'Mm.' Somervile turned and took up his telescope again. 'Do you suppose Shaka intends feeding us, as he promised, or does he make a show of his power by this delay?'
'Both, I'm sure,' said Hervey.
'Mm. Fairbrother, do you think you might discover when these brothers will arrive? That way we shall at least know not to dress too early.'
Hervey hid his smile.
'I'll go back, of course, Sir Eyre,' said Fairbrother. 'A few buttons and those boys will be as good as on the strength.'
'I am excessively grateful. And now I think I will take a little exercise. Shall you accompany me, Colonel Hervey? We might ride to the north a little way and see how the ocean looks. Yon clouds are heavy, but there's no sign of their decanting onto us.'
Sometimes there was nothing for Hervey to do but be diverted by his old friend's archness. 'Delighted, Sir Eyre.'
And as Fairbrother went to find beads and trinkets for the herd boys, Somervile confided that he was pleased beyond all expectations that Hervey's friend was of such good service, for although his own facility with the language was better than he had dared suppose, once the true business of 'diplomacy' began he would need more than a merely serviceable knowledge of Xhosa. 'But beyond that, his ease with the country is a pearl of special worth. If anything should happen to prevent my doing so myself, I trust that you will ensure so singular a fellow has due recognition and reward.'
Fairbrother left them as they were getting into the saddle.With perhaps a couple of hours' full daylight left (some of which the blackening clouds might claim), he made his way on foot to the collecting byre. The herd boys were once again pleased to talk to him. Shaka's brothers Dingane and Mhlangana had come into the kraal by one of the entrances on the far side reserved for the king and his officials, they said. Mbopa had met them, and taken them to his hut, while Shaka received the Izi-Yendane, the 'mop heads' from Natal, and examined the skins and feathers they had brought from Pondoland.
Fairbrother gave them the beads and other little charms. He felt almost as if he bargained too easily: herd boys, thought nothing of by the men of the kraal, would always learn more than they ought; and, being boys, they would always be keen to prove they knew more than was supposed. He drank fermented milk with them, and listened as they spoke keenly of becoming u-dibi, and in due course inkwebane, and one day warriors, and how they would go then to where the sun goes, and make all before them submit to Shaka.
And what of their friends, who had been sent to the Fasimba, he asked them.
The herd boys shrugged. Shaka had said they were not to drink milk, and they had defied him. If they had been dutiful they would have been drinking it today, as much as they pleased, for Shaka had now declared the mourning to be over.
And then one of them sprang to his feet and pointed excitedly. 'Look! It is Shaka!'
They got up from their haunches to see better where he pointed.
Fairbrother saw. 'Where does he go? And by himself.'
'To Kwa-Nyakamubi,' they all said.
'Kwa-Nyakamubi?'
'The other side of the hill. Shaka goes each evening to watch his special cattle being driven in for the night. Soon, we shall be herders of Kwa-Nyakamubi!'
'And he always goes alone?'
'Si-gi-di, He who is equal to a thousand warriors, has no need of others!'
'I will go and watch the cattle being driven in too,' said Fairbrother, making to leave them. 'Do you think Si-gi-di will permit that?'
The herd boys could barely comprehend the notion that anyone might do such a thing without Shaka's express authority. But what did they know, who were not yet even u-dibi – and he, Fairbrother, a great warrior?
He left them and made his way (unobserved, he trusted) by every shallow fold of the veld. Even taking such precautions, in but a quarter of an hour he had reached Kwa-Nyakamubi, which was little more than a thorn-fenced enclosure, a hundred yards across, with a few huts for the chosen herd boys.
Shaka was sitting quite alone, except for two ancient attendants nearby, on a clay mound near the entrance to the byre, his red cloak wrapped about him, watching as the best of his cattle were driven in from the grazing ground beyond the little stream of Nyakamubi.
Fairbrother marvelled at Shaka's defencelessness. But who would dare try to discover if the praise-name Si-gi-di were without foundation? Did not the absence of guards tell all who might ponder on it that Shaka himself believed? And who, indeed, would challenge such a form as this? Even seated, Shaka was a colossus. In the ndlunkulu he had towered over them, long-shanked; but now Fairbrother saw that the stature came as much from the length of his back, ramrod straight, his shoulders square and broad.
He watched from the cover of an impala lily, not so much hiding as not revealing himself, while the cattle, lowing peaceably, tramped by, the herd boys dancing about them, conscious of Shaka's keen eyes on their endeavours, death the penalty if he found fault.
He heard voices behind him and to his right, a sort of marchsinging, more praise-names for Shaka. He turned and saw five warriors of the Izi-Kwembu, one of the regiments from the north, the head-dress distinctive: the tail-feathers of the blue crane. But in the head-dress too was the red-lory feather, otherwise the preserve of the Fasimba. These were, indeed, warriors of especial bravery, the bringers of news from the campaign against Soshangane.
As custom prescribed, the warriors halted at six spears' length from their king, raised their iklwa and in unison gave the royal salute: 'Ba-ye-te! Nkosi! . . . Hail, O Chief!'
Shaka remained seated, but raised both hands and motioned them to be at ease.
As one, they squatted, waiting to learn their king's pleasure. They might wear the red-lory feather, but the campaign was going ill; they did not expect that Shaka would heap praises on them.
Fairbrother strained to hear his reply. But Shaka spoke softly, seeming strangely unmoved. They appeared to be speaking with one another as equals, Shaka listening carefully, and respectfully, to their reports.
Not many yards beyond the mound on which they sat was a hedge, free-standing, unconnected with the byre, but plainly serving some purpose, for it was too straight to be made by Nature. Suddenly from behind it leapt Mbopa, angry, shouting. And Fairbrother supposed it was indeed its purpose – to conceal the royal guards, so that Shaka was not as defenceless as supposed.
Shaka turned, more curious than startled. Mbopa rushed at the warriors, waving his spear and cudgel. 'Cowards! Traitors! How dare you disturb Si-gi-di with your lying tales! Be off! Go to the guards and have them put you to death in the manner of felons!'
The Izi-Kwembu sprang to their feet.
Shaka seemed transfixed.
The warriors bolted.
But they bolted not towards the kraal, to death at the hands of the Fasimba; instead they ran north, an act of disobedience that only seemed to prove Mbopa's claim. He railed in front of his king, as if at the Izi-Kwembu still; as if . . . intoxicated. 'See, Nkosi! See how the cowards first lie to you and then defy you!'