The White Shield. Mitford Bertram
than the lowest of the Amaholi – until those who shed this blood at my gates are made known. Wherefore, now, Masuka, hasten to rid us of them, so that we may sleep in peace once more. There are yet those who have not been within touch of the wand.”
A dead silence of eagerness and awe fell upon all the people at these words. For the only ones who had not been within touch of the witch-finder’s wand were the izinduna grouped at the side of the King, and the izanusi themselves. Could it be that from these more victims were to be chosen? A flash of anxiety was to be seen on the faces of more than one of the councillors; and I, from where I stood, a little way down the circle of armed men, saw just such a shade of fear flit across that of Tyuyumane. My father’s lined features, however, only puckered into a contemptuous grin. But before Masuka had time to obey the King’s behest, Notalwa rushed forward howling that now was the time for him and his “dogs” – that the stranger’s múti had been tried, and that now it was his own turn.
Kalipe was standing near the Great Great One, and as the head izanusi thus bounded forward he advanced a pace, and I could see that he held his broad umkonto gripped, and in readiness. So, too, did the picked warriors ranged at his back; and I, who knew what underlay all this, was likewise prepared to spring up, and deal forth death. But Umzilikazi changed not a muscle, as he sat playing with his broad-bladed spear, similar to the one which he had bestowed upon me. Yet in his eyes burned a soft and cruel light, as he met the glowering glances of Notalwa and the izanusi.
“Patience!” he said, softly and pleasantly, waving these back. “Proceed, Masuka.”
The old Mosutu muttered a few words to one of his young assistants, who started off in the direction of the magician’s hut, and presently reappeared, bearing upon his head a large bowl of burnt clay. This was lowered to the earth, and now I knew that something terrible would be manifested; for I had already looked into that bowl myself, and terrible things had been shown me, which, indeed, came to pass, as you know, Nkose.
The bowl was half-filled with some black yet shining, liquid; and over this old Masuka crouched, spreading forth his skinny and clawlike hands; now chanting high, shrill snatches of a strange song, now muttering incantations in an unknown tongue. Then he looked up.
“Draw near, Black Elephant, thou ruler of the world,” he said. “Look in the face of this múti, and say what thou seest.”
Umzilikazi rose, and, advancing with majestic step, stood, and with head slightly bent, gazed downward into the bowl. All the people held their breath for awe.
“I see a face,” he said. “Yes; it is the face of a man having a ring on. Hither, Mcumbete! Look with me. Whose is the face?”
The old induna, his brow clouded with anxiety, advanced to the side of the King.
“Hau!” he cried, with a start of amazement. “It is indeed a face, Great Great One. It is the face of Ncwelo.”
A deep murmur of awe went up from all who heard. Ncwelo, though a chief of some influence, was not an induna. His place at the head of his people was near me. Glancing at him, I could see that his look was that of a man who knows himself to be already dead.
“Look again, Mcumbete,” said the King. “I see another face. Whose is it?”
“Ha!” cried the old induna, trembling with awe. “It is the face of Senkonya.”
A cruel smile played upon the King’s lips as he bade him look again.
“It is the face of Ntelani, Great Great One,” almost yelled the old induna.
“Look again, Mcumbete, look again,” laughed the King.
“I see now Tyuyumane,” faltered the old man. “Ha,” he went on, with a gasp. “Now I see a head, and it is wreathed in snakes – a head, a face. It is the face of Notalwa, the chief of the izanusi.”
The terror-stricken countenance, the shaking limbs, of the old induna were too true, too real, for any suspicion of make-believe. There was a silence of indescribable awe upon all who heard, all who beheld. It was broken by Notalwa.
Uttering hideous yells, the head isanusi leaped in the air, dancing and roaring, bellowing forth all his incantations and wizardry. Stripping off his zebra robe, he gashed himself until his body streamed with blood, mouthing out wild predictions as to the fate that would speedily befall our race for supplanting its own sorcerers in favour of the magic of a stranger. But the King, with a frown, bade him cease his bellowing, for he might early need all his magic for himself. The others named sat still as stones, but their demeanour was various. Upon the face of my father Ntelani, was the set drawnness of despair, but it was the courage of a dogged despair; fierce, fearless to the last. Senkonya, too, looked as one who had already tasted death, but Tyuyumane, ah! his look was that of one who had tasted death a hundred times over. He was a tall, strong man, with a sullen and evil face, very near in blood to the King – indeed, it had been whispered, though cautiously – that he was an elder son of Matyobane. Now he showed signs of strong and restless fear. His glance rolled to right and to left, as though seeking means of escape. But behind each of those thus named had stealthily closed up a group of armed warriors.
And now the attention of all was diverted to old Masuka, who had fallen into one of his trances, and was mouthing wildly. Then he began to speak. He told of a pool, overhung by rocks, and whose waters reflected the stars and the waning moon. He told of the assembling of men by stealth, and of the tramp of horses, of the talking together of men who wore head-rings, and of men who wore large hats. Then he described so exactly the indaba which we had witnessed – the Great Great One and I – that it seemed he must have been present concealed on the spot where we had lain and listened to it. But all this he told in a very low, and scarcely audible, voice, only to be heard by such few as were immediately bending over him, among whom was myself; for the King had beckoned me to his side. Then, when he had finished, he lay as still as though dead, and the faces had faded out of the múti bowl, whose contents were as smooth and shining as before.
“I think we have heard enough,” said Umzilikazi. Then turning to the izimbonga, he bade them cry aloud to the people to depart, but that, until the third day after the new moon, none should venture beyond the chain of the furthest tattle-posts. And the people leaped gladly to their feet, shouting the Bayéte, for their hearts were light again. Death had passed through their ranks, yet there were still many left.
As for those izinduna who were named last, few at that time knew what their fate was, or what became of them, nor yet of Notalwa, the head of the izanusi, who lay at first pretending to be dead. But I knew; likewise did I know that every one of those who had gone forth that day to the hill of slaughter was concerned in the treasonable plot which had for its object the death of the King. Yet, because of its mystery, and the witch-finding on such a large scale, and the slaughter of so many warriors as abatagati, a great fear rested upon all the people for many days. And the marvellous power of Masuka as a magician was in the minds of all; for, of course, none knew that the Great Great One and I had witnessed that dark and treasonable midnight gathering; nor, indeed, that any had.
Chapter Five.
The Boer Laager
It was our custom, Nkose, when a man was smelt out as umtagati, that his whole family and kraal should be eaten up too; but Umzilikazi, who loved not killing for its own sake, except in war, forbore to observe this custom in its entirety. He spared the relatives of those who had been named, allowing their wives and children to live, only exacting a fine of cattle from each house. But the case of Ncwelo he regarded as the worst of the lot; for Ncwelo occupied a position of trust at an important outpost; and this position he had turned to account by hatching treason; wherefore, immediately upon his being named, a party of armed men was sent out to put every one of his house to the assegai – even to his very dogs – and to sweep off all his cattle into the royal herds. The same fate fell upon the house of Notalwa; but, as regarded the others, the Great Great One was of opinion that sufficient example had been made.
Now, although it meant death to whisper a word as to what had become of those five principal