Asiyikuza sababona."

["Thou art in among the enemy.

_We_ shall never get a right of him."]

Louder and louder it swelled, uttered in fierce, jerky roars, as the roars of ravening beasts who can no longer be restrained from their prey. Then the red mist was before all eyes. The host of Nongalaza was singing, too; but for that we had no ears, only eyes for the body of our foe. Our warriors now swung forward at a run, the ranks steadied and kept in line by the warning word of an induna, or a sub-captain.

Otherwise none spoke.

Now they are before us. Their appearance is even as that of ourselves.

They have the same shields, the same broad spears, the same discipline.

But their courage? Ha! We have that--we, the chosen, we, the faithful.

Now we are among them; there is the slap of shield meeting shield, the tramp of struggling feet, the soft tearing of spear ripping flesh. Ha!

The red blood is flowing; warriors go down by hundreds--beaten to earth--ripped as they lie--as many of ours as of theirs. The savage, gargling groan of the dying, as they strive to drag themselves upward, and, spear in hand, die fighting still--the death-hiss of their slayers--the "_I-ji_!" that thrilling whistle that shakes the air--the laboured panting of those who strive--the shiver and clash of hard wood and the crunch of bone, as the heavy k.n.o.b-sticks meet other hard wood, or perchance a skull--these are the sounds that turn the air itself verily warring. But neither side gives way--neither side yields a foot's breadth--or, if so, it is but for a moment, to charge again in renewed fury.

Again and again this happens. No advantage can either side gain. Both strive with equal fury; both trained in valour and discipline under the same training. _Whau_! there will be none left to tell of this battle, so surely shall we make an end of each other.

Now I, with the Bapongqolo, being in command of the left "horn" of our army, am striving to surround that of the enemy, though his numbers are almost as great as our own, and in this I am partially succeeding. But what is the other "horn" doing? By this time we have gained some slightly rising ground, and now I can see. Ha! Can it be? Those on that side are fighting against us--fighting against their own brethren-- fighting against their King. _They have gone over to the side of Nongalaza_.

But, so far from disheartening our people, this traitorous defection acts differently. Umhlela, watching and partly directing the battle from a little distance off, gives the word, and himself at the head of the force he has been holding in reserve, charges furiously upon these traitors, rolling them back upon the thick of Nongalaza's force, and throwing the latter into confusion. Umhlela is a small man and old, but never was there a braver one. He is in the hottest of the battle, and they whom he leads follow like lions. The tossing of shields, and the tramp and pushing of striving feet, shakes both earth and air. Ha!

Umhlela is down. A wounded warrior, supposed to be dead, has sprung to his feet, and with last stroke has cleft the brave induna through the heart. But the rallying cry on the dying lips: "On, children of Zulu!

The Lion watches you," thrills our people with renewed strength. Now we gain. The rebels are giving way. Now is the time. We press them harder and harder. Not hundreds now, but thousands lie slain, or writhing in death-throes. They are beginning to withdraw. The day is ours.

Is it? Ha! What is that shout, gathering in volume as it rolls along behind the rebel army--heartening those in front to face us more fiercely.

"They come, the Amabuna! The Amabuna are at hand!"

We who hear it can see Nongalaza riding on horseback along his rank--he and other of Mpande's indunas--and with shout and gesture they point behind them, then wave their men on. And in the distance can be heard the rattle of the discharge of guns.

"They come, the Amabuna!"

That cry loses us the day. The younger regiments waver, fall into confusion, and flee. The men of the Imbele-bele--a splendid ringed regiment--stand their ground. So, too, do the Bapongqolo. Then we have work to do. One glance behind us, and we can see the land covered with fleeing fugitives; but the spot whence the King watched the battle is empty. We have saved the King.

Well, we are doomed. Thick and fast our warriors fall, being hugely outnumbered, and it wants but the coming of the Amabuna to make an end of us completely.

Now Nongalaza came riding along in my direction, where I, at the head of the Bapongqolo, stood at bay, and waved on his army, crying aloud that they should make an end of us, at all events. So seeing the rebel host--which now was stronger than we--sweeping up to surround us, I gave the word to retreat, and not too soon either, for we had to fight our way through the closing "horns." But the land on that side was broken, and seamed with dongas; and Nongalaza's people, tumbling over each other in their hurry and confusion, were less quick than we. Yet many were slain in that rout, and ere night fell the land seemed alive with pursuers and pursued. But I set my face in the direction of the Ngome forests, where my outlawry had been spent. There, I knew, were holes and retreats wherein not all the men of Nongalaza twice over would succeed in finding me.

And, as night fell, the dull red glow of burning kraals lit up the land, and from afar you could hear the exultant war-song--the song of victory.

Yet not altogether, for the song of Mpande was the song of bondage too, in that he, a prince of the House of Senzangakona, had purchased his kingship dear; for he had purchased it at the price of doing _konza_ to the Amabuna, in order to be allowed to hold it--in order to sit in the seat of Tshaka the Mighty, and of the warrior-king Dingane, who, however, might even yet be heard of again.

The slaughter on either side that day was immense, _Nkose_. Yet not by might or by bravery did Nongalaza win that victory. Oh, no! He won it by a trick. Had he not cried that the Amabuna were at hand, we should not have given way. But up till then we had gained no great advantage, and the approach of these people, who could gallop into our very midst and discharge their guns without harm to themselves, took all heart out of our warriors, already hard pressed by the forces of Nongalaza, nearly equal as these were to our own. So we fled, and lost the day. Yet we need not have, for the Amabuna were not really coming. But a good general will despise no method of s.n.a.t.c.hing a victory, and Nongalaza was right.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A HARD ORDEAL.

"Waken, Untuswa!"

The whisper was soft, so, too, was the touch, yet I sprang to my feet, grasping my spear. But at the same moment my grasp on it relaxed, for before me stood Lalusini.

Wearied with the hard fierce fighting of the day, I had crept into a secure hiding-place beneath a rock overhung with all manner of undergrowth, and had slept soundly. Yet my dreams had been full of warring and battle, and now my great a.s.segai was clotted and foul with blood, and more than one deep gash on body or limb felt stiff and smarting.

But all thought of myself seemed at an end as I looked at Lalusini.

There was a hard fierce look upon her face such as I had never seen there before, and in it I saw a strong likeness to Dingane.

"The time has come, Untuswa," she said shortly. "Take thy spear, look well to its point, and follow me."

"That I will gladly do, Lalusini," I answered. "But, as we travel, tell me, what work is before me now?"

"One stroke of thy broad spear--the King's a.s.segai--ha, ha! it is well named--it will be a royal weapon indeed! One stroke of thy broad spear and we shall be great together, great even as I have often predicted to thee. Come! Let us hasten."

There was an eager fierceness in her tone and manner that kept me marvelling; however, I would see what her plan was.

She led the way--not speaking. We pa.s.sed beneath spreading forest trees, where the thick undergrowth impeded our advance, and the silence of the shade was only broken by the call of birds. It seemed as though men's feet had never trodden here; yet I knew the spot, for this was one of the very refuges I had at first thought of running for myself.

"There," said Lalusini, in a quick, fierce whisper, pointing with her hand. "Strike hard and true. So shall we be great together."

I went forward. In front was a low cliff, hanging over as though it had intended to form a cave, but was not quite sure of its own mind. Under the shelter thus formed, just screened from view in front by a dense growth of scrub lay the form of a man.

Cautiously I peered through the bushes, then put them aside. The form, which was turned away from me, did not stir. Noiselessly I stepped beside it, and then as I bent down to gaze into the face, I could hardly forbear a start. It was the face of Dingane--the face of the King.

Yes; it was the Great Great One himself. He was sound asleep, his head pillowed on one hand, interposed between it and the rock. But how came he here, he who moved armed men in their countless might--he before whom the nations trembled and hid their heads--how came he here, in hiding and alone?

But was he alone? It seemed so, for I could descry no sign--no sound of the presence of men. And while I thus gazed, again that soft whisper breathed into my ear, "Strike, and strike hard! So shall we be great together!"

Strike! Nothing could have been easier. The large form lay there without movement, the heave of the breast, above the heart, turned towards me as though inviting the stroke. Yet, as I gazed, the n.o.ble majesty on the countenance of the sleeping King seemed to paralyse my arm. One blow, and Lalusini, by her sorcery, aided by my own warrior prowess, might set me upon Dingane's seat. Yet, I could not do it.

Then I thought the sleeper stirred.

"He wakes," I whispered, withdrawing again behind the bushes. Lalusini followed me.

"And art thou so weak, Untuswa?" she said. "_Au_! For this have I laboured, for this have I plotted and exercised my magic until it was nearly too much forme. Yet not all for greatness, but for revenge. The blood of Tshaka the Mighty flowed over the spear of Dingane; now shall the blood of Dingane flow over thy spear!"

Still I moved not, and she went on:

"The blood of that Mighty One from whom I am sprang, and who caused me to learn my magic that through it vengeance might fall, shall it not be avenged? The time has come for which I have waited and striven. Now go, and make an end of it, Untuswa, so shall we be great together; else canst thou be great alone--or small--with no help from me."

Now I nerved myself. That which she seemed to threaten looked too terrible, for in truth, by her I was as one bewitched.

"Go, Untuswa. My _muti_ is upon him. He will not waken too readily,"

she whispered, in her sweetest of tones, gently pushing me towards the cave once more.

Again I parted the bushes and peered through; again I stood over the sleeping King. A great white shield lay almost beneath him, and two broad a.s.segais had slid from his relaxed grasp. I raised my spear--No, I could not do it.

Had he been awake, and standing up, the deed would be an easy one at that moment; but alone, deserted, and asleep--no, I could not thus slay him.

And then I thought of the favour he had shown me, even to allowing me the chance of escaping to the Bapongqolo, what time Tambusa and Umhlela had striven to compa.s.s my death. I thought how he had spared me, spared the Bapongqolo, and had raised me to honour when all men trembled at his frown; and now that he lay here, a deserted fugitive, I could not turn against him. His life lay within my hand, yet I could not take it. No, not to win greatness for myself; not even to retain Lalusini's love.

"Farewell, Untuswa!" came that soft whisper behind me. "Farewell; we may meet no more."