The first of the wagons had come up now and two hundred pounds of woman, all in one package, called out from the box seat, Why did you stop them, Oupa? No sense in letting them kill each other. Shame on you, so you must spoil the boys fun. Don’t you remember how you loved to fight? Or are you now so old you forget the pleasures of your youth? Leave them alone! Oupa. hesitated, swinging the sjamhok and looking from Sean to Jan Paulus. Come away from there, you old busybody, his wife ordered him.
She was solid as a granite kopje, her blouse packed full of bosom and her bare arms brown and thick as a man’s. The wide brim of her bonnet shaded her face but Sean could see it was pink and pudding-shaped, the kind of face that smiles more easily than it frowns. There were two girls on the seat beside her but there was no time to look at them. Oupa had pulled his horse out of the way and Jan Paulus was moving down on him. Sean went up on his toes, crouching a little, preoccupied with the taste he had just had of the other’s strength, watching Jan Paulus close in for the mAin course and not too certain he was going to be able to chew this mouthful.
Jan Paulus tested Sean with a long right-hander but Sean rolled his head with it and the thick pad of his beard cushioned the blow; he hooked Jan Paulus in the ribs under. his raised arm and Jan Paulus grunted and circled awayForgetting his scruples, Oupa Leroux watched them with rising delight. It was going to be a good fight. They were well matched, both big men, under thirty, quick and smooth on their feet.
Both had fought before and that often; you could tell it by the way they felt each other out turning just out of reach, moving in to offer an opening that a less experienced man might have attempted and regretted, then dropping back.
The fluid, almost leisurely pattern of movement exploded. Jan Paulus jumped in, moving left, changed direction like the recoil of a whip lash and used his right hand again; Sean ducked under it and laid himself open to Jan Paulus’s left. He staggered back from its kick, bleeding where it had split the flesh across his cheek-bone, and Jan Paulus followed him eagerly, Ins hands held ready, searching for the opening.
Sean kept clear, instinct moving his feet until the blackness faded inside his head and he felt the strength in his arms again. He saw Jan Paulus following him and he let his legs stay rubbery; he dropped his hands and waited for Jan Paulus to commit himself. Too late Jan Paulus caught the cunning in Sean’s eyes and tried to break from the trap, but clenched bone raked his face. He staggered away and now he was bleeding also.
They fought through the wagons with the advantage changing hands a dozen times. They came together and used their heads and their knees, they broke and used their fists again. Then locked chest to chest once more they rolled down the steep bank into the river bed of the Limpopo. They fought in the soft sand and it held their legs, it filled their mouths when they fell and clung like white icing-sugar to their hair and beards. They splashed into one of the pools and they fought in the water, coughing with the agony of it in their lungs, floundering like a pair of bull hippos, their movements slowing down until they knelt facing each other, no longer able to rise, the water running from them and the only sound their gasping for air.
Not sure whether the darkness was actuality or a fantasy of fatigue, for the sun had set by the time they were finished, Sean watched Jan Paulus starting to puke, retching with a tearing noise to bring up a small splash of yellow bile. Sean crawled to the edge of the pool and lay with his face in the sand. There were voices echoing in his ears and the light of a lantern, the light was red filtered through the blood that had trickled into his eyes.
His servants lifted him and he hardly felt them. The light and the voices faded into blackness as he slipped over the edge of consciousness.
The sting of iodine woke him and he struggled to sit up but hands pushed him down. Gently, gently, the fight is over. Sean focused his one eye to find the voice. The pinkness of Ouma Leroux hung over him. Her hands touched his face and the antiseptic stung him again. He exclaimed through puffed lips. So! just like a man OumA chuckled. Your head nearly knocked off without a murmur but one touch of medicine and you cry like a baby. Sean ran his tongue round inside his mouth; one tooth loose but all the others miraculously present. He started to lift his hand to touch his closed eye but Ouma slapped it down impatiently and went on working over him. Glory, what a fight! She shook her head happily. You were good, kerel, - you were very good. Sean looked beyond her and saw the girl. She was standing in shadow, a silhouette against the pale canvas. She was holding a basin. Ouma turned and dipped the cloth in it, washing out the blood before she came back to his face. The wagon rocked under her weight and the lantern that hung from the roof swung, lighting the girl’s face from the side. Sean’s legs straightened on his cot and he moved his head slightly to see her better. Be still, jong, Ouma commanded. Sean looked past her at the girl at the full serene line of her lips and the curve of her cheek. He saw the pile of her hair fluff up in happy disarray and then, suddenly, penitent, slide down behind her neck, curl over her shoulder and hang to her waist in a plait as thick as his wrist. Katrina, do you expect me to reach right across to the basin each time? Stand closer, girl She stepped into the light and looked at Sean. Green, laughing almost bubbling green was the colour of her eyes. Then she dropped them to the basin. Sean stared at her, not wanting to miss the moment when she would look up again.
My big bear, Ouma spoke with grudging approval.
Steal our camp site, fight my son and ogle my daughter.
If you go on like this I might have to knock the thunder out of you myself. Glory, but you are a dangerous one! Katrina, you had better go back to our wagons and help Henrietta see to your brother. Leave the basin on the chest there. She looked at Sean once more before she left. There were secret shadows in the green, she didn’t have to smile with her mouth.
Sean woke to the realization that something was wrong.
He started to sit up but the pain checked him: the stiffness of bruised muscle and the catch of half-dried scab.
He groaned and the movement hurt his lips. Slowly he swung his legs off the cot and roused himself to take stock of the damage. Dark through the hair of his chest showed a heel imprint of Jan Paulus’s boot. Sean prodded round it gently, feeling for the give of a broken rib; then, satisfied with that area, he went on to inspect the raw graze that wrapped round onto his back, holding his left arm high and peering closely at the broken skin. He picked a bit of blanket fluff from the scab. He stood up, only to freeze as a torn muscle in his shoulder knifed him. He started to swear then softly, monotonously, and he kept it up all through the painful business of climbing down out of the wagon.
His entire following watched his descent, even the dogs looked worried.
Sean reached the ground and started to shout.
What the hell! He stopped hurriedly as he felt his lips crack open again and start to bleed.
rWhat the hell’, he said again, keeping his lips still,are you doing standing round like a bunch of women at a beer drink, is there no work here? Hlubi, I thought I sent you out to look for elephant Hlubi went.
Kandhla, where’s breakfast? Mbejane, get me a basin of water and my shaving-mirror. Sean sat in his chair and morosely inspected his face in the mirror.
If a herd of buffalo had stampeded across it they would have done less damage.”Nkosi, it is nothing compared to his face, Mbejane assured him.
Is he bad? Sean looked up.I have spoken to one of his servants. He has not left his bed yet and he lies there, growling like a wounded lion in a thicket; but his eyes are as tightly closed as those of a new cub.”Tell me more, Mbejane. Say truly, was it a good fight? Mbejane squatted down next to Sean’s chair. He was silent a moment as he gathered his words.When the sky sends its cloud impis against the peaks of the Drakensberg, with thunder and the spears of lightning, it is a thing to thrill a man. When two bull elephants fight unto death there is no braver show in all the veld.
Is this not so? Sean nodded, his eyes twinkling.Nkosi, hear me when I
tell you these things were as the play of little children beside this fight Sean listened to the praises. Mbejane was well versed lkin the oldest art of Zululand and when he had finished he looked at Sean’s face. It was happy. Mbejane smiled and took a fold of paper out of his loin cloth. A servant from the other camp brought this while you slept Sean read the note. It was written in a big round school- girl hand and worded in High Dutch. He liked that writing.
It was an invitation to dinner. Kandhla, get out my suit and my number one boots. He picked up the mirror again. There wasn’t very much he could do about his face, trim the beard, perhaps, but that was all. He laid the mirror down and looked up stream to where the Leroux wagons were half hidden among the trees.
Mbejane carried a lantern in front of Sean. They walked slowly to enable Sean to limp with dignity. When they reached the other laager, Jan Paulus climbed stiffly out of his chair and nodded an equally still greeting. Mbejane had lied, except for a missing tooth there was little to choose between their faces. Oupa slapped Sean’s back and pressed a tumbler of brandy into his hand. He was a tall roan but twenty thousand suns had burnt away Ins flesh and left only stringy muscle, had faded his eyes to a pale green and toughened his skin to the texture of a turkey’s neck. His beard was yellowish-white with still a touch of ginger round the mouth. He asked Sean three questions without giving him time to answer the first, then he led him to a chair.
Oupa talked, Sean listened and Jan Paulus sulked. Oupa talked of cattle and hunting and the land to the north.
After a few minutes Sean realized that he was not expected to take part in the conversation: his few tentative efforts were crushed under Oupa’s verbal avalanche.
So Sean listened half to him and half to the whisper of women’s voices from the cooking fires behind the laager.
Once he heard her laugh. He knew it was her for it was the rich sound of the thing that he had seen in her eyes.
At last the women’s business with food and pots was finished and Ouma led the girls to where the men sat. Sean stood up and saw that Katrina was tall, with shoulders like a boy. As she walked towards him the movement pressed her skirt against her legs, they were long but her feet were small. Her hair was red-black and tied behind her head in an enormous bun. Ah, my battling bear, Ouma took Sean’s arm, let me present my daughter-in-law, Henrietta, here is the man that nearly killed your husband. Jan Paulus snorted from his chair and Ouma laughed, her bosom wobbling merrily.
Henrietta was a small dark-eyed girl. She doesn’t like me, Sean guessed instantly. He bowed slightly and took her hand. She pulled it away.
This is my youngest daughter, Katrina. You met her last night.
She does like me. Her fingers were long and squaretipped in his.
Sean risked his lips with a smile. Without her ministrations I might have bled to death, he said. She smiled straight back at him but not with her mouth. You wear your wounds well, maneer, the blue eye has an air of distinction. That will be enough from you, girl Oupa spoke sharply. Go and sit by your mother He turned to Sean. I was telling you about this horse, I said to the fellow, “He’s not worth five pounds let alone fifteen, look at those hocks, thin as sticks. So he says to me, trying to get me away, you follow, he says, “Come and look at the saddle. “ But I can see he’s worriede, The thin cotton of the girl’s blouse could hardly contain the impatient push of her breasts, Sean thought that he had never seen anything so wonderful.
There was a trestle-table next to the cooking fire; they went to it at last. Oupa said grace. Sean watched him through his lashes. Oupa’s beard waggled as he spoke and at one point he thumped the table to emphasize the point he was making to the Almighty. His amen had such an impressive resonance that Sean had to make an effort to stop himself applauding and Oupa fell back spent. Amen, said ouma and ladled stew from a pot the size of a bucket. Henrietta added pumpkin fritters and Katrina stacked slices of fresh meahe bread on each plate. A silence fell on the table, spoiled only by the clank of metal on china and the sound of Oupa breathing through his nose. Mevrouw Leroux, I have waited a long time to taste food like this again. Sean mopped up the last bit of gravy with a piece of mealie bread. Ouma beamed.
There’s plenty more, meneer. I love to see a man eat.
Oupa used to be a great trencherman. My father made him take me away for he could not afford to feed him every time he came courting. She took Sean’s plate and filled it. You look to me like a man who can eat I think. I’ll hold my own in most company Sean agreed. So? Jan Paulus spoke for the first time. He passed his plate to Ourna. Fill it up, please, Mother, tonight I am hungry-Sean’s eyes narrowed, he waited until Jan Paulus had his plate back in front of him, then he took up his fork deliberately. Jan Paulus did the same. Glory, said Ourna happily.
Here we go again. Oupa, you may have to go out and shoot a couple of buffalo before dinner is finished tonight! will bet one sovereign on Jan Paulus, Oupa challenged his wife. He is like an army of termites. I swear that if there was nothing else he’d eat the canvas off the wagons.
All right, agreed Ouma. I’ve never seen the Bear eat before, but it seems to me he has plenty of room to put it! Your woollen shawl against my green bonnet that Jan Paulus gives up first, Katrina whispered to her sister-inlaw. When Jannie has finished the stew he’ll eat the Englishmin, Henrietta giggled. But it’s a pretty bonnet, I’ll take the wager. Plateful for plateful, Ouma measuring out each ladle with scrupulous fairness, they ate against each other. The talk round the table dwindled and halted. More? asked Ourna each time the plates were clean, and each time they looked at each other and nodded. At last the ladle scraped the bottom of the pot. That’s the end of it, my children, we will have to call it another draw. The silence went on after she had spoken. Sean and Jan Paulus sat very still looking at their respective plates. )an Paulus hiccupped, his expression changed. He stood up and went into the darkness. Ah! listen! listen! crowed Ouma. They, waited and then she exploded into laughter. The ungrateful wretch, is that what he thinks of my food? Where’s your sovereign, Oupa? Wait, you greedy old woman, the game’s not finished yet. He turned and stared at Sean. To me it looks as though your horse is nearly blown Sean closed his eyes. The sounds of Jan Paulus’s distress came to him very clearly. -Thank you for a, He didn’t have time to finish. He wanted to get far away so the girl couldn’t hear him.
The following morning during breakfast Sean thought about his next move.
He would write an invitation to dinner and then he would deliver it himself. They would for coffee and then, if he waited, have to ask him to stay there would be a chance. Even Oupa would have to stop talking sometime and Ouma might relax her vigilance.
He was sure there’d be a chance to talk to the girl. He didn’t know what he would say to her but he’d worry about that when the time came.
He climbed into the wagon and found pencil and paper in his chest. He went f back to the table and spread the paper in front of him. He chewed the end of the pencil and stared out into the bush.
Something moved against the trees. Sean put the pencil down and stood up. The dogs barked then stopped as they recognized Mubi. He was coming at a trot, he was coming with news. Sean waited for him.
A big herd, Nkosi, with many showing ivory. I sawthem drink at the river and then go back into the bush, feeding quietly. When? asked Sean to gain time. He was searching for a plausible excuse to stay in camp, it would have to be good to satisfy Mbejane who was already saddling one of the horses. Before the sun this morning, answered Hlubi and Sean was trying to remember which was his sore shoulder, he couldn’t hunt with a sore shoulder. Mbejane led the horse into the laager. Sean scratched the side of his nose and coughed. The tracker from the other camp follows close behind me, Nkosi, he too has seen the herd and brings the news k I to his master. But 1, being as swift as a springbok when I run, have outdistanced him, Hlubi ended modestly. Is that so? For Sean it changed the whole problem, he couldn’t leave the herd to that red-headed Dutchman. He ran across to
the wagon and snatched his bandolier from the foot of the cot. His rifle was already in the scabbard. Are you tired, Hlubi? Sean buckled the heavy ammunition belt across his chest. The sweat had run in oily streaks down the Zulu’s body; his breathing was deep and quick. No, Nkosi. well, then, lead us to these elephant of yours, my fleetfooted springbok. Sean swung up onto his horse He looked over his shoulder at the other camp. She would still be there when he came back.
Sean was limited to the speed of Hlubi’s feet while the two Leroux had only to gallop along the easy spoor left by Sean’s party and they caught up with him before he had gone two miles. Good morning to you, Oupa greeted him as he drew level and pulled his horse in to a trot. Out for a morning’s ride, I see. Sean made the best of it with a grin. If we are all to hunt then we must hunt together. Do you agree? Of course, meneer. And we must share the bag equally, one third to each man.
That is always the way. Oupa. nodded. Do you agree? Sean turned in his -saddle towards Jan Paulus. Jan Paulus granted. He showed little inclination to open his mouth since he’d lost his tooth.
They found the spoor within an hour. The herd had wrecked a road through the thick bush along the river.
They had stripped the bark from the saplings and left them naked and bleeding. They had knocked down bigger trees to reach the tender top leaves and they had dropped their great piles of dung in the grass.
We need no trackers to follow this. Jan Paulus had the first excitement on him. Sean looked at him and wondered how many elephant had died in front of his rifle. A thousand perhaps, and yet the excitement was on him again now. Tell your servants to follow us. We’ll go ahead. We catch them within an hour. He smiled at Sean, gaptoothed, and Sean felt the excitement lift the hair on his own forearms. He smiled back.