She stepped swiftly through the belt of bushes. For a moment I stood stupidly gazing after her, then I followed. But she had disappeared. I called her, I searched for her. All in vain.
Then I went back to the sleeping King. Him I would save at all events.
I had helped in saving him during the battle yesterday, by holding back the _impi_ of Nongalaza; to-day I would save him entirely by myself.
Even now Lalusini might have gone to find those who would carry out her bidding readily enough.
"Awaken, Great Great One!" I said, not too loud, lest others ears might be about. "Thy servant knows of a better sleeping-place than this."
At first Dingane seemed to arouse himself but slowly. Then he sprang up, gripping his shield and spears.
"Who art thou?" he cried, darting upon me his lion-like glance. "Ha!
Untuswa, is it? Another traitor perhaps. How sayest thou, Untuswa?
All, all are traitors."
"No traitor am I, Black Elephant," I answered. "It is safer, however, for the lion of Zulu to make his lair elsewhere."
In the glance which Dingane bent upon me was distrust, suspicion, contempt by turns, but no sign of fear.
"What, Untuswa, and art thou faithful to me--thou, the wanderer--thou who art not of us, while they whom my hand has fed have deserted me-- have turned their spears against me? _Whau_! It cannot be."
"Who am I to fill the ears of the Great Great One with words," I answered. "Yet, my father--wanderer or no wanderer--I know of no man whom the Lion of Zulu may more safely trust."
"What, then, are thy counsels, Untuswa?" said the King.
"This, Lion. Hard by is a place known to none, where thou canst sit still in safety until the army is collected again. It was badly routed in the more open plain, yet here in these fastnesses none will dare venture--not even the Amabuna--until the trumpeting of the Elephant shall scatter the traitors and rebels once more. Such is my counsel, Ruler of the Great."
"I will even trust thee, Untuswa," said the King. "And now let us go forth."
I picked up my shield and weapons, which, of course, I had let fall, being in the royal presence, and we took our way thence, I walking in advance and spying carefully around to guard against possible surprise.
For long we thus travelled, and when night came we sat and feasted upon the meat of a young impala which I had killed by a lucky spear-cast; but we slept away from any fire, and in a place of secure concealment. On the morrow we kept on our way once more, and by noon came to the resting-place I had designed for the King. This was a group of caves, somewhat high up among the rocks of the Lebombo range. Beneath, the slope fell away, bushy, but not too thickly so as to prevent us from descrying the approach of friend or foe, while on either side so strewn with rocks and boulders was the base of the cliff that retreat would be easy in the event of pursuit.
"_Whau_, Untuswa!" said the King, with a laugh in his eyes. "When Tambusa would have broken a nest of wasps around thy kraal, thou wert turning thy wanderings to good account!"
"That is so, Great Great One," I answered, recalling to mind the words of Sifadu--"The day might come when Dingane himself would be glad to join us." And strange it was that my enforced flight from the hate of the princ.i.p.al indunas should be the means of providing the King with a place of refuge and concealment in the day of his downfall.
So we rested there for many days, Dingane and I. Yes, this dreaded one, before whom all men and all nations had trembled, now treated me as a friend, so entirely does adversity draw the greater and the lesser together. Yet never for a moment did I forget who it was that I thus foregathered with; never was there aught that was unbecoming in word or tone or action of mine towards the King--the real and true ruler of the great Zulu nation.
Often would the thought of Lalusini return to me, of her purposed revenge, which she intended to seize through me. This, then, was that for which she had plotted--this the means by which I was to become great. Had I in refusing it acted the part of a fool? No, that could not be, for, _Nkose_, although I spared not such as would injure me or could not keep faith, yet never did I lift hand against any who did well by me. Wherefore now I rejoiced that I had not slain the King--had not slain a sleeping and helpless man at the bidding of a woman, even though that woman were Lalusini.
Sometimes a gloom would settle upon the mind of Dingane. His sun had set, he would declare. The power of Zulu was a thing of the past, now that the nation was divided. But at such times I would say what I could to cheer him, telling him portions of my own story, which, in truth, had been wonderful. The army was scattered. Time was needed to collect it, and that time, I thought, had now arrived. I saw that everything was at hand that the Great One might need, and then I prepared to depart.
"I know not, Untuswa," he said, as I took leave of him. "But for thy faithfulness these many days I might bethink me that soon thou shouldst return at the head of an _impi_ to earn the reward promised by Mpande and the Amabuna to him who should deliver to them the real King--"
But I interrupted; somewhat unbecomingly, I admit:
"If that is thy thought, father, slay me as I stand," and dropping my weapons I advanced a pace or two.
"Nay, nay, Untuswa," he said, "that is what I might have thought, not what I thought," replied the King gently. "Fare-thee-well, Untuswa, and may success be thine. Fare-thee-well, Untuswa, my servant--Untuswa, my friend."
"_Bayete_!" I cried, with right hand aloft. Then I started upon my errand, and more than ever did I rejoice that my spear had remained bright in the face of the entreaties of Lalusini.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
THE STROKE OF SOPUZA.
"_Bayete, Nkulu-nkulu_!
Father! we thy children have found thee at last!
Lo! long have we wandered weeping, but now we are comforted.
Come forth and show us the brightness of thy head-ring."
Thus sang a great half circle of armed warriors, mustered on the slope beneath Dingane"s place of concealment.
Thus again and again they sang, but still Dingane did not appear.
For I had fulfilled my errand, _Nkose_, and this was the result--an array of warriors nearly as large as the original strength of the Amandebeli what time we followed Umzilikazi over the mountains. I had gone hither and thither, had turned night into day, had not spared myself, or feared danger. I had found out and rallied all the scattered bands which at heart had remained faithful to Dingane. I had drawn men from the kraals of Mpande himself, and from beneath the very shadow of the camps of the Amabuna. But one moon had died since I took leave of the King--I alone. Yet here I was, returning at the head of a splendid army--an army nearly as large as that with which Umzilikazi had founded a new nation. In truth, Dingane had not trusted me in vain.
Here were Silwane and Nomapela, and others of the old war-captains.
Here was a remnant of the old Imbele-bele regiment--the Bapongqolo, too, my staunch refugees--and as much of the army as had survived the defeat by Nongalaza. All had in truth thought Dingane to be dead, but as I pa.s.sed through their midst carrying word to the contrary, they had sprung to arms, and mustering swiftly and secretly, had returned to do _konza_ to their rightful King. And here they were.
Now they redoubled their entreaties, singing louder and louder their songs of praise.
Sun of suns, come forth in thy brightness; We thy children sit in darkest night.
If thou wilt not show us thy face.
Lion of Zulu--thy cubs still have teeth, Teeth that are sharpened for war.
This time the King appeared. But before the great burst of _sibonga_ which greeted his presence had died away he turned his back and retired, for by this means he chose to mark his displeasure over their seeming desertion.
Again and again they howled forth their songs of praise and entreaty.
The King appeared again. This time he did not go back. He surveyed them a few moments in silence, then he called:
"Come hither, Untuswa."
I disarmed, and crept up to where he stood.
"Sit here, Untuswa," he said, pointing to the ground at his feet. "This is thy place. For the rest they can still remain at a distance."
So I sat, _Nkose_, thinking how strange it was that I, who had begun my life as the son of an induna, should live to become the princ.i.p.al fighting chief of Umzilikazi"s army, and then come to earn the confidence of the Great Great One, the King of the mighty Zulu nation-- should be bidden to sit near him while all others were kept at a distance--should live to become the most trusted councillor of two mighty Kings; for such I saw was the honour before me now.
Then Dingane, lifting up his voice, addressed the warriors. For the battle against Mpande"s force he commended them greatly. Their bravery was worthy of all praise, and not for lack of it on their part had Nongalaza won the day, having done so by a mere trick--a clever trick, it was true. But when they fled their terror had been too great. They had forgotten their King. One man alone had cleaved to the King, and that man was Untuswa--a wanderer--not even one of themselves. Still, remembering how valiantly they had fought, remembering how speedily they had returned to their rightful place, he would forget that.
The groans wherewith the listeners had heard his reproaches now turned to murmurs of delight. Dingane went on:
The nation was divided, but it must be reunited once more. With such as they whom he saw before him this might soon be done. Men of the pure blood of Zulu could not sit down for long beneath the sway of one who was a mere slave of the Amabuna. They would return--return to the strength and root of the great Zulu power, their rightful King. But those who had remained faithful would ever be held in the highest honour.
As the Great One finished speaking, a mighty roar went up from the a.s.sembled warriors. They hailed him as their guide, their father, their deliverer, and by every t.i.tle of _bonga_. Then much time was given up to songs and dances, for all rejoiced that they were no longer a broken remnant, and that the King was at their head once more.