Shaka the Great (24 page)

“Majesty …” ventures Mbopa.

“Speak,” says Shaka.

Given the absence of other suspects, they cannot know for certain that this one
didn't
actually kill Ntokozo. Yet at the same time they have all learned to trust the Induna's judgment …

“Yes, yes,” says Shaka, his impatience sounding real, for all that this is another prearranged exchange, “but I am still not hearing any suggestions.”

“I say keep him here, Majesty.” Are not new regiments being formed during this First Fruits? Vala looks the right age to join one of the groups of conscripts, therefore put him with them. What does Mdlaka think?

“It would certainly mean we can keep an eye on him, Majesty.”

“Very well, then,” says Shaka, “you have persuaded me!”

Addressing the accused: “You!”

“The King speaks!” says Mbopa.

Slowly Vala raises his head. Even though the youngster must have heard their discussion, Shaka tells him what he has decided.

Vala dips his head and surprises them all by saying: “I thank your Majesty!”

“Aiee! It speaks!” says Mdlaka.

“So it does,” says Shaka. “We might yet make a Zulu out of you, boy!”

But Vala must remember this, says Shaka: if he applies himself, he will be fairly treated and will have the opportunity to rise through the ranks; but if he tries to flee, he will be hunted down and killed on the spot.

Now let Mdlaka summon one of his own indunas to take the boy to where the conscripts are quartered. Mhlangana's men can also consider themselves dismissed, but they may stay the night and enjoy the capital's hospitality before returning to the prince. As for the Induna … Shaka grins. He is to remain here, for the King he serves so loyally has a surprise for him.

In fact, it's nothing of the sort for the Induna and his former udibi, although both will, of course, humor the King. As happenstance would have it, the Induna encountered his former udibi late yesterday afternoon, just a ridge away from the city. The latter had been sent toward the kingdom's eastern border, to bring back three traders who had been robbed and also the man they accused of being involved in the robbery—although he hadn't actually stolen anything from them, or even knew the bandit who had. It was complicated, the boy told the Induna, after they had exchanged effusive greetings. And was this the one responsible for killing Sebenzi and his father? he asked, as Mhlangana's warriors made Vala join the four men who had been traveling with the udibi.

No, chuckled the Induna, that matter was finished with. This … this was something else entirely.

“Ah,” said the boy. Returning his attention to Vala, he had the impression the prisoner had been staring at him and had averted his eyes, turned away, only when he realized the udibi was about to look his way. And the boy caught a glimpse of a scar—a flattened ridge, the skin around it pink—just before one of the traders blocked his line of vision.

The men with the boy wanted to know why they were suddenly surrounded by armed guards.

“Think of them as guides who will lead you to the Great Place,” suggested the Induna, his firm gaze enough to reduce their protestations to a series of harrumphs. They were to go on ahead, added the Induna, for he and his young friend had important matters to discuss.

“If that is the …” he began, turning back to the boy. “What is wrong?”

The boy frowned, shook his head. “It is nothing, Master.”

“Are you sure? I have seen that look many times before. Something is bothering you.”

“It is nothing, Master.”

“Aiee,” said the Induna, as they too began to make their way toward the capital, “I do not blame you for being somewhat out of step. For, as I was going to say, if that is the way your companions behaved all the way here, I am surprised they are still alive!”

“I am surprised
I
am still alive! A more garrulous, quarrelsome bunch would be hard to find.”

“Look who we have here, Nduna!” He turned to the young warrior: “Eshé, Little One—although, truly, you are not so little any more.” By the standards of Zulu society, the Induna's former udibi is still regarded as a boy—an insizwa, or hornless ox—because he hasn't taken the isicoco, but he's almost seventeen summers old and a man in every other respect.

“What do you think, Nduna?”

“This is so, Majesty.”

“Aiee,” says the King, “and is it true they call him Mthunzi, the Shadow, as he is the Shadow of the Shadow?”

“This is so, Majesty,” says the boy.

Hai, but the way he is growing, the shadow's shadow will soon be bigger than the shadow itself, says the King, earning a chuckle that ripples outward as the jest is repeated.

“But tell me, Mthunzi, does your head not ache? Do your fingers not bleed? For Mbopa here tells me this is a tough knot you bring before me.”

“Truly, that is for you to decide, Majesty, but I think you will find your fingers especially supple this morning!”

“Aiee,” Shaka is addressing the Induna, “I taste a strange brew here. He speaks and I hear your voice, but also something of a certain general we all mourn.”

The Induna smiles. “I do not know about my voice, but you are right about the general's, Majesty.”

“You are too modest, Nduna. You have taught this one well.” Shaka extends his right arm. “But let these old women approach, for I can see they can barely restrain themselves.”

“You may enter the presence of our Father,” calls out Mbopa.

Four men jog forward, and each one tries to outdo the others in being the first to throw himself on to his belly at Shaka's feet.

Shaka sighs, flaps away the dust, then raises his hand to restrain Mbopa who is moving in to kick the nearest head.

“Let those who come seeking my judgment in this matter stand up.”

Slowly, gingerly, knowing they've come close to getting themselves impaled before they've even said a word, the three men to Shaka's right clamber to their feet. They strive to appear contrite—for having dared to allow their dust to touch the King—yet indignant—for this is after all their moment. They have been wronged and are here to see that justice is done.

Mthunzi speaks each one's name but Shaka's already forgotten it before the man in question has finished bobbing his head. It's easier to think of them as Big Buttocks, Broken Nose and Long Legs.

“You have come seeking my judgment, as is your right?”

Each proffers a bowed head. “Yes, Majesty.”

“What has gone before matters not. What matters is what is decided here and now. This you know, for it is the way of our people. I merely remind you, for I see the outrage in your eyes,” continues Shaka. “What matters is what is decided here and now, and what is decided here and now is the end of the matter. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Majesty,” says Big Buttocks.

“Yes, Majesty,” says Broken Nose.

“Yes, Majesty,” says Long Legs.

“Good. Mthunzi—the accused!”

The boy nudges the man lying closest to him, with his foot. “You heard the Bull Elephant. Arise!”

The man obeys, and stands with his head bowed.

“This is he, Majesty. The accused.”

“Very well,” says Shaka, “tell me what has led to this dispute.”

“Majesty,” says the boy, pointing to the plaintiffs, “these three were taking hides and ivory to trade with the Maputos, when they met another party led by a man called Vulani. He was with his brother, and they were going the same way.”

“These three were together?” asks Mdlaka. “They did not know Vulani?”

“That is correct, General. These three are friends and, along with their sons, were traveling together, when they metVulani and his brother, who were strangers to them. However, Vulani said that he had heard Beja the bandit was abroad, so it was suggested they travel together.”

“Aiee—Beja again!” says Shaka. “How many times must I kill him?”

Mention of the bandit's name causes the men to fall silent for a moment, as the Induna, his udibi, Shaka and Mdlaka, Mbopa and the other counselors all start remembering …

Then, seeking to guide their thoughts away from the smell of burning thatch, avert their eyes from the tangled bodies and the babies, especially the babies, Mdlaka speaks up: “Who suggested they travel together?”

“Mdlaka,” interrupts Mbopa, “but I do not see the relevance of—”

“No,” says Shaka, “that is a good question.”

“Indeed it is, Majesty,” says Mthunzi, “and one I asked, too.”

Shaka grins. “Let me see, it was one of these three who made that suggestion. Is that so?” he asks the three men.

Hesitant nods and crestfallen expressions.

“Please continue, Shadow of the Shadow …”

“Indeed, Majesty.” A day later the party had come to the accused's homestead, where they were made welcome, fed, and offered a hut for the night. The homestead was two sleeps away from the nearest Maputo kraal and, while they were breaking their fast, Vulani said he'd been thinking …

These Maputos and their Portugiza brothers were always looking for ways to cheat honest Zulus, so why not get their own back for once?

Here's what they should do, suggested Vulani. They'd leave the bulk of their wares with their host, and travel to the Maputo village with a few hides of lesser quality than the others, and there see what they were offered for them. The Maputos were likely to laugh and tell them what they might have received were their hides better, or
if they had brought ivory instead. In this way they'd get a more accurate indication of what hides and ivory were really worth. Then they'd return to the homestead, fetch their wares and take them back to the Maputos, and now be in a better position to barter.

“And they thought this would work,” sneers Mbopa.

“Apparently,” says the boy.

But if they went along with his plan, where would they leave the rest of the hides and the tusks they had brought with them? Vulani thought about this for a moment …

“Vulani?” interrupts Shaka.

“Vulani, Majesty.”

“Continue.”

Vulani had considered the matter and said perhaps the merchandise could be left with the accused, their host. Assuming he could be trusted, of course.

“And who asked that question?”

“Vulani, Majesty.”

“Ah!”

“These three had stayed with Kolo before. They therefore knew him and they vouched for him.”

“Little did we know!” mutters Big Buttocks.

“Silence!” orders Mbopa.

So he was honest, continues the boy, ignoring the interruption. That was all very well for them to say, remarked Vulani, but
he
didn't know Kolo. No offense, Brothers, but how did he know they weren't working together to rob him?

“However, he had a solution,” says Shaka.

“Yes, Majesty, they'd make a pact. They'd leave the hides and ivory with their host, and Kolo was only to hand them back when all four came to claim them.”

“Aiee, I can see what's coming next,” says Mbopa.

“Yes.” Shaka nods. “They left and were gone a day, say?”

“Yes, Majesty,” says Mthunzi.

“Then Vulani came racing back, saying the hides and ivory were needed?”

“Yes, Majesty.” Vulani had said a party of Portugiza happened to be right there at the Maputo kraal. They'd never have a better opportunity, for the Portugiza would give them more than the Maputos ever would.

“And this fool,” says Shaka pointing to the accused, “gave him all of the hides and the ivory. What say you, are you a fool?”

A meek nod. “I
was
a fool, Father,” says Kolo. “But he was very insistent and I thought … Well, he said they stood to profit, and I thought who was I to stand in their way.”

“But these other three knew nothing! Or, rather, all they knew was that Vulani and his brother had vanished when they woke up that same morning. What say you, Nduna?”

“I say you are right, Majesty,” says the Induna. “And they were lucky to awake at all, for I'm sure Vulani and his brother would have preferred there to be no witnesses to raise the alarm.”

Yet that is something Beja would have done, says Shaka. He had something of the Trickster about him, that one, and this is surely proof that Vulani was trying to imitate the legendary bandit.

“This is so, Majesty, for see the angry confusion he left behind him!” says Mbopa, indicating the three dour plaintiffs and woebegone accused. “Beja would have found that prospect almost as enticing as the theft itself.”

“Majesty, if I may?”

“Of course, speak!”

“He also couldn't be sure Kolo would hand over the wares,” says Mthunzi. “In which case three dead traders would have been an even bigger problem for Vulani.” The boy grins. As there was just him and his brother, while the traders were accompanied by assorted sons, he might also have felt a little outnumbered, he adds.

“This is so,” says Shaka. “All they needed was for one to come awake and give the alarm, if they had tarried to kill. Aiee, Nduna, you have taught him well. And you are right, too, Mdlaka. But never fear, we'll have men set on this one's trail this very afternoon, and it won't be long before I see him lying at my feet.”

But, adds Shaka, they have not yet addressed this trio's grievance.

He fixes his gaze on Big Buttocks. “You were robbed, it is so. But surely you do not mean to imply that this man”—he indicates the accused—“who you know, and whose hospitality you seem to have accepted before, is one of Vulani's accomplices?”

“Speak!” says Mbopa.

“N-no,” says Big Buttocks, the admission clearly bitter in his mouth.

“But …” begins Long Legs.