 CHAPTER X The Smelling Out After these events matters went on quietly for some time. I visited Suduko's huts, very fine huts, about the doors of which sat quite a number of his tribesmen, who seemed glad to see me again. Here I learned from the lady Nandi, that her babe, whom she loved dearly was none the worse for his little accident. Also I learned from Suduko himself, who came in before I left, attended like a prince by several notable men, that he had made up his quarrel with Masapo, and indeed, apologized to him, as he found that he had not really meant to insult the princess, his wife, having only thrust her over by accident. Suduko added indeed that now they were good friends, which was well for Masapo, a man whom the king had no cause to like. I said that I was glad to hear it, and went on to call upon Masapo, who received me with enthusiasm, as also did Mamina. Here I noted with pleasure that this pair seemed to be on much better terms than I understood had been the case in the past. For Mamina even addressed her husband on two separate occasions, in very affectionate language, and fetched something that he wanted without waiting to be asked. Masapo too was in excellent spirits, because, as he told me, the old quarrel between him and Suduko was thoroughly made up, the reconciliation having been sealed by an interchange of gifts. He added that he was very glad that this was the case, since Suduko was now one of the most powerful men in the country, who could harm him much if he chose, especially as some secret enemy had put it about of late that he, Masapo, was an enemy of the king's house, and an evil doer who practiced witchcraft. In proof of his new friendship, however, Suduko had promised that these slanders would be looked into and the originator punished if he or she could be found. Well, I congratulated him and took my departure, thinking furiously, as the Frenchman says, that there was a tragedy pending, I was sure. This weather was too calm to last. The water ran so still, because it was preparing to leap down some hidden precipice. Yet what could I do? Tell Masapo I had seen his wife being embraced by another man? Surely there was not my business. It was Masapo's business to attend to her conduct. Also they would both deny it, and I had no witness. Tell him that Suduko's reconciliation with him was not sincere, and that he had better look to himself? How did I know it was not sincere? It might suit Suduko's book to make friends with Masapo, and if I interfered, I should only make enemies and be called a liar who was working for some secret end. Go to Panda and confide my suspicions to him. He was far too anxious and busy about great matters to listen to me, and if he did would only laugh at this tale of a petty flirtation. No, there was nothing to be done except sit still and wait. Very possibly I was mistaken, after all, and things would smooth themselves out, as they generally do. Meanwhile the reviewing, or whatever it may have been, was in progress, and I was busy with my own affairs, making hay while the sun shone. So great were the crowds of people who came up to Naduangu, that in a week I had sold everything I had to sell in the two wagons that were mostly laden with cloth, beads, knives, and so forth. More over the prices I got were splendid, since the buyers bid against each other and before I was cleared out I had collected quite a herd of cattle, also a quantity of ivory. These I sent to Natal, with one of the wagons remaining behind myself with the other, partly because Panda asked me to do so, for now and again he would seek my advice on sundry questions, and partly from curiosity. There was plenty to be curious about up at Nunwangu just then. Since no one was sure that civil war would not break out between the princes Satowayo and Umbalazi, whose factions were present in force. It was averted for the time, however, by Umbalazi keeping away from the great gathering under the pretext of being sick and leaving Suduko and some others to watch his interests. Also the rival regiments were not allowed to approach the town at the same time, so that public cloud passed over to the enormous relief of everyone, especially of Panda the king. As to the private cloud whereof this history tells, it was otherwise. As the tribes came up to the great place, they were reviewed and sent away, since it was impossible to feed so vast a multitude as would have collected had they all remained. Thus the Amasomi, a small people who were amongst the first to arrive soon left. Only for some reason which I never quite understood, Masapo, Mamina and a few of Masapo's children and headmen were detained there, though perhaps if she had chosen Mamina could have given an explanation. Well, things began to happen. Sundry personages were taken ill and some of them died suddenly, and soon it was noted that all these people either lived near to where Masapo's family was lodged or had at some time or other been on bad terms with him. Thus Suduko himself was taken ill or said he was at any rate. He vanished from public gaze for three days and reappeared looking very sorry for himself, though I could not observe that he had lost strength or weight. These catastrophes I pass over, however, in order to come to the greatest of them, which is one of the turning points of this chronicle. After recovering from his alleged sickness Suduko gave a kind of thanksgiving feast at which several oxen were killed. I was present at this feast or rather at the last part of it, for I only put in what may be called a complementary appearance, having no taste for such native gorgings. As it drew near its close Suduko sent Fernandi, who at first refused to come, as there were no women present. I think because he wished to show his friends that he had a princess of the royal blood for his wife, who had borne him a son that one day would be great in the land, for Suduko, as I have said, had become a self-eater, and this day his pride was inflamed by the edultation of the company and by beer that he had drunk. At length Nandi did come, carrying her babe, from which she never would be parted. In her dignified, ladylike fashion, although it seems an odd term to apply to a savage I know, none of that describes her better. She greeted first me, then sundry of the other guests, saying a few words to each of them. At length she came opposite to Masapo, who had died not wisely but too well, and to him, out of natural courtesy, spoke rather long than to the others, inquiring after his wife, Mamina, and others. At the moment it occurred to me that she did this in order to assure him that she bore no malice because of the accident of a while before, and was a party to her husband's reconciliation with him. Masapo, in a hazy way, tried to reciprocate these kind intentions. Rising to his feet, his fat, coarse body swaying to and fro because of the beer he had drunk, he expressed satisfaction at the feast that had been prepared in her house. Then, his eyes falling on the child, he began to declaim about its size and beauty, until he was stopped by the murmured protests of others, since among natives it is held to be not fortunate to praise a young child. Indeed, the person who does so is apt to be called an um takati, or bewitcher, who will bring evil upon its head, a word that I heard murmured by several near to me. Not satisfied with this serious breach of etiquette, the intoxicated Masapo snatched the infant from its mother's arms under the pretext of looking for the hurt that had been caused to its brow when it fell to the ground at my camp, and finding none proceeded to kiss it with his thick lips. Nandi dragged it from him, saying, Would you bring death upon my son, no chief of the Amasami? Then, turning, she walked away from the feasters, upon whom there fell a certain hush, fearing less something unpleasant should ensue, for I saw Saduko biting his lips with rage, not unmixed with fear, and remembering Masapo's reputation as a wizard. I took advantage of this pause to bid a general good night to the company and retire to my camp. What happened immediately after I left, I do not know. But just before dawn on the following morning I was awakened from sleep in my wagon by my servant Skowl, who said to the messenger had come from the huts of Saduko, begging that I would proceed there at once and bring the white man's medicines, because his child was very ill. Of course, I got up and went, taking with me some Ipeku koana and a few other remedies that I thought might be suitable for infantile ailments. Outside the huts, which I reached just as the sun began to rise, I was met by Saduko himself, who was coming to seek me, as I saw at once, in a state of terrible grief. What is the matter, I asked. Oh, Makumazana! he answered. That dog Masapo has bewitched my boy, and unless you can save him, he dies. Nonsense! I said, why do you utter wind? If the babe is sick it is from some natural cause. Wait till you see it, he replied, while I went into the big hut. And there found Nandi and some other women, also a native doctor or two. Nandi was seated on the floor, looking like a stone image of grief, for she made no sound, only pointed with her finger to the infant that lay upon a mat in front of her. A single glance showed me it was dying of some disease of which I had no knowledge, for its dusky little body was covered with red blotches and its tiny face twisted all a rye. I told the women to heat water, thinking that possibly this might be a case of convulsions, which a hot bath would mitigate. But before it was ready the poor babe uttered a thin wail and died. Then, when she saw that her child was gone, Nandi spoke for the first time. The wizard has done his work well, she said, and flung herself face downwards on the floor of the hut. As I did not know what the answer I went out, followed by Sudhuko. What has killed my son, Makumazan? He asked in a hollow voice to tears running down his handsome face, for he had loved his first-born. I cannot tell, I replied. But had he been older I should have thought he had eaten something poisonous, which seems impossible. Yes, Makumazan. And the poison that he has eaten came from the breath of a wizard, whom you may chance to have seen kiss him last night? Well, his life shall be avenged. Sudhuko, I exclaimed, do not be unjust. There are many sicknesses that may have killed your son, of which I have no knowledge, who am not a trained doctor. I will not be unjust, Makumazan. The babe has died by witchcraft, like others in this town of late, but the evil door may not be he whom I suspect. That is for the smithers out to decide. Without more words he turned and left me. Next day Masapo was put upon his trial before the court of councillors, over which the king himself presided. A very unusual thing for him to do, and one which showed the great interest he took in the case. At this court I was summoned to give evidence, and, of course, confine myself to answering such questions, as were put to me. Practically these were but two. What had passed at my wagons when Masapo had knocked over Nandi and her child, and Sudhuko had struck him? And what had I seen at Sudhuko's feast when Masapo had kissed the infant? I told them in as few words as I could, and after some slight cross-examination by Masapo made with a view to prove that the upsetting of Nandi was an accident and that he was drunk at Sudhuko's feast, to both of which suggestions I assented I rose to go. Ponda, however, stopped me and bade me describe the aspect of the child when I was called in to give it medicine. I did so as accurately as possible, and could see that my account made a deep impression on the mind of the court. When Ponda asked me if I had ever seen any similar case to which I was obliged to reply, no, I have not. After this the councillors consulted privately, and when we were called back the king gave his judgment, which was very brief. It was evident, he said, that there had been events which might have caused enmity to arise in the mind of Masapo against Sudhuko, by whom Masapo had been struck with a stick. Therefore, although a reconciliation had taken place, there seemed to be a possible motive for revenge. But if Masapo killed the child there was no evidence to show he had done so. Moreover, that infant, his own grandson, had not died of any known disease. He had, however, died of a similar disease to that which had carried off certain others with whom Masapo had been mixed up, whereas more, including Sudhuko himself, had been sick and recovered, all of which seemed to make a strong case against Masapo. Still he and his councillors wished not to condemn without full proof. That being so, they had determined to call in the services of some great witch doctor, one who lived at a distance and knew nothing of the circumstances, who that doctor should be was not yet settled. When it was, and he had arrived, the case would be reopened, and meanwhile Masapo would be kept a close prisoner. Finally he prayed that while the white man Makumazan would remain at his town until the matter was settled. So Masapo was led off, looking very dejected, and having saluted the king, we all went away. I should add that, except for the remission of the case to the court of the witch doctor, which, of course, was an instance of pure kafir superstition. This judgment of the king seemed to be well-reasoned and just very different indeed from what would have been given by Dingan or Chaka, who were want on less evidence to make a clean sweep not only of the accused, but of all his family independence. About eight days later, during which time I had heard nothing of the matter and had seen no one connected with it, for the whole thing seemed to have become Zila, that is, not to be talked about. I received a summons to attend the smelling-out and went wondering what witch doctor had been chosen for that bloody and barbarous ceremony. Indeed, I had not far to go, since the place selected for the occasion was outside the fence of the town of Nodwengu. On that great open stretch of ground which lay at the mouth of the valley where I was camped. Here, as I approached, I saw a vast multitude of people crowded together, fifty deep or more, round a little oval space not much larger than the pit of a theater. On the inmost edge of this ring were seated many notable people, male and female, and as I was conducted to the side of it which was nearest to the gate of the town, I observed among them Saduko, Masapo, Mamina, and others, and mixed up with them a number of soldiers who were evidently on duty. Scarcely had I seated myself on a campstool carried by my servant Scowl, when through the gate of the crowd issued Panda and the certain of his council, whose appearance the multitude greeted with the royal salute of Payete, that came from them in a deep and simultaneous roar of sound. When its echoes died away in the midst of a deep silence Panda spoke, saying, Bring forth the nyanga, doctor, let the um alado, that is, the witch-trial, begin. There was a long pause, and then in the open gateway appeared a solitary figure that at first seemed to be scarcely human, the figure of a dwarf with a gigantic head, from which hung long white hair, plated into locks. It was Zikali and no other. Quite unattended and naked save for his muka, for he had on him none of the ordinary paraphernalia of the witch-doctor. He waddled forward with a curious, toad-like gait till he had passed through the counselors and stood in the open space of the ring. Hulting there he looked about him slowly with his deep sad eyes, turning as he looked till at length his glance fell upon the king. What would you have of me, son of Senzen Gankonka? He asked, Many years have passed since last we met. Why do you drag me from my hut? I, who have visited the crown of the king of the Zulus, but twice since the black one, Chaka, sat upon the throne. Once when the boars were killed by him who went before you, and once when I was brought forth to see all who were left of my race, shoots of the royal Dwandwe stock slain before my eyes. Do you bear me hither that I may follow them into the darkness, O child of Senzen Gankonka? If so, I am ready. Only then I have words to say that it may not please you to hear. His deep rumbling voice echoed into silence, while the great audience waited for the king's answer. I could see that they were all afraid of this man, yes, even Panda was afraid, for he shifted uneasily upon his stool, at length he spoke, saying, Not so, O Zikali! Who would wish to do hurt to the wisest and most ancient man in all the land, to him who touches the far past with one hand, and the present with the other? To him who was old before our grandfathers began to be, Nay, you are safe! You on whom not even the black one dared to lay a finger, although you were his enemy and he hated you. As for the reason why you have been brought here, tell it to us, O Zikali. Who are we that we should instruct you in the ways of wisdom? When Adwarv heard this, he broke into one of his great laughs. So, at last the house of Senzen Gankonka acknowledges that I have wisdom, than before all is done they will think me wise indeed. He laughed again in his ill omen fashion that went on hurriedly, as though he feared that he should be called upon to explain his words. Where is the fee? Where is the fee? Is the king so poor that he expects an old Wandaway doctor to divine for nothing, just as though he were working for a private friend? Panda made a motion with his hand, and ten fine heifers were driven into the circle from some place where they had been kept in waiting. Sorry, beast, said Zikali contemptuously, compared to those we used to breed before the time of Senzen Gankonka, a mark which caused a loud wow of astonishment to be uttered by the multitude that heard it, still such as they are, let them be taken to my crowd, with a bowl, for I have none. The cattle were driven away, and the ancient dwarf squatted himself down and stared at the ground, looking like a great black toad. For a long while, quite ten minutes, I should think, he stared thus, till I, for one watching him intently, began to feel as though I were mesmerized. A length he looked up, tossing back his gray locks, and said, I see many things in the dust. Oh, yes, it is alive. It is alive, and tells me many things. Show that you are alive, O dust! Look! As he spoke, throwing his hands upward, they arose at his very feet one of those tiny and incomprehensible whirlwinds, with which all who know South Africa will be familiar. It drove the dust together, and lifted it in a tall spiral column that rose and rose to a height of fifty feet or more, then it died away as suddenly as it had come, so that the dust fell down again over Zikali, over the king, and over three of his sons who sat behind him. Those three sons, I remember, were named Shonkweni, Dablusenai, and Matantashia. As a chance, by a strange coincidence, all of these were killed at the great battle of the Tughkala, of which I have to tell. Now again, an exclamation of fear and wonder rose from the audience, who set down this lifting of the dust at Zikali's very feet, not to natural causes, but to the power of his magic. Moreover, those on whom it had fallen, including the king, rose hurriedly and shook and brushed it from their persons with a zeal that was not, I think, inspired by a mere desire for cleanliness. Matzikali only laughed again in his terrible fashion and let it lie on his fresh-oiled body, which it turned to the dull, dead hue of a gray adder. He rose and, stepping here and there, examined the new fallen dust. Then he put his hand into a pouch he wore and produced from it a dried human finger, whereof the nail was so pink that it must have been colored, a sight at which the circle shuddered. Be clever, he said, O finger of her I loved best. Be clever and write in the dust as Yander Makumazana can write, and as some of the Duandwe used to write before we became slaves and bowed ourselves down before the great heavens. By this he meant the Zulus, whose name means the heavens. Be clever, dear finger, which caressed me once, me the thing that should not have been born, as more will think before I die, and write those matters as it pleases the house of Zanzangakona to know this day. Then he bent down, and with the dead finger at three separate spots made certain markings in the fallen dust, which to me seemed to consist of circles and dots, and a strange and horrid sight it was to see him do it. I thank you, dear finger. Now sleep, sleep, your work is done, and slowly he wrapped the relic up in some soft material and restored it to his pouch. Then he studied the first of the markings and asked, What am I here for? What am I here for? Does he who sits upon the throne desire to know how long he has to reign? Now those in the inner circle spectators who, at these smellings out, act as a kind of chorus, looking at the king, and seeing that he shook his head vigorously stretched out their right hands holding the thumb downwards and said simultaneously in a cold, low voice. Yizwa! That is, we hear you. Zikali stamped upon his set of markings. It is well, he said, he who sits upon the throne does not desire to know how long he has to reign, and therefore the dust has forgotten and shows it not to me. Then he walked to the next markings and studied them. Does the child of Senzan Kagona desire to know which of his sons shall live and which shall die? Aye, and which of them shall sleep in his hut when he is gone? Now a great roar of Yizwa, accompanied by the clapping of hands, rose from all the outer multitude who heard, for there was no information that the Zulu people desired so earnestly as this at the time of which I write. But again Panda, who I saw, was thoroughly alarmed at the turn things were taking shook his head vigorously, whereon the obedient chorus negative the question in the same fashion as before. Zikali stamped upon the second set of markings, saying, The people desire to know, but the great ones are afraid to learn, and therefore the dust has forgotten who in the days to come shall sleep in the hut of the king, and who shall sleep in the bellies of the jackals and the crops of the vultures after they have gone beyond by the bridge of spears. Now at this awful speech, which both because of all it had implied, and the bloodshed in civil war, and of the wild wailing voice in which it was spoken that seemed quite different from Zikali's, caused everyone who heard it, including myself, I'm afraid, to gasp and shiver. The king sprang from his stool as though to put a stop to such doctoring. Then after his fashion he changed his mind and sat down again, but Zikali, taking no heed, went to the third set of marks and studied them. It would seem, he said, that I am awakened from sleep in my black house yonder to tell of a very little matter that might well have been dealt with by any common nianga born but yesterday, while I have taken my fee and I will earn it, although I thought that I was brought here to speak of great matters, such as the death of princes and the fortunes of peoples. It is desired that my spirit should speak of wizardries in this town of no dhuengu? Yizwa! said the chorus in a loud voice. Zikali nodded his great head and seemed to talk with the dust, waiting now and again for an answer. Good, he said, there are many, and the dust has told them all to me. Oh, they are very many! And he glared around him, so many that if I spoke them all the hyenas of the hills would be full to-night. Here the audience began to show signs of great apprehension. But looking down at the dust and turning his head sideways, what do you say? What do you say? Speak more plainly, little voices, for you know I grow deaf. Oh, now I understand. The matter is even smaller than I thought. Just of one wizard. Yizwa! Just of a few deaths and some sicknesses. Yizwa! Just of one death, one principal death. Yizwa! Ah, so we have it. One death. Now, was it a man? Yizwa! A woman? Yizwa! Then a child, it must be a child, unless indeed it is the death of a spirit. But what do you people know of spirits? A child, a child. Ah, you hear me, a child. A male child, I think. Do you not say so, old dust? Yizwa! A common child. A bastard. The son of nobody. Yizwa! A well-born child. One who would have been great. Oh, dust, I hear, I hear. A royal child, a child in whom ran the blood of the father of the Zulus. He who was my friend. The blood of Senzangakona. The blood of the black one. The blood of Panda. He stopped, while both from the chorus and from the thousands of the circle gathered around, went up the roar of Yizwa, emphasized by a mighty movement about stretched arms and down, pointing thumbs. Then silence, during which Tikali stamped upon the remaining marking, saying, I thank you, O dust, though I am very sorry to have troubled you for so small a matter. So, so, he went on presently. A royal boy child is dead, and you think by witchcraft. Let us find out if he died by witchcraft, or as others die, by command of the heavens that need them. What? Here is one mark which I have left. Look, it grows red. It is full of spots. The child died with a twisted face. Yizwa, Yizwa, Yizwa! This death was not natural. Now, was it witchcraft? Or was it poison? Both, I think, both. And whose was the child? Not that of a son of the king, I think. Oh yes, you hear me, people, you hear me. But be silent, I do not need your help. No, not of a son of a daughter, then. He turned and looked about him till his eye fell in a group of women amongst whom sat Nandi, dressed like a common person. Of a daughter, a daughter. He walked to the group of women. Why, none of these are royal. They are the children of low people. And yet, and yet I seem to smell the blood of Senzan Kagona. He sniffed at the air as a dog does, and as he sniffed drew ever nearer to Nandi, till the last he laughed and pointed to her. Your child, princess, whose name I do not know, your firstborn child whom you loved more than your own heart, she rose. Yes, yes, Nyanga. She cried, I am the princess Nandi, and he was my child whom I love more than my own heart. Ha ha ha, said Zikali. Dust, you did not lie to me, my spirit, you did not lie to me. But now tell me, Dust, and tell me, my spirit, who killed this child? He began to waddle around the circle, an extraordinary sight covered as he was with gray grime, buried with streaks of black skin where perspiration had washed the dust away. Presently he came opposite to me, and to my dismay paused, sniffing at me as he had at Nandi. Ah, ah, oh, Mako Mazana! he said. You have something to do with this matter, a saying at which all the audience pricked their ears. Then I rose up in wrath and fear, knowing my position to be one of some danger. Wizard, or smell a route of wizards whichever you name yourself, I called in a loud voice. If you mean that I killed Nandi's child, you lie. No, no, Mako Mazan, he answered. But you tried to save it, and therefore you had something to do with the matter, had you not? Moreover, I think that you, who are wise like me, know who did kill it. Won't you tell me, Mako Mazan? No? Then I must find out for myself, be at peace. Does not all the land know that your hands are as white as your heart? Then to my great relief he passed on, amidst a murmur of approbation, for, as I have said, the Zulus liked me. Round and round he wandered to my surprise, passing both Mamina and Masapo. Without taking any particular note of them, although he scanned them both, and I thought that I saw a swift glance of recognition pass between him and Mamina. He was curious to watch his progress, for, as he went, those in front of him swayed in their terror like corn before a puff of wind. And when he passed they straightened themselves as the corn does when the wind has gone by. At length he had finished his journey and returned to a starting point, to all appearance completely puzzled. You keep so many wizards at your crow-king, he added, addressing Panda, that it is hard to say which of them brought this deed. It would have been easier to tell you of greater matters, yet I have taken your fee and I must earn it. I must earn it. Dust, you are dumb. Now, my idlozi, my spirit, do you speak? And holding his head sideways he turned his left ear upwards towards the sky, and then said presently, in a curious matter-of-fact voice, Ah, thank you, spirit. Well, king, your grandchild was killed by the house of Masapo, your enemy, chief of the Amasomi. Now a roar of approbation went up from the audience among whom Masapo's guilt was foregone conclusion, when this had died down Panda spoke, saying, The house of Masapo is a large house. I believe that he has several wives and many children. It is not enough to smell out the house, since I am not as those who went before me were, nor will I slay the innocent with the guilty. Tell us, so opener of roads, who among the house of Masapo has wrought this deed? That's just the question, grumbled Zechali in a deep voice. All that I know is that it was done by poisoning, and I smell the poison. It is here. Then he walked a warm amena, sat, and cried out, Seize that woman and search her hair. Executioners who were in waiting sprang forward, but amena waved them away. Friends, she said with a little laugh, There is no need to touch me. And rising she stepped forward to the center of the ring. Here, with a few swift motions of her hands, she flung off first the cloak she wore, then the muka about her middle, and lastly the fillet that bound her long hair, and stood before that audience in all her naked beauty, a wondrous and lovely sight. Now, she said, Let women come and search me and my garments, and see if there is any poison hid there. Two old crones stepped forward, though I do not know who sent them, and carried out a very thorough examination, finally reporting that they had found nothing. Thereon, amena, with a shrug of her shoulders, resumed such clothes as she wore, and returned to her place. Zechali appeared to grow angry. He stamped upon the ground with his big feet. He shook his braided gray locks and cried out, Is my wisdom to be defeated in such a little matter? One of you tie a bandage over my eyes. Now a man, it was Maputa, the messenger, came out and did so, and I noted that he tied it well and tight. Zechali whirled around upon his heels, first one way, then another, and crying aloud, Guide me, O my spirit! Marched forward in a zigzag fashion, it's a blindfolded man does, with his arms stretched out in front of him. First he went to the right, then to the left. And then straightforward, till at length, to my astonishment, he came exactly opposite the spot where Masapo sat, and stretching out his great groping hands, seized the karas with which he was covered, and with a jerk tore it from him. Search this! he cried, throwing it on the ground, and a woman searched. Presently she uttered an exclamation, and from among the fur one of the tails of the karas produced a tiny bag that appeared to be made out of the bladder of a fish. There she handed to Zechali, whose eyes had now been unbandaged. He looked at it, then gave it to Maputa, saying, There is the poison, there is the poison, but who gave it? I do not say. I am weary, let me go. Then, unhindering him, he walked away through the gate of the corral. Soldiers seized upon Masapo, while the multitude roared, Kill the wizard! Masapo sprang up and running to where the king sat flung himself upon his knees, protesting his innocence and praying for mercy. I also, who had doubts as to all this business, ventured to rise and speak. O king, I said, as one who has known this man in the past, I plead with you how that powder came into his karas I know not, but perchance it is not poison, only harmless dust. Yes, it is but wood dust which I use for the cleaning of my nails, cried Masapo, for he was so terrified that I think he knew not what he said. So you own to knowledge of the medicine, exclaimed Panda, therefore none hid it in your karas through malice. Masapo began to explain, but what he said was lost in the mighty roar of Kill the wizard. Panda held up his hand and there was silence. Bring milk and a dish, commanded the king, and it was brought and had a further word from him dusted with the powder. Now, o makumazana, said Panda to me, if you still think that yonder man is innocent, will you drink this milk? I do not like milk, o king. I answered, shaking my head, whereon all who heard me laughed. Will Ma Mina, his wife, drink it then? Asked Panda. She also shook her head, saying, O king, I drink no milk that is mixed with dust. Just then a lean white dog, one of those homeless, mangy beasts that stray about the crowds and live upon carrion, wandered into the ring. Panda made a sign, and the servant, going to where the poor beast stood staring about it hungrily, set down the wooden dish of milk in front of it. Instantly the dog lapped it up, for it was starving, and as it finished the last drop, the man slipped a leathern thong about its neck and held it fast. Now all eyes were fixed upon the dog, mine among them. Presently the beast uttered a long and melancholy howl which thrilled me through, for I knew it to be Misapo's death warrant. Then began to scratch the ground and foam at the mouth. Guessing what would follow I rose, bowed to the king and walked away to my camp. Which, it will be remembered, was set up in a little cloof, commanding this place, at a distance only of a few hundred yards. So intent was all the multitude upon watching the dog that I doubt whether anyone saw me go. As for that poor beast, Scowl, who stayed behind, told me that it did not die for about ten minutes, since before its end a red rash appeared upon it similar to that which I had seen upon Suduko's child, and it was seized with convulsions. While I reached my tent unmolested and, having lit my pipe, engaged myself in making business, entries, and my notebook, in order to divert my mind as much as I could, when suddenly I heard the most devilish clamor, looking up I saw Misapo running towards me with a speed that I should have thought impossible and so fat a man. All after him raced the fierce, faced executioners, and behind came the mob. Kill the evil door! they shouted. Misapo reached me. He flung himself on his knees before me, gasping. Save me, Makumazan! I am innocent! Mamina, a witch! Mamina! He got no farther, for the slayers had leapt on him like hounds upon a buck and dragged him from me. Then I turned and covered my eyes. The next morning I left Ndwangu without saying goodbye to anyone, for what had happened there made me desire a change. My servant Skowl and one of my hunters remained, however, to collect some cattle that were still due to me. A month or more later, when they joined me in Natal, bringing the cattle, they told me that Mamina, the widow of Misapo, had entered the house of Suduko as his second wife. In answer to a question which I put to them, they added that it was said that the Princess Nandi did not approve of this choice of Suduko, which she thought would not be fortunate for him or bring him happiness. As her husband seemed to be much enamored of Mamina, however, she had waived her objections, and when Panda asked if she gave her consent, had told him that although she would prefer that Suduko would choose some other woman who had not been mixed up with the wizard who killed her child. She was prepared to take Mamina as her sister and would know how to keep her in her place. The Sin of Umba Lazi About eighteen months had gone by, and once again in the autumn of the year 1856 I found myself at old Umba Lazi's Kral, where there seemed to be an extraordinary market for any kind of gaspipe that could be called a gun, while as a trader who could not afford to neglect profitable markets, which are hard things to find, there I was. Now in eighteen months many things become a little obscured in one's memory, especially if they have to do with savages, in whom, after all, one takes only a philosophical and a business interest. Therefore, I may perhaps be excused if I had more or less forgotten a good many of the details of what I may call the Mamina affair. These, however, came back to me very vividly when the first person that I met, at some distance from the Kral where I suppose she had been taking a country walk, was the beautiful Mamina herself. There she was, looking quite unchanged and as lovely as ever, sitting under the shade of a wild fig tree and fanning herself with a handful of its leaves. Of course I jumped off my wagon-box and greeted her. Ciacobona, that is, good-morrow. Macumazan, she said, my heart is glad to see you. Ciacobona, Mamina, I answered, leaving out all reference to my heart. Then I added, looking at her, is it true that you have a new husband? Yes, Macumazan, an old lover of mine has become a new husband. You know whom I mean, Sadduko. After the death of that evil doer Masapo, he grew very urgent, and the king, also the Incusana Nandi, pressed it on me. And so I yielded. Also, to be honest, Sadduko was a good match, or seemed to be so. By now we were walking side by side, for the train of wagons had gone ahead to the old outspan. So I stopped and looked her in the face. Seemed to be, I repeated. What do you mean by seemed to be? Are you not happy this time? Not altogether, Macumazan, she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. Sadduko was very fond of me, fonder than I like, indeed, since it causes him to neglect Nandi. Oh, by the way, has another son, and, although she says little, that makes Nandi cross. In short, she added with a burst of her truth, I am the plaything, Nandi is the great lady, and that play suits me ill. If you love Sadduko, you should not mind, Mamina. Love, she said bitterly. What is love? But I have asked you that question once before. Why are you here, Mamina? I inquired, leaving it unanswered. Because Sadduko was here, and, of course, Nandi, for she never leaves him, and he will not leave me because the Prince Umbalazi is coming, because there are plots afoot, and the great war draws near, that war in which so many must die. Between Setawayo and Umbalazi, Mamina. I, between Setawayo and Umbalazi. Why do you suppose those wagons of yours are loaded with guns, for which so many cattle must be paid? Not to shoot game with, I think. Well, this little crowd of my fathers is just now the headquarters of the Umbalazi faction, the Izikosa, as the Prince of Gikazi is that of Setawayo. My poor father, she added with her characteristic shrug, he thinks himself very great today, as he did after he had shot the elephant, before I nursed you, Makumazan. But often, I wonder, what will be the end of it, for him and for all of us Makumazan, including yourself? I, I answered, would have I to do with your Zulu quarrels, that you will know when you have done with them, Makumazan. But here is the crowd, and before we enter it, I wish to thank you for trying to protect that unlucky husband of mine, Masapo. I only did so, Mamina, because I thought him innocent. I know Makumazan, and so did I, although, as I always told you, I hated him, the man with whom my father forced me to marry. But I am afraid, from what I have learned since, that he was not altogether innocent. You see, Saduko had struck him, which he could not forget. Also, he was jealous of Saduko, who had been my suitor and wished to injure him. But what I do not understand, she added, with a burst of confidence, is why he did not kill Saduko instead of his child. Well, Mamina, you may remember it was said he tried to do so. Yes, Makumazan, I had forgotten that. I suppose that he did try, and failed. Oh, now I see things with both eyes. Look, Yander is my father. I will go away, but come and talk to me sometimes, Makumazan, for otherwise Nandi will be careful that I should hear nothing. I, who in the plaything, the beautiful woman of the house, who must sit and smile, but must not think. So she departed, and I went on to meet old Humebezi, who came gambling towards me like an obese goat, reflecting that, whatever might be the truth or otherwise of her story, her advancement in the world did not seem to have brought Mamina greater happiness and contentment. Humebezi, who greeted me warmly, was in high spirits and full of importance. He informed me that the marriage of Mamina to Saduko, after the death of the wizard, her husband, whose tribe and cattle had been given to Saduko in compensation for the loss of his son, was the most fortunate thing for him. I asked why. Because as Saduko goes great, so I, his father-in-law, grow great with him, Makumazan, especially as he has been liberal to me in the matter of cattle, passing on to me a share of the herds of Masapo, so that I, who have been poor so long, am getting rich at last. Moreover, my crowd is to be honored with a visit from Humebezi and some of his brothers to-morrow, and Saduko has promised to lift me up high when the prince is declared heir to the throne. Which prince, I asked? Humebezi Makumazan, who else? Humebezi, who without doubt will conquer Setawayo. Why without doubt, Humebezi, Setawayo has a great following, and if he should conquer, I think that you will only be lifted up in the crops of the vultures. At this rough suggestion Humebezi's fat face fell. Oh, Makumazan, he said. If I thought that I would go over to Setawayo, although Saduko is my son-in-law, but it is not possible since the king loves Humebezi's mother most of all his wives, and, as I chance to know, has sworn to her that he favors Humebezi's cause, since he is the dearest to him and all of his sons, and will do everything that he can to help him, even to the sending of his own regiment to the assistance, if there should be need. Also, it is said that Zikali, opener of roads, who has all wisdom, has prophesied that Humebezi will win more than he ever hoped for. The king, I said, a straw-blown hither and thither between two great winds waiting to be wafted to the rest by that which is strongest, the prophecy of Zikali. It seems to me that it can be read two ways, if, indeed, he ever made one. Well, Humebezi, I hope that you are right, for, although this is no affair of mine, who am but a white traitor in your country, I like Humebezi better than Zithiwayo, and think that he has a kinder heart. Also, as you have chosen his side, I advise you to stick to it, since traitors to a cause seldom come to any good. Whether it wins or loses. And now, will you take count of the guns and powder which I have brought with me? Aha, better it would have been for Humebezi if he had listened to my advice and remained faithful to the leader he had chosen. For then, even if he had lost his life, at least he would have kept his good name. But of him presently, as they say in pedigrees. Next day I went to pay my respects to Nandi, whom I found engaged in nursing her new baby, as quiet and stately in her demeanor as ever. Still, I think that she was very glad to see me, because I had tried to save the life of her first child, whom she could not forget, if for no other reason. Whilst I was talking to her of that sad matter, also the political state of the country, as to which I think she wished to say something to me, Mamina entered the hut without waiting to be asked, and sat down, whereon Nandi became suddenly silent. This, however, did not trouble Mamina, who talked away about anything and everything, completely ignoring the headwife. For a while Nandi bore it with patience, but at length she took advantage of a pause in the conversation to say in her firm low voice, This is my hot daughter of Umbesi. A thing which you remember well enough when it is a question whether Sadukko, our husband, shall visit you or me. Can you not remember it now when I would speak with the White Chief, watcher by night, who has been so good as to take the trouble to come and see me? On hearing these words Mamina leapt up in a rage, and I must say I never saw her look more lovely. You insult me, daughter of Panda, as you always try to do, because you are jealous of me. Your pardon, sister, replied Nandi. Why should I, who am Sadukko's, in Kosikazi? And, as you say, daughter of Panda, the king, be jealous of the widow of the wizard Masapo, and the daughter of the headman Umbesi, whom it is pleased our husband to take into his house and be the companion of his leisure. Why? Because you know that Sadukko loves my little finger more than he does your whole potty, although you are of the king's blood and may have borne him prats. She answered, looking at the infant with no kindly eye. It may be so, daughter of Umbesi, for men have their fancies, and without doubt you are fair. Yet I would ask you one thing. If Sadukko loves you so much, how come it is that he trusts you so little that you must learn any matter of weight by listening at my door, as I found you doing the other day? Because you teach him not to do so, O Nandi. Because you are ever telling him not to consult with me, since she who has betrayed one husband must betray another. Because you make him believe my place is that of his toy, not that of his companion, and thus I am cleverer than you, and all your house tied into one bundle, as you may find out someday. Yes, answered Nandi, quite undisturbed. I do teach him these things, and I am glad that in this manner Sadukko is a thinking head and listens to me. Also I agree that it is likely I shall learn many more ill things through and of you one day, daughter of Umbesi, and now, as it is not good that we should wrangle before this white lord again, I say to you that this is my hut, in which I wish to speak alone with my guest. I go, I go, I ask Mamina, but I tell you that Sadukko shall hear of this. Certainly he will hear of it, for I shall tell him when he comes to-night. Another instant Mamina was gone, having shot out of the hut like a rabbit from its burrow. I ask her pardon, Makumazan, for what has happened, said Nandi, but it had become necessary that I should teach my sister Mamina upon which stool she ought to sit. I do not trust her, Makumazan. I think that she knows more of the truth of any child than she chooses to say. She who wished to be rid of Masapo, for a reason you can guess, I think also she will bring shame and trouble upon Sadukko, whom she has bewitched with her beauty, as she bewitches all men, perhaps even yourself a little Makumazan. And now let us talk of other matters. To this proposition I agreed cordially, since to tell the truth. If I could have managed to do so with any decent grace I should have been out of that hut long before Mamina. So we fell to conversing on the condition of Zulu land and the dangers that lay ahead for all who were connected with the royal house, a state of affairs which troubled Nandi much, for she was a clear-headed woman and one who feared the future. Ah, Makumazan, she said to me, as reparted, I would that I were the wife of some man who did not desire to go great and that no royal blood ran in my veins. On the next day the Prince Umbalazi arrived, and with him, Sadukko, and a few other notable men. They came quite quietly and without any ostensible escort. Although Skowl, my servant, told me he heard that the bush at a little distance was swarming with soldiers of the Izikosa party. If I remember rightly the excuse for the visit was that Umbezi had some of a certain rare breed of white cattle whereof the Prince wished to secure young bulls and heifers to improve his herd. Once inside the Kral, however, Umbalazi, who was a very open-natured man, threw off all pretense and, after greeting me heartily enough, told me with plainness that he was there because this was a convenient spot on which to arrange the consolidation of his party. Almost every hour during the next two weeks, messengers, many of whom were chiefs disguised, came and went. I should have liked to follow their example, that is, so far as their departure was concerned, for I felt that I was being drawn into a very dangerous vortex. But, as a matter of fact, I could not escape, since I was obliged to wait to receive payment for my stuff, which, as usual, was made in cattle. Umbalazi talked with me a good deal that time, impressing upon me how friendly he was towards the English white men of Natal, as distinguished from the Boers, and what good treatment he was prepared to promise to them, should he ever attain to authority in Zululand. It was during one of the earliest of these conversations, which, of course, I saw an ultimate object that he met Mamina, I think, for the first time. We were walking together in a little natural glade of the bush and bordered one side of the crowd, when at the end of it, looking like some wooden impth of classic fable in the light of the setting sun, appeared the lovely Mamina, clothed only in her girdle of her, her necklace of blue beads and some copper ornaments and carrying upon her head a gourd. Umbalazi noted her at once, and, ceasing his political talk, of which he was obviously tired, asked me who that beautiful Intumbi, that his girl, might be. She's not an Intumbi, Prince, I answered. She is a widow who is again a wife, the second wife of your friend and counsellor, Saduko, and the daughter of your host, Umbalazi. Is it so, Makumazan? Oh, and I have heard of her, though, as at chances, I have never met her before. No wonder that my sister Nandi is jealous for she is beautiful indeed. Yes, I answered. She looks pretty against the red sky, does she not? By now we were drawing near to Mamina, and I greeted her, asking if she wanted anything. Noting Makumazan, she answered in her delicate, modest way. For never did I know anyone who could seem quite so modest as Mamina. And with a swift glance of her shy eyes, at the tall and splendid Umbalazi, nothing only, she added, I was passing with the milk of one of the few cows my father gave me, and saw you, and I thought that perhaps as the day has been so hot you might like a drink of it. Then lifting the gourd from her head she held it out to me. I thanked her, drank some, who could do less, and returned it to her, whereon she made as though she would hasten to depart. May I not drink also, daughter of Umbezi? asked Umbalazi, who could scarcely take his eyes off her. Certainly, sir, if you are a friend of Makumazan, she replied, handing him the gourd. I am that, lady, and more than that, since I am a friend of your husband, Saduko, also, as you will know when I tell you that my name is Umbalazi. I thought it must be so, she replied, because of your stature. Let the prince accept the offering of his servant, who one day hopes to be his subject, and dropping upon her knee she held out the gourd to him. Over it I saw their eyes meet. He drank, and as he handed back the vessel, she said, O prince, may I be granted a word with you? I have that to tell you which you would perhaps do well to hear, since news sometimes reaches the ears of humble women that escapes those of the men, our masters. He bowed his head in an instant, whereon, taking a hint which Mamina gave me with her eyes, I muttered something about business, and made myself scarce. I may add that Mamina must have had a great deal to tell Umbalazi. Fully an hour and a half had gone by before, by the light of the moon from a point of vantage on my wagon-box, whence according to my custom I was keeping a look out of things in general, I saw her slip back to the crowd, silently as a snake, followed at a little distance by the towering form of Umbalazi. Apparently Mamina continued to be the recipient of information which she found it necessary to communicate in private to the prince. At any rate, on sundry subsequent evenings the dullness of my vigil on the wagon-box was relieved by the sight of her graceful figure gliding home from the cliff that Umbalazi seemed to find a very suitable spot for reflection after sunset. On one of the last of these occasions I remember that Nandi chanced to be with me, having come to my wagon for some medicine for her baby. What does it mean, Makumazan? She asked when the pair had gone by as they thought unobserved, since they were standing where they could not see us. I don't know, and I don't want to know, I answered sharply. Neither do I, Makumazan, but without doubt we shall learn in time. If the crocodile is patient and silent, the buck always drops into its jaws at last. On the day after Nandi made this wise remark, Sadduko started on a mission, as I understood, to win over several doubtful chiefs to the cause of Induluvo Insilante, the elephant with the tuft of hair, as the prince Umbalazi was called among the Zulus, though not to his face. This mission lasted ten days, and before it was concluded an important event happened at Umbezi's crown. One evening Mamina came to me in a great rage and said that she could bear her present life no longer. Presuming on her rank and position as had wife, Nandi treated her like a servant, nay, like a little dog, to be beaten with a stick. She wished that Nandi would die. It would be very unlucky for you if she does, I answered, for then perhaps Zikali will be summoned to look into the matter as he was before. What was she to do, she went on, ignoring my remark. Eat the porridge that you have made in your own pot or break the pot, i.e., go away. I suggested. There was no need for you to marry Sadduko any more than there was for you to marry Masapo. How can you talk to me like that, Makumazan? She answered, stemping her foot. When you know well it is your fault I married any one. I hate them all, and since my father would only beat me if I took my troubles to him, I will run off and live in the wilderness alone and become a witch-ductoress. I'm afraid you will find it very dull, Mamina. I began in a bantering tone for to tell the truth. I did not think it wise to show her too much sympathy while she was so excited. Mamina never waited for the end of the sentence, but sobbing out that I was false and cruel, she turned and departed swiftly. Oh, little did I foresee how and where we should meet again. Next morning I was awakened shortly after sunrise by Skowl, whom I had sent out with the other man the night before to look for a lost ox. Well, have you found the ox? I asked. Yes, boss, but I did not awaken you to tell you that. I have a message for you, boss, from Mamina, wife of Seduko, whom I met about four hours ago upon the plain yonder. I bade him set it out. These were the words of Mamina, boss. Say to Makumazan, your master, that indoluvu any siluante, taking pity on my wrongs and loving me with his heart, has offered to take me into his house, and that I have accepted his offer, since I think it better to become inco-sazana of the Zulus as I shall one day than to remain a servant in the house of Nandi. Say to Makumazan that when Seduko returns, he is to tell him that this is all his fault, since if he had kept Nandi in her place, I would have died rather than leave him. Let him say to Seduko also that, although from henceforth we can be no more than friends, my heart is still tender towards him, and that by day and by night I will strive to water his greatness, so that it may grow into a tree that shall shade the land. Let Makumazan bid him not be angry with me, since what I do, I do for his good, as he would have found no happiness while Nandi and I dwelt in one house. Above all, let him not be angry with the Prince, who loves him more than any man, and does but travel wither the wind that I breathe blows him. Bid Makumazan think of me kindly as I shall of him while my eyes are open. I listened to this amazing message in silence, and then asked if Mamina was alone. Nobaz, Umbalazi and some soldiers were with her, but they did not hear her words, for she stepped aside to speak to me. Then she returned to them, and they walked away swiftly, and were swallowed up in the night. Very good, Sikali. I said, make me some coffee, and make it strong. I dressed and drank several cups of the coffee, all the while thinking with my head, as Azulu say. When I walked up to the crowd to see Umbalazi, whom I found just coming out of his hut, yawning. Why do you look so black upon this beautiful morning, Makumazan? As the genial old scamp, have you lost your best cow or what? No, my friend, I answered. But you and another have lost your best cow. And word for word I repeated to him Mamina's message. When I had finished, really I thought that Umbalazi was about to faint. Gurses beyond ahead of this Mamina, he exclaimed. Surely some evil spirit must have been her father Naray, and well was she called Child of Storm. Footnote. That, if I have not said so already, was the meaning which the Zulus gave the word Mamina, although as I know the language I cannot give any such interpretation out of the name. I believe that it was given to her, however, because she was born just before a terrible tempest, when the wind was wailing around the hut made a sound like the word Mamina. A cue. End footnote. What shall I do now, Makumazan, thanks be to my spirit? He added with an air of a leaf. She is too far gone for me to try to catch her. Also, if I did, Umbalazi and his soldiers would kill me. And what will Saduko do if you don't? I asked. Oh, of course he will be angry, for no doubt he is fond of her. But, after all, I am used to that. You remember how he went mad when she married Masapo? At least, he cannot say that I made her run away with Umbalazi. After all, it is a matter which they must settle between them. I think it may mean great trouble, I said, at a time when trouble is not needed. Why so, Makumazan? My daughter did not get on with the Princess Nandi. We could all see that. For they would scarcely speak to each other. And if Saduko is fond of her, well, after all there are other beautiful women in Zululand. I know one or two of them myself whom I will mention to Saduko. Or rather to Nandi. Really, as things were, I'm not sure, but that he is well rid of her. But what do you think of the matter as her father? I asked, for I wanted to see to what length his accommodating morality would stretch. As her father? Well, of course, Makumazan. As her father, I am sorry. Because it will mean talk, will it not, as the Masapo business did. Still there is this to be said from Amina, he added with a brightening face. She always runs away up the tree, not down. When she got rid of Masapo, I mean, when Masapo was killed for his witchcraft, she married Saduko, who was a bigger man. Saduko, whom she would not marry when Masapo was the bigger man, and now, when she has got rid of Saduko, she enters the art of Umbalazi, who will one day be king of the Zulus, the biggest man in the world, which means that she will be the biggest woman. For remember, Makumazan, she will walk around and round that great Umbalazi to whatever way he looks he will see her and no one else. Oh, she will grow great and carry up her poor old father in the blanket on her back. Oh, the sun still shines behind the cloud Makumazan. So, let us make the best of the cloud, since we know that it will break out presently. Yes, Umbalazi, but other things beside the sun break out from clouds sometimes. Lightning, for instance? Lightning which kills? You speak ill omen, words Makumazan, words that take away my appetite, which is generally excellent at this hour. Well, if Mamina is bad, it is not my fault, for I brought her up to be good. After all, he added with an outburst of pestilence, why do you scold me when it is your fault? If you had run away with a girl when you might have done so there would have been none of this trouble. Perhaps not, I answered. Only then I am sure I should have been dead today, as I think that all who have to do with her will be air long. And now, Umbalazi, I wish you a good breakfast. On the following morning Sudhuko returned and was told the news by Nandi, whom I had carefully avoided. On this occasion, however, I was forced to be present as the person to whom the sinful Mamina had sent her farewell message. It was a very painful experience of which I do not remember all the details. For a while after he learned the truth Sudhuko sat still as a stone, staring in front of him, with a face that seemed to have become suddenly old. Then he turned upon Umbezi, and in a few terrible words accused him of having arranged the matter in order to advance his own fortunes at the price of his daughter's dishonor. Next, without listening to his ex-father-in-law's voluble explanations, he rose and said he was going away to kill Umbalazi, the evil doer who had robbed him of the wife he loved, with the convivience of all three of us, and by a sweep of his hand he indicated Umbezi, the princess Nandi and myself. This was more than I could stand, so I too rose and asked him what he meant, adding in the irritation of the moment that if I had wished to rob him of his beautiful mamina I thought I could have done so long ago. I remarked which staggered him a little, then Nandi rose also, and spoke in her quiet voice. Sudhuko, my husband, she said, I, a princess of the Zulu house, married you, who are not of royal blood, because I loved you. And although Panda, the king, and Umbalazi the prince wished it, for no other reason whatsoever. Well, I have been faithful to you through some trials, even when you set the widow of a wizard, if indeed as I have reason to suspect she was not herself the wizard before me, and although that wizard had killed our son, lived in her hut rather than in mine. Now this woman of whom you thought so much has deserted you for your friend and my brother, the prince Umbalazi, Umbalazi who is called the handsome, and who, if the fortune of war goes with him, as it may or may not, will succeed to Panda, my father. This she has done because she alleges that I, your in Kosikasi, and the king's daughter, treated her as a servant, which is a lie. I kept her in her place no more, who, if she could have had her will, would have ousted me from mine, perhaps by death, for the wives of wizards learn their arts. On this pretext she has left you, but that is not her real reason. She has left you because the prince, my brother, whom she has be fooled with her tricks and beauty, as she has be fooled others or tried to, and she glanced at me, is a bigger man than you are. You, Sadukko, may become great, as my heart prays that you will, but my brother may become a king. She does not love him any more than she loved you, but she does love the place that may be his, and therefore hers, she who would be the first doe of the herd. My husband, I think that you are well rid of Mamina, for I think also that if she had stayed with us there would have been more deaths in our house, perhaps mine, which would not matter, and perhaps yours, which would matter much. All this I say to you, not from jealousy of one who is fairer than I, but because it is the truth. Therefore my counsel to you is to let this business pass over and keep silent. Above all, seek not to avenge yourself upon Umbalazi, since I am sure that he has taken vengeance to dwell with him in his own hut. I have spoken, that this moderate and reasoned speech of Nandis produced a great effect upon Sadukko I could see, but at the time the only answer he made to it was, Let the name of Mamina be spoken no more within hearing of my ears. Mamina is dead. So her name was heard no more in the houses of Sadukko and of Umbalazi, and when it was necessary for any reason to refer to her she was given a new name, a composite Zulu word, Owi Zulu. I think it was, which is Stormchild, shortly translated for Zulu means a storm as well as the sky. I do not think that Sadukko spoke to her or to me again until towards the climax of this history, and certainly I did not mention her to him, but from that day forward I noted that he was a changed man, his pride and open pleasure in his great success, which had caused the Zulus to name him the self-eater, were no longer marked. He became cold and silent, like a man who was thinking deeply, but who shudders his thoughts lest some should read them through the windows of his eyes. Moreover, he paid a visit to Zikali, the little and wise, as I found out by accident. But what advice that cunning old dwarf gave to him I did not find out? Then, the only other event which happened in connection with his elopement was that a message came from Umbalazi to Sadukko. Brought by one of his princes, a brother of Umbalazi, who was of his party, as I know, for I heard it delivered, it was a very humble message, when the relative positions of the two men are considered, that of one who knew that he had done wrong and, if not repentant, was heartily ashamed of himself. Sadukko, it said, I have stolen a cow of yours, and I hope you will forgive me, since that cow did not love the pasture in your corral. But in mine she grows fat and is content. Moreover, in return I will give you many other cows. Everything that I have to give, I will give to you who are my friend and trusted counselor. Send me word, O Sadukko, that this wall which I have built between us is broken down, since ere long you and I must stand together in war. To this message, Sadukko's answer was, O Prince, you are troubled about a very little thing, that cow which you have taken was of no worth to me, for who wishes to keep a beast that is ever tearing and lowing at the gates of a corral, disturbing those who would sleep inside with her noise? Had you asked her of me, I would have given her to you freely. I thank you for your offer, but I need no more cows, especially if, like this one, they have no calves. As for a wall between us there is none. For how can two men who, if the battle is to be won, must stand shoulder to shoulder, fight if divided by a wall? O son of the king, I am dreaming by day and night of the battle and the victory, and I have forgotten all about the barren cow that ran away after you, the great bull of the herd. Only do not be surprised if one day you find that this cow has a sharp horn.