“As the King pleases,” said Umbelazi, with a yawn, for he was growing weary of listening to the case of Saduko.
But Cetewayo said nothing, for he appeared to be thinking of something else.
“I think also,” went on Panda in a rather uncertain voice, “in order to bind him so close that the bonds may never be broken, it would be wise to give him a woman of our family in marriage.”
“Why should this little Amangwane be allowed to marry into the royal House?” asked Cetewayo, looking up. “If he is dangerous, why not kill him, and have done?”
“For this reason, my son. There is trouble ahead in Zululand, and I do not wish to kill those who may help us in that hour, nor do I wish them to become our enemies. I wish that they may be our friends; and therefore it seems to me wise, when we find a seed of greatness, to water it, and not to dig it up or plant it in a neighbour’s garden. From his deeds I believe that this Saduko is such a seed.”
“Our father has spoken,” said Umbelazi; “and I like Saduko, who is a man of mettle and good blood. Which of our sisters does our father propose to give to him?”
“She who is named after the mother of our race, O Umbelazi; she whom your own mother bore–your sister Nandie” (in English, “The Sweet”).
“A great gift, O my Father, since Nandie is both fair and wise. Also, what does she think of this matter?”
“She thinks well of it, Umbelazi, for she has seen Saduko and taken a liking to him. She told me herself that she wishes no other husband.”
“Is it so?” replied Umbelazi indifferently. “Then if the King commands, and the King’s daughter desires, what more is there to be said?”
“Much, I think,” broke in Cetewayo. “I hold that it is out of place that this little man, who has but conquered a little tribe by borrowing the wit of Macumazahn here, should be rewarded not only with a chieftainship, but with the hand of the wisest and most beautiful of the King’s daughters, even though Umbelazi,” he added, with a sneer, “should be willing to throw him his own sister like a bone to a passing dog.”
“Who threw the bone, Cetewayo?” asked Umbelazi, awaking out of his indifference. “Was it the King, or was it I, who never heard of the matter till this moment? And who are we that we should question the King’s decrees? Is it our business to judge or to obey?”
“Has Saduko perchance made you a present of some of those cattle which he stole from the Amakoba, Umbelazi?” asked Cetewayo. “As our father asks no lobola, perhaps you have taken the gift instead.”
“The only gift that I have taken from Saduko,” said Umbelazi, who, I could see, was hard pressed to keep his temper, “is that of his service. He is my friend, which is why you hate him, as you hate all my friends.”
“Must I then love every stray cur that licks your hand, Umbelazi? Oh, no need to tell me he is your friend, for I know it was you who put it into our father’s heart to allow him to kill Bangu and steal his cattle, which I hold to be an ill deed, for now the Great House is thatched with his reeds and Bangu’s blood is on its doorposts. Moreover, he who wrought the wrong is to come and dwell therein, and for aught I know to be called a prince, like you and me. Why should he not, since the Princess Nandie is to be given to him in marriage? Certainly, Umbelazi, you would do well to take the cattle which this white trader has refused, for all men know that you have earned them.”
Now Umbelazi sprang up, straightening himself to the full of his great height, and spoke in a voice that was thick with passion.
“I pray your leave to withdraw, O King,” he said, “since if I stay here longer I shall grow sorry that I have no spear in my hand. Yet before I go I will tell the truth. Cetewayo hates Saduko, because, knowing him to be a chief of wit and courage, who will grow great, he sought him for his man, saying, ‘Sit you in my shadow,’ after he had promised to sit in mine. Therefore it is that he heaps these taunts upon me. Let him deny it if he can.”