egai, and though his words were gentle they shook
with fear, for when Chaka spoke thus gently he meant death to many. But
Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, answered, saying that it was well that
the king had come, since his medicine would bring rest and peace to her
who lay sick.

"Yes," he answered; "it is well. It is pleasant, moreover, my mother
and sister, to see you kissing yonder child. Surely, were he of your own
blood you could not love him more."

Now they trembled again, and prayed in their hearts that Anadi, the sick
woman, who lay asleep, might not wake and utter foolish words in her
wandering. But the prayer was answered from below and not from above,
for Anadi woke, and, hearing the voice of the king, her sick mind flew
to him whom she believed to be the king's child.

"Ah!" she said, sitting upon the ground and pointing to her own son,
Moosa, who squatted frightened against the wall of the hut. "Kiss him,
Mother of the Heavens, kiss him! Whom do they call him, the young cub
who brings ill-fortune to our doors? They call him the son of Mopo and
Macropha!" And she laughed wildly, stopped speaking, and sank back upon
the bed of skins.

"They call him the son of Mopo and Macropha," said the king in a low
voice. "Whose son is he, then, woman?"

"Oh, ask her not, O king," cried his mother and his wife, casting
themselves upon the ground before him, for they were mad with fear. "Ask
her not; she has strange fancies such as are not meet for your ears to
hear. She is bewitched, and has dreams and fancies."

"Peace!" he answered. "I will listen to this woman's wanderings. Perhaps
some star of truth shines in her darkness, and I would see light. Who,
then, is he, woman?"

"Who is he?" she answered. "Are you a fool that ask who he is? He
is--hush!--put your ear close--let me speak low lest the reeds of the
hut speak it to the king. He is--do you listen? He is--the son of Chaka
and Baleka, the sister of Mopo, the changeling whom Unandi, Mother of
the Heavens, palmed off upon this house to bring a curse on it, and
whom she would lead out before the people when the land is weary of the
wickedness of the king, her son, to take the place of the king."

"It is false, O king!" cried the two women. "Do not listen to her; it
is false. The boy is her own son, Moosa, whom she does not know in her
sickness."

But Chaka stood up in the hut and laughed terribly. "Truly, Nobela
prophesied well," he cried, "and I did ill to