Hervey 10 - Warrior (28 page)

Hervey groaned. 'Good God!'

Somervile was as quick to the recognition, but quicker to the necessity for composure. 'Eyes front, I think, Hervey.'

'One of them's a woman!'

'I am able to determine that for myself. Nod to the guard of honour forming up for us.' He cleared his throat. 'Or I
imagine
it's a guard of honour.'

A dozen
inkwebane
in ceremonial dress, a single red-lory feather in each head-ring, the distinction of the Fasimba, were mustering outside the
sango.
They carried the short, stabbing spear, the
iklwa,
and black war shields, and appeared oblivious to the impalings under which they paraded.

Somervile raised his hat to return their salute. Hervey and Fairbrother saluted in the usual fashion, for although a salute was meant for the senior officer, and therefore returned by him alone, it seemed prudent to err on the side of unequivocal respect.

'I've a mind they were alive when they were hoist,' said Hervey, trying to keep his stomach down, for the stench of corruption was almost overpowering.

'Seven days ago, I'd say,' opined Fairbrother, not to Hervey's mind very usefully.

They rode through the opening in the great thorn stockade and halted inside the empty cattle byre, the herds grazing in an adjacent valley. The
inkwebane
followed, silent, and ranged in a half-moon behind them, closing off the
sango
so that Somervile's escort remained outside; though whether or not it was their intention to exclude them, Hervey could not tell.

'What is the meaning of that butchery, Isaacs?' asked Somervile as they reined to a halt, intent on remaining in the saddle for both his dignity and safety.

Isaacs was now barely able to sit upright. He gasped rather than spoke his reply. 'I'm fearful you'll see many another. They'll 'ave broken Shaka's mourning orders. Like as not the woman was with child.'

This much they had learned in Cape Town; but to see it for themselves . . . 'Bestial!' hissed Somervile.

'And no crops planted, no milk drawn – only to be poured on the earth.'

'Madness!'

'That is Shaka. When you meets 'im, you'll understand.'

An older warrior, wearing the otter-skin head-ring, the privilege of the married man, advanced on them.

'One of the gatekeepers,' said Isaacs, only with the greatest effort. 'Pay 'im no honours unless 'e crouches – which 'e won't.'

The warrior turned to face them squarely. He carried the
iklwa,
like the guard of honour, but a smaller shield.

'
Wozani!
'

'He wants us to follow 'im.'

'To the head man?'

'Can't be certain; but they're expecting us plain enough.'

'In that case we will dismount – once we have our horse-holders.' Somervile turned in the saddle and beckoned forward the escort. 'Since we're bidden, the guard'll have to let them in.'

Hervey prayed they would.

At the keeper's nod, the
inkwebane
parted left and right, making an opening just large enough to allow the escort to enter in file.

Hervey beckoned Trumpeter Roddis to him, reckoning a bugle preferable to the best swordsman. Then the five of them struck out behind the silent old warrior, across the byre towards the
isigodlo,
the private quarters of Shaka's man, the
induna.
Isaacs was now so fevered that he needed Fairbrother's support.

Another thorn fence, smaller than that of the outer perimeter of the kraal, enclosed the
isigodlo,
a collection of seven or eight beehive-shaped huts made of tightly woven grass. They passed through a narrow gate guarded by a single warrior, and made for the largest of the huts.

The
induna
himself greeted them. His smile, if equivocal, was easy nonetheless. He bid them enter.

Inside were calf skins spread on a clay floor. The
induna
gestured for his visitors to sit. Three serving-girls, their breasts bare, brought hollowed gourds filled with beer.

Isaacs, whom the
induna
appeared to know, began speaking. With the very greatest effort, and periodic gestures towards the others, Somervile in particular, he began to explain their coming here.

He spoke of 'Um Joji', as Shaka called King George, which appeared to establish the party's importance. Indeed, the
induna
seemed more flattered by the minute with the visitation (although Hervey could not but suppose that he had hourly expected them, and knew precisely their status).

Gradually, the
induna
allowed himself more ease. He was especially intent on Fairbrother, and when the latter spoke to him in Xhosa he narrowed his eyes as if to gain a sharper resolution of his features. With only a little help from Isaacs, Fairbrother explained that he had spent many years at the Cape and had made it his business to be fluent in the tongue of his nearest neighbours.

This brought nods of approval.

And half an hour passed agreeably. Somervile had not expected to learn anything (nor had Hervey); his principal concern was with how long he would be required to sup here before he could decently take his leave. However, the
induna
told them that half the bootycattle were to be returned to the Pondo king, Faku – a gesture of peace on Shaka's part. And ripe intelligence.

A gesture of peace, or a sign of weakness? Somervile pressed him for more. 'Ask how the campaign went, and now that against Soshangane.'

But Isaacs could barely summon the breath.

Fairbrother tried instead.

It took a little longer, but he was confident of his ability. 'The
induna
says the Pondo fought hard, but that Shaka crushed them, as he has crushed all his enemies. There is no news yet from the north, but Soshangane will be crushed like Faku.'

Somervile looked at the
induna,
and bowed. 'And what of the clash at Umtata, with Matiwane's warriors?'

There was an even longer exchange, Fairbrother pressing the
induna
hard.

'It is as we heard, Sir Eyre. He says that Matiwane had been no vassal, or even friend of Shaka's. I could not exactly follow all he said, but it seems that Shaka's keen to know how Matiwane's warriors were brought to defeat by our fewer numbers.'

Hervey did not doubt it. Shaka could hardly be indifferent to the defeat of an army trained in the manner of his own. 'Does the
induna
suppose we were there?'

'I believe he does.'

The serving-girls brought more beer, but before they could pour much of it, the older warrior returned, and with a graver expression than when he had greeted the visitors at the
sango.

He whispered into the
induna
's ear.

The
induna
looked perturbed. He questioned him urgently,
sotto voce,
and then gave way, for the briefest moment at least, to a look of dismay, before masking it with resolution, and rising.

He bowed to his guests, who rose with him, and from a loop fastening by the door of the hut he took his ceremonial staff.

Somervile motioned to Fairbrother.

With no time to think how he might phrase his question, Fairbrother asked simply if they might be of help.

The
induna
hesitated, as if unsure whether or not he had a right to speak, and then turned back to him. Twelve youths and boys, tenders of the royal cattle at Dukuza, had been sent to him for punishment, he explained. Shaka suspected them of
kleza
– squirting the milk from the cows' udders into their mouths – contrary to the mourning orders. Shaka had questioned them, they denied it, and he had directed them to take the usual oath, to swear 'by Shaka'. This, knowing their guilt, they had refused to do, and so Shaka had ordered them to come here, to the Fasimba kraal, where in a year or so they would have been enrolled as
inkwebane,
and tell the induna that Shaka had ordered them to be put to death.

Somervile looked at Isaacs, who nodded that this was a fair translation.

The
induna
watched, as if somehow fearful of their opinion.

'Hervey, we must prevent this,' said Somervile, decidedly.

Isaacs looked alarmed. 'Sir, there's no way on earth as we can prevent it. We'd be cut down at once – before yon bugler could play a note!'

Hervey took hold of Somervile's arm. 'You cannot think otherwise but as Isaacs says!'

Isaacs gasped for breath even more. 'He said the youths'd come 'ere without escort, solely on their honour. That's Shaka's power!'

'And Shaka knows we'll be here,' suggested Fairbrother, in a sinister way. ' "My name is Shaka, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair" . . .'

Somervile, if not exactly despairing, was agitated nevertheless. 'I have no desire to look upon his bestial works, yet we can do no good inside this hut.'

Hervey was not so sure. 'What say you, Isaacs?'

'Will make no difference.' He sank back to the floor, the sweat running freely down his face.

'Come,' said Somervile, striding for the door.

A dozen youths and boys stood in the middle of the cattle enclosure, in line, facing the
isigodlo.
The same cadets of the guard of honour, but without their finery, stood in line behind them.

The
induna
strode angrily across the byre, berating Shaka's consigned.

Somervile followed as close as he thought safe.

'What does he say, Fairbrother? I can't make out a word.'

Fairbrother raised an eyebrow. 'A Zulu general's ranting, Sir Eyre – I doubt even the wretched boys know.'

But slowly, as the
induna
stopped his railing and began speaking in more measured terms, though angry still, Fairbrother was able to catch some sense of it.

'He asks them if it's true they did
kleza,
and that Shaka sent them to say that he'd ordered them to be put to death.'

There was a murmuring among the condemned youths, with here and there a stronger voice seeming to admit it was so.

The
induna
raised his stick and swung it down furiously. '
Ni ngama qawu
. . . You are heroes – and as men and heroes you shall die by the spear, and not by the felons' club!'

The words were spoken so clearly – for the hearing of all in the enclosure – that Somervile and even Hervey were able to understand.

The young heroes had ranged themselves in age, so that on the right of the line, the place of honour, was the eldest, a youth of about Hervey's own height, and sixteen years, perhaps.

Somervile grew restless. 'My God, Hervey: those boys at yonder end are but eight or nine!'

Fairbrother spoke sharply. 'Close your eyes, Sir Eyre. That, or keep your counsel – with respect.'

Isaacs, who had struggled to join them on the arm of the older warrior, sealed the business. 'It's Shaka's will, and none of us'd be worth a spit if we crossed it!'

Somervile shook his head in unhappy resignation. Hervey stayed his own hand from his sabre only with the fiercest resolve.

And then, removing his shako, Fairbrother stepped forward. '
Mnumzana
. . .'

At this formal style of address by one of the visitors, the
induna
turned. There were tears on his cheeks.

Fairbrother struggled to express their objection, trying to combine in his voice and manner not only the imperative to stay the executions, but the deference necessary to keep
them
alive too. '
Mnumzana
. . . Sir, it is displeasing to the religion of King George, of whom Sir Eyre Somervile here is the personal representative, to have the blood of common felons shed in his presence, although undoubtedly they are brave men. King Shaka cannot know how brave these youths and boys have been, only that they disobeyed his command. Although King George knows that all Zulu are brave, would not King Shaka wish to know of their especial bravery, and might therefore wish to spare them?'

Only once did the
induna
need Isaacs's help to explain.

Hervey watched, tense, ready to draw his sabre. If he had to, he would tell Somervile to dash for the
isigodlo
while he warded off the
inkwebane,
and then would fall back with Fairbrother to the entrance. There they would make their stand there until the escort, and the rest of the column, answered Roddis's bugle. It was at least a plan, if a forlorn hope.

The
induna,
impassive despite his streaming eyes, turned away and beckoned the old warrior. He spoke quickly, insistently, but not in a voice that carried to the visitors.