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  Prior to every raid, Mbilini would spend a day, sometimes two, observing their quarry, learning their numbers, possible fighting strength, as well as any wealth they may have besides livestock. This particular homestead consisted of six huts with a fenced kraal in the centre. The Swazi prince had counted three men, one of whom was greying and likely the head of the family. The other two were much younger and did not wear the polished gum rings of married men in their hair. There were also five women of varying ages, the patriarch’s wives or daughters. Mbilini assumed this meant the man was not extremely wealthy but possessed enough to acquire multiple wives. This was confirmed when he counted twenty-two head of cattle being led into the kraal that evening. He also saw five children helping to corral the beasts. The prince let out a sigh of resignation. He hated to think about how many children were counted amongst his victims, yet he was quick to blame their parents for settling within the hostile, disputed lands. What’s more, these people were of Swazi descent; traitors who failed to support his claim to the throne.

  He and Tshwane were soon joined by a trio of followers; warriors close in age to Mbilini, who he fancied as his izinduna. They knew his plan, to wait until two hours after dark, then launch their attack. Time passed slowly, yet Mbilini scarcely moved a muscle.

  Tshwane sat cross-legged nearby, ever fascinated by the calm deportment of the warrior prince. A lad of sixteen summers, he was nearing the time when he and all other Zulus of his age would be summoned into forming their own regiment of the king’s amabutho. His father, Sihayo, was inkosi of their clan, the Ngobese, and a personal friend of King Cetshwayo. Tshwane’s eldest brother, Mehlokazulu, was a royal favourite, body servant of the king, and an induna within the iNgobamakhosi Regiment.

  There was a crisis within the Ngobese chieftain’s house three months earlier, when two of Sihayo’s wives fled with their lovers into British Natal. Mehlokazulu, seeking to restore his father’s honour, led a pair of raids into Natal, capturing the women and taking them back into Zulu territory. They were summarily executed. Adding to the bitterness of the raid, one of the women was Mehlokazulu’s own mother. The outraged British authorities had demanded the young man be handed over to them for trial. Cetshwayo refused, reasserting Mehlokazulu’s declaration that the faithless women had been lawfully executed within the Zulu Kingdom, and no hostility was intended towards the subjects of the British Crown. After all, none of the Natal residents who’d sheltered the fugitives were harmed, nor were their homes pillaged.

  Knowing his family’s position was secure within the House of Zulu, yet fearing repercussions from members of the izikhulu barons who wished to see Mehlokazulu and the Ngobese punished, Sihayo sent his eldest son north. Tshwane accompanied him, and both were welcomed by Mbilini. Sihayo offered his youngest son to act as a servant to the Swazi prince until he was called to join the amabutho. This would keep the young man safe, should hostilities break out between the Zulus and the British. He also hoped it would secure favour for the Ngobese clan in the event that King Cetshwayo decided to help the exiled prince claim his right to the Swazi throne. Mbilini, who held Sihayo with great respect, had taken an immediate liking to both Mehlokazulu and Tshwane. Mehlokazulu remained mostly within Mbilini’s strongholds, as it was felt his presence out in the open might draw unwanted attention. However, the younger lad was permitted to join the prince on many hunts, as well as the past few cattle raids. Mbilini had even promised to send him home with a share of the spoils when the time came for him to return to his family’s stronghold to the south, near the uMzinyathi River.

  Due to his age and not having been inducted into the amabutho, Tshwane did not possess a shield. However, he did carry an iklwa spear and knobkerrie, both given to him by Mehlokazulu. Though not expected to fight, Mbilini had taken to training the lad and welcomed him to ‘wash his spear’ should the opportunity arise.

  It was time. Mbilini said nothing, but simply turned to his izinduna and nodded. Every warrior knew his place. Groups of five or six men would swarm each of the huts, killing all within. No mercy was given, not even to the children. Another ten men would simultaneously gather up the cattle and begin the journey back to Mbilini’s lower stronghold, about a day’s hard run to the northeast. The rest of the warriors would encircle the kraal, ensuring that no people or cattle escaped.

  The prince would personally lead the attack on the patriarch’s hut. He was accompanied by three warriors plus Tshwane. It was a cloudless night. Under the light of the half-moon and stars, they easily made their way down the rocky slopes and across the grassy plain. Though a few inches taller than Mbilini, Tshwane struggled to keep pace with the fleet-footed warrior prince. Like all the warriors, the Swazi ran barefoot. He moved with the speed and agility of a cat, covering the entire distance in just a couple of minutes. He knelt outside the main hut, waiting a few moments for the rest of his men to reach their positions. He looked to his left and saw Tshwane kneeling next to him. The young Zulu’s face was sweaty, his eyes wide in anticipation. Mbilini’s expression remained unchanged. He placed a reassuring hand on Tshwane’s shoulder and nodded to him. Tshwane nodded in return, readied his weapons to strike, and followed the prince into the hut.

  It was completely black inside, and the men crept low, using their weapons to guide them. Tshwane recalled that only the patriarch and one of his wives were sleeping in this hut tonight. He heard a loud scuffle as Mbilini came upon one of them. A shriek nearly deafened him as the hapless victim was brutally slain. He could just see the motions of the prince as he stabbed his victim repeatedly, followed by the sickening crunch as a skull was crushed by his knobkerrie.

  Outside, he heard further screams, coupled with the braying of cattle being forcibly led from the kraal. They had only been inside the hut for a few moments when Mbilini ushered them back outside again. The night air was cool, and Tshwane cringed when he heard a woman’s scream of agony coming from another of the huts. He thought he heard the cries of children as well, though the loud protests made by nearby cattle mercifully drowned out these hateful sounds. The young Zulu kept close to Mbilini, whose iklwa was stained in blood. Tshwane wasn’t certain if the prince killed both people in the hut, or if one of his warriors had taken part in the butchery. As quick and deadly as he was, it would not have surprised him if Mbilini fatally struck both before they knew he was there.

  There were no more cries to be heard. The raiders had slain all within the huts with brutal efficiency. Mbilini was now circling the kraal, checking his warriors, and sending them back towards his stronghold, where the cattle were being led. He then pointed to the smouldering remains of the evening’s cooking fire. Tshwane nodded in understanding. He took a long, dry stick which ignited within moments of thrusting it into the glowing embers. As flames licked forth, he took the makeshift torch and set fire to the thatch of the nearest hut. Mbilini did the same. Soon, the entire kraal was engulfed in flames. The fires were visible for many miles; Mbilini and his band of raiders would be long gone before any help could arrive.

  Though he had yet to personally slay another human being, Tshwane felt pangs of guilt after every such raid. The killing of warriors and men of fighting age made sense to him. However, he felt ashamed by the slaying of women and especially children. Mbilini had explained it was wicked yet necessary. The people they slew were Swazi traitors settled in the white man’s lands, subjugating themselves to the hateful Dutch Boers, and now to the English, who continued to encroach upon Zulu lands while poisoning minds with their hateful religion. Mbilini suspected that the white queen wished to forcibly subjugate all of Southern Africa. Only through bloodshed could he hope to keep his people free. This was a lesson King Cetshwayo had yet to learn. Mbilini felt it would be made clear to him soon enough.

  At Mbilini’s stronghold, Mehlokazulu slumped near a campfire awaiting the return of his host. He slept very little, occasionally nodding off as the fires faded. Despite the Swazi’s promise to look after his brother, Mehlokazulu constantly wo
rried about Tshwane. Every raid brought risk, especially if they were discovered and their quarry was well-armed. And yet, he understood that any service his brother could render to the Swazi prince would reflect well upon their family, especially if Mbilini managed to lay claim to the Swazi throne. Even though Tshwane was ostensibly only supposed to be a mat carrier, Mehlokazulu had personally crafted an iklwa spear and knobkerrie club for him.

  The loud mooing of a cow in the distance alerted the young Zulu. He quickly stood, gazing into the valley below the Swazi’s stronghold. A light mist hung in the air, yet the ground was now visible in the early hours before dawn.

  “Bayade!” Mehlokazulu shouted. This was echoed in return by both Mbilini and his warriors who began to chant praises to the prince and his benefactor, King Cetshwayo. Mehlokazulu let out a relieved sigh when he saw his brother walking proudly next to Mbilini. Another successful cattle raid swelled the wealth of the exiled prince while strengthening his friendship with the sons of Sihayo.

  Chapter I: The Red Soldiers Came

  Town of Utrecht, the Transvaal

  November 1878

  Colonel Henry Evelyn Wood, VC

  Fifty miles to the southwest of where Mbilini launched his latest bloody raid, companies of red-jacketed imperial soldiers marched into the town of Utrecht. A regimental band at the column’s head announced their presence for miles with boisterous music, most notably from their Scottish pipes and drums. These men were of the 90th Perthshire Light Infantry. A single-battalion regiment first raised in Scotland in 1794, they had arrived in South Africa back in January, following nine years on Home Service. They wore the traditional red jackets with buff-coloured tabs and regimental insignia on their collars, with dark blue trousers. Their once pearly white helmets had long since been deliberately stained brown to make them less conspicuous to enemy marksmen. At the head rode their commanding officer, along with members of his staff.

  The officer’s name was Colonel Henry Evelyn Wood, VC. Called ‘Evelyn’ by his friends, the VC denoted his being awarded the British Empire’s highest award for valour, the Victoria Cross. With still another month until his forty-first birthday, he was the youngest column commander within Lord Chelmsford’s imperial forces massing along the borders between British Natal and the Zulu Kingdom. Despite his age, Evelyn’s drastically receding hairline and streaks of grey in his thick moustache made him appear significantly older. He often stated that his grey hairs were earned during countless campaigns on Foreign Service throughout the British Empire.

  Henry Evelyn Wood had begun his military career with the Royal Navy in 1852 at the tender age of fourteen, when his father acquired him a posting as midshipman. During the Crimean War, he was assigned to the ground forces of the Naval Brigade during the lengthy and brutal Siege of Sevastopol. Despite having fallen sick, something which would plague him throughout much of his military career, he left the hospital in time to join the attack during the Battle of Inkerman. He was gravely wounded, nearly losing his right arm after being struck by shrapnel from an enemy cannon shot. He was mentioned in despatches and recommended, albeit unsuccessfully, for the newly-created Victoria Cross, the British Empire’s highest award for valour and the first that was available to any soldier, regardless of rank. Due to his injuries and recurring illnesses, Wood would spend much of the remainder of the war in hospital. His tenure with the Royal Navy came to an end after three years, when at the age of seventeen he resigned his commission, wishing instead to join the land component of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces.

  Due to his record of service in Crimea, he was able to commission into the Army, securing a cornetcy with the 13th Light Dragoons. He subsequently returned to the Crimean theatre and later served during the Indian Mutiny with the 17th Lancers. It was here, as a twenty-year-old lieutenant, that he led a force of ten men in a skirmish, routing eighty enemy combatants. During this same action, he saved a local merchant from certain death at the hands of the rebels, for which he was recommended once again, this time successfully, for the Victoria Cross. The Indian Mutiny was also a harrowing time for other members of the Wood family. His sister, Maria, was living in the subcontinent at the time, and compelled to flee with her children through enemy-controlled territory. Maria had carried a vial of poison for herself and each of her children, preferring death to capture. Fortunately, this proved unnecessary. In 1861, at twenty-three years of age, Evelyn was promoted to captain. For his services in India, he was brevetted to major the following year. This promotion came at a time when his peers were still languishing as junior lieutenants, with most not seeing captain, let alone major, until they were in their thirties.

  In 1867, he married Paulina Southwell, the sister of his friend, Thomas, Viscount Southwell. Despite this friendship, Thomas and the Southwell family disapproved of the marriage, for they were staunch Roman Catholics. While it was no secret that Evelyn was not a religious man, with some gossips going so far as to label him an atheist, for political reasons he refused to leave the Church of England. The union puzzled many, and Wood even stated in his proposal—which he had done by letter—that he would marry Paulina with the understanding that she would, ‘Never by a word or even by a look try to prevent me from volunteering for wartime service’. The consensus, which Evelyn himself never disputed, was that he had married simply because it was looked upon favourably for officers of a certain rank, as well as to produce an heir.

  During the summer of 1871, Wood made his majority substantive by means of purchase with the 90th Perthshire Light Infantry and was subsequently breveted to lieutenant colonel. His was among the last of these types of promotions, for commissions and promotions by purchase were officially abolished that October. Numerous postings followed around the Empire, both at home and abroad, including service during the Third Ashanti War from 1873 to 1874, along the western coast of Africa. During this particular conflict, he was erroneously reported as captured and ‘likely flayed alive’. Thankfully, these rumours were rapidly quashed. Near the end of the campaign his lieutenant colonelcy was made substantive and he was further brevetted to full colonel at just thirty-six years of age. Around this time, he was appointed a Companion of the Order of the Bath (CB). He also became a member of the ‘Wolseley Ring’, a small circle of officers serving under then-Major General Sir Garnet Wolseley, who supported many of his proposed reforms and formed a cadre of political influence. It said much for Wood’s talents that he was allowed into such a select circle, as he and Wolseley disliked each other immensely.

  In addition to his military career, Evelyn studied law, being called to the bar by the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple and becoming a barrister. Following his return from Africa, he spent the next three years at Aldershot as Superintendent of Garrison Instruction, as well as Assistant Quartermaster-General, before re-joining the 90th Light Infantry in Natal in February 1878 as their commanding officer. That May, he led his Regiment during the fighting at Tutu Bush, which served as the final battle of the Ninth Cape Frontier War against the Xhosa. In anticipation of possible troubles with the Zulus, the General Officer Commanding (GOC), Lord Chelmsford, had later in the year given Wood command of the northern column with orders to assemble at Utrecht.

  On this November morning in 1878, with the Crown colonies in Southern Africa in a constant state of conflict, it could be argued that Evelyn Wood possessed more campaign experience than most of his colleagues combined. Furthermore, he enjoyed far greater autonomy from the GOC than any of his peers. His reputation was somewhat hampered by his constant bouts of fever and other illnesses; some privately called him a hypochondriac. Being hard of hearing also made conversation difficult, with his staff and subordinate officers often questioning whether he heard them correctly. Yet despite being perpetually ill, with conversations having to be conducted at near-shouting levels, Colonel Henry Evelyn Wood remained Chelmsford’s most trusted column commander.

  The 90th Perthshire Light Infantry at Aldershot, just prior to their departure for
Southern Africa, January 1878

  The eight companies of imperial redcoats, numbering around 850 soldiers in all, marched through the town to the cheers of its citizenry. The constant raids from hostile tribes in the region had caused many settlers to flee to the perceived safety of the towns. Colonel Wood ordered the Regiment to march through the town in order to quell the anxiety of the nervous settlers. However, they would not be establishing camp within Utrecht. Instead, his staff officers had ridden ahead to find a suitable place to establish their tents, with ample forage for their draught oxen and horses.

  “There is an open plain just beyond the town, sir,” his principle staff officer, Captain Ronald Campbell, reported. “The river provides a plentiful water source, and there is ample grazing land.”

  “Splendid,” the colonel replied.

  In addition to his own 90th Perthshire, he was anticipating the arrival of seven companies from 1st Battalion of the 13th Somerset Light Infantry, also being placed under his command. At the moment, they fell under the command of Colonel Hugh Rowlands, VC, having assisted him in hunting the renegade chieftain, Sekhukhune. Regrettably, that expedition had recently ended in failure. Rowlands’ forces were underequipped and lacking in food and water, which compelled them to withdraw. This only exacerbated the already strained relations between Rowlands and the GOC. It was due to this lack of trust that Chelmsford tasked him with garrisoning Natal and the Transvaal, while giving command of the operational forces along the Zulu border to an officer who was substantially his junior. This insult was not lost on either Hugh Rowlands or Evelyn Wood.