Finished by H. Rider Haggard (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

first he saw the Yellow-wood Swamp and got the idea into his head that he would kill some one there, which happened in due course.

“Do you mean that you think you are going to kill somebody else?” I asked anxiously.

“No,” he answered, “I think I am going to be killed, or something like it, probably by that accursed old villain of a witch-doctor, who I don’t believe is altogether human.”

“Others have thought that before now, Anscombe, and to be plain, I don’t know that he is. He lives too much with the dead to be like other people.”

“And with Satan, to whom I expect he makes sacrifices. The truth is I’m afraid of his playing some of his tricks with Heda. It is for her I fear, not for myself, Allan. Oh! why on earth did you come here?”

“Because you wished it and it seemed the safest thing to do. Look here, my boy, as usual the trouble comes through a woman. When a man’s single—you know the rest. You used to be able to laugh at anything, but now that you are practically double you can’t laugh any more. Well, that’s the common lot of man and you’ve got to put up with it. Adam was pretty jolly in his garden until Eve was started, but you know what happened afterwards. The rest of his life was a compound of temptation, anxiety, family troubles, remorse, hard labour with primitive instruments, and a flaming sword behind him. If you had left your Eve alone you would have escaped all this. But you see you didn’t, and as a matter of fact, nobody ever does who is worth his salt, for Nature has arranged it so.”

“You appear to talk with experience, Allan,” he retorted blandly. “By the way, that girl Nombe, when she isn’t star-gazing or muttering incantations, is always trying to explain to Heda some tale about you and a lady called Mameena. I gather that you were introduced to her in this neighbourhood where, Nombe says, you were in the habit of kissing her in public, which sounds an odd kind of a thing to do; all of which happened before she, Nombe, was born. She adds, according to Kaatje’s interpretation, that you met her again this afternoon, which, as I understand the young woman has been long dead, seems so incomprehensible that I wish you would explain.”

“With reference to Heda,” I said, ignoring the rest as unworthy of notice, “I think you may make your mind easy. Zikali knows that she is in my charge and I don’t believe that he wants to quarrel with me. Still, as you are uncomfortable here, the best thing to do will be to get away as early as possible tomorrow morning, where to we can decide afterwards. And now I am going to sleep, so please stop arguing.”

As I have already hinted, my attempts in the sleep line proved a failure, for whenever I did drop off I was pursued by bad dreams, which resulted from lying down so soon after supper. I heard the cries of desperate men in their mortal agony. I saw a rain-swollen river; its waters were red with blood. I beheld a vision of one who I knew by his dress to be a Zulu king, although I could not see his face. He was flying and staggering with weariness as he fled. A great hound followed him. It lifted its head from the spoor; it was that of Zikali set upon the hound’s body, Zikali who laughed instead of baying. Then one whose copper ornaments tinkled as she walked, entered beside me, whispering into my ear. “A quarter of a hundred years have gone by since we talked together in this haunted kloof,” she seemed to whisper, “and before we talk again face to face there remain to pass of years”—

Here she ceased, though naturally I should have liked to hear the number. But that is just where dreams break down. They tell us only of what we know, or can evolve therefrom. Of what it is impossible for us to know they tell us nothing—at least as a general rule.

I woke up with a start, and feeling stifled in that hot place and aggravated by the sound of Anscombe’s peaceful breathing, threw a coat about me and, removing the doorboard, crept into the air. The night was still, the stars shone, and at a little distance the embers of the fire still glowed. By it was seated a figure wrapped in a kaross. The end of a piece of wood that the fire had eaten through fell on to the red ashes and flamed up brightly. By its light I saw that the figure was Nombe’s. The eternal smile was still upon her face, the smile which suggested a knowledge of hidden things that from moment to moment amused her soul. Her lips moved as though she were talking to an invisible companion, and from time to time, like one who acts upon directions, she took a pinch of ashes and blew them, either towards Heda’s hut or ours. Yes, she did this when all decent young women should have been asleep, like one who keeps some unholy, midnight assignation.

Talking with her master, Zikali, or trying to cast spells upon us, confound her, I thought I to myself, and very silently crept back into the hut. Afterwards it occurred to me that she might have had another motive, namely of watching to see that none of us left the huts.

The rest of the night went by somehow. Once, listening with all my ears, I thought that I caught the sound of a number of men tramping and of some low word of command, but as I heard no more, concluded that fancy had deceived me. There I lay, puzzling over the situation till my head ached, and wondering how we were to get clear of the Black Kloof and Zikali, and out of Zululand which I gathered was no place for white people at the moment

It seemed to me that the only thing was to make start for Dundee on the Natal border, and for the rest to trust to fortune. If we got into trouble over the death of Rodd, unpleasant as this would be, the matter must be faced out, that was all. For even if any witness appeared against us, the man had been killed in self-defence whilst trying to bring about our deaths at the hands of Basutos. I could see now that I was foolish not to have taken this line from the first, but as I think I have already explained, what weighed with me was the terror of involving these young people in a scandal which might shadow all their future lives. Also some fate inch by inch had dragged me into Zululand. Fortunately in life there are few mistakes, and even worse than mistakes that cannot be repaired, if the wish towards reparation is real and earnest. Were it otherwise not many of us would escape destruction in one form or another.

Thus I reflected until at length light flowing faintly through the smoke-hole of the hut told me that dawn was at hand. Seeing it I rose quietly, for I did not wish to wake Anscombe, dressed and left the hut. My object was to find Nombe, who I hoped would be still sitting by the fire, and send her to Zikali with a message that I wished to speak with him at once. Glancing round me in the grey dawn I saw that she was gone and that as yet no one seemed to be stirring. Hearing a horse snort at a little distance, I made my way towards the sound and in a little bay of the overhanging cliff discovered the cart and near by our beasts tied up with a plentiful supply of forage. Since so far as I could judge in that uncertain light, nothing seemed to be wrong with them except weariness, for three of them were still lying down, I walked on to the gate of the fence which surrounded Zikali’s big hut, proposing to wait there until some one appeared by whom I could send my message.

I reached the gate which I tried and found to be fastened on its inner side. Then I sat down, lit my pipe and waited. It was extraordinarily lonesome in that place; at least this was the feeling that came over me. No doubt the sun was up behind the Ceza Stronghold that I have mentioned, which towered high behind me, for the sky above grew light with the red rays of its rising. But all the vast Black Kloof with its huge fantastic rocks was still plunged in gloom, whereof the shadows seemed to oppress my heart, weary as I was with my wakeful night and many anxieties. I was horribly nervous also and, as it proved, not without reason. Presently I heard rustlings on the further side of the fence as of people creeping about cautiously, and the sound of whispering. Then of a sudden the gate was thrown open and through it emerged about a dozen Zulu warriors, all of them ringed men, who instantly surrounded me, seated there upon the ground.

I looked at them and they looked at me for quite a long while, since following my usual rule, I determined not to be the first to speak. Moreover, if they meant to kill me there was no use in speaking. At length their leader, an elderly man with thin legs, a large stomach and a rather pleasant countenance, saluted politely, saying—

“Good morning, O Macumazahn.”

“Good morning, O Captain, whose name and business I do not know,” I answered.

The winds know the mountain on which they blow, but the mountain does not know the winds which it cannot see,” he remarked with poetical courtesy; a Zulu way of saying that more people are acquainted with Tom Fool than Tom Fool is aware of.

“Perhaps, Captain; yet the mountain can feel the winds,” and I might have added, smell them, for the Kloof was close and these Kaffirs had not recently bathed.

“I am named Goza and come on an errand from the king, O Macumazahn.”

“Indeed, Goza, and is your errand to cut my throat?”

“Not at present, Macumazahn, that is, unless you refuse to do what the king wishes.”

“And what does the king wish, Goza?”

“He wishes, Macumazahn, that you, his friend, should visit him.”

“Which is just what I was on my way to do, Goza.” (This was not true, but it didn’t matter, for, if a lie, in the words of the schoolgirl’s definition, is an abomination to the Lord, it is a very present help in time of trouble.) “After we have eaten I and my friends will accompany you to the king’s kraal at Ulundi.”

“Not so, Macumazahn. The king said nothing about your friends, of whom I do not think he has ever heard any more than we have. Moreover, if your friends are white, you will do well not to mention them, since the order is that all white people in Zululand who have not come here by the king’s desire, are to be killed at once, except yourself, Macumazahn.”

“Is it so, Goza? Well, as you will have understood, I am quite alone here and have no friends. Only I did not wish to travel so early.”

“Of course we understand that you are quite alone and have no friends, is it not so, my brothers?”

“Yes, yes, we understand,” they exclaimed in chorus, one of them adding, “and shall so report to the King.”

“What kind of blankets do you like; the plain grey ones or the white ones with the blue stripes?” I asked, desiring to confirm them in this