The Great Elephant loved his name, and he wore it boldly. As Ndlovu hauled himself up to the deck with meaty hands wrapped around the railings, the ivory beads strung around his thick neck clacked, Nomvula could hear the rope ladder groaning under his weight. Bands of woven grass bracelets strained to bursting as his massive arms flexed with effort of pulling his body up, but greater than Ndlovu's arms was his beard, a black bush of hair that swallowed his mouth and reached down to brush against the coarse hairs pebbling his chest and the top of his hard belly.
Nomvula said a silent prayer of thanks that Antut kept the men well drilled. The soldiers still on deck stood a respectful distance away, their clubs lowered but positioned more for keeping Dumani's personal guards back than for anything Ndlovu might do. The sailors made a good show of pretending to be busy.
When Ndlovu stood with both feet on the deck, he was easily a head taller than Dumani, and a full man wider. If he smirked, it was lost in the curling mass of his beard, but there was mockery in his eyes when they found Nomvula, hotter than a brand buried in red coals.
"Queen." His deep voice seemed to go through her and touch every end of her hearing.
Nomvula inclined her head the bare amount. "Chief."
At her side, Dumani folded his arms, his eyes scanning the chief for something he could inwardly mock. "Ah, Ndlovu."
The Great Elephant ignored him as he reached down the side of the galley. With minimal effort, he took a young woman's hand and hauled her up to the deck, though Nomvula did not miss the gentle hand he steadied her with. Her skin was yellow-brown like her father's, a little darker in the arms to show that she was a hard working woman, but she was willow-branch thin under her cotton shift, and the mildness of her features was no doubt a gift from her mother.
"Mamkhonoto," Ndlovu said, "the princess Buhle."
"A name well chosen," Nomvula said. "Beautiful indeed. Be welcome, Princess."
By speaking directly to her, Nomvula invited the Chief's daughter to look up at her, which took visible effort to accept.
"Thank you, Mamkhonto."
Nomvula danced around the urge to frown. Being addressed by her clan name before her title was acknowledged was audaciously familiar, something a Princess would know, and something a young woman would only dare to do at the command of a father. Buhle's gaze married the deck again.
"Chief," Nomvula said, eager to be done with the strict greeting rituals which left so much room for passive aggressive insults, "I introduce my guest and friend, Dumani, cousin and General to the King of the Inner Plains."
Ndlovu had an odd grace as he stepped forward, not the languid step of a dancer or the rolling gait of an old sailor, but the balance and poise of a man who used his body often and well. He took the General's hand in his own and nodded. Nomvula took note of the way Dumani somehow looked up at the Chief and down his nose at him at the same time.
A trick that might have its uses.
"Genaral," Ndlovu said. "It is said you are a fierce battle commander."
"That can't be right," Dumani said, the muscles in his forearms standing out like chords. "As a rule, my men don't speak of me, and if I've left an enemy alive to tell it then "
Ndlovu's chuckle was the stir of distant thunder. "You should always leave one or two, General. A good word is a second army."
At least I know they'd make awful allies, Nomvula said as the pair finally relented and released their hold on each other. She made her boldest move yet and extended her own hand for a man's greeting. Though Dumani frowned, Ndlovu took it without hesitation. His hand engulfed hers, and he did not need to apply much pressure to make the hidden strength in his forearm known. To him, it was intimidation, but to all on the deck, she made it clear that the Chief considered her a personal equal. She put no stock in her greater title.
"The last time I touched your hand, your husband was alive," Ndlovu said. "It's gotten softer since."
"Well, with the King gone, I have nothing to slap in frustration to keep it firm, though many have offered themselves."
Ndlovu's eyes were blacker than burnt eggshells. "And you rebuff them all?"
His grip started to tighten. Nomvula found the nerve in his palm and pushed her thumb into it until his hand casually fell away.
"Never mind me, Chief," she said, folding calmness and mild mirth into her voice. "After all, I've asked you here so that your daughter can make a woman's decision. Maybe she will be wiser than I am." Nomvula stepped aside and gestured to her other guest. Dumani's face slackened, then tightened in anger as she pressed on. "Great Elephant, it is my pleasure to introduce you to a fine young man, Prince Jabulani, son to the King of the Inner Plains."