Forging the Blades Part 23

"Is that your name among them?" asked Denham, as they rode along.

"Inkosazana?"

"No," answered Verna, laughing merrily. "It's only a t.i.tle. Inkosikazi is 'chieftainess,' and would be used for the princ.i.p.al wife of a chief.

Inkosazana is a diminutive of it, and would be used for a chief's daughters. In a word 'Miss.'"

"I see. I shall really have to learn--under your tuition."

"You really will," she answered. And then they talked on as they rode home in the drooping day; and the evening lights shed full and varying upon the roll of landscape, the voices of wild Nature coming up from mysterious forest depths on either side, and the presence of this splendid girl beside him set Denham again thinking that this first day was nearly, if not quite, the most marvellous experience he had yet known.

Ben Halse had returned before they had. At table Verna was giving an account of their ride, mentioning, of course, their meeting with the Zulu. Denham could not help noticing that his host's interest quickened at once.

"Mandevu!" he repeated. "What's he doing in these parts, I wonder? Did he say, Verna?"

"Not he. He was as close as an oyster."

"Why, he was at Ezulwini the other day."

"Who is he, Mr Halse?" asked Denham. "A chief?"

"In a small way, yes. But--Well, this is a rum part of the world--far more so than you'd think, coming in upon it from the outside, and there are rum things done every other day that n.o.body knows anything about. I wouldn't tell every one that, but, then, we seem to be standing in together, you and I, or rather the three of us. So I don't mind letting on that the presence of Mandevu in these parts just now does set me thinking a bit."

Denham didn't care to push his inquiries, not then, at any rate. But the appearance of the mysterious Zulu had set _him_ thinking too. Of which, however, he said nothing to his host.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

RETRIBUTIVE.

The rumble of unrest was rolling like the wave of an earthquake. It was hard to say where it began, but the tribes throughout the northern half of Natal were saturated with its spirit, and it was widespread in Zulu land. The authorities watched it with more anxiety than they cared to disclose, but even they had not fathomed the extent of its ramifications. They knew, for instance, that Sapazani was disaffected, but they did not know that Malemba the a.s.segai-maker was kept busy day and night, and that a bevy of young men was ever present at his kraal, to bear off, under cover of darkness, the bundles of weapons barely cool from the forge. They did not know, either, of the weighty and mysterious loads delivered stealthily at another kraal of Sapazani's, a small one, in the most inaccessible recesses of the Lumisana forest.

These had been delivered independently of the agency of Ben Halse, who on this occasion had held out firmly against the tempting offer. In fact, Ben Halse did not know himself, he only suspected.

The said authorities were fully alive to the desirability of arresting Sapazani, but between desirability and advisability there is something of a gulf fixed. For such a course would be tantamount to firing the train. That chief and his powerful following up in arms--for it was certain that he would not submit to arrest tamely--would simply mean that other plotting tribes would throw off all disguise and join him without reserve. The position was growing acute.

In the small kraal just mentioned sat Sapazani at night, and others with him. Before him, on the ground, were several of the loads referred to, and as their wrappings were undone the chief's eye glistened as they fell on the contents. The young men who had brought them in were squatting in the background, drinking large draughts of _tywala_. A fire burning in the centre of the open s.p.a.ce illuminated the domed huts, and the broad face of the full moon threw an additional light upon the dark group. Not a soul could have surprised the place, for armed pickets were stationed all round at out lying distances.

"This is good, Mandevu," Sapazani was saying. "Now when we get them among the trees and rocks will these do their work? For my part I like not such way of fighting, but did not Opondo tell us of that nation in the north--that which went forth under Umzilikazi? When they fought the whites in the old way they were shot down before they could get near enough to strike a blow, but when they waited for their enemy to come to them in the mountains, instead of going to him first, then they killed many with such as these. Ah, ah! and so it will be again."

"And when we have fought enough, and each killed our white man, there are those across the seas who will give us peace," said Mandevu.

"Opondo has said it, and others."

"The White King is angry with the people of this land," went on Sapazani. "He has withdrawn his soldiers, and there are only _Nongqai_ left. Those we shall easily eat up. They are scattered about in threes and fours."

"I know not, brother. There are those who say that we shall not surprise the whites, that they know more than we think they do--that they can bring all the _Nongqai_ together in a moment, and pour other forces upon us as well."

"Not if we all strike together. The people beyond Tukela should be able to give them plenty to do while we eat up all the whites on this side."

"Not if our plans are made known to them as fast as they are laid, brother," said Mandevu, meaningly. "There is treachery in our midst."

Sapazani's face grew grim, and he and the other continued their conversation in a lower tone still. Then the chief gave some orders, and in accordance therewith the rifles and pistols and ammunition were carefully and cunningly hidden beneath the floors of two huts. And the band prepared to march. No cheap "trade" guns were these, but up-to-date magazine, .303's for the most part, and the ammunition was mostly the deadly, expanding Dum-dum. The agency that caused all these to be supplied--crafty, cruel, vengeful--may readily be guessed at.

The party filed through the gloom, the latter lighted here and there by a silvery network of moonlight piercing through the tree-tops. All were armed, but presently they would deposit their weapons in a safe hiding-place just on the outskirts of the forest. There was not much talk, and presently the glow of a fire was seen in front. Instinctively the band came to a halt. The apparition was patent of two interpretations. Either it meant a police patrol, and if so, their own presence here at such an hour was somewhat suspicious. Or, well, it was a thing of _tagati_, for, as we have said, the forest was a place to be avoided at night, and no one but themselves would have been likely to come into it.

"Go forward, my children," commanded Sapazani, who had been walking behind. "We will rest by yon fire."

They were astonished, but made no remark. Just before they reached it the chief gave a rapid order in a low undertone to a couple of young men who were nearest to him. These again had to conceal their astonishment, which was great.

A few minutes more and they arrived at the fire, beside which two men were squatting. No sooner was the party well within the circle of light than these sprang up, and threw themselves upon one of the new arrivals.

Two more came to their aid, and in a moment the a.s.sailed one, in spite of his powerful struggles, was borne to the earth and securely tied.

Again astonishment was the part of most of the onlookers, but their father and chief was present. The matter rested with him. The bound man lay, his eyes starting from his head, a picture of amazement combined with fear. Sapazani stood gazing down upon him in silence.

"Why art thou afraid, Sebela?" he said in an even tone.

"_Nkose_! I am afraid because I seem to have come under the frown of my father and chief," answered the man. "But I have done no wrong."

"No wrong? _Hau_! And is treachery no wrong?" said the chief, his tone now stern and denunciatory.

"Treachery? Now has some evil person been poisoning the ears of my father," replied the prisoner, who fully realised the desperate strait he was in. "I would like to see that person."

"Evil person, indeed; but he did not live long after his treachery had been found out. But he was a Kafula, and thou, Sebela, art one of ourselves. _Whau_, Sebela!"

"_Whau_, Sebela!" roared the squatting group in abhorrent contempt.

"But if he is dead he cannot speak now, my father," pleaded the other, grasping at a straw. "It is only the word of one man, and he is a liar."

"We shall see. First of all, what is the name of the other man who was with thee at Ezulwini?"

"Now it is of some one else my father is talking. Not for a long time past have I been at Ezulwini, and then it was alone," was the answer.

"That is the first lie," said Sapazani. Then turning to the others, "A dog who betrays his father's house, what should be his fate?"

A roar went up--savage, vengeful, simultaneous.

"The fire! Give this dog to us, father. There is the fire all ready."

Sapazani nodded. Willing, ferocious hands were upon Sebela. He was dragged to the glowing wood and stretched right against it, yet not before with his only available weapons he had bitten two fingers of one of his torturers nearly off.

"Is it warm enough, Sebela?" said the chief. "If it is, name, then, the other man who helped thee to sell thy father's house to the whites."

The wretched victim writhed hideously in the grasp of those who held him, indeed, so powerful were his struggles that it was all they could do to hold him down at all. He uttered no cry, but his wet face and rolling eyeb.a.l.l.s and bared teeth testified to the agony he was undergoing. The spectators, their most savage pa.s.sions aroused, gazed gloatingly on.

"Name him, name him, Sebela, that thy torments may cease," repeated Sapazani.

"Pandulu."

The name burst forth in a tone that was half gasp, half shriek. The agony of the wretch had become too great for the endurance of even a barbarian. At a sign from the chief he was dragged away from the fire.

"That for the one," said the latter. "Now for the other. Name the other, Sebela."