by Wilbur Smith
Keep away! Anna bellowed. I warn you, I'll break the first skull- They were surrounded. The gang had crept up on them through the dense scrub.
Oh Lord, I knew it was a trap! Garry muttered. They sis were almost certainly the most dangerous-looking band of cut-throats he had ever seen.
We have no money, nothing worth stealing- How many of them? he wondered desperately. Three, no, there was another behind that tree, four murderous ruffians. The obvious leader was a purple-black giant with bandoliers of ammunition crisscrossing his chest, and a Mauser rifle in the crook of his arm. A ruff of thick woolly beard framed his broad African features like the mane of a man-eating lion.
The others were all armed, a mixed band of Khoisan Hottentots and Ovambo tribesmen, wearing odd items of military uniform and civilian clothing, all of it heavily worn and faded, patched and tattered, some of them barefooted and others with scuffed boots, shapeless and battered from hard marches. Only their weapons were well cared for, glistening with oil and home lovingly, almost the way a father might carry his firstborn son.
Garry thought fleetingly of the service revolver he kept bolstered under the dashboard of the Fiat, and then swiftly abandoned such a reckless notion.
Don't harm us, he pleaded, crowding up behind Anna, and then with a feeling of utter disbelief, Garry found himself abandoned as Anna launched her attack.
Swinging the burning log like a Viking's axe, she charged straight at the huge black leader.
Back, you swine! she roared in Flemish. Get out of here, you bitch-born son of Hades! Taken by surprise, the gang scattered in pandemonium, trying to duck the smoking log as it hissed about their heads.
How dare you, you stinking bastard spawn of diseased whores-, Still shaking with shock, Garry stared after her, torn A between terror and admiration for this new revelation of cursers in his life, there had been the legendary sergeantmajor whom he had known during the Zulu rebellion; men travelled miles to listen to him addressing a parade ground. The man was a Sunday School preacher in comparison. Garry could have charged admission fees to Anna's performance. Her eloquence was matched only by her dexterity with the log.
She caught one of the Hottentots a crashing blow between the shoulders and he was hurled into a thorn bush, his jacket smoking with live coals, shrieking like a wounded wart hog. Two others, reluctant to face Anna's wrath, leaped over the river bank and disappeared with high splashes beneath the yellow waters. That left only the big black Ovambo to bear the full brunt of Anna's onslaught. He was quick and agile for such a big man, and he avoided the wild swings of the log and danced behind the nearest camel-thorn tree. With nimble footwork he kept the trunk between Anna and himself, until at last she stopped, gasping and redfaced, and panted at him, Come out, you yellow-bellied black-faced apology for a blue-testicled baboon! Garry noticed with awe how she managed to cram the metaphor with colour. Come out where I can kill you! Warily the Ovambo declined, backing off out of reach. No! No! We did not come to fight you, we came to fetch you- he answered in Afrikaans. She lowered the log slowly.
Did you write the letter? and the Ovambo shook his head. I have come to take you to the man who did. The Ovambo ordered two of his men to remain and guard the Fiat. Then he led them away along the floor of the canyon. Although there were stretches of open easygoing on the river bank, there were also narrow gorges through which the river roared and swirled, and the path was steep and so narrow that only one man could pass at a time.
These gaps were guarded by other guerillas. Garry saw only the tops of their heads and the glint of their rifle barrels amongst the rocks, and he noticed how cunningly the site for the rendezvous had been chosen. Nobody could follow them undetected. An army would not be able to rescue them. They were totally vulnerable, completely at the mercy of these rough hard men. Garry shivered in the sweltering gut of the canyon.
We'll be damned lucky to get out of this, he muttered to himself, and then aloud, My leg is hurting. Can't we rest? But no one even looked back at him, and he stumbled forward to keep as close to Anna as he was able.
Quite unexpectedly, long after Garry had relapsed into resigned misery, the Ovambo guide stepped around the corner of a yellow sandstone monolith and into a temporary camp site under an overhanging cliff on the river bank. Even in his exhaustion and unhappiness, Garry saw that there was a steep pathway up the canyon wall behind the camp, an escape route against surprise attack.
They have thought of everything. He touched Anna's arm and pointed out the path, but all her attention was on the man who sauntered out from the deep shadow of the cavern.
He was a young man, half Garry's age, but in the first seconds of their meeting he made Garry feel inadequate and foolish. He didn't have to say a word. He merely stood in the sunlight and stared at Garry with a catlike stillness about his tall elegant frame, and Garry was reminded of all the things he was not.
His hair was golden, hanging to his bare shoulders, streaked white by the sun, yet as lustrous as raw silk, offering a startling contrast to his deeply tanned features.
These might once have been as beautiful as those of a comely girl, but all softness had been burned by the flames of life's furnace, and like forged iron, the marks of the anvil had been left upon them.
He was tall but not gawky or round-shouldered, and he was lean, with hard, flat muscle. He wore only ridingbreeches and boots, and the hair on his chest sparkled like fine copper wire. Around his neck on a gold chain he had hung a small gold locket, something that no English gentleman would ever do. Garry tried to feel superior, but under that flat level gaze it was difficult.
Colonel Courtney, he said, and again Garry was taken off balance. Though accented, it was the voice of an educated and cultivated man, and his mouth altered shape, losing its hard stern line as he smiled.
Please do not be alarmed. You are Colonel Courtney, are you not? Yes. It took an effort for Carry to speak. I am Colonel Courtney, did you write the letter? He took the poster from his breast pocket, and tried to unfold it, but his hands were shaking so that it fluttered and tore in his fingers. The man's smile gently mocked him as he nodded, Yes, I sent for you. You know where the lost girl can be found? Anna demanded, stepping closer to him in her eagerness.
Perhaps, he shrugged.
You have seen her? Anna insisted.
First things come first. You want money- Garry's voice was unnecessarily loud. Well, I have not brought a single sovereign with me. You can be sure of that. If your intention is to rob us, I have nothing of value on me. Ah, Colonel, the golden man smiled at him, and it was so charming, so unexpectedly exuberant and boyish that he could feel Anna's stiff and antagonistic stance melt beneath that smile, my nose tells me that is not true. He sniffed theatrically. You have something of immense value, Havana! he said and sniffed again. No doubt about it, Havana! Colonel, I must warn you that I would kill for a Havana cigar. took a hurried step backwards involuntarily Garry before he realized it was a jest. Then he grinned weakly and reached for the cigar case in his hip pocket.
The golden man inspected the long black cigar. Romeo y Julieta! he murmured reverently and then sniffed it lovingly. A whiff of Paradise. He bit off the tip and struck a match off the sole of his boot. He sucked the flame into the cigar and closed his eyes with ecstasy.
When he opened them again, he bowed slightly to Anna.
I beg your pardon, madam, but it has been a long time, over two years, since I tasted a good cigar.
All right, Garry was bolder now. You know my name and you are smoking my cigar, the least you can do is introduce yourself. Forgive me. He drew himself up and snapped his heels together in the teutonic manner. I am Lothar De La Rey, at your service. ,oh my God, all Garry's new-found courage deserted him. I know all about you. There is a price on your head - they'll hang you when they catch you. You are a wanted criminal and a notorious outlaw, sir. My dear Colonel, I prefer to think of myself as a soldier and patriot.
Soldiers do not go on fighting and destro
ying property after a formal surrender. Colonel Franke capitulated nearly four years ago- I did not recognize Colonel Franke's right to surrender, Lothar interjected contemptuously. I was a soldier of the Kaiser and Imperial Germany. Even Germany surrendered three months ago.
Yes, Lothar agreed. And I have not perpetrated an act of war since then. But you are still in the field, Garry pointed out indignantly. You are still under arms, and- I have not gone in to give myself up yet for the very good reason that you have so succinctly stated: if I do, your people will hang me As if under Garry's scrutiny he had suddenly become aware that he was bare to the waist, Lothar reached for his tunic. Freshly laundered, it hung from a thorn bush beside the entrance to the cave. As he shrugged into it, the brass buttons sparkled and Garry's eyes narrowed, Damn you, sir, your insolence is insupportable. That's a British military tunic, you are wearing one of our uniforms. That in itself is cause enough to shoot you out of hand! Would you prefer I went naked, Colonel? It must be obvious even to you that we are reduced in circumstances. It gives me no pleasure to wear a British jacket.
Unfortunately there is no choice. You insult the uniform in which my son died I take no pleasure in your son's death, just as I take no pleasure in these rags. By God, man, you have the effrontery- Garry puffed himself up to deliver a devastating broadside, but Anna cut across him impatiently.
Mijnheer De La Rey, have you seen my little girl? And Garry subsided as Lothar turned back to her, his features taking on a strangely compassionate cast.
I saw a girl, yes, I saw a young girl in the wilderness, but I do not know if she was the one you seek Could you lead us to her? Garry demanded, and Lothar glanced at him, his expression hardening again. I would try to find her again on certain conditions. Money, said Garry flatly.
Why are rich men always obsessed with their money? Lothar drew on the cigar, and let the fragrant smoke trickle over his tongue. Yes, Colonel, I would need some money, he nodded. But not 5,000. I would need 1,000 to equip an expedition to go into the desert fastness where I first saw her. We will need good horses, ours are from out, and wagons to carry water, and I would almost w need to pay my men. 1,000 would cover those expenses. What else?
Garry demanded, There must be some other price. Yes, Lothar nodded. There is. I am tired of living in the shadow of the gallows. you want a pardon for your crimes! Garry stared incredulously. What makes you think that is in my power! A personal friend of You are a powerful man, Colonel.
both Smuts and Botha, your brother is a general, a cabinet minister in the Botha Government, I would not thwart the course of justice. to the I fought an honourable war, Colonel. I fought it d Botha once fought bitter end, like your friends Smuts an their war. I am no criminal, I am no murderer. I lost a father, a mother, a wife and a son, I paid the price of defeat in a heavy coin. Now, I want the right to live the life of an ordinary man, and you want this girl. ,I couldn't agree to that. You are an enemy, Garry blustered.
You find the girl, said Anna softly, and you will be a free man. Colonel Courtney will arrange it. I give you my word on it. Lothar glanced at her and then back at Garry, and he smiled again as he divined the true chain of authority here.
Well, Colonel, do we have an agreement? How do I know who this girl is? How do I know she is my daughter-in-law? Garry hedged uncomfortably. Will You agree to a test?
Lothar shrugged. As You wish And Garry turned to Anna.
Show him, he said. Let him choose this test Between them, Garry and Anna had designed to thwart the rogues and chancers that the reward posters had attracted. Anna snapped open the clasp of the voluminous carpet bag she carried on a strap over one shoulder and took out a thick buff envelope. It contained a pack of postcard-sized photographs, and she handed these to Lothar.
He studied the top photograph. it was a studio portrait of a young girl, a pretty girl in a velvet dress and feathered hat; dark ringlets hung to her shoulders. Lothar shook his head and placed the photograph at the bottom of the pack.
Swiftly he flicked through the rest of them, all of young women, and then handed them back to Anna.
No, he said. I'm sorry to have brought you so far for nothing. The girl I saw is not amongst those, he lookedVery well, Hend over his shoulder at the big Ovambo.
rick, take them back to the drift.
Wait, Mijnheer."Anna dropped the pile of photographs into the bag and took out another smaller stack. There are more. You are careful, Lothar smiled in acknowledgement.
We have had many try to cheat us, 5,000 pounds is a great deal of money, Garry told him, but Lothar did not even look up from the photographs.
He turned over two of the paste boards, then stopped at the third. That's her. Centaine de Thiry, in her white confirmation dress, smiled self-consciously up at him.
She is older now, and her hair, Lothar made a gesture describing a thick wild bush. But those eyes. Yes, that's her. Neither Garry nor Anna could speak. For a year and a half they had worked for this moment, and now that it had come they could not truly believe it.
I have to sit down! Anna said faintly, and Garry helped her to the log beside the entrance to the cave. While he tended her, Lothar pulled the gold locket from his shirt front, and snapped open the lid. He took out a lock of dark hair and offered it to Anna. She accepted it from him almost fearfully, and then with a fiercely protective gesture she pressed the lock to her lips. She closed her eyes, but from the corners of her clenched lids two fat oily tears squeezed out and began to trickle slowly down her red cheeks.
It's just a Thank of hair. It could be anyone's hair. How do you know? Garry asked uncomfortably.
Oh, you silly man, Anna whispered hoarsely. On a thousand nights I brushed her hair. Do you think I would not know it again, anywhere?
How long will you need? Garry asked again, and Lothar frowned with irritation.
In the name of all that's merciful, how many times must I tell you I don't know? The three of them were seated around the fire at the entrance to the overhanging cave. They had been talking for hours, already the stars showed along the narrow strip of sky that the canyon walls framed.
I have explained where I saw the girl, and the circumstances. Didn't you understand, must I go over it all again?
Anna lifted a hand to placate him. We are very anxious.
We ask stupid questions. Forgive us. Very well. Lothar relit the butt of the cigar with a burning twig from the fire. The girl was the captive of the wild San. They are cunning and cruel as animals.
They knew I was following them and they threw me off the spoor with ease. They could do it again, if I ever find their spoor. The area I will have to search is enormous, almost the size of Belgium. It's over a year since I last saw the girl, she could be dead of disease or wild animals or those murderous little yellow apes Do not even say it, Mijnheer, l Anna pleaded, and Lothar threw up both hands.
I do not know, he said. Months, a year? How can I tell how long I will need? We should come with you, Garry muttered.
We should be allowed to take part in the search, at least be told in what area of the territory you first saw her. Colonel, you did not trust me. Very good. Now I don't trust you. As soon as the girl is in your hands, my usefulness to you is at an end. Lothar took the cigar butt from his mouth and inspected it ruefully. There was not another puff left in it; sadly he dropped it into the fire.
No, Colonel, when I find the girl we will make a formal exchange, amnesty for me, and your daughter for you. We accept, Mijnheer. Anna touched Garry's elbow. We will deliver the sum of 1,000 pounds to you as soon as possible. When you have Centaine safely with you, you will send us the name of her white stallion. Only she can tell you that, so that way we will know you are not cheating us. We will have your pardon signed and ready. Lothar held out his hand across the fire. Colonel, is it agreed? Garry hesitated a moment, but Anna prodded him so heavily in the ribs that he grunted and reached to take the preferred hand. It's agreed. One last favour, Mijnheer De La Rey.
I wil
l prepare a package for Centaine. She will need good clothes, women's things. I will deliver it to you with the money.
Will you give it to her when you find her? Anna asked. If I find her, Lothar nodded. When you find her, Anna told him firmly.
It took almost five weeks for Lothar to make his preparations and then trek back to that remote water-hole below the Cunene river where he had cut the spoor of his quarry.
There was still water in the pan, it was amazing how long those shallow unshaded basins retained water even in the sweltering desert conditions, and Lothar wondered, as he had before, if there wasn't some subterranean seepage from the rivers in the north that found its way into them. In any event, the fact that there was still surface water boded well for their chances of being able to penetrate deeper eastwards, the direction which the long-dead spoor had taken.
While his men were refilling the water barrels from the water-hole, Lothar strolled around the periphery of the circular pan and there, incredibly, was the girl's footprint still preserved in the clay, just as he had last seen it.
He knelt beside it, and with his finger traced out the shape of the small, graceful foot. The cast was baked by the sun as hard as a brick. Though all around it the mud had been trampled by buffalo and rhinoceros and elephant, this single print remained.
It's an omen, he told himself, and then chuckled cynically . I've never believed in omens, why should I begin now? Yet his mood was buoyant and optimistic when he assembled his men around the camp fire that evening.
Apart from the camp servants and the wagoners, he had four mounted riflemen to help him conduct the actual search. All four of them had been with him since the days of the rebellion. They had fought and bled together, shared a looted bottle of Cape smoke, or a woollen blanket on a frosty desert night, or the last shreds of tobacco in the pouch, and he loved them a little, though he trusted them not at all.