Read Online Shaka the Great by Walton Golightly - Free Book Online
Authors: Walton Golightly
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complaints been! Concubines calling him to the comfort of warm thighs! How subtle the poison infecting him with doubt: those long, sweaty, sleepless nights when even the mighty Shakaâslayer of all who insulted his motherâwould find himself asking the darkness
What if they are right?
So many things could have gone wrong before his new regiments even caught their first glimpse of the enemyâand where would he be now if he hadnât been able to suck out that poison? Where would he be if he hadnât been able to bite down on the doubt and continue chasing his mutinous men across the thorns, and devising exercises to prove to them the wisdom of fighting with a weapon you didnât throw away, and convincing them of the great strength the Way of the Bull could bring to out-numbered regiments?
So, let him be strong here, too.
Yes!
He will show them â¦
His shoulders sag. But thatâs not really the issue, is it?
Mnkabayi poses a threat far greater than any of his brothers, or the rulers he has bested on the battlefield.
âI must confess I still do not follow you, old friend. You speak of the First Fruits, then you speak of the savages at Thekweni.â Shaka canât see the connection.
âAiee, old friend!â says Mgobozi. âThis is me youâre talking to! You know itâs not that simple! You know what inviting the Long Noses to the First Fruits implies. You know how provocative that is. Yes, yes, many wonât consider that, but there are those, like your aunt, who will wonder what youâre up to. Those who will know youâre up to something simply because youâve invited the Long Noses to the First Fruits. They will never fully divine your motives, it is true, but the little they do grasp will be enough to have them reaching for their spears.â
Even Nandi! Even his mother had trusted her!
His mother â¦
âAnd Mnkabayi will understand this goes beyond power.â Yes, beyond even ensuring the perpetuation of the House of Zulu. âShe is not like your brothers, after all! Power is valuable to her, yes, but perhaps she also realizes there are more important things at stake here. Maybe she moves against you, old friend, not to usurp but to save.â
Shaka glances at the general. His head is spinning. Mgoboziâs words scurry through his mind like burning ants. Nausea sits coiled in his throat and thereâs a stinging in his eyes.
Hot, suddenly. So hot.
A wary glance at the flames. But they are behaving themselves.
His mother â¦
Mgobozi â¦
Mgoboziâs here, but not Nandi. Why not? What he wouldnât give to see her!
Shaka regards his old friend.
âYou are dead,â he murmurs. He runs his left hand down the side of his face, then leans forward and examines the black and red smears on his fingers. Imithi Emnyama, Black Medicineâmuthi of the dead moon, isifile, and the dark day thereafter.
âYou are dead,â he says again, staring at Mgobozi. âAnd I will remember nothing of this, will I?â Except perhaps as a presentiment: the same kind of vague unease his advisers feel when he speaks of the White Men.
And she will move against me.
And you have told me why, old friend.
Or at least you have told me as much as you know, hence your warning earlier. What you then meant was:
Just because I am dead, do not think I know anything more! Please, do not think that!
Somehow, though, Shaka will have to retain
some
inkling of this encounter. Yet, even as heâs telling himself this, something else intrudes. Nandi, his motherâwhy not her? Why isnât she here?
Not important!
Mgobozi, itâs what he said.
Mnkabayi will move against me.
She will â¦
He looks around, finds he is back inside the hut of his seclusion.
Who will move against him?
He snorts. Who indeed!
His shadow curves over him against the walls, as he paces back and forth.
It is the time of the First Fruits. His
What if they are right?
So many things could have gone wrong before his new regiments even caught their first glimpse of the enemyâand where would he be now if he hadnât been able to suck out that poison? Where would he be if he hadnât been able to bite down on the doubt and continue chasing his mutinous men across the thorns, and devising exercises to prove to them the wisdom of fighting with a weapon you didnât throw away, and convincing them of the great strength the Way of the Bull could bring to out-numbered regiments?
So, let him be strong here, too.
Yes!
He will show them â¦
His shoulders sag. But thatâs not really the issue, is it?
Mnkabayi poses a threat far greater than any of his brothers, or the rulers he has bested on the battlefield.
âI must confess I still do not follow you, old friend. You speak of the First Fruits, then you speak of the savages at Thekweni.â Shaka canât see the connection.
âAiee, old friend!â says Mgobozi. âThis is me youâre talking to! You know itâs not that simple! You know what inviting the Long Noses to the First Fruits implies. You know how provocative that is. Yes, yes, many wonât consider that, but there are those, like your aunt, who will wonder what youâre up to. Those who will know youâre up to something simply because youâve invited the Long Noses to the First Fruits. They will never fully divine your motives, it is true, but the little they do grasp will be enough to have them reaching for their spears.â
Even Nandi! Even his mother had trusted her!
His mother â¦
âAnd Mnkabayi will understand this goes beyond power.â Yes, beyond even ensuring the perpetuation of the House of Zulu. âShe is not like your brothers, after all! Power is valuable to her, yes, but perhaps she also realizes there are more important things at stake here. Maybe she moves against you, old friend, not to usurp but to save.â
Shaka glances at the general. His head is spinning. Mgoboziâs words scurry through his mind like burning ants. Nausea sits coiled in his throat and thereâs a stinging in his eyes.
Hot, suddenly. So hot.
A wary glance at the flames. But they are behaving themselves.
His mother â¦
Mgobozi â¦
Mgoboziâs here, but not Nandi. Why not? What he wouldnât give to see her!
Shaka regards his old friend.
âYou are dead,â he murmurs. He runs his left hand down the side of his face, then leans forward and examines the black and red smears on his fingers. Imithi Emnyama, Black Medicineâmuthi of the dead moon, isifile, and the dark day thereafter.
âYou are dead,â he says again, staring at Mgobozi. âAnd I will remember nothing of this, will I?â Except perhaps as a presentiment: the same kind of vague unease his advisers feel when he speaks of the White Men.
And she will move against me.
And you have told me why, old friend.
Or at least you have told me as much as you know, hence your warning earlier. What you then meant was:
Just because I am dead, do not think I know anything more! Please, do not think that!
Somehow, though, Shaka will have to retain
some
inkling of this encounter. Yet, even as heâs telling himself this, something else intrudes. Nandi, his motherâwhy not her? Why isnât she here?
Not important!
Mgobozi, itâs what he said.
Mnkabayi will move against me.
She will â¦
He looks around, finds he is back inside the hut of his seclusion.
Who will move against him?
He snorts. Who indeed!
His shadow curves over him against the walls, as he paces back and forth.
It is the time of the First Fruits. His
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