Authors: Wilbur Smith
Minutes after he had gone, Hop rushed out of the armoury and across to the main block. He came back leading the Company surgeon, who carried his leather bag, and disappeared down the armoury
stairs. A long time afterwards the surgeon emerged and spoke briefly to Man-seer and his men, who were hovering at the door.
The sergeant saluted and he and his men went down the stairs. When they came out again Sir Francis was with them. He could not walk unaided, and his hands and feet were swaddled in bandages. Red
stains had already soaked through the cloth.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus, they have killed him,’ Hal whispered as they dragged his father, legs dangling and head hanging, across the yard.
Almost as if he had heard the words, Sir Francis lifted his head and looked up at him. Then he called in a clear, high voice, ‘Hal, remember your oath!’
‘I love you, Father!’ Hal shouted back, choking on the words with sorrow, and Barnard slashed his whip across his back.
‘Get back to work, you bastard.’
That evening as the file of convicts shuffled down the staircase past the door of his father’s cell, Hal paused and called softly, ‘I pray God and all his saints to protect you,
Father.’
He heard his father move on the rustling mattress of straw, and then, after a long moment, his voice. ‘Thank you, my son. God grant us both the strength to endure the days
ahead.’
F
rom behind the shutters of her bedroom Katinka watched the tall figure of Slow John coming up the avenue from the Parade. He passed out of her
sight behind the stone wall at the bottom of the lawns and she knew he was going directly to his cottage. She had been waiting half the day for his return, and she was impatient. She placed the
bonnet on her head, inspected her image in the mirror and was not satisfied. She looped a coil of her hair, arranged it carefully over her shoulder, then smiled at her reflection and left the room
through the small door out to the back veranda. She followed the paved path under the naked black vines that covered the pergola, stripped of their last russet leaves by the onset of the winter
gales.
Slow John’s cottage stood alone at the edge of the forest. There was no person in the colony, no matter how lowly his station, who would live with him as a neighbour. When she reached it
Katinka found the front door open and she went in without a knock or hesitation. The single room was bare as a hermit’s cell. The floors were coated with cow dung, and the air smelled of
stale smoke and the cold ashes on the open hearth. A simple bed, a single table and chair were the only furniture.
As she paused in the centre of the room she heard water splashing in the back yard and she followed the sound. Slow John stood beside the water trough. He was naked to the waist, and he was
scooping water from the trough with a leather bucket and pouring it over his head.
He looked up at her, with the water trickling from his sodden hair down his chest and arms. His limbs were covered with the hard flat muscle of a professional wrestler or, she thought
whimsically, of a Roman gladiator.
‘You are not surprised to see me here,’ Katinka stated. It was not a question for she could see the answer in his flat gaze.
‘I was expecting you. I was expecting the Goddess Kali. Nobody else would dare come here,’ he said, and Katinka blinked at this unusual form of address.
She sat down on the low stone wall beside the pump, and was silent for a while. Then she asked, ‘Why do you call me that?’ The death of Zelda had forged a strange, mystic bond
between them.
‘In Trincomalee, on the beautiful island of Ceylon beside the sacred Elephant Pool, stands the temple of Kali. I went there every day that I was in the colony. Kali is the Hindu Goddess of
death and destruction. I worship her.’ She knew then that he was mad. The knowledge intrigued her, and made the fine, colourless hairs on her forearms stand erect.
She sat for a long time in silence and watched him complete his toilet. He squeezed the water from his hair with both hands, and then wiped down those lean, hard limbs with a square of cloth. He
pulled on his undershirt, then picked up the dark coat from where it hung over the wall, shrugged into it and buttoned it to his chin.
At last he looked at her. ‘You have come to hear about my little sparrow.’ With that fine melodious voice he should have been a preacher or an operatic tenor, she thought.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That is why I have come.’
It was as though he had read her thoughts. He knew exactly what she wanted and he began to speak without hesitation. He told her what had taken place that day in the room below the armoury. He
omitted no detail. He almost sang the words, making the terrible acts he was describing sound as noble and inevitable as the lyrics from some Greek tragedy. He transported her, so that she hugged
her own arms and began to rock slowly back and forth on the wall as she listened.
When he had finished speaking she sat for a long while with a rapturous expression on her lovely face. At last she shuddered softly and said, ‘You may continue to call me Kali. But only
when we are alone. No one else must ever hear you speak the name.’
‘Thank you, Goddess.’ His pale eyes glowed with an almost religious fervour as he watched her go to the gate in the wall.
There she paused and, without looking round at him, she asked, ‘Why do you call him your little sparrow?’
Slow John shrugged. ‘Because from this day onwards he belongs to me. They all belong to me and to the Goddess Kali, for ever.’ Katinka gave a small ecstatic shiver at those words,
then walked on down the path through the gardens towards the residence. Every step of the way she could feel his gaze upon her.
S
ukeena was waiting for her when she returned to the residence. ‘You sent for me, mistress.’
‘Come with me, Sukeena.’
She led the girl to her closet, and seated herself on the chaise-longue in front of the shuttered window. She gestured for Sukeena to stand before her. ‘Governor Kleinhans often discussed
your skills as a physician,’ Katinka said. ‘Who taught you?’
‘My mother was an adept. At a very young age I would go out with her to gather the plants and herbs. After her death I studied with my uncle.’
‘Do you know the plants here? Are they not different from those of the land where you were born?’
‘There are some that are the same, and the others I have taught myself.’
Katinka already knew all this from Kleinhans, but she enjoyed the music of the slave girl’s voice. ‘Sukeena, yesterday my mare stumbled and almost threw me. My leg was caught on the
saddle horn, and I have an ugly mark. My skin bruises easily. Do you have in your chest of medicines one that will heal it for me?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Here!’ Katinka leaned back on the sofa, and drew her skirts high above her knees. Slowly and sensually she rolled down one of the white stockings. ‘Look!’ she ordered,
and Sukeena sank gracefully to the silk carpet in front of her. Her touch was as soft upon the skin as a butterfly alighting on a flower, and Katinka sighed. ‘I can feel that you have healing
hands.’
Sukeena did not reply and a wave of her dark hair hid her eyes.
‘How old are you?’ Katinka asked.
Sukeena’s fingers stopped for an instant and then moved on to explore the bruise that spread around the back of her mistress’s knee. ‘I was born in the year of the
Tiger,’ she said, ‘so on my next birthday I will be eighteen years of age.’
‘You are very beautiful, Sukeena. But, then, you know that, don’t you?’
‘I do not feel beautiful, mistress. I do not think a slave can ever feel beautiful.’
‘What a droll notion.’ Katinka did not hide her annoyance at this turn in the conversation. ‘Tell me, is your brother as beautiful as you are?’
Again Sukeena’s fingers trembled on her skin. Ah! That shaft went home. Katinka smiled softly in the silence, and then asked, ‘Did you hear my question, Sukeena?’
‘To me Althuda is the most beautiful man who has ever lived upon this earth,’ Sukeena replied softly, and then regretted having said it. She knew instinctively that it was dangerous
to allow this woman to discover those areas where she was most vulnerable, but she could not recall the words.
‘How old is Althuda?’
‘He is three years older than I am.’ Sukeena kept her eyes downcast. ‘I need to fetch my medicines, mistress.’
‘I shall wait for you to return,’ Katinka replied. ‘Be quick.’
Katinka lay back against the cushions and smiled or frowned at the vivid procession of images and words that ran through her mind. She felt expectant and elated, and at the same time restless
and dissatisfied. Slow John’s words sounded in her head like cathedral bells. They disturbed her. She could not remain still a moment longer. She sprang to her feet and prowled around the
closet like a hunting leopard. ‘Where is that girl?’ she demanded, and then she glimpsed her own reflection in the long mirror and turned back to consider it.
‘Kali!’ she whispered, and smiled. ‘What a marvellous name. What a secret and splendid name.’
She saw Sukeena’s image appear in the mirror behind her but she did not turn immediately. The girl’s dark beauty was a perfect foil for her own. She considered their two faces
together, and felt the excitement charge her nerves and sing through her veins.
‘I have the salve for your injury, mistress.’ Sukeena stood close behind her, but her eyes were fathomless.
‘Thank you, my little sparrow,’ Katinka whispered. I want you to belong to me for ever, she thought. I want you to belong to Kali.
She turned back to the sofa and Sukeena knelt before her again. At first the salve was cool on the skin of her leg, and then a warm glow spread from it. Sukeena’s fingers were cunning and
skilful.
‘I hate to see something beautiful destroyed needlessly,’ Katinka whispered. ‘You say your brother is beautiful. Do you love him very much, Sukeena?’
When there was no reply Katinka reached down and cupped her hand under Sukeena’s chin. She lifted her face so that she could look into her eyes. The agony she saw there made her pulse
race.
‘My poor little sparrow,’ she said. I have touched the deepest place in her soul, she exulted. As she removed her hand she let her fingers trail across the girl’s cheek.
‘This hour I have come from Slow John,’ she said, ‘but you saw me on the path. You were watching me, were you not?’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘Shall I repeat to you what Slow John told me? Shall I tell you about his special room at the castle, and what happens there?’ Katinka did not wait for the girl to reply but went on
speaking quietly. When Sukeena’s fingers stilled she broke off her narrative to order, ‘Do not stop what you are doing, Sukeena. You have a magical touch.’
When at last she finished speaking, Sukeena was weeping without a sound. Her tears were slow and viscous as drops of oil squeezed from the olive press. They glistened against the red gold of her
cheeks. After a while Katinka asked, ‘How long has your brother been in the castle? I have heard that it is four months since he came back from the mountains to fetch you. Such a long time,
and he has not been tried, no sentence passed upon him.’
Katinka waited, letting the moments fall, a slow drop at a time, slow as the girl’s tears. ‘Governor Kleinhans was remiss, or was he persuaded by somebody, I wonder. But my husband
is an energetic and dedicated man. He will not let justice be denied. No renegade can escape him long.’
Now Sukeena was no longer making any pretence; she stared at Katinka with stricken eyes as she went on, ‘He will send Althuda to the secret room with Slow John. Althuda will be beautiful
no longer. What a dreadful pity. What can we do to prevent that happening?’
‘Mistress,’ Sukeena whispered, ‘your husband, he has the power. Itisinhis hands.’
‘My husband is a servant of the Company, a loyal and unbending servant. He will not flinch from his duty.’
‘Mistress, you are so beautiful. No man can deny you. You can persuade him.’ Sukeena slowly lowered her head and placed it on Katinka’s bare knee. ‘With all my heart,
with all my soul, I beg you, mistress.’
‘What would you do to save your brother’s life?’ Katinka asked. ‘What price would you pay, my little sparrow?’
‘There is no price too high, no sacrifice from which I would turn aside. Everything and anything you ask of me, mistress.’
‘We could never hope to set him free, Sukeena. You understand that, don’t you?’ Katinka asked gently. Nor would I ever wish that, she thought, for while the brother is in the
castle the little sparrow is safely in my cage.
‘I will not even let myself hope for that.’
Sukeena lifted her head and again Katinka cupped her chin, this time with both her hands, and she leaned forward slowly. ‘Althuda shall not die. We will save him from Slow John, you and
I,’ she promised, and kissed Sukeena full on the mouth. The girl’s lips were wet with her tears. They tasted hot and salty, almost like blood. Slowly Sukeena opened her lips, like the
petals of an orchid opening to the sunbird’s beak as it quests for nectar.
Althuda. Sukeena steeled herself with the thought of her brother, as without breaking the kiss Katinka took her hand and moved it slowly up under her skirts until it lay on her smooth white
belly. Althuda, this is for you, and for you alone, Sukeena told herself silently, as she closed her eyes and her fingers crept timorously over the satiny belly, down into the nest of fine dense
golden curls at the base.
T
he next day dawned in a cloudless sky. Although the air was chill the sun was brilliant and the wind had dropped. From the scaffold Hal watched
the closed door to the dungeons. Daniel stayed close by his side; in taking Hal’s share of the work on his broad shoulders he was shielding him from Barnard’s lash.
When Slow John came through the gates and crossed the courtyard to the armoury, with his measured undertaker’s tread, Hal stared down at him with stricken eyes. Suddenly, as he passed
below the scaffold, Hal snatched up the heavy mason’s hammer that lay on the planking at his feet and lifted it to hurl it down and crush the executioner’s skull. But Daniel’s
great fist closed around his wrist. He eased the hammer from Hal’s grip, as though he were taking a toy from a child, and placed it on top of the wall beyond his reach.