The Horns of the Buffalo (31 page)

‘Nandi.' Simon laid a hand on her arm to stop the earnest flow of instructions. ‘How did you get in here? There is always a guard outside.'

The girl's teeth flashed in the gloom. ‘Ah, tonight it is Nkumo. This is why it has taken so long to come here - or, at least, one of the reasons. We had to wait until Nkumo could get this duty. He usually does what I want him to, but anyway he is grateful to Mr Jenkins because Mr Jenkins did not kill him when he could easily have done so.' Then the smile vanished and she turned to Jenkins. ‘But he says that he has now repaid the debt and that the next time he sees you he will kill you.'

Jenkins turned an ingenuous face to Simon. ‘That's nice of the lad, look you. You couldn't wish for anything fairer than that, could you?'

Nandi held a finger to her lips and Simon asked her, ‘Will you come with us?'

Nandi shook her head. ‘No. I must leave before they find that you have gone and ride south, back home. Papa and Catherine and most of the children have already left for the Tugela with as many cattle as Papa could round up.' She looked with a hint of embarrassment at the ground. ‘James was supposed to come here and help you, but after Papa had left, he refused to come.' She looked up at Simon with her direct gaze. ‘I don't think he likes you, so I came instead. Anyway, it was easier for me, er, because of Nkumo.'

She became intense again. ‘Now, listen. Nkumo is outside but he will be killed if it looks as though he helped you. So you must cut a hole in the back of the hut so that everyone can see that you got out that way. Take off your boots and carry them under your blankets.' The girl gestured with both hands. ‘You must walk directly down the lane between the huts that are ahead of you. Then you will come to a small paddock. Your horses are there.'

‘Thank God for that,' said Jenkins.

‘But I don't know where your saddles are. You must ride bareback.'

‘Oh lord,' sighed Simon.

‘Bach, you'll never stay on. Best to walk behind an' 'old 'is tail, like.'

‘Oh, shut up, Jenkins.'

Nandi went on, still in her low, conspiratorial whisper. ‘The horses are hobbled and I don't think there is a guard on them. It would be wise to mount them right away and ride out through the gate rather than lead them. The guards could take you for Basuthos, but, in any case, Zulus don't seem to question people on horseback.' She leaned forward now and looked at them in turn with her round eyes to give emphasis to her words. ‘But be very careful. Ulundi is full of warriors at the moment because this is the time of umKhosi, the first fruits ceremony. The army has come to the King's kraal to be cleaned and strengthened for the year ahead. In one way, this will help you because there are many strange people in the capital now, but there are also many assegais out there.'

She put her fingers to her face in quick horror. ‘They will come after you when they find you are gone. So you have little time. If you get into trouble, just ride hard.'

Nandi rose to her feet and the two men joined her.

Jenkins took her hand in his and with aristocratic solemnity raised it to his bedraggled moustache. ‘You are a very nice and a very brave young lady, Miss Nandi. Thank you for 'elpin' us, and take great care, now, in ridin' back.'

Simon took the hand reluctantly relinquished by Jenkins. ‘Yes, Nandi, please be careful. We will wait here for half an hour to give you time to get well clear - just in case something goes wrong. Although,' he added hastily, ‘of course it won't.'

Nandi stepped very close and looked up into Simon's face. He could see two silver streams of tears running down her cheeks. ‘Simon,' she whispered, ‘I do not know whether you have betrayed the Zulus and me by what you have told the British, but I am very sad that your army is now invading my country.' She blinked. ‘I do not think now that I want to make a baby with you.' Then she turned and slipped through the entrance, leaving the two soldiers standing in the semi-darkness, staring self-consciously at each other.

‘I'll start on the 'ole, eh?' said Jenkins. ‘You'd better get shavin'.'

After a busy half-hour, the two men wrapped the blankets around them and, shoving their boots before them, crawled awkwardly through the hole. The night outside seemed blacker than within the hut, whose contours had become so drearily familiar to them. Save for the barking of distant dogs, all was still, although they knew that they had only perhaps ninety minutes before the anthill that was Ulundi would come to life again. They had to move quickly. The lane between the huts lay before them and they stepped quietly in their bare feet between the walls. No one stirred in this tranquil suburb of the capital, and after about four minutes they came to the open paddock where, untended, their horses were grazing.

‘Thank God they've still got bridles,' hissed Simon. ‘But you'll have to help me up. I shall never get on without a stirrup.'

‘Don't worry, bach sir. It's all part of the service provided by a good officer's servant, look you.'

Jenkins hacked away at the hobbles with the food knife while Simon held the bridles and spoke soothingly to the horses. Simon fancied he could see the horizon lightening to the east but it still remained a blessedly dark night, low cloud and a cloying humidity signalling the promise of rain.

‘We mustn't put our boots on until we are out of Ulundi,' whispered Simon. ‘They will betray us straight away if we wear them. So it will have to be barefoot as well as bareback for a while. Here, give me a hand.'

The Welshman bent and cupped his hands, half throwing Simon astride his mount. Then, with a practised hop and a jump, Jenkins was on the back of his. ‘Where to now then, sir?'

Simon squinted at the compass in the darkness. ‘This way. We'll follow the line of the paddock until we hit the thorn fence and then follow that down to the entrance. I think that's safer than going down the centre. Wrap your blanket tightly around you and don't sit upright. Slouch, the way the Basuthos do. Make it look as though we're going out to tend cattle.'

Like ghostly sentinels, slumped in their saddles, the two picked their way between the beehives, slowly and quietly so as not to excite the dogs who came to sniff at their passing. They saw some shapeless forms outside hut entrances here and there, probably sleeping off the excesses of the first fruits ceremony, but little other signs of life as they met the thorn barrier and turned south, to Ulundi's only entrance.

Simon rode in the lead, his eyes darting from side to side from beneath the cowled blanket. He drew in a long, slow breath as dimly, from the darkness, a wide gap emerged in the fence and he began to make out the squatted figures of Zulu guards on duty at the entrance. He felt his heart racing and his tongue ran over parched lips but his main concern was what would happen if he had to kick his horse into a gallop. His seat in the saddle had improved considerably, but . . . in the saddle only. He felt perspiration seep through his breeches on to the bare back of his mare. Carefully he eased himself along the horse's vertebrae. There would be no question of drawing the Colt if trouble arose. He would need both hands just to stay on the horse, let alone control it. If the worst came to the worst, he would let go of the bridle and put his arms round the horse's neck.

They plodded on, turning slowly to ride out through the entrance of the stockade. As they did so, one of the guards rose from his haunches, lifted his spear and spoke gutturally. Whether it was a greeting or a challenge was unclear, but, hardly turning his head, Simon raised a languid hand and grunted unintelligibly in reply. For a moment it seemed as though they would be stopped as the Zulu pointed his assegai blade at them and followed their progress past him with it. Then with a grunt he squatted again.

Once beyond the gate they urged their horses into a gentle canter. ‘Didn't know you spoke Zulu so well,' said Jenkins, pulling alongside Simon. ‘Was it all those lessons, then?'

‘Oh shut up,' said Simon. He was in no mood to joke about Nandi. Her words had penetrated deeply, reviving the self-doubt about his actions and making him feel ashamed. ‘Keep your wits about you. We're not out of the wood yet.'

They rode as hard for the first hour as their precarious seats, the rough ground and the darkness allowed. Then, as the dawn sent long red tongues splitting the dark sky, Simon called a halt. They shifted uneasily in their seats and looked around as the sun burst over a distant hill. They seemed to be alone on the undulating plain. Covered with stunted grass, burned yellow and brown by the sun, it stretched to low dark hills in the west and seemed to be broken only by the occasional thorn bush and a few paper bark acacia and white pear trees. They knew from experience, however, that it was fissured by dongas that could hardly be seen until they were upon them. Behind them there was no trace of Ulundi, nor was there any sign of a trail. Overhead a goshawk circled, and nearby, a hidden trumpeter hornbill called.

‘There's not much cover for 'idin' by day, now, is there?' ventured Jenkins, shading his eyes and looking around him.

Simon nodded agreement. ‘I don't know how far we have come from Ulundi but it can't be more than, say, ten miles or so, at the pace we've been able to make.' He squinted into the rising sun behind them. ‘A Zulu war party can cover that distance easily. I think we are too close to Ulundi to hole up for the day, anyway, so let's keep moving.'

He kicked with his heels and the pair set off again, the horses picking their way fastidiously over a rocky outcrop that ran down from a slight rise immediately to their right.

It was from over that rise that the Zulus materialised, spilling over the top in that effortless, loping run that seemed to take all kinds of terrain in its stride. There were about ten of them, stripped down for war and carrying large shields. Jenkins saw them first and, without a word, drew the Navy Colt from his waistband, extended his arm and coolly fired at the leading Zulu, at a range of about one hundred yards. The shot kicked up the earth at the man's feet.

‘Bloody popgun,' cursed Jenkins.

The report, however, caused Simon's startled horse to rear. As he slid down the beast's back, Simon just had time to grab a handful of its mane to break the force of his fall. Nevertheless, he hit the rocky ground with a crash that momentarily winded him and sent his revolver, which had been loosely tucked into his breeches, spinning away across the rocks. As he rose to his knees, Simon saw his horse bolting away to the western horizon and a throwing spear clatter into the rocks at his feet. There was no sign of Jenkins and Simon realised with sudden despair that he was back to where he had been in that donga some four months ago. This time, however, he had no rifle and no horse. Grabbing the spear, he turned to face his assailants, who were now almost upon him and had fanned out to surround him.

Then, with a scream that seemed to rise in pitch as it bounced back from the low rocks around them, the Welshman suddenly appeared. His horse, too, had taken fright and bolted, but Jenkins had turned him in a declivity and now he thundered towards the centre of the Zulus like an apocalyptic horseman, his steed at full gallop, his right arm extended aiming the Colt. Simon heard the crack of the revolver but had no time to follow Jenkins's charge. Spear in hand, he ran to a small passage between two rocks and turned to face the first Zulu.

The warrior came at him at a run, his right hand holding the short stabbing spear, his left extending the war shield, top down, as an offensive weapon. It was the Zulu's speed that saved Simon. As the native lunged at him, Simon grabbed the tip of the shield and pulled it down so that the bottom of the central pole became entangled in the man's legs and he sprawled headlong. Quickly turning, Simon plunged the throwing spear between the prostrate man's shoulder blades, twisted it and withdrew it. For the second time in his life he heard the sound of the iklwa.

There was no feeling of disgust this time because two more Zulus now confronted him. These warriors were more cautious than their fellow. Chests heaving, they stood off at six paces, their black eyes regarding Simon intently as they split to edge around him. Simon noticed that they both had the fibre circlet waxed into their hair and that their shields were of black and white hides. He sprang to his right, where the rock formed a head-high escarpment, and there he stood at bay, his back to the rock. He had a moment to bless the fact that he had the longer, though lighter, throwing spear to fight with rather than the shorter assegai. At least he had a length advantage and he presented the weapon now to the Zulus, low and two-handed, as though it were rifle and bayonet.

The long incarceration at Ulundi, with poor food and little real exercise, had weakened Simon somewhat, but at least he was carrying no surplus weight and his build-a slim five foot nine, with narrow hips and a fair breadth of shoulder - gave him ideal balance. There was no time for fear. Wide-eyed, he stood and waited, every sense alive.

The stand-off continued for perhaps twenty seconds, as, close at hand, Simon heard more revolver shots. At least Jenkins was selling his life dearly. Then the attack began, skilfully, as befitted older, more experienced warriors. Both Zulus presented their shields to Simon, from his left and right quarter, and then thrust at him with their spears around the edge of the shields. The first thrust lightly penetrated his left shoulder and sent a sharp pain through his body. But the Zulu had been too cautious, too uncommitted to the stroke, and the blade had not sunk far beneath the skin. The other warrior's stab came low and Simon was able to parry it and momentarily spin the man round on to the other's shield, exposing him so that he was able to kick him quickly in the genitals with his riding boot. Then, with a series of desperate lunges around the shield, Simon drove the first man back. But this foray took him away from the rock and left his back unprotected. He turned to find two more Zulus dropping down from the top of the escarpment, their spears raised.