Chapter XI: The Sin of Umbelazi

About eighteen months had gone by, and once again, in the autumn of the year 1856, I found myself at old Umbezi’s kraal, where there seemed to be an extraordinary market for any kind of gas-pipe that could be called a gun. Well, as a trader who could not afford to neglect profitable markets, which are hard things to find, there I was.

Now, in eighteen months many things become a little obscured in one’s memory, especially if they have to do with savages, in whom, after all, one takes only a philosophical and a business interest. Therefore I may perhaps be excused if I had more or less forgotten a good many of the details of what I may call the Mameena affair. These, however, came back to me very vividly when the first person that I met--at some distance from the kraal, where I suppose she had been taking a country walk--was the beautiful Mameena herself. There she was, looking quite unchanged and as lovely as ever, sitting under the shade of a wild fig-tree and fanning herself with a handful of its leaves.

Of course I jumped off my wagon-box and greeted her.

“Siyakubona [that is, good morrow], Macumazahn,” she said. “My heart is glad to see you.”

“Siyakubona, Mameena,” I answered, leaving out all reference to my heart. Then I added, looking at her: “Is it true that you have a new husband?”

“Yes, Macumazahn, an old lover of mine has become a new husband. You know whom I mean--Saduko. After the death of that evil-doer, Masapo, he grew very urgent, and the King, also the Inkosazana Nandie, pressed it on me, and so I yielded. Also, to be honest, Saduko was a good match, or seemed to be so.”

By now we were walking side by side, for the train of wagons had gone ahead to the old outspan. So I stopped and looked her in the face.

“‘Seemed to be,’” I repeated. “What do you mean by ‘seemed to be’? Are you not happy this time?”

“Not altogether, Macumazahn,” she answered, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Saduko is very fond of me--fonder than I like indeed, since it causes him to neglect Nandie, who, by the way, has another son, and, although she says little, that makes Nandie cross. In short,” she added, with a burst of truth, “I am the plaything, Nandie is the great lady, and that place suits me ill.”

“If you love Saduko, you should not mind, Mameena.”

“Love,” she said bitterly. “Piff! What is love? But I have asked you that question once before.”

“Why are you here, Mameena?” I inquired, leaving it unanswered.

“Because Saduko is here, and, of course, Nandie, for she never leaves him, and he will not leave me; because the Prince Umbelazi is coming; because there are plots afoot and the great war draws near--that war in which so many must die.”

“Between Cetewayo and Umbelazi, Mameena?”

“Aye, between Cetewayo and Umbelazi. Why do you suppose those wagons of yours are loaded with guns for which so many cattle must be paid? Not to shoot game with, I think. Well, this little kraal of my father’s is just now the headquarters of the Umbelazi faction, the Isigqosa, as the princedom of Gikazi is that of Cetewayo. My poor father!” she added, with her characteristic shrug, “he thinks himself very great to-day, as he did after he had shot the elephant--before I nursed you, Macumazahn--but often I wonder what will be the end of it--for him and for all of us, Macumazahn, including yourself.”

“I!” I answered. “What have I to do with your Zulu quarrels?”

“That you will know when you have done with them, Macumazahn. But here is the kraal, and before we enter it I wish to thank you for trying to protect that unlucky husband of mine, Masapo.”

“I only did so, Mameena, because I thought him innocent.”

“I know, Macumazahn; and so did I, although, as I always told you, I hated him, the man with whom my father forced me to marry. But I am afraid, from what I have learned since, that he was not altogether innocent. You see, Saduko had struck him, which he could not forget. Also, he was jealous of Saduko, who had been my suitor, and wished to injure him. But what I do not understand,” she added, with a burst of confidence, “is why he did not kill Saduko instead of his child.”

“Well, Mameena, you may remember it was said he tried to do so.”

“Yes, Macumazahn; I had forgotten that. I suppose that he did try, and failed. Oh, now I see things with both eyes. Look, yonder is my father. I will go away. But come and talk to me sometimes, Macumazahn, for otherwise Nandie will be careful that I should hear nothing--I who am the plaything, the beautiful woman of the House, who must sit and smile, but must not think.”

So she departed, and I went on to meet old Umbezi, who came gambolling towards me like an obese goat, reflecting that, whatever might be the truth or otherwise of her story, her advancement in the world did not seem to have brought Mameena greater happiness and contentment.

Umbezi, who greeted me warmly, was in high spirits and full of importance. He informed me that the marriage of Mameena to Saduko, after the death of the wizard, her husband, whose tribe and cattle had been given to Saduko in compensation for the loss of his son, was a most fortunate thing for him.

I asked why.

“Because as Saduko grows great so I, his father-in-law, grow great with him, Macumazahn, especially as he has been liberal to me in the matter of cattle, passing on to me a share of the herds of Masapo, so that I, who have been poor so long, am getting rich at last. Moreover, my kraal is to be honoured with a visit from Umbelazi and some of his brothers to-morrow, and Saduko has promised to lift me up high when the Prince is declared heir to the throne.”

“Which prince?” I asked.

“Umbelazi, Macumazahn. Who else? Umbelazi, who without doubt will conquer Cetewayo.”

“Why without doubt, Umbezi? Cetewayo has a great following, and if he should conquer I think that you will only be lifted up in the crops of the vultures.”

At this rough suggestion Umbezi’s fat face fell.

“O Macumazana,” he said, “if I thought that, I would go over to Cetewayo, although Saduko is my son-in-law. But it is not possible, since the King loves Umbelazi’s mother most of all his wives, and, as I chance to know, has sworn to her that he favours Umbelazi’s cause, since he is the dearest to him of all his sons, and will do everything that he can to help him, even to the sending of his own regiment to his assistance, if there should be need. Also, it is said that Zikali, Opener-of-Roads, who has all wisdom, has prophesied that Umbelazi will win more than he ever hoped for.”

“The King!” I said, “a straw blown hither and thither between two great winds, waiting to be wafted to rest by that which is strongest! The prophecy of Zikali! It seems to me that it can be read two ways, if, indeed, he ever made one. Well, Umbezi, I hope that you are right, for, although it is no affair of mine, who am but a white trader in your country, I like Umbelazi better than Cetewayo, and think that he has a kinder heart. Also, as you have chosen his side, I advise you to stick to it, since traitors to a cause seldom come to any good, whether it wins or loses. And now, will you take count of the guns and powder which I have brought with me?”

Ah! better would it have been for Umbezi if he had listened to my advice and remained faithful to the leader he had chosen, for then, even if he had lost his life, at least he would have kept his good name. But of him presently, as they say in pedigrees.

Next day I went to pay my respects to Nandie, whom I found engaged in nursing her new baby and as quiet and stately in her demeanour as ever. Still, I think that she was very glad to see me, because I had tried to save the life of her first child, whom she could not forget, if for no other reason. Whilst I was talking to her of that sad matter, also of the political state of the country, as to which I think she wished to say something to me, Mameena entered the hut, without waiting to be asked, and sat down, whereon Nandie became suddenly silent.

This, however, did not trouble Mameena, who talked away about anything and everything, completely ignoring the head-wife. For a while Nandie bore it with patience, but at length she took advantage of a pause in the conversation to say in her firm, low voice:

“This is my hut, daughter of Umbezi, a thing which you remember well enough when it is a question whether Saduko, our husband, shall visit you or me. Can you not remember it now when I would speak with the white chief, Watcher-by-Night, who has been so good as to take the trouble to come to see me?”

On hearing these words Mameena leapt up in a rage, and I must say I never saw her look more lovely.

“You insult me, daughter of Panda, as you always try to do, because you are jealous of me.”

“Your pardon, sister,” replied Nandie. “Why should I, who am Saduko’s Inkosikazi, and, as you say, daughter of Panda, the King, be jealous of the widow of the wizard, Masapo, and the daughter of the headman, Umbezi, whom it has pleased our husband to take into his house to be the companion of his leisure?”

“Why? Because you know that Saduko loves my little finger more than he does your whole body, although you are of the King’s blood and have borne him brats,” she answered, looking at the infant with no kindly eye.

“It may be so, daughter of Umbezi, for men have their fancies, and without doubt you are fair. Yet I would ask you one thing--if Saduko loves you so much, how comes it he trusts you so little that you must learn any matter of weight by listening at my door, as I found you doing the other day?”

“Because you teach him not to do so, O Nandie. Because you are ever telling him not to consult with me, since she who has betrayed one husband may betray another. Because you make him believe my place is that of his toy, not that of his companion, and this although I am cleverer than you and all your House tied into one bundle, as you may find out some day.”

“Yes,” answered Nandie, quite undisturbed, “I do teach him these things, and I am glad that in this matter Saduko has a thinking head and listens to me. Also I agree that it is likely I shall learn many more ill things through and of you one day, daughter of Umbezi. And now, as it is not good that we should wrangle before this white lord, again I say to you that this is my hut, in which I wish to speak alone with my guest.”

“I go, I go!” gasped Mameena; “but I tell you that Saduko shall hear of this.”

“Certainly he will hear of it, for I shall tell him when he comes to-night.”

Another instant and Mameena was gone, having shot out of the hut like a rabbit from its burrow.

“I ask your pardon, Macumazahn, for what has happened,” said Nandie, “but it had become necessary that I should teach my sister, Mameena, upon which stool she ought to sit. I do not trust her, Macumazahn. I think that she knows more of the death of my child than she chooses to say, she who wished to be rid of Masapo for a reason you can guess. I think also she will bring shame and trouble upon Saduko, whom she has bewitched with her beauty, as she bewitches all men--perhaps even yourself a little, Macumazahn. And now let us talk of other matters.”

To this proposition I agreed cordially, since, to tell the truth, if I could have managed to do so with any decent grace, I should have been out of that hut long before Mameena. So we fell to conversing on the condition of Zululand and the dangers that lay ahead for all who were connected with the royal House--a state of affairs which troubled Nandie much, for she was a clear-headed woman, and one who feared the future.

“Ah! Macumazahn,” she said to me as we parted, “I would that I were the wife of some man who did not desire to grow great, and that no royal blood ran in my veins.”

On the next day the Prince Umbelazi arrived, and with him Saduko and a few other notable men. They came quite quietly and without any ostensible escort, although Scowl, my servant, told me he heard that the bush at a little distance was swarming with soldiers of the Isigqosa party. If I remember rightly, the excuse for the visit was that Umbezi had some of a certain rare breed of white cattle whereof the prince wished to secure young bulls and heifers to improve his herd.

Once inside the kraal, however, Umbelazi, who was a very open-natured man, threw off all pretence, and, after greeting me heartily enough, told me with plainness that he was there because this was a convenient spot on which to arrange the consolidation of his party.

Almost every hour during the next two weeks messengers--many of whom were chiefs disguised--came and went. I should have liked to follow their example--that is, so far as their departure was concerned--for I felt that I was being drawn into a very dangerous vortex. But, as a matter of fact, I could not escape, since I was obliged to wait to receive payment for my stuff, which, as usual, was made in cattle.

Umbelazi talked with me a good deal at that time, impressing upon me how friendly he was towards the English white men of Natal, as distinguished from the Boers, and what good treatment he was prepared to promise to them, should he ever attain to authority in Zululand. It was during one of the earliest of these conversations, which, of course, I saw had an ultimate object, that he met Mameena, I think, for the first time.

We were walking together in a little natural glade of the bush that bordered one side of the kraal, when, at the end of it, looking like some wood nymph of classic fable in the light of the setting sun, appeared the lovely Mameena, clothed only in her girdle of fur, her necklace of blue beads and some copper ornaments, and carrying upon her head a gourd.

Umbelazi noted her at once, and, ceasing his political talk, of which he was obviously tired, asked me who that beautiful intombi (that is, girl) might be.

“She is not an intombi, Prince,” I answered. “She is a widow who is again a wife, the second wife of your friend and councillor, Saduko, and the daughter of your host, Umbezi.”

“Is it so, Macumazahn? Oh, then I have heard of her, though, as it chances, I have never met her before. No wonder that my sister Nandie is jealous, for she is beautiful indeed.”

“Yes,” I answered, “she looks pretty against the red sky, does she not?”

By now we were drawing near to Mameena, and I greeted her, asking if she wanted anything.

“Nothing, Macumazahn,” she answered in her delicate, modest way, for never did I know anyone who could seem quite so modest as Mameena, and with a swift glance of her shy eyes at the tall and splendid Umbelazi, “nothing. Only,” she added, “I was passing with the milk of one of the few cows my father gave me, and saw you, and I thought that perhaps, as the day has been so hot, you might like a drink of it.”

Then, lifting the gourd from her head, she held it out to me.

I thanked her, drank some--who could do less?--and returned it to her, whereon she made as though she would hasten to depart.

“May I not drink also, daughter of Umbezi?” asked Umbelazi, who could scarcely take his eyes off her.

“Certainly, sir, if you are a friend of Macumazahn,” she replied, handing him the gourd.

“I am that, Lady, and more than that, since I am a friend of your husband, Saduko, also, as you will know when I tell you that my name is Umbelazi.”

“I thought it must be so,” she replied, “because of your--of your stature. Let the Prince accept the offering of his servant, who one day hopes to be his subject,” and, dropping upon her knee, she held out the gourd to him. Over it I saw their eyes meet. He drank, and as he handed back the vessel she said: