Part 21 (2/2)

”Drink of the water of tears, cover yourselves with the dust of affliction.

”Mourn, O tribe of the Langeni, because the Mother of the Heavens is no more.

”Mourn, children of Makedama, because the Spirit of Fruitfulness is no more.

”Mourn, O ye people, because the Lion of the Zulu is left so desolate.

”Let your tears fall as the rain falls, let your cries be as the cries of women who bring forth.

”For sorrow is fallen like the rain, the world has conceived and brought forth death.

”Great darkness is upon us, darkness and the shadow of death.

”The Lion of the Zulu wanders and wanders in desolation, because the Mother of the Heavens is no more.

”Who shall bring him comfort? There is comfort in the crying of his children.

”Mourn, people of the Langeni; let the voice of your mourning beat against the skies and rend them.

”Ou-ai! Ou-ai! Ou-ai!”

Thus sang the old man, my father Makedama, far down in the deeps of the cleft. He sang it in a still, small voice, but, line after line, his song was caught up by the thousands who stood on the slopes above, and thundered to the heavens till the mountains shook with its sound.

Moreover, the noise of their crying opened the bosom of a heavy rain-cloud that had gathered as they mourned, and the rain fell in great slow drops, as though the sky also wept, and with the rain came lightning and the roll of thunder.

Chaka listened, and large tears coursed down his cheeks, whose heart was easily stirred by the sound of song. Now the rain hissed fiercely, making as it were a curtain about the thousands of the people; but still their cry went up through the rain, and the roll of the thunder was lost in it. Presently there came a hush, and I looked to the right. There, above the heads of the people, coming over the brow of the hill, were the plumes of warriors, and in their hands gleamed a hedge of spears.

I looked to the left; there also I saw the plumes of warriors dimly through the falling rain, and in their hands a hedge of spears. I looked before me, towards the end of the cleft; there also loomed the plumes of warriors, and in their hands was a hedge of spears.

Then, from all the people there arose another cry, a cry of terror and of agony.

”Ah! now they mourn indeed, Mopo,” said Chaka in my ear; ”now thy people mourn from the heart and not with the lips alone.”

As he spoke the mult.i.tude of the people on either side of the rift surged forward like a wave, surged back again, once more surged forward, then, with a dreadful crying, driven on by the merciless spears of the soldiers, they began to fall in a torrent of men, women, and children, far into the black depths below.

My father, forgive me the tears that fall from these blind eyes of mine; I am very aged, I am but as a little child, and as a little child I weep. I cannot tell it. At last it was done, and all grew still.

Thus was Makedama buried beneath the bodies of his people; thus was ended the tribe of the Langeni; as my mother had dreamed, so it came about; and thus did Chaka take vengeance for that cup of milk which was refused to him many a year before.

”Thou hast not won thy bet, Mopo,” said the king presently. ”See there is a little s.p.a.ce where one more may find room to sleep. Full to the brim is this corn-chamber with the ears of death, in which no living grain is left. Yet there is one little s.p.a.ce, and is there not one to fill it? Are all the tribe of the Langeni dead indeed?”

”There is one, O King!” I answered. ”I am of the tribe of the Langeni, let my carcase fill the place.”

”Nay, Mopo, nay! Who then should take the bet? Moreover, I slay thee not, for it is against my oath. Also, do we not mourn together, thou and I?”

”There is no other left living of the tribe of the Langeni, O King! The bet is lost; it shall be paid.”

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