“O Macumazahn, who can prevent a needle from piercing cloth when it is pushed by a finger like yours?  Your wits are too sharp for me, Macumazahn; your eyes read through the blanket of cunning with which I would hide my thought.  You speak truly.  I did send for you for my own sake as well as for yours.  I sent for you because I wanted your counsel, Macumazahn, and because Cetewayo the king also wants your counsel, and I wished to see you before you saw Cetewayo.  Now you have the whole truth.”

“What do you want my counsel about, Zikali?”

He leaned forward till his white locks almost seemed to mingle with the thin flame, through which he glared at me with eyes that were fiercer than the fire.

“Macumazahn, you remember the story that I told you long ago, do you not?”

“Very well, Zikali.  It was that you hate the House of Senzangacona which has given all its kings to Zululand.  First, because you are one of the Dwandwe tribe whom the Zulus crushed and mocked at.  Secondly, because Chaka the Lion named you the ‘Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born’ and killed your wives, for which crime you brought about the death of Chaka.  Thirdly, because you have matched your single wit for many years against all the power of the royal House and yet kept your life in you, notably when Panda threatened you in my presence at the trial of one who has ‘gone down,’ and you told him to kill you if he dared.  Now you would prove that you were right by causing your cunning to triumph over the royal House.”

“True, quite true, O Macumazahn.  You have a good memory, Macumazahn, especially for anything that has to do with that woman who has ‘gone down.’  I sent her down, but how was she named, Macumazahn?  I forget, I forget, whose mind being old, falls suddenly into black pits of darkness—­like her who went down.”

He paused and we stared at each other through the veil of fire.  Then as I made no answer, he went on—­

“Oh!  I remember now, she was called Mameena, was she not, a name taken from the wailing of the wind?  Hark!  It is wailing now.”

I listened; it was, and I shivered to hear it, since but a minute before the night had been quite still.  Yes, the wind moaned and wailed about the rocks of the Black Kloof.

“Well, enough of her.  Why trouble about the dead when there are so many to be sent to join them?  Macumazahn, the hour is at hand.  The fool Cetewayo has quarrelled with your people, the English, and on my counsel.  He has sent and killed women, or allowed others to do so, across the river in Natal.  His messengers came to me asking what he should do.  I answered, ’Shall a king of the blood of Chaka fear to allow his own wicked ones to be slain because they have stepped across a strip of water, and still call himself king of the Zulus?’ So those women were dragged back across the water and killed; and now the Queen’s man from the Cape asks many things, great fines of cattle, the giving up of the slayers, and that an end should be made of the Zulu army, which is to lay down its spears and set to hoeing like the old women in the kraals.”