Assegai

by Wilbur Smith

  Of course, she doesn’t know it’s me. She thinks it’s Graf Otto. Leon smiled to himself and dropped towards her. He pushed back his goggles and leaned over the side of the cockpit. He was so close to her that he saw the moment she recognized him. She threw back her head and he saw the flash of her teeth as she laughed. She snatched off her hat and waved it as he thundered over her, so close that the mare pranced and tossed her head with alarm. He fancied he could even make out the colour of Eva’s eyes.

  As he climbed away he twisted in the seat to look back at her. She was still waving. He wanted her in the cockpit beside him. He wanted to be able to reach out and touch her. Then he remembered the signal pad in the locker beside him. Graf Otto had used a page of it to illustrate a point of instruction. A pencil was attached to it on a length of twine. He held the pad between his knees and scribbled quickly, keeping his other hand on the controls. ‘Fly away with me to Lonsonyo Mountain. Badger.’ He ripped the page out and folded it into a tiny square. In the locker where he had found the pad there was a ball of scarlet message ribbons, each six feet long. He pulled one out. One end was weighted with a lead slug the size of a musket ball and at the other there was a small, buttoned pocket. He slipped the folded page into it and closed it, then turned the Bumble Bee back.

  She was still on the hilltop, but now she was mounted on the grey. She saw the Bumble Bee coming back and rose in the stirrups. He made a hasty calculation of height and speed, then dropped the signal ribbon over the side of the cockpit. It unrolled in the slipstream and fluttered down.

  Eva turned the mare and galloped after the falling scrap of scarlet. When he turned the machine in a tight circle back towards her, he saw her swing down from the saddle as she found the ribbon. She opened the pocket, and pulled out his note, read it and waved both hands above her head, nodding vigorously. Her teeth flashed as she laughed.

  Graf Otto von Meerbach’s open day at the airfield gradually grew in status until it seemed to overshadow almost any other event in the history of the colony, including the arrival of the first train from the coast or even the visit of Theodore Roosevelt, former President of the United States of America.

  As one of the wags at the long bar of the Muthaiga Country Club remarked, the Colonel Teddy had not been dishing out free rides in an aeroplane.

  By sunrise of the great day a small city of tents surrounded the polo ground. Most housed the settler families who had come in from the surrounding countryside, but the others were refreshment booths from which Lord Delamere dispensed free beer and lemonade, and the Women’s Institute handed out chocolate cakes and apple pies.

  The chef from the Norfolk Hotel was supervising the roasting of the oxen on spits over live coals. The KAR band was tuning its instruments in readiness for the arrival of the governor. Gangs of small boys and pariah dogs roamed the field looking for titbits and mischief. The refreshment booths were doing a roaring trade, and the betting was three to one that the shipment of beer would be insufficient to last the day. Gustav Kilmer’s mechanics were busy fine-tuning the aircraft engines and topping up the fuel tanks. Lines of excited children were queuing for the promised flights, squealing with excitement every time one of the engines bellowed.

  By this time Leon had flown a total of twelve hours in the Bumble Bee and Graf Otto assured anxious parents that their offspring would be quite safe with such an experienced pilot at the controls. Eva assumed responsibility for controlling the hordes of children. She press-ganged their mothers and the members of the Polo Club committee to act as her marshals. Some had a little German or French, and they all seemed to understand each other well enough. Every time Leon glimpsed her during the morning she had a small child on her hip and half a dozen others hanging on to her arms or skirts.

  This was a different woman from Graf Otto’s beautiful enigmatic consort. Her maternal instincts had been aroused, her face was radiant and her eyes shone. Her laughter was quick and unrestrained, as she passed little ones up into the cockpit of the Bumble Bee, where Leon and Hennie du Rand strapped them on to the benches. When the cockpit was filled almost to overflowing with tiny humanity Leon started the engines and the children squeaked in delicious terror. From the sidelines the KAR band struck up a rousing military march. Then the Bumble Bee taxied out on to the field, following Graf Otto in the Butterfly with his more dignified and illustrious passengers. The two aircraft took off in formation and circled the town twice, then returned to the field for landing. Eva was at the Bumble Bee’s ladder, helping the children back to the ground. Hennie and Max Rosenthal handed out the model aircraft, and the next band of little passengers was lifted aboard.

  Leon was fascinated by this new manifestation of Eva. She had raised the shutters to allow her inner warmth and her womanly capacity for kindness and affection to shine out. The children saw this in her and were drawn to her like ants to a sugar bowl. It seemed to Leon that Eva had become a child herself, totally happy and natural. As the day wore on and the lines of children seemed never to grow shorter, most of her assistants were flagging in the heat, but Eva was indefatigable. Leon watched as she knelt in the dust, sweat-damp strands of her hair coming down over her eyes so that she had to purse her lips and blow them aside while she cleaned up a small girl who had been airsick. Her boots were dusty and her skirts bore the marks of grubby fingers, but her face shone with perspiration and happiness.

  Leon glanced around. Graf Otto had taken off in the Butterfly for his next circuit, carrying with him Brigadier General Penrod Ballantyne and the manager of Barclays Bank. Gustav Kilmer was by the hangar, his back turned to them as he removed the bung from another drum of fuel. For the moment they were not under surveillance.

  ‘Eva!’ he called.

  She returned the child to her mother and came to the side of the aircraft where she pretended to fuss with those who were waiting. She spoke to Leon without looking at him. ‘You like to live dangerously, Badger. You know we should not talk in public.’

  ‘I must seize every chance to have you alone.’

  ‘What did you want to tell me?’ Her expression had softened, but she looked away quickly.

  ‘You’re very good with the babies,’ he told her. ‘I didn’t expect that of such a grand lady as you.’

  Again she looked at him, smiling, her eyes bright and candid, concealing nothing. ‘If you think I’m a grand lady, you don’t know me very well.’

  ‘I think you know how I feel for you.’

  ‘Yes, Badger. I know. You’re not good at keeping secrets.’ She laughed.

  ‘Is there no way we can ever be alone together? There is so much I want to say to you.’

  ‘Gustav is watching us. We have already spoken too long. I must go.’

  By mid-afternoon the waiting lines of children were almost exhausted, and so was Leon. He had lost count of the number of take-offs and landings he had executed. Not all had been perfect but he had done no obvious damage to the Bumble Bee, and he had received no complaints from his small customers. Now he eyed the queue wearily. There were five children remaining so this would be his last flight of the day.

  Then something caught his attention. Somebody was waving at him from beyond the boundary fence. It took him a moment to recognize the face, and might have taken longer, were it not for the line of small girls in bright saris who stood behind him.

  ‘My solemn oath!’ Leon perked up immediately. ‘It’s Mr Goolam Vilabjhi Esquire and his cherubs.’ Then he saw that the smallest cherub was weeping and the others looked as though their hearts were about to break. He stood up in the cockpit and beckoned them to him. They started for the gate into the field in a compact family group, but one of the committee members of the Polo Club, who was acting as a marshal, was guarding it to keep out undesirable elements. He was a large, beefy man, with a beer-barrel belly and a very red, sunburned face. Leon knew him as a recent settler who had come out from the Old Country to take up his four-thousand-acre grant. Clearly he had availed himself unstintingly o
f Lord Delamere’s free beer. He intercepted Mr Vilabjhi with shaking head. The dismay on the faces of the children was pathetic.

  Leon jumped down from the cockpit and started for the gate, but he was too late: Eva had beaten him to it. She flew at the marshal like a Jack Russell terrier at a rat, and he retreated hastily before her onslaught. She grabbed two of the Vilabjhi girls by their hands and Leon ran to gather up the rest. He spoke to her over their heads: ‘When will we have a chance to be alone?’

  ‘Be patient, Badger. Please. No more now. Gustav is watching us again.’ She pushed the last child up the ladder into the cockpit and went to where Mr Vilabjhi was watching anxiously from the gate. When Leon brought the Bumble Bee back into the field after the flight she was still standing at the gate in earnest conversation with him.

  Every man in the colony is fascinated by her and I am right at the back of the queue. Leon was surprised by the strength of his own jealousy.

  Ladies’ Night at the KAR Regimental mess was another towering success for all but Leon. He stood at the bar and watched Penrod waltzing with Eva. His uncle was a striking figure in his dress uniform and danced gracefully. Eva was light and lovely in his arms, her shining dark hair swept up and her shoulders bare. Her dress was in a subtle shade of violet that enhanced her eyes and emphasized the satin skin of her décolleté. Her bosom was full and shapely. Her arms were long and sleek. Her skin glowed and her cheeks were slightly flushed as she laughed at one of Penrod’s sallies. As they whirled past, Leon picked up snatches of their conversation. They were talking French, and Penrod was at his most charming and urbane.

  The old bastard! Leon thought bitterly. He’s old enough to be her grandfather, but I wouldn’t put anything past him. Then he saw the sparkle of Eva’s eyes and the flash of her perfect white teeth as she smiled up at him. She’s no better than he is. Can’t she resist the temptation to sparkle at every man who passes through her life?

  The evening dragged on interminably. The jokes of his brother officers creaked with age, the speeches were dull, the music loud and tuneless and even the whisky tasted sour. The night was hot and the air in the hall suffocating. He felt caged in. The wallflower with whom he was doing his duty suffered from halitosis and he returned her to her large, hopeful mother, then escaped thankfully into the night.

  The air was sweet, the sky clear, and the stars were wondrous. Scorpio stood on his head with his sting raised, ready to strike. Leon thrust his hands into his pockets and sauntered glumly around the parade-ground. As he completed the circuit and came back towards the mess, he saw a small group of men on the veranda. They were smoking cigars, and Leon heard a familiar braying voice holding forth from the centre of the group. It was answered almost immediately by another that jarred on his nerves as painfully as the first. Froggy Snell and his grovelling boot-licker Eddy Roberts, he thought irritably. Just when I was starting to feel better, the last two people in the world I wanted to meet.

  Fortunately there was a rear entrance to the dance hall so he made his way quietly along the side wall of the building, which was covered with a dense trumpeter vine.

  As he turned the corner a Vesta flared in the darkness close by and he saw a couple standing among the concealing curtain of the vine’s leaves and flowers. The woman had her back to him. She had struck the Vesta and was holding it for the man, who stooped over the flame to light his cigar. He straightened up, puffing out streamers of smoke. The Vesta was still burning and by its light Leon saw that the man was Penrod. Neither he nor the woman was aware of his presence.

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ Penrod said, in English. Then he spotted Leon and his expression changed to one of mild alarm. ‘It’s Leon!’ he exclaimed.

  An odd remark, Leon thought. It sounded like a warning rather than a friendly greeting. The woman whirled around to face him, still holding the burning Vesta. She let it drop and put her foot upon it to snuff out the flame, but he had seen the expression on her face. She and Penrod were behaving like a pair of conspirators.

  ‘Monsieur Courtney, you made me jump. I didn’t hear you coming.’

  She spoke in French - but why, only seconds before, had Penrod been speaking to her in English? ‘Forgive me. I’m intruding.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Penrod denied it. ‘The air in the hall is oppressive. Those little punkah fans are worse than useless. Fräulein von Wellberg was affected, and needed a breath of fresh air. And I, on the other hand, needed a smoke.’ He switched to French when he addressed Eva: ‘I was telling my nephew that you were a little indisposed by the heat and the stale air.’

  ‘I am feeling perfectly well now,’ she replied, in the same language, and though Leon could not see her face she sounded utterly composed once more.

  ‘We were discussing the band and their musical repertoire,’ Penrod said. ‘Fräulein von Wellberg feels that their rendition of Strauss resembles a tribal war-dance, and she prefers the way they deal with the polka.’

  Uncle, it seems to me that you are protesting too much, Leon thought, with a touch of bitterness. Something very strange is going on here. For a little longer he joined in their inconsequential conversation, then bowed to Eva. ‘Please excuse me, Fräulein, but I am not as strong as you two are. I shall go home to get some sleep. Will you and the Graf be returning to Tandala Camp after the ball, or will you stay at the Norfolk Hotel?’

  ‘I understand that Gustav will drive us back to the camp in the hunting car,’ Eva replied.

  ‘Very well. I have instructed my staff to have everything ready for your return. If there is anything you need you have only to let them know. I imagine that tomorrow you and Graf Otto may wish to sleep late. Breakfast will be served when you order it.’ He nodded at Penrod. ‘Even though duty calls loud and clear, sir, I find that the flesh is weakening fast. One or two more duty dances and then I will be lost in a cloud of dust as I head for my bed.’

  ‘I shall give you an avuncular mention in despatches, my boy. You have held high the honour of the regiment. The manner in which you trotted the light fantastic with Charlie Warboys’s fat daughter was a joy to watch. You have been weighed in the balance and not found wanting.’

  ‘Jolly kind of you to say so, Uncle.’ He left them, but when he reached the door of the hall he glanced back. They were two dark figures and he could not see their faces, but there was something in the way they leaned towards each other, an alertness in the way they held their heads, that convinced him they were no longer discussing the band’s rendition of the polka, but something of much deeper import.

  Just what are the two of you up to? Who are you really, Eva von Wellberg? The closer I get to you, the more elusive you become. The more I learn about you, the less I know.

  Leon was awakened by the sound of the Meerbach hunting car coming down the track from the town and the Graf singing the beer-hall drinking song ‘I Lost My Heart In Heidelberg’ at the full pitch of his lungs. He sat up in bed, struck a Vesta and checked the time on Percy’s silver hunter, which lay on the bedside table. It was six minutes to four in the morning. He heard the car come to a halt in the camp, and the slamming of its doors, Graf Otto’s voice shouting goodnight to Gustav, and Eva’s laughter. Leon felt a stab of jealousy and muttered to himself, ‘By the sound of it you’ve taken a skinful, Graf. You should be more careful about drinking with Delamere. I hope you have a brutal hangover in the morning. You deserve it, you bastard.’

  He was to be disappointed. Graf Otto appeared in the mess tent a little after eight, looking cheerful and rested. The whites of his eyes were as clear and bright as a baby’s. He shouted to Ishmael to bring coffee, and when it arrived he poured a dram of cognac into the steaming mug. ‘Drinking makes me extremely thirsty. That mad Englishman Delamere ran out of people to toast so towards the end of the evening we were hailing his favourite horse and his hunting dog. He is mad, that one. He should be locked up for his own good and the good of everyone else.’

  ‘As I recall, it wasn’t Lord Delamere who stood on hi
s head in the middle of the dance floor and drank a glass of cognac while inverted.’

  ‘No, that was me,’ Graf Otto admitted. ‘But I was challenged by Delamere. I had no choice in the matter. Did you know that he was bitten by a lion when he was younger? That is why he limps.’

  ‘Everybody in the colony knows the story.’

  ‘He was trying to kill it with a knife.’ Graf Otto shook his head sadly. ‘Madman! He really should be locked away.’

  ‘Tell me, Graf Otto, is it not just as crazy to try to kill one with an assegai?’

  ‘Nein! Not at all! A knife is stupid, but a spear is extremely logical.’ Graf Otto drained his coffee and slammed his mug on the table. ‘I am grateful to you for reminding me, Courtney. I have had enough of these schoolboy larks, as mad Delamere terms them. I have drunk toasts to all the world and danced with every fat British matron in the colony. I have flown their puking brats in my beautiful machines. In short, I have observed all the niceties and fulfilled my social obligations to the governor and the citizens of this colony. Now I want to go out into the wilderness and do some real hunting.’

  ‘I am delighted to hear you say so, sir. Like you, I have had enough of Nairobi for a while.’

  ‘Good! You may leave at once. Summon those two tall heathens of yours and take Das Hummel to the hunting grounds. Spread the word to the tribes the length and breadth of the Rift Valley that I am searching for the biggest lion that ever came out of Masailand. I will pay a reward of twenty cattle to the chief whose people find it for me. Go now, and do not return until you have good news to bring me. Remember, Courtney, he must be big and his mane must be as black as the hell hound.’

  ‘At once, Graf, but may I finish this cup of coffee before I leave?’

  ‘Another good English joke.Ja, it is funny. Now I will crack a good German joke. Find my lion or I will kick your arse until you limp a damned sight worse than Delamere. Now that is really a funny joke, no?’