The White Shield. Mitford Bertram

and clothing made of dressed leather, and were armed with knives and long guns. They were tall, big men, but slow and heavy of speech and aspect. We knew them in a moment for Amabuna (Boers).

      The other four were our own people: Tyuyumane, an influential induna and a relation of the King; Notalwa, the head of our witch doctors; Senkonya, another induna, and my father Ntelani. The latter was speaking:

      “I fear lest the odour of gwai thus burned spread far into the stillness of the night, for none of us Amazulu use our gwai in such wise. Wherefore it will be known that white men are about.”

      But that Ibuna answered roughly that he cared nothing if it reached the nostrils of Umzilikazi himself, save that he uttered the King’s name “Selekas,” so badly did that people speak with our tongue.

      The other, however, reproved him, which was well, for our people, traitors though they were, liked not to listen to that sort of talk.

      “And now, Ntelani,” went on this man, speaking softly and pleasantly, “if we help you in the matter, how do you propose to carry out the change?”

      “Thus,” replied my father, having paused awhile to take snuff and think. “Umzilikazi is great—he is a lion—a buffalo bull—an elephant. The young men are with him. The young men are all his dogs, for he gives them plenty of fighting and abundance of spoil. Moreover, he allows them to tunga while yet children, and exalts them to be izinduna over the heads of their fathers. Their fathers are to be their dogs. He loves not old men as izinduna. He creates izinduna out of children like himself.”

      (Note: Tunga means “Sew”—the head-ring—i.e. marry.)

      Now the King pushed me as we lay and listened, for both of us understood this speech, which was not even dark. Then my father went on:—

      “Here is my plan, leader of the Amabuna. We must have a King, but when the Elephant who now trumpets is henceforth trumpeting in black night the warriors will demand a leader, and no man is there who holds their hearts like one, a lion-cub which I have bred, for he is fearless in war, and him they will have to reign over them. This wish they must have granted, if only to accustom them to the change. He shall be King—King for a day—ah! ah!”

      And my father chuckled with malice as he took more snuff.

      “But what if he will not? What if he remains faithful to Umzilikazi?” said the leader of the Amabuna; for that people talks plain, and understands not our way of dark speaking.

      “Au! Will he not?” sneered my father. “I tell thee, Ibuna, that he would slay the King with his own hand but to sit in his seat, if only for a day.”

      Now, Nkose, my fury well-nigh got the mastery over me. Such dangerous and fatal words uttered by my father in the hearing of the Great Great One struck dismay into my heart, for the minds of Kings are ever suspicious, and had not I been brought there half under suspicion myself? Besides, they were not true; for even were the chance to offer, I would not sit in the seat of Umzilikazi in his lifetime. For he had made me great, and, in reality, second only to himself. No thought of treason was in my heart, nor had there ever been since the time when, as a hot-headed and foolish boy, I had all but thrown away my life for the sake of a girl; but since then—au! had the whole nation turned against the King, I, even if the only one, would have kept faithful to him, would have given my life for his. Further, my father’s intended treachery towards myself—towards the King and the nation—made my blood flow hot; for no promises of advantage on the part of these lying Amabuna would ever have deceived me, even could I see of what advantage they could be to us. I began to “see red.” It was all I could do not to plunge down the rocks and slay Ntelani where he sat, even though he were my own father. And something of this must have shown itself—I know not how—for again that grasp of iron was upon my shoulder, pressing me down, and the King’s voice breathed into my ear—

      “Gahle, gahle, Untúswa. Hast thou not even yet learned sound judgment, thou who art no more a boy, but a kehla, and the leader of warriors in battle? Give ear now while these creeping scorpions advance even further and further into the black jaws of death.”

      So we lay and listened, and presently we knew all there was to know, and, in truth, the news was great, for many things had been hatching within the womb of Time. We learned that Tshaka, the Mighty One, the Lion of Zulu, was no more, and that Dingane, a brother of that Elephant, had reddened his spear in the Great One’s blood, and now sat as King in Zululand. We learned that the Amabuna were coming up out of the west—advancing in great numbers, with guns and horses, desiring the land which lay between the Tugela and the sea—and to obtain this, their leaders sought the aid of our nation, promising to set up as King in Zululand he who should aid them the most in their war against Dingane. But before this should happen, Umzilikazi must be sent to join his father, for great as he might have reason to dread the power of Dingane, these plotters knew that he hated that of the Amabuna still more, and that by no inducement whatever could he be brought to listen to their promises, still less to trust in them.

      All this we drank in as we lay there among the rocks, listening to that dark midnight plot—all this and more: how the old men were dissatisfied, because of the favour shown to the younger ones—yet this was necessary, Nkose, for ours was a young nation, which had to carve out its own place with the arms and assegais of its warriors, most of whom were young. So we lay in the black midnight stillness, listening to these abatagati squatted around by the rock-hung pool, and the dismal howling of beasts far and near seemed to re-echo their foul and evil plotting. But at the last we learned something more. Should I, the son of Ntelani, refuse to be made King—for a day—ah! yes, only for a day—the induna Tyuyumane was to reign. And with this understanding the Amabuna rose to depart. As they swung themselves into their saddles the one who had spoken more pleasantly said:

      “The day after the new moon then, Ntelani, an Elephant will fall into the staked pit from which there is no escape. Our people, with guns and horses, will be at hand. Is that so?”

      “That is so, leader of the Amabuna,” grunted my father. “Au! from the spear of a pitfall there is no escape, even for the Elephant.” And the others laughed deeply as they assented.

      “My father,” I whispered, as the Amabuna rode off, “shall I not go down and slay yonder four?”

      “Not so, Untúswa,” whispered the King in reply.

      “Shall I not then go and call forth an impi to eat up those dirty white jackals, O Elephant for whom no pit shall be laid?”

      “Not so, Untúswa. Ha! It is the whole nest of foul birds that shall be destroyed—not two only, that the remainder may take alarm and escape.”

      After the Amabuna had gone, those four traitors sat there in the darkness and talked more freely, and in the course of this indaba it was arranged that Tyuyumane should sit in the seat of the Great Great One. But, first of all, on the day after the new moon, when the Amabuna should be at hand with their horses and guns, it was settled that I was to reign for a little while, only to accustom the younger warriors to the change; then I was to be sent to travel the road of Umzilikazi. All this these four fools talked over among themselves, little thinking what ears were drinking in their words—little dreaming what a sharp and fiery throne awaited Tyuyumane—and, indeed, all of them. Then the moon sank down, and darkness lay upon the face of that wizard pool, and silently the conspirators rose and were gone.

      “Ha! Untúswa,” whispered the King in mockery, “soon will the nation cry thee the Bayéte. How now? Dost thou not feel already great?”

      “Mock me not, Black Elephant,” I pleaded; “mock me not that I am begotten of Ntelani, who is the very chief of fools. If the fooleries, which we have just heard seem to the mind of the Great Great One true, then let him slay me as I stand. If not, suffer that I slay their utterers.”

      And, dropping my assegai—the King’s Assegai—I turned my breast to the Black Elephant, even as on that day when I stood expecting the death-stroke