Bertram Mitford - The White Shield

“That is well. In a few days we shall see. Go now, Untúswa.”

I saluted and left the King. As I passed the gate of the isigodhlo , or royal enclosure, which gate was only wide enough to admit one man at a time, I met my father, Ntelani, entering. Not a word had the King let fall on the matter of my father, and this meeting, which was a surprise to both of us, seemed an evil omen; for now that I wore the head-ring, and had become great, and commanded the King’s troops, my father was more jealous than ever, and hated me more. We exchanged greetings, and then in the darkness I made my way to old Masuka’s hut.

I pushed the wicker door open and crept in. The old witch-doctor was awake, and, seated by his fire, looked more like a big black spider than a man, such a skin-and-bone old skeleton had he become.

“I have seen you, Untúswa,” he said, looking up.

“Greeting, father,” I replied.

“ Au !” he said, handing me snuff. “And have you brought back cow and calf from the land of the Blue Cattle, Untúswa? The cow, whose milk keeps the life in my old frame, is dead – a lion killed her.”

“No cattle did I bring from the land of the Bakoni, father, though it will not be a long time before we go and take all of it,” I replied; “but there is a red cow in milk among my herd. Tomorrow she and her calf shall be driven in among your beasts, my father.”

The old man looked pleased. He loved cattle, and although by now he was one of the wealthiest among us, yet he never lost an opportunity of adding to his herds; but if any man gave him a cow he did not ask for more; unlike our own izanusi , who were wont to go on asking and asking until they had obtained ten or twelve beasts. Now I, each time that I was enriched by increase in my herd, or took spoil from an enemy, never failed to send a head or two to old Masuka; but from me our own izanusi got nothing – wherefore they hated me. But the old Mosutu had been the means of saving my life and making me great; wherefore I grudged him not such gifts from time to time.

When the King had caused Isilwana, the head isanusi , to be killed, for failing to cure a man who was wounded by the poisoned arrows of the mountain tribes, he had desired to put Masuka in his place; but the old man begged permission to refuse, saying that his múti (Medicine, or charm) would be of no avail if worked with others. So Umzilikazi, not sorry to set up a rivalry between the witch-doctors, had allowed him to go his own way; and since the rain-making, the old Mosutu had stood higher in the King’s favour than ever.

“That is well, my son,” he replied, “but delay not to send the cow with morning light, for by nightfall it may be that she will never be sent.”

“ Hau !” I cried. “What mean you, my father?”

“You are brave, Untúswa, and I have made you great. It is a pity that such should die young.”

“What mean you, my father?” I cried again, seeing a deadly meaning in his words.

He gazed at me for a moment, then bending forward spoke low in the Sesutu tongue, which by this time he had taught me; and as I listened my horror became greater and greater, for it seemed as though a wide and black pit of darkness yawned at my feet, and I must either spring over it or into it. Verily, the enemies at work within a man’s kraal are more to be feared than any outside. I must warn the King this very night. Yet, was it too late?

“Even now I hear steps which seek thee, son of Ntelani,” he ended. “Yet go to meet them. I know not if thou wilt return.”

Obedient to the old man’s injunction, I rose, and now I, too, heard steps in the silence of the night. With a heavy foreboding of trouble, I crept through the door of the hut, and stood upright.

“The King desires speech of thee, son of Ntelani,” said a voice, as a man came in sight. I recognised him as one of the izinceku or household attendants, and I thought there was something of malice and mischief in his tone. But I lost no time in gaining the isigodhlo .

Now, the royal house was of great size, nearly twice that of the largest of any other. I approached, singing in a low voice the King’s praises, to give notice that I was coming; then, disarming, I entered. The Great Great One was alone. A fire burning in the centre lighted up the interior brightly, and in its blaze I could see upon the royal countenance a look I did not like. But still less did I like what immediately followed.

“Thou dog and whelp of a dog!” hissed the King, as, with the rapidity of lightning, he dropped aside his skin robe and hurled a casting assegai at me. It grazed my head with a vicious “zip!” and buried itself in the side of the house, where it stuck quivering.

I did not move. Not a word did I speak, yet I felt that death and myself were closely shoulder to shoulder once more.

“Well, dog! Hast thou no word to say?” went on Umzilikazi, his hand gripping another casting spear.

“Yes, I have a ‘word,’ Great Great One. My life is ever in the hand of the King. But now I know of no reason why it should be taken,” I answered boldly.

“No reason? Au ! Can a nation serve two Kings, Untúswa, my dog?” he mocked.

“Now have the dreams of the Elephant been bad – now have the ears of the Great Great One been filled with dark and false things. Moreover, I know well that it was not really in thy mind to slay me, Father; else had yon spear been buried in something very different to the grass wall of the house,” I ended, with my usual boldness, which was so great as sometimes to astonish myself nearly as much as it did those who witnessed it. But it was in the minds of men that I should never now be slain by order of the Great Great One, because I held the King’s Assegai. Yet upon this I did not put overmuch trust.

“You have a ready tongue, Untúswa, and a ready wit,” said Umzilikazi, no longer wrathfully. “The word is true, and well said, for I could hardly miss a man at that distance, even though there are some who think it is time to find a new King.”

These last words were spoken low. I had heard enough from old Masuka not to require to ask their meaning. Yet I spoke in surprise and disgust, at the thought that such a thing should be possible.

“What is your thought on the matter, Untúswa?” said the King softly, eyeing me with his head on one side.

“ Au ! that is not a question to ask of me, Great Great One; for was I not on my way hither to point out those who think thus?” I said.

He started eagerly.

“Can you do this, Untúswa? Can you point them out?”

“I can, Great Great One. Shall I silently call together the slayers? The pool beyond Ncwelo’s kraal is not far, and the moon will not take long to sink now. In the morning its water shall be red.”

“Ha! The pool beyond Ncwelo’s?” muttered the King. “Wait. Call not together the slayers, for I will see these evil-doers with my own eyes, will hear their treachery with my own ears. You and I will go forth together, Untúswa; then on the morrow they shall behold their last sunrise.”

“How many men shall I bring for safeguard, Father?” I said. “Ten, perhaps, or more?”

“No men shalt thou bring, Untúswa. Thou and I will go forth together and witness the doings of these wizards, these abatagati , who meet at night.”

I looked anxious, for this was a serious adventure. The risks were enormous. Of the exact number of conspirators we were in ignorance, but we, being only two, would be sure to find ourselves at a great disadvantage in the event of discovery. Again, if any harm befell the King, should not I be held responsible for it? So I said —

“May I not go alone and bring back word, Black Elephant?”