Chapter Nineteen.
The Vengeance of the Refugees
“An impi sent by Dingane,” was my first thought, as I gassed upon the fierce countenances and the spears poised aloft with threatening flash.
“Who art thou – and whence?” said he who appeared to be the leader, a tall man and savage of mien.
“Rather, who are ye?” I answered, with another question, affronted by the insolent tone employed by the speaker.
“See these,” he answered swiftly. “Speak or die! You are one man, and these are several.”
“Yet I have fought with several before this day, O Unknown,” I retorted, with a swift movement, throwing up my shield in defence, at the same time backing towards the rock, so that they could not get round me. So I stood ready for a merry fight, for the leader alone would have taken up all my attention, so tall and strong was he – and there were others.
To my surprise they did not come on. The leader again spoke.
“Once more, who art thou? He who wanders in the retreat of the Bapongqolo must needs give an account of himself.”
“E-hé!” assented the others.
Then I lowered shield and weapons at once.
“I am Untúswa, the son of Ntelani. Perchance ye have heard of him, ye who are refugees.”
By the look which they exchanged I knew they had heard of me. Then the leader said:
“What seek you here, Untúswa, for in truth that is a name which is known?”
“I seek a refuge among the people who are in refuge,” I said.
“Why then, thou art welcome, Untúswa,” he replied. “I am Sifadu, the son of Kona, and I wielded a sharp spear in the ranks of the Imbele-bele, of which I was a captain. But Tola, that jackal-spawned cheat, did name my father at a witch-finding, and he, being old, died the death of the black ants; but I and the remainder of his house escaped – and here we are.”
“Tola will name no more, Sifadu,” I said. “The knob-sticks of the King’s slayers have put that form of pleasure beyond his reach.”
“He is dead, then! Haul I am glad, and yet not, for one day I had promised myself the delight of having him enticed here that he might die the death my father suffered through him. I would pay ten cows as the price of that pleasure – yes, willingly.” And the look on the face of Sifadu was such that it was perhaps as well for Tola in the long run that he had died the swift and painless death of the knobstick.
Thus we conversed, Sifadu and I, and as we journeyed I told him and the others a great deal of what had happened; of the invasion of the Amabuna, and how we had destroyed many of them. They had heard something of this, but I, who had taken part in it, was able to tell them everything. But what they especially wanted to know about was the rumour of plotting in favour of Mpande. Of this, however, I could not tell them much, because I knew but little myself.
The principal place of the Bapongqolo consisted not of one large kraal, but a number of small ones; and so scattered were these, and so carefully hidden, away in the dense forest which covered the slopes of a vast hollow or bowl, that it would be well-nigh impossible to strike them all at one blow; and to this end was such concealment planned. Impossible, too, would it have been for any considerable number of men to have penetrated the hollow without their advance having been long since known to the inhabitants, so dense and rock-strewn were the approaches; and, indeed, all such were under the observation of small outpost kraals, which served the purposes of pickets.
I gathered that these refugees were counted by hundreds. They were of all ages, from quite old men down to boys. Most of them, however, were middle-aged men in their prime; but whether the fact of being refugees kept them ever on the alert, all had a quick, ready, and fearless look, together with fine and well-knit frames, that stamped them as a warrior clan of no contemptible strength. And to Sifadu all seemed to look up as to a recognised chief.
Of this Sifadu I knew not quite what to make. He was friendly at first, but as time went by he seemed to look at me with jealous and suspicious eyes, as though he thought that a man of my standing and prowess would hardly be content with the position of one among many, wherein he was right, perhaps. Of one thing, however, I was certain. Did I or any other man desire the chieftainship of these outlaws Sifadu would first have to be dead.
For the present, however, I had no such thoughts. I was content to dwell quietly and unmolested, and await the turn events might take. So, as time went by, I seemed to have become as one of the Bapongqolo. Together we hunted the wild game of the forest – together we made descents in search of plunder into the Swazi country or the lands of the Amatonga, or levied tribute from the kraals lying beyond the outskirts of our own fastnesses; and so feared were we that none thought of resistance or retaliation.
“Of a truth, Untúswa, the day might come when Dingane himself would be glad to join us,” said Sifadu to me, as we were returning from one of these forays. “With our help, even we might save him his seat. Then should we not be among the highest of the nation? Then would there not be some who might groan aloud because the son of Kona had returned?”
Such a thought as this had been in my own mind, but I desired not to foster it in that of others, at least, not until I had determined upon my own plans; so to Sifadu I replied lightly on the matter, treating it as of no importance.
Lalusini had kept her word, and twice had arranged that we should meet and hold long converse together. But on the second of these occasions her news was great. The Amabuna had crossed the Tugela in great force, intending to march upon Nkunkundhlovu. There had been a tremendous battle, but the army of Dingane had defeated them and had driven them back; and but for their horses would have stamped them out entirely. Then the English at Tegwini had undertaken to interfere in this quarrel, and had crossed the Tugela with a large impi of Amakafula. These, however, got no further than the bank of the Tugela, for the King’s warriors made meat of that impi until the river ran red with their blood; and, in his wrath and disgust at this breach of faith on the part of the whites at Tegwini, Dingane sent an impi there to eat them up, too. Whau! and they would have been eaten up but that they took to the water – took refuge on a ship that was there – for these whites, Nkose, had no business to interfere in a quarrel which concerned them not. They were not of the blood of the Amabuna, and they had ever been treated as friends by the house of Senzangakona since the great Tshaka had allowed them the use of the lands on which they then dwelt. So they were rightly served.
Now all these tales of war and of great battles fired my blood, for I would fain have been in them; yet here I was, hiding away as a fugitive. But when I would have boldly returned, craving only that Dingane would allow me to wield a spear in the ranks of his troops, Lalusini dissuaded me. The hostility of Tambusa and Umhlela burned as hot against me as ever, and indeed I had fled not any too soon. She bade me wait. She herself was high in favour with the King by reason of the victories which had attended the Zulu arms, for she had foretold them.
Not without risk did I thus meet Lalusini. I could not reveal the real relationship between us, and the suspicions of the fierce Bapongqolo once fairly aroused, I might be slain suddenly and without warning, and no opportunity given me of explanation or self-defence. Indeed, after the first time, I thought I noticed a frost of suspiciousness in the converse of those people towards me as we sat around our fires at night. But the second time something so unlooked for happened that it gave them all something else to think about.
Lalusini had finished telling me all there was of news when, of a sudden, her manner became strange and suspicious.
“We are being watched, Untúswa,” she said quietly.
“Watched? Why then, it will be bad – ah, very bad – for the watcher.”
And hardly had the words escaped me than I darted from her side. I hurled myself through the thickness of the bush, but something was already crashing through it away from me. I made out the form of a man.
“Now, stop!” I cried – a casting assegai poised for a throw. “Stop! or I cleave thee to the heart.”
I was about to hurl the spear fair between the shoulders of the fleeing man – who was now not many paces in front – when he stopped suddenly. I went at him. He turned round and faced me, a glare of hate and fury in his eyes that seemed to scorch – to burn. And I —Whau! I stood as one suddenly turned to stone, the uplifted assegai powerless in my stiffened grasp. For the face was that of a ghost – the dreadful glare of hate and fury that paralysed me was upon the face of a ghost. I was gazing upon one whom I had seen slain, whom my own eyes had beheld clubbed to death by the King’s slayers – Tola, the chief of the witch doctors.
We stood for a moment thus, motionless, I gazing upon the horrible form of one I knew to be dead, as it stood there, shadowed in the gloom of the trees. Then, slowly raising an arm, the voice came, deep and hollow —
“Retire – or I put that upon thee which shall blast and wither thy heart and turn to water thy courage; which shall change the most valiant of fighting-men into the most cowardly of women.”
Awful as were the words, the effect upon me was not that intended. He had better have kept silence, for now I knew him to be alive, and I sprang upon him. He had a spear, and struck furiously at me with it; but I turned the blow, and then we closed. He fought and bit and kicked, and, powerful as I was, the lithe and slippery witch doctor for long defied my efforts to secure him, for I was anxious to take him alive. At last it seemed I should be obliged to kill him, when something was dropped over his head which, the next moment, was rolled round and round in a thick covering of stuff. It was Lalusini’s blanket. She had come to my aid just at the right time. We had no difficulty in securing him now, and with strips cut from his own skin cloak we bound his hands firmly behind him, and his feet. Then we removed the blanket.
“Greeting, Tola!” I said. “I thought thou wert dead; but I had forgotten, a great izanusi such as thou could not die, which is well, for not far off is one who longeth to welcome thee.”
“Have a care, Untúswa, have a care,” he snarled. “Dost thou not fear?”
“Why, no,” I answered. “The múti which protects me is greater than any which can be turned against me. But thou, what canst thou fear, O great izanusi who cannot die?”
I was but mocking him, Nkose, for now I saw through the plot. He had purposely been allowed to escape in the turmoil what time all the other izanusi had been slain; and I laughed at myself for my fears on first beholding him.
We left Tola lying there helpless; and, removing a little distance, we said out all we had to say. Then we took leave of each other.
“Use care, Untúswa, for it is that man’s life or thine,” said Lalusini, as we parted. “On no account let him escape.”
“Have no fear as to that, Lalusini,” I answered. “There is one who will take even better care of him than I could.”
When she had gone I unbound Tola’s ankles, and told him to walk. Now, seeing himself in my power, he began to talk fair. He promised to do all for me if I would but let him go – to rid me of my enemies, to make me the greatest man, next to the King. But I only mocked him.
“A live izanusi may do great things,” I said. “But a dead izanusi—whau! – of what use is he? And, Tola, I seem to remember that thou art dead – dead by order of the Great Great One. How then canst thou serve me?”
Then he began on another story. He could teach me things – could reveal mysteries which would render me all-powerful against every form of harm. But I only laughed at this, saying that he would soon have an opportunity of testing his powers in his own favour; and thus, ever with a watchful eye upon him, we travelled on together until we entered the hollow where were the kraals of the Bapongqolo.
“There are many here who will give thee warm greeting, chief of the izanusi,” I said. “Some even, upon whom thou hast looked before.”
Now people began to crowd around us, and, recognising my prisoner, shouts of hatred and threats were hurled at him. They would have torn him from me, but I restrained them.
“Go, call Sifadu,” I said. “I have brought him a long-desired guest.”
At the mention of Sifadu’s name the terror stamped upon the face of Tola was frightful to behold. We, standing around, enjoyed this, for scarcely a man there but had seen some relative haled to the place of doom at the bidding of this hyena; some indeed to writhe in torment for long before they died. Then Tola, foaming at the mouth, rolled on the ground in convulsions; but for this they cared nothing, as a mere witch-finding trick. They pricked him with their assegais until he came to again, roaring with laughter the while. And as he came to again, Sifadu appeared.
“Welcome, Tola,” he cried. “Welcome! We have long awaited thee. Ha, and a right warm welcome shall be thine, ah, ah! a right warm welcome.”
And thrusting his face close to that of the witch doctor he gnashed his teeth in a grin of such hardly-to-be-restrained fury that I thought he would have seized the other with his churning jaws like a beast.
“Welcome, Tola,” he went on. “A warm welcome to thee, in the name of all my house whom thou didst eat up. Whau! There were my two young wives. How nicely their tender limbs shrivelled and burned as they died the death of the hot stones as witches, smelt out by thee Tola – by thee, Tola – thou prince of smellers out!” and with the two repetitions he sliced off the witch doctor’s ears with the keen blade of his broad assegai. A frightful howl escaped the sufferer.
“Then there was my mother and another of my father’s wives; they were lashed to death with switches to make them confess – by thy orders. Tola. Haul Does this feel good – and this – and this?” And he lashed the prisoner’s naked body with a green hide thong until the air rang with screams.
“Then there was my father, Kona. He was eaten by black ants – at thy word, Tola – by black ants. It took nearly a day for him to die in that torment, raving and roaring as a madman. And now I think this shall be thine own end. Whau! The black ants – the good black ants – the fierce black ants – the hungry black ants. They shall be fed – they shall be fed.”
Now, Nkose, looking at Sifadu, I thought he came very near being a madman at that moment, so intense was his hate and fury, so difficult the restraint he put upon himself not to hack the vile witch doctor into pieces there and then with his own hand. He foamed at the month, he ground his teeth, his very eyeballs seemed about to roll from their sockets. But the face of Tola, ah! never did I see such terror upon that of any living man. The crowd, looking on, roared like lions, stifling Sifadu’s voice. They called to him the death of relatives – of fathers, of brothers, of wives, all of whose deaths lay at the doors of the izanusi. They wished that this one had a hundred lives that they might take a hundred days in killing him. There were several nests of black ants at no distance. Then somebody cried out that there was a particularly large one under a certain tree.
“Under a tree!” cried Sifadu. “Ha. I have an idea! Bring him along.”
They flung themselves upon Tola, whose wild howling was completely drowned by the ferocious yells of the crowd. But as they were dragging him roughly over the ground Sifadu interposed.
“Gahlé, brothers. Do not bruise him. The ants like their meat uninjured.”
Amid roars of delight the miserable wretch was dragged to the place of torment. Already some had knocked the top off the ants’ nest, and were stirring it with sticks to infuriate the insects. Right over the nest grew a long bough a little more than the height of a tall man from the ground. Now Sifadu’s idea took shape.
A wedge of wood was inserted between the victim’s teeth. This had the effect of holding his jaws wide open, nor by any effort could he dislodge the gag. Then his ankles being strongly bound together, he was hoisted up to the branch above, and left hanging by the feet, so that his head and gaping mouth just touched the broken top of the ant heap. Then as he writhed and twisted and howled in his agony – for the infuriated insects swarmed all over him – into his nostrils, mouth, severed ears, everywhere – the Bapongqolo crowded around gloating over his torments, and shouting into his ears the names of those whom he himself had doomed to a like torment. It was long indeed before he died, but though I have seen many a terrible form of death, never did I see any man suffer as did this one. And yet, Nkose, it was just that he should, for had not he himself been the means of dooming many innocent persons to that very death? Wherefore the revenge of the refugees was a meet and a just one.
Chapter Twenty.
The Bapongqolo Return
Notwithstanding that I, and I alone, had brought to him his bitterest enemy to be dealt with, Sifadu’s manner towards me became, as time went on, more and more one of suspicion and distrust. He feared lest I should desire the chieftainship of this refugee clan; for by this time I was as completely one of themselves as he was, and he thought, perhaps rightly, that a man who had once commanded the fighting force of a great warrior nation was not likely to be content to remain for ever a mere nobody.
But this attitude taken up by Sifadu compelled me to do the very thing which he desired least, and that in self-defence. I laboured to create a following, and before I had been many moons among them I had attached fully half the outlaws to myself. Further, I knew that in the event of a quarrel between us I could count upon even more, for Sifadu was but indifferently liked. His bravery was beyond suspicion; indeed, it was through fear of his prowess that none disputed his supremacy. But he was of a quarrelsome disposition, fierce and terrible when roused, and had a sullen and gloomy mind; whereas I, for my part, have ever got on well among fighting-men, and as for gloomy thoughts, whau! they are the worst kind of múti, worse than useless indeed. True, I who once had been among the first of a great nation was now an outlaw and an exile from two great nations; but men’s fortunes change, and it might well be that in the near future my serpent would remember me, and my place be higher than ever – indeed I dared not think how high.
News at length reached us of another great battle. The Amabuna had again advanced upon Nkunkundhlovu, but before they could reach it a large impi sent by Dingane had reached them. Whau! that was a fight, said our informants. The Amabuna had drawn their waggons together, as their manner is, and the Amazulu strove for half a day to carry their camp with a rush. But it was of no use. The long guns shot hard and quick, and when the impi got almost within striking distance, and would have swarmed over the waggons, the Amabuna loaded their guns with several small bullets at a time, instead of only one, and our warriors went down in heaps. They could not stand against it, and this time a tale of defeat was brought back to the King.
Now the Amabuna, quick to take advantage of their success, pressed on immediately. But Dingane this time did not wait for them. He was warned that his brother, Mpande, was plotting against him, and he knew better than to be caught between the Amabuna on one side and his own rebellious people on the other. So he had decided to retire.
This was the news which reached us in our retreat, and whereas this would be the tract of country for which the King would make, it would be our retreat no longer. So we were forced to take a line.
Now, Sifadu’s plan was to hand over the whole band of refugees to Mpande, whose emissaries had been among us of late trying to win us over to the side of that prince. But my mind on the matter was different. I had no great opinion of Mpande, whereas Dingane was a real King – one to whom it was good to konza. My flight had been due to the hostility and intriguing of Tambusa, not to the displeasure of the King; and, now that the Great Great One was sore pressed by his enemies, I desired to wield a spear in defence of him. On this matter, too, Lalusini, whom I saw from time to time, was of the same mind as myself, though at that time she would not open her mind to me freely, bidding me, with a smile, to be still and wait.
Soon Sifadu, having his plans ready, called a council of the Bapongqolo to make known to the clan at large what he expected of it. The warriors came, several hundreds of them, in full war adornments, and fully armed, and Sifadu addressed them in a long speech. He recalled how it was that they came to be there, living the life of exiles and outcasts. He reminded them of their relatives slain, their houses stamped flat, their cattle seized to swell the herds of Dingane. The miserable cheat, Tola, whose bones lay broken and scattered around the nest of the black ants, in which they had put him to a just death, was only the mouthpiece of Dingane; the real oppressor was the King himself. Now, would they put themselves beneath the foot of such a King as that when they might obtain revenge for their wrongs, and at the same time lead a quiet life by doing konza to one who had promised them immunity and reward if they aided him now? But they must do this quickly for their own sakes, for their former oppressor with what remained of his army would be upon them in their retreat immediately.
Thus spoke Sifadu, but his words, and the words of others who argued in like manner, were not received as he intended. By more than half of those assembled they were received in silence. The old instinct of trained and disciplined warriors rendered these averse to turning against the King, especially so great a king as Dingane. Besides, it was by no means certain that even a combination of both forces against him would be attended with success. Then, too, they could not bring themselves to enter into alliance with the Amabuna.
Then I spoke. I pointed out that there were several hundreds of us – all good fighting-men – that if we all went in to offer our spears to the King, he, being pressed by enemies, would right gladly receive us. So should we all regain our place in the nation, and be outlaws no longer.
As I went on, the murmurs of assent which greeted my words grew into shouts. The people had long been tired of their runaway state, and here was a chance to set themselves right. They were also not a little tired of the rule of Sifadu.
This Sifadu saw, and leaping up, his countenance ablaze with fury, he came at me, his great spear aloft. So quickly was it done that I had barely time to throw up my shield. So powerful the blow that the blade pierced the tough bull-hide and stuck fast. Then Sifadu, following up his attack in swift fury, struck over my shield with his knob-stick. It was a terrible blow, and partly reached me. I felt half stunned, but infuriate with the pain. So, with a shout, I quit defence and went at Sifadu with a will.
A frightful commotion now arose. The friends of Sifadu would have rushed to his aid, but that they saw that those favourable to me were more numerous. These sprung to meet them, and all being fully armed it looked as though a bloody battle was about to be fought. But some cried aloud against interference, saying that the two of as should strive for the mastery, and to this counsel I added my voice. Sifadu, though, had no voice save to growl and grind his teeth like a maddened beast.
So we fought, we two – none hindering. Our shields flapped together, and for a moment we were immovable – pressing each other equally hard – each striving to run in under the guard of the other. Then the spear-blades – Sifadu having disentangled his – would flash and glance like threads of fire as we leaped and feinted – yet neither of us able to drive home either stroke or stab. A silence had fallen upon the onlookers now, and every head was bent eagerly forward. All this I could see, while never taking my gaze from my enemy.
At last my chance came. Pretending to stumble, I threw myself forward, and with one swift sweep of my assegai I sheared through Sifadu’s leg, gashing the thigh to the bone. He sank to the earth uttering a terrible howl. All the muscles were divided – from the principal blood-vessels red jets were spurting. Whau! He was in a sea of it. But even then, weakening each moment, he gathered strength to hurl his great knobstick at my face. I was prepared for this, however, and caught it on my shield; nor did I hurry to run in and finish him, knowing that while he could move a finger he would still gather himself together for one last desperate slash at me.
“Hamba-gahle, Sifadu,” I said – not mocking him. “This quarrel was not of my seeking, but the son of Ntelani never yet refused a fight.”
He made no reply, glaring at me in hate until very soon he sank down into unconsciousness and death. And all the warriors shouted in assent of my words, save some few – near friends of Sifadu; but for them I cared nothing. And presently some of the older among them came to me, and we talked. We agreed to carry out my plan of returning to the nation, and that at once.
“Whau, Untúswa! Thou hast commanded men from thy youth; it is fitting that thou shouldst be our leader now,” said one of them, after he had talked. “Say I not well, brothers?” turning to the rest.
“E-hé! Siyavuma!” (“We consent”) they cried as one man. Thus, Nkose, I became chief of the Bapongqolo, the tribe of the Wanderers; but, in truth, the honour might be brief, indeed, for it might please the King to make a quick end both of chief and tribe.
Now that we had thus decided, we sent out men to find out how things were going between Dingane and the enemy, and from their report we judged that the time had arrived to come in and lie beneath the foot of the Elephant. The Bapongqolo women were left in concealment in the recesses of the Ngome forests, while we, to the number of several hundreds, marched forth.
Before we crossed the White Umfolosi, I and other of the principal of the refugees climbed to the heights overlooking the Mahlabatini plain. It was somewhat early in the morning, but the brightness of the new day was dimmed – dimmed by a great cloud. Far away to the southward it rose, that cloud – thicker and thicker, higher and higher – a great dull pillar of smoke. Nkunkundhlovu was in flames.
Through the thickness of the smoke-cloud we could see the red leap of the fire. Then was amazement our master. Had the Amabuna gained a victory – so great a victory that they had been able to penetrate to the Great Place of the Elephant whose tread shaketh the world? Whau! it could not be. The marvel was too great.
But as we looked, lo! over the rise which lay back from the river came dense black masses – masses of men – of warriors – for in the morning sunlight we could see the glint of their spears. They moved in regular rank, marching in columns, in perfect order. In perfect order! There lay the whole situation. This was no defeat. The Great Great One, for reasons of his own, had fired Nkunkundhlovu before retreating.
Nearer they drew, those masses of warriors – on, on – rank upon rank of them. We saw them enter the river and cross, and for long it seemed that the flood of the river must be arrested in its run, so vast were the numbers that blackened it as they crossed. Our blood burned within us at the sight of this splendid array. We longed to be among them, bearing our part as men. We had had more than enough of skulking like hunted leopards.
“Ho, Siyonyoba!” I cried to the second leader of the refugees. “Form up our spears in rank, that we go down now and throw in our lot with these.”
Right down we went. The black might of our retreating nation was halting now, rolling up in waves; and there, on the very spot where we were finally repulsed by you English in the battle of Nodwengu, Nkose, when we thought to eat up your red square of soldiers, there did we wanderers, whose lives were forfeit, bring our lives in our hands to lay them at the feet of the King.
(The battle historically known to us as that of Ulundi is always termed by the Zulus the battle of Nodwengu, because fought nearest to the kraal of that name.)
I had sent on men in advance to announce our arrival, and now, as we drew near, the army opened on either side of us so as to leave us a broad road.
A dead silence lay upon the whole dense array. I gave one glance back at those I led – led, it might be, to their death. Truly, a more warrior-like band never desired to serve any King. Their fugitive life had hardened the Bapongqolo. Even the picked regiments of Dingane’s army could not surpass them for hardihood and uprightness of bearing; and though we were probably going to our death, my blood thrilled with pride that I was the elected leader of so splendid a band.
I gave a signal, and striking their shields in measure as they marched, the Bapongqolo raised a great song in praise of Dingane:
“There hovers aloft a bird,
An eagle of war,
In circles and swoop
It floats above the world.
The eye of that eagle
Would burn up the world.
But the world is allowed to live.
So clement, so merciful, is that eagle who restrains his wrath.
He retires but to swoop and strike again.
Hau! The enemies of that war-eagle
shall melt away like yonder smoke.
A vulture who devours the flesh of men;
So is that bird.
Yonder is flesh that he shall presently eat.
So great is he,
He retires but to swoop and strike again.”
So our song thundered forth as we marched straight onward. I gave another signal. Immediately every shield and weapon fell to the ground with one crash, and advancing nearer weaponless, we bent low, a forest of heads, and from every tongue in one roar there ascended the “Bayéte.” For we were now in the presence of the King.