CHAPTER II
THE MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI
On the following morning I awoke, as a good hunter always should do,
just at that time when, on looking out of the wagon, nothing can be seen
but a little grey glint of light which he knows is reflected from the
horns of the cattle tied to the trek-tow. Presently, however, I saw
another glint of light which I guessed came from the spear of Saduko,
who was seated by the ashes of the cooking fire wrapped in his kaross of
wildcatskins. Slipping from the voorkisse, or driving-box, I came
behind him softly and touched him on the shoulder. He leapt up with a
start which revealed his nervous nature, then recognising me through the
soft grey gloom, said:
"You are early, Macumazahn."
"Of course," I answered; "am I not named Watcher-by-Night? Now let us
go to Umbezi and tell him that I shall be ready to start on our hunting
trip on the third morning from to-day."
So we went, to find that Umbezi was in a hut with his last wife and
asleep. Fortunately enough, however, as under the circumstances I did
not wish to disturb him, outside the hut we found the Old Cow, whose
sore ear had kept her very wide awake, who, for purposes of her own,
although etiquette did not allow her to enter the hut, was waiting for
her husband to emerge.
Having examined her wound and rubbed some ointment on it, with her I
left my message. Next I woke up my servant Scowl, and told him that I
was going on a short journey, and that he must guard all things until my
return; and while I did so, took a nip of raw rum and made ready a bag
of biltong, that is sun-dried flesh, and biscuits.
Then, taking with me a single-barrelled gun, that same little Purdey
rifle with which I shot the vultures on the Hill of Slaughter at
Dingaan's Kraal,* we started on foot, for I would not risk my only horse
on such a journey.
[*--For the story of this shooting of the vultures by Allan Quatermain,
see the book called "Marie."--EDITOR.]
A rough journey it proved to be indeed, over a series of bush-clad hills
that at their crests were covered with rugged stones among which no
horse could have travelled. Up and down these hills we went, and across
the valleys that divided them, following some path which I could not
see, for all that live-long day. I have always been held a good walker,
being by nature very light and active; but I am bound to say that my
companion taxed my powers to the utmost, for on he marched for hour
after hour, striding ahead of me at such a rate that at times I was
forced to break into a run to keep up with him. Although my pride would
not suffer me to complain, since as a matter of principle I would never
admit to a Kafir that he was my master at anything, glad enough was I
when, towards evening, Saduko sat himself down on a stone at the top of
a hill and said:
"Behold the Black Kloof, Macumazahn," which were almost the first words
he had uttered since we started.
Truly the spot was well named, for there, cut out by water from the
heart of a mountain in some primeval age, lay one of the most gloomy
places that ever I had beheld. It was a vast cleft in which granite
boulders were piled up fantastically, perched one upon another in great
columns, and upon its sides grew dark trees set sparsely among the
rocks. It faced towards the west, but the light of the sinking sun that
flowed up it served only to accentuate its vast loneliness, for it was a
big cleft, the best part of a mile wide at its mouth.
Up this dreary gorge we marched, mocked at by chattering baboons and
following a little path not a foot wide that led us at length to a large
hut and several smaller ones set within a reed fence and overhung by a
gigantic mass of rock that looked as though it might fall at any moment.
At the gate of the fence two natives of I know not what tribe, men of
fierce and forbidding appearance, suddenly sprang out and thrust their
spears towards my breast.
"Whom bring you here, Saduko?" asked one of them sternly.
"A white man that I vouch for," he answered. "Tell Zikali that we wait
on him."
"What need to tell Zikali that which he knows already?" said the sentry.
"Your food and that of your companion is already cooked in yonder hut.
Enter, Saduko, with him for whom you vouch."
So we went into the hut and ate, also I washed myself, for it was a
beautifully clean hut, and the stools, wooden bowls, etc., were finely
carved out of red ivory wood, this work, Saduko informed me, being done
by Zikali's own hand. just as we were finishing our meal a messenger
came to tell us that Zikali waited our presence. We followed him across
an open space to a kind of door in the tall reed fence, passing which I
set eyes for the first time upon the famous old witch-doctor of whom so
many tales were told.
Certainly he was a curious sight in those strange surroundings, for they
were very strange, and I think their complete simplicity added to the
effect. In front of us was a kind of courtyard with a black floor made
of polished ant-heap earth and cow-dung, two-thirds of which at least
was practically roofed in by the huge over-hanging mass of rock whereof
I have spoken, its arch bending above at a height of not less than sixty
or seventy feet from the ground. Into this great, precipice-backed
cavity poured the fierce light of the setting sun, turning it and all
within it, even the large straw hut in the background, to the deep hue
of blood. Seeing the wonderful effect of the sunset in that dark and
forbidding place, it occurred to me at once that the old wizard must
have chosen this moment to receive us because of its impressiveness.
Then I forgot these scenic accessories in the sight of the man himself.
There he sat on a stool in front of his hut, quite unattended, and
wearing only a cloak of leopard skins open in front, for he was
unadorned with the usual hideous trappings of a witch-doctor, such as
snake-skins, human bones, bladders full of unholy compounds, and so
forth.
What a man he was, if indeed he could be called quite human. His
stature, though stout, was only that of a child; his head was enormous,
and from it plaited white hair fell down on to his shoulders. His eyes
were deep and sunken, his face was broad and very stern. Except for
this snow-white hair, however, he did not look ancient, for his flesh
was firm and plump, and the skin on his cheeks and neck unwrinkled,
which suggested to me that the story of his great antiquity was false.
A man who was over a hundred years old, for instance, surely could not
boast such a beautiful set of teeth, for even at that distance I could
see them gleaming. On the other hand, evidently middle age was far
behind him; indeed, from his appearance it was quite impossible to guess
even approximately the number of his years. There he sat, red in the
red light, perfectly still, and staring without a blink of his eyes at
the furious ball of the setting sun, as an eagle is said to be able to
do.
Saduko advanced, and I walked after him. My stature is not great, and I
have never considered myself an imposing person, but somehow I do not
think that I ever felt more insignificant than on this occasion. The
tall and splendid native beside, or rather behind whom I walked, the
gloomy magnificence of the place, the blood-red light in which it was
bathed, and the solemn, solitary, little figure with wisdom stamped upon
its face before me, all tended to induce humility in a man not naturally
vain. I felt myself growing smaller and smaller, both in a moral and a
physical sense; I wished that my curiosity had not prompted me to seek
an interview with yonder uncanny being.
Well, it was too late to retreat; indeed, Saduko was already standing
before the dwarf and lifting his right arm above his head as he gave him
the salute of "Makosi!"* whereon, feeling that something was expected of
me, I took off my shabby cloth hat and bowed, then, remembering my white
man's pride, replaced it on my head.
[*--"Makosi", the plural of "Inkoosi", is the salute given to Zulu
wizards, because they are not one but many, since in them (as in the
possessed demoniac in the Bible) dwell an unnumbered horde of
spirits.--EDITOR.]
The wizard suddenly seemed to become aware of our presence, for, ceasing
his contemplation of the sinking sun, he scanned us both with his slow,
thoughtful eyes, which somehow reminded me of those of a chameleon,
although they were not prominent, but, as I have said, sunken.
"Greeting, son Saduko!" he said in a deep, rumbling voice. "Why are you
back here so soon, and why do you bring this flea of a white man with
you?"
Now this was more than I could bear, so without waiting for my
companion's answer I broke in:
"You give me a poor name, O Zikali. What would you think of me if I
called you a beetle of a wizard?"
"I should think you clever," he answered after reflection, "for after
all I must look something like a beetle with a white head. But why
should you mind being compared to a flea? A flea works by night and so
do you, Macumazahn; a flea is active and so are you; a flea is very hard
to catch and kill and so are you; and lastly a flea drinks its fill of
that which it desires, the blood of man and beast, and so you have done,
do, and will, Macumazahn," and he broke into a great laugh that rolled
and echoed about the rocky roof above.
Once, long years before, I had heard that laugh, when I was a prisoner
in Dingaan's kraal, after the massacre of Retief and his company, and I
recognised it again.
While I was searching for some answer in the same vein, and not finding
it, though I thought of plenty afterwards, ceasing of a sudden from his
unseemly mirth, he went on:
"Do not let us waste time in jests, for it is a precious thing, and
there is but little of it left for any one of us. Your business, son
Saduko?"
"Baba!" (that is the Zulu for father), said Saduko, "this white Inkoosi,
for, as you know well enough, he is a chief by nature, a man of a great
heart and doubtless of high blood [this, I believe, is true, for I have
been told that my ancestors were more or less distinguished, although,
if this is so, their talents did not lie in the direction of
money-making], has offered to take me upon a shooting expedition and to
give me a good gun with two mouths in payment of my services. But I
told him I could not engage in any fresh venture without your leave,
and--he is come to see whether you will grant it, my father."
"Indeed," answered the dwarf, nodding his great head. "This clever
white man has taken the trouble of a long walk in the sun to come here
to ask me whether he may be allowed the privilege of presenting you with
a weapon of great value in return for a service that any man of your
years in Zululand would love to give for nothing in such company?
"Son Saduko, because my eye-holes are hollow, do you think it your part
to try to fill them up with dust? Nay, the white man has come because
he desires to see him who is named Opener-of-Roads, of whom he heard a
great deal when he was but a lad, and to judge whether in truth he has
wisdom, or is but a common cheat. And you have come to learn whether or
no your friendship with him will be fortunate; whether or no he will aid
you in a certain enterprise that you have in your mind."
"True, O Zikali," I said. "That is so far as I am concerned."
But Saduko answered nothing.
"Well," went on the dwarf, "since I am in the mood I will try to answer
both your questions, for I should be a poor Nyanga" [that is doctor] "if
I did not when you have travelled so far to ask them. Moreover, O
Macumazana, be happy, for I seek no fee who, having made such fortune as
I need long ago, before your father was born across the Black Water,
Macumazahn, no longer work for a reward--unless it be from the hand of
one of the House of Senzangakona--and therefore, as you may guess, work
but seldom."
Then he clapped his hands, and a servant appeared from somewhere behind
the hut, one of those fierce-looking men who had stopped us at the gate.
He saluted the dwarf and stood before him in silence and with bowed
head.
"Make two fires," said Zikali, "and give me my medicine."
The man fetched wood, which he built into two little piles in front of
Zikali. These piles he fired with a brand brought from behind the hut.
Then he handed his master a catskin bag.
"Withdraw," said Zikali, "and return no more till I summon you, for I am
about to prophesy. If, however, I should seem to die, bury me to-morrow
in the place you know of and give this white man a safe-conduct from my
kraal."
The man saluted again and went without a word.
When he had gone the dwarf drew from the bag a bundle of twisted roots,
also some pebbles, from which he selected two, one white and the other
black.
"Into this stone," he said, holding up the white pebble so that the
light from the fire shone on it--since, save for the lingering red glow,
it was now growing dark--"into this stone I am about to draw your
spirit, O Macumazana; and into this one"--and he held up the black
pebble--"yours, O Son of Matiwane. Why do you look frightened, O brave
White Man, who keep saying in your heart, 'He is nothing but an ugly old
Kafir cheat'? If I am a cheat, why do you look frightened? Is your
spirit already in your throat, and does it choke you, as this little
stone might do if you tried to swallow it?" and he burst into one of his
great, uncanny laughs.
I tried to protest that I was not in the least frightened, but failed,
for, in fact, I suppose my nerves were acted on by his suggestion, and I
did feel exactly as though that stone were in my throat, only coming
upwards, not going downwards. "Hysteria," thought I to myself, "the
result of being overtired," and as I could not speak, sat still as
though I treated his gibes with silent contempt.
"Now," went on the dwarf, "perhaps I shall seem to die; and if so do not
touch me lest you should really die. Wait till I wake up again and tell
you what your spirits have told me. Or if I do not wake up--for a time
must come when I shall go on sleeping--well--for as long as I have
lived--after the fires are quite out, not before, lay your hands upon my
breast; and if you find me turning cold, get you gone to some other
Nyanga as fast as the spirits of this place will let you, O ye who would
peep into the future."
As he spoke he threw a big handful of the roots that I have mentioned on
to each of the fires, whereon tall flames leapt up from them, very
unholy-looking flames which were followed by columns of dense, white
smoke that emitted a most powerful and choking odour quite unlike
anything that I had ever smelt before. It seemed to penetrate all
through me, and that accursed stone in my throat grew as large as an
apple and felt as though someone were poking it upwards with a stick.
Next he threw the white pebble into the right-hand fire, that which was
opposite to me, saying:
"Enter, Macumazahn, and look," and the black pebble he threw into the
left-hand fire saying: "Enter, Son of Matiwane, and look. Then come
back both of you and make report to me, your master."
Now it is a fact that as he said these words I experienced a sensation
as though a stone had come out of my throat; so readily do our nerves
deceive us that I even thought it grated against my teeth as I opened my
mouth to give it passage. At any rate the choking was gone, only now I
felt as though I were quite empty and floating on air, as though I were
not I, in short, but a mere shell of a thing, all of which doubtless was
caused by the stench of those burning roots. Still I could look and
take note, for I distinctly saw Zikali thrust his huge head, first into
the smoke of what I will call my fire, next into that of Saduko's fire,
and then lean back, blowing the stuff in clouds from his mouth and
nostrils. Afterwards I saw him roll over on to his side and lie quite
still with his arms outstretched; indeed, I noticed that one of his
fingers seemed to be in the left-hand fire and reflected that it would
be burnt off. In this, however, I must have been mistaken, since I
observed subsequently that it was not even scorched.
Thus Zikali lay for a long while till I began to wonder whether he were
not really dead. Dead enough he seemed to be, for no corpse could have
stayed more stirless. But that night I could not keep my thoughts fixed
on Zikali or anything. I merely noted these circumstances in a
mechanical way, as might one with whom they had nothing whatsoever to
do. They did not interest me at all, for there appeared to be nothing
in me to be interested, as I gathered according to Zikali, because I was
not there, but in a warmer place than I hope ever to occupy, namely, in
the stone in that unpleasant-looking, little right-hand fire.
So matters went as they might in a dream. The sun had sunk completely,
not even an after-glow was left. The only light remaining was that from
the smouldering fires, which just sufficed to illumine the bulk of
Zikali, lying on his side, his squat shape looking like that of a dead
hippopotamus calf. What was left of my consciousness grew heartily sick
of the whole affair; I was tired of being so empty.
At length the dwarf stirred. He sat up, yawned, sneezed, shook himself,
and began to rake among the burning embers of my fire with his naked
hand. Presently he found the white stone, which was now red-hot--at any
rate it glowed as though it were--and after examining it for a moment
finally popped it into his mouth! Then he hunted in the other fire for
the black stone, which he treated in a similar fashion. The next thing
I remember was that the fires, which had died away almost to nothing,
were burning very brightly again, I suppose because someone had put fuel
on them, and Zikali was speaking.
"Come here, O Macumazana and O Son of Matiwane," he said, "and I will
repeat to you what your spirits have been telling me."
We drew near into the light of the fires, which for some reason or other
was extremely vivid. Then he spat the white stone from his mouth into
his big hand, and I saw that now it was covered with lines and patches
like a bird's egg.
"You cannot read the signs?" he said, holding it towards me; and when I
shook my head went on: "Well, I can, as you white men read a book. All
your history is written here, Macumazahn; but there is no need to tell
you that, since you know it, as I do well enough, having learned it in
other days, the days of Dingaan, Macumazahn. All your future, also, a
very strange future," and he scanned the stone with interest. "Yes,
yes; a wonderful life, and a noble death far away. But of these matters
you have not asked me, and therefore I may not tell them even if I
wished, nor would you believe if I did. It is of your hunting trip that
you have asked me, and my answer is that if you seek your own comfort
you will do well not to go. A pool in a dry river-bed; a buffalo bull
with the tip of one horn shattered. Yourself and the bull in the pool.
Saduko, yonder, also in the pool, and a little half-bred man with a gun
jumping about upon the bank. Then a litter made of boughs and you in
it, and the father of Mameena walking lamely at your side. Then a hut
and you in it, and the maiden called Mameena sitting at your side.
"Macumazahn, your spirit has written on this stone that you should
beware of Mameena, since she is more dangerous than any buffalo. If you
are wise you will not go out hunting with Umbezi, although it is true
that hunt will not cost you your life. There, away, Stone, and take
your writings with you!" and as he spoke he jerked his arm and I heard
something whiz past my face.
Next he spat out the black stone and examined it in similar fashion.
"Your expedition will be successful, Son of Matiwane," he said.
"Together with Macumazahn you will win many cattle at the cost of sundry
lives. But for the rest--well, you did not ask me of it, did you?
Also, I have told you something of that story before to-day. Away,
Stone!" and the black pebble followed the white out into the surrounding
gloom.
We sat quite still until the dwarf broke the deep silence with one of
his great laughs.
"My witchcraft is done," he said. "A poor tale, was it not? Well, hunt
for those stones to-morrow and read the rest of it if you can. Why did
you not ask me to tell you everything while I was about it, White Man?
It would have interested you more, but now it has all gone from me back
into your spirit with the stones. Saduko, get you to sleep.
Macumazahn, you who are a Watcher-by-Night, come and sit with me awhile
in my hut, and we will talk of other things. All this business of the
stones is nothing more than a Kafir trick, is it, Macumazahn? When you
meet the buffalo with the split horn in the pool of a dried river,
remember it is but a cheating trick, and now come into my hut and drink
a kamba [bowl] of beer and let us talk of other things more
interesting."
So he took me into the hut, which was a fine one, very well lighted by a
fire in its centre, and gave me Kafir beer to drink, that I swallowed
gratefully, for my throat was dry and still felt as though it had been
scraped.
"Who are you, Father?" I asked point-blank when I had taken my seat upon
a low stool, with my back resting against the wall of the hut, and lit
my pipe.
He lifted his big head from the pile of karosses on which he was lying
and peered at me across the fire.
"My name is Zikali, which means 'Weapons,' White Man. You know as much
as that, don't you?" he answered. "My father 'went down' so long ago
that his does not matter. I am a dwarf, very ugly, with some learning,
as we of the Black House understand it, and very old. Is there anything
else you would like to learn?"
"Yes, Zikali; how old?"
"There, there, Macumazahn, as you know, we poor Kafirs cannot count very
well. How old? Well, when I was young I came down towards the coast
from the Great River, you call it the Zambesi, I think, with Undwandwe,
who lived in the north in those days. They have forgotten it now
because it is some time ago, and if I could write I would set down the
history of that march, for we fought some great battles with the people
who used to live in this country. Afterwards I was the friend of the
Father of the Zulus, he whom they still call Inkoosi Umkulu--the mighty
chief--you may have heard tell of him. I carved that stool on which you
sit for him and he left it back to me when he died."
"Inkoosi Umkulu!" I exclaimed. "Why, they say he lived hundreds of
years ago."
"Do they, Macumazahn? If so, have I not told you that we black people
cannot count as well as you do? Really it was only the other day.
Anyhow, after his death the Zulus began to maltreat us Undwandwe and the
Quabies and the Tetwas with us--you may remember that they called us the
Amatefula, making a mock of us. So I quarrelled with the Zulus and
especially with Chaka, he whom they named 'Uhlanya' [the Mad One]. You
see, Macumazahn, it pleased him to laugh at me because I am not as other
men are. He gave me a name which means
'The-thing-which-should-never-have-been-born.' I will not speak that
name, it is secret to me, it may not pass my lips. Yet at times he
sought my wisdom, and I paid him back for his names, for I gave him very
ill counsel, and he took it, and I brought him to his death, although
none ever saw my finger in that business. But when he was dead at the
hands of his brothers Dingaan and Umhlangana and of Umbopa, Umbopa who
also had a score to settle with him, and his body was cast out of the
kraal like that of an evil-doer, why I, who because I was a dwarf was
not sent with the _men_ against Sotshangana, went and sat on it at night
and laughed thus," and he broke into one of his hideous peals of
merriment.
"I laughed thrice: once for my wives whom he had taken; once for my
children whom he had slain; and once for the mocking name that he had
given me. Then I became the counsellor of Dingaan, whom I hated worse
than I had hated Chaka, for he was Chaka again without his greatness,
and you know the end of Dingaan, for you had a share in that war, and of
Umhlangana, his brother and fellow-murderer, whom I counselled Dingaan
to slay. This I did through the lips of the old Princess Menkabayi,
Jama's daughter, Senzangakona's sister, the Oracle before whom all men
bowed, causing her to say that 'This land of the Zulus cannot be ruled
by a crimson assegai.' For, Macumazahn, it was Umhlangana who first
struck Chaka with the spear. Now Panda reigns, the last of the sons of
Senzangakona, my enemy, Panda the Fool, and I hold my hand from Panda
because he tried to save the life of a child of mine whom Chaka slew.
But Panda has sons who are as Chaka was, and against them I work as I
worked against those who went before them."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why? Oh! if I were to tell you _all_ my story you would understand
why, Macumazahn. Well, perhaps I will one day." (Here I may state that
as a matter of fact he did, and a very wonderful tale it is, but as it
has nothing to do with this history I will not write it here.)
"I dare say," I answered. "Chaka and Dingaan and Umhlangana and the
others were not nice people. But another question. Why do you tell me
all this, O Zikali, seeing that were I but to repeat it to a
talking-bird you would be smelt out and a single moon would not die
before you do?"
"Oh! I should be smelt out and killed before one moon dies, should I?
Then I wonder that this has not happened during all the moons that are
gone. Well, I tell the story to you, Macumazahn, who have had so much
to do with the tale of the Zulus since the days of Dingaan, because I
wish that someone should know it and perhaps write it down when
everything is finished. Because, too, I have just been reading your
spirit and see that it is still a white spirit, and that you will not
whisper it to a 'talking-bird.'"
Now I leant forward and looked at him.
"What is the end at which you aim, O Zikali?" I asked. "You are not one
who beats the air with a stick; on whom do you wish the stick to fall at
last?"
"On whom?" he answered in a new voice, a low, hissing voice. "Why, on
these proud Zulus, this little family of men who call themselves the
'People of Heaven,' and swallow other tribes as the great tree-snake
swallows kids and small bucks, and when it is fat with them cries to the
world, 'See how big I am! Everything is inside of me.' I am a Ndwande,
one of those peoples whom it pleases the Zulus to call 'Amatefula'--poor
hangers-on who talk with an accent, nothing but bush swine. Therefore I
would see the swine tusk the hunter. Or, if that may not be, I would
see the black hunter laid low by the rhinoceros, the white rhinoceros of
your race, Macumazahn, yes, even if it sets its foot upon the Ndwande
boar as well. There, I have told you, and this is the reason that I
live so long, for I will not die until these things have come to pass,
as come to pass they will. What did Chaka, Senzangakona's son, say when
the little red assegai, the assegai with which he slew his mother, aye
and others, some of whom were near to me, was in his liver? What did he
say to Mbopa and the princes? Did he not say that he heard the feet of
a great white people running, of a people who should stamp the Zulus
flat? Well, I, 'The-thing-who-should-not-have-been-born,' live on until
that day comes, and when it comes I think that you and I, Macumazahn,
shall not be far apart, and that is why I have opened out my heart to
you, I who have knowledge of the future. There, I speak no more of
these things that are to be, who perchance have already said too much of
them. Yet do not forget my words. Or forget them if you will, for I
shall remind you of them, Macumazahn, when the feet of your people have
avenged the Ndwandes and others whom it pleases the Zulus to treat as
dirt."
Now, this strange man, who had sat up in his excitement, shook his long
white hair which, after the fashion of wizards, be wore plaited into
thin ropes, till it hung like a veil about him, hiding his broad face
and deep eyes. Presently he spoke again through this veil of hair,
saying:
"You are wondering, Macumazahn, what Saduko has to do with all these
great events that are to be. I answer that he must play his part in
them; not a very great part, but still a part, and it is for this
purpose that I saved him as a child from Bangu, Dingaan's man, and
reared him up to be a warrior, although, since I cannot lie, I warned
him that he would do well to leave spears alone and follow after wisdom.
Well, he will slay Bangu, who now has quarrelled with Panda, and a
woman will come into the story, one Mameena, and that woman will bring
about war between the sons of Panda, and from this war shall spring the
ruin of the Zulus, for he who wins will be an evil king to them and
bring down on them the wrath of a mightier race. And so
'The-thing-that-should-not-have-been-born' and the Ndwandes and the
Quabies and Twetwas, whom it has pleased the conquering Zulus to name
'Amatefula,' shall be avenged. Yes, yes, my Spirit tells me all these
things, and they are true."
"And what of Saduko, my friend and your fosterling?"
"Saduko, your friend and my fosterling, will take his appointed road,
Macumazahn, as I shall and you will. What more could he desire, seeing
it is that which he has chosen? He will take his road and he will play
the part which the Great-Great has prepared for him. Seek not to know
more. Why should you, since Time will tell you the story? And now go
to rest, Macumazahn, as I must who am old and feeble. And when it
pleases you to visit me again, we will talk further. Meanwhile,
remember always that I am nothing but an old Kafir cheat who pretends to
a knowledge that belongs to no man. Remember it especially, Macumazahn,
when you meet a buffalo with a split horn in the pool of a dried-up
river, and afterwards, when a woman named Mameena makes a certain offer
to you, which you may be tempted to accept. Good night to you,
Watcher-by-Night with the white heart and the strange destiny, good
night to you, and try not to think too hardly of the old Kafir cheat who
just now is called 'Opener-of-Roads.' My servant waits without to lead
you to your hut, and if you wish to be back at Umbezi's kraal by
nightfall to-morrow, you will do well to start ere sunrise, since, as
you found in coming, Saduko, although he may be a fool, is a very good
walker, and you do not like to be left behind, Macumazahn, do you?"
So I rose to go, but as I went some impulse seemed to take him and he
called me back and made me sit down again.
"Macumazahn," he said, "I would add a word. When you were quite a lad
you came into this country with Retief, did you not?"
"Yes," I answered slowly, for this matter of the massacre of Retief is
one of which I have seldom cared to speak, for sundry reasons, although
I have made a record of it in writing.* Even my friends Sir Henry
Curtis and Captain Good have heard little of the part I played in that
tragedy. "But what do you know of that business, Zikali?"
[*--Published under the title of "Marie."--EDITOR.]
"All that there is to know, I think, Macumazahn, seeing that I was at
the bottom of it, and that Dingaan killed those Boers on my advice--just
as he killed Chaka and Umhlangana."
"You cold-blooded old murderer--" I began, but he interrupted me at
once.
"Why do you throw evil names at me, Macumazahn, as I threw the stone of
your fate at you just now? Why am I a murderer because I brought about
the death of some white men that chanced to be your friends, who had
come here to cheat us black folk of our country?"
"Was it for _this_ reason that you brought about their deaths, Zikali?"
I asked, staring him in the face, for I felt that he was lying to me.
"Not altogether, Macumazahn," he answered, letting his eyes, those
strange eyes that could look at the sun without blinking, fall before my
gaze. "Have I not told you that I hate the House of Senzangakona? And
when Retief and his companions were killed, did not the spilling of
their blood mean war to the end between the Zulus and the White Men?
Did it not mean the death of Dingaan and of thousands of his people,
which is but a beginning of deaths? Now do you understand?"
"I understand that you are a very wicked man," I answered with
indignation.
"At least _you_ should not say so, Macumazahn," he replied in a new
voice, one with the ring of truth in it.
"Why not?"
"Because I saved your life on that day. You escaped alone of the White
Men, did you not? And you never could understand why, could you?"
"No, I could not, Zikali. I put it down to what you would call 'the
spirits.'"
"Well, I will tell you. Those spirits of yours wore my kaross," and he
laughed. "I saw you with the Boers, and saw, too, that you were of
another people--the people of the English. You may have heard at the
time that I was doctoring at the Great Place, although I kept out of the
way and we did not meet, or at least you never knew that we met, for you
were--asleep. Also I pitied your youth, for, although you do not
believe it, I had a little bit of heart left in those days. Also I knew
that we should come together again in the after years, as you see we
have done to-day and shall often do until the end. So I told Dingaan
that whoever died you must be spared, or he would bring up the 'people
of George' [i.e. the English] to avenge you, and your ghost would enter
into him and pour out a curse upon him. He believed me who did not
understand that already so many curses were gathered about his head that
one more or less made no matter. So you see you were spared,
Macumazahn, and afterwards you helped to pour out a curse upon Dingaan
without becoming a ghost, which is the reason why Panda likes you so
well to-day, Panda, the enemy of Dingaan, his brother. You remember the
woman who helped you? Well, I made her do so. How did it go with you
afterwards, Macumazahn, with you and the Boer maiden across the Buffalo
River, to whom you were making love in those days?"
"Never mind how it went," I replied, springing up, for the old wizard's
talk had stirred sad and bitter memories in my heart. "That time is
dead, Zikali."
"Is it, Macumazahn? Now, from the look upon your face I should have
said that it was still very much alive, as things that happened in our
youth have a way of keeping alive. But doubtless I am mistaken, and it
is all as dead as Dingaan, and as Retief, and as the others, your
companions. At least, although you do not believe it, I saved your life
on that red day, for my own purposes, of course, not because one white
life was anything among so many in my count. And now go to rest,
Macumazahn, go to rest, for although your heart has been awakened by
memories this evening, I promise that you shall sleep well to-night,"
and throwing the long hair back off his eyes he looked at me keenly,
wagging his big head to and fro, and burst into another of his great
laughs.
So I went. But, ah! as I went I wept.
Anyone who knew all that story would understand why. But this is not
the place to tell it, that tale of my first love and of the terrible
events which befell us in the time of Dingaan. Still, as I say, I have
written it down, and perhaps one day it will be read.
