“Mornay seems to think the concession Lobengula held us to many months ago included giving him a thousand Martini rifles,” Rogan said.
“You’re quite right,” Dr. Jameson admitted, pulling out his pipe and crossing his legs at the knees. “We had them sent to Bulawayo in wagons months ago. So far Lobengula has refused to accept the rifles. He knows if he does, it means he’s agreed to the contract.”
“For the cousins of the Zulus to turn down a thousand rifles tells me Lobengula must be genuinely confused about what he gave up in that concession,” Rogan said. Instead of sitting at the table, he was standing, coffee cup in hand.
Darinda noticed the others met his gaze, looking suddenly obtuse, as if he hadn’t spoken. The Company men turned to one another over the table and went on talking.
Peter was frowning. He swatted angrily at a large fly and missed. “He was also promised the generous payment of a hundred pounds per month,” he parried, obviously trying to put Rhodes in a good light.
“Arming a thousand impis with Martini rifles is like helping dig one’s own grave,” Rogan stated. “I can only wonder at the wisdom of making such deals in the first place.”
“Are you questioning Mr. Rhodes?” came Dr. Jameson’s quick, spiked tone.
“In this matter? Yes, I am, sir.”
“I never agreed with giving him those rifles either,” Julien said. “Rogan has a point. What if he turns around and uses them against us once we cross into Mashonland with our backs to Bulawayo?”
“We’ll be ready for him if he tries anything,” Dr. Jameson said. “We intend to have a large contingent of armed guards on the trek. Speed is a priority. We can’t afford to wait much longer, gentlemen. If we don’t cross the Limpopo this season, we could be beaten to the punch by the Boers or the Portuguese. We’re nearing the trekking season. Cecil has already proposed that the pioneers be prepared to leave in June.”
With that, the meeting ended. Jameson and Thompson, and their traveling workers, departed for Kimberly to report to Mr. Rhodes. The others, with Julien, would wait until morning to leave.
Darinda stayed behind for Parnell, and when he approached, she searched his face. One look convinced her she had been right.
“We can’t talk here,” she said in a low tone. “Meet me by the mimosa tree at sunset.”
Parnell nodded, unsmiling, and went out.
The sunset was a glorious scarlet, and the evening was vibrantly noisy with the chatter of birds and the drone of insects. At the river a hippopotamus was enjoying its mud bath.
Darinda was waiting under the yellow-blossomed mimosa when Parnell arrived. She wasted no time on meaningless words. “So you failed to find the map?”
“I should have known he wasn’t fool enough to keep it in his saddle bags. The whole idea was foolish. I could have gotten myself shot as a skollie, a Cape hooligan. I ended up trapped because Derwent came snooping right at the wrong moment. I hid quickly in the bushes, but his zealous devotion to Rogan wouldn’t let well enough alone. He had to come tracking me down. I had no choice except to club him from the back.”
She noticed his hands were shaking as he fumbled to light his Turkish cigarette. “I hate violence… I’ve been feeling ill ever since.” The match flared red in the dark.
So that was why Derwent had a bandage around his head. She felt a twinge of conscience. “It wasn’t my intention to see anyone injured.”
“I know that. But we came close to taking on more than we could handle. I’ll have no more of this harebrained idea, Darinda. That ruddy map’s been a problem in my family since Uncle Henry left it to Rogan. Well, it’s my brother’s map now. And I won’t be contesting him for it again.” He turned on his heel and strode toward camp.
Taken aback by his rash behavior, she ran after him. “Parnell!”
He stopped and looked at her, frowning and looking pale in the rising moonlight.
She looked at him for a long moment, then managed a small smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all this would hurt you so much.”
He said nothing and looked down at the toes of his boots. As usual, even out here, they were polished to a shine.
“We’ll forget this,” he said quietly after a moment. “We won’t bring it up again…ever.”
She nodded. “I suppose Rogan carries the map on him. That’s why no one could ever get it away.”
He looked cross. “Yes, and it would be foolish to try. Come, I’ll walk you back to your coach.”
She shook her head. “You look tired. This long journey to Bulawayo and the unfortunate trouble with Derwent and the cobra have been stressful. You’d better get some sleep.”
At the mention of the cobra, he looked pained again. “Good night,” he said in a low voice and walked away.
She looked after him. The moon was climbing, and on the river she heard the splash of a crocodile. She lifted her shoulders as if something evil blew against her back. She looked behind her into the deepening darkness but saw nothing. The silly words of the Bantu children came back to her. “The baasa’s daughter was cursed. Someone has put a curse on her, and so the spitting cobra waited for her in the rocks.”
She remembered the look on Julien’s face as if he feared their dark omens. Nonsense, all of it. Devilish.
She turned and ran, and nearly collided with Captain Retford. He must have been out enjoying the evening too, for she could see he was not on duty now. His military jacket was off, and he wore a loose-fitting cotton shirt belted at the waist with his gunbelt.
He caught her arm and looked past her toward the mimosa tree. “Anything wrong, Miss Bley?” His flinty blue gaze came back to hers.
“No, I…I was just out walking.” She hated it when she hesitated as if she didn’t know what she was about.
“That was Parnell Chantry just now, wasn’t it?”
She wasn’t going to tell him a thing. She pulled her arm away, and then she remembered…the map. He was the same build and height as Rogan Chantry. If anyone could confront Rogan, it would be this man.
She smiled. “You have it all wrong, Captain. Parnell is not going to be my husband. I have something to say about the man I’m going to marry one day.”
He looked a little surprised by her openness, and she reminded herself not to move so quickly. It would make him suspicious. She hadn’t been friendly toward him before. “I wanted to thank you for shooting the cobra this morning.”
“I wouldn’t be too hard on Parnell. There are some people who can’t face up to violence of any kind. It’s just the way they’re put together.”
“You think that’s the way Parnell is?”
“Let’s just say that if he ever did provoke bloodshed, he would be pushed into it. He wouldn’t seek it on his own.”
Under his even gaze she felt the heat burning her throat and face. He couldn’t know she’d asked Rogan’s brother to get the map. He couldn’t.
“May I warn you?” He looked at her with tilted head. “Rogan Chantry is no fool. I hope, Miss, that neither am I. We both have a good idea who hit Derwent Brown on the back of the head near Bulawayo. And we both tend to think it was on account of a certain map left to Rogan by an uncle.”
Darinda stepped away from him, trying to calm her breathing. He did know. How? How had he guessed?
“I haven’t a notion of what you’re talking about,” she said stiffly.
“I’ve never called a woman a liar before, and I won’t start now, but if you are wise, Miss Bley, you would put away this idiotic notion of stealing Rogan’s map and put your attention where it belongs. On becoming a young lady of virtue and discretion.”
She sucked in her breath and stared at him. “You dare?”
“Yes, Miss Bley. I dare. And I doubt you’ll go in a huff to your grandfather, because I believe he would be quite upset if he found out you nearly betrayed yourself as a foolish young woman. He takes great pride in you, as you know.”
She did know, which was the reason she had trie
d to gain the map and impress him even more, hoping he would then make her his heir.
Darinda was glad for the darkness, for she knew her face must be crimson with shame.
“Needless to say, you drove Parnell to a rash and dangerous act. Shall we decide to be wiser people and forget this madness?”
She could think of nothing to say equal to his calm rebuke. She loathed him for exposing her foolishness, yet felt herself strangely drawn at the same time.
“I think, sir,” she said coldly, “that you are the most ungallant man I have ever met.”
“And you, Miss, if born on the wrong side of town, would surely have turned out a petty thief.”
She sucked in her breath. Her palm begged to slap the smirk off his handsome face. Instead she lifted her head, whipped about, and strode back to her mule coach, thoroughly humiliated and wishing she’d never heard of Rogan Chantry’s map.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rogan was walking back to his campsite after the meeting with Julien and the Company representatives when word was brought to him that Julien had asked to see him alone in his tent.
Now what? Rogan wondered with a scowl. He turned around and walked back to the meeting tent.
Julien was waiting. Rogan rejoined his uncle in an airy side room. It was spacious and cool, and netting kept out the irritating insects.
“You wished to see me?”
Julien gestured toward drink and food on a table beside a camp chair.
“Sit down, Rogan, my boy. We’ve a lot to discuss.”
Rogan had removed his hat and sank into the comfortable chair. He sensed that he was approaching a brick wall. He narrowed his lashes, watching Julien, who stood before him looking extremely pleased with himself.
“You heard Doc Jim. Time is of the essence.” As if to strengthen his declaration, he paced. “Mornay has been too slow to respond to our request to guide us to the Zambezi. You won him to your side, but I will let bygones be bygones. It no longer matters to me. Rhodes has found the best guide possible, Frederick Selous.”
Rogan lifted his glass to his lips and wisely remained silent. Frederick Selous.
Julien’s mouth spread into a smile. “I see you know of him.”
“Who doesn’t? Famous big-game hunter—wrote the book, A Hunter’s Wanderings in Africa. Well done. What did you offer him? A thousand acres in the new colony?”
Julien chuckled, showing that the barb did not penetrate his thick hide. “I see he told you of my offer—approved by the Company, of course. Yes, we’re paying Selous well, too. Plus a generous number of gold shares. We also have the blessing of the British government. Lieutenant Colonel Pennyfather of the Sixth Dragoon Guards will lead the pioneers. If things go as now planned, the Pioneer Column will leave in June.”
“If Lobengula will allow the road from Bulawayo.”
Julien’s smile faltered at Rogan’s statement. “I’m certain he’ll remain a threat. But you heard Doc Jim. We’ll have men to protect the pioneers in case he tries anything foolish.” He glanced at the .45 strapped to Rogan’s hip. “I’ve heard you can handle yourself well enough.”
Rogan helped himself to one of the sandwiches. After eating biltong, the smoked ham tasted more like a Sunday brunch at Rookswood.
“Tell me about Jube.”
Julien’s words surprised Rogan. Either Peter or Dr. Jameson must’ve told him. “What more is there to tell? He warned me. That was enough. We scrambled out of there.”
“Peter says Jube trusted you. Why would the induna do that?”
Rogan could read the suspicion thick in Julien’s voice. It disturbed him. He shrugged and went on eating. “I’ve no idea. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say he trusted me, or anyone else.”
“You’d never met him before you went with the delegation to Bulawayo?”
“No. His reason for saving my skin is as much a curiosity to me as to you. I’m grateful he did. He said he had met Henry, though.”
Julien stood without moving, clearly shaken. “Did he? What did he look like?”
Rogan described him. Julien shook his head. “It would have been a long time ago… We all change. He must have had a reason…” Julien walked to the table and poured himself a brandy. “The Ndebele are savages. Human life means nothing to them. They slaughter other natives and rejoice at their killing.” He took a swallow. “I saw some of another tribe resort to cannibalism once. A sign of victory. The Ndebele are enemies of the Shona, whose land Lobengula plundered and robbed.”
“So I discovered.”
“Then Lobengula calls Mashonaland his territory. He has no more right to the Zambezi than the white men he loathes.”
Julien tossed back the snifter of brandy. When Rogan remained silent, Julien turned his head and fixed his good eye upon him.
“Therefore, the induna must have had a good reason for coming to you. What contact did he have with Henry?”
Rogan was cautious now. “He didn’t say.”
“Word has filtered back to me. The entire clan of Lobengula’s chief induna, Lotshe, was destroyed. Your life would mean nothing to them.”
“Maybe Jube had a reason to warn us. He was a friend of Lotshe. Warning us may have been his way of getting back at the other indunas who turned on their brothers. He would have had the satisfaction of denying them our blood.”
Julien considered. “It may be that simple. Then again, he may expect something from you later on. You say he had silver in his hair. He may have known the Hottentot Sam, Henry’s man. He may have known about the gold. At any rate, be cautious.”
Rogan considered his uncle’s words. Was it possible Jube’s contact with Henry had been on that trek north?
“I’m still waiting for your decision where the Company’s concerned, Rogan. This is a historic venture, one you should be proud of joining. But time is running out for you. Either you join our efforts to establish the colony, or your rebellious nature will mean your end. This time it’s your final chance to cooperate.”
Rogan slowly stood from the chair. He smiled unpleasantly. “What do you plan this time? Another accident? You know I do have Henry’s map in my possession.” He could have mentioned the attack on Derwent and the search of his saddlebags, but he believed Darinda and Parnell had done it on their own. “You’ll need something other than suicide, though. I’m not known for backing off when I’m right. But then, neither was Henry.”
Julien’s mouth tightened like a bar of steel. His cheek twitched. He set his snifter down carefully.
“Are you daring to accuse me of killing Henry?”
“Henry was murdered. Even when a boy I could figure out that much. Someone entered Rookswood for the Black Diamond, or was it the map?”
Julien stared at him. As though stunned, he shook his head. “So that’s what you think… That’s why you won’t cooperate with me?”
“The authorities couldn’t prove it, nor can I, now. But it’s clear that every person interested in the Kimberly was in London the week of his death, including you. I also saw you at Rookswood searching his rooms on more than one occasion when I was a young boy. I knew what you were looking for, and I made it my ambition to find it before you did.”
Confronted with the challenge in Rogan’s voice and his calm stare, Julien wore a surprised look on his rugged face, his eye as brittle as glass.
“And you were successful,” Julien said after a moment. “My hat’s off to you. Even at twelve you were clever.” He suddenly chuckled, reaching for a camp chair. “Yes, I’ll go right ahead and admit to it. I went to Rookswood several times searching for Henry’s map.”
“And the Kimberly Black Diamond? Or did you already have it?”
“I?” A brow shot up.
“Someone clobbered Henry from behind in the stables. Why not you? You were there that night. You arrived at the stables in time to find him as he was stirring awake. You could have arrived sooner.”
“Absurd, Rogan. If I’d had the Kimberly in my possessio
n these many years, I’d have put it on the market. This colony is costing a great deal of money. We’re all invested in it.” He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Very well. I shall be transparent with you. I didn’t waste time searching, because I knew Henry did not possess it. Oh yes, in the beginning I thought he’d stolen it, but I learned later I was quite in error. Someone did steal the Black Diamond from Henry in the stables all right, but it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t Katie.”
Rogan’s temper simmered. “You knew all those years Katie van Buren didn’t steal it from Henry, yet you kept it a secret from Evy?”
Julien lifted his head. “We won’t talk about Katie van Buren or her daughter.”
“Sorry, Julien, but we will talk about them. I told you in Capetown I meant to have the truth. You owe an explanation. And I want it—now!”
“I owe you no explanation. None! Do you understand me? I came here to warn you about your intransigence, and will you now cross-examine me?”
“For Evy van Buren’s sake.”
His emphasis of Evy’s true bloodline silenced Julien. For a moment it appeared he would strike him, but when Rogan refused to be intimidated, Julien’s stern dignity unexpectedly diminished. He lowered himself back into the chair.
“Sit down, Rogan,” he said shortly. “There’s no reason to carry on like this. We can discuss this like two reasonable gentlemen. We’ll never get anywhere if we don’t come to grips. I can see that.”
He reached for a box to lift a lid, but Rogan warily laid his hand over the box first.
Julien looked startled.
Rogan opened the lid fully expecting to see a revolver. Inside was a stash of Turkish cigarettes.
Julien chuckled. He reached over, took one, and leaned back in the camp chair, crossing his long legs, watching Rogan with malicious amusement.
“You really think I want to get rid of you.” His voice carried an edge of disdain. “On the contrary, I’ve had a growing interest in you for the last few years. You always had spunk, much more than Parnell. You’ve emerged into a strong-willed young man with the kind of courage it takes to survive in South Africa. I like that. I’d prefer a better working relationship with you. I have great plans for you, if you’ll lay down your guard.”
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