Shaka II

19.

Nandi was given a royal funeral with full military honors. British monarchs never received a more formal send-off. She was wrapped in the flag that bore her likeness, then placed in a small golden casket, which was carried to her tomb—an indoor mausoleum in one corner of Tchaka’s office—by four large soldiers.

But before she was brought to her final resting place, Tchaka announced that he would speak at the funeral. There were perhaps five thousand people in attendance, most of them doubtless feeling slightly ridiculous, as I myself did. I kept wondering what he was going to say, for the Zulus do not speak over their dead.

Finally he stepped forward, and all eyes turned to him.

“Cetshwayo has lost its queen, and the Zulu Empire has lost its empress,” he said, and I was struck by the fact that no one dared to even smile, let alone laugh. “This is the greatest tragedy to befall us since we left the Earth,” he continued, “and I hereby declare a mourning period to last until one year from today. This period will be observed on every planet and by every citizen of the Empire, no matter how far-flung.”

Then, as the crowd was about to relax and begin dispersing, he spoke again. “For one year, no subject of the Empire will imbibe any intoxicants. No one will take any stimulants. No one will indulge in any sexual relations.” A brief pause. “I will not permit these guidelines to be ignored.”

Then he turned and entered the Palace, followed by the four men bearing Nandi’s casket.

There was an immediate troubled buzzing among the attendees. Did he mean it? A whole year? Just us, or every world? Married citizens too? A hundred worried questions, a few disbelieving remarks, and finally the crowd dispersed.

An hour later I was summoned to Tchaka’s office, along with most of my half-siblings. If he had been crying, there was no trace of it.

“I will enforce the period of mourning,” was his way of greeting us.

“It may turn the people against you,” said Bettina.

“Then we will have to find work to keep them busy, won’t we?” he replied coldly. He looked at each of us in turn, then stopped when he came to Peter Zondo. “Peter, you look unhappy.”

“I am unhappy that Nandi has died,” replied Peter carefully.

“Do not lie to me,” said Tchaka severely. “You have a problem. Tell me what it is.”

“I have mourned the passing of loved ones before,” said Peter. “So has everyone else. But I cannot recall anyone ever abstaining from all pleasure for an entire year as a sign of mourning.”

“It happened once before,” replied Tchaka.

There was a long uneasy silence. It was obvious Tchaka was waiting for Peter to ask the question, and finally he did: “When?”

“When Nandi died.”

“But she just died yesterday,” said Peter with a frown. “I do not understand.”

“Not this Nandi,” was the reply. “Nandi, the mother of the first Tchaka. That is what gave me the idea.”

“It is a dangerous idea,” said Peter. “There are certain things the people will not put up with.”

“There is only one thing,” answered Tchaka with absolute certainty. “Weakness.” He suddenly turned to me. “Do you agree, John?”

“Ask me in six months,” I said.

“They are all cattle,” he said. “In this entire empire, there is only one bull.” He stared at us contemptuously. “You will want to indulge in sex, but you won’t. You will want to drink beer or liquor, but you will think twice about it and decide not to. You want to kill me, but you haven’t the courage.” He turned his back to us. “You wish a target? Here it is.” He stood motionless for almost a minute. “No? I thought not.” He pivoted to once again face us. “Get out of here. You are desecrating Nandi’s resting place by your presence.”

As we left, Peter leaned over to me. “Now?” he whispered.

“He turned his back on you for a full minute,” I said. “Why didn’t you take advantage of it?”

“I didn’t have a weapon,” he said uncomfortably.

I grabbed him by his shoulder, spun him around, and reached for the knife handle that was just visible above the top of his belt. I got my hands on it and pulled it out.

“For shaving?” I asked dryly.

He glared at me and said nothing.

“You are everything he thinks you are,” I said, handing him back the dagger.

“Do you think you’re any better?” he said bitterly.

“I have never claimed to be,” I answered.

“We will both regret not taking advantage of the opportunity he gave us tonight,” said Peter.

“It’s possible,” I admitted.

“You take no drugs and you have no wife,” he said accusingly. “You cannot know what this will mean to us.”

“Go away until you have something intelligent to say,” I told him.

“We cannot let this happen,” he persisted.

“And if we do not let it happen, who will replace him? You?”

“Why not?”

“Go away,” I repeated. “I prefer the half of my blood that I do not share with you.”

He glared hatefully at me, but finally turned and walked off. I had no desire to remain in my siblings’ company. I walked the streets alone for perhaps an hour, then went to my apartment. Tchaka hadn’t mentioned a ban on holos, so I watched a mindless entertainment for a couple of hours, then began preparing for bed. Suddenly I became aware that I was not alone any longer. I turned and found myself facing Tchaka.

“I thought I locked the door,” I said.

“No door can keep me out,” he said, without explaining how he had gained entrance.

“Why are you here?”

“I have a question, my brother,” said Tchaka.

“I am your servant,” I replied. “You have but to ask.”

“I know they want me dead, my half-brothers and half-sisters,” he said. “They are fools, for once I am dead they are next. And I knew when I turned my back that none of them, not Peter, not Joseph, not any of them, would have the courage to put a blade or a bullet between my shoulders.” He paused and stared at me. “You are not much of a man,” he said, “but you are better than they are. Why did you not kill me?”

“Seriously?” I said.

“It is a serious question.”

“I do not know if what comes after you will be any better,” I replied.

He looked into my eyes. “I believe you.” He walked to the door, opened it, and turned back to me. “It won’t be, you know,” he said, and then he was gone.