CHAPTER XIX
ALLAN AWAKES
Now I have no intention of setting down all the details of that
dreadful journey through Zululand, even if I could recall them,
which, for a reason to be stated, I cannot do. I remember that
at first I thought of proceeding to Ulundi with some wild idea of
throwing myself on the mercy of Cetewayo under pretence that I
brought him a message from Natal. Within a couple of hours,
however, from the top of a hill I saw ahead of me an impi and
with it captured wagons, which was evidently heading for the
king's kraal. So as I knew what kind of a greeting these
warriors would give me, I bore away in another direction with the
hope of reaching the border by a circuitous route. In this too I
had no luck, since presently I caught sight of outposts stationed
upon rocks, which doubtless belonged to another impi or regiment.
Indeed one soldier, thinking from my dress that I also was a
Zulu, called to me for news from about half a mile away, in that
peculiar carrying voice which Kaffirs can command. I shouted
back something about victory and that the white men were wiped
out, then put an end to the conversation by vanishing into a
patch of dense bush.
It is a fact that after this I have only the dimmest recollection
of what happened. I remember off-saddling at night on several
occasions. I remember being very hungry because all the food was
eaten and the dog, Lost, catching a bush buck fawn, some of which
I partially cooked on a fire of dead wood, and devoured. Next I
remember--I suppose this was a day or two later--riding at night
in a thunderstorm and a particularly brilliant flash of lightning
which revealed scenery that seemed to be familiar to me, after
which came a shock and total unconsciousness.
At length my mind returned to me. It was reborn very slowly and
with horrible convulsions, out of the womb of death and terror.
I saw blood flowing round me in rivers, I heard the cries of
triumph and of agony. I saw myself standing, the sole survivor,
on a grey field of death, and the utter loneliness of it ate into
my soul, so that with all its strength it prayed that it might be
numbered in this harvest. But oh! it was so strong, that soul
which could not, would not die or fly away. So strong, that
then, for the first time, I understood its immortality and that
it could _never_ die. This everlasting thing still clung for a
while to the body of its humiliation, the mass of clay and nerves
and appetites which it was doomed to animate, and yet knew its
own separateness and eternal individuality. Striving to be free
of earth, still it seemed to walk the earth, a spirit and a
shadow, aware of the hatefulness of that to which it was chained,
as we might imagine some lovely butterfly to be that is fated by
nature to suck its strength from carrion, and remains unable to
soar away into the clean air of heaven.
Something touched my hand and I reflected dreamily that if I had
been still alive, for in a way I believed that I was dead, I
should have thought it was a dog's tongue. With a great effort I
lifted my arm, opened my eyes and looked at the hand against the
light, for there was light, to see it was so thin that this light
shone through between the bones. Then I let it fall again, and
lo! it rested on the head of a dog which went on licking it.
A dog! What dog? Now I remembered; one that I had found on the
field of Isandhlwana. Then I must be still alive. The thought
made me cry, for I could feel the tears run down my cheeks, not
with joy but with sorrow. I did not wish to go on living. Life
was too full of struggle and of bloodshed and bereavement and
fear and all horrible things. I was prepared to exchange my part
in it just for rest, for the blessing of deep, unending sleep in
which no more dreams could come, no more cups of joy could be
held to thirsting lips, only to be snatched away.
I heard something shuffling towards me at which the dog growled,
then seemed to slink away as though it were afraid. I opened my
eyes again, looked, and closed them once more in terror, for what
I saw suggested that perhaps I was dead after all and had reached
that hell which a certain class of earnest Christian promises to
us as the reward of the failings that Nature and those who begat
us have handed on to us as a birth doom. It was something
unnatural, grey-headed, terrific--doubtless a devil come to
torment me in the inquisition vaults of Hades. Yet I had known
the like when I was alive. How had it been called? I
remembered, "The-thing-that-never-should-have-been-born." Hark!
It was speaking in that full deep voice which was unlike to any
other.
"Greeting, Macumazahn," it said. "I see that you have come back
from among the dead with whom you have been dwelling for a moon
and more. It is not wise of you, Macumazahn, yet I am glad who
have matched my skill against Death and won, for now you will
have much to tell me about his kingdom."
So it was Zikali--Zikali who had butchered my friends.
"Away from me, murderer!" I said faintly, "and let me die, or
kill me as you did the others."
He laughed, but very softly, not in his usual terrific fashion,
repeating the word "murderer" two or three times. Then with his
great hand he lifted my head gently as a woman might, saying--
"Look before you, Macumazahn."
I looked and saw that I was in some kind of a cave. Outside the
sun was setting and against its brightness I perceived two
figures, a white man and a white woman who were walking hand in
hand and gazing into each other's eyes. They were Anscombe and
Heda passing the mouth of the cave.
"Behold the murdered, O Macumazahn, dealer of hard words."
"It is only a trick," I murmured. "Kaatje saw them dead and
buried."
"Yes, yes, I forgot. The fat fool-woman saw them dead and
buried. Well, sometimes the dead come to life again and for good
purpose, as you should know, Macumazahn, who followed the counsel
of a certain Mameena and wandered here instead of rushing onto
the Zulu spears."
I tried to think the thing out and could not, so only asked--
"How did I come? What happened to me?"
"I think the sun smote you first who had no covering on your head
and the lightning smote you afterwards. Yet all the while that
reason had left you, One led your horse and after the Heavens had
tried to kill you and failed, perhaps because my magic was too
strong for them, One sent that beast which you found, yes, sent
it here to lead us to where you lay. There you were discovered
and brought hither. Now sleep lest you should go further than
even I can fetch you back again."
He held his hands above my head, seeming to grow in stature till
his white hair touched the roof of the cave, and in an instant I
fancied that I was falling away, deep, deep into a gulf of
nothingness.
There followed another period of dreaming, in which dreams I
seemed to meet all sorts of people, dead and living, especially
Lady Ragnall, a friend of mine with whom I had been concerned in
a very strange adventure among the Kendah people* and with whom
in days to come I was destined to be concerned again, although of
course I knew nothing of this, in a still stranger adventure of
what I may call a spiritual order, which I may or may not try to
reduce to writing. It seemed to me that I was constantly dining
with her tete-a-tete and that she told me all sorts of queer
things between the courses. Doubtless these illusions occurred
when I was fed.
[*--See the book called _The Ivory Child._--EDITOR.]
At length I woke up again, feeling much stronger, and saw the
dog, Lost, watching me with its great tender eyes--oh! they talk
of the eyes of women, but are they ever as beautiful as those of
a loving dog? It lay by my low bed-stead, a rough affair
fashioned of poles and strung with rimpis or strings of raw hide,
and by it, stroking its head, sat the witch-doctoress, Nombe. I
remember how pleasing she looked, a perfect type of the eternal
feminine with her graceful, rounded shape and her continual,
mysterious smile which suggested so much more than any mortal
woman has to give.
"Good-day to you, Macumazahn," she said in her gentle voice, "you
have gone through much since last we met on the night before Goza
took you away to Ulundi."
Now remembering all, I was filled with indignation against this
little humbug.
"The last time we met, Nombe," I said, "was when you played the
part of a woman who is dead in the Vale of Bones by the king's
kraal."
She regarded me with a kindly commiseration, and answered,
shaking her head--
"You have been very ill, Macumazahn, and your spirit still tricks
you. I played the part of no woman in any valley by the king's
kraal, nor were my eyes rejoiced with the sight of you there or
elsewhere till they brought you to this place, so changed that I
should scarcely have known you."
"You little liar!" I said rudely.
"Do the white people always name those liars who tell them true
things they cannot understand?" she inquired with a sweet
innocence. Then without waiting for an answer, she patted my
hand as though I were a fretful child and gave me some soup in a
gourd, saying, "Drink it, it is good. The lady Heddana made it
herself in the white man's fashion."
I drank the soup, which was very good, and as I handed back the
gourd, answered--
"Kaatje has told me that the lady Heddana is dead. Can the dead
make soup?"
She considered the point while she threw some bits of meat out of
the bottom of the gourd to the dog, Lost, then replied--
"I do not know, Macumazahn, or indeed whether the dead eat as we
do. Next time my Spirit visits me I will make inquiry and tell
you the answer. But I do know that it is very strange that you,
who always turn your back upon the truth, are so ready to accept
falsehoods. Why should you believe that the lady Heddana is dead
just because Kaatje told you so, when I who am still alive had
sworn to you that I would protect her with my life? Nay, speak
no more now. To-morrow if you are well enough you shall see and
judge for yourself."
She drew up the kaross over me, again patted my hand in her
motherly fashion and departed, still smiling, after which I went
to sleep again, so dreamlessly that I think there was some native
soporific in that soup.
On the following day two of Zikali's servants who did the rougher
work of my sick room, if I may so call it, arrived and said that
they were going to carry me out of the cave for a while, if that
were my will. I who longed to breathe the fresh air again, said
that it was very much my will, whereon they grasped the rough
bedstead which I have described by either end and very carefully
bore me down the cave and through its narrow entrance, where they
set the bedstead in the shadow of the overhanging rock without.
When I had recovered a little, for even that short journey tired
me, I looked about me and perceived that as I had expected, I was
in the Black Kloof, for there in front of me were the very huts
which we had occupied on our arrival from Swazi-Land.
I lay a while drawing in the sweet air which to me was like a
draught of nectar, and wondering whether I were not still in a
dream. For instance, I wondered if I had truly seen the figures
of Anscombe and Heda pass the mouth of the cave, on that day when
I awoke, or if these were but another of Zikali's illusions
imprinted on my weakened mind by his will power. For of what he
and Nombe told me I believed nothing. Thus marvelling I fell
into a doze and in my doze heard whisperings. I opened my eyes
and lo! there before me stood Anscombe and Heda. It was she who
spoke the first, for I was tongue-tied; I could not open my lips.
"Dear Mr. Quatermain, dear Mr. Quatermain!" she murmured in her
sweet voice, then paused.
Now at last words came to me. "I thought you were both dead," I
said. "Tell me, are you really alive?"
She bent down and kissed my brow, while Anscombe took my hand.
"Now you know," she answered. "We are both of us alive and
well."
"Thank God!" I exclaimed. "Kaatje swore that she saw you dead
and buried."
"One sees strange things in the Black Kloof," replied Anscombe
speaking for the first time, "and much has happened to us since
we were parted, to which you are not strong enough to listen now.
When you are better, then we will tell you all. So grow well as
soon as you can."
After this I think I fainted, for when I came to myself again I
was back in the cave.
Another ten days or so went by before I could even leave my bed,
for my recovery was very slow. Indeed for weeks I could scarcely
walk at all, and six whole months passed before I really got my
strength again and became as I used to be. During those days I
often saw Anscombe and Heda, but only for a few minutes at a
time. Also occasionally Zikali would visit me, speaking a
little, generally about past history, or something of the sort,
but never of the war, and go away. At length one day he said to
me--
"Macumazahn, now I am sure you are going to live, a matter as to
which I was doubtful, even after you seemed to recover. For,
Macumazahn, you have endured three shocks, of which to-day I am
not afraid to talk to you. First there was that of the battle of
Isandhlwana where you were the last white man left alive."
"How do you know that, Zikali?" I asked.
"It does not matter. I do know. Did you not ride through the
Zulus who parted this way and that before you, shouting what you
could not understand? One of them you may remember even saluted
with his spear."
"I did, Zikali. Tell me, why did they behave thus, and what did
they shout?"
"I shall not tell you, Macumazahn. Think over it for the rest of
your life and conclude what you choose; it will not be so
wonderful as the truth. At least they did so, as a certain doll
I dressed up yonder in the Vale of Bones told you they would, she
whose advice you followed in riding towards Ulundi instead of
back to the river where you would have met your death, like so
many others of the white people."
"Who was that doll, Zikali?"
"Nay, ask me not. Perhaps it was Nombe, perhaps another. I have
forgotten. I am very old and my memory begins to play me strange
tricks. Still I recollect that she was a good doll, so like a
dead woman called Mameena that I could scarcely have known them
apart. Ah! that was a great game I played in the Vale of Bones,
was it not, Macumazahn?"
"Yes, Zikali, yet I do not understand why it was played."
"Being so young you still have the impatience of youth,
Macumazahn, although your hair grows white. Wait a while and you
will understand all. Well, you lay that night on the topmost
rock of Isandhlwana, and there you saw and heard strange things.
You heard the rest of the white soldiers come and lie down to
rest among their dead brothers, and depart again unharmed. Oh!
what fools are these Zulu generals nowadays. They send out an
impi to attack men behind walls, spears against rifles, and are
defeated. Had they kept that impi to fall on the rest of the
English when they walked into the trap, not a man of your people
would have been left alive. Would that have happened in the time
of Chaka?"
"I think not, Zikali. Still I am glad that it did happen."
"I think not too, Macumazahn, but small men, small wit. Also
like you I am glad that it did not happen, since it is the Zulus
I hate, not the English who have now learned a lesson and will
not be caught again. Oh! many a captain in Zululand is to-day
flat as a pricked bladder, and even their victory, as they call
it, cost them dear. For, mind you, Macumazahn, for every white
man they killed two of them died. So, so! In the morning you
left the hill--do not look astonished, Macumazahn. Perhaps those
captains on the rock beneath you let you go for their own
purposes, or because they were commanded, for though weak I can
still lift a stone or two, Macumazahn, and afterwards told me all
about it. Then you found yourself alone among the dead, like the
last man in the world, Macumazahn, and that dog at your side,
also a horse came to you. Perhaps I sent them, perhaps it was a
chance. Who knows? Not I myself, for as I have said, my memory
has grown so bad. That was your first shock, Macumazahn, the
shock of standing alone among the dead like the last man in the
world. You felt it, did you not?"
"As I hope I shall never feel anything again. It nearly drove me
mad," I answered.
"Very nearly indeed, though I have felt worse things and only
laughed, as I would tell you, had I the time. Well, then the sun
struck you, for at this season of the year it is very hot in
those valleys for a white man with no covering to his head, and
you went quite mad, though fortunately the dog and the horse
remained as Heaven had made them. That was the second shock.
Then the storm burst and the lightning fell. It ran down the
rifle that you still carried, Macumazahn. I will show it to you
and you will see that its stock is shattered. Perhaps I turned
the flash aside, for I am a great thunder-herd, or perhaps it was
One mightier than I. That was the third shock, Macumazahn. Then
yon were found, still living--how, the white man, your friend,
will tell you. But you should cherish that dog of yours,
Macumazahn, for many a man might have served you worse. And
being strong, though small, or perhaps because you still have
work left to do in the world before you leave it for a while, you
have lived through all these things and will in time recover,
though not yet."
"I hope so, Zikali, though on the whole I am not sure that I wish
to recover."
"Yes, you do, Macumazahn, because the religion of you white men
makes you fear death and what may come after it. You think of
what you call your sins and are afraid lest you should be
tortured because of them, not understanding that the spirit must
be judged not by what the flesh has done but by what the spirit
desired to do, by _will_ not by _deed,_ Macumazahn. The evil man
is he who wishes to do evil, not he who wishes to do good and
falls now and again into evil. Oh! I have hearkened to your
white teachers and I know, I know."
"Then by your own standard you are evil, Zikali, since you wished
to bring about war, and not in vain."
"Oho! Macumazahn, you think that, do you, who cannot understand
that what seems to be evil is often good. I wished to bring
about war and brought it about, and maybe what bred the wish was
all that I have suffered in the past. But say you, who have seen
what the Zulu Power means, who have seen men, women and children
killed by the thousand to feed that Power, and who have seen,
too, what the English Power means, is it evil that I should wish
to destroy the House of the Zulu kings that the English House may
take its place and that in a time to come the Black people may be
free?"
"You are clever, Zikali, but it is of your own wrongs that you
think. How about that skull which you kissed in the Vale of
Bones?"
"Mayhap, Macumazahn, but my wrongs are the wrongs of a nation,
therefore I think of the nation, and at least I do not fear death
like you white men. Now hearken. Presently your friends will
tell you a story. The lady Heddana will tell you how I made use
of her for a certain purpose, for which purpose indeed I drew the
three of you into Zululand, because without her I could not have
brought about this war into which Cetewayo did not wish to enter.
When you have heard that story, do not judge me too hardly,
Macumazahn, who had a great end to gain."
"Yet whatever the story may be, I do judge you hardly, Zikali,
who tormented me with a false tale, causing the woman Kaatje to
lie to me and swear that she saw these two dead before her--how I
know not."
"She did not lie to you, Macumazahn. Has not such a one as I the
power to make a fat fool think that she saw what she did not see?
As to how! How did I make you think in yonder hut of mine that
you saw what you did not see--perhaps."
"But why did you mock me in this fashion, Zikali?"
"Truly, Macumazahn, you are blind as a bat in sunlight. When
your friends have told you the story, you will understand why.
Yet I admit to you that things went wrong. You should have heard
that tale _before_ Cetewayo brought you to the Vale of Bones.
But the fool-woman delayed and blundered, and when she reached
Ulundi the gates were shut against her as a spy, and not opened
till too late, so that you only found her when you returned from
the Council. I knew this, and that was why I dared to bid you
fire at that which stood upon the rock. Had you heard Kaatje's
tale you might have aimed straight, as also you would have
certainly shot straight at me, out of revenge for the deaths of
those you loved, Macumazahn, though whether you could have killed
me before all the game is played is another matter. As it was, I
was sure that you would not pierce the heart of one who _might_
be a certain white woman, sure also that you would not pierce my
heart whose death _might_ bring about her death and that of
another."
"You are very subtle, Zikali," I said in astonishment.
"So you hold because I am very simple, who understand the spirit
of man--and some other things. For the rest, had you not
believed that these two were dead, you would never have left
Zululand. You would have tried to escape to get to them and have
been killed. Is it not so?"
"Yes, I think I should have tried, Zikali. But why did you keep
them prisoner?"
"For the same reason that I still keep them--and you--to hold
them back a while from the world of ghosts. Had I sent them away
after that night of the declaration of war, they would have been
killed before they had gone an hour's journey. Oh! I am not so
bad as you think, Macumazahn, and I never break my word. Now I
have done."
"How goes the war?" I asked as he shuffled to his feet.
"As it must go, very ill for the Zulus. They have driven back
the white men who gather strength from over the Black Water and
will come on presently and wipe them out. Umnyamana would have
had Cetewayo invade Natal and sweep it clean, as of course he
should have done. But I sent him word that if he did so
Nomkubulwana, yes, she and no other, had told me that all the
spirits would be against him, and he hearkened. When next you
think me wicked, remember that, Macumazahn. Now it is but a
matter of time, and here you must bide till all is finished.
That will be good for you who need rest, though the other two
find it wearisome. Still for them it is good also to watch the
fruit ripen on their tree of love. It will be the sweeter when
they eat it, Macumazahn, and teach them how to live together.
Oho! Oho-ho!" and he shambled off.
