The Diamond Frontier (Simon Fonthill Series)

by John Wilcox

  Simon looked up into the General’s cold blue eye. Was he being too presumptuous? The silence in the tent was palpable. He had the complete attention of the officers behind Wolseley. Even Covington was scowling at the map in concentration. He decided to continue anyway.

  ‘From what I have heard, sir, the bePedis have always been attacked up the valley along the Steelport from the south-west. The approach I am recommending should take them by surprise and set them back on their heels, so to speak.’

  He swung the map around, the better for the General to see. ‘You will probably need to establish another two forward bases or forts, in addition to this one, where you can concentrate both attacking forces. It is wild marching country, Sir Garnet, and too far to launch the attacks from here at Fort Weeber.’ He jabbed the map again with his finger. ‘The first should be for your larger column here, round the end of the Lulus. There is a ford there. The second should be this side of the hills, where the Oliphant starts to curl away to the north-east. As the crow flies, it is not far from Sekukuni’s town, but it is a tough climb up and a scramble down again.’

  ‘What about this Fighting Kopje place?’

  ‘I don’t think you will be able to attack everything at once. I suggest that you leave the defenders of the kopje to stew in their own juice while you take the town. But you must stop them, of course, from directing heavy fire down at you. You could do that, I would think, by using artillery to make ’em keep their heads down. It’s very, very rocky and shells exploding there would send stone splinters everywhere and probably cause more damage than the explosives themselves. Then, when you have taken the town, you could turn your full attention to the fortress.’

  Simon straightened his back and, for the first time, addressed the listening officers as well as the General. He was aware that Jenkins, at his side, was standing at the formal ‘at ease’ position, hands stretched down behind his back to form a V, the fingers of his right hand in the palm of his left. But his chin was thrust forward and his moustache bristled, as though daring anyone to contradict his captain. Simon swallowed a half-smile and continued. ‘I have to say, gentlemen, that this will be no walkover. I understand that the bePedis are very tough fighters and these defences are strong. The whole exercise could take two or even three days, I would say, and I do not think success is guaranteed. This is a formidable position.’

  The crowded tent was silent again, except for the buzzing of insects. It was hot within and Simon could feel perspiration trickling down his chest. This was as far as he could go, he felt. It was not his job to tell the best general in the British Empire how to do his job. Then he remembered one more thing.

  ‘I understand, sir, that you intend to use Swazis?’

  ‘Yes. Got about eight thousand of them. They form the main part of the column. I couldn’t attack without them.’

  ‘I see.’ Simon frowned. ‘I do not wish to tell you what to do, sir . . .’

  Wolseley’s eyebrows rose. He gave a distinct ‘Harumph! Can’t think why, you’ve bin doing it for the last ten minutes. Go on, man. Go on.’

  ‘Well. You will probably know that the Boers also relied on the Swazis when they made their big attack on Sekukuni. But they depended on them too much, holding off themselves and sending the Swazis in first. The Swazis, I understand, hated this, and as a result will probably not attack if you send them in first.’

  Covington interceded again. ‘Hearsay. How do you know?’

  ‘The Ndebeles will tell you. They told me. They know the Swazis well.’

  The General remained silent for a moment as he studied the maps. ‘Interesting challenge.’ Then he looked up. ‘Now, Fonthill. I think you owe it to us,’ his tone took on a note of irony, ‘if we ask you nicely, that is, to tell us about this lady who sent you her cri de coeur. Where was she, and how did you get her out?’

  Briefly Simon gave his story.

  Once again silence descended on the stuffy tent. Then, slowly, the General spoke. ‘You mean to tell me that you slid down this damned hillside, found your way through the heavily guarded town, cut through the roof of this hut, killed everyone inside but the girl, and rode away again?’

  ‘That’s it, more or less, sir.’

  Suddenly Jenkins snapped to attention. ‘Every word true, General bach. The Captain ’ere knew exactly what ’e was doin’, see.’

  Wolseley blinked, directed a quick glance over his shoulder at Covington and then slowly extended his hand across the table to Simon. ‘I think, Fonthill,’ he said, ‘that we all owe you an apology. You certainly have my thanks for your report, which I will consider very carefully and discuss with my staff here. Now go and get some rest.’ They shook hands. ‘Oh, one more thing. I cannot order you to come with us when we attack, but I would be very grateful if you did so - both of you. You would be invaluable in leading us in.’

  Before Simon could reply, Jenkins had spoken. ‘Delighted to, General bach. We’ve got to go back there anyway, see. We’ve got a man to kill, look you.’

  The General’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What? Good lord. Oh well, I see. Yes. Quite.’ He turned to a young officer. ‘Bulmer, go with them and make sure they get a good tent and kit and so forth. Oh, Fonthill, you will find your young lady in the sick bay. She is being looked after, I understand.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I am grateful.’

  The two men turned and followed the young captain out of the tent. Once outside, he turned to Simon, a warm smile curving his fair moustache. ‘By jove,’ he said. ‘You took your life in your hands when you answered back to the General like that. Never heard anything like it in all me life. Deuced brave thing to do. Mind you, he took it well, didn’t he?’

  Simon regarded the man for a moment and decided not to be contentious. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Didn’t he? Now, before we worry about tents and such like I would be grateful if you would show us where the sick bay is.’

  ‘Right you are, old chap.’ The captain pointed. ‘Big tent along there, can’t miss it. Got a red cross painted on the side. When you’ve finished, come to the guard room and we’ll fix you up. Cheers!’

  Simon nodded his thanks and they both watched as the young man marched away, red-coated back as rigid as a ramrod. Jenkins broke the silence.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘bloody marvellous is what I’d call that performance in there, bach sir. Bloody marvellous.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘Did you see old Covington’s face when you told ’im about the water? That was nice, wasn’t it? I didn’t know you was noticin’ so much as we was ridin’, that I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh come on,’ said Simon. ‘Let’s go and see how our little girl is.’

  Nandi was half asleep, tucked away like a brown cherub between stiff grey army sheets. They stood looking down at her for a moment, and were about to tiptoe away when she opened her eyes and smiled, lighting up a face which, in repose, had looked drawn and sad.

  ‘Oh, there you are,’ she said, reaching out a hand. Jenkins took it and knelt down awkwardly on the beaten earth. The smile widened and her knuckles showed white as she gripped the Welshman’s thick fingers. ‘I thought the big General might have shot you - and if he hadn’t then the horrible Mr Covington would have done so.’ She held out her other hand to Simon, who took it, bent down and kissed it. ‘But tell me, are you being punished?’

  ‘Goodness, no,’ said Jenkins, his eyes suspiciously moist. ‘The Captain ’ere told the General what to do with ’is bloody battle - ’scuse me, miss - an’ they let us off. Colonel Covington was not best pleased, I’m thinkin’.’

  ‘How are you feeling, Nandi?’ asked Simon.

  ‘Oh I am all right now, thank you. Just tired all the time.’ She looked around the canvas room and blinked, as though trying to hold back tears, yet her eyes remained dry. ‘I have been doing so much thinking. I must have led a very happy and sheltered life, you see, until the war. Now, in the last two years, I have seen so much unhappiness, with my country being invaded, Papa losing his land, my broth
ers dying and me being so badly treated by those . . .’ her voice faltered for a moment, ‘terrible men. I realise that the world is an awful place and I would not mind leaving it.’

  ‘Oh, come now, lass.’ Jenkins clasped her hand in both of his. ‘You mustn’t say that, look you. You must never say that.’

  She turned her head towards him, withdrew her hand and ran her fingers through his thick, spiky hair. He smiled sheepishly. ‘Oh, don’t worry, dear 352. I have decided not to die. Not just yet anyway.’ She turned back to Simon. ‘Not while I have such good friends as you two. I owe you so much for rescuing me. I can never thank you enough.’

  Simon shook his head, not quite sure what to say. But Nandi continued. ‘Alice has been to see me, you know.’

  ‘Alice?’ Simon could not conceal his alarm. ‘She is still here?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Nandi gave him her slow smile. ‘I thought you might be interested, Simon.’

  Simon coughed. ‘No. It’s not that. I didn’t realise that Wolseley would allow the press to stay so far forward. It’s not really safe.’

  ‘Well, she is here and she came to see me less than an hour ago. She must have heard right away. And Simon . . .’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She has sent a message to Pretoria telling my father where I am.’

  ‘Good lord. But how does she know he’s gone back to Pretoria?’

  ‘I don’t know. But she says that she has a friend called Charlie in Pretoria who knows everything and will find him and tell him to come here right away. So I am very pleased . . .’ He voice trailed away and her head slumped back on to the pillow, a vein on the right side of her temple standing out prominently.

  Simon and Jenkins exchanged glances. ‘I think we are tiring you, Nandi,’ said Simon. ‘We will leave you now. Try and get some sleep and we will come and see you again tomorrow. Goodbye, my dear.’

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. After a moment’s hesitation Jenkins did the same, and Nandi nodded. The two men crept out of the tent.

  ‘Now,’ said Simon once outside. ‘Where’s the damned doctor? I don’t like the look of her.’

  ‘Nor me, neither. What’s wrong with ’er, do you think?’

  Simon frowned. ‘It could be anything, after what she’s been through. But there’s one thing we must check.’

  They found the doctor in a separate tent, visiting a row of bed-bound soldiers. He was young - perhaps Simon’s age - with ginger hair and freckles. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘the young mystery beauty. Was it you who brought her in?’

  ‘Yes.’ Simon’s tone was abrupt. ‘Can you tell us what’s wrong with her? Is it . . . is it anything serious?’

  The doctor shrugged his shoulders. ‘Haven’t had time to examine her thoroughly. It was important to give her warmth and rest right away, and that’s what we’ve done. She’s weak all right but I don’t think she has pneumonia, probably just a touch of fever, and, by George, she needs feeding. Looks as though she hasn’t had a proper meal in months. Where did you find her?’

  ‘She had been taken prisoner by the bePedi. Look . . .’ Simon coughed. ‘We believe that she . . . er . . . she has been abused. Raped, in fact. Is there a chance she might be pregnant, do you think?’

  Simon was aware that Jenkins, by his side, had stiffened. The doctor took the question in his stride. ‘Wouldn’t know, old chap. Oh dear. How terrible.’ He frowned. ‘I can take tests in the morning, once she’s had a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Simon held the young man’s gaze. ‘It is important that she does not know what you are trying to find out. We don’t want to upset her, you understand.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet.’

  The two nodded their thanks and walked outside into the crisp sunshine of the late afternoon. They made their way to the guard room in silence. Eventually, Jenkins spoke. ‘Never thought of that,’ he said. ‘Pregnant. Oh bloody ’ell.’

  They were allocated a tent near the horse lines and both took the opportunity to have a bucket shower and rid themselves of the grime of more than a week of riding and sleeping rough. The guard commander had offered Simon the opportunity to mess with the officers of Ferreira’s Horse, but no arrangement had been made for Jenkins, so Simon declined. That night the two men made their own meal over an open fire outside their tent. There was little conversation between them, for each was lost in his own thoughts, and they turned in early.

  The next day, at mid-morning, Simon and Jenkins visited Nandi again, but she lay asleep. To their anxious eyes she looked somehow less frail. She was breathing regularly and easily and that vein at her temple seemed to have disappeared. They stood looking down at her for a moment and then left silently. The doctor, however, had seen them and hurried over.

  ‘Made a quick examination this morning,’ he said. ‘As far as I can tell - short of asking her about her monthly . . . you know . . . she is not pregnant.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Simon.

  ‘Amen,’ echoed Jenkins.

  ‘Apart from sheer exhaustion,’ the doctor continued, ‘I can’t be sure about what ails her. She has a temperature and slight fever but I think that what she needs is simply rest and care. I shall advance with the army when we march, of course, but I will see that she is left behind here in good hands.’

  Simon and Jenkins exchanged grins of relief. ‘Splendid,’ said Simon. ‘Thank you, Doctor. She has been through a terribly harrowing time and she does deserve care and sympathy now. She is a rather special girl and we are grateful.’

  It was clear that the doctor was puzzled, but the two gave him no chance for further questions. They each grabbed and shook his hand and walked away.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Jenkins.

  ‘Well, since you so graciously offered to go into the attack with the General, I supposed—’

  He was interrupted by a young trooper. ‘Mr . . . Captain Fonthill?’

  Simon nodded.

  ‘The General would like to see you right away, sir.’

  ‘Damn. What now, I wonder?’ Simon turned to Jenkins. ‘Better go back to the tent and sort things out - like a bit of washing. I think we might be on the move more quickly than we thought.’

  Simon was relieved to find only one other person in the General’s tent this time, and regarded him with interest. The stranger was dressed like a Boer: full beard, wide-brimmed hat, dark jacket and trousers tucked into riding boots. The face was seamed and sunburned, but under the beard, a clergyman’s rather grubby white collar could be glimpsed.

  ‘This is the Reverend Merensky,’ said Wolseley. ‘He knows more about the bePedi than any living European, having worked amongst ’em and . . . er . . . tried to convert ’em for years.’

  The two men shook hands. Merensky’s grip was like a vice.

  ‘The Reverend,’ Sir Garnet continued, ‘has been telling me about the lay-out in the Sekukuni valley and about the bePedi tactics when they are attacked.’ The suspicion of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. ‘You will be glad to hear that he has confirmed everything you have said, Fonthill, and he recommends the two-pronged attack you have suggested.’ The smile broadened and the General gave a friendly nod to the clergyman. ‘Mr Merensky has a damned good grasp of military tactics for a padre.’

  The clergyman spoke with a deep German accent. ‘Every man in this country has to fight, General,’ he said. ‘Even a man of the cloth.’ He regarded Simon with a not unfriendly air. ‘This young man, whom you tell me does not know this country very well, seems to have learned about it quite quickly.’

  Simon nodded at the compliment.

  ‘The most important thing in warfare,’ continued Wolseley, ‘is good reconnaissance. So I had to double-check. Now I need to see for myself. We will ride at dawn tomorrow, Fonthill. I want to study this town and its approaches, particularly this impregnable kopje. We will travel light - only a troop of cavalry—’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, sir,’ int
errupted Simon.

  The General’s sigh was almost histrionic. ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘you seem intent on telling me my job at every turn. Now why, pray, would I not take a troop of cavalry as protection when reconnoitring unknown and damned unfriendly territory?’

  ‘Too many, sir. Even though it has been raining, much of the way is high desert country and a troop will kick up dust that will be seen for miles. The bePedis will know now of my raid and they will know that you are camped here and preparing to advance against them. They will be on the qui vive for any further intrusions. Take a section, ten men at the most, sir. We should be able to slip through undetected, if we skirt wide. Though we may have to travel by night for the last few miles. And we shall need my two Ndebeles.’

  Wolseley looked across at Merensky. The clergyman’s expression of dour detachment did not change, but he nodded his head.

  ‘Very well. A section it will be - and bring your extremely friendly Welshman, but tell him to stop calling me bach. Ah, one more thing, Fonthill. Colonel Covington will be coming with us. He will be needed to lead the attack over the hills to take the town from the east, so he must be part of the reconnaissance. Now, I want no trouble between you. He is a gallant officer whom I had the pleasure of decorating in the field on the Ashanti campaign. He will be treated with respect. Do you understand?’

  Simon sighed. ‘Very good, sir. As long as the respect is mutual.’

  ‘I shall see to that. I have now had time to second you formally to the army as scouts - with pay starting a week ago. Report here at five a.m. tomorrow. That will be all.’

  Simon found Jenkins laboriously washing shirts. ‘352, where are the diamonds?’