 Chapter 6 of Narda the Lily by H. Ryder Haggard. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. THE BIRTH OF UMSLOPPAGAS This was the rule of the life of Shaka, that he would have no children, though he had many wives. Every child born to him by his sisters was put away at once. What, Moppo, he said to me, shall I rear up children to put me to the Asagai when they grow great? They call me tyrant, say, how do those chiefs die whom men name tyrants? They die at the hands of those whom they have bred. Day, Moppo, I will rule for my life, and when I join the spirits of my fathers, let the strongest take my power and my place. Thou it chanced, that shortly after Shaka had spoken thus, my sister Baleca, the king's wife, fell in labour, and on that same day my wife, Makrofa, was brought to bed of twins, and this but eight days after my second wife, and Adi, had given birth to a son. You ask my father how I came to be married, seeing that Shaka forbade marriage to all his soldiers so they were in middle life, and had put the man's ring upon their heads. It was a boon he granted me, as a nyanga of medicine, saying it was well that a doctor should know the sicknesses of women and learn how to cure their evil tempers, as though my father, that were possible. When the king heard that Baleca was sick, he did not kill her outright because he loved her a little, but he sent for me, commanding me to attend her, and when the child was born to cause its body to be brought to him, according to custom, so that he might be sure that it was dead. I bent to the earth before him, and went to do his bidding with a heavy heart, for was not Baleca my sister, and would not her child be of my own blood. Still it must be so, for Shaka's whisper was as the shout of other kings, and if we dared to disobey, then our lives and the lives of all in our kral would answer for it. Better that an infant should die than that we should become food for jackals. Presently I came to the Emposeni, the place of the king's wives, and declared the king's word to the soldiers on guard. They lowered their asagais and let me pass, and I entered the hut of Baleca. In it were others of the king's wives, but when they saw me, they rose and went away, for it was not lawful that they should stay where I was. Thus I was left alone with my sister. For a while she lay silent, and I did not speak, though I saw by the heaving of her breast that she was weeping. Hush, little one, I said at length, your sorrow will soon be done. Nay, she answered, lifting her head. It will be but begun. O cruel man, I know the reason of your coming, you come to murder the babe that shall be born of me. It is the king's word, woman. It is the king's word, and what is the king's word? Have I then not to say in this matter? It is the king's child, woman. It is the king's child, and is it not also my child? Must my babe be dragged from my breast and be strangled, and by you, Mopo? Have I not loved you, Mopo? Did I not flee with you from our people and the vengeance of our father? Do you know that not to moon's gone the king was wroth with you because he fell sick, and would have caused you to be slain had I not pleaded for you and called his oath to mind? And thus you pay me. You come to kill my child, my firstborn child. It is the king's word, woman, I answered sternly, but my heart was splitting, too, within me. Then Balika said no more, but turning her face to the wall of the hut, she wept and groaned bitterly. Now, as she wept, I heard a stir without the hut, and the light in the doorway was darkened. Her woman entered alone. I looked round to see who it was, then fell upon the ground in salutation, but before me was Onandi, mother of the king who was named Mother of the Heavens, that same lady to whom my mother had refused the milk. Hail Mother of the Heavens, I said. Greeting, more poor, she answered, Say, why does Balika weep? Is it because the sorrow of women is upon her? Ask of her, great chieftainess, I said. Then Balika spoke, I weep, mother of a king, because this man, who is my brother, has come from him who is my lord and thy son, to murder that which shall be born of me. O thou, whose breasts have given suck, plead for me. Thy son was not slain at birth. Perhaps it were well if he had been so slain, Balika, said Onandi, then had many another man lived to look upon the son who is now dead. At the least as an infant he was good and gentle, and thou mightest love him, mother of the Zulu. Never, Balika, as a babe he bit my breast and tore my hair, as the man is so as the babe. Yet may his child be otherwise, mother of the heavens. Think, thou hast no grandson to comfort thee in thy age, wilt thou then see all thy stock with her. The king, our lord, lives in war. He too may die, and what then? Then the roots of Senzangakona is still green. Has the king no brothers? They are not of thy flesh, mother. What, thou dost not harken? Then, as a woman to woman, I plead with thee. Save my child, or slay me with my child. Now the heart of Onandi grew gentle, and she was moved to tears. How may this be done, Mopo? she said. The king must see the dead infant, and if he suspects, and even reeds have ears, you know the heart of Shaka and where we shall lie tomorrow. Ah, there then no other newborn babes in Zululand? said Balakha, sitting up and speaking in a whisper like the hiss of a snake. Listen, Mopo, is not your wife also in labour? Now hear me, mother of the heavens, and my brother hear me also. Do not think to play with me in this matter. I will save my child, or you twain shall perish with it. For I will tell the king that you came to me, the two of you, and whispered plots in my ear, plots to save the child and kill the king. Now choose, and swiftly she sank back. There was silence, and we looked one upon another. Then Onandi spoke, Give me your hand, Mopo, and swear that you will be faithful to me in this secret, as I swear to you. The day may come when this child, who has not seen the light, rules as king in Zululand, and then in reward you shall be the greatest of the people, the king's voice, whisperer in the king's ear. But if you break your oath then beware, for I will not die alone. I swear, mother of the heavens, I answered. It is well, son of Makedama. It is well, my brother, said Balakha. Now go and do that which must be done swiftly, for my sorrow is upon me. Go, knowing that if you fail I will be pitiless, for I will bring you to your death. Yes, even if my own death is the price. So I went. Where do you go? asked the guard at the gate. I go to bring my medicines, men of the king, I answered. So I said, but oh, my heart was heavy, and this was my plan to fly far from Zululand. I could not, and I did not do this thing. What? Should I kill my own child that its life might be given for the life of the babe of Balakha? And should I lift up my will against the will of the king, saving the child to look upon the sun which he had doomed to darkness? Day I would fly, leaving all, and seek out some far tribe where I might begin to live again. Here I could not live, here in the shadow of Shaka was nothing but death. I reached my own hutts, there to find that my wife Makrofa was delivered of twins. I sent away all in the hutts except my other wife Anandhi, she who eight days gone had borne me a son. The second of the twins was born, it was a boy, born dead. The first was a girl, she who lived to be nada, the beautiful, nada the lily. Then a thought came into my heart, here was a path to run on. Give me the boy, I said to Anandhi. He is not dead, give him to me that I might take him outside the kral and wake him to life by my medicine. It is of no use, the child is dead, said Anandhi. Give him to me, woman, I said fiercely, and she gave me the body. Then I took him and wrapped him up in my bundle of medicines, and outside of all I rolled a mat of plaited grass. Suffer none to enter the hut till I return, I said, and speak no word of the child that seems to be dead. If you allow any to enter or if you speak a word, then my medicine will not work and the babe will be dead indeed. So I went, leaving the women wondering, for it is not our custom to save both when twins are born, but I ran swiftly to the gates of the Emposeni. I bring the medicines, men of the king, I said to the guards. Pass in, they answered. I passed through the gates and into the hut of Balika, when Anandhi was alone in the hut with my sister. The child is born, said the mother of the king. Look at him, O poor son of my Gadama! I looked, he was a great child with large black eyes like the eyes of Shaka the king, and Anandhi, too, looked at me. Where is it? she whispered. I loose the mat and drew the dead child from the medicines, glancing round fearfully as I did so. Give me the living babe, I whispered back. They gave it to me and I took of a drug that I knew and rubbed it on the tongue of the child. Now this drug has the power to make the tongue it touches dumb for a while. Then I wrapped up the child in my medicines and again bound the mat about the bundle, but round the throat of the still warm babe I tied a string of fibre as though I had strangled it. And wrapped it loosely in a piece of matting. Now for the first time I spoke to Baleka, woman, I said, and thou also mother of the heavens, I have done your wish, but know that before all is finished this deed shall bring about the death of many. Be secret as the grave, for the grave yawns for you both. I went again, bearing the mat containing the dead child in my right hand, but the bundle of medicines that held the living one I fastened across my shoulders. I passed out of the Emposeni, and as I went I held up the bundle in my right hand to the guards, showing them that which was in it, but saying nothing. It is good, they said nodding, but now ill fortune found me, but just outside the Emposeni I met three of the king's messengers. Greeting, son of Machidama, they said, the king summons you to the Intonkulu, that is the royal house, my father. Good, I answered, I will come now, but first I would run to my own place to see how it goes with Makrofa, my wife. Here is that which the king seeks, and I showed them the dead child. Take it to him, if you will. That is not the king's command, Mopo, they answered. His word is that you should stand before him at once. Now my heart turned to water in my breast, kings have many ears, could he have heard, and how dead I go before the lion, bearing his living child hidden on my back. Yet to waver was to be lost, to show fear was to be lost, to disobey was to be lost. Good, I come, I answered, and we walked to the gates of the Intonkulu. It was sundown, Shaka was sitting in the little courtyard in front of his hut. I went down on my knees before him, and gave the royal salute by Ete, and so I stayed. Roy, son of Machidama, he said, I cannot rise, lion of the Zulu, I answered. I cannot rise, having royal blood on my hands, till the king has pardoned me. Where is it? he asked. I pointed to the mat in my hand. Let me look at it. Then I undid the mat, and he looked on the child and laughed aloud. He might have been a king, he said, as he bade a counselor take it away. Mopo, thou hast slain one who might have been a king, art thou not afraid? No black one, I answered, but child is killed by order of one who is a king. Sit down and let us talk, said Shaka, for his mood was idle. Tomorrow thou shalt have five oxen for this deed, thou shalt choose them from the royal herd. The king is good, he sees that my belt is drawn tight, he satisfies my hunger. Will the king suffer that I go? My wife is in labour, and I would visit her. Nay, stay awhile, say how it is with Balaga, my sister, and thine. It is well. Did she weep when you took the babe from her? Nay, she wept not, she said. My lord's will is my will. Good, had she wept, she had been slain also. Who was with her? The mother of the heavens. The brow of Shaka darkened. Anandu, my mother, what did she there? By myself, I swear, though she is my mother, if I thought. And he ceased. There was a silence, then he spoke again. Say, what is in that mat? And he pointed with his little asagai at the bundle on my shoulders. Medicine king. Thou dost carry enough to doctor an impi. Undo the mat, and let me look at it. Now, my father, I tell you, that the marrow melted in my bones with terror. For if I undid the mat, I feared he must see the child, and then. It is segati, it is bewitched, oh king. It is not wise to look on medicine. Open! he answered angrily. What, may I not look at that which I am forced to swallow? I, who am the first of doctors? Death is the king's medicine. I answered, lifting the bundle and laying it as far from him in the shadow of the fence as I did. Then I bent over it, slowly undoing the rimpis, with which it was tied, while the sweat of terror ran down my face, blinding me like tears. What should I do if he saw the child? What if the child awoke and cried? I would snatch the asagai from his hand and stab him. Yes, I would kill the king and then kill myself. Now the mat was unrolled, inside with the brown leaves and roots of medicine. Beneath them was the senseless babe, wrapped in dead moss. Ugly stuff, said the king, taking snuff. Now see, mobile, what a good aim I have, this for thy medicine. And he lifted his asagai to throw it through the bundle. But as he threw, my snake put it into the king's heart to sneeze, and thus it came to pass that the asagai only pierced the outer leaves of the medicine and did not touch the child. May the heavens bless the king, I said, according to custom. Thanks to thee, mobile, it is a good omen, he answered. And I'll be gone, take my advice, kill thy children as I kill mine, lest they live to worry thee. The whelps of lions are best drowned. I did up the bundle, fast, fast, though my hands trembled. Oh, what if the child should wake and cry? It was done. I rose and saluted the king. Then I doubled myself up and passed from before him. Scarcely was I outside the gates of the Intong Kulu, when the infant began to squeak in the bundle. If it had been one minute before. What, said the soldier as I passed, have you got a puppy hidden under your mocha, mobo? Footnote, girdle composed of skin and tails of oxen, end of footnote. I made no answer, but hurried on till I came to my huts. I entered. There were my two wives alone. I have recovered the child-women, I said, as I undid the bundle. Anandi took him and looked at him. The boy seems bigger than he was, she said. The breath of life has come into him and puffed him out, I answered. His eyes are not as his eyes were, she said again. Now they are big and black like the eyes of the king. My spirit looked upon his eyes and made them beautiful, I answered. This child has a birthmark on his thigh, she said, a third time. That which I gave you had no mark. I laid my medicine there, I answered. It is not the same child, she said sullenly. It is a changeling who will lay ill-look at our doors. Then I rose up in my rage and cursed her heavily, for I saw that if she was not stopped, this woman's tongue would bring us all to ruin. Peace, witch! I cried. How dare you speak thus from a lying heart! Do you wish to draw down a curse upon our roof? Would you make us all food for the king's spear? Say such words again, and you shall sit within the circle. The ingumboco shall know you for a witch. So I stormed on, threatening to bring her to death, till at length she grew fearful, and fell at my feet, praying for mercy and forgiveness. But I was much afraid, because of this woman's tongue, and not without reason. Now the years went on, and this matter slept. Nothing more was heard of it, but still it only slept, and my father I feared greatly for the hour when it should awake. For the secret was known by two women, Hunandi, mother of the heavens, and Balika, my sister, wife of the king, and by two more, Macrofa and Anadi, my wives, it was guest at. How then should it remain a secret for ever? Moreover it came about that Hunandi and Balika could not restrain their fondness for this child, who was called my son, and named Unslopagas, but who was the son of Shaka the king, and of Balika, and the grandson of Hunandi. So it happened that very often one or the other of them would come into my hut, making pretence to visit my wives, and take the boy upon her lap and fondle it. In vain did I pray them to forbear. Love pulled at their heartstrings more heavily than my words, and still they came. This was the end of it, that Shaka saw the child sitting on the knee of Hunandi, his mother. What does my mother with that brat of thine, Mopo? He asked of me. Cannot she kiss me, if she will find a child to kiss? And he laughed like a wolf. I said that I didn't know, and the matter just passed over for a while, but after that Shaka caused his mother to be watched. Now the boy Unslopagas grew great and strong. There was no such lad of his years for a day's journey round. But from a babe he was somewhat surlier, a few words, and like his father Shaka, afraid of nothing. In all the world there were but two people whom he loved. These were I, Mopo, who was called his father, and Nada, she who was said to be his twin sister. Now it must be told of Nada, that as the boy Unslopagas was the strongest and bravest of children, so the girl Nada was the gentlest and the most fair. Of a truth, my father, I believe that her blood was not all Zulu, though this I cannot say for certain. At the least her eyes were softer and larger than those of our people. Her hair longer and less tightly curled, and her skin was lighter, more of the colour of pure copper. These things she had from her mother Makrufa, though she was fairer than Makrufa, fairer indeed than any woman of my people whom I have seen. Her mother Makrufa, my wife, was of Swazi blood, and was brought to the king's kral with other captives after a raid, and given to me as a wife by the king. It was said that she was the daughter of a Swazi headman of the tribe of the Halakazi, and that she was born of his wife is true. But whether he was her father I do not know, for I have heard from the lips of Makrufa herself, that before she was born there was a white man staying at her father's kral. He was a Portuguese from the coast, a handsome man and skilled in the working of iron. This white man loved the mother of my wife Makrufa, and some held that Makrufa was his daughter and not that of the Swazi headman. At least I know this, that before my wife's birth the Swazi killed the white man. But none can tell the truth of these matters, and I only speak of them, because the beauty of Nader was rather as is the beauty of the white people than of ours, and this might well happen if her grandfather chanced to be a white man. Now Umslopagar and Nader were always together. Together they ate, together they slept and wandered. They thought, one thought, and spoke with one tongue. Oh, it was pretty to see them. Twice while they were children did Umslopagar save the life of Nader. The first time it came about thus. The two children had wandered far from the kral, seeking certain berries that little ones love. On they wandered and on, singing as they went, till at length they found the berries and ate heartily. Then it was near sundown, and when they had eaten they fell asleep. In the nights they woke to find a great wind blowing, and a cold rain falling on them, for it was the beginning of winter when fruits arrived. Up Nader, said Umslopagar, we must seek the kral, or the cold will kill us. So Nader rose frightened, and hand in hand they stumbled through the darkness. But in the wind and the night they lost their path, and when at length the dawn came, they were in a forest that was strange to them. They rested a while, and finding berries ate them, then walked again. All that day they wandered, till at last the night came down, and they plucked branches of trees, and piled the branches over them for warmth, and they were so weary that they fell asleep in each other's arms. At dawn they rose, but now they were very tired, and berries were few, so that by midday they were spent. Then they lay down on the side of a steep hill, and Nader laid her head upon the breast of Umslopagar. Here let us die, my brother, she said. But even then the boy had a great spirit, and he answered, Time to die, sister, when death chooses us. See now, do you rest here, and I will climb the hill and look across the forest. So he left her and climbed the hill, and on its side he found many berries, and a root that is good for food, and filled himself with them. At length he came to the crest of the hill, and looked out across the sea of green, low, there, far away to the east, he saw a line of white that lay like smoke against the black surface of a cliff, and knew it for the waterfall beyond the royal town. Then he came down the hill, shouting for joy, and bearing roots and berries in his hand. But when he reached the spot where Nader was, he found that her senses had left her, through hunger, cold, and weariness. She lay upon the ground like one asleep, and over her stood a jackal that fled as he drew nigh. Now it would seem that there were but two shoots to the stick of unslopper gas. One was to save himself, and the other to lie down and die by Nader. Yet he found a third, for undoing the strips of his mucca, he made ropes of them, and with the ropes he bound Nader upon his back, and started for the king's kral. He could never have reached it, for the way was long. Yet at evening some messengers running through the forest, came upon a naked lad with a girl bound to his back, and a staff in his hand, who staggered along slowly with starting eyes, and foam upon his lips. He could not speak, he were so weary, and the ropes had cut through the skin of his shoulders. Yet one of the messengers knew him for unslopper gas, the son of Moppo, and they bore him to the kral. They would have left the girl Nader, thinking her dead, but she pointed to her breast, and, feeling it, they found that her heart still beat, so they brought her also, and the end of it was that both had recovered, and loved each other more than ever before. Now after this, I, Moppo, Bade and Sloppergar stay at home within the kral, and not lead his sister to the wilds. But the boy loved roaming like a fox, and where he went there Nader followed. So it came about that one day they slipped from the kral when the gates were open, and sought out a certain deep glen which had an evil name, for it was said that spirits haunted it and put those to death who entered there. Whether this was true, I do not know, but I know that in the glen dwelled a certain woman of the woods who had her habitation in a cave, and lived upon what she could kill or steal or dig up with her hands. Now this woman was mad, for it had chance that her husband had been smelt out by the witch-doctors as a worker of magic against the king and slain. Then Shaka, according to custom, dispatched the slayers to eat up his kral, and they came to the kral and killed his people. Last of all they killed his children, three young girls, and would have asagied their mother, his wife, when suddenly a spirit entered into her at the site, and she went mad, so that they let her go, being afraid to touch her because of the spirits within her. Nor would any touch her afterwards. So she fled and took up her abode in the haunted glen, and this was the nature of her madness, that whenever she saw children, and more especially girl-children, her longing came upon her to kill them, as her own had been killed. This indeed she did often, for when the moon was full, and her madness at its highest, she would travel far to find children, snatching them away from the kral's like a hyena. Still none would touch her because of the spirit in her, not even those whose children she had murdered. So and Sloppa-Gas and Nada came to the glen where the child slayer lived, and sat down by a pool of water, not far from the mouth of her cave, weaving flowers into a garland. Presently, from Sloppa-Gas left Nada to search for rock lilies which she loved. As he went he called back to her, and his voice awoke the woman who was sleeping in her cave, for she came out by night only, like a jackal. The woman stepped forth smelling blood, and having a spear in her hand. Presently she saw Nada seated upon the grass, weaving flowers, and crept towards her to kill her. Now as she came, so the child told me, suddenly a cold wind seemed to breathe upon Nada, and fear took hold of her, though she did not see the woman who would murder her. She let fall the flowers and looked before her into the pool, and there, mirrored in the pool, she saw the greedy face of the child slayer, who crept down upon her from above, her hair hanging about her brow, and her eyes shining like the eyes of a lion. Then with a cry Nada sprang up and fled along the path which Umsloppa-Gas had taken, and after her leapt and ran the mad woman. Umsloppa-Gas heard her cry. He turned and rushed back over the brow of the hill, and lo, there before him was the murderous. Already she had grasped Nada by the hair. Already her spear was lifted to pierce her. Umsloppa-Gas had no spear. He had nothing but a little stick without a knob. Yet with it he rushed at the mad woman and struck her so smartly on the arm that she let go of the girl and turned on him with a yell. Then, lifting her spear, she struck at him, but he leapt aside. Again she struck, but he sprang into the air and the spear passed beneath him. A third time the woman struck, and though he fell to earth to avoid the blow, yet the asagai pierced his shoulder. But the weight of his body as he fell twisted it from her hand, and before she could grasp him he was up and beyond her reach the spear still fastened his shoulder. Then the woman turned, screaming with rage and madness and ran at Nada to kill her with her hands. But Umsloppa-Gas set his teeth, and drawing the spear from his wound charged her, shouting. She lifted a great stone and hurled it at him, so hard that it flew in to fragments against another stone which it struck. Yet he charged on and smote at her so truly that he drove the spear through her, and she fell down dead. After that Nada bound up his wound which was deep, and with much pain he reached the king's kral and told me this story. Now there were some who cried that the boy must be put to death, because he had killed one possessed with a spirit. But I said no, he should not be touched. He had killed the woman in defense of his own life, and the life of his sister, and everyone had a right to slay in self-defense, except as against the king or those who did the king's bidding. Moreover I said, if the woman had a spirit it was an evil one, for no good spirit would ask the lives of children, but rather those of cattle, for it is against our custom to sacrifice human beings to the amatonga even in war, though the basuto dogs do so. Still the tumult grew, for the witch doctors were set upon the boy's death, saying that evil would come of it even if he was allowed to live, having killed one inspired, and at last the matter came to the ears of the king. Then Shaka summoned me and the boy before him, and he also summoned the witch doctors. First the witch doctors set out their case, demanding the death of them sloppogas. Shaka asked them what would happen if the boy was not killed. They answered that the spirit of the dead woman would lead him to bring evil on the royal house. Shaka asked if he would bring evil upon him, the king. They in turn asked of the spirits, and answered no, not on him, but on one of the royal house who should be after him. Shaka said that he cared nothing what happened to those who came after him, or whether good or evil befell them. Then he spoke to unsloppogas, who looked him boldly in the face, as an equal looks as an equal. Boy, he said, what has thou to say as to why thou shouldst not be killed, as these men demand? This black one answered unsloppogas, that I stabbed the woman in defence of my own life. That is nothing, said Shaka. If I, the king, wish to kill thee, mightest thou therefore kill me, or those whom I sent? The itongo in a woman was a spirit king, had ordered her to kill thee, thou shouldst then have let thyself be killed. Has thou no other reason? This elephant answered unsloppogas, the woman would have murdered my sister, whom I love better than my life. That is nothing, said Shaka. If I ordered thee to be killed for any cause, should I not also order all within thy gates to be killed with thee? May not then a spirit king do likewise? If thou hast nothing more to say, thou must die. Now I grew afraid, for I feared, lest Shaka should slay him who was called my son, because of the word of the doctors. But the boy unsloppogas looked up and answered boldly, not as one who pleads for his life, but as one who demands a right. I have this to say, eat her up of enemies, and if it is not enough, let us stop talking and let me be killed. Thou, O king, didst command that this woman should be slain, those whom thou didst send to destroy her spared her, because they thought her mad. I have carried out the commandment of the king. I have slain her, mad or sane, whom the king commanded should be killed, and I have earned not death but a reward. Well said, unsloppogas, answered Shaka, let ten head of cattle be given to this boy with the heart of a man. His father shall guard them for him. Art thou satisfied now, unsloppogas? I take that which is due to me, and I thank the king because he need not pay unless he will, unsloppogas answered. Shaka stared awhile, began to grow angry, then burst out laughing. Why, this calf is such another one, as was dropped long ago in the Kral of Senzanka-kunna, he said. As I was, so is this boy. Go on, lad, in that path, and I mayst find those who shall cry the royal salute of Bayete to thee at the end of it. Only keep out of my way, for two of a kind might not agree. Now, be gone! So we went, but as we passed them I saw the doctors muttering together, for they were ill-pleased and forboded evil. Also they were jealous of me, and wished to smite me through the heart of him who was called my son. END OF CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII. OF NARDA THE LILLY, BY H. RYDER HAGGARD This Librivoct recording is in the public domain. THE GREAT INGONBOKO After this there was quiet till the feast of the first fruits was ended, but few people were killed at this feast, though there was a great Ingonboko, or witch-hunt, and many were smelt out by the witch-doctors, as working magic against the king. Now things had come to this passing Zululand, that the whole people cowered before the witch-doctors. No man might sleep safe, but none knew but that on the morrow he would be touched by the wand of an Isanusi, as we name a finder of witches, and led away to his death. For a while Shaka said nothing, and as long as the doctors smelt out those only whom he wished to be rid of, and there were many, he was well pleased. But when they began to work for their own ends, and to do those to death whom he did not desire to kill, he grew angry. Yet the custom of the land was that he whom the witch-doctor touched must die, he and all his house. Therefore the king was in a cleft stick, for he scarcely dared to save even those whom he loved. One night I came to doctor him, for he was sick in his mind. On that very day there had been an Ingunboko, and five of the bravest captains of the army had been smelt out by the Ambanguma, the witch-finders, together with many others. All had been destroyed, and men had been sent to kill the wives and children of the dead. Now Shaka was very angry at this slaying, and opened his heart to me. The witch-doctors rule in Zululand, and not I, Mopo, son of Makidama, he said to me. Where then is it to end? Shall I myself be smelt out and slain? These Isanusis are too strong for me. They lie upon the land like the shadow of night. Tell me, how may I be free of them? Those who walk the bridge of Speerzo King fall off into nowhere, I answered darkly. Even witch-doctors cannot keep a footing on that bridge. Has not a witch doctor a heart that can cease to beat? Has he not blood that can be made to flow? Shaka looked at me strangely. Though art a bold man who dares to speak thus to me, Mopo, he said. Does thou not know that it is sacrilege to touch an Isanusi? I speak that which is in the King's mind, I answered. Hark an, O King! It is indeed sacrilege to touch a true Isanusi. But what if the Isanusi be a liar? What if he smell out falsely, bringing those to death who are innocent of evil? Is it then sacrilege to bring him to that end, which he has given to many another? Say, O King! Good words! answered Shaka. Now tell me, son of Makedama, how may this matter be put to proof? Then I leaned forward, whispering into the ear of the black one, and he nodded heavily. Thus I spoke then, because I too saw the evil of the Isanusis, I who knew their secrets. Also I feared for my own life and for the lives of all those who were dear to me. For they hated me as one instructed in their magic, one who had the seeing eye and the hearing ear. One morning thereafter a new thing came to pass in the Royal Kral, for the King himself ran out, crying aloud to all people to come and see the evil that had been worked upon him by a wizard. They came together and saw this. On the doorposts of the gateway of the Intunculu, the house of the King, were great smears of blood. The knees of men strong in the battle trembled when they saw it. Women wailed aloud as they wail over the dead. They wailed because of the horror of the omen. Who has done this thing? cried Shaka in a terrible voice. Who has dared to bewitch the King and to strike blood upon his house? There was no answer and Shaka spoke again. This is no little matter, he said, to be washed away with the blood of one or two and be forgotten. The man who wrought it shall not die alone or travel with a few to the world of spirits. All his tribe shall go with him down to the baby in his hut and the cattle in his kral. Let messengers go out east and west and north and south and summon the witch-doctors from every quarter. Let them summon the captains from every regiment and the headmen from every kral. On the tenth day from now the circle of the Ingumboko must be set and there shall be such a smelling out of wizards and of witches as has not been known in Zululand. So the messengers went out to do the bidding of the King, taking the names of those who should be summoned from the lips of the Indunas. And day by day people flocked up to the gates of the royal kral and creeping on their knees before the Majesty of the King, praised him aloud. But he vouchsafed an answer to none. One noble only he caused to be killed because he carried in his hand a stick of the royal red wood which Shaka himself had given him in bygone years. Footnote. This beautiful wood is known in Natal as red ivory and a footnote. On the last night before the forming of the Ingumboko the witch-doctors male and female entered the kral. There were a hundred and half a hundred of them and they were made hideous and terrible with the white bones of men, with bladders of fish and of oxen, with fat of wizards and with skin of snakes. They walked in silence till they came in front of the Intunkulu, the royal house. Then they stopped and sang this song for the King to hear. We have come, O King, we have come from the caves and the rocks and the swamps, to wash in the blood of the slain. We have gathered our hosts from the air, as vultures are gathered in war, when they sense the blood of the slain. We come not alone, O King, with each wise one there passes a ghost, who hisses the name of the doomed. We come not alone, for we are the sons and in dunes of death, and he guides our feet to the doomed. Red rises the moon over the plain, red sinks the sun in the west. Look wizards and bid them farewell. We count you by hundreds, you who cried for a curse on the King. Ha! Soon shall we bid you farewell. Then they were silent and went in silence to the place appointed for them, there to pass the night in mutterings and magic. But those who were gathered together shivered with fear when they heard their words, for they knew well that many a man would be switched with the news tale, before the sun sank once more. I too trembled, for my heart was full of fear. Ah, my father, those were evil days to live in, when shaka ruled and death met us at every turn. Then no man might call his life his own, or that of his wife or child or anything. All were the kings, and what war spared, that's the witch doctors took. The morning dawned heavily, and before it was well light, the heralds were out, summoning all to the kings in Gomboko. Men came by hundreds, carrying short sticks only, for to be seen armed was death, and seated themselves in great circle before the gates of the royal house. Oh, their looks were sad, and they had little stomach for eating that morning. They who were food for death. They seated themselves, then round them on the outside of the circle, gathered knots of warriors, chosen men, great and fierce, armed with caries only. These were the slayers. When all was ready, the king came out, followed by his Indunas and by me. As he appeared, wrapped in his carousel of tiger skins, and towering ahead higher than any man there, all the multitude, and it was many as the game on the hills, cast themselves to earth, and from every lip, sharp and sudden, went up the royal salute of Bayete. But Chaka took no note. His brow was cloudy as a mountaintop. He cast one glance at the people, and one at the slayers, and wherever his eye fell, men turned gray with fear. Then he stalked on and sat himself upon a stool to the north of the great ring, looking toward the open space. For a while there was silence. Then from the gates of the women's quarters came a band of maidens arrayed in their bead dancing dresses, and carrying green branches in their hands. As they came, they clapped their hands and sang softly. We are the heralds of the king's feast. Ay, ay, vultures shall eat it. Ah, ah, it is good, it is good to die for the king. They ceased and ranged themselves in a body behind us. Then Chaka held up his hand, and there was a patter of running feet. Presently from behind the royal huts appeared the great company of the Abangoma, the witch doctors, men to the right and women to the left. In the left hand of each was the tail of a wildebeaster. In the right a bundle of asagais and a little shield. They were awful to see, and the bones about them rattled as they ran. The bladders and the snakeskins floated in the air behind them. Their faces shone with the fat of anointing. Their eyes started like the eyes of fishes, and their lips twitched hungrily as they glared round the death ring. Ha, ha, little did those evil children guess who should be the slayers, and who should be the slain before that sun sank. On they came like a grey company of the dead. On they came in silence broken only by the patter of their feet and the dry rattling of their bony necklets, till they stood in long ranks before the black one. And while they stood thus, then suddenly every one of them thrust forward the little shield in his hand, and with a single voice they cried, Hail, Father! Hail, my children! answered Shaka. What seekers thou, Father? they cried again. Blood? The blood of the guilty, he answered. They turned and spoke each to each. The company of the men spoke to the company of the woman. The lion of the Zulu seeks blood. He shall be fed, screamed the women. The lion of the Zulu smells blood. He shall see it, screamed the women. His eyes search out the wizards. He shall count their dead, screamed the women. Peace! cried Shaka. Waste not the hours in talk, but to the work. Harken! wizards have bewitched me. Wizards have dared to smite blood upon the gateways of the king. Dig in the burrows of the earth and find them, ye rats. Fly through the paths of the air and find them, ye vultures. Smell at the gates of the people and name them ye jackals, ye hunters in the night. Drag them from the caves if they be hidden, from the distance if they be fled, from the graves if they be dead. To the work, to the work. Show them to me truly, and your gifts shall be great, and for them, if they be a nation, they shall be slain. Now begin, begin by companies of ten, for you are many, and all must be finished ere the sun sink. It shall be finished, father, they answered. Then ten of the women stood forward, and at their head was the most famous witch doctoress of that day, an aged woman named Nobela, a woman to whose eyes the darkness was no veil, whose sense was keen as a dog's, who heard the voices of the dead as they cried in the night, and spoke truly of what she heard. All the other Ishanouss, male and female, sat down in a half-moon facing the king. But this woman drew forward, and with her came nine of her sisterhood. They turned east and west, north and south, searching the earth. They turned east and west, north and south, searching the hearts of men. Then they crept round and round the great ring like cats. Then they threw themselves upon the earth and smelt it, and all the time there was a silence, silence deep as midnight, and in it men harkened to the beating of their hearts. Only now and again the vultures shrieked in the trees. At length Nobela spoke, Do you smell him, sisters? We smell him, they answered. Does he sit in the east, sisters? He sits in the east, they answered. Is he the son of a stranger, sisters? He is the son of a stranger. Then they crept nearer, crept on their hands and knees, till they were within ten paces of where I sat among the Indunas near to the king. The Indunas looked on each other, and grew gray with fear, and for me, my father, my knees were loosened, and my marrow turned to water in my bones. Fry knew well who was that son of a stranger of whom they spoke. It was I, my father, I, who is about to be smelt out, and if I was smelt out, I should be killed with all my house, for the king's oath would scarcely avail me against the witch-doctors. I looked at the fierce faces of the Isannuses before me, as they crept, crept like snakes. I glanced behind and saw the slayers grasping their carries for the deed of death, and I say, I felt like one for whom the bitterness is over-past. Then I remembered the words which the king and I had whispered together of the cause for which the Ingunboko was set, and hope crept back to me, like the first gleam of the dawn upon a stormy night. Still I did not hope over much, for it well might happen that the king had but set a trap to catch me. Now they were quite near and halted. Have we dreamed falsely, sisters? What we dreamed in the night we see in the day, they answered. Shall I whisper his name in your ears, sisters? They lifted their heads from the ground like snakes, and nodded, and as they nodded the necklets of bones rattled on their skinny necks. Then they drew their heads to a circle, and Nobella thrust hers into the centre of the circle, and said a word. Ah, they laughed. We hear you. His is the name. Let him be named by it in the face of heaven. Him and all his house. Then let him hear no other name for ever. And suddenly they sprang up and rushed towards me. Nobella, the aged, is anusy at their head. They leapt at me, pointing to me with the tails of the Vilderbeesters in their hands. Then Nobella switched me in the face with the tail of the beast, and cried aloud, Greeting, Mopo, son of Macadamma. Thou art the man whose smoke is blood on the doorsteps of the king, to bewitch the king. Let thy house be stamped flat. I saw her come. I felt the blow on my face as a man feels in a dream. I heard the feet of the slayers as they bounded forward to hail me to the dreadful death. But my tongue claved to the roof of my mouth. I could not say a word. I glanced at the king, and as I did so, I thought that I heard him mutter. Near the mark, not in it. Then he held up his spear, and all was silence. The slayers stopped in their stride. The witch-doctors stood with outstretched arms. The world of men was as though it had been frozen into sleep. Hold, he said. Stand aside, son of Macadamma, who art named an evil doer. Stand aside, thou Nobella, and those with thee who have named him an evil doer. What? Shall I be satisfied with the life of one dog? Smell on ye vultures, company by company. Smell on! For the day, the labour, at night, the feast. So I rose astonished and stood on one side. The witch-doctruses also stood on one side, wonderstruck, since no such smelling-out as this had been seen in the land. For till this hour, when a man was swept with the noose-tail of the Issanusi, that was the instant of his death. Why, then, men asked in their hearts was the death delayed. The witch-doctors asked it also, and looked at the king for light, as men looked to a thunder-cloud for the flash. But from the black one there came no word. So we stood on one side, and the second party of the Issanusi women began their rites. As the others had done, so they did, and yet they worked otherwise, for this is the fashion of the Issanusi's, that no two of them smell out in the same way. And this party swept the faces of certain of the king's counsellors, naming them guilty of the witch-work. Stanyi on one side, said the king to those who had been smelt out, and ye who have hunted out their wickedness. Stanyi with those who named Mopo, son of Makedama. It may well be that all are guilty. So these stood on one side also, and a third party took up the tale, and they named certain of the great generals, and were in turn bidden to stand on one side together with those whom they had named. So it went on through all that day, company by company, the women doomed their victims, till there were no more left of their number, and were commanded to stand aside together with those whom they had doomed. Then the male Issanusi's began, and I could see well that by this time their hearts were fearful, for they smelt a snare. Yet the king's bidding must be done, and though their magic failed them here, victims must be found. So they smelt out this man and that man, till we were a great company of the doomed, who sat in silence on the ground, looking at each other with sad eyes, and watching the sun, which we deemed our last, climbed slowly down the sky. And ever, as the day waned, those who were left untried of the witch doctors grew madder and more fierce. They leapt into the air, they ground their teeth, and rolled upon the ground. They drew forth snakes, and devoured them alive. They shrieked out to the spirits, and called upon the names of ancient kings. At length it drew on to evening. And the last company of the witch doctors did their work, smelling out some of the keepers of the emperceni, the house of the women. But there was one man of their company, a young man and a tall, who held back, and took no share in the work, but stood by himself in the centre of the great circle, fixing his eyes on the heavens. And when this company had been ordered to stand aside, also together with those whom they had smelt out, the king called aloud to the last of the witch doctors, asking him of his name and tribe, and why he alone did not do his office. By name is Inderbazimbi, the son of Arpi, oh king, he answered, and I am of the tribe of the Makilisini. Does the king bid me to smell out him of whom the spirits have spoken to me as the worker of this deed? I bid thee, said the king. Then the young man, Inderbazimbi, stepped straight forward across the ring, making no cries or gestures, but as one who walks from his gate to the cattle-cral, and suddenly he struck the king in the face with the tail in his hands, saying, I smell out the heavens above me. Footnote, a Zulu title for the king, and footnote. Now a great gasp of wonder went up from the multitude, and all look to see this fool killed by torture. But Chaka rose and laughed aloud. Thou hast said it, he cried, and thou alone. Little new people, I did the deed. I smote blood upon the gateways of my kral. With my own hand I smote it, as I might learn who were the true doctors and who were the false. Now it seems that in the land of the Zulu there is one true doctor, this young man, and of the false, look at them and count them. They are like the leaves. See, there they stand, and by them stand those whom they have doomed, the innocent whom, with their wives and children, they have doomed to the death of the dog. Now I ask you, my people, what reward shall be given to them? Then a great roar went up from all the multitude. Let them die, O king! Aye, he answered, let them die as liars should. Now the Ishanuses, men and women, screamed aloud in fear, and cried for mercy, tearing themselves with their nails. For least of all things did they desire to taste of their own medicine of death. But the king only laughed the more. Hark and ye, he said, pointing to the crowd of us who had been smelt out. Ye were doomed to death by these false prophets. Now, clutch yourselves upon them, slay them, my children, slay them all, wipe them away, stamp them out, all, all save this young man. Then we bounded from the ground, for our hearts were fierce with hate, and with longing to avenge the terrors we had borne. The doomed slew the doomers, while from the circle of the Ingonbukko, a great roar of laughter went up, but men rejoiced because the burden of the witch-doctors had fallen from them. At last it was done, and we drew back from the heap of the dead. Nothing was heard there now, no more cries or prayers or curses. The witch-finders travelled the path on which they had set the feet of many. The king drew near to Luke. He came alone, and all who had done his bidding bent their heads and crept past him, praising him as they went. Only eyes stood still, covered as I was with maya and filth, for I did not fear to stand in the presence of the king. Shaka drew near, and looked at the piled-up heaps of the slain, and the cloud of dust that yet hung over them. There they lie, Mopo, he said. There lie those who dared to prophesy falsely to the king. That was a good word of thine, Mopo, which taught me to set the snare for them. Yet, to me thought, I saw the start when nobler, queen of the witch-doctruses, switched death on thee. Well, they are dead, and the lander breathes more freely, and for the evil which they have done, it is as yonder dust that soon shall slink again to earth, and there be lost. Thus he spoke, and ceased below, something moved beneath the cloud of dust, something broke away through the heap of the dead. Slowly it forced its path, pushing the slain this way and that, till at length it stood upon its feet and tottered towards us, a thing dreadful to look on. The shape was the shape of an aged woman, and even through the blood and maya I knew her. It was nobler, she who had doomed me, she whom but now I had smitten to earth, but who had come back from the dead to curse me. On she tottered, her apparel hanging round her in red rags, a hundred wounds upon her face and form. I saw that she was dying, but life still flickered in her, and the fire of hate burned in her sneaky eyes. Hail, king, she screamed. Peace, liar, he answered, thou art dead. Not yet, king, I heard thy voice and the voice of yonder dog, whom I would have given to the jackals, and I will not die till I have spoken. I smelt him out this morning when I was alive. Now that I am as one already dead, I smell him out again. He shall be witchly with blood indeed, shaka, he and unandy, thy mother and balika, thy wife. Think of my words when the aster guy reddens before thee for the last time, king. Farewell. And she uttered a great cry and rolled upon the ground dead. The witch lies hard and dies hard, said the king carelessly, and turned upon his heel. Those words of dead novella remained fixed in his memory, or so much of them as had been spoken of unandy and balika. There they remained like seeds in the earth, there they grew to bring forth fruit in their season. And thus ended the great Ingamboko of Shaka, the greatest Ingamboko that ever was held in Zululand. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Of Narda the Lily by H. Ryder Haggard This livery vox recording is in the public domain. The loss of them slupe a gas. Now, after the smelling out of the witch doctors, Shaka caused a watch to be kept upon his mother unandy and his wife balika, my sister, and reports was brought to him by those who watched that the two women came to my huts by stealth, and there kissed and nursed a boy, one of my children. Then Shaka remembered the prophecy of novella, the dead Inanusi, and his heart grew dark with doubt. But to me he said nothing of the matter, for then, as always, his eyes looked over my head. He did not fear me, or believe that I plotted against him, I who was his dog. Still he did this, though whether by chance or design I do not know. He bade me go on a journey to a distant tribe that lived near the borders of the Amaswazi, there to take count of certain of the king's cattle which were in the charge of that tribe, and to bring him account of the tale of their increase. So I bowed before the king, and said that I would run like a dog to do his bidding, and he gave me men to go with me. Then I returned to my huts to bid farewell to my wives and children, and there I found that my wife and Adi, the mother of Musa my son, had fallen sick with a wandering sickness, for strange things came into her mind, and what came into her mind that she said, being, as I did not doubt, bewitched by some enemy of my house. Still I must go upon the king's business, and I told this to my wife Makrufa, the mother of Nada, and, as it was thought, upon Sloppa gas, the son of Shaka. But when I spoke to Makrufa of the matter, she burst into tears and clung to me. I asked her why she wept thus, and she answered that the shadow of evil lay upon her heart, for she was sure that if I left her at the king's kral, when I returned again, I should find neither her nor Nada my child, nor on Sloppa gas, who has named my son, and whom I loved as a son, still in the land of life. Then I tried to calm her, but the more I strove, the more she wept, saying that she knew well that these things would be so. Now I asked her what could be done, for I was stirred by her tears, and the dread of evil crept from her to me, as shadows creep from the valley to the mountain. She answered, Take me with you, my husband, that I may leave this evil land where the very skies reign blood, and let me rest awhile in the place of my own people, till the terror of Shaka has gone by. How can I do this? I said. None may leave the king's kral without the king's pass. A man may put away his wife, she replied. The king does not stand between a man and his wife. Say, my husband, that you love me no longer, that I bear you no more children, and that therefore you send me back whence I came. By and by we will come together again, if we are left among the living. So be it, I answered, leave the kral with nada and unslopper gas this night, and tomorrow morning meet me at the river bank, and we will go on together, and for the rest may the spirits of our fathers hold us safe. So we kissed each other, and a macrophile went on secretly with the children. Now at the dawning on the morrow, I summoned the men whom the king had given me, and we started upon our journey. When the sun was well up, we came to the banks of the river, and there I found my wife, Macropha, and with her the two children. They rose as I came, as I frowned at my wife, and she gave me no greeting. Those with me looked at her ascance. I have divorced this woman, I said to them. She is a withered tree, a worn-out old hag, and now I take her with me to send her to the country of the Swazes when she came. Seize your weeping, I added to Macropha. It is my last word. What says the king? asked the men. I will answer to the king, I said, and we went on. Now I must tell you how we lost unslopper gas, the son of Shaka, who was then a great lad, drawing on to manhood. Fierce in temper, well grown and broad for his years. We had journeyed seven days, for the way was long, and on the night of the seventh day, we came to a mountainous country, in which there were few krals, for Shaka had eaten them all up years before. Perhaps you know the place, my father. In it is a great and strange mountain. It is haunted also, and named the Ghost Mountain, and on the top of it is a grey peak, rudely shaped like the head of an aged woman. Here in this wild place we must sleep, for darkness drew on. Now we soon learned that there were many lions in the rocks around, for we heard their roaring, and were much afraid, all except some slopper gas, who feared nothing. So we made a circle of thornbushes, and sat in it, holding our asser guys ready. Presently the moon came up, it was a full grown moon, and very bright, so bright, so that we could see everything for a long way round. Now some six spear throws from where we sat was a cliff, and at the top of the cliff was a cave, and in this cave lived two lions and their young. When the moon grew bright we saw the lions come out, and stand up on the edge of the cliff, and with them were two little ones, that played about like kittens, so that had we not been frightened, it would have been beautiful to see them. Oh, I'm slopper gas, said Narda, I wish that I had one of the little lions for a dog. The boy laughed, saying, then shall I fetch you one, sister? Peace, boy, I said, no man may take young lions from their lair and live. Such things have been done, my father, he answered laughing, and no more was said of the matter. Now when the lions had played a while, we saw the lioness take up the cubs in her mouth, and carry them into the cave. Then she came out again, and went away with her mate to seek food, and soon we heard them roaring in the distance. Now we stacked up the fire, and went to sleep in our enclosure of thorns, without fear, but we knew that the lions were far away eating game. But some slopper gas did not sleep, for he had determined that he would fetch the cub which Narda had desired, and being young and foolhardy, he did not think of the danger which he would bring upon himself and all of us. He knew no fear, and now as ever, if Narda spoke a word, nay, even if she thought of a thing to desire it, he would not rest till it was won for her. So while we slept, from slopper gas crept like a snake from the fence of thorns, and taking an asagai in his hand, he slipped away to the foot of the cliff where the lions had their den. Then he climbed the cliff, and coming to the cave, entered there and groped his way into it. The cubs heard him, thinking that it was their mother who returned, began to whine and purr for food. Guided by the light of their yellow eyes, he crept over the bones of which there were many in the cave, and came to where they lay. Then he put out his hands and seized one of the cubs, killing the other with his asagai, because he could not carry both of them. Now he made haste thence before the lions returned, and came back to the thorn fence where we lay, just as dawn was breaking. I awoke at the coming of the dawn, and standing up I looked out. Lo, there on the farther side of the thorn fence, looking large in the grey mist, stood the lad unslopper gas, laughing. In his teeth he held the asagai, yet dripping with blood, and in his hands the lion cub, that despite its whines and struggles he grasped by the skin of the neck and the hind legs. Awake, my sister, he cried. Here is the dog you seek. Ah, he bites now, but he will soon grow tame. Narda awoke and rising, cried out with joy at the sight of the cub, but for a moment I stood astonished. Fool, I cried at last, let the cub go before the lions come to rend us. I will not let it go, my father, he answered sullenly. Are there not five of us with spears, and can we not fight two cats? I was not afraid to go alone into their den. Are you all afraid to meet them in the open? You are mad, I said. Let the cub go. And I ran towards some slopper gas to take it from him, but he sprang aside and avoided me. I will never let that go of which I have got hold, he said, at least not living. And suddenly he seized the head of the cub and twisted its neck. They threw it onto the ground and added, see now, I have done your bidding, my father. As he spoke we heard a great sound of roaring from the cave in the cliff. The lions had returned and found one cub dead, and the other gone. Into the fence, back into the fence, I cried, and we sprang over the thornbushes where those withers were making ready their spears, trembling as they handled them with fear in the cold of the morning. We looked up, there down the side of the cliff came the lions, bounding on the scent of him who had robbed them of their young. The lion ran first, and as he came he roared. Then followed the lioness, but she did not roar, for in her mouth was the cub that some slopper gas had asagied in the cave. Now they drew near, mad with fury, their mains bristling and lashing their flanks with their long tails. Curse you for a fool, son of Mopo, said one of the men with me to unslopper gas. Presently I will beat you till the blood comes for this trick. First beat the lions, then beat me if you can, answered the lad, and wait to curse until you have done both. Now the lions were close to us. They came to the body of the second cub that lay outside the fence of thorns. The lion stopped and sniffed it. Then he roared, ah, he roared till the earth shook. As for the lioness, she dropped the dead cub which she was carrying, and took the other into her mouth, for she could not carry both. Get behind me, nada, cried them slopper gas, brandishing his spear. The lion is about to spring. As the words left his mouth, the great brute crouched to the ground. Then suddenly he sprang from it like a bird, and like a bird he travelled through the air towards us. Catch him on the spears, cried them slopper gas, and by nature, as it were, we did the boys bidding. For huddling ourselves together, we held out the asagais, so that the lion fell upon them as he sprang, and their blades sank far into him. But the weight of his charge carried us to the ground, and he fell onto us, striking at us, and at the spears and roaring with pain and fury as he struck. Presently he was on his legs, biting at the spears in his breast. Then, slopper gas, who alone did not wait his onslaught, but had stepped aside for his own ends, uttered a loud cry, and drove his asagais into the lion behind the shoulder, so that with a groan the brute rolled over dead. Meanwhile the lioness stood without the fence, the second dead cub in her mouth, for she could not bring herself to leave either of them. But when she heard her mate's last groan, she dropped the cub and gathered herself together to spring. Of slopper gas alone stood up to face her, for he only had withdrawn his asagais from the carcass of the lion. She swept on towards the lad who stood like a stone to meet her. Now she met his spear, it sunk in, it snapped, and down fell on slopper gas, dead or senseless beneath the mass of the lioness. She sprang up the broken spear standing in her breast, sniffed at on slopper gas. Then, as though she knew that it was he who had robbed her, she seized him by the loins and a moucha, and sprang with him over the fence. Oh save him! cried the girl nader in bitter woe, and we rushed after the lioness shouting. For a moment she stood over her dead cubs, on slopper gas hanging from her mouth, and looked at them as though she wandered, and we hoped that she might let him fall. Then, hearing our cries, she turned and bounded away towards the bush, bearing up slopper gas in her mouth. We seized our spears and followed, but soon the ground grew stony, and search as we would, we could find no trace of them slopper gas or of the lioness. They had vanished like a cloud. So we came back, and ah, my heart was sore, for I loved the lad as though he had indeed been my son, but I knew that he was dead, and there was an end. Where is my brother? cried nader when we came back. Lost, I answered, lost, never to be found again. Then the girl gave a great and bitter cry, and fell to the earth, saying, I would that I were dead with my brother. Let us be going, said Macrofa, my wife. Have you no tears to weep for your son? asked a man of our company. What is the use of weeping over the dead? Does it them bring them back? she answered. Let us be going. The man thought these words strange, but he did not know that some slopper gas was not born of Macrofa. Still we waited in that place a day, thinking that perhaps the lioness would return to her den, and that at least we might kill her. But she came back no more, so on the next morning we rolled up our blankets, and started forward on our journey, sad at heart. In truth Nada was so weak from grief that she could hardly travel, but I never heard the name of a slopper gas pass her lips again during that journey. She buried him in her heart and said nothing, and I too said nothing, but I wondered why it had been brought about, that I should save the life of a slopper gas from the jaws of the lion of Zulu, that the lioness of the rocks might devour him. And so the time went on, until we reached the Kral, where the king's business must be done, where I and my wife should part. On the morning after we came to the Kral, having kissed in secret, though in public we looked sullenly on one another, we parted as those parts who meet no more, for it was in our thoughts that we should never see each other's face again, nor indeed did we do so, and I drew Nada aside and spoke to her thus. We part, my daughter, nor do I know when we shall meet again, for the times are troubled, and it is for your safety and that of your mother that I rob my eyes of the sight of you. Nada, you will soon be a woman, and you will be fairer than any woman among our people, and it may come about that many great men will seek you in marriage, and perhaps that I, your father, shall not be there to choose for you whom you shall wed, according to the custom of our land. But I charge you, so far as may be possible for you to do so. Take only a man whom you can love and be faithful to him alone, but thus shall a woman find happiness. Here I stopped, for the girl took hold of my hand and looked into my face. Peace, my father, she said. Do not speak to me of marriage, for I will wed no man, now that some slupper-gas is dead, because of my foolishness. I will live and die alone, and oh, may I die quickly, that I may go to seek him whom I love only. Nay, Nada, I said, um slupper-gas was your brother, and it is not fitting that you should speak of him thus, even though he is dead. I know nothing of such matters, my father, she said. I speak of what my heart tells me, and it tells me that I loved um slupper-gas living. And though he is dead, I shall love him alone to the end. Ah, you think me but a child, yet my heart is large and it does not lie to me. Now I up-braided the girl no more, because I knew that um slupper-gas was not her brother, but one whom she might have married. Only I marveled that the voice of nature should speak so truly in her, telling her that which was lawful, even when it seemed to be most unlawful. Speak no more of um slupper-gas, I said, for surely he is dead, and though you cannot forget him, yet speak of him no more, and I pray of you, my daughter, that if we do not meet again, yet you should keep me in your memory, and the love I bear you, and the words which from time I have said to you. The world is a thorny wilderness, my daughter, and its thorns are watered with a rain of blood, and we wander in our wretchedness like lost travellers in a mist. Nor do I know why our feet are set upon this wandering, but at last there comes an end, and we die and go hence, none nowhere, but perhaps where we go, the evil may change to the good, and those who were dear to each other on the earth may become yet dearer in the heavens. For I believe that man is not born to perish altogether, but is rather gathered again to the um kulunkulu who sent him on his journeyings. Therefore keep hope, my daughter, for if these things are not so, at least sleep remains, and sleep is soft, and so farewell. Then we kissed and parted, and I watched Macrofa, my wife, and Nada, my daughter, till they melted into the sky as they walked upon their journey to Swaziland, and was very sad, because, having lost them slupe a gas, he, who in after-days was named the slaughterer and the woodpecker, I must lose them also. End of chapter 9 Chapter 10 of Nada the Lily by H. Rider Haggard This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Trial of Mopo Now I sat four days in the huts of the tribe, wither I had been sent, and did the king's business, and on the fifth morning I rose up, together with those with me, and we turned our faces towards the king's kral. But when we had journeyed a little way, we met a party of soldiers who commanded us to stand. What is it, king's men? I asked boldly. This, son of Macadamma, answered their spokesman, Give over to us your wife Macrofa, and your children, um slupe a gas and Nada, that we may do with them as the king commands. I'm slupe a gas, I answered, has gone where the king's arm cannot stretch, for he is dead, and for my wife Macrofa and my daughter Nada, they are by now in the caves of the Swazis, and the king must seek them there with an army if he will find them. To Macrofa he is welcome, for I hate her, and have divorced her. And as for the girl, well there are many girls, and it is no great matter if she lives or dies. Yet I pray him to spare her. Thus I spoke carelessly, for I knew well that my wife and child were beyond the reach of Shaka. You do well to us the girl's life, said the soldier laughing, for all those born to you are dead by order of the king. Is it indeed so? I answered calmly, though my knees shook my tongue clove to my lips. The will of the king be done, a cut stick put out new leaves, I can have more children. I, Mopo, but first you must get new wives, for yours are dead also, all five of them. Is it indeed so? I answered. The kings will be done, I wear it of those brawling women. So, Mopo, said the soldier, but to get other wives and have more children born to you, you must live yourself. But no children are born to the dead, and I think that Shaka has an assaguy which you shall kiss. Is it so? I answered. The kings will be done, the sun is hot and I tire of the road, he who kisses the assaguy's sleep sound. Thus I spoke, my father, and indeed in that hour I desired to die. The world was empty for me. Makrafa and Nada were gone, and Sloppa gas was dead, and my other wives and children were murdered. I had no heart to begin to build up a new house. None were left for me to love, and it seemed well that I should die also. The soldiers asked those with me if that tale was true, which I told of the death of Umsloppa gas, and of the going of Makrafa and Nada into Swaziland. They said yes, it was true. Then the soldiers said that they would lead me back to the king, and I wondered at this, for I thought that they would kill me where I stood. So we went on, and piece by piece I learned what had happened at the king's kral. On the day after I left, it came to the ears of Shakla by the mouth of his spies, that my second wife Anadi was sick, and spoke strange words in her sickness. Then, taking three soldiers with him, he went to my kral at the death of the day. He left the three soldiers by the gates of the kral, bidding them to suffer none to come in or go out, but Shakka himself entered the large hut where Anadi lay sick, having his toy Asagai with the shaft of the royal red wood in his hand. Now, as it chanced in the hut where Anadi, the mother of Shakka and Balakha, my sister, the wife of Shakka, for, not knowing that I had taken away Umsloppa gas, the son of Balakha, according to their custom, these two foolish women had come to kiss and fondle the lad. But when they entered the hut, they found it full of my other wives and children. These they sent away, all except Musa, the son of Anadi, who lay sick, that boy who was born eight days before Umsloppa gas, the son of Shakka. But they kept Musa in the hut and kissed him, giving him infi, a variety of sugarcane, to eat, fearing lest it should seem strange to the women my wives, if, Umsloppa gas being gone, they refused to take notice of any other child. Now, as they sat thus, presently the doorway was darkened, and behold, the king himself crept through it, and saw them fondling the child Musa. When they knew who it was that entered, the women flung themselves upon the ground before him and praised him, but he smiled grimly and bade them be seated. Then he spoke to them, saying, You wonder, Anadi, my mother and Balika, my wife, why it is that I am come here into the hut of Moppa, son of Makedama. I will tell you, it is because he is a way upon my business, and I hear that his wife and Adi is sick, it is she who lies there, is it not? Therefore, as the first doctor in the land, I am come to cure her, Unandi, my mother and Balika, my sister. Thus he spoke, eyeing them as he did so, and taking snuff from the blade of his little asagai, and though his words were gentle, they shook with fear, for when Shaka spoke thus gently, he meant death to many. But Unandi, mother of the heavens, answered, saying that it was well that the king had come, since his medicine would bring rest and peace to her who lay sick. Yes, he answered, it is well. It is pleasant, moreover, my mother and my sister, to see you kissing on the child. Surely, worthy of your own blood, you could not love him more. Now they trembled again, and prayed in their hearts, that Anadi, the sick woman who lay asleep, might not wake and utter foolish words in her wondering. But the prayer was answered from below and not from above, for Anadi woke, and hearing the voice of the king, her sick mind flew to him whom she believed to be the king's child. Ah, she said, sitting upon the ground and pointing to her own son, Musa, who squatted frightened against the wall of the hut. Kiss him, mother of the heavens, kiss him. Whom do they call him, the young cub who brings ill fortune to our doors? They call him the son of Mubbo and Makarafa. And she laughed wildly, stopped speaking, and sank back upon the bed of skins. They call him the son of Mubbo and Makarafa, said the king in a low voice. Whose son is he, then, woman? Oh, ask her not, O king! cried his mother and his wife, casting themselves upon the ground before him, for they were mad with fear. Ask her not, she has strange fancies, such as are not meat for your ears to hear. She is bewitched and has dreams and fancies. Peace! he answered. I will listen to this woman's wanderings. Perhaps some star of truth shines in her darkness, and I would see light. Who, then, is he, woman? Who is he? she answered. Are you a fool that ask who he is? He is, hush, put your ear close. Let me speak low, lest the reeds of the hut whisper it to the king. He is, do you listen? He is the son of Shaka and Balika, the sister of Mubbo, the changeling humanandi, mother of the heavens, palmed off upon this house to bring a curse on it, and whom she would lead out before the people, when the land is weary of the wickedness of the king, her son, to take the place of the king. It is false, O king! cried the two women. Do not listen to her, it is false. The boy is her own son, Musa, whom she does not know in her sickness. But Shaka stood up in the hut and laughed terribly. Truly, Norbella prophesied well, he cried, and I did ill to slay her. So this is the trick thou hast played upon me, my mother. Thou wouldst give a son to me, who will have no son. Thou wouldst give me a son to kill me, good mother of the heavens, take thou the doom of the heavens. Thou wouldst give me a son to slay me and rule in my place. Now, in turn, I, thy son, will rob me of a mother. Die, Unandi, die at the hand thou didst bring forth. And he lifted the little Asagai, and smote it through her. For a moment, Unandi, mother of the heavens, wife of Senzan Kakona, stood, uttering no cry. Then she put up her hand and drew the Asagai from her side. So shall thou die also, Shaka the evil. She cried, and fell down dead there in the hut. Thus then did Shaka murder his mother, Unandi. Now, when Balakir saw what had been done, she turned and fled from the hut to the Emposeni, and so swiftly that the guards at the gates could not stop her. But when she reached her own hut, Balakir's strength failed her, and she fell senseless on the ground. But the boy Musa, my son, being overcome with terror, stayed where he was, and Shaka, believing him to be his son, murdered him also and with his own hand. Then he stalked out of the hut, and leaving the three guards at the gate, commanded a company of soldiers to surround the kral and fire it. This they did, and as the people rushed out, they killed them, and those who did not run out were burned in the fire. Thus then perished all my wives, my children, my servants, and those who were within the gates in their company. The tree was burned, and the bees in it, and I alone was left living, I and Makrufa and Nada who were far away. Nor was Shaka yet satisfied with blood, for as has been told, he sent messengers bidding them to kill Makrufa, my wife, and Nada, my daughter, and him who was named my son. But he commanded the messengers that they should not slay me, but bring me living before him. Now when the soldiers did not kill me, I took counsel with myself, for it was my belief that I was saved alive, only that I might die later, and in a more cruel fashion. Therefore for a while I thought that it would be well if I did that for myself, which another purpose to do for me. Why should I, who was already doomed, wait to meet my doom? What had I left to keep me in the place of life, seeing that all whom I loved were dead or gone? To die would be easy, for I knew the ways of death. In my girdle I carried a secret medicine. He who eats of it, my father, will see the sun's shadow move no more, and will never look upon the stars again. But I was not minded to know the asagai or the kedi, nor would I perish more slowly beneath the knives of the tormentus, nor be parched by the pangs of thirst, or wander eyeless to my end. Therefore it was that, since I had sat in the doom-ring, looking hour after hour into the face of death, I had borne this medicine with me by night and by day. Surely now was the time to use it. So I thought as I sat through the watches of the night, I, and drew out the bitter drug and laid it on my tongue. But as I did so I remembered my daughter Nader, who was left to me, though she sojourned in a far country, and my wife Makrafa and my sister Balika, who still lived. So said the soldiers, though how it came about that the king had not killed her, I did not know then. Also another thought was borne in my heart. While life remained to me, I might be revenged upon him who had wrought me this woe. But can the dead strike? Alas, the dead are strengthless, and if they still have hearts to suffer, they have no hands to give back, blow for blow. Nay, I would live on. Time to die when death could no more be put away. Time to die when the voice of Shaka spoke my doom. Death chooses for himself and answers no questions. He is a guest to whom none need open the door of his hut, for when he wills he can pass the thatch like the air. Not yet would I taste of that medicine of mine. So I lived on, my father, and the soldiers led me back to the kral of Shaka. Now when we came to the kral it was night, for the sun had sunk as we passed through the gates. Still, as he had been commanded, the captain of those who watched me went in before the king and told him that I lay without in bonds, and the king said, let him be brought before me, who was my physician, that I may tell him how I have doctored those of his house. So they took me and led me to the royal house, and pushed me through the doorway of the great hut. Now a fire burned in the hut, for the night was cold, and Shaka sat on the further side of the fire, looking towards the opening of the hut, and the smoke from the fire wreathed him round, and its light shone upon his face and flickered in his terrible eyes. At the door of the hut, certain of the counselor seized me by the arms and dragged me towards the fire, but I broke from them and prostrating myself, for my arms were free. I praised the king and called him by his royal names. The counselor sprang towards me to seize me again, but Shaka said, letting me, I would talk with my servant. Then the counselors bowed themselves on either side, and laid their hands on their sticks, their foreheads touching the ground. But I sat down on the floor of the hut, over against the king, and we talked through the fire. Tell me of the cattle that I sent thee to number, Mopo, son of Macadamma, said Shaka, have my servants dealt honestly with my cattle? They have dealt honestly, O king, I answered. Tell me then of the number of the cattle, and of their markings, Mopo, forgetting none. So I sat and told him, ox by ox, cow by cow, and heifer by heifer, forgetting none, and Shaka listened silently as one who is asleep. But I knew that he did not sleep, for all the while the firelight flickered in his fierce eyes. Also I knew that he did, but torment me, or that perhaps he would learn of the cattle before he killed me. At length all the tale was told. So said the king, it goes well, there are yet honest men left in the land. Notice thou, Mopo, that sorrow has come upon thy house, while thou wist about my business. I have heard it, O king, I answered, as one who speaks of a small matter. Yes, Mopo, sorrow has come upon thy house, the curse of heaven has fallen upon thy kral. They tell me, Mopo, that the fire from above ran bristly through thy huts. I have heard it, O king. They tell me, Mopo, that those within thy gates grew mad at the sight of the fire, and dreaming there was no escape that they stabbed themselves with asegais or leapt into the flames. I have heard it, O king, what of it? Any river is deep enough to drown a fool. Thou hast heard these things, Mopo, but thou hast not yet heard all. Knowest thou, Mopo, that among those who died in thy kral was she who bore me. She who is named mother of the heavens. Then, my father, I, Mopo, acted wisely because of the thought which my good spirit gave me, for I cast myself upon the ground and wailed aloud as though in utter grief. Spare my ears, black one, I wailed. Tell me not that she who bore thee is dead, O lion of the Zulu. For the others what is it? It is a breath of wind, it is a drop of water, but this trouble is as the gale or as the sea. Cease, my servant, cease! said the mocking voice of Shaka. Look, know this! Thou hast done well to grieve aloud, because the mother of the heavens is no more, and ill wouldst thou have done to grieve because the fire from above has kissed thy gates. Thou hadst thou done this last thing, or left the first undone. I should have known that thy heart was wicked, and by thou thou wouldst have wept indeed, tears of blood, Mopo. It is well for thee, then, that thou hast read my riddle aright. Now I saw the depth of the pit that Shaka had dug for me, and blessed my Khlose, who had put into my heart those words which I should answer. I hoped also that Shaka would now let me go, but it was not to be, for this was but the beginning of my trial. Doest thou, Mopo? said the king, that as my mother died yonder in the flames of thy kral, she cried out strange and terrible words which came to my ears through the singing of the fire. These were her words, that thou, Mopo, and thy sister Baleca, and thy wives, had conspired together to give a child to me who would be childless. These were her words, the words that came to me through the singing of the fire. Tell me now, Mopo, where are those children that thou leddest from thy kral, the boy with the lion eyes, who is named Umslopagas, and the girl who is named Narda? Umslopagas is dead by the lion's mouth, O king, I answered, and Narda sits in the swazzy caves. And I told him of the death of Umslopagas, and of how I had divorced a macarofa, my wife. The boy with the lion's eyes to the lion's mouth, said Chaka, enough of him, he's gone. Narda may yet be sought for with the asagai in the swazzy caves. Enough of her. Let her speak of this song that my mother, who alas is dead, Mopo, this song she sang through the singing of the flames. Tell me, Mopo, tell me now, was it a true tale? Nay, O king, surely the mother of the heavens was maddened by the heavens when she sang that song. I answered, I know nothing of it, O king. Thou knowest not of its, Mopo, said the king, and again he looked at me terribly through the reek of the fire. Thou knowest not of its, Mopo, surely thou art a cold, thy hands shake with cold. Nay, man, fear not, warm them, warm them, Mopo. See now, plunge that hand of thine into the heart of the flame. And he pointed with his little asagai, the asagai handled with the royal wood to where the fire glowed reddest. I, he pointed and laughed. Then, my father, I grew cold indeed. Yes, I grew cold, whose soon should be hot, for I saw the purpose of shaka. He would put me to the trial by fire. For a moment I sat silent thinking. Then the king spoke again in a great voice. Nay, Mopo, be not so backward. Shall I sit warm and see these suffer cold? What, my counsellor's rise? Take the hand of Mopo, and hold it to the flame, that his heart may rejoice in the warmth of the flame, while we speak together of this matter of the child that was, so my mother sang, born to Balika, my wife, the sister of Mopo, my servant. There is little need for that, O king, I answered being made bold by fear, for I saw that if I did nothing, death would swiftly end my doubts. Once indeed I bethought me of the poison that I bore, and was minded to swallow it and make an end. But the desire to live is great, and keen is the thirst for vengeance. So I said to my heart, not yet a while, I will endure this also. Afterwards, if need be, I can die. I thank the king for his graciousness, and will warm me at the fire. Speak on, O king, while I warm myself, and thou shalt hear true words. I said boldly. Then my father, I stretched out my left hand, and plunged it into the fire, not into the hottest of the fire, but where the smoke leapt from the flame. Now my flesh was wet with the sweat of fear, and for a little moment the flames curled round it and did not burn me, but I knew that the torment was to come. For a short while Shaka watched me smiling, then he spoke slowly that the fire might find time to do its work. Say then, Mopo, thou knowest nothing of this matter, of the birth of a son to thy sister Balika. I know this only, O king, I answered, that a son was born in past years to thy wife Balika, that I killed the child in obedience to thy word, and laid its body before thee. Now my father, the steam from my flesh had been drawn from my hand by the heat, and the flame got hold of me, and ate into my flesh, and its torment was great. But of this I showed no sign upon my face, for I knew well that if I showed sign or uttered cry, then, having failed in the trial, death would be my portion. Then the king spoke again, dost thou swear by my head, Mopo, that no son of mine was suckled in thy crawls? I swear it, O king, I swear it by thy head, I answered. And now my father, the agony of the fire was such as may not be told. I felt my eyes start forward in their sockets, my blood seemed to boil within me, and it rushed into my head, and down my face there ran two tears of blood. But yet I held my hand in the fire, and made no sign, while the king and his counselors watched me curiously. Still for a moment Shaka said nothing, and that moment seemed to me as all the years of my life. Ah! he said at length, I see that thou growest warm, Mopo, withdraw thy hand from the flame. I am answered, thou hast passed the trial, thy heart is clean, but had there been lies in it the fire had given them tongue, and thou hast cried aloud, making thy last music, Mopo. Now I took my hand from the flame, and for a while the torment left me. It is well, O king, I said calmly, fire has no power of hurt on those whose heart is pure. But as I spoke I looked at my left hand, it was black, my father, black as a charred stick, and the nails were gone from the twisted fingers. Look at it now, my father, you can see, though my eyes are blind, the hand is white like yours, it is white and dead and shriveled. These are the marks of the fire in Shaka's hut, the fire that kissed me many, many years ago. I have had but little use of that hand since this night of torment, but my right arm yet remained to me, my father, and ah, I used it. It seems that Nobella, the doctoress who is dead, lied when she prophesied evil on me from thee, Mopo, said Shaka again. It seems that thou art innocent of this offence, and that Balakar, thy sister, is innocent, and that the song which the mother of the heavens sang through the singing flames was no true song. It is well for thee, Mopo, for in such a matter my oath had not helped thee. But my mother is dead, dead in the flames with thy wives and children, Mopo, and in this there is witchcraft. We will have a morning, Mopo, thou and I, such a morning as has not been seen in Zululand, for all the people on the earth shall weep at it, and there shall be a smelling out at this morning, Mopo, but we will summon no witch-doctors, thou and I will be witch-doctors, and our cells shall smell out those who have brought these woes upon us. What shall my mother die unavenged, she who bore me, and has perished by witchcraft, and shall thy wives and children die unavenged, thou being innocent? Go forth, Mopo, my faithful servant, whom I have honoured with the warmth of my fire. Go forth, and once again he stared at me through the reek of the flame, and pointed with his asagai to the door of the hut. End of chapter 10