Nthebolang reaches forward and rubs his leg. ‘You’re over the worst. Baatweng is safe.’
He moves his leg so her hand falls away. ‘Yes, it seems that way. But maybe she’s lying to me.’
‘Who?’
‘My mother. She was speaking to Seabe at the house, when everyone was there waiting for Baatweng to be brought to the village. It didn’t look as if she was telling her the marriage was off; it looked like something else. Maybe she’ll do it without me. Maybe they’ve done it already. I don’t know … I don’t know anything.’
‘Then you must tell someone. Tell your father – won’t he be able to do something?’
Motsumi looks out at the lightening horizon. ‘Yes, maybe. Why is all of this happening? And now the war will begin again with Maburu.’ He looks at Nthebolang. ‘I spoke to Reverend Milner.’
‘To Thomas? Why?’
‘He was there at the house for a while. When he was leaving, I walked with him. I wanted to know if there was some way that his god might stop them from bewitching Baatweng, might protect him. He took me to one side, away from the others. He wanted to know everything. I told him. He said that he would help. He would pray for me. That his god was very powerful, that nothing could defeat him.’
‘Did you say anything about me?’ Nthebolang doesn’t want to be involved in it, especially if Thomas Milner is part of it.
Motsumi’s face changes. ‘No, why? Did something happen between the two of you that I should know about?’
‘No. Why would you say that?’
‘He kept asking me questions about you. He was so insistent. It was almost like he was jealous.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Who can ever know what that man really wants? Thomas Milner is unstable. He’s not everything we think he is. He’s not the person who can help you, I see that now. I was wrong to have told you to go to him. He’s very ambitious. I know him. He’ll do anything to advance himself. Information is power for him: it can be used to get what he wants and he wants everything.’
‘But you said the Christians could help me?’
‘Yes, God and Jesus. I’m not sure about Thomas Milner. He’s just a man, a man using Christianity for his own gain. I know that now. He’s dangerous, Motsumi, you must stay away from him.’
Nthebolang moves to sit next to him and takes his hand in hers. ‘I think you should speak to your father – I think that would be best.’
‘I’ll try. But right now everyone is getting ready for what’s coming. Maybe it will distract my mother from everything, all this talk of war.’ He puts his arm around Nthebolang. ‘Or maybe we should leave, you and me. Leave now before everything starts.’
‘Leave? Where would we go?’
‘Away from here. I love you. You’re good for me, not like the others who confuse me and make me think the wrong things. We can leave this place together. Let’s leave before it’s too late.’
‘Too late? Why do you say that?’ Nthebolang has a feeling Motsumi is not telling her everything.
‘Everything’s wrong here. We can do better somewhere else. We could go north. I’m a good hunter – you know that. In Ngamiland there is so much game, we could get rich selling hides and tusks.’ His voice is speeding up with excitement, or fear – Nthebolang can’t say which. ‘We’ll be fine. Let’s go. Please say you will. You know I love you and I’ll keep you safe. We’ve come together now, we’re married in a sense. Don’t you see? Let’s go away from this place.’
Nthebolang’s confused. What he describes sounds just like what she has wanted for so long, but is that what she still wants? Hadn’t she decided that Motsumi could not be trusted? That he was dangerous, as Beatrice has said?
And, again, there’s Beatrice to consider now. She feels responsible for her; they’re friends. She’s made promises. Beatrice seems at times so childlike and innocent, yet at other times she seems to possess all sorts of intrigues and secrets – and power. Who is she really? And why does Nthebolang feel so attached to her?
Again she thinks of Barobi. She had thought she could fight him, get justice for her father, but what powers did he have? The cave showed her that the evil in Ntsweng is powerful, powerful enough to call the dead from their unsettled graves. What if Barobi is involved in that too? Maybe it is best to leave him. She was only a child when her father was killed; she can’t be expected to avenge his death. It would be so easy to leave with Motsumi, to make a life with him, a simple life, away from all that she cannot understand. To forget her past, to let go of any debt she thought she owed her father. She tells herself she’s only a girl, really – what can she do against everything that’s happening?
She should go with the man she loves. That’s where her life is. She knows if they can leave Ntsweng everything will be made right. She knows what she has promised Beatrice, but how can she be sure of Beatrice? Beatrice is unstable, inconsistent. Nthebolang doesn’t know the place Beatrice speaks of, the sea and the mountains. But she knows Motsumi. And for the first time he is speaking of them together in concrete terms – they will go away and make a life together where no one can force them to do what they don’t want to, go to where their love can take precedence over everything else. She loves him. Yes, she tells herself, she loves him; she always has. Here at the koppie with him next to her it’s very clear what the right thing is. She finally has the chance to be Motsumi’s wife, just as she’s always dreamed.
‘When will we go?’ she asks.
‘It will take me a few days to organise things. We need some horses at least and some basic supplies. I have my gun; I need only gunpowder. I’ll speak to Baatweng. I’ll let him know our plan. I can trust him. Please say you’ll go with me.’
‘I will. I’ll go with you, Motsumi. We’ll make a good life together – won’t we?’
‘Yes, I promise.’
They hold hands and talk of how their life will be in the far north. They’ll be happy there. Nthebolang has been so scared and hopeless – what happened in the cave was too much for her – but the world has steadied now. Her new life far away from Ntsweng looks so clear in her mind, and so certain. Beatrice fades into the background. Motsumi is where her future lies, where she will finally find her happiness. This time she must stay her new course without wavering.
Chapter Twenty-eight
She sits still, her mind window opens, and she sees them. The old woman is there as she expected. A middle-aged woman pulls a younger, unattractive woman to the spot. The boy is there, the one she has warned Nthebolang to stay away from. And //Gaunab in the form of a man is their messiah. He is the one with the power to pull the dead from their graves. When he turns in her direction, the mind window slams shut to protect her, but Beatrice recognises him. At least she knows now from where it all emanates.
She looks out into the dark compound and watches Nthebolang slip out the gate. Despite everything that has happened, she goes to that man. Beatrice doesn’t get angry; she knows Nthebolang is ruled by her heart. This isn’t a bad thing, only dangerous in this instance. It helps her decide that the choice she has been weighing in her mind is one that must be acted on.
She watches and, when she’s sure Nthebolang is gone, Beatrice slips out the gate as well. She keeps to the shadows as she moves through the narrow lanes. She’s not sure where Thomas Milner is and doesn’t want to come upon him. He took the rest of the guns, likely to the king, and then, in his air of triumph, his moment as the giver, the hero of the day, he probably went searching for a conquest. She knows he has women he goes to around the village; she feels nothing save sadness for them.
She’s not surprised to see her waiting at the compound. Beatrice is not so naive as to think she’s the only one who has cultivated a talent for seeing. She waits for her but does not speak until they have moved to the back of the compound in the darker spot behind the cooking house.
‘I have my requirements.’
‘I expected as much,’ Beatrice says.
‘I will be the inheritor
of all of his power.’
‘You’ll do as you wish,’ Beatrice says. ‘I suspect you know the price you will pay for that. We’ll be gone in any case; what remains is of no concern to me. I require only what I have shown you.’
‘I understand. It will be as we’ve agreed.’
Beatrice leaves as quickly as she arrived. She can barely see as red fills her mental window: pain and carnage are coming. She stops to collect herself and leans against a tree. She lets the fear out, and soon her mind is clear and she can walk again. She must get back to the mission house. It will soon be morning.
She has made the deal; it’s finished now, or nearly. It will be awful but there was no other choice. As she stood near her in that solid darkness, as she insisted on being the vessel for //Gaunab’s power, Beatrice could smell the cave on her, and for a second she thought of running, of finding another way to get what she needs. Did she catch the scent of human flesh on the edge of her warm breath so close to Beatrice’s face? Can a woman involved in such things be trusted? Beatrice knows she cannot, except that in this case there will be something else operating. The woman will get what she covets most. It is not integrity of any kind that will keep her on course. It is greed. This woman wants the entire world, and for that she will keep her promise – for that only.
Chapter Twenty-nine
‘Will we be all right when the Boers attack us?’ Elizabeth asks. Nthebolang is sitting on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed about to read to her before her nap.
‘No one will attack us. We’re all going to be fine. Don’t worry about any of it.’
‘If you say it’s so, Nthebolang, I’ll believe you,’ Elizabeth says.
‘It is so. Now you lie down and close your eyes and I’ll read you a nice story.’
As she reads to Elizabeth and rubs her back, the girl quickly falls asleep. Nthebolang looks down at her. She’ll miss her when she leaves with Motsumi. She wonders what will happen to her. Such a lovely sweet girl, but maybe sweet and good never had a place in this world of evil.
Nthebolang closes the door softly, and goes outside to take the washing off the line.
‘Are you never going to speak about that night?’ Beatrice asks.
Nthebolang is startled by the voice and turns to see who it is. She hadn’t noticed Beatrice coming up behind her. Her thoughts are filled with being gone; being here is almost invisible to her. She’s been avoiding Beatrice ever since the night in the cave and the pact she’d made with Motsumi. Beatrice confuses her and she doesn’t want confusion now. Beatrice doesn’t like Motsumi and Nthebolang realises that now Beatrice has tilted her mind against him. The problem is Beatrice doesn’t know Motsumi; she doesn’t know how kind he is, how playful and loving. If she knew him, she might think otherwise. In his heart – his faults and his weaknesses aside – Motsumi is a good man, a man who loves her despite her own past, a man who’ll take care of her, who’ll take her away from Ntsweng. She loves him and that’s enough. She has decided that it has to be enough.
‘What do you want me to say?’ Nthebolang asks. ‘We were both there. You saw what I saw. I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘What were they doing, those people?’ Beatrice asks. ‘Those friends of the dead? Those friends of //Gaunab? I told you, didn’t I? I told you he was here; his evil is here. Do you think you can negotiate with that?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it, any of it.’
‘You’re afraid,’ Beatrice says. ‘I was afraid too. But now I think it’s better because we know. Those three, they’re witches. You must know who they are.’
‘Why would I know them? Do you think because of my father I can somehow spot every witch?’ Nthebolang spits at her, suddenly furious. ‘My father was innocent! We’re not like you – I am not like you.’
Beatrice steps back, away from the force of Nthebolang’s words and emotions.
‘No. I meant you must know them from the village. You’ve been here longer than me – you know more people. Don’t get angry. I told you before: I believe you.’ Beatrice takes her hand and leads her to the shade near the servant’s hut, even though Nthebolang is reluctant. They sit on the edge of the low lapa.
‘Their shadows, they didn’t look like anyone you know?’ Beatrice asks.
‘No. Please, Beatrice, I don’t want to be part of this. I can’t be. I want to forget that night. I want to forget everything about it. I can’t take any more of this. I fear I’ll go mad if it continues. I want to be free of all of this now.’
‘But it happened – you can’t pretend it didn’t. All of it happened. They said they were eating someone’s flesh to make them strong. To protect them. And those spirits, I could feel their sorrow inside of me, as if it were part of me. Did you feel it?’
‘No, I only felt cold, so cold.’
‘It was like they were giving me their sadness. They were pulled to those three people; they didn’t go to them willingly. I could feel that. They were pulled there to assist them, but they didn’t want to. I don’t think the souls in that hole are evil; it’s the living, those three … maybe others, that we must fear. //Gaunab is controlling them. Everyone will be affected, I can feel it. Ntsweng is not safe.’
Nthebolang stands up and goes back to the washing without speaking. Beatrice follows her.
‘I think they’re planning to kill someone. The person whose flesh they had. That’s how it works: if they eat the flesh, they will be safe when they use the powerful medicine against the one they want dead. You don’t care that a person will be killed and we could have prevented it?’ Beatrice asks.
‘I care, but what can I do? This is not my problem, Beatrice. Besides, I’ll be gone soon.’ As soon as the words are out, Nthebolang regrets them. How had she let that slip?
Beatrice’s voice changes – a hard, sharp edge surrounds it now. ‘Gone? What do you mean?’
‘Nothing. I mean … my mother’s upset after the Boer attack. I think she might want to leave this place – it’s unsafe now.’
‘But you said we were going together, that you would leave with me when I made my escape from Thomas.’ Beatrice stares at her. ‘I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. Don’t lie to me, Nthebolang. We said no secrets; I told you how I can’t bear secrets.’
‘Yes, it’s the truth. Why would I lie?’
Beatrice sits quietly, rubbing the spot between her breasts, and then says, ‘Yes, why?’
Nthebolang stops. She can’t understand this woman. One minute she’s scared and then revelling in the fear, then compassionate for who might be killed, and then ambivalent, as if it is not important. Altruistic, ready to put herself in danger to save another, then self-possessed and dangerous towards anyone who dares to stand in her way. She seems to be Nthebolang’s friend, but then she seems only to want to use her to do the things she cannot, to help her do the things she’s not allowed.
‘What do you want from me, Beatrice?’ Nthebolang asks in frustration.
‘I told you to call me Beaty.’
‘Sorry. Beaty. What do you want from me? I have no power; I’m just an ordinary girl, a girl from a tainted family, a girl with no prospects, no future. What can I do? I must take the chances I get. I am nothing but what another gives me.’
‘I want you to tell the truth. I want you to keep the promises you’ve made. I thought we were friends.’
‘Friends? No secrets? Why don’t you start by telling me what those hidden guns are about? Tell me why you carry a knife?’
‘I want to go home. Those guns will get me there.’
‘How? How will those guns get you home? You don’t want secrets from me, but secrets are all that you have.’
Beatrice shakes her head. ‘No, you don’t need to know about the guns. What you need to know is that I care about you. Things are not going to go well here – here in Ntsweng. I know this. You think they are; you think you’ve made sure to protect yourself, to make a plan for yourself. But it’s not going to work
. Many things are going to go wrong, and those guns will save us – you and me. Those guns will get us out of here, get you free of the evil that follows you. I can cut those chains and take you to where freedom is true, where nothing will ever trouble you again.’
‘You and me? What about your daughter? Do you ever think of her? Do either of you ever think of Elizabeth? I don’t understand you.’
‘She’ll come with us,’ says Beatrice. ‘I know you love her.’
‘Yes, I do. Though I think my mother and I may be the only ones who do.’
Nthebolang wants to cry when she says that, thinking about the unfairness of it all. ‘Beaty, you talk as if you are all-powerful, as if everything will fall before you, as if you are certain your plans will work. How can you be? You’re more of a prisoner than I’ll ever be.’
Beatrice looks at Nthebolang, a slight smile on her face, her hand rubbing the familiar spot on her chest again.
‘My body may be trapped, the keys held by Thomas Milner, temporarily, but I have always been free where it counts – in my mind. That’s a freedom you have yet to discover. I want to show you, make you see. I want to save you. But maybe I was wrong about all of it. Maybe you prefer your jail.’
Beatrice walks towards the mission house and Nthebolang watches her. Maybe Thomas Milner is right. Maybe Beatrice belongs in that asylum in Cape Town. Sometimes she speaks as if the realities of life – her husband, her daughter – are the falsehoods, and the spirits in the cave, Mmapitse’s transformation, the witches all around them, the voices she hears and her //Gaunab, are where the truth is. Is that not delusional? Is that not madness? Nthebolang is beginning to think that it is.
‘Can you help me, Nthebolang?’ Thomas Milner asks.
She stands next to his desk. ‘What is it, Reverend Milner?’
Thomas Milner discovered early on that Nthebolang’s penmanship was excellent, a skill he puts to his own use. His handwriting is often untidy since he writes very fast, pouring his words onto the page like blood. He has little patience for rewriting, and gives letters and articles for the newsletter at Kuruman to Nthebolang to rewrite for him in her tidy script. This is how she knows that he writes long dissertations about his time in Ntsweng, often exaggerating the number of people he has converted to Christianity and speaking of himself and his actions in more heroic terms than the truth bears out. He writes of the love he has for the people and the way they respond to him. It is from his letters and articles that she learns that he is very ambitious. He often praises his own leadership skills. He hopes to take over the Kuruman Mission Station or even be transferred to the Bethelsdorp Mission in Cape Town where the London Missionary Society headquarters for Africa is; he has told her this. He’s growing bored converting heathens.
But Deliver Us from Evil Page 18