Footprints of Lion

by Beverley Harper

  Sentries saw nothing, but two shots from the kopje had all twenty-nine men of the Reitz Komando awake and alert. There was movement on the slope above. They too watched, waiting. Before long, with the sun well up, what appeared to be a burial detail came into sight.

  Wentzell’s adjutant feared the worst and when, by ten o’clock, there was still no sign of their leader, a decision was taken to leave and report the incident.

  She watched, waiting, the blood scent still there. So were the men above. One had already gone but she knew there were more, many more. Eventually they appeared, moving carefully down the slope, turning south-west and urging their horses to pick up speed. Silence returned, yet she waited. Caution had much to do with it, though, in truth, it was too damned hot. The meal would have to wait.

  Hanson Wentzell had been a victim of war – one of many – and few of his men spared further thought for their sometimes cranky, often unfair and more than a little brutal kaptein. As a Cape rebel, he had not been popular with his Free State Komando. Arrogant – to him, the enviable enthusiasm of youth was no substitute for age and experience – Wentzell flaunted success and ignored failure. He drank to excess – as did most of his men – but brandy made him loud and brash. Quite simply, nobody liked him.

  Under cover of darkness, the lioness overcame her lethargy and succumbed to the craving for food. She sniffed the dried blood and took a tentative lick with her rasp-like tongue. Mixed with salty sweat, the taste was not altogether unpleasant. By now she was hungry. Soon others would find this meal and the father of her unborn cubs would more than likely chase her off. The lioness lowered her head and began to eat.

  It was the same pride that had devoured Danny Reese. Vague memories of that unexpected meal, decidedly edible and putting up no resistance, told her all was well. It also encouraged the others to partake of a free feed. Led by smell and sound, the rest of the pride loped in uninvited. Food was a rare and precious thing. It could be snatched from them at any moment. Made nervous by the lingering smells of man – fires, tobacco and the dreadful and out-of-place odour that their noisy stick-like weapons left – they ate hurriedly and disappeared into the darkness.

  And so war added to legend, or was it legend to war? Myths exaggerated out of all proportion. A ferocious pride, stalking the veld, waiting to prey on any unfortunate enough to cross their path. Stories grew until what had been, and still was, a hard-pressed group of carnivores facing drought and the ravages of man turned into marauders of indefensible savagery. The Lindley Lions, as they were now known, became larger, stronger and more cunning, able to appear and disappear at will. Their reputation demanded extreme caution from those finding themselves within thirty miles of the place. Word spread, much as it had the previous year when work was stopped on a section of the Uganda railway near Tsavo in east Africa, because of the horrific cost of human life wreaked by a pride of man-eating lions.

  A few, Dallas and Duncan included, ignored the stories, sticking to what they knew of the animals’ behaviour. The Lindley Lions had long learned to be cautious. They remained hidden during the day, instinctively aware that although the presence of people meant danger, come darkness, it brought the promise of food. Despite usually sparse pickings, starving animals would willingly risk injury just to lick the inside of an old bully-beef tin or snatch a few discarded bones. There was no more to it than that.

  When Dallas left to break the devastating news of Frazer’s death to Lorna, he knew he was being watched, not only by lions, but also by a handful of Boers whose task it was to clear any signs of the komando’s presence. The others had gone. Such was Dallas’s misery that morning, he cared little for either. He’d heard the pride last night, even seen one of them that morning. The lions would leave him be.

  What Hanson Wentzell had done was a deed of bravado, one man acting on his own, probably out to impress or prove something to the others. And that made Frazer’s death even harder to bear. The boy had been no match for Wentzell, who must have known it. This was no act of war – it smacked of murder, the same thing Dallas was now feeling in his heart. If Wentzell weren’t already dead, he would have killed him again.

  Although dreading the task ahead, Dallas took what he thought would be the shortest route home. From Lindley he rode due east, back into Boer-occupied northern Natal, skirting Dundee and turning south to Greytown, then east again through Eshowe before dropping towards the Mhlathuze River. The journey, through nearly three hundred and fifty miles of rugged country, travelling dawn to dusk – more if light and conditions allowed – took him four full days. For the first time since coming to Africa, Dallas remained unmoved by the wild beauty around him. The country was harsh and unforgiving, the weather terrible, and he was tempted to hate both. But in his heart, he knew that neither had changed. Dallas pressed on, realising, probably for the first time, that by choosing to live here he had accepted a way of life which no mere mortal could ever hope to control.

  By the time he reached Morningside, his horse sagging with fatigue, Dallas still had no idea how he would break the news to Lorna. His unexpected arrival, unwashed, unshaven, clothes stinking and still stained with blood, would immediately tell her that something had gone seriously wrong.

  There was no-one home. Doors and windows stood wide open though not a single servant was in evidence. Only the dogs, Saba and Suza, deigned to see who had arrived. Dallas greeted them and, after some suspicious sniffing, both wagged stumpy docked tails and licked his hands in slobbery welcome. Although he had been away for only a few short weeks the dogs seemed older. A year ago they’d have bounded all over him. Soon servants started appearing, so Dallas gave instructions to look after his horse and bring hot water for a bath. Despite dreading what lay ahead, there was nothing he could do but clean up and wait. More relaxed due to a long, luxurious soak and clean clothes, Dallas sat on the verandah to await his family’s return.

  Having fallen asleep, he heard them before he saw the carriage. Lorna’s voice, pleased for some soldier who’d had bandages removed that morning and was able to see. Meggie’s delight at a doctor’s praise and Mister David’s calm voice bringing the horses to rest. Tanith was with them too.

  ‘There’s someone here, ’ Lorna said. ‘Hello, the house, ’she called. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s Master Dallas, ’ Mister David told her, although it was near dark and he had no way of seeing who it might be.

  ‘Dallas!’ Lorna was out of the carriage before it stopped. She ran up the steps and straight into his arms. ‘Darling.’ He held her tightly and to his horror felt himself start to shake with uncontrollable emotion. Lorna would need his strength, not weakness.

  With a supreme effort, Dallas drew breath and regained his composure.

  ‘Something’s happened!’ Meggie came up the steps, closely followed by Tanith.

  Over the heads of the women Dallas’s eyes met those of Mister David. ‘I see you, my friend.’

  ‘And I you, ’ the Zulu responded, nodding. He knew.

  ‘Come inside, all of you. I have bad news.’

  Lorna wouldn’t wait. ‘Frazer!’ Hysteria was close. ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’

  ‘Be strong, my darling. Yes, I’m afraid it is.’

  ‘No.’ She pulled away. ‘No. You promised me, Dallas. You promised to keep him safe. I’d have known. Go back and look for him. He’s alive, I’m sure of it.’

  Inside, the few lamps that had already been lit threw a gloomy light. Mister David hurried to brighten the room.

  Dallas stood in front of Lorna, who had collapsed into a chair and was looking up at him with desperate hope. ‘I’m sorry, dearest. We buried him four days ago.’

  ‘No, it can’t be.’ Lorna refused to accept what she was hearing. ‘Not Frazer. Not ... I ...’ Suddenly her face crumpled and she buried it in both hands, as if hiding from the truth.

  Dallas sank to his knees and reached out. She shook herself free. ‘Look at me, Lorna.’

  Slowly, reluctantly,
she did so.

  ‘Frazer knew the risks. We all did. It was his choice to be there. None of us could have stopped him.’

  ‘But why him?’ Lorna moaned. ‘He was just twenty, for God’s sake.’ Then, inexplicably, she gave a brittle smile. ‘Oh well ... if the good Lord demands sacrifices, somebody should tell him we’ve made two. Let’s hope he’s satisfied. I’ll let the rest of the family know. Can’t trust anyone else to do that.’

  ‘Lorna?’ Her changed attitude concerned him greatly. Shock he’d expected, grief obviously, even blame, but this? ‘I can only stay a few days.’

  ‘No. No need for that. We’ll be fine. You just run back to your little war and get on with it. The sooner somebody wins, the better for all of us.’

  Dallas had never seen Lorna like this. ‘I’m staying, ’ he said firmly.

  Much to his relief, a surprisingly composed Meggie stepped in to try to help. ‘Come, Mother, I’ll take care of supper. It might be best if you lie down for a while.’

  Lorna turned savagely on her youngest. ‘What do you think I am, a bloody invalid?’ she snapped. ‘Leave me alone, all of you.’ She rose and strode from the room, slamming the solid wooden door behind her.

  Meggie looked shattered and burst into tears, burying her face in Dallas’s chest.

  ‘I will take Miss Taylor home, ’ Mister David offered.

  Tanith touched Meggie’s shoulder in sympathy and turned a questioning look to Dallas.

  ‘Duncan’s fine, ’he said, and she went without a word, leaving Dallas to console his daughter. They could both hear Lorna’s keening but knew it was best to leave her be. She’d meant what she said. She needed to be alone.

  Food, without Lorna, was barely picked-at leftovers. Meggie and Dallas spoke in fits and starts, mainly about Frazer. She asked after Duncan, said there had been a letter from Cam. He and Will were well. Neither had news of Ellie and Lindsay. Ginnie was now at the field hospital outside Mooi River. Inevitably, their conversation kept coming back to Frazer.

  ‘There was nothing anyone could have done to save your brother.’ Dallas needed Meggie to understand what had happened. ‘He was deliberately targeted.’

  ‘Why Frazer?’she asked quietly. ‘Did he suffer?’

  ‘I think not.’ Dallas didn’t intend to go into details. ‘I killed the man who did it, Meggie. I couldn’t stop myself.’

  ‘Good.’ She reached out and found one of his hands. ‘Even that sits hard with you, doesn’t it, Father?’

  ‘Surprisingly not.’ Dallas shook his head. ‘He deserved to die. That Boer bastard committed murder. His action was cold and calculating, nothing to do with the heat of battle – that would have been different.’

  ‘How? War is war. Dead is dead.’

  ‘I know but, believe me, there is a difference.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘Strange thing is, I knew the man.’

  ‘Does that matter? Who cares?’ Meggie seemed to be asking herself the questions, a dreamy quality creeping into her voice. She was being forced to think about Frazer’s death and the shock had just begun to penetrate. Her father’s words sounded as if he were speaking under water. She had to face the loss of a brother; he, that of a son. One hurt as much as the other but both knew it was Lorna who had lost the most.

  When Dallas went to bed, Lorna, who had not bothered to undress, turned away from his touch. They had always found solace in each other, no matter what the situation. Now both were facing a pain that was almost insurmountable. ‘I understand, my darling, ’ Dallas whispered in the dark. ‘I do. It hurts me too. Please come here.’

  She rolled into him, letting his arms enfold her, and the tears came; hot, unchecked, in great heaving sobs. ‘Why Frazer? Why him?’

  ‘Could you choose, really?’ he asked.

  ‘No, ’Lorna admitted, bringing herself under control. ‘Forgive me, Dallas. It’s just that ...’

  ‘I know, my darling. You don’t have to say it. I’m the same with Meggie.’

  And there it was, out in the open. Favourites ...

  ‘I must apologise to Meggie in the morning. She’ll be terribly hurt.’

  ‘She understands.’

  ‘Oh, Dallas. How self-obsessed I am! Meggie is far too young to face this on her own.’

  ‘Our baby is more mature than you give her credit for. Meggie is resilient. She’ll be there when you need her. I only wish I could stay longer.’

  They lay in the darkness, holding hands, speaking of their youngest son with fondness. Some memories brought smiles, others tears. Dallas was relieved when Lorna started to talk of things to do with the farm, of her work at the hospital, as well as that of Meggie and Tanith. She told him more about the letter. It appeared that Will had ruffled feathers left, right and centre in an effort to secure his choice of mount for Cameron. He’d won the confrontation.

  General the Right Honourable Sir Redvers Buller, overall commander of British and colonial troops in South Africa, had arrived in Natal to take charge of the Ladysmith offensive. Apparently he remembered Will and Dallas from Hlobane and Kambula Hill during the Zulu War. He still spoke of the tenacity they’d shown when sent to reconnoitre enemy positions the night before his troops attacked. Buller recalled that both men brought with them a deep love of Zululand and a great respect for the Zulus. It was knowledge he had put to good use.

  On discovering that Cameron was Dallas’s son he hoped to do the same again and grudgingly went along with Will’s belligerent demands. Perhaps, some said, he’d met a man who could match him in the stubbornness stakes. In any event, Will’s mule-like personality – not to mention appearance – both amused and impressed him. The two men were of a similar age.

  Despite their crushing personal grief, Lorna and Dallas found themselves smiling at a mental image of Will squaring up to the pugnacious Buller.

  Three days after Dallas arrived home they held an intimate memorial gathering for Frazer. Torben and Gerda had responded quickly to Lorna’s telegram but no word came back from Cameron, Ellie or Virginia. Family and friends – women in the main – rallied round. With no coffin, no physical evidence, it was difficult to find the right words of farewell. Unexpected and unplanned, Zulu servants and other farm employees gathered close by, women ululating in a haunting display of grief while the men stood silent as a mark of respect. Lorna, standing ramrod straight, showed no sign of the terrible grief she felt inside. She had dug deeply into her past and called on the ‘stiff upper lip’ of the British nobility to sustain her through those awful first few days.

  Glowingly pregnant, Gerda’s robust good health appeared almost obscene and, after expressing token condolence, seemed to be all she could talk about. Gerda had hardly known Frazer, but Dallas thought this shouldn’t have stopped her from respecting how others in the family felt.

  Torben blamed everyone and everything for his brother’s death yet was careful not to generalise about Afrikaans-speaking people. Lorna deliberately ignored his rantings while Dallas just wished he’d shut up. As Fairy Fairfax would have said, ‘blaming others doesn’t help’.

  A cairn of limewashed rocks had been erected next to Katie’s grave. Standing beside it after the ceremony, an arm around his wife, Dallas said quietly, ‘We’ll bring him home, my darling. That I promise you.’

  She laid a hand on his comforting arm. ‘That would be nice.’ Her voice had the same dreamy quality Dallas had heard in Meggie’s the day he arrived back. She was in a private world, one of her own making, and he decided it was best not to intrude.

  Returning to the house, reality hit hard. Soon he would have to leave, even though Lorna still needed him. Once again, Meggie showed wisdom beyond her years. ‘Don’t worry, Father. I’ll make sure she’s all right.’

  Dallas sighed. ‘I know. The thing is, my dearest girl, you shouldn’t have to.’

  ‘She is my mother, Daddy.’ Meggie deliberately used an affection-filled version of the parental endearment she knew he hated.
/>   Realising what his daughter was doing, Dallas smiled at her. ‘You always could get around me, young lady. Never stop.’

  They hugged and she clung to him, his child, a woman so young yet so certain of her role in the family – Meggie of the dancing black eyes and free spirit. Dreading his daughter’s uncaptured soul would buckle under the weight of such responsibility, he held her close. ‘Don’t ever let this madness get you down. I’m there if you need me. I’ll desert if I have to.’

  She drew back, knuckling tears from her cheeks. ‘Thank you.’

  It was all either of them needed to say. Dallas understood how it must be for Lorna. Her special child – her soulmate – had been snatched away. She loved the others, all of them, loved them fiercely and honestly, but there was not the same invisible bond that had existed between her and Frazer.

  Ellie did arrive, after dark that same evening. She looked exhausted, half sliding, half falling from the saddle of a borrowed army horse. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. Couldn’t get away until yesterday. Spent last night in Durban. Lindsay had to stay. Sends condolences, of course. Hello, Torben, Gerda. I trust all is well with the pregnancy? Who else is here?’ She was babbling and knew it. The next second – safe in her father’s arms – she broke down, sobbing. ‘God, this bloody war. Where will it all end?’

  They stood like that for several minutes, then Dallas said, ‘Food and bed for you, my girl. Your mother and Meggie are already asleep. Anything else can wait until the morning.’

  She gave him an affectionate squeeze. ‘You’ll hear no argument from me. Right now it’s just good to be home.’ Ellie and Frazer had always been close. Medicine was in its own way an art, so she completely understood and respected her brother’s passion for his. He had a talent that few possessed, an understanding of form. In Ellie it was human; in Frazer, animal. As far as she was concerned, there was little difference.

  The next day, having had her first good night’s sleep in weeks, Ellie rose to find the house empty but breakfast laid and waiting. No sooner had she finished the already prepared pawpaw – bittersweet from the fresh lemon juice squeezed over it – than Mister David appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of hot cereal. He fussed around her, explaining that Lorna, Dallas and Meggie were in Empangeni while Torben and his wife had had to leave early for Durban. After asking about Lindsay and telling her where to find Frazer’s cairn, Mister David respectfully withdrew. Welcoming the peace, Ellie found she couldn’t face her favourite mealie meal porridge and took herself outside to the mound of white rocks. She sat on the neatly swept grass, curled up both legs, and rested her head against the cold black marble of her sister’s headstone. Ellie wanted to think, to lose herself in memories. She was soon speaking to her siblings.