The Ghost Kings

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"I thought it was so," went on Rachel. "As I saw him in the pool he is a
thin man whose shoulders stoop, and whose beard is white, although his
hair is black. He wears no ring upon his head."

"That is the man," said the induna, "being a stranger I noted him well, as
it was my business to do."

"Summon the messengers swiftly, King," went on Rachel, "and let them
depart at once, for know that this white chief and his servant are under
the protection of the Heavens, and if harm comes to them, then I lay my
curse upon the land, and it shall break up in blood and ruin. Bid them say
to Darrien, that the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, she who stood with him once on
the rock in the river while the lightnings fell and the lions roared about
them, sends him greetings and awaits him."

Now Dingaan turned to an induna and said,

"Go, do the bidding of the Inkosazana. Bid swift runners search out this
white chief, and lead him to her house, and remember that if aught of ill
befalls him, those men die, and thou diest also."

The induna leapt up and departed, and Rachel also made ready to go. A
moment later the captain of the gate entered, fell upon his knees before
Dingaan, and said,

"O King, tidings."

"What are they, man?" he asked.

"King, the watchmen report that it has been called from hilltop to hilltop
that a white man who rides a black horse, has crossed the Buffalo, and
travels towards the Great Place. What is thy pleasure? Shall he be killed
or driven back?"

"When did that news come?" asked the King in the silence which followed
this announcement.

"Not a minute gone," he answered. "The inner watchman ran with it, and is
without the gates. There has been no other tidings from the West for
days."

"Thy watchmen call but slowly, King, the water in the pool speaks
swifter," said Rachel, then still in the midst of a heavy silence, for
this thing was fearful to them, she turned and departed.

"So it is true, so it is true!" Rachel kept repeating to herself, the
words suiting themselves to the time of the footfall of her bearers. She
was spent with all the labour and emotions of that long day, culminating
in the last scene, when she must play her dangerous, superhuman part
before these keen-witted savages. She could think no more; scarcely could
she undress and throw herself upon her bed in the hut. Yet that night she
slept soundly, better than she had done since Noie went away. No dreams
came to trouble her and in the morning she woke refreshed.

But now doubts did come. Might she not be mistaken after all? She knew the
marvellous powers of the natives in the matter of the transmission of
news, powers so strange that many, even among white people, attributed
them to witchcraft. She had no doubt, therefore, as to the fact of some
Englishman or Boer having entered Zululand. Doubtless the news of his
arrival had been conveyed over scores of miles of country by the calling
of it as the captain said, from hill to hill, or in some other fashion.
But might not this arrival and the circumstance of her dream or vision be
a mere coincidence? What was there to show that the stranger who was
riding a black horse was really Richard Darrien? Perhaps it was all a
mistake, and he was only one of those white wanderers of the stamp of the
outcast Ishmael who, even at that date, made their way into savage
countries for the purposes of gain or to enjoy a life of licence. And yet,
and yet Quabi, of whom she also dreamed, had visited the Great Place--as
she dreamed.

The next two days were terrible to Rachel. She endured them as she had
endured all those that went before, trying the cases that were brought to
her, keeping up her appearance of distant dignity and utter indifference.
She asked no questions, since to do so would be to show doubt and
weakness, although she was aware that the tale of her vision had spread
through the land, and that the issue of the matter was of intense interest
to thousands. From some talk which she overheard while she pretended to be
listening to evidence, she learned even that two men going to execution
had discussed it, saying that they regretted they would not live to know
the truth. On the second day she did hear one piece of news, for although
she sat by her pool and again tried to sleep by its waters, these remained
blind and dumb.

The induna, Tamboosa, on one of his ceremonial visits, after speaking of
the health of her mare, which, it seemed was improving, mentioned
incidentally that the messengers running night and day had met the white
man and "called back" that he was safe and well. He added that had it not
been for her vision this said white man would certainly have been killed
as a spy.

"Yes, I knew that," answered Rachel, indifferently, although her heart
thumped within her bosom. "I forget if I said that the Inkosi was to be
brought straight here when he arrives. If not, let it be known that such
is my command. The King can receive him afterwards if it pleases him to do
so, as probably we shall not depart until the next day."

Then she yawned, and as though by an afterthought asked if any news had
been "called back" from Noie.

Tamboosa answered, No; no system of intelligence had been organised in the
direction in which she had gone, for that country was empty of enemies,
and indeed of population. However, this would not distress the Inkosazana,
who had only to consult her Spirit to see all that happened to her
servant.

Rachel replied that of course this was so, but as a matter of fact she had
not troubled about the matter, then waved her hand to show that the
interview was at an end.

It was the morning of the third day, and while Rachel was delivering
judgment in a case, a messenger entered and whispered something to the
induna on duty, who rose and saluted her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Only this, Inkosazana; the white Inkoos from the Buffalo River has
arrived, and is without."

"Good," said Rachel, "let him wait there." Then she went on with her
judgment. Yes, she went on, although her eyes were blind, and the blood
beating in her ears sounded like the roll of drums. She finished it, and
after a decent interval, bowed her head in acknowledgement of the
customary salutes, and made the sign which intimated that the Court was to
be cleared.

Slowly, slowly, all the crowd melted away, leaving her alone with her
women.

"Go," she said to one of them, "and bid the captain admit this white
chief. Say that he is to come unarmed and alone. Then depart, all of you.
If I should need you I will call."

The girl went on her errand while her companions filed away through the
back gate of the inner fence. Rachel glanced round to make sure of her
solitude. It was complete, no one was left. There she sat in state upon
her carved stool, her wand in her hand, her white cloak upon her
shoulders, and the sunlight that passed over the round of the hut behind
her glinting on her hair till it shone like a crown of gold, but leaving
her face in shadow; sat quite still like some lovely tinted statue.

The gate of the inner fence opened and closed again after a man who
entered. He walked forward a few paces, then stood still, for the flood of
light that revealed him so clearly at first prevented him from seeing her
seated in the shadow. Oh! there could be no further doubt--before her was
Richard Darrien, the lad grown to manhood, from, whom she had parted so
many years ago. Now, as then, he was not tall, though very strongly built,
and for the rest, save for his short beard, the change in him seemed
little. The same clear, thoughtful, grey eyes, the same pleasant, open
face, the same determined mouth. She was not disappointed in him, she knew
this at once. She liked him as well as she had done at the first.

Now he caught sight of her and stayed there, staring. She tried to speak,
to welcome him, but could not, no words would come. He also seemed to be
smitten with dumbness, and thus the two of them remained a while. At last
he took off his hat almost mechanically, as though from instinct, and said
vaguely,

"You are the Inkosazana-y-Zoola, are you not?"

"I am so called," she answered softly, and with effort.

The moment that he heard her voice, with a movement so swift that it was
almost a spring, he advanced to her, saying,

"Now I am sure; you are Rachel Dove, the little girl who--Oh, Rachel, how
lovely you have grown!"

"I am glad you think so, Richard," she answered again in the same low,
deep voice, a voice laden with the love within her, and reddening to her
eyes. Then she let fall her wand, and rising, stretched out both her hands
to him.

They were face to face, now, but he did not take those hands; he passed
his arms about her, drew her to him unresisting, and kissed her on the
lips. She slipped from his embrace down on to her stool, white now as she
had been red. Then while he stood over her, trembling and confused, Rachel
looked up, her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and whispered,

"Why should I be ashamed? It is Fate."

"Yes," he answered, "Fate."

For so both, of them knew it to be. Though they had seen each other but
once before, their love was so great, the bond between their natures so
perfect and complete, that this outward expression of it would not be
denied. Here was a mighty truth which burst through all wrappings of
convention and proclaimed itself in its pure strength and beauty. That
kiss of theirs was the declaration of an existent unity which
circumstances did not create, nor their will control, and thus they
confessed it to each other.

"How long?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Eight years to-day," he answered, "since I rode away after those
waggons."

"Eight years," she repeated, "and no word from you all that time. You have
behaved badly to me, Richard."

"No, no, I could not find out. I wrote three times, but always the letters
were returned, except one that went to the wrong people, who were angry
about it. Then two years ago, I heard that your father and mother had been
in Natal, but had gone to England, and that you were dead. Yes, a man told
me that you were dead," he added with a gulp. "I suppose he was speaking
of somebody else, as he could not remember whether the name was Dove or
Cove, or perhaps he was just lying. At any rate, I did not believe, him. I
always felt that you were alive."

"Why did you not come to see, Richard?"

"Why? Because it was impossible. For years my father was an invalid,
paralysed; and I was his only child, and could not leave him."

She looked a question at him.

"Yes," he answered with a nod, "dead, ten months ago, and for a few weeks
I had to remain to arrange about the property, of which he left a good
deal, for we did well of late years. Just then I heard a rumour of an
English missionary and his wife and daughter who were said to be living
somewhere beyond the boundaries of Natal, in a savage place on the
Transvaal side of the Drakensberg, and as some Boers I knew were trekking
into that country I came with them on the chance--a pretty poor one, as
the story was vague enough."

"You came--you came to seek the girl, Rachel Dove?"

"Of course. Otherwise why should I have left my farms down in the Cape to
risk my neck among these savages?"

"And then," went on Rachel, "you or somebody else sent in the spy, Quabi,
who returned to the Boer camp with his story about the Inkosazana-y-Zoola.
You remember you brought him in limping to that old fellow with a grey
beard and a large pipe, and the others who laughed at the tale. I mean
when you said that this Inkosazana seemed very like an English maid, 'the
daughter of a teacher,' whom you were looking for, and that you would go
to find out the truth of the business."

"Yes, that's all right; but Rachel," he added with a start, "how do you
know anything about it--Oom Piet and the rest, and the words I used? Your
spies must be very good and quick, for you can't have seen Quabi."

"My spies are good and quick. Did you get my message sent by the King's
men? It was that she who stood with you on the rock in the river, greeted
you and awaited you?"

"Yes, I could not understand. I do not understand now. Just before that
they were going to kill me as a Boer spy. Who told you everything?"

"My heart," she answered smiling. "I dreamed it all. I suppose that I was
allowed to save your life that I might bring you here to save me. Listen
now, Richard, while I tell you the strangest story that you ever heard;
and if you don't believe it, go and ask the King and his indunas."

Then she told him of her vision by the pool and all that happened after
it. When she had finished Richard could only shake his head and say:

"Still I don't understand; but no wonder these Zulus have made a goddess
of you. Well, Rachel, what is to happen now? If you are to stop here they
mayn't care for me as a high priest."

"I am not; I am going home, and you must take me. I told them that you
were coming to do so. You have your horse, have you not, the black horse
with the white forefoot? Well, we will start at once--no, you must eat
first, and there are things to arrange. Now stand at a distance from me
and look as respectful as you can, for I fill a strange position here."

Then Rachel clapped her hands and the women came running in.

"Bring food for the Inkosi Darrien," she said, "and send hither the
captain of the gate."

Presently the man arrived crouched up in token of respect, and shouting
her titles.

"Go to the King," said Rachel, "and tell him the Inkosazana commands that
the horse on which she came be brought to her at once, as she leaves
Zululand for a while; also that an impi be assembled within an hour to
escort her and this white chief, her servant, to the Tugela. Say that the
Inkosi Darrien has brought her tidings which make it needful that she
should travel hence speedily if the Zulus, her people, are to be saved
from great misfortune, and say, too, that he goes with her. If the King or
his indunas would see the Inkosazana, or the chief Darrien, let him or the
indunas meet them on their road, since they have no time to visit the
Great Place. Let Tamboosa be in command of the impi, and say also that if
it is not here at once, the Inkosazana will be angry and summon an impi of
her own. Go now, for the lives of many hang upon your speed; yes, the
lives of the greatest in the land."

The man saluted and shot away like an arrow.

"Will they obey you?" asked Richard.

"I think so, because they are afraid of me, especially since I saw you
coming. At any rate we must act at once, it is our best chance--before
they have time to think. Here is some food--eat. Woman, go, tell the guard
that the Inkosi's horse must be fed at the gate, for he will need it
presently, and his servant also."

"I have no servant, Inkosazana," broke in Richard. "I left Quabi at a
kraal fifty miles away, laid up with a cut foot. As soon as he is better
he will slip back across the Buffalo River."

Then while Richard ate, which he did heartily enough, for joy had made him
very hungry, they talked, who had much to tell. He asked her why she
thought it necessary to leave Zululand at once. She answered, for two
reasons, first because of her desperate anxiety about her father and
mother, as to whom her heart foreboded ill, and secondly for his own sake.
She explained that the Zulus who had set her up as an image or a token of
the guiding Spirit of their nation, were madly jealous concerning her, so
jealous that if he remained here long she was by no means certain that
even her power could protect him when they came to understand that he was
much to her. It was impossible that she could see him often, and much more
so that he could remain in her kraal. Therefore if they were detained he
would be obliged to live at some distance from her where an assegai might
find him at night or poison be put in his food. At present they were
impressed by her foreknowledge of his arrival, and that was why he had
been admitted to her at once. But this would wear off--and then who could
say, especially if Ishmael returned?

He asked who Ishmael was and what he had to do with her. Rachel told him
briefly, and though she suppressed much, he looked very grave at that
story.

While she was finishing it a woman called without for leave to enter, and,
as before, Rachel bade him stand in a respectful attitude, and at a
distance from her. Richard obeyed, and the woman came in to say that
certain of the King's indunas craved audience with her. They were admitted
and saluted her in their usual humble fashion, but of Richard, beyond
eyeing him curiously and, as she thought, hostilely, they took not the
slightest heed.

"Are all things ready for my journey, as I commanded?" asked Rachel at
once.

"Inkosazana," answered their spokesman, "they are ready, for how canst
thou be disobeyed? Tamboosa and the impi wait without. Yet, Inkosazana,
the heart of the Black One and the hearts of his councillors, and of all
the Zulu people are cut in two because thou wouldst go and leave them
mourning. Their hearts are sore also with this white man Dario, who has
come to lead thee hence, so sore, that were he not thy servant," the
induna added grimly, "he at least should stay in Zululand."

"He is my servant," answered Rachel haughtily, "whom I sent for. Let that
suffice. Remember my words, all of you, and let them be told again in the
ears of the King, that if any harm comes to this white chief who is my
guest and yours, then there will be blood between me and the people of the
Zulus that shall be terribly avenged in blood."

The indunas seemed to cower at this declaration, but made no answer. Only
the chief of them said:

"The King would know if the Inkosi, thy servant, brings thee any tidings
of the Amaboona, the white folk with whom he has been journeying."

"He brings tidings that they seek peace with the Zulus, to whom they will
do no hurt if no hurt is done to them. Shall I tell them that the Zulus
also seek peace?"

"The King gave us no message on that matter, Inkosazana," replied the
induna. "He awaits the coming of the prophets of the Ghost-folk to
interpret the meaning of thy words, and of the omen of the falling star."

"So be it," said Rachel. "When my servant, Noie, returns, let her be sent
on to me at once, that I may hear and consider the words of her people,"
and she began to rise from her seat to intimate that the interview was
finished.

"Inkosazana," said the induna hurriedly, "one question from the King--when
dost thou return to Zululand?"

"I return when it is needful. Fear not, I think that I shall return, but I
say to the King and to all of you: Be careful when I come that there is no
blood between me and you, lest great evil fall upon your heads from
Heaven. I have spoken. Good fortune go with you till we meet again."

The indunas looked at each other, then rose and departed humbly as they
had entered.

* * * * *

An hour later, surrounded by the impi, and followed by Richard, Rachel was
on the Tugela road. At the crest of a hill she pulled rein and looked back
at the great kraal, Umgugundhlovu. Then she beckoned Richard to her side
and said:

"I think that before long I shall see that hateful place again."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because of the way in which those indunas looked at each other just now.
There was some evil secret in their eyes. Richard, I am afraid."

CHAPTER XIV

WHAT CHANCED AT RAMAH

The news which reached Rachel that Ishmael had been ill after the rough
handling of the captains in her presence, was true enough. For many days
he was far too ill to travel, and when he recovered sufficiently to start
he could only journey slowly to the Tugela.

It will be remembered that she was told that he had escaped, as indeed he
seemed to do, slipping off at night, but this escape of his was carefully
arranged beforehand, nor did any attempt to re-capture him upon his way.
When at length he came to the river he found the small impi awaiting him,
not knowing whither they were to go or what they were to do, their only
orders being that they must obey him in all things. He found also that the
Tugela was in furious flood, so that to ford it proved quite impossible.
Here, then, he was obliged to remain for ten full days while the water ran
down.

Ishmael was not idle during those ten days, which be spent in recovering
his health, and incidentally in reflection. Thus he thought a great deal
of his past life, and did not find the record satisfactory. With his exact
history we need not trouble ourselves. He was well-born, as he had told
Rachel, but had been badly brought up. His strong passions had led him
into trouble while young, and instead of trying to reform him his
belongings had cast him off. Then he had enlisted in the army, and so
reached South Africa. There he committed a crime--as a matter of fact it
was murder or something like it--and fled from justice far into the
wilderness, where a touch of imagination prompted him to take the name of
Ishmael.

For a while this new existence suited him well enough. Thus he had wives
in plenty of a sort, and he grew rich, becoming just such a person as
might be expected from his environment and unchecked natural tendencies.
At length it happened that he met Rachel, who awoke in him certain
forgotten associations. She was an English lady, and he remembered that
once he had been an English gentleman, years and years ago. Also she was
beautiful, which appealed to his strong animal nature, and spiritual,
which appealed to a materialist soaked in Kaffir superstition. So he fell
in love with her, really in love; that is to say, he came to desire to
make her his wife more than he desired anything else on earth. For her
sake he grew to dislike his black consorts, however handsome; even the
heaping up of herds of cattle after the native fashion ceased to appeal to
him. He wanted to live as his forbears had lived, quietly, respectably,
with a woman of his own class.

So he made advances to her, with the results we know. For fifteen years or
more he had been a savage, and he could not hide his savagery from her
eyes any more than he could break off the ties and entanglements that had
grown up about him. Had she happened to care for him, it is very possible,
however, that in this he would have succeeded in time. He might even have
reformed himself completely, and died in old age a much-respected colonial
gentleman; perhaps a member of the local Legislature. But she did not; she
detested him; she knew him for what he was, a cowardly outcast whose good
looks did not appeal to her. So the spark of his new aspirations was
trampled out beneath her merciless heel, and there remained only the
acquired savagery and superstition mixed with the inborn instincts of a
blackguard.

It was this superstition of his that had, brought all her troubles upon
Rachel, for however it came about, he had conceived the idea that she was
something more than an ordinary woman and, with many tales of her
mysterious origin and powers, imparted it to the Zulus, in whose minds it
was fostered by the accident of the coincidence of her native name and
personal loveliness with those of the traditional white Spirit of their
race, and by Mopo's identification of her with that Spirit. Thus she
became their goddess and his; at any rate for a time. But while they
desired to worship her only, and use her rumoured wisdom as an oracle, he
sought to make her his wife; the more impossible it became, the more he
sought it. She refused him with contumely, and he laid plots to decoy her
to Zululand, thinking that there she would be in his power. In the end he
succeeded, basely enough, only to find that he was in her power, and that
the contumely, and more, were still his share.

But all this did not in the least deter him from his aim, and as it
chanced, fortune had put other cards into his hand. He knew that Rachel
would not stay among the Zulus, as they knew it. Therefore they had
commissioned him to bring her people to her. If her people were not
brought he was sure that she would come to seek them, and _if she found no
one_, then where could she go, or at least who would be at hand to help
her? Surely his opportunity had come at last, and marriage by capture did
not occur to him, who had spent so many years among savages, as a crime
from which to shrink. Only he feared that the prospective captive, the
Inkosazana-y-Zoola, was not one with whom it was safe to trifle. But his
love was stronger than his fear. He thought that he would take the risk.

Such were the reflections of Ishmael upon the banks of the flooded Tugela,
and when at length the waters went down sufficiently to enable him and the
soldiers under his command to cross into Natal, he was fully determined to
put them into practice, if the chance came his way. How this might best be
done he left to luck, for if it could be avoided he did not wish to have
more blood upon his hands. Only Rachel must be rendered homeless and
friendless, for then who could protect her from him? An answer came into
his mind--she might protect herself, or that Power which seemed to go with
her might protect her. Something warned him that this evil enterprise was
very dangerous. Yet the fire that burnt within him drove him on to face
the danger.

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