Shaka the Great (60 page)

Along with Njikiza and Radebe, he also wears his regimental ubushokobezi, a headdress worn above the forehead and comprising six dressed cowtails standing erect. Dingane's head, by contrast, is unadorned except for the blue crane feather, for he is the one who will be speaking as the Shadow of Shaka today. None of the men carries a shield, and all are unarmed. Completing their attire are the amashoba worn around the lower legs and upper arms. Made of cowtails, these are meant to “enlarge” a man, give him additional stature, and the amashoba chosen by the four today are especially generous.

They move along the path up the mountain, behind the Thembu warriors who show the Zulus their backs.

“Do you see, Brothers? Do you hear?” asks Dingane, after they have passed the second batch and are on a stretch of the path that is too narrow to accommodate a line of men. “Who would have believed a back could be so eloquent.”

“I see nothing pretty about these …”

“Eloquent. I said eloquent, Radebe. Loquacious.”

“Lo—?”

“Garrulous,” interjects the Induna. “Like Mgobozi.”

“Ah,” says Radebe, who is bringing up the rear.

He falls silent as they pass yet another row of Thembu shoulder blades and backsides.

“But,” he says when they are alone again, “I do not hear them say anything.”

“Exactly. In a word, eloquent.”

“The prince means they insult us, Radebe.”

“How so?”

The Induna steps aside and lets Njikiza and Dingane ease past him, before falling in step behind Radebe.

“They insult us by turning their backs to us, as if we are not to be feared.”

“But that is not all,” calls Dingane from the front.

“No. For by letting us walk behind them, while they face our comrades, they would make us feel like deserters …”

“Traitors!” adds the Needy One.

“Yes, traitors who have betrayed our King and gone over to their side.”

“Eloquent, as I say,” remarks Dingane.

“Hai!” grunts Njikiza. “Have you heard the cows when a leopard is nearby? Fear can be eloquent too. And this is what
I
hear in their silence. This is what their backs tell
me
. They are afraid to even look at us.”

Where's Mgobozi? Why aren't Mbopa or Mdlaka saying anything? Fetch Nandi! Fetch Pampata! Perhaps they can talk some sense into the King.

A massacre! The boy barely remembered being led away by Beja. Lying motionless among corpses that smelt of shit and urine, and later of putrefaction, had rendered other memories inconsequential. And there was fear, too, with Thembu soldiers passing close by, one or two even entering the hut next to where the boy lay. It was as if they were drinking the suffering all around them, for every time the boy heard them, they sounded drunker and drunker. Then, as the shadows began to lengthen, they withdrew. The boy, who'd begun to drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely recalled a moment of lucidity once he realized they had gone. Something—he didn't know what, but a passing perhaps; feet making the dust dance, then an absence—something had roused him, caused him to raise his head. Caused the thought
they are gone
to form in his mind before he went under again, going deeper now, knowing he was, for the moment, safe or at least safer than he had been before.

Cries and groans, whimpers and pleas offered to the night, and the sounds of the flames chewing the huts, these were his companions.
And he later remembered to be thankful for those flames, for they probably kept the natural scavengers at bay.

Thirsty, surreptitiously leaning against the King's shield, the udibi's dragged out of his thoughts by Shaka's soft words. “See, they are almost there.” The King hasn't moved, and still has his back to the boy, and maybe he's imagined those words. But the udibi dutifully raises his head, and sees that Shaka is right. First Dingane, then the Induna, then Njikiza and Radebe, disappear from sight as they move on to the plateau …

There! Now they are gone, those brave men. Now we await the impalers!

Morning reveals a gray haze of smoke and rotting flesh. Cries and groans and whimpers. And a few survivors staggering through the ruins, as lost as ghosts. And what to do about those cries? Get them away, get the living away from here—that was the only answer. Stunned, dazed, barely aware they were alive, the others were easily led. There were also those who had returned to their senses, and helped the boy. Two of these, a young girl not more than fourteen summers old and a graybeard, left later that day for the nearest village.

Someone said he knew of a cave with water nearby. Those cries and groans and whimpers would eventually drive them mad, but there was another reason why they had to get away—there was always the chance the Thembus might return. But there was misery in the cave as well, as the full horror began to sink in. Everyone had lost everyone. All were orphaned. And, to get away from these other cries and groans and whimpers, the boy found himself a vantage point from which he could see if anyone approached the village. He knew he should try to find Philani, as well as … all the others he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to walk again among
that smoldering horror. At least not until he saw the Induna, the next day.

No one knew what to do, the boy would later tell him. “Even I, Master,” said the boy, “I who have been with you in battle—even I didn't know what to do.”

The summit …

… and they knew to expect something, but not quite this.

On the cleared ground lying on either side of the track that leads to the gates of the city stand four or five ranks of men, and behind them there are women and children and old-timers.

Clearly no one wants to miss the chance of seeing the Zulus brought to their knees and shamed.

Or else, decides the Induna with a wry smile, no one wants to incur the Buffalo's wrath by not obeying his command to come and see the Zulus brought to their knees.

The moment the Zulus appeared at the top of the path, the Thembu ranks moved forward so that they seemed to grow in number, while the path the Zulus were due to take narrowed.

A wall of shields closing in, trapping them.

And there's no turning back. Each of these men carries a long, heavy assegai, wielded like a pike and, as the Zulus pass on, those in the front rank lower their spears behind them.

It's yet another instance of the “eloquence” Dingane remarked upon. This is the Thembu salute, the lowering of the spear a warning that one should keep one's distance until one has stated one's intentions, whereupon the spear is raised again. However, the recipient of this salute is normally in front of the warrior. That the spears are being lowered behind the Zulus is therefore a calculated insult that is underscored further by the fact the spears are then kept in a lowered position.

Does Ngoza expect them to know enough of Thembu customs to realize this? Is Dingane expected to fulminate about this at the impending meeting?

He's made a slight miscalculation, though, for the length of the spears means the soldiers can't move close enough to force the Zulus to remain in single file. And, several paces into this grove of shields, Dingane spreads his arms and the others move up alongside him, the Induna to his right, Njikiza and Radebe to his left.

Edging closer to Dingane, keeping his voice low, the Induna says: “You will say nothing of this, I think.”

The prince has looked back once or twice, and seen the lowered spears and understands what the Induna is getting at. “That is good advice, old friend.”

“For we are being tested.”

Dingane nods. “They would see how chastened we are.”

“Chastened!” growls Njikiza. “Hai! These Thembus are crazy …”

“Boy, you are thirsty,” says Shaka, without turning.

“No, Majesty, I am fine.”

“You are brave, Little One. And stubborn. Very well, then. I am thirsty …”

“Majesty, I am sorry …”

“No, do not move. Stay where you are. Or rather, move a little, for I know your legs must be stiff. I am thirsty, and I command you, as a loyal warrior, to drink for me. You will do this for me?”