A Falcon Flies
Page 69
Some of the hardness went out of his arm as his muscles relaxed.
‘When will that be, Sissy?’
‘Not for seven months. Clinton has that much longer of his sentence.’
Zouga shook his head. ‘I will not be here. I have booked passage on the P. & O. steamer that sails for home at the beginning of next month.’ They were both silent, and then Zouga went on, ‘But I wish you joy and happiness – and I apologize for the remark I made about your future husband.’
‘I understand.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘He is a different kind of man from you.’
Zouga almost exclaimed, ‘Thank God for that,’ but caught the blasphemy before it reached his lips, and again they were silent.
Zouga was considering the problem that had concerned him so intimately since his return to Cape Town – how to find out from Robyn what she had written in her manuscript, and if possible to influence her into amending those portions of it which might offend the family reputation.
Now that he had learned that she would not be returning to England, the natural opportunity had presented itself.
‘Sissy, if your manuscript is prepared, I will be happy to take it with me and to make certain that it is delivered safely to Oliver Wicks.’
The voyage to England would give Zouga ample opportunity to study Robyn’s work, and if the delivery was delayed for a month or so after his arrival, then Zouga’s own published account of the expedition would skim the cream off the pool of interest and critical literary attention.
‘Oh, did I not mention it to you?’ Robyn lifted her chin, and her smile was spiced with a little spiteful relish. ‘I sent my manuscript on the mail steamer a month before your arrival here. It will be in London already, and I should not be surprised if Mr Wicks has not published it already. I expect he will have sent the reviews, and we will have them on the next mailship.’
Zouga jerked his arm out of her grip, and his eyes were steely as he glared down at her.
‘I really should have mentioned it,’ she added sweetly. His reaction confirmed her suspicions. and she knew that what last small chance they had was finished. From now on they would be enemies, and somehow she knew that the centre of their enmity would always be the land and peoples of that faraway country between two great rivers which Zouga had named Zambezia.
At the end of the Woodstock road, on the bank of the Liesbeeck river, not far from the domed roof of the Royal Astronomical Observatory, stands the Cartwright warehouse. It is a rambling whitewashed building of a burnt Kimberley brick with a corrugated iron roof.
Against the rear wall of the main storeroom stood three articles left there in storage and for later collection by Major Morris Zouga Ballantyne, presently on passage aboard the Peninsular and Orient Steamship S.S. Bombay from India to the Pool of London. The three bulky articles were almost completely screened by the bays and hillocks of bales and crates, and of barrels and bags, which reached almost to the high ceiling.
The two huge elephant tusks formed a perfect frame with their curved yellow ivories for the third package. The carved soapstone figure was still contained in its protective covering of plaited elephant grass and twisted bark rope. It stood upright on its wide heavy base, and it was merely chance that it faced towards the north.
The grass covering had been torn away from the head by careless handling and long months of travel on the shoulders of porters and on the buckboards of an unsprung Cape cart.
The cruel proud head of the bird of prey protruded from its wrappings. The stony sightless eyes stared across forest and mountain and desert, one thousand five hundred miles, to a walled and ruined city and the words of the Umlimo’s prophecy seemed to hover in the air above the graven head of the bird like living things.
‘The white eagle has stooped on the stone falcons and cast them to earth. Now the eagle shall lift them up again and they will fly afar. There shall be no peace in the kingdoms of the Mambos or the Monomatapas until they return. For the white eagle will war with the black bull until the stone falcons return to roost.’
PRAISE FOR WILBUR SMITH
‘Wilbur Smith rarely misses a trick’
Sunday Times
‘The world’s leading adventure writer’
Daily Express
‘Action is the name of Wilbur Smith’s game and
he is a master’
Washington Post
‘The pace would do credit to a Porsche, and the invention
is as bright and explosive as a fireworks display’
Sunday Telegraph
‘A violent saga . . . told with vigour
and enthusiasm . . . Wilbur Smith spins a fine tale’
Evening Standard
‘A bonanza of excitement’
New York Times
‘. . . a natural storyteller who moves confidently and
often splendidly in his period and sustains a flow of
convincing incident’
Scotsman
‘Raw experience, grim realism, history and romance welded
with mystery and the bewilderment of life itself’
Library Journal
‘A thundering good read’
Irish Times
‘Extrovert and vigorous . . . constantly changing incidents
and memorable portraits’
Liverpool Daily Post
‘An immensely powerful book, disturbing and compulsive,
harsh yet compassionate’
She
‘An epic novel . . . it would be hard to think of a theme that
was more appropriate today . . . Smith writes with a great
passion for the soul of Africa’
Today
‘I read on to the last page, hooked by its frenzied inventiveness
piling up incident upon incident . . . mighty entertainment’
Yorkshire Post
‘There is a streak of genuine poetry, all the more attractive
for being unfeigned’
Sunday Telegraph
‘. . . action follows action . . . mystery is piled
on mystery . . . tales to delight the millions of addicts of the
gutsy adventure story’
Sunday Express
‘Action-crammed’
Sunday Times
‘Rattling good adventure’
Evening Standard
A FALCON FLIES
Wilbur Smith was born in Central Africa in 1933. He was educated at Michaelhouse and Rhodes University. He became a full-time writer in 1964 after the successful publication of When the Lion Feeds, and has written over thirty novels, all meticulously researched on his numerous expeditions worldwide. His books are now translated into twenty-six languages.
The novels of Wilbur Smith
THE COURTNEYS
When the Lion Feeds
The Sound of Thunder
A Sparrow Falls
Birds of Prey
Monsoon
Blue Horizon
The Triumph of the Sun
THE COURTNEYS OF AFRICA
The Burning Shore
Power of the Sword
Rage
A Time to Die
Golden Fox
THE BALLANTYNE NOVELS
A Falcon Flies
Men of Men
The Angels Weep
The Leopard Hunts in Darkness
THE EGYPTIAN NOVELS
River God
The Seventh Scroll
Warlock
The Quest
also
The Dark of the Sun
Shout at the Devil
Gold Mine
The Diamond Hunters
The Sunbird
Eagle in the Sky
The Eye of the Tiger
Cry Wolf
Hungry as the Sea
Wild Justice
Elephant Song
First published 1980 by William Heinemann Ltd
This edition published 1997 by Pan Books
This electronic edition published 2008 by Pan Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan Ltd
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Rd, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-0-330-46778-0 EPUB
Copyright © Wilbur Smith 1980
The right of Wilbur Smith to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or
otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or
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photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written
permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized
act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal
prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
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