Part 6 (2/2)

”The child is born,” said the mother of the king. ”Look at him, Mopo, son of Makedama!”

I looked. He was a great child with large black eyes like the eyes of Chaka the king; and Unandi, too, looked at me. ”Where is it?” she whispered.

I loosed the mat and drew the dead child from the medicines, glancing round fearfully as I did so.

”Give me the living babe,” I whispered back.

They gave it to me and I took of a drug that I knew and rubbed it on the tongue of the child. Now this drug has the power to make the tongue it touches dumb for awhile. Then I wrapped up the child in my medicines and again bound the mat about the bundle. But round the throat of the still-born babe I tied a string of fibre as though I had strangled it, and wrapped it loosely in a piece of matting.

Now for the first time I spoke to Baleka: ”Woman,” I said, ”and thou also, Mother of the Heavens, I have done your wish, but know that before all is finished this deed shall bring about the death of many. Be secret as the grave, for the grave yawns for you both.”

I went again, bearing the mat containing the dead child in my right hand. But the bundle of medicines that held the living one I fastened across my shoulders. I pa.s.sed out of the Emposeni, and, as I went, I held up the bundle in my right hand to the guards, showing them that which was in it, but saying nothing.

”It is good,” they said, nodding.

But now ill-fortune found me, for just outside the Emposeni I met three of the king's messengers.

”Greeting, son of Makedama!” they said. ”The king summons you to the Intunkulu”--that is the royal house, my father.

”Good!” I answered. ”I will come now; but first I would run to my own place to see how it goes with Macropha, my wife. Here is that which the king seeks,” and I showed them the dead child. ”Take it to him if you will.”

”That is not the king's command, Mopo,” they answered. ”His word is that you should stand before him at once.”

Now my heart turned to water in my breast. Kings have many ears. Could he have heard? And how dared I go before the Lion bearing his living child hidden on my back? Yet to waver was to be lost, to show fear was to be lost, to disobey was to be lost.

”Good! I come,” I answered. And we walked to the gate of the Intunkulu.

It was sundown. Chaka was sitting in the little courtyard in front of his hut. I went down on my knees before him and gave the royal salute, Bayete, and so I stayed.

”Rise, son of Makedama!” he said.

”I cannot rise, Lion of the Zulu,” I answered, ”I cannot rise, having royal blood on my hands, till the king has pardoned me.”

”Where is it?” he asked.

I pointed to the mat in my hand.

”Let me look at it.”

Then I undid the mat, and he looked on the child, and laughed aloud.

”He might have been a king,” he said, as he bade a councillor take it away. ”Mopo, thou hast slain one who might have been a king. Art thou not afraid?”

”No, Black One,” I answered, ”the child is killed by order of one who is a king.”

”Sit down, and let us talk,” said Chaka, for his mood was idle.

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