Now I saw that these words greatly disturbed Cetewayo who feared Zikali, as indeed did all the land.

“What does the old wizard mean?” he asked angrily.  “He lives alone like a bat in a cave and for years has been seen of none.  Yet as a bat flies forth at night, ranging far and wide in search of prey, so does his spirit seem to fly through Zululand.  Everywhere I hear the same word.  It is—­’What says the Opener of Roads?’ It is—­’How can aught be done unless the Opener of Roads has declared that it shall be done, he who was here before the Black One (Chaka) was born, he who it is said was the friend of Inkosi Umkulu, the father of the Zulus who died before our great-grandfathers could remember; he who has all knowledge and is almost a spirit, if indeed he be not a spirit?’ I ask you, Macumazahn, who are his friend, what does he mean, and why should I not kill him and be done?”

“O King,” I answered, “in the days of your uncle Dingaan, when Dingaan slew the Boers who were his guests, and thus began the war between the White and the Black, I, who was a lad, heard the laughter of Zikali for the first time yonder at the kraal Ungungundhlovu, I who rode with Retief and escaped the slaughter, but his face I did not see.  Many years later, in the days of Panda your father, I saw his face and therefore you name me his friend.  Yet this friend who drew me to visit him, perhaps by your will, O King, has now caused me to be brought here to Ulundi doubtless by your will, O King, but against my own, for who wishes to come to a town where he is well-nigh slain by the first brawler he meets in the cattle kraal?”

“Yet you were not slain, Macumazahn, and perhaps you do not know all the story of that brawler,” replied Cetewayo almost humbly, like one who begs pardon, though the rest of what I had said he ignored.  “But still you are Zikali’s friend, for between you and him there is a rope which enabled him to draw you to Zululand, which rope I have heard called by a woman’s name.  Therefore by the spirit of that woman, which still can draw you like a rope, I charge you, tell me—­what does this old wizard mean, and why should I not kill him and be rid of one who haunts my heart like an evil vision of the night and, as I sometimes think, is an umtakati, an evil-doer, who would work ill to me and all my House, yes, and to all my people?”

“How should I know what he means, O King?” I answered with indignation, though in fact I could guess well enough.  “As for killing him, cannot the King kill whom he will?  Yet I remember that once I heard you father ask much the same question and of Zikali himself, saying that he was minded to find out whether or no he were mortal like other men.  I remember also Zikali answered that there was a saying that when the Opener of Roads came to the end of his road, there would be no more a king of Zululand, as there was none when first he set foot upon his road.  Now I have spoken, who am a white man and do not understand your sayings.”