“Not yet,” she said. “Take
him to the King, and if my word comes to the King,
then he dies, and not till then. I would not have
his vile blood on my hands. Unless I speak, I,
Queen of the Heavens, leave him to the vengeance of
the Heavens. My mantle is over him, lead him back
to the King and let me see his face no more.”
“We hear and it shall be so,” they answered
with one voice, then forgetting their ceremony hustled
Ishmael from the kraal.
“Have I done well?” asked Rachel of Noie,
when they were alone.
“No, Zoola,” she answered, “you
should have killed the snake while you were hot against
him, since when your blood grows cold you can never
do it, and he will live to bite you.”
“I have no right to kill a man, Noie, just because
he makes love to me, and I hate him. Also, if
I did so he could not help me to escape from Zululand,
which he will do now because he is afraid of me.”
“Will he be afraid of you when you are both
across the Tugela?” asked Noie. “Inkosazana,
give me power and ask no questions. Ibubesi killed
my father and mother and brethren, and has tried to
kill me. Therefore my heart would not be sore
if, after the fashion of this land, I paid him spears
for battle-axes, for he deserves to die.”
“Perhaps, Noie, but not by my word.”
“Perhaps by your hand, then,” said Noie,
looking at her curiously. “Well, soon or
late he will die a red death—the reddest
of deaths, I learned that from the spirit of my father.”
“The spirit of your father?” said Rachel,
looking at her.
“Certainly, it speaks to me often and tells
me many things, though I may not repeat them to you
till they are accomplished. Thus I was not afraid
in the hands of Dingaan, for it told me that you would
save me.”
“I wish it would speak to me and tell me when
I can go home,” said Rachel with a sigh.
“It would if it could, Zoola, but it cannot
because the curtain is too thick. Had all you
loved been slain before your eyes, then the veil would
be worn thin as mine is, and through it, you who are
akin to them, would hear the talk of the ghosts, and
dimly see them wandering beneath their trees.”
“Beneath their trees——!”
“Yes, the trees of their life, of which all
the boughs are deeds and all the leaves are words,
under the shadow of which they must abide for ever.
My people could tell you of those trees, and perhaps
they will one day when we visit them together.
Nay, pay no heed, I was wandering in my talk.
It is the sight of that wild beast, Ibubesi. You
will not let me kill him! Well, doubtless it
is fated so. I think one day you will be sorry—but
too late.”
RACHEL SEES A VISION
