________________________________________________
_ When Nanea leapt from the dizzy platform that overhung the Pool of
Doom, a strange fortune befell her. Close in to the precipice were
many jagged rocks, and on these the waters of the fall fell and
thundered, bounding from them in spouts of spray into the troubled
depths of the foss beyond. It was on these stones that the life was
dashed out from the bodies of the wretched victims who were hurled
from above. But Nanea, it will be remembered, had not waited to be
treated thus, and as it chanced the strong spring with which she had
leapt to death carried her clear of the rocks. By a very little she
missed the edge of them and striking the deep water head first like
some practised diver, she sank down and down till she thought that she
would never rise again. Yet she did rise, at the end of the pool in
the mouth of the rapid, along which she sped swiftly, carried down by
the rush of the water. Fortunately there were no rocks here; and,
since she was a skilful swimmer, she escaped the danger of being
thrown against the banks.
For a long distance she was borne thus till at length she saw that she
was in a forest, for trees cut off the light from the water, and their
drooping branches swept its surface. One of these Nanea caught with
her hand, and by the help of it she dragged herself from the River of
Death whence none had escaped before. Now she stood upon the bank
gasping but quite unharmed; there was not a scratch on her body; even
her white garment was still fast about her neck.
But though she had suffered no hurt in her terrible voyage, so
exhausted was Nanea that she could scarcely stand. Here the gloom was
that of night, and shivering with cold she looked helplessly to find
some refuge. Close to the water's edge grew an enormous yellow-wood
tree, and to this she staggered--thinking to climb it, and seek
shelter in its boughs where, as she hoped, she would be safe from wild
beasts. Again fortune befriended her, for at a distance of a few feet
from the ground there was a great hole in the tree which, she
discovered, was hollow. Into this hole she crept, taking her chance of
its being the home of snakes or other evil creatures, to find that the
interior was wide and warm. It was dry also, for at the bottom of the
cavity lay a foot or more of rotten tinder and moss brought there by
rats or birds. Upon this tinder she lay down, and covering herself
with the moss and leaves soon sank into sleep or stupor.
How long Nanea slept she did not know, but at length she was awakened
by a sound as of guttural human voices talking in a language that she
could not understand. Rising to her knees she peered out of the hole
in the tree. It was night, but the stars shone brilliantly, and their
light fell upon an open circle of ground close by the edge of the
river. In this circle there burned a great fire, and at a little
distance from the fire were gathered eight or ten horrible-looking
beings, who appeared to be rejoicing over something that lay upon the
ground. They were small in stature, men and women together, but no
children, and all of them were nearly naked. Their hair was long and
thin, growing down almost to the eyes, their jaws and teeth protruded
and the girth of their black bodies was out of all proportion to their
height. In their hands they held sticks with sharp stones lashed on to
them, or rude hatchet-like knives of the same material.
Now Nanea's heart shrank within her, and she nearly fainted with fear,
for she knew that she was in the haunted forest, and without a doubt
these were the /Esemkofu/, the evil ghosts that dwelt therein. Yes,
that was what they were, and yet she could not take her eyes off them
--the sight of them held her with a horrible fascination. But if they
were ghosts, why did they sing and dance like men? Why did they wave
those sharp stones aloft, and quarrel and strike each other? And why
did they make a fire as men do when they wish to cook food? More, what
was it that they rejoiced over, that long dark thing which lay so
quiet upon the ground? It did not look like a head of game, and it
could scarcely be a crocodile, yet clearly it was food of some sort,
for they were sharpening the stone knives in order to cut it up.
While she wondered thus, one of the dreadful-looking little creatures
advanced to the fire, and taking from it a burning bough, held it over
the thing that lay upon the ground, to give light to a companion who
was about to do something to it with the stone knife. Next instant
Nanea drew back her head from the hole, a stifled shriek upon her
lips. She saw what it was now--it was the body of a man. Yes, and
these were no ghosts; they were cannibals of whom when she was little,
her mother had told her tales to keep her from wandering away from
home.
But who was the man they were about to eat? It could not be one of
themselves, for his stature was much greater. Oh! now she knew; it
must be Nahoon, who had been killed up yonder, and whose dead body the
waters had brought down to the haunted forest as they had brought her
alive. Yes, it must be Nahoon, and she would be forced to see her
husband devoured before her eyes. The thought of it overwhelmed her.
That he should die by order of the king was natural, but that he
should be buried thus! Yet what could she do to prevent it? Well, if
it cost her her life, it should be prevented. At the worst they could
only kill and eat her also, and now that Nahoon and her father were
gone, being untroubled by any religious or spiritual hopes and fears,
she was not greatly concerned to keep her own breath in her.
Slipping through the hole in the tree, Nanea walked quietly towards
the cannibals--not knowing in the least what she should do when she
reached them. As she arrived in line with the fire this lack of
programme came home to her mind forcibly, and she paused to reflect.
Just then one of the cannibals looked up to see a tall and stately
figure wrapped in a white garment which, as the flame-light flickered
on it, seemed now to advance from the dense background of shadow, and
now to recede into it. The poor savage wretch was holding a stone
knife in his teeth when he beheld her, but it did not remain there
long, for opening his great jaws he uttered the most terrified and
piercing yell that Nanea had ever heard. Then the others saw her also,
and presently the forest was ringing with shrieks of fear. For a few
seconds the outcasts stood and gazed, then they were gone this way and
that, bursting their path through the undergrowth like startled
jackals. The /Esemkofu/ of Zulu tradition had been routed in their own
haunted home by what they took to be a spirit.
Poor /Esemkofu!/ they were but miserable and starving bushmen who,
driven into that place of ill omen many years ago, had adopted this
means, the only one open to them, to keep the life in their wretched
bodies. Here at least they were unmolested, and as there was little
other food to be found amid that wilderness of trees, they took what
the river brought them. When executions were few in the Pool of Doom,
times were hard for them indeed--for then they were driven to eat each
other. That is why there were no children.
As their inarticulate outcry died away in the distance, Nanea ran
forward to look at the body that lay on the ground, and staggered back
with a sigh of relief. It was not Nahoon, but she recognised the face
for that of one of the party of executioners. How did he come here?
Had Nahoon killed him? Had Nahoon escaped? She could not tell, and at
the best it was improbable, but still the sight of this dead soldier
lit her heart with a faint ray of hope, for how did he come to be dead
if Nahoon had no hand in his death? She could not bear to leave him
lying so near her hiding-place, however; therefore, with no small
toil, she rolled the corpse back into the water, which carried it
swiftly away. Then she returned to the tree, having first replenished
the fire, and awaited the light.
At last it came--so much of it as ever penetrated this darksome den--
and Nanea, becoming aware that she was hungry, descended from the tree
to search for food. All day long she searched, finding nothing, till
towards sunset she remembered that on the outskirts of the forest
there was a flat rock where it was the custom of those who had been in
any way afflicted, or who considered themselves or their belongings to
be bewitched, to place propitiatory offerings of food wherewith the
/Esemkofu/ and /Amalhosi/ were supposed to satisfy their spiritual
cravings. Urged by the pinch of starvation, to this spot Nanea
journeyed rapidly, and found to her joy that some neighbouring kraal
had evidently been in recent trouble, for the Rock of Offering was
laden with cobs of corn, gourds of milk, porridge and even meat.
Helping herself to as much as she could carry, she returned to her
lair, where she drank of the milk and cooked meat and mealies at the
fire. Then she crept back into the tree, and slept.
For nearly two months Nanea lived thus in the forest, since she could
not venture out of it--fearing lest she should be seized, and for a
second time taste of the judgment of the king. In the forest at least
she was safe, for none dared enter there, nor did the /Esemkofu/ give
her further trouble. Once or twice she saw them, but on each occasion
they fled from her presence--seeking some distant retreat, where they
hid themselves or perished. Nor did food fail her, for finding that it
was taken, the pious givers brought it in plenty to the Rock of
Offering.
But, oh! the life was dreadful, and the gloom and loneliness coupled
with her sorrows at times drove her almost to insanity. Still she
lived on, though often she desired to die, for if her father was dead,
the corpse she had found was not the corpse of Nahoon, and in her
heart there still shone that spark of home. Yet what she hoped for she
could not tell.
*****
When Philip Hadden reached civilised regions, he found that war was
about to be declared between the Queen and Cetywayo, King of the
Amazulu; also that in the prevailing excitement his little adventure
with the Utrecht store-keeper had been overlooked or forgotten. He was
the owner of two good buck-waggons with spans of salted oxen, and at
that time vehicles were much in request to carry military stores for
the columns which were to advance into Zululand; indeed the transport
authorities were glad to pay £90 a month for the hire of each waggon
and to guarantee the owners against all loss of cattle. Although he
was not desirous of returning to Zululand, this bait proved too much
for Hadden, who accordingly leased out his waggons to the
Commissariat, together with his own services as conductor and
interpreter.
He was attached to No. 3 column of the invading force, which it may be
remembered was under the immediate command of Lord Chelmsford, and on
the 20th of January, 1879, he marched with it by the road that runs
from Rorke's Drift to the Indeni forest, and encamped that night
beneath the shadow of the steep and desolate mountain known as
Isandhlwana.
That day also a great army of King Cetywayo's, numbering twenty
thousand men and more, moved down from the Upindo Hill and camped upon
the stony plain that lies a mile and a half to the east of
Isandhlwana. No fires were lit, and it lay there in utter silence, for
the warriors were "sleeping on their spears."
With that /impi/ was the Umcityu regiment, three thousand five hundred
strong. At the first break of dawn the Induna in command of the
Umcityu looked up from beneath the shelter of the black shield with
which he had covered his body, and through the thick mist he saw a
great man standing before him, clothed only in a moocha, a gaunt wild-
eyed man who held a rough club in his hand. When he was spoken to, the
man made no answer; he only leaned upon his club looking from left to
right along the dense array of innumerable shields.
"Who is this /Silwana/ (wild creature)?" asked the Induna of his
captains wondering.
The captains stared at the wanderer, and one of them replied, "This is
Nahoon-ka-Zomba, it is the son of Zomba who not long ago held rank in
this regiment of the Umcityu. His betrothed, Nanea, daughter of
Umgona, was killed together with her father by order of the Black One,
and Nahoon went mad with grief at the sight of it, for the fire of
Heaven entered his brain, and mad he has wandered ever since."
"What would you here, Nahoon-ka-Zomba?" asked the Induna.
Then Nahoon spoke slowly. "My regiment goes down to war against the
white men; give me a shield and a spear, O Captain of the king, that I
may fight with my regiment, for I seek a face in the battle."
So they gave him a shield and a spear, for they dared not turn away
one whose brain was alight with the fire of Heaven.
*****
When the sun was high that day, bullets began to fall among the ranks
of the Umcityu. Then the black-shielded, black-plumed Umcityu arose,
company by company, and after them arose the whole vast Zulu army,
breast and horns together, and swept down in silence upon the doomed
British camp, a moving sheen of spears. The bullets pattered on the
shields, the shells tore long lines through their array, but they
never halted or wavered. Forward on either side shot out the horns of
armed men, clasping the camp in an embrace of steel. Then as these
began to close, out burst the war cry of the Zulus, and with the roar
of a torrent and the rush of a storm, with a sound like the humming of
a billion bees, wave after wave the deep breast of the /impi/ rolled
down upon the white men. With it went the black-shielded Umcityu and
with them went Nahoon, the son of Zomba. A bullet struck him in the
side, glancing from his ribs, he did not heed; a white man fell from
his horse before him, he did not stab, for he sought but one face in
the battle.
He sought--and at last he found. There, among the waggons where the
spears were busiest, there standing by his horse and firing rapidly
was Black Heart, he who had given Nanea his betrothed to death. Three
soldiers stood between them, one of them Nahoon stabbed, and two he
brushed aside; then he rushed straight at Hadden.
But the white man saw him come, and even through the mask of his
madness he knew Nahoon again, and terror took hold of him. Throwing
away his empty rifle, for his ammunition was spent, he leaped upon his
horse and drove his spurs into its flanks. Away it went among the
carnage, springing over the dead and bursting through the lines of
shields, and after it came Nahoon, running long and low with head
stretched forward and trailing spear, running as a hound runs when the
buck is at view.
Hadden's first plan was to head for Rorke's Drift, but a glance to the
left showed him that the masses of the Undi barred that way, so he
fled straight on, leaving his path to fortune. In five minutes he was
over a ridge, and there was nothing of the battle to be seen, in ten
all sounds of it had died away, for few guns were fired in the dread
race to Fugitive's Drift, and the assegai makes no noise. In some
strange fashion, even at this moment, the contrast between the
dreadful scene of blood and turmoil that he had left, and the peaceful
face of Nature over which he was passing, came home to his brain
vividly. Here birds sang and cattle grazed; here the sun shone
undimmed by the smoke of cannon, only high up in the blue and silent
air long streams of vultures could be seen winging their way to the
Plain of Isandhlwana.
The ground was very rough, and Hadden's horse began to tire. He looked
over his shoulder--there some two hundred yards behind came the Zulu,
grim as Death, unswerving as Fate. He examined the pistol in his belt;
there was but one undischarged cartridge left, all the rest had been
fired and the pouch was empty. Well, one bullet should be enough for
one savage: the question was should he stop and use it now? No, he
might miss or fail to kill the man; he was on horseback and his foe on
foot, surely he could tire him out.
A while passed, and they dashed through a little stream. It seemed
familiar to Hadden. Yes, that was the pool where he used to bathe when
he was the guest of Umgona, the father of Nanea; and there on the
knoll to his right were the huts, or rather the remains of them, for
they had been burnt with fire. What chance had brought him to this
place, he wondered; then again he looked behind him at Nahoon, who
seemed to read his thoughts, for he shook his spear and pointed to the
ruined kraal.
On he went at speed for here the land was level, and to his joy he
lost sight of his pursuer. But presently there came a mile of rocky
ground, and when it was past, glancing back he saw that Nahoon was
once more in his old place. His horse's strength was almost spent, but
Hadden spurred it forward blindly, whither he knew not. Now he was
travelling along a strip of turf and ahead of him he heard the music
of a river, while to his left rose a high bank. Presently the turf
bent inwards and there, not twenty yards away from him, was a Kaffir
hut standing on the brink of a river. He looked at it, yes, it was the
hut of that accursed /inyanga/, the Bee, and standing by the fence of
it was none other than the Bee herself. At the sight of her the
exhausted horse swerved violently, stumbled and came to the ground,
where it lay panting. Hadden was thrown from the saddle but sprang to
his feet unhurt.
"Ah! Black Heart, is it you? What news of the battle, Black Heart?"
cried the Bee in a mocking voice.
"Help me, mother, I am pursued," he gasped.
"What of it, Black Heart, it is but by one tired man. Stand then and
face him, for now Black Heart and White Heart are together again. You
will not? Then away to the forest and seek shelter among the dead who
await you there. Tell me, tell me, was it the face of Nanea that I saw
beneath the waters a while ago? Good! bear my greetings to her when
you two meet in the House of the Dead."
Hadden looked at the stream; it was in flood. He could not swim it, so
followed by the evil laugh of the prophetess, he sped towards the
forest. After him came Nahoon, his tongue hanging from his jaws like
the tongue of a wolf.
Now he was in the shadow of the forest, but still he sped on following
the course of the river, till at length his breath failed, and he
halted on the further side of a little glade, beyond which a great
tree grew. Nahoon was more than a spear's throw behind him; therefore
he had time to draw his pistol and make ready.
"Halt, Nahoon," he cried, as once before he had cried; "I would speak
with you."
The Zulu heard his voice, and obeyed.
"Listen," said Hadden. "We have run a long race and fought a long
fight, you and I, and we are still alive both of us. Very soon, if you
come on, one of us must be dead, and it will be you, Nahoon, for I am
armed and as you know I can shoot straight. What do you say?"
Nahoon made no answer, but stood still at the edge of the glade, his
wild and glowering eyes fixed on the white man's face and his breath
coming in short gasps.
"Will you let me go, if /I/ let /you/ go?" Hadden asked once more. "I
know why you hate me, but the past cannot be undone, nor can the dead
be brought to earth again."
Still Nahoon made no answer, and his silence seemed more fateful and
more crushing than any speech; no spoken accusation would have been so
terrible in Hadden's ear. He made no answer, but lifting his assegai
he stalked grimly toward his foe.
When he was within five paces Hadden covered him and fired. Nahoon
sprang aside, but the bullet struck him somewhere, for his right arm
dropped, and the stabbing spear that he held was jerked from it
harmlessly over the white man's head. But still making no sound, the
Zulu came on and gripped him by the throat with his left hand. For a
space they struggled terribly, swaying to and fro, but Hadden was
unhurt and fought with the fury of despair, while Nahoon had been
twice wounded, and there remained to him but one sound arm wherewith
to strike. Presently forced to earth by the white man's iron strength,
the soldier was down, nor could he rise again.
"Now we will make an end," muttered Hadden savagely, and he turned to
seek the assegai, then staggered slowly back with starting eyes and
reeling gait. For there before him, still clad in her white robe, a
spear in her hand, stood the spirit of Nanea!
"Think of it," he said to himself, dimly remembering the words of the
/inyanga/, "when you stand face to face with the ghost of the dead in
the Home of the Dead."
There was a cry and a flash of steel; the broad spear leapt towards
him to bury itself in his breast. He swayed, he fell, and presently
Black Heart clasped that great reward which the word of the Bee had
promised Him.
*****
"Nahoon! Nahoon!" murmured a soft voice, "awake, it is no ghost, but I
--Nanea--I, your living wife, to whom my /Ehlose/[*] has given it me
to save you."
[*] Guardian Spirit.
Nahoon heard and opened his eyes to look and his madness left him.
"Welcome, wife," he said faintly, "now I will live since Death has
brought you back to me in the House of the Dead."
*****
To-day Nahoon is one of the Indunas of the English Government in
Zululand, and there are children about his kraal. It was from the lips
of none other than Nanea his wife that the teller of this tale heard
its substance.
The Bee also lives and practises as much magic as she dares under the
white man's rule. On her black hand shines a golden ring shaped like a
snake with ruby eyes, and of this trinket the Bee is very proud.
_________
-THE END-
H. Rider Haggard's novella: Black Heart and White Heart [Genre: novel] _
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