by Wilbur Smith
At last the colonel hauled out his gold watch again and announced, ‘Gentlemen, that will do for the day. We will reconvene at nine in the morning.’ He stood up and led his fellow judges to the bar at the back of the mess.
‘I am afraid I didn’t do very well,’ Bobby confessed, as he and Leon went out on to the veranda. ‘It will all be up to you when you give your evidence tomorrow.’
Ishmael brought their dinner and two bottles of beer from his lean-to kitchen at the back of Leon’s rondavel. There was no chair in the hut, so the two men sprawled on the mud floor as they ate with little appetite and went despondently over their strategy for the morrow.
‘I wonder if the Nairobi ladies will think you so dashing and handsome when you’re standing against a brick wall wearing a blindfold,’ Bobby said.
‘Get out of here, you dismal johnny,’ Leon ordered. ‘I want to get some sleep.’ But sleep would not come, and he turned, tossed and sweated until the early hours of the morning. At last he sat up and lit the bullseye lantern. Then, wearing only his underpants, he started for the door and the communal latrine at the end of the row of huts. As he stepped out on to his veranda he almost stumbled over a small group of men squatting at the door. Leon started back in alarm and held the lantern high. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded loudly. Then he saw that there were five of them, all dressed in the ochre-red Masai shukas.
One rose to his feet. ‘I see you, M’bogo,’ he said, and his ivory earrings flashed in the lamplight almost as brilliantly as his teeth.
‘Manyoro! What the hell are you doing here?’ Leon almost shouted, with rising delight and relief.
‘Lusima Mama sent me. She said you needed me.’
‘What the devil took you so long?’ Leon wanted to hug him.
‘I came as swiftly as I could, with the help of these, my brothers.’ He indicated the men behind him. ‘We reached Naro Moru siding in two days’ march from Lonsonyo Mountain. The driver of the train allowed us to sit on the roof and he brought us here at great speed.’
‘Mama was right. I have great need of your help, my brother.’
‘Lusima Mama is always right,’ said Manyoro, flatly. ‘What is this great trouble you are in? Are we going to war again?’
‘Yes,’ Leon answered. ‘Big war!’ All five Masai grinned with happy anticipation.
Ishmael had been alerted by their voices and he came staggering with sleep from the shack behind the rondavel to find the cause. ‘Are these Masai infidels causing trouble, Effendi? Shall I send them away?’ He had not recognized Sergeant Manyoro in his tribal dress.
‘No, Ishmael. Run as fast as you can to Lieutenant Bobby and tell him to come at once. Something wonderful has happened. Our prayers have been answered.’
‘Allah is great! His beneficence passes all understanding,’ Ishmael intoned, then set off for Bobby’s hut at a dignified jog.
‘Call Sergeant Manyoro to the witness stand!’ said Bobby Sampson confidently and loudly.
A stunned silence fell over the officers’ mess. The judges looked up from their notes with immediate interest as Manyoro limped through the door on a crudely carved crutch. He wore his number-one dress uniform, with puttees neatly wound around his calves, but his feet were bare. The regimental badge on the front of his red fez and his belt buckle had been lovingly polished with Brasso until they gleamed like stars. Sergeant Major M’fefe marched behind him, trying unsuccessfully to stop himself grinning. The pair came to a halt in front of the high table, and saluted the judges with a flourish.
‘Sergeant Major M’fefe will act as interpreter for those of us with limited Kiswahili,’ Bobby explained. When the witness had been sworn in Bobby looked at the interpreter. ‘Sergeant Major, please ask the witness to state his name and rank.’
‘I am Sergeant Manyoro of C Company, 3rd Battalion, 1st Regiment, The King’s African Rifles,’ Manyoro announced proudly.
Major Snell’s face crumpled with dismay. Until that moment he had not recognized Manyoro. Leon had heard him announce more than once at the mess bar when he was on his third or fourth whisky, ‘These bloody wogs all look the same to me.’ Such pejorative remarks were typical of Snell’s overbearing disdainful attitude. No other officer would have used such a term to describe the men he commanded.
Have a good look at this bloody wog, Froggy, Leon thought happily. You won’t forget his face in a hurry.
‘Your honour,’ Bobby addressed the senior judge, ‘may the witness be allowed to give his evidence while seated? He has taken a Nandi arrow through his right leg. As you can see, it has not yet healed properly.’
All eyes in the room went down to Manyoro’s thigh, which had been swathed in fresh bandages that morning by the regimental surgeon. A patch of fresh blood had oozed through the white gauze.
‘Of course,’ said the senior judge. ‘Someone fetch him a chair.’
Everyone was leaning forward with anticipation. Major Snell and Eddy Roberts were exchanging agitated whispers. Eddy kept shaking his head.
‘Sergeant, is this man your company officer?’ Bobby indicated Leon at his side.
‘Bwana Lieutenant, he is my officer.’
‘Did you and your troop march with him to Niombi boma?’
‘We did, Bwana Lieutenant.’
‘Sergeant Manyoro, you need not keep calling me “Bwana Lieutenant”,’ Bobby protested, in fluent Kiswahili.
‘Ndio, Bwana Lieutenant,’ Manyoro agreed.
Bobby switched back into English for the benefit of the judges. ‘On the march did you come across any suspicious tracks?’
‘Yes. We found where a war-party of twenty-six Nandi warriors had come down the Rift Valley wall from the direction of Gelai Lumbwa.’
‘Twenty-six? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am sure, Bwana Lieutenant.’ Manyoro looked affronted at the fatuity of the question.
‘How did you know for certain that it was a war-party?’
‘They had no women or children with them.’
‘How did you know they were Nandi and not Masai?’
‘Their feet are smaller than ours, and they walk in a different way.’
‘How different?’
‘Short strides - they are midgets. They do not step first on to their heel and push off with their toe as a true warrior does. They slap their feet down like pregnant baboons.’
‘So you could be certain that this was a Nandi war-party?’
‘Only a fool or a small child could have doubted it.’
‘Where were they headed?’
‘Towards the mission station at Nakuru.’
‘Was it your opinion that they were on their way to attack the mission?’
‘I did not think that they were going to drink beer with the priests,’ Manyoro replied loftily, and when the sergeant major had translated, the senior judge stifled a guffaw. The other judges smiled and nodded.
Eddy was looking glum now.
‘You told all this to your lieutenant? You discussed it with him?’
‘Of course.’
‘He gave you orders to pursue this war-party?’
Manyoro nodded. ‘We followed them for two days until we came so close that they realized we were after them.’
‘How did they reach that conclusion?’
‘The bush was open and even the Nandi have eyes in their heads,’ Manyoro explained patiently.
‘Then your officer ordered you to break off the pursuit and go to Niombi. Do you know why he decided not to engage the enemy?’
‘Twenty-six Nandi went off in twenty-six directions. My lieutenant is not a fool. He knew we might catch one if we ran hard and were lucky. He also knew that we had frightened them off and they would not continue to Nakuru. My bwana had saved the mission from attack and he would not waste more time.’
‘But you had lost almost four days?’
‘Ndio, Bwana Lieutenant.’
‘When you reached Niombi what did you find?’
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�Another Nandi war-party had raided the boma. They had killed the district commissioner, his wife and child. They had speared the baby and drowned the man and woman by pissing in their mouths.’
The judges leaned forward attentively as Bobby led Manyoro through a description of the Nandi ambush and the desperate fighting that had followed. Without visible emotion Manyoro told of how the rest of the troop had been cut down, and how he and Leon had fought their way into the boma and beaten back the attackers.
‘During the fight did your lieutenant behave like a man?’
‘He fought like a warrior.’
‘Did you see him kill any of the enemy?’
‘I saw him kill eight Nandi, but there may have been more. I myself was occupied.’
‘Then you received your wound. Tell us about that.’
‘Our ammunition was almost finished. We went out to recover more from our dead askari, who were lying in the parade-ground.’
‘Lieutenant Courtney went with you?’
‘He led the way.’
‘What happened then?’
‘One of the Nandi dogs shot an arrow at me. It struck me here.’ Manyoro drew up the leg of his khaki shorts and showed his bandaged leg.
‘Were you able to run with that wound?’
‘No.’
‘How did you escape?’
‘When he saw that I had been struck, Bwana Courtney turned back to fetch me. He carried me into the boma.’
‘You are a big man. He carried you?’
‘I am a big man because I am Masai. But Bwana Courtney is strong. His Masai name is Buffalo.’
‘What happened next?’
Manyoro described in detail how they had held out until the Nandi set fire to the building, how they had been forced to abandon it and use the cover of the smoke from the burning roof to escape into the banana plantation.
‘What did you do then?’
‘When we reached the open ground beyond the plantation I asked my bwana to leave me with his pistol and go on alone.’
‘Did you plan to kill yourself because you were crippled and you did not want the Nandi to catch and drown you as they had done to the district commissioner and his wife?’
‘I would have killed myself rather than die the Nandi way, but not before I had taken a few of the jackals with me,’ Manyoro agreed.
‘Your officer refused to leave you?’
‘He wanted to carry me on his back to the railway line. I told him it was four days’ march through Nandi tribal lands and that we already knew the ground was swarming with their war-parties. I told him my mother’s manyatta was only thirty miles distant and deep in Masailand where Nandi curs would never dare to follow. I told him that if he was determined to take me with him we should go that way.’
‘He did as you suggested?’
‘He did.’
‘Thirty miles? He carried you on his back for thirty miles?’
‘Perhaps a little further. He is a strong man.’
‘When the two of you reached your mother’s village, why did he not leave you there and return to Nairobi immediately?’
‘His feet were ruined by the march from Niombi. He could not walk further on them. My mother is a famous healer of great power. She treated his feet with her medicine. Bwana Courtney left the manyatta as soon as he was able to walk.’
Bobby paused and looked at the three judges. Then he asked, ‘Sergeant Manyoro, what are your feelings for Lieutenant Courtney?’
Manyoro answered, with quiet dignity, ‘My bwana and I are brothers of the warrior blood.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant. I have no further questions for you.’
For a long moment there was a hush of awe in the courtroom. Then Colonel Wallace roused himself. ‘Lieutenant Roberts, do you wish to cross-examine this man?’
Eddy conferred hurriedly with Major Snell, then stood up reluctantly. ‘No, sir, I have no questions for him.’
‘Are there any more witnesses? Will you call your client to the stand, Lieutenant Sampson?’ Colonel Wallace asked. He pulled out his watch and consulted it pointedly.
‘With the court’s indulgence, I shall call Lieutenant Courtney. However, I have almost finished and will not detain the court much longer.’
‘I am relieved to hear that. You may proceed.’
When Leon took the stand Bobby handed him a sheaf of papers and asked, ‘Lieutenant Courtney, is this your official report of the Niombi expedition, which you gave to your commanding officer?’
Leon thumbed through it quickly. ‘Yes, this is my report.’
‘Is there anything in it you wish to retract? Anything you wish to add to it?’
‘No, there is not.’
‘You affirm under oath that this report is true and correct in every detail?’
‘I do.’
Bobby took the document from him and placed it before the judges. ‘I wish this report to be entered into evidence.’
‘It has already been entered,’ said Colonel Wallace, testily. ‘We have all read it. Ask your questions, Lieutenant, and let’s have done with it.’
‘I have no further questions, your honour. The defence rests.’
‘Good.’ The colonel was pleasurably surprised. He had not expected Bobby to be so quick. He scowled at Eddy Roberts. ‘Are you going to cross-examine?’
‘No, sir. I have no questions for the accused.’
‘Excellent.’ Wallace smiled for the first time. ‘The witness may stand down, and the prosecution can get on with its summation.’
Eddy stood up, trying to portray the confidence he obviously lacked. ‘May it please the court to direct its attention to both the written report of the accused, which he has affirmed under oath is correct in every detail, and to Sergeant Manyoro’s corroborating evidence. They both confirm that the accused deliberately ignored his written orders to proceed with utmost despatch to Niombi station, and instead set off in pursuit of the Nandi war-party that he believed might be heading in the direction of Nakuru mission. I submit that the accused has admitted he was guilty of the charge of deliberately refusing to follow the orders of a superior officer in the face of the enemy. Absolutely no doubt about that.’
Eddy paused to gather himself. He took a deep breath as though he was about to dive into a pool of icy water. ‘As for Sergeant Manyoro’s slavish endorsement of the accused’s actions thereafter, may I direct attention to his childlike and emotional statement that he and the accused are “brothers of the warrior blood”.’ Colonel Wallace frowned and his fellow judges stirred uneasily on their seats. It was not the reaction Eddy had hoped for, and he hurried on: ‘I submit that the witness had been briefed by the defence and that he is completely in the thrall of the accused. I suggest to you that he would have parroted any words put into his mouth.’
‘Captain Roberts, are you suggesting that the witness shot himself in the leg with an arrow to cover up his platoon commander’s cowardice?’ Colonel Wallace asked.
Eddy sat down as the court room exploded with laughter.
‘Silence in court! Please, gentlemen, please!’ the adjutant remonstrated.
‘Is that your summation, Captain? Have you finished?’ Wallace enquired.
‘I have, your honour.’
‘Lieutenant Sampson, do you care to refute the defence’s summation?’
Bobby came to his feet. ‘Your honour, we reject not only the entire substance of the summation but we take umbrage at the prosecution’s slur on Sergeant Manyoro’s honesty. We have full confidence that the court will accept the evidence of a truthful, valiant and loyal soldier, whose devotion to duty and respect for his officers is the very stuff that the British Army is made of.’ He looked at each of the three judges in turn. ‘Gentlemen, the defence rests.’
‘The court will rise to consider its verdict. We will convene again at noon to give judgement.’ Wallace stood up and said to the other two judges, in a clearly audible sotto voce, ‘Well, chaps, it seems we might yet catch that ship.�
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As they filed out of the courtroom Leon whispered to Bobby, ‘ “The very stuff that the British Army is made of ”. That was masterly.’
‘It was rather, wasn’t it?’
‘Buy you a beer?’
‘Don’t mind if you do.’
An hour later Colonel Wallace sat at the high table and shuffled his papers. Then he cleared his throat juicily and began: ‘Before I proceed with delivering the judgement, I wish to state that this court was impressed by the bearing and evidence of Sergeant Manyoro. We found him entirely credible, a truthful, loyal and valiant soldier.’ Bobby beamed as he heard his own description repeated faithfully by Wallace. ‘This statement should be appended to Sergeant Manyoro’s service record.’
Wallace swivelled in his seat and glared at Leon. ‘The judgement of this court is as follows. On the charges of cowardice, desertion and dereliction of duty we find the accused not guilty.’ There were murmurs of relief from the defence. Bobby thumped Leon’s knee under cover of the table. Wallace went on sternly, ‘Although the court understood and sympathized with the accused’s instinct to engage the enemy at every opportunity, in the tradition of the British Army, we find that when he took up the pursuit of the rebel war-party in defiance of his orders to proceed with utmost despatch to Niombi station he transgressed the Articles of War, which require strict obedience to the orders of a superior officer. We therefore have no alternative but to find him guilty of disobeying the written orders of his superior officer.’
Bobby and Leon stared at him with dismay and Snell folded his arms across his chest. He leaned back in his chair with a smirk on his wide mouth.
‘I come now to the sentence. The accused will stand.’ Leon came to his feet and snapped to rigid attention, staring at the wall behind Wallace’s head. ‘The verdict of guilty will be recorded in the service record of the accused. He will be detained until this court rises and immediately thereafter will be returned to duty with the full responsibility and privileges of his rank. God save the King!