CHAPTER XV. PART I. When I reached Nodwangu I was taken ill and laid up in my wagon for about a fortnight. What my exact sickness was I do not know, for I had no doctor at hand to tell me, as even the missionaries had fled the country. Fever resulting from fatigue, exposure and excitement, and complicated with fearful headache, caused I presume by the blow which I received in the battle, were its principal symptoms. When I began to get better, Skowl and some Zulu friends who came to see me informed me that the whole land was in a fearful state of disorder, and that Umbalazi's adherents, the Isekosa, were still being hunted out and killed. It seems that it was even suggested by some of the Usutu that I should share their fate. But on this point Panda was firm. Indeed, he appears to have said publicly that whoever lifted a spear against me, his friend and guest, lifted it against him, and would be the cause of a new war. So the Usutu left me alone, perhaps because they were satisfied with fighting for a while, and thought it wisest to be content with what they had won. Indeed they had won everything, for Setawayo was now supreme by right of the Isage, and his father but a cipher. Although he remained the head of the nation, Setawayo was publicly declared to be his feet, and strength was in these active feet, not in the bowed and sleeping head. In fact, so little power was left to Panda that he could not protect his own household, thus one day I heard a great tumult in shouting proceeding apparently from the Izigolo, or royal enclosure and on inquiring what it was afterwards, was told that Setawayo had come from the Amangwe Kral and denounced Nomanslai, the king's wife as Um Takati, or a witch. More in spite of his father's prayers and tears he had caused her to be put to death before his eyes, a dreadful and savage deed. At this distance of time I cannot remember whether Nomanslai was the mother of Um Balazi or one of the other fallen princes. Footnote. On rereading this history it comes back to me that she was the mother of Matunga, who was much younger than Um Balazi. End footnote. A few days later when I was up and about again, although I had not ventured into the Kral, Panda sent a message to me with a present of an ox. On his behalf the man congratulated me on my recovery and told me that whatever might have happened to others I was to have no fear for my own safety. He added that Setawayo had sworn to the king that not a hair of my head should be harmed. In these words. But I wished to kill Water by night because he fought against me. I could have done so at Indondaku Saka.  But I like him well, who is brave and who brought me good tidings that the prince, my enemy, was dead of a broken heart. Moreover I wish to have no quarrel with the White House, the English, on account of Makumazan, so tell him that he may sleep in peace. The messenger said further that Sudhuko, the husband of the king's daughter, Nandi, and Um Balazi's chief in Duna, was to be put upon his trial on the morrow before the king and his council, together with Mamina, daughter of Umbezi, and that my presence was desired at this trial. I asked what was the charge against them. He replied that so far Sudhuko was concerned there were two. First that he had stirred up civil war in the land, and secondly that having pushed on Um Balazi into a fight in which many thousands perished, he had played the traitor, deserting him in the midst of the battle with all his following, a very heinous offense in the eyes of the Zulus, to whatever party they may belong. Against Mamina there were three counts of indictment. First that it was she who had poisoned Sudhuko's child and others, not Masapo, her first husband, who had suffered for that crime. Secondly that she had deserted Sudhuko, her second husband, and had gone to live with another man, namely the late Prince Um Balazi. Thirdly that she was a witch, who had enmeshed Um Balazi in the web of her sorceries and thereby caused him to aspire to the succession to the throne, to which he had no right, and made the Iselilo, or cry of mourning for the dead, to be heard in every crown in Zululand. With three such pitfalls in her narrow path, Mamina will have to walk carefully if she would escape them all, I said. Yes, Nkuzi, especially as the pitfalls are dug from side to side of the path and have a pointed stake at the bottom of each of them, O Mamina is already as good as dead as she deserves to be, who without doubt is the greatest Um Takati north of the Tugala. I sighed for somehow I was sorry for Mamina, though why she should escape when so many better people had perished because of her I did not know. And the messenger went on. The black one, that is, Panda, sent me to tell Saduko that he would be allowed to see you, Makumazan, before the trial if he wished, for he knew that you had been a friend of his and thought that you might be able to give evidence in his favor. And what did Saduko say to that? I asked. He said that he thanked the king but that it was not needful for him to talk with Makumazan, whose heart was white like his skin and whose lips, if they spoke at all, would tell neither more nor less than the truth. The princess Nandi, who is with him, for she will not leave him in his trouble, as all others have done on hearing these words of Saduko's said that they were true, and that for this reason, although you were her friend, she did not hold it necessary to see you either. Upon this intimation I made no comment, for my head thought, as the natives say, that Saduko's real reason for not wishing to see me was that he felt ashamed to do so, and Nandi's that she feared to learn more about her husband's perfidies than she knew already. With Mamina it is otherwise, when on the messenger, for as soon as she was brought here with Zikali, the little and wise with whom it seemed she has been sheltering and learned that you Makumazan were at the crowd, she asked leave to see you. And is it granted? I spoke in hurriedly, for I did not at all wish for a private interview with Mamina. Nay, have no fear, and kuzi, replied the messenger with a smile, it is refused, because the king said that if once she saw you she would bewitch you and bring trouble on you, as she does on all men. It is for this reason that she is guarded by women only, no man being allowed to go near to her, for on women her witcheries will not bite. Still they say that she is merry and laughs and sings a great deal, declaring that her life has been dull up at old Zikali's, and that now she is going to a place as gay as the velled in spring after the first warm rain, where there will be plenty of men to quarrel for her and make her great and happy. That is what she says, the witch who knows perhaps what the place of spirits is like, then as Aminot remarks her suggestions the messenger departed, saying that he would return on the morrow and lead me to the place of trial. Next morning, after the cows had been milked and the cattle loosed from their crowds, he came accordingly, with a guard of about thirty men, all of them soldiers who had survived the great fight of the Amawambe. These warriors, some of whom had wounds that were scarcely healed, saluted me with loud cries of Incusi, and Baba, as I stepped out of the wagon where I had spent a wretched night of unpleasant anticipation, showing me that there were at least some Zulus with whom I remained popular. Made their delight at seeing me, whom they looked upon as a comrade and one of the few survivors of the great adventure was quite touching. As we went, which we did slowly, their captain told me of their fears that I had been killed with the others, and how rejoiced they were when they learned that I was safe. He told me also that after the third regimen had attacked them and broken up their ring a small body of them from eighty to a hundred only, managed to cut away through an escape, running not towards the Tughla, where so many thousands had perished, but up to Nodwangu, where they reported themselves to Pandas, the only survivors of the Amawambe. And you are safe now? I asked of the captain. Oh yes, he answered. You see, we were the king's men, but not Umbalazis, so Setawayo bears us no grudge. Indeed, he is obliged to us because we gave the Usutu their stomachs full of good fighting, which is more than did those cows of Umbalazis. It is towards Sadduko that he bears a grudge, for, you know, my father, one should never pull a drowning man out of the stream, which is what Sadduko did. Or had it not been for his treachery, Setawayo would have sunk beneath the water of death, especially if it is only to spite a woman who hates him. Still perhaps Sadduko will escape with his life, because he is Nandi's husband, and Setawayo fears Nandi, his sister, if he does not love her. But here we are, and those who have to watch the sky all day will be able to tell of the evening weather. In other words, those who live will learn. As he spoke, we passed into private enclosure of the Isigolo, outside of which a great many people were gathered, shouting, talking, and quarreling, for in those days all the usual discipline of the great place was relaxed. Within the fence, however, that was strongly guarded on its exterior side were only about a score of counselors. The king, the prince Setawayo, who sat upon his right, the princess Nandi, Sadduko's wife, a few attendants, two great silent fellows armed with clubs, whom I guessed to be executioners, and seated in the shade in the corner, that ancient dwarf Zikali, though how he came to be there I did not know. Obviously the trial was to be quite a private affair which accounted for the unusual presence of the two slayers. Even my Anna Wombay guard was left outside the gate, although I was significantly informed that if I chose to call upon them they would hear me, which was another way of saying that in such a small gathering I was absolutely safe. Walking forward boldly towards Ponda, who, though he was as fat as ever, looked very worn and much older than I had last seen him, I made my bow whereon he took my hand and asked after my health. Then I shook Setawayo's hand also, as I saw that he was stretched out to me. He seized the opportunity to remark that he was told that I had suffered a knock on the head in some scrimmage down by the Tugala, and he hoped that I felt no ill effects. I answered, no, though I feared that there were a few others who had not been so fortunate, especially those who had stumbled against the Amawambay Regiment, with whom I chanced to be travelling upon a peaceful mission of inquiry. It was a bold speech to make, but I was determined to give him a quid pro quo, and, as a matter of fact, he took it in very good part, laughing heartily at the joke. After this I saluted such of the counsellors present as I knew, which were not many, for most of my old friends were dead, and sat down upon the stool that was placed for me not very far from the dwarf, Sikali, who stared at me in a stony fashion as though he had never seen me before. There followed a pause. Then at some sign from Panda a side gate in the fence was opened and through it appeared Sadduko, who walked proudly to the space in front of the king, to whom he gave the salute Bayette, and a sign sat himself down upon the ground. Next through the same gate, to which she was conducted by some women came Amina, quite unchanged and, I think, more beautiful than she had ever been. So lovely did she look indeed in her cloak of grey fur, her netlet of blue beads, and the gleaming rings of copper which she wore upon her wrists and ankles. At every eye was fixed upon her she glided gracefully forward to make her obeisance to Panda. This done she turned and saw Nandi, to whom she also bowed, as she did so inquiring after the health of her child, without waiting for an answer which she knew would not be about safe. She advanced to me and grabbed my hand, which she pressed warmly, saying how glad she was to see me safe after going through so many dangers, though she thought I looked even thinner than I used to be. Only of Suduko, who was watching her with his intent and melancholy eyes, she took no heed whatsoever. Indeed for a while I thought that she could not have seen him, nor did she appear to recognize at the while, although he stared at her hard enough, but as her glance fell upon the two executioners I thought I saw her shudder like a shaken reed. Then she sat down in the place appointed to her, and the trial began. The case of Suduko was taken first. An officer, learned in Zulu Law, which I can assure the reader, is a very intricate and well-established law. I suppose that he might be called a kind of attorney general, rose and stated the case against the prisoner. He told how Suduko, from a nobody, had been lifted to a great place by the king and given his daughter the Princess Nandi in marriage. Then he alleged that, as would be proved in evidence, that the said Suduko had urged on Umbilazi the prince, to whose party he had attached himself, to make war upon Satawayo. This war having begun at the great battle of Ndondakusuka, he treacherously deserted Umbilazi, together with three regiments under his command, and gone over to Satawayo, thereby bringing Umbilazi to defeat and death. His brief statement of the case, for the prosecution being finished, Panda asked Suduko whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty. Guilty, O King, he answered, and was silent. Then Panda asked him if he had anything to say in excuse of his conduct.  Then why did you desert my son, the prince, in the battle? Ask Panda. Because I saw that the prince Satawayo was a stronger bold and wished to be on the winning side, as all men do, for no other reason. Answered Suduko calmly. Now everyone present stared, not accepting Satawayo. Panda, who, like the rest of us, had heard a very different tale, looked extremely puzzled, why Zikali, in the corner, set up one of his great laughs. After a long pause, at length the King, a supreme judge, began to pass sentence. At least, I suppose, that was his intention. But before three words had left his lips, Nandi rose and said, My father, ere you speak that which cannot be unspoken, hear me. It is well known that Suduko, my husband, was my brother Umbalazi's general and counsellor, and if he is to be killed for clinging to the prince, then I should be killed also, and countless others in Zulu land, who still remain alive because they were not in or escaped the battle. It is well known also, my father, that during the battle Suduko went over to my brother Satawayo, though whether this brought about the defeat of Umbalazi I cannot say. Why did he go over? He tells you because he wished to be on the winning side. It is not true. He went over in order to be revenged upon Umbalazi, who had taken from him Yonder Witch, and she pointed with her finger at Mamina, Yonder Witch, whom he love and still loves, and whom even now he would shield, even though to do so he must make his own name shameful. Suduko sinned, I do not deny it, my father, but there sits the real traitorous, red with the blood of Umbalazi and with that of thousands of others who have so shield gone down to keep him company among the ghosts.  I have spoken, O King, and very proudly and quietly she sat herself down again, waiting for the fateful words. But those words were not spoken, since Panda only said, Let us try the case of this woman, Mamina. Thereon the law officer rose again and set out the charges against Mamina, namely that it was she who had poisoned Suduko's child, and not Masapo, that after marrying Suduko she had deserted him and gone to live with the Prince Umbalazi, and that finally she had bewitched the Sad Umbalazi and caused him to make civil war in the land. The second charge, if proved, namely that this woman deserted her husband for another man, is a crime of death. Broken Panda abruptly, as the officer finished speaking. What need is there to hear the first and the third until that is examined? What do you plead to that charge, woman? Now understanding that the King did not wish to stir up these other matters of murder and witchcraft for some reason of his own, we all turned to hear Mamina's answer. O King, she said in her low, silvery voice, I cannot deny that I left Suduko for Umbalazi the handsome. Any more than Suduko can deny that he left Umbalazi the beaten for Setawayo the conqueror. Why did you leave Suduko? Ask Panda. O King, perhaps because I loved Umbalazi. For was he not called the handsome? Also you know that the Prince, your son, was one to be loved. Here she paused, looking at poor Panda, who winced. Or perhaps because I wished to be great. For was he not of the blood-broil? And had it not been for Suduko, would he not one day have been a king? Or perhaps because I could no longer bear the treatment that the Prince's Nandi dealt out to me. She who was cruel to me and threatened to beat me, because Suduko loved my hut better than her own, asked Suduko, he knows more of these matters than I do, and she gazed at him steadily. Then she went on. How can a woman tell her reasons, O King, when she never knows them herself? A question at which some of her hearers smiled. Now Suduko rose and said slowly, Hear me, O King, and I will give the reason that Mameena hides. She left me for Umbalazi, because I bade her to do so. For I knew that Umbalazi desired her, and I wished to tie the cord together which bound me to one who at that time I thought would inherit the throne. Also I was weary of Mameena who quarreled night and day with the Prince's Nandi, my Inkozikazi. Now Nandi gasped in astonishment, and so did I, but Mameena laughed and said, Yes, yes, O King, those were the two real reasons that I had forgotten. I laughed Suduko because he bade me. He wished to make a present to the Prince. Also he was tired of me, for many days at a time he would scarcely speak to me, because, however kind she might be, I could not help quarreling with the Prince's Nandi. Moreover there was another reason which I had forgotten. I had no child, and not having any child I did not think it mattered whether I went or stayed. If Suduko searches, he will remember that I told him so, and that he agreed with me. Again she looked at Suduko, who said hurriedly, Yes, yes, I told her so. I told her that I wished for no barren cows in my growl. Now some of the audience laughed outright, but Panda frowned. It seems, he said, that my ears are being stuffed with lies, though which of these two tells them I cannot say. Well, if the woman left the man by his own wish, and that his ends might be furthered, as he says, he had put her away, and therefore the fault, if any, is his not hers. So that charge has ended. Now, woman, what have you to tell us of the witchcraft which is said that you practiced upon the Prince who was gone, thereby causing him to make war in the land? Little that you would wish to hear, O King, or that it would be seemly for me to speak, she answered, drooping her head modestly, the only witchcraft that I ever practiced upon Umbalazi lies here, and she touched her beautiful eyes, and here, and she touched her curving lips, and in this poor shape of mine which some have thought so fair, as for a war, what had I to do with war who never spoke to Umbalazi who was so dear to me? And she looked up with tears running down her face. Save of love! O King, is there a man among you who would fear the witcheries of such a one as I, and because of the heavens made me beautiful with the beauty that men must follow, am I also to be killed as a sorceress? Now to this argument neither Pandan nor anyone else seemed to find an answer, especially as it was well known that Umbalazi had cherished his ambition to this section long before he met Mamina, so that charge was dropped, and the first and the greatest of the three proceeded with, namely, that it was she, Mamina, and not her husband Masapo who had murdered Nandi's child. When this accusation was made against her for the first time I saw a little shade of trouble flit across Mamina's soft eyes. Surely, O King, she said, that matter was settled long ago, when then one day Zikali, the great Nyanga, smelt out Masapo the wizard. He who was my husband and brought him to his death for this crime, must I then be tried for it again? Not so, woman, answered Pandan. All that Zikali smelt out was the poison that wrought the crime, and as some of that poison was found upon Masapo he was killed as a wizard, yet it may be that it was not he who used the poison. And surely the King should have thought of that before he died, murmured Mamina. But I forget, it is known that Masapo was always hostile to the house of Senzenka Gona. To this remark Pandan made no answer, perhaps because it was unanswerable, even in a land where it was customary to kill the supposed wizard first and inquire as to his actual guild afterwards, or not at all, or perhaps he thought it polite to ignore the suggestion that he had been inspired by personal enmity. Suddenly he looked at his daughter Nandi, who rose and said, Have I leave to call a witness on this matter of the poison, my father? Pandan nodded whereon Nandi said to one of the counsellors, Be pleased to summon my woman, Nihanna, who waits without. The man went and presently returned with an elderly female who it appeared had been Nandi's nurse, and never having married owing to some physical defect had always remained in her service, a person well known and much respected in her humble walk of life. Nihanna, said Nandi, you are brought here that you may repeat to the king and his council a tale which you told to me as to the coming of a certain woman into my hut before the death of my firstborn son and what she did there. Say first, is this woman present here? I in Co-Sazana, answered Nihanna, yonder she sits, who could mistake her? And she pointed to Mamina who was listening to every word and tently as a dog listens at the mouth of an ant-bear-hole when the beast is suring beneath. Then what of the woman and her deeds? asked Panda. Only this, O king, two nights before the child that his dead was taken ill, I saw Mamina creep into the hut of the Lady Nandi, I, who was asleep alone in a corner of the big hut out of reach of the light of the fire, at the time the Lady Nandi was away from the hut with her son. Knowing the woman from Mamina, the wife of Masapo, who was on friendly terms with the in Co-Sazana, whom I suppose she had come to visit, I did not declare myself, nor did I take any particular note when I saw her sprinkle a little mat upon which the babe Saduko's son was want to be laid with some medicine, because I had heard her promise to the in Co-Sazana a powder which she said would drive away insects. Only when I saw her throw some of this powder into the vessel of warm water that stood by the fire to be used for the washing of the child, and placed something muttering certain words that I could not catch in the straw of the doorway, I thought it strange, and was about to question her when she left the hut, as it happened, O King, but a little while afterwards, before one could count ten tens indeed, a messenger came to the hut to tell me that my old mother lay dying at her crowd for day's journey from Noduengu, and prayed to see me before she died. Then I forgot all about Mamina and the powder and running out to seek the Princess Nandi, I craved her leave to go with the messenger to my mother's crowd, which she granted to me, saying that I need not return until my mother was buried. So I went, but all my mother took long to die, all moons passed before I shut her eyes, and all this while she would not let me go, nor indeed did I wish to leave her whom I loved. At length it was over, and then came the days of mourning, and after those some more days of rest, and after them again the days of the division of the cattle, so that in the end six moons or more had gone by before I returned to the service of the Princess Nandi, and found that Mamina was now the second wife of the Lord Saduko, also I found that the child of the Lady Nandi was dead, and at Masapo the first husband of Mamina had been smelt out and killed as a murderer of the child. But as all these things were over and done with, and as Mamina was very kind to me, giving me gifts and sparing me tasks, and as I saw that Saduko my Lord loved her much, it never came into my head to say anything of the matter of the powder that I saw her sprinkle on the mat. CHAPTER XV After she had run away with the Prince who was dead, however, I did tell the Lady Nandi. Moreover, the Lady Nandi in my presence searched the straw of the doorway of the hut, and found there, wrapped in soft hide, certain medicines such as the nianga cell, where with those who consult them can bewitch their enemies, or cause those whom they desire to love them or to hate their wives or husbands. That is all I know of the story, O King. Do my ears hear a true tale, Nandi? asked Panda.  I think not, my father. See, here is the mootie medicine, which Nihana and I found hid in the doorway of the hut that I have kept unopened until this day. And she laid on the ground a little leather bag, very neatly sewn with sinews, and fastened around its neck with a fiber string. Panda directed one of the counselors to open the bag, which the man did unwillingly enough, since evidently he feared its evil influence, pouring out its contents on to the back of a hide-shield, which was then carried round so that we might all look at them. These, so far as I could see, consisted of some withered roots, a small piece of human thigh-bone, such as might have come from the skeleton of an infant, that had a little stopper of wood in its orifice, and what I took to be the fang of a snake. Panda looked at them and shrank away, saying, Here the Zikali, the old, you who are skilled in magic and tell us what is this medicine. And Zikali rose from the corner where he had been sitting so silently and waddled heavily across the open space to where the shield lay in front of the king. As he passed Mamina she bent down over the dwarf and began to whisper to him swiftly, but he placed his hands upon his big head covering up his ears, as I suppose that he might not hear her words. What have I to do with this matter, O king? Yes. Much, it seems, O opener of roads, said Panda sternly, seeing that you were the doctor who smelt out Masappo, and that it was in your crawl that yonder woman hid herself while her lover, the prince, my son, who is dead, went down to battle, and that she was brought thence with you. Tell us now the nature of this mootie, and being wise as you are, be careful to tell us truly, lest it should be said, O Zikali, that you are not a Nyanga only, but an Um Takati as well. For then, he added with meaning in choosing his words carefully, Perchanso Zikali, I might be tempted to make trial of whether or no it is true that you cannot be killed like other men, especially as I have heard of late that your heart is evil towards me in my house. For a moment Zikali hesitated. I think to give his quick brain time to work, for he saw his great danger. Then he laughed in his dreadful fashion, and said, Oh, the king thinks that the otter is in the trap! And he glanced at the fence of the Izzy Golo and the fierce executioners who stood watching him sternly. Well, many times before has this otter seemed to be in a trap, yes, your father saw Light, O son of Senzan Gakona, and after it also, yet here he stands living, make no trial, O king of whether or no I be mortal. Lest of death should come to such a one as I, he should take many others with him also. Have you not heard the saying that the opener of roads comes to the end of his road? There will be no more king of the Zulus, and when he began his road there was no king of the Zulus, since the days of his manhood are the days of all the Zulus kings. Thus he spoke, glaring at Panda, and at Satawayo, who shrank before his gaze. Remember, he went on, that the black one who has gone down long ago, the wild beast who fathered the Zulu herd, threatened him who he named the thing that should not have been born.  Now, if you would make trial of whether I die as other men die, bid your dogs fall on, for Zikali is ready, and he folded his arms and waited. Indeed all of us waited breathlessly, for we understood that the terrible dwarf was matching himself against Panda and Satawayo and defying them both. Presently it became obvious that he had won the game, since Panda only said, Why should I slay one whom I have befriended in the past, and why do you speak such heavy words of death in my ears, O Zikali the wise which of late have heard so much of death? He sighed, adding, Be pleased now to tell us of this medicine, or if you will not go, and I will sign for an other Nyangas. Why should I not tell you when you ask me softly and without threats, O King? See, and Zikali took up some of the twisted roots. These are the roots of a certain poisonous herb that blooms at night on the tops of mountains, and woe be to the ox that eats thereof. They have been boiled in cowl and blood, and ill will befall the hut in which they are hidden by one who can speak the words of power. This is the bone of a babe that has never lived to cut its teeth. I think of a babe that was left to die alone in the bush because it was hated, or because none would father it. Such a bone has strength to work ill against other babies. Moreover, it is filled with a charm medicine. Look! And pulling out the plug of wood, he scattered some grey powder from the bone, then stopped it up again. This, he added, picking up the fang, is the tooth of a deadly serpent that, after it has been doctored, is used by women to change the heart of a man from another to herself. I have spoken, and he turned to go. Stay, said the king. Who set these foul charms in the doorway of Sadouko's hut? How can I tell, O king, unless I make preparation and cast the bones and smell out the evil door? You have heard the story of the woman Nahana, accept it, or reject it as your hut as you. If that story be true, O Zikali, how comes it that you yourself smell out, not Mamina, the wife of Masapo, but Masapo, her husband, himself, and caused him to be slain because of the poisoning of the child of Nandi? You hair, O king! I, Zikali, smelt out the house of Masapo. Then I smelt out the poison, searching for it first in the hair of Mamina, and finding it in the carouse of Masapo. I never smelt out that it was Masapo who gave the poison. That was the judgment of you and your counsel, O king. Nay, I knew well that there was more in the matter, and had you paid me another fee and paid me to continue to use my wisdom, without doubt I should have found this magic stuff hidden in the hut and may have learned the name of the hider. But I was weary, who am very old, and what was it to me if you choose to kill Masapo or choose to let him go? Masapo, who being your secret enemy, was a man who deserved to die, if not for this matter than for others. Now all the while I had been watching Mamina, who sat in the Zulu fashion, listening to the deadly evidence, a slight smile upon her face, and without attempting any interruption or comment. Only I saw that while Zakali was examining the medicine her eyes were seeking the eyes of Saduko, who remained in his place, also silent, and to all appearance the least interested of any one present. He tried to avoid her glance, turning its head uneasily, but at length her eyes caught his and held them. Then his heart began to be quickly, his breast heaved, and on his face grew a look of dreamy content, even of happiness. From that moment forward to the end of the scene Saduko never took his eyes off the strange woman, though I think that with the exception of the dwarf Zakali, who saw everything and of myself, who had been trained to observation, none noted this curious bi-play of the drama. The king began to speak.  Ye a little word, O king, she answered quietly. Nahana speaks truth. It is true that I entered the hut of Nandi and set the medicine there. I say it because by nature I am not one who hides the truth or would attempt to throw discredit even upon a humble serving woman. And she glanced at Nahana. Then from between your own teeth it is finished, said Banda. Not altogether, O king, I have said that I set the medicine in the hut. I have not said, and I will not say how and why I set it there.  By the words he says I will abide. If he declares that I am guilty, then I am guilty, and prepare to pay the price of guilt. But if he declares that I am innocent then, O king and O prince at the wile, without fear I trust myself to your justice. Now speak, O Saduko, speak the whole truth, whatever it may be if that is the king's will. It is my will, said Banda. And mine also, added Setawayo, who I could see like everyone else was much interested in this matter. Saduko rose to his feet. The same Saduko that I had always known and yet so changed. All the life and fire had gone from him. His pride in himself was no more. None could have known him for that ambitious, confident man in his day of power, the Zulu's named the Self-Eater. He was a mere mask of the old Saduko, informed by some new, some alien spirit. With dull, lackluster eyes fixed always upon the lovely eyes of Mamina in slow and hesitating tones he began his tale. It is true, O lion, he said, that Mamina spread the poison upon my child's mat. It is true that she set the deadly charms in the doorway of Nandi's hut. These things she did, not knowing what she did. And it was I who instructed her to do them. This is the case. From the beginning I have always loved Mamina, as I have loved no other woman, and as no other woman was ever loved. But while I was away with Makumasan, who set Jyander to destroy Bangu, chief of the Amakoba, he who had killed my father. Umbezi, the father of Mamina, he whom the Prince Atawayo gave to Vultures the other day because he had lied as to the death of Umbelazi. He, I say, forced Mamina against her will to marry Masapo the Boar, who afterwards was executed for wizardry. Now, here at your feast when you reviewed the people of the Zulu-so-king, after you had given me the Lady Nandi his wife, Mamina and I met again and loved each other more than we had ever done before. But, being an upright woman, Mamina thrust me away from her, saying, I have a husband who, if he is not dear to me, still is my husband, and while he lives to him I will be true. Then, O king, I took counsel with the evil in my heart, and made a plot in myself to be rid of the Boar, Masapo, so that when he was dead I might marry Mamina. This was the plot that I made, that my son and Prince's Nandis should be poisoned, and that Masapo should seem to poison him, so that he might be killed as a wizard and I marry Mamina. Now, at this astounding statement, which was something beyond the experience of the most cunning and cruel savage present there, a gasp of astonishment went up from the audience. Even O Zikali lifted his head and stared. Nandi, too, shaken out of her usual calm, rose as though to speak, then, looking first at Suduko and next to Mamina, sat herself down again and waited. But Suduko went on again in the same cold-measured voice. I gave Mamina a powder which I had bought for two heifers from a great doctor who lived beyond the Tugala, but who now is dead, which powder I told her was desired by Nandi, my Inko Zikazi, to destroy the little Beatles that ran about the hut, and directed her where she was to spread it. Also, I gave her the bag of medicine, telling her to thrust it into the doorway of the hut, that it might bring a blessing upon my house. These things she did ignorantly to please me, not knowing that the powder was poison, not knowing that the medicine was bewitched.   Afterwards Masapo was smelt out as a wizard by old Zikali, I having caused a bag of the poison to be sown in his garas in order to deceive Zikali and killed by your order, O King, and Mamina was given to me as a wife, also by your order, O King, which was what I desired. Later on, as I have told you, I wearied of her and wishing to please the prince who has wandered away. I commanded her to yield herself to him, which Mamina did out of her love for me and to advance my fortunes. She who is blameless in all things. Saduko finished speaking and sat down again, as an automaton might do when a wire is pulled. His lackluster eyes still fixed upon Mamina's face. You have heard, O King, said Mamina. Now, past judgment, knowing that if it be your will I am ready to die for Saduko's sake. Apanda sprang up in a rage. Take him away, he said, pointing to Saduko.  The executioner's lep forward, and having something to say for I could bear this business no longer, I began to rise to my feet. Before I gained them, however, Zikali was speaking. O King, he said, it seems that you have killed one man unjustly in this matter, namely Masapo. Would you do the same by another? He pointed to Saduko. What do you mean? Past panda angrily. Have you not heard this low fellow whom I made great, giving him the rule over tribes and my daughter in marriage, confess with his own lips that he murdered his child, the child of my blood in order that he might eat a fruit which grew by the roadside for all men to nibble at? And he glared at Mamina. I, child of Senzan Kagona, answered Zikali, I heard Saduko say this with his own lips. But the voice that spoke from the lips was not the voice of Saduko, as were you a skilled Nyanga like me. You would have known as well as I do, and as well as does the white man watcher by night who is a reader of hearts. Hark and now, O King, and you great ones around the King, and I will tell you a story. Matewane, the father of Saduko, was my friend. As he was yours, O King, and when Bangu slew him and his people, by leave of the wild beast, Jaka, I saved the child, his son, I, and brought him up in my own house, having learned to love him. Then when he became a man, I, the opener of roads, showed him two roads, down either of which he might choose to walk. The road of wisdom, and the road of war, and women. The white road that runs through peace to knowledge, and the red road that runs through blood to death. But already there stood one upon this red road who beckoned him, she who sits yonder, and he followed after her as I knew he would. From the beginning she was false to him, taking a richer man for her husband. Then when Saduko grew great, she grew sorry and came to ask my counsel as how she might be rid of Masapo, whom she swore she hated. I told her she could leave him for another man, or wait till her spirit moved him from her path, but I never put evil into her heart seeing that it was there already. Then she and no other, having first made Saduko love her more than ever, murdered the child of Nandi, his inkosikazi, and so brought about the death of Masapo and crept into Saduko's arms. Here she slept awhile, till a new shadow fell upon her, that of the elephant with the tuft of hair, who will walk the woods no more. Him she beguiled that she might grow great the quicker, and left the house of Saduko, taking his heart with her, she who was destined to be the doom of men. Now into Saduko's breast, where his heart had been entered an evil spirit of jealousy and of revenge, and in the battle of Endon Akusuka, that spirit rode him as a white man rides a horse. As he arranged to do with the prince at the waio yonder, nay, deny it not, old prince, for I know all. Did you not make a bargain together on the third night before the battle among the bushes and sat apart when the buck leapt out between you? Here set the waio who had been about to speak through the corner of his carousel over his face. As he arranged to do, I say, he went over with his regiments from the Izikosa to the Usuto, and so brought about the fall of Umbalazi and the death of many thousands. Yes, and this he did for one reason only, because yonder woman had left him for the prince, and he cared more for her than all the world could give him, for her who had filled him with madness as a bowl is filled with milk.  You have heard him shout out that he is vileer than any man in all the land, that he murdered his own child, the child he loves so well to win this witch, that afterwards he gave her to his friend and lord to buy more of his favor. And lastly, he deserted that lord because he thought that there was another lord from whom he could buy more favor. Is it not so, oh king? It is so, answered Panda, and therefore must Sadukko be thrown to the jackals. Wait a while, oh king, I say that Sadukko has spoken not with his own voice, but with the voice of Mamira. I say that she is the greatest witch in all the land, and that she has drugged him with the medicine of her eyes, so that he knows not what he says, even as she drug the prince who is dead. Then prove it, or he dies, exclaimed the king. Now the dwarf went to Panda and whispered in his ear, whereon Panda whispered in turn into the ears of two of his counselors. These men who were unarmed rose and made as though to leave the Izikolo, but as they passed Mamina one of them suddenly threw his arms about her, pinioning her arms, the other tearing off the Karash she wore, for the weather was cold, flung it over her head and knotted it behind her so that she was hidden except for her ankles and feet. Then, although she did not move or struggle, they caught hold of her and stood still. Now Zechali hobbled to Sadukko and bade him rise, which he did. Then he looked at him for a long while and made certain movements with his hands before his face. Afterwards, Sadukko uttered a great sigh and stared about him. Sadukko, said Zechali, I pray you tell me, your foster father, which is true, as men say, that you sold your wife Mamina to the Prince Umbalazi in order that his favor might fall on you with a heavy rain.  She ran away with the Prince, having beguiled him with the magic of her beauty. Strike me not, Sadukko, went on, Zechali, or at least wait to strike until you have answered one more question. Is it true, as men say, that in the battle of Endondah Usuka, that you went over to the Usutu with your regiments because you thought that in Lohufu Enesiluante would be beaten and wished to be on the side of him who won? What, toad, morselander, cried Sadukko, I went over for one reason only, to be revenged upon the Prince because he had taken from me her who was more to me than life or honor. I, and when I went over him while as he was winning, it was because I went that he lost and died, as I meant that he should die. Though now, he added, sadly, I would that I had not brought him to ruin and the dust, who think that, like myself, he was but wet clay in a woman's fingers.  Who, while he breathes, must share his sleep with ghosts that watch him with their angry eyes? The Nandis sprang up and said, Nay, father, listen not to him who is mad and therefore holy. Footnote. The Zulu supposed that insane people are inspired. And footnote. What he has done, he has done. Who, as he has said, was but a tool in another's hand? As for our babe, I know well that he would have died sooner than harm it, for he loved it much, and when it was taken away for three whole days and nights he wept and would touch no food. Give this poor man to me, my father, to me, his wife, who loves him, and let us go hence to some other land where perchance we may forget. Be silent, daughter, said the king, and you, Ozekali, the Nihanga, be silent also. They obeyed, and after thinking a while Panda made a motion with his hand, whereon the two counselors lifted the Karas from off Mamina, who looked about her calmly and asked if she were taking part in some child's game. I, woman, answered Panda, you are taking part in a great game, but not, I think, such as is played by children. A game of life and death. Now have you heard the tale of Zekali the little and wise in the words of Saduko, who was once your husband, or must they be repeated to you? There is no need, O king, my ears are too quick to be muffled by a fur-bag, and I would not waste your time. Then what of you to say, woman? Not much, she answered with a shrug of her shoulders, except that I have lost in this game. You will not believe me, but if you had left me alone I should have told you so, who did not wish to see that poor fool Saduko killed for deeds he had never done. Still the tale he told you was not told because I had bewitched him. It was told for love of me, who he desired to save.  Now what more is there to say? Very little, I think. I did the things that are laid to my charge, and worse things which have not been stated. Oh, I played for great stakes, I who meant to be in Kososana of the Zulus, and as a chance by the weight of a hair I have lost. I thought that I had counted everything, but the hair's weight which turned the balance against me was the mad jealousy of this fool Saduko upon which I had not reckoned. I see now that when I left Saduko I should have left him dead, thrice I had thought of it, once I mixed the poison in his drink, and then he came in weary with his blottings and kissed me ere he drank, and my woman's heart grew soft and I overset the bowl that was at his lips. Do you not remember, Saduko? So, so, for that folly alone I deserve to die, for she who would reign, and her beautiful eyes flashed royally, must have a tiger's heart, not that of a woman. Well, because I was too kind I must die, and after all is said it is well to die, who go hence awaited by thousands upon thousands that I have sent before me, and who shall be greeted presently by your son, in lovu any siluante, and his warriors greeted as the ink Kososana of death, with red lifted spears and with the royal salute. Now I have spoken. Walk, your little road, O king and prince and counsellor, till you reach the gulf into which I sink, that yawns for all of you. O king, when you meet me again at the bottom of that gulf, what a tale you will have to tell me. You who are but the shadow of a king, you whose heart henceforth must be eaten out by a worm that is called love of the lost. O prince and conqueror set away, what a tale you will have to tell me when I greet you at the bottom of that gulf. You who will bring your nation to a wreck, and at last die as I must die, only the servant of others and by the will of others. Nay, ask me not how. Ask, O Zikali, my master, who saw the beginning of your house, and will see its end. O yes, as you say, I am a witch, and I know, I know. Come, I am spent. You men weary me as men have always done, being but fools whom it is so easy to make drunk, and who, when drunk, are so unpleasing. I am tired of you sober and cunning, and I am tired of you drunken and brutal. You who, after all, are but beasts of the field to whom meddling gangi, the creator has given heads which can think, but which always think wrong. Now, king, before you unchain your dogs upon me, I ask one moment. I said that I hated all men yet, as you know no woman can tell the truth. Quite. There is a man whom I do not hate, whom I never hated, whom I think I love because he would not love me. He sits there. And to my utter dismay, and the intense interest of that company, she pointed at me, Alan Quartermain. Well, once by my magic, of which you have heard so much, I got the better of this man, his will and judgment, and because of that soft heart of mine, I let him go. Yes, I let the rare fish go when he was on my hook.  I, Mamina, who never loved to stand out of sight behind the door. Well, when he was at my feet and I spared him, he made me a promise, a very small promise, which yet I think he will keep now, when we part for a little while. Makumazan, did you not promise to kiss me once more upon the lips, whenever and wherever I should ask you? I did, I answered in a hollow voice, for in truth her eyes held me as they had held, Suduko. Then come now, Makumazan, and give me that farewell kiss. The king will permit it, and since I have now no husband, who take death to husband, there is none to say you nay. I rose, it seemed to me that I could not help myself. I went to her, this woman surrounded by implacable enemies, this woman who had played for great stakes and lost them, and who knew so well how to lose. I stood before her, ashamed and yet not ashamed, for something of her greatness, evil though it might be, drove out my shame, and I knew that my foolishness was lost in vast tragedy. Slowly she lifted her languid arm and threw it about my neck. Slowly she bent her red lips to mine, and kissed me, once upon the mouth and once upon the forehead. But between those two kisses she did a thing so swiftly that my eyes could scarcely follow what she did. It seemed to me that she brushed her left hand across her lips, and that I saw her throat rise as though she swallowed something. Then she thrust me from her, saying, Farewell, O Makumazana, you will never forget this kiss of mine, and when we meet again we shall have much to talk of, for between now and then your story will be long. Farewell, Zikali, I pray that all your plannings may succeed, since those you hate are those I hate, and I bear you no grudge because you told the truth at last. Farewell, Prince Edoayo, you will never be the man your brother would have been, and your launt is very evil, you who are doomed to pull down a house built by one who was great.  Nandi, the sweet and forgiving, will nurse you well until your haunted end. Oh, why does Umbalazi lean over your shoulder, Saduko, and look at me so strangely? Farewell, Ponda, the shadow. Now let loose your slayers.  Ponda lifted his hand, and the executioners leapt forward, but ere they reached her, Mamina shivered, threw wide her arms, and fell back. Dead. The poisonous drug she had taken worked well and swiftly. Such was the end of Mamina, child of storm. A deep silence followed, a silence of awe and wonderment, till suddenly it was broken by a sound of dreadful laughter. It came from the lips of Zikali, the ancient. Zikali, the thing that should never have been born. End of Chapter 15 Part 2 Recorded by Keith Salas Mamina, Mamina, Mamina That evening at sunset, just as I was about to trek, for the king had given me leave to go, and at that time my greatest desire in life seemed to be to bid goodbye to Zululand and the Zulus. I saw a strange beetle-like shape hobbling up the hill towards me, supported by two big men. It was Zikali. He passed me without a word, merely making a motion that I was to follow him, which I did out of curiosity, I suppose, for heaven knows I had seen enough of the old wizard to last me for a lifetime. He reached a flat stone about a hundred yards above my camp, where there was no bush in which anyone could hide, and sat himself down pointing to another stone in front of him, on which I sat myself down. Then the two men retired out of earshot and indeed of sight, leaving us quite alone. So you are going away, O Makumazana, he said. Yes I am, I answered with energy, who, if I could have had my will, would have gone away long ago. Yes, yes, I know that, but it would have been a great pity, would it not? If you had gone, Makumazan, you would have missed seeing the end of a strange little story, and you who loved to study the hearts of men and women would not have been so wise as you are today.  I understand, Makumazan, you were always fond of her, were you not?  She was a wonderful witch, was Mamina. And there is this comfort for you, that she pulled at other heartstrings as well. Masappos, for instance, Sadukos, for instance, Umbelazis, for instance, none of whom got any luck from her pulling. Yes, and even at mine. Now, as I did not think it worthwhile to contradict his nonsense so far as I was concerned personally, I went tough on this latter point. If you show affection as you did towards Mamina today, Zikali, I pray my spirit that you may cherish none for me, I said. He shook his great head pityingly as he answered. Did you never love a lamb and kill it afterwards when you were hungry, or when it grew into a ram and butted you, and when it drove away your other sheep, so that they fell into the hands of thieves. Now I am very hungry for the fall of the house of Senzangakona, and the lamb, Mamina, having grown big, nearly laid me on my back today within the reach of the slayer's spear. Also she was hunting my sheep, Saduko, into an evil net whence he could never have escaped. So somewhat against my will I was driven to tell the truth of that lamb and her tricks. I dare say, I exclaimed, but at any rate she is done with, so what is the use of talking about her? Ah, Makumazan, she is done with, or so you think, though that is a strange saying for a white man who believes in much that we do not know, but at least her work remains, and it has been a great work, consider now. Umbalazi are most of the princes and thousands upon thousands of the Zulus, whom I, the Duande, hate, dead, dead, Mamina's work Makumazan, Panda's hand grown strengthless with sorrow and his eyes blind with tears, Mamina's work Makumazan, Setiweo, king in all but name, Setiweo, who shall bring the house of Senzangakona to the dust, Mamina's work Makumazan. Oh, a mighty work, surely she has lived a great and worthy life, and she died a great and worthy death, and how well she did it. Had you eyes to see her take the poison which I gave her, a good poison was it not, between her kisses Makumazan? I believe it was your work and not hers, I blurted out, ignoring his mocking questions. You pulled the strings, you were the wind that caused the grass to bend till the fire caught it, and set the town in flames, the town of your foes.  Yes, yes, I know how to pull strings till the trap falls, and to blow grass until the flame catches it, and how to puff at that flame until it burns the house of kings, and yet this trap would have fallen without me. Only then it might have snared other rats, and this grass would have caught fire if I had not blown. Only then it might have burnt another house. I did not make these forces Makumazan, I did but guide them towards a great end, for which the White House, that is the English, should thank me one day. He brooded a while, then went on. But what need is there to talk to you of these matters Makumazan, seeing that in a time to come you will have your share in them and see them for yourself? After they are finished, then we will talk. I do not wish to talk of them, I answered. I have said so already. But for what other purpose did you take the trouble to come here? Oh, to bid you farewell for a little while Makumazan, also to tell you that Panda, or rather Setiweo, for now Panda is but his voice, since the head must go where the feet carry it, has spared Saduco at the prayer of Nandi, and banished him from the land, giving him his cattle and any people who care to go with him to wherever he may choose to live from henceforth. At least Setiweo says it was at Nandi's prayer, and at mine and yours, but what he means is that after all that has happened he thought it was wise that Saduco should die of himself.  No, no, I mean that his own idlozi, his spirit, should be left to kill him, which it will do in time. You see Makumazan, Saduco is now living with a ghost which he calls the ghost of Umbilazi, whom he betrayed. Is that your way of saying he is mad, Zikali? Oh yes, he lives with a ghost, or the ghost lives in him, or he is mad. Call it which you will. The mad have a way of living with ghosts, and ghosts have a way of sharing their food with the mad. Now you understand everything, do you not? Of course, I answered, it is as plain as the sun. Oh, did I not say you were clever, Makumazan? You who know where madness ends and ghosts begin, and why they are just the same thing? Well, the sun is no longer plain. Look, it has sunk, and you will be on your road who wish to be far from Nodwengu before morning. You will pass the plain of Endondakusuka, will you not, and cross the Tugela by the drift? Have a look round, Makumazan, and see if you can recognise any old friends. Umbilazi, the knave and traitor, for instance, or some of the princes? If so, I should like to send them a message. What, you cannot wait? Well, then here is a little present for you. Some of my own work. Open it when it is light again, Makumazan. It may serve to remind you of the strange little tale of Mameena, with the heart of fire. I wonder where she is now. Sometimes, sometimes. And he rolled his great eyes about him and sniffed at the air like a hound. Farewell, till we meet again. Farewell, Makumazan. Oh, if you had only run away with Mameena, how different things might have been today. I jumped up and fled from that terrible old dwarf, whom I verily believe. No. What is the good of my saying what I believe? I fled from him, leaving him seated on the stone in the shadows, and as I fled out of the darkness behind me, there arose the sound of his loud and eerie laugh. Next morning I opened the packet which he had given me after wondering once or twice whether I should not thrust it down an ant-bear hole as it was. But this somehow I could not find the heart to do, though now I wish I had. Inside, cut from the black core of the Unzebeti wood, with just a little of the white sap left on it to mark the eyes, teeth and nails, was a likeness of Mameena. Of course it was rudely executed, but it was, or rather is, for I still have it, a wonderfully good portrait of her. For whether Zikali was, or was not, a wizard, he was certainly a good artist. There she stands, her body a little bent, her arms outstretched, her hand held forward with the lips parted, just as though she were about to embrace somebody, and in one of her hands cut also from the white sap of the Unzebeti, she grasps a human heart, Sadukos I presume, or perhaps Umbelazes. Nor was this all, for the figure was wrapped in a woman's hair, which I knew at once for that of Mameena. This hair being held in place by the necklace of big blue beads she used to wear about her throat. Some five years had gone by, during which many things had happened to me that need not be recorded here, when one day I found myself in a rather remote part of the Umvoti district of Natal, some miles to the east of a mountain called the Elan's Kopchi. Whether I had gone to carry out a big deal in Mili's, over which, by the way, I lost a good bit of money. That has always been my fate when I plunged into commercial ventures. One night my wagons, which were overloaded with these confounded weaverly Mili's, got stuck in the drift of a small tributary of the Tugela. That most, inopportunely, had come down in flood. Just as darkness fell I managed to get them up the bank, in the midst of a pelting rain that soaked me to the bone. There seemed to be no prospect of lighting a fire or of obtaining any decent food, so I was about to go to bed suppolous, when a flash of lightning showed me a large crawl, situated upon a hillside about half a mile away, and an idea entered my mind. Who is the headman of the crawl? I asked one of the cave fears, who had collected round us, in our trouble, such as idle fellows always do. Chosa, Incusi, answered the man. Chosa, Chosa, I said, for the name seemed familiar to me. Who is Chosa? Ikona, I don't know, Incusi. He came from Zululan some years ago, with Taduka the Mad. Then, of course, I remembered at once, and my mind flew back to the night when old Chosa, the brother of Matiwani, Taduka's father, had cut out the cattle of the Bangu, and we had fought the battle in the path. Oh, I said, is it so? Then leave me to Chosa, and I will give you a Scotchman. That is, a true shilling peace, so called, because some enterprising emigrant from Scotland passed off a vast number of them, among the simple natives of Natal, as substitutes for half-crowns. Tempted by this liberal offer, and it was very liberal, because I was anxious to get to Chosa's crawl, before its inhabitants went to bed, the meditative cave fear consented to guide me by a dark and devious path, that ran through bush and dripping fields of corn. At length we arrived, for if the crawl was only half a mile away, the path to it covered fully two miles, and glad enough was I, when we had waded the last stream and found ourselves at its gate. In response to the usual inquiries conducted amid a chorus of yapping dogs, I was informed that Chosa did not live there, but somewhere else, that he was too old to see anyone, that he had gone to sleep, and could not be disturbed, that he was dead, and had been buried last week, and so forth. Look here, my friend, I said at last to the fellow who was telling me all these lies. You go to Chosa, in his grave, and say to him, that if he does not come alive instantly, Makumazan will deal with his cattle as once he dealt with those of Bangu. Impressed with the strangeness of this message, the man departed, and presently in the dim light of the rain-washed moon, I perceived a little old man running towards me, for Chosa, who was pretty ancient at the beginning of this history, had not been made younger by a severe wound at the Battle of the Tugela, and many other troubles. Makumazan, he said, is that really you? Why, I heard that you were dead long ago, yes, and sacrificed an ox for the welfare of your spirit. And ate it afterwards, I'll be bound, I answered. Oh, it must be you, he went on, who cannot be deceived, for it is true we ate that ox, combining the sacrifice of your spirit with a feast. For why should anything be wasted when one is poor? Yes, yes, it must be you, for who else will come creeping about a man's crawl at night, except the watcher by night? Enter Makumazan and be welcome. So I entered and ate a good meal while we talked over old times. And now, where is Saduko, I asked, suddenly as I lit my pipe. Saduko, he answered, his face changing as he spoke.  Why, well, to tell the truth, because after the part we had played against my will, Makumazan, at the Battle of Endodakusuka, I thought it safer to be away from a country where those who have worn their choruses inside out find many enemies and few friends. Quite so, I said, but about Saduko. Oh, I told you did I not. He is in the next hut and dying. Dying? What of, Choza? I don't know, he answered mysteriously, but I think he must be bewitched. For a long while, a year or more, he has eaten little and cannot bear to be alone in the dark. Indeed, ever since he left Zululand, he has been very strange and moody. Now I remembered what Old Zikali had said to me years before, to the effect that Saduko was living with a ghost, which would kill him. Does he think much about Umbilazi's Choza? I asked. Oh, Makumazana, he thinks of nothing else. The spirit of Umbilazi is in him day and night. Indeed, I said, can I see him? I don't know, Makumazana. I will go and ask the Lady Nandi at once, for if you can, I believe there is no time to lose. And he left the hut. Ten minutes later he returned with a woman. Nandi the sweet herself, the same quiet, dignified Nandi, whom I used to know, only now somewhat worn with trouble and looking older than her years. Greeting Makumazana, she said, I am pleased to see you, although it is strange, very strange, that you should come here just at this time. Saduko is leaving us on a long journey, Makumazana. I answered that I had heard so with grief, and wondered whether he would like to see me. Yes, very much, Makumazana. Only be prepared to find him different from the Saduko whom you knew. Be pleased to follow me. So we went out of Shosa's hut, across a courtyard to another large hut, which we entered. It was lit with a good lamp of European make.   His eyes were covered with his hand, and he was moaning. Drive him away! Drive him away!  Would you drive away your old friend Makumazana, Saduko? Asked Nandi, very gently. Makumazana, who hath come from far to see you. He sat up, and the blankets falling off him showed me that he was nothing but a living skeleton. Oh, how changed from that lithe and handsome chief whom I used to know!  Is it really you, Makumazana? he said in a weak voice. Come then, and stand quite close to me, so that he may not get between us. And he stretched out his bony hand. I took the hand. It was icy cold. Yes, yes, it is I, Saduko, I said in a cheerful voice. And there is no man to get between us. Only the Lady Nandi, your wife, and myself are in the hut. She who watched you has gone. Oh, no, Makumazana, there is another in the hut whom you cannot see. There he stands, and he pointed towards the hearth. Look, the spear is through him, and his plume lies on the ground. Through whom, Saduko? Whom, why the Prince Umbilazi whom I betrayed from Amina's sake? Why do you talk wind, Saduko? I asked. Years ago I saw, in Lovu any Siloanty, die. Die, Makumazana, we do not die. It is only our flesh that dies. Yes, yes, I have learned that since we parted. Do not remember his last words. I will haunt you while you live, and when you cease to live, ah, then we shall meet again. Oh, from that hour to this he has haunted me Makumazana. He and the others, and now, now we are about to meet, as he promised. Then once more he hid his eyes and groaned. He is mad, I whispered to Nandi. Perhaps, who knows, she answered shaking her head. Saduko uncovered his eyes. Make the thing that burns brighter, he gasped, for I do not perceive him so clearly when it is bright. Oh, Makumazana, he is looking at you and whispering. To whom is he whispering? I see, to Mamina, who also looks at you and smiles. They are talking. Be silent, I must listen. Now I began to wish I were out of that hut, for really a little of this uncanny business went a long way. Indeed, I suggested going, but Nandi would not allow it. Stay with me till the end, she muttered. So I had to stay, wondering what Saduko heard and Belazi whispering to Mamina, and on which side of me he saw her standing. He began to wander in his mind. That was a clever pitch you dug for Bangu, Makumazana, but you would not take your share of the cattle, so the blood of the Amakoba is not on your head. Ah, what a fight that was, which the Amawambi made at Endon Daku-suka. You were with them, you remember, Makumazana. And why was I not at your side? Oh, then we would have swept away the Yuzutsu as the wind sweeps ashes. Why was I not at your side to share the glory? I remember now, because of the daughter of Storm, she betrayed me for Umbilazi, and I betrayed Umbilazi for her. And now he haunts me, whose greatness I brought to the dust, and the Usuto-Wolf, Setiweo, curls himself up in his form and grows fat on his food, and, and Makumazana, it has all been done in vain, from Amina hates me. Yes, I can read it in her eyes.  And she says that, that it was not her fault, because she loves, because she loves. A look of bewilderment came upon his face, his poor, tormented face. Then suddenly, Saduko threw his arms wide, and sobbed in an ever-weakening voice. All, all done in vain. Oh, Mamina, Mamina, Mamina, and fell back, dead. Saduko has gone away, said Nandi, as she drew a blanket over his face. But I wonder, she added with a little hysterical smile. Oh, how I wonder who it was the spirit of Mamina told him, that she loved. Mamina, who was born without a heart. I made no answer, for at that moment I heard a very curious sound, which seemed to me to proceed from somewhere above the hut. Of what did it remind me? Ah, I knew. It was like the sound of the dreadful laughter of Zikali, opener of roads. Zikali, the thing that should never have been born. Doubtless, however, it was only the cry of some storm-driven nightbird. Or perhaps it was Nihayina that laughed, and Hyena that scented death. End of Chapter 17 End of Child of Storm by H. Rider Haggard