Finished (1917) by H. Rider Haggard

Author:H. Rider Haggard [Haggard, H. Rider]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Delphi Main Series
Publisher: Delphi Classics
Published: 2020-12-20T15:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

CETEWAYO

IT WAS DARK when at last we reached the Ulundi kraal, for the growing moon was obscured by clouds. Therefore I could see nothing and was only aware, by the sound of voices and the continual challenging, that we were passing through great numbers of men. At length we were admitted at the eastern gate and I was taken to a hut where I at once flung myself down to sleep, being so weary that I could not attempt to eat. Next morning as I was finishing my breakfast in the little fenced courtyard of this guest-hut, Goza appeared and said that the king commanded me to be brought to him at once, adding that I must “speak softly” to him, as he was “very angry.”

So off we went across the great cattle kraal where a regiment of young men, two thousand strong or so, were drilling with a fierce intensity which showed they knew that they were out for more than exercise. About the sides of the kraal also stood hundreds of soldiers, all of them talking and, it seemed to me, excited, for they stamped upon the ground and even jumped into the air to give point to their arguments. Suddenly some of them caught sight of me, whereon a tall, truculent fellow called out —

“What does a white man at Ulundi at such a time, when even John Dunn dare not come? Let us kill him and send his head as a present to the English general across the Tugela. That will settle this long talk about peace or war.”

Others of a like mind echoed this kind proposal, with the result that presently a score or so of them made a rush at me, brandishing their sticks, since they might not carry arms in the royal kraal. Goza did his best to keep them off, but was swept aside like a feather, or rather knocked over, for I saw him on his back with his thin legs in the air.

“You must climb out of this pit by yourself,” he began, addressing me in his pompous and figurative way. Then somebody stamped on his face, and fixing his teeth in his assailant’s heel, he grew silent for a while.

The truculent blackguard, who was about six feet three high and had a mouth like a wolf’s throat, arrived in front of me and, bending down, roared out —

“We are going to kill you, White Man.”

I had a pistol in my pocket and could perfectly well have killed him, as I was much tempted to do. A second’s reflection showed me, however, that this would be useless, and in a sense put me in the wrong, though when the matter came on for argument it would interest me no more. So I just folded my arms and, looking up at him, said —

“Why, Black Man?”

“Because your face is white,” he roared.

“No,” I answered, “because your heart is black and your eyes are so full of blood that you do not know Macumazahn when you see him.

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