“The king who is sick desires to see you, Macumazahn.”  Then she pointed to the door-hole of the hut and vanished, shutting the gate of the fence behind her.  Curiosity overcame me and I crawled into the hut, pushing aside the door-board in order to do so and setting it up again when I was through.

Inside burned a single candle fixed in the neck of a bottle, faintly illuminating that big and gloomy place.  By its feeble light I saw a low bedstead on the left of the entrance and lying on it a man half covered by a blanket in whom I recognized Cetewayo.  His face was shrunken and distorted with pain, and his great bulk seemed less, but still without doubt it was Cetewayo.

“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said feebly, “you find me in evil case, but I heard that you were here and thought that I should like to see you before I die, because I know that you are honest and will report my words faithfully.  I wish you to tell the white men that my heart never really was against them; they have always been the friends of my heart, but others forced me down a road I did not wish to travel, of which now I have come to the end.”

“What is the matter with you, King?” I asked.

“I do not know, Macumazahn, but I have been sick for some days.  The Opener of Roads who came to doctor me, because my wives believed those white medicine-men wished me dead, says that I have been poisoned and must die.  If you had been here at first you might perhaps have given me some medicine.  But now it is too late,” he added with a groan.

“Who then poisoned you, King?”

“I cannot tell you, Macumazahn.  Perhaps my enemies, perhaps my brothers, perhaps my wives.  All wish to have done with me, and the Great One, who is no longer wanted, is soon dead.  Be thankful, Macumazahn, that you never were a king, for sad is the lot of kings.”

“Where, then, is the Opener of Roads?” I asked.

“He was here a little while ago.  Perhaps he has gone out to take the King’s head” (i.e., to announce his death) “to Malimati and the white men,” he answered in a faint voice.

Just then I heard a shuffling noise proceeding from that part of the hut where the shadow was deepest, and looking, saw an emaciated arm projected into the circle of the light.  It was followed by another arm, then by a vast head covered with long white hair that trailed upon the ground, then by a big, misshapen body, so wasted that it looked like a skeleton covered with corrugated black skin.  Slowly, like a chameleon climbing a bough, the thing crept forward, and I knew it for Zikali.  He reached the side of the bed and squatted down in his toad-like fashion, then, again like a chameleon, without moving his head turned his deep and glowing eyes towards me.

“Hail, O Macumazahn,” he said in his low voice.  “Did I not promise you long ago that you should be with me at the last, and are you not with me and another?”