Kitabı oxu: «The King's Assegai: A Matabili Story», səhifə 9
Chapter Fifteen.
The King’s Sentence
“As we drew near Ekupumuleni we passed by the mound where the slayers were wont to do their work, and which robe at no long distance from the great kraal. I could see skulls glistening white among the grass on the mound, and I knew that in a very brief space my bones would lie there too, picked clean by the wild beasts of the waste. But even then I cannot say that I exactly feared. Too often had I gazed upon Death’s face and laughed – for, indeed, to look for death was the daily portion of a warrior. Still, that was in the roar and excitement of battle, feeling an enemy sink down beneath each of my blows, while now – It might be that the King in his wrath would order me, would order us, a lingering death of torture. Well, still I was a warrior, and must die, in whatsoever manner death met me, strong, fearless to the last.
“As we entered the lower gate of the kraal, I, in the midst of my guards, unarmed, but unbound and free of limb, I began to hum a song – a song which came to me at the moment, a wild, elated song of battle and of death. My head was thrown back, my eyes looked straight in front of me while I sang, as though I were marching in the ranks of the impi to victory instead of to the evil-doer’s doom. Those who guarded me stared and shrugged their shoulders.
“‘Hau!’ one of them cried. ‘He must be mad! The coming anger of the King, the Great Great One, has turned his brain.’
“‘Not so, Ncongula,’ I answered, for the speaker was well known to me. ‘I come of a House which knows how to die – whose brain the fear of death can never turn. I, Untúswa, the son of Ntelani, can walk forward to death, and sing the while.’
“This was foolish talk and boasting, Nkose. Still, I believed it at the time, and it helped to keep my heart from quailing; for it was a terrible thing I had done, and from its consequences there was no escape.
“The warriors were not mustered under arms, but there was an enormous crowd filling the whole of the great open space, so that it was with difficulty we could make our way through the densely-packed mass. But the peremptory summons of my guards to make way for the property of the King soon opened a lane in the midst. I threw side-glances upon the sea of faces hemming me in, and in most I read expressions of sorrow, especially among those of my own age, for although some of the older men regarded me with jealousy, I was well liked among my companions in arms; and the daring magnitude of my offence had struck them with admiration. Beyond the ring-fence in the background, where stood the huts, heads of women clustered thickly, and even they forgot to use their tongues in the intense excitement of the moment. All this I took in, so that it would remain stamped upon my brain as long as the power of thought should be left. Then I was standing before the King, and raising my hand, I cried ‘Bayéte.’ and bent low before him.
“Umzilikazi was seated at the upper end of the open space, a semicircle of indunas around him. Close beside him, however, squatted the old Mosutu witch-doctor, whose piercing, beady eyes met my glance with a most indescribable expression, the meaning of which I was utterly at a loss to read. I noticed, farther, that Nangeza was not present; but this was only to be expected. When she had been led off by the guard of women, I never expected to behold her face again. Her doom would take place privately. It was only mine – as a necessary warning to those of my own age and standing – that would be pronounced and carried out in the sight of the nation. The great space, as I said, was crowded with dense masses of people; but, except a small body of armed warriors in attendance on the King, all carried sticks only.
“The King’s eyes were fixed upon me, and in them I read no hope; indeed, not one spark of hope had kindled in my heart from the moment of our capture. Then Umzilikazi spoke:
“‘Draw near, son of Ntelani! Welcome, son of Ntelani!’ he said, speaking soft and pleasantly, but in that most terrible voice of all – even that mocking, bitter voice of his. ‘So thou art returned once more? The calf has again returned to the kraal? Welcome, wanderer!’
“‘I lie beneath the foot of the Black Elephant,’ I answered.
“‘Ha! But thou art an Elephant which is blacker still. Hail, Untúswa, builder up of a new nation! Hail, thou mightiest of all kings! Cry him the “Bayéte,” my children! Praise him, ye izimbonga! What! Have ye no titles for Untúswa, the would-be King – the great King of Nowhere?’ And, as he looked from side to side, some of the old men mumbled out certain of the royal titles at me in mockery; but most of those present were silent, being filled with perplexity, perchance remembering that the humour of kings is like the blade of a spear, having two edges, and prone to cut both ways.
“Even as a spear, too, did the bitter derision of the King’s voice cut. Then it flashed across me that Nangeza must have been put to the torture and questioned, for how otherwise could my ambitious dreams and intentions have become known, since I had breathed no word of them to any other, not even to old Masuka?
“‘Behold him, ye people!’ went on the King. ‘Behold him, my shield-bearer, my inceku, my chief runner! The confidence which I placed in him as the first has moved him to try to be greater than I; his opportunities as the second he has used to rob the Isigodhlo; while his powers as the last have enabled him to flee fast and far. As a cow to her calf, so have I been to Untúswa, my inceku, yet he has run away to seek milk elsewhere, and that not alone. Well, Untúswa? And thy voice? Hast thou nothing to say?’
“‘Nothing, O Great Great One,’ I answered, standing there alone, with the eyes of the whole nation upon me. ‘Nothing, for every word is the truth. Even now I walk upon the very edge of the darkness of death, and look forth into the blackness of its night. But let the double doom be mine, O Elephant whose tread, rumbleth the world, and spare the other, for I it was who beguiled her – bewitched her, if you will.’
“At this bold admission a gasp escaped from all who heard it, and men put their hands to their mouths in wonder. But the band of izanusi who scowled hard by broke into mutterings. The eyes of old Masuka, however, began to glow with a strange and glittering light.
“‘Ha! Fearest thou nothing, Untúswa?’ said the King. ‘The death of the hot stones, the stake of impalement, the nest of the black ants?’
“‘I fear but the frown of the King,’ I answered, although in truth a sweat broke out upon me at the mention of these terrible torments, but seldom used among us, and then only at the instigation of the izanusi. ‘But, Father, spare the other – spare Nangeza.’
“If it were possible, I had thought I saw just such an expression pass across the King’s face as sometimes dwelt there when he was especially pleased and good-humoured. But what mockery! As if such a thing could be!
“‘Of the girl I will talk presently. But for thyself, Untúswa – dost thou utter no word for thine own life?’
“‘No word, Great Great One; for the doer of such a deed as I have done hath never yet failed to find death as his reward – never since our nation was a nation. I desire death no more than any other, yet do I not brave it day by day in the service of the King? To ask my life would be but a waste of words.’
“‘And thou, Ntelani! Hast thou no word for the life of thy son?’
“‘No word, Great Great One,’ grunted my father, scowling savagely at me. ‘When my other son, Sekweni, earned death for his reward, did I seek to stay the justice of the King? I did not. Nor do I now. Let this one taste the reward he has won.’
“Then there fell a silence – a silence that one could feel. Even the breathing of that immense crowd seemed hushed; the bent-forward attitude, the parted lips, the eyeballs protruding, betrayed the intensity of the moment. All this I saw in side-glances. In front sat the semicircle of indunas, their faces set in hard, pitiless sternness. The countenance of the King as he sat gazing at me in silence was the only face whose owner was master of his own thoughts. The others were all carried away by the strain of the moment. For my part, I think my head turned slightly to and fro as though in a dream. I looked at the sun, whose setting I was not to see; I looked at the distant mountain ranges and the plains of earth, whose brightness I was destined to behold no more; and then the King spoke:
“‘Even as thou sayest, Untúswa, son of Ntelani, thou hast done a deed the doer of which hath never yet failed to meet with the reward of death. The girl shall die. But for thee, Untúswa, by reason of the great service thou hast done our nation in the past, I grant thee thy life. But thy life only. For thou mayest no more be among my izinceku; no more shalt thou take thy place in the ranks of the warriors, or go out with them to battle, nor shalt thou ever be suffered to tunga. Thy place henceforth shall be among the lowest of the captured slaves who herd the nation’s cattle, bearing no arms but a stick only. Thus I give thee thy life.’
“From a gasp which was first a lamentation as the multitude heard this dread sentence, there grew a great chorus of bonga.
“‘Oh the just, the merciful One! How he pardons, how he spares! Is he not our Father!’
“Thus all men cried aloud by reason of the clemency of the King. Only I stood as I had stood, moving neither hand nor foot – silent.
“‘Well, Untúswa, who art no more a warrior?’ said the King, when the shouting had ceased. ‘Have I not given thee thy life? Look up. Thou wilt see the sun go down this night, thou wilt see it rise and go down many days, many nights. While all the people cry aloud in praise that I have given thee thy life, thou alone remainest mute.’
“‘Because I would prefer death, O Black Elephant!’ I answered, raising my head. And then the tears rained from my eyes, even as from those of a child who is hurt. Yes, Nkose, I, Untúswa, the warrior who feared nothing, and who, when the King’s enemies lay in front of us, suffered no man to come between me and them, I, Untúswa, wept in the sight of the whole nation because of the dread sentence pronounced upon me by the King. For only think what it meant! I, a warrior, who lived but for battle, never again to bear arms! I, in the full flush and strength of my vigorous manhood, never to be allowed to wear the ring; I, an inceku, to descend to herd with the off-scourings of all the miserable and degraded tribes we had swept from our path! Of course, I preferred death ten times over; the death of the hot stones, of the stake of impalement, of the black ants; any death, however hideous, however lingering, to life upon the terms of such awful degradation.
“‘So thou askest for death, son of Ntelani?’ said the King.
“‘I pray for it, O Great Great One.’
“‘Ha! I should have been surprised hadst thou not prayed for it. Well, thou shalt have thy wish.’
“And now, Nkose, I know not how it was, but as Umzilikazi pronounced these words my eyes once more met those of the old Mosutu witch-doctor. They were burning with a strange glitter of intensity. His body was bent half forward in an attitude of anxiety such as I had never beheld in him, even when his own fate hung in the balance. But as I gazed into those burning orbs, something in them brought back the moment when I had dragged old Masuka from beneath the heaps of slain, and when he had pleaded for his life half defiantly while uttering his marvellous divination.
“The slayers advanced a few steps, then halted, and stood watching for a word, a sign, from the King. Then I lifted my voice, and cried:
“‘The Black Elephant is good. I asked a boon, and, lo! it was granted. The Great Serpent is merciful. But now I make a claim. I claim the fulfilment of the King’s promise!’
“The start, the stare, the quick murmur of astonishment which met these words, from all hearers, is hardly to be told. Even the Great Great One showed surprise. But in old Masuka’s glittering eyes there was now another look. It was the look of one who has attained his object – of one who triumphs.
“‘The King’s promise, the “word” of the Great Great One, in whose light we live!’ I cried. ‘The King’s “word” stands, for I have fulfilled its conditions.’
“I saw Umzilikazi start ever so slightly. ‘How so, Untúswa?’ he said. ‘Explain.’
“‘Thus, O Elephant. The words of the King were: “Perform some act, O son of Ntelani; perform some act bolder than any act I have ever yet heard tell of, and you shall be allowed to tunga. Not only that, but I will give you this broad umkonto which I hold in my hand.” Such was the “word” of the Great Great One.’
“‘Yes, that is no lie, Untúswa,’ said the King softly, while all held their breath for his reply. ‘Yet I know not so far what thou hast done to claim the fulfilment of such a promise.’
“‘Whau!’ I cried, bringing my hand to my mouth. ‘I would ask the King, the father of the wise, what bolder thing a man, being young, could do, than to steal one of the King’s girls from the Isigodhlo in broad daylight, and depart with her alone in search of unknown tribes, to reign over a new nation? What bolder act was ever performed, O Black Elephant?’
“‘He is mad! – quite mad!’ burst from the indunas. But the King smiled, and a new and strange look came into his face, yet from it I augured nothing. ‘I think thou hast done even a bolder thing, son of Ntelani,’ he said, ‘and that is to claim the fulfilment of my promise on such a ground. Surely no bolder act was ever heard tell of.’
“And now men found speech and cried aloud in praise of the wisdom of the King – of the truth of his words. Then he went on:
“‘My promise shall be kept,’ he said slowly, but with a dark and terrible meaning; ‘the latter part of it first. Thou shalt have this broad umkonto,’ twirling the great assegai in his hand till it flashed – a band of fire. ‘Oh yes, Untúswa! the “word” of the King stands. Thou shalt have what I promised thee. Prepare, then, to receive thy reward.’
“Then, in my joy, I shouted out the praises of the King, who had changed the doom of eternal degradation he had pronounced upon me to that of death. But a grand and noble death would be mine, that of the spear; yet not that only, for I was to die by the spear of the King – to die by the King’s own hand, for none other might wield the royal weapon for such a purpose. Yet, while I praised, no bonga arose from the multitude. All voices were hushed in expectation.
“Umzilikazi rose and advanced towards me. As he stood facing me, with the bright and gleaming spear uplifted, I looked him straight in the eyes – alone and about to taste death. And then it seemed that this situation was familiar to me – a man standing among men and an assegai descending to his chest. Ha! the third vision of the wizard’s múti! Then I knew not – now I knew who held the spear. Still, I flinched not, though the eyes of the King were terrible in their wrath. ‘Take the reward I promised thee!’ he said.
“‘I welcome death at the hand of the King, the Great Great One!’ I answered, gazing at the uplifted spear.
“Down it swept – down like a flash of light – down to my breast which was thrust forward to receive it. But it did not enter. It halted – motionless but for a slight quiver – within a hand’s-breadth of my heart. Still, my eyes left not those of the King, and for a moment thus we stood. Then Umzilikazi spoke:
“‘Once more I grant thee thy life, Untúswa, son of Ntelani, for I think thou art the bravest warrior that ever lived, and fearest death in its cold form no more than in the heat and shock of battle. And I love such. Yet, but for my promise, thou wert already dead. The King’s assegai is thine. Take it.’
“Then it was that my self-command was sorely tried. I was not to die, but to receive honour, for I held in my hand the King’s royal weapon. But my mind had gone through so much that it was hardened – cool and cutting even as the blade of the splendid spear; wherefore I laid the weapon softly down, for I might not address the King armed; and raising both hands aloft, I poured forth words of bonga, such as had surely never been heard before. And the whole nation joined in, and, indeed, even in the far mountains the foul Izímu and such abatagati must have quaked in their dens, for even thither must have reached the vast roaring chorus of the praises of the King.
“‘It is well, my children,’ said Umzilikazi when he again spoke. ‘Never before has such a deed met with other reward than death, never shall it again; and here my “word” will stand as fast as it did in my promise to Untúswa. And thou, son of Ntelani. Go now forth from among us until the moon is full, and speak to no man the while, and the man or woman who speaks to thee shall die. Then it may be that what thou hast done shall be put away. Depart, for he who has done what thou hast done must not mix with his fellows for awhile, lest they make too light of a most weighty matter. Go.’
“So singing aloud the praises of the King, I took up the dark-handled spear and went forth, and built a hut within sight of Ekupumuleni, and in that hut I dwelt alone; yet daily I would stand before it and chant in praise of the King, and all who heard me turned aside. Also I sang many songs of battle. And when the moon was at the full the Great Great One sent for me and ordered me to tunga, and soon afterwards created me second induna in command of the army, Kalipe holding the chief command. Thus, Nkose, did I win the King’s dark-handled spear, and my head-ring at the same time, but the path by which I travelled to reach it would have surely been, but for the King’s promise, the path of death.”
Epilogue.
“Well, Untúswa, I believe now, at any rate, that all the gold this waggon could carry would not purchase that assegai from you,” I said, as soon as the old man had finished. “But what of Nangeza? Was she put to death?”
“She was not. The King pardoned her, too; and when I put on the head-ring he gave her to me to wife.”
“And did she make a good Inkosikazi?”
“Wou!” and the old man brought his hand to his mouth, while his rugged face lighted up with sly fun. “I had better have placed my head beneath the paw of the lion for some other girl. Nangeza wanted to be chief and chieftainess, too. That would not do. We Zulus never allow our wives to be chiefs over us.”
“What became of her?” I said.
But he looked at me a moment, and the mirth dancing in his eyes changed to a flash of satire as he only repeated:
“We Zulus never allow our wives to be chiefs over us, Nkose.”
Then he took snuff.
“And what became of the old Mosutu witch-doctor?” I said, judiciously allowing the fate of Nangeza to remain shrouded in mystery.
“Masuka? Ha! After I was allowed to tunga he came to me and declared that I must give him cattle, for his was the múti which made me great; and, indeed, he told no lie there, for as far as a man’s thoughts can speak, while his tongue must keep silence, old Masuka’s thoughts spoke to me through his eyes that day that I should remind the King of his promise. So I gave him cattle, and from time to time more, for it was a great day for me, that whereon I had saved his life; and the King favoured him, and the old Mosutu lived to a great age and died peacefully.”
“And why did you leave the Amandebili, Untúswa?” I said.
“The man who is high in favour with one King is not always high in favour with him who reigns next, nor with those who sit at his right hand,” he answered. “Umzilikazi has long been dead. Then I heard that a great and merciful King sat in Zululand in the seat of Tshaka. So I returned to konza to Cetywayo, who received me well; nor was I too old to strike a blow for him, for I was enrolled in the Undi regiment, and fought against you English Kwa Jim (at Rorke’s Drift), and again at Kambula. Yes, after all my wanderings, I returned to die in Zululand. And now, Nkose, the sun is getting low, and I have some distance to travel, wherefore I must be gone.”
The like held good as regarded myself. The heat of the day was over, and my “boys,” who all this time had been asleep beneath the waggon, were waking up and preparing to in span for the evening trek. So I loaded up Untúswa with sundry unconsidered trifles, but very precious in Zulu eyes at that time. He was loud in his thanks.
“The story I have told, Nkose, is but that of a small portion of my own life – of a small portion of the earlier wanderings of the Amandebili. Afterwards, how we met and fought the Boers and other peoples —au! that would take long in telling. But if you are in this part again before leaving the Zulu country, it may be that we shall meet, and other strange tales and wonders I shall relate.”
And, uttering a sonorous farewell, the fine old warrior turned, and soon his tall, straight form was out of sight.
Such was the story of the King’s Assegai, as told by Untúswa, the son of Ntelani, and as an episode in the early stages of the Amandebili migration it seems worthy of being retold.
