Shaka the Great (58 page)

“Now
that
is obvious.
That
is easy to see.”

“Brothers, please,” says the Induna, “lower your voices. You are disturbing our hosts.”

“My apologies, old friend,” says Dingane. “We would certainly not want to disturb our hosts.”

“Yes, that might be dangerous to their health.”

“Aiee, there you go again, Njikiza. They are not the crazy ones here.
You
are.”

“That may be, but they are crazier still.”

“Why?” hisses Dingane. “What makes you say that?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Obvious how?”

“They are crazy because they have let us inside their kraal.”

“They are … This makes them … They have let the four of us into their kraal, and you say
they
are crazy? Are you blind? Look …
Look!
”

“Easy, easy,” murmurs the Induna.

“See how many they are!” exclaims Dingane, but lowering his voice. “They are everywhere.”

“So? We are Zulus.”

“Yes, but we are
four
Zulus, and they are … everywhere.”

“You have a point.”

“Ah! At last, understanding dawns.”

“Yes, it
is
unfortunate. We are three too many.”

Dingane's response starts at the back of his throat as a growl, and ends with lips pursed in an explosion of exasperation.

“Why is that worrying?” asks Radebe, who's been following this exchange with interest.

“The praise singers will likely think this day not worth mentioning,” explains Njikiza, the Watcher of the Ford. “For, truly, to praise our deeds here will be like … I don't know, like remarking on the setting of the sun—which really shouldn't surprise anyone.”

Aiee! Shaka willing to parley? That amounts to surrendering. Can this be? See how the praise singers hide their faces. Some are even weeping! The Bull Elephant, Father of the Sky, what is he thinking? Aiee! Who can penetrate the wall of silence that surrounds him? Who dares even try? And Mgobozi? Where is he? Some say he has headed south, saying better the savage Xhosas than a spineless Zulu king. He's taken most of the Fasimba impi with him. They, too, are disgusted.

Oh, Father, Father—what is happening?

Mbopa! Can't he do something? Hai, but the King's prime minister stands mute on the other side of a barrier of silence. And Mdlaka, our commander-in-chief, even he is powerless. Even he can only stand beside Mbopa and watch the King from beneath furrowed brows.

Father, Father—why are you doing this? Are we carrion already, and do you merely await the coming of the vultures?

Vultures? They say that what you found that day, wading through Zulu blood, broke your spirit, shattered your blade. They say you claim this is for our own good, this bending of the knee, but how can that be? You would bow to a murderer, yet how can you trust anything he says?

Father, Father—why, why, why?

Nandi! Pampata! Perhaps they can … But, no, they are far away already, with the children and the other women, being taken to safety by Nqoboka. Hai! Will anywhere be safe for them, once we have fallen? You must see that! As you must have heard the mutterings, Father: only cowards bend the knee and we, your lions, your loyal soldiers, would fight … would rather die fighting, even if it means disobeying you. You—and we—cannot give up this easily! But here we sit, on our shields, and there you are … Do you shun us, your loyal children?

“He toys with me, like a lion with its prey. But, no, even a lion is not that cruel. What say you, Nduna, old friend?”

The Induna's response is to pull Dingane further away from the sentries. Further into the darkness.

“I say, old friend, that you need to watch what
you
say. Your brother, our Father, does you a great honor!”

“Aiee! I don't even think Fat Mbopa could make me believe that, and he has a way with these things. He could make you believe you're standing in a downpour, a deluge, even as the dust swallows your feet and your stomach is hollow and your mouth as dry as the fields around you. What honor, old friend? He sends me merely because I am expendable.”

“He sends you to convince Ngoza of his sincerity.”

“Indeed! I am to be an offering!”

“Come, come, you know that is not true.”

“Hai, I know you admire my brother—and I do not hold that against you. I cannot hold that against you, for you show respect to the Bloodline. But I am not Zwide, so do not now seek to make me an offering of my brother's shit and tell me I must be grateful for this fine repast.”

“But there you have it, old friend, the Bloodline. The delegation must be led by one of the Bloodline. This is why Mgobozi cannot go, or Mbopa …”

“They are too valuable to the King.”

“No, because they are not of the house of Zulu.”

Dingane turns away, gazes up at the hill they must climb tomorrow, a dark mass filling the sky.

“Why doesn't he just kill me and have done with it? Why this slow torture?”

“Hai! He does you a great honor!”

“Are we even talking about the same person? Because honor and my name, those are not cattle we'll ever see in the same kraal, as far as he's concerned.”

“But, old friend, you must see how important you are to the success of this undertaking. This is why I speak of honor.”

The prince shakes his head. “And yet again you do it. There is thunder, but you tell me it is elephants crossing the sky. Do not try to console me as if I'm a child.”

“I don't mean to, but think of what it means to
them
,” says the Induna jutting his chin in the direction of the sentries outlined by the glow of the campfires. “The men are nervous and confused enough as it is. Just let them see you ready to do your duty, and they'll be a little mollified. The Bull Elephant must know what he's doing, they'll say, for he sends his brother to speak with the Thembus.”

“More likely they'll say my brother has at last decided to get rid of me!”

“But who says his Majesty wants to get rid of you? That's nonsense!”

“How do you know? Who are you to speak with such certainty?”

“I know, because it's so obvious …”

“Obvious?”

“Yes. You snap at his heels like a little dog. You pull faces at his back—and sometimes to his face. Or else you make a point of being morose and sullen in his presence. In short, old friend, you do not bother to hide your animosity. It's clear to everyone, including his Majesty. Don't you see, if he wanted to get rid of you, he would have done so long ago!”

The Place of the Buffalo lies on a plateau that rises gently to the north, and it comprises a series of concentric circles. In the outer ring are the huts of vassals, who congregate here seeking safety, in return for working the fields and other menial tasks. This ring is protected by a palisade of poles lashed together; the wall that separates the outer from the inner ring is much higher and sturdier. In fact, it's not a true circle, but an octagon with towers at each of the corners, joined by walkways from which defenders can repel invaders. Next come the huts of those who regard themselves as true Thembus. In the two lower arcs, which meet at the main gate to the south, are the huts of Ngoza's legions and their dependents. Then come the dwellings of the civilians: the graybeards and the married men who've done their time in the army.

In the very center of the city, and surrounded by a thorn fence, are situated the cattlefold and the chief's compound. But, unlike in a Zulu city, these do not form the main focus of attention. Instead, one's eyes are drawn to the highest point in the settlement where, several meters in from the outer perimeter fence, and protected by its own palisade, there stands a large dome. This is where Ngoza receives visitors. It's surrounded by several huts, some of which are for important guests, while others house servants and bodyguards, or serve as storerooms, but all of them are dwarfed by the large thatched dome. Its apex reaches higher than the watchtowers, while the fact that it's sited at the very top of the slope makes it seem even bigger. A forest of stout poles support the dome, surrounding the meeting place in the center. At the apex of the dome, an opening almost the diameter of a normal hut provides illumination, but the large structure also has no outer wall. Instead, depending on the weather and the amount of privacy required, skins can be hung to create a temporary screen. Decorated with markings not unlike those found in the caves once inhabited by the Old Ones, each is said to
represent a Thembu victory on the field of battle, and it takes many such skins to turn the big roof into a big hut.

This structure can therefore be said to symbolize Thembu power, resting on or arising from military might, and supported by that might. And not only can it be seen from all parts of the city, but visitors are escorted to it down a wide avenue that bisects the capital, and which seems to magnify the size of the dome even further. The avenue starts about a kilometer away from the main gate, at the very edge of the plateau. In this part of its course it is a broad track, with an even wider swathe of land on either side, comprising an expanse of stubble and dark brown earth stolen from the dense bush that grows on the slopes of the plateau. This tangle is still very much in evidence to the east and west, where it's been left to form an almost impenetrable barrier that would make an assault from either side all but impossible, assuming an enemy could send enough men up the steep slopes undetected.

To the south, the plateau drops away in a gradient that's slightly steeper than the anterior slope. This rear portion of the plateau is also much smaller, and comprises grassland, with the bush continuing along the western and eastern fringes until reaching the cliff face that is the table's southern edge. This is where the city draws its water. It comes up from a spring, flows into a large, shallow pool, and drops a level into a smaller pool, before flowing over the cliff in a slender waterfall. A second stream drops down the opposite slope, flowing past the spot where the Thembu ruler and his generals go to commune with the ancestors. It joins the other stream in a deep pool on the floor of the canyon, to become a river that flows through the echoing canyon and turns to follow the eastern wall of the plateau, before widening as it ox-bows across the plain that forms the southern approach to the city.

It's here that the tribe maintains its cultivated land. An array of huts, under some trees on the river bank, houses the regiment whose turn it is to guard the crops and intercept strangers. The barracks are deserted today, of course, as this is where Shaka and his advisers are expected to stay while the Buffalo meets the King's
delegation. Shaka, however, has declined the dubious comfort offered by Thembu thatch, and has slept with his soldiers under the stars.

Now he makes his way past the ordered ranks of his amabutho, who were as restless as he was and, despite the presence of picquets, have remained on the alert throughout the night. The few soldiers who managed to doze off are kicked awake, and all watch as the King moves through the cold early morning air, beneath a sky as gray as a pigeon's plumage. He's followed at a discreet distance by Mbopa and Mdlaka and the Induna's udibi, who carries waterskins and the King's shield. They halt a few paces in front of the first line of Zulu warriors and watch as Shaka strides ahead through long grass dripping with dew. When he's gone about a hundred meters, he too stops.

“Go!” Mbopa orders the udibi. “But not too close, mind.”

With a nod, the boy jogs forward.

“That's far enough, Little One,” says Shaka, without turning.

Taken by surprise, trying to stop and retreat a step at the same time, the udibi drops on to his ass with a spine-jarring thump. Although winded, he's back on his feet almost instantly.