Forging the Blades: A Tale of the Zulu Rebellion

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  VERNA'S DILEMMA.

  Alaric Denham had disappeared.

  He had gone out by himself early in the afternoon on foot, taking withhim his collector's gun. At sunset he had not returned; then night felland still no sign of him.

  Verna's anxiety deepened. She could hardly be persuaded to go into thehouse at all. Her eyes strove to pierce the gathering gloom, her earswere open to every sound that could tell of his approach. Yet no suchsound rewarded them. Her father was disposed to make light of herfears.

  "Denham's no kind of a Johnny Raw, girlie," he said. "He knows his wayabout by this time. Likely he's wandered further than he intended,after some `specimen' maybe, and got lost. He'll have turned in at somekraal for the night, and be round again in the morning."

  But morning came and still no sign, then midday. By that time thetrader himself came to the conclusion that it might be as well toinstitute a search.

  The missing man had left an idea as to where he was going. But,starting from that point, an exploration of hours failed to elicit theslightest trace. Inquiries among natives, too, proved equally futile.None had so much as glimpsed any solitary white man. They had called atSapazani's kraal, but the chief was absent. It was in this directionthat Denham had announced his intention of wandering. Undhlawafa,however, promised to turn out a party of searchers. Night fell again,and Denham was still missing.

  Strong, feverishly energetic, Verna had taken an active part in thesearch; but for any trace they could find, or clue they could grasp, themissing man might have disappeared into empty air. Even her father nowlooked gloomy, and shook a despondent head. There were perilous cleftsabout those wild mountain-tops half concealed in the grass, into which aman might easily fall and thus effectually perform his own funeral.That this one might have done so was now her father's belief, but toVerna herself another alternative held itself out. What if he had beensecretly followed and arrested for that which he had done? Or what ifhe had detected such danger in time and felt moved to go into hiding?Somehow neither of these alternatives seemed convincing. The heartsick,despairing agony of the girl was beyond words.

  Four days thus went by, Verna was despairing, her father gloomy. To thelatter she had now confided Denham's story; they had arranged betweenthem that this should be done in the event of certain contingencies.Ben Halse came to the conclusion that this rather tied his hands, for toadvertise the disappearance would be to draw too much attention to a manwho had every reason for avoiding it.

  It was night. Verna stood in the open door looking forth. A faintsnore now and again from another room told that her father had subsidedinto obliviousness, but to-night she herself could not sleep; indeed,but for the sheer physical exhaustion of the day she would never havebeen able to sleep at all. The soft velvet of the sky was afire withstars, and above the dismal howl of prowling hyenas would now and againrise the distant song and roar of savage revelry from some kraal far outon the plain beneath. Back in the sombre recesses of the mountainsweird, indescribable sounds, disguised by echo, the voices of bird orbeast would ring forth, or a falling star dart, in trailing spark,through the zenith. Suddenly another sound fell upon her ear. Somebodywas approaching the house.

  All the blood ran tingling through her frame. She listened--listenedhard. Footsteps! Alaric had returned. He should find her there,waiting. But the glow of intense thankfulness sank in her heart. Butfor the one obsessing idea she would have recognised that thosesoft-padded footfalls were not those of any white man.

  She advanced a few steps out into the gloom and called softly. A figurecame into sight indistinctly. Even then her heart throbbed to bursting.This nocturnal visitor must be the bearer of news. But he had halted.She must go towards him.

  "And the news?" she said, speaking quickly.

  "If the _Nkosazana_ would hear of him who was missing," was the answer,"she must go to the chief's kraal alone. This movement must be known tonobody, not even to U' Ben. Otherwise she would never see or hear ofthe missing one again."

  All further attempts at questioning the nocturnal visitant met with noreply. He had delivered the `word' of the chief, and had nothing to addto it. Only--the _Nkosazana_ would do well to lose no time. If shecould start at daylight it would be highly advisable. But no one mustknow. It was in the conditions.

  To say that Verna was suddenly lifted from darkness to daylight would beto say too little. The condition certainly struck her as strange, butthen--the stake at issue! Alaric was not dead, but had perhaps beenobliged to go into hiding, was the solution that occurred to her. Thatwas it. Sapazani was their friend, and had warned him, and aided in hisconcealment. He would get him away out of the country later on, andshe--why, she would go to him, go with him, to the uttermost ends of theearth, as she had more than once declared when they had been discussingjust such a contingency.

  How she got through the night Verna hardly knew. Before dawn she wasastir. She woke her father, and told him she was going to start off onanother search on her own account, and Ben Halse, himself thoroughlytired out after days spent in the saddle on this bootless quest, hadanswered that it was quite useless, but that she had better be doingsomething than nothing, and hail turned over again to sleep the sleep ofthorough exhaustion.

  As the day dawned, and she was well on her way, Verna became aware thatshe was being followed, or rather kept up with, by one man. The pathwas steep and rocky, and she could seldom ride out of a footspace; yetat every turn this man would show himself, either in front or coming onbehind with long, swinging strides. Him, however, with an effort ofpatience and a knowledge of native ways, she forbore to question, thoughshe strongly suspected him of being her visitant of the night before.

  The sun was up by the time she reached her objective. The kraal laypeaceful in the early morning; the great double ring fence, and fromsome of the yellow, domed huts blue smoke was rising. Yet it seemed toher that the place was deserted. It was the hour of milking, yet nocattle were to be seen, and there were few people about. What did itmean? What could it mean?

  And now, for the first time, an instinct came upon her, an instinct asof some harm pending. Had she done right to come? Was this part ofsome sinister plan? and were those who distrusted Sapazani morecompletely "in the know" than they two? She paused, irresolute. But itwas too late to turn back now. The man who had kept pace with her allthe way had grasped her bridle rein and was inviting her to dismount.

  "Yonder. The chief," he said, when she had done so.

  The space immediately surrounding the kraal was open save for a smallclump of spreading mimosas. In the shade of this Sapazani was seated,with three or four other ringed men in attendance. That her arrival wasexpected was obvious, for a wooden pillow, covered with a clean, newrug, to serve as a seat, had been placed for her. Knowing their ways,she greeted Sapazani in the usual pleasant and cordial style and satdown to talk--outwardly as careless as when they last met, inwardly herwhole soul raging with eager impatience.

  "And he who is lost?" she said at last. "He is found?"

  "He is found."

  Her joy and thankfulness knew no bounds, and she was hardly conscious ofthe withdrawal of those around the chief.

  "What is for two ears is not for eight," went on the latter. "I have aword to you, Izibu."

  "That is why I am here," she answered, with a smile. "And him of whom Icame to learn tidings?"

  "Of him we will presently talk," answered Sapazani. "Talk we now ofmyself. I am in need of a new _inkosikazi_ [principal wife], and her Ishall take from among the daughters of the white people."

  Verna stared.

  "That will not be easy, will it?" she answered, striving not to smile.

  "Easy? That I know not. But my new _inkosikazi_ [principal wife] willbe thyself, child of U' Ben, and the _lobola_ [Price paid in cattle tothe father or guardian of a girl asked in marriage] which I shall sendwill be the life of him whom thou seekes
t."

  Verna half started from her seat, flushing crimson with anger andoutraged pride. Then she subsided again.

  "Is this a joke on the part of the chief?" she said. "Because I likenot such jokes."

  "No joke is it," answered the other, in a tone of firm assurance. "Mynew _inkosikazi_ shall be thyself, Izibu."

  Reference has been made to the impassable barrier to unions betweenwhite and colour existing, and rightly so, throughout the whole of SouthAfrica; but the repulsion and degradation attaching to such is deepenedtenfold when it is the woman who represents the white race. In Verna,of course, such tradition was part of her being, and now that this wasput broadly before her, her horror and disgust were unlimited. She tobe one of the many wives of a squalid savage! for such the stately andfine-looking Zulu chieftain had now become in her eyes; a mere despisedblack man--Sapazani's colour was copper red--why, she must be dreaming.No living being in his senses dare make such a proposal to her. But shechecked the scathing reply that rose to her lips--she could not hide theflashing fury in her eyes--for she must not lose sight of the end forwhich she was there, the finding of Alaric.

  "Listen, Izibu, and I will tell a story," said the chief, who had beenwatching her keenly, but outwardly unconcerned. "There were two bullsgrazing together near the banks of Makanya River. They began to roar ateach other, perhaps one wanted the pasture to himself, or this or thatheifer, no one knows. Suddenly one gored the other to death and pushedhim into the river, then went on his way. These bulls were of theAmangisi [English], and among such for one to kill another is death.There were those who looked down upon this conflict from high up on theother side of the river. They will be there to speak when wanted."

  Now a new light broke upon Verna. Alaric had positively declared thatnobody could have witnessed the encounter or the restiveness of thehorses would have betrayed the presence of such. But they had been onthe other side of the water, hence the very pointed reference on thepart of Mandevu to the double feat of snake-charming. To her, ofcourse, the parable needed no interpretation. This hateful fiend hadgot Alaric into his power to compass his own object, and that object--good Heavens!

  "But you would not betray him, you who are our friend!" urged Verna,clasping and unclasping her hands in an agony of appeal.

  "The magistrate," went on Sapazani, "_our_ magistrate at Esifeni, willbe surprised, he who is never tired of saying Sapazani is not loyal. Hewill be surprised when Sapazani the disloyal hands over to him one ofhis own people who has broken the white man's sternest law, and says,`Here, take him, I want not such among my people.' This is what willhappen if the child of U' Ben refuses to become my new _inkosikazi_."

  Verna was beside herself. Here, then, was the missing link in thechain. The deed had been actually witnessed. Nothing could save him.The mention of her father inspired her with an idea.

  "You would not dare do this thing," she said. "My father would killyou, would never rest until he had done so. Every white man in Zululandwould combine to hunt you down, nor could you long escape."

  "Why, for that, Izibu, there will be no white men left in Zululand to doit before many days have passed. Well? Is it to be his life, or--?"

  Verna saw no way out. She, of course, did not intend to accept thedreadful alternative. She would kill herself. That afterwards; but nowshe must save this precious life. Then another idea struck her. Whatif Alaric were delivered over to the authorities, might it not be thatthe evidence would not be strong enough? Was it not worthwhile riskingthis? She knew what Alaric's answer would be. But Sapazani seemed tohave been reading her thoughts, for now he said--

  "My mind is different in this matter. It is too far to Esifeni, and theman might escape. Therefore I shall have him killed here--to-day--killed by torture, and thou shalt see it done, child of U' Ben."

  Verna's face was stony with despair.

  "And if I agree?" she said slowly. "He will be placed beyond all reachof danger?"

  "That will he, Izibu. My word stands."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Here."

  She turned to follow the sweep of his hand. From the direction of thekraal a group was approaching, and her heart beat quicker as sherecognised the central figure. Alaric Denham stared in amazement. Hemade a move to join Verna, but was prevented by the guard surroundinghim. Incidentally the said guard was bristling with assegais.

  "What is the meaning of this, Verna?" he said. "There's no war. Yetthese fellows collared me unawares, and here I am. But what is it,darling?" becoming alive to the stamp of piteous misery upon her face.

  "You will go free now," she answered, "right away out of the country.It's no longer safe here."

  "Well, I'm agreeable. Are you ready?"

  "Yes--no--that is, not yet," she faltered hurriedly.

  "Take him back," commanded the chief, and the guards moved away withtheir prisoner, who, of course, understood nothing of what had beensaid, but supposed that Verna would contrive to straighten it outsomehow. "Well, Izibu, he is going to be got ready for the torture. Doyou agree to save him? It is the last chance."

  "Oh, God! God, help me!" she sobbed forth, sinking to the earth, herface buried in her hands; Sapazani, watching her, gloated over her fineform, soon voluntarily to be placed within his power. So taken up washe that he failed to perceive the approach of the man who now stood athis elbow. Turning angrily, he beheld Mandevu.

  The latter whispered a word or two. Sapazani was astonished, but didnot show it.

  "Wait here, child of U' Ben," he said, rising, "until my return."

  "But they will torture him!"

  "Not until my return."

  He moved towards the kraal gate. The word which Mandevu had whisperedin his ear was "Opondo."

  The renegade was seated within the chief's principal hut. His hard,vindictive face was firm and impenetrable.

  "Greeting, Sapazani," he began, without ceremony. "Thou must give upthy purpose. The two yonder must be allowed to go free."

  The snatching of a bone from a hungry mastiff might convey some sort ofidea of the expression which came over Sapazani's face at thisutterance; the very tone of which admitted of no dispute.

  "Must?" he repeated.

  "Yes, _must_."

  "_Hau_! I am no chief!" he said sneeringly, "no chief. And if Irefuse?"

  "Then thou wilt indeed be no chief, son of Umlali, for it would ruin thewhole of our plan to carry out thy purpose."

  Sapazani brought his hand to his mouth and sat thinking. He knew thatthe other spoke truly, and yet--

  "Further," went on his visitor, "U' Ben is my friend. He saved my lifeonce, and has done me good service in the past. His child must not beharmed. For the other, the man, he will be able to do me--to do us--good service in the future, when the time comes, for which reasonMandevu has been constantly near him so that I could find him at anytime, therefore he must go free."

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  Verna, seated there, alone, in stony-eyed misery, was wondering if itwere not all a hideous nightmare. "I have bought his life. I havebought his life," she kept moaning to herself.

  "Rise up, child of U' Ben," said a voice, whose owner she had not heardapproach. "The word of the chief is that thou and the white man are togo home together, now at once."

  "Do not mock me, Mandevu," she answered stonily.

  "Mock? _Au_! See. There he comes," pointing with his stick.

  Verna raised her eyes. From the direction where she had last beheld himAlaric Denham was approaching--alone.