were possible!
When the king heard that Baleka 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 Baleka my sister? and would not her
child be of my own blood? Still, it must be so, for Chaka's
whisperwas as the shout of other kings, and, if we dared to
disobey, then our
lives and the lives of all in our kraals 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
assegais and let me pass, and I entered the hut of Baleka. 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
awhile 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. Oh,
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,
naught to say in this matter?"
"It is the king's child, woman."
"It is the king's child, and it is 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 two moons 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 first-born child!"
"It is the king's word, woman," I answered
sternly; but my heart was
split in two within me.
Then Baleka 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. A woman entered alone. I looked round to see who
it was, then fell upon the ground in
salutation, for before me was
Unandi, 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, Mopo," she answered. "Say, why does Baleka weep? Is it
because the sorrow of women is upon her?"
"Ask of her, great chieftainess," I said.
Then Baleka spoke: "I weep, mother of a king, because this man, who is
my brother, has come from him who is my lord and they 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, Baleka," said Unandi;
"then had many another man lived to look upon the sun 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, Baleka! As a babe he bit my breast and tore my hair; as the
man is so was 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
wither? The king, our lord, lives in war. He too may die,
and what then?"
"Then the root of Senzangacona is still green. Has the king no
brothers?"
"They are not of they flesh, mother. What? thou dost not hearken! Then
as a woman to woman I plead with thee. Save my child or slay me with
my child!"
Now the heart of Unandi 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
suspect, and even reeds have ears, you know the
heart of Chaka and where we shall lie to-morrow."
"Are there then no other new-born babes in Zululand?" said Baleka,
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 will
perish with
it. For I will tell the king that you came to me, the two of you, and
whispered plots into my ear--plots to save the child and kill the
king. Now choose, and
swiftly!"
She sank bank, there was silence, and we looked one upon another. Then
Unandi spoke.
"Give me your hand, Mopo, and swear that you will be
faithful to me in
this secret, as I swear to you. A 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 shall
not die alone!"
"I swear, Mother of the Heavens," I answered.
"It is well, son of Makedama."
"It is well, my brother," said Baleka. "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. "Whither to 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 dared not do this thing. What?
should I kill my own child that its life might be given for the life
of the babe of Baleka? 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? Nay, 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 Chaka was nothing but death.
I reached my own huts, there to find that my wife Macropha was
delivered of twins. I sent away all in the hut except my other wife,
Anadi, she who eight days gone had born 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 Anadi. "He is not dead. Give him to me
that I may take him outside the kraal and wake him to life by my
medicine."
"It is of no use--the child is dead," said Anadi.
"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 Baleka. Unandi was
alone in the hut with my sister.
"The child is born," said the mother of the king. "Look at him, Mopo,
son of Makedama!"
I looked. He was a great child with large black eyes like the eyes of
Chaka the king; and Unandi, too, looked at me. "Where is it?" she
whispered.
I loosed 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
awhile. Then I wrapped up the child in my
medicines and again bound the mat about the
bundle. But round the
throat of the still-born 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, for just outside the Emposeni I met
three of the king's messengers.
"Greeting, son of Makedama!" they said. "The king summons you to the
Intunkulu"--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 Macropha, 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 dared 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 gate of the
Intunkulu.
It was
sundown. Chaka was sitting in the little
courtyard in front of
his hut. I went down on my knees before him and gave the royal salute,
Bayete, and so I stayed.
"Rise, son of Makedama!" 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 councillor take it
away. "Mopo, thou hast slain one who might have been a king. Art thou
not afraid?"
"No, Black One," I answered, "the child is killed by order of one who
is a king."
"Sit down, and let us talk," said Chaka, for his mood was idle. "To-
morrow 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 Baleka, 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 Chaka darkened. "Unandi, my mother, what did she there? My
myself I swear, though she is my mother--if I thought"--and he ceased.
Thee was a silence, then he spoke again. "Say, what is in that mat?"
and he
pointed with his little assegai 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."