When the Lion Feeds (16 page)

only a night ape sees in the dark, Sean protested. And only a fresh caught catfish flops on its belly, chuckled Mbejane, You are Zulu, Sean stated, recognizing the arrogance, although he had known immediately from the man's face and body that he was not one of the bastard Natal tribes who spoke the Zulu language but were no more Zulu than a tabby-cat is a leopard. Of Chaka's blood, agreed Mbejane, reverence in his voice as he said the old king's name. And now you carry the spear against Cetewayo, your king? My king? The laughter was gone from mbejane's voice. My king? he repeated scornfully.

There was silence and Sean waited. Out in the darkness a jackal barked twice and one of the horses whickered softly. There was another who should have been king, but he died with a sharpened stick thrust up into the secret opening of his body, until it pierced his gut and touched his heart. That man was my father, said Mbejane. He stood up and went back into the shelter of the bush and Sean followed him. They squatted side by side, silent but watchful. The jackal cried again up above the camp and Mbejane's head turned towards the sound.

Some jackals have two legs, he whispered thoughtfully. Sean felt the tingle along his forearms.

Zulus? he asked. Mbejane shrugged, a small movement in the darkness.

Even if it is, they will not come for us in the night. In the dawn, yes, but never in the night Mbejane shifted the spear in his lap. The old one with the tan hat and grey beard understands this. Years have made him wise, that's why he sleeps so sweetly now but mounts up and moves in the darkness before each dawn Sean relaxed slightly. He glanced sideways at Mbejane. The old one thinks that some of the herds are hidden near here. Years have made him wise, repeated Mbejane.

Tomorrow we will find the land more broken, there are hills and thick thorn bush. The cattle will be hidden among themDo you think we'll find them? Cattle are difficult to hide from a man who knows where to look.

Will there be many guards with the herds? I hope so answered Mbejane, his voice a purr.

His hand crept to the shaft of his assegai and caressed it. I hope there will be very many. -You would kill your own people, your brothers, your cousins? asked Sean. I would kill them as they killed my father. Mbejane's voice was savage now. They are not my people. I have no people. i have no brothers, I have nothing. Silence settled between them again, but slowly the ughness of Mbejane's mood evaporated and in its place came a sense of companionship. Each of them felt comforted by the other's presence. They sat on into the night.

Mbejane reminded Sean of Tinker working a bird, he had the same half-crouched gait and the same air of complete absorption. The white men sat their horses in silence watching him. The sun was well up already and Sean unbuttoned his sheepskin coat and pulled it off. He strapped it onto the blanket roll behind him.

Mbejane had moved out about fifty yards from them and now he was working slowly back towards them. He stopped and minutely inspected a wet pat of cow dung. Hierdie Kaffir verstaan wat by doen, opined Steff Erasmus approvingly, but no one else spoke. Bester Klein fidgeted with the hammer of his carbine; his red face was already sweaty in the rising heat.

Mbejane had proved right, they were in hilly country.

Not the smoothly rounded hills of Natal but bills with rocky crests, deeply gullied and ravined between. There was thorn forest and euphorbia. covering the sides of the hills with a lattice work of reptile grey trunks, and the grass was coarse and tall. I could use a drink, said Frikkie Van Essen and wiped his knuckles across his lips.

Chee peep, chee peep, a barbet called stridently in the branches of the kaffir boom tree under which they waited.

Sean looked up; the bird was brown and red among the scarlet flowers which covered the tree. How many? asked Steff and Mbejane came to stand at his horse's head.

Fifty, no more, he answered. When? Yesterday, after the heat of the day they moved slowly down the valley. They were grazing. They cannot be more than half an hour's ride ahead of us.

Steff nodded. Fifty head only, but there would be more. How many men with them? Mbejane clucked his tongue disgustedly. Two umfaans. He pointed with his spear at a dusty place where the print of a half grown boy's bare foot showed clearly. There are no men. Good said Steff.

Follow them. They told us that if we found anything we must go back and report, protested Bester Klein quickly. They said we shouldn't start anything on our own. , Steff turned in his saddle, Are you frightened of two umfaans? he asked coldly. I'm not frightened of anything, it's just what they told us. Klein flushed redder in his already red face.

i know what they told us, thank you, said Steff. I'm not going to start anything, we're just going to have a look. I know you burst out Klein.

If you see cattle you'll go mad for them. All of you, you're greedy for cattle like some men are for drink. Once you see them you won't stop klein was a railway ganger.

Steff turned away from him. Come on, let's go. They rode out of the shade of the kaffir boom tree into the sunlight, Klein muttering softly to himself and Mbejane leading them down the valley.

The floor of the valley sloped gradually and on each side of them the ground rose steep and rocky. They travelled quickly with Mbejane and the other Nongaai thrown out as a screen and the horsemen cantering in a fine with their stirrups almost touching.

Sean levered open the breech of his rifle and drew out the cartridge.

He changed it for another from the bandoher across his chest.

Fifty head is only ten apiece, complained Frikkie. That's a hundred quid, as much as you earn in six months. Sean laughed with excitement and Frikkie laughed with him. You two keep your mouths shut and your eyes open. Steff's voice was phlegmatic, but he couldn't stop the excitement from sparkling in his eyes. I knew you were going to raid, sulked Klein. I knew it, sure as fate. You shut up also, said Steff and grinned at Sean.

They rode for ten minutes; then Steff called softly to the Nongaai and the patrol halted. No one spoke and every man stood with his head alert and his ears straining. Nothing, said Steff at last. How close are we?

Very close, Mbejane answered. We should have heard them from here.

Mbejane's exquisitely muscled body was shiny with sweat and the pride of his stance set him apart from the other Nongaai. There was a restrained eagerness about him, for the excitement was irifectious. All right, follow them, said Steff. Mbejane settled the rawhide shield securely on ins shoulder and started forward i , Twice more they stopped to listen and each time Sean and Frikkie were more restless and Inpatient. Sit still, snapped Steff. How can we hear anything with you moving aboutV Sean opened Ins -mouth, but before he could answer they all heard an ox low mournfully ahead of them among the trees.

That's it! We've got them! Come on! No, wait! Steff ordered. Sean, take my farlookers; and climb up that tree. Tell me what you can see.

We're wasting time, argued Sean. We should We should learn to do as we're damn well told said Steff. Get up that tree With the binoculars slung around his neck, Sean climbed upwards until he sat high in a crotch of two branches. He reached out and broke off a twig which obscured his vision, then exclaimed immediately, There they are, right ahead of us!

How many? Steff called up to him. A small herd, two herdboys with them. Are they among the trees? No, said Sean, they're in the open.

Looks like a patch of swamp. Make sure there aren't any other Zulus with them No - Sean started to answer but Steff cut him short. Use the glasses, dammit. They'll be hiding if they're there. Sean brought up the glasses and focused them. The cattle were fat and sleek skinned, big homed and bodies dappled black on white. A cloud of white tick-birds hovered over them. The two herdboys were completely naked, youngsters with the thin legs and the disproportionately large genitals of the Africans. Sean turned the glasses slowly back and forth searching the patch of swamp and the surrounding bush. At last he lowered them.

only the two herdboys, he said.

Come down then, Steff told him.

The herdboys fled as soon as the patrol rode out into the open. They disappeared among the fever trees on the far side of the swamp.

Let them go laughed Steff. The poor little buggers are going to be in enough trouble as it is. He spurred his horse forward into the vivid green patch of swamp grass. It was lush: thick and tall enough to reach his saddle.

The others followed him in with the mud squelching and sucking at the hooves of the horses. They could see the backs of the cattle showing above the grass a hundred yards ahead of them. The tick-birds circled squawking. you and Frikkie cut around to the left! Steff spoke over his shoulder and before he could finish the grass around them was full of Zulus, at least a hundred of them in full war dress. Ambush! yelled steff. Don't try and fight, too many of them. Get out! and they dragged him off his horse.

Horses panicked in the mud, whinnying as they reared.

The bang of Klein's rifle was almost drowned in the triumphant roar of the warriors. Mbejane jumped to catch the bridle of Sean's horse; he dragged its head around.

Ride, Nkosi, quickly. Do not wait Klein was dead, an assegai in his throat and the blood bursting brightly from the corners of his mouth as he fen backwards. Hold on to my stirrup leather. Sean felt surprisingly calm. A Zulu came at him from the side; Sean held his rifle across his lap and fired with the muzzle almost in the Tn:an's face. It cut the top off his head. Sean ejected the cartridge case and reloaded.

Ride, NkosiI, Mbejane shouted again. He had made no effort to obey Sean:

his shield held high he barged into two of the attackers and knocked them down into the mud. His assegai rose and fell, rose and fell.

Ngi Dhla! howled Mbejane. I have eaten. Fighting madness on him, he jumped over the bodies and charged.

A man stood to meet him and Mbejane hooked the edge of his shield under his and jerked it aside, exposing the man's left flank to his blade.

Ngi Dhla, Mbejane howled He had torn an opening in the ring of attackers and Sean rode for it, his horse churning heavily through the mud. A Zulu caught at his reins and Sean fired with his muzzle touching the man's chest. The Zulu screamed. Mbejane, shouted Sean. Take my stirrupp Frikkie Van Essen was finished; his horse was down and Zulus swarmed over him with red spears.

Leaning out of the saddle Sean circled Mbejane's waist with his arm and plucked him out of the mud. He struggled wildly but Sean held him. The ground firmed under his horse's hooves, they were moving faster. Another zulu stood in their way with his assegai ready. With Mbejane kicking indignantly under one arm and Ins empty rifle in his other hand Sean was helpless to defend himself. He shouted an obscenity at the Zulu as he rode down on him. The Zulu dodged to one side and darted in again. Sean felt the sting of the blade across his shin and then the shock as it went on into his horse's chest. They were through, out of the swamp and into the trees.

Sean's horse carried him another mile before it fell. The assegai had gone in deep. It fell heavily but Sean was able to kick his feet out of the irons and jump clear. He and Mbejane stood looking down at the carcass, both of them were panting.

Can you run in those boots? asked Mbejane urgently.

Yes They were light veldschoen. Those breeches will hold your legs, Mbejane knelt swiftly and with his assegai cut away the cloth until sean's legs were bare from the thighs down. He stood up again and listened for the first sounds of pursuit. NotHing.

Leave your rifle, it is too heavy. Leave your hat and your bandolier I must take my rifle, protested Sean. Take it then, Mbejane flashed unpatiently. Take it and die. If you carry that they'll catch you before noon Sean hesitated a second longer and then he changed his grip, holding the rifle by the barrel like an axe. He swung it against the trunk of the nearest tree. The butt shattered and he threw it from him.

Now we must go, said Mbejane.

Sean glanced quickly across at his dead horse, the leather thongs held his sheepskin coat onto the saddle.

All Anna's hard work wasted, he thought wryly. Then following Mbejane he started to run.

The first hour was bad; Sean had difficulty matching his step to that of mbejane. He ran with his body tensed and soon had a stabbing stitch in his side. Mbejane saw his pain and they stopped for a few minutes while mbejane showed him how to relax it away. Then they went on with Sean running smoothly. Another hour went by and Sean had found his second wind. How long will it take us to get back to the main army?

grunted Sean.

Two days perhaps. . . . don't talk, answered Mbejane.

The land changed slowly about them as they ran. The hills not so steep and jagged, the forest thinned and again they were into the rolling grassland. It seems we are not being followed. It was half an hour since Sean had last spoken. Perhaps, Mbejane was non-committal. It is too soon yet to tell. They ran on side by side, in step so their feet slapped in unison on the hard-baked earth.

Christ, I'm thirsty, said Sean. No water, said Mbejane, but we'll stop to rest a while at the top of the next rise. They looked back from the crest. Sean's shirt was soaked with sweat and he was breathing deeply but easily. No one following us, Sean's voice was relieved.

We can slow down a bit now. Mbejane did not answer. He also was sweating heavily but the way he moved and held his head showed he was not yet beginning to tire. He carried his shield on his shoulder and the blade of the assegai in his other hand was caked with black, dry blood. He stared out along the way they had come for fully five minutes before he growled angrily and pointed with his assegai. There! Close to that clump of trees. Can you see them? Oh, hell! Sean saw them: