The Horns of the Buffalo (19 page)

‘Ah, yes. The Zulu lesson.'

‘No - although you must begin to learn and I
will
teach you, because you cannot do your work here properly unless you know the language. But first there is something more important.'

Simon made an effort and tried to look at her dispassionately. He did not know how old she was - perhaps seventeen, eighteen? - but the serious expression she had now adopted made her look even younger. She was, he realised forlornly, quite remarkably beautiful. She was also probably quite primitively amoral. And, most importantly, she could ensure quicker than any other factor in this complicated equation that Jenkins and he would end up with assegais in their stomachs. But now Nandi was talking and he composed himself to listen.

‘When you spoke to my father in Ulundi about information that you needed, were you serious about it not being used for war but, in fact, to stop any fighting?'

‘Of course. But why do you ask?'

‘Well, I think that I have most of the information that you need.' She frowned earnestly. ‘Not about the King's intentions. I don't know about that. But I do know roughly how big the army is and where the impis are.'

‘Good lord, Nandi. How do you know all this?'

Her smile was back now and she was very aware that she had Simon's full attention. ‘Well, you see, my father sells cattle to the King. Papa has some of the finest beef in the country and the King buys from him regularly to feed his army. The King cannot supply the impis properly from his own herds because many of them are made up of ceremonial cattle that he cannot kill. So he buys from Papa.'

Nandi began rocking to and fro as she spoke, so that the dappled sunlight moved across her face and gave a magic lantern effect. ‘As well as teaching the children,' she threw back her head and laughed loudly, ‘at least, some of the time, I help Papa with this business. This means that I have to keep records for him because he does not like that side of it at all. He does not have to pay - what do you call them - taxes, yes, but he must be careful when he trades with the King. I write down which cattle go to which regiment and where they are living in our country. Soooo . . .' she drew the word out teasingly and gazed upwards at Simon through her lashes, ‘I know very well how the army is made up and where it is.'

Simon blew out his cheeks in astonishment. ‘Nandi, you continue to amaze me. But why should you want to give me this information and why cannot your father supply it?'

Nandi frowned. ‘I know Papa very well and he is not very - how shall I say it? - decisive. He will not want to get involved with you in this way. He may give you little bits of information to be polite and keep in with the British but he will want to stay on the fence, as the English say. I heard what you said about knowledge preventing a war and I would like to give you that knowledge, if it will stop the war. Will you promise me that, Simon, if I give it to you?' There was no coquettishness in her eyes now as they looked into Simon's. Simon realised that she was completely in earnest.

He took a deep breath. ‘Nandi, I am not in a position to give you guarantees or even assurances. I am not a general, only a very humble lieutenant. It is the generals who take the decisions. I only carry them out. But I can promise you one thing. If you can help me, I do believe it will reduce the risk of war and I will do everything in my power to make sure that the information is used for peace.'

The girl stared at him silently for a moment. ‘But do you
yourself
really believe that information about the Zulu army would, as you said, reduce the risk of some silly accident - at the border, say - setting off a war? I ask this because I know these people and that is just what might happen.'

Simon became aware that he was on the edge of a moral maze and disliked the feeling. Yet he was committed. He had to go on.

‘Yes, I do. If the size and preparedness for war of the Zulu army is known and if, as I suspect, those facts are impressive, then I do believe that it could make hot-heads on our side, at least, think twice and three times before they commit the army. You see,' and now he felt on surer ground, ‘our government in London is far more concerned about the threat to India from the Russians who are stirring up trouble in Afghanistan. I cannot see them starting a war in South Africa against a nation they know to be well prepared militarily.'

Nandi looked relieved. ‘Very well, Simon. Then I shall tell you all I know. But you must not make notes. That would be very dangerous. You must remember everything I tell you.'

‘Oh dear, Nandi. That will be difficult. But I take your point. No notes. Right. First of all, how many men are in the army - in a state of readiness, that is?'

The girl frowned. ‘Well, as you probably know, the Zulus have the same basic structure as the British Army - divided into regiments, and that sort of thing. So there are thirty-three regiments serving the King now. That is just under fifty thousand men.'

Simon whistled. ‘As many as that?'

‘Yes. I do not know about readiness but not all of them would be very good in a battle, I think. About seven of the regiments date from the days of Shaka and Dingane and the men in them are too old to frighten anyone. But,' she looked at Simon with wide eyes, ‘they
would
fight. Every man is trained to fight, from the time they join their iNtanga groups as boys. When the boys of various iNtanga reach military age, they are formed into regiments from the same age-group and district. The number of warriors in a regiment might vary from, say, five hundred to six thousand, but I suppose the average is about fifteen hundred.' Nandi leaned forward. ‘Do you know about celibacy?'

‘A little, but tell me.'

‘Well, Shaka said years ago that the first duty of young warriors is to protect the nation, not to marry and grow fat. They could do that later. So that has been the practice ever since: warriors must stay celibate either until they are about forty or until they have proved themselves in battle. Of course . . .' and here Simon could have sworn that Nandi blushed, ‘there is ukuHlongonga. But that doesn't matter for now. The point is,' and she regarded him again with that frown which made her look like a schoolgirl relating a lesson, ‘all the young men who do not wear the isiCoco - that is the circlet of fibre woven into the hair which a man is allowed to wear when he takes a wife - all of them are anxious to wash their spears to gain it. And, Simon, there has been little chance of washing spears in recent years, so there are many men anxious to go to war.'

Her eyes were wide in their anxiety to impress. Simon wanted to kiss them.

‘Er . . . how many celibate warriors would there be, then?' he asked instead.

Nandi frowned in concentration. ‘About eighteen of the thirty-three regiments consist of married men, but these include the seven made up of the old men I told you about. But the King mixes these regiments up to give the young men the support of the experienced ones. For instance, the Undi corps consists of five regiments, three of which - the uThulwane, the Mkonkone and the Ndhlondhlo—'

‘I shall never remember these names,' said Simon despairingly.

‘It doesn't matter about the names. These three range in age from about forty-three to forty-five; one, the inDluyenge, has men of about twenty-eight; another, the inGobamakhosi, has younger men, aged twenty-four. There are about ten thousand men in this corps.'

‘Where is this corps?'

‘It is kept in a special military kraal, near Ulundi. But many of the older men are allowed to live in their home kraals with their wives.'

‘And where are the older regiments - those that are in military kraals, that is?'

‘They are scattered about the country. Some are in the north, facing the Boers across in the Transvaal and the Orange country; some are in the south, guarding the Tugela.'

‘Are they armed? I mean, do they have firearms?'

Nandi laughed. ‘Oh, yes, some of them. The Zulus are very proud of their guns, those that have them. But Papa says that they could not hit an elephant in a hut. The guns are very old and have to be loaded at the end, what do you call them . . .?'

‘Muzzle loaders.'

‘Yes. They are very inaccurate and there is not much ammunition for them. The warriors know this really and prefer to fight with their spears and their knobkerries. But they are still very proud of their guns.'

Simon picked up a pebble and threw it into the stream. They watched as it sank out of sight in the green water. Somewhere on the other bank the ha-de-ha bird gave its eponymous cry. It was incongruous - no, it was downright ludicrous - to be sitting in this idyllic place talking of war with a young woman who had skin the colour of drinking chocolate and breasts like . . . Simon frowned and tried to concentrate.

‘How quickly can they be deployed?' he asked.

‘What does that mean?'

‘Sorry. How quickly could each of these regiments go into battle?'

‘Ah. Before going to war, they would all go to the King's kraal to be treated by the witch doctors to give them strength and protection in battle. It would take perhaps a day for the ceremony, then they would be ready to go wherever they were wanted. But, oh, Simon,' her eyes were big in emphasis again, ‘how they can move! An impi can cover thirty to forty miles in a day and then fight a battle.'

Simon smiled ruefully. ‘Yes. I can well imagine that.'

‘So you see,' continued Nandi, ‘it does not matter very much where they are in Zululand because they can move very quickly to launch an attack or make a defence.'

‘Nandi,' said Simon, ‘you have a remarkable grasp of strategic necessities. Are you sure that you are not a Zulu inDuna in disguise?'

‘Oh no.' And then she smiled, seeing the joke, although clearly a little embarrassed, both by being teased and by the unwomanly nature of her accomplishment. ‘It is just that,' she shrugged, ‘I have to know the size of the regiments and where they are so that we can send the cattle there.'

‘Last question,' said Simon, ‘because I don't think my brain can take in any more. Once the warriors are committed to battle, is there any way of knowing which regiment is which - or, at least, which are the experienced men and which the young ones?'

‘Yes, there is. This is shown by the shield colours. The very youngest warriors have all-black shields and white is added as the men gain experience. Red shields show married or mixed regiments, but the whiter the shield, the more senior and more experienced the soldier.'

Simon nodded slowly. ‘Thank you very much, Nandi.' He leaned forward quickly and kissed her, in brotherly fashion, on both cheeks. Immediately, Nandi snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him close, but he firmly disentangled himself. ‘Nandi,' he said, looking closely into her eyes, ‘I have a lot to think about and I think we should get back. And, much as I like you, I think it would be unfair to your father if I were to . . .' He tailed away awkwardly. ‘I am his guest here and there are rules about this sort of thing. At least there are back in England.'

The girl pouted petulantly for a moment and then gave her wide, forgiving smile. ‘Of course, Simon. We should go now.' Then the archness came back. ‘But you must learn Zulu. You told my father that it was necessary. And I said that I would teach you, so I am your schoolmistress.' She threw her head back and laughed, much more melodiously than the ha-de-ha bird and so infectiously that Simon joined in, so that they sat for a moment by that green pool, hand in hand, and laughing at the blue sky together.

On their return, Simon excused himself and went to his room. Neither Jenkins and James or Dunn were back, and he was glad of that because he wanted to think.

He had to take the risk of committing Nandi's information to paper. An oral message could so easily be distorted by the time it reached Colonel Lamb. Somehow he would have to smuggle a written report back to Durban, for onward transmission to the Cape. But how? And could he remember all Nandi had told him? The names of the regiments were impossible but the overall content of the message was clear. The Zulus had around 50,000 men available, nearly twice as many as suspected by the British; their army was structured on a basis similar to that of European forces, with regiments and corps; it was stationed to cover the invasion routes into the country, with strong support which could be deployed quickly; and the shield marking system would show in battle where the main points of inexperience - and therefore weakness - lay. He could not return with this information himself, because he still lacked the main nugget he needed: how likely Cetswayo was to resist the British demand for annexation.

Nandi could not help here. And goodness knows, she had been helpful enough already! The sequence of his thoughts brought him to his own role. He put his head in his hands and stared hard at the floor. He had misled the girl, there was no doubt about that. Did he really believe that giving information to the army about the enemy's size and deployment would reduce the chance of invasion by the British? Well, perhaps up to a point, but no further. After all, the main reason for his presence in Zululand was to prepare the British so that they could more easily destroy the Zulu army. Simon mused on this for a while then sat up and squared his shoulders. It couldn't be helped. He was a soldier and he had taken a vow to serve the Queen. The kind of detail that he must now smuggle back to Lamb could save British lives. The feelings of an eighteen-year-old girl could not be taken into account. With a sigh, he threw himself on to the bed and dozed fitfully.

 

Dunn returned in the middle of the next morning. He rode in at some speed and sent Benjamin to find Simon and Jenkins. They found him sitting on the edge of a cane chair in the large drawing room, sipping from a native-style gourd.