CHILD OF STORM (an Allan Quatermain Story) by H. Rider Haggard

“Greeting, O Macumazana,” he said. “I am glad to see you safe and well, for I understand that you have been engaged upon a perilous adventure since last we met.”

“Yes, King,” I answered; “but to which adventure do you refer–that of the buffalo, when Saduko helped me, or that of the Amakoba, when I helped Saduko?”

“The latter, Macumazahn, of which I desire to hear all the story.”

So I told it to him, he and I being alone, for he commanded his councillors and servants to retire out of hearing.

“Wow!” he said, when I had finished, “you are clever as a baboon, Macumazahn. That was a fine trick to set a trap for Bangu and his Amakoba dogs and bait it with his own cattle. But they tell me that you refused your share of those cattle. Now, why was that, Macumazahn?”

By way of answer I repeated to Panda my reasons, which I have set out already.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, when I had finished. “Every one seeks greatness in his own way, and perhaps yours is better than ours. Well, the White man walks one road–or some of them do–and the Black man another. They both end at the same place, and none will know which is the right road till the journey is done. Meanwhile, what you lose Saduko and his people gain. He is a wise man, Saduko, who knows how to choose his friends, and his wisdom has brought him victory and gifts. But to you, Macumazahn, it has brought nothing but honour, on which, if a man feeds only, he will grow thin.”

“I like to be thin, O Panda,” I answered slowly.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” replied the King, who, in common with most natives, was quick enough to seize a point, “and I, too, like people who keep thin on such food as yours, people, also, whose hands are always clean. We Zulus trust you, Macumazahn, as we trust few white men, for we have known for years that your lips say what your heart thinks, and that your heart always thinks the thing which is good. You may be named Watcher-by-Night, but you love light, not darkness.”

Now, at these somewhat unusual compliments I bowed, and felt myself colouring a little as I did so, even through my sunburn, but I made no answer to them, since to do so would have involved a discussion of the past and its tragical events, into which I had no wish to enter. Panda, too, remained silent for a while. Then he called to a messenger to summon the princes, Cetewayo and Umbelazi, and to bid Saduko, the son of Matiwane, to wait without, in case he should wish to speak with him.

A few minutes later the two princes arrived. I watched their coming with interest, for they were the most important men in Zululand, and already the nation debated fiercely which of them would succeed to the throne. I will try to describe them a little.

They were both of much the same age–it is always difficult to arrive at a Zulu’s exact years–and both fine young men. Cetewayo, however, had the stronger countenance. It was said that he resembled that fierce and able monster, Chaka the Wild Beast, his uncle, and certainly I perceived in him a likeness to his other uncle, Dingaan, Umpanda’s predecessor, whom I had known but too well when I was a lad. He had the same surly eyes and haughty bearing; also, when he was angry his mouth shut itself in the same iron fashion.

Of Umbelazi it is difficult for me to speak without enthusiasm. As Mameena was the most beautiful woman I ever saw in Zululand–although it is true that old war-dog, Umslopogaas, a friend of mine who does not come into this story, used to tell me that Nada the Lily, whom I have mentioned, was even lovelier–so Umbelazi was by far the most splendid man. Indeed, the Zulus named him “Umbelazi the Handsome,” and no wonder. To begin with, he stood at least three inches above the tallest of them; from a quarter of a mile away I have recognised him by his great height, even through the dust of a desperate battle, and his breadth was proportionate to his stature. Then he was perfectly made, his great, shapely limbs ending, like Saduko’s, in small hands and feet. His face, too, was well-cut and open, his colour lighter than Cetewayo’s, and his eyes, which always seemed to smile, were large and dark.

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