Amazulu

1818, south east Africa: on the summit of a low hill, encircled by a foe six times their number, fifteen hundred men armed with cowhide shields and short stabbing spears sit and wait as the midday sun blazes overhead. Calm in the face of the horde gathering below, they know it's a good day for dying… but a better one for killing.

At the centre of their formation a tall, broad-shouldered man surveys his troops. Only at his command will they rise and engage the enemy. He is Shaka, his men are...