Warrior

A second shot. He sprang up, seizing his swordbelt and pistol. Then a third, and a fourth, and shouting – the universal sound of alarm, no matter what the camp.

Outside the hut he found Corporal Cox. 'Sir! Kaffirs – dozens of 'em. They've killed the herd boys!'

Mbopa's men must have been pressing harder on their heels than he supposed. But the picket – four good shots – and the men of the kraal ought to be able to hold them. 'Very well. Keep up a good fire, Corp' Cox: best keep them guessing how many we are!'

He ran to Somervile's hut, finding him on his feet and priming his pistols. 'Mbopa's men, I think – the ones following our tracks. Fifty, no more, unless a second cohort were following.'

'Would you have one of the riflemen guard Pampata?' asked Somervile, anxious.

'I think not. I'll need every man. I think you must stand guard with her.'

'Very well. Where is Ngwadi?'

'I saw him making for the sango. I'll seek him out.'

Hervey saluted, turned and went back outside, shielding his eyes against the sun which was edging above the thorn fence of the cattle byre.

And then the rush of Mbopa's warriors – inside the kraal, like stampeding bulls, a great black wave, sweeping aside all in its path, a wall of spears and shields, wild cries, shots! How had they broken in?

He drew his sabre, raised his pistol and cocked it in one. He saw the riflemen left and right firing into the flanks of the wave, doublebarrelled Westley-Richards, point-blank, a relentless, fearful toll. Ngwadi's men raced from the other side of the kraal, throwing themselves at the attackers without waiting to form, striking home with their spears, in turn falling to those of Mbopa's men.

Out came Somervile, pistols raised. He rushed to Hervey's side, and they stood, silent, waiting for the wave to reach them.

But the wave was losing its force. Urged on by Corporal Cox, the cattle guards had got the great thorn hurdle back across the sango. Those Zulu inside were on their own.

And with the inescapability of numbers and the superiority of powder, the rest was slaughter. Neither Hervey nor Somervile moved a foot: Ngwadi's men, pouring into the enclosure from every corner of the kraal, did the most terrible execution. Only once had Hervey to parry: a warrior, crazed by the bloodlust of the assault, and by the spear wounds to his chest and side, broke from the melee and ran at the two friends in a gesture of suicidal defiance.

'Mine!' Hervey rasped, like a shot facing driven birds. He levelled his pistol, the man ran on to it obligingly, and the ball broke open his chest in a gory splintering of bone.

Two minutes more and the business was done. Thirty-three of Mbopa's men lay dead – every warrior of his who had entered the kraal – a dozen of Ngwadi's men, and a score more for the inyaga impi, the war-surgeon.

'The devil!' said Somervile, at length. 'That should not have happened.'

'Indeed.' Hervey pushed his pistol into his swordbelt and returned his sabre. 'Quite an affair. But by no means unhelpful. Those fellows will have quite an opinion of themselves now,' he added, nodding to Ngwadi's men. 'And of their chief. You saw how he fought?'

'I did.' Somervile, as Hervey, had seen Ngwadi account for three men with his own spear.

'And Mbopa knows that the kraal can't be rushed, even when he creeps up by dark. Evidently he hadn't the men for a stronger attack. I believe time may be on our side.'

Corporal Cox came doubling. 'Kaffirs've bolted like rabbits, sir. Permission to follow 'em up?'

Hervey looked about the kraal. 'No, Corporal. Your zeal does you credit, but for once we must remain on our guard. I can't be certain that that's not what they want – having us come out into the open. By all means have a patrol look about – four men, not more, and no further than the maize.'

'Sir!' Cox doubled away to give the orders.

'He appears to be enjoying the work,' said Somervile, sounding faintly bemused.

'He's no doubt relishing his opportunity for command – and his survival,' replied Hervey drily. 'It's a powerful thing to discover you're on your feet at the end of your first fight. Don't you recall?' Somervile, happy to be admitted to his friend's pantheon of fellow warriors, nodded. 'I do.'

'Come, then: let us see what manner of men Mbopa sent against us. We may learn something.'

Ngwadi's warriors were already stripping their enemies and bearing away their own fallen. Hervey stepped from body to body, crouching here and there to turn over a bloody corpse. He would not use his boot, as others did, for he was not yet sure that these Zulu had no claim on being God's creatures. And besides, Ngwadi's men were their kin: they might treat their enemies as they willed, but they might take exception to an outsider's doing so.

'Older men than I have seen hitherto, I would say.'

'Distinctly so,' agreed Somervile, peering at the heap of questionable humanity with the eye of a student of natural science. 'And what thereby do you infer?'

Hervey was examining the feet of one of them. He rose and shook his head. 'Shaka sent every impi but Ngwadi's against the Pondos and Soshangane, did he not, leaving just the usual guards at the kraals? Mbopa has evidently called out the veterans. Tough old veterans, judging from their condition.'

'Many more men at his disposal than we supposed, therefore. And the would-be inkwebane that Shaka recalled from the north?'

'I fear we must proceed on the assumption that they answer now to Mbopa. Pampata says that Shaka wanted them formed into a new impi, 'the Bees'. Upwards of a thousand – green-horned, but chasing the bubble reputation.'