sick woman, who lay asleep, might not wake and utter foolish words in
her
wandering. 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,
Moosa, 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 Mopo and
Macropha!" And she laughed wildly, stopped
speaking, and sank back
upon the bed of skins.
"They call him the son of Mopo and Macropha," 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 meet 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
speak it to the king. He is--do you listen? He is--the son of Chaka
and Baleka, the sister of Mopo, the changeling whom Unandi, 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, Moosa, whom she does not know in her
sickness."
But Chaka stood up in the hut and laughed
terribly. "Truly, Nobela
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
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 assegai and smote it
through her.
For a moment Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, wife of Senzangacona,
stood uttering no cry. Then she put up her hand, and drew the assegai
from her side.
"So shalt thou die also, Chaka the Evil!" she cried, and fell down
dead there in the hut.
Thus, then, did Chaka murder his mother Unandi.
Now when Baleka saw what had been done, she turned and fled from the
hut into the Emposeni, and so
swiftly that the guards at the gates
could not stop her. But when she reached her own hut Baleka's strength
failed her, and she fell
senseless on the ground. But the boy Moosa,
my son, being
overcome with
terror, stayed where he was, and Chaka,
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 kraal 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 Macropha and Nada, who were
far away.
Nor was Chaka yet satisfied with blood, for, as has been told, he sent
messengers bidding them kill Macropha, my wife, and Nada, my daughter,
and him who was named by son. But he commanded the messengers that
they should not slay me, but bring me living before them.
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
awhile I thought that it
would be well if I did that for myself which another purposed 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
minded to know the assegai or the
kerrie; nor would I
perish more slowly beneath the
knives of the
tormentors, 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, ay! and drew
out the bitter drug and laid it on my tongue. But as I did so I
remembered my daughter Nada, who was left to me, though she sojourned
in a far country, and my wife Macropha and my sister Baleka, 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 born
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
Chaka 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 through the
thatch like 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 kraal of
Chaka. Now when we came to the kraal 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 Chaka 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 councillors 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 councillors
sprang towards me to seize me again,
but Chaka said, "Let him be; I would talk with my servant." Then the
councillors 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
Makedama," said Chaka. "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 Chaka 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. Knowest thou, Mopo, that sorrow has come upon thy house
while thou wast 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 kraal. They tell me, Mopo, that the fire from above
ran
briskly through they huts."
"I have heard it, I 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 assegais or leaped 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 kraal was she who
bore me, she who was 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 Chaka; "but 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. For hadst thou done this
last thing or left the first
undone, I should have known that thy
heart was
wicked, and by now 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 depths of the pit that Chaka had dug for me, and blessed
my Ehlose who had put into my heart those words which I should answer.
I hoped also that Chaka would now let me go; but it was not to be, for
this was but the
beginning of my trial.
"Knowest thou, Mopo," said the king, "that as my mother died yonder in
the flames of thy kraal 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 Baleka, 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
kraal, the boy with the lion eyes who is named Umslopogaas, and the
girl who is named Nada?"
"Umslopogaas is dead by the lion's mouth, O king!" I answered, "and
Nada sits in the Swazi caves." And I told him of the death of
Umslopogaas and of how I had divorced Macropha, my wife.
"The boy with the lion eyes to the lion's mouth!" said Chaka. "Enough
of him; he is gone. Nada may yet be sought for with the assegai in the
Swazi caves; enough of her. Let us 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
naught of it, Mopo?" said the king. And again he looked
at me
terribly through the reek of the fire. "Thou knowest
naught of
it, 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
assegai, the assegai handled with the royal wood, to where the fire
glowed reddest--ay, he
pointed and laughed.
Then, my father, I grew cold indeed--yes, I grew cold who soon should
be hot, for I saw the purpose of Chaka. 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
thee suffer cold? What, my councillors, 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 Baleka, my wife, the sister of Mopo,
my servant."
"There is little need for that, O king," I answered, being made bold