Black Heart and White Heart | Page 9

that forest, Nahoon?" asked Hadden.
"It is named /Emagudu/, The Home of the Dead," the Zulu replied absently, for he was looking towards the kraal of Nanea, which was situated at an hour's walk away over the ridge to the right.
"The Home of the Dead! Why?"
"Because the dead live there, those whom we name the /Esemkofu/, the Speechless Ones, and with them other Spirits, the /Amahlosi/, from whom the breath of life has passed away, and who yet live on."
"Indeed," said Hadden, "and have you ever seen these ghosts?"
"Am I mad that I should go to look for them, White Man? Only the dead enter that forest, and it is on the borders of it that our people make offerings to the dead."
Followed by Nahoon, Hadden walked to the edge of the cliff and looked over it. To the left lay the deep and dreadful-looking pool, while close to the bank of it, placed upon a narrow strip of turf between the cliff and the commencement of the forest, was a hut.
"Who lives there?" asked Hadden.
"The great /Isanusi/--she who is named /Inyanga/ or Doctoress; she who is named Inyosi (the Bee), because she gathers wisdom from the dead who grow in the forest."
"Do you think that she could gather enough wisdom to tell me whether I am going to kill any buffalo, Nahoon?"
"Mayhap, White Man, but," he added with a little smile, "those who visit the Bee's hive may hear nothing, or they may hear more than they wish for. The words of that Bee have a sting."
"Good; I will see if she can sting me."
"So be it," said Nahoon; and turning, he led the way along the cliff till he reached a native path which zig-zagged down its face.
By this path they climbed till they came to the sward at the foot of the descent, and walked up it to the hut which was surrounded by a low fence of reeds, enclosing a small court-yard paved with ant-heap earth beaten hard and polished. In this court-yard sat the Bee, her stool being placed almost at the mouth of the round opening that served as a doorway to the hut. At first all that Hadden could see of her, crouched as she was in the shadow, was a huddled shape wrapped round with a greasy and tattered catskin kaross, above the edge of which appeared two eyes, fierce and quick as those of a leopard. At her feet smouldered a little fire, and ranged around it in a semi-circle were a number of human skulls, placed in pairs as though they were talking together, whilst other bones, to all appearance also human, were festooned about the hut and the fence of the courtyard.
"I see that the old lady is set up with the usual properties," thought Hadden, but he said nothing.
Nor did the witch-doctoress say anything; she only fixed her beady eyes upon his face. Hadden returned the compliment, staring at her with all his might, till suddenly he became aware that he was vanquished in this curious duel. His brain grew confused, and to his fancy it seemed that the woman before him had shifted shape into the likeness of colossal and horrid spider sitting at the mouth of her trap, and that these bones were the relics of her victims.
"Why do you not speak, White Man?" she said at last in a slow clear voice. "Well, there is no need, since I can read your thoughts. You are thinking that I who am called the Bee should be better named the Spider. Have no fear; I did not kill these men. What would it profit me when the dead are so many? I suck the souls of men, not their bodies, White Man. It is their living hearts I love to look on, for therein I read much and thereby I grow wise. Now what would you of the Bee, White Man, the Bee that labours in this Garden of Death, and-- what brings /you/ here, son of Zomba? Why are you not with the Umcityu now that they doctor themselves for the great war--the last war--the war of the white and the black--or if you have no stomach for fighting, why are you not at the side of Nanea the tall, Nanea the fair?"
Nahoon made no answer, but Hadden said:--
"A small thing, mother. I would know if I shall prosper in my hunting."
"In your hunting, White Man; what hunting? The hunting of game, of money, or of women? Well, one of them, for a-hunting you must ever be; that is your nature, to hunt and be hunted. Tell me now, how goes the wound of that trader who tasted of your steel yonder in the town of the Maboon (Boers)? No need to answer, White Man, but what