When the Lion Feeds (11 page)

I just lost my temper. I noticed, said Waite, I just happened to notice that. To, about Garry. You don't have to say anything to him, do you?

Waite dropped his hand from his face and looked at Sean steadily. I'll make a bargain with you, he said, I'll leave Garry out of it if you'll promise me two things. One: You never lie to me again.

Sean nodded quickly. Two: if anybody ever takes a whip to you again you swear to me you'll give him the same as you just gave me. Sean started to smile and Waite went on gruffly. Now let's have a look at your hand.

Sean held it out and Waite examined it, moving each finger in turn.

Sean winced. Sore? asked Waite. He hit me with that. Sweet Jesus, I've bred me a wild one.

A little. Sean was white-faced again. It's a mess, said Waite. You'd better get into town right away and let Doctor Van have a go at it.

Sean moved towards the door. Hold on Sean stopped and Waite pulled himself out of his chair. I'll come with you. I'll be all right, Pa, you stay and rest.

Waite ignored this and walked towards him. Really, Pa, I'll be all right on my own. I'm coming with you, Waite said harshly; and then softly, almost inaudibly, I want to, dammit. He lifted his arm as though to put it around Sean's shoulders, but before it touched him he let it drop back to his side and together they went out into the corridor.

With two fingers in splints Sean handled his knife awkwardly at lunch the next day, but his appetite was unimpaired. As was only right and fitting he took no part in the conversation except on the rare occasions that a remark was addressed directly to him. But he listened, his jaws chewing steadily and his eyes moving from speaker to speaker. He and garry sat side by side in a backwater of the luncheon board while the guests were grouped in order of seniority around Waite.

Stephen Erasmus by age and wealth was in the right hand seat; opposite him Tim Hope-Brown, just as wealthy but ten years younger; below him gunther Niewenhuizen, Sam Tingle and Simon Rousseau. If you added it all together you could say that Waite Courtney had about a hundred thousand acres of land and half a million sterling sitting around his table. They were brown men, brown clothing, brown boots and big brown, calloused, hands.

Their faces were brown and battered-looking and now that the meal was-in its closing stages their usual reserve was gone and there was a tendency among them to talk all. at the same time and to perspire profusely.

This was not entirely a consequence of the dozen bottles of good Cape mossel that Waite had provided nor of the piles of food they had eaten, it was more than that. There was a sense of expectancy among them, an eagerness they were finding it difficult to suppress. Can I tell the servants to clear away, Waite? Ada asked from the end of the table.

Yes, thank you, my dear. We'll have coffee in here, please. He stood up and fetched a box of cigars from the sideboard and carried it to each of his guests in turn. When the ends were cut and the tips were glowing, every man leaning back in his chair with a recharged glass and a cup of coffee in front of him, Ada slipped out of the room and Waite cleared his throat for silence. Gentlemen. They were all watching him.

Last Tuesday I spent two hours with the Governor. We discussed the recent developments across the Tugela Waite lifted his glass and sipped at it, then held it by the stem and rolled it between his fingers as he went on. Two weeks ago the British Agent at the Zulu king's kraal was recalled. Recalled is perhaps the wrong word the king offered to smear him with honey, and tie him over an ant-hill, an offer that Her britannic Majesty's Agent declined with thanks. Shortly thereafter he packed his bags and made for the border.

There was a small ruffle of laughter. Since then Cetewayo has collected all his herds which were grazing near the Tugela and driven them into the north; he has commanded a buffalo hunt for which he has decided he will need all his impis, twenty thousand spears. This hunt is to be held along the banks of the Tugela, where the last buffalo was seen ten years ago. Waite sipped at his glass, watching their faces. And he has ordered that all wounded game is to be followed across the border. There was a sigh then, a murmur from them. They all knew that this was the traditional Zulu declaration of war. So, man, what are we going to do about it. Must we sit here and wait for them to come and burn us out?

Erasmus leaned forward watching Waite.

Sir battle Frere met Cetewayo's Indunas a week ago.

He has given them an ultimatum. They have until January the eleventh to disband the impis and take the Queen s Agent back into Zululand. In the event that Cetewayo disregards the ultimatum, Lord Chelmsford is a punitive column of regulars and militia.

to command The force is being assembled now and will leave pietermaritzburg within the next ten days. He is to cross the Tugela at rorke's Drift and engage the impis before they break out. It is intended to end this constant threat to our border and break the Zulu nation for ever as a military power.

It's about bledy time, said Erasmus. His Excellency has gazetted me full colonel and ordered me to raise a commando from the Lady-burg district. I have promised him at least forty men fully armed, mounted and provisioned who will be ready to join Chelmsford at the Tugela.

Unless any of you object I am appointing you gentlemen as my captains and I know I can rely upon you to help me make good my promise to His excellency. Suddenly Waite dropped his stilted manner and grinned at them. You will collect your own pay. It will be in cattle, as usual.

How far north has Cetewayo driven his herds? asked Tim Hope-Brown.

Not far enough, I'll warrant, cackled Stephen Erasmus. A toast, said simon Rousseau jumping to his feet and holding up his glass. "I give you a toast: the Queen, Lord Chelmsford and the Royal Herds of Zululand.

They all stood and drank it, and then suddenly embarrassed by their display they sat down again, coughing awkwardly and shuffling their feet, All right, said Waite, let's get down to details. Steff, you'll be coming and your two eldest boys? Ja, three of us and my brother and his son. Put down five, Erasmus. Good. What about you Gunther? They began the planning. Men, horses and wagons were marshalled on paper;

each of the captains was allotted a series of tasks. There was question, answer and argument that filled the hours before the guests left Theunis Kraal.

They rode in a bunch, trippling their horses, sitting slack and long-legged in the saddles, moving up the far slope along the road to lady-burg. Waite and his sons stood on the front step and watched them go.

Garry tried tentatively for Waite's attention. Yes, boy? Waite kept his eyes on the group. Steff Erasmus turned in the saddle and waved his hat above his head, Waite waved back. Why do we have to fight them, Pa?

If the Governor just sent somebody to talk to them, then we wouldn't have to fight.

Waite glanced at him, frowning slightly.

Anything worth having is worth fighting for, Garry.

Cetewayo has raised twenty thousand spears to take this from us - Waite swept his arm in a circle that took in the whole of Theunis Kraal. I think it's worth fighting for, don't you, Sean? You bet, Sean nodded eagerly. But couldn't we just make a treaty with them Gaarry persisted.

Another cross on a piece of paper. Waite spoke with fierce disdain.

They found one like that on Piet Retrieps body, hell of a lot of good it did him Waite walked back into the house with his sons following him.

He lowered himself into his armchair, stretched his legs out in front of him and smiled at Ada. Damn good lunch, dear. He clasped his hands over his stomach, belched MY involuntarily and was immediately contrite.

I beg your pardon, it just slipped out.

Ada bent her head over her sewing to hide her smile. We've got a lot to do in the next few days He turned his attention back to his sons. We'll take one mule wagon and a pair of horses each. Now about ammunition. .

. But, Pa, couldn't we just -! Garry started, Shut up, said Waite, and garry subsided miserably into one of the other chairs.

I've been thinking, announced Sean. Not you as well, growled Waite.

Damn it to hell, here's your chance to win your own cattle and. . .

That's just what I've been thinking, Sean cut in.

Everybody will have more cattle than they know what to do with. The prices will drop way down. They will at first, admitted Waite, but in a year or two they'll climb back again. Shouldn't we sell now? Sell everything except the bulls and breeding cows, then after the war we'll be able to buy back at half the price. For a moment Waite sat stunned and then slowly his expression changed. My God, I never thought of that. And Pa, Sean was twisting his hands together in his enthusiasm, we'll need more land. When we bring the herds back across the Tugela there won't be enough grazing to go round.

Mr Pye has called the mortgages on Mount Sinai and Mahoba's Kloof. He's not using the land.

Couldn't we lease them from him now before everybody starts looking for grazing? We had a lot to do before you started thinking, said Waite softly, but now we've really got to work. He searched his pockets, found his pipe and while he filled it with tobacco he looked at Sean. He tried to keep his face neutral but the pride kept showing.

You keep thinking like that and you'll be a richm an one day. Waite could not know how true his prophecy would prove, the time was still remote when Sean could drop the purchase price of Theunis Kraal across a gaming table, and laugh at the loss.

The Commando was moving out on New Year's Day.

New Year's Eve was set down for a double celebration. Welcome 1879, and god speed the Lady-burg Mounted Rifles. The whole district was coming into town for the braaivleis and dancing that was being held in the square.

Feast the warriors, - laugh, dance and sing, then form them up and march them out to war.

Sean and Garry rode in early. Ada and Waite were to follow later in the afternoon. It was one of those bright days of a Natal summer: no wind and no clouds, the kind of day when the dust from a wagon hangs heavy in the air. They crossed the Baboon Stroom and from the farther ridge looked down across the town and saw the wagon dust on every road leading into Lady-burg. Look at them come, said Sean; he screwed up his eyes inst the glare and stared at the north road. That will be the Erasmus wagon. Karl will be with them.

The wagons looked like beads on a string. That's the Petersens', said garry, or the Niewehuisens. Come on, shouted Sean, and slapped the free end of his reins across his horse's neck. They galloped down the road.

The horses they rode were big glossy animals, with their manes cropped like English hunters.

They passed a wagon. There were two girls sitting beside mama on the box seat, the Petersen sisters. Dennis Petersen and his father were riding ahead of the wagon.

Sean whooped as he rode past the wagon and the girls laughed and shouted some that was lost in the wind. Come on, Dennis, howled Sean as he swept past the two sedately trotting outriders. Dennis's horse reared and then settled in to run, chasing Sean. Garry trailed them both.

They reached the cross roads, lying flat along their horses necks, pumping the reins like jockeys. The Erasmus wagon was trundling down to meet them. Karl, Sean called as he held his horse a little to stand in the stirrups. Karl. Come on, man catch a wayo, Cetewayo!

They rode into Lady-burg in a bunch. They were all flush-faced and laughing excited and happy at the prospect of dancing and killing.

The town was crowded, its streets congested with wagons and horses and men and women and girls and dogs and servants. I've got to stop at pye's store, said Karl, come with me, it won't take long. They hitched their horses and went into the store; Sean, Dennis and Karl walked noisily and talked aloud. They were men, big sunburned raw-boned men, muscled from hard work, but uncertain of the fact that they were men.

Therefore, walk with a swagger and laugh too loud, swear when Pa isn't listening and no one will know you have your doubts.

What are you going to buy, Karl? Boots. That'll take all day, you'll have to try them on. We'll miss half the fun. There'll be nothing doing for another couple hours, protested Karl. Wait for me, you chaps.

Karl sitting on the counter, trying boots on his large feet, was not a spectacle that could hold Sean's interest for long. He drifted away amongst the piles of merchandise that cluttered Pye's store. There were stacks of pick handles, piles of blankets, bins of sugar and salt and flour, shelves of groceries and clothing overcoats and women's dresses and hurricane-lamps and saddles hinging from the roof, and all of it was permeated by the peculiar smell of a general dealer's store: a mixture of paraffin, soap and new cloth.

Pigeon to its coop, iron to magnet. . . . Sean's feet led him to the rack of rifles against the far wall of the room.

He lifted down one of the Lee Metford carbines and worked the action; he stroked the wood with his fingertips, then he weighed it in his hands to feel the balance and finally brought it up to his shoulder. Hello, Sean. His ritual interrupted, Sean looked up at the shy voice. It's strawberry Pie, he said smiling. How's school? I've left school now. I left last term Audrey Pye had the family colouring but with a subtle difference, instead of carrot her hair was smoked copper with glints in it. She was not a pretty girl, her face was too broad and flat, but she had that rare skin that too seldom goes with red hair: creamy unfreckled purity.