CHAPTER XVI
WAR
Now men began to whisper together and Goza groaned at my side.
"Rather would I look down a live lion's throat than see the
dead," he murmured. But I, who was anxious to learn how far
Zikali would carry his tricks, contemptuously told him to be
silent.
Presently the king called me to him and said--
"Macumazahn, you white men are reported to know all things. Tell
me now, is it possible for the dead to appear?"
"I am not sure," I answered doubtfully; "some say that it is and
some say that it is not possible."
"Well," said the king. "Have you ever seen one you knew in life
after death?"
"No," I replied, "that is--yes. That is--I do not know. When
you will tell me, King, where waking ends and sleep begins, then
I will answer."
"Macumazahn," he exclaimed, "just now I announced that you were
no liar, who perceive that after all you are a liar, for how can
you both have seen, and not seen, the dead? Indeed I remember
that you lied long ago, when you gave it out that the witch
Mameena was not your lover, and afterwards showed that she was by
kissing her before all men, for who kisses a woman who is not his
lover, or his mother? Return, since you will not tell me the
truth."
So I went back to my stool, feeling very small and yet indignant,
for how was it possible to be definite about ghosts, or to
explain the exact facts of the Mameena myth which clung to me
like a Wait-a-bit thorn.
Then after a little consultation Cetewayo said--
"It is our desire, O Opener of Roads, that you should draw wisdom
from the fount of Death, if indeed you can do so. Now let any
who are afraid depart and wait for us who are not afraid, alone
and in silence at the mouth of the kloof."
At this some of the audience rose, but after hesitating a little,
sat down again. Only Goza actually took a step forward, but on
my remarking that he would probably meet the dead coming up that
way, collapsed, muttering something about my pistol, for the fool
seemed to think I could shoot a spirit.
"If indeed I can do so," repeated Zikali in a careless fashion.
"That is to be proved, is it not? Perhaps, too, it may be better
for every one of you if I fail than if I succeed. Of one thing I
warn you, should the dead appear stir not, and above all touch
not, for he who does either of these things will, I think, never
live to look upon the sun again. But first let me try an easier
fashion."
Then once again he took up the skull that he said had been his
daughter's, and whispered to it, only to lay it down presently.
"It will not serve," he said with a sigh and shaking his locks.
"Noma tells me that she died a child, one who had no knowledge of
war or matters of policy, and that in all these things of the
world she still remains a child. She says that I must seek some
one who thought much of them; one, too who still lives in the
heart of a man who is present here, if that be possible, since
from such a heart alone can the strength be drawn to enable the
dead to appear and speak. Now let there be silence--Let there be
silence, and woe to him that breaks it."
Silence there was indeed, and in it Zikali crouched himself down
till his head almost rested on his knee, and seemed to go to
sleep. He awoke again and chanted for half a minute or so in
some language I could not understand. Then voices began to
answer him, as it seemed to me from all over the kloof, also from
the sky or rock above. Whether the effect was produced by
ventriloquism or whether he had confederates posted at various
points, I do not know.
At any rate this lord of "multitudes of spirits" seemed to be
engaged in conversation with some of them. What is more, the
thing was extremely well done, since each voice differed from the
other; also I seemed to recognize some of them, Dingaan's for
instance, and Panda's, yes, and that of Umbelazi the Handsome,
the brother of the king whose death I witnessed down by the
Tugela.
You will ask me what they said. I do not know. Either the words
were confused or the events that followed have blotted them from
my brain. All I remember is that each of them seemed to be
speaking of the Zulus and their fate and to be very anxious to
refer further discussion of the matter to some one else. In
short they seemed to talk under protest, or that was my
impression, although Goza, the only person with whom I had any
subsequent debate upon the subject, appeared to have gathered one
that was different, though what it was I do not recall. The only
words that remained clear to me must, I thought, have come from
the spirit of Chaka, or rather from Zikali or one of his
myrmidons assuming that character. They were uttered in a deep
full voice, spiced with mockery, and received by the wizard with
"Sibonga," or titles of praise, which I who am versed in Zulu
history and idiom knew had only been given to the great king, and
indeed since his death had become unlawful, not to be used. The
words were--
"What, Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born, do you think
yourself a Thing-that-should-never-die, that you still sit
beneath the moon and weave witchcrafts as of old? Often have I
hunted for you in the Under-world who have an account to settle
with you, as you have an account to settle with me. So, so, what
does it matter since we must meet at last, even if you hide
yourself at the back of the furthest star? Why do you bring me
up to this place where I see some whom I would forget? Yes, they
build bone on bone and taking the red earth, mould it into flesh
and stand before me as last I saw them newly dead. Oh! your
magic is good, Spell-weaver, and your hate is deep and your
vengeance is keen. No, I have nothing to tell you to-day, who
rule a greater people than the Zulus in another land. Who are
these little men who sit before you? One of them has a look of
Dingaan, my brother who slew me, yes, and wears his armlet. Is
he the king? Answer not, for I do not care to know. Surely
yonder withered thing is Sigananda. I know his eye and the Iziqu
on his breast. Yes, I gave it to him after the great battle with
Zweede in which he killed five men. Does he remember it, I
wonder? Greeting, Sigananda; old as you are you have still
twenty and one years to live, and than we will talk of the battle
with Zweede. Let me begone, this place burns my spirit, and in
it there is a stench of mortal blood. Farewell, O Conqueror!"
These were the words that I thought I heard Chaka say, though I
daresay that I dreamt them. Indeed had it been otherwise, I mean
had they really been spoken by Zikali, there would surely have
been more in them, something that might have served his purpose,
not mere talk which had all the inconsequence of a dream. Also
no one else seemed to pay any particular attention to them,
though this may have been because so many voices were sounding
from different places at once, for as I have said, Zikali
arranged his performance very well, as well as any medium could
have done on a prepared stage in London.
In a moment, as though at a signal, the voices died away. Then
other things happened. To begin with I felt very faint, as
though all the strength were being taken out of me. Some queer
fancy got a hold of me. I don't quite know what it was, but it
had to do with the Bible story of Adam when he fell asleep and a
rib was removed from him and made into a woman. I reflected that
I felt as Adam must have done when he came out of his trance
after this terrific operation, very weak and empty. Also, as it
chanced, presently I saw Eve--or rather a woman. Looking at the
fire in a kind of disembodied way, I perceived that dense smoke
was rising from it, which smoke spread itself out like a fan. It
thinned by degrees, and through the veil of smoke I perceived
something else, namely, a woman very like one whom once I had
known. There she stood, lightly clad enough, her fingers playing
with the blue beads of her necklace, an inscrutable smile upon
her face and her large eyes fixed on nothingness.
Oh! Heaven, I knew her, or rather thought I did at the moment,
for now I am almost sure that it was Nombe dressed, or undressed,
for the part. That knowledge came with reflection, but then I
could have sworn, being deceived by the uncertain light, that the
long dead Mameena stood before us as she had seemed to stand
before me in the hut of Zikali, radiating a kind of supernatural
life and beauty.
A little wind arose, shaking the dry leaves of the aloes in the
kloof; l thought it whispered--_Hail, Mameena!_ Some of the
older men, too, among them a few who had seen her die, in
trembling voices murmured, "It is Mameena!" whereon Zikali
scowled at them and they grew silent.
As for the figure it stood there patient and unmoved, like one
who has all time at its disposal, playing with the blue beads. I
heard them tinkle against each other, which proves that it was
human, for how could a wraith cause beads to tinkle, although it
is true that Christmas-story ghosts are said to clank their
chains. Her eyes roved idly and without interest over the
semi-circle of terrified men before her. Then by degrees they
fixed themselves upon the tree behind which I was crouching,
whereon Goza sank paralyzed to the ground. She contemplated this
tree for a while that seemed to me interminable; it reminded me
of a setter pointing game it winded but could not see, for her
whole frame grew intent and alert. She ceased playing with the
beads and stretched out her slender hand towards me. Her lips
moved. She spoke in a sweet, slow voice, saying--
"O Watcher-by-Night, is it thus you greet her to whom you have
given strength to stand once more beneath the moon? Come hither
and tell me, have you no kiss for one from whom you parted with a
kiss?"
I heard. Without doubt the voice was the very voice of Mameena
(so well had Nombe been instructed). Still I determined not to
obey it, who would not be made a public laughing-stock for a
second time in my life. Also I confess this jesting with the
dead seemed to me somewhat unholy, and not on any account would I
take a part in it.
All the company turned and stared at me, even Goza lifted his
head and stared, but I sat still and contemplated the beauties of
the night.
"If it is the spirit of Mameena, he will come," whispered
Cetewayo to Umnyamana.
"Yes, yes," answered the Prime Minister, "for the rope of his
love will draw him. He who has once kissed Mameena, _must_ kiss
her again when she asks."
Hearing this I grew furiously indignant and was about to break
into explanations, when to my horror I found myself rising from
that stool. I tried to cling to it, but, as it only came into
the air with me, let it go.
"Hold me, Goza," I muttered, and he like a good fellow clutched
me by the ankle, whereon I promptly kicked him in the mouth, at
least my foot kicked him, not my will. Now I was walking towards
that Shape--shadow or woman--like a man in his sleep, and as I
came she stretched out her arms and smiled oh! as sweetly as an
angel, though I felt quite sure that she was nothing of the sort.
Now I stood opposite to her alongside the fire of which the smoke
smelt like roses at the dawn, and she seemed to bend towards me.
With shame and humiliation I perceived that in another moment
those arms would be about me. But somehow they never touched me;
I lost sight of them in the rose-scented smoke, only the sweet,
slow voice which I could have sworn was that of Mameena, murmured
in my ear--well, words known to her and me alone that I had never
breathed to any living being, though of course I am aware now
that they must also have been known to somebody else.
"Do you doubt me any longer?" went on the murmuring. "Say, am I
Nombe now? Or--or am I in truth that Mameena, whose kiss thrills
your lips and soul? Hearken, Macumazahn, for the time is short.
In the rout of the great battle that shall be, do not fly with
the white men, but set your face towards Ulundi. One who was
your friend will guard you, and whoever dies, no harm shall come
to you now that the fire which burns in my heart has set all
Zululand aflame. Hearken once more. Hans, the little yellow man
who was named Light-in-Darkness, he who died among the Kendah
people, sends you salutations and gives you praise. He bids me
tell you that now of his own accord he renders to me, Mameena,
the royal salute, because royal I must ever be; because also he
and I who are so far apart are yet one in the love that is our
life."
The smoke blew into my face, causing me to reel back. Cetewayo
caught me by the arm, saying--
"Tell us, are the lips of the dead witch warm or cold?"
"I do not know," I groaned, "for I never touched her."
"How he lies! Oh! how he lies even about what our eyes saw,"
said Cetewayo reflectively as I blundered past him back to my
seat, on which I sank half swooning. When I got my wits again
the figure that pretended to be Mameena was speaking, I suppose
in answer to some question of Zikali's which I had not heard. It
said--
"O Lord of the Spirits, you have called me from the land of
Spirits to make reply as to two matters which have not yet
happened upon the earth. These replies I will give but no
others, since the mortal strength that I have borrowed returns
whence it came. The first matter is, if there be war between the
White and Black, what will happen in that war? I see a plain
ringed round with hills and on it a strange-shaped mount. I see
a great battle; I see the white men go down like corn before a
tempest; I see the spears of the impis redden; I see the white
soldiers lie like leaves cut from a tree by frost. They are
dead, all dead, save a handful that have fled away. I hear the
ingoma of victory sung here at Ulundi. It is finished.
"The second matter is--what shall chance to the king? I see him
tossed on the Black Water; I see him in a land full of houses,
talking with a royal woman and her councillors. There, too, he
conquers, for they offer him tribute of many gifts. I see him
here, back here in Zululand, and hear him greeted with the royal
salute. Last of all I see him dead, as men must die, and hear
the voice of Zikali and the mourning of the women of his house.
It is finished. Farewell, King Cetewayo, I pass to tell Panda,
your father, how it fares with you. When last we parted did I
not prophesy to you that we should meet again at the bottom of a
gulf? Was it this gulf, think you, or another? One day you
shall learn. Farewell, or fare ill, as it may happen!"
Once more the smoke spread out like a fan. When it thinned and
drew together again, the Shape was gone.
Now I thought that the Zulus would be so impressed by this very
queer exhibition, that they would seek no more supernatural
guidance, but make up their minds for war at once. This,
however, was just what they did not do. As it happened, among
the assembled chiefs, was one who himself had a great repute as a
witch-doctor, and therefore burned with jealousy of Zikali who
appeared to be able to do things that he had never even
attempted. This man leapt up and declared that all which they
had seemed to hear and see was but cunning trickery, carried out
after long preparation by Zikali and his confederates. The
voices, he said, came from persons placed in certain spots, or
sometimes were produced by Zikali himself. As for the vision, it
was not that of a spirit but of a real woman, in proof of which
he called attention to certain anatomical details of the figure.
Finally, with much sense, he pointed out that the Council would
be mad to come to any decision upon such evidence, or to give
faith to prophecies, whereof the truth or falsity could only be
known in the future.
Now a fierce debate broke out, the war party maintaining that the
manifestations were genuine, the peace party that they were a
fraud. In the end, as neither side would give way and as Zikali,
when appealed to, sat silent as a stone, refusing any
explanation, the king said--
"Must we sit here talking, talking, till daylight? There is but
one man who can know the truth, that is Macumazahn. Let him deny
it as he will, he was the lover of this Mameena while she was
alive, for with my own eyes I saw him kiss her before she killed
herself. It is certain, therefore, that he knows if the woman we
seemed to see was Mameena or another, since there are things
which a man never forgets. I propose, therefore, that we should
question him and form our own judgment of his answer."
This advice, which seemed to promise a road out of a blind ally,
met with instant acceptance.
"Let it be so," they cried with one voice, and in another minute
I was once more conducted from behind my tree and set down upon
the stool in front of the Council, with my back to the fire and
Zikali, "that his eyes might not charm me."
"Now, Watcher-by-Night," said Cetewayo, "although you have lied
to us in a certain matter, of this we do not think much, since it
is one upon which both men and women always lie, as every judge
will know. Therefore we still believe you to be an honest man,
as your dealings have proved for many years. As an honest man,
therefore, we beg you to give us a true answer to a plain
question. Was the Shape we saw before us just now a woman or a
spirit, and if a spirit, was it the ghost of Mameena, the
beautiful witch who died near this place nearly the quarter of a
hundred years ago, she whom you loved, or who loved you, which is
just the same thing, since a man always loves a woman who loves
him, or thinks that he does?"
Now after reflection I replied in these words and as
conscientiously as I could--
"King and Councillors, I do not know if what we all saw was a
ghost or a living person, but, as I do not believe in ghosts, or
at any rate that they come back to the world on such errands, I
conclude that it was a living person. Still it may have been
neither, but only a mere picture produced before us by the arts
of Zikali. So much for the first question. Your second is--was
this spirit or woman or shadow, that of her whom I remember
meeting in Zululand many years ago? King and Councillors, I can
only say that it was very like her. Still one handsome young
woman often greatly resembles another of the same age and
colouring. Further, the moon gives an uncertain light,
especially when it is tempered by smoke from a fire. Lastly,
memory plays strange tricks with all of us, as you will know if
you try to think of the face of any one who has been dead for
more than twenty years. For the rest, the voice seemed similar,
the beads and ornaments seemed similar, and the figure repeated
to me certain words which I thought I alone had heard come from
the lips of her who is dead. Also she gave me a strange message
from another who is dead, referring to a matter which I believed
was known only to me and that other. Yet Zikali is very clever
and may have learned these things in some way unguessed by me,
and what he has learned, others may have learned also. King and
Councillors, I do not think that what we saw was the spirit of
Mameena. I think it a woman not unlike to her who had been
taught her lesson. I have nothing more to say, and therefore I
pray you not to ask me any further questions about Mameena of
whose name I grow weary."
At this point Zikali seemed to wake out of his indifference, or
his torpor, for he looked up and said darkly--
"It is strange that the cleverest are always those who first fall
into the trap. They go along, gazing at the stars at night, and
forget the pit which they themselves have dug in the morning.
O-ho-ho! Oho-ho!"
Now the wrangling broke out afresh. The peace party pointed
triumphantly to the fact that I, the white man who ought to know,
put no faith in this apparition, which was therefore without
doubt a fraud. The war party on the other hand declared that I
was deceiving them for reasons of my own, one of which would be
that I did not wish to see the Zulus eat up my people. So fierce
grew the debate that I thought it would end in blows and perhaps
in an attack on myself or Zikali who all the while sat quite
careless and unmoved, staring at the moon. At length Cetewayo
shouted for silence, spitting, as was his habit when angry.
"Make an end," he cried, "lest I cause some of you to grow quiet
for ever," whereon the recriminations ceased. "Opener of Roads,"
he went on, "many of those who are present think like Macumazahn
here, that you are but an old cheat, though whether or no I be
one of these I will not say. They demand a sign of you that none
can dispute, and I demand it also before I speak the word of
peace or war. Give us then that sign or begone to whence you
came and show your face no more at Ulundi."
"What sign does the Council require, Son of Panda?" asked Zikali
quietly. "Let them agree on one together and tell me now at
once, for I who am old grow weary and would sleep. Then if it
can be given I will give it; and if I cannot give it, I will get
me back to my own house and show my face no more at Ulundi, who
do not desire to listen again to fools who babble like contending
waters round a stone and yet never stir the stone because they
run two ways at once."
Now the Councillors stared at each other, for none knew what sign
to ask. At length old Sigananda said--
"O King, it is well known that the Black One who went before you
had a certain little assegai handled with the royal red wood,
which drank the blood of many. It was with this assegai that
Mopo his servant, who vanished from the land after the death of
Dingaan, let out the life of the Black One at the kraal Duguza,
but what became of it afterwards none have heard for certain.
Some say that it was buried with the Black One, some that Mopo
stole it. Others that Dingaan and Umhlagana burned it. Still a
saying rose like a wind in the land that when that spear shall
fall from heaven at the feet of the king who reigns in the place
of the Black One, then the Zulus shall make their last great war
and win a victory of which all the world shall hear. Now let the
Opener of Roads give us this sign of the falling of the Black
One's spear and I shall be content."
"Would you know the spear if it fell?" asked Cetewayo.
"I should know it, O King, who have often held it in my hand.
The end of the haft is gnawed, for when he was angry the Black
One used to bite it. Also a thumb's length from the blade is a
black mark made with hot iron. Once the Black One made a bet
with one of his captains that at a distance of ten paces he would
throw the spear deeper into the body of a chief whom he wished to
kill, than the captain could. The captain threw first, for I saw
him with my eyes, and the spear sank to that place on the shaft
where the mark is, for the Black One burned it there. Then the
Black One threw and the spear went through the body of the chief
who, as he died, called to him that he too should know the feel
of it in his heart, as indeed he did."
I think that Cetewayo was about to assent to this suggestion,
since he who desired peace believed it impossible that Zikali
should suddenly cause this identical spear to fall from heaven.
But Umnyamana, the Prime Induna, interposed hurriedly--
"It is not enough, O King. Zikali may have stolen the spear, for
he was living and at the kraal Duguza at that time. Also he may
have put about the prophecy whereof Sigananda speaks, or at least
so men would say. Let him give us a greater sign than this that
all may be content, so that whether we make war or peace it may
be with a single mind. Now it is known that we Zulus have a
guardian spirit who watches over us from the skies, she who is
called Nomkubulwana, or by some the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, the
Princess of Heaven. It is known also that this Princess, who is
white of skin and ruddy-haired, appears always before great
things happen in our land. Thus she appeared before the Black
One died. Also she appeared to a number of children before the
battle of the Tugela. It is said, too, that but lately she
appeared to a woman near the coast and warned her to cross the
Tugela because there would be war, though this woman cannot now
be found. Let the Opener of Roads call down Nomkubulwana before
our eyes from heaven and we will admit, every man of us, that
this is a sign which cannot be questioned."
"And if he does this thing, which I hold no doctor in the world
can do, what shall it signify?" asked Cetewayo.
"O King," answered Umnyamana, "if he does so, it shall signify
war and victory. If he does not do so, it shall signify peace,
and we will bow our heads before the Amalungwana basi bodwe"
(i.e. "the little English," used as a term of derision).
"Do all agree?" asked Cetewayo.
"We agree," answered every man, stretching out his hand.
"Then, Opener of Roads, it stands thus: If you can call
Nomkubulwana, should there be such a spirit, to appear before our
eyes, the Council will take it as a sign that the Heavens direct
us to fight the English."
So spoke Cetewayo, and I noted a tone of triumph in his voice,
for his heart shrank from this war, and he was certain that
Zikali could do nothing of the sort. Still the opinion of the
nation, or rather of the army, was so strong in favour of it that
he feared lest his refusal might bring about his deposition, if
not his death. From this dilemma the supernatural test suggested
by the Prime Minister and approved by the Council that
represented the various tribes of people, seemed to offer a path
of escape. So I read the situation, as I think rightly.
Upon hearing these words for the first time that night Zikali
seemed to grow disturbed.
"What do my ears hear?" he exclaimed excitedly. "Am I the
Umkulukulu, the Great-Great (i.e. God) himself, that it should
be asked of me to draw the Princess of Heaven from beyond the
stars, she who comes and goes like the wind, but like the wind
cannot be commanded? Do they hear that if she will not come to
my beckoning, then the great Zulu people must put a yoke upon
their shoulders and be as slaves? Surely the King must have been
listening to the doctrines of those English teachers who wear a
white ribbon tied about their necks, and tell us of a god who
suffered himself to be nailed to a cross of wood, rather than
make war upon his foes, one whom they call the Prince of Peace.
Times have changed indeed since the days of the Black One. Yes,
generals have become like women; the captains of the impis are
set to milk the cows. Well, what have I to do with all this?
What does it matter to me who am so very old that only my head
remains above the level of the earth, the rest of me being buried
in the grave, who am not even a Zulu to boot, but a Dwandwe, one
of the despised Dwandwe whom the Zulus mocked and conquered?
"Hearken to me, Spirits of the House of Senzangacona"--here he
addressed about a dozen of Cetewayo's ancestors by name, going
back for many generations. "Hearken to me, O Princess of Heaven,
appointed by the Great-Great to be the guardian of the Zulu race.
It is asked that you should appear, should it be your wish to
signify to these your children that they must stand upon their
feet and resist the white men who already gather upon their
borders. And should it be your wish that they should lay down
their spears and go home to sleep with their wives and hoe the
gardens while the white men count the cattle and set each to his
work upon the roads, then that you should not appear. Do what
you will, O Spirits of the House of Senzangacona, do what you
will, O Princess of Heaven. What does it matter to the
Thing-that-never-should-have-been-born, who soon will be as
though he never had been born, whether the House of Senzangacona
and the Zulu people stand or fall?
"I, the old doctor, was summoned here to give counsel. I gave
counsel, but it passed over the heads of these wise ones like a
shadow of which none took note. I was asked to prophesy of what
would chance if war came. I called the dead from their graves;
they came in voices, and one of them put on the flesh again and
spoke from the lips of flesh. The white man to whom she spoke
denied her who had been his love, and the wise ones said that she
was a cheat, yes, a doll that I had dressed up to deceive them.
This spirit that had put on flesh, told of what would chance in
the war, if war there were, and what would chance to the King,
but they mock at the prophecy and now they demand a sign. Come
then. Nomkubulwana, and give them the sign if you will and let
there be war. Or stay away and give them no sign if you will,
and let there be peace. It is nought to me, nought to the
Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born."
Thus he rambled on, as it occurred to me who watched and
listened, talking against time. For I observed that while he
spoke a cloud was passing over the face of the moon, and that
when he ceased speaking it was quite obscured by this cloud, so
that the Vale of Bones was plunged in a deep twilight that was
almost darkness. Further, in a nervous kind of way, he did
something more to his wizard's fire which again caused it to
throw out a fan of smoke that hid him and the execution rock in
front of which he sat.
The cloud floated by and the moon came out as though from an
eclipse; the smoke of the fire, too, thinned by degrees. As it
melted and the light grew again, I became aware that something
was materializing, or had appeared on the point of the rock above
us. A few seconds later, to my wonder and amazement, I perceived
that this something was the spirit-like form of a white woman
which stood quite still upon the very point of the rock. She was
clad in some garment of gleaming white cut low upon her breast,
that may have been of linen, but from the way it shone, suggested
that it was of glittering feathers, egrets' for instance. Her
ruddy hair was outspread, and in it, too, something glittered,
like mica or jewels. Her feet and milk-hued arms were bare and
poised in her right hand was a little spear.
Nor did I see alone, since a moan of fear and worship went up
from the Councillors. Then they grew silent stared and stared.
Suddenly Zikali lifted his head and looked at them through the
thin flame of the fire which made his eyes shine like those of a
tiger or of a cornered baboon.
"At what do you gaze so hard, King and Councillors?" he asked.
"I see nothing. At what then do you gaze so hard?"
"On the rock above you stands a white spirit in her glory. It is
the Inkosazana herself," muttered Cetewayo.
"Has she come then?" mocked the old wizard. "Nay, surely it is
but a dream, or another of my tricks; some black woman painted
white that I have smuggled here in my medicine bag, or rolled up
in the blanket on my back. How can I prove to you that this is
not another cheat like to that of the spirit of Mameena whom the
white man, her lover, did not know again? Go near to her you
must not, even if you could, seeing that if by chance she should
_not_ be a cheat, you would die, every man of you, for woe to him
whom Nomkubulwana touches. How then, how? Ah! I have it.
Doubtless in his pocket Macumazahn yonder hides a little gun,
Macumazahn who with such a gun can cut a reed in two at thirty
paces, or shave the hair from the chin of a man, as is well known
in the land. Let him then take his little gun and shoot at that
which you say stands upon the rock. If it be a black woman
painted white, doubtless she will fall down dead, as so many have
fallen from that rock. But if it be the Princess of Heaven, then
the bullet will pass through her or turn aside and she will take
no harm, though whether Macumazahn will take any harm is more
than I can say."
Now when they heard this many remained silent, but some of the
peace party began to clamour that I should be ordered to shoot at
the apparition. At length Cetewayo seemed to give way to this
pressure. I say seemed, because I think he wished to give way.
Whether or not a spirit stood before him, he knew no more than
the rest, but he did know that unless the vision were proved to
be mortal he would be driven into war with the English.
Therefore he took the only chance that remained to him.
"Macumazahn," he said, "I know you have your pistol on you, for
only the other day you brought it into my presence, and through
light and darkness you nurse it as a mother does her firstborn.
Now since the Opener of Roads desires it, I command you to fire
at that which seems to stand above us. If it be a mortal woman,
she is a cheat and deserves to die. If it be a spirit from
heaven it can take no harm. Nor can you take harm who only do
that which you must."
"Woman or spirit, I will not shoot, King," I answered.
"Is it so? What! do you defy me, White Man? Do so if you will,
but learn that then your bones shall whiten here in this Vale of
Bones. Yes, you shall be the first of the English to go below,"
and turning, he whispered something to two of the Councillors.
Now I saw that I must either obey or die. For a moment my mind
grew confused in face of this awful alternative. I did not
believe that I saw a spirit. I believed that what stood above me
was Nombe cunningly tricked out with some native pigments which
at that distance and in that light made her look like a white
woman. For oddly enough at that time the truth did not occur to
me, perhaps because I was too surprised. Well, if it were Nombe,
she deserved to be shot for playing such a trick, and what is
more her death, by revealing the fraud of Zikali, would perhaps
avert a great war. But then why did he make the suggestion that
I should be commanded to fire at this figure? Slowly I drew out
my pistol and brought it to the full cock, for it was loaded.
"I will obey, King," I said, "to save myself from being murdered.
But on your head be all that may follow from this deed."
Then it was for the first time that a new idea struck me so
clearly that I believe it was conveyed direct from Zikali's brain
to my own. _I might shoot, but there was no need for me to hit._
After that everything grew plain.
"King," I said, "if yonder be a mortal, she is about die. Only a
spirit can escape my aim. Watch now the centre of her forehead,
for there the bullet will strike!"
I lifted the pistol and appeared to cover the figure with much
care. As I did so, even from that distance I thought I saw a
look of terror in its eyes. Then I fired, with a little jerk of
the wrist sending the ball a good yard above her head.
"She is unharmed," cried a voice. "Macumazahn missed her."
"Macumazahn does not miss," I replied loftily. "If that at which
he aimed is unharmed, it is because it cannot be hit."
"O-ho-o!" laughed Zikali, "the White Man who does not know the
taste of his own love's lips, says that he has fired at that
which cannot be hit. Let him try again. No, let him choose
another target. The Spirit is the Spirit, but he who summoned
her may still be a cheat. There is another bullet in your little
gun, White Man; see if it can pierce the heart of Zikali, that
the King and Council may learn whether he be a true prophet, the
greatest of all the prophets that ever was, or whether he be but
a common cheat."
Now a sudden rage filled me against this old rascal. I
remembered how he had brought Mameena to her death, when he
thought that it would serve him, and since then filled the land
with stories concerning her and me, which met me whatever way I
turned. I remembered that for years he had plotted to bring
about the destruction of the Zulus, and to further his dark ends,
was now engaged in causing a fearful war which would cost the
lives of thousands. I remembered that he had trapped me into
Zululand and then handed me over to Cetewayo, separating me from
my friends who were in my charge, and for aught I knew, giving
them to death. Surely the world would be well rid of him.
"Have your will," I shouted and covered him with the pistol.
Then there came into my mind a certain saying--"Judge not that ye
be not judged." Who and what was I that I should dare to arraign
and pass sentence upon this man who after all had suffered many
wrongs? As I was about to fire I caught sight of some bright
object flashing towards the king from above, and instantaneously
shifted my aim and pressed the trigger. The thing, whatever it
might be, flew in two. One part of it fell upon Zikali, the
other part travelled on and struck Cetewayo upon the knee.
There followed a great confusion and a cry of "The king is
stabbed!" I ran forward to look and saw the blade of a little
assegai lying on the ground and on Cetewayo's knee a slight cut
from which blood trickled.
"It is nothing," I said, "a scratch, no more, though had not the
spear been stopped in its course it might have been otherwise."
"Yes," cried Zikali, "but what was it that caused the cut? Take
this, Sigananda, and tell me what it may be," and he threw
towards him a piece of red wood.
Sigananda looked at it. "It is the haft of the Black One's
spear," he exclaimed, "which the bullet of Macumazahn has severed
from the blade."
"Aye," said Zikali, "and the blade has drawn the blood of the
Black One's child. Read me this omen, Sigananda; or ask it of
her who stands above you."
Now all looked to the rock, but it was empty. The figure had
vanished.
"Your word, King," said Zikali. "Is it for peace or war?"
Cetewayo looked at the assegai, looked at the blood trickling
from his knee, looked at the faces of the councillors.
"Blood calls for blood," he moaned. "My word is--_War!_"
