A few minutes later the two princes arrived.  I watched their coming with interest, for they were the most important men in Zululand, and already the nation debated fiercely which of them would succeed to the throne.  I will try to describe them a little.

They were both of much the same age—­it is always difficult to arrive at a Zulu’s exact years—­and both fine young men.  Cetewayo, however, had the stronger countenance.  It was said that he resembled that fierce and able monster, Chaka the Wild Beast, his uncle, and certainly I perceived in him a likeness to his other uncle, Dingaan, Umpanda’s predecessor, whom I had known but too well when I was a lad.  He had the same surly eyes and haughty bearing; also, when he was angry his mouth shut itself in the same iron fashion.

Of Umbelazi it is difficult for me to speak without enthusiasm.  As Mameena was the most beautiful woman I ever saw in Zululand—­although it is true that old war-dog, Umslopogaas, a friend of mine who does not come into this story, used to tell me that Nada the Lily, whom I have mentioned, was even lovelier—­so Umbelazi was by far the most splendid man.  Indeed, the Zulus named him “Umbelazi the Handsome,” and no wonder.  To begin with, he stood at least three inches above the tallest of them; from a quarter of a mile away I have recognised him by his great height, even through the dust of a desperate battle, and his breadth was proportionate to his stature.  Then he was perfectly made, his great, shapely limbs ending, like Saduko’s, in small hands and feet.  His face, too, was well-cut and open, his colour lighter than Cetewayo’s, and his eyes, which always seemed to smile, were large and dark.

Even before they passed the small gate of the inner fence it was easy for me to see that this royal pair were not upon the best of terms, for each of them tried to get through it first, to show his right of precedence.  The result was somewhat ludicrous, for they jammed in the gateway.  Here, however, Umbelazi’s greater weight told, for, putting out his strength, he squeezed his brother into the reeds of the fence, and won through a foot or so in front of him.

“You grow too fat, my brother,” I heard Cetewayo say, and saw him scowl as he spoke.  “If I had held an assegai in my hand you would have been cut.”

“I know it, my brother,” answered Umbelazi, with a good-humoured laugh, “but I knew also that none may appear before the King armed.  Had it been otherwise, I would rather have followed after you.”

Now, at this hint of Umbelazi’s, that he would not trust his brother behind his back with a spear, although it seemed to be conveyed in jest, I saw Panda shift uneasily on his seat, while Cetewayo scowled even more ominously than before.  However, no further words passed between them, and, walking up to the King side by side, they saluted him with raised hands, calling out “Baba!”—­that is, Father.