by Wilbur Smith
‘Two days later I met Mr Brown again, this time in less salubrious circumstances. We were in a musty office, filled with files of old papers in another part of Whitehall. He was kind and avuncular. He told me I was privileged to have been selected for a task of the utmost delicacy, which was vital to the interests and security of our beloved Britain. The stormclouds of war were gathering over the continent, he said, and soon the nation would be engulfed in flames. I couldn’t understand what this had to do with me - and all his rhetoric had a stultifying effect upon me until he mentioned the name of Otto von Meerbach. My attention was immediately riveted. He suggested that I was in a position to perform a memorable service for King and empire, and at the same time find retribution for the terrible wrongs my father and I had suffered at the hands of Graf Otto. All I had to do was induce him to tell me information that would be vital to Britain’s military interests.’
She laughed again but this time with genuine amusement. ‘Can you imagine, Badger? I was such a naïve and innocent little ninny that I hadn’t the faintest idea how I was supposed to make him tell me his secrets. I asked Mr Brown outright, and he looked mysterious and exchanged a glance with Mrs Ryan. “If you agree to do as we ask you will be taught,” he said.
‘As I recall, my exact words to him were “Of course I will. I just want to know how.” ’ She broke off, sat upright and looked solemnly into Leon’s face with the violet eyes he adored. ‘Nearly a year after I made that contract with the devil they deemed I was perfect in the role they had chosen for me. I learned everything there was to know about Graf Otto except, of course, the secrets I was to wheedle out of him. By then I knew that he was estranged from his wife of ten years, but as both he and she were good Catholics they were unable to divorce. There would be no question of my being coerced into marrying him once he had fallen under my fatal spell.’ She laughed without humour at this piece of hyperbole. ‘Mr Brown and Mrs Ryan placed me in the way of Graf Otto von Meerbach. It was arranged through one of the military attachés at the British Embassy in Berlin that I should be invited to his hunting lodge at Wieskirche. I had been taught my duty and I did it,’ she said flatly but, like a drop of dew on the petal of a violet, a single tear clung to her bottom eyelashes. ‘I was a virgin when I met Otto von Meerbach, and in mind and spirit I still was, until yesterday. My darling Badger, I don’t want to go into any more detail, and even if I did you would not want to hear it.’
They were silent for a while, then Eva could contain herself no longer. ‘Now that you know about me, do you despise me?’
Her voice was muted and her expression stricken. He reached out to her with both hands and cupped her face, gazing into her eyes so that she could see the truth of what he was about to tell her. ‘Nothing you have done, or ever will do, could make me despise you. You have let me into your soul and I have found only goodness and beauty there. You must remember also that when you look at me you are not looking at a saint. It was you who told me we are both soldiers. I have killed men in the name of duty and, like you, I have done many other things that I’m ashamed of. None of that matters. All that matters is that we are together now and we love each other.’ With his thumb he gently wiped away the tear.
At last she smiled. ‘You’re right. We love each other and we have each other. That is all that matters.’
The funeral procession stretched the full length of Unter den Linden. As the head of it reached the Brandenburg Palace the tail was out of sight at the far end of the boulevard. It was a wet, grey day, and the mourners lined both sides of the road, ten persons deep, under the drizzle. They were silent, except for the women’s weeping. A single drummer tapped out the Death March. A full squadron of cavalry led the procession: the hoofs of their horses clattered on the paving, and the pale light reflected dully from the blades of the drawn sabres. Eva stood in the front rank of mourners. She wore full-length black leather gloves, and a hat with black ostrich feathers on the crown. A black veil covered her eyes and the top half of her face.
Kaiser Wilhelm II rode his black charger ahead of the gun carriage that bore the coffin. He wore a shining spiked helmet with a golden chain chinstrap, and his black cloak was flared back from his shoulders over the rump of his mount. His expression was fiercely tragic. A team of magnificent black horses drew the gun carriage. The coffin upon it was enormous and made of transparent crystal so that Otto von Meerbach’s corpse was clearly visible to the mourners. He was dressed in the costume of a Roman emperor with a crown of laurel leaves on his head. In each of his great hairy fists he held an assegai, the blades crossed over his chest. Incongruously a Cuban cigar was clamped between his teeth.
Eva was filled with a consuming joy and a profound sense of relief. Otto was dead. The nightmare was over and she was free to go to Leon. Lying in his crystal coffin Otto opened one eye, looked directly at her and blew a perfect smoke-ring. She began to laugh, she could not stop, and the bell-like peals rang out across Unter den Linden.
Kaiser Wilhelm turned in his saddle and glared at her. Then he urged his horse forward and leaned over her to reprimand her. ‘Wake up, Eva!’ he told her sternly. ‘Wake up. You’re dreaming!’
‘Otto is dead!’ she answered him. ‘It will be all right now. Now they will have to let me go. I will be free. It’s over.’
‘Wake up, my darling,’ said the Kaiser, and leaned out from the saddle to take her by the shoulder and shake her briskly. The fact that he was the Emperor of Germany and that she had been presented to him at court on more than one occasion was no excuse for such familiar behaviour. She was quite offended. How dare he call her ‘darling’?
‘I am Leon’s darling, not yours!’ she told him primly, and sat up. Leon had lit the candle, so it was light enough in the hut on Lonsonyo Mountain for her to make out his face close to hers and see his anxious expression. ‘Otto is dead,’ she told him.
‘You were dreaming, Eva.’
‘I saw him, darling Badger. He really is dead.’ She paused to consider this statement. ‘Even if my dream was a fantasy, even if he is out there somewhere, living and breathing, for me he is dead. He no longer means anything to me. I don’t even hate him any longer. Now that I’ve found love with you, there is no place in my life for barren emotions like hatred and revenge.’
She reached out for him, and he took her within the circle of his arms and held her tightly. ‘Together we will transform all this ugliness into something bright and beautiful,’ he promised.
‘I want you to take me to Lusima Mama,’ she whispered. ‘The very first time you spoke of her I felt as though I already knew her. I have a strange feeling that I am spiritually connected to her. Somehow I know that she holds the key to our happiness.’
‘We will go to her today, as soon as it is light enough to take the pathway to the summit.’
Manyoro and Loikot warned Leon that the last section was too steep and narrow for the horses so he sent Ishmael and the groom back down to the base of the mountain with orders to circle to the southern side and bring the horses up along the easier, more familiar route.
Once they had disappeared, Leon, Eva and the two Masai started up the track beside the waterfall. The way became more difficult with every step they climbed. At some places they were forced to traverse the face of the mountain on ledges along which only one could pass at a time, and always the exposure to height became more severe. For the most part the waterfall was hidden by rock, but twice as they edged around a buttress they were presented with a spectacle that bated their breath. The torrent seemed to swirl around them in silvery sheets, confounding their senses. The rocky walls and the shelf under their feet were wet and slippery with a coating of slimy algae. Their upward progress became more and more laborious.
The sun was reaching its noon when they came out on the plateau of the summit. Manyoro and Loikot sought shade under one of the trees and threw themselves down to rest and take a little snuff. Leon led Eva by the hand to the brink of the precipice. There they sat toget
her with their feet dangling over the void. Leon picked up a pebble the size of his fist that had cracked from the ledge on which they sat and dropped it over the edge. They watched with fascination as it fell three hundred feet without touching the rock wall. The tiny splash it made as it struck the surface of the pool was barely apparent in the tumultuous waters. Neither spoke, for words seemed superfluous in the midst of such splendour. At last Manyoro called them and, reluctantly, they stood up and backed away from the void.
‘How far to Lusima Mama’s manyatta?’ Leon asked.
‘Not far,’ replied Loikot. ‘We will be there before sunset.’
‘A mere stroll of twenty miles or so.’ Leon smiled. ‘Let’s go.’ The two Masai picked out the overgrown pathway unerringly and set an easy pace. For once there was no hurry and the three men could enjoy their surroundings, which seemed so remote from the floor of the Rift Valley. It was Eva’s first visit to the mountain, so the scenery and vegetation fascinated her. She delighted in the flowering orchids that hung in festoons from the high branches of the rainforest trees, and laughed at the antics of the Colobus monkeys that scolded them as they passed. Once they stopped to listen as a herd of heavy animals crashed away through the undergrowth, alarmed by their presence.
‘Buffalo.’ Leon answered her silent question. ‘There are some enormous brutes up here in the mist.’
At one point they descended into a steep gorge and climbed up the far side to reach an open tableland as flat as a polo ground and devoid of trees. At one end the cliff fell away abruptly for hundreds of feet. A pair of large, reddish antelopes stood against the forest at the opposite end of the clearing. Creamy stripes were emblazoned across their shoulders and their ears were large and trumpet-shaped. Their horns were massive black spirals with sharp white tips. ‘How beautiful they are!’ Eva exclaimed, and at the sound of her voice they slipped into the forest, without disturbing a leaf of the dense shrubbery. ‘What were they?’
‘Bongo,’ Leon told her. ‘The rarest and shyest of all our animals.’
‘I hadn’t known how beautiful everything is in this country of yours.’
‘When did you make the discovery?’ He laughed at her enthusiasm.
‘At about the same time that I realized I was in love with you.’ She laughed back. ‘I don’t ever want to leave this land. Can we live here for ever, Badger?’
‘What a splendid idea,’ he said, but she could see he was distracted.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘This!’ With a sweep of one arm he indicated the clearing in front of them. Then he strode down the length of it, counting his paces and examining the ground underfoot. She noticed that at no point was the undergrowth higher than his knee. Suddenly she felt hot and tired. She found a tree stump and sank down on it thankfully, mopping her face with her bandanna. On the far side of the clearing Leon and the two Masai were in deep conversation, and it was obvious to her that they were discussing this unusual extent of open ground. After a while Leon came back to her. ‘What did you find? Gold or diamonds?’ she teased him.
‘Loikot says that in the time of his grandfather the Mkuba Mkuba, the great god of the Masai, was displeased so he threw down a bolt of lightning to warn the tribe of his anger. No trees or large plants have grown here since that day.’
‘And you believe that?’ Eva challenged him.
‘Of course not,’ Leon replied, ‘but Loikot does and that’s what counts.’
‘Why are you so fascinated by this bare ground?’
‘Because this is a natural landing strip, Eva. If I side-slipped her between those tall trees at the end of the clearing I could put the Bumble Bee down here as sweetly as spreading a spoonful of honey on a slice of buttered toast.’
‘Why on earth would you want to do that, my darling man?’
‘That’s the only thing I don’t like about flying,’ he answered. ‘Every time you take off you have to think about where you’re going to land. I’ve got into the habit of making a note of every possible landing strip I come across in the bush. I might never need it, but if I ever did I imagine I’d need it pretty damn badly.’
‘But on top of this mountain? Aren’t you carrying your search a little too far? I’ll give you a kiss if you give me one good reason why you might ever want to put her down here.’
‘A kiss? Now you have my interest.’ He lifted his hat and scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘Eureka! Got it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I might want to bring you up here for a champagne picnic on our honeymoon.’
‘Come and get your kiss, clever boy!’
As they left the clearing it started to rain, but the drops were as warm as blood and they didn’t bother to take shelter. An hour later, with dramatic suddenness, the rain stopped and the sun burst out again. At the same time they heard distant drums.
‘Such a stirring sound.’ Eva cocked her head to listen. ‘It’s the very pulse of Africa. But why are the drums beating in the middle of the day?’
Leon spoke quickly to Manyoro, and then he told her, ‘They are welcoming us.’
‘But how could anyone know we’re coming?’
‘Lusima knows.’
‘Another of your little jokes?’ she demanded.
‘Not this time. She always knows when we’re coming, sometimes before we know it ourselves.’
The drums urged them forward and they quickened their pace. The sun was low and smoky red when they emerged from the forest and smelled woodsmoke and cattle pens. Then they heard voices and the lowing of the herds, and at last they saw the rounded roofs of the manyatta and a crowd of figures in red shukas coming towards them, singing the songs of welcome.
They were swept up by the crowd and carried along with the laughing, singing throng to the village. As they approached the large central hut the others hung back and left Leon and Eva standing alone before the hut.
‘Is this where she lives?’ Eva asked, in an awed whisper.
‘Yes.’ He took her arm possessively. ‘She will make her entrance after keeping us in suspense for a while. Lusima enjoys a little drama and theatrics.’
As he spoke she appeared before them through the doorway of the great hut, and Eva started with surprise. ‘She’s so young and beautiful. I thought she’d be an ugly old witch.’
‘I see you, Mama,’ Leon greeted her.
‘I see you also, M’bogo, my son,’ Lusima replied, but she was staring, with those mesmerizing dark eyes, at Eva. Then she glided towards her with regal grace. Eva stood her ground as Lusima stopped in front of her. ‘Your eyes are the colour of a flower,’ she said. ‘I shall call you Maua, which means “flower”.’ Then she looked at Leon. ‘Yes, M’bogo.’ She nodded. ‘This is the one of whom you and I spoke. You have found her. This is your woman. Now, tell her what I have said.’
Eva’s expression lit with joy as she listened to the translation. ‘Please, Badger, tell her I’ve come to ask for her blessing.’
He did so.
‘You shall have it,’ Lusima promised her. ‘But, child, I see that you have no mother. She was carried away by a terrible disease.’
The smile faded from Eva’s face. ‘She knew about my mother?’ she whispered to Leon. ‘Now I believe all that you have told me about her.’
Lusima reached out with both hands and cupped Eva’s face between smooth pink palms. ‘M’bogo is my son, and you shall be my daughter. I shall take the place of your mother who has gone to be with her ancestors. Now I give you a mother’s blessing. May you find the happiness that for so long has eluded you.’
‘You are my mother, Lusima Mama. May I give you a daughter’s kiss?’ Eva asked.
Lusima’s smile was a thing of such loveliness that it seemed to light the gloom. ‘Although it is not the custom of our tribe, I know that this is the mzungu way of showing respect and affection. Yes, my daughter, you may kiss me, and I shall kiss you back.’ Almost shyly Eva went into her embrace. ‘You smell like a flower,’ Lusima said.
‘And yo
u smell like the good earth after rain,’ Eva replied, after a pause to hear Leon’s translation.
‘Your soul is full of poetry,’ Lusima said, ‘but you are hurt and tired to the depths of it. You must rest in the hut we have built for you. Perhaps, here on Lonsonyo Mountain, your wounds will be healed and you will be made strong again.’
The hut to which Lusima’s handmaidens led them was newly built. It smelled of the smoke of the herbs that had been burned to purify it, and of the fresh cow dung with which the floors were plastered. There were bowls of stewed chicken, roasted vegetables and cassava meal waiting for them, and after they had eaten, the maidens led them to the bed of animal skins with carved wooden headrests set side by side. ‘You will be the first to sleep here. Let our joy at your coming be your joy also,’ they told them as they withdrew and left them alone.
In the morning the girls came to fetch Eva and take her to the pool in the stream that was reserved for the women. When she had bathed they braided her hair with flowers. Then they brought her a fresh unworn red shuka to replace her own torn and dusty clothing. Giggling and caressing her as though she was a pretty child, they showed her how to fold and arrange the shuka like a Roman toga. Then, barefooted, they took her to the great council tree under which Lusima was waiting. Leon was already there, and the three shared a breakfast of sour milk and sorghum porridge.
After they had eaten they talked together for the rest of the morning. Eva and Lusima sat side by side watching each other’s faces and eyes, every now and then holding hands. They were in such complete accord that Leon’s translations were mostly superfluous, for they seemed to understand each other implicitly on a level above that of speech.
‘You have been alone for a long time,’ Lusima said at one stage.
‘Yes, I have been alone for too long,’ Eva agreed, then glanced at Leon and reached out to touch his hand. ‘But no longer.’