But Deliver Us from Evil

by Lauri Kubuitsile

  ‘You must take more care,’ Nthebolang says. ‘If he keeps on like this, he’ll kill you one day.’

  Beatrice rubs the knife Nthebolang now knows hangs between her breasts. It gives her some sort of comfort to feel its weight there. After beating Beatrice until she collapsed to the floor, almost unconscious, Thomas Milner was breathing hard, as if he had run many miles. Then, with his anger thoroughly fed, he left and would likely not return until morning. He does that more and more now. Nthebolang thinks he is with Kgosi Sechele, but she also hears rumours that that is not the only place he likes to spend the night. It seems that in his Christian rules taking two wives is evil, but having one wife and many concubines is not a problem. Nthebolang reminds herself that rumours are not always true – she would be the first to admit that – but then also she has not forgotten about the way he went after her. His marriage vows are fluid, she suspects, and he likely has many ways to justify that to himself.

  Nthebolang pounds Monepenepe root and adds it to warm water for Beatrice to drink. It will help her with the pain. Beatrice drinks it slowly while she inspects the many cuts and bruises on her body. It’s as if she wants to take an inventory to remember the exact extent of her injuries.

  ‘And on my back? How many of the lashes drew blood?’ she asks.

  Nthebolang counts. ‘Four, then there are three others that left welts but didn’t break the skin.’

  Beatrice nods and sips the drink. ‘Already this is working. You’re very good with these medicines.’

  ‘My father knew many things which he passed on to my mother and to me.’

  ‘I wish I could have met him. I can tell from how you speak about him that you loved him very much.’

  Nthebolang dabs at one of the wounds on Beatrice’s face with a bit of the pounded medicine she’s made into a poultice. She spreads it thinly and lets it dry. She wonders how Beatrice got the injury on her cheek. She suspects she fell onto a piece of furniture. She’s much smaller than Thomas Milner and he’s easily able to throw her wherever he wants during these beatings.

  When Nthebolang found Beatrice, she was still lying on the floor, curled up on her side. Blood was dripping from her cheek wound, her eye nearly closed, her dress ripped, blood soaking into its fabric. She lay like a victim of war, her eyes closed, but when she heard Nthebolang, her eyes opened and she smiled.

  ‘I knew you would come and save me. I was waiting for you.’

  Beatrice finishes the root drink and her eyes begin to droop. ‘Let me help you to bed,’ Nthebolang says. Beatrice stands up with her help.

  ‘Are you not going to ask where I went?’ says Beatrice.

  ‘I thought you would tell me if you wanted me to know.’

  ‘You’re funny like that.’ She lies down under the covers next to Elizabeth, who’s already asleep. ‘I went to set the trap. We’ll soon be free to leave.’

  Nthebolang’s not sure what can be trusted now. Monepenepe root causes some people to hallucinate. What trap she might be setting, Nthebolang can only imagine.

  As soon as Beatrice lies back and the blankets cover her, she’s asleep. Nthebolang goes out to the servant’s hut. Her mother is still away, sleeping at masimo. She decides then that she needs to see Motsumi. If it is the case that the marriage to Seabe is still on, and they’ll not be leaving together, she wants to know now, once and for all. She’s tired of being a coward. She would rather know the truth of her fate than continue wishing for a lie. He’ll be the chief now, inherit everything from his father, so the incentive for him to stay is very high. Nthebolang can understand that. Even if there is to be a baby. The thought of a child – their child – has made her softer in her stance towards Motsumi. It’s the reason she decides to give him another chance, or at least to hear him.

  She bathes to use up some time. It’s too early to go to the koppie. People are still awake and moving around the village. She needs to wait until everyone is asleep.

  She combs out her long hair and fixes it at the back with a pin Beatrice gave her. It’s decorated with metal roses and two tiny pearls. She puts on her best dress, the one she wears for church services. It makes her feel beautiful, like a grown woman. It has a high collar trimmed with lace. The light blue colour, like the sky, suits her. She applies oil to her hair and scent to her wrists. Tonight is special, one way or another. It will either be decided that their love is more important than material things, more important than what he has with Seabe – or their relationship will be over. Over for good. She decides she’ll not allow any other option. She’s done with this purgatory she’s been living in. He will choose her tonight, or not, and in either case it’s a special night, a changing night.

  She takes out her Bible. In Corinthians she finds this: ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.’

  Nthebolang wonders if this is true and, if it is, has she ever known true love? Does she truly love Motsumi? Can she forgive him everything? Does she keep no record of his wrongs? Is she no better than Seabe in wanting Motsumi for herself to get her away from Ntsweng, to improve her life? Is that not self-seeking?

  And what if he confesses to her that he had a hand in Baatweng’s death? Can she forgive him? Is her love strong enough for that? Will she need to lie to herself to get past such a revelation? If her love is true, it should never fail. She suspects her love will melt against such an admission.

  If Motsumi arrives tonight and if he promises that it’s her he loves, she’ll believe him. She will not ask questions. She’ll wait patiently for him. She doesn’t want her love for him to be tainted in any way by fear or evil or jealousy. It will not be proud or boastful. She needs God to help her to be a better Christian. He needs to guide her to love honestly. She wonders if what’s happening stems from her not being a solid, true believer, or perhaps it stems from her wavering. She needs to try harder. If only she could try harder, she thinks everything will be all right.

  She puts her Bible away and slips out of the hut. She peeks in the bedroom window to check whether Beatrice and Elizabeth are still asleep. When she’s sure they are, she goes out the gate and heads to the koppie.

  It’s a warm night after a hot, dry day, even though winter is approaching. The air is very still, smelling of the dust that still lingers after the relentless wind. Nthebolang sits on top of one of the big rocks and waits. He might come; he might not.

  She looks out over the veld. The moon, nearly full, is hidden behind a cloud so the stars might get a chance to shine in the in-between spaces. She hears a cow in the distance. An owl calls. Bats zip back and forth, squeaking as they hunt mosquitoes. The clouds shift and the outlines of trees and bushes lighten. A mouse pokes its head out from under the rock opposite her. It holds a small seed in its hands, taking nervous bites while keeping watch in every direction. It finishes half the seed, but then it hears something and runs back under the rock. She hears it too and turns in the direction of the sound, and there’s Motsumi. He looks drawn and thin, and fear fills her. She’s not sure she wants this now. She wishes she hadn’t come.

  ‘I hoped you’d be here,’ he says. Up close he looks lost. ‘I’ve been wanting to see you so badly but I couldn’t get away. Everything is terrible. But now that Baatweng has been buried, at least that part is quiet. For now.’

  He leads her back to the rock and they both sit down. ‘Are you all right? Did you think I’d forgotten you?’ he asks. ‘Please don’t say you did – I can never forget you.’

  Nthebolang hasn’t spoken. She’s afraid. Her courage, which had been strong earlier in the evening, has vanished.

  ‘I missed you, of course,’ she says mechanically.

  ‘You must know I love you – that’s most important,’ he says. ‘Never doubt that.’r />
  She nods.

  ‘I’m scared now. I don’t know whom to trust in my family. Of course Mma Baatweng is not going to let anything go. She’s crying and screaming and accusing anyone who crosses her of killing her son. They’ve confirmed it was witchcraft. I think they may have done it, Nthebolang. I think they might have killed Baatweng.’

  ‘Who? Your mother and Seabe? But I thought you told them not to. That you didn’t want to be part of any of that.’

  ‘I told them not to, but I think they did it anyway. I confronted my mother. She cried and tore at her clothes, begging me not to call her a liar. But she must be lying, that’s the only thing I can see. Or Seabe. She was happy to hear that Baatweng was dead; she told me so. She said now I would be chief. As if I cared about that. She said it as though it was a present she wanted to give me. I get sick to think my mother could be part of such a thing. Barobi has been at the house since it happened. He speaks with Seabe in secret – I know that. I don’t trust him either now. You warned me; I should have listened. I should always listen to you.’

  He’s rambling. She can hear that he is not himself, that he’s confused by what has happened. But she hears something else too.

  Her mind works fast and suddenly there is the voice from the cave. That deep, sharp voice, insisting the young girl eat the flesh and then the voice at Mmapitse’s gate that night. How had she not realised it?

  It was Barobi; he was in the cave that night. She’s positive about it now. In that cave, dancing with the dead. And the other two? Nthebolang thinks she knows now – Mmapitse and Seabe. They were the ones told to eat the flesh, to protect them while they proceeded with their plans, their plans to kill the young Baatweng. It all comes to her like the last piece in a puzzle. The force of the discovery hits her like a blow to the head.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Motsumi asks. ‘Your face … You’re scared. What do you know about this? Are you scared of me? Do you think I did this?’

  ‘No,’ Nthebolang says. ‘I need to tell you something.’

  She tells him about being in the cave and what she heard there. She tells him about Barobi and all that she knows about him. How he organised her uncles’ deaths and how her father, an innocent man, had been killed for it. Barobi is the orchestrator of all of it.

  Motsumi listens without interrupting. Nthebolang lies about the reason she and Beatrice were at the cave. She says that they were there to see the bats, as if it was the only time they had visited it.

  ‘How could Seabe eat my brother’s flesh? She’s an animal. I could kill her with my own hands.’ Motsumi paces back and forth, trying to make sense of his emotions, which swing from anger to sadness to despondence. ‘I must tell someone.’

  ‘No,’ says Nthebolang. ‘They’re too powerful; I know this now. And you’re already a suspect. Whatever the people are saying to you, behind your back they think you’re the one. You must keep quiet. Keep quiet until we leave.’

  ‘I must tell Kgosi Sechele,’ Motsumi insists. ‘He’ll believe me. You can be my witness. I told you what they wanted to do. You know I told them not to do it. You can be my witness.’

  ‘Of course I do. I know that you’re telling the truth.’

  ‘And Reverend Milner knows too. I told him everything. If anything should happen, you two can be my witnesses. I had nothing to do with any of this. I loved Baatweng. You know that. He was my brother. I would never be part of such things. I know that. Don’t I know that?’

  Nthebolang considers those last words: Don’t I know that? Is he trying to convince himself? It’s a small thing, and Nthebolang knows about not trusting one’s own mind, but she wonders a moment on that – but then dismisses it. It’s nothing, she tells herself. He has had a shock. It’s all too much for him.

  ‘Yes, of course you loved him,’ she says. ‘You could never do anything so evil. You’re a good man.’

  ‘Do you really think that?’ says Motsumi, looking for confirmation.

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And you’ll leave Ntsweng with me? You promise?’

  ‘Yes, I promise,’ says Nthebolang. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘What? Tell me.’

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Motsumi hesitates, then says, ‘It’s good; it makes it all the more important. We must leave, get away from this for our child.’

  The moon comes out completely and Nthebolang can see that the sadness and anxiety of the last days have taken a toll on Motsumi and, despite her good news, he cannot be happy. His face is grey and drawn. He’s thinner and uncertain in his thoughts and movements. She wants to help him, to distract him from it all.

  She pulls her dress over her head. She removes her petticoat and undergarments. She stands naked in the moonlight like a gift.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ Motsumi says.

  He pulls her to him. He kisses her lips and neck. He moves down to her breasts which he cups in his hands, kissing them delicately. He pulls off his shirt and trousers and climbs on top of her. They are together. Everything is lost in their pleasure and she is sure she has helped him, sure she has lessened his burden, if only for a few hours as they lie in their hidden spot, in the moonlight, and in love. She knows it’s pure love, love according to God and the Bible, and she is sure it is right. Love like that can stand up to anything; she’s even surer of that now.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Nthebolang and Motsumi agree that they’ll leave in four days’ time. Motsumi’s father and most of the older boys are leaving to herd cattle to Mahikeng. They’ll be gone for nearly a month. They want to sell cattle and purchase a better bull for breeding. He’ll be left behind to take care of the ward, as practice for his later duties as chief, they tell him. The day after the men leave, Motsumi and Nthebolang will escape. Early, before sunrise, Nthebolang is to meet him at the koppie. He’ll have everything they need. They’ll head north to their new life.

  Time moves slowly for Nthebolang.

  Her mother arrives from the lands on the second day and as soon as she sees Nthebolang she gasps. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘What? I’ve done nothing. What are you talking about?’ Nthebolang asks.

  ‘You’re pregnant – I can see the change in your face. What have you done? We’re Christians. Good Christians get married first, you know that. There’s no boy who has come forward to marry you. What have you been doing?’

  She takes her mother’s hand and leads her into the house where no one can hear them. She wanted to keep her mother out of it all, but now it is too late.

  ‘I’m leaving with him.’

  ‘With who?’

  ‘Motsumi. We’ll be married. Everything will be fine. We’re leaving in two days.’

  Her mother’s confused. ‘But they say he’s married to Seabe. How can he marry you?’

  ‘No, the marriage is not final. He’s called it off, but Seabe doesn’t want to accept it.’

  Her mother leans forward and puts her hand on Nthebolang’s leg. She lowers her voice. ‘They say he’s the one. That he’s a witch, that he killed his brother to become chief. How can you leave with a boy like that? After all that we’ve been through, why a boy like that?’

  ‘Who says this? It’s a lie. Lies likely spread by Seabe. If anyone is a witch, it’s her. She wants so much to be the wife of a chief, she’ll do anything. If he’s the one, why is he leaving everything to be with me? What would be the point? He’s not greedy! He doesn’t want any of those things. He wants me.’

  Her mother nods as she considers what Nthebolang has said. ‘Yes, you’re right. Why would he leave? It makes no sense.’

  ‘You know how harmful and untrue such rumours can be. Please don’t believe them, Mme. Motsumi is a good man, I promise. I know this. I’ve loved him for a very long time.’

  Her mother hugs her. ‘If you say it’s so, then I’m happy too.’

  ‘We mustn’t tell anyone. Please. It must be a secret. We’re going north. We’ll be free of all of
it. Finally free. We’ll marry then and live a good Christian life. When we’re settled, I’ll find a way to bring you to us.’

  ‘I’ll keep your secret, but take care, Nthebolang – emotions are very high in the village,’ her mother says.

  That night Beatrice knocks on the door of the servant’s hut.

  ‘Madam, what are you up at this hour for?’ Mma Nthebolang asks when she answers the door.

  ‘I need to speak to Nthebolang if you don’t mind, Mary. It’s urgent.’

  Her mother wakes her. Half-asleep, Nthebolang wraps a blanket around herself and goes outside into the night to speak to Beatrice.

  ‘We need to go to the cave,’ says Beatrice. ‘I’ve made a mistake.’

  ‘Now? It’s so late. Can’t we go tomorrow?’

  Beatrice is very agitated. ‘No, they’re coming tonight, after midnight. We must go to the cave now.’

  ‘Who’s coming? What will I tell my mother? And what about Thomas? He’ll know you’re gone.’

  ‘Tell your mother I’m afraid in the house alone without Thomas, that you’re coming to sleep with me. As for him, he’s out, with one of his women, I suspect. He’ll be gone at least four hours, maybe longer. He told me so. We have time if we rush.’

  Nthebolang wraps clothes in the blankets she takes to go and sleep with Beatrice in the mission house. When they are inside, she drops the blankets and dresses quickly. They leave Elizabeth sleeping soundly in her small bed and rush out of the village, hurrying through the bush to the base of the hills. Nthebolang is very tired and they still have to climb up and over to the other side and back again. She wonders if she’ll make it.

  ‘It’s the pregnancy – his child is taking everything from you,’ says Beatrice. ‘Just as he will eventually if you allow him.’

  Nthebolang says nothing.

  Beatrice takes her by the arm and helps her along. They move slowly. It’s very dark and they have to be careful where they place their feet so that they don’t fall.