On the centre stake, raised half the height of a man above the others,
was the body of Tyuyumane. On either hand of him were impaled Ncwelo
and Senkonya, and, a little in front, Notalwa. Where, then, was
Ntelani? Where, then, was my father? Well, wherever he was, it was not
there.

The stake of impalement is a terrible thing, _Nkose_, and was seldom
used among us--only once, indeed, since we had gone out from Zululand,
and then in the case of three chiefs who had come in to _konza_ to
Umzilikazi, and had departed, laughing at their promise. Now, however,
by the hideous fate to which he had adjudged these ringleaders of the
conspiracy, it was clear that the King intended to strike terror into
all who might at any future time be tempted to travel the same road.

They were still alive, those wretches--for a man may live a day or more
in that torment, and these had not long been on the stakes. And as we
stood gazing upon them thus suffering, several _izimbonga_ came running
forth from the _isigodhlo_--roaring like lions, trumpeting like
elephants, bellowing like bulls--shouting the praise and the royal
titles of the King. And from the whole army, ranged on either side of
the open space in two immense half-moons, these were taken up, and
re-echoed again and again.

But Umzilikazi, advancing down the centre, with his head thrown proudly
back, halted, and held up his hand.

"Cry not to me the _Bayete_, my children!" he said, in clear and ringing
tones. "Cry it to your King, Tyuyumane. Behold him, yonder--your King,
Tyuyumane!"

Bitter and biting as serpents were the words, splendid the gesture, as
the Great Great One waved a hand towards the chief of the impaled
traitors, who was raised higher than the rest. An awestruck murmur ran
through the ranks. None knew what to do; for the humour of a King is of
the nature of fire, in that it is not a thing to be played with.

"What? Have ye no word, my children? Have ye no greetings for your
King, Tyuyumane--your new King, who reigns from a high seat? See, I
will set you the example."

Then going before the stake whereon writhed Tyuyumane, the Great Great
One mocked him, crying--

"Hail, Tyuyumane! Hail, new King of the Amazulu--ruler of the world!
Is thy seat high enough? Is it soft enough? Ha! Praise him, ye
_izimbonga_! Cry him the _Bayete_, ye warriors!"

The impaled wretch gave a quivering heave, and his lips curled back from
his jaw, baring the t