about the fall of Umbelazi and the death of many thousands.  Yes, and this he did for one reason only—­because yonder woman had left him for the Prince, and he cared more for her than for all the world could give him, for her who had filled him with madness as a bowl is filled with milk.  And now, O King, you have heard this man tell you a story, you have heard him shout out that he is viler than any man in all the land; that he murdered his own child, the child he loved so well, to win this witch; that afterwards he gave her to his friend and lord to buy more of his favour, and that lastly he deserted that lord because he thought that there was another lord from whom he could buy more favour.  Is it not so, O King?”

“It is so,” answered Panda, “and therefore must Saduko be thrown out to the jackals.”

“Wait a while, O King.  I say that Saduko has spoken not with his own voice, but with the voice of Mameena.  I say that she is the greatest witch in all the land, and that she has drugged him with the medicine of her eyes, so that he knows not what he says, even as she drugged the Prince who is dead.”

“Then prove it, or he dies!” exclaimed the King.

Now the dwarf went to Panda and whispered in his ear, whereon Panda whispered in turn into the ears of two of his councillors.  These men, who were unarmed, rose and made as though to leave the isi-gohlo.  But as they passed Mameena one of them suddenly threw his arms about her, pinioning her arms, the other tearing off the kaross he wore—­for the weather was cold—­flung it over her head and knotted it behind her so that she was hidden except for her ankles and feet.  Then, although she did not move or struggle, they caught hold of her and stood still.

Now Zikali hobbled to Saduko and bade him rise, which he did.  Then he looked at him for a long while and made certain movements with his hands before his face, after which Saduko uttered a great sigh and stared about him.

“Saduko,” said Zikali, “I pray you tell me, your foster-father, whether it is true, as men say, that you sold your wife, Mameena, to the Prince Umbelazi in order that his favour might fall on you like heavy rain?”

“Wow!  Zikali,” said Saduko, with a start of rage, “If were you as others are I would kill you, you toad, who dare to spit slander on my name.  She ran away with the Prince, having beguiled him with the magic of her beauty.”

“Strike me not, Saduko,” went on Zikali, “or at least wait to strike until you have answered one more question.  Is it true, as men say, that in the battle of Endondakusuka you went over to the Usutu with your regiments because you thought that Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti would be beaten, and wished to be on the side of him who won?”

“What, Toad!  More slander?” cried Saduko.  “I went over for one reason only—­to be revenged upon the Prince because he had taken from me her who was more to me than life or honour.  Aye, and when I went over Umbelazi was winning; it was because I went that he lost and died, as I meant that he should die, though now,” he added sadly, “I would that I had not brought him to ruin and the dust, who think that, like myself, he was but wet clay in a woman’s fingers.