The King's Assegai: A Matabili Story. Mitford Bertram. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Mitford Bertram
Издательство: Public Domain
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Зарубежная классика
Год издания: 0
isbn:
Скачать книгу
of a new nation. And although, for necessity’s sake, as regards other tribes, Umzilikazi was ruthless and unsparing, among us, his followers, he was merciful, if strict, and rarely spilt blood. Yet, while we loved him, we feared him – oh yes, we feared him.

      “Now, although I had the King’s promise, I felt sorely perplexed; for how was I to fulfil its conditions? For days and nights I thought and dreamed of nought else; saying nothing, however, to my father, Ntelani, who was already jealous of the great; favour Umzilikazi had shown me, and might have devised some means of thwarting me.

      “It happened that on the evening after I had obtained the King’s promise I was returning alone from a hunt. I was empty-handed; for although my fleetness of foot enabled me to traverse long distances, yet game was scarce in our neighbourhood, owing to the passage of such an immense body of people, which had scared it. Tired and dispirited, I threw down my assegais and small shield, and sank down against a rock to rest. Suddenly my tawny, black-muzzled hound leaped up and dashed round the rock with a growl. But this was soon changed to a whine of pleasure.

      “Clearly the intruder was known to him. Raising my eyes, I beheld a girl.

      “I am an old man now, Nkose, and have lived to learn that women, like assegais, are all made very much on the same lines – like assegais, are keen and sharp to cut and destroy. But, old man as I am, I cannot even now quite forget that evening after I had talked with the King.

      “‘Of what are your thoughts that they are so heavy, O son of Ntelani?’ she said, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

      “I gazed upon her for a moment without replying; for I knew who she was, though we had never before spoken. Picture to yourself, Nkose, a tall fine girl – indeed, nearly as tall as myself – as straight as a spear-shaft and as strong and firm as a yellow-wood tree, with large and rounded limbs, and a face all sparkling with intelligence and mirth. She was rather light-coloured, though, and we Zulus, Nkose, prefer our women very black.

      “‘Perhaps it was of you I was thinking, Nangeza,’ I answered. ‘Is not that enough to produce heavy thoughts?’

      “‘Yau!’ she cried. ‘It may be that there are those who think the reverse. They do not feel heavy when their thoughts are of me.’

      “‘But they are amakehla (Head-ringed men, and privileged to marry). Any one of them has only to send in enough cattle and you are his. Now look at me. I am young. It may be half a lifetime before the King allows me to tunga. Wherefore, when I think of you I feel heavy, Nangeza, for this is not the first time I have looked upon you.’

      “‘I know that, son of Ntelani,’ she answered, looking shy. Then all of a sudden she came and sat down beside me. ‘Listen, Untúswa,’ she said, throwing an arm round my neck. ‘You are but an umfane, but I have loved you for some time unknown to you, for you are so strong and brave. And are you not the King’s chief runner? Now, put your ear to my lips while I whisper. Well, then, it is breathed among the old men that Umzilikazi intends to relax the severe laws of the Great Great One whose land we have left (Tshaka), and to allow his warriors to tunga while young – when we gain the land wherein we are to dwell. Now, Untúswa, if any man can win this privilege, it is yourself, for you are as brave as any, and, for the rest, you are the King’s chief runner, and have very much the ear of the King.’

      “This struck me as a good omen, coming as it did so close upon the King’s promise. I looked upon Nangeza’s splendid form, for, of course, she wore nothing but the girl’s mútya, or little apron of beads, and thought that to make her mine but for a little while, I would pay the sure and certain penalty – viz., death; but then the penalty would be suffered by her, too. Should I tell her of the King’s promise? Wisdom said ‘No’; but then my brain was reeling with love for her, and my evil spirit whispered that a woman’s brain and wit are subtle, and might devise a plan where I failed to see one. So I told her of the King’s promise; and having done so, my good spirit cried out upon me for a fool, for a secret which is shared by a woman – might it not as well be cried aloud from kraal to kraal from sunrise to sunset?

      “My news, however, caused Nangeza to clap her hands delightedly.

      “‘You are indeed a man, Untúswa!’ she cried. ‘Keep well within the favour of the King. One day you will be an induna. Who knows? One day you may command the whole army in battle.’

      “‘Why not propose that one day I may reign as King?’ I said banteringly. ‘The one is as likely as the other.’

      “‘Well, what then? Even that may be,’ was her cool reply. ‘A man who is brave and cautious may climb to any height; and did not the King promise you his dark-handled assegai? What is the history of Umzilikazi himself?’

      “‘Speak low, girl, or speak not of these things at all,’ I whispered warningly. ‘One word of such talk falling upon other ears would certainly cost both of us our lives.’

      “But, in truth, I was amazed, bewildered, the while more in love with her than ever, on account of this bold and scheming talk.

      “‘What, then?’ she answered. ‘The King may have us killed, but he cannot prevent us from loving each other. Come now, Untúswa, and let us love each other while we may.’

      “Au, Nkose, who shall put grey hair upon – a cool brain into – a young head? The place was lonely, and my good dog would keep watch. And so Nangeza and I loved each other, and not until darkness had fallen did we separate from each other’s arms and wend by different ways back to the camp.

      “But we had both incurred the death penalty. For the stern and rigorous law of Tshaka had as yet undergone no relaxation, and even Umzilikazi himself would hardly have dared to pardon a breach thereof. Yet, such is the hot-blooded rashness of youth, this, though the first, was destined to be by no means the last time we should incur that awful penalty.”

      Chapter Three.

      The Basutu Kraals

      “Shortly after this an impi was sent out against some strong Basutu kraals which lay in our path, and whose inhabitants, our scouts had reported, were arming for resistance. Little they knew that they had to contend against a whole nation. They imagined, doubtless, that they only had to deal with a small impi of Tshaka’s which had crossed the Ewahlamba range.

      “‘Go now, Untúswa,’ said the King. ‘Here, it may be, you may win your head-ring.’

      “And this, Nkose, was in my mind. So we set forth, about fifteen hundred strong, for the King would not send too large a force, in order to keep us in practice for real hand-to-hand fighting on something like even terms. Masipele was our head induna, and under him was Gungana, a man of whom I was not over-fond, nor did he like me, whom he deemed was ever too near the ear of the King.

      “We started at dawn, and after marching about a quarter of a day, came in sight of the Basutu kraals, standing upon an open plain, beneath a low, round-topped range of hills. There were three of these kraals, but it was in the largest that all the fighting men had gathered. This was surrounded by a very high and very broad stockade, composed of dry thorn boughs beaten together and interlaced. We made no attempt at concealment, but advanced singing our great battle-song of victory or death. Their Masipele gave orders to form in crescent formation, and to charge forward to surround the kraal.

      “Whau! that day! The Basutu did not run away when they spied our approach. They were ready for us, and, clustering as thick as bees, they fought behind their stockade with all the valour we could wish. Roaring like lions, we sprang again to the charge, only to be met by their ready spears and battle-axes on the other side of the stockade, and before we could leap over and return stab for stab we were hurled back blinded by great prickly boughs thrust into our faces. They were nearly as numerous as ourselves, and fought as desperately. Twice we were repulsed, and that, to us Zulus, represents more than half a defeat. Our head induna was killed, falling upon a heap of corpses, the bodies of those he was leading. One horn of the impi was wavering on the verge of rout. Here was my chance; for I had formed a plan.

      “‘Follow me, soldiers