Shaka the Great (27 page)

“Why?”

“Yes, why!” The prince's hand comes up, pointing in the direction of KwaBulawayo. “Are there not more important matters to discuss?”

“Such as?”

Such as?
Dingane tries a stare of disbelief, but it soon disintegrates into laughter and head-shaking.

“Such as, have you brought us some beer?” he says eventually.

Sadly, no, says the Induna, there was no time. But, if the prince recalls, there is a spring in this secret place of theirs that offers water they once declared the sweetest they'd ever tasted.

“And yet we each then would have swapped the other for a gourd of beer,” notes Dingane. Or later, as they got older and came here less, a girl!

“This is so,” chuckles the Induna.

“But before we taste once more the sweetest water in the kingdom, I would ask you another question, old friend.”

The Induna nods and waits.

“You have served my brother loyally all these years, but who do you serve tonight?”

There is some difference of opinion about the manner in which Shaka seized power …

From
The Zulu Kings
by Brian Roberts

Whereupon, much to the surprise of his brothers and all the inhabitants of esiKlebeni, Dingane declared his approval of Shaka's usurpation of the throne and solemnly promised to honour, to defend and to serve the new chief of the Zulu.

From
Rule Of Fear
by Peter Becker

Take a look at a map of modern-day South Africa, and you'll see the country is divided into nine provinces. On the east coast, you'll find KwaZulu-Natal. Brushed by the warm Indian Ocean, the subtropical coastal lowland reaches maximum temperatures of 28°C during the height of summer, between January and March, with an extremely high humidity factor especially in and around Durban, the city that gradually grew out of the trading station established on the shores of Port Natal. Temperatures can be higher further inland, for the Thukela Valley often reaches 30°C, but they will drop considerably after nightfall.

KwaZulu-Natal's coastline stretches from Port Edward in the south to Kosi Bay in the north, where the province shares a border with Mozambique. It is here, too, that sandy beaches give way to a vast low-lying plain of mangroves, swamp forests and salt marshes. The Zulus call this region Umhlaba'yalingana, Flat Land.

This is malaria territory, best avoided, although many of the plants required for medicines are to be found in the northern reaches, where the plain meets the precipitous slopes of the Lebombo Mountains, and shrubs and tree cycads cling to the rock faces. It is here that many sangomas and inyangas come to receive their training.

The coastal belt gives way to more hospitable land further south, where rolling hills and fertile grasslands, watered by moist warm air moving inland off the Indian Ocean, invite settlement and promise prosperity away from the tsetse fly and trembling sickness.

Traveling deeper into the province is to travel higher, until one encounters the mighty basalt and sandstone barrier of the Drakensberg or Ukhahlamba mountain range. Beyond this lies the home of the Sothos. The mighty Thukela, the region's largest river, also has its source here.

Even further south, spilling over into what's now the Eastern Cape, is Pondoland, with its often impenetrable thickets of shrubs, low trees and vines, becoming forests and montane grasslands in the higher altitudes.

Between the Ukhahlamba and the granite Lebombo lies a swathe of bushveld: dense thickets along watercourses, and trees in the savannah. They include the buffalo-thorn jujube, whose branches are used to carry a person's spirit home if they have died in a far-off place; the marula whose berries are eaten by all, from wild animals to livestock to humans; the aloe whose nectar children love, and whose dried leaves are ground for snuff; the ever untidy red bushwillow with its heavily scented flowers …

The borders of the province mark the great area of land that came under Zulu control during Shaka's rise to power: more than ninety thousand square kilometers gained and never truly lost.

Now take a pencil and make a mark on the map, preferably somewhere in the area between the White Mfolozi and the source of the Mhlathuze River—but it doesn't really matter where.

That pencil mark, on any 1:350 000 map, represents the size of the territory Shaka inherited when he first became King of the Zulus in 1816.

“One more thing,” she said, as Ndlela was leaving. “I think a little fear will be in order. I think a little fear will go a long way to helping him see the wisdom of the course of action we propose for him. What say you?”

Mnkabayi's induna nodded.

“Not that I think he will take much convincing, for he is a smart one. But do not let the nature of our relationship deter you from ordering your men to emphasize the seriousness of the matter.”

“I will also see to it, Ma, that they do not go too far. The special relationship the two of you enjoy aside, that would defeat our aims.”

“Good.” Mnkabayi smiled. “Go issue your orders.”

As things turned out, it was a refinement to their plan that caused some difficulty for those sent to fetch the young warrior at first light, the next day.

On their own initiative they decided the “scaring” would start from the moment they woke him up. That, they felt, would set the tone for the rest of the proceedings.

Instead of calling the warrior out of his indlu, his hut, they crept inside with the intention of having him tied up and docile before he was fully awake.

But, even as they moved into position, the warrior was stirring. Sheshayo, the leader of the group, darted forward and clamped his left hand over the young man's mouth. Unfortunately, he was too quick for his companions. Hila had managed to grab an ankle and Radebe was leaning forward to take hold of the warrior's hands, when the man came alive.

He kicked Hila across the hut, caught Radebe a glancing blow on the cheekbone, and brought his other hand up under Sheshayo to punch him in the balls. If he had been able to connect with Radebe properly, things might have gone even worse for the intruders. As it was, Radebe was merely deflected. He regained
his balance and, while Sheshayo toppled sideways with a howl, he threw himself on to the warrior, who tried to use Radebe's momentum against him by rolling with him in a move that should have sent Radebe flying. But they were too close to the wall of the hut. Radebe hit the thatch and dropped back on to the warrior.

It was as they wrestled face to face, each trying to grip and pin down the other's hands, that he recognized his assailant.

Suddenly the warrior stopped struggling. “Have you gone mad?” he asked Radebe.

His lip bleeding, Radebe shook his head.

For a few moments the hut was filled with the sound of three men panting and one keening like a hungry eaglet, his hands covering his genitals.

“Ndlela,” said Radebe at last.

“Ndlela?”

“He has”—gulping in mouthfuls of air—“summoned you. And … sent … us.”

“To fetch me?”

“Yes.”

“And this was how you chose to carry out his orders?”

In answer to his friend's question, Radebe glanced at Sheshayo, still curled up a few paces away. It was Sheshayo who had been briefed by Ndlela and, in turn, all he told Hila and Radebe was that they were to take the fellow by surprise.

The warrior nodded his understanding. Sheshayo was known for his eagerness to impress his superiors.

“Let me get up!” he demanded. They could wait for him outside while he got dressed.

Ndlela? That usually meant orders from Mnkabayi. Or even an audience with Senzangakhona's sister.

When he emerged from the hut, he was wearing the isinene and ibeshu that make up the Zulu kilt. The isinene, or front apron, comprises skins cut into circular patches and strung together on sinews to form tassels. These are weighted to prevent the isinene
from opening in case of sudden movement. The ibeshu is made of soft calfskin. Sandals completed his attire. If this was the way Ndlela chose to summon him, he would not bother with the feathers and armbands a Zulu male might wear on more formal occasions.

Part of him was aware he might regret such petulance, but he couldn't see what he had done that might have angered Ndlela (or Mnkabayi) and precipitated such a rude awakening.

The induna, however, could scarcely keep from laughing when the four of them trooped into his presence around mid-morning. As he'd later tell Mnkabayi, it was if the warrior was escorting the other three. “Fear there was, Ma,” he'd explain, “but it clearly ran in the wrong direction.” And Mnkabayi would ask him: “Are you surprised?” He'd look at her for a moment, the beginnings of a smile playing around his lips, then shake his head and release the smile fully, saying: “No, Ma, not in the least.”

There and then, though, he conjured up a stern expression. The warrior was to be given some water, then he could sit in the shade, with Radebe to watch over him, until Mnkabayi was ready to receive him.

After Ndlela had moved off, the warrior asked Radebe if he knew why he had been summoned.

His friend shook his head.

And it was only as they approached his hut, explained Radebe, that Sheshayo told his companions how he wanted them to wake up the warrior. “There wasn't time to warn you,” he added.

“But you did stamp hard as you entered,” grinned the warrior.

Radebe shrugged. It was the best he could do.

Nodding, the warrior rested his back against the tree trunk, eyeing the huts around them. He could hear the shouts of children at play somewhere nearby.

The king, he asked at last … did Radebe think this had anything to do with the king?

“That is unlikely.” Still reveling in the novelty of his elevation in status, Sigujana was at EsiKlebeni, feasting and meeting the maidens brought to him for consideration by the noblemen, it being a
signal honor to have a daughter taken into the king's harem.

Whenever a new king assumed the throne, there was a certain amount of jostling as his cronies replaced the favorites of the previous monarch, but the warrior couldn't see how any of this would affect him.

Except …

Yes, well, there was that.

“Welcome,” said Mnkabayi spreading her arms wide.

They were standing in an enclosed section to the side of her hut. Privacy was provided by a fence made of poles lashed together, and shade by the umbrella canopy of a paperbark acacia. This was where Mnkabayi received important guests, a fact not lost on the warrior as he bowed his head.

“I am your servant, Ma. As ever.”

“You look healthy.” She turned to Ndlela. “Doesn't he? Healthy and strong. Other young men … well, they tend to lie around, need to be goaded into doing the smallest chore for their indunas, or even their mothers. Not you,” she added, her eyes meeting the warrior's. For a moment, like a leopard loping between the trees, there was a glimpse of the flirtatious young girl she used to be.

“And don't think I haven't noticed the good influence you have on my nephew.” Mnkabayi grinned. “Well, in most areas. But when it comes to young maidens, no one can restrain him. Still, we will be seeing him soon enough. I know, for I sent the messengers myself.” At a time like this the princes needed to come together, to show their support for the heir. Differences must be put aside.

The warrior nodded, not sure where this was leading.

Mnkabayi must have sensed his puzzlement. Or else she realized that she had reached the point of no return. It was like the many branches of this tree spreading shade over them: they might be
slender, but most would bear your weight—within reason and up to a certain point, of course. Indeed, you'd be able to climb along them further than you'd think. It's only when you tried to retreat that they were likely to snap. Mnkabayi glanced at Ndlela, as if seeking his consent. The induna shrugged—the gesture of one who's more than merely a loyal servant, indicating that he'd stand by her no matter what she decided.

Mnkabayi laid a hand on the warrior's shoulder and guided him over to the pile of mats arranged beneath the tree. Allowing him to hold her arm, she lowered herself on to the mats and indicated that the warrior should sit too. Over here, on this stone, though, where she can see him without twisting her neck, and also close enough so she can speak softly.

Ndlela, the warrior noted, remained standing, occasionally moving away to peer over the wall to make sure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby.

What was going on? What did they want from him?

Dingane had often teased him that Mnkabayi had her eye on him—and everyone knew what that meant! Initially it bothered the warrior, since he most certainly did not want to become one of Mnkabayi's herdboys, her special protégés. But how did you turn down the advances of one who was a veritable queen? It was hardly any less comforting once it became clear seduction was the furthest thing from her mind—what then
did
she want from him? By the time Dingane was sent off to the Qwabes, the young warrior had given up trying to work out why Mnkabayi had decided to take an interest in him. Such ruminations only brought on a headache and whenever she summoned him and asked him to do something for her, he simply obeyed without question.

Now, though, there was a sense of urgency and of some great trust about to be conferred on him, which reignited his unease. The old questions kept flaking off his mind, like the bark from this tree. What did she want from him? And why him? Peel the straw-colored strips off to reveal a darker yellow bark. Why him in particular?

And there are thorns hidden in this tree: long and sharp.