the king’s ear. I knew that the time had come to reveal the secret, for I intended to have Umslopogaas declared the son of Chaka. But all those thoughts fell into vain, because it was so decreed, my father.
If I had known when I killed Chaka that Umslopogaas was still alive, I would probably have carried out my will and Umslopogaas would have become king. Or if Dingaan had gotten Lilja and Umslopogaas had been made a great man, my plans might have been realized. But everything turned out differently. That Lilja girl was none other than Nada, and how could Umslopogaas have given up Nada, my daughter, whom he thought was his sister, to Dingaan against his will? Because of Nada, Umslopogaas and Dingaan were now blood enemies, and for the same reason I too had fallen into disfavor and become a fugitive, whose advice was no longer acceptable to the king.
So everything had to start over, and as I walked with the warriors towards Ghost Mountain, I thought about it often and deeply, without saying anything yet.
Finally, one day, we arrived at the foot of the Ghost Mountain, saw again the stone face of the old witch sitting on the top of that mountain, and that very evening we marched singing to the city of the axe people. But Galazi was no longer with us then; he had run up the mountain to his wolves, and as we passed the mountain, we could already hear from afar the welcome that the wolves were howling to him. As we approached the city, all the women and children, led by Zinita, came to meet us. They came with joy and gladness, but when they heard and saw how many were missing from those who had set out on their journey a month ago, their joy turned to sorrow, and their weeping and lamentations were heard even to heaven.
Umslopogaas greeted Zinita kindly, and yet it seemed to me as if something was missing. Zinita spoke very gently at first, but after hearing all that had happened, her words became harsh and bitter.
“Now, Bulalio,” he said, “do you see what happened when you listened to the chatter of that old rascal who says he is called ‘Mouth’!”—He meant me, my father.—”Yes, he is a mouth, a mouth that gushes nothing but nonsense and lies! What advice did he give you—to go on a campaign against the Halakaz and deliver a girl to Dingaan! And what did you do—you attacked the Halakaz, and with that great slayer of yours you have doubtless murdered many innocent people, and you have left nearly half the warriors of the Axe People to rot in the caves of Swaziland, bringing as compensation a small herd of insignificant and undersized cattle, and a number of girls and children, whom we must now support.
“And that’s not all. You said you were going to fetch a girl for Dingaan, but when you found the girl you let her go because she was, as you said, your sister and didn’t care about Dingaan, as if the king wasn’t good enough for that sister of yours. Then you tried to trick the king to protect your sister, but your trick was discovered, so you killed a man before Dingaan’s eyes and fled, bringing this old madman with you to advise you on all your schemes. You have lost half your men, you have taken a fool as your advisor, and by irritating the king you have made yourself an enemy who will kill us all. Wow! Bulalio! Continue as you have begun, and may your plans always be as ingenious.”
Zinita had a sharp tongue, and I must say that there was some truth in her words. I sat silent and listened patiently to the end, and Umslopogaas was also silent, although he was extremely indignant, for the words came so fiercely and without interruption that no one else could have made his voice heard, no matter how hard he tried.
“Hush, wife!” I said at last. “Don’t speak ill of wise people who had experienced much before you were even born.”
“Don’t speak ill of the man who is my father,” Umslopogaas would snarl. “Yes, this Mouth that you are cursing and scolding is my father Mopo, even though you don’t know it.”
“Then there’s a man among us whose father is more hilarious than usual.
That was the worst news.”
“And before us is a woman whose tongue may be cursed forever,” Umslopogaas growled, jumping up. “Get out of my hut, Zinita, and remember this. If I hear you insult my father again, you may go a little further from your own hut. I will reject you and drive you away from me. My patience is at an end now.”
“I will go,” said Zinita. “A fine treat indeed! I made you chief and now you threaten to abandon me.”
“My hand made me a chief,” said Umslopogaas, pushing Zinita out.
“It’s a pity to have to marry such a scoundrel,” she added, sighing heavily.
“That’s true, Umslopogaas, that’s true, but we men often have to carry such burdens. Take this lesson, my son, and have as little to do with women as possible. At least don’t love them too much, and you’ll be better off in peace.” I said what I was going to say with a smile and I hoped that Umslopogaas had remembered the words, because love for women led Umslopogaas to ruin!
It is a long time since, but just now I heard that Umslopogaas had fled north, a homeless man, because of a woman who had treacherously betrayed him, and had concocted a plot to have Umslopogaas accused of the murder of a man named Lousta, who was Umslopogaas’s blood brother, as Galazi had been. I do not know the details, but I do know that I shall never see Umslopogaas again. He was afflicted with the same weakness as his uncle Dingaan, and that weakness has now brought him to his final ruin.
After we had stopped, we sat in silence for a moment, and I thought I heard a rat crunching through the straw. Then I said:
“Umslopogaas, the time has finally come to reveal to you a secret that I have kept since your birth.”
“Speak, my father,” he said, wonderingly.
I crept to the door and looked out. It was dark outside and I saw or heard nothing, but being a cautious man, I went around the hut. Ah, my father, if you want to tell a secret, do not be so easily convinced. It is not enough to look out and go around your hut. Examine the floor and inspect the roof, and when you have done all that, go somewhere else and only then tell me your story. The woman was right, despite my white hair and all my wisdom, I was a thoughtless fool. If I had not been as foolish as I was, I would have smoked out the rat hiding in the thatch before I opened my mouth. For that rat was Zinita, my father—Zinita, who had climbed up to the roof under cover of darkness and was now lying there with her ear open, listening to every word we said. It was a villainous deed to do so and a most disastrous omen for the doer, but women do not care about honor when they want to know other people’s secrets, neither honor nor omens.
When I saw nothing, I returned to the hut and told everyone exactly, not suspecting that death had been watching us all the time in the form of a woman lying on the roof of the hut. “Listen,” I said, “you are not my son, Umslopogaas, although you have always called me your father. You are the sapling of a more valuable tree.”
“I have always been pleased with your fatherhood,” replied Umslopogaas, “and your lineage is good enough for me. Whose son am I then?”
I leaned forward and whispered, but unfortunately I whispered too loudly: “The Great Elephant, who is dead, was your father. You are the son of Chaka and my sister Baleka.”
“So I am your relative after all, Mopo, which makes me very happy. Wow! Who would have guessed that I am the son of that Silvana , that hyena man? That is perhaps why I love the company of wolves like Galaz, even though I have not the slightest bit of love in my heart for my father or any of his relatives.”
“You have no reason to love him, Umslopogaas, for he murdered your mother and would have murdered you too. But you are Chaka’s son and no one else’s.”
“A man who can distinguish his father from a crowd must have sharp eyes. But the secret you just revealed I have heard before, though I had forgotten it.”
“From whom, Umslopogaas? An hour ago it was known to only one person; all the others who once knew it are dead. Now there are two who know it”—ah, my father, I thought we were alone—”so from whom could you have heard it?”
“From a dead man. Galazi heard it from a dead man who sat in the cave of Ghost Mountain. The dead man had said that Galazi would have as his brother a man named Umslopogaas Bulalio, the son of Chaka, whom the lion would bring to him. Galazi repeated the words exactly to me, but I had forgotten them.”
“It seems as if even the dead know something,” I said. “Look, today your name is Umslopogaas Bulalio and today I proclaim you the son of Chaka. But hear my story.”
I told him everything from his birth, and when I mentioned what Baleka, his mother, had said after hearing my dream, and how heroically he had died, Umslopogaas burst into tears, Umslopogaas, in whose eyes tears were a strange sight. But as my story drew to a close, I noticed that his thoughts were wandering elsewhere, he listened like a man whose mind was weighed down by some heavy burden, and before I had finished he interrupted:
“If I am Chaka and Baleka’s son, then isn’t Nada my sister,
Uncle Mopo?”
“He is your cousin, Umslopogaas.”
“A close relative, then, but that doesn’t mean anything,” and his face brightened. I looked at him questioningly.
“You have become so gloomy, my uncle. My intention is to marry Nada, if she is still alive, for I now realize that I have never loved any woman as I love Nada.” As he spoke I heard another crash from the roof.
“Marry her if you wish, Umslopogaas,” I replied, “but I think one Zinita, your inkosi , will also have a word to say in this matter.”
“Zinita is indeed my first wife, but can she prevent me from taking other wives according to the custom of the country?” replied Umslopogaas angrily, and his irritability told me that he feared Zinita’s anger.
“A good and commendable custom,” said I, “but one that has always caused much strife. Perhaps Zinita will be quite content if she is allowed to continue in her old position and you love her as before. But enough of her. Nada is not with you yet, and perhaps we shall never find her. You see, Umslopogaas, my earnest hope is that you should be the ruler of the Zulu country by right of your birth, and though circumstances and circumstances seem to indicate otherwise, I think I can nevertheless realize my wish.”
“How?” asked Umslopogaas.
“Many great chiefs who are my friends hate Dingaan, and all they need is to know that Chaka has a son who is still alive. Then that son could suddenly rise on their shoulders to his father’s throne. The warriors also love the name of Chaka, for Chaka was brave and generous, though he was cruel. Dingaan they hate, for his burdens are Chaka’s burdens, but his gifts are Dingaan’s gifts, and Chaka’s son would be welcomed with joy if they were sure of it. That is the problem, for I am the only one who can prove who you are. But I will try.”
“Yes, you may try. Perhaps it will be worth it and perhaps not, uncle,” replied Umslopogaas. “But I would rather see Nada with me tonight than hear all the chiefs of the land shouting, ‘Hail, king!'”
“You think otherwise, Umslopogaas. Now we must send spies to Umgugundhlovu at once to find out what Dingaan intends, so that he cannot suddenly rush upon us. Perhaps he will not have to think of us, for those Amaboonas have threatened to avenge the cruel death of their tribesmen, and are responding with bullets to Dingaan’s spears. And remember this: do not mention a word of your origin to anyone, least of all to your wife Zinita or the other women.”
“Don’t be afraid of that. I can keep quiet.” Umslopogaas left after a moment and went to Zinita’s hut, where Zinita was resting, wrapped in her blankets, and appeared to be sleeping.
“Welcome, my man,” she said sleepily, as if waking from a dream. “I have had a strange dream about you. You were called king, and all the regiments of Zululand passed you shouting: Bayéte !”
Umslopogaas looked at him searchingly, wondering whether Zinita had heard anything of the recent conversation, or whether she had really only dreamed. “Such dreams are very dangerous,” he said, “and the one who sees them does best to lock them up in the innermost recesses of his heart until they are forgotten.”
“The Tahi are filling up,” added Zinita, and Umslopogaas looked at her again inquiringly.
I began my work immediately and sent spies to Umgugundhlovu. From them I was then able to hear everything that had happened there.
Dingaan had already ordered an army to be assembled for a campaign against the Axe People, but word came at the same time that five hundred Boers on horseback were on their way to Umgugundhlovu. The warriors were now needed at home, and we were able to live in peace in the shadow of Ghost Mountain. This time the Boers were defeated, for Bogoza, one of Dingaan’s spies, lured them into a trap, from which they escaped with comparatively little damage. A few men fell, and others were able to retreat to try again soon, which Dingaan knew. At the same time the English in Natal were harassing Dingaan on the Tugela River, but they were thoroughly routed.
With some soothsayers and Zikali the Pathfinder [the mysterious enemy of the Zulu kings, the witch] I filled the land with rumours, prophecies and obscure talk, and by cunning I prepared the chiefs I knew for some great event which was soon to take place. I sent them mysterious, obscure greetings which gave them much to think about, and I persuaded them to agree with my ideas. But my work progressed comparatively slowly, for my friends often lived far apart, and others were away at war.
Time passed, until many, many days had passed since we arrived at the foot of Ghost Mountain. Umslopogaas did not say a word to Zinita, who kept an eye on him constantly, and became more gloomy day by day. He waited for Nada and heard nothing from Nada. At last Nada came, however.
IX.
NADA’S INCOME.
One evening — there was a bright moonlight outside — Umslopogaas and I sat
alone in my hut and talked about our common
activities. When we had discussed them enough, we began to talk about
Nada.
“We shall never see Nada again, my uncle,” said Umslopogaas sadly. “He is either dead or a prisoner somewhere, for otherwise he would have been here long ago. I have searched far and wide, but I have heard nothing and found nothing.”
“All is not lost that is lost,” I replied, but deep down I was certain that Nada was dead.
After sitting in silence for a long time, we suddenly heard the dog barking. We got up and went to see what had woken the dog, for it was already late in the evening, so we had to be on our guard. The dog could have barked at a fluttering leaf, or it could have just as easily heard the march of an army in the silence of the night.
We did not have long to look for the troublemaker, for quite close by stood a tall, slender man with a light assegai in one hand and a small shield in the other, looking around timidly, as if he were afraid of attracting attention. We could not make out his face, for he stood with his back to the moonlight. He had a tattered cloak on his shoulders, and his legs seemed to be wounded, for he rested them alternately. We ourselves were in the shade of the hut, so he did not notice us. After looking around him for a moment in silence, he said to himself in a strangely melodious and soft voice:
“There are so many huts here. How do I know which is my brother? If I shout, the warriors will perhaps rush to the spot, and then I will have to play the part of a man again, which I am so tired of. I will rest here in the shelter of the enclosure until morning; lately I have slept on harder beds, and now I am so tired from the journey.” The stranger sighed and turned so that the moon shone directly on his face.
My father, the face was that of Nada, my daughter, whom I had not seen for so many years. I recognized her at once, though the bud had now burst into full bloom. The face was thin and tired, but beautiful—so beautiful that I have never seen anyone else like it. For the nature of Nada’s beauty was such that it seemed to radiate as if from within, as light shines through a thin glass, and it was in this that she differed from the other women of our people, who, when beautiful, are only so in the flesh.
Unspeakable joy and pity filled my heart as I looked at Nada standing in that moonlight, orphaned and weak, with no place to lay her head—Nada, the only survivor of all my children. I motioned to Umslopogaas to remain hidden and stepped forward.
“Hey, man!” I exclaimed rudely, “who are you, and what do you want?”
Nada started like a frightened bird, but at the same time she took courage and turned towards me with sublime dignity.
“Who’s asking?” he said, imitating a man’s voice.
“One who can soon try his stick on thieves and nightwalkers, boy. Say your piece quickly or get off your feet. You’re not one of us. I’ll bet that belt of yours is made by the Halakazi, and they don’t tolerate Halakazi here.”
“If you weren’t so old, I’d cover your shamelessness from you,” said Nada, trying to look brave and always watching for an opportunity to escape. “Besides, I don’t even have a stick, just this spear, and spears are for warriors, not that old umfagozana .”
Yes, my father, it had gotten so far that my daughter called me an umfagozana , a man worthy of a slave.
I pretended to be angry and rushed at him with my mace raised, whereupon he, forgetting his courage, dropped his spear and cried out weakly, raising his shield to his face. I seized him by the arm and struck the shield with my mace—a blow that would hardly have killed a fly, but this brave man trembled miserably.
“Where is your manhood now, you rascal who called me a umfagozana ?” I snorted. “You cry like a girl and your arm is girlishly soft, right?”
He made no reply, but clutched his tattered cloak more tightly around him. I relaxed my grip and pulled the cloak off him, exposing his chest and shoulders; then I let him go and said, laughing mockingly:
“Is this really the warrior who said he would cover up his shamelessness with an old umfagozana ? He fights like a creature, I see! Well, my beauty, who walks at night in a man’s dress, what does this really mean? Tell the truth and be quick, or else you will be our chief’s prey! The old man is said to be looking for a new wife for himself.”
Seeing that I had discovered her secret, Nada threw the shield beside the spear, as if it were an object of no further use, and let her head sink. But when I threatened to take her to the chief, she threw herself on the ground and embraced my knees. I had called the chief old, so she was sure I did not mean Umslopogaas.
“Oh, my father,” prayed Nada, “be merciful, be merciful! Yes, I am a woman, a girl—not a wife—and you, who are already old, may have daughters of my Iaisian. I pray you, have pity on me for their sake. I have come a long way, my father, and suffered much to reach my brother, who is the chief, and now it seems as if I have gone astray. Forgive me for what I said just now; I tried to deceive you to hide my being a woman, for you know, my father, that it is not good for a young, lonely girl to be with strange men!”
I said nothing. When I heard Nada call me her father, without knowing me, and beseech me on my knees in the name of my daughter, I, who had no other children but her, burst into tears. But she thought I was silent because I was proud, and that I intended to take her to that unknown chief, for which she prayed more fervently, shedding tears.
“My father,” said she, “do not treat me so cruelly. Let me go, and show me the way. You, who are so old, understand that I am too beautiful to be dragged under the protection of that old chief of yours. All my loved ones are dead, and I have only this brother to whom I aspire. If you carry out your threat, may the same fate befall your own daughter! May she also taste what it is like to be in slavery and what it is to love that one hates.” And she fell silent, sobbing bitterly.
I turned towards the hut and exclaimed: “Chief, your guardian spirit is very favorable to you today, for he has given you a girl who is as beautiful as the Lily of the Halakaz.” — Nada started and looked at me in alarm. “Come and see.”
Nada turned and sprang to catch the spear that had fallen. I do not know whether he intended to kill me, or the chief he feared, or himself, but I heard him cry out the name of Umslopogaas in great distress. Having the spear in his hand, he turned and straightened up, and behold, before him stood a burly man leaning on a stick. The old man who had threatened him had disappeared—had slipped into the shadow of the nearest hut.
Nada looked, rubbed her eyes, and looked again.
“I must be dreaming,” he said at last. “I was just talking to an old man, and now there’s a man standing in his place who looks just like the brother I miss.”
“I thought I heard, girl, the voice of a certain Nada calling to a certain
Umslopogaas,” said the one leaning on the sly.
“Yes, I just called him, but what happened to that old man who treated me so badly? But what about it—let him be where he wants. Judging by your scythe and your size, you must be my brother Umslopogaas. I can’t really make out your face, but I know your scythe, for it once flew right before my eyes.”
He spoke thus to pass the time, all the while examining Umslopogaas, until he was sure that the man was Umslopogaas and no one else, at which point he fell silent and flew to Umslopogaas’s neck, kissing him.
“I hope Zinita sleeps well,” murmured Umslopogaas, remembering at the same time that Nada was not his sister, as he thought.
“Come in, my sister,” he said nevertheless, taking Nada’s hand. “Of all the girls in the world, you are most welcome here, for know that I thought you had already perished on the journey.”
I slipped into the hut ahead of Nada and sat by the fire as she entered.
“There she is, my brother,” exclaimed Nada, pointing at me with her finger, “that old umfagozana , who just now, if I have not been dreaming, treated me so insolently and shamelessly. She even hit me, a helpless girl, with her club when I threatened to kill her for her shamelessness. And what is worse, she said she would drag me off to one of her old chiefs to be his wife, and was just about to carry out her threat when you came. Will you allow this to go on with impunity, my brother?”
Umslopogaas smiled cruelly and I replied: “Why did you say me just now, Nada, when you begged me to protect you? As your father, wasn’t I?” And I turned towards the fire, so that the light fell on my face.
“Yes, I called you my father, old man. Isn’t it strange that a homeless tramp finds fathers everywhere—no but—could it be possible—so changed—and that white hand? Who are you, oh, who are you? There was once a man named Mopo who had a little daughter named Nada—oh, my father, my father, now I know you!”
“I recognized you right away, Nada, despite the man’s outfit, I recognized you right away, even though it’s been so long since I last saw you.”
Nada threw herself into my arms and sobbed on my chest, and I remember crying too.
When Nada had relieved her heart, which was about to burst with joy, with tears, Umslopogaas brought her food. She drank a little milk, but did not care for the porridge, saying that she was so tired.
Then she told all that had happened to her after she had escaped from the Halakazi garrison, but her story was so long that I cannot repeat it here. I will only say that Nada had fallen into the clutches of robbers, who kept her for a long time as a youth. But at last they saw the truth of the matter, and would have forcibly married her to their chief, had she not seduced them into killing that chief and choosing him as their ruler. They were so enchanted by Nada that they did whatever she pleased, for Nada ruled over them as she had ruled over the Halakazi. They all loved her, and she had promised to take the strongest of them as her husband, which at first caused a heated quarrel, which soon ended in a fierce fight. While the melee lasted, in which many were killed—death was everywhere Nada’s ally—Nada fled, saying that she did not wish to see bloodshed, but would await a solution in some quieter place.
After that he had many more adventures, but at last he met an old woman who guided him to the path of the Haunted Mountain. It was never discovered who the old woman was, but Galazi claimed that she had been the stone sorceress of the mountain, who herself, in the form of an old woman, had guided Nada to Umslopogaas and the axe people, to both joy and sorrow. I do not know whether he was right, but it seems to me that the old witch would not have minded coming back to life for such a small matter.
When Nada had finished his story, Umslopogaas told his own story of how things had turned out at Dingaan’s. When he described how he had handed over the girl’s body to Dingaan, saying it was the withered stem of the Lily Flower, Nada said he had done admirably, and when Umslopogaas told of the fate of the traitor, Nada clapped her hands, though she, tender-hearted as she was, hated to hear bloodshed described. When Umslopogaas had fallen silent, Nada was a little depressed, and said that her fate seemed to follow her everywhere. Now the axe-folk were in great danger because of her.
“Ah, my brother!” he cried, seizing Umslopogaas’ hand, “it would be better if I died before I bring you sorrow too.”
“It would be of no use,” replied Umslopogaas. “Dingaan will not rest any longer, whether you are alive or dead. And know, Nada: I am not your brother !”
Hearing those words, Nada stepped forward, caressing Umslopogaas’s hand.
“What does this mean?” he asked. “He, my twin brother, with whom we grew up together, says he has deceived me until now; who is he then, father?”
“Your cousin, Nada.”
“Ah, yes,” replied Nada, “then I am glad. I would have been very sorry if he whom I love so much had been a complete stranger to me,” and a faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth and eyes. “But tell me, why has he always been called my brother?”
I told him the secret of Umslopogaas’ birth, for I trusted him.
“You are of a cruel lineage, though royal, Umslopogaas,” he said when I had finished. “I do not like you as I used to, you son of the hyena man.”
“Bad news,” said Umslopogaas, “for know, Nada, that now I want you to love me more than ever before—I want you to become my wife, to love me as your spouse!”
Nada’s sweet face turned sad and the barely noticeable playfulness of the previous moment vanished into nothingness, for Nada did not like play when it came to the truth.
“When we were in the cave of the Halakaz, you mentioned a certain Zinita,
Umslopogaas, who is your wife and your inkosi of the axe people ?”
A dark cloud rose on Umslopogaas’s brow. “What about Zinita?” he said. “She is my husband, but doesn’t a man have the right to take more than one wife?”
“I wonder,” replied Nada, smiling, “otherwise you poor men would have to be unmarried for a very long time. What girl would take care of you in that case, so that you would then have to toil alone all your life? But, Umslopogaas, even if there were twenty wives, one must be the first. My lot has been so far that wherever I have been, I have always been considered the first—and that may still be the case—how then, Umslopogaas?”
“Let the fruit ripen before you pick it, they say,” replied Umslopogaas. “If you love me and want to marry me, then nothing else matters, Nada.”
“If only it were so,” replied Nada, extending her hand to Umslopogaas. “Listen, Umslopogaas, ask my father what I told him once long ago, when I was still almost a child, when I and your mother Macropha left him for Swaziland. I swore to him after you fell into the lion’s jaws that I would live unmarried all my life, because I love you, who were dead. My father scolded me, saying that it was not fitting to speak thus of his brother, but I could not restrain the voice of my heart, and my heart spoke the truth, for, you see, Umslopogaas, you are not my brother! I have kept my oath. How many have proposed to me as a wife since I grew up, Umslopogaas! I can tell you that they are as numerous as the leaves on a tree. However, I have not cared for anyone, and I have always had the good fortune not to have been forced. Now I have received my reward, for I have found her again whom I once lost, and to her alone will I give my love. But beware, Umslopogaas! “Those who have loved me have always been met with some misfortune, as have those who have only wanted to see me.”
“I am not afraid, Nada,” replied Umslopogaas, and kissed Nada, pressing the girl tenderly against his broad chest. Nada at once broke free from his embrace and asked him to leave, saying that she was tired. And Umslopogaas went.
X.
WOMEN’S WAR.
The next morning at dawn, Galazi arrived at our place after leaving his wolf on Ghost Mountain.
In front of my hut he saw Nada and greeted her, for they both remembered each other well. Then he came to the place of negotiation and said to me:
“So the Death Star has come to the axe people, Mopo. Was it because of her coming that my gray people howled so strangely last night? I do not know, but since that star was the first I saw when I entered the gate, it means my death. Yes, she is beautiful enough to cause many deaths, Mopo,” and he laughed as he left me, waving his club. But his words gave me no peace, although they made no sense, for I could remember nothing but that where Nada’s beauty had charmed men, there death had always reaped the harvest.
Then I went to fetch Nada from the meeting-place, and found her waiting for me. She was now wearing the woman’s dress which I had brought her, her curly hair flowing in a great wave over her shoulders, ivory ornaments about her neck, wrists, and calves, and in her hand she held a water-lily which she had broken while swimming. She had done this perhaps because she wished here, as elsewhere, to be known as Lily, and the Zulus have a custom of giving names according to what each resembles. But who knows the woman’s reasons, my father.
She also asked me for a diaper, which the Basutos made from the whitest ostrich feathers and which reached down to her waist. Nada had been different from other girls since childhood, who had no other covering for their bodies than her loins; she always had some kind of skin around her chest and shoulders. This was perhaps because her hips were more beautiful than usual. Or perhaps she knew that a person who wants to hide her beauty often looks more beautiful than others. Or maybe there was some truth to that story about her white maternal grandfather after all, so that her modesty was an inherited trait. I don’t know, my father, but that’s how she was. I took her by the hand, and then we walked together, the cool morning air caressing our cheeks, to the place of negotiation, and, ah, she was sweeter than the morning air and more beautiful than the dawn. A large crowd had already gathered, for it was the day when the chiefs met once a month for a joint council, and all the women were there, with Zinita at the forefront. The news that the girl whom Bulalio had set out to rob from the Halakaze had arrived among the axe people had already spread everywhere, and everyone wanted to see her.
“Wow!” said the men as Nada walked past them, smiling, not looking to the right or left, but still noticing everything. “Wow, this flower is beautiful! No wonder the Halakazi were willing to die for her!”
The women also observed her, but did not utter a word about her beauty; they seemed hardly to notice it.
“Is that why so many of our people now rest unburied?” someone said.
“Where did he get such a fine outfit?” added another, “he who arrived yesterday in rags and with his feet full of wounds?”
“And ostrich feathers aren’t enough for him, you see, he must have flowers too. They would probably fit his hand better than a hoe handle,” the third chimed in. “I think the chief of the axe people has now met one whom he idolizes more than a scoundrel, and that one will soon know what grief tastes like,” continued the fourth, looking at Zinita and the other women in Bulalio’s house.
So they spoke, throwing words like spears, and Nada heard everything and understood everything, but did not stop smiling. Zinita said nothing, but looked at Nada from under her eyes, holding her child, Umslopogaas’s little daughter, by the hand and fingering her necklace with the other hand. We passed her at once, and Nada, who immediately guessed who the woman was, looked her straight in the eye, meeting Zinita’s angry gaze quite calmly. I do not know what power lay in Nada’s gaze, but I do know that Zinita, who had not been nearly frightened, now became strangely timid. She lowered her eyes to the ground and Nada walked on smiling, greeting Umslopogaas with a slight nod.
“Hello, Nada!” said Umslopogaas, and then turned to the elders of the tribe. “Here is now the girl whom we went to Dingaan to fetch. Oh! The secret is now known to all: one who does not babble any more told it in Umgugundhlovu. The girl begged me not to take her to Dingaan. I complied with her request, and all would have gone well, had there not been a traitor, for I took another to Dingaan. Look at her now, my friends, and tell me whether I did not do well to take her as my prey for myself as a wife, and for the joy of the axe-folk—her, the Lily-flower, whose like there is none in all the world.”
The chiefs answered as one man: “You did well, Bulalio,” for Nada had already defeated them all and was now their favorite as she had been the others. Galazi did not utter a word, for what words can do to fate, he only shook his head. Having found out what Umslopogaas really was, Zinita already knew that Nada was not Umslopogaas’s sister, all of which I only learned later, but nevertheless, when she heard that Umslopogaas intended to take Nada as his wife, she asked:
“How could that be possible, my husband?”
“Why do you ask that, Zinita?” said Umslopogaas. “Doesn’t a man have the right to take another wife if he wants to?”
“Yes, it is,” replied Zinita, “but men cannot marry their sisters. You did not give this Nada to Dingaan because it was said that she was your sister, thus exposing the axe people to Dingaan’s wrath, a wrath that will destroy them before long.”
“That’s what I thought then, Zinita,” replied Umslopogaas, “but it’s different now. Nada is the daughter of this Mopo, who is not my father, although it has always been thought so, and Nada’s mother was not my mother. That’s the way it is, men.”
Zinita looked at me and muttered: “You cursed mouth; I was not mistaken in fearing evil from you.”
I didn’t seem to hear the words, and Zinita continued: “There’s something hidden here,
Bulalio. Please tell us, then, who is your father?”
“I am fatherless,” replied Umslopogaas, as anger began to boil in his heart; “the sky that bends above us is my father. I am conceived of fire and blood, and this Nada lily here is the child of beauty, born to my wife. And now be silent, wife!” He thought for a moment, and then added: “If you must know so exactly, Indabazimbi was the son of Arp, that famous magician and protector of kings, my father.” This Umslopogaas said at random, because, having forbidden me, he had to explain the matter somehow, since he was not allowed to mention the great Elephant-dead. But his explanation was complete, and some years later it was generally said that he was the son of Indabazimbi, the magician who had fled the country long ago. When this game was completely played out, he did not want anyone to know that he was the son of Chaka, for he did not want the wrath of Panda upon him. He no longer cared about the kingdom then.
Hearing this, those present at first thought that Umslopogaas only wanted to mock Zinita, and yet he spoke the truth when he said in his anger that “the sky that bends above us was his father,” for we Zulus often use that title when we speak of a king. That is what Indabazimbi had said of Chaka on that day of the great treason. But they did not take the sentence in that sense, but believed that he spoke the truth when he said that the Indabazimbi magician who had fled the country was his father.
Now Nada turned to Zinita and said gently: “I am not Bulalio’s sister, but soon I will be your sister, Zinita, who is your chief’s inkosi . Can’t you be content with this and greet me kindly with a kiss of peace, me who have come from afar to be your sister, Zinita?” and she held out her hand to Zinita. I do not know whether she did it under compulsion of her heart or because she wanted to clear herself in front of everyone of any possible suspicions about her intentions.
But Zinita snapped at him angrily, tugging at her necklace so violently that the string on which the pearls were strung broke, sending the pearls flying here and there on the hard-trodden floor.
“Save your kiss for your husband, girl,” said Zinita rudely. “Just as my pearls have been thrown in every direction, so you will shatter the axe people.”
Nada turned away with a sigh, and there was a murmur from the crowd that Zinita had treated her so contemptuously. Then she stretched out her hand again and gave the water lily to Umslopogaas, saying: “Let this be a sign of our union, my lord and husband, for neither my father nor I, who are both but homeless vagabonds, have cattle to give as a dowry; the cattle must now be taken care of by the bridegroom. May fate grant that I may bring peace and happiness to your home, my husband!”
Umslopogaas took the flower, and looked very clumsy in holding it—he was accustomed to carrying a stick and not a flower, and that was the end of the matter.
Now it so happened that all this happened on the day of the year when, according to the old custom, the owner of the axe had to challenge everyone to a duel for the possession of the Weeper and the chieftainship of the axe people. When the marriage was confirmed, Umslopogaas rose and proclaimed his challenge in a resounding voice, not at all believing that anyone would appear, for many years had passed without anyone daring to come before him. But now three men immediately stepped forward, among whom were two chieftains, men whom Umslopogaas both loved and respected. He looked at them in astonishment.
“What does this mean?” he asked the nearest man who had signed up for battle.
Instead of answering, the man pointed to Nada, who was nearby. Then Umslopogaas understood that Nada’s beauty had charmed everyone so much that everyone wanted to have the girl for themselves, and since the one who could defeat the slayer would also have the girl, Umslopogaas had to be prepared to fight with many. Yes, he had to either fight or be disgraced.
There is not much to say about the fight. Umslopogaas killed two of his opponents almost with the first blow, and the third was so frightened that he dared not even appear again.
“What did I tell you, Mopo,” Galazi said as he watched the match.
“The curse is starting to take effect. Death will follow your daughter everywhere, old man.”
“I fear so,” I replied, “and yet my daughter is as good as she is beautiful and sweet.”
“It doesn’t matter,” growled Galazi.
Well, Umslopogaas took Nada Lily Flower as his wife, and for a while all was well. But an unfortunate change took place in Umslopogaas, that from the day he married Nada, he could not bear Zinita near him, nor any of his other wives. Galazi said that Nada had bewitched Umslopogaas, but I knew very well that the only witchcraft Nada used was her deep eyes, her beauty, and her warm love. It so happened that Umslopogaas loved only her even after her death, and never anyone else, which is very strange among men.
As you may guess, my father, Zinita and the other wives were very angry. They waited for a while, hoping that Umslopogaas’s love affair would cool down a little, but when that did not happen, they began to nag both Umslopogaas and the others, until at last there were two parties in the town. Some supported Nada, others Zinita.
On Zinita’s side were all the women and a few men who were enslaved by their wives’ scepters, but Nada’s party was in every way larger and more powerful, for it included all the men, Umslopogaas first. This division into two camps caused much quarreling and bitterness. But Nada and Umslopogaas cared little for it, nay, hardly at all, for in the happiness of their mutual love they forgot the whole world.
One morning, after they had been married about three months, Nada stepped out of her husband’s hut, the sun already high in the sky, and went to the river to bathe and wash. On the right side of the road was the chief’s extensive vegetable garden, where Zinita and the other wives of Umslopogaas were working. They looked up as Nada passed by, and then continued their work, bowing. A moment later they saw Nada returning, refreshed by her bath, with flowers in her hair and radiant with beauty, and they heard her singing some love song as she walked. Zinita let go of the hoe.
“Is this the end, my sister?” he snapped.
“No,” replied one of his companions, “this is not good. What shall we do—run after him and kill him?”
“It would be more right to kill Bulalio himself, our master,” replied Zinita. “He deserves it, but Nada is only a woman who, like women, seizes everything she can. Bulalio is a man, and a chieftain, too, who should know what is right and fair.”
“Nada has bewitched him with her beauty. Let us kill her,” said the other women.
“No,” replied Zinita; “I’ll have a little talk with him,” and she went out into the road to wait for Nada, who approached, humming, her hands on her chest.
Upon noticing Zinita, Nada stopped singing and extended her hand, saying,
“Morning, my sister.”
But Zinita did not even seem to notice the hand, but replied: “It is not fitting, my sister, that with my stained hand I should soil your fine and soft hand, which still smells of flowers. I have a few greetings for you, both on my own behalf and on behalf of the other wives of our master Bulalio: the garden is overgrown with weeds and there are too few of us to get the work done properly, which is why we ask you, will you not come and help us, since your honeymoon is already over? If you have not brought a hoe with you from Swaziland, we will be happy to lend you one.”
Nada understood the meaning and the blood rushed to her head, but despite that she answered calmly:
“I would gladly help you, my sister, although I have never been in any field work, for wherever I have been I have not been allowed to do any other work than to tie flowers and string beads. But now the situation is such that Umslopogaas, who is my husband, has forbidden me to work with my hands, and I cannot disobey him.”
“Has our master told you so, Nada? That was strange. Now look, I am his first wife, his inkosisaka —I advised him how the tappara was to be defeated—and he has not forbidden me to work like the other women, me who have borne him children, and to my knowledge he has not said anything like that to others. Does Bulalio love you more than the rest of us?”
Nada realized she had fallen into a trap, but she took heart.
“One must be more beloved than the other, Zinita,” he replied, “just as one is always more beautiful than the other. You have lived your moment of happiness, so let me spend mine in peace, which may be very short. Besides, Umslopogaas and I have been fond of each other for years before you and his other wives ever saw him, and our love will last until the grave. To speak more of this matter is a waste of words.”
“Not at all, Nada, this is what I want to tell you: Choose one of the two. Either you leave us and let us live happily with our master, or you stay here and bring us all to ruin.”
Nada thought for a moment and then answered: “If I could believe that my love would destroy the one I love, I would leave at once, even if it meant my death, but, Zinita, I do not believe that. Death favors the weak and if he reaches out his hand, he will break the Lily Flower without grasping the Killer,” and Nada slipped past Zinita, leaving in a hurry, but did not sing any more.
Zinita stared after him with a devilish expression on her face. Then she returned to the others.
“The lily flower defies us all, my sister,” he said. “Now I propose that we women declare a great women’s festival to be held during the next new moon, far away in some secret place. All the women and children will come to the festival, except Nada, who will not leave her beloved, and if there is another man here whom some woman loves, it would be better for that man to go on some journey during the next new moon, for terrible things may happen in the city of the axe people while we are celebrating our festival.”
“What then, my sister?” someone asked.
“Who knows!” replied Zinita. “I’m just saying that we all want to get rid of Nada, and at the same time take revenge on the man who has offended our love—yes, on everyone who has allowed Nada’s beauty to charm him. Isn’t that right, sisters?”
“Exactly,” replied the others.
“Let us therefore be silent and prepare for our feast.”
Nada told Umslopogaas about her argument with Zinita, and Umslopogaas became very serious. He was so enchanted by Nada that it was impossible for him to turn away, and he was always with Nada, not caring a bit about anyone else. And when Zinita came to him to ask permission to hold a party, he immediately agreed, glad to be spared the sight of Zinita and her angry gaze for a moment, without suspecting any secret plot. He only said that Nada would not be among those who came to the party, whereupon both women replied in unison that his will was their will, as it was.
For some time I had watched with anxiety as Umslopogaas, my foster-son, sank deeper and deeper into his love-induced stupor, and at last I confided my concerns to Galaz, saying that we must find some way to wake him up again. I told Galaz all I knew about Umslopogaas, which was no small thing. I told him that I intended to place Umslopogaas on the throne, and I told him in detail what I had already done for my cause and what I still intended to do, announcing at the same time that I had decided to go personally to greet several great chiefs in order to win them over to my side.
Galazi listened without saying exactly this or that. For his part, he was sure that his daughter would tear down faster than his father could build, and he pointed to Nada, who was just passing us, following Umslopogaas.
However, I had decided to go, and I had made up my mind the day before Zinita was allowed to hold the women’s party. I went to Umslopogaas and told him about my plans, but he listened indifferently, for he missed Nada and my conversation tired him.
I said goodbye to him and left him, and I also said goodbye to Nada. Nada kissed me, but even as she said goodbye, she mentioned her beloved’s name several times.
“Those two look like they’re crazy,” I said to myself, “but they’ll calm down in time. When I get back, they’ll have already recovered from their intoxication.”
I could never have guessed, my father, that the change I hoped for would be so shocking, as you will soon hear.
XI.
ZINITA AT THE KING’S.
In his capital at Umgugundhlovu, King Dingaan was one day waiting for his warriors to return from the banks of the Income River, now called the Bloody River. He had sent his army to destroy the Boer camp and believed that it would return immediately with news of victory. He sat in front of his hut, lazily gazing at the vultures that were swarming on the hill of death, and a regiment stood around him.
“My birds are hungry,” he said to an advisor.
“They will undoubtedly soon have plenty of food, O king,” replied the latter.
While he was still speaking, someone came to say that a certain woman had something important to say to the king.
“Bring him here,” replied Dingaan. “I long for news, and perhaps he knows something about my army.”
The woman arrived immediately. She was slender and beautiful, and she was holding two small children by the hand.
“What do you want?” asked the king.
“Justice, O king,” replied the woman.
“Demand blood, and you will get what you want more easily.”
“Blood I demand, O king.”
“Whose?”
“Bulalion, chief of the axe people, and Nada Lilyflower and all his supporters.”
Dingaan jumped up and swore by the great Elephant.
“What?” he would snarl. “Is Lily Flower still alive, as that warrior claimed?”
“That is so, O king. She is now the wife of Bulalio, and by her witchcraft has ousted me, Bulalio’s first wife, against the laws and all honorable customs. Therefore I demand vengeance on that witch, and at the same time on him who was my husband.”
“You are a worthy wife,” said the king. “My watchful guardian spirit saved me from falling into the clutches of such a one. I would gladly grant your request, for I also hate that Bulalio and would gladly crush Lily Flower. But you come at an inopportune time, wife. I have only one regiment here, which I think is too few, but wait until my warriors return from destroying the Amaboonas, and then I can grant your wish. Whose children are these?”
“Me and Bulalio, who was my husband.”
“Then his children, whose life you now demand.”
“Yes, King.”
“You are as good a mother as you are a wife,” said Dingaan. “I have spoken—go!”
But Zinita’s heart yearned for revenge, sudden and terrible revenge on that Lily Flower who had taken her place, and on her husband who had pushed her aside for Lily Flower. Zinita would not wait—not for a moment.
“Listen, O king,” he exclaimed, “I have not yet told you everything. That Bulalio is plotting against you with the son of Mopo Makedama, who was formerly your advisor.”
“Is he plotting against me, wife? Is the Sicilian plotting against the rock on which it shines? Let him plot in peace; I will take care of Mopo.”
“Yes, O King, but that is not all. Bulalio has another name—he is called Umslopogaasi, the son of Mopo. But he is not the son of Mopo, but of the great Elephant-dead, that mighty king who was your brother, and of Mopo’s sister, Baleka. I heard it from Mopo himself. I know all. By birth, Bulalio is the rightful owner of your throne, and you have usurped his place, O King.”
Dingaan sat for a moment speechless with astonishment. Then he ordered Zinita to come closer and tell him everything she knew.
Behind Dingaan’s seat stood two advisors, chiefs whom Dingaan loved, and who alone had heard Zinita’s words. He bade them stand before him out of earshot and apart from the others. Zinita stepped closer and related the events surrounding the birth of Umslopogaas and many other events, from which Dingaan understood that the story must be true.
When everything was told, Dingaan ordered the commander of the regiment who was standing around him to come to him. This was a burly man named Faku. Dingaan said to him sternly:
“Take three companies and guides with you, and sneak by night to the city of the Axe People, which is at the foot of the Ghost Mountain. Burn the city and kill all its villainous inhabitants, and on no account let Bulalio, the chief of the Axe People, who is also called Umslopogaas, escape your clutches. Torture him to death if you can, and bring me his head, and take his wife, who is known as Lily Flower, alive, if you can, and bring her here, for I will see her die here. And take the cattle with you also. Go at once and make haste, man. If you return defeated or having neglected any point, you will die at once. I will kill you all, and you may be sure that your death will be a very long one. Go!”
The man saluted and hurried to his warriors, repeating the order. Three companies rushed forward and hurried after him through the gates of Umgugundhlovu towards Ghost Mountain.
Then Dingaan pointed to the place of his henchmen and said, pointing to the superiors who had heard Zinita’s words, that those two must die!
Both saluted and then covered their faces, knowing full well that they must die because they had heard too much. They were killed, and it so happened that the advisor who had predicted that the vultures would soon be fed was one of them.
Then the king ordered that Zinita’s children be taken away and that they be delivered to the day.
But when Zinita heard this, she began to lament pitifully, for she loved her children. Dingaan mocked her, saying:
“What? Are you then as ridiculous as you are unfit? Tell me that your husband, whom you have now put to death, is a descendant of a deceased person and heir to my throne. You also said that these children are his and, after his death, also heirs to my throne. Would I be so crazy as to let them live? Wife, you have fallen into your own trap. Take the children!”
Now Zinita was allowed to drink the chalice she had prepared for the others, and she was completely out of her mind. She swore, weeping and wringing her hands, that she repented of her shameful act, and said that she would go and warn Umslopogaas and Lily Flower of the danger that threatened them. She turned and hurried quickly to the gate, but the king laughed and nodded his head, and soon Zinita too was allowed to follow her children.
Yes, such was the fruit, my father,
borne by the wickedness of Zinita, my foster son Umslopogaas’s first wife.
These were the last murders committed at Umgugundhlovu, for just as Zinita’s last death cry had died away, a swarm of men in black were seen on the hillside in the distance; judging by their costumes, they belonged to Dingaan’s army, which he had sent against the Boers.
But where had the haughty demeanor, the impeccable order, the spears and shields gone, and why did the sound of victory not resound? The warriors approached in small groups like women and walked with their heads bowed like children afraid of reprimands.
The truth soon emerged. The army had been utterly routed on the banks of the Income, near the Boer camp. The Boer fire had killed thousands, and thousands had fallen into the waves of the Income until the water had turned red with blood, and so many had drowned that others had to cross the river dry-footed, stepping over the bodies.
Dingaan was startled with fear, for the refugees still said that the Amaboonas were right on their heels.
He fled and hid in the thicket on the banks of the Umfolozi River, and that night the sky glowed blood red from the fire of Umgugundhlovu. Within its walls no more Elephant’s cries were heard, and the crackle of the flames drove even the vultures from the hill of death.
* * * * *
Galazi sat on the knee of the stony sorceress and stared out at the deserts below, which were still brightly lit by the moon, although the night was already beginning to incline towards morning. Graysnout whined softly beside him, and Death had thrust his muzzle into his hand. But Galazi did not care about them, for he was thinking at the moment of Umslopogaas’ fate, how he had fallen into the woman’s languid slave, and how the coming of Nada had shattered the unity of the axe people. All the women and children had gone to the women’s feast, and would be away for a long time, and it had seemed to Galazi that many of the men had slipped away as if fearing some danger.
“Ah, Death,” he whispered to the beast lying beside him, “my brother has changed greatly, and only through the influence of a woman’s kisses. His hunt is over, and the Weeper will rise no more; he longs only for a woman’s lips, and not for the touch of your rough tongue. He, the first of men, caresses only a woman’s hand now, and not the smooth horned arm of his slayer; he has fallen into languor and shame. Chaka was as if he were a great king in all his wickedness, when he forbade his warriors to marry, for marriage weakens vigor and dilutes blood to water.”
Galazi fell silent and stared unblinkingly towards the axe-folk city, and it seemed to him as if something had flashed at the edge of the shadow cast by Ghost Mountain. It was as if he had been looking at a needle that, when sewing leather, alternately disappears and reappears.
He started and looked closer. Ah, there were now several bright flashes at the edge of the shadow. Spears, through Chaka’s head!
Galazi waited without moving, and saw a band of warriors, numbering about two hundred men, rushing forward silently and at a gallop. The warriors, though they had no plumes, were on the warpath, for they were arranged in regular groups, each carrying a spear and a shield.
Galazi had heard of such groups going on nightly hunting expeditions, and he knew very well that the warriors running below were the king’s dogs, hunting human game. The main target was some great sleeping city, for otherwise there would not have been so many dogs. Galazi wondered who they could be now? At that moment the group turned to the ford, and then he understood. His brothers Umslopogaas and Nada Lilyflower and their axemen were the game being hunted. Those warriors were the king’s dogs, whom Zinita had let loose. That was why she had organized a feast for the women and taken the children with her, and that was why so many men had left the city, under some pretext to avoid the massacre.
Galazi jumped up and thought for a moment. Could those hunters be hunted? Couldn’t his wolves destroy that group as they had once destroyed a band of warriors sent by a king? Yes, if he had thought of it a little earlier. Then hardly any of the warriors would have made it to the river alive, for he and his wolves would have attacked them. Now it was no longer possible, for the group was already approaching the ford, and Galazi knew that his gray people were not hunting on the other side of the ford, in that direction, for the reason that a deceased person had told him in a dream.
So what was to be done? He had to warn Umslopogaas. But how? From where Galazi was, the distance to the Axe People’s city was as short as the bowstring is short, and the warriors were already almost halfway through the arc. But he, Wolf-Galazi, who, apart from Umslopogaas, had no equal in speed, could outrun them. He wanted to at least try. Perhaps the group would stop at the ford to drink.
So thought Galazi, and at the same time he was going down the mountainside with the speed of the wind. He jumped like a deer from one rock to another, he pushed through the thickets like an ox, and he flew with the speed of a swallow on the smoother ground. The mountain was already behind him, and in front of him the overflowing river roared in its foam, as furious as when he had gone to look for the dead man. A springy leap flew him into the steepest stream, he struggled for a moment and soon stood on the other bank, shaking the water off him like a dog. At the same time he already rushed forward at his fastest speed, running low like a wolf.
The city was visible ahead. One side was still in the bright moonlight, but the other was already caressed by the morning glow visible in the eastern sky. Ah, the warriors had already arrived, he saw the murderers creeping to the enclosure and dividing to the right and left. How could they get there before the ring of death had completely closed? There was still six spear throws to go! The grass was long and in one place reached almost halfway to the enclosure. Only forward! Could Umslopogaas, his brother, be able to run faster, Galazi wondered as he ran to save his brother. He was now in the long grass by the enclosure, and the murderers were approaching from the right and left.
“Wow! What was that?” one warrior exclaimed to his companion as the circle closed. “Wow! Something large and dark rushed over the fence right in front of my nose.”
“I heard a rustle, my brother,” replied the other, “but I saw nothing. Perhaps it was a dog, for no man can jump so high.”
“Oh, the wolf,” said another. “Let us pray, at any rate, that it was not Esedowa [a mythical creature said to have haunted the Zulus by putting victims in a hole in its back] who came to stab us in the hole in its back. Is your fire burning, my brother? Wow! Soon those rascals will be roasted, the sign will be given soon.”
Then a cry echoed in the silence of the night: “Wake up, wake up, the enemy is at the gate!”
XII.
THE LAST BATTLE OF THE GREY AND BLACK PEOPLE.
Galazi rushed through the city, shouting, and a restless commotion arose behind him. Everyone was asleep, and there were no guards to be seen, for Umslopogaas was so absorbed in his worship of the Lily Flower that he forgot all caution, no longer remembering Dingaan’s anger, war, and death. Galazi rushed forward without stopping, and in a moment he arrived at the great house of Nada the Lily Flower, which Umslopogaas had built for his beloved. He rushed in, knowing that he would meet his brother Bulalio there. It was still almost dark in the house, but Galazihan could see even in the darkness, and he immediately made out Nada and Umslopogaas, who were sleeping on the other side of the house opposite the door, Umslopogaas’s head resting on Nada’s chest. The brave Weeper glittered beside him.
“Wake up!” screamed Wolf-Galazi.
Umslopogaas jumped up, clutching his sword, but Nada muttered sleepily: “Let me sleep, rest is sweet.”
“You will soon sleep more soundly than usual, if you do not hurry!” panted
Galazi. “I must now, my brother, fasten your wolfskin and take your mount!
I must hurry, I say, for the king’s dogs are at your gate!”
Nada also flinched to her feet and both of them began to dress instinctively like sleepwalkers, still not understanding what Galazi really meant. Galazi took a sip of his beer and was back to his old self, quick and energetic. In no time they were standing in front of the hut. The sky was gray, but in the east and west, north and south, flames were already shooting up into the sky, for the signal to light had been given.
Umslopogaas saw the fire and understood. His energy returned. “Which way, my brother?” he asked.
“Into the flames and through the besiegers to the mountain to our gray people,”
Galazi replied. “If we get there, that’s where we’ll get help.”
“What about the people of my city?” asked Umslopogaas.
“The women and children are in the way, and I’ve scared the men away—they’ll get through it somehow. Get out of here before we burn!”
They hurried towards the enclosure, and on the way they were joined by a dozen frightened and sleep-deprived warriors, armed with spears, clubs—and all of them almost naked. The group hurried forward without stopping towards the enclosure, which was already burning all over with a blaze, Umslopogaas and Galazi in the lead, each holding Nada by the hand. They were now very close, and the cries of the besiegers could be heard from outside. Nada recoiled in terror, but Umslopogaas and Galazi did not loosen their grip, but dragged her along with them. The spear and club swung, the burning enclosure broke, and they rushed out almost unharmed. The heat had driven the enemy a little further, but the guard was all the more vigilant. The fugitives were immediately noticed, and at the same time a cry rang out: “Bulalio! Bulali! Kill that villain!” and warriors charged at them with spears raised. The men formed a circle around Nada and then they rushed forward, Umslopogaas and Galazi in the lead. The Weeper and the Watcher swung with lightning speed and Dingaan’s men scattered like ashes in the wind, vanished like grass in the path of a wildfire.
One of the fleeing men fell, but an uncontrollable noise arose behind him. A cry echoed from all sides that the chief of the villains had fled with his wife Lily Flower. Hearing this, the commander of the enemy force immediately gathered his men and set out to pursue the fleeing men, for the killing of these persons was the main purpose of the entire expedition. About fifty of the attackers had fallen and perhaps a hundred of the townspeople, for the men of the axe-folk, awakened by Galaz’s cries, had fought furiously for their lives, each one not knowing whether their chief had fled or been killed in his sleep.
The Wolf-Wolfs and their companions were already a long way off, and it would have been easy for them to escape, being the fastest runners in the land. But as a regiment must adjust its pace to the slower warriors, so they too had to run more slowly than usual for Nada’s sake. The speed was sufficient, however, and they were already halfway down the narrow pass that led to the river when Dingaan’s warriors reached the mouth of the pass. They reached the head of the pass, and the enemy was closing in rapidly—the river end of the pass is very narrow, my father, like the neck of a narrow pot. Galazi stopped and said:
“Stop, men. Let us talk a moment with those who follow us; while we catch our breath. But hurry, my brother, across the river with Lily Flower. We will join you in the forest, and if we should happen to be missed, you know what you must do. Shut Lily Flower in the cave and call our gray people together. Wow! my brother, I must get to you if I can, for if those Dingaan dogs like hunting, we will now make such a run on Haunted Mountain as that old witch has never seen before. Hurry now, my brother.”
“It’s not my way to rush off while others are left fighting,” screamed
Umslopogaas, “but now that miracle must happen for Nada’s sake.”
“Don’t worry about me, oh my love,” said Nada. “I’ve gotten you into this trouble—I’m so tired—let me die. Kill me and save yourself!”
Instead of answering, Umslopogaas seized his hand and rushed into the river, but before he could reach it, the noise of battle began to be heard. Behind him echoed the war cry of Dingaan’s warriors as they struck the axemen, and the howl of Wolf-Galaz as he joined the fight—even the roar of the Watcher as the blow struck.
“Good bite, Wolf!” exclaimed Umslopogaas, stopping; “that man needs no more; oh! if only I could”—he looked at Nada and hurried forward again.
They were already struggling in the foaming stream, and it was good that Nada knew how to swim, for otherwise they would have perished. They reached the other bank happily and were soon on their way rapidly towards the mountain. The forest was almost penetrated when Umslopogaas finally heard the wolf’s howl.
He had to take Nada on his shoulders now and carry her as
Galazi had once carried another, for while the wolves were
awake, death awaited everyone on Ghost Mountain except
the Wolf-Wicks.
Soon the wolves swarmed around him, leaping with joy to meet him, and gazing with burning eyes at the burden on his shoulders. Nada was almost fainting with fear, for the beasts were terrible and there were many of them, and when they howled, her blood froze with terror.
But Umslopogaas consoled him, explaining that the beasts were his dogs, with whom he was accustomed to hunt. Soon a hunt would begin, the like of which had never been seen before. At last they reached the knees of the old witch and the mouth of the cave. A couple of wolves were now dwelling in the cave, which was otherwise deserted, for Galazi no longer lived there; when he was on the mountain he slept in the forest which was nearer the city of his brother Bulalio.
“You must stay here now, my dear,” said Umslopogaas, after driving away the wolves. “Rest here until we have shown the king’s men. I wish I had taken some food with me, but in that hurry there was no time to get anything. Now I will show you the secret of that doorstone, that you may never turn it any further than this. Now you can push it with your fingertip as far as it will go, but then you will need a couple of strong men to push it back again. Therefore do not touch the stone with your finger except in the greatest emergency; if you turn it too much, it will remain firmly in place without you being able to do anything to it. Here you are safe, so do not be afraid at all, no one knows the place except Galazi, me and the wolves, and it is impossible for a stranger to get here. Now I must return to Galazi, and if he is dead, I will destroy the pursuers alone with the help of my wolves.”
Nada burst into tears, saying that she was afraid of being left alone and that she would never see her beloved again, and her sorrow pierced Umslopogaas’ heart. Umslopogaas kissed her tenderly and then hurried out quickly, twisting the stone in front of the opening as he had mentioned. The cave was now almost dark, only a weak ray of light penetrated through a hole perhaps slightly larger than a man’s hand, which was on the right side of the doorstone when viewed from the inside. Nada sat down on the ground so that the beam of light hit her directly in the face, for she loved the light, without which she would have withered like a flower. The silence of the grave reigned in the dark cave and Nada sank into her thoughts, fear and sorrow still convulsing her heart. Suddenly the ray of light disappeared and she heard footsteps creeping outside, as if some animal had been stalking some game. He looked into the hole and clearly saw the wolf’s sharp snout and cruel fangs, gleaming in the darkness.
He cried out in terror and his teeth were gone, but at the same time there was a scratching sound of claws outside, and he saw the stone sway. He thought in his distress that the wolf would be able to turn the stone away and attack him, for he had heard that all those wolves were the spirits of evil people who had human understanding. So in his fear he seized the stone and twisted it as Umslopogaas had said, whereupon the stone slipped from its balance and slid into the opening, blocking it like a round stone in the mouth of a narrow pot.
“Now I am safe from the wolves,” said Nada. “The stone cannot be moved from the outside, and I, even though I am inside, cannot move it.” She laughed, but at the same time became serious and added: “It would be unfortunate if Umslopogaas did not return to move the stone, for then I would truly be as if I were in a tomb—closed in a tomb, alive and strong.”
The thought made him tremble, but at the same time he jumped up and pressed his ear to the hole, for a terrible howl had resounded in the distance, and now the din of a furious battle was heard.
Having closed the cave, Umslopogaas hurried down the slope with a pack of wolves, not all of them, for he had not yet called them. His heart was heavy, for he thought that Galazi had fallen. He was also mad with rage, and vowed to destroy the enemy to the last man, but first he must learn a little of what the enemy intended to do. At that moment a long, low howl echoed from the forest cover, and Umslopogaas’s heart trembled with joy; he knew the sign—it was Galazi who had survived the fight.
Umslopogaas roared in response and rushed forward in a red rush. Galazi sat with his feet resting on a large rock, and the wolves jumped around him in joy. He looked a little exhausted. There were wounds on his chest and arms, his small shield was almost in tatters, and even the Guard could see the marks left by the battle. Umslopogaas stepped up to him, casting a gaze of love at him.
“How are you, my brother?” he asked.
“Not very badly,” replied Galazi, “but all my companions fell after we had struck down many of the enemy. I alone fled like a coward. We were attacked three times, but we stood our ground until we thought Lily Flower had escaped, and when at last all my men had fallen, I fled and swam across the stream, for I wanted to die here in my own territory, Umslopogaas.”
I must tell you, my father, that Galazi had fought with unparalleled valor at the mouth of the pass, though he himself said little about it. I later went to the spot and counted the fallen; there were so many that the nine Axemen warriors could not be seen beneath them.
“Perhaps we will succeed in destroying the enemy, my brother.”
“Perhaps. We shall kill a great many. However, I feel that our brotherhood is drawing to a close, Bulalio, for the final fate of the Guard-bearer, of which my father spoke to me, is now before me. If so, then farewell, my brother. Our friendship has always been sincere and good, and its end is even better. It might have continued for years more, had you not, my brother, tried to make good better and to supplement the joy of our companionship with the love of a woman. From that source all this evil has sprung, like a river from a small stream, but what fate can do. If I fall, you will live long and fight many brave battles, and finally die a hero on the high ground; I hope that you will have another friend, braver and more virile than I, and a better one, the Guard, who will always be ready to help you in your hour of need. If you fall and I survive, I swear I swear to you this oath. I will avenge your death to the last drop of my blood, and I will protect the Lily Flower you love. I will give her all she needs to live in peace; but no more. The enemy is already near. They went around the ford, because they dared not swim across the river, and they cried out to me that they had sworn to kill us or die, as King Dingaan had commanded. This will be a matchless battle, unless they really intend to get out of the way of our wolves. What do you command, then, chief, so that your servant will know how to obey?”
Umslopogaas listened, leaning on the Weeping-Maker, as the wolves moved around him, and wept, for after Lily Flower and me he loved Galazi most in the whole world. When Galazi had finished, he answered:
“If I had not a weak and helpless creature up there, I would swear to you, Wolf, that I would throw my life into your body if you fell before me. And if you fall and I survive, I swear that the Weeper will not rest until every one of those warriors has given his life. It will waver from year to year until the last one rests as quietly as you did when you died. Perhaps I did wrong, Galazi, to listen to Zinita’s temptations and let women come between us. Let us hope that one day we will find a land where there are no women, only wars, for in that land we will be great.”
“Now we will end our fellowship well and handsomely, and our gray folk will have enough fighting, and if that old witch who sits up there never smiled before, she will now smile as she watches our fight. This is my plan; we will attack the enemy twice. First in the forest, and if we are pushed back, then on the witch’s knees in front of the cave where Nada is. Tell me, Wolf, do the gray folk want to fight?”
“Until the last, my brother, as long as someone is leading them, then I don’t know! But they only have teeth against spears. Your suggestion is good, Bulalio. Let us go, I have rested.”
They rose and called their pack. All were on their way, but the pack was not immediately as large as it had been a few years ago when the Wolf-Wolfs had first hunted on the slopes of Ghost Mountain; many uncontrolled killing expeditions had thinned their numbers, and these wolves had not produced any cubs. The pack divided into two as before; the females followed Umslopogaas, and the males followed Galaz.
They penetrated the forest and hid in the thickets on either side of a dark ravine. There they awaited the approaching enemy, whose footsteps at last began to be heard. Two scouts crept ahead, in case of an ambush, and these warriors happened to be the same who had talked to each other at dawn, when Galazi leaped over the fence between them. They talked now as they peered here and there, finally stopping at the mouth of the ravine to wait for the others, and Umslopogaas heard what they said.
“What a dreadful place this is, my brother,” said the other; “a place full of ghosts, strange voices, hands that seem to push us back, and the howling of unseen wolves. It is called the Haunted Mountain, and the name is fitting. I wish the king had given us some other task—these are witches, and this place is their haunt. Tell me, my brother, what was it that leaped over the fence in the morning darkness? A witch, of course! Wow! they are all witches. Could any real man do what that man called Wolf did when we were trying to reach the river? If only the Weeper had been there to support the club, our troops would have been scattered there.”
“The Weeper had a woman to guard,” growled another. “But you are right, this place is indeed a den of witches and evil spirits. I thought I saw the eyes of the Esedowani gleaming in the darkness of the trees, and I could smell their scent. But we must kill those witches, for if we return to Umgugundhlovu in vain, soon they will be heating irons, the tips of which we will taste. Let us set off, my brother. Our party is already close. I wish Faku would change our places, for in this thicket I would rather be the last than the first. Look, there are tracks here—innumerable wolf tracks, and here and there a human track; they may be this and that—who knows? This is truly a land of ghosts and witches.”
The wolf-men had been busy restraining their men when the warriors came into view, and the rage was increasing every moment. The gills were dripping, the eyes were shining greedily, and suddenly a she-wolf sprang high into the air and, howling, struck the throat of the warrior who had spoken last. Both fell to the ground, struggling furiously until each had given up her life.
” The Esedowans! The Esedowans are upon us!” shouted another scout, running to his comrades. But he never got there, for now all the wolves rushed from their hiding places to the right and left at him, and in the blink of an eye only a spear was left of the man.
The warriors let out a loud cry of distress and others turned to flee, but Faku, their leader, who was a stout and brave man, roared: “Stand firm, children of the king, stand firm! There is not a single Esedowani before you, but the Wolf-folk with their rabble. What! Are you afraid of dogs, you who have laughed at the spears of men? Circle, children, and stand firm!”
The warriors heard their leader’s voice and obeyed at once, forming a double closed circle. Looking to the right they saw Bulalio, wolf teeth gleaming in his brows and worn wolf fur flying on his shoulders, charging at them like a gale, the Weeper above, the red-eyed pack following at his heels. They looked to the left—ah, they knew the Watcher. They had heard the crash of his blows down by the river’s edge, and they knew the giant who brandished it like a staff, the wolf king with the strength of ten men in his arms. Wow! Here they come. Look at that host, black and gray, hear the war song it howls! See how it rushes against the spears like a flood of blood on the cliff of a rapid, the flash of fangs like foam! The circle is broken! The Weeper has broken it! Ha! Galazi has also broken ranks; now they must fight back to back or perish!
How long did the fight last? Who knows? Time passes quickly when the blows are showered down in a dense rain. At last the friends were forced to retreat; they broke out as they had broken in, and disappeared into the forest with the remaining wolves. Only a third of the warrior band had survived; the others lay dead, mutilated, and disfigured beneath the piles of bodies of the slain beasts.
“We have been in a fight with evil spirits who attack us in the form of wolves,” said Faku. “The wolf-folk are certainly witches, but witches I like; they fight like lions and know the art. But I will kill them or I will die myself. There are very few of us left, but many wolves have fallen, and I do not think the arms of those villains will ever tire.”
So he set out to climb up the mountainside with his remaining warriors, and all the time the wolves harassed them, knocking down a man here and another there, but even though they heard and saw the Wolf-Wolfs encouraging their loyal ones, the Wolf-Wolfs did not attack them, for they were saving their strength for the final decisive battle.
The journey was long and arduous, and the warriors did not know the way, and were constantly harassed by the ghost wolves. It was already evening when they arrived at the feet of the old witch and began to howl on the plateau.
“How wonderful, a couple!” exclaimed the big Faku. “I would rather fight with them than against them. But they must die!” And he began to climb onto the sorceress’s knees.
Umslopogaas stood and looked at the face of the person sitting above, which was illuminated by the evening sun.
“Didn’t I say that old witch would smile when she saw our fight?” he cried. “Look! She smiles! Hey, Galazi, let us gather the rest of our people against the enemy, and fight this match to the end, man against man, without letting the beasts spoil it completely! Hey, Blood Drinker and Graysnout! Hey, Death and all you forest dwellers, black and gray, attack the enemy, my child!”
The wolves heard; they were in a pitiful state, full of wounds and fatigue, and only a small group remained, but they had not yet lost their nature. Howling, they charged the enemy for the last time, tearing, tearing, and killing, until they were all killed by the spears, all except Death, who crawled, badly wounded, to Galaz to die at his feet.
“Now I am a chief without a tribe,” cried Galazi. “But such is my fate. It was so with the Halakaz, and so it was at last on Ghost Mountain. Tell me, Bulalio, where do you want to stand, on the right or on the left?”
The path from below split in two because of a large boulder, so the sorceress’s knees could be reached along two narrow paths, about ten steps apart. Umslopogaas stepped to the left, Galazi to the right, and there they waited with their spears in reserve. The warriors soon appeared from behind the boulder and charged towards the plateau, some along one path, some along the other. The spears that flew from above killed three, but the warriors did not stop, but rushed forward bravely. Umslopogaas bent down, his long arm stretched out, the spear flashed, and one enemy rolled down.
“One!” exclaimed Umslopogaas.
“One, my brother!” Galazi repeated, swinging his mace for another blow.
A warrior, singing, rushed to the spot where his fallen comrade had fallen, and leaped here and there in front of Umslopogaas, his spear ready to strike. The Weeper swung, but the man immediately recoiled, so that the blow went astray.
“You hit badly, witch!” cried the man, rushing to deliver the killing blow, but, look, the slayer circled in a small circle right on the ground, striking suddenly upwards, and before the warrior could strike, the Weeper had embraced his head, from chin to brain.
“But that’s better now, you fool!” said Umslopogaas.
“Two!” Galazi shouted from the right.
“Two, my brother!” repeated Umslopogaas.
The two enemies rushed forward again, one against the other, hoping to have better luck. The cry of ” three !” echoed simultaneously from right and left, and immediately afterwards ” four !”
Faku now ordered the remaining men to press their shields together and thus push the two men further from the ends of the paths onto the plateau. The trick succeeded, but four warriors fell again before the Wolf-men retreated.
“Surround and kill them!” roared Faku.
But who can contain the Weeping-Maker, who flashes in every direction at once, the Weeping-Maker, who no longer falls heavily, but pecks, pecks like a dart, and never in vain? Who can contain the man who is swifter than the antelope of the plains? Wow! He is here! He is there! He is a witch! Death lies in his hand, and death stares from his eyes!
Galazi is still alive, too, for the Guard rises and falls, thumping on his shields, and his hoarse cry echoes, announcing the number of those who have fallen. He fights like a lion, though he is covered with wounds; a blow from the slayer has almost severed his thigh, but he rages still. He has only two enemies left, one of whom suddenly spins around behind him and wounds him in the back. Galazi strikes the warrior standing in front of him in the groin, then turns towards the other. The Guard swings high and falls, crushing the man like an eggshell.
Galazi wiped the blood from his face and looked around. “Everyone!
Bulalio,” he exclaimed.
“All but two, my brothers,” echoed back, accompanied by the clang of steel and the clang of shields.
Wolf-Galazi wanted to go to help his brother, but he could not, for his strength began to fail him; he had fought his battle.
“Farewell, my brother! Now it is time to die; on the funeral bed that I have prepared myself!” he cried in an echoing voice.
“Goodbye! Sleep well, Wolf!” was the reply. “All except one !”
Galazi collapsed on the pile of corpses, but was still alive. “All but one,” he repeated. “Ha! ha! that one is not good to be, when the Weeper is still swinging. It was worth living, when I can die so wonderfully! Victory! Victory!” And Wolf-Galazi rose unsteadily to his knees, waving the Watcher one last time above his head. Then he collapsed again and breathed his last.
Umslopogaas Chaka’s son and Faku Dingaan’s warrior looked at each other.
Only they two remained, for all the others had fallen.
Umslopogaas had many wounds, but Faku was unharmed, and
Faku was the strongest of men and knew how to use the tapara, which weapon
he now had in his hand.
He laughed impudently. “So far has it come, Bulalio,” he said, “that we must now decide between ourselves whether the king shall have his way or not. But however our duel may end, I consider it a great fortune that I have been able to witness this battle; to have to do with two such warriors is the highest honor. Rest a moment, Bulalio, before we end. Your brother died a hero, and if I am to win, the story of his death will soon be told everywhere, never to be forgotten.”
XIII.
THE FALLING FAREWELL OF THE LILY.
Umslopogaas listened, but did not answer, although Faku’s words pleased him, for he did not want to waste his strength on useless talk and the evening was already beginning to grow dark.
“I am ready, Dingaan’s man,” he said, raising his spear.
They circled each other for a moment, waiting for a suitable opportunity to strike. Faku suddenly aimed a sharp blow at Umslopogaas’s head, and Umslopogaas raised his sword to meet it, but could not completely dodge the blow; the ring around his head broke and a wound was made on the skin.
The pain woke Bulalio, so to speak. He grabbed the Weeping-Maker with both hands and struck three times. The first blow severed Faku’s hilt and sent his shield flying, forcing Faku to retreat a spear’s length, the second missed, and with the third blow the shaft of the spear slipped slightly in Umslopogaas’s sweaty hands, so that the blade struck Faku flat on his chest. The blow, however, struck with full force, crushing his chest and sending Faku flying from the plateau onto the mountainside, where he lay motionless.
“A good day’s work,” said Umslopogaas, smiling cruelly. “Well, Dingaan, now send another party to collect your dead,” and he turned to go into the cave to Nada.
But Faku was not yet dead, though mortally wounded. He rose and with his last strength hurled his dagger at Umslopogaas, who had defeated him. Umslopogaas did not suspect anything, and the blow was so well aimed that the dagger hit him in the left side, breaking a bone and making a large hole. Faku fell to the ground dead, and Umslopogaas threw up his hands, fell like a struck bull, and lay motionless in the shadow of the doorstones.
Nada sat crouched in the cave, listening to the din of the battle that was drawing nearer, the howling of wolves, the shouts of warriors, and the clang of steel. She sat thus all day, and in the evening heard the battle raging just outside the cave, dying down, and finally stopping altogether. She heard the cries of the Wolf-Wolfs as they announced to each other the number of those who had fallen, and Galaz’s death cry: “Victory!” Her heart trembled with joy, although she felt that the cry had echoed death. The faint clang of weapons was still heard, but then all was quiet, and the ray of light disappeared.
Everywhere there was the silence of the grave. There was no longer the cry of men, nor the clang of steel, nor the howl of wolves, nor the cries of joy or pain—all was as silent as in the grave, for death had made amends for all.
Sitting in the dark cave, Nada Lily Flower tried to encourage herself by saying to herself: “Yes, my husband will come soon, he will certainly come. The murderers have been killed—he will first bandage his wounds, which he may have scratched somewhere. Then he will come, and it is good that he will come, for I am already tired of my loneliness, and this place is so awful.”
But nothing was heard. She continued her soliloquy, now shouting the words so that the cave echoed: “Now I am brave and fear nothing, I will push the stone aside and go get him. I know very well that he would not delay unless he had to tend to some wounded person, perhaps Galazi. Yes, Galazi is certainly wounded. I must go and tend him, even though he did not like me and I did not like him, for he always wanted to come between me and my husband. That fierce wolf-man is an enemy of women, especially mine, but nevertheless I want to tend him. I will go at once,” and she got up and pushed the stone.
But what did this mean? The stone did not move. At the same time he remembered that he had touched the stone in fear of the wolf, causing it to slip a little and slide deeper into the entrance. Umslopogaas had indeed forbidden him to touch the stone, but Nada had forgotten the warning in her distress. Perhaps she would still be able to turn the stone to the side. It was a vain hope! The stone did not move a hair. He was a prisoner without food or drink until Umslopogaas came to free him. What if Umslopogaas did not come? Then he would surely die.
He began to scream in fear, mentioning the name of Umslopogaas. ” Umslopogaas! Umslopogaas !” answered the echo from the walls of the cave and that was all.
Yes, Umslopogaas was not heard, and for want of food Nada grew weaker day by day, until at last her sufferings seemed to darken her reason. The dead man of whom Galazi had told her sat again in his hole near the roof of the cave and spoke to her, saying: “Galazi is dead! The fate of the Guardian Bearer has befallen him. And the ghost wolves are dead too! I died of hunger in this cave, and as I died, so must you die, Nada Lily-flower! Nada Death Star, whose beauty and pride have caused all this murder!”
Nada pretended to see the speaker and heard those words over and over again.
Despite her fears, Nada noticed that the light penetrated through the hole twice, when she knew it was day outside, and disappeared twice, when it was night outside. When the light appeared a third time and finally disappeared, she woke up fully conscious and felt that she was already dying. From outside, a voice she loved reached her ears, and it asked hollowly: “Nada! Are you still alive, Nada?”
“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely. “Water, give me water!”
There was a rustling sound from outside, as if a large snake had been dragging itself out with difficulty, and after a moment a trembling hand reached out from the hole and held out a small bowl full of water. Nada drank and was already able to speak, although the water seemed to burn like fire.
“Is it really you, Umslopogaas?” he said. “Or are you dead, and I only dream of you?”
“It’s me, Nada,” the voice replied. “Listen, have you touched the stone?”
“I am, unfortunately. But maybe we can work together to move it.”
“Yes, if I were in my old strength, but we can try.”
They tried their best, but the stone did not move.
“Come on, Umslopogaas,” said Nada; “we’re just wasting the time I still have left. Let’s talk.”
There was no answer, for Umslopogaas had fainted, and Nada beat her chest, thinking she was dead.
However, Umslopogaas regained his composure and said after a moment: “We can’t do anything about it, we’ll both perish here, you on that side and I on this, unable to see each other, for I’m so weak that I can’t even get up to get something to eat.”
“Are you wounded, Umslopogaas?” asked Nada.
“I am, Nada, a great hole in my head from the spear of Dingaan’s chief, with which he threw me from behind, thinking him dead. I fell, and I know not how long I have lain under the shelter of this rock. Days, I think, for my limbs are quite numb, and the vultures have already torn to pieces all those who fell in the battle, except Galaz, by whose side the dying Death rests, still alive, licking my brother’s wounds and driving away the vultures. The peck of the vulture at last roused me to consciousness, and then I dragged myself here. I wish I had not woken up. I would rather lie as I lay than live just as long as you look like this, Nada, like a fox in a trap. I will follow you soon, Nada.”
“It is hard to die like this, Umslopogaas,” answered Nada. “I am young and beautiful, I love you and I hoped to bear you children, but fate must have allowed it, and there is nothing you can do about it. My strength is soon at an end, terror and fear have frozen my blood, but I feel no pain. Let us not speak of death any more, let us rather remember the happy days of our childhood, when we walked hand in hand, and our love, that happy time after your great sword crept into the rock in the cave of the Halakaz, when my fear revealed my secret to you. Look, I am putting my hand through the hole, can you not kiss it, Umslopogaas?”
Umslopogaas bowed his wounded head and kissed Lily’s little hand, which he then held in his own—until the end. They spoke of their love, thus trying to forget their sad hopeless condition—he sitting outside with his back against the stone and Nada resting inside on her side with her hand threaded through the hole. Umslopogaas also told of the battle and how it had gone.
“Ah!” said Nada, “this is the work of Zinita, Zinita, who hated me so bitterly, and with good reason. She must have been to Dingaan’s speeches.”
“Just now I was hoping that we could die together, Nada,” said Umslopogaas, “so that we could go together to the great Galaz, where he is now. But now it is different. Now I hope that someone will find me. I want to live a little longer to take revenge on a villain—a terrible revenge.”
“Speak not of revenge, my love,” said Nada, “I am already near the land where the murderers and the slain bloodsuckers and the avengers are all in the same darkness. I will die with the words of love in my ears and my heart and your name on my lips, so that wherever we meet again, my love will immediately greet you joyfully. But the voice of my heart whispers to me that you will not accompany me on this last journey of mine. You will live long to die an invincible hero far from here for another woman. As I rest in this gloomy darkness, it seems to me as if I see you, Umslopogaas, standing mortally wounded, gray-haired and sinewy, the Weeper, high up on some shining white road, strewn with corpses. Around you are the beautiful faces of white women, and you have a great wound on the left side of your head, my love.”
“Your vision will come true if I live,” replied Umslopogaas, “for I have a bad fracture in my head near the left orbital bone.”
Nada fell silent and was silent for a long time. Umslopogaas was also silent, as grief and pain tore at his heart, when he had to lose his Lily Flower in this way, and only because Faku’s throw had taken away his strength. He, the doer of great feats, was now unable to save his beloved; he could hardly sit with his back against the stone. Grief and despair pressed tears into his eyes, and a couple of pearls rolled down Lily Flower’s hand. Nada felt their sting and said:
“Weep not, my husband; I am not worthy, and mourn not my death, but remember that I loved you tenderly.”
After a long silence, he continued, his voice coming in broken, breathless whispers:
“Farewell, Umslopogaas, my husband and brother. I thank you for your love, Umslopogaas. Now I will sleep my last sleep.”
Umslopogaas could not answer, but looked at the delicate hand that rested in his own. The fingers opened twice and wrapped around his fingers twice, then the hand opened a third time, turned grayish in color, trembled, and became limp forever!
In the east, the horizon began to lighten. Morning came.
XIV.
THE REVENGE OF MOPO AND HIS ADOPTED SON.
On the same day that Nada died, I arrived at the city of the axe people at dawn on my return from my journey. My journey had been a success, for a great chief immediately took an interest in my cause and promised to support me in every way. When the sun rose, I arrived there, and behold, the city was deserted and in ashes.
“This is Dingaan’s trail,” I said, and wandered here and there, looking at the devastation and groaning with pain. Suddenly I came upon a group of men who had escaped the massacre. They were hiding in the cornfield, fearing the enemy might return, and from them I heard all that had happened. I listened in silence, for I was already accustomed to misfortune; then I asked where the enemy had gone. They replied that the warriors had hurried to Ghost Mountain in pursuit of Wolf-Wolf and Lily-Flower. Then a howl and a din of battle had been heard from the forest, and then all was quiet, and no one had returned from the mountain; only vultures had been seen flying all day about the mountain.
“Let’s go to the mountain,” I said.
At first they were afraid to come, as the place was so notorious, but they finally went with me, and we followed the enemy’s tracks, soon guessing what had become of the group. At last we reached the plateau, with the sorceress’s knees in sight, where the Wolf-folk had fought their last brave battle. Of the fallen only bones remained, for the vultures had been allowed to feast in peace, not daring, however, to touch Galaz, on whose chest that old Death still rested alive. As I approached the body, the great wolf rose unsteadily to his feet, rushed at me with his manes erect and his jaws open, but fell dead to the ground at the same moment, for the effort had been too great.
I looked around for the Weeper among the bones, but when I did not see him, a hope rose in my heart that Umslopogaas had been saved. We went in silence to where the cave was supposed to be, and there we saw on the ground, just at the entrance, the body of a man. I hurried closer >— it was Umslopogaas, starved to death, with a gaping wound in his temple. There were also many wounds on his chest, arms, and legs, and in his hand he held a small hand—a stiff hand that showed through a hole in the side of the stone. I knew the hand well—it was the small hand of my daughter Nada Lily Flower.
Now I understood and bent down to feel Umslopogaas’s heart, at the same time placing the feather I had plucked from the eagle’s feather on his lips. The heart was still beating weakly and the feather was moving.
I asked my companions to turn the stone to the side, which they finally succeeded in doing. Light streamed into the cave, and there, right behind the stone, lay the lifeless body of my daughter. She was a little withered, but still beautiful and sweet in death. I felt her heart too; it was silent, and her chest was already cold.
“The dead are dead,” I said; “let us take care of the living.”
We carried Umslopogaas to the cave, and after crumbling some bread into the water, I poured the broth down his throat. Then I cleaned the large wound on his head, removing the bone fragments, and finally placed a bandage I had made of healing herbs over the wound, using all my skill. I was the most skilled of healers, being the first of the izinyanga, the king’s physicians, and if it had not been for me, Umslopogaas would have died on that spot, for his end was very near. In the same place where Galazi had once treated him, I also brought him back to life a second time. He did not speak for three days, and before he regained consciousness, I dug a deep grave in the floor of the cave. Then I buried my daughter Nada in it. We covered her with lilies so that the earth would not touch her, and then we closed the grave. I did not want Umslopogaas to see him dead, for the emotion caused by that vision might have had the most serious consequences. Umslopogaas might have begun to wish that he might follow his beloved, which would have surely made all my efforts fail. I also buried Wolf-Galaz in the cave and put the Watchman in his hand, and there they both sleep, Lily Flower and Wolf, at last as friends. Ah! When will another such man and another such girl appear in the world?
On the third day, Umslopogaas finally opened his eyes and asked Nada. Then his strength gradually began to return, and skin grew over the wound on his head. But his hair had turned gray and he hardly ever smiled anymore, but became even more cruel and harsh.
We soon heard all that Zinita had done, for the women and children returned home after a time. But there was no word of Zinita and her children. A spy also came to me from Mahlabatin and told me of Zinita’s fate and of Dingaan’s escape.
After Umslopogaas recovered, I asked him what he intended to do and whether I should continue with my plan to make him king or not.
Umslopogaas shook his head and replied that he no longer had such desires. He would certainly destroy one king, but he no longer desired to become king himself. He only wanted revenge. I did not try to persuade him, which would have been useless, I just said that I also desired revenge. If we worked together, we would succeed.
There is much more to tell, my father, but I do not know if I should continue. The snow has melted and your animals are here, found where I said they were hidden, so you wish to continue your journey. I wish to do the same, but my journey is a little longer.
I will tell you in a few words what happened next. As you may remember, I once saved the life of Dingane’s brother Panda, thinking that I would need him in the future, and now I decided to incite him against Dingane. After the Battle of Bloody River, Dingane had invited Panda to a hunting expedition. Umslopogaas and I were already at Panda’s place at his village on the lower Tugela, and I warned Panda not to heed the invitation, for he himself was the game, for whom the hunt was being carried out. I advised him to flee to Natal with all his people, which he did. Then I began negotiations with the Boers, speaking mainly only with their chief, whose name was Ungalunkulu, or Big Hand. I proved and showed him how villainous and treacherous Dingane was, while Panda was known everywhere to be a decent and trustworthy person in every way. The result of the negotiations was that the Boers and Panda jointly declared war against Dingane, which war I caused only to get revenge on Dingane.
Were we in the great battle of Magongo? Yes, we were, my father. When Dingane’s troops pushed us back, I, Mopo, hastened to Nongalaza, who led our troops, and advised him to send word to the Boers that it was now their turn to attack. The Amaboonas had not taken part in the battle, but had left it to our black men. Umslopogaas took the word to carry it, and he cleared a path on the Weeper through the flank of one of Dingane’s regiments until he reached Ungalunkulu, the Boer chief, and urged him to break through the flank of Dingane’s army. The battle ended there, for the enemy immediately lost their courage when they heard that the white men had joined us. Dingane’s troops turned to flee, and we pursued them, killing a great number of the enemy. That was the end of Dingane’s kingship.
But he still lived, though no longer king, and as long as he lived our lust for revenge was not satisfied. So we went to the Boer chief and the Panda and said most politely: “We have served you well and fought for you, and may fate grant that your favor may prevail. Let us then go in pursuit of Dingaan, who is hiding somewhere, and kill him wherever we find him, for he has wronged us, and we will have revenge.”
Ungalunkulu and Panda replied with a smile: “Go, children, and may your search be successful. Nothing could make us more happy than the news that Dingaan is dead.” And they gave us a band of warriors to accompany us.
Then we hunted the king from place to place for many weeks, like a wounded buffalo. We chased him into the jungles of Umialoz, from which he nevertheless fled, knowing that the blood-thirsty were after him. We lost track of him for a time, but then we heard that he had crossed the Pongolo River with a small band of warriors who had still remained loyal to him. We followed his tracks to a place called Kwa Myawo, where we hid in the bush and waited. We did not have to wait long before we saw him pass us with only two warriors. We killed the warriors and took him prisoner.
Dingaan recognized us at once, and his legs began to tremble with fear.
I said:
“Did I not send you greetings, O Dingaan, who are no longer king, that you did very wrong in banishing me from you, me who had raised you to the throne?”
He was silent and I continued:
“Yes, I, Mopo Makedama’s son, raised you to the throne, O
Dingaan, who was king, and I, Mopo, have cast you down from there.
But my greetings did not end there. I also said that
on the day you see my face again, you will meet your doom.”
He remained silent. Then Umslopogaas said:
“I am Bulalio, O Dingaan, who is no longer king, Bulalio, whom you sent a great band of brave warriors to murder. Where are those warriors of yours now, O Dingaan?”
“Kill me at once; now is your time,” said Dingaan.
“There is no need to hurry, O son of Senzangacona,” replied Umslopogaas; “it is a long way from here to your grave. Do you remember a girl named Nada the Lily-flower? She was Mopo’s daughter and my wife. But she is dead—she starved to death, after suffering for three days and three nights. We will show you the place where she died. Your heart, which has always been so tender, will swell with sorrow and pity when you hear the story. Do you remember when a woman named Zinita came to you, leading by the hand two lovely and sweet little children? I was the father of those children, and a certain Dingaan murdered them. But you will hear of them too. Now on the road, for the journey is long!”
A couple of days later Dingaan sat alone and chained in the cave of Ghost Mountain. We had dragged him there with difficulty, for he was as heavy as an ox. Three men pushed him from behind and three pulled by the rope that was tied around his waist, and now and then we stopped to show him the bones of those he had sent us to kill. At the same time we told him the events of the battle.
At last we were in the cave, and I sent away the warriors, for we wanted to be alone with Dingaan. He sat on the floor of the cave, and I told him that he sat on the grave of Nada, whom he had murdered, and of Wolf-Galazi.
Then we rolled the stone to the mouth of the cave and left him with the spirits of Galaz and Nada.
On the third day, at dawn, we came to see him.
“Kill me,” he begged, “for ghosts haunt me!”
“Then you are no longer strong, O shadow of the king,” said I, “when you tremble before your two victims, you who have murdered thousands. Tell me, then, what will become of you now that you are completely among them?”
Dingaan began to pray for mercy.
“Have mercy on you, hyena!” I replied. “Do you beg for mercy, when you yourself have never shown mercy to anyone! Give me back my daughter! And give this man back his child; then we can talk of mercy. Get out, you scoundrel, and die as a villain should!”
We dragged him from the cave, as he moaned pitifully, to the edge of the pit in the old wizard’s chest, the same pit where Galazi had seen the bones, and waited for the sun to rise, the moment when Nada would have died. Then we shouted the names of Nada and Umslopogaas’ children in his ear, and pushed him into the abyss.
Thus died Dingaan, my father—Dingaan, who had Chaka’s cruel heart but not his greatness.
XV.
THE MOBILE ENDS ITS STORY.
There you heard the story of Nada the Lily, my father, and how we avenged her death. A sad story—a very sad story, my father, but at that time everything was sad. Later, when Panda ruled, it was different, for Panda was a man of peace.
A few more words. I left Zululand, where I could no longer be after killing two kings, and moved here to live in Natal, near ancient Duguza.
After Dingane’s death I became blind, completely blind, never to see the sun or any other light again—I don’t know why; perhaps from crying too much, my father. I changed my name, too, lest some spear should find its way into the heart that had plotted the death of two kings and a prince—Chaka, Dingane, and Umhlangana.
One night my foster-son Umslopogaas secretly escorted me across the border and brought me here to Stanger, where I have since lived for many years as an old magician named Zweete. I am rich. Umslopogaas demanded from Panda the cattle that Dingaan had taken from me, which he then drove here. There are no longer any inhabitants of ancient Duguza here, and no one could know in old blind Zweete Mopo, the magician who killed Chaka, the lion of the Zulu. No one knows it anymore. You alone have heard my story, my father. Tell it to no one before I die.
Umslopogaas? He returned to the axe people and ruled his tribe, which, however, never again became as powerful as it had been before the Halakaz campaign. Panda let him be in peace and liked him, for Panda did not know that Bulalio was the son of Chaka, and Umslopogaas let that dog rule without interference, for after Nada’s death he had lost his lust for power. Later he became the chief of the Nkomabakos regiment and took part in many great battles, performing many famous feats. He was present at the bloody battle of Tugela, where Cetywayo defeated his brother Umbulaz Panda’s son.
After that he began to plot against Cetywayo, whom he hated, and if a white man, a hunter named Macumazana, the same one who escaped when the Boer band led by Retief was massacred, had not helped him out of the way, he would have been killed. Umslopogaas used to come to see me sometimes, for he still loved me, but now he has fled north, and I shall never hear his voice again. I do not know for sure what caused him to flee, but I am told that it was because of a woman. Yes, women have always been the bane of Umslopogaas. I heard of the incident, but I have forgotten it, for I now only remember incidents that happened long ago, in times before I became so old.
Look at this real cat, my father! I don’t see it myself, but I still think I see it as I, the son of Mopo Makedama, once saw it — red with the blood of two kings. Look at it and —
The old man fell silent at once, his head bowed to his withered chest. When the white man to whom the old man had told his story lifted his head, he saw that he was dead.
The end .
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